#more to add to the pile of ‘people I’ve made cry through angsty writing’

[luna-light-eclipse]

Badge my beloved! Don’t know what you’re on about it’s perfect I love it.

Fun fact! This is the second time I’ve written something along the lines of everything goes wrong and you can’t fix it so I have experience! It’s also the form of angst that comes easiest to me. Mmmm tasty tasty inevitability.

No one wins here. Not the main character, not the enemy and not the ‘good guys’ which is what I think really makes something like this punch so hard. Wolf and Ghost are such tragic characters in canon that they’re the perfect subjects for this type of thing.

Also you are so right about phone typing being sucky for long form things. There’s a reason this took me so many hours. But ough I just couldn’t stop. And here I am, phone typing once more. I’m still rotating this AU in my brain in all its miserable glory. Makes me remember why I started writing and I really needed that recently so thanks.

-

@screaming-for-eternally

I’m doing it this way so I can minimise scrolling through long posts on my blog hope that’s ok-

Yes! Crow! I genuinely can’t believe I forgot to add him the first time because something about the opposition to his story when compared to the canon (in this version he’d be instead the person who was killed by the former hero went mad instead of hated for killing someone they care about-) The fact that he was in a unique position to clear Wolfs name is just mmmm icing on the cake.

Cayde totally prefers house light to the tower- it doubly helps that after Lakshmi’s very public, very gruesome execution (wolf made it dramatic to pull all the negative focus onto them- adding more onto them having given up on returning! Ouch) the Eliksni are kinda grateful towards wolf. Not that any of them ever bring it up to the humans but open secret and all that.

-

I’ve also been shaking more thoughts out of my brain for the past few hours so have this:

-Picture vanguard and allies returning to the tower unharmed and with wolfs body. And having to explain what happened. And telling Cayde about how wolf died, that they were calling his name and how they didn’t want to die and that at some point wolf had believed that they had wanted to die.

-Cayde being so utterly devastated. Exo’s may be unable to physically cry but you can hear it, all of the stress and loathing that had built up over the years being released in the form of all encompassing grief. The once carefree hunter vanguard now knelt on the ground with wolf in his arms wailing in loss and much like those who had watched wolfs death no one could comfort him because it was their fault and nothing was going to be ok.

-They look for wolfs ship and find Sundance tucked away safely into a box. Wolf had picked her up on the way to Cayde and never been able to return her to him. The ghost shell has been cleaned and it’s the only thing that’s been maintained in the ship.

-Wolf never knew if Cayde woke up

-Eido bugs Cayde for stories about wolf and it puts everyone on edge since Cayde’s been quiet and gloomy since wolfs body had been brought back and most of the anger had drained from him. Eventually he relents though because Eido is just too nice not to. She loves hearing about wolfs exploits and carefully records all of it so it can’t be forgotten.

-If Crow had accepted Uldrens memories the vanguard would have been too horrified to be angry at him. (Also Crows horror at his own actions was telling enough that they weren’t the same person anymore, neither Zavala nor Ikora could go through what they did to wolf a second time).

-Xur will say comforting words to wolf if they find him that week. The nine allow this, not because they care they just see no reason to stop it. Whether or not wolf actually hears what’s being said to them is debatable. It’s the thought that counts though.

-Wolf suffers audial and visual hallucinations. Do with that what you will.

-Ghost misses being held, they don’t push the subject though.

-Zavala attempts to apologise to Cayde. He gets punched for his efforts, Cayde tells him that Zavala ‘doesn’t deserve to soothe his own bruised ego’.

-The Eliksni sneak Cayde out afterwards at some point so he can get away from the increasing looks of pity, now for ‘how terrible it must have been to have no one believe anything you say’ hypocrites. Cayde now really hates being pitied. He’s happy to finally see a forest (and to also be away from people).

-The only reason wolf didn’t kill themselves (permanently) was because they cared too much about ghost to hurt them. There is just so much love in this gaurdian it’s so sad.

-Not even Savathun predicted this.

I feel mildly bad about not answering those asks yet BUT I've been really busy so I'm just gonna leave some old drabbles and other stuff I've collected here

---

"There is nothing in any vex simulation or psion prediction that could keep me from being a thorn in the side of existence"

-YW, after coming back from the dead, in some probable AU I'll never write

---

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. But, I’ll be fine, you can-” They hug him tighter as he starts to push away from them.

…They aren’t letting him go, are they?

“...Guardian,” he warns, “Put me down. Now.”

They only let out a garbled hum in response, perfectly happy to squeeze the life out of him.

“We do not have time for this- I will stab you, let-”

��You and what army, old man?” Even through the layers of harsh static, the smug edge to the Young Wolf’s voice was abundantly clear to anyone listening. They were as infuriating and stubborn as ever.

And Saint and that flamboyant Cloudstrider were not helping.

“We- We have work to do, you can show your affections later- Saint! Stop laughing!”

---

Crow: Why does The Guardian call you babygirl?

Sam Moleyn: how about we stop talking for awhile

---

Ann, banging on the door: Guys! I need you to hide me! Noble, ushering her in: Ann, what happened?! Ann: G! I spilled bleach on their cloak- Noble, pushing her back out: Not a chance. You’re on your own. Ann: Wait- They’ll kill me-! Noble, slamming the door: Goodbye.

---

Wolf: STOP IT Wolf: STOP TALKING ABOUT BEING POSSESSED Ghost: i’m free real estate Wolf: YOU ARE NOT FREE REAL ESTATE-

---

Crow: How do I get revenge? Ann: I am legally obliged to tell you ‘forgiveness’. Crow: Guardian, how do I get revenge? Ruin, “Godslayer”: I am also legally obliged to say ‘forgiveness’, but you- Noble, putting his hand over their mouth: I’m gonna stop you right there.

---

ALSO SOME LORE

Wolf is canonically a little shit but also terrifying. You love to see it

---

Ann: Let’s apologize on the count of 3. Phyra: I didn’t do anythin- Ann: 1… 2… 3. Phyra: Ann: Ann: see, now I’m just disappointed in both of us Phyra: intense glaring

---

"In the Age of Triumph, in the final battle, when the light began to wane, one stood. Burned by the embers of Armageddon, their soul blistered by the fires of hell and tainted beyond redemption, they choose the path of perpetual torment. In their ravenous hatred, they found no peace; and with fiery conviction, they scoured the Ascendant realms, seeking vengeance against the dark Disciples who wronged them. They wore the crown of the Iron Lords, and those that tasted the bite of their sword named them... The Young Wolf."

i don't know what i was on for this one, but I rediscover it every once in awhile and alter it a bit

---

"He's all they've been thinking about, but he's going to have to get used to their absence. The flat will be quiet. The Tower, normal... Their bed, empty.

It's how things must be.

Things could be different in another life, perhaps.

But not this one.

They have to go, one day soon."

-on Crow-YW angst about Wolf's predicted death.

[reidgraygubler]

lonely moonlight (spencer reid/reader)

Title: lonely moonlight

Request: no

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: angst (w/ maybe the tiniest bit of fluff); songfic

Content Warning:  thoughts of wanting to cause harm, verbal arguments, mentions of divorce, intrusive thoughts, talks about abortion, mentions of bad mental health, ptsd (?), mentions of anxiety, mentions of needing to get help, someone walking out on their partner, pregnancy, mildly ooc spencer, post prison!reid, swearing (if any) (if i missed anything or something needs to be tagged, please message me and i’ll add it)

Word Count: 6,694

Summary: spencer left his partner and ends up regretting it. 

A/N: howdy partners! This is for @badthingshappenbingo​ (more about that later), blocking off the rejected apology square on my card (pictured at the bottom). this is very loosely based on the song lonely moonlight by ryan ross! this was something i don’t usually write. it’s probably the most angsty fic i’ve ever written... and it’s a little more on the “darker” side. please pay attention to the content warnings, and again if i missed anything, please message me! thank you everyone for the love and support on my other works!! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

The days following up to me leaving were bad. I wondered if that’s what it was like for Aaron and Haley. Although, there were different circumstances between the two of them. Same with David and all 3 of his wives. But, who am I to compare my problems with my superiors and their problems. Although, their wives left them… Not the other way around. Not like how I left you.

I should have stayed. We could have figured everything out. But I left. I think it’s because I got scared and didn’t know how to talk to you. And the reason behind why I got scared is a valid reason… I wanted to cause harm...

“God! This is so ridiculous!” you shouted from across the living room. I watched as you looked around the room, at all the piled up books and files. “I just do not understand you!” Your shout was louder than before, causing me to flinch slightly.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” I returned the shout, watching as it was your turn to flinch. “What do you want!?! Huh!? You know I can’t read your mind!” I stared at you. I wish I had noticed you were crying before I yelled.  But that didn’t stop me… 

“Spencer!” The way your voice shook didn’t bother me. But what did bother me was the way my hand started to ball up. It scared me. I took a step back, pressing my body against the wall that was closer than I originally thought. 

I looked at you before I stormed out of the living room and out of the apartment all together. The sounds of your light footsteps followed behind me, and your faint voice calling out my name. I didn’t stop though, even as you begged me to stay. I couldn’t stay though… Not when I wanted to cause harm to someone I loved. 

So, I left.

{***}{***}{***}

I looked down at the file in hand, reading over the case we just returned from. You didn’t come with. It wasn’t the first case you missed, and it wouldn’t be the last. Everyone ignored how awkward and uncomfortable it was in the room where we sat to talk about our cases.

“Hey, Reid,” Luke’s voice pulled my eyes from my case and to look up at him. He nodded towards the door to the bullpen, causing me to follow his gesture. 

You were there, walking in like you knew what you wanted and that you were going to get it. I stood up and watched as you walked in more, scanning the room. Our eyes met and I dropped my shoulders as you walked towards Emily’s office. I tossed my file to my desk and practically ran up to you. I nearly tripped over my feet as I met you at the steps to the cat-walk.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Spencer,” you kept your voice low and your head held high. You didn’t even bother to look over at me. 

“Please, just a minute. Two minutes. And then you never have to talk to me… again…” I tried to hold my ground but failed when my words broke. My throat and lips nearly betrayed me, closing as the last few syllables failed to come from me. “Let me explain myself,” I whispered, looking at you. If I spoke any louder, I’d fear my voice would crack, forcing me to crack and become a ball of emotions.

You stopped right in front of Emily’s office and looked at me. You looked right at me… I honestly can’t remember the last time I remembered you looking at me, and not right through me. It was well before our last fight, and even before we even started fighting.

“I don’t want to talk to you. You lost that chance when you left,” your tone held authority. I was left speechless as you stepped into the office, shutting the door in my face. Emily closed the blinds, leaving me to wonder what the conversation would be about.

I sulked back to my desk and lowered myself down to my seat. I kept my eyes on the closed-off room, waiting for you to leave. I didn’t want to miss what could be my last chance in ever talking to you again.

“How’d it go?” Luke asked as he appeared beside me and my desk. I sighed, glancing at him, taking my eyes off the door for a brief moment.

“She didn’t want to talk,” I whispered as Luke leaned against my desk. He was also looking at Emily’s office. I tried not to slouch, but it was so hard when it felt like a weight was on my shoulders, weighing me down.

“I don’t blame her,” Luke whispered, resting a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed roughly and closed my eyes. 

“Thanks for that, Luke,” I muttered before pulling my shoulder away from his touch.

“Is she talking to Emily?” Penelope’s voice caused me to open my eyes again. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You knew she was coming?” I looked right at Penelope. She was standing beside Luke and looking right at Emily’s office. Jennifer and Tara joined us, standing on the other side of my desk.  

“You were the only person she didn’t tell, Spencer,” Jennifer looked at me for a moment. She looked at me like I was the last person she wanted to be around. I didn’t realize you two were so close. You told her everything, and I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. “In fact, you’re the only person here she doesn’t want to see right now.” her tone was cool, and still. And, it made me feel like the bad guy. To be fair… I already felt like the bad guy.

“There’s no need to point that out, Jennifer,” I muttered, picking up the file and looking over it. I tried my hardest to keep focus on the file, but it was so hard when everyone was around me, looking at Emily’s office.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Penelope whispered, wrapping her arm around Luke’s before resting her head on his shoulder. I swallowed roughly and looked over at the door before looking back at Jennifer. She was looking at me, her lips pierced together in a thin line. She was angry and there was nothing I could do to make her not angry. 

“Could be anything,” Tara returned. I tried my hardest to keep from rolling my eyes. But I so obviously failed.

“I heard she was transferring,” Jennifer looked away and at Tara. That was it. You were officially leaving and transferring out of the BAU. All Jennifer had to say was that you were leaving and I knew it was true. Again, you tell her everything. So, that’s why you were here… 

“That’s not true! She can’t leave!” Penelope protested. I let out an annoyed sigh. “She... She has to stay! She’s a part of the family!”  she continued. I almost wanted to snap at her. But, I wasn’t angry at Penelope. No, I wasn’t even mad at you. I was mad at myself.

“She told me that she was. Who knows what Emily is going to tell her.” Jennifer shrugged. I could still feel Jennifer’s eyes on me. Like her eyes were lasers boring a hole into my head.

“I hope wherever she transfers to… She enjoys… I’ll miss her a lot,” Tara walked around to her desk, finally leaving me alone. Now I just need everyone else to go. 

We sat in silence, staring at Emily’s door. I couldn’t help but feel my stomach bubble with too many emotions. I wanted to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, but the door to Emily’s office opened and you both stepped out. You guys shared a few more words before you looked over at the group watching for you. 

“We were just… Talking,” Penelope smiled at you. I wanted to glare, but I knew I shouldn’t direct my anger at her. In fact, I couldn’t direct my anger anywhere. It was my own fault you were leaving.

You looked away from the group before walking away from Emily. You walked over to my desk and the group of people around it. Our friends. Our family.

“Just talking to Emily about a few things. That’s all,” you whispered. A lie. You didn’t want to tell everyone that you had put in for a transfer… No, what will happen is we’ll all show up to the office, and your desk will be empty, clean of your stuff. “I, uh, wish I could stay. But, I’m having coffee with someone and I don’t want to be late,” you pressed with a fake smile, trying to convince us all you were fine, even though we all knew you weren’t fine. 

“You can’t leave,” Penelope looked at you with wide eyes. I could feel my heart rate picked up as I looked up at you. “We aren’t a family if you leave.” she continued, her voice pleading to you. You looked at Jennifer, clearly annoyed that she told everyone that you were leaving.

“Penelope,” Jennifer started, her tone warning.

“Now really isn’t the time, Pen… I seriously have to go. I can’t be late,” you looked at her and shook your head. The look on your face was incredibly apologetic and I knew you were sorry for everyone but me. “I’ll see you guys later,” you flashed everyone a smile before turning to leave. “Goodbye,” you mumbled as you looked at me one last time.

I sighed, dropping my shoulders, as I watched you leave the BAU for the last time. My eyes stayed frozen on the elevator doors as they closed, and I could feel a familiar wetness rolling down my cheeks. 

{***}{***}{***}

I’ll have to be honest, this isn’t the first or last day I’ve spent sitting in my office at home, regret filling my head and my heart. The sunset made the room look golden and the rays shone off the various reflective surfaces. 

I needed a change of scenery. My apartment, office, and BAU offices were starting to drag me down emotionally and mentally. All places that reminded me of you. So, I packed a book and other things and went to the nearby park… Which is where we’d gone on many picnics.

Why would I go to the park as the day turned into the night? You know, I’m not sure. I just needed something different and the park was the best thing I could think of. It was walking distance and I knew no one would be there to bother me.

That was until I saw you.

You were walking beside Jennifer on the far side of the park. Henry was running around, playing with a remote control car. Michael was sitting on your hip, his head resting on your shoulder as he slept. And something about that looked so natural to me. If I had known you were here with Jennifer and her kids, I wouldn’t have come. I swear. 

I kept my head low as I walked towards one of the park benches on the far side of the park. With my book in hand, I continued to pretend that I didn’t see you and prayed that you didn’t see me. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave and go to a different park… It was the familiarity of this one that made me feel safe. Or, maybe it was the chance of you seeing me, and wanting to talk.

“Uncle Spencer?” A young boy’s voice asked as a fire engine red remote control car hit my feet. I closed my book and looked up to see Henry standing in front of me.

“Henry,” I smiled at him. I closed my book and placed it back in my bag. “What are you doing here?" I asked, pretending that I didn't see his mom, little brother, and you. 

"Mom brought me," he smiled as he looked over towards Jennifer and you. "She wanted to talk to…" he trailed off the end of his sentence, not wanting to say your name. Jennifer and Will didn't tell him about what happened between us. But he was old enough to know. Considering any event we were both invited to, we avoided each other like the plague. I’m sure he thought it was weird that his aunt and uncle (his god-parents) stopped talking to each other and ignored each other every chance they had.  

"That's nice," I felt my smile falter as I nodded, "Is this the race car your dad got you?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Henry. He smiled and nodded as he picked up the car.

“Yeah, mom said I could bring it with while they talked,” he looked down at the toy. I smiled at him and nodded. “It doesn’t go very fast though,” he looked back up at me and pouted. 

“I’m sure you could make it go faster. With upgrades.” I smiled at him as he placed the car back to the ground. I watched as he drove the car and spun it out. I watched as he moved it back and forth on the sidewalk in front of us until he drove it away and towards people walking towards us. The small red car hit the feet of two people, causing both Henry and me to look up.

At first, I looked at Jennifer. I knew she wouldn’t be mad to see me. The tense expression her face held told me a different story. Her jaw was clenched and her lips were in a tight line. Her eyes were wide, but the emotion behind them frightened me a bit.

Then I looked over at you. Your hand was resting on Michael’s lower back as you held him. Your hair was in disarray that looked nice, but that’s how you usually wore it anyways. You had bags under your eyes, they were a deeper color than they were before, it was a clear sign that you had obviously lost sleep. And then you looked at me, fear and sadness in your eyes. The golden sunshine shone across your face, highlighting the important details. The details I loved. But, also details that you didn’t deserve to have, all because of the stress I caused.

I rushed to stand to my feet, my bag falling off the bench and spilling its contents all over the ground. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to talk to you. 

“H-hey,” I looked at you, then back at Jennifer, then back at you. You kept your eyes on me as I fumbled over my words, trying to find the right thing to say. “I was just… I just wanted to come out to read and go for a walk,” I spoke, trying to find a pliable excuse to be here, at the public park. It wasn’t even an excuse. I was actually here to read. I don’t know why I need to explain why I was here.

“You’re allowed to be at the park, Spencer,” you whispered back. I stared at you before I realized something. You spoke to me. And it was the first time too since you transferred out from the BAU. We stared at each other, feeling an awkward tension grow between us.

Jennifer cleared her throat, causing me to rip my eyes from you and look at the ground. I silently cursed myself when I noticed all my belongings on the ground. I fell to my knees and pushed all my things back into my bag.

“We should get going. I know Will should be home soon and we can get a head start on dinner.” Jennifer spoke, causing me to snap my head to look at her. You were staring at where I was standing, but not at me. 

“Yeah, yeah… That’s probably a good idea,” you looked at Jennifer and smiled, “Michael here is getting a little bit heavy,” you let out a very forced laugh. I stood back up before brushing the debris off my pants. You and Jennifer (even Henry) look at me with wide eyes.

“Can we talk?" I asked, nearly begging, as I looked at you. You refused to look at me again. And I could see a familiar wetness in your eyes. My shoulders instantly sagged as I looked at you and watched tears begin to form in your eyes. My heart sank to my stomach, which then sunk to the ground. “Please?” I whispered.

“Henry, are you ready to go?” You looked down at the boy, who was holding his red race car. I swallowed roughly, watching as you offered Henry your hand. You looked back at me before leading Henry away from Jennifer and I. 

I reached out my hand to stop you but failed when Jennifer stepped in front of me. I looked back at her, ready to protest her stopping me. 

“Jennifer, please,” I thought I shouted, but I’m sure it was hardly above a whisper. She dropped her hand from my arm and looked at the ground. I watched as you brought Henry and Michael back to the Jaraeu-LaMontange mini-van. Something about the way you carried Michael and helped Henry looked very natural. I couldn’t place my finger on why though.

“Leave her alone,” Jennifer whispered, pulling my attention back to her. I looked at her with wide eyes, my lips parted my mouth dry of words.

“I need to talk to her,” I whispered as I gathered my things again. I put the strap of my bag back over my body as I held a death-grip on my book. “I have to talk to her,” I turned to leave, but stopped when Jennifer grasped my hand again. “Jennifer,” I warned as I looked at her.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Okay? Give her time to figure stuff out,” she spoke. Her tone was low and had a certain demanding tone to it. “She went from having you in her life 24-7 to not having you at all. Give her time, Spence,”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered as I looked to the ground, “How much time?” I looked back up at Jennifer with tears threatening to fall. 

“I don’t know. You left her without an explanation, Spence. And she needs time to heal… To fix herself… To rebuild herself… She ju-” She bit her lips together to stop herself from saying something. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong? She just what?” I dropped my shoulders as I looked at her. She looked at me and shook her head.

“Just leave her alone for right now. She’ll come to you when she’s ready,” Jennifer half-warned. I went to argue back but failed when she looked at me before leaving. I sat back down on the bench and buried my face into my hands. A frustrated sigh left my lips as I pushed my fingers through my hair. 

I looked up and over at the mini-van. You and Jennifer were sitting in the front seat, talking to each other. And I noticed that you looked over at me once or twice. I let out another frustrated sigh before standing up and walking back home.

The thoughts and memories filled my head of when you were mine and I was yours and before I made a stupid decision. The sunshine was almost fully gone by the time I returned home and it was safe to say this was another day I lost filled with regret.

{***}{***}{***}

My body jerked, forcing me to wake up and sit in bed. The bedding and blankets pooled around my waist as I felt the bed beside me. There was a moment where I forgot you weren’t there and panic settled in my stomach. And then I remembered. 

The darkness of the room started to feel claustrophobic and I panicked in the night. I nearly knocked everything off my nightstand as I went to turn the lamp.

You would always tell me not to be afraid of the dark (or anything for that matter). But, ever since I left and we no longer saw each other, I was afraid. I looked over at where you once slept and reached my hands out over the blankets to feel for you. Even though I knew you weren’t there, I wished you were.

I sighed deeply before kicking the blankets off me. My body was on auto-pilot, and I found myself in the kitchen. The tea kettle was on the stove, waiting for the water to warm up. The clock on the stove read 3:13 in the morning. 

The moonlight illuminated the living room, the silver lighting hitting the coffee table, floor, and the various stacks of books. It sort of reflected my mood for the last few months. I wondered if you felt this way. Probably not. 

I sat down on the couch and turned the lamp on. A random book was in my hand, and my nose was in it. I was not retaining any of the information as I read, or looked at the words. 

A knock on the door honestly scared me. I wasn’t expecting anyone at my home at 3:30 in the morning. I looked down at my book before placing it on the couch beside me. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around my body, hiding my pajamas from whoever was at the door. 

I don’t know who I was expecting when I looked through the peephole. Maybe it was a hitman coming to kill me. No, no that’s entirely too dark. Serial Killer? Maybe a burglar? No, burglars don’t knock. Could be Luke coming over, drunk because the woman he was sleeping with told him to leave. Or, maybe Penelope wanted to have a late-night Doctor Who marathon. Of all the people and things to be at my door… 

I wasn’t expecting you.

You were standing on the other side, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your hair still in messy disarray (this time it was because of restless sleep and a clear emotional breakdown). I couldn’t tell if the makeup you had on during the day was washed away by your tears, or if you cleaned your face before the day ended. But I could see faint streaks on your cheeks. You wore a pair of flannel pants with a very big sweater. 

It had been a few days (okay, weeks… Month and a half…) since I saw you at the park. My heart nearly stilled as I looked at you in the peephole. My body was paralyzed against the door. I watched as you lifted your hand and knocked again.

Except you didn’t get to knock, I had pulled the door open before you hit the door. You looked at me with shock on your face. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” you whispered, dropping your gaze from my face. I stared at you with wide eyes. You came, expecting me to be asleep… I wondered what you would have done if I was asleep, and if you would have told me you showed up to my house so early in the morning (or late at night. Depends on how you look at it.).

“No, no… It’s okay. I was awake anyway. I was working on some files,” I lied and waved my hand off like it was nothing. “No, wait… Sorry. I was already awake. I was reading The Narrative of John Smith. I wasn’t doing any extra work,” I looked back at you. 

“Why… Why were you awake?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. I watched as you brought your hand to your lips and bit your thumbnail. That was one of the many nervous ticks you had, and I wanted nothing more than for you to not be nervous around me. 

“Couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d have some tea and read a little bit.” I looked over my shoulder towards my book and teacup. I quickly looked back at you, scared you wouldn’t actually be there when I looked back. I let out a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on you. “What are you doing here?” I watched as you looked at the door jamb.

“I, uh, I’m ready to, uh… I’m ready to talk,” you whispered as you looked at me. You folded your arms over your chest as you kept your eyes on me. This was the first time I noticed that you looked different. And not because you were awake at 3:30 in the morning in the midst of a breakdown. You looked different and I didn’t know how to explain it. 

“You’re… You’re ready to talk?” I asked, my voice suddenly trembling as I looked at you. You nodded as you wiped your eyes with your fingers. 

“Yeah, yeah, uh…” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at the ground. “Figured it was time. Been a few months and wanted to talk,” you whispered at the ground. I stepped to the side and pulled the door open more. 

“Do you want tea?” I asked, knowing tea calms you down. You looked back up at me and nodded lightly. You stepped into my apartment (which at some point was our apartment) and went right to the couch. I stood still for a moment before retreating to the kitchen.

I quickly poured the hot water into a new teacup. I grabbed a chamomile tea bag, the milk, and a bottle of honey before going back out to you. 

“Chamomile… I brought you the milk and honey too. If you want something else and sugar… Or… Anything.” I whispered as I sat back down where I once was. I placed the items on the coffee table. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, putting the tea bag into the cup.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to figure out why the hell you were here and if I was actually dreaming. You steeped the bag a little bit in the water, your eyes looking at the steam swirling off the water. 

“I could lie and say yes, but I don’t think that’d be fair to you, Spencer,” you finally looked at me. Tears were sitting in your eyes, threatening to fall. I shifted in my seat, turning to look at you more. “Everything is not okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. I scanned the room, looking for a box of tissues. I got up and grabbed them for you. You took a few before blowing your nose. 

“I’m-”

“Let me talk… Please, before you apologize,” you cut me off as you looked at me. I nodded and kept my eyes on you. You were still looking at me, the tears started rolling down your cheeks and you used your sleeve to dry them. You licked your lips as you looked for the right words to say. “JJ didn’t want me to come over,” you whispered, finally taking your eyes off me. You looked back at the steaming water. I could feel a familiar anger bubbling in my stomach, that was directed towards Jennifer. Of course, she didn’t want you to come over. “So I left when I knew she was asleep. I think the last time I did that was when I was 16,” you let out a dry laugh before you sipped your tea.  

I stared at you, taking in the way you sat in a moment of silence. You were probably thinking of what you wanted to say. You were never good with words and articulating them. But, neither was I. “You know, like when you would sneak out of your house so whoever you were with didn’t wake up? God, I did that a lot as a teenager,” you laughed before sipping your tea. You shivered as the hot tea went down your throat. “Anyways, sorry… Basically, JJ doesn’t know I’m here,” you momentarily glanced at me before looking back at your tea. 

“I won’t tell her you came,” I whispered as I turned to face you more. I watched as you leaned over and placed the teacup on the coffee table. You grabbed a random throw pillow off the couch and hugged it close to your body, as if it was some sort of protection.

“I don’t think you understand how hard life has been for me the last couple of months, Spencer,” you whispered, keeping your eyes anywhere but me. I furrowed my eyebrows, not because I was confused. But because I wasn’t sure what you were going to say. “And… and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why you left, and what I did wrong to make you leave, and… I’m still working on getting better… But, I found something out and it broke me back down…” you whispered as you looked over at me. You were very cautious as you looked at me. Tears were fresh in your eyes again, and I knew you weren’t going to be able to control them. You sniffled and closed your eyes.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want it to go any louder in fear of my voice breaking the slightest bit. Tears started to blur my vision as I looked at you. 

“Why’d you leave me in the first place?” You asked instead of answering me. Part of me wanted to point out that you answered my question with a question. But I didn’t bother.

“I got scared of losing you,” I whispered and looked down at the couch. That was partly true. I did, indeed, fear losing you. That wasn’t the whole truth… I was scared of losing you but I was more scared of hurting you.

I wrinkled my nose as tears started running down my cheeks. “And, I didn’t think about the consequences and outcome of me just… leaving,” I looked up at you. I left out the true reasoning for me leaving you. I could tell you knew I was leaving something out. But neither of us wanted to point it out.

“You did a lot more than lose me, Spencer,” you dryly laughed again as you spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yes, I know. And it was a mistake. You don’t understand how much I regret leaving. I’ve never wanted to take something back so badly in my entire li-”

“I’m pregnant, Spencer,” you cut me off and spoke. Your tone was filled with authority and you were so sure when you spoke. It totally caught me off guard, I wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Wh-what? You’re what?” I stared at you, my lips parted and eyes wide. I swear my heart stopped as I tried to comprehend what you said. Or… it was going so fast and I just couldn't feel it.

“I’m pregnant. And, obviously, it’s yours. I’ve contemplated so many things. But, I think you would have killed me if you didn’t know,” you whispered as you looked away from me. I looked at you, trying to find the right words to say, but I couldn’t figure out what to say.

Then I thought back to the park. You were so dismissive, which is allowed considering the things I had done and said to you. Or the lack of things said to you. But then I remembered how natural Michael looked in your arms and how you were with Henry and how different you seemed. Jennifer was talking about you, about you just-ing something but she cut herself off… Jennifer knows. 

“Does Jennifer-”

“Yes, she knows. She knew when we saw you at the park… And she knew when I talked to Emily about transferring,” you whispered, picking at the fabric of pajamas. Your voice was so soft, I felt bad for leaving you and I tried to not be mad at you for keeping something so big from me. “Emily knows too…” you answered my next question.

“You’ve known for that long?” I finally found words to say. You looked at me like you were a kid who was getting in trouble. But you weren’t getting in trouble. I was just… Mad at myself. 

“I… I, uh, I didn’t know what to do. And, JJ was the only person I could talk to about it.” Your words were soft and quiet and you avoided me and my eyes like the plague. 

I wanted to be mad… But I didn’t exactly have the right to be mad at you. After all the things I did to you? It wasn’t fair if I snapped at you. You knew this too. You knew me well enough to know that I wanted to be mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked after some time had passed. It felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a mere few minutes. 

“Because… I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay in DC… I wasn’t sure if I even wanted it…”

“Clearly you do if you’re telling me,” I whispered and looked at you. You looked at me, ready to protest, but failed when you realized I was right. You knew I was right. Why else would you be telling me that you’re pregnant if you didn’t want it? You dropped your head before nodding.  

“There’s more to you leaving me though, isn’t there? It wasn't just about losing me,” you asked, changing the subject back to me. You didn’t want to talk about your pregnancy that you’ve known about for several months. So, I swallowed roughly before nodding. “What was it? Were you cheating on me? Were you bored with me? Did I do something wrong? Was it something I did? Or was it something I didn't do?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong… It was all me…” I paused and looked up at you. You were looking at me, intently watching me. I took a deep breath as I lifted my hand to wipe your cheeks. “I wasn’t cheating on you, and I wasn’t bored with you,” I pulled my hand back to my lap and flexed my fingers. “I think it was just… Work was getting overwhelming… And,” my words trailed off for a moment, causing me to sigh. 

“That’s not a good enough reason, Spencer, you know that,” you looked at me and shook your head. Your tone was short. There was no hiding it, you knew there was something else. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth… But, I had to.

“The issue stopped being the actual problem… and it became me wanting to hurt you… And… And I never want to feel that way… Be-because I love you.” I looked up at you, watching the tears slip down your cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt the people that I love,” my voice was hardly above a whisper, “I guess… I-I need help, and I didn’t realize it till… till I had those thoughts,” I could feel my words shaking as I spoke. You looked at me with worry in your eyes. 

“Spencer,” you whispered. I looked up at you and watched as you reached over, nervously placing your hand on my knee. I looked at you and let out a deep breath. Part of me wasn’t so sure we should be having this conversation at 4 in the morning. But here we are, having it. “After everything you’ve been through, with… With prison, and… and Cat, and Scratch…” your words trailed off as you spoke of the horrors I’ve lived through within the last few years, “Of course you need help… And… And we can get you the help that you need,” you whispered as you looked up at me. My eyes stayed glued to the hand you had resting on my knee. You were here… With me...

“It was just too much… And… I-I’m happy I didn’t do anything…. To…” I paused and took a shaky breath, but also to keep myself from saying that I almost did hurt you. Although, I did hurt you when I left. “I just didn’t know how to ask for help, even when I didn’t reali-”

"Spencer,” you started, your voice low and quiet. I could hear the raspiness in your voice. I’m sure it was the exhaustion of life for you. And it was my fault... 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I whispered. I knew just saying sorry wasn’t going to be enough. Something else needed to be said, but I didn’t know what. “I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t help but repeat my apology even as I brought a hand to cover my eyes, and as I fell forward to let a sob go through my body. 

“Hey, hey, Spence, it’s okay…” You whispered as you rested a hand on my back. I could feel you move closer to me as you embraced me better. I sat up and looked over at you. “I… I can’t accept your apology right… right now… But, I think we can work on it. We both need help… We can help and heal… Together…” you turned to face me more. Your gentle hands grasped both mine, holding them in the space between our bodies.

“It’s something we’ll both have to work on,” you looked at me before looking down at our hands. I stared at you, waiting to hear you continue. My heart was beating faster than it should and I was only a little worried about it stopping. I could feel my palms getting hot and sweaty on the leather couch. 

“You… You…” I swallowed roughly and squeezed my eyes shut. Tears rolled down my cheeks, causing me to roughly push them away.

“Obviously I want you back in my life, Spencer. I’m sure you’re aware of how hard these few months have been for me,” you whispered, your voice so soft, I’m happy there were no other sounds. I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard you if it was 4 in the afternoon instead of 4 in the morning. “But, you have to understand, things are going to have to change in order for us to work. Especially now… that I’m pregnant,” you whispered and nodded. 

“Of course! No, I know that! I understand that more than anything in the world.” I moved closer to you and nodded. My heart finally returned to it’s normal speed. “I’ll stay. And not because you’re pregnant. I knew I wanted you back right when I realized my mistake,” I whispered, looking down at our hands. Your hand was on top of mine, and your thumb rubbed the back of my hand. “I can’t apologize enough, because no matter how many times I apologize… Sorry won’t be enough.” I wrinkled my nose and looked back at you.

“I’m not going to give you anymore second chances, Spencer. Please, understand that… You have to get help… If not for me, or yourself, for our child…” You spoke with a sureness in your voice. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you were going to get it. Honestly, I was going to give it to you too. 

“No, no, I do… I do understand… I’ll get all the help I can. I promise,” I kept my eyes on you. A worried feeling overtook my body, I was worried that all of this was just a dream and you’d be gone when I’d wake up. But you were here and it wasn’t just a dream.

At this point, I’d be willing to do anything to keep you safe, and our unborn child safe. I knew I didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to miss any moments or chances of a family. Considering you were my family and I’ve known that for a long time. I didn’t want to lose any more time with you. These last few months without you were the roughest, and I didn’t want that anymore.

taglist: @thebluetint​ , @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ 

(if you would like to be a part of the taglist just let me know :) )

[theweasleysredhair]

I Always Was [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 3065

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Y/n is in love with her best friend Sirius Black, a boy notorious for his one night stands. After he leaves her to hook up with another girl, he finally realises his true feelings.

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

Note: It’s a little tiny bit angsty (not really), but FLUFF OVERLOAD (I hope, I’m really bad at writing fluff). Also this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, like ever. Enjoy! x

+ + + + +

If there was one person you could always count on to be there for you, it was Sirius Black. He was your rock, your shoulder to cry on, your light in dark times, your everything - even if he didn’t know it. You were in love with the dark haired boy - you had been since you were eleven - and found yourself craving the lingering touches, soft hugs and wide smiles he’d set aside just for you.

From the moment you woke up in the morning to the moment you fell asleep at night, your mind would be focused on him. On his charm, on his cheeky smirk, on his loving actions. He was the most important person in your life, and you couldn’t thank Merlin enough for him.

In his own words, you were his girl. You liked that, you liked being his girl, even if you weren’t really. There were so many times, too many to count, where he’d refer to you as his in front of others around you.

In class…

“You will complete this task in pairs,” Slughorn announced to the class, clearing away the potion from his demonstration. Before the class could even burst into a panic trying to find the perfect potions partner, Sirius spoke up immediately.

“I’m with Y/n,” He flung his arm over your shoulder, “We’re the best together.��� As he turned to you, he began to speak again, “You’re my girl, aren’t you Y/n?” You nodded, a faint blush fighting to show on your cheeks.

Taking part in pranks…

“Why don’t you just add the slime in with the explosion? It’ll get everywhere, and cover more people. Bigger impact, and less effort,” you spoke, pointing to the fifth step in the plan that you thought should be changed on the parchment.

“That’s brilliant!” James said, crossing out his own idea and rewriting it again in his messy scrawl. “That’s my girl,” Sirius said with a smirk, kissing your forehead.

Even in front of teachers…

“Come on, Minnie, Y/n had nothing to do with this prank,” James said to McGonagall. “Mr Potter, do not address me as ‘Minnie’,” She said with a stern tone, though her eyes twinkled in amusement - not that she’d admit how much she enjoyed these boys and their crazy antics.

“Professor, Y/n really wasn’t apart of this prank, she just happened to be there,” Remus said to his teacher. “Yeah,” Sirius agreed, “My girl is way too much of a good student to be apart of a prank like this. I mean, did you see that explosion?”

You enjoyed being the number one girl in his life, you enjoyed being the first person he’d come to when he was feeling down or needed cuddles. You enjoyed being wrapped up with him, his muscular arms surrounding you with a sense of safety and love.

It was moments like the current that you felt most happy, laying on a couch in the common room, your face laying on his shoulder and his fingers slowly brushing through your hair gently, every so often placing a kiss to your forehead.

If Sirius wasn’t known for his one night stands as much as he was, a bystander could very well misinterpret the pair as a couple, or dating at the very least.

If only.

“Alright love, I need to go and meet up with Anastasia for the night,” Sirius’ voice carried through the silent common room, shuffling around as he sat up, removing his arms from their place around you, leaving you feeling cold. It was strange how empty you felt when he wasn’t beside you. Maybe that’s just what unrequited love feels like. You sat up away from him to let him stand up, even though you really didn’t want to, and were confused as to why he was leaving in he first place.

“What time are you going to be back? Remember we made plans, we were going to-” you were interrupted with a smirk from Sirius and a wink, and you were unsure whether he even heard, or cared, about what you were saying.

“Don’t wait up for me, love,” he simply said as he left the room, taking your happiness with him.

“Hang out,” you finished your sentence to yourself, frowning as you felt a couple of tears prick your eyes. You sighed to yourself and furiously wiped the tears away before they even had a chance to fall. It wasn’t the first time he abandoned you for another girl, but it was the first time he had done so when you already had plans.

He always said you were his favourite girl, but how long were you going to let you convince yourself that he wasn’t lying, or just saying that because you were his best friend?

Because that’s all you were really. His best friend. Nothing less, but certainly nothing more.

***

“Hey Y/n, whatcha doing sat here alone? Didn’t you and Padfoot have plans tonight?” James asked as he walked into the common room after being kicked out of the library when he was with Remus. He found you sat alone, in the same position you had been in for the last couple of hours - on he couch, curled up and staring at the fire.

“We did, but he said he needed to meet up with Anastasia. And then he just sort of walked out,” you finished your short recount of the night, spitting out Anastasia’s name like it was poison and frowning to yourself.

“Well then, if he wants to hang with - or bang with - Ow! Okay, don’t hit me again, that was a joke! A pretty good one if you think about it - Ow! What did I just say to you? Anyway, if he wants to be with another girl, then I’ll just have to spend the night with you, because I happen to enjoy your company. When you’re not hitting me,” James said, fake pouting at you.

His pout quickly turned into a devious grin as you shook your head and edged away from him, “James Fleamont Potter, don’t you dare!”

“Ooooh, middle names! Must really be in trouble,” he joked before reaching over and starting to tickle you. You shrieked, moving away from the boy as you and him started to laugh. “There’s that pretty smile of yours! Now, let’s go start our day of fun!” James announced, before grabbing you by the hand. He lifted you off the couch and led you out of the room and into the corridor outside, where a couple of students stood around chatting.

“Wait a minute James! Where are we going?” You asked, following him - or rather, being pulled along with him. James turned around, making you bump into his back at the sudden pause, one of his brown curls falling across his forehead as he sent you a cheeky grin, “On an adventure.”

***

“Did you see his face?” You gripped onto James arm as you used him to support you, unable to stand up properly from laughing so hard.

“It was priceless,” James joined in, stopping in his tracks as he tried to catch his breath. “I can’t believe we just did that! We must be crazy!” You said as you giggled, letting go of the Potter boy as you shook your head.

“We are crazy, Y/n. And that was just the beginning! We’re going to do even crazier things tonight!” James flung his arms around to back up his statement.

“You’re going to get us arrested, aren’t you?” You said with an amused smile. “Not arrested per say, just perhaps stuck in detention for the rest of our lives,” he grinned at you, his eyes shining with mischief.

***

Sirius fell back on his bed, his shirt unbuttoned and half hanging off his bare chest. His arms lay across his face as he let out a quiet and frustrated growl, unable to get you out of his brain.

This had never happened before, he had never called a girl he was hooking up with by the wrong name - not ever. He never meant to - one moment he was snogging a girl against his dorm wall, the next he was being slapped by that same girl as she stormed out of the room. He sighed, thinking about your soft h/c hair and pretty e/c eyes. Without him realising, he began to smile uncontrollably at just the thought of you.

“I have to go and find her,” he muttered to himself as he stood up. He ran a hang through his now-messy hair, and grabbed his trousers to put back on as he ran out of his dorm room and nearly fell down the stairs on his way to try and find you.

The common room was empty, excluding a few first years that were huddled in front of the fire completing homework. Sirius looked around and, when he couldn’t find you, headed over to the stairway leading to the girls dormitory. He quickly and easily removed the charms from the stairs and ran up two at a time.

He knocked on the door and waited, hoping you’d answer for him. Hearing no reply, he hesitantly reached out for the brass handle and slowly opened the door.

The room was empty, to Sirius’ surprise. He looked around the room, easily being able to tell which girl stayed in which part of the room just by the belongings.

Alice had the far right side of the room, her bed decorated with a pink blanket over the red duvet, and a small white toy bunny with pink ears and a little black nose sitting on the pillow. Marlene had the bed next to her, shown by the large collection of muggle makeup - mostly lipsticks of deep reds and browns - strewn across it. Dorcas was in the middle of the room, her wand sitting on the nightstand beside the lamp, and her bed neatly made without one crease. Then it was Lily’s bed, a messy pile of duvet and books, a hairbrush and a mirror laying under the bed, beside a pair of boots that had fallen over. Finally, on the far left hand side of the room, was your bed, tucked into the corner with extra pillows to decorate.

Sirius looked at it fondly, edging his way over and carefully sitting down on the bed, as if he was scared to ruin the design. The bed looked comfy - surely you wouldn’t mind if he lay down for a while, would you? He took his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, followed by his trousers. He climbed into the covers and leant back, snuggling into your pillow, and breathing in your sweet scent. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes and convincing himself that you wouldn’t mind if he stayed for just a small nap - a small one, of course. He lay down holding onto your duvet as he imagined what it would be like to have you laying next to him right now, in his arms. Before long, he had drifted off to sleep.

***

“You still love him, huh?” James said gently, taking your hand in his and squeezing it comfortingly. You looked at the scenery around you, the trees soaring high in the air, their roots peeping out of the earth, the leaves littering the ground in a brown haze, crunching with each step you and James took. The wind wafted your hair around your face, causing you to constantly push the strands out of your face.

“More than anything, James,” you whispered, your voice barely reaching his ears due to the howling wind. Your heart raced just at the thought of the dark haired boy that captured your attention at the mere age of 11.

“You know he loves you too,” The brunette boy spoke with a nod. You shook your head, “But not in the way I want. I want him to love me like I love him. And I know that’s nearly impossible.” James let go of your hand and opening his arms out wide, “C'mere, I think you need a Potter hug.”

You gladly moved into James embrace, closing your eyes as he enclosed your frame within his arms. It felt warm and friendly, but different to how cuddles with Sirius felt.

With Sirius, it was as if all the world didn’t matter, like it disappeared around you whilst you were in his arms. Like nothing could hurt you, or make you feel sad. It didn’t matter how you were feeling, or what had happened when you were with the eldest Black brother. All that mattered was how his body felt against yours, and how your heart felt like it was going to explode.

You closed your eyes and tried to pretend that James was Sirius, and that he was holding you in his usual loving way. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t do it.

“You should tell him,” James whispered. “How can I when I know he doesn’t feel the same?” You replied, opening your eyes looking up into his brown ones.

“It’s tearing you apart, babe. I hate seeing you so hung up on him. You need to tell him so you can either be with him, or move on. I know it’s hard, but you’re one of my best friends, Y/n, and I don’t want you to hurt anymore,” James told you, running a hand through your hair and offering you a small, sincere smile.

“Thank you James. I’ll tell him when I’m ready - if I’m ready,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

***

By the time you got back to your dorm room, you had finally sorted through your feelings and cleared your head, thanks to James. You entered your dorm room and began to get changed into your pyjamas, deciding on an early night before classes tomorrow. Climbing into the bed, you let out a shriek as something moved underneath you, screaming at the same time as you did. You shot up, grabbing your wand in haste and aiming it at the large lump underneath your duvet.

“Lumos,” you spoke, a bright light emerging from your wand. You waved it over the figure as he spoke, “Please don’t kill me!”

“Sirius!” Your heart was racing from the shock, and you let out a shaky breath, “What in the name of Merlin do you think you’re doing in my bed?”

“Well I was napping. You know, until you decided to sit on me - which for the record, I wouldn’t mind you doing if you gave me a warning,” Sirius said to you, pouting a little as he sat up.

“How was I supposed to know that you were there? I thought you were with Anastasia? Why aren’t you with her right now?” You frowned, trying not to focus on how deep his voice sounded from being asleep for who knows how long, his black hair that fell messily across his shoulders and his shoulders, leading onto his muscly arms and toned chest that you all but wanted to run your hands over…

You blinked, forcing yourself to look back at his handsome face.

“I left early. Or rather, she did. Didn’t end up doing much,” He replied with a shrug, pulling your cover over him more with a cute, happy smile. “Why?” You didn’t know why you asked. You assumed he would shrug off the question, but he did the exact opposite.

“I accidentally said your name instead of hers in bed,” He said it so casually, as if it were a normal occurrence to tell your best friend news like this.

You nearly choked.

“I’m… sorry?” You were confused. Confused as to why he said your name, why he was now in your bed - practically naked, for that matter - and why you felt the need to apologise for something that you had no control over.

“Don’t be. It made me realise something important so I guess I should thank myself really,” Sirius smirked to himself, before looking up at you, still sat in your bed, his arm propping him up. “What did you realise? That you’re a complete idiot? Because I think it’s about time you realised that,” you said with an eye roll, crossing your arms over your chest.

He suddenly swung his legs out of the covers and stood up. Before you could process what was happening, he was stood in front of you, grabbing you and kissing you, his hands cupping your cheeks. He held you close to him, pressed against his chest, leaving no space between you. One of his hands sliding down your body to hold your waist, rubbing soft circles on your hip with his thumb.

He was breathing heavily when he pulled away, leaving you in shock and your eyes wide. “What the hell was that for?” You breathes out, your hand reaching up to touch your lips.

“To say I’m sorry,” he said, his hands still holding your hips. You raised an eyebrow, “What?” “I’m sorry for leaving you today, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have made other plans when I know I already made plans with you. Because you’re the most important person in my life. You’re my girl, Y/n. Nobody else even comes close to how much I care about you.”

His voice was low and husky, he was speaking mere centimetres from your face, so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin, and had to force yourself to focus on his words and not his lips.

“I love you Y/n. That’s was what I realised. Please tell me you feel the same way because now I know I love you, I don’t think I could survive knowing you don’t love me too.” For the first time in a while, you saw Sirius look nervous, his usually cocky demeanour a distant memory.

“I love you too Sirius,” you whispered with a soft smile. Sirius let out a laugh of relief, wrapping him arms around you and pressing kisses across your head, “Oh thank Merlin.”

He held you so tight, and you couldn’t help but smile. This is where you belonged, in his arms.

“From now on, you’re mine,” Sirius murmured, wrapping his arms further around your body. You sighed in content, “I always was.”

[ts1989fanatic]

The Guide to Getting into Taylor Swift

With the country-turned-pop star's music on Spotify, it's time to cut all your shirts into crop tops and become a Swiftie.

Wow! You're finally open to becoming a Swiftie! Perhaps you're a casual listener and you found your bum wiggling to "Shake It Off" at the grocery store. Perhaps you're that nostalgic person who always sings "Our Song" at karaoke because it reminds you of more innocent times. Perhaps you're a even hardcore hater. Who cares! You're here now.

So what did it take? Her endless charm? Her enviable songwriting talents? Her clever business sense? Or is it because Taylor Swift's entire catalogue just went up on Spotify for free.99? What a cheapskate!

Besides the fact that you can now listen to Taylor Swift without having to navigate her battles with the streaming industry, this is the perfect time to start listening to her music, even if you skipped out on the past five albums. We're currently in the calm before Swift's storm – the time when she's conjuring up a new album that may defy any expectations we have about the country-turned-pop star. Before she inevitably returns to the tabloids, there's a chance to get to know the artist whose work earned that fame, the singer who, at 14, prompted label boss Scott Borchetta of Big Machine to take her on, writing in his notes, "This could be your Mick Jagger." Taylor's fans have long known her as someone who can weave fairytales into everyday life and pastoral romanticism into a regular school day, who can detail relationships with piercing honesty. That kind of music inspires devotion, and this is your chance to feel it.

So, before you dig in, you'll need a Taylor Swift starter pack. Cut all your shirts into crop tops. Write Joni Mitchell lyrics on your arm. Adopt a Scottish fold and name it after a Grey's Anatomy character. Start calling the paparazzi before leaving the apartment. Show up at your friends' houses unexpectedly, offering them Christmas gifts and wondering why they don't cry tears of joy at the mere sight of you. At the very least, join an online forum to talk about her fandom when it hits. Start yearning for Taylor's old country days even though you hate country music! Send a Swift song to your ex instead of messy blocks of texts. Quote her lyrics in therapy. Invest in some quality scarlet-hued lipstick (Nars' Dragon Girl is a decent choice.)

And if you need some help with different entry points into her music, I've got you. Below, there are five options for getting into Taylor Swift. Pick the section that best suits your soul.

So, as Taylor's best friend Selena Gomez (you should know that too) says, if you're ready, come and get it.

So You Want to Get Into: Kiss-Off Bop Taylor Swift?

OK, so you want to get into the feisty side of Taylor Swift. Great choice. Alongside her songs about love, heartbreak, her first day of high school, her mom and Lena Dunham (it's true – "You Are In Love" is about her), there are angsty ditties that take her foes and pie them in the face like the true dunces that they are. This might be the side of Swift you're most familiar with lately, as her feud with Katy Perry has made the 12,000th headline and we're meant to believe that Taylor is on a warpath to punish all her enemies. However, Swift is just like any of us: If she's wronged, she feels a little jaded. And despite serving as a role model to her listeners, she experiences anger like anyone else. But most of us don't have the talent to write songs about them.

Taylor's kiss-off anthems started with "Picture to Burn" (perhaps her best song to this day?), off her debut, self-titled album in 2006, released when she was just 16. "Picture to Burn" has Swift expressing pent-up G-rated aggression with a twang (this is back when she still had a Southern accent, and it's endearing as fuck). She goes one shot under pulling a Carrie Underwood and disses her ex-boyfriend's truck; she threatens to sic her dad on him; she calls him a "redneck." There are all sorts of killer lines in the track ("There's nothing stopping me from going out with alllll of yer best frans!"), but this one's the most poetic and charged: "So watch me strike a match on all my wasted time / As far as I'm concerned you're just another picture to burn." Don't be thrown off by the flutter of banjo and down-home guitars that sound like they're out of a muddy Ford commercial – let the country sound sink in and guide you to revenge.

Since then, Taylor's had dozens of songs that ward off sour critics and ex-boyfriends. Her third album in particular, 2010's Speak Now, is chock full of them. On "Mean" she sheds off her haters who are "Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things / Drunk and rambling' on about how I can't sing / But all you are is mean." Then she piles it on, calling them "And a liar / And pathetic / And alone in life." Meanwhile, she maintains sweet, kill-em-with-kindness disposition: You'll be glad you never cared about that loser anyway! This side of Taylor is best enjoyed if you like looking cute while rolling your eyes.

Of course, there's "Bad Blood," which, if you pay just a speck of attention to pop culture, you know is about a petty pop star argument. And there's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," which is supposed to send a message to a guy trying to slide back into a relationship – although it comes off more as a mantra for Taylor to chant when she's about to let him back in again. And there's the slightly problematic "Better Than Revenge," where she blasts a girl who's known for her "talents on a mattress."

So if you've been wronged, don't pick up a baseball bat; yank out yer fake country accent and a Zippo, and start lighting stuff on fire!

So You Want to Get Into: Take My Heart And Run It Over With A Rusty Pickup Truck Taylor Swift?

If you've chosen to get into Heartbreak Taylor, you're probably the type who needs time to fully soak into your sadness when you're going through something. You absorb other people's heartbreak too. As a Sagittarius, Taylor is one of these people. (I know nothing about astrology, but I figured you might?)

The beauty about Taylor Swift is that she makes her songs vague enough to where you can imagine yourself in the song – yet she drops in just enough little details so you know the story in the song is hers. It's so easy to apply any of her songs to your life without forgetting her own drama.

Swift's romantic life has been easily mocked for a good ten years now, a topic she satirized in 2014 with "Blank Space" (but more on that later). From age 16 to now, age 27, we've known all of her boyfriends… and by the details she adds in her songs, you can tell which boyfriends inspired which songs: Joe Jonas ("Forever & Always"), Taylor Lautner ("Back to December"), John Mayer ("Dear John"), Harry Styles ("Out of the Woods), etc. By knowing the very real dudes behind the tracks and their very real relationships, Swift songs play out more like movies, where you can envision these celebrities going through the same breakup you might have with your partner. Perhaps the most heartbreaking of these songs is "All Too Well," a song clearly about Jake Gyllenhaal, with references to Swift's scarf, which he was photographed wearing after their breakup.

Red's "All Too Well," like most of Swift's songs about breakups, is crushing. Raise your hand if you've ever met your partner's parents and they start reminiscing about when they were a little kid: "You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me." Or if you've gotten stuck wallowing and it felt like you'd never be happy again: "Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralysed by it / I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it." Or if your ex called you just for old times' sake, just as you were starting to move on: "Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest." You remember it all too well.

There's something about Swift's sad songs that are like a film you can revisit over and over again, pulling tears from your eyes as if you're experiencing heartbreak for the first time. And it's not just heartbreak – it's grief in general. When you're exploring your way around these gut wrenching songs, don't forget "Ronan," a charity single written for the mom of a child who died of cancer just days before his fourth birthday (that one, unfortunately, is not part of her return to streaming). And "Never Grow Up," which will have you wanting to crawl back into your mom's arms.

Either way, it's best to listen to these when you're alone.

So You Want to Get Into: Fairytale Wedding Day Taylor Swift?

Ready to fall in love, you hopeless romantic? Read up on your Romeo and Juliet. Brush up on Rapunzel. Fall madly in love with the guy who's waiting tables at your favourite cafe. Go all in. Take risks. Ask that guy on a date. Ignore what anyone else says. Go head over heels. Get married (the guy has to propose on one knee and ask your dad for permission, of course). Have babies. Grow old together. Love is a fairytale!!!!!!

Taylor's very aware of her idealistic view on love ("Stupid girl, I should've known / I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale," she sings on "White Horse"), especially earlier on in her catalogue. You won't find her singing about dancing in the rain with her angelic-faced crush in her latest album, 1989, or anything in the future, but teenaged Taylor wrote the best love songs back in the day. She's either chasing highs or sinking into lows, and with mythical metaphors abound, she explains that sparkling feeling of falling in love.

You've come to the right place if you're looking for a song to dance to at your wedding. Imagine twinkly lights and barefeet as you twirl around the floor to 2006's "Mary's Song," which follows a seven-year-old girl and her nine-year-old beau as they grow up and get married. Or maybe you want dozens of photos of your family floating from clothesline at your barn wedding, soundtracking the moment with the voracity of 2010's "Mine." Or maybe you're under the moonlight, letting your vintage dress sweep over dewy grass as you dance with your hearts pressed together to "Enchanted."

Swift's love songs give you faith that love can last a lifetime, that you can pull off a medieval princess dress and that kissing in the rain is more magical and euphoric than wet and cold. Even if Prince Charming will never come galloping around on his awkwardly endowed stallion, it's nice – if but for three and a half minutes – to dream.

So You Want to Get Into: Banjo and Fiddle Taylor Swift?

Taylor Swift made the same journey as Shania Twain when it's come to the crossing the country-to-pop bridge – except with Swift, it seems like she's left that bridge far, far behind. With the declaration that she was taking 2014's 1989 fully into pop territory, Swift hasn't looked back, reworking her old country hits when she plays them live and nearly ignoring her especially hoedown-oriented tunes. If you appreciate a good fiddle solo and snarky banjo, I urge you to start at the beginning of her discography.

The self-titled album is a mine of gold country nuggets with excellent lyricism from Swift and sharp production from Nathan Chapman (who had never produced an album until he met Taylor Swift when she was 14). Chapman adorned Swift's green soprano with a bevy of fiddle, which could cry during a song like "Tied Together With A Smile" or frolick with joy during "Our Song." Fiddle is the second singer on Taylor Swift. There's dobro too, etching its earthiness into songs, along with some sparse scatterings of mandolin.

And then there's pedal steel – completely absent after 2014's Red – which swoops in like mood swing, unexpected, yet totally called for. It yearns on "Teardrops on My Guitar," gives sassy support on "Picture to Burn," and calms a bubbling banjo on "The Outside."

Like Swift, who grew up on a Christmas tree farm in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, before convincing her family to move to Nashville, you might have a small-town upbringing. And just the mere twang of a steel guitar may transcend you to fireflies and summer nights. If you're more familiar with Swift's more recent work, listening to her first album may seem like a novelty, but the progression across the five albums is organic, so don't feel jolted when you hear the rush of country instruments and the mention of country's prince, Tim McGraw, when you take her first bite of Taylor Swift.

Listen to country-era Swift – if not to conjure your own childhood memories, but to get a better understanding of where the pop star started from.

So You Want to Get Into: Storyteller Taylor Swift?

Sit down, music lover, and let Auntie Swift tell you a story. This one's a gripping tale about a girl who shows up at a fancy wedding, ready to interrupt everything and declare her love for the groom. The guy is obviously marrying the wrong woman, who's "wearing a gown shaped like a pastry." And although Taylor is not the kind of person to show up at a "white veil occasion," she, like the title of the 2010 song suggests, is compelled to "Speak Now."

I won't spoil the rest of the story for you, but as you enter the world of Swift for the first time, these storytelling songs might be your best entry point if you like a good narrative. These selections are perfect for long drives, when your mind wanders off the road. Ditch your Audible subscription (does anyone have Audible anyway?) and lean toward the Book of Swift instead. The first chapter dives into Taylor at three years old on "The Best Day," a song she wrote about her mom: "I run and run / Past the pumpkin patch / And the tractor rides / Look now, the sky is gold / I hug your legs / And fall asleep on the way home." The colours are vivid, the memories idyllic, and you can't help but miss your own mom a bit. Of course, some stories make you cry more than others, but with Taylor Swift, it's best to expect tears at all times.

Fast forward eight years to "Blank Space," where she's taken a wholly less innocent form – as a jet-setting maniser who steals her victims' hearts and tortures them with love games. "Saw you there and I thought / 'Oh my God, look at that face / You look like my next mistake'," she sings, as coy as a Black Widow looking for a mate. I won't spoil this one either, but let's just say that this story involves a pretty toxic web.

So, if you're in need of music that will hold you by your hand and take you through a journey, dive into "Love Story," a ditty about a young couple with disapproving parents, or "How You Get The Girl," a step-by-step tutorial on how to win your girlfriend back, or "Fifteen," a story about her friend Abigail's first year of high school, or "Mine," a song about a rando dude who turns into her husband. Whatever chapter you open the book of Taylor to, there's going to be a plot to keep you hooked.

Emilee Lindner was born on a metaphorical Christmas tree farm, and you can find her preaching the good word of Taylor on Twitter.

ts1989fanatic sorry that this so long a post but DAMN it’s worth the read, and I have to think the writer is a SWIFTIE she certainly understands the subject of her piece very well.

[maereed]

Timeless Fic Challenge, Week #2

Title: Aftershock Prompt: Lucy finally decides to read the journal Flynn gave her and she finds out some interesting things about her future. Relationship: Lucy Preston/Wyatt Logan Tags: Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Idiots in Love you know? Notes: This one is a little angsty, but just a little? Also, I realize we’re already in week 4 and here I am posting prompt 2. Life has just been too crazy. Journal entries were supposed to be centered but I guess Tumblr will have none of that. You can find that format on ao3. Word Count: 4,099 Rating: PG

Read under the cut. Or on ao3.

Lucy tosses and turns like a tempest sea. Hard pillow, lumpy mattress, cold sheets deliberately keeping her from much needed restful slumber. Images of things yet to come swirl about, mocking her. The vile, misshapen snapshots refuse to part ways with her … branded within, no going back. She can even smell the scorching of flesh. As if that were possible.

 She can’t decide whether to praise or berate herself for giving into curiosity. The strange object had puzzled her from the moment she saw it under the flames of the fallen Hindenburg. A mystery.  One that enticed her interest every time it was mentioned, yet that very interest coaxed great fear out of her.

 She cranks up the heat but there’s no use. There’s no stopping the serenity-perturbing shivers – a complete one-eighty from the evening’s earlier events, filled with heartening warmth … her core fever stricken from the press of Wyatt’s body against hers, his hot breath in the back of her ear, his lips on hers.

 When she pushed the front door closed with her hip earlier that night in a stupor, the vigor of the burning fire still vivid in her pith, she had no idea this was how it would end. Placing her keys over the console table, her gaze promptly drifted toward the worn item. It felt as if a siren were calling out her name, hauling on her, hypnotizing her. And so she opened it.

 It felt like hours until she was done with the whole thing.

 She let the journal fall to her side, her limp hands resting upon her knees. With a catchy breath, tears threatening to spill out, and a sharp pang over her chest, it didn’t feel like she was merely reading passages on paper. Lucy was enduring those moments all over again. No. Not ‘all over again’; beforehand … since they hadn’t happened. Yet.

 It is now 2:07 and she struggles to close her eyes, clear her head, put those thoughts away from her heart and mind. She tries all the tricks she’d been taught while growing up to induce sleep. None of them work. It’s too cold, too hot; too dark, too bright. When she’s (supposedly) falling asleep at last, she frantically rises gasping for air … her airways blocked from all the crying.

 The words scorn her, haunt her musings.

  He doesn't know who I am.

  Sleep never claims her.

 *

 She had no idea the sight of Wyatt flipping through a pile of aged dusty files would sadden her in the most painful way. They’d been summoned that morning for another mission. Lucy hadn’t payed much attention to the details, she just wanted to get to Mason Industries and … what, exactly? She wasn’t even sure. She just wanted an excuse to see him.

 The tone of the missions they were sent on had gravely changed. Ever since, Wyatt had meticulously been preparing for them, reading about people, places, events … anything that could possibly help them out in the field. Nothing was too much.

 She watches him with an ocean in sight, tells herself he’s right there. He’s okay. His eyes had flashed with recognition upon seeing her earlier that morning. He’s okay. She wants to pull him towards her, wants to feel the prick of his hair against her neck, sense the intoxicating scent of his shampoo. Instead, she settles for the mere visual confirmation of his wellbeing.

  Wyatt knows something is up. He feels her intent gaze upon him, catches it out of the corner of his eye. She’d been acting strange the entire morning, hardly saying a word to him. He turns to her and Lucy immediately looks away, thinking he doesn’t notice it. His muscle tingles at the dismissal, more than just a little.

 “Lucy, is everything okay?”

 “Huh?” She makes eye contact with him for the first time since their exchange the night before.

 “Are you okay? You look—uh,” he pauses. She looks tired, but that is not exactly what he wants her to hear from him. “You’re acting weird.”

 “Me?” She avoids his eyes again, the nervousness in her tone just about making Wyatt’s point.

 His insecurities get the best of him. Maybe he was wrong about the signs he assumed Lucy had been sending him when he acted just a few hours prior.

 “Is this about last night?” His tone betrays him, coming off somewhat more vulnerable than he had intended.

 “What?” She turns to look at him, slowly walking towards the place where he stands, frozen. “No. No, no … no,” he’s not buying it. “No, Wyatt,” she says matter-of-factly. “That has nothing to do with it,” she rushes to say.

 She extends her arm, reaches for his wrist … her skin runs circles along the back of his palm. In her eyes a sorrow, like he’s going to dissolve if she dares to blink. “Really.”

 He looks from their joined hands to her vanquished face, bemused.

 “Then, what is the matter?” He feels like her body and psyche are not in sync, sending him mixed signals he’s unable to interpret.

 She feels the warmth irradiating from his pores and tears well up in her eyes.

 “Lucy…”

 She takes a deep breath, shakes her head lightly … a failed attempt at keeping her emotions at bay.

 “I have made a decision,” she blurts out.

 Dread immediately sets in the pit of his stomach. “O—kay,” he waits for her to continue, afraid to further press.

 “I’m going to start writing the journal after all,” she starts. “Already have, actually. This morning.”

 Confusion runs across his face. Her attitude about the journal wholly altered from her previous stance on it.

 “Why?”

 “I just—I don’t know. It feels like the right thing to do.”

 “It feels like the right thing to do?”

 “Uh-huh,” she nods, averting her eyes once more. But the ache from the newfound information is too fresh for her to mask.

 “What about governing your own future? You’ve always said the journal shook the foundation of your self-awareness … enough that it made you question your own identity. Now you want to cave and just write it? Like you’re some sort of tailored puppet?”

 He is absolutely right about everything. But it’s either writing the journal or the alternative. Her decision had been made.

 “Things have changed completely,” she won’t dare tell him the reason. “History … everything I’ve learned, you’ve learned; that’s not what the books teach us any longer. I just need something to remember it by … how things actually happened. In our original timeline.” Lucy retorts speedily.

 Little does she know he doesn’t believe a word of it.

 “Is that why you’re crying?”

 Her mouth slightly ajar, she quickly rubs her eyes against her shoulders. “I’m not crying,” she chuckles. “I had trouble sleeping last night. My eyes are just watery from the burnout, that’s all.”

 Wyatt sighs. He wishes she would tell him whatever it is that’s bothering her. “All right, as you wish. Is History-as-we-know-it really that important? Aren’t things constantly changing? What difference does it make if the Hindenburg collapses late at night or first thing in the morning?”

 “It’s important to me,” he could be so annoying sometimes. She wonders if he’s onto her. “History might mean nothing to you, but it does to me!”

 “Why’d you tell me then?” He leans slightly sideways. “It looks like you’re looking for a reason not to do it. Somehow, I think you want me to tell you otherwise, to stop you from even starting.”

 Lucy shakes her head. “What’s it to you if I write it or not? It’s my journal,” sleep deprivation kicking in, she spits it out coarsely.

 Wyatt is terrified. The journal had that effect on him, perhaps even more so than it did on Lucy. Journal-Lucy always came off as someone completely different, someone who’d eventually drift apart from them … from him. It petrifies him that’s the direction they’re headed now, walking down a dead-end towards another Lucy. He’s losing her. She’s slipping from his fingers … much like it’s happening now as she dissolves their connection at the commotion by the door.

 The hurt in his face is evident.

 “Fine,” he adds in a forlorn monotone as agent Christopher enters the room, followed by an inquisitive Rufus.

 Their glances meet across the room, worlds apart, as Denise prepares them for the coming jump. Dismay painted over Wyatt’s face, he exhales and turns his attention to the Homeland Security operative.

 *

 It’s not how she anticipated things would go. Wyatt’s disapproval had been clear the minute she told him about the journal, but somehow, they had managed to exponentially escalate the situation. He’s refrained from talking.

 Well, he’s talking … it’s not as bad as the French Indian War. He makes eye contact every now and then, speaks directly to her, even helps her with her seatbelt (she makes a mental note never to let on she’s learned how to properly handle those). Still, he’s not him. Not exactly … the mindful, hearty Wyatt she knew replaced by a hollow shell.

 It is nowhere near their customary dynamic.

 Rufus catches the denseness in the air immediately. Lucy and Wyatt tiptoeing around each other? His eyebrows raise briskly.

 “So, what is up with you guys? Did you kiss or something?” He tries breaking the ice as the bell dings, coaching them to enter the elevator.

 Each member of the team leans against a different wall. The silence is deafening. Lucy swallows the lump lodged in her throat while Wyatt stares awkwardly at his feet.

 Rufus looks from one to the other, blinking in confusion. “Okay, awkward silence it is then.”

 With all the commotion, Wyatt failed to notice what was right in front of him. The missions are nothing like the chasing-Flynn ones, having turned more active rather than reactive. They are targets now. They are always targets.

 And they had walked straight into a trap.

 I should have seen it, Wyatt thinks. The receptionist had that look. He should have known better, should have realized the privacy of the elevator’s location wasn’t for their convenience. Now his team was in danger. Because of him.

 Wyatt studies his friends … they had both been in enough missions to know something was not right. The strange beeping and blinking on the panel gives it away. Rufus mumbles something unintelligible – lips ajar, eyes widening by the moment – as Wyatt turns his attention to Lucy. Her hold on the lateral rails so strong her knuckles go colorless.

 Lucy feels the air she breathes disappear in a vacuum, her most dreaded fear being realized … again. Her breath catches as knifes pierce mercilessly through her lungs, blinding her into implacable darkness.

 “Lucy…” his voice is measured and heartfelt. Her eyes avert towards his and for a moment … even if but a brief moment … she’s pulled away from the engulfing shadows. She’s aware his mouth is moving but she can’t discern words, so she allows herself the comfort of his soothing eyes … forgetting momentarily she’s inside a 20 square-foot box.

 The elevator stops and Wyatt’s left hand draws closer to his gun, right hand shielding the pair that shares the enclosed space with him. But the doors don’t open. The lights start flashing as a high-pitched howl escapes Rufus’ throat.

 Lucy’s wheezing is so sharp it could cut through steel.

 They hear a resounding snap above them. “Wyatt?” She cries out in horror, looking for reassurance he’s unable to offer. Rufus can’t even bring himself to articulate words. The elevator plummets and blackness overtakes them.

 *

 Her eyesight adjusts to the mist that swirls about in a strive. Ears ringing, mind gone blank, a voice in the distance catches her attention.

 Everyone okay?

 She assumes it’s Wyatt’s. “Hey,” his gentle hands guide her vantage point towards him. “Lucy? You okay? You okay?” It’s still hard to see through the dust, and Lucy is having trouble focusing as it is. “Lucy?!”

 Wyatt’s neck snaps back after Rufus’ acute shriek before she can speak, an expression of sheer pain across the coder’s face. The fall made him land directly on top of his arm, its position looking anything but natural.

 “Rufus?” Wyatt reluctantly lets go of Lucy, disappearing behind the cloud of soot. “Rufus?” Wyatt kneels before him, his tone erratic. He examines the situation as best as he can, trying to move Rufus’ arm and in return receiving a resonating protest from his friend.

 “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, man. Can you stand?” Wyatt’s voice is desperate. Rufus nods, tears in his eyes from the pain.

 We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to get out of here.

 They’re coming.

 Lucy tries rationalizing the situation, but all her mind gives her are the four tight walls enclosing her … and the water. They are nowhere near it, but she feels its presence nonetheless, submerging her, drowning her.

 The dust settles enough that she’s able to see Wyatt kick an opening through what, she reasoned, had once been the elevator’s ceiling. To his relief, Wyatt finds a small opening in the concrete prison that confines them.

 “We have a way out.”

 Lucy watches as Wyatt crouches down next to Rufus. “Come on, Rufus. We’re getting out of here,” he stammers.

 We need to hurry.

 “Lucy!” Wyatt pauses. “I need to get him out first, okay?” She wears a somber expression unlike any he’s seen before. It’s going to be okay, I’ll be right here.

 He’s as careful as he can be lifting Rufus up … wary not to sprain his arm even more, the limb starting to swell in certain areas. “I’m sorry, man. I’m really sorry.”

 They both disappear, and so does Lucy. Her mind hovers above her, just out of reach. She is suffocating.

 Lucy! Lucy?!

 She feels his hold on her and suddenly the walls around her recede, the water ebbs, the murkiness gives way to alluring light warming her skin. How long had it been? “It’s okay, Lucy. It’s okay. Look, you’re out,” he whispers close to her ear. The enveloping of his arms is so comforting.

 He pulls back slightly, bringing her attention to him. “I’m sorry, but we must go now. Someone’s coming. Can you do this for me, Lucy? Can you stay with me?”

 She glances from Rufus to him, a faint uproar developing in the distance.

 You can do this, Lucy. You can do this.

 “I can’t do this alone, Lucy. I need your help.”

 She looks at him, nods decisively. “Yeah,” her voice is resolved. “I can, yes … let’s get out of here.”

 Wyatt nods back in response, a small smile on his lips. “Come,” they throw Rufus’ arm around either’s shoulders and rush down the iffy path.

 *

 Back at Mason Industries, Wyatt debriefs with agent Christopher while Lucy and Rufus hang back in the medical bay.

 “So, the intel I provided was inaccurate?” Denise asks.

 “Not necessarily. I think they might have been tipped off,” Wyatt considers, the guilt in his face indisputable.

 “Wyatt, it’s not your fault,” she simply states.

 “I should have seen it coming.”

 “You are only one person,” she counters. “The three of you made it back with your lives, that’s all that matters. Let’s count that as a victory, shall we?” She studies him. “Besides, the tasks have changed. We’re still navigating the waters of directly dealing with Rittenhouse.”

 “Speaking of which,” Wyatt clears his throat. “With all due respect, I don’t think these missions are prudent anymore. Not with how they’re laid out. They were fine when the job was chasing Flynn, but this layout is no longer effective.”

 “I agree with you. I’m having Mason run diagnostics later. If these jumps are to continue, something needs to change. You’ll be an active part of the investigating committee,” Denise sighs, the risk of the job taking a toll on her. “For now, just go home and rest. Thank you for your service, Master Sergeant.”

 Wyatt nods. “Ma���am.”

 -

 He walks out of the conference room to find Lucy mere feet away, looking drained but otherwise fit.

 “Hey,” he says quietly. “You okay?”

 “Yeah,” she smiles. “Nothing to worry about,” she holds up her discharge forms. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”

 “Rufus?”

 “Oh, he’s going to be fine. I think he likes being pampered by Jiya, actually,” she laughs softly, trying to brighten the mood. It doesn’t work, remorse plastered all over Wyatt’s face.

 “Wyatt—I overheard your conversation with agent Christopher,” she cuts straight to the chase, smile falling. “She’s right, you know? It’s not your fault.”

 He’s nodding but his expression tells another story that has nothing to do with agreement.

 “You’re the reason we made it back in one piece,” it dawns on her and for a split second her heart skips. “Well, maybe a little more than one piece,” she jokes. The chuckle it produces on Wyatt swells her chest.

 Wyatt … smiling. The gesture brings her such overwhelm it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

 “Lucy? What is it?”

 “Huh? Oh, nothing,” she dismisses him with the flail of her hand. “Just, everything. Things seem so crazy lately. And I’m a little tired.”

 That he can relate to.

 Lucy closes the distance between them, pauses. As if abiding by a silent request, she relaxes into Wyatt’s inviting embrace. Because that’s what they do now. Arms wrapped around his torso, she rests her head on his heaving chest.

 “Thank you. Back there, you know? Thank you for pulling me out,” figuratively and literally.

 “Of course, Lucy. You don’t have to thank me.”

 Silence falls between them, his fingertips against her scalp sending heavenly shivers through her body.

 “Wyatt, I’m sorry. Sorry about earlier.”

 He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, Lucy. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place. It’s not my place.”

 If he only knew.

 “It was not my intention to drive a wedge between us.”

 “You haven’t, Lucy. We’re good,” he pauses. “I’m sorry. I know History is important to you. I didn’t mean to belittle it. If you think it’s important to have this journal written, by all means.”

 Lucy tightens her grip, feeling his quintessence against her … willing herself to recognize he’s there, hers to hold. He’s the reckless hothead to her, she’s the bossy know-it-all to him. As it should be.

 The truth of the matter was he’d reacted to her news about writing the journal. What he didn’t know was the reason behind that decision. He didn’t know why.

 *

 (THE PREVIOUS NIGHT)

 Lucy’s eyes dart towards the tumbled object, dangling open in the gloomy page. The words make her gag. Her eyes go lifeless.

  He doesn’t know who I am.

  She’d felt fearful but excited holding the leather gadget in her hands. Now all she feels is dread. The first pages are generic, filled up by historical events. The moon landing, Watergate, war on top of war, the Hindenburg.

 Nothing new. Nothing she doesn’t know.

 Toward the middle section she encounters familiar names, such as Mason Industries, Rufus, Lifeboat, … Wyatt. Her heart jumps. Her very first entry about him doesn’t sound like her … He needs to let go and move on. She struggles to understand the logic behind the assembly of the journal, the logic she herself had made use of. Were they random? They couldn’t be.

 Her chest pounds next, the entries having taken a more personal tone. She reads about them, about what they become. It’s like listening to good music for the first time, every inch of her body covered in hair-raising shivers. On the top of the page, a small square picture of the pair draws her in. They look so content she has a hard time believing it’s them. Behind the picture, a dried iris and a little note that reads, ‘Yours truly’, held in place by a paperclip. Small tokens that, without context, seem arbitrary to her. She wonders why she’d chosen to place those in there.

 Lucy smiles, turning the heavy pages once more. Her expression changes completely.

  I come back and “our” is now “mine”. He doesn’t recognize me. He doesn’t know who I am anymore.

  Lucy’s heart sinks low, the processing of the words translating into her parted lips, her damp eyes, her blood-cutting grip on the journal.

  Somehow, we saw it coming. He begged me not to go, and I agreed it was a bad idea. But part of me, (a very stupid part) wanted to believe there was no secret agenda behind their request. For family. What family? I don’t even know why I did it. They had never given us any reason to believe they regretted their actions. But I went with them against my better judgment. And then I came back and he had no idea who I was.

  The more she reads, the more her flooring crumbles. The entry is very meticulous, she must have made sure of it. She finds out, in an exceedingly descriptive way, they were introduced afterward. Introduced as if they were strangers. A sadistic, ruthless move by Ritthenhouse. Lucy isn’t surprised in the least.

 There’s a staggering irony to the situation. Because to him, she was a stranger.

 And that’s when the worst part is presented to her. Making them estranged hadn’t been enough. No. They had gone ahead and sabotaged Wyatt’s life in the process.

 The future journal-version of themselves meet under false pretenses – an interview with an American hero, they had told him; and Lucy needs to sit down in order to keep herself from falling.

 That Wyatt had nothing. War scars all over his body, the recognition she’s used to seeing in his eyes … the love she’s used to receiving, no longer there. He is raised by his abusive father after the premature death of his grandfather. Lucy asks about a girlfriend or wife. He shakes his head introspectively. She left me after this. Lucy assumes he’s talking about his crippled body.

 Even with everything lost to him, he’s still polite, still as sweet as can be. But the light in his eyes is gone. Lucy fights the urge to hold him tightly and ward off all the demons. The tears prickling at her eyes, she can’t fight.

  He notices it and asks me if I’m okay, throwing in his customary “ma’am” in the process. I lie and say yes, ignoring the pain the word causes. I also tell him we’re about the same age and he doesn’t have to call me “ma’am”. He smiles and apologizes, “Force of habit, miss.”

  Present Lucy looks up from the journal, unable to catch her breath. Is that what the future holds for them?

 Amid all the tribulation she realizes one thing, something the Lucy in the journal must have realized as well. The journal isn’t a curse, it’s not something to fear. It is a weapon. Her greatest weapon against Rittenhouse, her family … anything that ventures into altering her life against her will.

  I will change it. I will find a way to act without resorting to unbridled bloodshed. I’ll find something, someone … I’ll bring them down.

  There’s no doubt in her mind. Fears and uncertainties wouldn’t keep her from delivering him from that fate.

  He’s coming back home.

  *

 Lucy … Lucy.

 She’s slowly brought back by the echo of his voice. Apparently, they are still outside the briefing room back in Mason Industries.

 “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?” He asks.

 “Mmmm,” she hums for an answer, unsure how she’s even able to stand.

 “You read something in the journal, didn’t you?”

 The sudden silence on her part tells him he’s on the right track.

 “Something bad?” He is careful, restrained.

 She looks up at him, nodding coyly.

 “How bad?”

 “Bad.” She hides her face swiftly, bringing it to its former position over his chest.

 Wyatt exhales, figures she would tell him if she so desired. And she would tell him. So he doesn’t push it.

 “I’m sure it’s going to be okay, Lucy,” his tone is soft and reassuring.

 It is going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of it.

 “Hey, you’re dozing off there,” he chuckles quietly, giving her a gentle nudge. “You need some sleep.”

 “Am I not sleeping already?” She manages out barely above a whisper, surprised her body hasn’t shut down on her.

 Wyatt grins. “Come. Let’s get you home.”