Infinitely(Sequel to Inevitable)[Ongoing - April 15th 2026]

[Will's redemption]

[Laragh]

Okay, here's the deal.

I have 4 chapters.

I would like to have more. I hope to have more. But better 4 chapters posted than just sitting on my hard drive. So I will post the next four Wednesdays and if there's any luck, I might have more to post after that.

Thanks to anyone still around!

[emsaunt]

Yay!

[Laragh]

---

Gals In The Valls

---

When The Lights Come On
We're Gonna Be The Ones
'Cause I Know That We Were Made For This

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME LADY GAGA WAS GOING TO BE AT GALLELLA!”


Both Willow and Tara had barely heard the key in the door before Sally came bursting in, bookbag bouncing on her shoulders.


“It’s Vallella, sweetie,” Tara replied calmly as she closed the oven where her pot roast was cooking, “As in ‘valley’.”


“Funny story,” Willow didn’t look up from where she was typing on her laptop at the table, “It comes from ‘valley’ obviously, but the actual valley they’re referencing–”


“I don’t care if it’s for gals or pals or vals, Lady Gaga will be there!” Sally interrupted.


She fell back onto the couch, dramatically staring at the ceiling.


“Everyone at school wishes they were me.”


She sat up, wide-eyed.


“ME!”


“Really makes me want to message Cordelia Chase and rub her nose in it,” Willow murmured.


“It is a very cool opportunity for all of us,” Tara said with a pointed look toward Willow, “And we should be grateful.”


“I’m very grateful,” Sally promptly stood and headed for her bedroom, “I’m going to go practice my gratitude right now.”


“Make sure to finish your homework in between that gratitude,” Tara called out after her, and there was a faint ‘drat’ before the bedroom door closed.


Willow raised an eyebrow at Tara.


“Are you really grateful, or are you stressed? Because you’ve been mashing those potatoes into nothing.”


Tara looked down at the bowl and then set it aside. She moved to sit beside Willow.


“This is a huge deal. I’m not sure I’ve earned it.”


“Of course you have,” Willow took Tara’s hand, “You put the work in every weekend, some weeknights. You have a new set each time, which most artists don’t. You mix your own tracks. Just because you rose the ranks higher than some others doesn’t mean you haven’t earned it.”


Tara smiled nervously, and Willow got up to stand behind her. She put her hands on Tara’s shoulders and began to massage her.


“That’s it – you’ve invoked your hypewoman! Prepare to be inundated with facts about how wonderful you are.”


“Stop,” Tara couldn’t hold back a grin, lifting Willow’s hand and tilting her head to kiss her knuckles, “I just want to…maintain everything we’ve built. Not lose it by pushing too far, too fast.”


Willow bent down and kissed Tara’s ear.


“You are going to kill it. And Sally and I will be right there to see it.”


This time, Tara struggled to keep the grin off her face.

---

“Jeez, watch the corners!”


Sally had to fling her hands against the boxes sitting beside her in the backseat of the car to stop them from crashing over her.


“Sorry, kiddo!” Willow called from the driver’s seat, “We’ll be there soon!”


“Hopefully I won’t be crushed before I get to see Lady Gaga!” Sally replied, pulling at her seatbelt.


“I put the heavy stuff in the trunk,” Willow replied with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just t-shirts in those boxes. Plus those cool patches you helped Tara stitch!”


“Well, I don’t like the sound of death by a thousand t-shirts!” Sally said, then her eyes widened, “That’d be a cool name for a band.”


“I’m sorry you’re so cramped back there, sweetie,” Tara turned her head to look at her sister, “We had to bring more merch than usual.”


“One of the fun things about this festival is Tara only has to play one set each day, so we actually get to enjoy the rest,” Willow added as she indicated onto a new street, “Downside - merch panic in short bursts. Upside - you get to do it with me.”


“You have an incredibly warped definition of fun,” Sally replied deadpan.


“Um, how many of your school friends are going to a desert music festival this week?” Willow raised an eyebrow through the rearview mirror.


Sally bobbed her head grudgingly.


“You got me on that one, red.”


“What TV have you been watching?” Willow scowled through the mirror, and Sally giggled.


The sun was setting over the horizon, ushering in a hazy desert evening. The sky was all pink and violet, and though dust was in the air, it didn’t cling.


They heard the music before ever seeing the setup, faint but constant as it carried in the wind.


They drove down the artists’ entrance, a gated road lined with security, metal barriers, and checkpoints.


“They must think the President is coming,” Willow murmured as she passed out their IDs to a security guard.


“Much more important,” Sally nodded seriously, “Lady Gaga.”


Their lonely little car was dwarfed by black SUVs, vans, and trailers sitting bumper to bumper. This was all starting to feel a lot larger than Tara felt she fit into. But she’d committed, and she would see this through.


Finally, someone came to guide them, though Sally was getting fidgety in the back, and Tara had to employ ‘the look’ several times to stop her from blurting out something inappropriate to the security guards, like asking if they glowed in the dark in their neon vests.


It was hot, hotter than it should be for the spring, but they were in a valley. Eventually, they were given wristbands that already felt sticky against their skin in the heat. The music was louder as they approached the front of the line, as warm-up acts performed for the crowd, preparing them for the evening sets.


Still, the bass thumped, and crowd chatter blended together from all over the event.


Tara put her finger under her wristband and ran her thumb over the word ‘artist’. She’d never pictured something like this when Nate had sent her the app to mix songs with. Even when she did the intensive weekend to learn the ropes, she couldn’t imagine even The Bronze would want her, never mind where else she’d been invited.


Caesars Palace had felt immense, but one of the most famous music festivals in the country was colossal.


So very surreal how quickly things had snowballed after that first big booking Nate had pushed her toward.


They were directed to a secure parking lot that backed onto a small village of yurts, which was a surprise. The headliners would surely be staying in a nearby five-star hotel, and while none of them expected that, this was not the Motel 6 they’d been anticipating. Still, given the camping conditions of many festival-goers in tiny tents only half-hammered down, the yurts seemed luxurious and fit in easily with the eco-culture the festival tried to support.


It was surprisingly spacious, fitting a double and a single bed, a nightstand between them, and a couple of giant cushions laid out on a multi-colored rug. Outside, a solar panel was connected to an outlet providing lighting and sockets for charging devices. A couple of water bottles sat on the nightstand with a ‘Welcome to Vallella’ postcard that had a map of the festival on the back.


Tara guessed these were most likely used for ‘glamping’ vacations in the normal course of events and were repurposed here as artist accommodation, as they were impressively well-kept.


Sally immediately dove onto the cushions, frowning when they weren’t as bouncy as she expected. She held her arm and rubbed her elbow.


“Do not recommend doing that.”


“This place is cool,” Willow grinned as she lifted their luggage onto a low, round tree trunk, sawn flat at the top, “Kinda reminds me of the igloo in Iceland!”


“You stayed in an igloo?” Sally’s brow rose.


“Not a real one,” Tara clarified, sitting at the end of the double bed, “It was inflated. But we were in the snow and got to see the Northern Lights.”


“If we’d never gone to Iceland, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now,” Willow smiled as she opened the case to unpack a few things, “That’s where Tara first picked up the bug.”


Sally’s eyes darted to Tara uncomfortably.


“Was it like that time Willow ate that salmon roll from the place in the alley?”


“Not that kind of bug, sweetie,” Tara chuckled softly, “Iceland is where I played as a DJ for the first time. We met a friend who was very generous with her time and let me test the waters.”


“Phew,” Sally wiped her hand over her forehead, “That wasn’t fun for anyone.”


“I can hear you, you know,” Willow retorted with a scoff.


“Yep,” Sally nodded, “I know.”


Willow rolled her eyes.


“Less talky, more worky. Come help me carry the merch in.”


“There’s such things as child labor laws you know!” Sally scoffed as she pushed past them and headed back out.


Willow paused by Tara and kissed her forehead.


“You rest up for your set tonight.”


Tara squeezed Willow’s hand as a sign of thanks and lay on the bed with her head on the pillow. She looked up at the domed ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes. She rested her hands over her stomach and took some guided breaths.


It wasn’t long before she needed to bring her decks for sound check while Willow and Sally set up the merch table outside one of the tents they used for smaller artists, away from the main stages.


Even being in the up-and-coming section, Tara was immediately aware that this festival went beyond anything she’d experienced before as a performer. Dozens of people in work vests were running around trying to keep everything on schedule, even more technicians were checking and double-checking equipment, and a two-minute delay seemed like a catastrophic event.


She received a rushed line check and was practically pushed on stage while her predecessor was still finishing up.


She could hear music playing from the main stage and vibrations through the ground. It reminded her of the rave, and she had a sudden panic that maybe Sally shouldn’t be here, despite it being an all-ages event; the vast majority of people still here at nightfall were adults.


Still, it was a unique experience for Sally, and the little yurts were surprisingly quiet, so they’d at least get some sleep.


And there was no way in hell any of them would be taking any candy handed out or drinking anything but sealed bottles.


Finally, it was time. A coordinator killed the lights for Tara to take the stage and counted down in her ear to when they’d go back on. She lined the track up on the right beat…


…but with the wrong playlist.


One she’d hastily renamed the night before and forgotten to move out of her performance folder.


A deep, steady beat and a low, slightly fuzzy bassline gave way to a slow, almost hypnotic pulse.


Tara’s cheeks burned crimson as the opening song in her and Willow’s sex playlist burst out from the speakers.


It was a completely different playlist from their first; she sometimes laughed at the first one she’d put together with basically no experience, just naivety and vibes, vibes that were very different when you were actually doing it.


They had pieced together some songs that fit their rhythm better over time, but since Sally had come on the scene, they kept the confines of their bedroom quiet.


But right now, she was not laughing.


This was not the feeling that made her fall in love with music.


There was a quick energy shift, palpable from the start. Thinking on her feet, she did a dramatic scratch, held it for two heart-pounding seconds, and launched into the correct playlist and the upbeat dance music the people expected.


The audience loved it.


No one seemed to notice her programmed lighting cues being thrown off; they just danced under them.


She played her set mostly on muscle memory and was whisked away as quickly as she’d been pushed on when it was over. Her ‘handler’ was very complimentary as she guided her out the back of the tent.


“That fake out was fire.”


Tara barely had time to offer a ‘thank you’ back before she was left alone, just standing amongst the throngs of people moving through the valley, from tent to tent and toward the main stage. Even with the adrenaline still humming through her, something about it all had felt like a blur, like she’d skimmed across the surface instead of sinking into it, and she wasn’t sure she liked that.


She heard a loud boom from a nearby set and decided to keep her earplugs in. She hoped Willow had thought to do the same for her and Sally, but had no doubt Willow would not let any harm come to their girl.


After making sure her equipment was returned to the tech guys to be kept in its place until her next set, she walked around the tent where Willow was packing up unsold merch while Sally stood on the table, holding a t-shirt in each hand.


“Twelve dollars, two for twenty! There’s even one with my sister’s face on it!”


Tara cringed.


Nate and Willow had conspired against her on that one. It was a little strange how in sync they were over all the merchandising, but if she trusted any two people with it, it was them.


“Get down from there,” Willow said, flicking the back of her hand against Sally’s shin, “You’ll get us kicked out.”


She beamed when she saw Tara.


“Baby! You were great! We heard through the tent. But…” she gushed before leaning in, still shouting as she forgot her earplugs were in, “Were you playing…?”


Tara just put a finger against her lips, and Willow nodded knowingly.


“Well, people just kept swarming the tent! Some were even turned away!”


“I sold a BUNCHA hand fans!” Sally added excitedly.


“Gotta admit, that was a brainwave from Nate,” Willow grinned.


Tara just felt a bit dazed.


“Let’s pack up and get something to eat.”


Sally jumped down and landed in a superhero pose, having the time of her life. She took hold of the hand truck and started marching the now only half-filled merch boxes back to the yurt.


“I swear I didn’t give her caffeine,” Willow said, holding her hands up defensively.


She bumped Tara’s shoulder and linked their fingers together.


“Are you okay?”


Tara blinked several times and offered Willow a smile.


“Tired. From the drive. Nothing some tacos can’t cure.”


Willow just nodded and caught up with Sally to stop a box of mugs from flying into a puddle of mud.


Tara smiled at their bickering and followed them in, happy to be with her girls for the rest of the night.

---

“I can’t see!”


Sally jumped, trying to get a view of the main stage above the sea of festival-goers who thronged together to see Lady Gaga. Everyone seemed to have at least a foot on her, and she twisted, wiggling for a glimpse, throwing her hands up in exasperation.


“If I wanted just to listen, I could do that at home!” she yelled over the muffled roar of the crowd.


“It’ll still be good,” Tara replied sympathetically, craning her neck to spot the stage herself, “Live music sounds totally different from at home.”


Sally’s lips pressed into a thin line, her small fists clenching at her sides. Her pout made Tara’s chest tighten.


“We can try and get closer,” Tara said carefully, “But I can’t lose you in the crowd. You’d have to hold my hand the whole time.”


Sally scoffed and kicked the dirt, sending little clouds of brown dust spiralling into the air.


Around them, someone nearby laughed, and a group shouted lyrics to the opening song, their voices blending into the constant hum of anticipation.


“Do you want to sit on my shoulders?” Willow offered earnestly, bending slightly to meet her eye level.


Sally rolled her eyes, but the crowd around them erupted in a deafening cheer. She spun around, eyes wide, and then looked back at Willow.


“Yes, yes, I do!”


Willow crouched, and Sally swung her legs over her shoulders. Willow’s hands gripped her firmly as she slowly straightened up, adjusting to the sudden weight. Sally’s sneakers brushed against Willow’s sides, and the warmth from Willow’s shoulders seeped into her legs, anchoring her safely above the moving tide of people.


Sally’s mouth dropped in awe as Lady Gaga appeared on stage, kicking off her set with Bloody Mary. The stage was a riot of lights and pyrotechnics; smoke machines sent mist flying over the crowd, and the bass rattled the bones in their chests. She threw her hands up and cheered, leaning slightly forward and bouncing on Willow’s shoulders. The ground’s vibrations made her giggle uncontrollably.


Through it all, Tara watched them, a grin spreading across her face. Confetti exploded above, drifting down like fragile, sparkling snowflakes in the spring air, coating the sticky heat of the crowd. The scent of dust and sweat mixed with sugary notes from funnel cakes and fresh lemonade, a strange but intoxicating perfume of festival life.


Líberate, mi amor


The heavens could have opened, rain pouring down in sheets, and nobody would have cared. The music washed over Tara in waves, vibrating through her chest and fingers, sinking deeper into her. It had been a long time since she’d been able to get lost in sound that wasn’t created by her own hands.


The chaotic but thrilling sound, this experience of music that was every bit as alive as she was, was why she’d started DJing, and why she continued, despite never quite fitting the stereotype or the ‘scene’.


The music didn’t just speak to her, it acknowledged her, wrapped her in an invisible embrace that made her feel seen and understood. A stranger bumped into her shoulder with a laugh, someone’s bracelet brushed against her wrist; a breeze carried the faint whiff of beer while sunscreen melted against her skin. Every sensation felt sharpened in the moment.


And that was what music did to her – it intoxicated her more than any accidental dosing ever could.


She remembered that now.


She glanced up at Sally, who was singing along, eyes shining with utter glee, and Willow, who held her steady yet gently bounced with her own quiet joy, and felt a rush of gratitude. In that moment, lost in the roaring crowd, flashing lights, and the first notes of the next song, Tara realized that sometimes music didn’t just fill that part of her soul; it allowed her to transform within it.


It was her cocoon, and she was ready for whatever metamorphosis it might bring.

---

Tara stood outside her performance, gulping down a boxed water that some festival volunteer had kindly pushed into her hands.


Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating.


Her second set had been pushed by a couple of hours because of a too-keen festival goer who collapsed part of the tent when they let off a contraband firework inside. That had meant sending Sally and Willow to bed before she could go on, but they’d sold most of the merch the night before anyway, so it didn’t matter too much.


It was a whole different experience from the night before, after a few hours’ sleep and a full day spent listening instead of performing. Having spent the day checking out the various artists’ sets, she felt that fizzing feeling in her bones, the way she had when live music had been a weekly event for her. She threw in a new ‘fake out’ since her accident had been so well-received the night before, and it went down well again, so she was eager to think of ways to incorporate it in the future.


The desert air was still warm, and though some of the tents still had music, the whole area seemed calm. Fewer people, less drunkenness, just the people left who really enjoyed the music.


It felt almost eerie walking back, with only a few artists left and just the soft hum of live guitar music buzzing in the air. Her mother had once, in passing, told her about living in a commune as a teenager, and she wondered if this was what it felt like: an intentional community of shared interests and joy.


And probably a lot of questionable life choices, which Tara was trying to make fewer of.


She finished her bottle of water, feeling tired but refreshed, and went to the nearest trash can to dump it, a courtesy only some other attendees had adhered to judging by the growing piles of garbage on the ground.


At least a lot of it was biodegradable, which felt like a small mercy, and alleviated her guilt at walking away from it.


She flashed her wristband to get back into the artist accommodation, and it was like stepping into deep wilderness. Just quiet and a deep black sky staring back down at her with all the hut-like yurts softly glowing with artificial light.


She let herself into their yurt, where Sally was splayed across the entire single bed, one leg hanging out and a head of messy curls on the pillow. Willow was lying in bed, looking up from her phone, when Tara came in, smiling softly.


“Hey, you,” she whispered, placing her phone on the nightstand, screen down, “I was just following your social media metrics. Kinda quiet, but I think that’s just because of the delay.”


Tara stood at the foot of the bed and stripped down to just her underwear from her tight black jeans and sleeveless wolf top before slipping under the blanket and climbing up so her head popped out the top by Willow’s.


“Hey,” she returned softly and wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist, pulling her back against her front.


She kissed the spot where Willow’s neck met her shoulder and inhaled deeply.


“I love you.”


“I love you, too,” Willow answered, glancing back for Tara to peck her lips.


They snuggled in, and Tara stroked her hand down Willow’s arm to link their fingers.


“This has been a really amazing experience,” she whispered into Willow’s ear, “It’s made me realize a lot.”


“Yeah?” Willow asked, playing with the fingers twined with hers.


“Mmm.”


Tara closed her eyes.


“I think…I think this is as much as I want.”


Willow’s brow creased ever so slightly, but she didn’t otherwise react.


“Okay,” she agreed, lifting their hands to kiss the back of Tara’s hand, “And what does ‘this’ mean?”


“This…level,” Tara answered after a few moments’ thought, “My set yesterday was so hectic, and it took all the joy out of making music. I don’t want to lose that. The joy.”


Willow turned in Tara’s arms to face.


“You don’t want to DJ anymore?” she asked gently, “Because that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I can do deliveries on Velma. I could definitely tutor–”


“No, darling,” Tara cut Willow off with a smile, “I know how lucky I am to do this. How lucky we are to get an income like this as college students, and we need it for…”


She nodded behind them at Sally’s soft, sleeping inhalations.


“I don’t think I’ll want to do this forever. But for now, I do. What I mean is, I don’t want more than this level of performance. I want to play a few shows a week where I can set up, play, pack up, and come home to you. I don’t want to chase highs, reach peak success, or travel all over the country. I want time to experiment with the music and enjoy it. Does that make any sense at all?”


Willow reached behind and cupped Tara’s head, kissing her slowly. When they parted, she rested their foreheads together.


“So I go back to booking you around LA and maybe the occasional Bronze show. That’s easy. I didn’t know you were starting to feel a disconnect.”


“I don’t think I did either,” Tara replied, her eyes turning glassy, which surprised her, “I just loved getting to be lost in the live music again today.”


“You need it. I get it,” Willow said with a soft nod, “We should try to go to some live music ourselves, too, if we can work out babysitting. I love watching you get lost. Because then I get to find you.”


Tara tucked some hair behind Willow’s ear.


“And you always do. You always find me. Wherever I am.”


“My favorite thing to do,” Willow said and kissed the end of Tara’s nose, “Especially when I can do it through the medium of smoochies.”


They both giggled together, and Tara relaxed as she realized she’d been truly heard and understood.


“Thank you for taking care of our family the way only you do. The way only you can.”


Willow smiled easily.


“The way I always will. As long as you call me yours.”


“So forever?” Tara asked, brushing their noses together.


“And a day,” Willow agreed, “Based on our linear understanding of time. If the cosmos goes cuckoo, I want commitment then too.”


Tara just smiled and held Willow under her chin.


“This is how every day should always end. And start. And all the stuff in the middle.”


“I’ll add it to our calendar,” Willow murmured and fell asleep as Tara stroked her hair.


Tara just lay there, enjoying the soft sounds of breathing.


She realized then that silence could feel every bit as much of an embrace as music could.

[Laragh]

---

Bookworms and Breaking Points

---

In Every Beat Of My Heart
There's A Beat For You

Willow lay on a smooth rock, her hair thrown back and damp from the rolling waves all around her.


She slapped her mermaid tail against the rock, and her best friend, Miss Catfishy Fantastico, popped her head out of the water.


“I hear it again,” Willow said, looking wistfully out to sea.


The sea stilled for a moment before a sweet voice carried on the wind. The voice swept Willow up in a whirlwind of yearning, lifting her higher and higher in a flurry of joy until–


Her eyes opened and settled on Tara’s face, sitting beside her on the bed, and humming while twirling a rose under Willow’s nose.


“Happy Birthday…to you. Happy Birthday…to you.”


Tara leaned down so their foreheads touched.


“Happy Birthday to Willow…”


Tara pressed her lips softly against Willow’s.


“Happy birthday to you.”


Willow blinked slowly. Tara’s song settled in her, and her face brightened as she lazily lifted her arms out to pull Tara down into the bed with her. They both giggled as she settled beside Willow with a soft bounce. Tara held the stem of the rose between her teeth and traced a finger around Willow’s eyebrow and off her cheek.


The rose fell between them as Tara opened her mouth.


“Happy birthday, love.”


Willow’s feet brushed against Tara’s socks, and she linked their lower legs.


“This is certainly a nice way to start it.”


She paused, glancing toward the door.


“Did you bribe her to keep the volume down? Because the parenting books aren’t very conclusive on that.”


Tara just shook her head.


“Donny picked her up bright and early. They’re having a brother/sister day,” she explained, and watched as Willow’s mouth grew thin, “He’s going to take her to that smash room he got her tickets for her birthday, and then they’re doing some kind of eating challenge. I told him he’s responsible for any throwing up, so we are free and clear.”


Willow raised an eyebrow.


“And alone?”


Tara’s eyes glanced down at Willow’s lips and up again.


“For now.”


Willow’s eyebrows turned more inquisitive.


“You deserve a day full of surprises,” Tara replied by way of an answer, “If you’re okay with me being around the whole day.”


Willow settled her hand on Tara’s hip.


“I wanna be with you everywhere.”


She leaned in and brushed their noses together, but then quickly sprang back and jumped out of bed.


“After I go to the bathroom because morning breath is only fair when we both have it, and I detect definite brushage on your part!”


Her voice trailed off as she ran into the bathroom, and Tara chuckled as she sat herself up and went to the mirror to fix her hair.


After she had run the brush through it again, she headed into the kitchen and started whipping up the fixings for French toast. Willow emerged from the bathroom a few moments later and walked up to Tara. She wrapped her arms around Tara’s waist and hugged her from behind.


“I didn’t mean for you to get out of bed.”


“I can’t cook from bed,” Tara replied with a lilt in her voice as she flipped the bread from one side to the other.


Willow leaned over to kiss Tara’s neck.


“Maybe not, but I could eat…”


Tara sliced off a corner of the bread and fed it to Willow over her shoulder. Willow chewed thoughtfully and sighed in contentment.


“Okay, that does taste delicious.”


“Just wait and see what I serve you later,” Tara replied, and Willow could hear her smirk.


She pressed herself against Tara’s back.


“Can't wait to get a mouthful.”


Tara’s hips involuntarily jerked forward, causing her to bump the handle on the skillet and send it skidding across the stove.


She stepped back and pushed her hands in front of her for clearance.


“And that’s your cue to go sit down and let me serve you before we end up in the ER with burns.”


“I like the serving me part,” Willow replied with eager eyes, but did as she was told.


She flicked her napkin open dramatically and set it on her lap, smiling at the rose now sitting in a single vase in front of her. Tara poured juice into glasses with some enigmatic flair, making Willow smirk.


“Someone is vying for a tip.”


“Many tips, if I’m lucky,” Tara murmured, dancing her fingertips over Willow’s shoulder.


Willow struggled to hold back a shiver of anticipation and adjusted her position in the chair.


The rest of breakfast was an appropriately teasing affair, taking advantage of the breakfast table to themselves. Willow tried to drag Tara back to bed when they were done, but apparently, there were ‘plans’.


“Plans schmans!” Willow protested, “Don’t I get to make my own birthday plans?”


Tara pressed a finger against Willow’s lips and let it fall off gently.


“It’s much more fun when you let others help,” she let her hand fall to Willow’s thigh to squeeze it, “Would you like your present?”


“Finally, she gets it,” Willow said as her gaze dropped down to Tara’s lips.


Tara looked down bashfully and up again. She pushed her chair back just enough to open the hall closet door and take something down from the top.


Willow, at the very least, got to appreciate the stretching involved.


Tara returned to the table holding a small rectangular box with a bow on top.


“You got me such a beautiful necklace for my 21st birthday,” she started to explain, using two fingers to pinch the ‘w’ pendant that never left her neck.


Willow did the same to her ‘T’ and leaned in to kiss Tara, making the magnetized charms fly together and snap into place; nestled inside each other as they always should be.


They pulled apart gently, both sets of cheeks a light pink.


“…and we already have our bracelets,” Tara continued, glancing down at their wrists where their matching half-hearts dangled; the ones that had been swapped when they thought they were about to go down in a fiery crash outside of Lima, Peru and had never been swapped back – an unspoken promise between them that they’d meant the vows spoken in terror but with true sincerity, “So I was running out of jewelry options.”


“Baby…” Willow replied with a curious little smile.


Tara pushed the box toward Willow.


Willow giddily pulled it toward her. She popped the lid, and two silver-encrusted heart-shaped stud earrings stared back up at her.


“Oh my god,” Willow said, taking one out, feeling its weight, “These are beautiful.”


At the center of each was a heart-shaped clear gemstone that caught the light in every direction you moved. Surrounding it was an inner halo in a warmer tone, set with tiny accent stones that outlined the heart shape and an outer halo pavé-set with smaller stones, creating a sparkling double-heart effect.


“I designed them,” Tara said, a flicker of nerves in her voice, “I was going to go a little more…vibrant.”


She paused to look affectionately at Willow’s tie-dye pajamas.


“But I chickened out for my first time.”


“You DESIGNED these?!” Willow asked, her eyes filling with tears, “Tara, they’re so beautiful. They’re perfect! You really designed them?”


“And made them,” Tara replied, her own eyes starting to wet at the palpable emotion Willow was giving off.


“YOU MADE THEM?!” Willow jumped out of her seat to what could only be described as attacking Tara with a hug.


She peppered Tara’s face with kisses, who laughed and gently got her to sit back down.


“Tell me, tell me everything,” Willow asked, giddily getting an earring in each ear, her fingers slipping with her excitement.


“Well,” Tara exhaled a giggle, “One of my assignments a few months back was to design an ad for a jewelry maker. And I couldn’t help but think of pieces that would look good on you.”


She cupped Willow’s cheek, who leaned into it.


“But then I had an…idea.”


Willow’s eyes brightened considerably.


“I love your ideas.”


“I couldn’t find anyone selling what I wanted, so I found a gem studio. Like a DIY jewelry store,” Tara continued.


“That’s so cool, I didn’t even know they had those,” Willow held Tara’s hands giddily, “So you literally made these with your own hands?”


“I did,” Tara nodded once, “And there’s one more thing. You’ll like this part.”


“I like all of it!” Willow replied, touching the earrings on her ears reverently.


As she did so, she felt the smallest of sensations around her earlobes.


“Are they pulsing?”


There was almost no sound, but she could feel it.


Tara looked almost shy.


“You figured it out,” she nodded quickly, the hesitation in her voice making it clear she still wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding ridiculous, “They have, um…something like the tech that makes speakers vibrate? We recorded my heartbeat, and they…translated it. Into something you can feel.”


She pressed the earring softly, and it stopped again, then turned them back on the same way.


“Just have to do that to turn it on or off.”


Willow closed her eyes and let the strong, steady beat fill her up.


Overcome and at a loss for words, all she could do was take Tara’s face in her hands and kiss her with all of the emotion coursing through her.


As she did so, Tara could feel the gentle vibration pass through them and never felt their hearts closer.


“I love you so much,” Willow whispered against Tara’s lips.


“I love you,” Tara answered simply, “More than you can ever know.”


“I know,” Willow replied, so hauntingly quiet it was almost sent as a thought.


Their foreheads rested together for what was really only a few seconds, but for them, they lived a whole eternity.


When they finally pulled away, Willow dragged her hands down Tara’s thighs and off her knees.


“I see what you’ve done,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow, “Made me so hornotional that a quickie won’t satisfy me and I have no choice but to wait for later.”


Tara’s brow creased.


“What’s ‘hornotional’?”


She loved a good Willowism but didn’t recognize that particular one.


“Horny and emotional,” Willow replied, her upper lip protruding slightly.


Tara’s lips sloped up on one side.


“Maybe my favorite cross-section of Willow.”


She laid her palm flat on Willow’s chest and used her for leverage, standing and pulling Willow up with her.


“We do have to leave here by 10:30.”


“I’ll cooperate,” Willow agreed valiantly, “But only because I know I’ll be feeling that heartbeat somewhere else later.”


She kissed Tara’s fingertips and sashayed over to the bedroom. Tara squeezed her legs together and slowly exhaled.


“I can promise that.”


They (mostly) behaved getting dressed, and since they could leave the house a little early, Tara suggested they walk the twenty minutes it would take to the mystery destination instead of driving, since it was a beautiful spring day.


Willow swung Tara’s hand as they walked, feeling pretty and witty and–


“Gay!” she blurted without even realizing.


Given that they were walking in West Hollywood, no less than three other gay couples shot her dirty looks.


Willow’s eyes widened.


“No! No, me!” she pulled hers and Tara’s combined hands to show, “Me gay! Us, gay!”


“Okay, honey,” Tara pulled Willow to the side, “I think you over-syruped that French toast.”


“No, I…” Willow paused, touched her ear where Tara’s heartbeat gently thumped, and grounded her, “I just feel nauseatingly happy. You over-syruped my heart. So there.”


She stuck out her tongue, but Tara’s raised eyebrow made her blush. She played with Tara’s fingers and smiled sidelong.


“I had this dream this morning. I was out on the ocean, and something was calling me, like it was going to sweep me away…”


Her tone turned softer.


“I’m very happy to be swept up in you.”


Tara put her arm around Willow’s waist and kissed her temple from the side.


“Today is all about Willow.”


“Hmm…” Willow’s lips vibrated with mirth, “Well, since my favorite person is already with me…then let me guess where we might be heading…my favorite coffee bar?”


“I think you’ve had enough caffeine,” Tara replied wryly.


Willow pursed her lips in thought.


“Gay brunch?”


“Sally would kill us if we went to Hamburger Mary’s without her,” Tara replied with mock affront.


“Then…” Willow’s nose scrunched as she tried to think what else was in the neighborhood that Tara would be taking her to, “The library?”


Tara’s eyes sparkled.


“…not exactly.”


After ten minutes of Willow skipping ahead and throwing riddles at Tara, trying to guess their destination, they arrived at a very ordinary building on a very ordinary street, opposite a very ordinary interior design studio.


At first, Willow thought maybe they were shopping for a new coffee table or something, and found that made her just as happy as any other scenario. As long as it was with Tara, she was very content.


But then Tara turned her in the other direction, and Willow realized they were outside another establishment.


“Panic Room?” she read, looking to Tara slightly warily, “This isn’t some one-woman show about my entire adolescence, is it?”


She took a step toward the building and looked through the window.


“Oh, it’s an escape room! I’ve heard of those! You have to solve clues to get free! Fun!” she said, giddily lifting herself onto her toes before frowning, “Don’t you usually need a group for these?”


“Which is why the cavalry was called!”


Xander’s voice hit Willow’s ears before she ever saw him, moving toward her, galloping as if he were riding a horse.


“I thought you said we couldn’t talk about the pony play outside of the bedroom,” Anya cocked her head beside him.


Buffy stormed through them, lifting her sunglasses over her head to reveal dark circles.


“I’ve had a whole car ride of this, so can I get a hug already?”


Willow was momentarily startled by their appearance, particularly Buffy’s, but quickly opened her arms.


“Oh my god, hi! I had no idea you were coming!”


“As if we could miss the Wilster’s big birthday!” Xander scooped Willow up in a hug next.


“I have something for you, just something nice from Bloomies, but it’s in the car,” Buffy said as she stretched her back, “I was using it as a muffler.”


“I made you a card,” Xander added before frowning to himself, “Glitter really gets everywhere.”


There was a pause and a slight expectant look toward Anya, who remained nonchalant.


“My presence is the present.”


“We should go in,” Tara cut the awkwardness and guided everyone inside.


The reception area was very retro 80’s horror with gothic furniture and neon lighting.


Tara checked them in, and after a few minutes standing around where everyone was able to catch up, they were led down a long hallway with different doors on either side until they reached one with ‘The Library’ written on it in calligraphy.


The door opened, and the guide held it open with her arm, indicating for the rest of them to fall in.


The room was pitch black but for the small bit of light through the open door, whose soft-close hinge slowly took it all away.


"Hey Ahn," Xander waggled his eyebrows and put an arm around her shoulders, "Did you return your books late? Because you’ve got fine written all over you!"


Buffy sighed deeply and backed up against the wall.


Crackly sounds came over a speaker system from above, purposefully unnerving.


“You’re trapped in the local library after hours, and you need to unlock the librarian’s desk to find the key to escape before the clock runs out…and you’re trapped forever!”


Before the voice could continue, Anya called into the darkness.


“What’s keeping us trapped?”


More crackling, but it didn’t sound so intentional this time.


“…I’m sorry?”


“What exactly is keeping us trapped?” Anya clarified before continuing matter-of-factly, “I work in a magic shop, and there are all kinds of entities that could trap people. Some scarier than others.”


The crackling turned to mumbling.


“One of the scary ones.”


“Celtic? Norse?” Anya offered as a suggestion, before drawing a sharp breath, “Japanese?”


A deep sigh.


“Lady, I’m on minimum wage.”


Anya suddenly screamed.


The outline of three heads flew in her direction. A motion of Anya clutching her heart could faintly be seen.


“That is scary.”


“If you don’t mind, we have another group at noon,” the disembodied voice clicked her tongue.


“Way to ruin the immersion,” Anya murmured.


“We’re ready,” Tara called out through a nervous chuckle.


A familiar crackle of doom.


“You have sixty minutes. Good luck escaping…the library of doom!”


Some thunder sounds joined the crackles, and simulated lightning brought luminescence to the room.


A curved wall of tall bookshelves filled the room, packed tightly with ornate, leather-bound books. The spines were decorated with intricate patterns, symbols, and gilded accents, purposefully drawing the eye toward them.


In the center sat a heavy wooden desk with a dark, engraved surface. On top rested several rolled scrolls tied or capped with metal ends, arranged neatly. Behind the desk was a tall, throne-like chair.


At the corners of the desk were stout wooden posts topped with dark spherical markings, each carved with a figure: one humanoid, one winged, others half-worn by age. They seemed deliberate, like symbols waiting to be brought alive. Everyone’s eyes were naturally drawn there.


The light settled, casting soft highlights across the wood, books, and carvings.


The door locked with a very theatrical click.


Xander exhaled slowly.


“Okay. I know this is fake. But my body does not.”


Buffy spotted a bar above the door and jumped up to catch it, pulling her chin up and over the bar.


“You’re fine. This is controlled danger.”


Xander narrowed his eyes.


“That’s not a comforting phrase.”


"How come the sudden calisthenics?” Willow asked, watching Buffy’s body rise and fall like a game of Pong, “Aren't you sort of naturally buff, Buff? Ha. Buff Buff!"


Tara and Xander laughed, and Anya rolled her eyes.


“Fit body, fit mind,” Buffy said lightly as she jumped down from the bar, though her voice carried an echo of something more.


She dropped lightly, but lingered there a second too long, like she’d forgotten what she was doing.


Then she straightened abruptly.


“Anyway. Controlled danger.”


She seemed intrigued by the phrase as she rolled her shoulders like she was trying to shake something off that wouldn’t move.


As her feet made the floor shake, a digital clock lit up above the librarian’s desk with an ominous, slow, triple click.


60:00


Anya squinted.


“I don’t like a deadline. Just like I told Jeff and Giles when they insisted I finish stacking the shelves by noon, even sex in a rush is just cardio.”


Tara winced and waited for a barbed retort from Willow about sex only being her job if she were a prostitute, but she was already smiling, eyes darting around the room.


“Oh wow. They are really committed. Look at the shelves. And the desk. And, oh! That’s a fake circulation stamp, but they aged it.”


Tara hung back just enough to watch Willow’s face soften, eyes flicking from shelf to shelf.


Buffy clapped her hands.


“Okay, birthday girl gets first pick. Where do we start?”


“This is a top-tier Willow-gift by the way,” Xander commented with a rogue grin, “Glad I thought of it.”


“Tara thought of it, you just paid for it,” Buffy scoffed.


“Exactly, he PAID for it!” Anya retorted, “It’s the money that counts.”


“That’s not how the phrase goes,” Buffy replied, deadpan.


“I did get the premium package,” Xander added sheepishly.


Willow laughed, shaking her head. The familiar bickering was somewhat comforting.


“Okay, our heads have to be together for this. Desk first. The librarian’s desk is always suspicious.”


They gathered around it. The wood was scuffed, carved just enough to look old without being fragile.


Four drawers. All locked. Only one had a visible external keypad lock.


Willow grabbed one of the knobs and twisted it quickly.


Nothing, no give, no wiggle on the lock.


She tried again, slower this time. Still nothing.


“Okay, so this one doesn’t have an external lock,” she muttered, leaning closer, “It’s…responsive? Maybe?”


She tapped it twice in quick succession.


There was the faintest click, so soft Willow couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a scuffed sneaker.


“…did anyone else hear that?”


“I heard nothing,” Anya said immediately, “Except the sound of wasted money.”


“You never hear anything useful,” Buffy replied.


Willow frowned at the drawer, then shook it off.


“Okay, maybe not that.”


Buffy leaned in.


“This is where the key is. I can feel it.”


Xander squinted.


“You feel it because there’s a massive key carved into the wood.”


Buffy frowned.


“Don’t undermine my process.”


“Guys, it’s a library of doom,” Willow reiterated, “There’s going to be some false traps.”


Anya side-eyed Willow.


“That feels emotionally manipulative. Xander said I shouldn't do that, so why does the desk get to?”


“You really don’t get the concept of an escape room, do you?” Buffy asked.


Xander squinted.


“Is this about destroying old books? Because I didn't know that copy of Harry Potter Willow owns was a first edition.”


“Owned,” Willow replied pointedly.


The clock ticked down.


57:42


They scattered fast.


Too fast.


Xander pulled books randomly.


“Okay, what if it’s alphabetical?”


Anya yanked a drawer open.


“Or numerical. Or alphabetical but resentful!” she suggested before adding heartily, “That’s how I stack when I’m told to finish by noon.”


Buffy checked the emergency exit. The sign came off in her hand.


“This is only decorative.”


Willow and Tara drifted toward the study tables instead, treating the clues like memories that they were on the tip of remembering.


“These shelves aren’t random,” Willow murmured, “They’re…curated.”


Tara traced a finger along a spine.


“Some of these are out of order. On purpose?”


“Nothing is ever on purpose,” Xander remarked.


“Does nobody know the concept of an escape room?!” Buffy lamented, dropping into the throne with a little more weight than necessary, like she was briefly considering just staying there forever.


Willow pulled a book free and flicked through it. One line, half-scratched into the margin, caught Willow’s eye: Apart, they fail. She frowned, then moved on, not yet sure why it lingered.


“Marginalia!”


Xander jumped back in fright.


“Was that a spell?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, which then flitted between her and Tara, “Did you do a spell…together?”


“No,” Willow clicked her tongue in annoyance, “It’s notes you scribble along the sides of the text in a book. I bet they form a pattern we need to figure out.”


Anya groaned from across the room.


“Why is this escape room assigning homework?”


“Because it’s my birthday,” Willow said, delightedly looking at Tara.


They spent the next ten minutes chasing wrong ideas, but every wrong turn helped them get where they needed to be.


Dewey Decimal numbers that didn’t line up, a lock that refused to budge.


Xander tried to brute-force a solution and immediately got scolded by a recorded voice reminding him not to force anything, which then got yelled at by Anya to leave him alone.


“You’re just jealous of his large arms!”


42:19.


“Okay, try reversing it,” Buffy suggested as Willow moved pieces of a puzzle around.


“I am reversing it,” Willow snapped, already doing it.


Nothing.


Xander leaned over Tara’s shoulder.


“What if it’s not direction, but like…book vibes?”


“That is not a system,” Willow said.


“Everything is a system,” Xander replied defensively.


“Not vibes!”


Anya slammed a book shut.


“I hate this room. It’s condescending.”


39:58


Willow dragged her hands down her face.


“Okay. That was a full wrong turn. We abandon vibes.”


Buffy slammed her hands down on the desk.


“Okay. Reset. We’re spiraling.”


Everyone took a breath.


But then Willow exhaled, grounding herself by touching her earring. It pulsed faintly, responding to Tara’s calm breath beside her.


Tara noticed. She caught Willow’s eye.


“Let’s read,” she said gently, “Not grab but actually read.”


Willow nodded and rested her hand on the small of Tara’s back.


They slowed down.


The room rewarded them by finding a book hidden inside another book with arrows. Willow gasped.


“It’s not the words, it’s the direction of the words!”


Once they cracked the marginalia system, everything started to click.


Books referencing other books.


Notes pointing sideways, not forward.


A card catalog that only makes sense if two people read from opposite ends.


Xander squinted at a clue.


“‘See also yourself’.”


He pointed to himself and looked down.


“I am me.”


Buffy slouched in the throne, dripping sarcasm.


“Deep.”


“This puzzle is mocking us,” Anya glared, “We’re paying to be mocked!”


Willow and Tara sat together on the floor, backs against each other, papers spread between them. Willow talked fast as she moved through the information they had. Tara listened, occasionally interjecting a soft correction or thought. Their synchronicity was impressive.


“You two are disgusting,” Xander said fondly.


“In a very helpful way,” Buffy added.


“I need a beer,” Anya interjected, before catching a glint of something in the corner, “Hey, there’s a mirror.”


They all looked in that direction. Xander jumped up and down with an unselfconscious hop and pointed dramatically at the mirror.


“See also yourself! See also yourself!”


Willow stood and brought the page she’d written all the decrypted clues down onto the little hand mirror stuck on the end of a bookshelf.


Xander squinted at the page, then at the mirror.


“Wait, hold on. What if it’s not what it says, but how it looks?”


Everyone paused.


He grabbed the paper and angled it slightly.


“Like, if you flip it, the arrows don’t point sideways anymore. They point…down.”


Willow blinked.


“…that’s actually…wait.”


She moved quickly to the mirror.


“Oh my god, that’s actually useful!”


Xander looked smug and mouthed ‘useful’ to the rest of the group. Willow moved down and saw four numbers carved onto the leg of the table.


“It must be the code for the first lock! It has to be!”


They all rushed over, and Willow started to key in the code, flicking Xander’s hands away when he tried to take over to hurry her up.


“Sex in a rush is just cardio, Xander,” she intoned in a mocking voice.


The drawer popped, and Willow pulled it out.


Inside was a key, a library card, and a note that said NOTHING OPENS ALONE.


“Threesome!” Anya offered by way of help, “Maybe we’re supposed to have a threesome.”


“I think we can rule that out,” Buffy shook her head.


“It’s obviously a dual-lock,” Willow said, pulling the knobs on each of the other drawers, “We just have to figure out how it’s triggered.”


She tried all the combinations she could think of, fingers moving faster as the seconds ticked down. When none worked, the pressure finally cracked through her focus.


“What if we turn them wrong?!”


Tara took her hand.


“Then we turn them again.”


Willow exhaled slowly.


“Right,” Willow said, forcing a breath. “Low stakes. Fake danger. Just puzzles.”


“But very real annoyance,” Anya banged her foot against the desk.


There was a dull internal shift noise, like the final click of a winding mechanism.


A crackle came over the intercom, but all that was heard was a heavy sigh and then resigned silence.


Willow dropped to her knees and grabbed the drawer, testing it.


It still didn’t open.


But this time, when she pressed the knob, there was an audible–


Click.


She looked up, eyes wide.


Anya beamed.


“I solved it!”


“You didn’t solve it,” Willow said quickly, already analyzing, “But you reset something. Maybe a latch? Or, oh! It’s a sequence. You disrupted the default state!”


Anya just folded her arms over her chest and kept her chin raised.


“I helped.”


“You…helped adjacent,” Willow corrected, “See, you’re supposed to pull down, out, and left, it’s a puzzle knob!”


“You’re a puzzle knob,” Anya retorted.


27:07


Buffy leaned forward, resting her fist on her chin.


“At least we’re on pace.”


A little longer in, and they stalled again.


The whole process was surprisingly fatiguing, especially with Anya deciding she was the modern reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes.


Xander sat on the floor, cross-legged.


“I’m protesting. This must be what ‘Nam objectors felt like.”


Buffy handed him something from the desk.


“Read a book. Any book.”


Willow was staring intently at all the clues in front of her.


“Okay, no, because we have all the pieces,” she said, pacing now, hands gesturing faster the more she spoke, “We have the books, and the notes, and the arrows, and the arrows are definitely directional but maybe metaphor-directional which is worse, and the catalog is clearly a relational system but it’s not mapping cleanly unless it’s…”


She stopped, pressing her fingers to her temples.


“I’m missing something obvious.”


Tara watched her carefully.


“You’re tired, sweetie. Let your brain breathe for a minute.”


Willow looked at Tara, and her eyes softened with genuine warmth.


“I’m having fun.”


“You can be both,” Tara kissed the top of Willow’s ear.


“I don’t want to run out of time,” Willow replied, but closed her eyes and leaned back into Tara’s touch.


That’s when Tara felt it.


She stilled.


Tick.


…tick.


She frowned slightly, eyes shifting.


“Wait.”


“What?” Xander asked.


Tara didn’t answer right away. She reached for Willow’s hand instead.


“Close your eyes,” she said quietly, guiding her, “Give me your hand, darling.”


Willow obeyed without question.


Tara pressed their joined hands lightly against Willow’s ear.


“Do you feel my heart beating?” she asked quietly, “Do you understand?”


Willow’s breath slowed.


“…your heartbeat,” she murmured in confirmation.


“And?” Tara prompted gently.


Willow tilted her head slightly.


“…no. Not just yours.”


Her eyes snapped open.


“There’s a second rhythm.”


While the other three exchanged ‘have they finally lost it?’ looks, Willow’s brain lit up, followed by her eyes.


“There’s a sensor! It’s looking for external rhythms. The desk isn’t locked, it’s timed!”


“Huh?” Buffy spoke for them all.


“My earrings!” Willow explained as she rushed to the drawer and started pressing the knob in short bursts, “Tara got me earrings that mimic her heartbeat to help calm me down, but there’s a double beat in the room. There must be a pressure or rhythm sensor embedded in the lock. Which means I can match it!”


She got a little overeager, but Tara’s hand on her shoulder made her slow down and regroup.


“Something in this room is…”


The clock ticked down another minute, and she realized it made three clicking noises every time a minute passed.


She pressed three times in the same beat, and the drawer flew open.


Buffy’s eyebrows shot up.


“I don't know what you just said or did, but I'm glad you did it!”


Anya scowled and slapped Xander’s arm.


“Why haven’t you ever bought me problem-solving earrings?”


She stepped closer to look at the earrings and gasped.


“And they’re pretty!”


“I did get you pretty earrings,” Xander defended himself, “Many, many, pairs.”


Anya closed her arms across her chest.


11:42.


The numbers seemed to fall faster now, each second louder than the last.


Willow fished out a scroll from the drawer and unrolled it, reading aloud what she saw.


“Knowledge keeps the oaths it swore to hold.
Mend what was broken, and you will be released, foretold.”


“See Ahn,” Xander walked over with his arms out, “It wants us to make up.”


Anya couldn’t help but swoon slightly in Xander’s arms.


“I do like making up!”


“It is the best part,” Tara whispered, only loud enough for Willow to hear, who shot her a secret smile.


Buffy felt very much like a fifth wheel and drifted toward the bookcase, running her fingers along the spines without really seeing them.


For a second, she just…stopped, not entirely sure why.


That had been happening more and more lately.


Then she pulled a book free, and a bunch of cards fell out of it.


“Hey, guys?”


Everyone gathered around, and Tara picked up the fallen cards.


“These are Tarot cards,” she said as she straightened them in her hands.


“Look, there’s an inscription on the front,” Willow took the fake book from Buffy and read the writing etched onto the cover, “One walks the path with an empty hand, no spell, no crown, no guiding plan. One shapes the world with will-made flame, one guards the truths no words can name. Apart, they fail. Turned face to face, they bind the breach no power can brace. When truth is called, all debts appear, the reckoning both sharp and clear. At last stands one who bears the weight, to guard the line, to hold the gate.”


“That is…a lot of words,” Xander said, blinking quickly.


A light flickered above the door out, highlighting a shelf with a small slot along the middle, just the right size to fit in a card.


“Each clue is a card,” Willow said, taking them from Tara, the bounce in her step returning as the structure finally snapped into place.


She splayed out all five and plucked The Fool from the middle.


“One walks the path with an empty hand, no spell, no crown, no guiding plan.”


She placed it first, then reviewed the cards again and put The Magician and The High Priestess side by side.


“One shapes the world with will-made flame, one guards the truths no words can name.”


Two cards left in her hand, she placed The Judgement card next.


“When truth is called, all debts appear, the reckoning both sharp and clear.”


She placed The Emperor in the final slot and stood back, beaming.


“At last stands one who bears the weight, to guard the line, to hold the gate.”


There was a brief moment where they all held their breath and then…


Nothing.


“Huh?” Willow asked, frowning deeply.


“Darling,” Tara said tenderly, her hand warm and steady on Willow’s shoulder, “You forgot a line.”


“I forgot a who?” Willow asked, slightly distraught.


Tara reached forward and turned The Magician, revealing a split card that just read ‘The’ across the end.


“Apart, they fail. Turned face to face,” she recited with a satisfied nod, turning The High Priestess to reveal a matching card embossed with ‘Lovers’ on the bottom. The split edges of the card aligned perfectly, the seam vanishing as if it had never been broken at all, “They bind the breach no power can brace.”


There was a click.


For a breathless second, nothing happened.


Then a hidden compartment in the door sprang open, and a balloon bobbed out with a card tied to its string.


Willow reached out with shaking hands and untied the card, opening it to read.


Happy birthday, Willow.
Remember, you never have to solve anything alone.


She laughed, almost crying at the same time. She threw her arms around Tara and then everyone else in quick succession, even Anya.


The clock stopped at 02:11.


They unlocked the door, and Willow danced out in victory, her balloon bobbing in time.


As Tara exited, Willow caught her hand and pulled her out, kissing her softly to the whoops of the group of teens who were waiting to go in next.


“Hey,” she said quietly, ignoring everyone else.


She brought Tara’s hand up against her earring, letting the faint rhythm hum between them.


“Still beating.”


Tara smiled, soft and certain.


“Always will. Just for you, my love.”


They joined hands and moved away to let the others exit.


“This place was so creepy!” Xander stage-whispered with a rapid shake of his head, “Remind me never to go into a library again, no matter whose birthday it is.”


“I'm ready to check out,” Anya agreed.


Buffy brought up the back, glancing back into the eerily-lit room as they left it behind.


“Let's go. Before the library decides we’re overdue.”

[TheBigPineapple99]

Dibs! Nice to see you back! I'm glad Willow was able to have a nice birthday and that Tara's figuring out what she wants career wise, and also that she does have the opportunity to grow. It's always nice to be able to make those decisions from a place of having opportunity to do more if you want and deciding you don't want it rather than feeling like it's unattainable and wondering if you'd like it. Looking forward to seeing what happens next!

[Laragh]

TheBigPineapple99 —

Dibs! Nice to see you back!

Thank you! Glad to be back!

I'm glad Willow was able to have a nice birthday and that Tara's figuring out what she wants career wise, and also that she does have the opportunity to grow. It's always nice to be able to make those decisions from a place of having opportunity to do more if you want and deciding you don't want it rather than feeling like it's unattainable and wondering if you'd like it. Looking forward to seeing what happens next!

Yes it's a weird journey for them knowing there's a hard stop coming up with the DJing stuff but it's still fun to get there!

Thanks so much for your feedback!

---

Update Directly Below

[Laragh]

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Sweetie Pi

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Swing Open Your Chest And Let It In
Just Let The Love, Love, Love Begin

“Guys, guys! I get it! You love me!”


Willow allowed herself to be passed back and forth between Xander and Buffy like she was the ball in a game of Hot Potato until finally extracting herself and wrapping an arm around both of them.


“Thanks for coming down for my birthday. The escape room and lunch at Formosa, and the shopping trip, Sephora–”


“Didn’t love that,” Xander admitted as he tried to wipe the last of the pink glittery eyeshadow from his eye.


“Yes, you did,” Buffy teased, “The Beauty Advisor said it was your color.”


Xander blushed.


“Just don’t tell Anya. She’ll want to do a Barbie roleplay, and I’m sick of never getting to be Ken.”


“Okay,” Willow quickly dropped her arms and swung around to face her friends, “The point being, thank you for coming all this way. I honestly didn’t expect anyone to make a big deal.”


“We love you, Wills,” Xander smiled softly.


“And we miss you,” Buffy admitted.


“And it’s your 21st birthday!” Xander added with a playful little punch on the arm, “We’ll have to give you your birthday spanks.”


“You will not!” Anya’s voice came from around the corner before she and Tara appeared from the other side of the shopping mall.


Tara held up a hand shyly.


“I-I think I’m going to have to agree with that one.”


“No one is spanking me,” Willow agreed heartily, before tilting her head to hide her mouth as she murmured to Tara, “At least not here.”


Tara cleared her throat and placed her hand loosely around Willow’s waist, just firm enough to make a point.


“I have to get this lady home.”


“You do?” Willow asked with a raised eyebrow.


“I do,” Tara confirmed with a single nod, “Dinner reservations.”


Willow smiled.


“Oh. Great.”


She faced her friends again.


“But we’ll see you soon!”


“Yeah, we will,” Xander grinned, then blushed, “I mean, ah, with summer and everything.”


“Yeah, uh-huh, we’ll be in Sunnydale lots!” Willow nodded eagerly, “The Bronze is super keen for Tara to play, so – definitely. So much hanging out ahead.”


“We’ll see you later. I mean, soon, we’ll see you soon,” Buffy hugged her friend again, lingering for a moment before they all said their goodbyes, “Happy Birthday, Willow.”


Tara walked Willow home in peaceful silence, or at least, only the LA symphony of traffic noises.


Once home, Willow spun around and practically jumped Tara.


“So I propose we skip dinner so we can order in and eat out at the same time.”


Tara blushed and made herself take a step back.


“I promise you will get all that you want…after our meal.”


Willow started to pout.


“Why are you so hellbent on resisting me? Is this a new thing? Because I for one reject it.”


“Because you deserve to be celebrated,” Tara answered, cupping Willow’s cheek.


Willow turned her head into Tara’s hand and kissed her thumb.


“And to counteract your 'hornotional' state, I’ll be getting ready in Sally’s room,” Tara announced as she turned on her heels and disappeared inside.


Willow’s pout lingered for a moment before accepting her fate and turning to head into their bedroom.


Tara was ready quickly, just changing into the long blue and black dress she’d hung there earlier and touching up her make-up.


She was pulling on her boots in the living room when she heard the bedroom door open behind her.


She glanced up automatically.


And then didn’t look away.


Willow stepped into the room, her make-up still fresh from the store, but now paired with a brand new little black dress Tara had definitely never seen before.


Specifically, Willow was wearing an off-the-shoulder black dress with a fitted bodice. Fine speckles in the fabric caught the light, giving it a soft, starry effect.


Tara’s eyes lingered there for a moment before drifting lower, to the neckline dipping into a gentle sweetheart shape, then to the curve of Willow’s shoulders and lower still.


The dress cinched at the waist, flaring out just enough to accentuate her shape without hiding it, and Tara found herself briefly forgetting how to speak.


“W-where…what…when…”


That reaction was everything Willow needed. Any lingering hesitation from the store melted away, replaced with something warmer, bolder.


She shifted her weight and leaned against the doorframe, one shoulder bare, settling into the pose as if she’d planned it.


“Well,” she said, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips, “You promised to seduce me. I’m just making it a little easier.”


Tara swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, fingers tightening in her own dress.


“Buffy helped me pick it out,” Willow added, clearly pleased with herself.


Tara finally dragged her gaze upward.


“I thought you just got your make-up done.”


Willow pushed off the frame and crossed the room toward her.


“That’s what I wanted you to think,” she said, catching Tara’s jacket and pulling her in, “So you better take me on this romantic dinner…”


She leaned in, just close enough.


“…so we can get to dessert.”


Tara’s eyes dropped again before she could stop them.


Willow followed her gaze and beamed.


“I know. Look at those.”


“I literally can’t do anything but,” Tara admitted, forcing herself to look back up, “Maybe you should wear a jacket.”


Willow stepped in closer instead, pressing lightly against her.


“Oh, you wanna keep me all to yourself?”


Tara made a small, helpless sound that was not a denial.


“Nope,” Willow went on, entirely unrepentant, “You get to look at this all night. Consider it a fraction of what I deal with every day.”


She hooked a finger under Tara’s chin and kissed her. Slow and deliberate, just enough to make Tara melt into it.


A gentle touch of the hand, fingers running through hair.


Everything in her brain very quickly stopped cooperating with the concept of dinner.


Just before that could become a problem, Willow pulled back with a grin.


“Now,” she said brightly, like nothing had happened, “Where are you taking me?”


Tara excused herself to use the bathroom, really just to cool down, and prayed to the goddess Tara to get her through this.


She came out, offered her arm, and picked up her keys. She walked Willow out to the car, blushing at how her gaze kept falling downward. It was a thankfully short drive to Sunset Boulevard as Willow was really laying the confidence on thick.


“Ooh, this is no-prices-on-the-menu fancy!” Willow commented as Tara handed the keys over to the valet.


The restaurant had an upscale black and gray exterior, with an elevated terrace overlooking the strip, the low chatter of voices drifting down from above.


Inside, the space was stylish, dimly lit, and seductive, reminding Willow of a swanky Japanese lounge they’d once been turned away from in Tokyo.


Sure enough, there was a sushi bar where the chefs were preparing rolls and sashimi, and on the corner was a robatayaki grilling area where you could both smell and hear the delightful sounds of searing foods.


Tara gave Willow’s name to the hostess, who glanced Willow up and down during the most discreet of slow blinks.


“Ah, yes. Your table is waiting upstairs.”


“You got us a balcony table?” Willow beamed as she clung onto Tara’s arm, “You are just ticking all those boxes, huh?”


They walked up a small winding staircase and out through the patio doors onto the terrace. There was a cluster of two or four-person tables, but right at the edge sat a large family-style table, already filled.


…with their family, Willow realized after a split second, just as they all saw her too, and burst out with ‘Happy Birthday!’ in varying degrees of volume.


Willow blinked in surprise, her breath catching as she took in the faces of her friends who had pretended to leave but secretly stayed; of Kimberly, Jeff, and even Donny, who had taken Sally off their hands for the day and was now playing with chopsticks with Dawn at the end of the table. Even Mrs. Summers, who must have brought Dawn and–


She spun around to Tara, wide-eyed.


“You let me wear this in front of my dad?!” she hissed in a whisper.


“I told you to put on a jacket!” Tara whispered back.


Willow’s teeth gritted.


“You didn’t try very hard!”


Tara raised her eyebrow.


“How would you have reacted if I shoved my chest in your face and challenged you to deal with it?!”


Willow’s nose scrunched sheepishly, and she leaned in to kiss Tara’s cheek.


“You can make it up to me later.”


She turned back around, pulling the bottom of her dress a little more past her thighs, and moved forward to the table.


“Dad, Mom! Wow, hi!”


She moved around the table, hugging everyone in turn.


“We tricked you!” Xander grinned at her.


“Tricksters!” Willow laughed, her legs shifting uncomfortably under the short dress.


“I didn’t know you were going to wear that tonight,” Buffy whispered as Willow passed by, “You said you wanted to wear it to dinner with Tara.”


“I thought I was going to dinner with Tara,” Willow replied through gritted teeth.


Buffy’s eyebrows slowly rose on her face.


“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening slightly as her voice dropped, “Oh no.”


Ira wrapped his arms around his daughter, beaming with pride.


“Oh, Happy Birthday, bubbalah! Were you surprised? I’ve been dying to tell you for weeks.”


“So surprised!” Willow replied, closing her arms around him, “I certainly didn’t expect…all this!”


Truthfully, she hadn’t even noticed her parents not contacting her up to now; it wasn’t exactly out of character.


“Willow,” Sheila kissed her daughter's cheek, “Happy Birthday.”


No barbed comment about finally being an adult and maybe now acting like one didn’t follow, a bonus.


“Thanks, Mom.”


Sheila’s eyes flitted up and down.


“I don’t think I’ve seen this much of your skin since you were born.”


Willow forced a smile.


Still, couldn’t expect perfection. And so far, her 21st had far exceeded any previous from her parents. They actually showed up.


“You look amazing, sweetie,” Joyce called from the end of the table with a dramatic wink, clearly already wine drunk.


Confirmed by a terse ‘mom’ called out from Buffy.


“Thank you,” Willow smiled back as she took her seat, “If you think this is skimpy, you should see some of the people at Hamburger Mary’s.”


Sally dropped her napkin into her lap dramatically.


“Did you go to gay brunch without me?!”


“We would never,” Tara promised from her seat beside Willow and dropped a quick kiss on her head.


“Oh, well…” Ira turned slightly red, but was thankfully relieved when the waitress came to get their drinks order.


He cleared his throat and caught the attention of the table.


“I would like to buy Willow her first-ever alcoholic drink. Apart from a few sips of ceremonial wine, of course!”


There was an awkward lull around the table. Xander’s hand discreetly wrapped around Anya’s shoulder to creep up and cover her mouth. Buffy had to clear her throat to stop a laugh, and Kimberly obviously shifted in her seat.


Tara’s eyes went wide, and Sally’s nose scrunched as she started to laugh.


“Willow dr–”


Though Tara was above kicking a child, she wasn’t above poking her in the side, and Sally promptly shut up.


“Wow, Dad, thanks,” Willow chuckled nervously, “I, um, I wouldn’t even know what to get!”


Before Ira had a chance to respond, or recommend a glass of the Rioja Reserva he was drinking himself, Willow turned to the waitress and handed her back the alcohol menu.


“I’ll have a spicy margarita, salt, not sugar rim, on the rocks.”


Ira blinked twice while Tara smiled at the server.


“Same for me, zero-proof please,” she said before turning to the table, “I ordered the Izakaya menu in advance, but people can order whatever they want.”


“Is she the actress in that movie we like?” Dawn asked.


Sally nodded enthusiastically.


“The one married to the British dude!”


“No, sweetie, it’s like Japanese tapas,” Tara explained gently, “They serve us all the best dishes so we can try everything.”


Willow met Tara’s eyes and smiled.


“Tara and I went to this tiny place near Temma Station in Osaka when we were there and got Izakaya,” she said, taking Tara’s hand under the table, “It was…amazing.”


She left out the part about them getting drunk on sake and running through Ōgimachi Park to get back to their hostel to fool around.


“And I thought it would be nice to share it with our family,” Tara tried to hide her blush under the dim lights.


“A lovely idea,” Ira concurred, “I’m always happy to expand my palate!”


“Well, I’m relieved to hear you weren’t the kind of Americans who only went to McDonald's when they were overseas,” Sheila added drolly.


“Although if you do find yourself hungry at the Manila Airport, I can recommend the McSpaghetti,” Willow joked and got a laugh around the table.


“Can I have another Coke?” Sally asked as she slurped the last of her drink through her straw.


“You want a mocktail?” Tara asked.


Sally’s brow lowered, unsure whether to admit her ignorance.


“I dunno…what is it exactly?”


“They mix you together a special drink with juices instead of alcohol,” Tara explained, “I saw some fancy ones on the menu.”


Sally eyed Dawn, and they both nodded.


“Sure!”


They decided on a ‘Sunkiss’, a mix of pomegranate, lime juice, and mint with a cherry on top.


“Hhmph,” Willow pretended to turn her nose up, though it didn’t hide her small grin, “In my day, you got a Shirley Temple, and you were glad of it.”


“Willow always let me eat her cherry,” Xander added, then immediately blushed when the table went silent.


“She didn’t know she wanted Tara’s cherry yet,” Anya, actually trying to be helpful, explained.


More silence, until Sally clicked her tongue in annoyance at the thought.


“Nobody’s getting my cherry!”


“No way, it’s the best part!” Dawn agreed, and she and Sally shared earnest nods.


Laughter, some awkward, some relieved, but enough to break everyone out into new conversations.


Except for Sally and Dawn, who exchanged a confused look and quickly snatched their cherries from their drinks as soon as they arrived.


The food arrived shortly after and was spectacular.


There was yakatori chicken, karaage, tempura vegetables with edamame and cucumber salads, grilled squid and scallops, with endless gyoza and takoyaki circulating around the table. They served sake and Japanese beer to those who wanted it and kept wine and cocktails topped up for those who preferred them.


The sun had set by the time plates were cleared, but the restaurant had heaters, and it was still warm enough to be pleasant outside but dark enough that the sparklers atop Willow’s birthday cake lit up the whole patio.


An out-of-sync but very loving chorus of Happy Birthday was sung as a server brought the cake to Willow and placed it in front of her.


It was a double-layer puff pie cake layered with fresh cream, Japanese strawberries, and beautiful heart-shaped chocolates, but the real beauty was shown when the fireworks died out, and Willow got a proper look at the cake.


Specifically, its shape.


“Oh man,” Buffy muttered, “They gave you an ‘n’ instead of a ‘w’.”


“It’s not an ‘n’,” Willow said, her voice overcome with emotion, “It’s Pi.”


She turned to Tara, tears in her eyes.


“It’s a Sweetie Pi,” she said, cupping Tara’s face, “From my sweetie pie.”


She leaned in and pressed a long, chaste kiss on Tara’s lips, to various sounds around the table.


Using her hand in Tara’s, she pressed her five fingers, then three, then drew a circle, knowing Tara would know their 5-3-0 code for ‘I love you’ they’d learned in China.


“Can we eat it or what?” Sally asked, and Willow exclaimed a loud ‘yes’ as the cake was cut up and passed around.


As everyone was eating cake, Ira turned his chair to Willow and handed her an envelope discreetly.


“Oh, thank you,” Willow smiled politely.


“Open it,” Ira encouraged.


Willow looked slightly confused but did so, pulling out a single card instead of the usual check she was expecting.


“It’s a…business card.”


Ira nodded.


“My friend Peter. He works here in LA,” he explained, lifting Willow’s chin to smile at her, “He’s under instruction to help you begin an investment portfolio and is keeping your initial investment in a high-yield savings account until you’re able to make the appointment to go and diversify.”


Willow closed her arms around Ira.


“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, before adding, “I’ll make the appointment.”


“I thought Tara might like to go with you, so I’ve told him to anticipate you both,” Ira replied with a hopeful little smile.


Willow put her hand on her heart and mouthed ‘thank you’.


Sheila shuffled her seat over at that point and handed a rectangular box across Ira to Willow.


“I know you enjoy your notes and doodles and whatnot. I thought this might be appropriate.”


Willow did a slight double-take but accepted the gift. She carefully peeled back the wrapping and lifted the lid on the box inside.


Inside, nestled in soft fabric, was a pen. A beautiful blue Japanese fountain pen.


“I suppose I was inspired when Tara told us she’d made reservations at a Japanese restaurant,” Sheila said with a small clearing of her throat.


Willow lifted it out and was surprised first at how warm it felt in her palm, almost like it was an extension of her hand. Then, as she twirled it around, the lacquer inside the pen deepened, revealing layers of color beneath the surface. It felt almost molded to her grip, and when she did an experimental doodle on a napkin, it came out with ease, answering every movement of her hand.


“They tailor it to your writing style,” Sheila said nonchalantly, “I found some old school papers of yours, and they were able to find your pressure point and such.”


Willow was almost shaking, not from the gift itself, but from what it meant.


An actual gift, from her mother, that was completely about Willow and not what Sheila wanted from her.


Willow didn’t think she could have asked for anything more.


“Thank you,” she said as she looked up, her shaken voice prompting Tara to turn to her and put a hand on her arm.


Willow shook her head that she was okay, so Tara squeezed her arm and turned back to talking with Joyce.


“This means a lot,” she said, meeting her mother’s eyes for the first time in a while, “I’ll treasure it.”


She gave them both a hug and tucked her pen away carefully with a huge smile on her face.


As she turned back around to the table, Sally thrust a whole pile of red tissue paper in Willow’s direction, wrapped as clumsily as Willow herself might have done.


“I made this for you or whatever,” Sally shrugged one shoulder.


Willow just smiled and brushed some layers of tissue away until she revealed what was inside.


On a Lego stand were two Lego minifigures, one with shortish red hair and one with long brown hair, standing face to face and holding hands. Behind them was a large red LEGO heart shape built into a grey studded LEGO wall, making it look like they were framed by the heart.


Willow looked up with glassy eyes.


“Is this me and Tara?”


“And Miss Kitty Fantastico,” Sally pointed out the Lego cat, her tone betraying her excitement before she sighed dramatically to bring her back to a bored look, “I made it all mushy and stuff like you like.”


“I love it,” Willow smiled and beamed even more when Sally offered a brief, but definitely tangible hug.


As the evening grew to a close and Willow was going around to everyone to say thank you and goodbye, Ira approached Tara and helped her get her jacket on.


“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty, but I have taken care of the meal for everyone and ensured a robust tip for the waiting staff,” he explained gently, “Indulge an old man on his only daughter’s 21st birthday.”


Tara offered Ira a soft hug.


“That was not expected of you, but thank you. I’ll tell Willow.”


“No need,” Ira waved it off, “Thank you for inviting us.”


Tara smiled, joined Willow, and walked with her downstairs and out of the restaurant.


“You’re coming with me,” Kimberly pulled Sally over to Donny’s car, where he and Jeff were waiting.


“I am?” Sally asked.


“She is?” Willow asked, a little giddy from the party and a little tipsy from the alcohol.


Sally shrugged and went with them, while Willow turned back to Tara, confused. Tara smiled and grabbed Willow by the hips.


“And you are coming with me.”


“I am?” Willow asked with all the naivity Sally had asked too.


Tara let her hand slid down into Willow's.


“I believe I promised dessert.”

[Laragh]

---

Made For You

---

When You're With Me, I'll Give You A Taste
I'll Make It Like Your Birthday Every Day
I Know You Like It Sweet, So You Can Have Your Cake
Give You Something Good To Celebrate

Willow's eyes shone with more than the effects of the margaritas as she allowed herself to be spun in Tara’s arms.


“I really hope you don’t mean more cake,” she murmured, giggling when the valet arched his eyebrow at them.


Tara accepted her keys, blushing, and steered Willow toward the passenger seat.


“Wait, we’ve been drinking!” Willow said with wide eyes when Tara started the car.


“You’ve been drinking,” Tara replied with a small smirk, “I’ve been going virgin.”


“Pfft, I took care of that a long time ago,” Willow said smugly.


Tara shook her head as she pulled out of the parking lot.


“Roll down that window and sober up,” she said, tapping the steering wheel, “Or I’ll have to tuck you in like a good girl…instead of giving you that spanking I promised.”


Willow sobered up fast. Not completely, but enough to make sure there was no excuse not to extend the celebrations into the night.


“Where are we going?”


“Well, Mom offered to sleep over at ours to take care of Sally…” Tara replied as Willow watched every twitch of her moving lips, “And you made my 21st so special, so…I wanted to return the favor.”


“I-I like returning the favor,” Willow said, smacking her own lips together.


Tara turned just enough to give Willow a crooked smile.


“Luckily, we aren’t far.”


Tara wasn’t lying. Not even five minutes of light traffic along Sunset later, her turn signal went on, and Willow watched them merge into an uphill driveway. The pavement narrowed with palm trees and hedges closing in on either side.


The large, white building they were driving toward came into view as they continued along the pathway. It was a multi-story building, but it didn’t resemble many of the corporate high-rise hotels in the city; instead, it had old-school features similar to a castle, with a fairytale-like turret to boot.


The drive curved just enough for Willow to get a full hit of the view, and she suddenly realized where they were. She’d seen it in movies, magazines, and newspapers growing up.


“This is Chateau Marmont!”


All at once, the traffic humming, lights flashing, and the city loud and intent on being seen was like a distant memory.


At the top of the driveway, a valet was ready with practiced calm to open their doors simultaneously and quietly take the keys.


Tara looped Willow’s arm with hers as they stepped toward the entrance.


“This is like old school Hollywood! Greta Garbo and James Dean stayed here! So did Marilyn Monroe!” Willow said in awe, before lowering her voice to a stage whisper, “John Belushi died here!”


“The only death I want you thinking about is la petite mort,” Tara winked as she led them inside, her low French guttural R sending a shiver through Willow's spine.


The interior felt almost understated, cooler and quieter, and deliberately un-grand. The furniture looked lived-in, the lighting low and inviting.


Willow didn’t notice, or didn’t question, that Tara had already checked them in earlier that evening. They walked past the desk with a nod from the man at reception and straight to a creaky set of stairs with walls adorned with vintage art and even dimmer lighting.


Their route to their room felt like a winding path of history and warmth. When they got to their room, Tara let them in and held the door open for Willow to walk through.


The bed was the main feature, grand and white like the building itself, but the bathroom was all tile and marble in muted colors. The furniture and décor mismatched as it generally did throughout the hotel, yet somehow felt charming.


Willow walked out to the balcony and almost couldn’t believe the city was so close. A glittering ribbon of headlights traced the street below, but the noise never reached her. Beyond, the Hollywood Hills were dotted with faint glows from the houses dispersed there. She had never felt more glamorous in her life, despite living just down the street for all these years.


Willow rested her hands on the railing for a moment, letting the cool air hit her face. Arms enveloped her from behind, and she let herself fall back into them.


“This is magnificent.”


She wasn’t sure if she meant the view or the night or Tara, but it all felt like one and the same.


Tara’s head ducked to press a soft kiss on Willow’s neck.


“I know you are,” Tara whispered and slid her hands down so they joined just above Willow’s stomach.


Willow’s breath hitched. The words landed heavier, or rather lower, than she expected.


Her dress was so short that Tara’s fingertips could almost touch bare skin.


It was in the mid-50s outside, but Willow felt like she was on fire.


Staying in Tara’s embrace, she spun around and felt like a Hollywood starlet swooning in her lover’s arms.


They were so in sync that Tara didn’t hesitate to dip Willow and kiss her.


Fireworks went off somewhere, and neither cared if they were real or imagined.


Tara laced their fingers together and pulled Willow upright until their bodies pressed flush together.


“I have another gift for you,” she said, her crooked smile doing a lot to try and undo Willow’s poise, “It’s underneath this dress…”


She dropped Willow’s hands onto her chest and let them linger. Willow registered something delightfully lacy under the dress, holding Tara’s breasts up the way she wanted to be so desperately.


Tara led Willow over to the bed and guided her to sit.


“But first things first.”


She walked over to the little table where Willow noticed a champagne bottle on ice for the first time. Tara positioned her thumbs around the cork to open it, and the pop echoed low in Willow’s body. She watched Tara’s fingers deftly send it sailing through the air, bouncing harmlessly onto the carpet.


She shifted slightly on the mattress, as if she could hide the reaction.


Tara poured champagne halfway into the two flutes sitting beside the bucket.


She returned to Willow with a sashay that Willow could only describe as tauntingly seductive. Tara used her knees to guide Willow back against the headboard and sat in her lap. She offered one flute to Willow, and their fingers brushed as Willow took it, neither pulling away right away. Tara then crossed their wrists so they drank from each other’s glasses.


“Happy birthday, my love,” she said, tilting the glass in her hand in celebration and offering.


Without breaking her gaze, Willow took a sip from Tara’s glass while tipping hers for Tara to do the same.


The grazing of their wrists was far more erotic than it had any business being, and the glasses barely made it onto the nightstand with a mouthful left in each.


Willow grabbed at Tara’s hips, bunching the material of the dress up into her fists so she could pull it over Tara’s head and reveal what was underneath.


She drew in a slow breath as she took in the beauty waiting below.


Tara was wearing a unique turquoise bralette that hugged her perfectly. It had thin blue shoulder straps and structured cups that showed off everything she had to offer. White lace extended below the cups into a decorative, semi-sheer band, giving it a cropped look that allowed the end of her rib tattoo to just peek out at the bottom.


Below were matching high-waisted briefs with sheer lace detailing across the front and sides, finished with a satin-like panel at the center and a small bow teasing Willow with its proximity to where she wanted to be most.


She exhaled and dragged her eyes up to Tara’s face.


“Wow. Wow is…insufficient, but it’s all I’ve got.”


Tara ran her thumbs along the inner waistband of the panties.


“I made it.”


Willow’s chest tightened unexpectedly.


Not just because of how it looked, but because Tara had thought about her while making it. Every stitch felt personal.


She blinked slowly, taking in every curve of fabric, every brush of lace, every thread stitched to draw her eye and highlight the places Willow loved to look at most.


“I thought you just brought your sewing machine down from Sunnydale so you could teach Sally how to make those DJ Tarot patches…”


“I did,” Tara replied, watching Willow watch her, “But I needed a little practice myself since it had been a while and well…”


She reached into the front of her panties and rested her hand there.


“I thought you deserved an extra something special.”


Willow exhaled slowly, trying to release the tension rolling through her body.


“You bring a whole new meaning to ‘homemade gifts’. How will I ever compete?”


She didn’t actually want to. She just wanted to stay right here, being someone Tara chose to make things for.


Tara smirked to one side.


“Wait ‘til you see what I sent you on our app.”


She lifted her hand from her underwear and put her fingers on Willow’s bottom lip. Willow smelled the arousal first. Her breath caught, lips parting before she even realized why. Then her tongue darted forward, brushing between Tara’s fingers.


It had barely connected when Tara pulled back, and Willow’s whole body followed on instinct, a small, helpless movement she couldn’t stop.


Tara splayed her hands over Willow’s stomach, knowing that even through the dress, the heat would pour through.


Willow’s squirm indicated that she was right.


As revealing as the dress had felt earlier, now it felt like a straitjacket.


Tara lifted one of the glasses of champagne and drank the tiniest of sips before letting the last little bit ‘miss’ her mouth.


The majority fell onto her breasts, making them glisten under the dim lights, while the rest fell in slow rivulets down Tara’s stomach onto Willow’s exposed thighs.


“Oh no,” Tara said softly, though her eyes gave her away.


She let the silence sit for just a second too long.


“I’m all wet.”


Willow sat up so their faces had barely a breath between them. After locking Tara’s gaze for a tense, lidded moment, she turned her lips into Tara’s neck, kissing the path the champagne had taken, landing with her face pressed squarely between a pair of soft breasts.


Tara leaned her head back and held Willow to her for several seconds before gently pulling Willow’s head back and giving her a kiss that was anything but gentle.


Willow moved onto her knees and started pulling on the skirt of her dress, but it wouldn’t lift past her chest. She let out a small, frustrated breath when it caught.


Tara placed her hands on Willow’s thighs and gave them a quick squeeze that said patience. She reached behind Willow’s neck, pulled the zip down, and let the fabric fall from her shoulders, bunching at her knees.


Tara’s hips shifted with arousal.


“I love it when you don’t wear a bra.”


Willow glanced down at her bare chest, where light pink indentations in her skin indicated where she’d been held together all night.


“That dress was doing a lot of work.”


Tara put her palm between Willow’s breasts and pushed her back down to the pillows.


“That body is doing everything.”


Her mouth replaced her hand, and she kissed circles around Willow’s breasts as Willow kicked her dress down her knees and to the floor.


That first brush of stomachs together always drove Willow wild; it invoked the same response in her as the first time they had sex, with all of the longing and fervor that moment had built up.


She inhaled sharply, bracing without meaning to.


Her hands curved around Tara’s waist, pulling them together. Tara placed deliberate kisses along Willow’s neck, elongating that abdominal press and letting Willow feel the soft lace against her skin.


Every thread woven with her appreciation in mind.


Willow almost couldn’t stand the eroticism of the creation of something made just for her eyes, just for her body to respond to.


Made because Tara enjoyed Willow enjoying her.


She felt so connected and cared for. She grabbed Tara’s cheeks to express that through a kiss.


A little tongue slipped in, but how could she hold back with satin-covered ass in her hands and her nipples hardening with every thrust of their chests together.


Tara’s hands found Willow’s underwear, an equally lacy pair that had been chosen to be enjoyed taking off, and though they flew down her legs in seconds, both of them very much enjoyed the process, especially when Tara opened Willow’s legs in front of her and raked her eyes over her girlfriend’s naked body.


“You look so hot in nothing but my earrings,” Tara reached down and rubbed her thumbs over Willow’s lobes, before letting her fingers fall down to the ‘T’ pendant around her neck, “And my name.”


She brought their palms together and linked their fingers so their heart bracelets dangled together.


“And my heart.”


“Guess I’m all yours,” Willow replied, keeping herself open wantonly as she brought their joined fingers between her legs and left Tara’s hand there, “Look who’s all wet now.”


Tara pressed her palm against Willow’s mound and, with halting precision, dragged it down so Willow got just the lightest of friction, just enough to make her arousal evident on Tara’s fingertips.


Never breaking Willow’s gaze, she popped her three slick fingers into her mouth in quick succession, licking each pad with a slow flick of her tongue. She then dropped her hand, rolling them over Willow’s clit.


Willow’s eyes flickered once, like she almost looked away, but didn’t dare.


Willow’s body melted back into the bed, her breath catching on a sharper inhale. Tara gathered more wetness with her fingers until her mouth yearned to be in their place. She hesitated for half a breath, her hands still splayed on Willow’s thighs, feeling the heat there.


Then she shifted, letting her knees slide further down the bed so she could lie between Willow’s legs. She splayed a hand on either of Willow’s inner thighs, pulled her down until her mouth was close, and teased them both with her breath on hot skin.


She pressed a long, lingering kiss against the top of Willow’s mound, sliding her hand up around the curve of Willow’s hipbone until her fingers tapped along Willow’s stomach.


Willow let out a low sound of need, a soft hum that vibrated past her lips and traveled down her body. Tara kissed just a tad lower, and her fingertips moved higher, teasing Willow’s nipple.


She could feel Willow getting wetter under her mouth and almost involuntarily let her tongue slip out to caress and collect it.


“God, yes.”


The moan fell out of Willow with an accompanying arch, both with such intensity as if she hadn’t been touched in days or months or years, and not the very recent past.


But that was always how Tara made her feel: like it was the first time, the last time, the best time; like a new depth inside her had been found.


It wasn’t just the sensation but the familiarity of it. The way Tara knew exactly where to be, like she’d mapped her out completely.


In the same vein, Tara feasted as if she didn’t know where her next meal was coming from; messy and hungry, but every bit savored.


Her short nails dug lightly into Willow’s skin, replacing the marks from her tight dress with ones of undiluted passion, sending jolts through her sizzling body in the moment and reminders for later.


With Willow’s thighs quivering against her ears, Tara let her fingers circle Willow’s opening. Willow’s muscles tried to pull her inside, and she felt the same unyielding urge. She slowed her tongue movements around Willow’s clit to a stop and looked up, enjoying a slow ravage of Willow’s body with her eyes. She climbed above Willow, one hand placed atop each shoulder so they were face to face.


Willow’s lips were bruised and parted, her breath coming in short exhales as her body tried to catch up with the desire coursing through her.


“Don’t stop,” she managed to rasp, groaning when Tara rubbed their glistening bodies together.


Tara pressed her lips on Willow, rough but tender at the same time, and sat up and back, bringing Willow with her. She grabbed Willow’s hips, settling her in her lap without ever breaking stride or their kiss.


Willow naturally wrapped her legs around Tara, and Tara’s hand naturally returned to where they both wanted it most. She paused, just for a second, letting Willow feel exactly what was about to happen.


Then she pushed her fingers inside.


“Yessss,” Willow sighed as she did a small bounce and threw her head back.


Her next bounce was bigger, and Tara felt Willow’s butt land on her thighs and move up again as Willow took her fingers over and over.


Unable to resist the proximity and to fulfil her promise from earlier, she lifted her other hand, hovering for just a second, long enough for Willow to realize and gloriously anticipate what was to come, then brought it firmly down on the curve of Willow’s bottom.


She felt Willow’s reaction inside and out.


Inside, Willow grew so slick that Tara had to grip the sheet with her spare hand to keep them steady. Outside, the sound that left Willow’s throat, coming right from her core, rushed past Tara’s ears and left a hot, dropping sensation in her stomach.


Tara moved her thumb so she hit Willow’s clit with each thrust and felt the responding grind as Willow’s hips twisted into her.


Tara placed a kiss on the hollow of Willow’s exposed throat, nipping just slightly. Her own toes curled when an answering squeeze tightened around her fingers. Hungrier kisses made their way to Willow’s neck until she was under her ear.


“Don’t take your eyes off me.”


She lifted her gaze to meet Willow’s lidded eyes. Willow immediately locked on and obeyed the request.


God, she loved it when Tara took control.


Willow rested her forehead on Tara’s forehead, pressing their chests together so that only her hips rocked back and forth in Tara’s lap. Her vocalizations grew longer, but her eyes didn’t move, staring deeply back at Tara while that ball in her belly grew more and more taut.


She held on until the very last second, when it erupted inside her, and her eyes shut tight, as she pulled Tara closer, taking every inch of her inside. Her grip tightened, fingers digging in as every delicious wave coursed through her.


Tara kept her hand still for Willow to control and kissed all over her neck with tiny butterfly kisses.


Willow’s breath evened out as the pulsations deep inside slowed to a delicious warmth. For a few seconds, she didn’t move at all.


Just felt it.


Every bit of love Tara had expressed, physical and emotional, lingered in the stillness, the heavy air holding onto her like a hug.


She lifted her head enough to land her lips on Tara’s lips, kissing her sloppily with a happy murmur.


“You slapped Roxy,” she giggled, grinning when Tara looked slightly confused, “Roxy the rump rat.”


Tara smiled, and she peered over Willow’s shoulder to the little rat inked there, who had a small, red hand mark over it.


“I didn’t know we named her.”


Willow tried to look serious.


“I was waiting to serve you with rat support papers.”


She couldn’t hold it, and her giggle made Tara giggle as they fell back onto the bed to rest on the pillows again.


Willow rolled toward Tara and wrapped her arms around her, pulling Tara’s head to her chest, where Tara could hear her still-hammering heartbeat. Willow played with Tara’s hair, her fingers slower, more absent-minded. She felt full in a way that had everything and nothing to do with her body at all.


There were a few minutes of quiet enjoyment as Willow caught her breath. When she felt that jelly-legged feeling leave her lower half, she lifted Tara’s chin to face her and pressed their lips together with the utmost softness.


“Only one thing could make this birthday better…” she whispered against Tara’s lips as she caressed Tara’s cheek with kisses.


The dull ache between Tara’s legs that she had been quelling ignited again with full force as Willow’s hand dropped to palm her breast through her bra.


“W-what?”


Willow freed Tara’s breast from the fabric and rolled her nipple between two fingers.


“Getting these gorgeous-but-far-too-concealing things off of you.”


She squeezed Tara’s breast again before pulling her hand behind to snap the hooks free. She pulled it down Tara’s arms from the front and immediately dropped her face between Tara’s breasts, kissing and nuzzling everywhere she could.


Willow continued to pepper kisses down Tara’s stomach, but her hands were quicker than her lips, yanking Tara’s underwear cleanly down her legs.


Tara parted her thighs as she was laid bare, and Willow placed a single finger over Tara’s mound, sliding it side to side like a metronome before letting it dip lower.


Tara’s legs fell open, and Willow grinned like the Cheshire cat.


Keeping her hand where it was, she climbed above Tara and placed her other hand above Tara’s shoulder to steady her. She dropped to nuzzle their noses together, feeling Tara’s breath coming in short bursts against her face.


She dipped her fingers lower and lower, watching Tara’s eyelids flutter with increasing arousal until, with one sudden movement, she captured Tara’s lips and entered her with two slick fingers.


Tara’s back arched so hard she nearly broke the kiss, but Willow held firm and kept them attached. She swallowed every sharp moan as it vibrated through Tara into her and was returned as Willow felt herself swallowed by soft heat.


She flicked her wrist back a few times, circling inside Tara as she felt her inner muscles surrender to her touch.


“You’re so wet,” Willow moaned, the only reason she’d been able to do such a move to begin with.


Tara’s hips rocked with the unyielding desire coursing through her. Her teeth lightly indented Willow’s bottom lip, and her hands flew to Willow’s behind, rubbing and caressing over the imprint of her hand still present.


Willow reached deep for a few strokes, using Tara’s hands on her butt as leverage, but a few glances downward sent her into sensory overload, and in seconds she found her mouth devouring all she had earned.


Tara’s eyebrows shot up into her head and were slow to return to their normal place as Willow’s tongue flicked and rolled over her most sensitive spots with an expertise only she could know. She wanted to elongate the experience, to let Willow drive her to the edge and back like she was oh-so-capable of doing; to be a trembling, quivering mess — but she was so wet and Willow’s tongue was right there and so with one indulgent push of Willow’s head against her, her thighs quaked and a short, sharp burst of pleasure tore through her.


Her breath stuttered as if it caught on something falling through her body, something she couldn't quite catch until it landed between her legs and pulsed from her.


Her toes had barely uncurled when Willow’s tongue was on her clit like a Tootsie Roll pop, licking her into that trembling, quivering mess a lot faster than she thought possible. Willow threw Tara’s legs over her shoulders and worked her with every muscle in her jaw working overtime.


Tara tried to come down.


But she didn’t quite make it.


She felt the sweat burst out from her brow first, then her heart pounding outside her chest, then what felt like her whole spirit leave her as her body was wracked by the force of her second orgasm.


Somewhere, Willow’s fingers slid into her again, but not to tantalize, just to finish that feeling of utter completion. They rested there, making her whole, while Willow curled into her side and held her while her heartbeat calmed down.


“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Willow whispered as her tongue cleaned her own lips.


Her voice was softer with each one.


Tara raised every ounce of energy she had to bring her arm around Willow and pull her in somehow even closer. She gave Willow’s fingers a gentle little squeeze inside, causing Willow to let out a little moan, which she buried in Tara’s neck.


They fell asleep just like that in a tangled doze, though neither meant to, and not for the whole night.


They would be sure to make use of their special room for all the time they had it.

---

A leisurely morning romp, a relaxed breakfast on the balcony, and a second, much more frantic roll in the shower somehow left Willow and Tara feeling suspiciously well-rested as they checked out of the hotel and the valet retrieved their car.


“I swear that was Leonardo DiCaprio on the next balcony!” Willow hissed excitedly as she buckled up.


“I’ve heard he’s a real jerk,” Tara replied plainly.


“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly a world-renowned great guy, but we still saw him vaping with his chick of the week,” Willow said with an exaggerated nod of her head.


“She looked about 17,” Tara countered as they began to descend the driveway.


Willow frowned.


“You’re really not making this easy, and it’s my birthday and–ohmygodisthatTessaThompson?!?”


It wasn’t, but Tara let her have it. It was her birthday after all – or at least her birthday weekend.


As Willow tried to take photos of not-Tessa-Thompson surreptitiously, her email pinged, and she brought her phone into her lap to check it.


Right as Tara was pulling back onto the traffic-laden, noisy Sunset Boulevard, Willow suddenly let out the loudest laugh, making Tara jump. She gripped the wheel to maintain control as a car sped past her, holding down the horn.


“What, what is it?” she asked, flicking her eyes toward Willow.


“We just got a collaboration request,” Willow replied with such mirth that her lips curled.


Tara waited for some elaboration.


“With another DJ?” she asked.


She usually declined those requests. Part of her appeal, she thought, was her ability to hide her dorkiness behind the music.


She knew DJing wasn’t forever, but it was for right now, and she didn’t want to lose their income stream when they had rent to pay and a kid to feed.


Not to mention the little perks like being able to take her girl for a night at the Chateau Marmont.


“Not exactlyyy,” Willow replied, elongating the last syllable, “Naughtyybutnicee – two ‘y’s, two ‘e’s – has asked if we’re open to OnlyFan collabs. Said she was at your last show and would like to ‘explore your commitment to rhythm away from the decks’.”


Tara was quiet for a long moment, ostensibly keeping her eye on the road.


“OnlyFans?” she asked eventually, unsure, “That’s…basically porn, right?”


“I think they call themselves ‘adult content creators’,” Willow replied, biting her lip to hold back laughter.


Tara blinked several times.


“People actually do that?”


“Porn?” Willow asked with a raised eyebrow.


Tara’s brow furrowed.


“I mean…ask…normal, or um…not…porn…people to be on their porn ch– um, adult content channel?”


“Apparently,” Willow replied and ran her hand along Tara’s thigh with a purr, “I would be mad, but you’ve taken such good care of me in the last 24 hours, I can’t help someone else wanting a little piece.”


Tara’s cheeks reddened.


“Don’t be ridiculous. The only videos I make are for you.”


That reminded Willow she had some as-yet unclaimed gifts in their app.


Still, that blush was too delicious not to tease.


“Hmm…maybe you’d be ‘VixenVoltage’,” she suggested, waggling her eyebrows, “Or DJTarotUnveiled!”


“The only one I’m unveiling myself to is you,” Tara replied firmly, though a crooked smile played on her lips, “NerdyNymphWillow.”


Willow looked shocked for a moment before grinning.


“I like that better than geek-infested roots,” she said as she brought her phone back in front of her, “So that is a polite ‘no’ to Naughtyybutnicee.”


“But wish her well,” Tara offered, then continued when Willow raised an eyebrow, “What? Everyone needs to make a living.”


“We support women entrepreneurs,” Willow nodded definitively, “But with our words instead of our pussies.”


“Word of mouth, not use of mouth,” Tara agreed, and they both giggled.


Parking the car in front of the apartment, minutes later, their hands swung into each other, and their shoulders rubbed as they walked in.


Sally was lying on the floor stuffing her face with pancakes while Jeff and Kimberly drank coffee on the couch. Everyone looked up as they entered, and Jeff respectfully removed his arm from around Kimberly’s shoulders.


“Welcome home,” Kimberly greeted and stood up to hug them.


“Did you know in France they call pancakes ‘crepes’?” Sally asked around a mouthful.


“I did,” Willow nodded, “I’ve eaten them there.”


“Did you eat them with Nutella?” Sally asked, her chocolate-streaked face indicating she very much had.


Willow shook her head.


“I ate them with jambon and stinky cheese.”


Sally’s face twisted in disgust, which made Jeff laugh.


Kimberly looked behind at them fondly before looking back at Willow and Tara.


“How was your night?”


Willow glanced over at Tara and lifted their conjoined hands to kiss Tara’s knuckles.


“Amazing,” they breathed out together.


Their gazes stayed locked for a long moment before they remembered where they were. They both blushed as Tara looked back at her mother.


“Was everything okay?”


Kimberly nodded.


“I think Jeff has turned Sally into a Star Trek fan.”


Willow’s mouth dropped.


“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you to watch that for months!”


Sally scoffed.


“You didn’t tell me it came from what the guy’s college roommate would say in his sleep!” she said, wiping her mouth with her pajama sleeve as she kicked herself up into a sitting position, “I’ve been working on a whole musical about the things you say in your sleep for weeks! It's uh…what did you call it, Jeff?”


“Kismet,” Jeff supplied helpfully.


Willow did a double-take, and Sally stood up to dramatically dance.


“It’s 2am, I have to pee. Willow’s buzzing like a bee. Mumbled something ’bout the cat, and where she left her favorite hat.”


She did an exaggerated bow and straightened up with a grin.


“It’s a work in progress. I wrote some last night with your new pen.”


“I did hide it after that,” Kimberly said reassuringly.


Sally scowled.


“Why? You always say it’s nice to share.”


Jeff indicated for Sally to come to her and whispered something in her ear. Sally’s eyes bugged.


“THAT PEN COST HOW MUCH!?” she asked, shooting her gaze to Willow, “Does it do your homework for you?! Does it fly?? Why in the Tartarus would a pen cost so much??”


“Jeff was teaching her some Greek mythology,” Kimberly explained, and then clapped her hands, “And I think that’s our cue to get on the road.”


“Thank you so much for staying the night,” Tara said, hugging her mother again.


“Our pleasure,” Kimberly returned and went to hug Sally before they got on their way.


Tara had Sally bring her dishes to the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her mouth.


“Were you okay with Mom and Jeff?”


Sally flicked the paper towel away but nodded.


“They’re cool,” she agreed, batting Tara away with the wipe, “For grown-ups.”


She hesitated, glancing down.


“Jeff said he and your mom would come to the Mathlympic finals. If I wanted.”


“Do you?” Tara prompted in a searching tone.


Sally shrugged one shoulder.


“He knows math from making change all day,” she said, running her upper teeth over her lower lip, “He says your friend Anya does money dances. I asked if it was like a rain dance, and he said it was more like a ‘danse macabre’ she didn’t know she was leading. I didn't really know what that meant.”


Tara blinked.


“Oh.”


There was a pause before Sally spoke again in a manner that very much mimicked Jeff.


“Is capitalism really the ruination of us all?”


Tara squeezed Sally’s shoulder.


“Political economic guilt can probably wait until you’re at least 13.”


Sally grinned.


“Phew!” she said, placing her hands on her hips, “I didn’t wanna have to stop buying K-Pop Demon Hunters stuff.”
 

Tara bent down on her knee to Sally’s level.


“Let me tell you a secret,” she said, leaning in close to be conspiring, “You’re allowed to find joy in whatever you find joy in. No one is a paradigm of virtue. Jeff may not like capitalism, but he still owns a store. As long as you treat people right and stay true to yourself, it’s okay to like whatever you like.”


Unexpectedly, Sally hugged Tara unprompted. Tara closed the hug and patted her back.


“There’s my girls.”


Tara stood, and Willow popped a kiss on her lips. Sally rolled her eyes.


“Gross. Didn’t you get that out of your system?”


“Never, I’m afraid,” Willow replied, sticking her tongue out behind Tara’s back.


Sally shook her head and pushed past them.


“I’m going to go write more of my musical.”


“She talked about spaghetti shoelaces last night,” Tara added helpfully, earning a betrayed look from Willow.


Sally chuckled and made her way toward her bedroom. Along the way, she noticed the Lego gift she had given Willow the night before had a new addition: a slightly smaller girl figure with brown hair standing between Willow and Tara, and petting Miss Kitty. She glanced over to Willow, who had suspiciously come over from that corner. Not letting Willow see her smile, she continued to her bedroom.


“Did I really say that?” Willow pouted as she and Tara went to sit on the couch.


Tara laughed and lowered her voice.


“No, I knocked you out so hard you didn’t even drool.”


Willow pursed her lips, but her eyes betrayed her grin.


“I can’t even be mad at you, because,” she leaned in to whisper in Tara’s ear, “When you bent me over that escritoire, I was screaming all kinds of things, I'm pretty sure I lost my voice.”


A small shiver went through Tara’s spine, and their lips met again, tender and sensual but containing multitudes.


When they parted, Willow shifted slightly, reaching for her phone in her pocket without fully letting go of Tara.


“Wait,” she murmured, smiling to herself as she opened their app to find the last piece of her birthday gift.


Her breath caught almost immediately.


“Oh…wow. Still not sufficient but…wow.”


Tara tilted her head, watching her reaction with quiet satisfaction.


“Told you,” she said with a small blush but a more igniting smile.


Willow looked back at her, something overwhelmingly sexy and adoring all at once settling in her chest all at once.


“I’m never topping this birthday,” she said, before murmuring very close to Tara’s face, “But you’re absolutely topping me tonight.”


They both giggled as Willow kissed her phone screen and then Tara again.


“I love you so much,” Willow practically whispered with a glaze appearing in her eyes, “Thank you for the best birthday.”


Tara linked their fingers and rested their heads together.


“For this and every year to come…”


Willow squeezed her hand just that little bit tighter.


“Forever.”