Hi! Here's a collection of Doyle/Lauren and Doyle/Emily short ficcy things based on prompts I did on my tumblr. Fair warning, no particular timeline and a couple of reimaginings of the same situation. Reviews are always very much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy :)

"She'll be here," Doyle says calmly, leaning against the rail of the balcony and looking down, watching his men work. They're packing up a truck, and she should be back with more supplies by now, things they're relying on, things only she can get.

Liam shakes his head in frustration. He'd grab Doyle by the shoulders and try to shake some sense into him, except he'd have his head on a spike. And it's not like he hasn't already tried. "Will she?"

"She's careful," Doyle says, without taking his eyes off his men. "Smart. Smarter by far than any of this lot," he adds, nodding down at them. "She'll be okay."

"That's not what I meant. People are talking."

Doyle turns to him, his eyes dangerous. "Then I'll shut them up."

"She's been gone since Friday and you're not worried?" Liam challenges, knowing he's on thin ice, knowing Lauren herself is the only thing that has a hope of calming him; talk of her is one of a thousand things that can light his fuse.

But just as Doyle looks like he might really lose his patience, he stops suddenly, looking over Liam's shoulder with a triumphant smile. "I told you," he says, his face softening in a way that's frankly more worrying than the stony glare he wore before. Valhalla so angry he'll beat a man to a pulp – that, Liam can handle, has been handling for a long time. Valhalla blindly in love with a woman who's obviously too good to be true – that's more dangerous by a mile. She's a world of trouble and he's walking into it with open arms, dragging them all with him.

Doyle ignores his muttered protests and goes out to meet her, stopping short of actually running. She doesn't though – she bounds toward him, beaming, the gold chain around her neck glinting in the midday sun. He catches her at the waist and she throws her arms around his neck, presses herself fully against him and catches his earlobe with her teeth. He pulls her closer, growling low in her ear. "You're late."

"Unexpected snag," she replies, nuzzling against his cheek, the forbidden thrill of his body against hers racing through her veins. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Of course not," he says, a kind of warm pride settling in his chest, because she's good at what she does and she's his. He throws a glance up at Liam, waiting on the balcony. He can see his distrustful expression from here. "Some people are losing faith."

She pulls back just far enough to kiss him, hard, then pulls his face down so his forehead rests on hers. "Some people don't know a good thing when they see it," she says, keeping her voice playful although fear is flickering around the edges of her consciousness. Ian is just about the only one who trusts her, and if they get to him, she knows she won't get out alive. But for now, she's okay – his eyes sparkle with possession as he knots his hand in her hair and comes in for another kiss, and she holds on tight, her nerves tingling with adrenaline.