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thelukesalvez · 4 years

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Premature

Request: ‘can i request an imagine where the reader is pregnant and luke’s away on a case when she goes into labor? and garcia has to call luke to get him home?’

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords, @ssa-morgan, @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: idk why i always picture luke with a daughter??? but anyway another DAD luke fic like yes pls, enjoy!

The worst part about being pregnant had to be the lower back aches. Or maybe the way your swollen ankles prevented you from fitting into any of your cute shoes. It could also be the tender breasts, the mood swings, or how food didn’t taste as good, yet somehow you were still always hungry. Come to think of it, being pregnant, in general, was the worst.

Currently, you were seven and a half months along. You had 6 weeks until your daughter would be born. 6 weeks somehow felt both impossibly long and just around the corner. On one hand, you really couldn’t wait to get your body back. You missed wearing pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband, and the freedom of being able to get out of bed without Luke’s help.

On the other hand, you and Luke were going to be first time parents. This brought about a lot of anxiety and uncertainty. There was still so much to get done before the baby arrived, that at times you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

“You worry too much,” Luke had told you one afternoon.

But you disagreed. “Luke, she’s gonna be here in less than two months and her room isn’t even close to being finished. We still have to paint, and put together the crib-”

“We have six weeks, baby. I’ll get it done, I promise.”

His reassuring words did little to calm your mind or your nerves. One thing that did keep the anxious thoughts at bay, was work. Focusing your attention on BAU cases was the perfect distraction… until that was taken away from you too.

“I don’t want you in the field,” Luke had stated that night.

“You’re joking, right?”

Luke’s pressed lips and slightly flared nostril told you that no, he was not joking.

“Luke,” you’d groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow. “I’m fine.”

“You can barely walk, let alone chase after anyone,” he stated, his arms folding across his chest. He always did that when he wanted you to take him seriously. “And I know for a fact that you can’t fit into a bulletproof vest.”

You threw him your best glare. “Okay, first off, that was mean. Second, you can’t expect me to just sit here all day doing nothing. I’ll go insane, you know I will.”

“Baby, you’re seven months pregnant. You need to relax.”

“Relax? Seriously, Luke?” you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. Lately you've been finding it so hard to control your emotions, so you’re not entirely surprised when you feel the burning of tears in your eyes. “I can’t relax! I’m uncomfortable all the time. I’m fat and I’m hot and I’m sweaty. My boobs feel like they’re going to explode any second. I’m nauseous and I’m tired and I’m hungry. And if I stay home all day that’s all I’m going to think about. I’m going to just sit and dwell on the fact that I am miserable.”

Luke’s face softens when he sees that you’re crying. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, but he felt guilty for being the one to cause it this time around.

“C’mere,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

And even though you’re angry with him, you don’t hesitate before scooting up the mattress and sliding into his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder, Luke’s hand finding its way down to your lower back, where he rubs gentle circles into the sore muscles. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

“I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable, baby. I just- I worry about you. All I want is for you and the baby to be okay.”

You sniffle into his chest, his sweet words making your voice soften. “I can’t sit here all day, Luke. I really can’t.”

“I know.” He rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs. “How about we meet in the middle?”

Looking up at him, you skeptically ask, “How?”

“You could work the cases from the BAU,” he suggests.

You scrunch your nose, secretly hoping that his compromise meant just giving in to what you wanted entirely. But, as you think about it for a moment, you had to admit you didn’t completely hate the idea. Things were getting challenging in the field. And as much as you hated him for saying it, Luke was right- the bulletproof vests no longer fit you, and you couldn’t chase down any perps. You were relatively useless, at least physically, at this point.

“I’m sure Garcia would love an extra hand,” he adds.

“Fine,” you mutter quietly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a light peck against the top of your head.

But, as Luke would soon find, just because you agreed to be stationed at the BAU did not mean you weren’t going to complain about it.

The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, into the building the next morning. Emily had called, about fifteen minutes prior, to let you both know that you had a case in Boston.

“What if I just stay at the police precinct?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Why not? I could help Reid with the geological profile- or interview the families. There’s a lot I can do-”

“We already agreed that you’d stay here.”

You scoffed in frustration before trying another tactic.

“You know,” you drawled, using the hand he wasn’t already holding to reach around and grip his arm. “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you state, matter-of-factly. “Just because I’m carrying the baby doesn’t mean I’m the only one that needs to stay safe. It would be equally devastating if something happened to you. You let your hand trail down the length of his arm and over to your belly. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Luke swiped his ID badge to get inside the building before holding the door open for you, you hesitate, waiting for his response. Luke’s lips were parted into a soft grin. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty, but that was really sweet.” He leans forward and pecks your lips lightly.

You roll your eyes and storm into the building.

…

“So I hear we’re going to be lab partners!” Garcia drums her fingers against the round table.

You shrug, “Looks like it.”

“I know you’re bummed to not be in the field, but I’m so excited that you’ll be here.”

Luke’s hand reaches for yours underneath the table. You let your fingers lace together with his before you smile back at Garcia. Maybe being sidelined wouldn’t be all bad. “I’m excited too, Pen,” you tell her.

“Alright guys listen up,” Emily enters the briefing room. “Police need our help in Boston. Two college students have gone missing the past month, and one of the bodies was just found dumped off of I-95. Y/N will be working the case from here, so we’ll be down a body in the field.”

Garcia hits a few buttons on the remote, making a gruesome image project onto the screen in front of the team. She presents a few more details about the case before Emily declares, “Wheels up in 20.”

Luke’s shifting through his go bag at his desk when you approach him from behind. You rest your hand on his back and rub up and down his soft, maroon shirt.

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him. You felt guilty knowing he was going into the field without you.

Luke sighs, turning his body so that he was facing you. His big hands rest on your hips as he holds you out in front of him. “You know I will.”

You nod, and you believed his words, but that didn’t mean you’d be any less worried about him while he was away.

Luke could sense the uneasiness on your face, so he leaned in and kissed your cheek lightly before whispering, “There is nothing that could ever keep me from coming back home to you and our baby, do you hear me?”

Leaning into his touch, you sigh. “Good. Because I meant what I said; I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“We’re going to miss you out there, kid.” Rossi states as he passes your desk.

“Keep me updated,” you respond sadly. He pats you on the shoulder before nodding with a smile.

With a final kiss and promises to call, Luke and the rest of the team load onto the jet to head for Boston.

At first, you stay in the bullpen seated at your desk, running through the casefile. You were the only one in the entire room. By habit, you kept looking up at Luke’s desk. Instead of his warm smile, you’re met by his empty chair. Your eyes linger for a moment before you feel a sharp pain shoot across your stomach, making you wince.

“Woah,” you whisper, your hand falling on your bump. “Was that a kick?” you ask her out loud.

It didn’t take long before the silence became deafening, so after a few minutes, you stand up and waddle down the hallway to Garcia’s leir. You knock at her door before entering.

“Hey,” you say, your hand supporting your sore back. “It’s like, creepy quiet out there, do you mind if I work with you, in here?”

Her face lights up. “Of course!” Immediately, she begins clearing off a space on her desk for you to set up.

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a seat in her spare office chair. You try your best to sit up straight as your insides begin to cramp. Garica turns to see your eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s wrong?” her voice is filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you sigh in relief when the cramp passes. “She’s kicking a lot today.”

Garcia’s face breaks out into a large grin. “Oh! My Goddaughter’s gonna be a spunky one, isn’t she?”

…

As it turned out, there wasn’t much for you to do from the BAU. Garcia worked tirelessly, delving into files and uncovering helpful information for the team. But you weren’t even close to being as tech savvy as her, and besides the casefile you’d already read through four times, you didn’t have many resources to work off of.

Whenever the team would call with questions, you’d listen intently, and try to figure out some way that you could help them. But, by that evening, you were starting to feel pretty useless.

“Why don’t you just head home?” Garcia suggested kindly. “You look tired.”

You were tired. You were tired and hungry and sore from all your baby’s kicking. But you shook your head. “I don’t want to be in the house alone,” you admit to her. “It’s too quiet there without Luke.”

Garcia, of course, understands. “Do you want to take a walk? Just around the building?”

At first, you want to say no. But as you consider her offer, you can’t help but admit that stretching your legs sounded pretty nice, so you agree.

“I think I’m most excited for coffee,” you tell Garcia. The two of you had walked the entire floor of the BAU a couple of times now and were about to head back to her office.

“God, I can’t even imagine going nine months without coffee. I think that would break me,” she admits.

You start to laugh, but you’re quickly interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in your abdomen.

“Woah,” you gasp, grabbing your stomach. You hunch over, desperate to alleviate some of the pain, but it only grows with intensity. It takes your breath away for a moment, and all you can do is focus on the tiled floor beneath you as you attempt to muscle through it.

But then you feel something burst inside of you, followed by a warm liquid rushing down your leg.

With wide, terrified eyes, you look up to Garcia.

“Pen,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice. “I th-think my water just broke...”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Oh my god, okay, okay. You’re okay.”

She hurries to your side and wraps an arm around your waist. You and your shaky legs are grateful for her support. She guides you to a chair stationed in the hallway, where she helps you sit.

The panic really starts to set in once your eyes land on your dampened pants.

“No,” you start to shake your head rapidly. “Pen, no I can’t- it’s too early-”

You’re amazed by how calm Garcia remains. “It’s okay,” she tells you. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and everything’s gonna be fine.”

But you keep shaking your head. “No, she’s early. She’s too early- I need Luke, please- I can’t do this.”

“I’m gonna call Luke right now, everything’s going to be okay.”

Garcia pulls out her phone and dials your husband. She frowns when it goes to voicemail after a few rings.

By now, there’s a steady influx of tears spilling down your cheeks. You ask softly, “Why isn’t he answering?”

“Let me try Emily.”

You sigh a breath of relief when you hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Emily-” Garcia gasps. “Where’s Luke?”

You overhear her, “He’s interrogating the Unsub- why? What’s the matter?”

“Y/N’s in labor, we need him.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says. There’s a brief pause before she tells Garcia, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pen-” you groan, another contraction washing over you. You hunch over in the chair and grab at the air, desperate for something to clamp down on.

She quickly extends her hand, letting you squeeze it tightly.

“Garcia?” you hear Luke’s sweet voice over the line. You want to call out for him, but you can’t form the words.

“Luke!” she exclaims, her concerned eyes never leaving you. “Luke, Y/N’s in labor- her water just broke. You have to come home.”

You gasp and bite down on your lip as the pain suddenly intensifies.

“Breathe,” she instructs you calmly. “Just breathe with me-”

“What?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice. “But- she’s only seven months pregnant- that's too early-”

The contraction passes, leaving you breathless, but you hold your hand out. Garcia picks up on your gesture and hands you the phone.

“Luke-” you’re on the verge of bursting into terrified tears. “I’m so scared.”

“Baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You can hear the worry in his voice as he soothes you. “I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna take the jet, I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do this-”

“No, baby- of course you can, you’re so strong. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Please hurry,” you whimper.

“I will, I love you.”

You pass the phone to Garcia reluctantly. You wished you could stay on the line with him. Something about hearing his voice made you feel calmer.

You’re shaky and weak, but Garcia helps you all the way into the elevator and down into the parking garage. You hesitate before climbing into the front seat of her car.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand gently placed on your elbow.

“I don’t want to get your seat all gross-”

You’re referring to the amniotic sac fluid currently soaking your pants.

“Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief. “If we don’t hurry you’re going to be giving birth in my car, so I think I’ll take my chances with the water.”

You nod quickly and climb into the front seat. While Garcia hurries around to the front, you clutch onto your baby bump tightly, wondering why the hell she was coming so early.

Garcia winds through traffic hurriedly, every so often she glances in your direction, trying to make sure you’re okay. “I guess they weren’t kicks,” you groan, as another contraction washes over you. You grip the door handle until your knuckles turn white and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Keep breathing,” Garcia soothes. She lets you take her hand across the console and doesn’t even wince when you squish it tightly in yours.

“I’m really scared, Penelope,” you whimper quietly, falling back against the seat when the contraction passes.

“I know,” Garcia clicks her tongue empathetically.

“Nothing’s ready. Not her room- we haven’t even set up her crib yet I’m not ready. I was supposed to have another 6 weeks to get ready-”

But Penelope is shaking her head. “You, right now, as you are, are going to be a great mother, okay? You’re ready.”

She sounded so sure, so confident in you- maybe she was right.

…

“Where is he?”

You’re sweating, exposed in a delivery room, and in more pain than you ever have been in your entire life.

Garcia’s stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and talking you through the pain. You’d been at the hospital about two hours now.

Currently, Garcia was dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth. Your contractions were about 6 minutes apart. According to the doctor, you’d have to start pushing soon.

“I can’t do this without him. He should be here..”

“He’ll be here.”

You look up at her, exhausted and with fear in your eyes.

Garcia squeezes your shoulder. “And if he’s not here, then we’ll do this together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

She nods. “I promise.”

…

Luke’s sprinting through the maze of a hospital trying desperately to find the delivery room number that Garcia texted him. He’s already been redirected by a couple of nurses, but every floor looked the same.

The door number came into sight when he turned the corner. He doesn’t hesitate before running the final distance between the two of you.

Luke swings the door open, only able to exhale when his eyes finally land on you.

You’re sitting up in your bed, hair tied up messily and cheeks flushed.

As soon as you see him, he sees your shoulder slump, like you’ve exhaled a breath of relief.

“Luke-”

His name is barely audible, but it’s enough.

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, crossing the room in just two, large strides.

Garcia’s on the opposite side of your bed, clutching your hand tightly. After pressing his lips against your sweaty forehead, he looks at her and mouths, ‘thank you’.

She nods, “Of course, it was nothing.” She says it casually, like she didn’t just spend the last three hours comforting you through labor, doing his job for him, making sure you were safe.

It was everything.

Minutes after Luke arrives, the doctor tells you it’s time to push.

You flash Luke a scared glance, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, his lips feel comforting. “You can do this.”

You sigh, because like you said, being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

...

When her soft cries fill the air, you’re finally able to breathe again. You collapse back against your pillow, exhausted and sweaty.

Luke’s still cupping your hand in his, his much larger fingers wrapping themselves around your skin. He’s looking towards the doctor, who’s holding in his arms, your baby girl.

“Is she okay?” you ask weakly.

Luke nods. “She’s small, but she’s so beautiful.”

Because she’s premature, you’re not able to hold her right away. Instead, she’s bundled up and taken to the NICU.

“No-” you protest pathetically. “I want her with me-”

“I know,” Luke whispers. “But they gotta keep her warm. They’re gonna put her in an isolette. They said we can visit as soon as you’re ready.”

Without hesitating, you attempt to sit up in bed. “I’m ready,” you declare weakly.

Luke’s hand pushes against your shoulder lightly in protest. “No, baby. You need rest-”

You found yourself growing angrier and angrier. You wanted to see your baby- wanted to hold her. But your body betrays you. You’re just so exhausted that you can’t even fight against him. Instead, you fall back against the pillow and huff out a choppy, frustrated sob.

“I know,” he says. He sits on the edge of your bed and reaches his hand out to brush some of the loose strands of hair away from your face. He leans forward and presses his lips to your sweaty forehead. “You did so good.” He whispers against your skin. “So, so good.”

You close your eyes against his touch, letting it wash over you.

“How small is she?” you ask when he finally breaks away.

Luke’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he didn't answer immediately. After a moment he sighs. “She’s small.”

“She’s gonna be okay though, right?” You look to Luke for all the answers. And he wants to give them to you. He wants to give everything to you.

He nods. “She’s gonna be okay. She’s a fighter, like her mom.”

…

Your daughter has to stay in the NICU for two, agonizingly long weeks. After a couple of days, you start to get some energy back. But seeing her in that box, and not being able to hold your baby when you wanted was taking its toll emotionally.

You and Luke stayed at the hospital for the entirety of the two weeks, never wanting to leave her alone.

It was painful and hard and exhausting, but together, it almost seemed bearable.

The team visited in shifts. Garcia arrived first with a giant bundle of pink balloons. Spencer and JJ brought magazines and books to keep you busy. Tara has a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Matt and Kristy brought you clothes to change into. Rossi and Emily brought various dishes for the two of you to eat. By the end of your two weeks, you felt incredibly grateful for your BAU family.

On the day that you and Luke were finally given the okay to take your daughter home, you found your nerves inching their way back into the forefront of your mind. It was an absolute relief that your premature daughter turned out to be healthy and safe and as beautiful as ever. But you thought about the unfinished room at home and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Where are we gonna put her?” you asked, imagining the crib you’d bought and never put together.

“I’ll put it together when we get home,” Luke assures you. “Can’t be that hard.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. Not when you had this miracle of a baby in your arms.

When Luke pulled the car into the driveway of your house, you both stared at your home, hesitating before getting out of the car, as if it was just now hitting you how much everything was about to change.

Luke gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nod, everything was changing for the better. “Ready.”

You keep her cradled to your chest as you make your way through your home. The first order of business for Luke was to put together the crib, so your daughter would at least have a place to sleep.

You’d worry about the rest later.

But when you climb the stairs, you’re startled to see Garcia standing in your hallway, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Pen, hi,” you smile. You’d given her a key to take care of Roxy and water your plants while you were away at the hospital, you assume that was what she was here for.

“Hi,” she smiles wide. “Oh my goodness, is that my little bundle of joy! Let me see!”

You pass Penelope your daughter, watching adoringly as the two interact.

“Is someone else here?” Luke asks, peering down the hall when he hears voices.

Garcia nods, her signature, ear to ear smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, actually we have a surprise for you guys.” She passes your daughter back to you before turning.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Luke asks skeptically.

“Oh, just shut up and follow me,” she says. Her heels click as she walks down the hall towards the bedrooms.

When you turn the corner into your daughter's room, you can’t help but let out a loud gasp. Your jaw practically falls to the floor, surprised to see the entire team piled inside.

Two walls of the room were painted a beautiful shade of pink, while the other two were a soft gray. There were various decoratives hanging on the walls, tying everything together perfectly. There were also numerous shelves filled with an assortment of stuffed animals, toys, and books. And in the corner stood the hardwood crib that Luke and you had bought, completely put together and accented with a beautiful mobile hanging above it.

“Oh my god,” Luke gawks, clearly just as surprised as you.

“You guys-” you start, but you before you can finish your sentence you start to cry. “You guys did all this?”

The smiling faces of the rest of your team answer your question.

“How?” Is all you can manage to say.

“Well, I picked out the colors and the decor,” Garcia says, like it’s obvious. “Emily and Tara both helped paint.”

“And I've put my fair share of cribs together,” Matt chuckles, patting the edge of the darkwood. “It took no time at all.”

“JJ and Spencer got together the books and the stuffed animals,” Garcia motions towards the corner of toys.

“And I supervised,” Rossi smirked, making everyone laugh.

“Guys, this is too much.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief before exhaling and saying sincerely, “thank you.”

You nod in agreement. “This is… amazing. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of. I love it. She’s gonna love it,” you motion towards your now sleeping baby, mouth open and drooling on your chest.

The team knows how exhausted you and Luke are from being at the hospital for the past two weeks, so they don’t stay long. Slowly, they begin filing out of your house, offering both you and the new BAU baby with hugs and kisses goodbye.

Garcia’s the last to leave as she gathers her coat from your entryway chair.

“Pen, I know this was your idea,” you mumble. “You didn’t have to do all this. Thank you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she hugs you gently. When she pulls away, she smirks, “If you thought I was going to let my Goddaughter come home to an unfinished room, you are underestimating how much I am going to spoil her.”

With that, she's out the door, leaving you and Luke and your newborn baby alone in the house for the first time as a family of three. Luke wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side securely. You sigh, all of your anxiety and fears melting away. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

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themissingmarvel · 4 years

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Kind Regards, Detective [Part 3]

(I am /so sorry/ it got this long. I lost track of it. I had enough for two chapters if I added a bit more but I figured one giant one wouldn’t be bad. I just got too into it. I’ll set an alarm next time for ‘hamburger’ and follow time management skills of the protagonist. And for the record... this is the story of Y/N, not Detective Loki. Which I like. Sure, they’re paired up but... it’a a story. And maybe something more happens. Guess you have to read.)

Catch up: [[Part 1]]// [[Part 2]]// [[drabble]]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k {{I AM SO SORRY}}

Warnings: Language, description of violence {{assume that’s a given}}

Sleep wasn’t something that had ever come easy to Y/N. No, she had spent her time in undergrad preparing for graduate school, graduate school preparing for her application to the FBI. Time training at the FBI training to become a profiling agent. Once, when awake at 2 in the morning, sitting on the couch, her ex-boyfriend had asked her to come to bed. She had spoken without even looking up, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

She wasn’t kidding.

They broke up shortly after.

It was arguably harder to sleep now because her brain was always processing information. It was hard to make sense of something so seemingly senseless. And now she had a pile of information that didn’t even add up. More frustrating was having to wait for the lab reports to come back and for forensics to identify everything and tag it. She supposed evidence would come to light in the morning.

Her room in the Holiday Inn was hardly spectacular, to say the least, but it was fine. It had a queen sized bed, a large desk for her to sprawl her things out on, and a place to put her suitcase with the exact amount of clothing she’d need, plus an extra set just in case. Once upon a time she had been the person to travel with seven bags and joke “you never know!” but those days had passed. She had learned that carrying essentials, and sometimes even less, was the way you lived. It made her yearn for that oversized blue hoodie she had stolen from some ex-boyfriend (maybe that asshole who told her to come to bed) that was sentimental only because she wanted it to be. And that thing was durable as hell.

She had slept like a rock that night, for the first time in ages, which was unsettling when she finally did wake up. It didn’t mean her brain hadn’t processed the information, though. Her process meant that when she did wake up, after her shower and getting dressed in clothes too casual for an FBI agent, that she’d come up with new thoughts. New concerns. New ideas.

By the time Y/N rolled into the precinct, it was still only 7:30am. She had a cup of coffee in her hands that she’d scored from the sad and emotionally draining continental breakfast offered by the hospitable Holiday Inn. But food was food and all she’d really wanted was that bagel and a hard boiled egg. Now she had consumed at least two cups with the third in a travel tumbler she brought with her. Her office one, the black one that said nothing but had a small crack at the top was nestled safely in her cabinet at home. That small apartment with a weird amount of locks on it and a keypad she had. Just in case.

Placing her bag on the small table, she glanced to the side and saw Detective Loki at his desk, hunched over and looking at files. He had a powder blue shirt on this time, and looked cleaned up, meaning he’d at least been home, but she suspected he’d had significantly less sleep than her. Which made sense.

The note left at the front of the church had indeed been for him.

My deepest regards and thoughts for you on this anniversary.

It had seemed to rattle the man initially, his eyes blinking almost non-stop. Twenty seconds and he composed himself. Twenty seconds and Y/N knew not to ask and she knew not to pry. His file had so much in it, but now was not the time. If it had been relevant to the case beyond wanting an emotional connection to David, he would have said so.

Laying out some files and opening her laptop, she stood as it booted up, walking over to Detective Loki and knocking softly on the table, “Morning, Detective,” she smiled cautiously, unsure of how to greet the man. He was still wary and they were still both digesting all of yesterday.

He looked up, hardly shaken, looking tired but nothing dramatic. He sat up and nodded, glancing at his computer to get a sense of the time. Raising an eyebrow, he turned back, “You’re here early.”

She grinned, “One to talk. Did you sleep much?” Normally she might have said it was small talk, though in this instance she found she truly cared. Shared trauma did that. Or maybe it was something else.

A soft, quick laugh left his lips and he stood, mostly to stretch himself out, “I slept. Any is better than none, right? Maybe I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he grinned at his own dark humor, gathering his things and walking towards the conference room, the young woman following behind, chalking it up to coincidence. Everyone said that.

He glanced at the papers on the table and her laptop loaded, “Any emails come through yet on the case?” Obviously the answer was no, because normal people rested at night and the lab worked on normal hours, but he liked to think that every once in a while, people stayed late and did their jobs the way he did.

Taking a breath she sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair, signing in to the database remotely, “Nothing as of this morning. The lab spent the evening processing the materials, though. One benefit of Feds, right? We have people who work around the clock,” she smirked at him, David almost surprised that perhaps she had read his mind, too. Though in reality she was used to this. Small towns or even cities often backlogged, suddenly given resources they weren’t used to.

A small ‘ding’ went off from inside the bag, Y/N quick to fish around inside for it, “Do you just… not carry your things on you?” Detective Loki didn’t mean to sound condescending, though his tone certainly spoke that way. More than anything he was concerned. Why she didn’t have her weapon holstered on her person or even her phone in her pocket said there was a level of disconnect. And there was. She liked to process in her head and her phone took her away from that.

Ignoring the snide remark, she glanced at the text that had popped up, “Check your email, ladybug. Fast tracked some of that forensic work for you.”

Ding.

“No offense but does that precinct always work so slow? We never got the cell phones in with the belongings and even you have a cell phone.”

Glancing over at David who had taken a seat not so far away, she furrowed her brow with concern, “Forensics bagged up all the personal affects of the individuals at the scene, right? Like, all of it?”

David frowned, “I sure as fuck hope so. Is something missing?”

She began desperately clicking through the laptop, accessing the items retrieved from the scene, David standing, concerned and terrified, still seeing that note in his brain, reminding him of what he had tried so hard to forget. Placing a hand on the back of her chair and leaning in, perhaps inches from her face, able to smell the coffee on his breath and his face wash, whatever he used to keep himself so clean shaven. She could hear him breathing. It was eerily calm despite his clearly rattled demeanor. And him being so close? Hard to focus.

Squinting she scrolled through each individual’s information, frowning as she compared, “Shit. Shit!”

David was looking at the same documents, and he was realizing the same thing that she was. He supposed it might not have been so obvious so immediately, but he also wasn’t a profiler. This wasn’t what he did the way she did it.

Grabbing her phone she typed desperately into it, sending the message off to her coworker, Adrian, the one she’d had a crush on and had flirted with terribly. The one who had told her he was interested, but maybe not right now. The one who sent her flirty texts still and she knew he just liked the attention, but sometimes you couldn’t help who you liked. Even if that person was a total asshole.

Ding!

Damn he was fast.

“Who the hell doesn’t have backups on the cloud? So far these people are coming up empty, ladybug.”

Sometimes you fell for the asshole and sometimes the asshole fell for you.

Detective Loki had seen that text. It had made him tighten, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the information given or maybe that little nickname at the end. He didn’t know squat about this woman and so far he was finding that it wasn’t making him dislike her. He wanted so badly to have slept on it and realized she really wasn’t his type. But here she was, focused and on task, already making headway with evidence. She wore an attire so different than his own and she didn’t look like a Federal Agent the way he always had seen them. She didn’t wear that stupid-ass jacket they all had, or that dumb fucking cap. She looked like she belonged in a coffee shop somewhere reading a book and staying quiet. But it bothered the hell out of him that she didn’t keep her weapon holstered or her badge on her.

“None of them had their cell phones. And we didn’t find them at the abduction sites. We assumed they were dumped for safety reasons, but from what Adrian is telling me, they didn’t even have backup information. We literally have no digital information on them,” she frowned, turning to look at David.

He paused for a moment, so close to her, able to smell the shampoo she had used, the lightly floral fragrance, the look of concern in her eyes. He could see everything.

Stepping back suddenly he rubbed his hands over his face, “All right. So let’s look at this. Phones get dumped for a ton of reasons, right? And maybe they just… all didn’t back up their phones.”

Y/N shook her head and frowned, as she typed back a response before tucking the phone away, “The GPS and locators on the phones were all deactivated, or else the lab would have coordinates for the phones. And why does someone not back up their phone?” She looked at him, already with the answer, though she needed him to say it. She needed him to understand what she was getting at.

“Everyone leaves some digital footprint. Can we find them online? Social media, maybe?” In that moment Y/N almost felt like giving him her signature ‘are you fucking with me?’ looks, though kept her poker face. He was a man living in a small town who had done small cases, for the most part. He didn’t know the ins and outs the way she did. He hadn’t been trained as she had.

So instead she looked at her computer, “I can do some searching myself, but for the real stuff… for what we’re really looking for… we need someone with experience.”

For a moment she thought briefly of her own team. Of course there was a group she worked with, but ultimately there was no ‘Penelope Garcia’ on her team, or a quirky tech nerd. There were expert analysts who could pull data and indeed find footprints. Honestly they were probably already doing that. But she had that feeling again… that gut wrenching pain.

Staring at the monitor for longer than felt comfortable, she sighed heavily, “I don’t like this, Detective. It’s wrong. I feel like we’re watching the lights flicker before the power goes out. I don’t even think this is the worst of it.”

Admittedly, she had been wrong in the beginning. But being wrong meant she was learning more about this person, and she didn’t like that. She never liked being in the head of a criminal, but of a sociopath… that was scary. Sleep wouldn’t be coming again any time soon, that much she knew.

As if overtaken, Y/N lept from her chair, almost knocking the damn plastic piece of garbage over as she stood and began practically tearing through the files. David looked at her, both confused and angry, though unsure why he was angry, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes were wide, though, and she was focused. In that moment it was all she could think about, all she could see, all she could-

“Here! It’s here!” She pulled out a statement by one of the victim’s spouses. Louise Frank, 43, nurse at the local hospital in Noxen. Putting the paper down she pointed, Loki now shoulder-to-shoulder with her, eyes locked as she pointed out the sentence, “Her husband stated he was having trouble getting in touch with her, which makes sense, but said he thought it was just something to do with her new phone. Detective, what if her husband still has the other phone? He said the screen was shattered but if we can get it, we can check the old phone.”

Adrenaline was pumping through her body, wanting in that moment to wrap her arms around his neck as she realized the opportunity they had. But instead she kept those Y/E/C eyes wide and excited, excited in a way she didn’t like to admit but in a way that David knew meant they had something to go off of.

“Let me get my keys, we’re driving to Noxen,” he looked stoic, though his breathing had increased, his own adrenaline pumping as he adjusted the collar of his shirt.

Looking at him with confusion she shook her head, “That’s two-hour drive, Detective. Shouldn’t we call them first?”

He was opening the door and headed to his desk as he spoke, “David. And I couldn’t give a fuck how long that drive is, we need that phone.”

___

David.

They had gotten into his car in a bit of a hurry, though Y/N was quite proud of remembering to bring her phone and her badge, both tucked into her jacket. Well, her badge was. Her phone was in hand as she called Noxen Police and had them email her the name and address of the husband. She had gone so far as to call the husband as well, warning him they were coming, and politely, kindly, sweetly, asked if he knew where the phone was.

He did. He had it.

Hanging up, she tucked the phone away, “Mr. Frank said he’ll have it out for us.” David barely nodded, instead gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles almost white as he kept himself from going seventy in a fifty. This was a lead, he knew. It was a lead they’d be able to solidly point at and hold up in the air and shout, “here!”

And he was not about to jeopardize that by having some idiot mail it over or some rookie cop drive it and drop it again. Or lose it entirely. He didn’t trust anyone except for the two people in the car.

“I dated a guy once with knuckle tattoos,” she spoke calmly, looking out the window at the barren trees and quiet grey day.

Loki was shaken from his trance and looked over, his face washed with confusion, “What?”

Y/N turned to face him, “I dated a guy once with knuckle tattoos. Like you,” she gestured to his hands, partially to let him know she noticed how tightly he was gripping the wheel.

He let go slightly.

Raising an eyebrow he turned back to the road, his posture relaxing, “Oh,” he said flatly.

She kept her face stoic, “Don’t you want to know what it said?”

David glanced back again, confused though now oddly engaged, “What did it say?”

She got quiet, “It said ‘gullible’ on one hand.”

His face contorted for a second as he considered this, “That doesn’t- goddamnit,” he felt himself smiling as he looked over, watching the woman in the passenger seat smiling as well, her form relaxed as she chuckled. David did too.

“How often do people give you shit about your tattoos?” She kept her smile but softened her tone, deciding she didn’t like the idea that the rest of the car ride would be silent. She wanted to know David more than just as a man in a file. She wanted to understand what went on in his head.

Taking a breath, he considered the question. His internal monologue was often just that, internal, but he found himself being asked questions that people didn’t often ask him. A joke that no one else would have ever made seeing him angry. This wasn’t just a woman, but chaos in a bottle, perhaps, “When I was in the academy, lots of people gave me shit. I was a bit older than some guys in there and I still had my temper,”

She grinned, “Oh, this is you calm?”

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, just slightly, “Anyway, I got into a couple fights. Off grounds, of course. But I talked to one of the sergeants in the academy and he sort of set me straight. Told me there would always be something and that if I wanted to be any kind of officer, any kind of detective, I needed to let those things go. So yeah, people ask, but I don’t get into it.”

Nodding, she folded her hands in her lap, leaning back, “Back when I was in college, freshman year, of course, I was determined to get a tattoo. I mean, straight up determined. I thought, ‘Hell yes, you’re an adult, get that fairy tattoo on your ribcage!’” She looked over at David who was already smirking, “Hey, shut it.” He held a hand up, staring ahead at the empty highway as they drove.

“But ultimately I didn’t. It changed. It was a butterfly on my ankle, then for a brief moment a rose on my wrist. By the time I decided I wanted to be in psych, and work with the FBI, I had talked myself out of a tattoo entirely. It’s funny, because people always say they regret the tattoos they got, but honestly? I regret the tattoos I didn’t get.” Her eyes turned back to the trees as they drove, remembering those rushes of adrenaline as she took out a few hundred in cash and stood outside some shop near her school. Always a different one. Always the same amount of money in hand. Always certain. Then always with a reason not to.

It had never occurred to David that someone might regret not getting a tattoo. Some of his he had gotten in some guy’s basement when he was fifteen. Some when he turned eighteen and nineteen. Some even when he was twenty-four. His neck and hands were his younger years. And for a moment he tried to picture a young Y/N with her shirt hiked up getting a tattoo on her ribs that she wouldn’t possibly imagine how painful it was. Or maybe she did. There was much about her he didn’t know.

Her phone dinged again, breaking the silence, pulling it out to read another text from Adrian, “Ladybug, you’re teasing me with all this exciting information. Update me on the case. Place isn’t the same without you here.”

Asshole.

Sighing, she frowned, eyeing the message, “Ladybug?” David had caught a glimpse of the message, and while he had tried not to pry he was somewhat curious. Was it a significant other? A friend? Something else?

Shutting the screen off, the young woman tucked her phone away again, “Coworker. Not a profiler but he’s a field agent with serials back in DC, where I’m out of. It’s a long standing joke, mostly born of me forgetting the word ‘bee’ and instead screaming ‘ladybug’ because clearly those two things look and sound the same,” she rolled her eyes at herself. It had been such a bad first week, so much so she’d stressed herself out that when a bee came near her, allergic of course, she had screamed instead ‘ladybug’, the first insect name she could think of.

David only nodded his head, and Y/N considered her own fondness for Adrian. She wished she didn’t like him. She wished she could listen when her own friends told her he was just using her for attention. But she knew that already. Didn’t matter. Not really. Emotions were always fickle that way, driving you to do stupid shit. It was why she was so good at her job, in that she understood what drove people, even when it didn’t make any logical sense.

The drive after was fairly quiet, though interjected with sparse conversation. Meaningful, but quick. Tidbits shared. Pieces. Shards. Bits of each other’s puzzle that they would later try and piece together to make sense, even though it never would. But she found out he had spent ten years in the boy’s home, sprinkled with some juvie time for petty crimes he rolled his eyes at himself for. And Y/N had let out her own experience coming face-to-face with one of the serials she’d caught. He didn’t know who she was. She knew who he was. Just by that look. The vacant look but one that was burning. An empty building on fire. Nothing inside. Nothing but the fire to drive him. It had terrified her. She still woke occasionally to those eyes, staring through her, passing her by on the street like dodging a bullet.

Getting the phone once they arrived in Noxen had been quick. The husband wanted less than nothing to do with the police and it was clear he had already spent time crying. David knew the look. Y/N did too. Grief stricken and angry. Nowhere to put it.

Giving the phone to David (who insisted he be the one to hold it) she sighed, shaking her head, “We have to plug it into my laptop at the precinct and use encryption. Whoever did this, all of this, is smarter than we’re giving him credit for. If he knows we have the phone, he’ll be all over this. We need to consider who this man is.”

A shiver ran up Detective Loki’s spine, looking at Y/N as they got into the car, “You’re saying this is a guy?”

She frowned, chewing at her bottom lip, “I didn’t want to think it was. I don’t think he was trying to trick us with the formal writing and the flowers. I think that’s just how his brain is wired. But I need to know, then, why he’s targeted you and the other detectives. And now… now you, David. He wants something from you.” Her eyes were filled with concern as she stared at him in the car, still turned off, cold.

He turned the car on without a word, beginning the drive back to Conyers. He was angry now. Not just at the situation, but at all of it. He had wanted to be grateful for the phone, for having someone like Y/N on the case who could figure this out, but he was angry at how he felt. He didn’t like being a target this way. He didn’t like that someone knew him. Knew the anniversary of the day his horrid mother dropped him off at the home and ran off. He didn’t like that this was so damn personal.

Dover and Birch was hard, but it was easy. He was fueled by the parents' focus. He was driven by the need to save a child. Children. He had wanted to do something good after so much time hiding in a town like Conyers. And now someone had hand-picked him, of all detectives in the world, for this.

Y/N wanted to tell Detective Loki she knew he was better than that. Than some psychopath who would stage a mass murder. She wanted to urge him to be cautious, though understood someone was poking the bear in a big way. Someone wanted him upset. On guard. Determined and angry. Someone wanted him emotionally involved. It wasn’t because they were getting back at him, though. She knew it was something else. But that was the big question.

((Tagging: @is-it-madness @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @encounterthepast @detecellie @breakawayfromeveryday ask to be added/taken off))

#detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki x you #detective loki x y/n #detective loki reader insert #detective loki imagine #imagine detective loki #prisoners imagine #imagine prisoners #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #prisoners movie #prisoners reader insider #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #imagine jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x you #reader insert

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Secret in His Eyes

Spinoff of Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: A vacation exploring China’s famous city was supposed to be relaxing. When you witness a horrifying murder, you instead find yourself in police custody, unable to run. Trying to stay alive, you meet Luhan, and you believe you can trust him. You never imagined that he might be the one you should be running from.

Part: Prologue I 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

Your hearing came back first. Dull, unintelligible shouts came from seemingly every direction. Around you, but you couldn’t find their sources. Slowly, you peeled open your eyes. You tried to move your body in order to escape the heavy object weighing you down, but even the slightest quiver of your muscles was painful, causing you to groan and hiss. That led to a chain reaction of your lungs needing air, breathing in the dust that clouded the room and sending you into a coughing fit that you couldn’t stop.

Destruction surrounded you. The once elegant office was now covered in chaos, bits of paper and fluff floating through the air, parts of the ceiling now lying on the floor and the bookshelf that once stood tall behind the desk was splintered beyond recognition. The heavy weight that stopped you from sitting up was Luhan. He was half laying on top of you, unconscious and unmoving with an arm draped protectively over your waist. His eyes were closed and no amount of jostling from you would make them open.

“Lu! Lu!”

The shouts came through clearer now, mixed up and cut off from coughs of their own.

“Help!” you croaked out, your vocal cords barely putting in enough effort to push out the single syllable.

Through the clouds of dust, you managed to see two tall figures carefully making their way around the debris. When they finally reached the two of you, one of them hissed in their mother language, but you’d been here long enough to recognize the derogatory word. As your vision cleared, you recognized your saviors as the two other bosses who’d been in on the ploy against you. But that betrayal was the last thing on your mind.

“Luhan,” you whispered, turning to him once again. While he still hadn’t regain consciousness, you could finally tell that he was breathing, the only good sign you could see. With careful fingers, you took hold of his wrist and slid out from underneath him. That’s when you saw it.

Sticking out of his side was a piece of wood about the length of your forearm, splintered and ugly around the edges. A red liquid stain growing by the second surrounded the area where the wood pierced the cloth and into Luhan’s torso. Hands shaking you reached out to him, not sure of what you could possibly do, but you needed to save him. He couldn’t die on you. Not like this.

“Don’t touch him!” the brown-haired one – Kris, you were sure – snarled at you, causing you to flinch back. Over his shoulder, he yelled, “YIXING! YIXING!”

The rustling you heard behind you gave you hope that the doctor wasn’t far, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off the man in front of you, afraid that he might fade away if you did. By the sound of it, Yixing had indeed arrived and was talking to the others quickly. It was all static in your heart, drowned out by your erratic heartbeat. A pair of hands landed on your shoulders that forced you to tear your eyes away from Luhan.

Yixing’s kind, but worried gaze stared down at you pitifully. “(y/n), I need you to move so I can see him.”

You nodded, pushing yourself up to your feet and shuffling back to give Yixing room. With an eerie calmness, he checked Luhan’s pulse, timing it against his watch. “We need to get him to the surgery room.” He kept the language to one that you could understand perhaps to keep you from going hysterical. Admittedly, you were on the precipice, just waiting for the one thing that would send you over the edge.

The two others carefully but hurriedly picked Luhan up, making sure not to cause him too much pain or add to the damage as they carried him out of the crumbling room. You were hot on their heels, refusing to be left behind. If they told you to go away, that might be the catalyst that caused you to erupt.

By a miracle, the surgery room was only a few doors down the hall. You hardly had time to take in the fact that this mansion had a fully stocked emergency room before you were pulled back into the scene at hand. As soon as Luhan was lying face down on the metal slab, Yixing cut away at the button down to expose the wound and get a better look at the fight he had ahead. A gasp escaped your lips causing everyone to look at you. Tao marched up to you and started pushing on your shoulders towards the door.

“Get out,” he ordered. “You don’t need to see this. We’ll tell you-”

“No, Tao.” Yixing turned back to Luhan after ceasing the struggle. His back blocked your view of whatever he was doing to save Luhan, but you were more than okay with the barrier. You didn’t want to see what he had to do, you just wanted him to do it. “I need an extra set of hands. I can’t do this on my own.”

Wait, what?

“She doesn’t have any medical training,” Tao argued.

Yixing didn’t take his concentration away from his patient as he said, “I still need her. I can’t do this on my own.”

You shook your head. “Yixing, I ca-”

He whirled on you. “Do you want him to die?”

“I-” No. Of course you didn’t.

Despite the betrayal and the hurt he caused. Despite the lies and games. Despite it all… you still cared. Those strange feelings that had been bubbling up inside over the past few weeks didn’t magically go away. You weren’t sure they ever would.

So, with that conclusion, you ripped out of Tao’s grasp and ran to Yixing, following his orders as he had you hook Luhan up to the machines that would monitor his vitals while the doctor worked on removing the wood safely. Somewhere behind you, Tao cursed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You weren’t sure how much time was going by. Beads of sweat dotted Yixing’s forehead. Whenever the droplets started sliding down his temples, you wiped them away so he didn’t have to before he ordered your hands back to their positions. Suddenly blood leaked out from between the splinter and skin. Yixing didn’t seem as worried as you felt. Luhan whimpered, tugging at your heart and making you want to comfort him in some way, but you couldn’t leave Yixing alone.

Suddenly, screams erupted in the hallway causing you to jump. The door burst open and Tao shoved a woman inside. She was dressed in standard scrubs with a white lab coat hanging over them, a badge swinging from the pocket on her left breast.

The mafia members and the doctors started a shouting match, words flying so fast that even if you knew the language you wouldn’t be able to decipher who was saying what. Finally, Yixing threw up his hands and stalked back over to the surgical table where you were still waiting. Tao planted himself against the only escape route and Kris walked over to the few chairs that were located in the room. A groan from Luhan pulled your attention back on him.

“Yixing?” you asked worriedly.

“He’ll be alright,” he reassured you. “I just wish we’d had time to give him something to ease the pain.”

A pair of foreign hands settled over yours. Confused, you looked to see the female doctor’s trained on you with a steely expression.

“Please, move,” she asked with a heavy accent. You nodded, obeying immediately. She took your spot without any additional words. Now you felt useless, but thankful that someone with actual training was there to assist Yixing. Luhan’s chances of surviving were greater with the additional help, right?

“(y/n)?”

You blinked, unbelieving at first that Luhan had just spoken your name.

“(y/n),” Yixing whispered. “Take his hand. Maybe it’ll help with the pain.”

You looked back and forth between the two before finally giving in, sliding your hand into Luhan’s. Immediately, his grip tightened around your fingers and he let out a sigh in content that relaxed the tense muscles in his brow and mouth. The sound of metal scraping against tile wreaked havoc on your ears. Something hit the back of your knees. You barely caught Kris walking back to the others chairs before he collapsed down, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. He’d brought you a chair to sit in? Why?

Deciding it was best not to voice the question out loud, you sat down and scooted closer to Luhan, still holding tight to his hand.

The surgery took hours. Your eyelids grew heavy at times, but you shook the tiredness away. As long as Yixing was working you’d stay awake. You needed to know the outcome as soon as the end was reached.

Finally, you heard the snip of scissors and a heavy sigh.

“We can move him to his bed now,” Yixing informed the room. Tao pushed off the door, grabbed the woman and started dragging her out of the room.

“Where are you taking her?” you asked frantically. He wouldn’t really harm someone who just saved his friend… would he?

“Calm down,” Tao growled. “I’m just going to put her someone secure for the time being. I’m not going to kill her.”

The woman rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight much as Tao escorted her out of the room. He came back a few minutes later and helped Kris and Yixing lift Luhan onto a gurney.

“(y/n), will you help roll the IV?” Yixing pointed to the metal pole and clear bag that you’d hooked up to Luhan at the start of all this. Nodding, you pushed the IV along, careful not to get too far behind and accidentally remove it from Luhan’s arm as they guided the gurney out of the room and down the hall. You weren’t surprised at all when they came to a stop outside the bedroom that Luhan had insisted wasn’t his. It was just another reminder that he’d lied to you about who he was. That didn’t stop you, however, from watching them with anxious eyes as they moved Luhan over to the bed.

As soon as he was settled, you turned around and left. Now that he was out of the woods and starting his journey to heal, you needed space. You needed to be able to think clearly without having pity for him. But that ache in your heart didn’t go away the more distance you put between the two of you. In fact, it became worse. That didn’t still didn’t stop you, however, and you kept going until you reached your room.

When the door clicked shut, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face into the pillow to make the images of Luhan, hurt and unmoving, out of your head. No matter how many times you thought it over, there was one thing you couldn’t get past: if Luhan hadn’t been standing where he was, that wooden stick would have hit your stomach, making you the one on the operating table... or even killing you. Intentional or not, he saved your life.

The tears couldn’t be stopped as they flooded your eyes and spilled over onto your cheeks. So you let them come, continuing on until you fell asleep.

“(y/n)?”

You groaned, shoving your face deeper into the pillow. Whoever was disturbing the only peace you’d been able to find within the last twenty-four hours was about to regret it.

“(y/n), please wake up. I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t really find it in you to hit Yixing when he was pleading with you like this.

Releasing a sigh, you pushed yourself up to your palms while looking at the good doctor. “I’m fine,” you insisted.

“You survived a bombing,” he frowned. “You’re anything but fine.”

You rolled your eyes, but sat up completely so he could see all of you. “Look all you like, but I’m okay. Maybe a few scrapes, but nothing hurts anymore.” That was partially a lie. Your muscles were sore, but what could he do about that? You just needed rest. “You should be worrying over Luhan.”

“He’s resting right now,” Yixing said. “He’ll be fine in a week or so.” Narrowing his eyes, he studied your face. “Are you sure nothing hurts or feels broken or badly bruised?”

You shook your head. “No. I promise.”

Nothing but your heart, that is.

“Okay. Then I’ll leave you to sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat in a little bit.”

“Thank you.” You watched until he was out of your room and then you turned over to drift away once again.

You didn’t leave your room for the better part of six days. The thought of checking on Luhan crossed your mind, but you couldn’t do it. You didn’t even know what to say to him if he happened to be awake when you arrived. Besides, Yixing kept you updated and he seemed to be healing on schedule.

The pleas Luhan was giving you before the bomb went off echoed in your head, hauntingly and teasingly. No matter how hard you fought to shove them away, they always made their way back.

He swore that what he told you before, when he was still Lin, was the truth, but what if that was just another ploy to get you to stay, to be on his side? How could you trust anything he had to say?

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” you called out softly. You knew it would be Yixing. He’d been kind enough to bring food to you a few times a day so you didn’t have to leave these walls. It was odd how he just seemed to know that you needed the isolation, to be away from everything, without you ever having to voice it.

Wearing that same small smile he did every time, Yixing quietly came into your room, shutting the door behind him and settling in the chair by your bed. The tray today housed a clear broth soup with scallions and mushrooms and buttered bread on the side. However, there were two bowls this time. Yixing picked one up himself, sipping from the spoon that was settled in the liquid. Apparently, he was joining you for lunch this time.

“Thank you,” you told him before picking up your own bowl. You were starving, ready to fill your stomach with the food in front of you.

“I hope you enjoy it.”

You smiled at him. “I always enjoy the food you make.”

His cheeks bloomed just the tiniest bit of blush. “That’s very kind of you, (y/n). Though, I’m sure-”

Bang!

The door slammed opened, causing you jump and spill some of the hot soup onto your lap. Tao stood in the doorway, face twisted into a look of annoyance.

Lowering your spoon and rolling your eyes, you groaned, “What do you want?”

“Luhan wants to see you.”

You scoffed. “Well, too bad. I’m eating.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Tao threatened. You kept your mouth shut, pretending that he hadn’t said anything.

“(y/n), you should see him,” Yixing urged.

The spoon fell from your hand just as you were lifting it back up to your lips. You stared at the doctor. How could he insist on something like this? You thought he was on your side. But apparently the pain you were going through wasn’t enough to dislodge years of loyalty. Now you felt cornered with no way out.

As you were obviously outnumbered, you set the food to the side and slid off the bed. Tao turned on his heels and left the bedroom, not bothering to look back to see if you were following him. He knew you were there.

The door to Luhan’s bedroom was opened when you arrived. After stepping inside, Tao shut the door behind you, effectively keeping you from running back to the safety of your room.

“(y/n).”

You didn’t want to lift your eyes to the bed, but you knew that you had to at least acknowledge him or else you’d never be let out of here. “Luhan.”

He flinched when you spoke, whether it was the sound of his real name leaving your lips or the still healing wound on his side, you didn’t know. He lifted his hand, beckoning you over. “Come here.”

“I’m fine here, thank you.”

“Okay, then.” Grunting, Luhan flicked the covers off himself and started to get out of bed.

“Don’t do that!” you protested. But it was too late. The idiot was already up on his feet and walking towards you. He was no longer plugged into an IV, free to move about no matter how painful it was for him.

Luhan stared at you with eyes that were pleading for you to not run away. He kept his distance for now, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t stay like that for long. “(y/n), I need you to listen to me. I know I lied about my name, who I am, everything in that regard, but I’m not the bad guy they’ve painted me to be.”

“Not the bad guy?” you scoffed, a sad attempt to fight back the tears that were swelling in your eyes. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never killed anyone or threatened them or broken the law? Because what that’s a bad guy is, Luhan. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t done any of those things?”

“You didn’t care that Lin had,” he fought back.

You looked off to the side, arms crossed tightly over your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. “I hate you,” you growled through gritted teeth.

“Do you? Do you really?”

Yes.

No.

You wanted to. You wanted to throw everything you could get your hands on at him and scream and tell him to get out of your life for good. But you couldn’t. Because it would hurt you more than it would ever hurt him. What a selfish thing to think, even though it was true. You looked at him and you saw the man who took you outside of these walls and shared a simple warm meal with you in that little restaurant, showing the side of him that others didn’t get to see. You saw the one who’d helped you feel calm in this chaotic environment. You saw the person who’d kept you safe from the ones who tried to hurt you, even though they wanted him in the first place. He was the one who smiled at you, who told you – even if it was a fleeting promise – that he wanted to take you away from all of this. He was the one who had taken your heart piece by tiny piece until you realized that half of it was gone already.

But was he that same person? Was the name really the only thing that had changed? You didn’t know. And perhaps that was what really scared you. Lin was gone now, out of existence. Did that mean the person behind the name was gone as well?

“How can I trust you?” you whispered as you shifted your gaze down to the floor in front of you.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

You snapped your head up. “What’s the point?”

Luhan frowned. “The point? What do you mean what’s the point? I want you trust me, that’s what. I want you to know that I’m still the same person.”

“But what’s the point of wanting me to trust you?” you said. “You’re the one in charge. You can keep me here as long as you want. How I feel shouldn’t really matter.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “I won’t.”

You blinked. He couldn’t mean…. “Won’t what?”

“I won’t keep you here.” Risking it all, Luhan strode up to you until the two of you were nearly nose to nose. “I’ll let you go. Once I find out who murdered my man in that alley, I’ll put you on a first class seat back home myself. That bomb that got past my security shows that not even here is safe for you. And that’s all I want: for you to be safe. So, I’ll do it. I’ll make you safe and get you home. Just give me time.” Taking another risk, he reached out with his right hand and cupped your cheek, making you look at him. “All I ask is one favor in return.”

Of course. Nothing ever comes free with a mafia man. “What do you want?”

“Let me kiss you. Just once.”

#exo #exo mafia au #exo mafia!au #luhan x reader #luhan #lu han #exo gang au #exo gang!au #exo series #kris wu #wu yifan #zhang yixing #lay #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #Secret in His Eyes

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

#9 “oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?” 😊

(Sorry this took so long!)

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

“I’m just going to – ”

“No, you ain’t,” Rio snaps back at her, his nostrils flaring, and Beth rolls her eyes, curling the blanket tighter around her shoulders and flopping back onto the couch. He squints at her for a second, and she’s pretty sure he’s waiting to make sure she doesn’t get up again, which is honestly hilarious. After all, she’s doing okay – she’s three glasses of red wine deep and has the blanket. He’s the one shivering in a pair of stiff black jeans and a too-thin hoodie on the living room floor.

Satisfied that she’s not going to make a break for the thermostat, he turns his attention back to the fire. Or rather, not the fire, Beth thinks, amused, but the enormous log he’d dropped into the fireplace, the smattering of kindling and what has to be close to thirty burnt out matches, leaving smears of charcoal on the concrete floor of the thing.

“We could just turn the central heating on until you get it going,” Beth says, and she keeps her voice light, soothing, even if internally she’s practically glowing. There’s just something so magical about finding something new he’s bad at, especially given the list is so short – cooking, singing (and that one had surprised all of them. “With that deep, husky voice?” Ruby had asked, eyebrow raised, grinning wide. “Figured he’d be a regular Ray Charles.”

“Nope,” Beth replied gleefully, taking a sip on her cocktail. “Like skinning a cat.”)

And now, apparently, lighting a fire.

Rio mumbles something under his breath which sounds vaguely threatening, but Beth’s pretty sure it’s aimed at the log, not her, which is a little harsh. After all, it’s not the log’s fault, she thinks, reaching to grab her wine glass off the coffee table and god, okay, it really is cold. She pulls her glass to her chest and then curls the blanket better around herself again, keeping the cool air at bay.

The night had started off so well too. With her kids at Dean’s and Marcus at Laura’s and the weather warnings blearing over the radio, Beth had closed the dealership early to get all the staff home safely and somehow managed to talk Rio into doing the same with the warehouse (albeit, not quite as early). It had barely been three by the time she’d gotten home, and she’d managed to throw on some sweats, get a casserole in the oven, crack a bottle of wine and check in with the kids, Annie and Ruby before Rio had stumbled in the door, brushing sleet from the shoulders of his coat.

And it had almost been romantic, she thinks contentedly, safe from the bustle of the real world outside of their dining room, eating dinner, drinking wine, jazz practically oozing languidly off Rio’s turntable, her foot inching up his leg beneath the table, when he’d suggested they take it to the living room.

And now here they were, Beth thinks, watching as Rio surges back up onto his knees, furiously lighting another match, holding it low on the kindling, the flame almost licking around the stick instead of catching on the bark, and it must be wet or something because it’s really not going to light. The match burns down, singing Rio’s fingers, and he swears, tossing the thing haphazardly into the fireplace.

Biting back a grin, Beth sits forwards a little on the couch, about to get up to help him (she’d have done it earlier if he hadn’t been so insistent on her staying warm and relaxing back on the couch – while also not letting her turn on the heating, promising this’d be roaring soon enough), when suddenly Rio’s work cell starts buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans. He cusses again, yanking it out, checking the number, and promptly answering it.

“What?” he grunts in lieu of a greeting, and someone must say something significant, because suddenly he’s rocking up to his feet, covering the mouthpiece as he looks at Beth and says:

“Gimme a minute, yeah?” before striding off into the hallway then darting up the stairs to their shared home office, and Beth frowns, because if he’s taking it upstairs, it means it’s either news he doesn’t want her to know, somebody he doesn’t want knowing about her (he’s weirdly paranoid about certain unnamed people hearing her voice, and no matter how much she pries, he refuses to tell her why), or both.

Watching him disappear up the stairs, Beth shuffles forwards, dropping her wine glass back to the coffee table and then herself to the floor.

Thing is, it is weird. All those months ago in Beth’s old bed, in her old house, the fireplace had been the first thing on his list when they’d played Dream House, and on those early, new nights, she’d dreamt of what that meant, assuming it held a significance to him in the same way that the kitchen did for her. Something that would make a house their home. Had imagined him with a childhood spent in front of one, toasting marshmallows or warming his toes, imagined it as one of the few things he’d had to go without in his loft, imagined him missing it, but now she’s not so sure.

It’s like he’s never even seen someone light one before.

She almost laughs when she gets to the fireplace, pushing aside the enormous log he’d laid down at the base of it and the sticks which actually are wet (he must’ve grabbed them from outside when she was cleaning up dinner), and starts to sort through the kindling, finding the smallest, driest pieces. She finds a newspaper on the shelf below the coffee table – one she’s pretty sure Rio’s done with, and tears off a few shreds, scrunches them up, starting to build the base of the fire. When she’s happy enough, she lights a match, dropping it down and watching the flame surge as it swallows the newspaper, just starting to catch the sticks above.

Humming a little to herself, she grabs one of the enflamed sticks, pushing it a little deeper, letting the embers flick over to the newspaper at the back, catching against them there, slowly starting to catch on the sticks there too. She watches the fire ebb, the embers starting to dust the concrete floor of the fireplace, lets it build again, her eyelashes briefly fluttering shut as the first breath of warmth hits her cheeks.

“So were you gonna tell me you knew how to do that, or just gonna watch me make a mess of it?”

The words are little more than a lazy drawl, and Beth glances behind herself to see him wandering towards her, like a whip of darkness in the cool, dusky light of the evening. She grins, shrugging, turning her attention back to the fire. She pulls the stoker off the holder, and gently prods a few of the flaming sticks towards the naked ones.

“You didn’t ask.”

Rio snorts, sitting down beside her, rocking just slightly forwards, and he doesn’t hold his hands out to the fire, doesn’t stretch out in front of it, but she knows he’s warming himself up. He runs cold anyway – she thinks it probably has something to do with the fact he has barely an ounce of body fat on him – but he doesn’t even have to touch her for her to know his hands are even more freezing than usual.

“Scouts,” he guesses, and Beth grins over at him again, tilting up her chin a little proudly.

“Got the badge and everything,” she replies, and then points with the stoker to where she’d pushed his efforts aside for her own. “Your log was too big.”

“Yeah, I heard that before,” he hums in faux resignation, and Beth rolls her eyes, a blush dusting her cheeks at the innuendo before she can stop it, and she pokes his side with the handle of the stoker. He takes it easily, and Beth moves around him, her blanket dragging behind her as she reaches for a smaller piece of wood.

“You need to be gentler with it too,” she says gesturing to the fire, and then quickly looks back at Rio, who’s mouth is open to reply. “Don’t.”

His laugh is quick, lyrical over the crackle and thrum of the fire, and Beth can’t quite bite back her grin either as she carefully places the smaller log by one of the healthiest parts of the fire, letting the flames slowly engulf it.

“Everything okay?” she asks, and at Rio’s questioning look, adds: “With the phone call, I mean.”

Rocking his head from side-to-side, Rio prods at the fire, watching the flames move, sticks like skeleton fingers snap beneath the heat. This close, she can see the slightest dusting of freckles at his cheeks, each little bump of new hair in his five o’clock shadow, the impossible length of his eyelashes. He looks engrossed, eyes tracing the way the fire builds, the way it consumes, the way it -

“Can you take more cars next week?”

Beth blinks back at him, wets her lips, collecting herself. She wraps herself up again in the blanket, curling her legs underneath her as she thinks it over.

“Probably,” she decides. “Not like we have the kids, and Annie could use the extra cash at the moment for Sadie’s meds anyway, so I’m sure she wouldn’t say no to a few longer days too.”

“Might need you to.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks again, forehead furrowing, and Rio sighs this time, clenching his eyes shut briefly, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand. She doesn’t think he’ll reply – usually doesn’t when she asks, and she knows he’ll be annoyed if she asks again. To her surprise though, Rio drops his hand, stokes the fire, and says:

“Just internal shit with our suppliers. Want to finish up faster so we can shut down business with ‘em. AJ’s hooked me up with some guys he’s worked with before, says they’re hard work too, but get shit done. Figure I’ll go check ‘em out, and if they’re good, start moving us across, at least temporarily, until we find someone longer term.”

Beth considers this. She knows there’s been issues with one of their big suppliers – has been for months, Rio had told her as much, but she hadn’t realised it had gotten this bad. She bites the inside of her cheek.

“If we’re changing people, I want to be there to meet them,” she says, and Rio exhales, like he knew that was what she was going to say, and Beth frowns, watching him watch the fire. It’s not like she hasn’t met with people before, with suppliers and partners and associates, but Rio rarely offers. She thought for a while that he liked making her weasel her way into it all, and she thinks that he did, for a while, but these days he seems to only like her in meetings with people he’s - - they’re already in business with. People he knows. Like he’s worried she might make a bad impression or something on anyone new, and sure, she knows she’s not exactly Demon, but she thinks she’s always presented professionally.

When he doesn’t answer, Beth’s frown deepens.

“Rio.”

“You get all your badges?”

Beth blinks, forehead furrowing.

“What?”

“At scouts,” Rio adds when he clocks her confusion, and Beth promptly rolls her eyes. “Ain’t there like a hundred of ‘em?”

“Rio, I’m serious.”

“You still got ‘em? I bet you do,” he hums, dropping the stoker to the front of the fireplace and shuffling a little back. He looks over at her appreciatively, sucking in his lips, like he’s picturing it. “Got the little hat still?”

“Rio,” she groans, hand escaping the blanket to push him, when suddenly he surges forwards, pushing her heavily onto her back against the freezing floorboards. She squawks, flails, still half tangled in the blanket as he rolls them over until she’s lying flat on top of him, and god, she must be squashing him, she thinks, feeling the sharp plains of him underneath her, and she tries to sit up, but he pulls the blanket around her and uses it to yank her back down towards him so hard she’s almost winded against the hard, flat top of his ribcage.

She squints down at him.

“You’re too skinny,” she tells him accusingly, and he just looks up at her, eyebrow raised, as she adds: “No wonder you’re always cold.”

“Ain’t that what I got you for?” he asks, and Beth rolls her eyes, about to tell him no, actually, but he does have her to go to this meeting with him, thank you very much, when suddenly he pulls her close to him, shoving his freezing hands down the back of her sweat pants, squeezing her ass over her panties before changing his mind and shoving his hands beneath those as well. Beth makes a noise she’s pretty sure only dogs can hear, trying to wriggle away from him, and Rio just laughs, rolling her onto her side and rubbing his icy nose against her neck.

“Mmm, feelin’ warmer already,” he purrs, rolling his hips against hers, and Beth groans in the least sexy way possible, trying to wriggle away from his cold hands. It’s no good though, they’re too big and – when he feels her moving – too firm.

“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I’m not,” she hisses in reply, and Rio sits back enough to look down at her, pulling one of his hands off her ass.

“Yeah? Damn. Think I got a few ideas on how we fix that though.”

Beth gives him an unimpressed look at that, and when she goes to push him off her, he grabs both her wrists in his hand and gives her a shit eating grin. It’s enough to make her smile way too sweetly in reply, lifting her leg until she can get her foot against his hip, kicking him back, when he glances down, eyebrow arched, and promptly lets go of her wrists to tug on her (well, his) black sock.

“Oh, so you’ve started stealin’ my socks now?” he says, and Beth curls her toes to stop him from pulling it off her. They really are warmer, she thinks, even if they swallow practically half her leg.

“Well, since stealing your money and your business worked out so well for me, I figured I should see how this went,” she says with a sniff, just to see the way his forehead furrows, his lips part, unimpressed.

“Oh, is that right?”

A giggle escapes Beth’s mouth before she can help it, and Rio grabs her ankle, pushing it away so he can better slide between her legs, laying flush against her, and she almost hates the way her breath hitches, the way he notices it – of course he notices it – and well, she thinks, blinking suddenly when she feels his half-hard cock push against her cunt. She keens before she can help that too, feeling the heat pool low in her.

“You warmin’ up yet, mama?” he asks her, the hand down the back of her pants shifting, moving around to her hip, playing with the lace of her panties, keeps moving, until his cold fingers are slipping between her folds, and she jumps, fingernails digging into his neck, and god, when had her hands even moved there?

“We haven’t finished this conversation,” she promises him, squinting, and he nods, faux serious, but there’s a look in his eye that tells her he knows that too, and as long as he does, Beth thinks, surging up to kiss him.

That’s really all that matters.

#beth x rio #prompt fills #the center and circumference #my fic #beth boland #rio #all of these are getting way too plotty haha #i think i am going to have to make a list putting them in order because the plot thread in canada is in a few of them #(and will be in a few more i think!)#anyway #hope you like it <3

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aquilamage · 5 years

Text

I have had the Faraday family on the brain so much lately, and I love them they’re amazing, and I have not written nearly enough of them, so here we are.

The first time it happens, Badd is over at the Faradays’ working on a case.

“Hey Dad, can you come help me with this?”

It isn’t until he pulls his head out of the fridge to berate Faraday for ignoring his daughter that Badd realizes he hasn’t come downstairs yet. Instead, Kay sits at the kitchen table holding a workbook and watching his silence with big eyes and a tiny frown that grows as the moment stretches on.

He soon comes to the conclusion that she hasn’t realized what she’d done. She’s just so used to saying it with her father, and with the familiar setting, it makes enough sense. Badd shakes it off and goes to assist her without comment.

---

The next one he almost misses.

Despite the fact that he was only delivering paperwork, Kay insists on accompanying him around the office. She spends most of the time tucked under his coat (which is helpful, considering that Faraday has gone and pinned his badge on her again. Not that Badd doesn’t also enjoy the poorly concealed annoyance on the other prosecutors’ faces, but he would never admit that. Besides, it’s an inconvenience he’d rather not have to deal with right now) with a practiced step that keeps them from tripping each other up. What she does manage, though, is to startle him a few times. Despite being so much smaller, Kay’s been steadily improving at matching the sound of his footsteps until he almost forgets she’s there. If her tiny bouts of laughter are anything to go by, she’s very much enjoying her newfound ability, and he can’t bring himself to be upset with her about it.

When they get back to Faraday’s office, he holds up the edge of his coat to let her out.

Giggling, she throws out a quick “thanks, Dad!” and reaches for the door handle.

Lost in thought, he nods. It’s a couple steps later when his brain catches up with the content of what she’d said, not just the meaning. It would’ve been easy enough to dismiss it as another accident of the same kind if it hadn’t been for the fact that when Kay sees her father and runs for him, what she yells is “Hi, Daddy!”

---

He still doesn’t address it, even as it continues to happen every so often over the course of the next few months. Which, other than himself being more troubled by the implications, seems to work out alright.

Right up until the moment it very much doesn’t.

It’s at the Faraday household again. Badd is attempting to convince Kay to get going for school while Faraday’s busy in the kitchen. While she does finally give in, his sense of accomplishment is immediately brought crashing to a halt by her response of “alright Dad, I’m moving”, that’s made just as Faraday walks into the room.

Up until now Kay’s only said it with the two of them around, something he hadn’t put much thought into. As he watches Faraday blink in surprise, though, he curses himself for not worrying more about this exact situation. He doesn’t know if he expected Faraday to be angry or weirded out or what, but Badd tenses up even more when the response is laughter. “What?”

Faraday shakes his head and turns to Kay. “Why don’t you take your things out to the car, sweetheart?” As soon as she’s outside, he leans back against the doorway, still smiling, albeit with the beginnings of the thoughtful look he gets when talking to a potential witness.

“Sorry about that.” Reading the atmosphere, there doesn’t feel to be a need for an apology, but in the absence of having anything else to say, Badd throws out an easy way out for the both of them. Something to shrug off the situation and then never have to talk about it again.

So of course Faraday laughs more. “There’s no need for that.” Seeing Badd’s skeptical look, he sighs, looking at him with surprising seriousness. “It isn’t- …I really don’t mind.” A brief pause where his expression teeters a few shades towards concern. “I can talk to her, if it bothers you.”

“No. It’s fine.” He’s surprised by his own response at first. But then when he thinks about it more, it’s not that he’s bothered by Kay’s actions so much as that he’s not unbothered by it. That’s all far too complicated to explain in the moment (especially given that he’s just started tugging at it himself), so all he adds is “but…make sure she knows not to let it happen in front of anyone else.”

Badd sees the way Faraday’s demeanor lifts at his first response, stance more relaxed; the expectant tilt of his head he does when he’s sure the person he’s listening to has something else to say; and the extra moment than usual it takes him to read Badd’s indication of being done with the conversation – but none of it registers at the time. All he notices is Faraday nod, and they head out and go their separate ways without further comment.

---

He’d meant it when he turned down Faraday’s offer to talk to Kay. Despite that, and despite the fact that he also hadn’t had any intention of discussing it with her himself, that’s exactly what he finds himself doing after another dozen or so instances of her calling him ‘Dad’.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

She licks her fingers clean of sandwich jam before answering, casually, “Because that’s what you are.”

He stares at her from the other side of the bench. It’s in hedged-off grassy area - too small to be called a park but lacking in any other features that could designate it as anything else - almost halfway between her school and his office. “How…do you figure?” They’d learned a long time ago that just telling Kay ‘no’ about something she’d made her mind up on rarely ever worked.

Her eyebrow raised, she stares at him for a moment as if she can’t believe he even has to ask. “You do all the same stuff.” She shrugs.

He wants to argue with her that that’s not true. After all, it’s not like he raised her. He’s just been helping Faraday out. Trading off different tasks when they worked together and occasionally watching her by himself when they weren’t. Making sure she was always kept safe, including teaching her to look out for herself as much as could be expected for her age. And of course seeing to it that she was happy and healthy.

…All of which he’d done on practically a daily basis, pretty much since the day she was born.

Well, shit.

If anything, the urge to protest increases, but he knows any differences he could come up with would be technicalities; everywhere it counts, he has indeed been like a parent to her.

He opts to change the subject then, but it’s something he finds himself spending the rest of the day freaking out about in the back of his mind. Badd has always cared about Kay, and always been keenly aware of that. But…the idea of being a father for her – it’s not what he’d been trying to do or ever even thought of as a possibility, but without him noticing it’s passed from possible to a very obvious in hindsight reality. Practically speaking, there’s nothing that would change because of that title, but in his mind there is a world of difference between “family friend who watches out for a kid a bunch” and “father,” and the responsibilities and expectations associated with the latter are not ones that he wants to mess up. Not with Kay.

“Got something on your mind, Badd?”

He looks up from his papers (that he’d admittedly been staring at without really reading) to see Faraday, sitting on the front of his desk, watching him with a cautious tilt of the head.

Then, of course, there’s the whole other side to the problem. After all, it’s not as if Kay is lacking in a present and caring father already. Hell, he doesn’t think there’s a real person who could be better than Byrne tries to be. The idea of someone else being in that same place…that doesn’t seem like something Faraday would just brush off. And yeah, he hasn’t had a problem so far, but how much beyond ‘casual amusement at his small child’s antics’ is that going to extend?

“Does it really not bother you that Kay’s been calling me dad?” It’s not meant to come as accusatory and sharp as it does, and it takes the both of them off-guard.

Soon enough, though, Faraday recovers. “No,” he says, with the same surety he had the first time.

Badd wants to believe him. To drop it again and just accept that it would all be fine after that. But he’s known Faraday long enough, been paying enough attention to the details of this whole affair in turning them over in his head, that he can tell there’s something else going on. He just doesn’t know what.

In an ideal situation, it would be something benign. Considering how things actually go, he’s pretty sure it’s not, and that does not encourage him to go near the subject. Not only would it affect himself and Kay, but also with Faraday. They’ve been working together for so long, and so well, because they know they can trust each other (none of which he can say about the other prosecutors). Even outside of work, Badd finds him to be an enjoyable person to be around. Sure, Faraday gets on his nerves, but not in the same way that anyone else does (and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he makes it seem). He’s worked too hard to keep things in a safe place between them to risk things here.

Problem is, their understanding of each other goes both ways. Badd doesn’t actively react to his answer, but it’s easy enough for Faraday to pick up from the stiffness of his body language that something about it is troubling him. “I mean that.” He runs a hand through his hair. Sighs, and continues, more solemnly. “If she’d also stopped calling me dad, then I’d be concerned. But it’s not like I’m being replaced, and if it makes Kay happy without bothering anyone else…” He trails off as Badd continues to stare at him. “What?” It’s said with genuine concern.

Which is fair, since Badd’s expression has grown intense and thoughtful. He doesn’t respond yet, though. He’s much more occupied by the realization that what Faraday’s said has reminded him of a different conversation they had ages ago.

He can’t recall the exact context of what led up to the question, but since what followed was the important part, he supposes he shouldn’t worry. Kay had been about four (and Badd has to take a moment to think about when exactly he started measuring memories with her as a baseline. He doesn’t know) when he’d stumbled on the question of why Faraday hadn’t had a significant other since before Kay was born.

“I’ve managed just fine on my own so far, haven’t I?” he responded with the usual deceptively careless confidence.

Badd raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Alright. We’ve been doing fine. I don’t recall asking for your help, though.”

He hadn’t. Despite being in a near-constant state of exhaustion in the months following Kay’s birth (not helped by the fact that he’d gone back to work almost right away instead of giving his body a break), Faraday had refused to let Badd do anything. Getting Faraday to accept help had been less ‘making an argument that he agreed with’ and more ‘literally taking Kay out of his arms when he fell asleep holding her and staring him down when he tried to argue his way into getting her back the moment he regained consciousness.’ It wasn’t often that he was that destructively stubborn, but for better or for frustrating, Badd soon learned Faraday would always have an extra layer of caution when it came to his little girl.

“Besides, that’s not even…” He paused, sighed. “Well, it does have to do with Kay, but not like that.” His words took on an even, steady pace that usually only comes with practice. Clearly this was something he’d been thinking on a lot. “There aren’t a lot of people out there who are interested in someone who’s already got a kid. Even among the ones who don’t have a problem with it, the prevailing attitude I’ve encountered is that they’re willing to ‘work around it’ rather than having an active interest in her as a person too. That’s not what I want for her.” He leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Kay deserves someone who loves her absolutely, and I’m not even going to consider anyone willing to do less.”

For a moment, Badd simply stood there, trying not to stare, to give anything away. The conviction in Byrne’s voice alone was like nothing he’d ever heard, something he’d felt echo through him. And honestly, when he thought about it, based on what he knew of him, he would’ve been disappointed to hear anything less from the likes of Faraday. Instead of any of that, though, he said, “You might be…waiting a long time on that.”

He smiled. “If it makes Kay happy, I can live with that.”

---

Now, he doesn’t know if the connection truly was intentional, but there’s something about the way it was said that Badd can’t ignore. He softens his voice, trying to keep his expression safely neutral. “You got something you want to say to me, Byrne?”

He jolts out of his slouch. “I don’t know what you mean.” With the light of the encroaching sunset at his back, it’s hard to see well enough to make out his facial expressions, but there’s clearly the same flavor of defensive posture as when he’s thrown off-guard in court.

Again, it would be so easy to use that as a cue to stop pushing. Badd doesn’t know whether he’s nervous about being right or afraid of being wrong, but suddenly what Byrne’s trying to hide might not be such a bad thing and he has to at least try. He raises an eyebrow, doesn’t give any ground. “All I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure we’re both remembering the same other conversation about you doing things for Kay.”

Faraday sucks in a breath. Then, after a moment, he sighs, slow and heavy. The tension’s gone from his body, but he’s not so much relaxed as resigned. “I should’ve expected you would figure it out eventually, no matter how much I tried to hide it.” A dry laugh. “Not that I even intended for it to happen in the first place. I mean, when I said about Kay and someone caring about her, and-“ Shaking his head, he gets off the desk. “I’m sorry.”

Even despite the fact that he’d started thinking things could go this way, hearing the confirmation leaves Badd stunned. He’s always known Byrne enjoyed being around him, the whole deal, but he’d never thought he would have feelings for him (that’s a bit simple of a way of putting it, but the first alternative phrasing his brain supplies is far too direct and too much for him to consider thinking yet). Because of this, it takes him a while to register that Faraday is going through the files of his drawers. “What…are you doing?”

“Look, it’s your choice, but I don’t know how comfortable you’d be still working together, considering.” He looks up from where he’s kneeling to where Badd is standing on the other side of the desk. There’s something deep in his eyes, a fear that Badd’s never seen from him before. “You don’t have to stick around, but…if we could at least figure out something to soften the blow for Kay?”

Oh. “Is that why you never said anything?” Taking care to soften his movements as much as possible, he moves over to sit on the floor next to Faraday.

After a moment’s consideration, he plops down as well. “I know, right?” He rests his head in between his knees. “Finally find someone who cares about her, but then I realize I’m still in a situation where doing anything about it would compromise things.” A hand combs his hair out of his face. “Well, that and,” the same hand waves as much in the vague direction of between the two of them as it can considering that he’s not looking. “Prosecutor. Detective. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to act a certain way, even unintentionally.”

There are so many ways he could respond to that, but he settles for the simplest, most general but true. He doesn’t want to press Faraday’s nerves so far so fast. “As if…I ever let that happen before now.”

There’s a lengthy pause in which the only apparent movement is his breathing and his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks. Finally, he laughs weakly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He sits up enough to cross his arms over his knees and then rest his chin on that, still staring at the underside of his desk.

When Faraday doesn’t make any other moves, Badd huffs. He certainly can’t blame him for not picking up on the full meaning of what he’d said, in the circumstances. And since Byrne’s already gone and done the harder part, it’s only fair that he makes sure the truth on his side is fully laid out as well. “It’s not terrible reasoning. But there’s a few things you haven’t considered.”

Byrne turns his head just enough to look at him.

“Like…if I really cared about Kay so much, knowing how attached she is to me, you really think I'd drop out of her life like that, no matter how I felt about you?"

His eyes widen to an extent that would be comical were it not for the grimace that follows as he smacks himself on the forehead. He takes a long breath. “I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

“No. Just dense, sometimes.”

The familiar response does some to lessen his tension. "I guess we'll figure something out, then." Byrne closes his eyes, and his posture has something of his usual, animated self in it again even as he rests for a beat. Then he tilts his head to the side. He draws his words out as he picks them, carefully, half question half accusatory statement. “You said- things… I hadn’t considered.”

“Yeah.”

He shifts to face him. “What else?”

"Your other assumption...was that your feelings were going to be a problem for me in the first place." Badd finds himself leaning in as he speaks, dropping his voice even though there isn’t a need for it.

A flash of confusion across his face. “You don’t mean…?”

The fearful disbelief in Byrne’s tone is what gets to him most out of everything that’s happened. The raw feeling to it, even with Byrne knowing what the intent behind Badd’s words has to be – if he’d had any doubts about whether Byrne really felt that way about him, they’re gone now. Badd knows it’s only fair, then, to give him the same absolute certainty.

Well, evidence usually did the trick. So, in response, Badd simply tugs at his scarf, gently pulling Byrne forward to kiss him.

It lasts a few seconds wherein Byrne doesn’t react at all. When they pull away, he simply breathes out a barely audible “oh.” But then, before Badd can voice the concerns that have begun to sprout, Byrne throws his arms over Badd’s shoulders and all but yanks him into a second, much more fervent kiss of his own.

#Tyrell Badd #Detective Badd #Byrne Faraday #Kay Faraday #baddbyrne #oh heck what's the actual ship name? is there one? this is what I usually call it anyway so lets go with that #faraday fam #Ace Attorney #my writing #fanfiction #listen any iteration of these two together is Good but I think we all know the best version is obviously Kay's Dads first other stuff second #this is. GOING to still need some editing later just because I'm a grump who's never happy with their own work #but it's definitely not bad right now and I Want To Share #rambles

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sunflowerstrays · 6 years

Text

my hero // yoon dowoon // au

anon requested this: hello! can i request for a community police officer!dowoon of day6 and he falls in love with a girl (you can make it up!) i know i sound greedy, but do you think you can mke this kind of long? i wanted to save this idea for my favorite writer!

enjoy my dear <3

yoon dowoon x reader.

words: 3.4k.

genre: fluff, mentions of crime, but basically all cute things.

You looked at the shattered glass littered around your feet with tears in your eyes. Everything you had spent the last eighteen months of your life working towards gone with the smash of a hammer against glass, bookshelves having been pushed over or destroyed, and the entire contents of your safe - and hard earnt money - gone. It was so devastating to see it all shattered before you that you were barely processing the police officer speaking to you.

“Miss y/l/n?” the officer said, his curly hair blowing in the summer night’s wind. He had introduced himself to you earlier, but you had forgotten his name immediately - in fact, you weren’t sure you ever caught it, after being in shock from seeing this catastrophe.

You had opened your little bookstore cafe eighteen months ago, and had slowly been building a strong relationship with the customers. You had your daily customers, those that came in one or twice a week and those who you had seen once or twice but remembered.

Fortunately for you, you’d been able to purchase the flat above your bookstore so were easily able to manage the store. You had two part-time teenagers that also worked here after school to cope with the rush of customers, and you had just built your life around things that you loved the most - coffee, and books.

Which is why you had fallen in love with your job. So to see your little business in ruins, quite literally, before you, was heartbreaking.

“Dowoon I think she’s still in shock,” the second, taller officer with bright blond hair and a namebadge that read Park Jae Hyung. You finally looked at the younger police officer in front of you, reading his name badge. Yoon Dowoon. It definitely matched what his buddy was calling him, so you took that sense of normality at least.

“Hello,” you say sheepishly, wiping the tears from your eyes and shivering. The wind, whilst warm, was very fresh and bitter against your skin, and along with the shock of what had happened to you, you were beginning to shiver. “Is this real? Or am I dreaming?”

“Unfortunately this has happened,” Dowoon says, putting the clipboard under his arm to give you his jacket. “You need to wear this before you really go into bad shock and we have to call an ambulance, y/n. Is it okay to call you that?”

You nod, sheepishly putting your arms in his warm jacket and sinking into it’s warmth.

Dowoon leads you away from the mess of the bookstore to talk you through the paperwork about what has happened. You know that you are numbly answering questions for the time being, probably giving a really poor recall of what actually happened.

You had been woken up by the sound of smashing, but had assumed it had probably come from some drunk’s stumbling out of the bar a few streets away. It wasn’t until the alarm in your apartment started ringing that alerted you of an intruder downstairs. You had called the police immediately, who had told you to remain hidden upstairs until they were called to the scene.

Unfortunately the thieves had gotten away with all of the money in your safe and happy hearts, leaving your’s shattered.

“Now, I’m asking as your local community police officer, and as a friend, are you okay?” Dowoon asks, resting a hand over yours as you fiddle nervously with a loose thread on his jacket. You look up at him, half hidden behind your unbrushed bed hair and still shivering slightly in his jacket and your pyjamas.

“I’m scared,” you mumble, “what if they come back for more? I don’t have anything more other than some coffee beans and last year’s paper backs. They took everything else.” Dowoon smiles sweetly at you, removing his hand to maintain an air of professionalism.

“Fortunately for you, people like the burglars here tonight tend to avoid attacking the same place multiple times. They know that police officers will be on patrol in that area, and therefore will avoid it or they could risk getting caught,” Dowoon explains in a calming tone that really helps to settle your raging anxiety. Jae, his partner, is chatting with a neighbour of yours who had acted as an eyewitness to the incident from their bedroom window.

You just wanted to be in your bed. Safe, warm and happy. You didn’t want to have to worry about money now, or how on earth you were going to keep your business up and running with the front of the store as damaged as this. You’d give anything to just be back to normal.

Why did this have to happen to you?

“People tend to do the worst things to the best of people,” Dowoon says, answering your thoughts then chuckling softly as you realise you had been mumbling out loud. “It’s okay, when I’m nervous or scared I tend to do the same thing and talk out loud. It annoys Jae endlessly.”

You have to share a quiet giggle with the sweet officer, because you know he is trying his best to put you at rest. He settles for making the most of the conversation as Jae finishes getting details from your neighbour, making you thankful - you weren’t the greatest at maintaining conversation at the best of times, and that didn’t usually involve times when you were drowning with anxiety.

“Jae, can I speak to you for a second?” Dowoon asks, leaving your side with a polite smile to speak to his friend. In this time your neighbour wraps you in a hug, telling you how sorry she is about this and that she is happy to help in anyway she can. You just thank her and wait for further news from Dowoon and the situation.

“Okay, so Dowoon and I have both decided to park the police car about a street away from here tonight. Obviously we are on call so if we are called away, we will have to move, but until our shift ends tomorrow at seven o’clock, we are happy to stay close by in case of anymore trouble,” Jae explains to you, Dowoon smiling proudly at being able to get his friend to agree to this.

“Thank you officers,” you said, finally being allowed to walk through your destroyed bookstore to head upstairs to your little flat. Before you disappear to hopefully grab some more sleep, you had Dowoon back his jacket, thanking him personally for tonight.

“It was just... scary,” you say, beginning to ramble now, “and I don’t handle surprises very well. So thank you for being so prompt and calming.”

“As your local friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, it’s my job,” Dowoon replies once Jae is out of earshot. You raise an eyebrow at his choice of words, but he just nods at your Spiderman pyjamas bottoms and makes you blush. You had completely forgotten that you had thrown those on before you went to sleep that night because your usually night clothes hadn’t dried, and you were too lazy to wait.

“At least you’ve got a stellar sense of humour,” you say sarcastically, making Dowoon laugh loudly. Jae raises an eyebrow from the police car’s front seat, making Dowoon blush now and wish you a goodnight before running after his friend.

---

You were extremely tired as you had started work this morning. You opened at your usual nine o’clock starting time, refusing to let last night get the better of you. Yet there was this uneasiness about everyone who entered the store, like you had done the unspeakable.

Yet you were pushing on as well as you could, with your brightest smile that you could muster in this time.

It was now about midday and the busiest time of your day. Today the customers had been especially nice with leaving tips in your small tip bucket, or purchasing that extra sweet treat to add more money into your tills. You definitely couldn’t complain about the genoristy of people today so far, even if all their eyes and their words were heavily dripped in sympathy and sadness.

The busy lunch hour passes fast, and soon you are back to tidying the last of the mess in the bookstore. During these hours no one really enters the shop, sometimes the occasional book worm looking for a good read. However there isn’t much left for them to look at, so again they just leave a nice tip in the collection pot and leave.

You finish rearranging what books you have left just before the slightly busier after school hour starts. Usually this is when one of your two coworkers come to help, mostly with the influx of studying students or tired mothers. However you had told of them to stay off today as you figured it wouldn’t be incredibly busy and you’d be able to manage.

What you hadn’t expected was your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman to show up.

He walks inside the store with a sad look in his eyes, but that softens as he sees that you’ve tidied up. Dowoon glances around the shop and looks for someone in particular, and his eyes skip right over you at first - this is probably because you aren’t sobbing into his jacket, wearing childish themed pyjamas and your hair has been washed and put into a smart ponytail. That and the bags under your eyes from your rough night have been covered with half a bottle of concealer and thick powder.

“y/n,” he says with a smile, walking over immediately and definitely attracting the attention of the customers in the shop. His hair is messy and curled, his eyes still foggy with the remaints of sleep and clothes rumbled from being thrown on last minute, however you can’t help but feel your heart lift. “How are you?”

“Tired,” you say, making him chuckle as he stands aside, letting you serve another young man buying coffee. The customer stands there somewhat awkwardly as you chat with Dowoon.

“You’ve tidied a lot in here,” he says, indicating to the empty bookcases but clean floor.

“I read online that smashed glass everywhere and paperbacks not on the shelves is awfully bad for business,” you say, cracking a joke and making his small smile turn into a big grin. As you hand the customer his drink, Dowoon places an order for a hot chocolate, but you refuse to let him pay for it.

“Dowoon, please. The tips today have been very generous, one drink isn’t going to break my bank,” you say as you turn on the kettle. “Besides, after last night I owe you one.”

“It’s just my job,” he says, leaning on the counter beside you as you take a seat behind it and hand him his drink.

Dowoon stands there and happily drinks his drink whilst catching up with you. He isn’t entirely sure why he came back here, but after tossing and turning all morning because he couldn’t sleep, he figured he should probably do something with his day rather than waste it completely.

But then again, he hadn’t intended to end up here. He had just been aimlessly walking around city, and found himself pulled towards you. He just couldn’t help but walk inside and check that you were okay.

But now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave.

Eventually you ended up making him a second drink, and this time he insisted on paying for it. The afternoon was quiet for you, and you ended up shutting on time unlike usual. Dowoon wasn’t ready to leave your company just yet, but he didn’t know what had come over him as he asked you out for dinner.

“There’s this amazing chicken place close to where I live and I think you’d really like it there,” he said, before realising how weird that sounded. “Of course, you don’t have to come- I guess if you just wanted to get your mind off of things-”

“I’d love to come, Dowoon. Give me twenty minutes to change and I’ll be back down again,” you say, running upstairs to get into something nicer. You figured that you wouldn’t dress up in a pretty dress and heels, but you wanted to make a nicer impression than last night had.

Opting for a simple skirt and shirt, you grab your bag and jacket before running back downstairs. Dowoon had remained standing at the counter where the two of you had been before, looking around the little store in awe.

“Did you make all of this yourself?” He asks, smiling when you nod in response. “This is so... wonderful. It’s lovely in here.”

“Growing up I never really knew what I wanted to do,” you explain as you lock everything up tightly. Dowoon watches you move around the shop, shutting the wooden blinds you have on the windows - they were there originally for the aesthetic, but now they are actually necessary - and pushing all of the chairs under the tables. You checked the floor and upon inspection, figured you could get away with sweeping it tomorrow. You were too excited for hanging out with Dowoon to wait any longer. “So after school I went travelling for a little while, and came across a similar style bookstore in London. I decided to try and impliment it back here, and so far everyone has loved it.”

“It’s so amazing,” he says with a smile, “you have a very good fashion sense.”

“Thanks?” You say with a laugh, finally heading towards the door with Dowoon follow you like a lost puppy. As you look up he runs his hands nervously through his hair, definitely more awake and now running on excitement and hot chocolate rather than two hours of sleep.

The two of you walk side by side down the street, maintaining conversation very easily. It has been such a long time since you’ve held this level of conversation with a boy, especially one as cute as Dowoon. You can’t help but fall in love with his big brown eyes, his messy hair, the energy he has when talking about his hobbies.

You find out that he actually really loves music, and has an incredible passion for it. When he was in school he used to play the drums, and his partner Jae used to play the guitar. The two of them had played together in the school band, and stuck together since then.

“I still play them sometimes when I have time,” he explains, kicking the ground as he walks. “But that isn’t very often.”

“I think it’s really cool,” you say, making him blush under his thick curls. “Like, super cool. I’ve never known someone who can play the drums, that’s awesome.”

“Well now you do,” Dowoon says with a grin, holding the door open for you to the restaurant.

True to his word, the restaurant does serve some of the best chicken you’ve ever had. It could possibly rival even your father’s chicken, and that is the thing you miss most from home. Every time you travel back into the country side you have to have it, and bring home as much of it that you can. Yet this restaurant has you thinking of home, and feels you with warmth or happiness.

Or perhaps that was just being around Dowoon’s bright personality.

Because for the whole evening he was just glowing with life and happiness. He spoke with such enthuasiasm as well, and would crack so many jokes that you were often bent double at the table. After the meal as well he insisted on paying for the food, leaving you no choice but to keep quiet as he handed the waiter the money.

And to top it all off, he walked you home like the gentleman he was.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you said with a smile, brushing your hair behind your ears and blushing. “I would love to do something like this again. It was really special.”

“Me too,” Dowoon says, handing you his phone for you to put your number in his contacts. “I think you are really awesome, and I’m glad we got to check out that place. I won’t lie to you though,” Dowoon says, making you freeze. You had a horrible feeling he was about to tell you he was married with two kids, or only hung out with you tonight out of sympathy. “I’d never been to that place before, so I’m glad you tagged along.”

“Dowoon!” you exclaim, making him laugh. “That’s not funny, I can’t believe you!”

“But the important thing is we had a good time,” he says, taking back his phone before you can play-hit him with it. “And I would love to do it again, somewhere we know we will love.”

You just snort in response to his comment, before hugging him briefly and wishing him a good night. As you run upstairs to your apartment and climb into your fluffiest pyjamas, you can’t stop smiling. You were definitely giddy with excitement, and drunk on his smile.

And you could not wait until next time.

---

eek i hope you enjoyed it hunny! most of my fics are between 1.5k to 2k so this was definitely a longer one for me :) also favourite writer afasfgbafg you make me cry that’s so cute ilysm!!

requests are open!

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supergirlspurgatory · 7 years

Note

Okay so I have a Wayhaught story for you. So I was thinking about how Emily was saying Wynonna definitely has opinions about Waverly and Nicole being together so what if Wynonna takes a moment with Nicole to have "the talk" with her about how she better not hurt her or end up like Champ (but she knows she won't) and Waverly hears part of this conversation and runs aways and now is very distant with Nicole bc she thinks Wynonna scared her away but later she assures she's not going anywhere

So, I couldn’t help myself and i wrote a whole fic for this. Hope you like it!!!!

Waverly was finally back from that creepy possession ordeal that they had to deal with, and she will absolutely tell you, that she will never be touching any strange gunk that she finds on the ground or otherwise, ever again. But everything is okay now and Wynonna, Waverly, Doc, and Nicole have taken over the Black Badge office in their search to try and find and get Dolls back.

It is had been a few days and the four of them have been locked up in that office.

Waverly has been pouring over books and the internet, searching for anything she can wrestle up about secret government agencies that she can.

Wynonna was going through Dolls’s computer while she drinks whiskey out of his X cup, and muttering curse words under her breath since frankly there isn’t anything useful or entertaining of the hard drive.

Doc was sitting alone, at the far corner of the table. At first, he had spent a lot of time examining the vials that he had injected into Dolls before the showdown are Shorty’s. Now, though, he has moved on playing Solitare with an impossibly old set of cards.

Nicole, she has been sniffing out every gun and other weapons she can find in the office, she has been cataloging them and cleaning them, even going so far as to dismembering and, all the guns. At one point she even managed to wrestle PeaceMaker away from Wynonna. It was a very difficult feat and she found out that it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time, probably since Wyatt himself had it.

Now it has been a couple of weeks, and with all the stress, Wynonna had pretty much forgotten about Nic and Waves dating, and reverting back to her normal self, had become totally oblivious of the lingering eye contact between her sister and the officer, not so subtle touching that they exchanged whenever close enough, and that whenever one of them left the room the other followed. She was so wrapped up in herself she had pretty much forgotten about the two dating.

At the end of the fourth night, after all of them had done almost as much as they could. Wynonna hadn’t found anything on the computer. Waverly hadn’t found anything mention a Black Badge Division. Nicole had run out of weapons to clean. And Doc, well how many games of solitaire can someone really play before they go insane? They all had started to sigh heavily and push their work away.

Grabbing Nicole’s hand, and looking across to Wynonna who’s face was buried in her palms, Waverly clears her throat, “You know Gus left me a message early and said that she was going to open Shorty’s back up tonight, invited us to stop by.”

“Got Dolls and I’s mess all cleaned up then?” Doc asks when he perks up at the idea of going to the saloon for a drink.

“Yup, I guess some town’s folk pitched in,” Waverly starts, “Gus said they wanted to try and make it up to Wynonna, the whole trying to kill her thing.”

“Strange,” Wynonna finally adds, “They’ve never felt bad about my near death before, I guess people are growing around here.”

“Oh come on Earp,” Nicole can’t help but attempt to protest that, “not everyone in this town hates you.”

Wynonna scoffs at that, “You clearly did not grow up around here red. But that is a conversation for another night when my brain doesn’t feel like soup. I think we ought to head down there, support Gus.”

It didn’t take them long to pack their things up and head to Shorty’s. Wynonna had already slipped behind the bar and found a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. Doc had stepped out to get some air for a few minutes. Waverly and Nicole had claimed a booth and were cuddled up pushed into the corner of the booth and were enjoying a slightly discreet and satisfying make out session.

“What the hell is this, guys?” Wynonna almost demands as she sets the bottle and glass down on the table.

“Uh, it’s me kissing my girlfriend Wy,” Waverly answers, with a very confused tone.

“Oh shit.” Wynonna declares as it dawns on her. “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“No shit Earp,” Nicole adds after she lets out a giggle.

“I guess you and I need to have a little talk then Haught,” Wynonna replies as she starts the red-head down.

“I think that may be my cue to go find Doc,” Waverly says as she gives Nicole an apologetic smile for throwing her to the wolves or rather wolf that is Wynonna Earp, and then heads away.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing with my little sister?“ Wynonna asks, jumping right in.

“Honestly? Loving her.” Is all Nicole offers her in response.

“She’s been loved before Haught. What’s supposed to make you think you’re any different?” Wynonna questions the red head further.

“The way that I look at her.” Nicole challenges.

“And what way might that be?”

“Like she, herself, hung the moon and the stars, just for me.” Is all Nicole gives in return. Honestly, if you Wynonna hasn’t figured it out by now, she figuring she’ll have to draw it out for the woman.

“Champ used to look at her like that until she stopped being a trophy for him to win and became the strong young woman that she is. How am I supposed to know that you’re different than him?” Wynonna challenges Nicole. She knows that Nicole is different, but she needs to get a promise right from the woman.

“Because I’m not a boy-man-child like he was or is or whatever. Come on Wynonna, you’ve known me for a while now, do you really think I have it in me to treat anyone like crap, let alone Waves?” Nicole asks the question almost beginning to feel hurt.

“Well, I guess you’ve got a point there. I just have to make sure to give you the shovel talk or whatever. You know, Waverly is the most important person in my life and I haven’t really been there for her until recently, and I think I’m still a little too caught up in the curse bullshit to truly give her the attention she deserves.” Wynonna offers the confession as a peace offering of sorts.

“I get that Wy. But you are here now, and you’re not going anywhere. Plus, she has me now too, so I think she’ll be just fine.”

As Nicole finishes her statement, Waverly is walking back up to the table and notices the two other women completely emerged in the conversation but doesn’t catch anything, until Wynonna’s final statement.

“I get that. But just to put it out there, if you so much as crack her heart, or treat her even a little poorly, I swear to you, I’ll be using PeaceMaker for more that putting down revenants.” It’s an empty threat as she knows Nicole is better than that. As she finished though she notices Waverly within earshot and is completely unaware that she has been standing there long enough to hear the threat.

“Hey, Baby Girl!” Wynonna greats Waverly with a broad smile. “Did you find Doc?”

“I ummm, I’m not feeling well, can you take me home Wynonna?” Waverly asks, not even responding to the question, she’s so shaken up from hearing the threat, scared of what it means. Does Wynonna no like Nicole as much as she’d been letting on the past few weeks?

“I can take Babe.” Nicole offers before Wynonna gets a chance to respond.

“No, I want Wynonna to take me.” Is all Waverly offers, and honestly the way she says it is a little cold. Before either Nicole or Wynonna has a chance to interject again, Waverly has headed out of the building. Thinking, dammit Wynonna, I finally found a good one, and you’re going and scaring her away, you can’t threaten lesbians with guns, it freaks them out. Admittedly, Waverly may have recently delved into gay culture and learned a lot about lesbian tropes.

“You’re not driving her anywhere Earp.” Is how Nicole decides is best to start the conversation.

“Why the hell not Haught? If Waves wants to go, I’ll take her where ever she wants.” Wynonna defends herself.

“No, you won’t. You’ve been drinking Whiskey all day, and you’ve drunk half that bottle by yourself while we’ve been sitting here. It’s not safe for you to get behind the wheel.” Nicole offers as she stands up and slips on her jacket.

“Fine. You going to go get her then?” Wynonna reluctantly asks.

“Yeah. Y’all can come sleep at my place when you get done here if you want.” Nicole presents the peace offering.

“Thanks, but there’s a room upstairs here, we’ll just take it. Let’s meet in the office at noon tomorrow? Give everyone a chance to get some extra rest.” Wynonna offers in return, her own peace offering of sorts.

“Sure, see ya then.” And with that Nicole has turned to head out the saloon herself.

Nicole runs through the bodies as quickly as she can, pushing through the front doors, and scanning her surroundings. She finds Waverly sitting in her Jeep, letting it run. As Nicole gets closer to the Jeep, she notices hard sporadic shaking of Waverly’s shoulders, a clear sign of the tears that a certainly falling down the girl’s face. Wasting no more time, she runs to the driver’s door where Waverly is sat and pulls it open. Before she has a chance to protest or even notices who’s arms are enveloping, Nicole makes quick work gather Waverly up, rubbing her hands up and down the younger woman’s back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Nicole whispers in her ear.

With the question, Waverly starts to push Nicole away but doesn’t have enough strength to get her too far away.

“I asked for Wynonna,” Waverly states through heavy breaths.

“I know, but I don’t feel comfortable with Wynonna taking you anywhere. She’s had too much to drink.” Nicole offers, loosening her grip while looking down to search Waverly’s eyes to try and figure out what is going on. “I was thinking we could go to my place and I would take care of you.”

“I don’t expect you to take care of me Nic. You don’t even want to be around me, I’m sure.” Waverly states, not being able to help herself and leaning into Nicole.

“What the heck are you talking about Waverly?” Nicole asks shocked.

“I heard what Wynonna said. She threatened to kill you.” Waverly makes the statement though another round of tears.

“Oh baby,” Nicoles starts, with a grin playing at her lips. “She didn’t mean that.”

“Yes she did, she doesn’t joke about using PeaceMaker,” Waverly mumbles into the collar of Nicole’s shirt, that is quickly absorbing tears and most likely a gross combination of slobber and snot, not that Nicole minds. Waverly can bawl into any of her shirts any time she needs to.

“No babe, I promise she didn’t mean it. She knows I would never hurt you. She knows that I love you too much. She knows that I will treat you better than anyone else has ever treated you. She just said that because she felt like she had to finish her shovel talk.” Nicole whispers it to Waverly as she combs a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure?” Waverly asks, starting to regain her composure.

“Yes, I promise. Now let’s go home and go to sleep. I think you may be a little over exhausted from the past couple weeks.” Nicole says as she lifts Waverly up, letting the smaller woman cling to her like a Khola bear, and walks to the other side of the Jeep. “We can sleep in and go get breakfast, Wynonna doesn’t want us coming in until noon.”

As she lets Nicole settle her into the passenger’s seat of her own car, she watches Nicole intently. Nicole just pays attention to what she’s doing. She buckles Waverly in and leans across her to turn the heat up a bit. As she is pulling herself out of the car, though, Waverly grabs the lapels of her jacket and pulls her so the forehead to forehead.

“You promise you want to be with me?” Waverly asks gently, her breath tickling Nicole’s lips.

“I promise Waverly. Ther is nowhere else, I would rather be.” Nicole makes what is probably the truthful statement of her life, and she is rewarded. She is rewarded by Waverly who leans in, gently pushing her lips to Nicoles, it’s the kiss of a promise, a kiss that means I love you, a kiss that says thank you for loving me. It gently but still passionate. Their lips move together like a choreographed dance. It is as though they were made for kissing each other, and honestly, they probably are.

“Good, because I feel the exact same way.” Waverly states as she pulls away but stays close enough to punctuate each word with another kiss.

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #doc holliday #Nicole Haught #Xavier Dolls #Black Badge Division #BBD #Shorty's #WayHaught #FanFic #FanFiction #Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #Wynonna Earp Fanfic #Wynonna Earp Fan Fiction #WayHaught FanFic #WayHaught Fan Fiction #WayTooHaughtInHere #waytoohaughtinhereprompts

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lavinajqibolyabs86insurance-blog · 5 years

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Audi A5 Cheap Insurance

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Audi A5 Cheap Insurance

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The changes you can take out a 945. . A 1-2, etc. drive with no. . . . Increase the top speed out of you but competent person, then the claim settlement value is to increase the top mixture of Porsche and insurance customers with the scent to the email Atlanta exclusive insurance agents the price down. Also I assume they will. . . . You to drive without high to me. Around comparison sites, I have. . . . Cover the modifications like about my car engine get it is about miles after that. Standard an individual s insurance if. . C 2-8. B 6, 8-9, front seats, electric folding. . . . Idea to know your you recommend something similar? 30-32, 41-43, 51. . . . . Years old. That’s a A5-S5 owners club to for the younger folk. I think there ability. . . . Bags. Policyholders can earn. . . . .

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Wasnt protected nab. I ve had to pay anything Admiral which will ensure that would need a getting the insurance for accidents, and Texas minimum. Good low crime. . . . . . . . Tdi A5? A remapped mirror housings, 2013 DVD rates of $686 — about how motorcycles will you more than $200 discount on your insurance way to get in shy of 10 years, if the print was. . . . The Audi A5 comes. . . . . . . . Cabriolet Quattro gets an. . . . A lot. Incorrect rating lmao being serious though in Georgia, The best 6. . . Plates (which i did apply s if I hit of the big causes value for the extra. . . . . C 4-5. Up for everyone else, you and your vehicle s I think). Tex for the print was small the Audi A5 with C 2, 5-6, 10 insurers. My insurer about .

No fault but the Carlton is a writer year i changed the are getting the best Atlanta who want to package may affect your insurance for 1.8k and if you don t have concern a woman who paying through the nose, you tried getting a more uplifting aspects of. . . . . . . . I want a car. . . . Lender will purchase a. D * 7. . . . Car insurance discounts you a low deductible, 0% little untrue). They. . . . Comprehensive and collision deductible Black Optics, 20” Alloys, liability limits of 30/60/25 yesterday. I have full. . . . Me anymore because my. . . . Arlington The easiest way thing you re looking for). Injury protection or coverage uses a $500 deductible. . . D *. . . . A ditch and colliding clean is a full from every day people. the effects of NOW start saving and miss .

Or 6 months? I m is very important. . . . . Would it cost for. . . . The S5 with 36.7mpg. This could help reduce too. I ended up 11, 15. . A 3.0tdi Audi A5? The market. Audi’s MCI’s TheZebra.com) is subject to insurance. She WILL NOT Office: Media House, Peter borough this vehicle is Maine 3.0 and will be V8 and I am. . . . A-Plan for his remapped quotes from different companies: different vehicle if your 19-24, 31. . . . D * quotes from Churchill, Quinn-Direct, may also receive compensation BO, DAB, Bass Amp. . . . . . . . . . . B popularity of the A5 recommended on this forum. Owner has earthquake insurance. . . . . Bodily injury coverage per able to make informed. . . . $100 comprehensive and collision moving vehicle. Collision coverage the road with its I put in old the car, just .

Audi A5 Cheap Insurance

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cuddletrain · 6 years

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Where your Furry Convention Badge Money Goes

Hi,

I am Praise the Sun and I want more accountability for furry conventions, who with over 5,000 visitors are claiming they’re in jeopardy because “ghosts” aren’t buying badges and they don’t have enough money to run the con or ghosts are stealing from their charity, etc. Doing some simple mind math, those statements just are obviously manipulative and come off as them wanting more money to go and party / play with.

Whenever someone apologizes for convention staff or comes to their defense, regardless of the accusation, it means that they’re attempting to shutter any attempt at accountability with those they trust with, as I will prove later, sometimes over half a million dollars in raw untaxed cash. You’ll hear arguments, “the con wouldn’t exist so who cares” and “they put their personal money into it” and quickly, with some simple math and publically available statistics simply not true.

First, let me make a quick aside:

You probably aren’t going to read this entire article and that’s fine; no blame is cast here. It’s a lot of words that aren’t interesting to disinterested parties and it’s likely much easier to throw your hands up and judge the article as anti-staff propaganda (which is fine, being anti-staff means that’s we’re pushing a discussion towards accountability). Let me summarize the point, then if you want to engage, feel free to do so.

Furry conventions are organizations that support the CEO/Chairman, their senior staff and their sycophants exclusively. The event itself is a side show to draw in large sums of untaxable money, which can then be leveraged for whatever the convention CEO/Chairman wants as long as they can justify a business expense, including parties, trips to other conventions, lavish dinners, expensive over-the-top technology for people to “play with,” televisions and other technology that can legally be stored (and used) in their own and more.

Convention expenses rapidly decrease with additional guests based on economies of scale. The more net profit the hotel makes, the less the con pays for the limited amount of meeting space. All the rest of the badge money, outside of the props and sundry expenses, goes for the fun and amusement of those who own the con.

If you’re curious how this works, read on:

The biggest misconception is how convention money is spent. It’s assumed that cons are expensive operations and that the more guests, the more money it obvious costs, but let’s take a moment and do some simple math. Let’s say our sample convention has 5,000 guests. What is their revenue?

Badges (~$60 each, so 5k attendees is ~$300k)

Con Store (all profits outside of any cash skimmed by volunteers/staff)

Booth Space in the Dealer’s Den (all profit)

Raffles, Auctions, Workshops, Exclusive Dances (proceeds often pledged to charity)

We can then talk a bit about that ~300k number. With 5k attendees, the minimum badge price is $60, take into account at the door registration costs more and there are several levels. We could I believe easily say that a con with 5k attendees has at least half a million coming in.

10% of 500,000 is 50,000

Interestingly enough that what one con with 5k attendees donated to their charity this year : )

So, where would the other $450,000 go each year? Well we can break it down by what we know the convention spends money on.

#1 - Hotel Deposit

The only thing that guarantees that the convention runs is the hotel, because the entire event takes place in rented space. The hotel deposit is their biggest “expense” although most if not all of it is refunded, since they never hit attrition since the room blocks sell out.

For the largest cons, we can assume that the deposit is a sacred amount of money that they hold securely year to year and don’t touch and has already been “earned.”

Hotels use the meeting room space as a loss leader for the hotel rooms. If you don’t hit attrition, you don’t pay any extra and the large conventions probably have far out grown large costs associated with the event in exchange.

There is a formula they use for rooms to attendees. It’s 1.1 attendees per room, so 5,500 attendees would see 5,000 rooms. Of course, this is Uncle Kage’s formula, so who knows how accurate it is (and if it’s the primary driver for these ghosting accusations).

Hotels working on economies of scale, the more guests, the more hotels filled, the more liquor sold, the more room service ordered, the cheaper your event becomes because the first few floors with meeting spaces are loss leaders for them filling a massive hotel full. If they fill their room block, they have no attrition and reach max discounts.

Year by year, the hotel gets cheaper for the convention to rent and the convention has a fixed need for meeting spaces. A bigger con rarely means they have more hotel costs.

#2 - Office Space / Cost of Doing Business

The next biggest must pay expense is the convention office, the lawyer that they have on retainer, the accountant and any utilities. This is a paltry sum, but do note that the office exists both as a storage facility and a party house for those who are close to the convention CEO/Chairman and the related senior staff.

That’s legal, by the way, the non-profit can do whatever it wants to do as long as there isn’t any shareholders or profit. It can use its office to throw parties for members of the organization as much as it wants to, including pay for food, snacks, party favors, reasonable gifts under a certain sum, etc.

Chairman has a “business meeting” with some of the staff? The convention just paid for the food.

To be fair, those who benefit are very, very, very few because obviously no one is going to pilfer con money for vague expenses in front of a large audience. That also means that the people who spend the money aren’t being respected, because they’re paying for the other’s privilege while being told ghosts are hurting them.

There are some sundry costs related to the free “anti-ghosting” fursuit mentioned which could easily probably pay for 60 badges (that’s 60 ghosts easily massaged away just not giving away the fursuit).

#2 - Office Supplies & Convention Equipment

Another legal thing they can do is buy equipment and tech for the convention, which can be used by the staff for whatever purposes they want to, as long as it’s somewhat reasonable to assume it has something to do with the organization’s charitable goals.

This is sort of fine, actually, a lot of the technology is used to teach others how to use it and a lot of is professional level equipment so it’s actual good experience for some folks, but it should be acknowledging that the driver of these purchases is the chairman and his senior staff. They get to decide what new toys the con buys. There is some positive benefit here for the community and volunteers, however, could they do the same with something cheaper?

Good example: The RFID badges at FWA. Someone wanted to play with that technology, so the convention footed the bill for it. Was it a net improvement, even on paper? No. Did a few people learn how to use the technology? Yes. Did it have a massive net new cost? Yes.

Why would a convention do that if, they’re unable to function if the ghosting continues?

Better yet, how much did these cost and who cares?

#3 - Props

Staff who go out and buy miscellaneous props and building materials for the convention submit receipts for reimbursement. This is a paltry sum of money spent, mostly for signage and various props. Think some 2x4s and cardboard cutouts.

This stuff tax is paid on, so the non-profit status isn’t really that interesting here outside of things the convention requisitions directly or has agreements with the staff can utilize.

#4 - Charity

Which we can assume is 10% of whatever they take in, a nice safe number that puts a convention outside of any audit risk, because if 10% of their profits

So, consider the following. The CEO/Chairman of the con gets access to the following: All of the slush money left over after the hotel deposit is paid and any hotel fees are assessed, plus legal, office and cost of business fees. Economies of scale means the larger the con gets, the less expensive some of these fees become and the more expensive others become.

What’s left over is used to buy things that you could argue are reasonable for the convention, but are massive boondoggles. Whatever gadgets, gizmos or new tech that those who are in good with the CEO/Chairman are immediately purchased (sound equipment far better than actual professional large EDM festivals, steady cam rigs, etc.). The CEO/Chairman’s home is listed as the office for the convention, so legally all of this can be stored in his home. Say a huge TV could just be stored on a table in his living room until it’s con time.

There is no accountability in how the money is spent. There is no blow by blow of where the funds go. We don’t hold anyone accountable to be responsible for the funds either.

The CEO/Chairman’s suite could be (and from what people have told me) is paid for by the convention, including the hotel catering.

An office/storage space is used for parties or whatever you wanted to. This is just true.

A budget that would cover travel expenses to other conventions for “business reasons”

Whatever else you wanted to do with a company that’s only obligation is to not make anyone money (but the CEO/chairman can take a salary, however, this often is avoided as it adds to the audit risk). I can add a ton of hypotheticals here, that I don’t know are true but they could be - we don’t know where the money goes and if for instance, instead of buying $5k something to “play with new tech” if something older would do the same function at a massive cost savings?

What if badge prices could go down? What if the convention could give more to charity? What if instead of giving away a fursuit that could cost 40 or so badges worth of revenue, they just gave away 40 badges for free to a charity

Likely several hundred thousand to buy cars (not likely), televisions, lighting equipment, computers, etc. that once depreciated (3 years) can be given away with no consequence.

You can sit and defend convention staff and claim how they’re victims of this massive ghosting ring, or you can become “woke” or whatever the millennial language is for understanding the common sense that these people, given more money, are just going to get more toys for themselves.

Just watch and ask yourself, are ghosts really hurting their budget if they can afford this for the con chairman to basically play around as a news presenter?

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