But I love your inadvertent wish fulfillment typo with Danny's last name! :-D

Columbus High, eight o'clock in the morning. Lucifer stood dumbfounded, disappointment rushing through his body. So, this was why he did break up with his father, left mother and brother behind? Since he had heard about life on earth ages ago he had secretly dreamed about it to leave hell behind, and just to have fun, like the humankind seemed to have all the time. Beer and weed and sex, he couldn't wait to try it out himself.

But this place only reminded him on hell's antechamber. Guys and girls running around, chatting, laughing. Only now and then he earned a curious look, a smirk, some giggling.

„Nice suit,“ a guy in a football tricot told him with a wide grin, and some others laughed.

No one had ever treated him like that before; he was the son of God, the king of hell, only by snapping with a finger he could doom them to everlasting pain. But they didn't seem to care.

No one but... her. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Tall, slender. Shoulderlength, blonde hair, bound together in a ponytail. Blue eyes. Resting on him.

„Chloe? You coming?“
Shortly and commanding, as if he owned her. Lucifer felt anger rising up but before he could react the girl smirked.

„When will you ever learn, Dan Espinoza, that I'm not your lab dog?“

She turned back to Lucifer, stretching our her hand.
„Hey. You are new, aren't you?“

For a moment all he could do was to stare at her long fingers; his heart beating wild, his thoughts twirling around. He had never felt something like that before.

„Lucifer,“ he finally murmured.
„Morningstar.“

„Fine, Lucifer Morningstar.“
Her smile wide and open.
„Welcome to the hell of Columbus High.“

Filled! Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne/Parrish, "Thoroughly Embraced". Found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10471311

The wind howled and wailed like an angry Mulva Maiden – the legendary warriors that countless songs had been sung about – the cold slicing into him like the Maiden’s vengeful blade. Ronon was climbing blind, the driving snow obscuring his view of even the rock right in front of his face.

It was getting increasingly difficult to find hand holds because his fingers were going numb, but he felt he was getting close to his ultimate destination – a cave high up on the rock face; if it was this difficult for him to reach, it would be even more so for anyone hunting him.

And there was always someone hunting him.

Ronon’s next hand hold came up short and for one long, heart-stopping moment he was hanging by one hand. He steadied his breath and focused on getting his feet back under him before reaching up once more, fingers scrabbling at the rock until they hooked into a narrow crack.

The thought crossed his mind that it would be easiest to just let go, let himself fall. Let his life of endless running and hiding and fighting end right there in a blowing gale of a snowstorm. Maybe someday he’d be tired enough, lonely enough, to take that route, but today was not that day, and he wasn’t giving in to the Wraith or the storm or anything else that sought to stop him.

Finally, Ronon reached the mouth of the cave, and heaved himself into it, muscles straining. He lay there for a little while, catching his breath and trying to thaw out his fingers by jamming them in his armpits.

When he got to his feet, he stepped carefully to the edge, looked out into the white void, and shouted wordlessly into it. A cry of victory that no-one was around to hear.

“Not today, Maiden,” he muttered, moving deeper into the cave until he found a spot where rocky protuberances blocked some of the wind that was blowing in.

Ronon pulled his supply bag over his head and rummaged through it. He’d tucked away some kindling and moss to use as a fire starter. It wouldn’t last long, but a bit of heat would be welcome after that climb. One sustained blast from his pulse pistol was all it took to catch the moss.

He sat next to the little fire, holding his hands over it until feeling returned, prickly and painfully, to his fingers. A hot meal would’ve been nice, but he’d have to make do with some smoked meat and the bladder full of river water in his bag.

There’d been feasts once, tables laden with roasted meats and spicy rice and thick, sweet pies. He would eat and eat until he was overfull, and then he’d dance, or sing, and make merry until the hour had grown very late, and it was time to sleep in his soft, warm bed.

As a very young man, Ronon had thought those days would last forever.

When the fire burned itself out, he wrapped himself in his thick fur-lined coat and tried to get some sleep. If the storm had eased by morning, he’d go scavenging. If not, he might make another try at getting the Wraith tracker out of his neck; he wouldn’t bleed as much in the cold.

Ronon curled in on himself and drifted off to sleep, wondering if he’d be running for whatever remained of his life. Or if there was a way out he just hadn’t found yet, a way to get back to warm meals and laughing friends and soft beds.

Outside of the cave, the Maiden continued to howl.

I used your prompt, so it's a fill in that sense, but what I came up with is part of a verse I've been doing for a while, which is a fusion of two fandoms, one of which is really obscure. You may be familiar with Criminal Minds; you've probably never heard of The Three Investigators, which was a series of mystery/adventure books aimed toward boys back in the 1970s. I've aged Jupiter Jones of The Three Investigators, and paired him with Dr. Spencer Reid, because they're both brainiacs, and if smart is sexy, it's even sexier times two. There's no smut in this one, just a smidge of angst.

Anyway, thanks for the prompt. Here's the story if you're interested:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/10443282

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Edited at 2017-03-26 12:04 am (UTC)