cordy69: (chocolate)
To participate in the challenge inspired by [ profile] thelittlespanko at [ profile] spanking_world I decided to use a small prompt table from [ profile] 100_tables and write 10 drabbles.
There are plenty more prompts to pick if you are inspired on that post at 100_tables

Here is the result, for those few following this journal, I hope you will find some enjoyable reads ♥

001. Melancholy 002. Anger 003. Happy 004. Lonely 005. Hungry
006. Confused 007. Excited 008. Guilty 009. Stressed 010. Weird

This table links to the spanking world posts, if you are not a member, as soon as I complete all ten, I will repost them here with a link as well :)

001. Melancholy BtVS 002. Anger Angel 003. Happy Angel 004. Lonely Supernatural 005. Hungry Teen Wolf
006. Confused Supernatural 007. Excited X-Files 008. Guilty Angel 009. Stressed Suits 010. Weird Tomorrow People

cordy69: (chocolate)
Title: Love does lead to Forgiveness
Author: [ profile] cordy69
Word count: 372
Character(s): Angel deals with his feelings after the abduction of baby Connor.
Notes: for the Forgiveness Theme at [ profile] angel_hoard

Read more... )

Hope you enjoyed
cordy69: (Default)

Title: Let your Beautiful Light Shine

Author: Cordy69

Words: 291

For the AO 2013 Drabble-a-thon: Inspired by Ats – City Of… (week 1)

Voice over: "Los Angeles. You see it at night and it shines. Like a beacon. People are drawn to it. People and other things. They come for all sorts of reasons…”

Let Your Light Shine... Read here )

Thanks for reading :-)

cordy69: (Spangel)

Title: Disciplined for his Own Good

Author: [ profile] cordy69

Story created for the Spanked Spike Fic/Artathon created by [ profile] whichclothes

Prompt: (22) Angel/Spike - Angel proves that while he may have a soul now, he is still not above disciplining his boy. Prompt is one of sixty-three that can be found here:

Rating: PG-15

Warning: Double spanking, second one could be considered extreme for some…

Word: 2689

Disciplined for his Own Good by Cordy69

Spike was finally ready to leave the private room at the hospital he had recovered in from his tragic encounter with Dana, the damaged slayer. More than the physical trauma, he still almost feels a phantom cut in his arm, it’s the realization that this world was just fucked up, and he, Spike was part of the imbalance.

Spike thought he had made peace with his past deeds years earlier, finding love again with Buffy, working on getting his soul back, fighting the good fight, but Dana brought forth all the little details he had so easily discarded, the deaths that hadn’t mattered, the broken victims he had left behind, and brought forth a desire to maybe get involved into building a better future out there, for those that have no voice, no hope, no options.

Read more... )

cordy69: (C/A 1)
Title: Care Bear with Fangs
Author: Pat
Rating: PG-13 (for swear and erotic wording)
Word Count: 168
Character(s)/Pairing: Angel (circa AtS)
Summary: Angel is riling at the disparaging comment Cordy made about his virility (cough), ie his ability to be a big bad vamp.
First Word: Care
Last Word: Her

For the Spring 2011 Story Tree at Whedonverse and Beyond

Care Bear with fangs... Angel has fangs and he sure knows how to use them! People in the world still shiver over recounting of his exploits. He can't believe Cordelia went there, Care Bear with Fangs... He'll show her how he uses his fangs. On her long, elegant neck, on her white and firm breast, on her toned and creamy thighs... Fuck! He has to get out of this rut.

Cordelia is seating there at her desk; not a care in the world. Looking at the latest fashion issue of a magazine he is sure he is paying for. She is his friend, loyal, trustworthy, beautiful and honest. He supposes if he must face the reality, here is as safe a place to do so. Among friends, in the one place he can call home. Yeah, maybe he is Angel, the Care Bear with Fangs; Beats being Angelus and going on a bloody rampage. The world really ought to thank him! And, he sure ought to thank her!

The End.
cordy69: (C/A 1)

Title: My World unfolds in Dreams
First Word: Skin
Last Word: Fore
Author: Pat
Rating: NC-17 (seriously not work safe)
Word Count: 337
Characters/Pairing: Angel/and the female character of your choice in BtVS and AtS
Summary: Angel is already aware of the curse, he somehow manage to still bed one of his love….
A/N: Set sometimes in AtS.

This is for the 2011 Spring Challenge at Whedonverse and Beyond
This is another story inspired by the word SKIN from A2h story in the Story Tree

Read more... )

cordy69: (C/A 2)
Title: Comfort… a matter of opinion.
Author: Pat aka Cordy69
Rating: PG-13 mostly for language
Notes: Fluff story created as an answer to prompts (Hurt/Comfort; Angel & Cordy; Role Playing) from Hetapalooza at

"Angel, stop!" Cordy was exasperated. He had been fussing over her for every little hurt, every little bump. From the day she started working with him (and not for him as neither made a pretense of...), he'd been attentive and fussy.

Okay, this was another scrap, and truth be told she was happy with the attention. So much so, that in every bathroom of the building you could find aloe cream to soothe her skin, arnica gel for bruises, lavender scented candles she could have going on at a moments notice. The man definitively knew how to make her feel like a princess!

Anyway, that wasn't the point. The issue at hand is that he never, ever, let her take care of him. And… We are not even talking about basic patching up job here; we are talking about full blown nursing love.

"And why don't you lay down on the sofa close to my desk, Angel?"..."Would you like some more blood to drink, Angel?"..."Let me change your dressing Angel"..."Let's slow down on practice for today, Angel" type of care.

The man was a pain!

So, a new dawn has come. Angel had promised Cordy that she could play. And she knows it will be her way rather than the highway. It's role play time, buster! She had sent Wesley on an errand all the way to Santa Monica. The poor guy would be gone for the rest of the day. Lorne wasn't scheduled to stop by until the early evening and Fred couldn't wait to get to the Mexican cooking class that she'd signed her up for. She will be gone for at least two full hours. Since the stars are aligned in her favor, who was she to argue? Here she was, waking up her boss in the middle of the afternoon, ready to play pretend.


“Cor?" His voice was husky from sleep.

“It’s okay, Angel. I just wanna play a game.”

“Now?” He dropped his foot on the floor and while still seated moved to brush his hand through his bed hair in an attempt to feel and look almost decent. “Give me a minute and I’ll come check on you.”

The poor man still thought he was getting up at the ungodly time of 4AM for him just to help out, well as surprises go, why not?

He found Cordelia seating on the small sofa in Wesley office. For a moment he just stopped and looked at the beautiful woman that was the heart of this office. It’s never been about beauty. That had grown old centuries ago, but one needed to have an inner glow, that special little something. Dru had it, Buffy had it, Cordy had it. Like a moth to the flame, he couldn’t stop himself from going to them, making them suffer. He had sworn to himself, he wouldn’t repeat the pattern, he would be vigilant to Cordelia's well being and make sure nothing bad ever happened to his friends. Not under his watch; not anymore.

“Cordy?” his broken voice needed practice. It'd been ages, if one was to count, that he did not need to be up so early. She turned and gave him quite the thorough once over. He felt his skin prickle, something was odd and he was hard pressed to figure out what the problem was.

“Come here Angel and promise me something.” He felt even more at odds, hearing the sweet voice his seer was using. “Anything, Cordelia, what is it?” He couldn’t be more forward but he wanted to make sure, she’d know he was there for her.

“I want you. No. I need you to understand one simple thing.” She paused, as much for effect than for a slight need to regroup. “When you get hurt, I know you can recover quickly. I know the marvels of a good cup of O pos. I know that resting in the dark gives you the boost that you need, but none of those things makes me feel better.”

“But, shouldn’t you be happy, knowing I am getting better?” Angel was lost and a little bit hurt.

“No, doofus. I mean that I feel useless when you get hurt and I want to fuss around you, feel like I can make a small difference in your comfort, be there for you… The way, you’ve always been there for me.” She whispered, almost more for herself, a little unsure about why she needed this as much as the air she breathes. It’s not like Cordelia Chase puts that much value in other’s quality of life… Still, if Doyle’s sacrifice had taught her anything, it was definitively to seize the day, make a difference, care about others and most of all being aware of the needs of her family, mind their well being, mind his comfort.

Angel pulled his seer by the shoulders so she’d be flush to him and looked down at his right hand still fidgeting on his lap. He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never been that good with words anyway, he could try though to hold things together.

“You want me to?” His voice croaked a bit. “… to slow my rate of recovery?”

She rolled her eyes as she punched his arm. Honestly, the man really was a doofus; Reason enough to slug him when he asked stupid questions! “Nooooo. I just want to savor the moments we have together, take my time to make sure you are alright, take more than a moment to make sure you know how much I care about you.” Cordelia turned slowly around and ducked a bit to see Angel’s perplexing expression. “You know… I want to help; I want to feel useful; I want you to appreciate me…”
Take time
The smile that spread across the vampire's face was a sight! “Are you fishing for compliments Cordy?” the snicker rumbled from his chest and blossomed into a full belly laugh. “Cor, I crave your attention! That is one thing you do not have to ask for. I’d stay in your arms for however long it takes to make me feel at home. I just didn’t know…”

“Well, I didn't know either, I just felt like I needed something, and couldn’t explain what.” She sighed. “You can stop laughing now, Mister. It's stopped being funny already!”

“C’me here” he said, reeling the seer to his side, trying as much as possible to melt her into his broad chest. “I promise to be the best patient you’ll ever have. No matter what.” And with a slow smile he deposited a small kiss on her forehead, following the brow below, until a similar smile brightened the face of his best friend. “And, I promise, I’ll be there for you!”

“Thank you.” and this time, she was the one leaving a chaste kiss on his temple.

The end (word count: 1146)

Thank you for reading!
cordy69: (chocolate)
This is an old drabble inspired by a photo posted by Angelus2hot at Whdeonverseandbeyond forum.

Inspired by the first photo showing Wesley holding Angel

Finding one's true self
by Pat

Thanks for the challenge (found here:, it was cool.

I've never touched anyone. No one ever touched me.

Wes was hyper suddenly. he did not know what to do with his hands, his feet, his mind. Pretty girls were talking to him, noticing him. And that was bad enough. he was the source of so much ridicule in Sunnydale he wasn't sure he could take it here, now that he has a new chance.

Who knows? maybe he can still shine for Cordelia? She is the prettiest of them all. A body to damn him, a smile that kills, a spirit that uplift him, she just was it for him.

How can he appear smart enough, strong enough, good enough to her? Oh yes, he needs to get closer to the dork next to him. That's what she calls him. I don't really see the dork, I see a man secure of his manhood, knowing his purpose. I see in him the man I want to be.

He is letting me touch him. Heck he seems as lost as I am. Shouldn't he be better at social encounters. he was actually hanging out with young folks, I was just hanging out with dusty books...

Tonight, we are pals. United. Brothers in arms shinning for Cordy. She cannot be ashamed of us, can't she?

The end.
cordy69: (Default)
These are the first posters I tried to create, not fantastic from an artistic point of view but at least I got inspired by the messages! LOL

Check the Whedonverse inspired Posters... )

cordy69: (Default)

Yeah! I've been nomiated at Round 25 of Sunnydale Memorial. Let's hope people will like this story!

Extasy, BA style, by Pat
(August 2009)

Prompts: Scent * Happiness is like the future, it’s for later * Horny
BtVS - Angel PoV - Pairing: Buffy/Angel - NC-17 for sexual situation and language

For the Summer 09 Contest at Whedonverse and Beyond found here:


Extasy! I thought bedding the slayer was the pinnacle until I almost died.

I had forgotten how it feels to experience your existence slowly fading away; your memories colliding in your jumbled mind faster than you can process them, miss them or try to hold onto. The poison is seizing every one of my muscles, cramping were it shouldn’t, squeezing the life out of me from the tip of my limbs to my sluggishly beating heart. I haven’t felt so helpless since the last beating I got from Father, almost 300 years ago?

A vampire, a Master, a ruthless sucker, dying a slow and painful death, not in battle but in malice… Alone, in a pain I haven’t imagined in ages and suddenly pleasure, untold bliss, the purest blood of all coursing in my clogged-up veins.

It wasn’t about taking a big gulp of air, no, it was about drinking, as fast and as much as my damaged brain cells could order my parched lips to guzzle the nectar of the gods, the blood of my slayer, the juice of life that can save me.

What started like frenzy finally became the sensual ride it almost always is. I could finally think, move, feel alive again. The curves pressed against my thoracic cage at last registered and the pants moving air by my left ear finally reaches my brain. My wits and my erection ultimately join forces to bring me back in the present; fully.

One hand is now strong enough to reach Buffy’s neck and hold her to me. The other sneaks between our bodies and busy itself on the plump nipple standing to attention. A bump and grind later just to give me the parameters of our positions and I align myself a little better to cop a feel. Who am I kidding; I am primed for sex, heavy duty sex. I am hungry on so many levels; Buffy can’t imagine what’s in store for her.

I stop feeding; lick the little drops, kissing the nook of this lithe and beautiful neck, sucking the wonderful earlobe north of it, ending in the glorious mouth that years earlier had transformed me and brought the prospect of finding love and a purpose to my broken soul. It was heavenly. I deepened the kiss and couldn’t seem to get enough of the sweet supple lips following my lead. Both hands went to frame the tiny waist of my slayer and without giving her an option I lined up our bodies, I couldn’t think and tried to undress both of us with eager and weak fingers. It wasn’t quite working but luckily she understood my distress and needs and picked up where I left. Deftly my pants were pushed down, I was never happier to go commando… Her underwear was shoved away even faster. My fingers could now explore the wetness coating her entrance, my whole focus on the sweetest and most precious part of herself, my cock twitching in its eagerness to impale that softness on me. I work the third finger in her body, feeling her riding me, the fluttering increasing in her core and I snapped taking my fingers out and shoving my cock in here. It wasn’t gentle but my whole body was now trembling. The need to be in Buffy, in her warmth, was overriding any thoughts and needs I may have had.

It was like butter! Thrusting in the tight channel was fantastic, not as good as those first swallow of blood few minutes earlier, but the best thing on earth since. I still can’t think straight, so I withdraw and she is holding on, squeezing these wonderful muscles around me, I cave and push back; she raises herself with all the strength of a slayer and slams back on me, now I am in heaven. I hold her there and twist, it’s like her whole body vibrates, and I don’t think I simply raise my head enough to kiss her again, half upright with her on my mid-section, giving herself to me, like I am giving myself to her.

It’s a dance I had practiced often but the slayer is just learning, and what a learner she is. The energy between us is sizzling, she is possessed, I am too. My balls are so tights I know I can’t last but her quivering state is a balm to my splintered psyche letting me know our excitements is reaching its pinnacle. Now I am shoving into Buffy with a driving force only seen when I lose control and come when she falls in my arms spent, closing over my spurting cock. The mind blowing sex saps the last of my oomph and I pass out, so much exercise cannot be so good for my recovery I suppose.

The end (word:801)

The Lesser of two evils is still EVIL!
Thank you DamnSkippy for this beautiful banner!

cordy69: (Default)
Teasing Kiss, by Pat

Spying Cordelia asleep at her desk, I stop halfway down the stairs. I know the fake sleeper is awake and I know she doesn’t want to help me clean the basement.

I know how to wake Cordelia up, and if it takes her whole lunch hour, well more fun for me.

I sit myself on the floor, by her chair, and lightly place my mouth on the back of her hand. The smell is refreshingly delicious and for a moment I forget what I plan. Inhaling deeply I manage to deposit a feather light kiss on her skin. She moves slightly but nothing more than a tremble.

Far from being put off, I decide to go a little further in the game and open my mouth to let my tongue explore the tip of her thumb. I know it ought to tickle a bit so after a few seconds of that stimulation, I scrape my blunt teeth on the round pad and finish with a wet kiss on that beautiful extremity.

Still no movement, she is good, just not as good as the master. Who does she thinks I am? Angelus is laughing just at the idea of teaching that vixen what a demon like us can teach her in that regard!

I shift a little and bring her hand to fully cup my cheek, allowing me to reach everyone of those fingers. I envelop them with light kisses that are soon followed by a light sucking motion until I am satisfied that the moisture on those pads reflect her inner excitement.

From my position, I am on the front seat to appreciate how her body awakens to my presence. I won't stop there as I want her with me. I lick the inside part of her elbow, tickling, testing and soothing with my tongue, teeth and mouth the vulnerable area. She can't hold it and swishes her upper body, thrusting both arms under her head, pillowing the beautiful face of my seer.

I am so in for the kill! Rising slowly, I hunch my body over the desk, inches away from her closed eye and deposit a butterfly kiss on it. She can't hold the moan and I know she is at my mercy. She does manage to taunt me though with a whispered “Gunn, stop it!”

Ready to teach her a lesson, I put my arms behind my back, body away from her, and I allow my lips to draw her breath with a soft nibbling of her lower lips. Her body completely quivers, that's the moment I took to smother her with a full lip kiss starting on the upped corner of her mouth and sliding to the fuller side of those carnation lips. The exclamation coming from her is drowned in the cavern of my mouth and I take full advantage of my freebie.

That was just about the moment she shoved me away with both hands flat on my chest, adding, "What do you think you're doing perv?"

"Well, sensually waking up my ‘sleeping during business hours secretary’" was my quick reply. Before she had a chance to ream me a new one, I put the cleaning supplies on her desk and deftly fled the scene shouting, "Meet you downstairs in two minutes, Cordy!"

cordy69: (Default)

Title: Against His Better Judgment (previously known as Cicely, you were never a match to my Angel)
Author: Pat
Notes: The Awakening Awards - the letter
Rating: PG mostly but R for some words (please do not be offended, I just thought these words would actually come out from Spike mouth)
None of these characters are mine, they were just borrowed...
Dedicated to Angelus2hot: thanks for the letter and support during this contest. It's just too much fun.
Word count: 567

The letter and challenge that inspired this can be found here:

Cicely, you were never a match to my Angel, by Pat

The cookie dough that is his brain is definitively cluttered if he thought for an instant that I wouldn’t make his life miserable now that he spilled his soul to me. Hell, I feel like something grandiose. I will order a mural for the majestic façade of his freaking hotel. After all he forces me to live in it; I can as well make myself cozy… Yep, my love declaration is going to be at the scale of the mansions he admires so much: big.

“…I brood too much and talk way too little about the things that matter.” You got that right bastard!

There is just no way, I’ll sit on something so good. That ought to teach him for keeping his emotions bottled up for so long; I was starting to wither there, actually feeling wretched!

“Too many times, I’ve walked away from you without telling you how much you mean to me.” And my heart still hasn’t mended itself over this.

I could have written first though, after all, his love for me grew against his better judgment, while for me, he’s always been my Yoda. Since that one time, I’ve known that his body, his hands, his evil sensibility were meant to make me happy, insanely happy, desperately happy.

“… the way you make me feel when I’m with you, all the ways you make me want to be the man you think I am.” That’s right, fess it up fatso, I am the light of your life. Pff, and to think they thought my poems were sappy!

We both were the men we should have been, but love and a soul turned our life around, got us lost.

“The horrors that you’ve seen don’t seem to matter.”
Only because I am finally home, safe in your arms, Angel.

I don’t ever have to ask why he loves me, not that I bothered anyway. This letter though is the greatest gift he could give me since the Shanshu.

“… as you snuggle down further under the covers.” Hey lad, it’s freezing in this place, it’s not like I am still a vamp, I happen to like my comfort!

I snicker thinking about the soon to be banner that will hang in the entryway that will read in bright red and bold color: “I love you too, Peaches”: he’ll die, and then he’ll punish me for my insolence and then he’ll love me, and I will love him back like he’s never been before.

“… feeling your fingers caress my chest.” What a beautiful chest at that; strong, firm, and reassuring. I just can’t help myself.

I can’t believe he imagines a person resisting his physical charm, the man is a god!

“I couldn’t get close to anyone without fear of becoming a monster again.” That’s my freaky Sire for you! I had to break through his defenses, layer by layer.

Behind the destructive behavior of his monster, I could still see the lover. We both delve into our darker side, our insecurities; I am just better at seizing the day I suppose.

“From this moment on, I am yours.”

And now that the moment has occurred, I saunter to his greatness ready for the rough and tumble that will see the light under the warm shower he is taking. Life just got better.

The End. Thank you for reading this, Pat.


The letter refered to was written as a part of a challenge by Angelus2hot and here it is:


Title: Angel's Letter
Author: A2h
Feedback: Yes Please! I'll even do the snoopy dance for it!
Pairing: Angel/?
Rating: PG
Summary: Angel writes a letter to his love.
Dedication: To Ms Hyde for the great betaing and for all the encouragement. A couple of the sentences are all hers. Thanks!
Dedication: To Pat for challenging me to write this fic and making me post it. I hope this is what you had in mind.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and Co. I'm not making any money. I'm just playing with them. I'll give them back. Don't sue.


This is the only way I know how to say the things that I want – no, that I need - to say to you. I know I'm not a very vocal person. I brood too much and talk way too little about the things that matter.

Too many times I've walked away from you without telling you how much you mean to me. I don't want to ever give you a reason to doubt my love for you. That's why I'm writing you this letter.

I wanted to write down exactly how I feel about you, so that you will always know where you stand with me. I need you to know how important you are to me, the way you make me feel when I'm with you, all the ways that you make me want to be the man you think I am.

I'm sitting here on the sofa watching you while you sleep. You look so peaceful lying there. The horrors that you've seen don't seem to matter. I hope that I have something to do with that. A soft smile curves your lips as you snuggle down further under the covers.

All I can think about is how soon you will wake up, just so I can be with you again. I'm not talking about just making love with you, although being a part of you tonight was the best thing that's ever happened to me. Just being with you is special - holding you in my arms, feeling your heart beating against my skin, listening to you talk, feeling your fingers caress my chest. I want to have you always wake up in my arms. I want to hold your body close to mine and never let you go.

I've been alone and empty for years, and I knew that I deserved it. All around me was darkness. Nothing mattered. I couldn't get close to anyone without fear of becoming a monster again. And then one day you came into my life and you brought back the light.

You give me hope that my existence means something, that I can make a difference. You mean more to me than mere words can explain. You are my life, my very soul. Without you, I would be forced back into the darkness. I don't ever want to go there again. Without you, I am nothing.

The clock on the mantle just struck midnight. It's the beginning of a new year. I know we have some strikes against us from the start. My being a vampire is the major one. But I want to make you some promises for this New Year. I will do everything in my power to let you know more often how I feel about you. I promise to always hold you in my soul. From this moment on, I am yours.

You are the best part of me.

I love you, baby.



Water Tight

Jul. 4th, 2009 02:28 am
cordy69: (Default)
Nominated at Sunnydale Awards (Fall 2011)

Title: Water Tight
Author: Pat
Rating: PG, Ats season 2, Word Count: 2332
Characters, Pairing: The Whole gang

Summary & notes: I visualize this after the intro of Fredless. General fun interlude at Angel Headquarters.

Angel Episode #49
Written by Mere Smith/Directed by Marita Grablak

Fred: "What time is it?"
Wes holds up his wrist to Cordy and read his watch.
Cordy: "Six twenty four, and for those of you who are playing the home game: that's exactly three minutes from the last time you asked."
Fred fumbles around with the strange contraption (looks like a hybrid between a suitcase, a crossbow and a sowing machine - or something like that).
Fred: "I'm sorry. I just - I have this theory that the more you are aware of time the more slowly it moves, which *could* make light speed travel possible, but only if you were to concentrate really..."
Cordy: "He'll be back when he's back."
Fred: "So - now that she's alive again, are they gonna get back together? Angel and that girl with the goofy name?"
Wes: "Well - *Fred* - that's a difficult question. I think it's fair to say - no. Not a chance, never, no way, not in a million years, and also 'nuh-uh.'"
Fred: "But you said he loved her. And of course she's gonna love him back, because he's so strong and handsome and he really listens when you talk. I-I mean, if you go for that sort of thing, why wouldn't it work?"
Cordy: "Let me break it down for you, Fred."
Cordy steps away from the reception counter and pretends to be Buffy.
Cordy: "Oh - Angel! I know that I'm a Slayer and you a vampire - and it would be *impossible* for us to *be* together - *but!*"
Gunn laughs at Cordy's act.
Wes stands up: "But!"
Cordy turns to look at him. Wes pulls his glasses off and lays them to the side.
Wes: "My gypsy curse sometimes prevent me from seeing the truth. Oh, Buffy!"
Cordy: "Yes, Angel?"
Wes: "Oh, I love you so much I almost forgot to *brood!*"
Fred watches wide-eyed. Gunn is laughing.
Cordy: "And just because I sent you to hell that one time doesn't mean that we can't just be friends."
Wes grabs a hold of Cordy's wrist.
Cordy: "Oh!"
Wes: "Or possibly more."
Cordy gasps: "Gasp! No! We mustn't."
Wes pulls Cordy close.
Wes: "Kiss me."
Cordy: "Bite me!"
Wes bends Cordy back over his arm and pretends to sink his fangs into her neck.
Angel off screen: "How about you both bite me."
Fred jumps up: "You're back!"
Cordy and Wes see Angel watching them and quickly scurry apart.
Gunn: "How'd it go?"
Angel: "I think those two pretty much summed it up. To be honest - I *really* don't wanna talk about it."

In my world, Angel goes upstairs to change and here is what happens next...

Water Tight... )

Nominated for Round 11 at Fang Fetish Awards
cordy69: (Default)
Nominated for Round 6 of Running with Scissors

Nominated for Round 11 of Fang Fetish

Well, here is my earliest try at fan-fic, hope you like it a bit too. Please send any criticism away I need to improve! Thanks, Pat.

Title: Tomorrow’s Light
Author: Pat
Rating: PG, AtS, Word Count: 1778
Content: End of S1 C/A friendship
Category: Slight angst, Angel POV; see summary
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, and no profit is made.
Distribution: Anywhere you fancy as long as you ask and let me know!

Tomorrow’s Light, by Pat

I finally make it home; in one piece. Tonight fight was harder than expected. I had not been mentally prepared and my battered body is proof of that mistake. Don't get me wrong, the skill for holding my own with the underbelly of the demon world is sharp. It is just that, right now, finding the urge to use that skill seems to be my problem. Now, stepping into the elevator shaft, I feel the calming wash of relief begin to soothe my aches and pains.

Let’s face it, before Doyle intruded in my life, giving me a friend, anger was my motivation. I wasn’t just angry; I was enraged at the fates decisions to give me what I wanted without any prospect of having it. Whistler offered me the opportunity to make a difference but it was my love for Buffy that made me want it.

Only years later, I broke her heart, and life broke mine in return. Leaving Sunnydale was my most miserable moment and in my long undead life there had been a lot of those. Choosing to live apart from a world desecrated by my evil reign can no longer be blamed as the source of my misery. Accepting that the curse will always prevent me from having what I want is a slow, torturous death. Obviously what the gypsies had in mind.

As a lone vigilante, I was ridding the world of demons and quenching my swell of rage. Doyle said I needed a humanizing influence; that small connection to life that could save me from my dangerous path and those with the misfortune to cross it. I concurred.

Wesley is translating a new prophecy, something about Shanshu. We don’t know what it means for us. If I’m lucky maybe it will explain where I lost my focus. Wesley thinks Cordelia probably miss-filed it. Right now I have more faith in Cordelia’s ability to reinvent the alphabet system than the cryptic nuances of strangers. So here I am, emotional upheaval and bruised muscles, searching for that inner strength to continue. Tonight I may settle for finding the couch.

I inhale the spicy fragrance wafting into my confined space. Cordelia is downstairs. Listening to the deafening silence a small alarm sounds inside my head. Cordelia Chase is never silent! Stepping from the elevator, I find her lost in daydreams, the Cosmo cover paling against her perfect, scarlet nails.

A raised brow asks why she is at my apartment so late. Her answer is given with doe eyed integrity; she wants to spend time with her champion, her friend. I am stunned by the clarity that seems so simple to her. A few painful strides and I tower over her insisting I am not a champion; not even close.

Cordelia gives me a quizzical look pointing out that I have always been a champion and always will be. She reminds me that Doyle would think so too. ‘Get out’ my mind chants incessantly as I wander if my anger will be returning but her loud gasp snaps me out of it. She grasps the extent of my many injuries and scolds me for being stubborn and standing there, marveling at the combination of adrenaline, physical strength and stupidity that makes it possible.

Within seconds, Cordelia is at my side herding me toward the bed. With delicate but determined touches she removes my leather coat and battle worn shirt. I see the horror etch across her beautiful face. She sees nothing but male pride gleam from mine. Now I feel like a champion; a champion writhing in pain but a champion nonetheless.

She gives my shoulder a gentle push urging me to sit down before running for her first aid supplies. With the wound on my thigh, sitting is more painful than standing but the pain seems to fade a little when she is back by my side.

Cordelia is like a whirlwind spinning about the room. A warm cup of blood in my hand, I feel the cool swab of alcohol soaked cotton on my back. Closing my eyes I give into the feel of her fingers as she carefully places each bandage over a freshly cleaned gash. I feel the warmth of her breath as she blows against my skin hoping to ease the sting. Her innocence doesn’t understand I enjoy the pain; it is, after all, one of the few sensations I can take pleasure in without risk. But I am a fool missing the pain when I can bask in the care and attention my friend lavishes on me with her generous heart. Thankful for it, I start enjoying the feeling of being attended to.

Kneeling between my thighs Cordelia reaches for my drained cup and set it aside. I drop my empty hands letting them rest on my laps, open palms up trying to center myself and reach deep in the pool of restrained power tai-chi practice gives me, while she fusses over the blood drying on my chest and throat. I can’t help but worry; if my injuries heal too quickly I’ll lose the tender attention of her warm hands. Lost in the sensation of being touched, I focus on the young woman willingly surrounded by my body; she finds a wound still open and I sigh in relief knowing it will last a little longer.

Her head tilts slightly and I slip a little further in my thought, absorbed by the teeth gently biting her lower lip in concentration. Her dark hair, cascading on the side, where now caressing my abdomen imperceptibly and spreading her fruity scent around us. Her fingers were fast roaming over me, and that made me a little shaky. Too many sensations and the blood loss were starting to take their toll and I reveled in that strange atmosphere.

My chest injuries cleaned and bandaged, Cordelia pushes me gently onto the bed. A lifetime of adhering to the ‘avoid or bite’ philosophy summons me to resist. The need to hold onto the innocence of her accepting touch just a little longer pushes the warning aside. I close my eyes giving into her compelling gesture.

She’s removing my boots, gently but efficiently. I now feel her fingers on my belt; a breath catches in my throat quickly leaving. Her movements relaxed, never faltering, she works the button and zipper opening my pants to reveal another bloody wound. The word amazing echoes in my mind, she is truly amazing, this young woman, my friend. My last wound receives its own tender care, my body now clean and bandaged the natural healing process can begin.

Softly she squeezes my hand and I open my eyes to her affectionate smile, she let me know that tonight I will get the full benefit of the soothing Chase treatment. I agree with a small nod and a strained smile. She holds a bottle of lotion and I watch as it pours into her hand, warming against the heat of her flesh. It smells of lavender, it smells of her and the warning is calmed again.

My eyes close once more and I feel the gentle shifting of my bed. With her body by my head and her knees at my shoulders she inches above me and starts to let the droplets of cream from her hands fall onto my torso. What a sensation! I was so surprised by the effect I could not stop the shiver that made my body tremble. She pauses, lingering over me and then resumes slowly and tantalizingly the action.
I loved the unpredictability of it, never knowing where and when the next drop will be. Having both of her hands at work and my eyes closed, I experienced each of them as separate sources of pleasure.

My body shudders as soft hands touch my chest massaging the warm lotion into my skin. I tremble but without a pause, she continues her broad and enticing movements. The hand circling my navel tickles and I feel my tired face smile. Warm lotion drips onto my left nipple and I moan at the sensation. Her fingers lavish attention on my pulse point ignoring I don’t have one. Thick cream, its texture almost erotic seeps along the waist of my pants teasing flesh that should have been covered by boxers. Underwear had not been considered when dressing. My ego’s satisfaction smirks at me.

She stills and my body stiffens after several long seconds of missing her touch. Settling now above my hip, long slender legs tucked under firm, feminine curves, she cradles my left arm on her lap. She kneads knotted muscles, stretches fingers curled against denied desire, the heat of her hands radiate into joints chilled by death and loneliness.

Motion svelte and gentle slips her over my body and she settles on the opposite side, lavishing my other arm with the same gentle care. The closeness is intoxicating making me dizzy with its deluge of want and need. Blood courses through veins hidden beneath soft skin kissed by the warmth of the sun. It calls to me like a beacon in my dark world welcoming me home.

Another easy shift and she straddles me. With broad strokes spanning from that intimate place just above my groin to my shoulders she smoothes the creamy warmth into my flesh. Circles long and short are soothing, lulling me to sleep but caresses sweeping across my chest and stomach are invigorating and sway common sense to other indulgences.

I am surprised by my reaction, not that Cordelia Chase isn’t a beautiful woman, but that the ever present warning is so easily coaxed into submission. Humans, especially those allowed close, couldn’t be considered food, could never be considered sexual. Disturbed by the fact that my body noticed her that way, I push the fear aside and open my eyes finding her luscious breasts just inches from my face.

Roll over, her soft voice calls out and I willingly concede, hiding the evidence of my forbidden stirrings. She touches every inch of flesh covering my back. My spine, stiff from battle and dangerous desires, is tenderly massaged and stretched. The digits of her warm hands follow the vertebras to every aching pressure point she can find. The pads of her fingers work perfectly easing the tight muscles in my neck and shoulders.

She hums a quiet tune calming my restlessness, releasing the remaining tension and easing the lingering fear. With a drowsy thank you I give into my need to rest. I feel the shift of the bed as I slip into sleep and I whisper, Cordy…stay.

The End


Note: The point of this little exercise by Lysa was to explore a scene from the perspective of sensation. I chose to challenge myself with Scenario #3 describe here:
Season 1 or 2, Post-Doyle Era. Angel has a boo-boo and Cordelia has to fix it. He’s all aches & pains, really. The poor manpire needs a massage. Hmm. I did say that clothing was supposed to be on for this. I suppose we can make his shirt an exception.
Feedback: Yes please!
Notes: Thank you Stormy for the beta. Thanks to Anne (yep you know who you are girl), for your support, and Cyd cause you gave me so much here, without you this wouldn’t have resurfaced.

cordy69: (Default)
This is the first work of fiction I ever did for the Whedonverse world.

Ats, PG, Season 1, Word Count: 826

Nominated at Sunnydale Awards (Fall 2011)

The Morning After, by Pat

The morning after, no one ever writes about that. I'm not talking about a night of party hardy where too many drinks are followed by a few frisky innuendoes but the one where you get your teeth knocked in by a truth you're not ready to invite into your life. The morning when reality hits you where it hurts, making you aware that you will set one foot ahead of the other and continue a life without him and without his dreams. It is the morning that seals your pain, your anger, and your hopes into a web of cluttered emotions that will change you forever.

I woke up in Angel's bed; he probably took my curled up form from his sofa and brought me here after the last of my tears exhausted me and sent me into a fitful sleep. With a faint headache I remember every minute of last night. Neither of us could talk and we sat here, in Angel's apartment, trying to hold even the slightest grip on the evening's events. I monopolized the sofa unable to find the strength to voice my pain, my head full of adjectives and expletives colliding without the least sense of organization. I look at Angel hoping to make that connection I think I need to wake from the nightmare of Doyle's death.

Angel didn't touch me or reach out last night, we just walked side by side and now he's sitting silently in the chair in front of me. Anchored to his deep chocolate gaze, I'm not really looking at Angel; I'm seeing his soul and a clear reflection of my grief. In that dark hue, the storm of my hurt and incredulity, my defeated psyche is fighting with too many realities to confront. Holding my gaze, he too remembers the Doyle we knew and his contribution to our lives. I can't find the words, yes Cordelia Chase is at a loss for words, and I can't rationalize let alone explain all that Doyle was to me, all that he gave, all that could have been.

The sparkles in Angel's eyes make me wonder if he's going to cry. I don't understand how he can be so stoic because I haven't been able to hold back my tears. The stars now shining in his Glare tell me he is as unforgiving as I am to myself. How could we have failed the one that brought us together? In that moment I realize what Doyle's passing means. Angel and I are more than friends now, we are a family with an obligation to stay true to Doyle's memory.

With relief, I accept the offered glass of water and Angel's disappearance into the kitchen. My eyes close and I feel the sobs wracking my body with each memory of who our friend was, what he could have been, of what he couldn't forgive in himself. With every cry, I visualize what I had, what I missed, and what I could have wanted. I had to open my eyes; being in the dark with thoughts of what might have been was more than I could take.

Walking into the kitchen I sat across from Angel with a new understanding of who we are, and the tragedy that had hit us. His hand reaches out to seize my trembling fingers before faltering and returning to the table. His intense gaze tells me of all the pain he was in, of all the friends he has already buried and of the unyielding belief that he should have been the one the perished hero.

I slide my hand closer to his and with shiny eyes will Angel to see that his need to share his strength is enough. Silently I inch closer to his face asking him to never let go, telling Angel I need him now and forever. The golden ambers watching me finally recede into the dark brown eyes I have come to trust.

Those stolen moments feel like an eternity, the squint at the corner of his eyes finally opens the door to his acceptance of the inevitable; saying adieu to his extraordinary friend. I wasn't ready yet and rising from my chair I popped in the video before returning to the sofa with Angel following my every movement. For now I'll let Doyle's face accompany my sorrow, his voice calm my weeping and Angel's watchful eyes escort my mind to a more peaceful sleep.

Soon the aroma of strong coffee will reach our sleeping senses and with wary eyes Angel and I will rise to start a new path, continuing a life without Doyle but not without his dreams. A youth passed surviving the hellmouth of Sunnydale and a new life along the side of an experienced Master of pain will teach me to keep the gift of the first soldier down in my mind. Today will be our morning after.




I would like to thank Lysa for the suggested exercise, as well as CydneStorm and Stormy for the great beta work.

This was about looking and the scenario I picked on for working was:
AtS Episode: between Hero & Parting Gifts
Cordelia and Angel are still in shock and mourning Doyle. This can happen at the office, in Cordy’s apartment or Angel’s place. This ‘look’ is angsty and heartbreaking and whatever else you want to put into it…as long as everything is conveyed only with their eyes.

I hope you guys and gals will survive my first fiction post...

Nominated for Round 11 of Fang fetish Awards


Jun. 30th, 2009 07:08 pm
cordy69: (Default)

Word prompt: DREAM
Photo prompt: Single Tree with light coming from beyond and Moon Picture with bird in front

Verse(s): ATS
Rating: NC-17

Title: BRAZIL…by PAT

Oh, the sweet lips! They are covering my parched ones and give me so much more than hope. A breath of life infusing me with the blood I need to rise everywhere where it counts.

My hands frame her body, the amazing curves and commit her to my mind. My mouth tries to share my newfound beliefs with Cordelia and she leans even more into me. There is no part of my body that is not recharged by the contact.

Long lost electrons finally fires up in place of my brain that haven’t had a straight thought in weeks maybe even months. A hint of darkness tries to permeate my consciousness but I’d rather die than let it surface.

Tonight, she is reaching out to my belt, and I can’t stop moving to her imposed rhythm. I want fulfillment, even if on the edge of my fractured vision, fishes swim, and break my concentration. I focus, tonight I may have sex.

And in reality, the power of the mind is the only things that give me now a sense of sanity.

Word count: 181.


Springtime Ficlets:

The purpose of this contest is to write 10 ficlets (each of 50 to 500 words) in one month. The contest starts on March 1st and end on March 31st, 2008. You can post your ficlet as you finish them or wait and post them all at the same time. Out of the ten required ficlets, two to five can be crossovers but all must be related to the Whedonverse somehow.
You will have a choice of 15 words and 15 photos as prompts. Each of your ficlet will need to prominently display how your prompt inspired your work. In any case, you only need to pick ten words and ten photos.

Everyone should present their ficlet in the following format:

Word prompt: ____________________
Photo prompt: ____________________
Verse(s): ________________________
Rating: _________________________
Title: ___________________________

Here are the 15 words used as prompts:
Seduction, Slutty, Truth or lies, Destiny, Sinner, Regret, Hunger, Magical, Drunk, Jealousy, Power, Acceptance, Dream, Dance, Temptation

Here are the 15 photos you can use as prompts:

cordy69: (chocolate)
Thank you for the wonderful nomination at Round 6 of Running with Scissors Awards!

Title: Silent Declarations
Author: Pat

Notes: Created for The Awakening Awards @
This is entered in the Unlikely Couple section in which we were invited to write a romantic story about a ship that was far from being our first choice.
Rating: PG-15, Ats
Comments are welcome!!!

I don't own any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Read the ficlet here ... )
cordy69: (chocolate)
Author: Pat
Title: All that it can be

Verse: AtS post Not Fade Away
Rating: PG
Pairing: A/C implied, Angel PoV
Category: Ficlet (word count: 620)
Thanks to Lysa for the great Beta work amidst such a short notice

Notes: Created for the Angelic fiction Award of Whedonverse and Beyond, original can be found here:


Read more... )

Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 06:50 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios