Buffyverse Bingo: "Pictures of You" Spuffy Edition
Er, it occurred to me today that my Buffyverse Bingo entry was due - whoops. So guess what I've been doing all day? All of my squares have something to do with one of the worlds in my fic, "Pictures of You" - where Buffy jumps Quantum Leap style into other versions of herself (instead of dying at the end of "The Gift."). Some of these words and images may be considered spoilers, especially for worlds #4 & #5 but think of it as a little preview!
Without a moment to spare, my card is under the first cut and my entries under the second...
Magic
Oath
Maps
Hunger
Priceless
Agony
What are you afraid of
Perfect
Record
Heaven
Damp
Brass Tacks
FREE SPACE
Badass
Discover
Watching helplessly
Hello Darkness
Crime
It's a trap
Exploration
Typo
Play
All’s well that ends well
WTF
Police car
I chose Row #4 horizontally...
"Watching Helplessly" - fic interlude from Buffy #5:
Bound in the best way (next to being bound to her heart forever, which he always would be), his arms were tied in one of her silk scarves to the iron headboard and his ankles shackled in hemp rope to the bedposts. He'd be watching her helplessly if she hadn't blindfolded him. Instead, every sense of his had gone on high alert since he couldn't see. He could smell the melt of the candle wax she'd teased him with earlier, hear the rustle of the sheets next to him, and feel...oh, he could feel everything magnified a hundred times - like her warm, wet tongue running a thrilling streak along the inside of his left thigh, making him buck and jerk against the mattress. He longed to beg, to moan, to cry out from the maddening frustration of wanting her but his sweet girl next door had given him strict orders not to make a sound. She'd also told him not to move and he'd gone and disobeyed with that unsanctioned writhing right there.
"Oh, Spike," she whispered, her voice husky with regret. "You were doing so well, too. Should I gag you now? You promised you'd be good." All he could do was whimper in response. For the past hour, she'd edged him so close to orgasm several times and his cock - hot, throbbing, and weeping - strained upward in silent begging of its own.
Languidly, her lips kissed their way up his thigh, across his hip, along his warm and quivering stomach, resting only a moment on his right nipple and without warning, her blunt teeth struck and caught the pebbled flesh in a delicious bite. He couldn't stop an anguished cry tearing from his throat and immediately her mouth moved to suck on the stinging flesh, leaving him to pant and whine in need.
“Check in with me.” She nuzzled his neck. “Good?”
“So good.”
“Not too tight? Not cutting off any circulation?”
“Just…uh, pinches…just the way I…mmm…like it.”
“Not too nervous then?”
“Not at all. This works like a charm, pet. Love having you in charge. Should’ve done it this way all along.”
“Was this one of your teenage fantasies all the way over across the driveway?” Her voice was teasing and amused.
He grinned back. “Fuck no. I didn’t even know something like this existed. If I had…”
“If you had, you would’ve kept more than motorcycles in your garage. If you had…” she nibbled along his collarbone. “We would’ve been doing a lot more than racing bikes after school.”
Groaning, he let the fantasy have its way with him: his dream girl clad in nothing but his leather jacket and teasing teenage him into the same kind of wanton, trembling mess she made of him right then.
"What do you want, my love?" she asked. "You can tell me."
"You, Buffy. Please you. Please. I want you so much. Need you, baby, God, take me, love. Please take me."
"I guess I'd better," she giggled, rolling on top of him and pulling his blindfold away. "Otherwise we'll be paying the babysitter extra."
"Always worth it," he breathed and let his favorite neighbor maul his mouth with another searing, bruising kiss.
Now he had no choice but to watch her helplessly - and he wouldn’t change it for the world. Not until it was his turn to play.
"Hello Darkness" - a poem that became a Nashville duet from Buffy #2
Hello darkness, you're no friend
You'll never be no friend of mine
Still here I am beneath you
You seem to find me every time.
Maybe I'm not at my worst
Still my best feels far away
And I can't see my own way out
But love finds a way to me...
I'm found
Even in the darkness I am found
To a heart forever I am bound
And I'll never fear the losing
'Cause in his loving arms I will be found
Goodbye darkness, it's been real
But there's a place that's meant for me
The love of my life is in the light
And there's no where I'd rather be
Darkness, you'll be back again
Of that I have no doubt
But even when I'm lost in you
My baby leads me out
I'm found
Even in the darkness I am found
To a heart forever I am bound
And I'll never fear the losing
'Cause in her loving arms I will be found
Bridge:
Shadows will fall
Even in the brightest sun
You can feel the twilight call
But love finds a way
We shine a light through darkest night
To love another day!
"Crime" - playlist and cover art from Buffy #3
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6thrKoehlrP76Uk4Rdsh91?si=yvZN4CO5S8uH_TOf72eGrg
"It's a Trap" - banner/manip/art for Buffy #4
"Exploration" - fic interlude post-Buffy #1
Coach Buffy Summers had some trouble getting her hands dirty.
Really it shouldn’t have been a problem. June 1st had come and gone, the ideal time to start planting annuals. She wouldn’t be able to get bulbs in until September so she had planned to throw all her energies into creating eight well-placed window boxes around the two identical one-story patio homes and a large potted dish garden for each side of the back sliding doors.
But her energies were occupied elsewhere.
From the moment her best friend of fifty years had leaned in to kiss her, Coach’s whole life had turned on its ear. An instant before, she had no idea if a romance with him would even work - if kissing him might be like kissing the brother she’d never had. Then his lips found hers and WHAMMO - she’d actually looked into the sky after to see if she’d been struck by a thunderbolt because yowza. That man could kiss. It felt all amazing, right, and true and something she could never live without again.
Luckily, he looked similarly affected and had shuddered against her when their tongues delicately curled together. “Fucking hell,” he gasped when they wrenched themselves apart for a breath. “We should’ve done that ages ago.” Then their eyes met and they both silently agreed that all things considered, it probably had been better that they had not. Two deceased, beloved spouses and one desperately adored and longed for daughter would’ve been erased from existence if this kiss had happened earlier in their lives. So they’d smiled and basked in the glow that it had happened at all.
From then on, he courted her. They sat at every meal together, he bestowed upon her a kiss at breakfast, a kiss at lunch, a kiss at afternoon tea, a kiss at dinner plus a bonus for dessert, not to mention a snog session at sunset and another kiss goodnight. For every day she remained in the wheelchair, she could feel almost chaste and able to keep her hands relatively to herself. Then Tara and Willow took the chair away, insisting she no longer needed it and then - well, then he insisted on pulling her into his lap because she had to sit somewhere and weren’t the regular chairs just too stiff for her replaced joints? His lap was so warm and inviting, and for the most part, soft. That’s when things started to get a little wild.
She did things she never would’ve in her former life, like sneak into his room after hours to snuggle and bathe in even more kisses. Several times they’d almost gotten caught by the early morning staff who had a staunch rule against any inter-personal mingling between patients in the care facility. But oh, it was worth the chance because every time she’d tiptoe in, he’d lift his head with that look of sweet expectation on his face in the moonlight and a twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes as he rustled the covers back to make room for her. A little thrill of being somewhat naughty would shiver down her spine.
“Hi,” she’d whisper.
“Hello beautiful,” he’d whisper back and reach for her, her body making a zipping noise along the sheets as he pulled her right in to him and nestled her in his arms.
Here she understood something that she’d never really thought about when they were both married and the four of them were such good friends. Coach had loved her Doc since she first saw him at the age of 14 and made up her mind he would be hers. She lavished him with kisses and silk ties, his favorite bourbons and well-thought-out vacations, back rubs and love notes and elaborate parties that made them the envy of their community; he, in turn, spoiled her with the home of her dreams and with boundless security in savings and retirement accounts; gave her no reason to worry about an affair or abuse, nor bankruptcy, gambling or drugs. But to be real, poor Doc didn’t have a romantic bone in his body (nope, not even that one). Oh sure, he enjoyed sex well enough and he thought Buffy hung the moon but he couldn’t quite show it like she could. Yet it had never mattered to her. She simply poured out enough cuddles for both of them. William, on the other hand, doted on Dru as though she were a queen to serve and the lovely, lithe brunette carried herself exactly that way - wearing a pleased smile as though she held some wicked, secret stories behind her dancing brown eyes. He was the first to lead her to any dance floor, would jump up to fix her plate at barbecues and fill her glass at parties, and usually had a “prezzie” for her to find in his jacket pocket. Solicitous and passionate to a fault with a collection of pet names that would make lesser couples blush, he’d taken the idea of courtly love and elevated it to an art. And while Buffy had no doubt Drusilla had loved him, she had never seen the woman return half the affection her husband had bestowed on her. Now so many years later, the two givers had found each other and both seemed a little shocked that they were getting as good as they gave.
At first their overnight rendezvous had started so simply, on the pretense of merely falling asleep next to each another to keep any nightmares at bay. They’d whisper about their plans for the week, share news about Fiona, giggle about stories they’d heard. Then he’d rain soft kisses down her neck and over her lips, she’d kiss his closed eyelids and rest her head on his chest, and they’d soothe each other into dreamland. She craved this time with him to make these discoveries, to solidify the possibility that, yes dammit, they wouldbe good for each other. Only problem was, once they started sharing all they felt, they could barely stop. The more time they spent with each other, the more the fire between them sparked.
He started picking up her hand after breakfast and kissing her palm. Her other hand would wind around the back of his neck and stroke the short, wiry hairs at his nape and rub the tight knot of muscles in his neck that were slowly loosening with her expert ministrations. Grunting, he’d ease his head back and roll those magnificent shoulders in a way that thrilled her. It hadn’t been that many years since he’d stopped doing daily weight training and wow, did it show. That’s when his free hand would roam around her waist and knead her tender flank under her ribs and God, she’d want to jump in his lap right there in the dining room. All before 9 am.
They took to sneaking around the grounds and finding little hideouts behind trees and shrubbery. On the first day they traveled down the path past the care facility to check out the collection of patio apartments in the assisted living village, they found a secluded park with picnic tables, swing-set, and grill for family parties that was usually abandoned and then that became their daily getaway. Under the shade of a weeping willow tree, William pulled his beloved into his arms and let his hands roam all over her body while she sighed and wriggled against him.
“We have to get our own place,” he breathed in her hair. “Before I strip you down and have my way with you in the grass.”
Their evening visits became less innocent, delaying sleep into the early hours in favor of more kissing, more exploration. But calling back to the old-fashioned London gentleman his lovely mum had raised all those decades ago, he staunchly held back from fully consummating their burgeoning relationship. “Not here,” he panted, when he’d get her so frustrated she’d start wantonly begging him to take her. “Not in a bloody hospital. Want you in my own bed under our own roof.” So they’d get creative, her bringing him off with warm hands and tongue, him rocking her against his muscled thigh and knee until she’d cry her release into his neck. “Knew these worthless old legs would be good for something,” he chuckled that first night, then kissed her and began their sweet exploration all over again.
That's it! Hope you enjoy! And if none of this makes sense, you can find "Pictures of You" on both Elysian Fields and Ao3 :)