Theres a huge whiteboard in your bedroom. He'd be doing research and telling you about it even when you're half asleep.
On your first date he wore a really cool black polo but he hid his goofy white cardigan with deers on it in the car (we'll pretend he has one). So when he dropped you back home, you noticed the sweater in the passenger seat and told him how much you loved it.
He'd braid your hair while you're rehearsing a speech you have to give at work.
Crazy house husband vibes.
He'd always make sure there was a nutritious breakfast for you even though all he'll have before work is a simple black coffee.
So many science tees. Because he thinks they 'argon' make people laugh.
Always does late night grocery shopping because he thinks that's more 'efficient'. (It isn't).
He wore a cropped white tee at home (it ripped off in the laundry) and you've never stopped begging him to wear another one.
Summary: It's Doctor Grace's last night; what's a little stress relief?
A/N: It's finally here! Project Hail Mary has finally landed! Yes, I saw it immediately, yes I cried, yes it was amazing and yes, I've been sitting on this for over a year when it was announced they'd make a movie.
They did a phenomenal job, read the book if you haven't, see the movie if you haven't; neither will disappoint.
You guys know the drill; NSFW 18+ because here, we like it spicy ;)
As always, my darling soul sister, @ken-dom, thank you for the beta read and endless support and reassurance! Although…I still think you’re biased. 🩷
Enjoy my loves!
You’d been doing this gig long enough to recognize when someone who sat down at your bar was having a rough day.
You walked to stand in front of where he sat on the other side of the bar.
“What can I get you?” you asked, draping a towel over your shoulder.
He looked up with a frown and then sighed “Valium?”
You waited to see if he’d crack a smile, and when he didn’t you set an empty glass on the bar top in front of him “How about whiskey?”
He scrunched his nose with a shake of his head
You purse your lips studying him more closely. He was young, late thirties, early forties you’d guess; he was smartly dressed, jeans and a sport coat with a plain t-shirt underneath. A pair of black framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. God he was good looking…
You didn’t make a second suggestion, just pulled the bottle of tequila out of the well and poured into the empty glass in front of him. He glanced up, his blue eyes meeting yours for a brief second before he took the glass and drained it.
You nodded slowly, not really knowing, but understanding. Without a word you poured again and he just muttered “Thanks”
“Sure,” you smiled, moving to turn on your heel before dropping the bottle back in the well.
“Leave the bottle.”
It was a statement, not a question and you sighed shaking your head “Sorry love, can’t, it’s bar policy”
“Stupid policy” he muttered but didn’t bother looking up from the glass between his hands.
“Tell you what,” you leaned across the bar resting your chin in your hands to put yourself at his stool level; he glanced up meeting your eye when you didn’t immediately continue. “So you don’t get fall off your stool drunk in five minutes, I’m going to circle the bar and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, can you wait that long?”
“Do I have a choice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow
“No” you shook your head as you stood back up and went to make your rounds.
***
As you predicted, the bar had pretty well emptied out within ten minutes, everyone but your mystery man had settled up and was starting to file out.
You made your way back over to where he sat; this time pulling up the empty stool next to him instead of standing behind the bar.
“So,” you said, leaning on your elbow against the bar, “You wanna talk about it?”
He scoffed shaking his head
“It’s the astrophage thing isn’t it?” you guessed “That’s got everyone whipped into a frenzy lately”
“You’re joking” he turned to look at you
You shook your head, slightly surprised by his shock. “No, everybody has been wigged since they made the announcement the other night on tv.”
He let out another heavy sigh “Try being told you have to go”
You blinked, genuinely not sure whether you had heard him correctly. “What?”
He simply shrugged “I guess that’s what a love of science will get you, a one way trip to space that might prove to be useless”
You didn’t say anything, just reached over the bar into the well that held the bottles and pulled out the same tequila bottle you’d had earlier; filling the empty glass just over half.
You pulled yourself up off the stool enough to reach over the bar and grab a glass of your own, pouring your own drink.
“Aren’t you still on the clock?” he looked at you sideways.
“You’re Doctor Grace,” you said ignoring his question “Right? Doctor Ryland Grace?”
He just nodded “Yes…”
“I’m sorry…” you muttered
“Who are you?” His brow furrowed “How do you know that?”
“There were a couple of guys in here the other night talking about the middle school science teacher who….” You trailed off with a heavy sigh of your own before you swallowed hard
“Who’s a coward?” He asked
He looked surprised when you shook your head almost immediately “No, who would change the world” you finished
His face softened slightly and you spoke again
“I think what you’re doing is really brave,” you spoke softly.
He scoffed with a laugh draining his glass again before he reached for the bottle himself; his fingers brushed over yours, sending tendrils of electricity through your fingers and up the length of your arm for half a beat before it disappeared making your heart flutter in your chest.
“Brave?” he snorted “Please”
“Yes,” you nodded “Leaving behind your entire life to save a planet you won’t come back to?”
“Did you miss the part where I said it was involuntary?” He asked looking sideways at you
“Maybe you should make the most of it then” you spoke looking at him over the rim of your own glass, hoping the not so subtle hint you were dropping at his feet wasn’t missing its mark.
When he turned his attention back to you, you raised an eyebrow, biting your lip gently as you brought your glass back down to the bar.
He sat in silence almost long enough to make you feel like maybe this had been a bad idea, but then he spoke, his blue eyes fixed firmly on you.
“I leave tomorrow”
“All the more reason…” you said quietly
“I…here?...” he stammered
You shrugged sliding off your stool “The door has a lock” you smirked “But I live upstairs…”
He nodded slowly considering your words as you went to lock the door for the night and turn off the Open sign.
“So what did you-”
You gasped as you turned on your heel, only to be pushed back against the heavy oak door, a pair of toned arms wrapping around your waist, pinning you there. Soft lips sealing over yours with a soft groan.
Once you were able to get your bearings your arms found their way around his neck and you kissed him back with a matched enthusiasm that made your stomach flip.
You pushed off the door, sending him walking backwards blindly through the bar, his arms still firmly locked around your waist; you broke your kiss panting heavily, moaning as his mouth found your neck; you dropped your head against his opposite shoulder as he moaned against your collarbone.
You still had enough sense to glance up long enough to steer him toward the stairs, narrowly avoiding at least three tables on the way.
You pushed him up against the small section of wall next to the staircase, kissing him hard, your tongue tangling with his before you pulled back just enough to look at him.
His face was flushed, his lips kiss swollen and he was panting as hard as you were; your heart slammed against your ribcage as you swallowed hard
“I don’t usually….I don’t want you to think-” you breathed hard struggling to get the words from your brain to your lips “I don’t do this” you finally managed and he shook his head, causing a blond chunk of hair to fall over his forehead, his arousal evident against your hip.
“It’s fine” his voice was thick, not soft like it had been a few minutes ago sitting at the bar “I don’t give a shit” he practically said the words into your mouth as his tongue found its way between your lips as he pushed himself off the wall.
He lifted you off the floor and you followed his lead, wrapping your legs around his waist as he climbed the stairs with a surprising amount of ease.
He reached the landing and you reached behind you for the doorknob before your back thudded against the door, making you moan loudly against his unrelenting lips.
He reached around you, shoving the door open, sending you both careening backwards into your dark apartment, the door banging hard against the wall before he kicked it shut with his foot and it slammed closed.
You pried your lips from his, as you arched your back, his hands sliding up the back of your shirt, warm against your skin as you pushed your chest against him “First door on the left” you breathed against his neck as he pulled your t-shirt over your head and dropping it in his path.
You fell back on your mattress, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, he shrugged it off the rest of the way, dropping it on the floor before pulling his own t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
He braced himself over top of you as you both took half a second to catch your breath and really look at the other since sitting downstairs. His bare arms and chest even more toned than his jacket eluded to.
“I thought science teachers were skinny nerds” you laughed a little, eyes dragging shamelessly over his naked torso.
He shrugged dismissively “Tough prep regime”
You scoffed, reaching up gently to slide his glasses off his face and set them on the nightstand before taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him hard before there were a flurry of hands, tugging at nuisance garments between you until your bedroom floor was littered with clothes and you were writhing in your sheets, arching off the mattress as he tongued your folds, you cried out as he sucked your clit into his warm wet mouth.
Fingers on both of your hands, pushing through his once neatly combed hair as you dug your heels firmly into your mattress.
He moaned between your thighs as you thrust against his face, fucking yourself with his tongue. Your whole body shook with your impending orgasm.You whimpered as his mouth disappeared, but had no time to protest as his mouth crashed against yours, his face wet with your slick as he reached between you, lining himself up with your entrance.
With a quick snap of his hips he buried himself inside you with a deep groan in the back of his throat. You gasped, nails digging into his muscled back as you stretched to accommodate his thick shaft.
Your head lulled on your pillow as his teeth scraped over your throat “Oh my-” you moaned toward the ceiling thrusting your hips to meet his “-God”
He found a rhythm that turned you to jello underneath him; his weight deliciously heavy on top of you.
“Doctor Grace,” you whispered and he moaned against your neck, his hips never stopped moving, your legs locked around his back.
“Ryland” he breathed against your ear, sending a shiver right through your fingertips “Call me Ryland”
The desperate and needy moan that tore itself from the back of your throat was unintentional as his teeth sank into the overheated skin of your collarbone.
“Ryland,” you cried out, loud enough for it to echo off of your bedroom walls. “God-” you gasped “Don’t stop-” you moaned “Ryland p-please”
You could hear the desperation dripping from your voice, but you didn’t care, just clung to him as your body started to shudder.
He thrust harder, your bed shifting under the momentum, causing your headboard to bang in time with his thrusts against the wall.
Your orgasm shot from your core like a coiled spring finally letting go. You opened your eyes just in time to see Ryland’s face contorted in pleasure with one last thrust, one hand reaching to brace himself on the headboard to keep from collapsing on top of you as he came hard enough to make his voice crack with the effort.
You winced slightly as he slid from inside you, before collapsing next to you on the bed, his chest heaving.
“That’s a hell of a bar” he turned to look at you
You laughed reaching to fix a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead “Glad to be of service, Doctor. Grace”
New Discoveries ‧₊˚ੈ Ryland Grace x Fem!Scientist!Reader. proximity crushes / ryland and reader are lowk avoidant but it works / not proofread / yes there will be a part 2 being within the next few days. (nsfw..)
word count: 4.8k
Sixteen days.
It had been sixteen days since a woman named Eva Stratt approached you after one of your astrophysics classes and whisked you away to work for her and use your knowledge to study the Petrova Line halfway across the world. - On a boat. In the middle of the ocean. Called Stratt’s Vat.
Three men dressed in black suits drove you back to your house the moment a small agreement left your mouth. They gave you twenty minutes to gather your things into a suitcase and get back into the car.
They didn’t make conversation either. “So do you guys wear the same outfit everyday? Like a cartoon character?” You asked after an hour of silence. A black divider between the front and back seats rolled up, and the man sat next to you pushed his glasses up further on his nose and looked out the window. “Great. Great. Good to know.”
At least you didn’t have to talk once in the jet. The strange pills wiped you out straight away - which you were grateful for after finding out how long the flight took.
It was windy outside the jet, given you were on an extremely large research vessel in the ocean. You looked around, there was a lot of people and machines and vehicles on the boat. There was a lot of machines on the boat.
A sigh of relief left your lips once you recognised a face, Eva Stratt, walking right towards you.
“Hi.” Your voice waivers a bit, but she brushed off your nerves and gestured for you to follow her.
She’s drinking coffee, you note that immediately. You want some. “How was your flight.” She asks, making eye contact as you walk. “It was fine. Never been on a plane that fast, so can’t complain.” She nods, leading you down a strip of walkway as you approach the building part of the boat.
“You didn’t get sick.”
“I didn’t.” You nod.
“That’s a good sign.”
“A good sign? A good sign of what?”
She opens a door for you, bringing you down a narrow hallway that looks like something from a movie where everyone is going to die, but that’s not far off from what’s happening.
“Integrity. Strength. Determination. You are a good sign in general. Or perhaps you just have a strong stomach.” Your thoughts mute in your head for a moment, you glance at her and she’s already looking at you. She’s enjoying your confusion. “Wha-”
“Afternoon.” She interrupts you as you round a corner, where two men stand guarding a door, which they open. Stratt stands behind you, you glance back. “Your room.” The two men stand to the side, allowing you space to walk through. Your steps are slow, brows furrowed while you stare at one of the men. He doesn’t look away. Interesting.
The room has a lot of people. Too many people. This is not your room. You back up, and Stratt’s behind you again, shaking her head to match yours. “No. No. What’re you do-” “Yes. You are doing this. Come.” You turn back around and it seems like there’s people more this time.
There’s a U-shaped table in the centre of the room, and every seat is filled with people looking at you, there’s more people standing behind them too - also looking at you.
Your heart plummets in your chest at the sight of it. Teaching college students everyday is an easy thing to do when everyone is younger than you and they technically pay for you to talk to them. Standing here in front of adults who are either the same age or older than you is a very different experience.
“This is Doctor Y/n L/n. She is a Professor in astrophysics, and will aid us in our research.” Stratt stands a slight bit in front of you, giving you a chance to look around the room better.
The table has an extremely diverse group of people sat at it, men and women varying in ages with different country flags sat on the desk before them. All with the same type of aura as Stratt about them. They each have a thick book, something similar you’d seen Stratt carry before.
“Dr. Y/n L/n, I hereby grant you top-secret clearance to all information pertaining to Project Hail Mary.”
You pause, and an abrupt silence fills the room. Your mouth opens as if to say something, you close it again to swallow sharply. “I’m sorry, Project what?”
-
The smell of coffee filled your senses - your second cup today after eating breakfast and having a quick briefing with some French government officials. They were quick learners, something you were grateful for after the meeting came to an end earlier than expected. Leaving you a spare twenty minutes to have another trip to the canteen and grab the drink in hand.
You were excited today, an uncommon feeling now that you were aware you and three other people would be sent on a suicide mission to space in order to save the world.
Ryland Grace - a name that filled your ears more and more as each day passed, would finally be brought to the ship and you would get to meet the man face to face. He was intriguing, as you’d been told. A man who was confident in his beliefs and somehow managed to breed astrophage. A top secret piece of information you could not tell anyone until he arrived.
Yes, you were excited to meet him.
The meeting room was filled the same way it was when you were first brought to the mission, the U-shaped table, the serious faces of each representative, however this time it was a small bit busier after some of the younger engineers and scientists arrived. Like you.
You stood near the back against the wall, talking to one of the Australian scientists who filled you in on how Grace had once written a paper about the existence of life without water that cost him his job. It seemed some of the other representatives were just an unaware as you were in this fact, and turned around to talk to you both about it.
Everyone fell silent quickly, and a blond man walked in cluelessly, before realising just how many people were waiting for him and turned back around like you had. He seemed to be talking exasperatedly to Stratt, and looked quite disheveled.
He was gorgeous though.
No. You could not think of him like that. No matter how friendly the other colleagues had gotten with each other.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dr. Ryland Grace from the United States. He figured out how to breed astrophage.” Stratt announced and the representatives did not sound happy. A German man got to his feet harshly. “Are you serious? Stratt was haben sie-?” “Englisch.” She cut him off sharply. A small smile graced your face.
Ryland still seemed very perplexed, and looked around the room bewildered by the situation.
“Doctor, have a seat and lay it out for us.” Stratt asked softly, pulling a chair out for him. He paused, holding his hand up to brace himself. “Hold on.” He began. “Who are these people? Why am I on a Chinese aircraft carrier? And have you ever heard of Skype?”
A huffed laugh left your lips in the noiseless environment. His gaze met yours for a moment, and he seemed almost relieved to see your face. He smiled softly at you, before Stratt interrupted again.
Okay, maybe you could think of him like that.
-
“Did you know the stegosaurus had a brain the size of a walnut despite being as big as a bus?”
“I’m not sure that’s a biology fact.”
“Still a fun one though. And it technically is a biology fact if you think about it.”
Ryland places a spoon on your tray, smiling at you while you look at him with furrowed brows. You reach slowly for a bottle of orange juice, handing it to him while he chuckles at you. A small part of a routine the two of you have been building over the past few weeks.
“Didn’t know I was getting a history lesson too. I must be lucky.” You follow behind him to a table in a hidden corner, a spot you sit in everyday.
“Oh yes, you’re very lucky actually. It’s not everyday I use my knowledge for other people’s benefit.”
“Wow, I wasn’t aware I was so special to you.”
“Very special. There’s a reason it’s you and not Yao I sit with every morning.”
You place a hand to your chest, looking away with a sarcastic bashful expression on your face. “That is not a compliment.” Yao appears from behind Ryland, making you burst out laughing at his timing.
“Ruining my flow here but I’ll allow it.” Ryland mutters and Yao ruffles his hair, a large grin playing his face. Yao smiles fondly at you both, watching as you try and suppress your laughter and Grace drag a hand tirelessly down his face. "Ah, young love."
His words were quiet and mumbled as he walked away, but Ryland heard. Of course he heard, and of course you didn't. You were still laughing away as he tried to stop the heat rising to his face, the tips of his ears were red, but the sheepish smile he had on his mouth distracted you. "What did he say?" You finally asked, taking the first bite of your oatmeal with the spoon Ryland had given you.
He shakes his head and makes use of opening his bottle of orange juice to give him something to do with his hands. "Oh I don't know. Didn't hear." He lied, and he felt his heart stop when you shot him a questioning look at his response.
It took a second before you spoke, swallowing slowly as you watch him look down at his plate feebly. A small habit he had when nervous. A cute habit.
"Are you coming to tonights party?"
Your question was much more easier to answer than he anticipated, even though he still couldn't find the right words for that one. "Jeez I'm not really sure... you know how I get around those guys. I- I mean, it's just not my thing." He trails a hand to the back of his neck, looking at your narrowed eyes.
"Come on. You seriously can't get a drink with me for one night?"
"No, it’s just..." He sighs, making eye contact with you for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Gosh you really were pretty. "Please? Just this once?" You drag out, almost halfway through your meal whereas Ryland has barely had two mouthfuls.
"Fine."
He gives in, and he starts to think maybe he should've said yes sooner with the size of the smile that erupted on your face.
Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and your face practically lights up at his response. DuBois and Ilyukhina have been edging him on each day they see him to join in on the fun, and they won't be surprised it was you who finally got him to crack.
"Really? Oh you won't be disappointed. First drink on me!"
"Well good, I'd certainly hope so after all that begging." He snorts, laughing as you roll your eyes. Shovelling the last mouthful of your breakfast in your mouth, you push your chair out to stand.
"I better get going. Don't want Stratt finding me on the opposite side of the ship as to where I should be again." Ryland nods, holding out an apple he took from his tray.
"Eat more. It's gonna be like four hours before she lets you have a break."
"I’ll be fine, you watched me have one of those on the way here."
"Still."
A shy smile grows on your face once you take the piece of fruit from him and stand up. "Thank you. I'll see you later Ryland."
He waves when you turn your head to him once last time before leaving, and you wave back after he mouthes a silent "Bye." He watches you go through the lenses of his glasses, and he huffs at the now stagnant air around him compared to before when you were still sat with him.
He was hopeless.
On the way to your first meeting of the morning, you trailed mindlessly behind two women from the engineering team. You’d talked to one of them before, Jesse you think her name was, and you couldn’t place the other one. They were talking about tonight’s mixer. You tried not to listen in - but they were like eight feet away from you. How could you not?
You heard some names being mentioned here and there, like “Leclerc” and “Ilyukhina” followed by “Vodka.” Nothing uncommon to hear alongside their names. But then another name caught your attention, an you found yourself picking up your pace slightly to hear better.
“I am so gonna try my luck with Grace tonight. I think he’d have a good head game.” Jesse stated, and your mouth actually opened in shock at her words. The other girl laughed, nudging her slightly. “That’s even if he’s there and you can get him away from that scientist he’s always with.”
You. They’re talking about you. Fantastic.
“Well I’ll just have to snag him away and show him a good time.” She answered, and the two of them started giggling loudly. They suddenly turned a corner, the opposite way you were heading.
Your steps lulled a tad, and your gaze stuck to the floor incase they glanced back at the last second. They didn’t. But you didn’t bother lifting your head.
It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Ryland was more than welcome to go around and have all the fun he wants with other women. But how could you be so naive? You wouldn’t always have Ryland to yourself, and you hadn’t even realised you thought of him like… that. until now.
That’s a lie. You have thought of him like that once or twice. Jesse wasn’t the only to think Grace has good head game.
A door opened infront of you. The door to the room you were meant to be in actually, and you were ripped from your thoughts. Stratt’s face stood before you, a polite smile on her face.
Gross. Gross. Ew. Don’t ever do that again.
-
The communal area was busier that normal tonight, and people were already pretty rowdy. You sat with Ilyukhina and some of her engineering crew, who were drinking a bottle of something strong that you couldn't name while you awaited your little scientist friends arrival.
Ryland said he would be there for 20:00, and it was 19:58 right now. Ryland wasn't the type to flake out - in fact he had never done it before, but christ were your nerves on fire.
You peeled your eyes away from the doorway, and instead watched as Chekhov downed an entire bottle of Smirnoff under his twenty second timer. He was impressive, and you all cheered when he completed it with three seconds to spare. He wrapped his arm around your head and swayed you back and forth as the others chanted his name, the two of you cackling loudly.
Ilyukhina placed her hand around her neck, pulling your body into her side instead of Chekhov’s. All of you cheering as one of the others got up to get a round of shots. Standing in the middle of the doorway, your eyes find a familiar head of unruly hair. Ryland had arrived, right on time too. His eyes skimmed the room before his framed gaze landed on you, and his face lit up as you waved and beckoned for him to come over.
He was barely three steps into the room when a hand caught his arm, and he turned to find a woman he had never seen before. She greeted him with a very loud “Hi.” He grimaced at the sound in his ear, but he sent her a polite smile and greeted her with a quiet “Hello” nonetheless.
Your smile faltered a bit and you turned around immediately, fighting the urge to bite your fist and roll your eyes at her voice halfway across the room.
You tilt your head to Ilyukhina. She was a good talker. She could distract you. If Ryland wasn’t going to come over and stay, then you needed someone else to humour you for the rest of the night. Someone good too.
“You’re Dr. Grace right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He nodded, noticing the way her grip hasn’t loosened on his bicep since he said hello. She watched his eyes flick down to her hand on his arm, and a cheeky smile grew on her lips.
“Are you nervous?” She asked lowly, and Ryland furrowed his brows with utmost confusion on his face. “Nervous? No? What? Why - What’s your name again? I don’t think I heard it.”
She grins, and her hand finally lets go of his arm before it’s stuck out infront of him. “Jesse Wallace. Part of the engineering team.” He takes her hand curtly, shaking it quickly before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Must be why I haven’t seen you then.” His tone is dismissive, and he’s looking around the room in an awkward manner, wondering why the hell you haven't come and swept him away yet.
“Maybe you haven’t looked hard enough.” Her voice is sultry, and not in a good way as he raises his brows and avoids eye contact. “Maybe.” He mutters, looking over to the crowd you’re sat in, staring straight at the back of your head.
Jesse follow his gaze, eyes zeroing in on you as she realises what he keeps looking at. “You two aren’t hooking up? Are you?” Grace’s wide eyes gape open to look at her, choking on his words and scoffing at the same time. “No! No… we’re not.” He stutters out, voice muffled as he looks down to his feet, shifting back and forth on them uncomfortably. “I wish.”
He mumbled the last bit too quickly, but his eyes flick over to you, then to Jesse, then to you again, and then back to her as if you had heard them from across the loud room.
"She seems like one of the only people you talk to. Her and Stratt."
Ryland nearly sneers at her words. "I talk to people. I talk to a lot of people actually, like Yao and Dimitri and Carl and Steve- I doubt you even know Carl and Steve." She giggles at that, a bit too loudly for his liking. "You don't talk to me?" Her question makes him glance at her for a moment, and he purses his lips at the sight of her fake hurt expression.
"This is the first time I've met you." He responds blatantly.
"Well then we should get to know each other better. Maybe we could head to my room?”
He inhales sharply, his hands balled into fists in his pockets begin to grow sweaty. He could’ve screamed at the thought of it. “Well uh I actually told Y/n I’d buy her a drink tonight. So… no. Sorry.”
She looks agitated at his reaction, yet Grace couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. Not when you hadn’t turned around once during their conversation. “I’ll just - um. I’ll see you later.” He winces at the awkwardness, but breathes a breath of relief he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding once he walks away, and internally smiles at the sight of your group coming closer.
“Hey.” He beams, placing a hand on your shoulder, standing behind you and Ilyukhina. “Hi.” You grin up at him.
You can’t tell if you’re feeling butterflies inside your stomach at the fact he chose to come over to you and not Jesse, or if your screaming inside at the fact he took so long to come over in the first place. But he looks really good in that shirt and those enticing little teacher glasses.
“I believe I owe you a drink.” You say in a teasing tone, standing to lead him over to the bar. He follows behind happily, trying not to look at your ass in those jeans, he averts his gaze to the duo doing karaoke - another thing he hasn’t seen until now.
The two of you lean against the bar table, waiting to be served. He gets to look at your face now, a better view than the back of your hair. You have a slight bit more makeup on, a teeny change only he would’ve noticed for how much he stares at you.
“How’s Jesse?”
“Who?”
“Jesse. The woman you were talking to.”
“Oh um. Strange.” He tuts, chuckling at the not so distant memory of her asking to go back to her room.
“Strange? What on earth did she say to freak you out?” A light laugh leaves your mouth as you speak, and he smiles at the sound of it.
Ryland shakes his head dismissively, jutting his lip out while pondering whether to say. “She just -” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck unsure of how to go about it. “She asked me to go back to her room with her and I said no. Then she got all weird and stuff so I walked away.”
Your heart lurches in your chest, feeling your blood rush to your head at the idea of it. “Why didn’t you go to her room? I’m sure she would’ve had a lot of fun with you.” You say in a joking voice, nudging him slightly. Even if the humour was fake.
“Because… I- I like somebody else.”
Your stomach jumps into your throat, and you have to act like you were expecting that. You look around for a bartender, someone to give you both a distraction so your knees don’t buckle on you.
“Oh really? Like who?” You still don’t turn back to him, only gripping the wood of the bar harder.
“Phsh. I don’t know. Maybe someone who actually bothers to talk to me. Someone who eats breakfast and lunch with me everyday.”
You nearly break your neck at how fast you turn to look at him. He looks back at you, then swallows thickly to disguise his burst of boldness. “Someone who makes me go for drinks when I don’t want to. Someone who’s standing right in front of me and hopefully maybe feels the same way.”
The two of you are awfully close now, yet neither of you seem to move. You take a deep breath in through your nose, parting your lips slightly to whisper to him.
doctor's visit (ryland grace x gn!reader)
summary: you find it harder and harder to ignore the cute scientist that always sits next to you during your meetings
wc: 7k
cw: smut! submissive ryland and the glasses stay ON !! MINORS DNI !!
a/n: little nervous about this one :’) why’s ryland’s character so hard to get right?? enjoy!
It took everything in you to squash the laugh that threatened to bubble out of your throat when you beheld the man dubbed the “leading scientist in astrophage”. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the lanky man stumbling out of the jet, nearly falling backwards off the little ladder, wasn’t quite what you pictured. The second his foot touched the concrete landing pad, he hunched over to pick up a small orange traffic cone sitting next to the plane and proceeded to hurl whatever he’d last eaten into it.
Stratt grimaced, fidgeting anxiously next to you to get moving, and gestured for you to follow her once the scientist seemed to gather his bearings enough to stop heaving.
“Doctor Grace, how was your flight?” She asked.
He only replied with a thumbs up. A set of glasses were askew on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t move the orange cone far from his mouth when the two of you neared.
“Doctor Grace, this is Doctor (L/n) who’s here to make sure you’ve made it in one piece before we discuss your findings. Excuse me for a moment.”
As Stratt moved to discuss something with someone on the landing strip a couple of feet away, you took that as your queue to approach the man. He looked pale, watching wearily as you approached with a smile.
“Enjoy the view on the way here, Doctor?”
You wasted no time, moving to find the doctor’s free hand that wasn’t holding the vomit filled cone, to feel for his pulse. It was frantic, pounding against the pad of your fingers but unwavering. He let his hand fall limp in your hold, seemingly out of strength to do much besides stand in place.
“Well… I can’t say I saw much. I was unconscious for most of it. Loved the last bit though, when we’d landed and weren’t in the air anymore. Hey, do you have any water? Some guy gave me a pill and I think it’s still stuck in my throat.”
A smile creeped onto your face. You’d known this man for barely a minute but you could feel that he had a gravitating way about him. Something charming and sweet. Dropping his arm, you nodded to him and gave him the water bottle you’d brought along. You also held out a small white pill. He instantly shook his head.
“Ah, no thank you. Last time I took a pill from a stranger, I woke up on an aircraft carrier.”
“It’s dramamine, Doctor.”
A pause.
Defeat.
“Okay.”
You helped him open the bottle, as one of his hands was still occupied holding his puke cone, and watched as he gulped down mouthfuls of water to chase the dramamine.
“Pulse is strong. How’s your breathing?”
“Uh- fine, I guess?”
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
He adjusted his glasses with his wrist to finally properly fit over the bridge of his nose and blinked. “Two.”
You gave a firm pat to his back, which he groaned at. “Welcome aboard, Doctor Grace!”
-
While your first meeting was brief, that was not the last time you saw Doctor Ryland Grace. After he finally found his sea legs, he became a regular presence at every meeting in regards to Project Hail Mary.
You weren’t invited to many meetings, only joining when the meetings were about the health of the crew during their journey to Tau Ceti. The robot being constructed to care for the comatose astronauts was an impressive piece of technology unlike anything built before but it needed to be programmed perfectly to ensure the crew’s safety. If it went wrong- the crew would die and so would the rest of Earth.
That’s why you were brought aboard, to help bring up any possible problem that could happen with the crew on their trip and how the robot would handle it. You worked closely with a slew of other doctors, each of you bringing your own experience to the table.
As a Doctor specializing in neurology, your input was crucial. Being in a coma for several years was not ideal and could do some irreparable harm to the brain, which you disclosed as such in your meetings. It was an intricate dance, trying to solve the multitude of potential problems that came up with so many people with differing opinions
They also occasionally had you stationed as an on-call doctor when you weren’t discussing the mission, setting you up in the medical wing of the giant aircraft carrier to handle any ailments of the crew. You didn’t mind the busy work, it gave you something to do when you weren’t in the lab helping with the robot or fighting with a room full of scholars.
The first time Doctor Grace showed up to one of the medical meetings, he was 15 minutes late.
Stratt gave him a look that exuded annoyance as he scrambled to sit in the only empty chair at the table, which happened to be between you and the most powerful woman in the world.
“Sorry everybody,” he waved quickly in apology with an awkward laugh and dumped a folder of papers on the table. The room was dead silent. “This place is a maze! I got lost somewhere on deck C I think. They should really put up some signs.”
If Stratt wasn’t five feet away, you would’ve giggled. There were signs all over the ship. In several languages.
A cardiologist from Brazil tapped his pen against the metal table in agitation. “As I was saying…”
While the conversation buzzed on, discussing circulation and muscular atrophy that would arise from the crew's prone state for several years, you felt a shoe knock into yours. Turning your eyes away from the table, you were surprised to find Doctor Grace looking at you.
“Do you have an extra pen?” He whispered, not very quietly. He was leaning towards you like you were swapping secrets. The soft fabric of his quarter zip brushed against your arm.
Getting some glares from those sitting closest to you, you only nodded back and slipped an extra pen out of the spiral of your notebook.
“Thank you. Hey, you’re that doctor that checked up on me on my first day here, right? Thanks for that, by the way, the pill really helped. I nearly filled up that cone first though, that was a little embarrassing.”
He laughed, another awkward chuckle that had you glancing sidelong at him.
Someone who used humor when they were uncomfortable, it seemed.
Taking a quick look around the room to make sure no one was watching, you leant towards him, bringing your heads closer together. He startled back a bit but didn’t pull completely away.
“When I first got here, I got so seasick I accidentally puked all over my tour guide’s shoes. At least you made it to a cone.” You whispered, smiling at the memory.
Doctor Grace looked at you in shock, eyebrows raising into his hairline. “Really?!” He was really bad at whispering.
“Doctors, do you have an idea you’d like to share with the room?” The leading creator of the nurse robot, Doctor Lamai, peered at your hunched forms.
Jerking away from each other, Doctor Grace and yourself didn’t talk for the rest of the meeting but you had to fight a smile when he slipped you a folded note that just had a crude drawing of a puking face.
-
Any meeting that you attended after that, Ryland- as he’d asked you to call him- would find his place next to you. After learning how tough of a crowd most of the medical crew was, the two of you didn’t talk during the discussions again. But you did start passing notes like a couple of school children.
-
Did you know that the brain is a human’s fattiest organ? -R
Yes -(Y/n)
Really? -R
I’m a neurologist, Ryland. The brain is my job -(Y/n)
Oh yeah -R
Did you know that a human brain produces enough energy to power a small lightbulb? -R
-
This robot is basically like that big marshmallow doctor robot in that one movie -R
Baymax? -(Y/n)
Yeah that sounds right -R
Ours probably won’t be as cute as Baymax is -(Y/n)
Probably not. Maybe we should suggest something to make it cuter. Paint it in pink glitter and give it some eyes -R
Somehow I think that’ll make it even scarier than it already is. Go back to the drawing board -(Y/n)
-
I saw a bird today -R
What kind of bird? -(Y/n)
Seagull -R
Well, we are out at sea -(Y/n)
It’s a little too far out in the ocean to be seeing birds, don’t you think? They get tired -R
Maybe it was a stowaway? -(Y/n)
Poor guy :( -R
-
You learned a lot about Ryland over the next several weeks.
Ryland was full of fun facts and interesting thoughts. He’d barrage you with them any chance he had, and you would listen. While medical facts were mostly common knowledge to you, fun facts about anything else was always a pleasant conversation starter.
He taught you everything there is to know about astrophage and how it works, once even letting you visit him in his little personal lab to see the little microorganisms yourself. He’d carefully prepared a slide for you, making sure the focus was perfect before stepping back to let you peer into the microscope. When you started barraging him with questions, he was more than excited to answer- leading you around his mini lab with a hand on your back.
You learned that he has a mild shellfish allergy. A rather unfortunate finding. He spent a couple of hours in the medical wing laying on a cot, popping benadryl like candy and breaking out in hives after some cross-contamination with shrimp in the cafeteria kitchen.
His favorite animal is a fox and he has a surprising collection of fox related things to prove it.
He was a molecular biologist, now turned loud-and-proud middle school science teacher. He loves his students dearly and spent the greater part of several years revolving his life around their education.
He rarely ever swears. At least, not the actual words, but their modified, kid-friendly versions. He’d have teachers knocking down his apartment door if he swore in front of his class, unintentionally expanding their vocabulary.
When he was trying really hard not to laugh, he’d make this tiny snorting noise that sounds an awful lot like a spray bottle.
He doesn’t know how to use chopsticks. Not the right way, at least.
He has no immediate family, no pets and no partners.
He was an enigma really; someone that felt so out of place on this ship. Ryland felt too… normal to be here. Not in a negative way, just a… he-should’ve-never-been-dragged-into-this kind of way. He was too warm compared to most everyone else here. The aircraft carrier was bursting at the seams with cold government officials and specialists in every science or space related subject to ever exist. Many were too professional, too self absorbed to realize they had a stick up their ass.
Ryland was a breath of fresh air and you felt increasingly drawn to him every time you interacted.
It also didn’t hurt that he was attractive. Like… insanely attractive. His hair was perfectly messy every single day. He wore his glasses in such a way that you’d never seen anyone wear glasses before, hanging off one ear when he wasn’t using them. A near constant 5 o’clock shadow was always gracing his face. Despite his clothing choices which some around you found unprofessional, he pulled off everything he wore. His fox cardigan, his yellow rain coat, his cringy science-pun t-shirts. It shouldn’t, but it made him that much more alluring and it was getting harder and harder for you not to make a move.
You were friends- acquaintances at the least- but he’d never shown any interest. At least not that you’d seen. He was awkward sometimes but he was awkward with everyone. You didn’t want to make things weird, so you stuffed those feelings deep and filed them away for later. Plus, he was technically higher ranking than you in the Hail Mary hierarchy. He was Stratt’s right hand man. Maybe he didn’t want to ‘pull rank’.
These sorts of thoughts kept you up at night while you tried to ignore the sounds of the 3 other medical staff sleeping around you in your shared bunk. He wouldn’t get out of your head and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore that tightening string in your gut.
-
On Friday nights, the room on the ship that served as the social meeting place for many of the crew, equipped with a bar, was packed to the gills. You usually dropped by to say hi to the couple of coworkers and other doctors that you were friendly with but never staying for long. You just didn’t know anyone well enough to want to stay and chat. At least you didn’t… until one particular Friday night.
The hunched form at the bar clad in that unmistakable fox cardigan caught your eye almost immediately. He was hard to miss.
This was the first time you’d seen Ryland here. You weren’t sure why he never came, but he was the one person on his whole ship you’d actually consider sharing a drink with.
Immediately making a bee-line for the bar, you saw that the doctor was flipping through several sheets of paper, head in his hand as he read. The people surrounding him at the counter were making light conversation, enjoying a beer and enjoying their Friday night.
Ryland was working.
“Y’know this room is supposed to be a reprieve from work, not somewhere you bring your work to, right?”
The blonde looked up in surprise as you squeezed to stand in the small empty space between him and the guy sitting on the barstool next to him. It was a tight fit, and Ryland immediately shuffled over an inch in his seat to give you some more room.
Or to avoid touching you, which didn’t sit right in your stomach.
His glasses were near falling off his nose. He looked tired.
“I know but I couldn't sleep so I decided to come here. I brought some homework because I needed something to keep my mind busy and so I don’t look like a total loser sitting here by myself. Is it working?”
“Well,” you hummed. “I don’t think you’re a loser but I might be a little biased.”
He smiled, twirling a pen between his long fingers over the papers. You nodded over to where a karaoke machine sat and the 3 Hail Mary crewmates sat with their extra counterparts. “Why don't you go join them? You know them well enough, right? You’re working with them all the time.”
Ryland shifted in his seat to look over his shoulder. His knee pressed against your thigh which made it extremely hard to focus on his answer.
“No, I don’t think I really fit in with their crowd.”
“Why not?”
“They’re brave. Strong. Sometimes I don't even know why I'm here to be honest. Why Stratt dragged me here. A humble middle school science teacher.” He laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a genuine one.
Your heart squeezed into a knot for this man who’d been uprooted from his comfortable life as a teacher and thrown into this madness without his consent just like many others. He felt unsure about his place here and besides Stratt who had him on a leash, he had no one, it seemed.
Besides you, you hoped.
You prayed he enjoyed your company enough to feel a little less alone.
“Well,” you leant back against the bar to properly look at him. He looked up at you over the golden frames of his glasses. “I’d say you have every right to be here. You discovered how to kill an astrophage and see what it's made of. You discovered how they breed and now we have the means to create a powerful fuel for the mission that will save humanity. All important things we might not have right now without you.”
Ryland huffed and drew a little circle on his paper. “I’m sure someone would’ve thought to poke an astrophage with a stick eventually. And learning how they breed didn’t take too much thinking either, surely someone would’ve-”
“You can't spend your whole life focusing on the ‘what if’s’, Ryland. We're here now thanks to you, whether you wanna see it that way or not.”
Finally, a real smile split his face and he nodded slowly. You couldn’t tell if he’d accepted your words as truth or not, but they at least lifted his spirits a little. Plus, a tiny bit of red painted his ears.
“Thanks, (Y/n). Can I… buy you a drink?”
Your stomach fluttered. “Yes, as long as it’s not anything too hard. I’ve got a shift tomorrow.”
He nodded quickly and signalled for the bartender. “Two beers please.”
Bottles in hand, you continued to lounge against the counter next to him, nursing the beverage and making small talk. He’d offered his seat to you but you refused.
Looking out over the crowd, you spotted two individuals huddled together in the dim corner of the room. Ryland noticed your gaze and turned to look too. When he beheld the two scientists tangled together, he shook his head and turned back to you with a raised brow.
“I think DuBois and Shapiro are hooking up.”
“Seems that way.”
“Dont you think it’s a little crazy? I mean, he’s going to be trucked off into space soon and she’ll be left here. What's the point in hooking up when it'll only end in tragedy? You’re just asking for heartbreak.” He shook his head, fiddling with the plastic label of his beer.
You shrugged. “I don't see any harm in it. Sure it’ll hurt eventually but why not live in the moment? Humans yearn for connection, it makes sense they’d want to have some sense of normalcy before the end of the world. It's probably nice to forget about the apocalypse and enjoy someone's company for a while, take your mind off the doom and gloom.”
Ryland was quiet after that, suddenly turning anxious if his ducked head was any indication. Had you said something wrong? You drained the rest of your beer.
“Is that something you find yourself doing?” He asked quietly, feigning nonchalance but his foot was bouncing erratically against the bar stool.
Nervous.
A smile began to creep onto your face. “Not currently.”
His foot stopped.
Relief.
“But… if the right person came along I wouldn’t be opposed.”
His hand squeezed the bottle and his shoulders drooped.
Disappointment.
“Oh… haven’t found the right one yet?” He picked up his head with a painfully fake smile and a nod, looking around the room like he was helping you scout the place. “Lots of interesting people on this ship. A pilot would be cool, huh?”
“Yeah but they’re a bit too cocky for my taste.”
He tapped his finger against his stacks of paper. “Okay, what about… another doctor? Or one of the government officials?”
You grimaced and he cringed back. “Right, no doctors or government workers. If not them, then… what are you looking for?”
Ryland’s eyes were searching yours for a glimpse, a hint of what you might be feeling.
With the tiniest bit of liquid courage running through your veins, you tapped your beer bottle against your leg and lightly began playing with the sleeve of his fox cardigan. He became impossibly still.
“Someone real. Down to earth. Not afraid to be themselves… a nice smile and a pretty face sure helps too.”
The doctor gulped and you reveled in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing in the soft light of the room. He inclined his head once, fingers twitching against the bar. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.” He whispered.
Neither of you broke the heated eye contact until the man you were standing next to fell back in laugher and knocked you off your balance. You were able to recover quickly, but not before pressing even closer to the scientist and nearly falling into his lap. His hand had immediately planted onto your hip in an attempt to keep you steady. Being this close, you could feel the breath from his nose on yours. Your heart was pounding.
The room grew in volume as people flocked to gather around the karaoke machine that was playing a song you couldn’t even bother to name. Not while Ryland held all of your attention.
While his chest heaved, you slowly moved to stand properly on your own two feet but holding his gaze. You took the hem of his cardigan in your hand. It was so soft.
“Want to go for a walk?” You asked quietly, glancing at his stack of papers that were forgotten about long ago.
Ryland said nothing but started brushing his work into a haphazard pile good enough to hold in one arm and stood up. Standing at his full height, you were reminded again how tall the man was. When he offered his hand as a silent question, an inquiry to make sure he wasn’t reading anything wrong, you didn’t hesitate to take it. No one batted an eye at the two of you as you led him through the crowd and out into the silent metal hallways beyond.
-
Ryland could not unlock the door to his room fast enough.
He only had one key to his name while on the ship, you’d think it would be pretty easy to manage. In theory it was, but when his nerves were blasting through the roof and you were fiddling with the belt loop on the back of his pants, he got a little distracted.
You giggled as the scientist finally fished his key out of his pocket and proceeded to drop it on the floor with a clink.
“Sorry,” he strained, scooping it up from the floor and finally fumbling with the lock.
Once the door swung open and the two of you stepped inside, you did a quick observation of the room. It was extremely small, barely enough room for one person, let alone two. There was just enough space for a twin bed and a small desk attached to the wall. Rylands’s belongings were strewn everywhere there was space. While it was cramped, there was something he had in his room that you didn’t.
A window.
A tiny circular porthole- so small you couldn’t fit your head through it if it was able to open- but a window nonetheless. Your room was deep in the middle of the ship so no windows for you. As it was around midnight, there was nothing but inky blackness on the other side but you wondered what it would look like when it was daytime and the ocean was blue. For now, the soft glow of a tiny lamp kept the room illuminated.
“Oh god- don’t mind the mess. I don’t get many visitors.” He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, brushing some discarded clothes aside with his shoe. “But to be fair, it’s impossible to keep a room this small clean. I mean, no dresser, no closet. I’m not 100% sure but I think this used to be a storage-“
You liked to think you knew Ryland pretty well now, and knew when he was about to spiral into a rambling fit. He was especially prone when he was anxious. As much as you loved to hear him talk, now wasn’t the time.
When you took a step forward and fisted the lapels of his cardigan in your hands, his words died immediately.
When your hands tugged his body down and your lips slotted against his, his whole body froze up.
You didn’t push beyond a couple of seconds before pulling away a hair- keeping him close but giving him the room to decide if he wanted to stop or come back for more. For all you knew, he was just bringing you back to his room to show you his collection of fox things. Through lidded eyes, you watched as his eyelashes fluttered, dazing down at you in shock.
Suddenly worried that maybe you had indeed read things wrong, you began to ease up your grip on his collar. When his hands shot up to keep your head in place, cradling your jaw in his large palms and returned the kiss with eagerness, you smiled against him.
Months of brushing around each other snapped.
Your mouths were tangled in a heated dance- his body moving closer and pressing yours against the door, like he was trying to melt into you. He still had his glasses on, which meant you were being a little cautious of how close you pressed your face into his. You didn’t want to stab your eye on the rims, what a mood breaker that would be. But you didn’t want to ask him to take them off. In fact, you wanted to beg him to keep them on.
When his hands dropped to your waist to pull your hips together, you wound your arms around his neck, your hands immediately finding the back of his head- finally able to feel the mussed hair that snagged your attention day after day.
It was extremely soft, just as you’d imagined. Perfect, just like the rest of him.
Time blurred and you weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, tasting each other like you were starving. Eventually, you decided it was much too hot in the tiny room and you were both wearing way too much clothing.
Dragging your hands from his hair to trail down the strong column of his neck, you dipped your hands into his cardigan, sliding your fingers over his shoulders and pushing the cream knitwear off in the process.
He shivered under your touch, when your fingers glanced over his biceps as the cardigan fell to his elbows. His hands let go of your waist to allow the fabric to fall to the floor in a pile. When his hands returned, they planted themselves on the door next to your waist.
It wasn’t to tower over you, or to trap you against him. No, it was because he needed something to keep him upright or he was at risk of squishing you entirely against the metal.
You broke the kiss with a soft gasp, chest heaving against his where his shirt stretched over the muscle.
You’d never seen Ryland without something thrown over the top of a t-shirt- always wearing some type of jacket or lab coat or something. Now that he was without one, your hands mapped over his arms and shoulders.
As he busied himself with your neck, gently nosing at the soft spot just behind your ear, you swore.
“Shit, Ryland. What are they feeding you in the cafeteria? Protein powder?”
He laughed against your skin, dipping his lips down to your shoulder. His scruff tickled and the metal of his glasses were ice cold compared to your heated skin. “No. I just… go to the gym sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Mhm-“ he choked on his affirmation when you slid your hands up his abdomen to feel underneath his shirt. The muscle was warm and fluttered against your fingers.
“Can I see what else you’ve been hiding under all these layers?”
Clothes were shed in a record amount of time, save for the couple of extra seconds Ryland took to take off his pants because he almost tripped over his own feet. He did seem to hesitate when he got to his boxers, fiddling with the hem, but when you hooked your fingers into the elastic, he let the fabric fall.
Once every part of you was exposed to the chill, circulated air, Ryland began chasing your mouth again but stopped with a grunt when you pushed him back onto his bed.
The look on his face was priceless, enough so that you laughed as you knelt on the hard mattress and swung a leg over his hips to straddle him. If Ryland had been red before, it was nothing compared to the color of his face now. His eyes glanced over your body, appreciating but not lingering out of nervousness as he stammered.
“You want to-?”
Straightening his glasses on his face to fit properly, you nodded. “Is this ok?”
“Yes! Yes- I’ve just never… my ex was more traditional I guess so we never… She always liked me to be on top.” He let out a breathy laugh and a shy smile.
Everything about this man was so endearing.
“As fun as that sounds, I want to try this first. I can see you better this way.”
Another audible hitch in his breath as he nodded. “Okay.”
His large palms found purchase on your thighs and he sighed blissfully through his nose when you bent forward to kiss along his jaw. It feathered under your lips and he tilted his head back to happily give you more surface area to work with.
When you finally ground your hips down onto him, he bucked under the pressure. A completely unintentional gesture that had him apologizing. You chased that response, rhythmically moving your pelvis in tandem with his.
Ryland whimpered.
You’d be damned if you didn’t try to get him to make that sound a hundred times more before morning.
You spent several minutes exploring his neck with your tongue while keeping a firm pressure with your hips, gently swaying in circles against him. You found a spot right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder that had him moaning. By the time you eased up, red marks bloomed along his throat and Ryland was already breathless. Chest heaving against your palms, he looked heavily up at you through those glasses of his and gave you a shy, lopsided grin.
“That was nice.”
You raised a brow. “I’m gonna have to work harder if all I get is a ‘that was nice’, Ry.”
His smile dropped. “No! That’s not what I meant- I just… I’m gonna be honest it’s been a while since I’ve…” his voice quieted, letting you fill in the blanks.
You knew he had an ex- he’d brought her up occasionally in your conversations when the moment called for it- but you didn’t know how long ago that had been. If you had to guess, it was probably before he became a teacher. Which if what he was saying was true… then he’d hadn’t been with anyone since then and had gone several years without being intimate with anyone (besides himself, anyway).
Ryland took your momentary pause as a bad sign.
“Not that I haven’t wanted to! I’ve just been really busy. Teacher stuff. Grading. Lesson planning. And with a teacher’s salary on top of crippling student loan debt? Fancy restaurants can be a little too steep. Even fast food restaurants these days are getting expensive. I don’t even have a car! I bike to work! Can’t even afford a coffee date some months.”
Another rambling tangent. One of his pointer fingers tapped erratically at your thigh.
“Well, you’re in luck Ryland,” you state, pressing a hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat, just like you had when you first met. Just like before, it was pounding but for a whole different reason this time. “I don’t think there’s any high-end restaurants on this aircraft carrier so I don’t need any of that fancy treatment. What if we have cafeteria oatmeal and orange juice on the flight deck together tomorrow morning instead?”
He was nodding before you’d even finished your sentence. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Good,” you smile, raising yourself up to kneel properly over him.
His neck bobbed when you finally took him in your hand. He was warm and firm, the perfect length and size without being too much.
You felt him resist the urge to buck into your fist, instead throwing his head back against the mattress with a groan, tightly squeezing your thighs with his hands to ground himself. He was already leaking into your palm within a couple pumps.
“I-I don’t know how long I’ll be able to-“
“We’ve got all night, Ry, don’t worry.”
He nodded, comforted by your words. He was soft as silk and overly sensitive, it seemed. With the help of your hand, the scientist came quickly, just as he feared he would, painting his abdomen white. You shushed him before he could even think about apologizing.
One positive thing about him going so long without intimacy meant his refractory period was minuscule. He was hard again in minutes, which he’d blushed about.
When you finally sank onto him, moving slowly both for yourself and Ryland’s sake, all thoughts left your mind besides the ones that revolved around the man underneath you. You didn’t care about the dying sun, or Project Hail Mary, or your job. By his expression, Ryland was feeling the same.
His hands were surely leaving bruises on your thighs but you didn’t care one bit. Not when your bodies fit together beautifully. Fully seated, hips locked, you could’ve cried at how he felt inside you. He was just the right size, brushing every spot he needed to and then some without being too overwhelming.
When you began to move, Ryland helped where he could- offering your body stability and putting those muscled arms of his to good use. The veins on his forearms were bulging and the tendons in his neck were prominent against his skin.
You didn’t know how soundproof the metal boxes the higher-ups deemed bedrooms were, but you doubted they would do a good job of masking any of the noises the two of you were making. Ryland was keeping quiet as much as he could manage, teeth grinding. You were a little less reserved, gasping and groaning as you bounced. Let his neighbors hear, you didn’t care. Not when you finally got your chance with the scientist you’d been eyeing since the moment he stepped out of that jet.
Just like he was perfect for you, you could tell you were providing enough relief for him in return because you could feel his thighs began to quake.
When he bucked up into you again, unable to resist, your hold on that string deep in your gut snapped and you saw white. Feeling you finish brought Ryland to the edge too. He was just barely able to find the strength to lift your body high enough to pull out before he came.
The next several seconds were spent breathing in tandem. Ryland was watching you like you hung the stars in the sky. With all of the movement, his glasses had skewed again. Huffing a laugh, you bent forward to straighten them and then pressed a long lingering kiss to his lips. You felt his fingers glide up your ribs then wander to your spine, pressing your chest tightly to his.
His glasses were foggy by the time you pulled away, your shared breath heating the lenses.
“You ok?” You asked, brushing a thumb over the dusting of facial hair along his jaw. He nodded into your palm.
“More than ok.”
-
You woke up to snoring.
Not the loud, reverberating kind, but a soft and soothing hum that blended perfectly with the constant moans and groans of the ship you’d become so accustomed to.
Blinking open your eyes, you stared at the metal ceiling. It took several seconds to remember where you were. For a moment, you assumed you were in your room but when tiny glimpses of sunlight danced over the walls and when a hand twitched lightly against your waist, the memory of last night came rushing back.
The bar, your conversation with the scientist, and then-
A soft smile erupted across your cheeks as they warmed. Ever so slowly lifting your hand, you brushed your fingers through the head of hair that was tucked into your neck.
Indeed, Doctor Ryland Grace was laying by your side, pressed impossibly close to your body due to the cramped nature of his bed, and blissfully asleep.
All feelings of hesitancy and shyness he’d had hours earlier were gone as he slept, the doctor partially draped over you- an arm slung over your waist, a leg thrown over one of yours and tucked between your thighs. He was snoring against your neck where his face was pressed. You were pretty sure he was drooling. His feathered hair was soft against your fingers, even more unkempt than usual.
You could’ve stayed like that for hours, warm and comfortable even in the pathetic excuse for a bed.
Several minutes passed before he began waking up, stirred by the gentle pass of your fingers along the short hair at the nape of his neck. He moved around slightly but didn’t move to pull away from your side.
He sighed against your skin, the fluttering of his eyelashes against your throat telling you he’d finally opened his eyes.
“Good morning,” you said quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful tranquility of the room that was rare to find on the bustling carrier.
You felt him blink a couple times before he responded, a smile sounding on his lips. “Morning.”
God, his voice was perfect- a rough, deep baritone thanks to hours of sleep. It had you turning your head towards him, pressing your lips to his hairline. You couldn’t see his face, but the stretch of stubble across your throat told you he’d smiled even more.
Several minutes went by in companionable silence, neither of you wanting to pull away. His fingers brushed lazily against your waist and yours didn’t stop thumbing through his hair.
You wondered after a while if he’d fallen back asleep before he mumbled a question. “What time is it?”
Peering over his head, you squinted at the small digital clock that sat on the tiny built-in desk.
“8:58.”
A pause.
Then panic.
Ryland shot upwards, unsticking himself from your body and scrambling out of the bed in a flurry of limbs and movement.
“Shhhhhiitake mushrooms!”
You watched from the bed, lightly amused as you watched him stumble around the cramped space in a frantic search for clothing. Lord above, he looked just as good from the back as he did the front.
“Something wrong?”
“I was supposed to go with Stratt to a crew meeting an hour ago.” He threw his legs into a pair of boxer briefs (which you were pretty certain were on backwards but he didn’t seem to notice or care), followed by a pair of jeans. “Kinda surprised she hasn’t barged in here already to get me up, actually i’m. She’s done it before.”
You just hummed, watching him slug a blue button up across his shoulders and struggle with the buttons. He threw a glare at you that had no fire behind it. “Will you show at least a little sympathy? She could probably throw me into the ship’s jail for this.” He missed a button at the top of his shirt, which meant the whole shirt was now fastened lopsided. He didn’t seem to notice that either.
“I’m not going to complain that we got an extra hour or two of sleep together.”
His cheeks bloomed. There’s that shyness. He didn’t fight your statement, instead busying himself with tugging a beanie over his bedhead. When he sat on the mattress next to you to start putting socks and shoes on, he searched the room with squinted eyes.
“Do y’know where my-“
You held out his glasses. At some point last night, you’d relieved him of the spectacles for his own comfort (and so you could kiss him as senseless as you wanted to) and carefully placed them under the bed where they’d be safe from being squished.
“Thank you.”
Looking a little less than put together, he started collecting the notepads and folders stuffed with papers on the small desk, gathering everything into his arms.
“Uh- well, we missed breakfast so how about we meet up for lunch? Or dinner? Or breakfast tomorrow? Or we don’t have to do anything together at all if you don’t want to. Totally your call, really.” He kept his gaze down at the papers, avoiding your gaze. You smiled.
“Well, I start my shift in an hour and can’t leave the medical wing until I’m relieved.”
His shoulders dropped a little.
“But… there’s no rules against having visitors.”
Ryland looked at you over the rims of his glasses, starting to smile himself. “Yeah? Ok! Yeah, I’ll- Do you have a preference for lunch? I’ll bring you something. Or I can get you a little bit of everything from the cafeteria? Do they allow that?”
You sat up with a laugh, holding the thin bedsheets against your chest to keep the last little bit of warmth from him against you. “I’ll get the same thing you’re having. I’m not picky.”
The doctor nodded to himself, shuffling toward the door with large strides. Twisting the handle, the door opened barely an inch before he doubled back like he forgot something. You expected him to search for something else he needed, not expecting him to rush over and press a fast kiss to your lips. It was your turn to blush.
“Right! Ok, I’ll get us something good. See you in a little bit! And lock the door on your way out, will you? Thanks!”
With his goodbye, he rushed out of the room, gently shut the door and began racing away. You heard his pounding footsteps reverberate the walls as he ran down the hall.
His room was too quiet now that he was gone, only the sounds of the ship keeping you company.
It took you several minutes to shake out of your star-struck stupor.
When the blonde showed up in your quiet office in the medical wing at 12pm sharp, precariously balancing two to-go boxes stuffed full with cafeteria food and harboring a broad smile, you quickly realized how much Doctor Ryland Grace already had you wrapped around his finger.
a/n: ryland grace: the people’s pillow princess. thank you for reading!
summary: ryland grace may be able to carry the weight of the world, but not without breaking somewhere. Luckily, he has someone who knows exactly how to bring him back.
warnings: 18+ smut, oral f receiving, p in v, submissive ryland!!, ryland has a hair pulling kink lowkey, needy! ryland, overworked! ryland, slight angst, soft ending, gentle and emotional smut, pornwith plot
The sound of the clock was impossible to ignore that night.
Now, that’s not to say it was big. Objectively, it was small. An old white thing that had come from Ryland’s first flat, now sitting proudly above the kitchen door. It was cheap plastic and most definitely second-hand, offering a loud click as the seconds crept on. Each landing deliberately as it reminded you what you were trying so hard not to measure.
You checked it again.
22:47.
You exhaled through your nose, lips pressing together as you tried to soothe the ache in your stomach that had been pushing harder and harder as the weeks went on.
The flat was warmer tonight, blame it on the oven being on for too long and the windows not being open enough. The smell of roasted garlic still permeated the air, softened now that dinner was technically over. It now sat on the counter, carefully packed into mismatched Tupperware containers. It had once been plated, earlier, when you thought he’d be home by eight.
You’d even lit a candle. You were optimistic.
The flame had travelled halfway down the wick, the wax pooling unevenly along one side, before you decided to blow it out.
He wasn’t coming back.
You pulled your knees a little closer to your chest, where you sat curled into the corner of the sofa, a blanket half draped over your legs. The TV was on as it flickered a shifting light across the room. Something mindless played on the screen, not that you were actually watching; you zoned out around an hour ago.
You just wanted some noise at this point, or rather, the absence of silence.
There is a brief war in your mind as you debate whether to put the Tupperware away. It was still sitting on the counter. You decide that it is probably for the best to move from your sanctuary on the sofa, stretch your legs and whatnot.
You wander over to the kitchen, socks shuffling across the floor as you reach for the plastic containers to put away.
He may not be here, but there are traces of him everywhere.
It’s what makes you so worried about him.
You turn towards the fridge—it was the first thing anyone noticed when they walked in. Not because it was particularly nice, but because it was covered.
Layered in magnets and paper and colour. Crayon drawings, most of them, curling slightly at the corners where the magnets didn’t quite hold them flat.
Stick figures with wildly disproportionate limbs. Planets coloured in purple and green. A sun with sunglasses. A lopsided rocket labelled—very proudly, in uneven block letters.
MR GRACE’S ROCKET SHIP!!!
You smiled softly.
He’d come home with that one months ago, careful not to let it crease too much on his bike ride home.
“Look at this,” he’d said, laughing. “They think I’m cool enough to go to space.”
You’d laughed then too, teasing him gently, telling him he was cool enough, and he’d ducked his head.
There were more of them now.
More drawings. More little notes. One that just said “Thank you Mr Grace :)” in pencil.
He’d never had the heart to take any of them down.
Your chest tightened.
Because that was him, wasn’t it?
That earnest kind of care. The way he gave himself to things—fully, without hesitation, without holding anything back. Whether it was his students, or a problem he couldn’t quite solve, or you.
Especially you.
Your eyes flicked back to the clock as you put dinner away.
22:52.
You wondered, not for the first time, what he was actually doing.
His most recent job was vague, always described sheepishly. He said there were NDAs involved, said it was "research." Papers were always hidden away where you couldn’t see them, let alone try to understand them.
You trusted him. That was enough for you not to pry. That paired with the way that he’d looked at you—not excited, but lit from within in a way you’d never seen before.
That had been enough.
You didn’t need to know the details to know that something had shifted.
It had started small. A meeting here. A call there. Then longer hours. Then missed dinners. Then the creeping realisation that whatever he’d been pulled into, it wasn’t temporary.
Most nights now, the flat felt too still without him in it.
It wasn’t that you minded. If anything, you were glad he’d found something that lit him up like this. It was the way he gave himself to it, completely and without pause, that worried you. The sense that he was stretching himself thinner and thinner, and that one day there might not be enough left to hold him up.
You lingered for a moment in the kitchen, fingers brushing along the edge of the counter as your eyes drifted once more to the clock.
23:01
Later than you’d promised yourself you’d stay up.
You should go to bed.
He’d understand.
With an exhale, you reached for the switch. The overhead light flickered softly, your hand hovering, as if you were hesitating, as if some part of you was still holding out hope.
The sound of the lock turning cut through the stillness.
You stilled.
Metal against metal. A stubborn click. The push of the door easing open.
Ryland.
You could hear he was trying to keep quiet. His shoes hardly made a sound as he kicked them off, nor did the door as it softly shut, trying not to disturb a space he already thought was asleep.
The flat stayed dim, the kitchen light still on behind you, casting a soft spill into the hallway, catching just the edge of his silhouette.
You could stand here and giggle as he fumbled around, trying to keep silent as he took off his bag and jacket, but the feeling in your chest stopped your thoughts immediately.
Before you could think better of it, you were already moving.
You rounded the corner quickly, too quickly for him to anticipate. He barely had time to look up before you were on him, arms wrapping around him and relief flooding your system.
“Oof—”
He let out a startled sound as you collided with him, hands coming up instinctively to catch you, steady you.
And then, just as quickly, he melted into you.
His arms slipped around you, pulling you in close. His chin dipped toward your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.
He smelled the same. Coffee, soap, completely familiar and him.
“What are you—” he trailed off, voice lower than it usually was, tiredness hinting at the edges. “Should be in bed by now, sweetheart.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, not taking his gentle scolding too seriously.
He should take his own damn advice.
You smiled, practically glowing in his embrace and the knowledge that you’d be able to say goodnight to him in person this time.
“I wasn’t tired.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Your eyes lingered on his face, fully taking him in, even if you hadn’t quite clocked everything yet.
“Plus,” you continued, a little quieter. “I sleep better when you’re here.”
He huffed softly, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
“That’s not true,” he said, voice still gentle. “You’re usually still snoring when I leave in the morning.”
You frowned immediately, offended.
“I do not snore.”
He gave you a look.
“Mm,” he hummed. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
You barely had time to argue before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was unhurried, something you let yourself smile into.
When you pulled back, you tilted your head slightly, still holding onto him.
“I made dinner.”
That got his attention.
He blinked at you, like the words took a second to land, his tired eyes softening just a fraction.
“You did?”
You nodded, a little eager despite yourself.
“Pasta. Your favourite.”
He let out a groan, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly.
“You spoil me,” he mumbled.
You shrugged, smiling as your fingers brushed lightly against his back.
“It’s my job.”
He huffed softly against your skin.
“Should be mine.”
“What was that?” you asked, tilting your head just enough to try and catch it.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, lifting his head again.
You studied him for a moment, then stepped back just enough to gesture vaguely toward the kitchen.
“Do you want me to heat it up?”
He hesitated.
You saw it, even before he answered.
“Nah—no, no,” he said, a little too quickly. “You go, get comfy, yeah? I’ve just got… I’ve just got some stuff I need to read. Then I’ll be right with you.”
You stilled.
“You’re still working?”
The words came out soft, but they hit.
He stopped too.
In the brief pause between the two of you, it allowed you to really see him.
Even in the low light, it was all there. The shadows under his eyes were darker than they used to be. The strain on his expression that he was so obviously trying to hide. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, unnoticed by him, his hair a little more dishevelled than usual.
He looked exhausted.
“Ry—“ you murmur as your chest tightens, lifting your hands to his face. You drag your thumbs lightly along his jaw as you hold him there. “You can’t work all the time.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“You need rest.”
“I’m gonna,” he insisted, but there was no real conviction in it.
You searched his face, your mouth turning into a frown.
“But you never get any.”
He hated to admit it, but you had a point.
Damn it.
He exhaled and it was heavy. His gaze dropping to the floor like he disappointed you. He didn’t want to argue, but he also didn’t want to deflect.
Because he knew. He knew you were right.
You brushed his hair back from his forehead gently, fingers slipping through the soft strands, and the effect was immediate.
He couldn’t help himself when it came to you.
His shoulders dropped just slightly, his eyes closing for half a second as he leaned into the touch without thinking, like his body recognised something his mind hadn’t had time to catch up with.
Like he needed it.
You let your fingers linger, nails dragging lightly across his scalp, and he let out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively.
Your heart gave a small, startled thud.
When was the last time—
You didn’t even finish the thought.
Too long. Far too long.
Your fingers curled slightly in his hair, just enough to guide his head back, and he followed easily, eyes opening again, a little unfocused now, a little softer.
You had an idea.
You looked up at him, your expression gentler now, something more deliberate settling in your gaze.
“Ry,” you said quietly, almost coaxing. “Are you sure I can’t help you relax?”
It took him no time to understand your insinuation.
He looked at you like the question physically pained him.
Torn.
He dragged a hand briefly over his face, exhaling under his breath.
“Baby, I—” he started, cutting himself off quickly, like he’d caught the words just in time. He shook his head slightly, a faint, tired smile pulling at his mouth.
“Okay,” he said, softer now. “Okay. Yeah.”
His hands found your waist again.
“We can do whatever you want.”
Something bright, almost giddy, flickered in your chest. Because finally, you could take care of him.
Your fingers slid down from his hair, tracing the line of his jaw one last time before you caught his hand in yours. His palm was warm, a little clammy from the long day, but the second your skin met his he laced your fingers together.
You gave a gentle tug and he followed, his steps heavy and dragging behind you, socks scuffing softly against the floorboards. He moved like a man who’d forgotten how to want anything except the next thing you offered him, like a tired puppy trailing after the only light left in the flat.
You led him down the short hallway. The bedroom door was already ajar; you pushed it open with your hip, and the street lamps outside spilt in through the half-drawn blinds, painting everything in soft gold and cool silver.
The way he liked you best.
The glow caught on the rumpled sheets you’d left this morning, on the curve of his shoulder as he stepped in behind you, on the faint sheen of exhaustion that still clung to his face.
He stopped just inside the doorway, blue eyes locked on you. Even half-dead on his feet he looked hungry—starved, really—desperate with his pupils blow wide and his breath hitching every time you moved.
He perked up quickly.
Good.
Time to ease his thoughts away from work and solely on you.
You could still feel it rolling off him in waves: the weeks of late nights, the missed dinners, the way his body had forgotten what it felt like to be touched with anything but clinical efficiency.
You stepped closer, letting your hip cock to one side, head tilting as you looked up at him through your lashes. The movement made the hem of his old t-shirt ride up your thighs, and his gaze dropped there for half a second before snapping back to your face like he’d been caught.
“You gonna let me take care of you, Ry?” you asked, voice low and sweet, the way you knew made his knees weak.
He swallowed hard, throat working.
“You always take care of me,” he murmured, the words rough.
“Yeah…” You smiled, teasing. “But I have a feeling you’re really gonna like this one.”
He opened his mouth—probably to protest, to say he should be the one looking after you, to offer some tired half-joke—but you rose up on your toes and kissed him before the words could escape. He melted instantly. The sound he made was broken, almost embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to let it out.
His free hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, needing something solid to hold onto while the rest of him dissolved.
You kept kissing him as your hands found the top button of his cardigan—soft green wool, the one he’d worn the day he first told you about the “research job” that was eating him alive.
One button, then another. You worked slowly, letting your knuckles brush the warm skin of his chest each time. He didn’t move to help. He just stood there, eyes half-lidded and gentle. When the cardigan finally slid down his arms and pooled on the floor, he shivered, even though the room wasn’t cold.
Next came the shirt underneath. You tugged it free from his jeans, palms skimming up the flat plane of his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jumped and twitched under your touch.
He was so pliant, so perfectly willing—arms lifting when you guided them, head ducking so you could pull the fabric over it.
The shirt joined the cardigan and he stood there bare-chested, breathing a little faster now, chest already tight from the weight of your stare.
Your fingers dropped to the buckle of his belt. Metal clicked. You looked up at him again, searching his face.
“Is this alright?”
His hands covered yours immediately, warm and steady despite the tremor in his voice.
“Baby,” he said, almost laughing but too wrecked for it, “you can have me whenever you want. You know that.”
The words came out hoarse and you couldn’t help but think about every night he’d come home after midnight, every morning he’d slipped out before you woke.
Your chest squeezed—but you shoved the ache aside.
Not tonight.
Tonight he was here, and he was yours.
You popped the button, dragged the zip down, and pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips in one. He stepped out of them clumsily, kicking them aside, and he was naked in front of you—cock already half-hard and curving up toward his stomach, flushed dark at the tip and beading at the slit.
He looked so vulnerable like this, eyes soft and a little glassy, waiting for whatever you wanted to do to him.
Before you could sink to your knees or touch him the way you were aching to, he reached for you with that same tired, adoring smile.
“Your turn?”
You giggled—couldn’t help it—and let him pull you in. His hands were eager, sliding under the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from his drawer. He peeled it off you slowly, reverent.
God, you missed him.
When your breasts were bare he exhaled shakily, thumbs brushing the undersides like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed. The shirt hit the floor and then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts, dragging them down your thighs in one go.
You stepped out and suddenly you were both exposed, skin glowing in the light, the air between you thick with weeks of pent-up need.
He didn’t waste time. He hauled you against him, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that felt deeper than the last, like the exhaustion was finally cracking open.
One of his hands splayed across your lower back, the other slid between your legs without hesitation. Two fingers stroked through your folds, finding you already slick and aching, and he groaned into your mouth when he felt it.
“Baby…” he rasped against your lips, voice wrecked. “Seems like I’ve been neglecting you, huh?”
His fingers circled your clit once, twice, slow and perfect, and you whimpered, hips jerking forward.
You grabbed a fistful of his hair and softly tugged—just hard enough to make him gasp—then shoved at his chest playfully.
“Tonight I’m taking care of you, Dr Grace.”
Dr Grace.
The title landed like a live wire. You knew exactly what it did to him; he could see it in the way you said it.
His eyes fluttered, a broken little sound punched out of his chest, and he let you push him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Let you move him where you wanted him.
He dropped down willingly, sprawled out on his back, cock now fully hard and leaking against his stomach. He looked pathetic in the best way—chest heaving, cheeks flushed, arms already reaching for you like he couldn’t stand another second without your weight on him.
You crawled over him, knees bracketing his ribs, ready to sink down and take him inside you the way you’d been dreaming about for weeks. But his hands caught your hips, stopping you. His blue eyes were hazy, pupils blown, yet somehow still so gentle.
“Baby… can you go a little higher?”
You blinked down at him, confused, thighs already trembling with want.
“Aren’t you tired?” The words came out soft, almost worried, and the sound of it made his expression melt even further. “Tonight I was gonna be good to you.”
Not that you were complaining.
He shook his head, thumbs stroking soothing circles over your hipbones.
“I don’t think I’ll last five seconds if we do that,” he admitted, bashful and honest and so fucking needy it made your stomach flip. “It’s been… Gosh, it’s been so long. Let me do my job first, yeah? Then you can have your way, okay, sweetheart?”
Your cheeks burned, but you nodded, heart hammering. He guided you higher, hands firm until your knees settled on either side of his head, and you were hovering over his face.
The light painted his features in silver and shadow—his tired eyes still locked on yours, lips parted, breath already fanning hot against your soaked cunt.
Fuck, he was stunning.
You lowered yourself slowly, and the first drag of his tongue had your head falling back with a moan.
He was tired, yes, but he knew you—knew exactly how to flatten his tongue and lick a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, how to hum in satisfaction when your taste flooded his mouth.
How could he forget you?
His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks you’d treasure tomorrow, anchoring you to him like he never wanted you to leave.
He licked and sucked with lazy, devastating precision, built from months of learning every hitch of your breath, every roll of your hips.
When you started to rock against him he groaned, the vibration shooting straight to your core, and the sound was so desperate—so pathetically grateful—that it made you clench around nothing.
“That’s it,” he mumbled against your pussy, voice muffled and wet, “ride my face, baby. Use me. Let go for me—”
Please.
His fingers dug harder into the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you down with a desperate strength that belied how exhausted he looked.
You could feel the tremble in your legs already starting, the way your muscles quivered around his head as he devoured you like a man who’d been starving for months—and maybe he had.
Ryland Grace, brilliant and overworked and so fucking touch-starved that he couldn’t get enough, kept dragging you back and forth over his tongue with low, needy sounds vibrating straight into your core.
He was rock-hard beneath you, cock straining and leaking against his stomach, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care. All that mattered was you—your taste, your weight, the way you ground down on his face like it was the only thing keeping him awake.
He cursed every single late night he had, every single hour overtime.
How on earth could he put work before this pure heaven?
You reached down blindly, fingers tangling in his messy hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan loud and broken against your soaked pussy. The sound was pathetic in the most beautiful way. He’d let you use him until there was nothing left if that’s what you wanted.
And you did.
You rode his face harder, hips rolling in messy circles, chasing that building heat while he licked and sucked and hummed like he was trying to memorise every single reaction you gave him.
He felt it when you started to tip over the edge—your thighs clamping tighter around his ears, your breath hitching into these sharp little gasps. His blue eyes flicked up to yours, glassy and adoring even through the fogged lenses of his glasses, and he doubled down, tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit until you tugged on his hair again and came with a broken cry that echoed off the bedroom walls.
It was overwhelming, the way he didn’t stop—licking you through every pulse and shiver, dragging you back down when your hips tried to pull away.
Oh no, you don't.
He cleaned you up with reverent strokes like he couldn’t bear to let a single drop go to waste.
You were shaking, quivering above him, vision blurry with the aftershocks, and only when you were completely spent and whimpering did he finally loosen his grip on your thighs. His hands slid up your sides instead, soothing, like he was afraid he’d break you even though he was the one falling apart underneath you.
You lifted off him on unsteady knees, sliding down until you could look at his face properly. His glasses were completely fogged up, cheeks flushed crimson, lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He blinked up at you, dazed and blissed-out, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.
“Was that… good?” he asked, voice hoarse and shy; he still needed the reassurance even after you’d just ridden his face into oblivion.
Tell him he was still good.
You let out a shaky sigh, brushing a thumb over his wet bottom lip.
“You know it was, Ry.”
A sleepy smile spread across his face—pure, unguarded bliss.
You shuffled lower, knees bracketing his hips now, and looked down at him with a teasing little tilt of your head.
Finally, it was his turn.
His cock was throbbing between you, flushed and leaking steadily against his stomach, and he was staring at you like you hung the moon.
“You gonna let me ride you now, Dr Grace?” you asked, voice dripping with sweet mockery.
He groaned, head dropping back against the mattress with a soft thud.
Again with the titles?
“You’re gonna kill me, I swear,” he mumbled, but his hands were already sliding up your thighs.
You chuckled, leaning down to nip at his jaw.
“Good. Maybe that way you’d finally get some rest.”
He huffed a breathless laugh that turned into another groan when you reached between you and wrapped your fingers around his cock. He was so hard it was almost painful to the touch and he jolted up with a sharp wince, hips bucking involuntarily.
“I—sorry, baby—”
It’s been so long.
His cheeks burned even darker, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment.
You looked at him. His flushed face still shiny with your slick, hair sticking up in every direction from your tugging, that tired but desperate expression that made him look so beautifully pathetic. He was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen, soft submission and needy love, and your chest ached with how much you’d missed this version of him.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, meaning it with every part of you.
He whined, hips twitching again.
“Stop teasing, please. I need you.”
You chuckled softly, finally taking pity on him. You grabbed his shaft properly, angling it so the thick length slid easily between your slick folds. The motion had his tip catching perfectly against your clit before popping free, and you both moaned at the wet glide.
Fuck, it's been too long.
He sighed against your mouth, which had fallen open in a silent ‘o’, rolling his hips up in search of more friction, chasing the heat of you like he couldn’t help it.
“Patience,” you began, but the last of the word was stolen by a gasp when you ground down to meet his next thrust. The blunt tip of him prodded at your entrance, gliding up again with just the right pressure to make sparks shoot up your spine.
You both moaned louder this time, the sound tangled together in the quiet room.
His arms circled the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, dragging you over the full length of him again. It made you shudder hard in his grasp, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.
He caught right where you needed him most, your walls fluttering greedily around his tip, trying to suck him in. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when he tried to push a little more. But it was your hips that rolled this time, taking just enough for him to finally slide all the way in with a slow, delicious stretch that had you both gasping.
“Fuck,” you whined, feeling so full for the first time in way too long. Your walls clung to him tightly, trying to accommodate his size after all these weeks apart. You sat up straighter with a low huff through your nose, letting your nails drag down the centre of his chest. He shuddered hard under you, eyes rolling back for a second. “Fuck—missed you so much—”
“Language, baby,” he managed to choke out, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as you rolled your hips again, taking him even deeper. “Taking it so well—just like that—”
His praise hit you like a spark. You clenched around him involuntarily, and he twitched hard inside you, a fresh spurt of pre-cum leaking out. His big hands found the tops of your thighs, pads of his fingers leaving trails of fire as they slid up to grip your hips.
You started riding him properly then—slow at first, savouring every inch as you lifted and sank back down, the sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room. Ryland turned into an absolute babbling mess beneath you, desperate, eyes glassy as he stared up at you like you were everything.
“Missed you so much,” he gasped, hips jerking up to meet yours. “Missed this—missed baby, I—feels so good, so—”
You let out a sharp whine when he hit that perfect spot inside you, and his eyes lit up with that familiar hunger.
“Right there? That’s it? Yeah, baby?” he panted, begging you to tell him he was doing it good. “Look so beautiful, you—“
You moaned, head tipping back as you kept moving, chasing that building pleasure while he fell apart under you. His hands roamed everywhere—your hips, your waist, up to cup your breasts like he couldn’t decide where he needed to touch you most.
“Please, sweetheart, please,” he begged suddenly, voice wrecked and so fucking pathetic it made you throb around him. “Look at me—need to see you. It’s been so long, I need your eyes on me—”
It was hard to open your eyes—the slow, dragging drag of his cock against your slick walls was almost too much, the feeling of being so perfectly connected to him after all this time. But you did, locking gazes with him as you rode him harder.
He was trembling now, fingers digging bruises into your hips, breath coming in short, desperate pants.
“Not gonna last—I’m not gonna last much longer—”
“Neither am I,” you breathed out, leaning down to kiss him messy and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue again. “Cum for me, Ry. Let go.”
That was all it took.
He did—hard. His whole body seized up, back arching off the bed as he came with a broken, guttural moan that sounded like it had been ripped out of his soul. He swore he saw stars, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open in silent ecstasy while he kept thrusting up into you through it, needy even in the middle of his orgasm.
You followed right after, clenching around him as the wave crashed over you, moaning his name like a prayer while your thighs shook and your vision whited out.
You both came down slowly, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat. His arms circled you immediately, pulling you down against his chest. You stayed there for a long moment, just breathing each other in, hearts hammering in sync.
For a while, neither of you moved. You lay half-draped over him, cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the way his heartbeat slowly began to steady beneath your ear. It was still a little fast, still a little uneven, but it was him again.
Not halfway lost in whatever equations or impossible problems had been pulling him away from you.
His hand rested at the small of your back, fingers tracing against your skin like he didn’t quite know what to do with all this quiet. Like he was relearning it.
You felt him shift slightly beneath you, reaching again for the tissues on the bedside table.
“I’ve gotcha,” he murmured, softer this time, more awake.
He's always got you.
You huffed a small breath against his chest, but you didn’t move away. Let him fuss. Let him take care of you in the way he always did. He needed to feel close as much as you did.
He worked slowly, methodically, brows pulling together just slightly in concentration as he cleaned you up, determined to do it properly. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, the light catching on the slope of his nose, the faint flush still high on his cheeks, the way his glasses had slid crooked again without him noticing.
You reached up, nudging them back into place with a small smile.
“Occupational hazard,” you murmured.
He blinked down at you, a little dazed still.
Tease.
He finished cleaning you up, then his hand came back to you, settling at your hip, thumb brushing. You traced your fingers lightly along his chest, following the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
“You know,” you said after a moment, voice softer now, “you should take nights off like this more often.”
He huffed a breath, eyes flicking down to you, something a little brighter sparking there now.
“Oh, trust me,” he said, a hint of humour creeping back in, “I will be adding that to my schedule immediately. Very high priority.”
You stilled slightly.
The smile didn’t quite leave your face, but it shifted.
“Ry…”
He noticed.
Your fingers paused against his chest, your gaze lifting to meet his properly now.
Here we go.
“I know you can’t tell me what you’re doing,” you said gently, not accusing, not pushing. “And I’m not asking you to.”
He nodded slightly, something flickering in his expression—gratitude, maybe. Relief.
“But,” you continued, quieter now, more earnest, “I am serious.”
Your thumb brushed lightly along his collarbone, grounding yourself as much as him.
“You need to take time like this. Not just for you.”
A small breath.
“For me.”
That stuck. You could feel it.
You saw it in the way his expression shifted again, the humour softening. He looked at you, not just the comfort of you, but the person who had been waiting. Who had been worrying.
Who loved him.
His hand moved from your hip to your cheek.
“I know,” he said quietly.
He exhaled slowly, gaze dropping for just a second before coming back to you.
“I think I… yeah,” he admitted, softer still. “I think I’ve been… a little—”
“Obsessive?” you offered gently.
He huffed.
“That’s a polite way of putting it.”
You smiled faintly.
“It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Yeah,” he said, a little sheepish. “It’s also one of the things that turns me into a complete disaster when I don’t manage it properly.”
Your fingers threaded lightly through his hair again, softer this time.
“You’re not a disaster.”
“Mm,” he hummed. “Debatable.”
You nudged his shoulder.
“Ry.”
He smiled at that.
“I hear you,” he said, more seriously now. “Okay? I do. I… I can take a night. Or—” he paused, recalculating, already trying to be better, “a couple. I can make that happen.”
You searched his face for a second, like you were checking if he meant it.
“Okay,” you said softly.
His thumb brushed your cheek again, lingering there.
“Okay,” he echoed.
There was a quiet between you. That was until you saw the cogs in his head turning once again.
“…we should probably shower.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
Typical Ryland.
“Probably.”
He glanced down at himself, like he was doing a very quick, very scientific assessment.
“Yeah,” he added. “Definitely.”
You pushed yourself up slightly, offering him your hand this time. He took it without hesitation. You tugged him gently toward the bathroom, and he followed, steps still a little heavy but no longer dragging.
The light flicked on with a click, filling the small space with warm yellow, as steam already began to gather as you reached for the shower.
He leaned against the counter, watching you, something gentle in his expression.
“What?” you asked, glancing back at him.
He shook his head slightly, a small smile pulling at his mouth.
“Nothing.”
He gave a small shrug as his cheeks heated again.
“I just… missed this.”
Your chest tightened, but in the best way.
“Yeah,” you said, stepping back toward him, brushing your hand against his as the water started to run. “Me too.”
He squeezed your fingers before stepping in with you, pulling you under the warm spray.
For the first time in weeks, it felt like he was finally back with you. Where he belonged.
a/n: first ever post on this blog wooo!!! not new to writing, just new to ryland and couldn't help myself.
just testing the waters to see if there is anyone interested in more of ryland, lowkey want to do a series on him for the movie/book (it will be angsty though but with a happy ending) if people were into that?
anyway let me know what you all think and if you want more of ryland x reader!!
Hear me out; Ryland x reader where he just whimpers and is a fucking mess. Also a bit of a sub. Yk?
*clears my throat as my dirty thoughts finally come to the chat*
HEADCANONS BELOW ARE WAY NSFW, 18+. DNI IF UNDERAGE.
Probably has a kink akin to being a submissive, but, Ryland doesn't fully understand the terminology ( he totally does but admitedly using it makes him a bit... shy ) so he just tells you that he likes to be on the bottom the first time you have sex together.
"So you uhm..." You bit your bottom lip softly, looking into is blue eyes with piqued interest. "You want me to ride you?"
"Yes... p-please..." He moans softly, feeling your fingers tucking in and out of his hair from the rather intense make-out session that resulted in his clothes in a pile to the right and yours thrown somewhere around the small living room. "O-only if you want though! Oh god, please don't th-think I'm forcing you."
You felt heat run down your body at the absolute state of dissary he's in, "I was just making sure I understood, Ry. Shh..."
You kiss the scientist softly and he melts right into it without reluctance. And with that, you're swinging your legs over his lap, perched rather percariously on his small couch. You held onto the back of said couch as you moved, Ryland's hands finding the back of your thighs to give a helping hand but admittedly, he was having a difficult time focusing on that as you hovered above him, his eyes getting their best view of your breasts. He leans in and lightly places a kiss between them, right on the concove of your sternum as a tiny 'thank you'.
Overstimulated from years of being alone, he can barely contain himself when you sink down a bit, bringing the head of his cock along your slick entrance. Ryland throws his head back as his hands drift from the back of your thighs, up the curve of your ass to grasp desperately at your hips, "Pl-please... I wo-won't last if you just pl-play around with me like this."
You were barely touching him. Your fingertips ghosted down his shaft ever so lightly before trailing up and Ryland stiffened at this and threw another desperate moan into the air that subsides into a sort of whimper as his hips buck into your hand. "S-sounds like we need to build your stamina, Dr. Grace."
His naked thighs are incredibly strong under you as he moves his hips again, angling just enough to jar your hand off his overly sensitive cock and with another wild adjustment, he pressed it against you again, head almost enveloped inside of you.
He knew what he was doing purely out of sex-crazed instinct. "Ryland, please..." You bite down on your bottom lip again, harder this time that you're worried you were going to draw blood, your head tilting back at the lingering sensation he was giving you by just letting you touch him like this.
Ryland's large hands leave their comfort zone of your waist and tredge towards your ass, tenderly grasping it and urging you in silence as to what he wanted. He got you started, you needed to finish. "G-god, if you don't ride me right now I'm going to cum all over this couch and I can't afford to buy another one right now."
That made you laugh, the absolute bizzareness of a rambling like that being only something Ryland could make into dirty talk.
"Since you asked so nicely." You whispered to him, locking eyes as you sunk yourself down.
It definitely takes a while as your comfort zones grown with each other for him to admit to what he really likes ( being a bit more... Dominated ) as if it were something you didn't notice. Which, you 100% did. Conversation probably happens after you bark commands at him in the heat of the moment. Something along the lines of 'look at me, Ryland' as you were getting ready to orgasm. Which, yes ma'am, he did look at you and brought you right to that crested edge with enthusiasm before he followed right behind.
"I sorta like... when you're more... you know." He's rubbing your bare shoulder in bed, his hair a mess but yours even worse as you basked in the glow of post-sex glory.
The heat that hit your face was immediate at his sunken words, coming deep from his chest as you move your chin to rest on Ryland's naked chest. It was still rising and falling rapidly from the energy previously exerted. "Wh-when I'm more what?"
"Uh..." Ryland laughed awkwardly, running his fingertip down your shoulder to your scapiula. You giggle at the tickling sensation as he explains, "In my face. Telling me what to do and all... Helps me not... overthink it myself. Really lets me enjoy it. Enjoy... you more."
"You like that?" You raised your eyebrows and lifted yourself up against him in the small bed.
Ryland swallowed hard and nodded slowly. You look at him for a few seconds and lull over what he just confessed to you. He watched carefully as the bed sheet left your body as you rose to straddle him once again.
"Uh... I don't think I can get it up aga---"
"You better because I want you to fuck me again."
Ryland's mouth popped open at that and he turned cherry red, "Y'know, we can work on it. It'll be a progress." You felt heat between your legs as he placed his hands on your hips. "But I think that did the trick."
Praise him and he is yours. Gets off on your pleasure probably more than he gets off on his own. Especially when he's eating you out ( oral fixation, hello. ). He's very... Attentive to this, definately something that Ryland enjoys doing as your fingers tuck deep into his hair, pulling ever so slightly as his tongue sweeps across you. Intense eye contact is made as he smiles slightly at your reactions as you whimper out his name or compliment his skills with a shaky, "T-that feels so good, Ry."
Partial to eating you out when you're propped against the wall and dangle a leg over his shoulder, hands very smothered into his thick hair. For some reason, Ryland feels like he can really get into it in this position, and the weight of your body above him drives him absolutely crazy. Bonus points if you play with your breasts for him while he does this.
Also very good with his hands, he's memorized how your body reacts to certain angles of his long fingers inside of you, especially when he's able to locate that one spongy spot that makes you see stars. Couple this with his other hand playing with your nipples and he very often has a withering mess in front of him that he can't wait to clean up.
Grace explaining to Rocky all of the resourceful low cost ways he is collecting materials for his Eridian students to do experiments and Rocky going "If you need something just ask. We can make it for you question?" and he doesn't understand why Grace is tearing up (His classroom budget on Earth was $100 for the whole year).
i feel like it’s between 5.5 and 6 inches and yk that man KNOWS how to use it. before he puts in he slaps his tip on your clit a few times, not even hard- just to tease. and then he goes sloooooow. makes you feel every inch of his thick cock.
because its thick. its not that long, but the grith stretches you soooo much :(((
and i just know its pretty, a pretty man with a pretty dick. pink, with a red leaky tip he teases at your hole…
when dick shoves his pretty cock in your mouth you can feel the long vein on the side and its bliss.
he leaks so much precum so when he comes it comes in SPRINGS it gets all over the place, he s so messy with it…ugh im getting ahead lf myself :3
farmer clark x doctor bruce au where bruce moves to smallville to open up a small clinic and meets the local farmer of the kent farm who is this big mass of sunshine but is deep down hiding something and bruce the skeptic is trying to find out what that is but ends up falling in love with clark…….
After Bruce and Clark start dating, they slowly start making jokes about Bruce being Clark's sugar daddy. It starts when Clark breaks the headboard of Bruce's bed and Bruce brushes it off like "why do I have money for, love?" And it just grows from there.
Clark breaks a tablet in the cave and offers to pay for it, but Bruce declines with "the way you fucked me last night was payment enough."
They're out on a dinner date and when they finish their food, Clark asks "what will this cost me tonight?"
Bruce breaks the toaster at Clark's apartment, and Clark jokingly says "it's okay, my sugar will get me a new one."
Clark has to drive one of Bruce's expensive cars around Smallville when they're visiting the farm and people see him. Bruce finds it hilarious and just says "they already think I'm your sugar daddy, might as well show them I'm a good one."
Bruce has to visit the Planet for a business meeting but takes a minute to go by Clark's desks and asks "how's your new computer, baby? Couldn't have you working on that old thing."
The joke reaches its peak during a big fight. Clark put himself in danger during an off-world mission and made it home a week after expected with no warning. Bruce is absolutely pissed at Clark. He sends enough flower arrangements to Clark's office to fill every possible surface, a bunch of expensive gifts, and a note that reads "For last night. –Daddy" Lois sees the card and reads it aloud. The office doesn't let Clark live it down for months. The makeup sex was worth it.
When Bruce is a few months into dating Clark, they go and visit Ma and Pa Kent over at the farm. Bruce is nervous, which is to be expected, but Clark reassures him that they will love him almost as much as he does (sickeningly sweet Jason gags).
Alfred thinks nothing of it. He’s happy that Bruce is going out into nature and not locking himself up in the cave, in his room, or at Wayne Industries. In fact, you could say that he’s delighted. He’s very glad that Clark came along and is treating his son employer right.
The emotional weight of carrying Bruce's mental health no longer rests squarely on his shoulders. He can take time to breathe and relax. Alfred feels as though this is a very good thing.
But it doesn’t last long.
Because the moment Bruce came back, all he would talk about for an entire week was how compassionate and gentle Ma and Pa Kent were. To make it even worse, the couple starts calling Bruce, even more than Clark calls Bruce, and he’s their son.
They call just to ask how’s his day has been, what he’s eaten, if he’s been alright, what they should name their new calf, should they do business with this one person, and on and on. Nothing too important, but it’s so important to Bruce to have this meaningful conversation that seems meaningless to everyone else.
Alfred has always been very militaristic in the way he raised young Bruce. The Kents are not. That much is evident by the way Clark graciously conducts himself.
This isn’t to say that Alfred didn’t show love in his own way with Bruce, the Kent’s are just more open with it. They give love like they’re breathing air. Bruce doesn’t have to second-guess if Alfred’s glance was one of judgment or approval; they’ll tell him without beating around the bush. Bruce enjoys the fact that they're very honest with him.
Of course, they were wary when Playboy Philanthropist Billionaire CEO Bruce Wayne started dating their humble farm-raised son, but once they got to know him, loving him was so easy. Which Bruce has never experienced before, unless it was with Clark.
Bruce knows Alfred loves him, but that love has always been stilted, unspoken, and held back under the pretense of Alfred simply being an employee. No matter how close they get, Alfred stops it. Bruce has learned throughout the years that if he doesn’t revise this affection, Alfred would do it for him, and it’ll hurt a lot more than if he did it himself.
Alfred has never told Bruce ‘I love you’ no matter the situation. He can’t do those words. Guilt crawls up his throat and stamps the words down before he could ever attempt to.
The Kent's say those three words as if they were the easiest thing in the world. As if his relationship and love with Clark were the easiest thing in the world. As if Bruce was the easiest thing to love.
Every time Bruce comes back from a weekend visit to the farm, his cheeks are nice and rosy and he has a more human complexion instead of his usual vampire pale skin. His eyes are bright with that certain spark that Alfred had sworn he had lost long ago.
He’s wearing comfortable and baggy clothes, most likely Clark’s, and hesitates to put on his suits for a while. He’s got a small bounce in his step as he moves, and he’s more inclined to smile. It puts everyone in a good mood to have Bruce in a good mood. He’s more eager to give out physical affection and loving words to his children.
He gushes about late-night conversations with Pa Kent and the delicious food Ma Kent makes, saying it’s the best food he’s ever tasted, even if he’s traveled the entire world. He takes their sweets home to share and even experiments with the recipes Ma Kent readily gives him.
It puts a bitter taste in Alfred’s mouth.
There is no possible way that Alfred is jealous, though. He understands his place. He was the one who drew a line in the sand and refused to step over it, bar the few times he found himself over the line without realizing it.
No, Alfred Pennyworth is not jealous that his ward his employer, is finding parental love outside of him. That would be utterly ridiculous.
I need a superbat smut where bruce is a whiny bitch the whole time. I NEED HIM TO BE SUMBMISSIVE ASLLLLL. im talking like hes basically dirtytalking himself.
“Bruce Wayne is a bottom even with the ladies” i say into the mic. the crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame, when voices from the back speaks and commands silence in the room. “He’s right!” 2 people says. I look for the owners of the voices. it's Selina Kyle and Clark Kent
"that's factual information, I heard him behind the doors" someone added, the crowd were confused as to where the voice came from, but once they found the source they all screamed in excitement and applauded, it was Jason Todd going down from heaven to make the announcement
