#The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie fanfic

[legendary-guest]

I can second this, well, mostly from the perspective of having read Bad is Good and Good is Bad and The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie and enjoying them thoroughly. Really fantastic building blocks in-place for a young Shego, just great. The two stories linked, prequels to The Company You Keep, are Shego-centric and explore the formation of her hero identity from its inception to its destruction, essentially. Something that I really appreciate, too, is that young Drakken is very ambitious, but not only that, he's also distinctly creepy, unsavoury, serving as the very last push that Shego needs to exit heroism and enter villainy. He is also her safety net, unknowingly. It's this fine balance, on a really precarious edge. Her dynamic with her family is strained, you feel the pressure and burn out, even in just six chapters. It's this powder keg, ready to blow. I particularly love her exit in The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie, that was a great way to end the story, very memorable. I really recommend, at least the prequels, to lovers of Shego-centric angst and inner turmoil. I would also recommend to people who love more serious, dangerous takes on the series and the pairing. Really great writing, not just in terms of content, but prose, too.

Hey, so I just discovered your The Company You Keep series on Ao3 a few days ago and it has massively overtaken all of my free time. I rush to finish my homework so I can devour another chapter. I'm really trying to pace myself and not spam you with comments on Ao3 but these are honestly the best Drakgo fics I've read (and I've combed through quite a bit in my few weeks hyperfixating on this pairing). You write Shego so well. I love seeing hints of the competent, fully realized woman that she is in her young, brash, wild teen years. My favorite thing about how you write her is that you don't brush over her hero background at all. I truly see the conflict within her. She's wrestling with herself like her duties to her family and her yearning for freedom. You just portray her falling into the allure of villainy so deliciously well. I feel so bad that I wasn't around and reading this while you were writing it in 2019. I would've been one of your regular readers cheerleading you on, chapter by chapter. I understand that you lost your motivation to write more for this verse since the fandom is quite old and inactive. But what you've put out is amazing and so well written, I'll come back to it for years to come, I just know it.

…oh i should check my ao3 email…. so it turns out I'm naming my first born after you

alsdfugh you say such nice things klsdufgh Thank you!!! I'm glad you enjoy it! Makes me so happy I can't put it into words. I cried. I do still love TCYK and wish to continue it someday, but a lack of time and energy to devote to it put a damper on it. I'll probably cycle back eventually, but I'll be thinking of you! ;O;

[arthursfuckinghat]

Let death be a lesson to you.

[malarkgirlypop]

Chapter 2:

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie (Donald Malarkey x FemOC)

Hello strangers. Well I have not posted in freaking ages, I'm so sorry. Been a busy bee! This is the second chapter of the cowboy series, hope ya'll enjoy. I am going to restart my taglist since I haven't posted in a long time. So please let me know if you want to be on it. Enjoy!

“Please! Don’t shoot.” The young woman repeated, stepping out from behind the tree she was hiding behind. Her arms raised over her head to show she meant no harm.

Don peered at her with a shocked look on his face. His eyes dragged down her body. His brows furrowing, she wore jeans and sneakers, a thin t-shirt, her shoulders covered by a cropped cardigan. Her clothes were dirty and torn, the young woman’s face marred with mud. Blood mixed in with the grime that caked her skin.

The young frightened woman’s teeth chattered together loudly, clearly from the cold, since her clothes didn’t protect her from the harsh elements. Scout, after seeing the woman step out from her hiding spot had stopped barking, looked at her curiously. 

“Please, can you lower the gun.” She uttered quietly. Don snapped back into reality, realising that he still had the gun pointed at her head. He cleared his throat, lowering the gun and flicking on the safety. This woman was no threat to him, and even if she was, she didn’t look in any state to fight. Don could easily tell the signs of exhaustion pulling at the woman’s frame, her face looked gaunt, the bags under her eyes a dark shade of purple. How long had she been out here?

“Who are you?” Don asked, asserting his gruffer voice. He needed to show her he didn’t have time to fuck around.     

“Eleanor Turner.” She said, finally lowering her arms. She wrapped them around her to try and keep her warm. 

“What are you doing out here, Eleanor?” Don asked. So many more questions flooded in his brain, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the already shaken woman in front of him. She looked as if she could collapse right now, her legs trembled slightly, as if unable to hold her own weight.

“I was on a hike, I got lost from my group.” She explained, but Don didn’t buy it. She had no gear with her, let alone appropriate clothing for the mountain terrain and weather. Plus there were no walking trails anywhere near here, all of the land that surrounded the ranch was private property. If she really did get lost on the hiking trail, she would’ve had to be out here for days nearly a week. Don knew the woods, and even with all his experience, staying out here without the correct gear and clothes, you would be dead in a few days. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Don snapped, the woman instinctively taking a step back from his harsh tone. 

“I’m not lying.” There was nothing else she could say to convince him. Eleanor wasn’t really in the right state to try and persuade the man perched on the horse. Tears pricked in her eyes, she had been out here for two days, unsure of how she was still alive. The relief she felt hearing dogs barking the voice of someone close by. She was sure only minutes earlier this was her demise, she was about to die in the middle of the woods with no one knowing her whereabouts. 

“Can you please help me?” Eleanor begged, tears trickling down her cheeks. The man’s expression softened slightly. As if he had finally realised she was in fact a human, who was in desperate need of help, not to be interrogated. 

“Yes, of course.” Don said, slinging his leg off the horse, landing on the ground. He rummaged around in the saddle bag, pulling a thick coat he kept for emergencies out. Don made his way over to Eleanor, who was shaking furiously from the cold. He handed her the coat, she took it gratefully. Eleanor quickly moved, slipping her arms into the sleeves, pulling it around her. She grabbed the zip from the front, her hands trembling so much she couldn’t get the tab into the correct hole. Warm hands slid over hers, she looked up wide eyed as Don stood in front of her. He took the front of the coat from her, quickly zipping up the front.

Don stepped back, now being closer to the woman he took her in. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and misty from the tears that now stained her cheeks. Her light brown hair was unkempt and tousled, tied loosely in a low bun. She was pretty despite all the dirt and scratches that covered her face. Eleanor couldn’t stand much longer, her weak legs slowly buckling underneath her. She reached out as she stumbled forward grabbing on Don’s forearm for support. 

“Shit.” Mumbled Don taking her into his arms. He needed to move faster than he had been. Her arrival had taken him by such surprise he hadn’t acted accordingly. He should’ve clothed her faster, gotten her on Lady before she had collapsed. Don needed to get moving, the dark now setting in, this wasn’t his plan. This woman had thrown him by her unexpected arrival. 

“Scout, Tiller cast!” He called to the dogs, getting them moving again. They rounded the cows in no time, seemingly understanding the urgency in Don’s voice. 

“Lady!” He called to the horse, who walked over to them. Eleanor was barely conscious, weakly standing in his arms. Her head lent against his chest, she was fighting so hard to stay awake. But everything was crashing down on her, hunger, dehydration, the cold it was all too much.

“Hey, Eleanor, hey!” Don patted her gently on the face to rouse her. Her eyes fluttered open, using what little of her strength she had to look up at him.

“Can you get on Lady?” Don asked. Eleanor nodded weakly, turning to face the horse. She shifted her weight from Don to Lady. Gripping on tightly to the saddle as she leant against the horse for support. Don squatted down hoisting the tired woman onto Lady. Eleanor was barely able to swing her leg over. She lay with her limbs dangling down either side of the horse, her face pressed into Lady’s mane. Don got up quickly, sliding into the saddle behind her.

“Come on now.” He grunted as he lifted her up into a sitting position. Eleanor’s head flopped forward, she felt so weak, not even being able to keep her head upright. Don leant her back so her back was pressed into his chest, he grabbed the reins with one hand and circled the other around her torso. 

“Lady, let’s go.” Don called, the dogs had rounded up all the cattle. “Let’s move!” He called the dogs who knew what to do, as they started herding the cattle back down the mountain again. 

They arrived at the field in no time. Don had moved them all as quickly as he could, finally sighing with relief seeing all of the herd in the fenced lot. However Eleanor wasn’t doing great. 

She was in and out of consciousness throughout the ride, Don had tried to multi-task feeding her water and moving the animals at the same time. But she wasn’t able to stay awake long enough to swallow. Don had clutched her to his chest trying to keep her from falling off the horse.

“Eleanor, can you open your eyes for me?” Don pleaded with the girl, who’s head lent back against his shoulder so he could look down at her. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but it was no use, she had no energy left. Her body was cold, her breathing was ragged and slow, Don needed to act quickly or he would be bringing home a dead body rather than a girl. 

Don leaned her back so that he could swing off the horse without her falling off with him. After landing on his feet he was quick to pluck Eleanor off Lady, he settled her down on the ground gently. He moved as fast as he could, pulling his sleeping bag from the saddle packs. Don unzipped the bag lying it flat on the ground before moving Eleanor onto the material and zipping it up around her. He needed to keep her as warm as possible as he set up the tent and a fire. 

Don pulled everything else he needed from the packs on Lady who grazed on the lush grass in the field. The herd seemed settled as well, chewing their cud. The dogs moved closer to the unconscious woman, Scout nudging her with her snout and whining quietly. 

“She’ll be alright girl, don’t worry.” Don said over his shoulder to the dog. Scout lay down beside the woman resting her head on Eleanor’s chest, as Tiller lay at her feet. The dogs could tell she wasn’t doing well, trying their best to comfort her. 

Don pitched the tent in no time, dragging Eleanor in the sleeping bag into the shelter. He just needed to start the fire and then he could try to get her awake again. The dogs stayed close, following behind Don as he set Eleanor up in the tent. They took their positions again beside her as he left. 

“Watch her Scout. Tiller come with me.” Don requested the dog’s. Scout nuzzled closer to Eleanor, as Tiller stood following after the rushing man. 

He left the field heading back out into the woods, he needed tinder and wood to keep the fire alive. It wasn’t only about the warmth, but the protection it provided. The predators wouldn’t approach the fire. This would serve as protection to them all throughout the night. So Don needed enough fuel to keep it going for the whole night. 

Don lit the way with a bright torch, keeping his other hand tightly clutched around the small hatchet he had brought with him.   

Don hacked away at the dead log that lay on the forest floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. If he could drag this hunk of wood back he could chop it into smaller pieces for firewood, he had also gathered handfuls of tinder to help start the fire. 

“Got it!” He said triumphantly as he finally had made it through the thick trunk. He heaved the wood onto his shoulder, heading back to camp.

Don worked quickly, thankfully the fire lit easily and the wood he had brought would last them till the morning. Now he could finally turn his attention to Eleanor. 

He crawled into the small tent, really only meant for one person. Don sat next to Eleanor, nothing much had changed but Scout seemed to be more anxious, even growling slightly as Don reached towards Eleanor. 

“Scout! I’m going to help her!” Don scolded the dog, who quickly hid her teeth again letting Don proceed. 

“Eleanor.” Don called to her but she didn’t rouse to his voice. He shook her gently to no avail. Don bit his lip knowing his next move, he pinched the top of her shoulder putting pressure on the muscle between his fingers. Eleanor gasped in pain shifting away from him, her eyes finally opened. 

“Good, you're awake.” Don said, turning around to grab the water and food he had brought into the tent with him. 

“Where am I?” Eleanor glanced around not recognising her surroundings. Feeling less exhausted than before but her body still ached tremendously. Her head pounded and stomach growled loudly for food. She could easily fall back to sleep and stay that way for days but she fought to stay awake, the need for food and water outdid her need to rest.    

“You’re in a tent, but we are still in the forest. We'll head back to the ranch tomorrow.” Don said, passing her water to drink. She smiled quickly before sipping on the fluids. Eleanor didn’t realise how thirsty she was, the liquid on her tongue quenching her thirst. She began quickly sculling the drink. 

“Woah, hold on there.” Don lowered the canteen from her lips, her brows pulled together. “Not too fast, you will get sick.” He clarified his actions. She nodded sheepishly, resuming her sipping. 

“What’s her name?” Eleanor asked, as she stroked Scout’s head that still lay on her stomach. Scout seemed pleased with the attention snuggling in closer. 

“That’s Scout, and that’s Tiller.” Don motioned to the dog who laid down closer to the exit of the tent, sticking his head out every now and then to check on the animals outside. 

“And you are?” She asked, her head tilted slightly. Don’s brows knitted together, in all the commotion of the events he hadn’t even introduced himself to her.    

“Oh, I’m Donald Malarkey.” He offered his hand out for her to shake, Eleanor reached out taking his hand in hers. Don noted her hands were smaller than his, softer too. His hands were tough from all the labour they did, but Eleanor’s hands were smooth, apart from the section on the bottom of her palm. The skin had been raised, he could feel it under his fingers. Don absentmindedly turned her hand over in his, inspecting where he felt the abraded skin. Eleanor’s skin on her palm was red and raised, clearly scraped. 

“I fell.” Eleanor commented, letting the stranger investigate her wounds. His hands were warm and strong, but his grip was soft. Eleanor weirdly felt at ease with the man she had only just met. Normally she had her guard up around men, from her previous experiences with them she knew that they weren’t to be trusted. All they did was hurt her, so she kept a wide berth from them. Clearly she had forgotten her own rules, which led her to this mess.

“Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” Don asked, his eyes glancing over her figure. His voice pulled her from her thoughts. Eleanor shook her head, regretting the action immediately as the room began to spin. She took deep breaths trying to stop the black edges creeping into her vision. 

“I’m dizzy.” She was barely able to whisper out, her lids felt heavy as her stomach churned. 

“Eleanor you’re ok, stay with me!” Don could see the young lady's eyes rolling back into her head as her limbs became lifeless. He cradled her head before it fell back onto the hard ground, lowering it gently onto the makeshift pillow. Scout whined, pawing at the unconscious girl. 

“She’s out again, Scout.” He mumbled to the dog, patting her gently between her ears. 

Don stayed with Eleanor for a moment, checking that the young woman was still breathing, before climbing out of the tent to tend to the fire. 

Don untacked Lady, letting her graze alongside the rest of the herd. He placed the saddle and bags by the front of the tent under the awning that popped out, giving it some shelter from the elements. He pulled the spare sleeping bag out from the bag unfurling it, before climbing back into the tent. 

Eleanor lay peacefully, her breathing even. Don reached inside of her bag, making sure she was warm enough. Scout scooted in closer to the young woman, keeping herself and Eleanor warm. 

Don slid inside of his own sleeping bag, squeezing into the small space. Least he knew they would be warm enough for the night, with the fire roaring outside and the four bodies inside of the tent, they would be plenty warm. Tiller lay on Don’s feet, his head still facing towards the flap of the tent, he wouldn’t sleep tonight, just rest. Tiller was a good dog, he would notify Don if anything became a miss.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

how about 6,7, and 10 for Adamapple prompt (I love your fanfics)

6. You look stupid as hell right now.

7. I want to believe you, but I don't know if I can.

10. Let me call you mine, just for tonight.

Thank you for sending in the prompt! I'm glad you enjoy them 😁

Adam huffed as he pulled on the collar of his suit. He looked ridiculous, suits were so not his thing not to mention how restrictive they were.

But Charlie insisted that everyone dress formally for the mock prom they were having at the hotel. Not everyone who was alive got to go to one and she thought it would be a nice experience.

Adam didn't go to fucking high school either that didn't mean he wanted a diploma.

A knock on his door tore his gaze away from the mirror, Adam had only just started fussing with his hair. "Go away!"

Of course the demon on the other side only took that as an invitation and materialized in Adams room. Adam groaned and went back to what he was doing. "Still not ready yet, jeez Adam you take longer than a woman to get ready." Lucifer teased as he eyed the sinner in the bathroom. Damn, did Adam clean up good.

Adam flipped him off and growled. "Fuck off, there's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice." Adam looked at Lucifer and fixed him with a complex look. "You look stupid as hell right now."

"What do you mean?" Lucifer looked down at what he was wearing, what was wrong with this?

"You're wearing the same thing you always do. I thought we were supposed to wear something nice." Adam scoffed. The only thing Lucifer had going on that was different was his tie and it was only a slightly different color.

Lucifer crossed his arms. "I am wearing something nice, it's a three piece suit."

"That you wear all the fucking time! Honestly, don't you ever take it off?" Adam didn't even process what he just said as he kept fucking with his hair. It shouldn't be this hard, his hair was short! Fucking horns in the way.....

Lucifer looked at him stunned before a smirk grew on his face. "So you're saying I should take my suit off?"

Adam blinked and looked at him. "What?" He brushed past the devil to get into his room, he grabbed his cologne and sprayed a little on himself. "I didn't fucking say that." When he turned around Lucifer was directly behind him, sans his coat.

"You want me to take my suit off though, right?"

Adam felt his face burn, the thought of Lucifer stripping set him a blaze. "I-I-I, don't want that." He cursed himself for the stutter. His wings twitched.

Lucifer snorted. "You know, I want to believe you, but I don't know if I can."

"I DON'T!"

"Tell your face that, you're adorable you know that right?" Lucifer advanced on Adam until the sinner's knees hit the back of the bed. Adam sat down on the bed, the devil's smile widened.

"Fuck you, I'm hot as hell." Adam said, he gasped softly when a hand found its way into his hair and caressed at the base of his horns, a shiver went down his spine. How long had Adam waited for a moment like this? To Soley have Lucifer's attention be on him and no one else?

Fuck, since Eden.

Lucifer hummed, yeah Adam was hot, the suit he was wearing amplified that. He leaned in closer to the sinner, pleased that he wasn't being shoved off. His lips ghosted Adams. "You can be two things." Softly, he connected their lips. Adams hands flew to his shoulders, returning the kiss. He opened his mouth when he felt a tongue lave for entrance, he moaned he felt it at the back of his throat.

Lucifer, guided Adam to lay down with his free hand and crawled on top of him. He had wanted Adam since he saw him in that fucking garden and god dammit he would not let him go again.

Even if it was just one night.

Lucifer kissed down Adams jawline to his neck, enjoying all the beautiful sounds the ex-angel gave him. They were addictive and he wanted more.

He pulled away to look at Adam, his face flush pink, mouth open panting softly, golden eyes glazed over with lust, his hand still in his hair he ran it through. Fuck he was gorgeous. "Luci." That nickname made him twitch in his pants.

He knew God made Adam to be perfect, but hot damn. He kissed him again a little harder before going to his ear to whisper. "Let me call you mine, just for tonight."

Adam gasped and bit his lip. When Lucifer pulled back to gage his response he nodded. Fuck , he wanted him badly. "Okay."

Their lips were smashed together again, clothes getting torn in the process.

Even if it was just for tonight, neither minded if the other wanted it to last an eternity.

[flkwh0re]

I loved your fanfic The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie. It was legit so good and definitely deserves more attention

omg thank you so much!!! 🩷

[split-n-splice]

Last chapter! eep Cue violence.

[chapter guide]

Chapter 6 - Sever

Shego had been ready for the night to take a turn for the worse, braced to fight her way out of it. Luckily, the worst didn’t come that night.

Her weary escort merely tossed her a key with an attached number before departing without any sordid demands, only grumbling a complaint about her lack of expressed gratitude. Booking her a room in a motel far from his own was awfully gracious of a so-called villain, but she was too wiped-out to look a gift horse in the mouth – or thank him, for that matter.

She’d been prepared to catch shut-eye in an alley or on a bench somewhere – it wouldn’t have been the first time – but there was something inherently wrong about finding sanctuary in a cheap motel room. Still, she was grateful for the place to crash even if it wasn’t her own bed. If this was what it meant to never go home, then she’d just have to get used to it.

She supposed she’d have to get used to the disquiet she felt about not having her special sleep-aid as well, but she’d been too tired to worry about it for long.

Simply being left alone that night eased Shilo’s nerves just enough to get some much-needed rest. She was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow, drained enough to sleep through the night on top of the unfamiliar blankets. She’d opted to keep her boots on, still wearing her uniform beneath her civilian attire, ready to run should her family have the audacity to call the dogs on her. She’d been too tired to undress anyway.

But the peace of mind slumber held was a sham, and it evaporated in the morning sunlight as that damn cheeky yellow ball of fire glared in through the slats in the blinds, filling the little room with its unwelcome warm glow. The clock on the nightstand informed her it was barely eight in the morning. Her circadian rhythm wasn’t far off the mark, if only she were still abiding by the strict routine.

Shilo groaned and raised her arm over her eyes, cursing the sun for waking her.

Like a waking hydra, her anxieties reared their ugly heads one by one. First came guilt for bailing last night, followed by the guilt of letting down the twins by failing to show up for hero training. Grief for her material possessions begged her to go back for a jewelry box. Apprehension came through loud and clear though, asking her insistently, What are you going to do now? She was swamped with mixed feelings, all vying for attention, the loudest of which was dread.

She dreaded what today would bring. If all went according to plan – no, she didn’t even have a plan, only a goal to get out of Dodge – if all went well, then this was the day she officially cut ties with this damn town. Nothing was changing her mind.

With luck, she wouldn’t have to confront her family today or ever, or bear the crushing weight of guilt and face-to-face goodbyes that might very well be enough to make her willpower crumble. After today, she’d officially be a deserter, and her little brothers would officially have no mother-figure, and she’d officially disown the organization supervising and funding Team Go. After today, she might even become a face on a missing person flyer. She hoped she could be so lucky as to eventfully be forgotten like one too.

As she rolled over and curled up with her back to the light, Shilo chided herself that her family shouldn’t concern her anymore. They would be just fine without her. Maybe even better, if she wasn’t around to distract them and cause turmoil through obstinacy and defiance. Besides, it was high time she started looking after number one.

Dr. Drakken wasn’t due to pick her up until checkout time, which wasn’t for a few hours yet, but she couldn’t coax sleep back to her no matter how much she wished she could lie there just a little longer.

Albeit still drowsy, she reached for the utility pouch on her calf, double-checking the wad of cash as she considered where she might find a nice breakfast. She racked her brains idly for any places she might have seen nearby, but it was ultimately decided she’d have to do a little exploring around this end of town to get her bearings to track down someplace decent to grab some grub.

Shilo was about to face the day on her own accord when a knock at her door interrupted a silent pep talk she’d been giving herself to get herself out of bed. She scowled, checking the time – it was only a quarter past eight now. Though it grated her, it didn’t surprise her in the least that the rogue doctor might have changed his mind about the pickup time. He was a madman after all, and he probably had a point to prove like the rest of them.

She stalled for a moment, sitting up to stretch and yawn. The knock came again with evermore urgency as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Something about it made her quirk her brow, but she didn’t give it a second thought.

She should have.

She reluctantly drug her feet to the door and turned the deadbolt, grousing, “Come on, Doc, it’s too early for—”

As Shilo opened the door, her eyes flew wide and all lingering bleariness vanished in a bone-chilling heartbeat. She blanched as she gazed up at the self-proclaimed authority figure.

Of course. What else could she have expected?

She would slam the door and lock it again, but knew it would prove useless. A closed door wouldn’t stop him. Hugo would just kick it down casually and pay for damages later. She steeled her resolve and fixed a glare up at him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded sourly, her brow furrowed as he looked past her to scan the room before settling his eyes on her.

She didn’t appreciate the suspicion and following relief that flashed across his face anymore than the fact he was here at all. If she had to guess, he’d expected to find evidence of funny business in the room at her back, and that he was pleased now to be proven wrong. And so what if he had found something? What she did in sketchy motel rooms was her own business anyway.

“Rise and shine, little sister,” said Hugo smugly, as if he were merely proclaiming his victory in a game of hide-and-seek they used to play before the comet hit.

He was beaming and she wanted to sucker punch the triumphant smile off his face, but before she could draw back her fist, he was reaching for her. She didn’t have the chance to leap back before his grasp closed around her arm. The man did not know his own strength – he’d break her one of these days.

No – no, he wouldn’t, because very soon there wouldn’t be any more of these days.

Her shock was replaced with anger in an instant and she gnashed her teeth, glaring heatedly up at him. “You’re stalking me now?” she spat vehemently, trying and failing to pry his fingers from around her bicep as she stumbled after him. She had a hunch he’d spent the night reviewing traffic camera footage with a fine-toothed comb to find her – which meant he had to know where Dr. Drakken was as well. Her heart gave a nervous jump.

“Oh, like the pervert you’re so set on hasn’t been?” Hugo retorted, voice rising with his temper. “Milo told me all about yesterday’s incident on the way to school. I cannot believe you. Shilo, that man could have abducted you.” He practically stuffed her into the Sloth parked just outside and took his seat behind the wheel in the next instant before she could unlock her door to leap back out.

“And what do you call this?” Shilo challenged incredulously, gesturing wildly to the air around her.

Warmth blooming in a fist, she had every intention to blast her way through the door to bust out, but a sudden pressure against her leg snapped her attention down to her lap. Predicting her moves, Hugo was a step ahead of her – but she hadn’t expected him to jump to drastic measures. Mouth agape, she looked up from an autoinjector pressed to her thigh, the emergency suppressant sapping the heat from her palms within seconds.

Her skin prickled at the violation and she broke out in a cold sweat as she gawped at her brother. What right did he have to look half as shocked as she felt? It was her leg he’d just stuck with a needle, her bloodstream he’d plunged a dubious drug into.

“You didn’t take your medicine last night,” he muttered quickly, as if that excused his actions, and threw the spent injector to the floorboard.

Shilo stared at the aposematic pen at her feet, appalled by the little thing that had been used against her. She knew Hugo carried the neutralizer formulated specifically for her on him at all times, but it was intended for emergencies , like if she was overheating or going overkill. She was dangerous after all. Even as a hero, sometimes they needed a way to cool her down. As far as she knew, no such drug existed yet to mute her brothers’ glow – it was easy for them when their glow wasn’t so destructive and unpredictable and feared.

Hugo’s lapse in anger was over, and he was forcefully turning the key in the ignition. “You’re my little sister,” he said firmly, but she barely heard him. “I’ll always do what I have in order to protect you.”

She heard that. Her attention snapped back up from the pen she ground to bits under her heel.

“Newsflash!” Shilo spat, livid as she shook off the shock of the needle. The effects were temporary. The playing field would be level soon and then she’d be fit to kick his ass. “I’m not little anymore. I don’t need your protection.”

She was ignored.

“Where is this Doc you’ve been seeing anyway?” Hugo demanded. When he received no reply, he glanced away from morning traffic to his scowling sister. “Well? I want a word with him.”

So he didn’t know where her ticket out of Go City was yet. Good. “Forget it. I’m not telling you.”

“The receptionist said you came in with someone last night—”

“That doesn’t mean he stayed with me.”

Hugo scoffed and a grimace twisted his face. “What did you expect?”

The neutralizer drug couldn’t snuff out the heat burning in her cheeks. “Would you stop that?” Shilo all but screamed at him, and he almost flinched. Almost. “There is nothing weird going on!” To him, her outburst probably sounded like denial.

If he gripped the steering wheel any tighter, he was liable to bust it. “Well then what is going on?” he dared, but she couldn’t answer that. No answer she could possibly give him would get him off her back, not that he’d buy them when he’d already drawn his own conclusions. “The man’s a predator, I’m telling you. He’s no good.”

He had no idea how right he was, but still – he had no right sounding so sure of it.

Oh, how she badly she itched to slug her brother now that burning him wasn’t an option. But he was driving, and a car wreck wasn’t on her agenda for today. Not this early in the morning anyway. “Well, I’m not prey,” she ground out instead. At least, she’d leave the rogue doctor with something to remember her by if she did fall victim. And as far as the doctor being no good – well, she was counting on that, but she couldn’t tell Hugo that. “I don’t want your opinion of my friends, so why don’t you take them and shove them where the sun don’t shine, huh?”

“Watch your mouth, missy,” he warned.

To which she coughed, “Dickhead,” in defiance.

Her brother nearly rear-ended a pricey sports car ahead, but disregarded her remark. “Where are you hiding him?” he persisted instead.

Hugo slamming on the breaks had jerked Shilo in her seat, and she was even closer to throwing punches now than before. She crossed her arms tight instead and refused to answer him. She refused to even put on her seatbelt.

She didn’t break, so after another circle around the block spent pressuring her, interrogating her, he turned to head home. He was pulling theories from a hat. Drug dealer? Sugar daddy? A simple creep who’d found her sweet spot?

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong with his last guess, she supposed.

Shilo had half a mind to just run for it when they reached the driveway, but there was no telling if she’d have another chance to grab her things. Rather than bolting, she hastily stormed into the house ahead of her brother while he was still wrestling himself out of the confines of the Sloth.

She made a beeline for her room, but backpedaled back down the staircase and around to the kitchen for the phone, fumbling with her uniform beneath the sweater to reach down her shirt for the crinkled business card she had tucked back into her bra yesterday while packing. She’d almost forgotten about it entirely.

Relieved the hand-written number was still legible, she dialed it quick with trembling fingers and hoped like mad that she got it right as it rang and rang and rang. Come on, pick up, she pleaded inwardly, fidgeting as she waited, bound to the damn wall by the damn cord—

“Nnngh . Hello? How may I, ugh, direct your call?” came a groggy voice on the other end, failing to sound professional, and Shilo’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. Cool relief washed over her for a split second. How bizarre it was to be glad to hear him made her a little dizzy.

“Someone’s sleeping in,” she quipped, a nervous waver in her voice, but now wasn’t the time for banter. She cut to the chase. “I’m ready. Like, now. ”

Hugo came stamping into the kitchen after her then. She’d hoped to make the call as quick as possible, but she hadn’t been quick enough, because he snatched the telephone from her hand and held onto her so she couldn’t scurry off or reach it.

“Hello?” he harshly barked into the receiver, launching into an interrogative investigation. “I have questions for you and you’re going to answer them. What business do you have with my sister? What do you want from her? If I find out you’re messing around with her, so help me! Why don’t you quit hiding in the shadows and face me like a man, coward?”

Hugo could deny it all he wanted, but he jumped at every chance to fight and show off, even if it meant provoking it. Shilo was too miffed to roll her eyes at his goading.

She was busy anyway. With his gift of superstrength, he held her at bay effortlessly as she clawed at him in her vain attempt to reclaim the phone. She could barely make out the flippant doctor’s curt answer, “Sorry. Can’t. I must honor Miss Go’s wishes.”

“Listen here, mister. If you mess with one of us, you get the whole package,” warned her steaming brother. “If you hurt her—”

Shilo pounded on his chest with one fist as hard as she could and cried out her fury in a jarring scream, because obviously thrashing and tugging wasn’t getting his attention. “The only one hurting me here is you!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Her hulking brother glanced down to her suddenly with a look of surprise, realizing how tightly he’d been holding onto her arm, and released her. She nearly stumbled as her weight came down from her tiptoes. Shilo rubbed what was bound to become a bruise and flexed her fingers before making a dive at the telephone.

Hugo had taken the scenic route home while trying to work answers out of her. As such, it had been roughly half an hour since she’d been stuck with the needle. Given her adrenaline, the emergency suppressant formula was wearing off that much faster, and the heat in her desensitized palms was returning as she grappled at him.

He held the phone out of reach and tried to block her. “Shilo, please,” he begged irritably, and in the next moment there was no phone left to fight over as Shilo had obliterated it right out of his palm with a single fizzling shot. It certainly left her brother’s hand smarting.

She whipped around to tear out of the kitchen, her brother barking, “Hey!” after her as she thumped up the stairs, each footstep falling in time with her thudding heart.

Though Shilo was quicker and more agile, whipping up the stairs and around the corner in a flash, it didn’t buy her much time. Hugo was hot on her heels. He reached her in time to snatch her by the backpack as she tried to make a leap of faith from her second-story bedroom window.

“Shilo! What on Earth has gotten into you?” he grunted, dragging his thrashing sibling away from freedom, but her answer came in screams of curses and unintelligible protest.

There was little anyone could do against her brother’s superstrength, but it didn’t stop her from trying. He made the mistake of adjusting his hold on her, trying to hoist the squirming girl under his arm, and it was in the moment he switched hands that she twisted and writhed and slipped out of his grasp.

Without a moment to spare, she made a break for it, slamming her bedroom door behind her. She didn’t look back as she heard the crash and splintered wood scattering into the hallway as he came smashing through the door like an unbridled rodeo bull – paying zero regard to the damage he left in his wake, as usual.

It was probably just a game of chase to him, but she’d never been so afraid of being caught.

Shilo scrambled as the hallway rug slipped beneath her. She barely regained her footing in time to launch herself down the staircase before she could fall headfirst down it. The open front door was just ahead. Just a few more steps, and she could be home free—

A body was crashing into her then, trunks for arms wrapping around her slender frame, plowing her over and just about crushing the air out of her. Her shriek caught in her throat, and then she was wrestling against her hulking brother once more. It was nothing like the play fights they used to have as kids, before he’d gotten his damn superstrength – this wasn’t a harmless tussle. He really didn’t know his own strength, did he? He could snap a human’s spine if he wasn’t careful – hell, she was lucky she was hardier than the average human.

It wasn’t the first time he’d used his advantage of superstrength against her to subdue her, but that had always been to prevent her from going overboard in a battle or something – this – this was him grappling with her to get her wrists behind her back as if she were a criminal resisting arrest, pinning her to the floor at the bottom of the staircase with the glorious freedom of the front door staring her in the face.

She was furious, but a sputter of hot plasma singeing the vigilante only made him swear through grit teeth. Her heart hammered out a deafening beat in her ears.

Cold metal clasped around one wrist and Shilo was wrenched up and back. Before she could do anything about it, her other arm was twisted behind her again, a second metal bracelet clicking into locked position.

Her thundering heart roared protest she couldn’t utter herself even as her lips parted in a snarl, and she didn’t hear whatever she swore at him as he backed off to smooth out his hair and shirt.

Handcuffing her wasn’t going to stop her. He had to know that. Who did he think he was, anyway? He sure as hell wasn’t an officer.

But when Shilo tried to jump up, she only fell back and winced as she struck her head on a post. “What?” She squirmed, throwing a glance behind her as she discovered her brother had tethered her to the last leg of the staircase railing. “Oh, that’s low,” she spat up at him.

It was clear Hugo was at a loss for how to handle her – and he’d already used the pen in the car. He was running out of time. She’d be breaking free soon enough. “This is for your own good,” he insisted, and even she could tell he doubted it himself despite how confident he tried to sound. He began to pace, his hands finding his hair and eyes darting. “I am not letting my little sister disappear with some stranger. No way, no how. This will pass, Shilo,” he went on as if trying to soothe her, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Regardless, it only served to sicken her and set her resolution to leave in stone.

“We’ll get you checked out,” he rambled on, a tender way of alluding to a drug test, maybe even rehab. “You’re being unreasonable – it’s a phase—”

Shilo scoffed incredulously, her dry mouth finally working again to form words. “I’m being unreasonable?” she laughed out venomously, nearly shrieking it at him. “You handcuffed me to the staircase!” She tried to kick his ankles, but he was out of reach.

“I will not stand by and let you be kidnapped!” he bellowed back at her, and his own distraught temper made him reel. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if it was absurd this was even up for discussion.

“You kidnapped me! You are literally holding me against my will,” she growled as she picked herself up again to strain forward against the cuffs. “And it’s not abduction if I plan it and go willingly , genius.”

“Well this is a poorly conceived plan!” he criticized hotly, jabbing a finger at her that she wanted to bite off at the knuckle. “And I will not let you execute it.”

Shilo tugged against her restraints, but the railing creaking behind her offered little to no give. At the moment, she didn’t care if the railing or her wrists broke first. She regretted not letting the boys abuse it more by sliding down it like they loved to do – but no, she’d had to be a stringent surrogate mom-sister, and now the damn railing was as sturdy as the day it was installed.

Despite her desperation to break free driving her to heave forward and strain against heating metal cutting into her wrists, Hugo made the foolish mistake of trying to tame her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to guide her back down to the floor. She tried to shrug him away, but when that proved ineffective, she did the next best thing and sank her teeth into his hand instead, locking on and squeezing her eyes tight.

It wasn’t as bad as biting a pointing finger off at the joint, but it was effective in making him reel.

“OW!” Howling, Hugo ripped his hand away with a yelp, but not without leaving a mark. “You bit me! What are you, five?”

“Let me go or I’m pressing charges on your ass!” Shilo threatened. As if anyone would even take her seriously if she reported it. GJ would just ensure it was brushed it under the rug. “This is wrong and you know it.”

Her brother only took a cautious step away, out of reach of anymore bites or kicks. “What do you see in that guy?” he asked in exasperation, grasping at straws.

“Nothing!”

“Then why are you so determined to go with him?”

“Because I want to,” she spat, and resumed throwing herself forward in hopes of loosening the railing to the point of breaking. She slammed herself back against the pole as well, her stuffed backpack padding the impact as she fought to snap something or wriggle something loose, but it was proving futile.

“I need answers here. Are you on something, Shi?” Hugo questioned skeptically. “Is he supplying you—?”

“No!” she denied. A fresh charge grew in her glowing fists as the energy flowed back to her, and she continued to fight against the restraints. Her wrists were sure to be marred from this. “I already told you,” she snarled, stamping a foot, “it’s you guys. I can’t take you controlling me anymore. Having freak powers doesn’t mean I have to be a hero, I don’t want to play the mom, I don’t want to be bossed around by you – I don’t – I’m sick of you all!” Amidst her fury, tears stung her eyes and threatened to humiliate her further. “Now I have a way out, and here you think you have the right to stop me? I’m a legal adult, idiot, and you aren’t the boss of me anymore,” she explained grimly, as calmly as she could through the rising panic and a rock in her throat about to choke her. “I can do whatever I want!”

Her big brother stood wordless for a second as the reality of what exactly he was doing began to really sink in. She saw it in his eyes as he looked toward the cuffs anchoring her to the staircase. But then he shook his head as if to remind himself how certain he was that he was doing the right thing. “No. This will pass,” he repeated firmly. “You’ll thank me later.”

He’d eat those words.

Shilo’s livid glare darkened. If looks could kill. Her brother braced himself when the jade glow behind her back flared brightly and she curled her lip. “No I WON’T!” she shouted, palms blazing hot as she opened them up to release a blast straight into the thick wooden post. As if struck by a bolt of lightning, it splintered with a crackle and pop, sending wooden shrapnel flying.

She might still be cuffed, but at least she wasn’t bound down anymore.

She dodged as Hugo lunged at her. Evading the paws swiping at her, she hastily writhed to twist her arms up and over, contorting to bring her trapped wrists to the front of her – which was so much easier in her head. She didn’t have time to blame difficulty on the go-bag on her back. She charged another blast and raised her hands up to swing it at his chest like a ball to knock him free of the doorway, but before she could launch it, her big brother flung himself at her again in the attempt to wrangle her back into custody.

As he plowed into the dismayed superhuman, her hands came down in the wrong spot at the wrong time, and before she could recall or redirect it, the blast discharged pointblank against her brother’s head.

The blow was enough to knock the wind out of herself and singe her sweater, even with a skull between her weaponized hands and her midriff. Somehow Shilo was still standing, though her knees threatened to buckle under the weight as her brother’s arms went limp around her waist and his hulking body collapsed to the floor with a thud that shook the house.

Stunned, Shilo stumbled back on wobbly legs. The glow from her hands was snuffed out entirely in her fists as she stared down in horror at her brother lying motionless at her feet. Her gaze trailed from him to her trembling hands still cuffed together, and the panicked realization formed in her head. If abandoning her family didn’t feel like treason, then using potentially lethal force against one of her own sure as hell did.

She didn’t take her eyes off her brother as she shuffled slowly back.

He was just knocked out cold – he had to be. He’d get up in a minute – but she didn’t want to be here when he did. She wasn’t leaving her baby brothers another step closer to total orphans with no one to guide them, and she certainly hadn’t just killed her big brother. Should she check for a pulse? She’d call an ambulance if she hadn’t already obliterated the kitchen phone. There was blood glistening in his hair. Was he still breathing?

Shilo’s heart was fluttered wildly like a trapped bird and her head felt light.

A resonating beep-beep suddenly shattered her shell-shocked spell, and she whipped around to face the open door.

Villain or otherwise, Dr. Drakken’s sketchy black SUV idling out front was a blessing in disguise, come to whisk her away from her own personal hell.

Her feet felt like lead, but she forced herself to move anyway, breaking into a mad dash across the lawn before she knew it and wrenching open the door to dive in, laying claim to shotgun by default. The henchmen in the back all stared at her with different levels of surprise, eyes on the handcuffs.

“Ready to take you up on your offer!” she declared, breathless as she buckled herself in awkwardly. “Step on it. Just get me as far from here as possible, now.”

Dr. Drakken obliged. It didn’t take a genius to grasp the urgency of her request.

The henchmen hovering behind her didn’t dare ask questions. Shego was thankful for that. As she fished around in her utility pouch for an extra bobby pin, she was also thankful she’d never found the chance to change out of her uniform and disguise from yesterday’s mission to the geek lab, otherwise she wouldn’t have brought the damn handy suit along at all. Hell, her gloves and mask were still shoved under the seat, where she’d forgotten them yesterday.

She tried to ignore Dr. Drakken’s gaze straying from the road to her bruising wrists as she freed herself from warped metal restrains and tossed her backpack to the floor. Rubbing her new sores, she settled into silence, glaring intently ahead at the dash until his voice made her jump.

He finally spoke up with a simple question, “Are you sure?”

She blinked away her stupor and clamped her mouth shut tight as she noticed they were moments away from the last intersection before the onramp to the freeway. Giving her a last-minute chance to change her mind was awful chivalrous of a crook. She waited until they had reached the onramp before shrugging and answering, “No turning back now.”

There was no rejoicing to be had over the addition to their ranks. Only a solemn quiet filled with the hum of the engine and the ambience of the freeway.

The interstate arched away from the coastline, destined to take them blessedly far away. Shego leaned her head against the window as she watched her hometown in the mirror dwindle behind her and finally out of sight. She’d call herself lucky if she never had to see it or face the people residing there ever again.

A/N:

But wait - there's more! Hahh. Story continues in The Company You Keep.

[wildlingoftarth]

First Lines Meme

I was tagged by @sdwolfpup @eryiscrye @ilikeblue and @seethemflying - thank you!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

Once upon a time, for this is how these stories begin, there lived a girl who was rather rubbish as a princess but would have made a wonderful knight. (What Dreams May Come, collaboration with @ilikeblue, rated T)

Jaime wraps his cloak tighter around his body and squints into the swirling white expanse around Winterfell. (Shake the Frost, rated M)

“Hmm. Of all the couples to get together tonight, I never expected that one.” (Light my Fire, rated E)

Brienne leaned back carefully in the flimsy plastic beach chair, closed her eyes and let the breeze off the Bay of Essos riffle through her hair. (My Favorite Mistake, rated E)

Brienne jiggled her foot and chewed on her thumbnail as she looked out the window of the little plane taking her over the Narrow Sea to Pentos. (Emergency Contact, rated T)

“Come sit down, love. You pacing back and forth in front of the window isn’t going to make them arrive any faster.” (I want a house with a crowded table, rated G)

Jaime leaned over the railing of the VIP balcony and surveyed his domain. (The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie, rated T)

“Pleeeeeease, Brienne?” (The Last Bed, rated G)

“Were you planning on avoiding me all night?” (The road not taken looks real good now, rated M)

“What. In the world. Did you send me.” (Like glitter and gold, rated M)

Brienne knows what she's doing. (I wanna do bad things with you, rated E)

The Seven Who Are One have always existed. (Nemesis, rated E)

"Whyyyyyyy," Brienne whined through the phone, flopping heavily back onto her bed and pinching the bridge of her nose. (My Best Friend’s Wedding, rated M)

Seven days. (we play so dirty in the dark [cause we are living worlds apart], rated E)

Brienne shuts her eyes against the spray of water coming over the side of the raft as they shoot down the river. (Run me like a river, rated E)

The heat and humidity hits Jaime like a brick wall as soon as the door to the Lannister Holdings jet opens. (Oh, Those Summer [Isles] Nights, rated E)

Brienne stepped off the airport shuttle and stood in front of the Winterfell Inn, taking the deepest breath she could to fill her lungs with the incredibly clean, crisp Northern air. (True North, Brienne/Tormund, rated E)

“I thought you said my new partner was a woman?” (i’m the powder you’re the fuse [just add some friction], rated E)

Brienne throws another log onto the fire, despite the temperature in her room inching toward that of the seven hells. (Winter Knights, rated E)

And there you have the entirety of my fanfic history, lol.

Patterns: Absolutely NONE. Which makes sense when you look back through this hot random mess of a repertoire. 

Favorite line: Probably the ones that start with quotes, as I think it’s a fun way to throw you right into the story.

Tagging: Anyone who has not yet been tagged and wants to do it! Please tag me!

[sagesparrow394]

Turn It Off

Fandom: Sanders Sides, The Book of Mormon

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan has a little unrequited thing for Elder Price

Summary: Elder Logan Berry is not homosexual, no matter what his newly assigned mission partner, Elder Janus Ceitful, might say. Definitely not. He is a good Mormon, one of the best, and will prove it by converting the two brothers in the neighbourhood who are ‘unconvertable’. It totally won’t backfire in any way.

----------

“Do you have any idea where they’re sending you, Elder Price?”

“Well, of course we don’t really have final say over where we get sent, but I have been praying to be sent to my favourite place in the whole world...”

Logan Berry couldn’t help but stare at Elder Price, pure admiration in his eyes, as he responded, “Well, if you prayed for a location, I’m sure Heavenly Father will make it happen. You’re like the most smartest, best, most deserving Elder the centre’s ever seen...”

It was true. Logan had lived his whole life labelled as the second best. His parents had always said to him he should be more like that Elder Price. But no... Logan knew he could never compare... Elder Price was destined to do something incredible. He was just so perfect, wonderful, handso-

No! Elder Berry, this is exactly why you aren’t as good as Elder Price! Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

“Elders! Form a line and step forward when your name is called!”

All the Elders quickly did so, Logan feeling his heart thudding in his chest as he found himself stood beside Elder Price. Imagine if they were put together as mission companions! Logan could finally learn from him, and make his parents proud. He hardly payed attention as the other Elders were put in pairs, now daydreaming about he and Elder Price going away together...

“Elder Price!”

“Yes sir!”

Please pick me, please say me...

”Your brother will be...”

Please please please!

“Elder Cunningham!”

Logan’s heart sunk. But... wouldn’t it make sense the best two Mormons would be put together? Then they’d be an unstoppable force, converting all the people in... where was Elder Price going?

“Uganda!”

Oh. Now Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Price. He knew that it was the other Elder’s dream to go to Orlando. Not to mention, his mission companion didn’t exactly seem very... well... sensible and focused. 

“Elder Berry!”

Logan perked up upon hearing his name, and stepped forward, straightening his tie. “Yes, sir.”

“Your mission companion will be... Elder Ceitful!”

Logan’s shoulder’s slumped, face paling. Oh no.

Elder Janus Ceitful was... well, according to Elder Ceitful himself, he did not align himself with the Mormon faith. In fact, he despised it. He’d rant about it being ‘homophobic’ and ‘racist’ and ‘a cult’. Apparently, he was only in the church because his parents forced him to be, and if he tried to leave the faith, his parents said they’d kick him out and cut him off, leaving him homeless and near broke. He claimed that the second he had a stable job and his own place to live, he was never coming to the church again.

So, in short, he would be no help to Logan on the mission.

Just great.

“And your location is... Orlando!”

They were going to Orlando? Logan knew a lot about Orlando, as it was where Elder Price always talked about wishing to go. He felt even worse now. He was living, no, stealing Elder Price’s dream...

-

Logan was extremely close to losing it.

He was waiting in the airport at the gate for his flight. His parents had long since left after saying their goodbyes, so now he was alone.

Alone with Elder Ceitful.

“I really don’t get how you can happily go along with this shit,” the Elder in question said, flicking through his copy of the Book of Mormon. “It is the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever read - and I had a friend in high school who wrote and then forced me to read a lot of kinky shit.”

This. Logan was going to have to deal with this for two years.

“Is it because you like Kevin? Is that the only reason you go along with it, to impress him? Because, I’m sorry to tell you, but the Mormon faith isn’t that fond of the homosexual lifestyle. I don’t think that plan is going to-“

“What?! I-I do not have feelings for Elder Price!”

“Please, the way you stare at him tells me all I need to know. You have a crush.”

“I am straight! I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended...”

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that...”

Two. Hecking. Years.

-

Logan and Elder Ceitful had arrived in Florida, and were currently being given a tour of the local area by their District Leader and his companion. Elder Foster was very bubbly, joy seeming to never leave his light blue eyes as he pointed out all the houses around, saying which had been converted and which still needed to be. His partner, Elder Picani, was a little more subdued, but still bright and talkative. As they walked around, Elder Ceitful was barely paying attention. It didn’t matter, though, Logan was listening for the two of them, and had a notebook out, taking notes on which households needed to be converted.

As they walked around, Logan noticed something. He frowned, before looking up to his District Leader. “Elder Foster?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“You missed out Number 46. 45 has been converted, 47 hasn’t, but you didn’t tell us about 46.”

Elder Foster and Elder Picani froze, sharing grave looks, before the former responded. “They haven’t been. But we don’t talk about that house. We don’t visit it.”

“What? Why?”

“Two brothers live at that house, and they’re unconvertable,” Elder Picani said. “The first one is bad enough. He lives a very openly homosexual lifestyle, refusing to talk to us because of it. When he opens the door to us, he just says ‘sorry, I’m a lifelong gay’, before shutting the door in our faces. And the other...”

“He’s the devil incarnate,” Elder Foster finished.

“What?” Logan raised an eyebrow in confusion while Elder Ceitful’s attention was caught by the conversation.

“He’s horrible. The first time we tried to talk to him, he said ‘I’m sorry, I’m currently busy sucking Satan’s... thingy’. Except he didn’t say ‘thingy’. Since then, he’s done all sorts of horrendous things. Told horrifying stories to the Elders, shown them graphic images and videos, and other even more disgusting things. Eventually, we had no choice but to give up. I hate to admit it, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to find salvation.”

Elder Ceitful smirked. “I like the sound of this guy.”

Meanwhile, Logan’s eyes were shining. This was it. This was how he showed he was just as great, just as incredible as Elder Price. This was how he would make his parents proud.

He, Elder Logan Berry, was going to convert the unconvertable.

-

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, a warm shower, and a little rehearsing his script to himself in the mirror, Logan found himself walking up to the door of the ‘unconvertable brothers’ at house number 46. Elder Ceitful trudged behind him. “You know this is never going to work, right?”

“Shush. I want you to not say anything, alright?” Logan hissed to him. “This is very important to me, and I will not have you screw it up.”

“Sure. It’ll be more fun to watch you completely and utterly fail.”

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes, before turning to the door. He knocked, putting on a friendly joyful smile. After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Hello! My name is Elder Berry, and I would like to share with you the-”

He was interrupted by a wolf whistle. “Well, would you look at this... They’ve sent the cutest guy they have to try and tempt me to convert, have they?”

Logan’s face burned light pink, and he looked up at the man at the door. And then his face burned dark red.

The man had green eyes that shone like emeralds in the sunlight, tanned skin, brown hair that was shown to have a slight hint of red in it when the light caught it. The only exception was a silver streak dyed in his fringe. He had a moustache that curled up at the ends that, though it seemed to be something an over-the-top cartoon villain would wear, suited him perfectly. He was tall, staring down at Logan with a sort of hungry lust in his eyes. He was wearing a crop top and rather tight shorts which showed off his toned physique.

Logan swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, the mantra he had been taught since he was 13 repeating in his head. Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

Both the man in the doorway and Elder Ceitful smirked, the latter leaning over to Logan. “What was that you told me yesterday? ‘I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended’?”

Logan wanted to glare at him, but was still struck by the beauty of the stranger. After a pause, he did the only thing he could think of:

Run away.

As he left, he heard the two still at the door exchange a greeting.

“Jan? Is that you? No way!”

“Hey, Remus. It’s been a while.”

“No shit! Come on in, we have so much we need to catch up on! And I have a few new fanfics I need proof read!”

“Oh, I wish I could, but I’m required to stay with my mission companion at all times. Maybe you should invite us both in.”

Logan skidded to a stop, turning to his companion. “Don’t you dare!!!”

The man, Remus, grinned. “Why of course you can both come in!” He retreated back into his house, and Elder Ceitful followed, before pausing and turning to Logan.

“Come on, Elder Berry! You wouldn’t want to break the rules, would you?”

Logan hesitated. These thoughts that he had around Remus were unholy... but breaking mission rules was unholy too! He growled in annoyance, looking to his companion, who was giving him a sickly sweet and incredibly faux smile. 

Logan couldn’t win, could he?

He huffed before returning to the house, and unwillingly followed Elder Ceitful inside.

[azritesx3]

What a Trick! What a Treat! - Lucifer Netflix

Description: This is the last time Trixie will be able to go trick-or-treating, and she's getting everyone involved!

Rating: Teen Warnings: Suggestive sexual theme

AN: A one-shot Halloween themed fic for the Lucifer FB group contest! Hope you all enjoy, and Happy Halloween! AN: Updated August 23, 2020 - Grammar. Reupload!

AO3 / Fanfic Net / Wattpad / DeviantArt

---------------------------------------------

This year's Halloween will be the saddest for Chloe and Dan. The last one where their baby girl can still be considered a "kid" dressing up and getting candy.

Trixie couldn't be more excited.

Trixie has been waiting for this day to come ever since Maze told her about all the wonders of mischief night. Knowing that officially next year she can partake drove her bananas.

But, that doesn't mean Trixie was 100% happy about this being the last trick-or-treating for her. Who wouldn't miss all that free candy and cash [with Maze by her side, like always]? That's why, for this last kid-like Halloween, Trixie is getting everyone together to celebrate!

"I'd love to know how this little meeting ended up at my penthouse." Lucifer groans. He leans against his bar and downs a shot of his usual drink.

"Because you lost last game night and owed her one." Chloe chuckles next to him and nudges. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

"Your spawn is a cheater."

"Gee, thanks. Wonder where she gets it from."

"You're welcome." Maze adds in.

"All right everyone! May I have your attention please!" Trixie steps away from baby Charlie to stand in front of the TV. She smiles when everyone looks to her, "Since this is my last trick-or-treat night I want to make it extra special! I would like you all to come out walking with me wearing costumes I picked for you, and then enjoy a little after party at Mom's place!"

"Don't you have other urchins around your age to do this with?" Lucifer says.

"If you have questions or comments you have to raise your hand!" Trixie says with hands on her hips and a raised chin.

"Oh for the love of-" Chloe and Maze nudge him on either side. Trixie holds in her laughter. She loves pushing the Devil's buttons.

Lucifer raises his hand with an annoyed glare, "Yes, Lucifer?"

"Again, you little demon, why aren't you doing this with other urchins?"

"My friends are all too old already. Last year was it for the rest of them. Besides," Trixie looks back around the room and holds her arms out wide, "I'd much rather do this with you guys! You're more special to me!"

"Awww, and we love you too mini me!" Ella gushes. Her and Trixie fist bump the air.

"I'm sure everyone here would love to spend this Halloween with you, monkey." Chloe smiles. Everyone in the room, besides Lucifer and Charlie, smile and share their agreement.

"Awesome! Ok, so let me give you guys your costume pictures!" Trixie picks up her pink folder from the coffee table.

"Alright big me, I'd like you to be this!" Trixie hands Ella a piece of paper, "The family's crazy scientist!"

"Easy peasy!" Ella winks.

"Amenadiel, Linda, and little Charlie, here's your costumes!" Trixie walks over to the family and hands them their papers. Amenadiel chokes on a laugh, holds his paper up to Lucifer and the Devil almost dies of laughter.

"I think it's very cute, Trixie!" Linda says. She grabs Amenadiel's paper so she can hold the three pictures together: Zeus, Alcmene, and Hercules.

Amenadiel groans, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"These are for you Mommy and Daddy!" Trixie hands a paper to both of her parents. Chloe's is a 1940s noir detective while Dan's is a classic black pants, black and white striped shirt, and black eye mask criminal.

The two parents share a look. Obviously their daughter knows more than they thought.

"Here's yours Maze!" Maze takes the paper and stifles a laugh.

"What is it?" Lucifer tries to look over but his demon hides the paper away.

She smiles at him, "Oh, you'll see. You'll love it." She snickers.

"Annnd lastly, Lucifer!" Trixie proudly hands him the last paper.

He doesn't take it. He's too appalled.

"You can not be serious." He says down at the little girl while Maze laughs hysterically.

"Oh come on, Lucifer. It can't be that bad." Chloe says and looks at the paper. She stares at the image of a drawn man, "Who is that anyway?"

"It's Lucifer!" Trixie says happily.

"Fake Lucifer. Why would I want to be a fake me?"

"Because the kid loves the comics." Maze says and lays her paper on the bar counter for Lucifer to see. It's the comic Mazikeen in her battle gear with the half white mask.

"Seriously?" He says.

"Well, you don't lie so I picked something where you won't have to pretend!" Trixie pipes in, "I think you two are pretty similar."

Lucifer groans. He wasn't about to tell the little urchin that she was right.

"It's just for one night, Lucifer. Besides, I'm curious how different you'll look." Chloe says eyeing him up.

Dad be damned, "Fine, fine." Lucifer takes the paper from Chloe and crosses his arms. He looks away so she doesn't see the blush.

"Yay!" Trixie runs back to her original spot and claps her hands, "This is going to be so much fun! One week everybody!"

---------------------------------------------

Chloe, Dan, and Trixie are out for family day shopping for Halloween supplies.

Since no one would be home in either house there was no need to buy candy, but of course they get just as much as they usually do. Dan takes Trixie to look at all the Halloween decor while Chloe strolls through the costume aisles.

Luckily, she finds the correct outfits for her and Dan, as well as more accessories for Trixie's last President of Mars costume.

Before she rejoins them something catches the detective's eye. She stares at a picture and remembers Lucifer's words.

"How about a skimpy detective?"

"I'm not walking around half naked, Lucifer."

"Then how about being naked under that humongous trench coat?"

"Lucifer-"

"Come on, Detective! Give me something to look forward to!"

Chloe smiles. She takes the costume and goes to the cashier to purchase it. Hiding it in her purse so Dan and Trixie don't see, she bites her lip in excitement.

Hope he doesn't get offended…

---------------------------------------------

"I feel ridiculous." Amenadiel mutters at his reflection.

"I quite like it." Linda comes in. She's holding a dressed up Charlie and stands next to Amenadiel, "I think you look beautiful."

"You look beautiful, Linda. And so does our son." Amenadiel smiles. He caresses Linda's face and runs his fingers through her curled ponytail, then gives his son a kiss on the cheek.

"Lore conflicts aside, I think this is an amazing family costume." Linda says. She smiles cheekily and tugs on Amenadiel's robes, "Easy to remove too."

---------------------------------------------

"Annnd...TA-DA!" Ella jumps into her living room and spins around. She has that classic crazy old white hair wig on, a white lab coat with huge black buttons, arm length black gloves accompanied with thigh high black boots. She also has safety goggles on her head, and her lab coat is splattered with multiple colors.

"What cha think!?" Ella waits excitedly for an answer.

Margaret clucks once, then returns to her dinner.

Ella sighs and mutters, "Bob would be impressed…"

---------------------------------------------

"I am not dying my hair!"

"You're acting like it's actually permanent. News flash: you're the Devil. Your hair will be back to normal in the morning."

"No."

Maze gives an over dramatic sigh, "Had a feeling this would happen. You got three options Lucifer: you let me bleach and dye your hair," she points to the products on the bathroom counter, "you let me use this non-permanent spray stuff, but I got to use a shit ton of it to make your hair blond," she points to the ten sprays of blond color, "oooor you wear this." Maze pulls out a blond wig from her duffle bag.

"That looks horrendous."

"Yeah, well it's the only one I got. It itches too."

"...The sprays?"

"Will most likely make your hair more banana colored."

Lucifer lets out a frustrated growl, "Fine! Do the damn dye."

"You've become such a baby, I swear." Maze mutters, but quickly gets to work before he changes his mind.

Hours past and Lucifer is officially blond. He inspects himself in the mirror, "Not bad right?" Maze smiles.

"I don't see how blond is better…"

"'Cuz blonds are hot, Lucifer."

Lucifer just hums in response. Maze opens up the bathroom cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving cream. She shoves the two items into his hands:

"Start working on that baby face. I'm going to change into my outfit."

More time passes. Maze comes back into the bathroom clad in her old leather armor. She stares at Lucifer who is touching his clean shaven face.

"Smooth like a baby's bottom?" She jokes.

Lucifer, however, looks more somber, "More like back in Heaven."

"Ah…" Maze coughs. She rushes over and puts his arms down, "Here," she hands him a contact case containing blue colored contacts, "put these in so I can get started on that scar."

---------------------------------------------

"You look amazing!" Trixie says to everyone as they enter her Mom's place. Each one also compliments her updated President of Mars outfit.

Everyone besides Lucifer and Maze are here, and Chloe gets a bit worried. She goes to text Lucifer when the door rings once more.

"Woooah!" Trixie says, mouth agape.

"Klein mensie." Maze says in her native tongue to Trixie. She smiles, a thing that looks eerie with the half mask on, and walks into the space.

"Holy cow! Lucifer! You look so different!"

"And it's all your fault, spawn."

Chloe speed walks to the open doorway and sees Lucifer. A different Lucifer. Pretty much the Lucifer from the comic come to life. He wore a simple black suit and tie, not too unusual, but coupled with the blond hair, blue eyes, face scar and clean face left Chloe speechless.

"Psst, mommy." Trixie pokes her, "You’re starting to drool."

Lucifer and Trixie laugh when Chloe's hand flies up to her face to wipe away the drool and shut her mouth. Trixie walks back to the living room so Lucifer can step closer to Chloe.

"I'm pleased all this torture hasn't gone to waste." Lucifer smiles seductively.

Chloe smiles back and steps into his open arms.

"Ok everyone!" Trixie yells while Lucifer and Chloe share a kiss, "Let's go get ourselves some candy!"

---------------------------------------------

Trixie's last night of trick-or-treating went better than she expected. She received sooo much candy, and money thanks to Maze when her parents weren't looking, that she'll be set till next Halloween! When everyone returned to Chloe's place Trixie smiled warmly at how happy and carefree everyone looked.

No crimes to solve. No drama. No worries.

Amenadiel and Linda leave around 8 pm to get a very sleepy Charlie ready for bed. Dan leaves with Ella next when she tells him of a party she's going to. Chloe and Lucifer leave by 11pm to get ready for his own party.

Now Maze and Trixie were alone.

"Ready to start your first mischief night early, little human?"

Trixie smiles, all teeth, "Hell yeah!"

---------------------------------------------

"So, you'll look normal again in the morning? That fast?" Chloe asks as she and Lucifer step into his penthouse.

"Good ol' angel genes, darling." He replies as he pours drinks.

"Hmm."

Lucifer looks at her, eyebrow raised in question, "Do you...like this look?"

"Not as much as your normal, no. But," Chloe runs her fingers through his blond hair, "it is...different." Lucifer closes his eyes and hums and the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

The two share a couple of drinks before the party officially starts downstairs. Feeling braver, thanks to the drinks, Chloe motions Lucifer to stand at the bottom of his stairs. She climbs up and stands in front of his bed.

"What are you planning, Detective?" Lucifer's smile is contagious.

"Your surprise."

Chloe slowly unbuttons her trench coat, taking in Lucifer's eyes following her movements. Once the last button is undone she shrugs off the coat while simultaneously throwing her fedora.

Lucifer sucks in air and slowly releases as his eyes roam her outfit. She was wearing a short tight red and black dress with fishnet tights. The top of the dress is cut dangerously low, showing much of her chest and stomach. She turns in a slow circle so Lucifer can see how the back bottom was basically a thong, with a classic devil tail attached.

When she faces him again one hand goes up to touch the horns on her head while the other slowly slides down her open chest, "So, what do you think?"

"I think," Lucifer stalks up the stairs, "that I'll never again be able to make fun of a devil costume thanks to you. Which means," Lucifer reaches her. He grabs her hair with one hand and tugs down, opening her neck to him. With the other hand he grabs her bottom.

His lips ghost over her ear, "you need to be punished, my delectable devil."

[philosophicalparadox]

Ooh if you're doing the fanfic ask what about D? Is there a playlist you have when writing or thinking about Unbecoming?

D - Do you have a playlist for your fanfictions/Specific fanfiction?

Why yes, yes I do! in fact I have a single YouTube playlist devoted to my Blue Exorcist flights of fancy, and I use it for all of my B.E. fics. There are WAY too many to list here, so if you want to check out the full playlist, type “Reminiscing of B.E/ Ao no Exorcist.” into the search bar, and it should come right up. In the meantime, I will keep this answer to a brief 20 songs, which should be more than enough if anyone wishes to add to their personal library. 

Unbecoming has a few songs that I think are especially suited for it, most of them pertaining to Mephisto, Rin and Yukio in my head, though they’re honestly badass enough on their own. 

1. Unbecoming, Starset (upon which the fic was named, reminds me of Meph)

2. Teeth, 5SOS (Meph)

3.The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie, Colter Wall (Need I say?)

4. Before I Fade Away, YOHIO (Rin)

5. Burn the Witch, Shawn James & the Shapeshifters (Either Meph or Yukio)

6. Secrets and Lies, Ruelle (Meph)

7. iNSaNiTy, cover by REN (Actually Lucifer)

8. Son of the Wolf, Shawn James & the Shapeshifters (Meph)

9. Genius, YOHIO (hahah, it has clocks and talks about going mad, what do you think?)

10. Blinding, Florence and the Machine (Rin or Yukio specifically in the fic’s situation)

11. Venom, Icon for Hire (Shura, about Meph)

12. The Grey, Icon for Hire (Poor, poor Yukio)

13. Church, Fall Out Boy (Rin?)

14. Beekeeper, Keaton Henson (Yep, it’s my boy Yukio)

15. Remember Everything, Five Finger Death Punch (Actually Samael in accordance to the So’ol and Ba’al)

16. Broken Crown, Mumford and Son’s (Rin)

17. Eyes on Fire, Blue Foundation (Meph, Luci, or Amaimon; maaybe Shura?)

18. Half God/ Half Devil, In This Moment (fits Meph like it’s his best kept suit)

19. Become the Beast, Karliene (Rin, but also Meph in a sense)

20. Don’t Mess With Me, Temposhark (100% Mephisto’s theme song if you ask me) 

If you want to ask any other questions from the Ask, feel free to message me! 

[twistedrunes]

Bathhouse Blues

pic credit to @aranoburns

A short Tommy x Alfie drabble inspired by @aranoburns pics. This is set in the @whentommymetalfie AU, so consider this a wtma fanfic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350730

Warnings: Angst, language, self-destructive behaviour, smut (NSFW)

Tommy sits in the change room of the bathhouse unmoving except for the rise and fall of his arm as he smokes his cigarette. Men in various stages of undress move around him. Some obviously interested, some looking at him as if they feel they should know him from somewhere. Tommy leans his head back against the wall, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

What the fuck are you doing here Tommy, eh? The voice of reason demands.

Fucking. You just need a good fuck. Let some big fucker with a giant cock fuck your brains out. The devils inside demand.

Alfie has a big cock. Reason whispers. Which he knows how to use. He makes you feel things you’ve never felt with anyone else. Bliss. Safe. Loved.

You’ll never be good enough for him. The devil’s counter.

Tommy blinks rapidly to stop the tears burning his eyes. If only Alfie was here at home instead of Margate.

You’re so pathetic. He’s only been gone three days. You’re so fucking needy. The devil mocks.

Tommy goes to stand, to leave, to go home. Good Tommy. You’re better than this. You can wait.

“My, haven’t you got beautiful eyes.” A voice to his left says.

Tommy jumps, startled that the man had got so close without him noticing.

Pathetic.

“Your first time?” The voice asks, a large warm hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

Tommy’s eyes flutter for a moment as he leans into the warmth of the hand.

Admit it you want to get caught. Alfie’ll finally leave then. Just like all the others. You know it’s only a matter of time. You’re not worthy, any fool, except Alfie it seems, can see that. It’s about time he saw what a catastrophe you are and stayed the fuck away. He deserves more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” The man says his thumb caressing Tommy’s cheek.

Alfie’s gentle. He would never hurt you. This man wants to hurt you. It’s there in his eyes. Reason pleads.

The hurt makes you forget. You lose yourself. It’s what you need. The devil taunts.

Tommy stands motionless, eyes shut tight. “Come on, let’s get that lovely suit off shall we?” The man says hand sliding down his neck and begins to loosen his tie.

Tommy remains mute and motionless. The voices warring, screaming in his head.

A loud swoosh, a rush of air, and a scream of pain make Tommy open his eyes. The man standing, with only a towel around his waist, face twisted up in pain, is clutching at his wrist. A large, angry red welt appearing between his fingers.  

The tip of a cane appears against the man’s chest. Pushing him away from Tommy. “He didn’t say yes so fuck off, right.” Another deep but far more familiar voice says calmly. Tommy sinks back onto the seat as the voice continues. “Go on, fucking trot on.” Tommy doesn’t look towards the voice. He hears Alfie sigh and feels the seat move under Alfie’s weight as he sits next to him. Alfie leans back against the wall, saying nothing. Tommy lights another cigarette.

He’s going to leave you, finding you in a fucking bathhouse. It’s what you deserve.

The silence stretches on. Men come and go. None daring to come near either man. All seeming to understand they were separate from everyone else. Eventually, Alfie stands with another heavy sigh. “Well it’s been a long day, I’m going home.” He pauses and turns to look down on Tommy. “You coming?”

pic credit to @aranoburns

Tommy looks up, hands on his knees, eyes brimming “Why ask when you don’t really want me to?” He snaps.

Alfie shakes his head. “Wouldn’t fucking be here,” Alfie taps his cane on the tiles to emphasise his point, “in this fuckin’ cesspit right, if I didn’t fuckin’ want you to come home yeah?” He says wearily.

Tommy can’t face him, staring determinedly at the floor in front of him. “For all you know, I’ve been here, fucking for three days. Why the fuck would you want me?”

Alfie arches an eyebrow. “Have you been here fucking?” He asks plainly.

“No.” Tommy admits angrily. “But you didn’t know that! How the fuck did you even know I was here?”

Alfie looks around the room at the men all trying very hard to look uninterested. “Do we have to do this here?” He asks.

“Where the fuck do you want to do this?” Tommy spits.

“Well home preferably, but the car will do I suppose if you can’t wait that long.” Alfie says making his way towards the door.

Alfie holds the car door open for Tommy, who climbs in and waits while Alfie walks around the car to the driver’s side.

“Are you having me followed?” Tommy demands as soon as the car door is closed.

“So it’s here then is it?” Alfie says turning in the seat to face Tommy. He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer from Tommy. “No. Against my better judgement, I am not having you fucking followed, right.”

Alfie shakes his head as he watches Tommy physically curl into himself. He thought they were past this. Past Tommy’s devils rearing their heads at the slightest disruption to their routine. Alfie knows why Tommy’s here even if Tommy doesn’t. Tommy needs touch and in the absence of Alfie’s or even his family’s he’s returned to one of the two other options available. Fucking or fighting. Both angry, both would end up with Tommy being battered and bruised. He reaches out and places his hand on Tommy’s knee. His heart breaking a little as Tommy recoils slightly. Three fuckin’ days and Tommy had already started to regress. Alfie makes a mental note not to be away so long again. Even if it meant forcing Tommy to come with him.

“I came home early, right. ‘Cause I missed you.” He moves his hand to take Tommy’s squeezing it to emphasise his point. “And when I got home, not only were you not there but there wasn’t a single drop of whiskey or fucking gin in the house. So I made a few calls,”

“I was all,” Tommy interrupts, lifting his free hand and waving it by his head unable to express the turmoil in his brain.

“I know,” Alfie says, sliding closer and taking Tommy’s face in his hands. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay off the gin yeah? Fucking makes you melancholy.”

Tommy ducks his head, uncomfortable in the warm gaze of Alfie’s eyes. “I missed you.” He whispers.

“I fucking missed you too,” Alfie says pressing his lips to Tommy’s.

Tommy pulls away “I didn’t” he jerks his head towards the bathhouse.

“I know.” Alfie smiles rubbing his thumb along Tommy’s cheekbone. Tommy sighs thinking how good Alfie’s hands feel compared to the man in the bathhouse. Alfie kisses Tommy again. This time Tommy relaxes into it. This time it’s Alfie who pulls away. “Let’s go home yeah?”

Tommy nods. He waits until Alfie has pulled away from the curb before he slides over, resting his head on Alfie’s shoulder. Alfie rests his hand on Tommy’s knee, rubbing it gently in-between gear changes.

Reaching home Alfie takes Tommy’s hand as they climb the stairs. Once inside the door, Tommy pushes Alfie up against it, his fingers burying in Alfie’s beard as he kisses him. His hands quickly move, however, stripping clothing off the both of them. “Please.” He begs Alfie, unable to articulate his need any further. Stumbling over themselves, each other and discarded pieces of clothing they make their way upstairs and into the bedroom.

Alfie attempts to guide Tommy to the bed. But Tommy resists, he’s wearing only his boxers now and quickly shimmies them off his hips. Alfie’s hands come to Tommy’s waist, trying again to get him to the bed. Tommy stands firm, his hands pressing against Alfie’s stomach. He pushes Alfie’s undershirt up, Alfie lifts his arms allowing Tommy to push the fabric up and over his head. Tommy already pressing hot heavy kisses against Alfie’s chest as soon as the flesh is revealed to him. As soon as Alfie’s hands are free they fall to Tommy’s waist again, his thumbs rubbing the insides of Tommy’s hips.

Tommy slowly sinks to his knees, kissing his way down Alfie’s abdomen, his hands push Alfie’s boxers down. Kneeling, worshipping really, in front of Alfie, Tommy takes Alfie’s cock in his hand. Holding it gently as he runs his tongue up from the base to the tip. Alfie groans and his fingers fist in Tommy’s hair. Tommy lifts his gaze to Alfie’s as he swallows Alfie’s length. He watches Alfie’s Adam’s apple jump as he swallows hard. Tommy begins bobbing his head, teasing Alfie with his fingers and tongue as he takes him deeper each time. His eyes fill with tears as his nose brushes against Alfie’s stomach.

“Hey,” Alfie says softly, “no need to choke yourself yeah.” His hands sliding under Tommy’s armpits and bringing him to his feet.

Tommy resists for a moment, before falling against Alfie and kissing him savagely, dragging him towards the bed. Feeling the edge behind him he climbs on, quickly positioning himself on all fours in the middle of the bed. He feels the movement of the mattress as Alfie sits on the edge. Hears him open the bedside drawer and take out the bottle of oil. He shivers as Alfie’s hand rubs over his lower back. He sighs as Alfie moves up behind him, hands running along his sides.

“You sure you want it this way love?” Alfie asks.

“Mm,” Tommy moans reaching behind him to pull Alfie closer.

Understanding Alfie presses his chest against Tommy’s back, wrapping his arm around him pulling him close. He presses warm kisses against Tommy’s back and neck, whispering affirmations as he spreads oil over himself and Tommy. Slowly, gently he enters Tommy. Wrapping his arm tightly around Tommy holding him hard against him as Tommy’s arms weaken with pleasure. Keeping him as close as possible.

Tommy begins to let out the little moans and whimpers Alfie revels in. “Harder.” Tommy moans, reaching behind him and clawing at Alfie’s hip.

Alfie adjusts himself, thrusting more forcefully as he wraps his hand around Tommy’s cock.  Tommy groans, so deeply Alfie can feel Tommy’s muscles vibrating around his cock. He stops for a moment, nearly cumming with the sensation.

“More.” Tommy groans pushing back against Alfie and rocking his hips.

“Alright love, just needed a moment. Fuckin’ phenomenal ain’t ya.” Alfie murmurs in his ear, rubbing his hand over Tommy’s chest soothingly. Having stepped back from the edge Alfie slowly increases both the speed and power of his thrusts. Tommy begins moaning and whimpering, slowly coming undone. Alfie’s eyes close as he starts to lose himself, a familiar warmth spreading through this stomach.

“Stop!” Tommy cries suddenly.

Alfie freezes with a pained grunt, as Tommy falls flat on the mattress. Sitting back on his heels, the painful throbbing of his hard-on ignored, Alfie strokes Tommy’s back. “Tommy?” Alfie asks, brow furrowed in concern as Tommy wiggles and squirms “Did I hurt you?”

Tommy rolls on his back and sits up taking Alfie’s face in his hands. “No.” He says quietly closing his eyes as he kisses him. He slowly lies back, pulling Alfie over him and opening his legs to allow Alfie between them. “I want to see you.” He whispers fiercely.

Alfie grins, the broad, open, happy smile Tommy loves so much. “Well you know I love it when I can look into those beautiful eyes of yours.” He says happily, slowly pressing himself into Tommy again.

Tommy’s hands slide up over Alfie’s chest, teasing his nipples for a moment before carrying up over his strong shoulders, up his neck before cupping Alfie’s cheeks. He pulls Alfie’s face down to his, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.” He says simply, eyes searching Alfie’s.

“No harm done. I’m glad you came home. I won’t leave you alone so long again yeah.” Alfie says soothingly, slowing his pace.

Tommy’s fingers find their way into Alfie’s beard, stroking Alfie’s cheeks. His eyes roll back as Alfie presses against exactly the right spot. Recovering himself he holds Alfie’s eyes again. “I realised something while I was there.”

“Yes?” Alfie says resisting the urge to make a smart comment, instinctively knowing Tommy was for once, finally, opening up.

“I don’t ever want anyone, but you, ever again,” Tommy says seriously.

Alfie thinks his heart may just explode. He smiles thinking he couldn’t think of a better way to go; fucking the beautiful man he loves. He wraps his arms around Tommy “Me neither love.” He says before kissing him. The kiss tender and needful at first becoming more frantic as they cum together. Gasping Alfie collapses next to Tommy, rolling on his back and pulling Tommy against him. For once completely at a loss for words.

Tommy sighs and nuzzles closer into Alfie’s chest. 

Alfie’s brow wrinkled in concern, he smooths his hand over Tommy’s dishevelled hair “What you thinking about sweetie?” He asks softly.

Tommy looks up at Alfie, eyes bright and clear, “Nothing.” He replies happily. “It’s quiet.” He says resting his head back against Alfie’s chest.

                                            ----------------------------

Did you like this? Hate this? Have an idea you want me to do? Send me an ask!

Interested in my other work? Find them on my MASTERLIST

Want to be tagged? GO HERE

[madam-violetfics]

Just a little thing that bothers me

During series 10, we see Twelve wearing a lot of different costumes, but Missy is always wearing the same blouse and tie and two different skirts and jackets (during the execution she wears the series 9 one and later she wears the series 8 version). My only question is why ? 

I mean, she spent 70 years in the Vault, she probably has a lot of clothes there. I have a few theories about that. The main one is that Missy owns rows of the same blouse, like the classic cartoon characters. But why ? Is that some sort of OCD, like most of the Doctors had, sticking to one single costume ? Or maybe she has a darker motive, like she doesn’t want to admit she’s going to stay there for years so she tries to change as little thing as possible in her appearance. Or it’s actually funnier, maybe she hates everything Nardole buys for her so she always wears the same stuff to annoy him. I can easily imagine Nardole buying her casual clothes, like jeans and jumpers because he doesn’t care or he find it would suit her well, but she just pouts and refuses to wear them. Woah, I have a fanfic idea there ^^.

And for those who read comics, she wears different outfits and hairstyles, implying she’s got white or grey blouses too, but since the picture are sometimes the exact replicas of actual screenshots and she changes her clothes during the same story, it’s probably pure laziness from the creators.

Anyway, I’m just mad we didn’t see Missy in a more casual outfit, like pyjamas or a bathrobe, like the Master had in the Sea Devils. I mean, it would have been funny. Also, cute slippers would have been great too ^^.

[malarkgirlypop]

I really live your cowboy malarkey serie to bad there are only to chapters cause it's really good ,will any chapters be released in the future ?

Awww thank you so much. I have a whole story planned out but I got distracted with my other OC’s. I will definitely be updating that story in the future x

[adrianna-m-scovill]

Barson fanfic #3

Around 7200 words. Benson and Barba, New Year’s Eve. Not explicit.

Benson paused inside the doorway, letting the noise of the place settle over her. Everyone was talking loudly, too loudly, fighting to be heard over everyone else. The laughter was loud, too, and so was the music. Only the televisions were muted, with subtitles playing across the bottom; there was no way they could compete with the cacophony of the bar.

At the back of the room, two tables had been pushed together, and she saw Rollins and Carisi sitting on the far side, their backs to the wall, and started toward them. As she drew nearer and could see through the throngs of people, she caught sight of Barba at the end of the makeshift table. There were several empty seats between him and the two detectives, and most of that table space was covered in folders and papers. Barba was bent over a legal pad, scribbling furiously, but he looked up when she was a few yards away.

She smiled, and his lips quirked in response.

“We’re glad you’re here, Liv,” Rollins said. “Could you please tell him to put his homework away?”

“I mean, really, the trial starts in two days,” Carisi said. “You know those depositions backward and—”

“’To be prepared is half the victory,’” Barba interrupted, returning his attention to his notes.

“Teddy Roosevelt?” Carisi guessed.

“No, isn’t that the Boy Scouts?” Rollins said, grinning.

Barba made a sound of impatience, scratching out a line and writing something above it. “Cervantes,” he said. “More importantly, I don’t like surprises.”

Benson hung her coat on the back of the chair next to Barba’s and he glanced sideways as she sat beside him. “Really, Barba, it’s New Year’s Eve,” she said.

“Did everything go alright?” he asked. He was looking at his notes, but his pen was held loosely and a frown was creasing his forehead. He’d been distracted from his train of thought.

“Yes, perfect,” Benson answered. “Noah gave her a tour—when I left, he had a stack of books he was going to read to her.”

“He’s a smart kid, he should be proud.” He set his pen down and reached for the furthest stacks of papers, pulling them together into one pile.

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind?” Benson asked, helping him gather the paperwork.

“Are you kidding?” Barba returned with a laugh. “She was teaching him the word abuelita before you were in a cab, I guarantee it.” He looked up at her, his eyes bright with humor.

Benson smiled, but before she could respond, she saw—from the corner of her eye—Rollins and Carisi exchange a look. Lifting a hand to stall their speculation, she told them, “Barba’s mother is sitting with Noah tonight.”

“That’s nice,” Rollins said. “Wish I’d known, I could’ve dropped Jesse off and saved myself fifty bucks.”

“You pay a sitter fifty bucks a night?” Carisi asked.

Benson turned her attention back to Barba and found him regarding her. She shifted, feeling a little defensive. She wasn’t in the mood to be scrutinized—she wasn’t in the mood to socialize, either, but she hadn’t been able to bail on her friends—her squad—her family—on New Year’s.

“You okay?” Barba asked, quietly, tipping his head toward her.

She pointed at his shirt. His suit jacket was slung over the back of his chair, with his winter coat over it; he was wearing a white shirt, but his tie and suspenders were pink. “You haven’t been home?” His sleeves were rolled up, neatly, evenly. His collar was unbuttoned, his tie loosened. His jaw was rough with salt and pepper stubble.

“No, I got here early to go over some things. Then they showed up,” he added, with a quick jerk of his head toward Rollins and Carisi, who were involved in their own conversation.

Benson turned partway toward Barba; their knees were nearly touching beneath the table. “You know you don’t need to color coordinate,” she said. “No one can see your suspenders when you’re in court.”

He put his elbow on the papers before him, propping his cheek on his fist. He grinned at her. “I know they’re there,” he said, his eyes sparkling when she smiled in return.

“You know what they say about vanity,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Jane Austen said ‘a person may be proud without being vain,’ and before you start quoting Carly Simon, I do not gavotte.”

Her grin widening, she said, “Oh, I bet you do.”

“I do, actually. Like nobody’s business,” he smirked.

Benson laughed, shaking her head.

“Besides, ‘vanity is my favorite sin.’”

“Did you just quote the devil?” Carisi asked from the other end of the table.

Barba cast him only the briefest of glances. “Al Pacino, technically,” he said, suddenly straightening in his chair to gather his paperwork the rest of the way into a stack.

“That’s quite a glimpse into your psyche, Counselor,” Rollins said with a grin.

“‘The knowledge of yourself will preserve you from vanity,’” Barba murmured, retrieving his briefcase from the floor and sliding his stack of paperwork inside. He looked up at Rollins and Carisi. “Cervantes,” he said.

While Rollins shook her head in amused disbelief, Carisi tapped his knuckles on the table and pointed at Barba. “Nice play, Rafael,” he said, grinning.

“Where’s Fin?” Benson asked, glancing at her watch as Barba stowed his briefcase beside the table leg.

“He texted a while ago to say he and Melinda were stuck in traffic,” Carisi shrugged. “But, you know.”

Benson nodded. She tried not to acknowledge the flair of annoyance that she felt. It wasn’t Fin’s fault—even if the traffic thing was just an excuse. He was under no obligation to spend his New Year’s Eve with the men and women he saw every day at work. He was on a date with Melinda, and they should spend their time how they wanted. He’d worked long enough, and hard enough—even though he’d deny the accusation—to deserve it. They all had.

“Liv,” Barba said. The bar was loud, and his voice was quiet, but he was leaning forward to better read her expression and she had no trouble hearing him.

“I’m just wondering if I should’ve stayed home,” she admitted. “Have a nice, quiet night in, watch the countdown on TV and hope we don’t get a call.”

“It’s not too late,” he murmured, and she looked down at the light touch of his fingers at her wrist. Her stomach fluttered. “Turn your phone off. Make some popcorn, cuddle up on the couch with your son under a blanket, welcome in the new year together—it’s a memory he’ll keep forever.”

She swallowed and forced her eyes up to his. “That sounds nice,” she said, but it wasn’t her son with whom she was imagining snuggling under a blanket on the sofa. As their gazed locked and held, she saw his expression soften, and felt his thumb trace a light pattern on her wrist. He could read her thoughts, her feelings, as well as if she’d spoken them aloud. The corners of his eyes crinkled, but the smile that curved his lips was small, meant for no one but her.

“That sounds nice,” he murmured in agreement.

She covered his hand on hers and cocked her head. “How did we get here, Rafa?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, lifting one shoulder; she could see the emotion in every line of his familiar face. He didn’t try to hide his feelings. When they were together, they could always be themselves. They might not say everything they wanted to say, but they hid nothing. It wasn’t secrets, held in their silences, but truths.

“Life’s all about timing,” he said. “Five years ago, I requested a transfer to Manhattan—I don’t know where I’d be right now if I hadn’t made that move, if I hadn’t met you, but I can say that you, Lieutenant Benson, came into my life exactly when I needed you the most.”

She nodded, feeling tears stinging her eyes, and tightened her grip on his hand. She’d been in a bad place, mentally, emotionally, and physically, when ADA Barba had come striding, without warning, into her life—a smirk on his face and a cheesy pickup line on his tongue—a man who seemed to be a walking contradiction, an impossible combination of hard edges, steely resolve, and an openhearted desire to be a force of good in the world. His desire for justice was unmatched; his willingness to go to the mat for every victim made him a unique and invaluable ally.

She never had to doubt whether or not they were on the same side; even when they disagreed, she trusted him, trusted that his moral compass was always his guide, trusted that he would always fight for the truth, trusted that he would always have her back. Noah and Barba had both come into her life when she needed them, and they had each changed her in different, but no less profound, ways.

He had been everything she needed, at every turn: ally, fighter, counsellor, confidant, a stern voice when she needed one and a listening ear when she needed that more. He’d been a source of light in dark days, a source of goodness in a cruel world, a source of strength when she felt her weakest, and he had become, without her even noticing, the most important adult in her life.

He’d been everything she needed, but she’d come to want more. Every adult relationship she’d ever had in her life—friends, boyfriends, partners—every one of them had eventually fallen apart, crumbling through her fingers when she tried to hold on. She’d done her best to convince herself that she didn’t need anyone, had done her best to accept that she wasn’t a person built for accepting unconditional love. She’d been betrayed, time and time again, by the people to whom she’d given the most of herself, the people she trusted. She’d forgiven them, taking the blame instead onto herself, convinced that she’d pushed them away—convinced that she was too broken to deserve them.

For the first time in her life, after meeting the boy that would become her son, she’d realized what unconditional love really was, and since then she’d been tested in every way, personally, professionally, physically, she’d faced death and suffered loss, felt her greatest joys and her biggest sorrows, she’d fought for her life with the thought of Noah to give her strength.

And through everything, every high and low, win and loss, through every fight, Barba had been there, by her side or behind her, with her in her thoughts when he couldn’t actually be beside her. He could read her moods, he could make her laugh or cry, he could bring out the fight in her when she couldn’t bring it out of herself. He asked for nothing that she couldn’t give.

Most importantly, he knew it, all of it. Everything in their lives had conspired to bring them together at the time when they needed each other the most. He knew what he meant to her, and he knew that someday, they would talk about it. Someday, they would ask each other for more. He was the one person who would never quit on her, would never disappear from her life.

He knew it all, and he smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. “Go home, Liv,” he said. “My mother will get over the disappointment. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he added, giving her a pointed look.

Several other cops had joined the table, and when Benson glanced around, she caught Rollins’s eye, and the blonde detective smiled. Barba was right—Benson wasn’t doing anyone any favors by showing up when she didn’t really want to be there. She nodded, but she didn’t want to go home, either, not yet.

She looked at Barba again.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

“Don’t you want to stay?” she asked, her lips twitching in a smile.

He arched a brow. “I prefer to be able to hear myself think,” he said. I came here for you.

She laughed. “You prefer everyone to hear you think,” she returned. And I think I just needed to see your face tonight.

“Only what’s worth sharing,” he said, as they pushed their chairs back in unison. He bent and grabbed his briefcase, setting it on the table as he stood.

“You’re leaving already?” Carisi asked, and everyone at the table looked at the lieutenant.

She smiled. “I’ve had enough New Year’s Eves in the city, I think I should sit this one out. You kids be careful,” she added, earning laughter around the table.

“Take it easy, Lieutenant,” Carisi said.

“Have a good night, Liv,” Rollins added.

Benson was putting her coat on, but her sleeve was twisted. Barba pulled it up, straightening it so she could slide her arm inside. He’d already put on his suit jacket, and while Benson belted her coat and pulled on her gloves, he slipped into his coat.

He fished out his wallet and dropped a couple of bills onto the table, looking at Carisi and Rollins. “Next round’s on me,” he said.

“Here, here,” someone cheered.

“Is that a bribe, Counselor?” Carisi joked.

“You’ll have to wake up earlier in the morning if you want an admission from me, Detective,” Barba said, with a quick wink, and Carisi laughed, raising a hand to signal the server. “Ready?” he asked Benson, putting his hand to her back. She nodded and they wove their way through the crowd. He pushed the door open and held it with the briefcase in hand, his other hand still light on her back as she passed him with a smile.

Then they were on the sidewalk, surrounded by the cold night air, and she took his arm in hers, still smiling. “It’s not a bad night for Times Square,” she said. “Weather-wise.”

He looked at her as they walked. “You want to go to Times Square?” he grinned.

Laughing, she said, “Uh, no. Thanks. I meant for the people younger than us.”

He bumped his shoulder against hers, saying, “We’re not so old yet, Liv. Let’s share a cab, I’ll take my mom home if we can convince her to leave.”

“Will you walk with me for a bit?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. “Anywhere in particular?”

She shook her head. “I just feel like walking.” With you.

“Okay.” Anywhere, for as long as you want.

They walked in silence, pressed close together, drawing heat and comfort from each other. The night was cold against their faces, and they didn’t care. It was still a little early for the real celebrations to begin, but the sidewalks were busy; everyone seemed to be loud, and in a hurry, as Benson and Barba strolled in companionable silence.

They were walking against the crowds, away from the partiers, and they walked until the pedestrians thinned and the streets grew a little quieter. The cold air was stinging their eyes, numbing their noses, making them hunch their shoulders and huddle even closer together. The air seemed colder with fewer people passing by, and Benson and Barba cut into the park without comment, their steps matched and their arms linked.

They’d left nearly everyone behind, and they were both sniffing from the cold. She knew they would have to turn back soon; no matter how badly she wanted to stretch the moment, they couldn’t walk forever. It was too cold, and growing steadily later, and she had a son waiting at home.

She thought of Barba, returning to his own place—his apartment dark, silent save the tick of a clock, lonely—and she knew that he’d chosen a life of solitude in the same way she had: as a form of self-preservation. They had each made a life out of their career.

She stopped walking and started to turn toward him, but movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head, suddenly on high-alert. Barba, immediately noticing the change in her, also looked around. There was a small metallic sound, impossibly loud in the crisp air, and they both froze.

Benson stared at the gun pointed at her face, and the cold air seemed to settle into a ball in her stomach. She could feel Barba’s body, tensed beside her, unmoving.

How did I let this happen? she thought. This is my fault. Then, immediately, you have to get him out of this.

There were two men, both in black ski masks and dark clothes that made them all but disappear in the night—except for the gleam of their eyes and the glint of their guns. The park was well-lighted, and yet Benson noted that they were, all four of them, buried in the shadows. The men must’ve been following them, must’ve planned the moment of least visibility, and she cursed herself for letting her guard down. It was inexcusable.

“Give me the briefcase,” the closest man said. His gun was trained on Benson’s face. The other man, standing a few feet back, had his weapon held down at his side. Benson considered her options. She was carrying, but she would have to open her coat to get to it.

“Okay,” Barba said, slowly raising his arm, offering up the case.

“Let’s just stay calm,” Benson told the man, to whom she’d already begun to refer to as Perp One in her head. “Nobody’s going to cause any trouble.”

“Shut up. Move, over there,” Perp One said, gesturing off the side of the path with a flick of the gun. He grabbed Barba’s briefcase and tossed it back to Perp Two, who caught it awkwardly, nearly dropping his gun in the process. “Hurry up, go,” he said.

Benson could feel Barba’s hand on her arm. “You don’t want to do this,” she said. “Listen to me, I’m—”

“What’s in there?” Perp One asked over his shoulder.

“It’s too dark,” Perp Two answered. “It looks like just papers.”

“Legal documents,” Barba said. “What’d you expect, a briefcase full of cash?”

“Barba,” Benson said in a low voice, her gut twisting as Perp One’s bright eyes slid to the lawyer. A moment later, the gun followed the arc of the holder’s gaze, and suddenly it was Barba who was staring down the barrel. Benson shifted herself in front of him, her heart slamming in her chest as she said, managing to keep her voice calm: “Hold on. Hold on.” She held up a hand, palm-out. “You don’t need to do that.”

“You a lawyer?” Perp One asked.

“He is. And I’m a New York City police officer,” she said, speaking slowly. Perp Two had tossed the briefcase aside and was looking around, checking for witnesses, barely paying attention. If she could find a way to disarm Perp One, she thought she could get the drop on Perp Two.

“Gun?” Perp One asked her.

“Inside my coat,” she answered. “If you turn around right now and walk away—”

“Go over there. Now, or I’ll shoot your lawyer boyfriend in the face.”

“Alright. You’re in charge, here,” she said, taking a step backward. Barba moved with her, and she tried to keep her body in front of his.

“Give me your watch,” Perp One told Barba as he drove them backward, further from the path and the lights. Barba lifted his hands, the watch gleaming in the darkness, and unfastened it without argument. Perp One reached out and grabbed it, handing it back to his partner. “And wallet. Slowly. Just the lawyer, you keep your hands out,” he told Benson.

Barba pulled out his wallet and handed it over. Perp One flipped it open, holding it up to try to catch a bit of light. His gun shifted a little, but Benson—while it was difficult to tell in the darkness—thought his finger was inside the trigger guard. She had to wait for a better opportunity.

“Assistant District Attorney?” Perp One asked. “So, not just any lawyer.” He stuffed the wallet into his coat pocket. “Put your hands on your head,” he told Barba. Over his shoulder, he told his partner, “Search him. You, don’t move,” he added to Benson.

Barba put his hands up, near his head, but when Perp Two began roughly patting him down, the ADA said, through his teeth, “You’re making a big mistake.”

“I know it’s hard for lawyers to shut up, but try harder,” Perp One said. He took a step closer to Benson, pointing the gun at her face. “Now you. Keep your hands up.” He reached out and yanked her coat open. “Take it off,” he said. “Nice and slow.”

“It’s twenty degrees—” Barba started.

“It’s alright, Barba,” she cut in, keeping her eyes on Perp One. She slowly slid her coat off her shoulders and held it out to one side, both arms aloft. The cold air pressed in on her, making her shirt feel thin, insubstantial. The cold didn’t matter, though; all that mattered was getting out of this situation, by whatever means necessary.

“Get her gun, check her pockets,” Perp One said, taking her coat from her. He held the garment against his body with his elbow so he could keep the gun leveled at her face while he quickly rummaged the pockets. He found nothing; she didn’t keep personal items in her overcoat. Everything was on her person. He tossed the coat into the bushes.

She knew that Barba had to make an effort to bite back the angry words that sprang to his tongue, and she was grateful for his restraint. She kept her arms out while the man took her gun, keys, phone, wallet, and badge, emptying her pockets and belt.

“She ain’t just a cop,” Perp Two said. “Lieutenant.”

“That’s right,” Benson said, nodding. “I told you, you don’t want—”

“You said you were a police officer,” Perp One cut in, and she could hear an edge in his voice that made her skin tingle. “A lawyer and a cop? An ADA and a lieutenant. Check her ankles.”

“I don’t have a backup,” she said. “I’m off-duty.”

“You always go out off-duty with your gun and badge?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Nothing,” Perp Two said, straightening.

“You have everything,” Benson said. “All our money. You can—”

“What unit are you?”

“Manhattan SVU,” she answered.

“Special victims?” Perp One said.

She suppressed a shiver that wasn’t caused by the cold. In fact, she was barely aware of the chill. She was focused on Perp One, and her instincts told her that something had changed. This might have started as a robbery, but it was about to become something more.

Perp One stepped forward, and the nose of his gun was cold against her skin, cold enough to burn, as he used it to nudge her chin up. “All day, every day, you listen to people talk about being raped,” he said, his voice a low caress, his masked face close enough for her to smell the menthol on his breath. “You look at pictures, you go over all the details. All the trauma, all the humiliation. The pain. Violence. Helplessness. Shame.”

“Stop it,” Barba hissed.

“You probably tell them you understand how it feels, what they’re going through. Have you ever been raped, Lieutenant?”

She swallowed. “No,” she said.

“No,” Perp One breathed, lowering his gun to the top button of her shirt. “You’ve been close, I’ll bet. You’ve done this a long time, I can tell. You don’t get to be a female lieutenant without paying some dues. This isn’t the first time you’ve had a gun pointed at you.”

“No.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’m sure you’ve had a few moments where you thought, this is it. It’s all over. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe times you thought you were going to be raped.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said.

“But here you are. You’re a survivor, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”

She didn’t answer.

“Have you ever seen anyone raped? You tell them you understand. You probably think you do, after all you’ve seen and heard, but…have you ever seen it happen? Have you ever seen the look on their face, heard the pain and fear in their voice as they begged for mercy?”

“I’ve heard it,” she said through numb lips. “I was handcuffed in the next room.”

“That must’ve been horrible for you, hearing the cries for help, knowing you could do nothing.”

“Yes.”

“Lucky, maybe, that you couldn’t see the look on her face, the damnation in her eyes when she realized you wouldn’t save her. Maybe you could’ve tried just a little bit harder, done just a little bit more.”

“I got her out alive,” Benson said.

“Is that all that matters?”

“That’s what’s most important,” she answered.

“Do the victims always agree? Don’t they ever think death would’ve been better? Well, I guess time heals all wounds, right? Take a step back.”

She did, hands still partly raised.

With his gun pointed at her, Perp One looked at Barba and said, “Take off your coat.”

“You already searched him,” Benson said, as Barba shot her a quick look in a flare of moonlight.

“Point your gun at her head, if she takes one step forward, shoot her,” Perp One told his partner, who quickly raised his own weapon toward Benson’s face. Perp One turned his gun on Barba. “Take it off.” Barba stripped his coat off and tossed it aside with an angry flick of his wrist, his posture defiant as he glared at the masked man. “And the blazer,” the man said. Barba pulled it off with jerky movements and flung it away.

“We should go,” Perp Two said. “Someone could—”

“Hush. On your knees, Mr. Bigshot Lawyer.”

“We’re not doing this,” Benson said.

“If she moves, shoot her,” Perp One reiterated with barely a glance in their direction. His attention was focused on Barba, who was standing with his hands fisted at his sides, his shirt bright in the moonlight, breathing heavily through his nose. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

“You’ll have to kill me,” Barba said, his voice low and gravelly. Benson knew that his eyes were flashing, and the gun pointed at him was terrifying to her—far more terrifying than the one pointed at her.

Perp One laughed, a mean sound, and looked at Benson. “Maybe I was right?” he suggested. “Let’s see.” He stepped forward the pressed the gun against Barba’s forehead with enough pressure to tilt his head back.

“Please,” Benson said. She wasn’t accustomed to begging, but the words poured from her: “Please, don’t do this, please.”

The gunman waited, giving Barba a few moments to wrap his head around the situation, before saying, “I will kill you. Do you want to die tonight? Do you want your friends in the police department to scrape your brains from the grass while the rest of the city celebrates the start of a new year? Get on your knees.”

“You sound like a smart guy,” Barba said through his teeth, his eyes gleaming. “You have to know, this doesn’t end well for you.”

“Get down.”

“No,” Barba answered.

Benson felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. She could barely breathe; her stomach churned with fear.

Perp One looked at her, again. “He thinks death is better. Does that sort of disagreement throw a wrench into your relationship?” He turned his gun on her. She cut a quick glance toward Barba. She didn’t want him to try anything. Perp One had a second gun, now—hers—stowed in his waistband. She and Barba had to keep their heads and make it out of this alive.

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” she said. “You have all the power, here. You can put an end to this before it goes too far.”

“Mr. ADA,” Perp One said, tipping his head. “I will shoot her in front of you. I’ll leave you alive so you can watch her die, right here, shivering in the park. You can tell her family, if she has any, that you had the power to save her and didn’t. What do you think? Is her death better?”

Barba’s throat worked. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“Unless you want to watch her die, get on your knees.”

Barba looked at her, and she shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “We’re not doing this,” she repeated.

Barba pulled in a shaky breath and slowly sank to his knees on the frosty grass.

“No, no,” she said, starting forward in spite of the guns. Barba held a hand out in her direction even as Perp Two grabbed her arm and yanked her backward. “Stop it,” she said.

“Keep your voice down,” Perp Two hissed through his mask.

“No, alright, listen, you don’t need to do this, you’ve made your point. Let him go, keep me here. Okay? Alright? Let’s talk about this. He doesn’t need to be a part of this, this is between you and me.”

“Don’t you get it?” Perp One said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s about you having to watch. Get up,” he told Barba. “Come on, come on, up. Don’t look at me like that, you think I’d give you the chance to bite my dick off? Get up.”

Barba rose as slowly as he’d knelt. Even from several feet away, Benson could feel the emotions coming off him in waves—the fear, the embarrassment, the sense of helplessness, the anger that was making his body tremble. Perp One reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him toward a nearby tree. Barba stumbled, catching himself against the rough bark, and Perp One shoved him against the trunk, stepping close behind him.

“My buddy will kill her,” he hissed in Barba’s ear, yanking at the suspender clips hard enough to tear them from Barba waist with the sound of ripping fabric. “Keep your hands on the tree,” he said. Sliding his gun into his pocket, he looked at his partner. “Keep your gun on her. I’m not kidding. If she makes a move—”

“Take me,” Benson said. “Let him go and I’ll stay here with you. I’ll do whatever—I won’t fight you,” she said. The words were like acid on her tongue, but they were nothing compared to the fire burning in her gut. She wasn’t going to let this happen. They would have to kill her. Perp One had two weapons, both of them stowed. The gun pointed at her was less than steady. She might have a chance.

Reaching toward Barba’s crotch, Perp One popped the button off the front of the lawyer’s trousers and jerked Barba’s pants down to his knees; the suspenders slid up and over his shoulders, slumping toward the ground. Perp One reached for his own fly. He pushed Barba’s head against the tree and kicked his feet apart on the grass.

“You’ll have to kill me,” Benson said, moving forward.

“Stop,” Perp Two told her. He reached for her arm, and as his body twisted, his weapon slipped from its target. She didn’t hesitate—she couldn’t hesitate, because there wouldn’t be another chance. She sidestepped toward him, surprising him, and brought her elbow down on his arm, grabbing the gun from his suddenly-weak fingers. She drove her fist into his nose, feeling the crunch of bone; he crumpled to the ground, his hands over his mask.

It all took just a handful of heartbeats, a few seconds, but Perp One had his gun out of his pocket even as she turned toward him. “Stop,” she said, but she saw everything unfolding in slow motion. She aimed and fired; three gunshots tore through the night in quick succession. Two of them were hers. One caught the perp in the shoulder, partly spinning him; the other hit him in the chest, sending him backward. From the corner of her eye, she saw Barba, his back now to the tree, leaning against the trunk. His pants were around his ankles, now, his shirt hanging to his upper thighs; the front of that shirt was darkening with blood.

She couldn’t look at him. Only seconds had passed, and Perp One was still on his feet, facing her, raising his gun. She shot him in the chest again, once, twice, and he finally went down. She walked over to him and stepped on his wrist, bending to take his gun. She reached into his waistband and retrieved hers. He didn’t fight her; his breaths were wet as he choked on his own blood. She looked back at Perp Two. He was conscious, but hadn’t moved, still clutching his face. She didn’t have handcuffs, or even zip-ties.

She looked at Barba, terrified of what she would see. He was still on his feet, somehow. He was bent, one hand clutching at his side while he struggled to pull up his pants with the other. She hurried over to him.

“Raf,” she said. “Let me—oh my god. Here.” She helped him pull his pants up, and said, “Sit down. Sit down. Keep pressure on—I need to find my phone,” she said, setting the guns by his leg.

She went to Perp Two and rummaged through his pockets; he didn’t resist. She also snatched up Barba’s jacket and coat and was back at his side even as she dialed. She gave dispatch her badge number and their location, but she was distracted. Barba’s head was lolling forward, and she put her hand under his chin, lifting his face.

“Stay with me, Rafa,” she said. “They’ll be here soon.” She was kneeling beside him. He was shivering. She leaned him forward, putting his coat over his shoulders. He hissed in a breath and his eyes rolled toward her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is going to be worse,” she added, folding his blazer. She lifted his hand and pressed the jacket against the gunshot, wincing at his sound of pain. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, pushing harder. Her phone was lying on the grass by her side, the line open; both attackers were alive and unrestrained—although one was surely close to death—but all of her attention was on Barba.

“Ruined my suit,” he murmured, and she saw his lips curve into the ghost of a smile.

“I’ll buy you another,” she said.

“Can’t afford it,” he said, and she saw him grimace as he tried to shift.

“Stay still,” she told him. “You can buy your own damn suit, then. Rafael. Look at me,” she said when his eyelids drooped. “Open your eyes.” She saw people coming through the park, heading cautiously toward the sounds of gunfire. “NYPD!” she called. To Barba: “Stay with me, Rafa.”

“Not leaving,” he murmured, shivering.

“No, you’re not. Promise me,” she said.

“Livia…”

“Promise me,” she repeated, barely aware of the tears burning her cold cheeks.

“Love you.”

“Don’t leave me, Rafa, I need you,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Promise,” he whispered.

  “Liv, do you want me to take Noah?” Rollins asked in a hushed voice. “I can take him back to my place. Jesse’s sitter said she can stay the night.”

“No,” Benson said, looking at her son. He was curled up with his head in Lucia Barba’s lap, sleeping. Lucia had a book opened, but her eyes were unfocused, and Benson knew that she wasn’t really reading. All of them were waiting for word that Barba had regained consciousness. He was out of surgery, but Benson wouldn’t take an easy breath until she could look into his eyes for herself. “I need him close,” she said. “Thank you, Amanda. You guys can head home, I’ll call—”

“We’re not leaving, Liv,” Fin said. He was sitting beside Melinda, who nodded in agreement.

“We’re here for Barba,” Carisi agreed.

“Rafael is lucky to have you all as friends,” Lucia said, quietly. She looked up at Benson and added, “Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Benson told her, her throat thick with emotion.

“My son trusts you completely, Lieutenant Benson,” Lucia said. “He trusts no one. Whatever happened, I know he’s here because of you.”

Before Benson could answer, a nurse appeared in the waiting room. “Mrs. Barba?” she asked, her gaze flicking from Benson to Lucia.

Benson pointed toward the older woman. “She’s Rafael’s mother,” she said.

Rollins went to sit with Noah, who was blinking around the room, as Lucia got to her feet.

“You can go in to see him for a few minutes. He’s going to be a little groggy.”

“I want to see Uncle Rafi,” Noah said.

“I’m sure he wants to see you,” Lucia answered with a smile, motioning him forward. The boy hurried to her side.

“I’m sorry, only one person—” the nurse started, but she broke off at the look that Lucia shot her.

“My son almost died,” she said. “He needs to see his family. If you want to stop us, you can send security in here to chat with the NYPD.”

Benson grinned in spite of herself, looking around at her tired detectives. Their presence, their support, meant the world to her; so did Lucia’s declaration that she was family. And Noah’s small hand, sliding into Benson’s, was the best balm her raw emotions could hope for. Still, she wanted, needed, to see Barba.

“Alright,” the nurse said. “But only for a few minutes, and he needs rest. No stress.”

“I think I know how to take care of my son, thank you,” Barba’s mother answered. The nurse sighed and led them down the hall.

Benson and Noah, hand in hand, followed Lucia into Barba’s room. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of their steps, and Benson felt a rush of relief that made her knees weak. His green gaze, cloudy from anesthesia, found his mother, and then Noah, and settled onto Benson.

His lips curving into a smile, he said, his voice hoarse, “Promised.”

She let out a breath, giving a single nod, smiling.

“Mami,” Barba murmured as his mother bent to kiss his forehead. “I’m alright.”

“Of course you are, mijo,” she answered. “Young Noah and I were just in the neighborhood, anyway, thought we’d stop by,” she said, winking at the boy.

Noah glanced up at his mother for permission, and Benson nodded. Noah stepped forward. “Are you okay, Uncle Rafi?” he asked, going to the edge of the bed.

Barba lifted a hand and ruffled the boy’s hair, earning himself a smile. “I’ll be good as new in no time, buddy,” he said. “It’s late, though. You should get back to bed.”

Benson moved closer, and Barba’s gaze slid up to hers. “We’ll let you get some rest,” she said. “We just wanted to make you didn’t need anything.” She wanted desperately to touch him; she saw his eyes soften, saw the emotion in the lines of his face. She didn’t want to leave his side, but he was right. It was nearly midnight, and Noah should be home in bed. Lucia would let her know if anything happened, and Benson had to console herself with the knowledge that she could return in the morning to check on him.

“Mr. Noah and I have already agreed that we’re not done having fun. Right?” Lucia asked the boy.

“Right,” he agreed, grinning.

“You don’t have—���

“Nonsense, I won’t hear another word,” Lucia cut in. “I’m taking him home and sending all those half-drunk cops—and Melinda, what is she? Medical Examiner?—home, too. All this fuss when he’s clearly fine,” she added, smiling at her son, unable to keep the love and worry from her eyes. She looked back at Benson. “You stay,” she said.

Benson looked at Barba; their eyes met, and her breath caught.

“Stay,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She nodded, pressing her lips together, and saw his body relax. While she kissed her son, and hugged Lucia, Barba’s eyes drifted closed, and his breaths evened out. In a minute, Benson was alone with him, and she watched his peaceful expression for a bit, overwhelmed by her love for him—and her relief. She knew that he was going to have to deal with the aftermath of everything that had happened—and everything that had nearly happened—but for now, what mattered was that he was alive and safe.

She moved the chair beside the bed, as quietly as she could, and lowered herself into it with a wince. She was sore; although uninjured, the cold had made her joints stiff and her muscles achy. She looked up to find Barba watching her from beneath his lashes.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly.

She leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers. “Am I okay?” she said. “You’re the one who was shot.”

“Was IAB here?”

“I talked to them but if they want anything else from me, they’re going to have to wait until tomorrow,” she said. “How do you feel?”

His lips twisted into his familiar smirk. “I’ll be gavotting in no time.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” she answered, softly.

“We can gavotte, or…” he gave his head a little shake on the pillow. “Or balter, for all I care,” he said. “Liv, I know that we’ve been putting off having this—”

“Rafa, you don’t have to—”

“I’m sorry, Liv,” he said. “I’m sorry if you’re not ready to hear it but I need to say it. We’ve been waiting for the right time, in our lives, in our careers…But it’s been the right time all along. I think we were both just too scared of screwing it up. Yogi Berra said ‘you don’t have to swing hard to hit a home run. If you got the timing, it’ll go.’ That’s us, Liv. We don’t have to be afraid, not when it’s you and me. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and said, hoarsely, “I know you’re still drugged up, Rafa, but Yogi Berra?”

His expression was serious, and he said, “I don’t keep secrets from you, Liv, not ever. You have to know how I feel.”

“I do know,” she answered, squeezing his hand. “I love you, too, Rafa. I can’t lose you. I was so scared…”

“You’re not alone,” he whispered. “Salvador Dali said, ‘have no fear of perfection—you’ll never reach it.’ But he never met you, Olivia.”

She gave a little laugh, an exasperated sound. “Is there an occasion you don’t have a quote for?” she asked.

“I love you, Liv,” he said. “Those words are all mine.”

She pulled in a shaky breath and smiled. From the hallway, she heard the hospital staff counting down, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s midnight,” she said. She leaned forward, holding his hand, holding his bright gaze. “The new year starts now,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

[textsfromumbridge]

Slytherin to your Chamber of Secrets (Rebecca x Nathaniel)

Or: five times Nathaniel was a gigantic Harry Potter nerd in front of Rebecca

AN: I’m a terrible person, but I’m into it. Sorry not sorry. I’ll drag you all into the trash with me. 

...

#1

How did she not realize before? Ever since the elevator, it had become so obvious to her. 

And she wasn’t talking about him being hot - that was definitely a before the elevator thing. 

She was talking about the myriad of Harry Potter related things she had discovered around and about her boss. And she hadn’t even been spying on him that much. Okay, not much for her was still a lot more than most people, but still. She hadn’t even followed him home - much. 

Yeah, she’d been a little bored since the engagement... since it ended. 

Dr. Akopian thought she’d been channeling her energy into something healthy. And it was healthy. For her. She was trying to draw out Nathaniel Plimpton’s humanity from underneath his robotic exterior. It was good for the firm, and it had nothing to do with her personal interest. 

Nothing at all. 

Which was what she’d tell Paula if she wasn’t so busy reconciling with Scott - which was super important, she understood that. She just missed the days when Paula was readily available to listen to all her issues. 

Heather wasn’t nearly as good of a listener. 

Wait, what was she thinking about? Right, Nathaniel Plimpton’s scarf. They were on their way to New York (damn Audra Levine), and since fall had made its approach everywhere but in California, warm clothes were necessary. 

But a green and silver-grey striped scarf? Obvious. To her, anyway. None of the other Muggles on their flight had made the connection. 

“Still evil,” she told him, with a pointed look. 

“Cunning and ambitious,” he corrected, before turning back to his files. 

She totally got points for noticing. She knew she did. 

#2

The office Halloween party was traditionally raucous - Darryl just really loved dressing up, and now that he and WhiJo could wear a nauseatingly cute couple’s costume, he was even more excited. 

The boss, however? Not so much. 

The party had to be held on a Friday, after working hours, because God forbid his employees were anything other than robot lawyers. 

And maybe her Hermione Granger costume wouldn’t exactly pass muster - McGonagall would surely give her detention for the amount of buttons she’d opened on her slightly too small blouse - she had the advantage of completely flustering Nathaniel. 

It wasn’t the entire reason why she chose the costume - but she could admit to herself that it was a part of the reason. A tiny small part that she was denying the second after admitting it. 

Because she could relate to Hermione. She was not the gorgeous one - she was the awkward one with the brains that most people didn’t know how to relate to. 

But Rebecca was a different person - she knew now that she could never be happy with Ron. 

The epilogue was bullshit anyway. She’s argued that point to everyone who would listen. No one ever seemed to agree. 

“Albus Severus?” she muttered angrily to herself as she went to grab herself another drink. “Now that’s worse than a Cruciatus.” 

There was a chuckle behind her, and she didn’t even have to turn around to know who was there. She knew that voice - had dreamt about that voice more than once, even after the damn wind went back to wherever it was supposed to be. 

“When a Weasley is better at naming children,” he started, and she knew this was going to be good. 

“You know Hermione picked the names,” she immediately interrupted. “Ron’s middle name is Bilius!” 

When Paula found her half an hour later, she was still extolling the ridiculousness of naming children after constellations. Seriously, Scorpius? 

Of course Nathaniel would defend the Slytherins on this. He was just so typical that she refused to tell him that she wrote Rose/Scorpius fanfic once upon a time. Someone had to fix canon. 

#3

They’d gotten more comfortable with each other since the Halloween... incident? What should she call a thirty minute conversation about wizarding naming conventions? 

Super unprofessional, probably. 

Now that she was completely free - except for her elaborate schemes to completely ruin Josh Chan’s life - Nathaniel was more overt about his interest. 

Obviously he still needed to get her out of his system. 

Which was completely fine with her, because she was in desperate need of some no strings loving. Just because she was busy making her ex-fiance’s life a living hell, didn’t mean that she couldn’t get off. 

A warm body was more to her tastes than something running on batteries, at least at this moment. 

She don’t need no man. 

Nathaniel was just super convenient, which was why she just rang his doorbell on a Sunday afternoon. 

It was the time he was most likely to be home alone - not with a random other girl. She wasn’t asking for a threesome here. 

“Rebecca?”’ he seemed startled when he opened the door. 

Nathaniel Plimpton, not in a suit for once. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt, just pants that were either pajama pants or for another one of his work-outs. He did seem to be a little bit sweaty. 

She was really trying to focus on the fact that he knows her name now, but he was also kind of ridiculously fine without a shirt. 

“Going to bed?” she was prepared for the occasion. “Mind if I Slytherin?” 

He groaned and let her walk right into his apartment. 

“Why does that work for me?” he asked himself. 

“Because you’re not a Muggle,” she kicked the door closed with her foot after kicking off her heels. 

In the heat of the moment, she might even have forgotten about her epic plans for revenge for just a second. 

But by the time she did her Walk of No Shame that evening, she was back in planning mode. Of course she was. 

#4

Nathaniel started being nicer to her after she slept with him. 

She could ignore it for a little while, but it didn’t last very long - it was just so boring. If she wanted to be around someone who was nice to her she would just sleep with Trent again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t offered - so many times. 

But she figured that Nathaniel would just go back to normal after he got her out of his system. She got him out of her system. 

Mostly, anyway. She wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat, but she was not exactly writing Mrs. Rebecca Plimpton in her journals either. Or Plimpton-Bunch. Hyphenating just sounded super classy. 

Wow, the random places her mind took her - maybe she should try talking to Dr. Akopian about that. 

After she finished with Josh Chan. 

“Rebecca?” Nathaniel actually asked instead of demanding these days. 

People were noticing - he was being nicer to everyone in the office, and she was just not sure if it was genuine. This was Nathaniel Plimpton, he didn’t have a nice bone in his body.

Okay well, he did have one particularly nice, large... 

Maybe they could just bone again, and he would go back to being an asshole and she would be able to focus on her plans without getting distracted by her libido again. 

But him being nice... It stopped doing anything for her after the wedding that didn’t happen. 

“Take off your clothes,” she told him. 

“I must have drunk some Felix Felicis,” he muttered, teasing smile on his face. “Because I’m about to get lucky.” 

Really, why was it that every single time he made a stupid reference she got more than a little gooey? 

Not something she wanted to think about, so she pulled him along by his loosened tie. 

#5

Fortunately, Nathaniel seemed to figure out that his temporary lapse into kindness didn’t do a damn thing for her. 

By the next time they slept together, he was back to being himself - rude comments at work when she had to take the stairs and got winded after half a floor, bossing everyone around because he was the boss of them, the whole deal. 

She almost forgot that Nathaniel being himself also included him being a giant freaking nerd. 

Office Secret Santa was a Darryl thing, and Nathaniel was forced to continue the tradition because of something he’d promised his work partner during his nice streak. 

Of course Nathaniel “randomly” picked her name from the metaphorical hat - judging from the gorgeous Time Turner necklace she wore around her neck all the time now. 

“For when you’re late to work” the note had said. 

Because even when he gave her a totally charming gift, he still had to be a dick and remind her that she was late to work too often. 

The real N. Plimpton was back! 

Sure, he was somehow still interested in sleeping with her, but that she did not mind so much. 

It was nice to have occasional moments of pillow talk about how the damn Time Travel play had been better when Team Starkid did it, and to hear him humming the Mysterious Ticking Noise in his shower. 

She was only slightly crazy into him, and he didn’t get overly nice so she’d sleep with him, not anymore. Sleeping together became a routine that she didn’t want to change. 

And why would they, really? They were both single, attractive, intelligent people with a love for the magical world created by JK Rowling. She’d slept with worse - a lot worse. 

She still got the goosebumps sometimes - especially when they were all alone in the office after hours and... well, letters to Penthouse had nothing on that. 

There was some role play - the Slytherin-Ravenclaw Restricted Section Hook-up was her favorite, while Nathaniel favored more Quidditch related scenarios. That was probably related to all the phallic objects and the opportunities for some truly awful jokes. 

Somehow, he was still hot even when he cracked jokes about polishing his broom. 

“What the devil is going on here?” It was like he knew that she’d been thinking about him. 

“Your Snape voice is actually getting better,” she tried really hard not to sound too surprised about that. “The Malfoy impression is still better, though.” 

He just had the snootiness down pat. And she’d been really into Draco Malfoy back in the day - and a little bit still. 

“You just like seeing me rolling around on the floor,” Nathaniel smirked. 

She shrugged - rolling around on the floor with him was pretty good, yes. 

“Are you ready to go?” he had his suitcase with him. “I promised to prove I don’t need Accio to make you come.” 

Her stuff was easily gathered, and she rushed off so eagerly that she forgot to even look at the clock. 

It was 4:43 PM on a Friday. He was wearing his Slytherin tie, she wore her Ravenclaw blue with pride. 

All was well.