#future lyatt

[lyatttrash]

*future lyatt stepping out of the lifeboat*

Future Lucy: Lucy will you please tell him his hair looks sexy pushed back.

Present Lucy: Your hair looks sexy pushed back.

[communicationnskills]

What kind of movie poster crap is this I mean what are you both ? Models !??

I’m in love I’m just in love

[starfiresupernova]

“Well, what are you waiting on?” —> Future!Lyatt

[its-been-you-all-along]

Present Wyatt: So... how is the whole wife situation?

Future Wyatt: Amazing, everything works itself out... never been happier

Present Wyatt: What after everything that happens you’re... well we’re still married to Jessica?!

Future Wyatt: What? Oh no we divorce her ASAP *looks longingly at Future Lucy* second time really is the charm.

[dameronalone]

Future-Lucy is everything Lucy never thought she could be: confidant, lean, unafraid, filled with purpose, and less detail-oriented, better at thinking on her feet - and rocks short hair. Future-Wyatt is more muscular, quieter, more supportive, and less reckless, more think-before-he-leaps - and looks… really good with a beard.

Also, something different Lucy notices is how close future-Lucy-and-Wyatt are. It’s different from the closeness she and her Wyatt were, less so, since Jessica came back. Future-Lucy-and-Wyatt don’t leave each other’s side; future-Lucy-and-Wyatt read each other’s minds; future-Lucy-and-Wyatt practically finish each other’s sentences, and when they look at each other it feels too intimate to be looking at.

What fresh hell are they put through that sends Lucy out looking like Lara Croft - they pop culture reference Rufus would have - should have - made hurts acutely.

“How did you get here?” Was the first question out of Mason’s mouth, and future-Lucy hops down lightly, followed closely by her Wyatt, and then she tosses a thumb over her shoulder.

“Me,” she says, “Jiya taught me.”

Connor looks a little blindsided at her words, then says,

“No, not who flew - how did you get here, I mean - I thought it wasn’t possible-”

“To travel back to a time when you’re alive?” Future-Lucy finishes his sentence, with a slight smirk and a tilted head. “That’s what you thought. That’s what we all thought.” She glanced at Wyatt, and lifted a shoulder. “We proved you wrong.”

Present-Lucy opens her mouth, but she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Neither does her Wyatt, or Jiya, or Flynn, or Denise.

“So…” future-Wyatt begins. “Are we just going to stand here?”

Or get to work? The rest of the question is implied, and unnecessary to say.

Denise lets future-Lucy-and-Wyatt have two rooms next to each other and tells them,

“Our team needs rest. I have a feeling you both do, too. We can talk in the morning.”

So future-Lucy-and-Wyatt share a look, and enter their seperate rooms, and Flynn is the first to leave, then Connor, and Jiya, and Denise, and then it is present-Lucy-and-Wyatt.

“And then there were two,” Wyatt jokes lightly, and Lucy knows neither of them are sure why they still here. She still hasn’t quite processed everything he told her. I love you, Lucy. God. She can’t not love him after everything they have been through. She has always loved him. She just isn’t sure…. she’s scared, to be perfectly honest. She doesn’t want to get hurt again like that.

“I, um, should probably go to sleep,” Lucy mumbles, shuffling away.

“Lucy, wait,” Wyatt says suddenly, and steps forward, wrapping her in a hug, one hand carefully cradling the back of her concussed head. Lucy releases a breath and the tension in her shoulders all at once, leaning into him. They both still had a lot to work through, but she would never refuse a hug; she couldn’t anymore, she didn’t have enough self-control left.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, holding her close, careful and gentle, forehead resting on her shoulder; all the tension in him had dropped out as soon as she relaxed.

“You, too,” Lucy tells him, pulling back, and smoothing out the wrinkled she put in his shirt. She tried to smile, but winced as it tugged on her stitches. “It’s been a long day for everyone.”

She leaves him standing there staring after her.

……

Future-Lucy can’t help a smirk when a quiet tap sounds on her door. She has no doubt who it is - it was pretty laughable when Denise put them in separate rooms. Lucy pulls the door open to see her Wyatt leaning on the doorframe, a similarly amused smile on his bearded face.

“Can you believe Christopher?” He asks somewhat under his breath, as he slips past her. “Putting us in separate rooms?”

Lucy snorts lightly, shutting the door and turning to face him. Wyatt lets his eyes rake down her figure: one of his t-shirts, cotton boy shorts, and bare feet, and he gets a look in his eyes Lucy has grown to love.

So she pops her hip out and lets her eyes rake down him in return: loose cotton t-shirt, plaid boxers, black socks.

“She probably wanted us to actually sleep, Wyatt,” she says, sauntering forward and twisting her fingers in his soft shirt. Wyatt hums, and slids his hands underneath her shirt and up her back, and tilts forward.

“Well, who’s to say we can’t manage that, too?” He asks, breathes, and when Lucy laughs he covers her mouth with his, and her laugh turns into a groan. A quiet part of Lucy's brain tells her they need to lock the door, but the other part, the part pulling Wyatt's shirt off tells her to screw it, the team will find out eventually.

.....

Present-Lucy needs answers. She needs to know something about anything, anything at all. She doesn't know what's allowed, or what isn't but she needs to know whatever future-Lucy can tell her. She hopes the other her is awake - preferably awake and not with future-Wyatt, because she's not sure what future-Lucy-and-Wyatt's relationship is, and also, considering the fact that Lucy can barely resist her Wyatt's charms, she isn't sure how well she could hold up under future-bearded-Wyatt's charms, if he were so inclined.

It's early, early enough that there isn't much natural light coming in, and everyone else is asleep, except for maybe Connor, but Lucy couldn't help, and she'd already been awake to take her painkillers, which had worn off a half hour earlier. 

Lucy makes her way softly through the corridors of the bunkers, stops in front of future-Lucy's door, and hesitates. Should she knock? Go in?

She settles on knocking - no answer. Half expecting the door to be locked, she turns the knob, surprised when it turns, and the door swings open a few inches. 

Future-Lucy is asleep, short hair a tangled mess, bare legs half covered by the sheets, looking closer to Lucy now than she had last night. A half smile tugs at her stiches as she reaches to pull the door shut, accidentally knocking it open, and she freezes.

Future-Wyatt is asleep next to future-Lucy, face tucked against the back of her neck, an arm tucked securely around her waist, hair sticking up in all direction, and no shirt on.

He is more muscular than her Wyatt was, and more scarred, and then Lucy shakes herself out of her stupor. Future-Wyatt is moving, waking up, and Lucy feels like she's intruding, so she backs out, pulling the door shut quickly.

Lucy exhales hard, and leans against the wall. Well. That answered that question.

.....

Future-Wyatt stretches, yawning, and resettles into the warm spot he and his Lucy had made. He pulls her wild hair off her face and neck so he can press kisses to the side of her neck. Lucy yawns and stretches like a cat, rolling over so she can wrap her arms around his neck.

"Mm, morning, babe," she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, scratching lazily at his scalp. She tilts her head back, and squints. "Was somebody in here?"

Wyatt smiles a little, and she can taste it when she kisses him once, unable to help herself.

"Yeah. The other Lucy peeked in, I think she wanted to talk to you, or something. Anyways," he says, with an air of satisfaction, "she knows now."

His Lucy laughs lightly, and wiggles closer, sliding her hands under his arms and tucking her face into the place between his neck and the pillow. They had work to do, but right now she never. wanted. to move.

"Now everyone else does," she say lightly.

Either way, she's not worried about it. She knows they can take it. After all, it's not like they haven't handled worse.

.....

@modernlifehistorian​ @simply-anya​ @lucys-preston​ @chasethesun18​ @leopoldjamesfitz​ @blackcanarydinah​

[modernlifehistorian]

[greenleaf777]

From Abigail’s twitter: Future Lucy. Future Wyatt. I LOVE THIS PHOTO

[nympha-doras]

We Found Wonderland, You and I Got Lost in It

Summary: "They stay silent and frozen on the floor, as they’re suddenly surrounded by the sound of moans, and groans, and skin slapping together. It doesn’t take either of them long to figure out exactly what is going on and between who. It seems their futures selves have a pretty healthy sex life." Lucy attack hugs Wyatt to the floor, as they overhear their future selves. Post season 2. Post saving Rufus.

FFnet / AO3

Post season 2, post saving Rufus.

Two prompts combined, both requested by @the-suriel-deserved-better. For @simply-anya, happy early birthday Wyatt Eyes! 👀❤️

“Wyatt!?” Lucy calls out in question as she enters the common area. Rufus and Jiya are huddled together in the kitchenette, both cradling mugs of tea, matching looks of worry on their faces. Agent Christopher and Mason are hunched over one of the screens up on the platform, also looking rather worried. What’s going on? She makes her way over to the two pilots. “Have either of you seen Wyatt? My- our Wyatt?”

The two look to each other, then over to Christopher and Mason, and finally to Lucy, both looking rather sympathetic. “Ok, what’s going on? Where is he?”

“Lucy…” She turns to see Agent Christopher descend from the platform and make her way over to where she’s stood with Rufus and Jiya. “You may want to sit down for this.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Lucy is frantic by now. They were finally starting to get back to where they were before Rittenhouse blew up the warehouse. The possibilities were in sight again, all she had to do was just reach out and grab them. Now he was… gone? Was it his own choice to leave? Had he been taken? “Where. Is. Wyatt?”

Agent Christopher sighs and takes a step closer to Lucy. “After things had settled down with future you and future Wyatt, I spoke to Jiya. I asked her if she could tell me anything about where Rittenhouse held her before she escaped. With her intel and what we already knew, I-” She is cut off by an angry Jiya.

“She sent him on another suicide mission. We lost all contact with him 15 minutes ago.” She bites out, before slamming her mug down on the counter behind her and storming off. Rufus drains the last of his tea from his mug before setting it down and following after his girlfriend.

Lucy turns to the older woman with unshed tears in her eyes. “You… What?”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.” At least she has the decency to look ashamed. “It didn’t look or sound good before the feed cut off… You might want to prepare yourself for the worst.” Agent Christopher gives Lucy a small, sad smile and reaches out to grab the historian’s shoulder. She grips it reassuringly, before she draws away and makes her way back to where Mason is still stood on the platform, trying desperately to reach their missing soldier.

Lucy stands frozen. He’s gone. He’s…. NO! Stop thinking like that! He’s not gone. He’s not. He promised. She screws her eyes shut tight. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. Her eyes fly open and her head spins faster than it probably should as she hears the siren blare loudly and the hatch screech open, shortly followed by footsteps. She turns and inches closer, the hope rising within her. Agent Christopher and Mason follow behind her, Christopher with her gun drawn - just in case. Rufus and Jiya emerge from the room she is back to sharing with the young pilot.

“You can put your weapon away, Agent Christopher.” A familiar voice drawls. Not the voice any of them want to hear. Flynn steps through the door with his hands raised and comes face to face with four despondent faces. “Well don’t look too excited to see me… What’s going on?”

Rufus and Jiya head back to the privacy of the girls’s room, while Mason and Agent Christopher head back down the corridor to the common area. Lucy turns to Flynn, her unshed tears no longer unshed. She heaves back a sob and shakes her head at the ex-terrorist, before turning and heading to Wyatt and Rufus’ room in the hope that surrounding herself with… him… will help sooth her.

Flynn raises his arms, exasperated. “Is no one going to tell me what’s happened?”

It’s her own fault really. All of this. None of them would be stuck down here if it wasn’t for her, she’s the Rittenhouse royalty. The princess throwing a temper tantrum. If she’d have just accepted her destiny. Accepted everything her mother and her father had offered her, then none of them would be here right now. Plenty of opportunities had shown themselves in those six weeks Rittenhouse had held her captive, but she looked the other way and did everything they had told her to do. The one time she stood up and said enough is enough, Wyatt and Rufus had shown up and stopped her. They’d been her constants throughout all of this - Wyatt more so - she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for either of them… They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. Wyatt would be half way across the world on some other mission, or back at Pendleton waiting for one. Rufus would be at home with his mother and his brother, maybe he’d have even found the courage to ask Jiya out by now. Her mother was right, maybe everything would be better if she’d have been raised as a part of Rittenhouse.

Lucy isn’t sure how much time has passed, how long she’s been curled up on Wyatt’s bed, wearing one of Wyatt’s sweaters, surrounded by Wyatt’s scent. It’s not the comfort she thought it could be. It’s so much worse actually. All it does is remind her of what she wants, but can no longer have. Of what she wants, but doesn’t deserve. She buries her head further into the pillow and lets the tears fall freely.

She must have fallen asleep at some point because as she blinks her eyes open, the first thing she notices is the lack of light seeping in through the port hole like windows that line the top of the wall. Lucy pushes herself up and swings her legs over, so she’s perched on the edge of the bed. She heaves out a sigh and struggles to her feet. I need a drink…

Her steps are slow as she makes her way down the corridor towards the common area, she’s careful to keep quiet lest she wake anyone. Ideally she’d go for the bottle of vodka she has hidden away under her bed - she doesn’t need anyone knowing she’s resorting to alcohol at a time like this, but she can’t go for that bottle without alerting them to just that. One of the bottles of whisky stored in the kitchenette will have to suffice. I can always blame the missing bottle on Mason, if anyone asks… It’s not as if it would be too much of stretch to believe.

Lucy makes it to the cupboard and snatches up a bottle with no incident, but as she makes her way back down the corridor to settle back into Wyatt’s bed, she stops suddenly. The warning sirens blare and the hatch screeches open. She stays frozen as someone descends into the bunker. It could be anyone. They could easily take her out as she just stands frozen like she is. Move! Move your god damn feet and get to safety!

Agent Christopher is the first to appear. She has her gun drawn in front of her as she inches closer to the entrance and puts herself in front of a defenceless Lucy, who’s feet still refuse to move. The others soon emerge from their rooms and crowd behind the two women. Everyone except the future versions of the solider and the historian, who have spent all day and night locked away in their room.

The door creaks as the intruder pushes it open slowly, and much like before, a familiar voice is heard. “Don’t shoot, ma’am. It’s just me. It’s Wyatt.”

Lucy’s breath catches in her throat as the voice registers in her mind. A collective sigh of relief can be heard from everyone else. Agent Christopher lowers her weapon and tucks it away, before moving forward to embrace Wyatt. “Welcome home, Master Sergeant. You’ve had us all worried for sometime.”

“I didn’t think I was going to make it for a second there…” Wyatt chances a glance at Lucy and sees her screw her eyes shut and start to shake her head. “There was some kind of static feedback that kept alerting them to my position so I had to ditch the camera and the mic.”

Agent Christopher nods at him in understanding, before she retreats back to her room. Rufus, Jiya, Mason, and even Flynn, all move forward to greet him. A chorus of “Welcome back”’s and “Glad you’re alright”’s can be heard as Lucy stands frozen in shock. She had begun to do exactly what Agent Christopher had told her to, and begun preparing for the worst. She wasn’t expecting him to come home. She had pictured her life without him stood by her side and it was a life she wasn’t interested in.

Everyone soon shuffles away and leaves the two standing alone in the entrance way. Wyatt looks at her and raises an eyebrow at her. “What? No hug?” Wyatt expects her to launch herself at him like she has done so many times before. He braces himself for an impact that never comes. “You okay, babydoll?”

The nickname gets a small smile out of her, but not much else. Lucy takes a moment to look the soldier over. He’s not wearing the black tactical gear he wore last time, this time dressed in his regular jeans, t-shirt, and military style jacket - she assumes he’s wearing a vest underneath his t-shirt. He wouldn’t be sent in without one… would he? He has a rifle slung over his shoulder and his shoulder strap hanging from his fingers.

Her eyes warily follow the movement of Wyatt’s hands and his arms as he takes the strap from his shoulder, and drops both guns to the floor by his feet. His movements are stiff and he moves awkwardly. She can see the cuts and bruises littering his exposed skin. His injuries must be more than just superficial.

He inches towards her slowly, reaching out to wrap her in his arms. He embraces her tightly, trying and failing to conceal his wince of pain. “Come on.” With an arm still wrapped firmly around her shoulders, Wyatt begins to guide her down the corridor in the direction of his and Rufus’ room.

It’s as they’re passing what was once Flynn’s room - the room that was given to their unexpected, but familiar guests upon their arrival, Flynn now forced to crash on the uncomfortable sofa in the common area - that Lucy does as he had first expected her to. Only this time he isn’t ready for it. He isn’t braced for the impact.

She launches herself at him. Her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders and she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Wyatt feels the force of her embrace weigh down on him, his injuries seemingly worse than he had previously thought. He tries his hardest to hold them up, but they’re falling to the ground before he can register that his legs have given up. They both land with a breathless “Oomph!”.

Wyatt’s eyes are screwed shut tightly as he adds these new bruises to the ones has already. Lucy is sprawled on top of him, her face still pressed tightly into the crook of his neck. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head. “You okay?” The only response he gets is a slight nod. “You going to get up off me? Or…” Again, the only response he gets is the slight movement of her head, this time shaking, no. He sighs and pulls her closer to him. He’ll stay with her on this damn floor all night if that’s what she really wants.

Seconds - possibly minutes or hours, she’s stopped counting - pass before a breathless moan breaks the silence that had enveloped them. Lucy goes rigid in his arms. She’d know that moan anywhere. It came from her own lips.

They stay silent and frozen on the floor, as they’re suddenly surrounded by the sound of moans, and groans, and skin slapping together. It doesn’t take either of them long to figure out exactly what is going on and between who. It seems their futures selves have a pretty healthy sex life.

Lucy shifts her legs so they’re resting either side of his hips, and with her hands on his chest, she pushes herself up. Probably not the best position to be in considering what’s currently happening on the other side of the door behind them. Wyatt slips his arms from where they’re still wrapped around her waist, and brings them down so his hands now rest on her hips, squeezing them tightly. His eyes have darkened and his pupils have dilated. Many times has he dreamt of being in this position underneath Lucy… only this particular situation never crossed his mind in any of those dreams.

“Luce?” Wyatt groans out, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Wyatt…” She sounds just as breathless as her future self does.

Wyatt screws his eyes shut tight and takes a deep breath in an attempt to slow his heart rate, and stop a certain part of his anatomy from making the situation a whole lot more awkward than it already is. It doesn’t help that Lucy begins to squirm above him.

“Lucy, please. Stop moving.” He forces out. He grips her hips harder, knowing that by now he’s likely leaving bruises where his fingers are pushing into her skin.

She does as he asks and stops wriggling in his lap. Only her hands don’t listen to the request, as they slide down his chest towards his belt buckle. Wyatt releases her hips and catches her hands before they can do anything but brush the metal. “Lucy, no. Not here. Not like this.”

Without a word, Lucy pulls her hands from his grasp and stands up, her feet are now planted either side of his hips. She takes a few steps back to allow him room to rise from the floor as well, holding her hands out to help him up. Wyatt stands before her, searching her eyes for any sign that she doesn’t want what they both know is about to happen. When he is confident that she is doubtless about this… about them, he tightens his hold on her hands and together they make their way down the corridor to his room.