perv!driver !! perv!driver !! er hello i need him peeking and touching himself without anyone seeing him in his car AND also touching himself at home because what else would he do when his head is filled with you all the time <33
YES YES YES watching from his car… i think if ur someone to walk to places he would deffo follow from a distance w/lights off. would linger in the parking garage to watch you by the elevator. YUM yum yum yum.
mdni, 18+
sawry about the wait life has been insane lately
i'm picturing he's your neighbor. you both interact with each other in passing, but it's an obsessive crush that forms when driver's breath stutters when you smile at him. he never does that. he's typically composed. at first, the absurd thought of being poisoned flashes in his mind (he isn't one to get soft), then he realizes he's leaking in his jeans. he's hard. he's rock fucking solid, and you only looked at him. that's when it's part of his routine.
his car is his favorite place now. well—it's always been his favorite place, but now it's even better. sometimes he lingers there, across the parking tower with a perfect view of the elevator. he lingers, memorizing your schedule, knowing if you worked nights or not. when you did, he'd feel his pulse beneath his skin, rabbiting when his gloved hand dips beneath his waistband . his belt was long forgotten, unbuckled in haste to get his aching dick out upon first glance of you rounding the corner.
he tries to control himself. tries to still the ache in his bones, even as his cock leaks against the sliver of exposed stomach. he's already stroking himself, even if you haven't done anything notable. you're just waiting by the elevator, just pressing the button. mundane things. driver desperately wishes he could stand by you. hold your things, help you to your apartment. dote over you like normal couples do. though, the both of you aren't a couple, and he's sure you don't even know his name. the thought of being there someday makes his hips buck up into his fist.
sometimes he slips into your apartment. when you've picked locks your entire life, it becomes second nature.
his favorite room of all time is your bedroom, for obvious reasons. you sleep there. you spend your most vulnerable times there. he wishes you'd be a little more careless and leave your front door unlocked—he's proud that you aren't, really—so he could watch you sleep. to see you when you're bundled up and peaceful.
your laundry basket is possibly his second favorite thing in your place, though it's tied with your bathroom (he's used your toothbrush a couple of times, the indirect kiss having him blowing his load in his jeans right then and there). he's pilfered a pair of your underwear, stealing it for the night to breathe you in. to wrap it around his aching cock and jerk himself off into a bitten knuckle at the thought of you. he knows your laundry day. knows when to return the pair to your basket without a hitch. sometimes he considers not scrubbing them. considers leaving part of himself there for you to discover.
europa‧₊˚♪ 𝄞𝄢 | “i’m your jazz singer, and you’re my cult leader.” [hcs]
sebastian wilder x jazz singer!fem!reader
—strangers to coworkers (?) to lovers
𝄢 sebastian only hires you because his actual friday night singer cancels three hours before opening. he’s already stressed out of his mind when you arrive. he spends most of the afternoon pacing around the club muttering to himself while staff avoid eye contact. he’s sweaty, irritated, sleeves rolled to his elbows, while he argues with somebody over the phone about “musical integrity.”
𝄢 then the door opens. and everything goes quiet in his head for a second. because you walk into the club like you’ve already belonged there for years. elegant in this effortless old-hollywood kind of way. gold silk dress, gold hoops catching the warm amber lighting, lipstick perfect despite the rain outside. ridiculously calm.
𝄢 and sebastian, who usually has opinions about every musician he meets, just stares at you for a second too long before remembering how words work. that’s the replacement singer?
𝄢 “you know jazz?” he asks cautiously, still halfway expecting disappointment because he’s spent years dealing with people who say they understand jazz and then proceed to butcher it. you just smile softly. “i know good jazz.” that should annoy him but instead, it completely derails him.
𝄢 rehearsal is supposed to be quick. just one song, maybe two or three. just enough to survive the evening. but then you step up beside the piano and ask: “what do you want to hear?” sebastian studies you carefully before playing a few opening notes from “is it a crime?” almost experimentally. because how can you fuck that up? it’s a classic.
𝄢 most singers oversing it. push too hard and mistake restraint for lack of emotion. but you don’t. you sink into the song slowly like smoke filling a room. low velvet voice and perfect timing. no unnecessary dramatics. and sebastian— for the first time in his life, sebastian completely misses his next chord because he’s too busy staring at you.
𝄢 because suddenly the club sounds exactly like the version he’s carried around in his head for years. it’s intimate, it’s warm. late-night golden. it’s alive.
𝄢 when the song ends, there’s silence for a second. you glance over at him curiously. “well?” sebastian just blinks, then: “where the hell have you been?”
𝄢 the first performance is supposed to be forgettable. background music while people drink overpriced whiskey and pretend to understand coltrane. then you start singing and the entire room changes. not dramatically at first. quietly. all conversations slowing. glasses lowering. people turning in their seats without realising they’re doing it. because your voice doesn’t sound forced or theatrical. it slips through the room slow and warm and intimate, like smoke curling through dim light. smooth in that impossible sade kind of way. effortless. sensual without trying to be.
𝄢 sebastian’s standing by the bar when he realises he’s completely stopped moving. he’s just staring because suddenly the club sounds like the version he’s had in his head for years. not polished. not commercial. not obnoxiously drunk and loud. it’s full of soul.
𝄢 and the worst part is that you catch him watching halfway through the set. your eyes meet across the club while he’s frozen beside the piano and you smile slightly into the microphone.
𝄢 sebastian almost misses his cue entirely. after the performance the crowd applauds harder than they ever have before in that club. and sebastian, who normally acts deeply emotionally constipated about praise, immediately corners you backstage. “you free tomorrow night?” you raise an eyebrow. “for another emergency?”
“for employment.”
𝄢 from that point onwards, the club changes completely. because people become obsessed with the two of you. not just the music. you and sebastian. the chemistry is visible from the stage immediately and neither of you are subtle enough to hide it properly. sebastian watching you while he plays piano like he’s witnessing divine intervention.
𝄢 you leaning against the mic stand smiling at him knowingly during solos. the quiet little conversations between songs that feel far too intimate for an audience to be witnessing. people start coming back specifically to watch the dynamic unfold. entire tables placing bets on whether you’re secretly together.
𝄢 sebastian doesn’t call it “being attracted to you” at first, he calls it as “professional curiosity” which is his favourite lie to himself. he tells himself he’s just fascinated by how you bend timing, how you sit behind the beat like you’re refusing to be chased by it
𝄢 you notice him noticing you before he ever speaks properly. it’s not obvious attention, it’s worse: quiet attention. the kind that lingers too long on your phrasing after you’ve finished a line, like he’s trying to reverse-engineer you
𝄢 the first real shift happens when you start changing small things just to see if he reacts. a held note slightly longer. a lyric twisted into something more playful. he reacts every time, even if it’s just a micro-expression in his jaw. you start playing to him specifically without meaning to. not in a performative way, more like your instincts adapt. you lean into certain phrases because you know he’ll recognise them as a challenge
𝄢 there’s a night where you hold eye contact during a long instrumental break and neither of you looks away first. after that, everything changes slightly. not dramatically, just enough that it can’t be undone
𝄢 sebastian starts doing small, unnecessary acts of care that he immediately tries to rationalise: saving you a seat near his piano during your breaks without acknowledging it. adjusting the stage light so it doesn’t hit your eyes directly. rewriting the set order so your hardest song isn’t first
𝄢 he watches you more than he means to. not in a staring way at first, more like his attention just keeps drifting there. when he catches himself, he looks away too quickly and pretends he was listening to the band. you start catching him at it. sometimes you pause mid-sentence just to see if he’s paying attention. he always is. he just looks like he isn’t.
𝄢 he starts walking you out without announcing it, like it’s obvious. he takes your coat off the back of a chair without asking and holds it out. when you look at him, he says: “you’re slow when you’re cold.” and refuses to elaborate. you begin timing your exits so you meet him in the same corridor after shows. neither of you admit this is planned.
𝄢 sebastian starts getting protective in very quiet, socially unacceptable ways. if someone interrupts your set, they mysteriously don’t get booked again. if someone talks over you, the sound balance “accidentally” shifts so they can’t hear themselves properly. if someone flirts with you after a show, sebastian suddenly appears beside you with a question about “logistics”
𝄢 he never acknowledges jealousy. he reframes it as professionalism. “they’re distracting the room.” “they’re not respecting the music.” “they don’t understand timing.” you call him out once: “you don’t like people talking to me.” and he replies, without looking at you: “i don’t like people wasting your time.” that lands harder than he intends. he goes quiet for the rest of the night.
𝄢 he begins adjusting the club’s rhythm around you. not in big changes. just tiny edits that make your presence feel inevitable rather than scheduled. you start leaning into him emotionally in small ways without naming it: “was that set alright?” “you’d tell me if it wasn’t, wouldn’t you?” and he always answers honestly, which surprises both of you.
𝄢 sebastian becomes slightly worse at pretending he doesn’t care. people notice before he does. someone says: “you’ve got favourites now.” and he replies: “i’ve got standards.”
𝄢 you start noticing he only fully relaxes when you’re still in the building after your set. not speaking, just present. one night, you ask: “do you ever go home?”and he says: “eventually, but not when you’re still here.” he immediately regrets it. you don’t let him retract it. you just nod like it makes perfect sense.
𝄢 sebastian is falling in love and he feels like control he regained after mia is slowly failing in very precise ways. he starts waiting for you to arrive because it’s the best part of his day. he begins smiling slightly when he hears your voice before he sees you. and your falling in love looks like familiarity turning into dependency. you look for him first in any room. you sing differently when you know he’s listening. you start staying longer just to see what he’ll say when the crowd leaves
𝄢 neither of you define it, because if you do, it stops being something you can hide behind work. and right now, the work is the excuse that lets him stand close enough to you without falling apart.
𝄢 bar goers openly complaining about the way sebastian looks at you. band members hanging around after hours just to witness whatever strange romantic tension keeps happening onstage.
𝄢 because sebastian wilder, chronic snob and professional emotional avoider, becomes ridiculously obvious about you. he’s impossible. introducing you every night with increasingly lovestruck descriptions disguised as professionalism. “and now, the reason any of you people actually showed up tonight…” or: “if you talk during her solos i’ll have you removed physically.”
𝄢 meanwhile you stand beside the piano trying not to laugh while the audience loses their minds over him. he starts dressing even better than he already does too. not intentionally at first. but suddenly his nice button ups are nicer. his shoes extra polished. his hair actually brushed perfectly instead of loosely.
𝄢 because you complimented one outfit once and sebastian has apparently decided to build his entire self-esteem around that interaction forever.
𝄢 the rehearsals become unbearably intimate. all dim lighting and old records and lingering eye contact. sometimes you stay after closing while sebastian plays piano softly just for you, tie loosened, whiskey abandoned somewhere nearby while the city glows outside the windows. and he talks more around you. that’s what surprises everybody most. because sebastian usually keeps people at arm’s length emotionally. he hides behind jazz trivia and pretentiousness and sarcasm. but around you? he softens completely.
𝄢 suddenly he’s telling stories about childhood records he used to play. talking about music like it still hurts him a little. looking at you after songs with this open vulnerable expression like he forgot how to hide for a second. and you always notice.
𝄢 one night during rehearsal you quietly tell him; “you only tap your fingers like that when you’re nervous.” sebastian looks genuinely alarmed. “you can tell?” you smile, “i can tell everything with you.” he spends the next hour completely unable to make eye contact.
𝄢 the audience notices that shift too, because your chemistry evolves from flirtation into something softer and infinitely more dangerous. suddenly there are moments onstage where you look at each other too long after songs end. little smiles meant only for each other. sebastian adjusting the microphone for you with absurd tenderness before performances start. and the crowd eats it alive every single night.
𝄢 articles start appearing about the club. “the jazz revival hidden in downtown la” “the impossible chemistry keeping audiences returning weekly” sebastian pretends to hate the attention. meanwhile he keeps every article folded carefully beneath the counter in his office.
𝄢 after shows the two of you always end up sitting together in the empty club long after everyone leaves. exhausted. half-drunk on whiskey and adrenaline. music still humming softly through the speakers. sometimes you sit on top of the piano while sebastian talks nonsense beside you at three in the morning. sometimes he plays quietly while you sing only for him. those are his favourite moments. no audience, no applause. just you in the dim golden light sounding like true love and velvet.
𝄢 sebastian falls first obviously, catastrophically too. because you understand music the way he does. you make jazz sound intimate again, human again.
𝄢 and sebastian looks at you like you saved something inside him he thought had died years ago. one night after a packed show, you find him alone at the piano after closing, absentmindedly replaying one of your songs. he doesn’t notice you immediately but he feels you there. he’s smiling to himself softly while playing. completely gone. “you know people think we’re sleeping together,” you tease lightly from the doorway.
𝄢 sebastian glances up. and the look on his face is so fond it almost catches you off guard. “yeah?” he says quietly. “they’d probably lose their minds if they knew i’m actually worse than that.” you lean against the piano curiously. “worse how?”
𝄢 sebastian looks at you for a long moment. then admits, voice soft and helpless: “i think i’m in love with you.”
Hi! I’ve been reading your fluffs and needless to say I love them!
I want to ask if you could write something with driver, maybe reader comforting him after a rough day, or maybe him just finding comfort in reader in the domestic moments etc? Thank you!
have you been in my drafts….? because as you sent this, i literally had a smutty version of this ready to post (aka rough day) 🫣
anyway,,, thank you so much! i love this idea and i loveeeeee writing domestic driver, pls that man deserves the world
also i’m sorry this has taken so longgggg!
comfort in you.
warning: soft driver, domestic driver, mention of kissing kink (but it’s all fluff, no smut)
word count: 1.3k
throughout his life, driver had found little comfort in other people. he left home when he could, he never had any long lasting, meaningful relationships. when he arrived in la, he was content to work his different jobs and go home to an empty apartment at the end of the day.
but when he met you, everything changed.
that first day he saw you in the elevator, taking it up to the same floor as him, he knew things would be different. he wanted to know you, wanted to be around you. you were so sweet, asking him to press the button for the fourth floor before giggling once you’d realised that he had already pressed it. you were on opposite sides of the elevator, but that didn’t stop you from glancing over at him. he had seen you, but that was only because he was looking first.
after that, you saw each other fairly regularly. driver had even gone out of his way to met you at the elevator, head out of his apartment at the same time as you, just to have a few minutes next to you. he helped you when you bought a new couch and needed it moving, and you thanked him with dinner.
little did he know, that you’d also been making an effort to see him more. since that first day you two had met, you couldn’t get your hot neighbour’s face out of your head. you would make more noise than necessary when leaving so he would hear and come out at the same time as you. you had even bought a couch that was way too big for your apartment just so he would help you.
after that dinner, you saw each other almost every day. either he would come over to yours, or you’d make the short walk to his just to be with him. do nothing but watch tv. sit and enjoy each other’s company with only a few words between you. you truly didn’t mind; you just wanted him.
and so, driver found comfort in you. he found himself craving your presence and needing to be around you just to get through the day.
neither of you knew when it turned into something more than just friends. the nights you would make dinner for him, he’d be around before you started prepping the ingredients. he’d hover close to you with either an arm around your waist as he stood next to you in the low light, or his front would be pressed against your neck, letting your voice reverberate against his chest and fill a hole he didn’t know he had.
he’d always help you clean up afterwards, washing and drying dishes and putting them away in exactly the right places. it felt like he knew your apartment better than he did his own. when the last plate was away, you’d curl up on your sofa and turn on the tv, finding something mindless and easy to watch.
driver would be leant against the back cushions, his legs spread out in front of him as you curled into his side. he had an arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you close, that hand tracing lines up and across your skin as his other fiddled with the hem of your jeans that were across his lap.
most nights you’d fall asleep like that. the warmth and the soft presence of driver was enough to let you drift into a peaceful dream. those nights, he’d fight so hard with himself, mentally deciding whether to stay with you like that all night, or gently lay you on your bed before slipping out quietly.
he’d always take you to your room and leave you in peace, but every night he wished he could stay with you.
when you first kissed him, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. he had been fixing a car part at his small dining table as you sat on the couch next to him, watching him silently as he worked. you asked a few questions about what he was doing which he answered without lifting his head to you.
you didn’t mind that. it gave you the perfect opportunity to cast your eyes over his body, moving from his soft blond hair down to his strong arms and powerful legs. when you first met him, you thought he was one of the prettiest people you’d ever met. now that you knew him even more, you’d confidently say that to anyone who asked.
the muscles in his arms twitched as he moved, his skin glistening under the harsh white light as he kept his sharp focus on the part. after five minutes of silence (and you just staring at him), driver turned to face you, pushing his chair slightly back from the table. the sound caught your attention, your gaze snapping up to meet his own.
neither of you said anything as you suddenly stood up, crossing the small gap between the two of you. your hands reached out for his shoulders, your thumbs rubbing back and forth over the slightly dirty white t-shirt. driver just stared up at you, his hands wanting to grab your hips, but not having the confidence yet.
you titled your head slightly to the right before straddling his thighs and quickly sitting down in his lap. his hands moved onto your body at the sheer shock of your actions, holding you tightly so that you didn’t fall. as he was internally panicking, your fingers traced up the sides of his neck, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your hands.
“you’re so pretty.” you finally whispered, leaning closer so that your noses were almost touching. he titled his head quizzingly.
“no one ever told you that?” you asked, your thumbs stroking the skin of his cheekbones. he just shook his head, a sad expression starting to paint his features.
“well,” your voice was lower, growing quieter the closer you got to his face. “i’m glad i got to be the first.” and before you finished your sentence, your lips were on his.
after that, driver felt addicted to kissing you. he’d do it at any chance he could get: when he woke up, when he left the apartment, when he came home, when you both went to bed. he’d kiss you different each time, sometimes soft, and sometimes a little harder depending on how he felt.
the days when he came home and wrapped himself around you, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, you knew he had had a rough day. on those days, you’d guide him to your shared bed (you ended up moving into his apartment after three months of living there anyway), lay on your back and bring him close to your side. he’d laid contentedly on your chest, letting your heartbeat calm him down and he revealed in your warmth.
you would place gentle kisses onto his hairline every so often, pulling him closer as he snuggled further into your side.
“bad day?” you asked after a while, not sure if he’d fallen asleep or not.
“yeh.” he sighed, lifting his head up to look at you. he sat up and rested on his elbow, leaning over you as he cupped your cheek in his hand. he gave you one of his soft smiles before moving closer, pressing his lips to yours and gave you a sweet kiss.
“better now.” his voice was soft, pressing another kiss onto your lips.
“good,” you smiled, running a hand down his chest. “i’m glad you’re home, too.”
riding driver in the back seat of his car. that’s all
warnings: smut under the cut, cowgirl, unprotected sex, slight kissing kink, swearing
he’d take you on a drive, like always; the windows down, music on low as you drove through the dark and quiet streets of la late at night. the presence of driver and the warm orange lights were enough to calm you. you had had a stressful day, he knew that, so he wanted to do something nice for you. wanted to be good for you.
he’d pull over down an empty lane, hidden well by trees and bushes that opened out to a hill with a view of the city. he always knew about places like this; empty, peaceful, no other person around for miles. that’s exactly what you needed tonight. exactly what he wanted.
once he pulls the car into park, he’d be up and out the car, smoothly walking around to your side to open the door and help you out. his hand would stay in yours as he brings you around to the bonnet, lifting you up onto it before pushing his way in between your legs. they always opened immediately for him.
his hands would be all over you then. they’d start on your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders and down your chest. he’s already kissing you, taking in every moan and groan you make, swallowing your whimper as he squeezed your tits through your t-shirt.
yours hands would be grasping at the fabric of his jacket on his arms, trying to ground yourself as you lose yourself in his taste. his tongue pushes into your mouth, his own groan tumbling from his lips as he tastes you and moves to grab your hips. his own rut forward, his cock almost fully hard after only kissing for a short while.
you’d moan once more at the contact between your legs, feeling something hot and white flash through your body as your legs wrap around his waist to keep him close. through all this, he’s still kissing you. pushing and pulling. giving and taking. he’s high on everything you and he’s exactly where he wants to be.
“need you, baby.” you’d whimper into his mouth after you couldn’t take it anymore. the friction from his hips and his tongue in your mouth had made you wetter than you’d ever care to admit, and you’d finally had enough of just that.
driver would nod at your words, pulling away from you before helping you off the bonnet. his hand would take yours again as he guides you to the back seat, sitting down right in the middle with his legs spread as you climbed in after him. he’d pat his thighs and you’d know exactly where he wanted you.
your knees would fall either side of his hips, immediately sitting down on his lap as his hands grabbed your hips once more and your hands cupped his cheeks. he would guide you back and forth, grinding your pussy against his hard cock, holding back his moans of pleasure just to hear yours instead.
“want more?” he’d tease, slowing down your movements as you tried to fight against it.
“please,” you’d nod, bring your forehead down to his. “please, i need it.” his only reply would be a short nod, helping you lift off his lap slightly as he began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. to help, you’d bunch up your sundress to your hips, two fingers rubbing your slit over your now soaked underwear as he pumped his cock a few times.
your hand would replace his own, guiding his cock to your pussy as your other held your panties out of the way. the moment his tip brushed against your clit, you couldn’t stop the moan that echoed around the car.
you tried so hard to concentrate, tried so hard to keep moving down his cock to let him be fully seated inside of you, but the initial stretch and feeling was always overwhelming. driver would notice. of course he would. he’d help guide your hips down, inch by inch, before he nestled against your cervix, taking up every inch of space inside of you that he could whilst still wanting more.
when you clenched around him, he’d let his groan escape, his deep blue eyes looking into yours as you started to bounce up and down. you wouldn’t move too much, just enough to give both of you enough pleasure before slamming your hips back down to meet his.
once you found your rhythm, he’d kiss you hard once more. taking you by surprise, you’d clench around him again and swallow his moan, keeping a steady bounce as much as you could.
a hand would leave your hips, sliding across your stomach to slip down to your clit. two fingers would rub in tight circles, your slick allowing him to glide around the bud easily and apply just enough pressure to have you squirming.
“oh, fuck,” you’d moan into his ear, your voice no louder than a whisper. “i’m going to come. please, i need to come.”
driver would just nod, his fingers working faster as his hips rutted up to match yours. your hands would squeeze his shoulders, finding anything to grab as your orgasm hit you hard, your hips stuttering and legs shaking as you tried to ride out your high and make him come too.
he’d make a whimper as you came, his own hips faltering as he spilled inside of you. his forehead would rest on your shoulder, his face in your neck and his hot breath warmed up your skin.
“feelin’ better?” he’d ask after a moment, his now softening cock still inside of you as you both came down from your highs.
“yea,” you’d nod, smile wide as you pulled him up and out of his temporary hiding place. “always make me feel better.”
he’d smile at your words, blushing like a schoolboy with a crush as if he hadn’t just rearranged your insides.
can’t get over driver, i need him in ways concerning to feminism. having many thots right now: maybe i’m into car guys
i have a couple of requests that are taking me wayyy to long to do (those two anons, i’m so sorry, i promise im writing them, i love them both)
life has just been busy and im hoping to get round to them by this weekend 🤞🏼 but please still send any requests or any thoughts you have for the gosling boys, fluffy or smutty, dealer’s choice 🫣
summary: you know what driver does, so you offer him a place to come whenever he needs it, and one night, he really does
warning: talks of violence/getting beat up, blood mention, cleaning wounds, mentions of anxiety, fluff, soft driver
note: thank you to the beautiful nonny who sent in this request! i started writing and couldn’t stop (so nothing new??), and i love how this turned out
word count: 3.5k
it had been a while since you’d seen him. usually, living right next door to your attractive neighbour meant that you saw him almost every day, sometimes twice if he had had a bad night and needed some comfort or just someone to be around. you’d caught him going out late one night, a duffel bag in his hand and some car keys in the other.
they weren’t his usual keys. they were missing the rabbit’s foot he always carried around.
“where are you going?” you smirked after looking him up and down, making him stop in his tracks on the way to the elevator. “you’re not going to murder someone, are you?” you were joking, of course you were. he knew that. but hearing you say that stirred something inside of driver. something you couldn’t see then, but you’d eventually learn later.
“just for a drive.” he replied softly, turning his head to look at you while giving you one of his soft smiles. you would never get tired of seeing that.
“okay,” you were skeptical but teased him nonetheless. “be safe.”
“okay.” he replied, nodding once before continuing his way to the elevator.
you thought little of it for the rest of the evening. you organised your laundry and cleaned up the apartment a bit before a knock came on your door just before eleven. the only person it could be was your neighbour, but you looked through the peephole nonetheless.
and there he was, still in the same clothes you’d seen him in earlier, but he didn’t have the duffel bag any more. you unlocked the door and pulled it open, immediately leaning again the door frame wearing a smile reserved for only him.
“did the murder go down easily?” you teased, eyes twinkling with mischief as you looked him up and down. he huffed out a laugh, stuffing his hand into his empty pocket before glancing down the hallway then back at you.
“can i come in?” his voice was soft, almost timid as if he was worried you wouldn’t let him in. you nodded quickly, realising that he might not be in the joking mood and moved aside. he closed the door behind himself, clicking the lock into place. you moved cautiously into your living room.
his back was still to you, his hand still tightly wrapped around the doorknob. he looked over his shoulder in your direction as he asked his first question.
“do you know?” his voice was quiet once more, his eyes following a panel of flooring before finding your feet and trailing up your body. “do you know what i do?”
“erm, you drive…?” you replied, tone unsure as to what he wanted to hear. you knew he had a couple of different jobs, but you didn’t know why it was relevant or why he was acting this way. “you drive for the movies and you fix cars?”
“yea,” he nodded, turning around to face you before leaning against your door. “i drive for the movies and i fix cars. i also drive people after they’ve robbed somewhere, or stolen something.”
“so, a getaway driver?” you clarified, looking into his eyes for a sign of him joking, or that you’d gotten something wrong.
“yea.” he nodded again, a hand dipping into his pocket to pull out a toothpick. you watched as he nervously bit into it and pushed it around his mouth.
he stayed where he was planted on the floor, watching you as you nodded your head a couple of times and shuffled on your feet. you turned to look out the window, processing what he’d just said, imagining him in situations like that. it didn’t seem right. his words settled in your bones and made you uncomfortable. it didn’t feel like something he would do.
you spoke up after a moment, head still turned towards the night sky, “how long?”
“a little while.”
“how often?”
“depends.” you nodded again at his answer, turning back to face him. the look he wore was one you hadn’t seen before. he looked nervous, worried. his eyebrows furrowed as he waited for you. he followed your every move as you stepped closer to him, something akin to rejection ready in his mind.
“is it safe?” you whispered once you were close to him, your eyes dropping to the zip of his jacket as your hand reached to pull it up slightly. you needed to be close to him, but also needed to distract yourself. he titled his head, confused with your question.
“do you do anything? or do you just drive?” you clarified, your hand staying on his chest as you finally looked back at him. “can you get hurt?”
“no,” he replied immediately, his head shaking as a hand emerged from his pocket to rest on your cheek. “i just drive. i don’t carry a gun, i don’t do anything.”
“just drive.” you repeated, leaning into his warmth. it fell quiet between you two. you kept looking up at him as he did the same back to you. his words were still floating around your head, your mind picking them apart as you realised how much he trusted you.
you huffed a deep sigh before saying, “will you tell me? when you go out and do all of this, will you tell me you’re going?”
driver nodded his head gently, his other hand coming up to the back of your head. his touch was soft as he pulled you closer to him, tilting your head slightly to allow his lips to press a soft kiss on your forehead.
“i’ll tell you,” he agreed, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “i’ll tell you when i’m leaving and when i’m back. it might be late some nights.”
“i don’t care.” you admitted, voice quiet as you wrapped your arms around his waist. both of you stayed like that for a moment, enamoured with each other’s touch with a lack of willingness to move away.
it took everything in driver to be the first to pull away from you. he pressed another kiss onto your forehead before moving backwards. your arms dropped away from his body, allowing him to turn around and unlock the door. his hand gripped the door handle as he turned back to you. he gave you one of his soft smiles, waiting for you to return it before he opened the door and began to disappear down the hallway.
“you can always come here, you know?” you said as you moved into the doorway. he had barely made it out of your apartment before you leaned against the doorframe and poked him in the back. he turned to give you a glare, raising his eyebrows at your action before he saw the look on your face. you were being serious.
you continued, “if anything happens, or you just need a place to be, i’ll always be here.”
driver nodded at that, smiling once more before he made his way to his apartment. you followed his movements down the hallway, watching him fumble with his keys before jamming them into the lock and opening his door. he gave you one last glance before disappearing completely out of view.
after that night, you saw driver more often. now that he had told you about his job under the cover of darkness - and he had promised to tell you when he was going out - the time you spent together was tenfold. he would come over and let you know he was heading out, and you’d stay awake until he was back safely. most nights he sat with you for a while, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence.
he would always leave you with a kiss on your cheek, whispering a sweet “goodnight” as he did so before turning away and heading back to his apartment. you both fell into a pleasant routine, and more recently, you’d hear the elevator stop on your floor and have the door open before he had even rounded the corner.
he would just walk straight in and close the door gently before making his way over to you, shedding his jacket and hanging it over the back of one of your dining table chairs. he’d sit next to you on your couch, carefully pick up the glass of water you put out for him and wait for you to say something first.
most evenings went like that. on the nights that you knew he wasn’t going out, you’d hang out with friends or head down to do laundry since the washers were empty at night. and even when he wasn’t escaping the echoing sounds of sirens, he’d sometimes still come around and sit with you.
you had had a crush on him since you moved in, and you’d managed to keep that under wraps with your minimal interactions. but now? seeing him almost every day, those feelings increased, and it became harder and harder to let him escape into the night and put himself in danger.
there was one night that felt different to the others. he came to your door like usual, told you he would be out and when he should be back. you waved him off with a meaningful “be safe” and he gave you a smile and a silent promise that he would.
as the evening went on, you couldn’t get comfortable. you anxiously paced back and forth, wearing your flooring down, but you couldn’t have cared less. you tried to distract yourself with cleaning, tidying and moving things around to pass time, but nothing calmed you.
all you could hear were the sounds of sirens and horns honking through your slightly open windows. the city lights seemed brighter tonight, although they did little to help your nerves. often times it would be reassuring to watch the lives of people down on the streets as you waited for driver, but tonight it felt more of a mockery.
you waited and waited and waited, ear pressed against the door to hear something, anything, from the hallway as time ticked on.
a knock just after midnight made you jump slightly on your couch, your half-asleep body taking a minute to realise it was your door someone was knocking on. you pushed yourself off the cushions, eyes glancing to the side to see that the night was still here and the lights were still sparkling. a second knock came; impatient, hurried.
you stumbled over to the door, pulling the chain across and turning the lock as you looked through the peephole. what you saw made you gasp, hands fumbling with the handle as you struggled to open the door.
as you pulled it open, it revealed driver, slumped to one side of your door frame (although his shoulders still took up almost the entire width), his face and the top of his jacket covered in blood. it was his, it had to be. he never got involved with the crimes he drove people away from, always being on the opposing side of violence unless necessary.
it took a second for your brain to catch up with what you were seeing. you took in the busted lip and the cut on his eyebrow, the bruise that had started to grow on his cheekbone and under his eye. you willed your body forward, looking over his shoulder for anyone in the hallway that might have been lurking, but found nothing. seconds later, he was in your apartment and the door was locked once more.
driver leaned into your warmth as you wrapped your arm around his waist. he tried to walk with you, following your steps to your bathroom that he could probably do blindfolded now. you were gentle as you eased him down onto your closed toilet seat, taking care to unzip his jacket and pull off the soiled material from his body. there was no blood underneath it, a silent prayer you had made earlier. it was just his face to worry about.
he had never wanted to show up like this. you already looked out for him so much; making sure he was home, staying up when he was a little later than usual, checking in on him after he was silent for a couple of days. you didn’t deserve this. you didn’t need to be patching him up.
but your touch was so soft. you felt so warm. your hands were gentle as they ghosted across his face, pressing into his skin as you checked out his injuries. he didn’t flinch, only watched and followed you around as you grabbed a first aid kit from a low cupboard and washed your hands.
his jacket was in his lap, his hands clasped together on top of it. anything to stop him from touching you, corrupting you, tainting you even more than he already had done. as you got closer to him once more, his eyes found yours and all he was met with was worry and sadness. was that a tear he could see?
that thought was snapped from his head as he felt pressure on his forehead, a groan involuntarily slipping from his already parted lips.
“sorry,” you squeaked, tapping against his skin a little softer as you tried to clear away some of the dried blood. “you’re going to have some bruising.” driver just nodded at your words. he had seen what he looked like in his rear view mirror as he drove home, the only thing running through his mind being to come straight to you.
it took a few antiseptic covered cotton pads to remove enough blood to get to the cuts on his skin. they weren’t too deep; they would heal themselves without stitches, but they would definitely be painful for a while.
you turned away to grab a couple of steri-strips for his eyebrow, and when you turned back, you were met with driver’s bright blue eyes once more. you could feel his eyes on you as you moved around earlier, and now, as you started to patch him up, you couldn’t pull away from his gaze. deep down, you were grateful it had been nothing worse. you don’t know how well you could have handled seeing him in a worse state.
you didn’t want to think about it.
“now who would do this to such a pretty face?” you whispered, finally pulling your gaze away from his as you started to place the steri-strips on his skin. you could feel the tears threatening to spill over at any second.
“jus’ a couple of idiots.” driver replied, his words mumbled over the cut on his lips.
“what happened?” you asked, your hands moving down to cup his cheeks.
“they finished the job. i took them to a parking lot, and before i could leave they started swinging punches,” he started to explain, his hand shifting nervously in his lap. “i couldn’t stop them. they took everything they stole. beat me up. i couldn’t do anything. took me a while to get home.”
“you shouldn’t have driven home like this, you can barely stand,” you chastised him, but there was no venom in your words. your thumbs had started to absentmindedly stroke the marred skin of his cheeks. “you should have called me.”
“no phones,” he reminded you, one of his hands coming up to wrap around your wrist. they were so big. it didn’t take much of him to cover your skin. “i had to get back some way.”
although you knew he was right, you just shook your head, sniffling slightly as you looked down to his lap. his other hand had a tight grip on his jacket, like he was still restraining himself from touching you. you didn’t care; he could do whatever he wanted to you.
you took a deep breath before looking back at him. his eyes were now hazy, matching your own as you stared into them.
“need to get some ice on your eye.” you said plainly. he looked better than when he showed up on your doorstep. the majority of the blood was gone, his cuts were still red and raw, but they would go down after a day or two. he really did need that ice, though. you’re sure the only thing you had were frozen peas. they’d have to do.
driver nodded, his hand loosening its grip on your wrist as you began to pull away. you started to tidy up the blooded cotton, pushing them into the small yellow bag that comes with the kit with shaky hands. you were turned away from him now, but he still watched your every move. he noticed you shaking, fumbling with the first aid kit more than you had done earlier.
so, he stood up, his jacket abandoned and left to fall to the floor as he stepped forward and towered over your side. you could feel him next to you. the hand that had held your wrist moments ago was now halting your movements, covering the bag to get you to stop. you did. you turned to look at him.
his other arm came out to wrap around your waist, pulling you to his chest as your hands came up to cover your face. you pushed into his shirt, gripping the material as his other arm came around your shoulders. it didn’t take you long to sob out the cry you’d been holding in since he knocked on the door.
and he just held you. his steady heartbeat filled your ears, the distinct smell of oil, and diesel and something so him filled your nose. knowing you needed the comfort, driver leaned down slightly to press a gentle kiss onto your forehead, holding his lips there for a second as he felt you sigh heavily. you let out another sob before trying to control your breathing, realising how stupid you now felt after he’d been the one beat up, not you.
“i’m sorry.” you mumbled into him, continuing to breathe as you tried to keep calm. his chin was now resting on the top of your head, the hand on your lower back rubbing in circles as he left a trail of his warmth with it.
“it’s okay.” he reassured you, his voice gentle with you, like always.
“come on,” you pulled away, quickly wiping your eyes before you looked up at him. his hold on you never left, just loosened to give you space to move. “let’s get something on your face.”
“okay.” he nodded, smiling slightly to try to make you feel better; it’s like he knew that you loved his shy smiles.
as you pulled away, he let go of you completely. his jacket was still abandoned on the floor, the first aid kit still in pieces on the countertop, but neither of you cared. you stepped towards the bathroom door, reaching behind you to grab one of driver’s hands before you got too far away from him. he grabbed onto you immediately, allowing you to pull him through your apartment and into the small kitchen.
once you reached your dining table, you pulled out one of the chairs with your free hand and gently guided him to sit down. he let you manhandle him however you wanted him, his eyes following you once again as you opened the freezer to find something for his face.
you turn back to his with both hands full, “i only have half a bag of peas and this old ice pack.” he just nodded at you, a hand reaching out to grab the peas and press them against his eyebrow. that one was throbbing the most.
as you got closer, his free hand reached out for your waist and pulled you closer to him, guiding you to straddle his thighs before lowering you down onto his lap. you landed with a sharp gasp, your free hand reaching out for his shoulder as you tried to regain your balance. you looked at him with a pointed glare to which he gave you another one of his smiles. you shook your head as you carefully placed the ice pack against his busted lip.
“you still mean it?” driver asked after a few moments of quiet, the only sounds being the humming of the fridge and the rustling of the peas as he shifted the bag around a couple of times. you were still pressed against him, the hand on his shoulder now on the side of his neck as you held him still.
“mean what?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to remember what you had said to him.
he clarified, “that i could always come here. if i needed you, or needed somewhere to be.”
“always.” you nodded.
“can i come round more often?”
“definitely.”
masterlist!
requests! for ryland… driver… court…? holland…? colt…? you know, whoever
Driver and Bratty or sassy reader when he’s already had a long day and reader hasn’t caught onto that 👁️👁️ please 🥹🥹
ohhhh, okay, so i saw this on my lunch break and now im still horny at work? let’s go
smut under the cut btw, because i can’t stop thinking about him brat taming now
you knew he worked hard, he did so much to provide for you and make sure that you only had to have a cushy part time job, but he had been gone for so long and you missed him. (and by so long, i mean a normal working day, but that’s too long for you).
dinner was made, the apartment was clean and you’d showered, all ready for when driver got home so you could just jump his bones the minute you saw him.
he got back at his usual time, sliding the key into the lock before opening the door and closing it. his keys with the rabbit’s foot dangling down were forcefully pushed onto their hook as he let out a deep sigh. after the day he had had, coming home to you and the smell of dinner was enough to calm him slightly, wanting nothing more than to shower, eat and head to bed.
but you had other plans.
you completely bypassed his hunched shoulders, the weight of the day settling heavy on them, having a one-track mind to touch him and not stop until both of you came. you stepped over to where he stood in the entrance way, your hands creeping up his back after he had pulled off his scorpion jacket.
“hey, baby,” you cooed over his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him against your body. “missed you.”
driver glanced over his shoulder to see the look in your eye. he knew what it meant and what you wanted to happen, but after today, he truly was ready to sleep. that was until you started tugging at his belt, completely ignoring his glances.
“what are you doing?” he asked, turning around in your arms to face you. he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and cupped your face with the other.
“missed you, baby,” you repeated, squirming against his touch only slightly. “jus’ want to feel you, want you so bad.”
“yeh? you want me?” he whispered, bringing his face level with yours as you nodded. “you going to be good?” you shook your head.
he knew that was coming. he could tell from a mile off that you weren’t going to behave. the glint in your eye and the way your hands kept moving towards his crotch told him everything he needed to know: you were being a brat, and he wasn’t in the mood.
“i’ve had a long day, sweetheart.” he kept his eyes level with yours, his hand trying its hardest to keep yours still.
“but i missed you.”
“you’ve said.”
“jus’ want to make you feel good, you always make me feel good. jus’ want you, please?” you knew your eyes were begging for him, you gave him the look that you knew always got you your way, but he wasn’t moving. he wasn’t grabbing at your clothes like he usually does. he wasn’t throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed.
“do you not want me?”
“i do,” driver said plainly, his self control dwindling by the second. “long day, that’s all.”
“please? i’ll be so good, i promise.” you gave him one last pout, your hands pushing against his to touch him again. the hand on your face squeezed your jaw before he growled, picking you up and storming through the apartment.
the next thing you knew, you were bouncing on your shared bed. driver was pulling off his dirty white shirt and unbuckling his belt before saying,
“want to be good? take off your clothes.” and you obeyed instantly. your sleep clothes went in two different directions as driver began to crawl up the bed towards you, now completely naked with his cock gripped in one hand. you couldn’t help but smile, reaching forward to stop him and take his cock in your own hand instead.
he knelt before you as you started to pump your hand up and down, looking up at him as the stress left his face.
“you’re so pretty.” you complimented him, hand still moving up and down his length as you pressed kisses onto his chest. his breath hitched as you did so, bringing him out of the bliss of your touch and back to the present. his hands reached out to push you backwards, grabbing a pillow to sit under your hips as he got comfortable between your legs.
“this what you wanted? hum?” he mocked, rubbing his tip up and down your already soaking folds. you moaned and nodded, looking between his face and where he was finally touching you. “missed this?” you nodded again, lifting your hips up to create more friction.
“want you so bad,” you whimpered, hands flying up to his biceps as he leaned forward over you. “missed you so much, you don’t even know.”
“such a brat, begging as soon as i walk through the door.” his cock kept rubbing up and down your slit, the tip slipping in momentarily before pulling back. you’ve never wanted anything so badly. the only thing you could think to do was whimper at the contact he was declining you.
“i am,” you agreed, hips bucking up at him again. “i’m such a brat. so needy for you, only you.”
well, at least you’d admitted it now.
your eyes were glazed over and blown with lust. driver could feel how wet you were and wanted nothing more than to push inside of you. he debated with himself for a moment, continuing to tease your clit with his tip before he decided to finally take you.
he pushed his cock fully in with one thrust, his hand moving to leave a bruising grip on your hip as you wriggled around. if you had any conscious thoughts, you’d be embarrassed of how loudly you moaned as you felt him bottom out.
he was stuffing you full and he was throbbing as his hips pistoned into you. his hands kept him steady as he focused on fucking you hard, groaning softly and into himself as your own moans tumbled from your lips.
as you started to clench around him, he leaned down and whispered, “so needy, hum? this all you needed? a good fuck?”
“yes,” you choked out, your hands dragging up his arms and on to his face, keeping him close to you. “all i needed.”
driver pressed a hard kiss onto your lips before you’d even finished your sentence, thrusting harder and harder as he felt himself needing to come. the hand on your hip quickly moved to rub your clit, making you gasp into his mouth and clench once more.
“m’close, please, so close.” you whimpered into his mouth, keeping his face where you wanted it. just before you felt yourself come, all the pressure went away. driver’s heat left your body and his cock slipped out of your pussy with a wet pop.
he knelt back, hands completely off you and now stroking his hard, glistening cock.
“i think you need to learn a lesson, don’t you?”
ohh, driver, you’re so soft and i love you so much, but i also need you to top me like this
Title: 71 Is The New 53.
Pairing: ( Established relationship ) - Ryland Grace x Reader.
Rating: T. ( Semi-suggestive, otherwise it's fluffy. )
Words: 3.1 K.
Summary: Time dilation. What a funny little thing.
☆Ryland Grace Masterlist☆
The morning light on Erid filtered softly through the bedroom windows made of clear xenonite, gray and tempered light; it was threatening to rain without the real promise of condensation and you could almost smell it in the deep recesses of your memories. The fresh, crisp sweetness of a pour kissing everything, the deeper musky scent of the man next to you mixing to create the most delectable scent imaginable.
There were stretched temples of garish shadows caressing Ryland, his chest semi-exposed under the thin fabric of the bed sheet. There was the tug of his breathing, slow and even as he shifted deeper into the pillow, silver-threaded hair sticking up in every direction and catching luminance just right that it was nearly blinding.
You smiled at the sight of him, still half asleep, still contemplating and booting up the idea of being conscious. Time was a funny thing, and it made your heart physically ache in your chest at how it had changed Ryland over the years. More silver than blonde in his hair, in his beard. The color was barely distinguishable for the longest time, mused prettily with his natural hair but now…
You drew your bottom lip in. He kissed you with more grey stubble, your fingers sunk into greying hair selfishly… There were soft lines around his mouth, ones you wanted to kiss and map out with your fingertips. Deeper ones at the corner of his azure eyes from a lifetime spent laughing, squinting behind glasses and making faces he’d deny making at people who irritated him.
But somehow… Your lips parted as you trailed your eyes along Ryland’s sleeping expression. Age only made him more appealing. More alluring in a lot of ways. You just had to huff a small laugh as the phrase aged like fine wine came to the forefront of your drowsy mind. Ryland’s face, even when relaxed with slumber, still held that quality of earnestness, of sweet sharpness than you’d fallen for so many years ago. The same visage he had when teaching, the same look he had when he’d been caught looking at you for a second too long, the same gaze, just more mature.
Something tugged at the back of your mind then, a persistent little notch of a thought weaving through the hazy, chilled Eridian morning. A date. A memory. Something that you had circled on your mental calendar. Ryland stirred beside you, the mattress dipping a bit with his weight adjusting as he rolled onto his side to face you. His breathing shifted from the deep, even flow to something lighter, more aware of itself like there was thought put into it now.
He made a soft and familiar noise, a low rumble in his chest and you watched with acute amusement as his eyelids fluttered open, long eyelashes batting away the faux lightning of the biodome. They blinked slowly, unfocused but yet still lingering traces of familiarity as he brought you into focus, almost with the reverence that you were a lingering vestige of a dream.
He smiled softly at you, half aware of how… perfect he really was. A lope-sided grin that made your stomach flutter as you propped yourself up on an elbow, the sheet coming to pool around your waist. You could see Ryland’s eyes drip from yours to your exposed skin, almost as if he were counting the goosebumps rising as you leaned over. He could feel your hair tickling against his arm, your voice nothing more than a conspiratorial whisper, laced with the utmost affection for a man who deserved nothing less.
“Good morning, birthday boy.”
For a moment, there was only sleepy confusion in Ryland’s eyes as he drew them back into yours. Then, recognition dawned upon him like the rising sun, followed immediately by the most profound sense of betrayal. He groaned. A long, dramatic sound of complete suffering that started deep in his diaphragm and tore through the air to tangle with one of your laughs. Simultaneously, one arm threw itself around your waist, Ryland working double time to move both of your bodies back as he rolled rather unceremoniously onto his back with a loud groan that just screamed, ‘Oh god, my back’.
You drifted with him, a smile on your face as you rested partially on his chest, that now being the only sense of decency from nudity as yours crushed against his. His other arm draped itself over his eyes, blocking out the light and what Ryland had to assume was your smug face.
“I was trying not to think about that.” He mumbled cutely, his voice muffled by his muscular forearm and the all too tethered notion of going back to sleep.
You hummed softly, bringing your lips to his jaw and laying a saliva-stricken kiss right on the sharper edge of his mandible. Ryland drew a deep breath in, your bodies moving from the action as you drew your heated mouth down to captivate along his jugular.
“Hmm… Why not? It’s something to celebrate…” There was sensuality in your voice, something that was tugging at Ryland in the best way he could imagine and left it lingering between his legs as you brought a heady kiss to his Adam's apple in some attempt to get him to open up.
Ryland dropped the arm from his eyes and peeked at you, your shoulders raising your body just enough to gaze back through half-lidded eyes. Your lips were pink and soft, he wanted nothing more than to lean in and let you celebrate but there was something there itching his mind in the way that would make whatever celebration you had planned unpleasurable.
“Because… I’d be seventy-one back on Earth.”
You sat yourself up against him a bit more ardently, one hand resting on his waist under the sheets, tracing at the waistband of his make-shift pajama bottoms as your other kept you supported, flat against the bed next to his head so you could look down at him. “Well… For being that old…” Ryland licked his lips as if he were eating your words. “You look incredible…”
“Hn…” He sounded almost unamused. “Says you…”
“I’m being serious, Ry.” You drifted your fingers up the length of his torso, dancing for a second along his collarbone before brushing carefully through a strand of blonde-silver kissed hair at his temple, soft and silken under your fingertips. “Honestly, you’re aging ridiculously well. I would wager that most people in their seventies would kill to look this good.”
Ryland’s mouth propped open as your touch came down to trace his plump bottom lip urgingly. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he pressed a hot kiss to your fingertips. “Are you flirting with me to distract me from the oncoming existential crisis?”
“Is it working?” You whispered, bringing your head down to plant a kiss to his mouth, your fingers pinching his chin to keep him in place. Ryland nearly melted right into it, hand sweeping up and cupping the side of your face before exploding his slender fingers out and caressing you with more intent.
“It’s…” Another kiss, this one a bit deeper as you tilted your head into it, swinging your legs around the narrowing of his waist so you could come to rest in his lap. “An effective…” And another as Ryland shifted beneath you, bringing his body up just enough to prop against the headboard, his shoulder blades screaming from the chill of the air but it was all worthwhile feeling the grind of your hipbones against his as a response. “Strategy…”
“Hmmm…” You grinned, bringing your mouth to his jaw where his stubble prickled slightly against the smoothness of your lips. Ryland’s eyes fluttered shut at that feeling, his arm snaking around your waist, hands pressing into the small of your back to keep you near him.
“Besides,” Your tone was heated. “Who’s even counting Earth years anymore? We live on a planet in a completely different system…” Ryland moved to press his face against your sternum, mouth splayed open to trail a few wet kisses coupled with the sensation of his rough beard against your skin caused you to arch against him. “Different orbit… Different calendar… For all pra-practical purposes, you’re still o-only fifty-three.”
“Fifty-three.” He repeated carefully against your skin, like he was testing the number for some type of structural weakness.
“Mhm…” You bit your bottom lip and watched as he tilted his head up, resting his chin against your chest as your eyes played with each other. Your fingers tangled into his hair, the strands fluttering into your touch, unprovoked. “You’ve still got it…”
That earned you the tiniest sound of embarrassment from the back of Ryland’s throat, a little huff of air that always escaped his body when you complimented him directly. He had no reason to stop it especially when the smile it garnered him from you was… Breathtaking.
“You know…” You murmured, quieter now as if you became aware all too quickly in the heat of the moment that your conversation could very well be honed in on. “The silver fox thing really works for you.”
Ryland immediately groaned again, tossing his head into your chest. The vibrations of the sound rattled against your ribcage and caused you to laugh as he muttered, “Absolutely not.”
“What?” You giggled. “It does!”
“That’s just the polite phrasing people use when they’re trying not to say old man.” Ryland brought his hands up and grasped your shoulders as he nuzzled his face further into your chest. You got a near mouthful of his hair, a breathy laugh leaving your lips.
“You’re being so dramatic.” You informed him.
“I’m being accurate.” Ryland argued, poking his nose right to the middle of your sternum as you brushed out some of his hair, “Do you understand how horrifying it is to realize you’re technically in the same age bracket as a retired dentist?”
That made you laugh outright, the sound alone in the quiet of the room seemed to ease something in Ryland as the tension in his body seeped away from the mattress to linger elsewhere. His shoulders relaxed visibly, bringing themselves in to make him appear much smaller as he held you tightly.
Ryland laughed against your skin. “You know what the stupid part is? I can’t stop thinking about it…” The words conformed against you. “If somebody told me there was a seventy-one year old scientist living on another planet, teaching alien kids about quantum physics and orbital mechanics, I… I’d think that that guy sounds pretty cool.”
You smiled. “He’s more than cool, if we’re being honest.”
“Debatable.” Ryland countered with a goofy grin.
“No, actually.” You shifted in his lap to get more comfortable as he leaned back against the headboard once again. Ryland’s breath hitched as he handed back over dominance. “Objectively true.”
Ryland… Had always carried time strangely. Even back on Earth, before Erid and your lives together, he used to joke about getting old long before he actually was. He complained when he stood up too fast. He’d hold his back and yap. He groaned about aches and pains after sleeping awkwardly. He called his students ‘kids these days’ despite dedicating his entire life to teaching those kids.
But underneath the jokes had always been something quieter. Fear… That one day, Ryland would wake up and realize that life passed him by and he had very little to show for it. Ryland tipped his head back and looked at you again as you brought your hand to cup the side of his face. Aged… But to you, still the same. Something softened in him, something in the minute cracks of his expression shifted into that warm, almost shy look he still got sometimes when you looked at him.
The vulnerability in Ryland’s eyes made your chest ache. This was a man who never quite seemed to understand how easy it was to love him as you craned your head down and laid a sweet, open mouthed invitation against his lips.
He seemed to moan into the affection, his eyes falling shut once again as he pressed the back of his knuckles against the smooth scape of your cheek. Ryland’s mouth shuddered against yours as he swiped his thumb against your bottom lip. “Y’know… I think… Part of me expected getting older to feel… Lonelier.” Your eyebrows furrowed a bit, chest tightening in a way that was both painful and tender. “But… It doesn’t. Not here. Not with you.”
The room settled into silence after that, the words hanging in the air between you as you drifted that much closer to him. Neither of you spoke as Ryland traced shapes against your lips with the tip of his thumb, his blue eyes seemingly transfixed on it like it was anchor keeping him on the planet. You perked your mouth and kissed lightly at the tip as he squinted thoughtfully at the action.
“Also,” His voice tore through the emotional atmosphere. “I probably have the bone density of like, a one-hundred and twenty year old with Erid’s gravity. So… I guess seventy-one is not too bad.”
You bursted into helpless laughter, your entire body tensing in amusement as you tossed your head back. Ryland watched with a smile on his lips before feeling inclined to join you in the maddening descent, his chuckle harmonizing with yours in the best way as he dropped his hands to rest on your waist. “I-I was beginning to worry I lost you there, Dr. Grace.” You wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of your eye.
“Science comforts me.”
“You’re impossible.”
And yet…” Ryland tilted his head and brought you that much closer to him, the tenacity of the moment back as you were more aggressively pressed skin to skin. “You remain deeply obsessed with me.”
“Unfortunately.” You grinned.
“Mhm.” Ryland pecked your lips. “Tragic for you.”
Later, long after the birthday celebration turned panic turned celebration, the morning melted into something a bit more warm and ordinary. You were still tangled in the trenches of the bed, unwilling or unable to move, you were unsure but there was no doubt in your mind as you watched Ryland shift out of the bed, pulling on his sleep pants. His shoulders were broader than you remembered, your fingers twitching in desperate need to touch them despite almost having the muscles memorized. His back was still straight and strong despite the complaints as he stood up and shuffled a bit around the room to get ready for the actual day.
You caught him though, pausing in front of the darker reflection of one of the habitat windows. Ryland just… Stood there. Staring at himself. Not critically, not searching for any sign of aging. Just, looking at himself thoughtfully. Like, maybe for the first time in a long while, the number floating around the day didn't bother him quite as much anymore.
You watched Ryland run a hand through his silver-streaked hair, a gesture so wildly familiar it made your heart flutter. When he turned his tall body and caught you looking at him, that all knowing blush crept up his neck, the same one that appeared and still did when you told him that you loved him.
“W-what?” He murmured, slipping on his glasses with a hint of self-consciousness in his voice before running his hand through his hair again. This time, it was done out of nervousness. “D-do I have something on my face?”
You shook your head slowly, allowing the sheets to fall away as you sat up, exposing your chest to his eyes once again. He did his best not to gawk, but you could see the shine off his golden frames as he spared a glance downwards. “Just… Watching.” Your reply was soft and sweet, hand coming to pat the space beside you. So empty, so yearning. “Come back to bed for a minute.”
You could see the hesitancy in Ryland. His glance towards the xenonite clock display, a reminder that the workday would begin soon and he needed to still get ready. But, you were also treated with the visual of his shoulders relaxing and his long legs bringing him back to the bed, weight sinking onto the mattress as a soft sigh left his mouth. You were not one for hesitating as you reached out and traced the lines of his shoulder blades with your fingertips.
“Are you feeling better?” You asked as he leaned into your touch, your lips ghosting a barely-there kiss against the nape of his neck, right above the top of his spine. His fingers found your other hand immediately, tangling with them and bringing them closer.
“Better.” Ryland murmured, leaning back into your touch with a quiet, reserved sigh. His fingers tightened around yours instinctively, grounding himself to the warmth your body gave him as you curled in closer. The room was still dim with the early morning light, softer grays and blues now tossed into the air, stretching along the walls.
You bit your bottom lip, trailing your fingertips down his spine. “You were staring at yourself in the xenonite.”
“God, that makes it sound weird.”
You giggled, pressing another soft kiss to the back of his neck. “Not weird. Just something I noticed. What were you thinking?”
Ryland shuffled a bit and tilted his head in thought despite already having a response lined up. His mouth opened and then closed a few times as he contemplated how to phrase it. “I… thought getting older would bother me… more.”
“On Earth, maybe…”
“Yeah…” He nodded in agreement, eyes dropping towards your tangled together hands. “But here… On Erid… With you, it just… Feels nice.”
You smiled softly at that as Ryland turned on the bed so he could face you properly, a silver-highlighted piece of hair falling messily across his forehead which you carefully whisked away with the tip of your finger. He smiled a small ‘thank you’, crested by sleep and warmth, the prospect of teaching still far off in the distance.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Ryland groaned, tilting his head in and sweeping his mouth along yours before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “The Star Wars response? That’s so unfair.”
“But, it’s effective.” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly.
“Unfortunately, it is.” He muttered, kissing your neck.
Your hand slid into his hair carefully, thumb coming to crush against his temple as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment of vulnerability. “Happy birthday, Ryland.”
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Coltland x reader where colt is teaching ryland how to fuck a woman properly and doesn't touch reader at all, just watches and makes guiding commentary 😋
LOVE ME SOME FILTHY COLTLAND.
fem!reader bfyr!
You’re on your back on the vast bed, the sheets cool beneath your naked skin. Ryland Grace is positioned between your legs, his body taut with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty. He’s hard, his cock jutting out, but his hands hover awkwardly over your hips, unsure of where to start.
From the armchair across the room, Colt Seavers leans back, a ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes are fixed on the scene, dark and predatory, but he doesn’t move an inch closer. His hands rest on the arms of the chair, his own arousal evident through his jeans, but he makes no move to touch himself. Not yet.
“Easy there, Geek,” Colt’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and steady. “You’re not trying to examine her. Slow down.”
Ryland glances over his shoulder, a flush creeping up his neck. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Colt’s eyebrow arches. “Because from here, it looks like you’re about to jam it in like you’re afraid she’s gonna vanish. She’s not going anywhere. Look at her.”
Ryland turns back to you, his eyes tracing the curve of your breasts, the way your chest rises and falls. He swallows.
Colt continues, his voice a purr. “First thing: you gotta get her ready. She’s not a machine. You don’t just flip a switch. Use your fingers. Take your time. Make her want it.”
Ryland’s hand moves hesitantly, his fingertips brushing over your inner thigh. You shiver. Colt nods slowly.
“That’s it. Feel that? She likes it. Now go higher. Tease her. Don’t just dive for the treasure. Circle the island first.”
Following the instruction, Ryland’s fingers trail upward, dragging through your wetness. He finds your clit, pressing down with an experimental thumb. You gasp, your back arching slightly.
“Good,” Colt murmurs, his eyes glittering. “Now pay attention to her face. You see that? That little flutter of her eyelids? That’s your cue. You’re doing something right. Don’t stop, but don’t get greedy. One thing at a time.”
Ryland leans down, his breath hot against your neck as he circles your clit with more confidence. His other hand cups your breast, thumb rubbing over your nipple.
“Better,” Colt says, a note of approval in his voice. “Now I want you to slide a finger inside her. Just one. Slow.”
Ryland obeys, his thick finger pushing past your folds, sinking into your wet heat. You moan, your hands gripping the sheets.
“Feel that?” Colt asks, his voice dropping lower. “Feel how tight she is? How she clenches around you? That’s what you’re working with. Now add a second finger. Stretch her out a little.
Ryland does, and you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand.
“That’s it. Now you’re not just jackhammering her like a college kid. You’re learning her. Now pull your fingers out. Slowly.”
Ryland withdraws, his fingers glistening. He brings them to his mouth, tasting you, his eyes closing for a second.
“Good boy,” Colt breathes. “Now line yourself up. But don’t push in yet.”
Ryland positions the head of his cock at your entrance, the pressure there maddening. You look up at him, your eyes pleading.
“Hold it there,” Colt commands. “Let her squirm wigh the anticipation. She’s wet for you, she’s ready. But you make her wait. Look at her eyes. She’s begging. That’s power, Ry. Use it.”
Ryland’s jaw tightens, his hips trembling with restraint. The head of his cock nudges against you, not quite entering, driving you wild.
“Now,” Colt says, his voice a whip crack. “Push. Just the head. Slow and steady.”
Ryland obeys, sinking the tip inside you. The stretch is exquisite, a burning pleasure that makes you gasp. He stops, his face a mask of concentration.
“Hold there. Count to five. Have her adjust to every inch as you give it to her.”
The seconds stretch into an eternity. You can feel Ryland pulsing inside you, half-sheathed, the pressure immense.
“Now the rest. One smooth, slow push. Don’t ram it home. Glide.”
Ryland slides forward, inch by inch, filling you completely until his hips are flush against yours. You both groan in unison, a sound that fills the room.
“Beautiful,” Colt whispers, his hand finally drifting down to palm himself through his jeans. “The first lesson is pace. You pull out almost all the way, then you push back in. Same rhythm. Think of it like a wave. In and out. Slow.”
Ryland follows the instruction, pulling back until only the head remains, then pushing back in with agonizing slowness. The friction is maddening, your walls gripping him tightly.
“Faster,” Colt says after a few long strokes. “Build a rhythm. Then you can change it up.”
Ryland picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more confident. The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room.
“Now angle your hips,” Colt instructs, his voice strained now. “Tilt her pelvis up a little. There’s a spot inside her, a little rough patch. Find it.”
Ryland adjusts, shifting your hips with his hands, and when he thrusts again, the new angle hits you perfectly. You cry out, your nails raking down his back.
“That’s it,” Colt groans, his hand now working his cock through his jeans, eyes glued to the sight of you taking Ryland. “Keep hitting that spot. Don’t change a thing. Sounds so pretty for us..”
Ryland listens easily, his rhythm steady, driving into you with a newfound precision. Your moans become louder, more desperate.
Colt observes, his breathing quickening. “I can hear it. She’s almost where we want her. Don’t stop. And don’t come yet. That’s an order.”
Ryland whines, his composure fraying. “I don’t know if I can...”
Colt says firmly. “You will. Focus on her. It’s not about you right now. It’s about making her fall apart on your cock. That’s your only job.”
Ryland buries his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming more urgent but still precise. His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles.
“Yes,” Colt hisses, his hand moving faster on himself. “Oohh..oh that's—mmh—that's it, make her cum, Ry..”
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his fingers on your clit is too much. You shatter, a wave of pleasure crashing through you, your body convulsing as you cry out his name.
Colt's voice is needy as he commands. “Come for us Grace, go ahead.”
Ryland lets go, a guttural groan torn from his throat as he pumps his release into you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
For a long moment, the only sounds are heavy breathing and the pounding of hearts. Ryland collapses beside you, pulling you close.
Colt stands, his jeans still undone, his cock still hard and slick with his own pre-cum. He doesn’t approach the bed, just stands there, looking at the two of you tangled together.
“Not bad, not bad,” he says, his voice rough. “Next time, we work on stamina. But for now... that was a good start.”
He turns and walks out of the room to grab things for aftercare and a good debrief of everything, leaving you and Ryland alone in the afterglow, the taste of his voyeuristic approval still hanging in the air.
summary stratt assigns you to work with dr. grace in his preparations for project hail mary. unfortunately, she doesn't consider that you might fall in love with him. cws canon-compliant ending, smut (unsafe sex, oral sex (f!receiving)), coworkers to friends to lovers, mentions of war, famine, and death, unhappyish/bittersweet ending wc 7.6k words
so i have a really bad cold and i did proofread this but any errors come mainly from my really bad cold. but like... i wrote this in one sitting. i'm going to bed. also, some of the concepts in this are from the book (ex. coma-resistance) and weren't mentioned in the movie but it was necessary for the plot. the title is from a cranberries song (my favourite band)
When word got out that there was a very real possibility that the sun would die sometime in the next few decades, most people felt compelled to do their part to help in some way. At least, most of the company that you kept did.
Granted, it was an odd thing. For years, everyone was told that the planet was going to get too hot. Flying and driving excessively was terrible for the environment because it was going to make that damage far worse than it needed to be. AI Data Centers were one of the most harmful things that one could imagine, and if these behaviors didn’t stop, the planet would get too hot. Irreversibly hot.
So it was odd when an unexpected crisis emerged, causing people to wonder if they would need to reverse the world-shattering damage by doing exactly what they knew to be damaging the Earth.
As with anything, some people choose not to believe it. As with anything, it became political. Maybe, you reasoned, many of the people who claimed that they didn’t believe what they were being told just didn’t want to believe it. Who would want to hear that their lives were going to be significantly impacted, shortened, or both by an impending doom that they couldn’t exactly see with their eyes? Sure, they could see the dots; they could see the probe launch and the public announcements that were being made by the world’s governments. They could see the entire world (for the most part) united with one specific goal for the first time in history. And yet they chose not to believe it. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they just liked being contrarian.
When whispers of the unexplainable line in space started circling to begin with, it was mainly on science forums. The people who were naturally interested in things like this were the ones reacting to it and discussing it. That was how you heard about it for the first time, anyway.
You had been studying in Germany under a mentor with connections to the broader community when your email was flooded with people talking about some line that was connected to the sun. You’d brought it up and eventually got a real answer. But the answer came in the form of a proposal. Since you were so interested in it, your mentor had reasoned, he knew the person who was in charge of the project, and he knew that she was looking to get a large staff as quickly as possible.
She needed scientists, and she needed top-notch security, and she needed astronauts. She needed people who could be there day in and day out, and people who weren’t going to miss their families too much, though she was willing to overlook that last part if need be. But she also needed an assistant. She couldn’t be in a million places at once, and she needed someone smart and competent who wouldn’t feel underwhelmed during the days when being her assistant meant running around to find her some big cups of coffee. Someone who could keep up with her lack of a sleep schedule.
Someone who felt compelled to help.
It wasn’t much of a difficult decision, really. You were competent and smart, you were willing to stay up for days at a time if it meant that you could help save the world, and you were already in Germany and had been for the last year. You had friends and family, but you were more than willing to uproot your life for a few years to study, and you were sure, even if you weren’t, that they’d understand why you needed to do what you were doing. Besides, you had been planning on being here for another two years before returning to the States anyway.
Eva Stratt was intimidating the first time you met her. And the second time. And probably the third time. But she didn’t want a mousy assistant who stuttered every time she spoke to her; she wanted someone who was at least mostly confident in her abilities, and that someone happened to be you. Or, maybe she just didn’t have enough time to go through a whole hiring process and took whoever was qualified and applied first.
It got easier to work with her over time, though. She wasn’t some scary person when you really got to know her; she just knew that she had to do what she had to do to prevent the world from ending. She had a lot of pressure on her shoulders, and once you accepted that, it became easier to do what you were hired to do and take as much of that pressure off as you could without overstepping into territory that you had no place being in. After all, you were smart and qualified, and you were rather well-versed in the science that was being discussed in regards to the Hail Mary.
Relieving that pressure became a bit different when she assigned you to work with Dr. Grace.
Stratt found it reasonable, really. You were a scientist, so you wouldn’t be clueless about what he was saying when he said it. You tried explaining to her that you studied a different kind of science than he did, but she figured that just meant that, since both of your studies pertained to the project, it would be beneficial. She really just wanted someone to be there when he needed it, someone whom she had grown to trust who would do what she would do for the most part. She wanted an extension of herself, in a sense, since she lacked the ability to clone herself and be there with him at all times.
There were a million and one diplomatic issues that Stratt needed to handle at one time, and she could easily just assign someone like Carl to be there with him and she absolutely would. But she knew that her biggest source of pressure now was making sure that everything that could be known about astrophage and the ship was known about astrophage and the ship as quickly as possible. Plus, if just babysitting Dr. Grace wasn’t enough work for you, you would also be filling in for her with the other scientists on the project when she wasn’t able to be there.
Really, it was more of a promotion than anything. You were still assisting her, but you were helping her with the project in more ways than coffee runs. It was a lot of pressure on you, too, but you had agreed to do this job when it was offered to you because you wanted to help. If this was the way to help, then you could stomach the nerves that having that much responsibility placed into your stomach.
You weren’t sure what you expected Grace to be like. You’d heard that a lot of people in the science community didn’t like him because of some comments that he had made a while ago. He had been fired from his job because he lost his temper with another member of the project some time ago. But you had yet to meet him; all you knew was that he was being given a small lab and three living dots of astrophage to study.
Some part of you worried that he was going to be some creepy, mean old man that you were going to be stuck with for some time while you were working on this project together. So you were pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t mean, creepy, or old when you walked into the room where he was.
He was taking a small break, lounging at the table with a packet of Sour Skittles in his hand, when you walked in with a clipboard and two coffees in your hand.
“Dr. Grace?”
“Hi? Wait, hi! Hi, Stratt told me you were coming.” He rubbed off some of the sour dust on a napkin on the table before he stood up to hold out his hand. “I read one of your papers just to prepare, I mean, I would have read more, but I was working.”
There was a bit of relief that you felt as you shook his hand. He was normal. Well, more than normal. He was irritatingly attractive, which was something that no one had warned you about. He had a warm smile when your eyes met his. He was disarming; he seemed easy to get along with.
“Yes, uh-” You told him your name quietly before your eyes darted over to the table that had an open drawer on the side. “Were you planning on eating thirty-nine packs of Sour Skittles for lunch?”
“No, of course not.” He responded, brushing off what you had said like you were insane. “How could you even think something like that. I mean, thirty-nine whole packs of Skittles for one meal would be absurd. I was planning on eating thirty-eight, like any reasonable person.”
He made you laugh pretty quickly, which you figured was a good sign.
“Seriously, though, you must have had a long flight wherever Stratt had you before she decided that I needed a babysitter. Do you want one? I see that the two coffees thing trickled down to you.”
You glanced down at the warm cups that you’d been balancing on one palm since he shook hands with you and shook your head. “Mm-no, one of these is for you. I asked Carl what your order is.” You replied, handing the cup that was marked with his name up top off to him. “I think they assumed that you were a woman based on your name.” You joked, drawing attention to the little flower that had been drawn on the lid of the up. “Maybe not, anyone can like flowers.”
“Happens more than you’d think.” He responded, sitting back down where he was, but pulling up a chair so you could sit beside him. You did, watching as he pulled out a computer to show you the model that he had been working on. “Are you really here to babysit me? Because sometimes it’s a whole lot of this.”
This is sitting around and waiting for something to happen. It was tedious, but expedited. Everything about this project was just science on crack. Everything needed to be done faster and more efficiently than everything else in the history of research. What might have been a ‘set it and leave it to develop overnight’ type of thing just a few years ago was something that needed to be watched and sped along however possible right now.
“Only partially. Stratt wanted an extension of herself to be here since she can’t be here most of the time, and she trusted me to do it.” You explained, watching the screen change ever-so-slightly. It was a whole lot of nothing. “I was nervous you were going to be some crotchety old man. Imagine how awful sitting here and doing nothing would be then.”
A tease, at most. It was doing nothing for maybe ten percent of the project. Even just sitting here, the stress had to be gnawing away at everyone. The world was counting on you; the survival of every single species on Earth was counting on you right now. That pressure wasn’t light for anyone, even people with smaller roles to play in the whole ordeal.
“Do you get nervous?” You asked, taking a pack of Sour Skittles from the open drawer before Grace had the chance to close it.
“Yeah, about a lot of things. What thing are you particularly asking about?”
“This… thing. This-everyone is going to die if we don’t do everything just right.”
“Sure, yeah, but when you phrase it like that, it’s no pressure at all.”
You paused for a moment before popping a lime Skittle into your mouth. “I did make it sound pretty bad, didn’t I?”
“Definitely.”
“Sorry, a lot of Stratt trickles down when you spend so much time with her.”
“Well… now you’re spending a lot of time with me, so get ready to leave this lab saying knock-knock jokes every time someone enters a room.”
He wasn’t wrong.
After about a week, it just felt like second nature to be with him. Working with him every day was different than working with Stratt every day for a number of reasons. He was stressed, sure, but he didn’t have the entire world necessarily on his shoulders in the exact same way that she did. He had pressure being placed upon him, but he didn’t let it dim his personality. Besides that, you weren’t working for him; you were working with him. You took turns getting coffee and snacks, and you worked together even when you didn’t fully understand some of the concepts that he was talking about, since it wasn’t your area of expertise.
But he was also funny. He joked around whenever you got distracted or tired. He made the stress feel a lot less draining because he kept you laughing and engaged. It didn’t feel like a bummer to go into work because you got to be with someone who made fighting against impending doom seem a lot less terrible. When you recognized that you could be more carefree with him than you could with really anyone that you had worked with before, it made it a whole lot easier for you to feel at least a little bit at ease.
Things changed a bit more when he was moved onto the carrier in the middle of the ocean. More accurately, when you were both moved onto the carrier in the middle of the ocean.
You were separated from him by a single, thin wall. You could hear him when he snored, and he could hear when you accidentally bumped your head in the middle of the night because you weren’t used to the shoebox size of the sleeping quarters that you had. You woke up at the same time, took the same amount of time to get ready in the morning, and fell into a routine of leaving your rooms at the same time so you could get breakfast together before getting to work.
Some days were more routine than others.
A lot of the time, you were working on developing the astrophage required for the trip, but other days, you were working on the trip itself. The Hail Mary wasn’t a problem, really. Logistically, it was figured out. But there were variables in it being the first of its kind. There were variables in sending people to Tau Ceti, too. No one had ever been that far, and the only way for the trip to even work was by accepting that the volunteers were never going to come back.
But there were plenty of people who volunteered despite knowing the risk. People with the same motivation as you. People who knew that not helping meant that the world would end. Granted, they were a bit braver than you. You weren’t lining up to throw your hat in the ring when it came to taking a one-way trip to Tau Ceti and having the entire world rely on you more than ever. And besides that, you didn’t have any sort of coma-resistance when your blood was tested.
Or, you didn’t think that you did.
Stratt had all but brushed you off after that, like something was bothering her. Maybe she wanted you to have the right gene, you figured. Maybe she had it, or maybe she didn’t. You weren’t sure. You just knew that she hated the mere mention of it, so you eventually dropped it when you saw her.
Work was a lot, but it was easier with Grace when you weren’t staring at him when he did just about anything.
Carl liked to joke about irritating sexual tension whenever he was in a room with the two of you were too long because both of you liked to stare and neither of you liked to do anything about it. You could be working together and drop something, and somehow Grace would appear behind you, grab it for you, make almost full-contact with your body, and then walk away. Sometimes it was aggravating, other times you wondered if he was unaware that he made your stomach flutter every time that he got too close.
“Something weird happened this morning,” Grace commented, observing the reproduction of astrophage on the screen while you took a sip of an oversized coffee that you’d been nursing for the past half hour. “DuBois and Shapiro are definitely hooking up. I mean, I saw them making out in the hallway before they noticed me and stopped.”
“It’s not… that weird. They’re just finding comfort in the fact that they might be about to die.” Shapiro wasn’t about to die, but DuBois was. So long as everything went to plan, there would be no need for a backup. “Though, I guess only one of them is. That makes it worse, doesn’t it? Watching someone you’ve been with go up into space knowing that they’re never going to come back?”
“It has to.”
It was a tricky thing. They volunteered for this, but there was something difficult about knowingly sending people to die for the betterment of humanity. Were you any better than the scientists who sent Laika up to space? You wanted to imagine that you were, given that a dog can’t consent to being sent to space, and that these humans have. Plus, the whole issue of the world being about to end wasn’t something that was lost on you. Project Hail Mary had to happen, and you should just be grateful that there were people willing to be brave enough to volunteer to die for humanity.
That was what you told yourself, anyway. Sometimes you wondered if you only told yourself these things so you could sleep better at night.
“What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“They’re seeking out each other for comfort. How do you… how do you find comfort in all of this?”
You let your attention leave the screen that you were watching so you could really look at the man standing beside you. There was almost a nervous energy about him that wasn’t there before. Like he was afraid to ask what he was asking, but there was nothing inherently telling about the words that were coming from his mouth. His behavior, on the other hand, made you wonder if there was something more going on here than you really understood.
“I mean, I don’t know that it’s entirely for comfort. They spend a lot of time together, and they have the same position, even if she’s his backup. Maybe it’s just a thing that formed at the wrong time, or maybe the right time, so DuBois doesn’t have to be alone before going up into space.” You reasoned, tapping a finger a bit anxiously against your hand.
Your hand was a sight for sore eyes. You had been maintaining a full set of nails for a bit, but with more hands on work, they kept getting caught on things. It was too painful to just remove them, and you weren’t about to request that Stratt bring some nail remover to soak them in. Some of the false nails had come off, leaving a bit of torn up nail for a few days in their wake. Others were still clinging to life. You had two lingering on one hand and one lingering on the other, making the entire vibe seem just a little bit off.
Still, you hadn’t really answered his question. You’d just opined on two other people rather than actually thinking about what he had asked you. Or, maybe you had. Maybe you thought about it, and you were too nervous to answer. But the world could end in a handful of decades, and maybe it didn’t suit you to not be entirely honest while you have the chance to be.
“I mean, the only thing that’s really brought me comfort in all of this is… um… you, mainly.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
He was quiet for just a second, and for a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. But when your eyes met his again, you were certain that he had known in some capacity why you got a little fluttery when he got too close to you. And maybe that was why he did it, judging by the look in his eyes. He did it to make you fluttery; he just didn’t know how to express what it was that was going on. Neither did you, really, so who would you be to judge him?
“Likewise.” His tone was quiet, a bit shy. And for a moment, you just sat in the semi-awkward silence and just watched the astrophage.
It felt like some sort of switch was flipped when you looked back at him, though. He had been standing a mostly respectful distance away from you at first, but the next thing you knew, you were pressed back against the edge of a table, and your fingers were tangled in his hair. It was reckless, you knew that. There were cameras everywhere in this room and people who were probably checking them. But you were just kissing, anyway.
Kissing with a bit of his tongue pressed into your mouth, and his hand pushing underneath the bottom hem of your shirt so he could rest his fingers against your skin. You sighed as he pressed into you, your teeth nipping softly at his bottom lip before you let out a quiet noise when his tongue brushed against yours. You could taste a sugary-sweet candy residue on his tongue when he did it, but you were mainly distracted by the whimper that he let out when you sucked his bottom lip in between yours when he pulled away.
“I’d say-” You were a bit out of breath, your eyes in something like a trance when they met Grace’s again. “That it was probably more than just comfort.”
“Probably. Definitely.”
“How much longer would you imagine we have to just stare at this screen for?”
“Mmm…” He turned back to look at the screen. The process was in the middle of being sped up, but there were variables that needed to be figured out. Stratt was in New Zealand the last time you heard from her. She claimed that she had a contact there who could help with the project and help to speed up the production of astrophage. There were still people lingering, other scientists, but for now, you were working with what you had. And what you had was going to take a while. “Five hours, probably. Then we can move on to something else. Why?”
“I’m just thinking that we’ve been standing here doing next to nothing, no issues, for the last half hour. Would it be that bad if we left for like… another half hour?”
“I mean, anything could happen-”
“Yeah-”
“And if we leave them, what if something bad-”
“Gr-”
“And we just had lunch so- oh, you don’t want a break.”
“No, not exactly.”
“I see.”
“So…”
“Yeah, they can do without us for thirty minutes.”
You laughed as he all but dragged you back to where you woke up every morning, your fingers intertwined tightly with his as he tugged you into his room. It looked almost the exact same as yours, but where you had some pictures with family for friends taped to the wall, he had drawings. Drawings that you were pretty sure were made by his students. Drawings wishing him good luck, people who looked up to him, and knew that his leave of absence from work was brought on by the science that he was contributing to the world.
There wasn’t really a lot of time to think about that, though.
Not when you were tugging him back against the twin-sized cot, certainly not when you helped him tug your shirt up and over your head.
“You wanna go quick or slow?” He asked, his voice a little needier than you had ever heard it before. Your fingers were on the edge of his shirt, tugging the t-shirt with a pun printed on it over his head and pulling him closer to you. His lips were on your neck the moment that he was close enough, your thighs pressed against his hips as you sighed and let your head fall back a bit.
“I don’t think we can afford slow, right now.”
“Probably not.” He agreed, his hands moving to your jeans. You pushed your hips up so he could get them off easier, toeing off your sneakers as best as you could with them still tied. Grace was careful and gentle as he tugged your jeans down, his kisses trailing down your chest and stomach before resting on your skin as his blue eyes met your face again. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive, yes.” You responded, your eyes locked on his. He was utterly sweet, something that you had been grateful for from the moment that you met him. You really should have known that would extend to him being careful in bed with you. But you could still feel that unexpected fluttering in your chest when he spoke like that. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”
He was enthusiastic, really. As were you.
But he didn’t waste too much time taking your panties off, letting them fall to the floor before resting his hands on your thighs. You didn’t need a whole lot of prompting to spread them, your eyes still on his face as you watched his gaze descend to the wetness between your thighs.
You almost wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to eat you out since you were in a little bit of a rush, but the moment his tongue ran through your folds, you knew that there was no chance you were going to tell him that he needed to hurry up. You’d been pent up for a bit. The walls were thin, and if you did anything, he was going to hear it through them. So you were a bit too distracted to say anything to the contrary when his mouth pressed against your pussy.
Your head fell back as you sighed, a quiet moan leaving your mouth. Your rooms were connected, but there were other rooms connected to these ones and other people in these hallways. It was all too easy for you to be heard, so you knew that you needed to keep quiet. It was just a little bit hard when Grace had his head between your thighs, his lips wrapped delicately around your clit while his tongue lapped diligently at the throbbing bud.
After a moment, your fingers tangled into his hair. You didn’t tug, didn’t really hold him there. You just held him, brushing them through the blond locks for a moment and gripping them tightly for another moment. Your lips were parted, your eyes struggling to stay open as you bit down harshly on the inside of your cheek to try and keep quiet. The occasional soft mumble of his name left your mouth, but you were too blissed out to really think about it as you felt a coil tightening in your stomach.
Your hips ground slightly against his lips, your fingers tightening in his hair as you felt your breathing and heart rate increase. You were as quiet as you could be when you came against his mouth, when he lapped up all of the additional wetness that had seeped out of you before slotting his hips in between your legs while you were still working on getting your eyes open again.
The second you were aware, though, you had your fingers fumbling with his belt. Grace laughed when you got too eager and struggled with it, and it was your turn to laugh when he got too eager and struggled with it, too. But he was unclothed before you knew it, pressing inside of you as you leaned back against the bed.
His movements were careful at first, making sure you were comfortable before he moved again. And he was good at it; he made you feel good, and even being quiet, the noises that left his mouth were heavenly. But he was giggly, too. He made you laugh while he fucked you, and then he fucked the laughter right out of you, only to make you laugh again. He hit just the right spot inside of you, and then made some stupid comment about getting a noise complaint every time he did it.
But he held your hand when you grabbed at his, he whined into your mouth, and let your hips meet every single movement of his hips. He sighed and told you how good you felt wrapped around him, how tight and wet you felt, how he needed to come as soon as possible. And he was responsible. He pulled out and came on your stomach, even though you’d both been irresponsible and had sex without protection.
If you were going to linger on it for a moment longer, that was interrupted when Grace spoke up from beside you. “How are we possibly going to ask Stratt for condoms?” His voice was teasing, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes full of a bit of euphoria. But there was something beneath his question. He was making sure that this was happening again without actually asking the real question at hand.
“Just ask DuBois and Shapiro, I’m sure they know.”
You teased, leaning your head on his chest for a moment.
And for just a few minutes, it felt like everything was normal. You could forget the world outside, forget the fact that everything might come to an end if you don’t get everything just right.
But not all good things last forever.
It was an odd couple of weeks. You had been training the people who were going to space one day, and the next day, both the science officer and his backup were dead. It had been an accident. A terrible mistake that had been caused by someone mis-measuring astrophage for an experience. Astrophage was so new and experimental that it was difficult for anyone who wasn’t an expert to know what they were doing with it. That alone made you feel guilty. Maybe it shouldn’t have been just anyone handing it out; maybe you could have done more.
Maybe it didn’t matter when you were sitting face to face with Stratt in a room while she handed over test results to you.
“I don’t understand-”
“You don’t have the coma-resistant gene, and I don’t have the coma-resistant gene, but given that you work for me and the two of you are close, I think you have the right to know that he does.”
Your eyes followed the text on the paper. You had never had a hard time reading before, but right now it seemed like nothing was processing.
“Why are you showing me this?”
You knew why. Deep down, you knew why this was being brought up. Stratt had lost her science officer and her backup science officer. She needed a new one, and she needed them soon. But you didn’t want to accept it, you couldn’t.
“Dr. Grace knows this stuff inside and out. He’s been in every meeting, he’s the leading expert in this, and he knows everything there is to know about Project Hail Mary. I need an eligible science officer in a matter of days, and he’s the only one.”
“There’s plenty of volunteers.”
“And those volunteers haven’t had months of training. They can learn in a few days, but they won’t learn enough. It’s too risky.”
“So we push it back.”
“You know why we can’t.”
Your fingers tightened in your sleeves as you shook your head. “Fine, I’ve worked with him this whole time, I know just as much about Project Hail Mary as he does. Send me.”
“You’re not a biologist.”
“And yet he’s taught me everything he knows about astrophage.”
“You’re also not eligible because you have a far lower chance of surviving the coma.”
“Well, then-just-just take the risk.”
“He’s the best pick for this.”
There was never really any talking Stratt down when she made up her mind, and you knew that she was right. Grace was the best pick; he knew everything there was to know, and he was the only one who could make the trip that was ready for it. He was humanity’s best shot right now, and you knew it would be incredibly selfish to sit there and deny that.
“Let me go with him, then.”
“Absolutely not, three people are enough.”
“Five.”
“What?”
“DuBois and Shapiro. Five people.”
“Five people, fine. I’m not making it six.” Stratt stood up from her seat. While she needed to be cold with this, she owed it to the world to do what needed to be done; you could see that there was some empathy in her expression. “Had I known you would fall in love with him, and had I known that we’d need to use him, I wouldn’t have sent you to do this. But I had no way of knowing that. And I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”
You felt like your head was spinning a little bit.
It was a lot of information all coming in at once, and you hadn’t the slightest clue how to adequately process what you were being told. Your first gut-reaction was to deny that you were in love with him since that wasn’t something that you’d discussed with Grace in the time that you’d been getting closer, but you’d known him for longer than that by now. You worked together day in and day out. You knew him better than anyone at this point, and you couldn’t send him to die.
“He’s not going to agree, Eva.”
“I hope he does, but even if he doesn’t, I have no choice.”
You knew what that meant. Grace was always the third backup. He was always the one who was going to be sent if something like this happened. But the chance of something like this happening was next to zero at the time that the plan had been thought out. How could Stratt possibly know that DuBois and Shapiro would both be a part of a terrible accident? No one knew, no one had any possible way of knowing. And now that it was the reality, the most unlikely situation was coming upon you.
“Can I be there, at least?”
“Of course.”
“And what if I sneak on the Hail Mary? What if I just stay awake-”
“There’s not enough rations, and you know that everything was measured down to the last coma-goop treatment. Any extra food isn’t going to be provided, especially if you sneak on.”
You nodded, your face almost blank. It was a shock, you knew that. You had to be in some form of shock, and you didn’t know how to cope with it. You didn’t want to cope with it. The idea of being honest about what had happened felt unreasonable, but it was happening. And it was happening fast.
Within an hour, you were sitting beside Grace and across from Ilyukhina and Yao. Your hand was within Grace’s, your leg shaking anxiously. He had been asking if you were alright all day, but he was going to come to find out why you weren’t, rather quickly. As you expected, there was some protest in him, but then that shock set into him just as it had set into you. He was being asked to give his life, and you knew that just as well as he did. But he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to go.
You’d ended up with him on the rooftop after a little bit, your head pressed against his shoulder while the rain soaked into your shirt.
“I can’t do this, I’m not qualified for this. I don’t know the last thing about-did you know?”
“What?”
“You were upset when I came in, did you know?”
“Stratt told me I had the right to know that she was going to ask you, that she had no other choice. She even told me that she was sorry.”
Normally, that might have warranted a joke about Stratt apologizing being difficult for her. But right now, you were both quiet.
Grace tugged you a bit closer, your face pressing into his neck while he held onto you. “I can’t do it.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I can’t leave you, the kids, the-I can’t. I’m gonna fuck it up. The entire world is going to die because Stratt thinks that a middle school science teacher is somehow the only choice.”
Your arms wrapped tighter around his. You were pretty sure you were crying into his skin, but you weren’t sure if it was the rain or not. “I told her I’d go in your place, but she said I don’t have the right genes. Some shit about how I’m not a biologist.”
“You aren’t.”
“And-”
“I wouldn’t let you go in my place, either.”
You only tugged him closer, letting his face press against your head while you tried to not to think about what was going to happen.
Selfishly, you wanted to tell him that Stratt was going to make him go. If you told him that just saying no wasn’t going to be good enough, maybe you could help him get out of here. Maybe you could find a way to get on the quickest flight to the opposite side of the planet and go entirely off the grid so Stratt wouldn’t find you until after the Hail Mary launched. She was probably going to go on trial anyway, wasn’t she? She had done everything she did to save the world, sure. She had been given immunity, sure. But there were still people who were going to give her a hard time.
If you told him, maybe you wouldn’t feel like you had his blood on your hands. But something told you deep in your gut that Stratt was right. There was no one who could do this mission like Grace could. There was no one who could learn quickly enough, and society wasn’t going to work together to ration food. Life on Earth while the Hail Mary was in space was going to be decades or war, and famine, and pain. You were going to have a terrible time, and if the Hail Mary failed, then everyone was going to die. You would have every single person in existence’s blood on your conscience in addition to Grace’s eventual blood.
What life was that, anyway? People would die during the duration of the trip to Tau Ceti. What if one of them was him? What if you told him, escaped with him, and he died anyway?
You couldn’t tell him.
As much as you wanted to, as much as the short-term solution was telling him, and trying to run. As much as you knew that not trying meant, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were never going to see him again, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be selfish. You’d gotten into this whole ordeal because you couldn’t let the world die, and you couldn’t lose that now.
“I was right, you know.”
“About what?”
“Shapiro and DuBois. I think it’s harder to do this knowing that-” When you cut off, it was like there was something lodged in your throat. “I love you, you know. I wasn’t supposed to, I guess. But I do love you.”
“You’re talking like we’re never going to see each other again. I could still back out.”
“I know.”
There was a finality in your tone, one that he noticed. Because deep down, Grace was at least a little bit aware that this, just like being dragged out of his classroom, wasn’t much of a choice. He still wanted to be in denial, to believe that he had a choice in the matter, but some part of his gut instinct was telling him that you were right to treat this like a goodbye.
“I love you, too.”
Everything was like a traumatizing blur, but you waited until after he was knocked out to cry. You didn’t want to make him feel worse; you didn’t want that to be the last thing that he remembered of you, either. He would have some form of amnesia at the start of it, he wouldn’t remember pretty much anything, much less whether or not you were crying for a while. But he would eventually.
You slipped a note into his pack before the launch of the Hail Mary, and it felt morbid.
People were gathered like they always were, but everyone knew that it was different. This wasn’t some trip to the moon; this was a trip to Tau Ceti. This was a trip for three heroes who, as far as the public knew, volunteered. People who were risking their lives to save humanity. The science and math communities alike knew that when they came back, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. But people still believed that there was a chance the Hail Mary would return someday.
No one really needed to know the plan or how much astrophage was on the trip. The fuel itself for the ship was to unknown to most people that it was nearly impossible for people who didn’t have their hands on it and hadn’t worked on the project to know that there wasn’t enough on the ship for a return. Some knew that it was unlikely, but others chose to keep the faith. To not just believe in the Hail Mary, but to believe in a happy ending that you, and everyone on the project, knew was never going to come.
It had been almost twenty-seven years when the Beetles entered the atmosphere again. Following your work on Project Hail Mary, there had been some investigations into you, but for the most part, you had been let off the hook. You had immunity, the same as Stratt. You didn’t, at first. But she made sure that you got it as her own form of apology for what happened to Grace.
You were older now, and you volunteered some of your time to a large air and space museum that valued your relationship to Dr. Grace. It had been a referral from one of the women who worked there that made you start volunteering. Olivia, she had said her name was. You only found out after a month of being there that she had been one of Grace’s students.
Life wasn’t normal, not anymore. Everything was all messed up, and a lot of people had lost hope in Project Hail Mary a long time ago, but you never did.
The light of a large display screen illuminated your face as you walked past it, pausing when you noticed two men in suits lingering by the door. They looked federal; you’d been around enough federal suits to know what they looked like. For a moment, you wondered if your immunity had somehow worn off. But you heard the speakers on the screen beside you.
It was sometimes used for documentaries, but it was connected to the satellite. Still, it was unusual that anything not on schedule would be airing right now.
But it was unusual because it was airing on every screen imaginable. A message recovered from one of the Beetles, a message recovered from the Hail Mary. Your eyes met the familiar face of Ryland Grace, a man who looked exactly the same as he had when you last saw him. You felt your eyes widen a bit, your hand covering your mouth as you tried to mask the way your lips had quivered. But you watched. Listening as a message of him talking about the Hail Mary played on the television, a message confirming that he had done exactly what he was sent to space to do, without the other two crew members of the Hail Mary, who hadn’t survived the journey.
You weren’t even fully aware you were crying until the message was over, until the screen went back to normal, but nothing else did. Everyone was talking or cheering or crying or a hefty mix of all three. But you were being ushered out by the men in suits, one of them handing you a note that had been recovered from Ringo. A note from Grace.
Surely, you figured, you would be given a copy of the messages, you would see Stratt again, you would be involved with the science of this whole thing all over again without Grace. But you’d have his messages, you’d have his letter. And you’d known that the best thing that you could have done for humanity was not stopping Grace - Grace, who hated rising to the occasion, who didn’t want to go on the mission at all - from saving humanity. You’d done your part, even if it tore your soul out a bit.
As relatively small a comfort as that was, there was a lot more warmth and comfort that filled your chest as your fingers carefully opened the letter.
Summary: You volunteered for the Hail Mary mission because they needed a doctor, and because Eva Stratt was nice enough to tell you that your lifelong friend Grace was on board whether he liked it or not. Now, you two are the only ones left alive on a suicide mission to save the stars, and he can't remember anything about you, himself, the mission... Or the day you both confessed your feelings before your unwilling odyssey to a system far, far away.
Warnings: Angst angst angst, idiots in love, amnesiac Grace. Lots of em-dashes but I'm not AI.
Notes: I haven't written a fanfic in a veeeeeeeery long time. I'm a fantasy writer and I spend ages and ages editing my professional work but you won't see that here. It's sort of edited, but mainly just on the fly. I didn't want to make it too long so I decided to split it into a couple of different parts.
Pairings: Ryland Grace x Reader
\\ Part 1 \\ Part 2 \\
You woke up first.
The Hail Mary hummed softly as the computer's soft voice said, "Eye movement detected." The pristine, sterile environment stung your eyes as your body bag was unzipped. When you could stand, you'd go to the 360 screen room and put on some forest ambiance to decompress. "What is two plus two?" Oh, you forgot it had that feature. You couldn't show proper cognitive function by answering it, though.
Everything hurt. Your limbs ached from lack of movement for four and half years, but the medical robot had kept your muscles stimulated with electric shocks that kept them from degenerating. Your feeding tube was removed. You tried to speak against your raw throat but couldn't force the words out.
It's so quiet. Why am I awake? Is anyone else?
"What is two plus two?"
You tried to call out, but nothing happened. You couldn't hear if anyone else was moving around, and a trickle of ice-cold fluid flowed into your IV line. No, no one else was awake.
You were the only one beginning to emerge from your medically induced coma on a ship you didn't know how to operate in the middle of a solar system you knew very little about.
Where is he?
"What is two plus two?"
With every ounce of fading strength you had as the drugs took over again, you flopped your head to the right side, where a bunk was still sheltered in the wall with vitals reading fine. Just like when you first were put to sleep.
"G...r...a...ce..." It was a pitiful sound. It couldn't really even be said that it sounded like his name, but it was all you could manage.
Grace...
"What is two plus two?"
"Gr...ace..." His vitals blinked stubbornly at you. They were fine. You knew it was irrational and futile, he couldn't hear you. But you were terrified. Yao and Olesya's vitals on the bunks above you were dark. Dead, probably, because you could still see their body bags inside. Right now, you were alone. Icy tears slipped off the bridge of your nose.
"What is two plus two?"
"Grace..."
~~~
"Grace!" You slammed your hands on his desk, making him jump so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
Ryland Grace glared at you over the rim of his glasses as he righted himself, straightening the papers he'd been grading. His dirty-blond hair was a right mess, sticking up in all directions like he'd just been touched by a static spark.
"Have you ever heard of knocking?"
You grinned, crossing your arms as you leaned against his desk. "I don't think you wouldn't heard me with the way you were snoring."
Grace made a face, offended. "I wasn't snoring."
He wasn't. But you liked to make fun of him.
You made a show of checking your nails (which weren't manicured, but you had nothing else to make a show of), frowning. "You were late, so I came looking for you."
Grace's deep blue eyes widened. "Late?" He checked his watch and shot to his feet like a man possessed, shuffling to collect his papers and shove them in his briefcase. "Oh no. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll go with you right now. Is now okay? I know it's late--"
Your mischievous giggle gave him pause. You flashed him a cheeky grin over your shoulder. "The release is tomorrow, Grace."
His shoulders fell. "Y/N, what..." He fell back into his chair with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Tomorrow was the release of a new book in a series you'd been reading together, and he'd promised to go with you to the signing. With the deadline of the broadcast for the Petrova Line's probe getting nearer and nearer, everyone was acting like it was their last day on Earth. Since it was a Saturday, he'd promised to come with you early to get a signed copy-- which might take several hours, if people weren't chaotic enough to just storm the venue. "What am I gonna do with you?"
You pulled a bright yellow beanbag out of your hoodie pocket. It fit perfect in your palm. "Take me to the movies. Go get ice cream. Go for a walk in the park. Anything you do that involves me is going to be awesome." You tossed him the beanbag. "Here. A sun for your Earth."
He snatched it out of the air. "Oh, that's cool. Thank you." He turned it over in his hands a couple of times, thinking. "How about... ice cream, then my place? We can watch a movie on the TV? I'm really sorry, I'm just so exhuast--"
"If you apologize one more time," You warned, "I'm gonna dump water on your head." You waved his water bottle at him pointedly. You both held a hard, cold stare for as long as you could; he cracked first, smirking slightly. You widened your eyes suddenly and he fully broke with a soft laugh.
"Okay, fine. I won't apologize again. Today."
You and Grace had known each other a very, very long time. You grew up in the same town, were bullied at the same school, attended the same college, and now lived in the same city-- and not wholly by intent. But you're glad for it, because if you had to go a day without seeing Grace, then you might as well go a day without breathing.
You'd been raised in very different lives. While his was a science household, yours was very strict Catholic. You escaped through science and were punished severely for it, which pushed you into a career as a doctor that you didn't want but were extremely good at. You'd won a couple of awards. It just felt... hollow. It wasn't what you wanted.
You lived in an apartment chock full of biology books, projects, and knick knacks that you'd collected over the years, and it just made you sad. It was like a memory of the life you could have had if you hadn't listened to your parents-- parents you didn't speak to anymore, but you were so deep in medical school debt that going back to school was just unattainable. You didn't have any friends; maybe some friendly coworkers, but never anyone close.
No pets, no boyfriend, no kids, no plants. Just you, yourself, and Grace.
No one was like Grace.
When you were kids, he'd help you with your science projects. In college, he supported you when you cut off your parents when they were trying to set you up with guys your age and trying to get you to get married-- the final straw that broke the camel's back with them. You guys moved to different cities briefly after that, but kept in touch. When he was fired, he moved to your city and got a job as an 8th grade science teacher.
Just like you supported him; when his parents died after college, when the rest of his family cut him off because of his "crazy" theories that got him fired in the first place. You helped him find an apartment in your city, cosigned for him, and since he only has his bike, you let him use your car, and you ferried him around wherever he needed to go.
You two were close, to say the least. And you loved him with all of your heart. The dorky way he wore his glasses, his stupid science shirts, his perpetually messy hair, his passion for science and his kids and biology, his theories, the little things he'd do...
It's a shame he doesn't know any of that.
Somehow, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves, and you couldn't bring yourself to admit that you were in love with him; that you've been in love with him since you were young. Ninety percent of the pictures in your house were of you and him. The pictures and the gifts from Grace were really your only pops of color against the plain backdrop of whites and grays in your apartment. You weren't going to risk ruining the only good thing in your life. At least, not any time soon.
Grace had tried to date around awhile back, which hurt your heart, but you said nothing. When his college girlfriend Linda left him for a geology professor, Grace essentially swore off dating because he was scared of getting hurt again-- which left him with only you.
Not intentionally. You both did try, separately and together, to have friends and go out. Nothing ever seemed to work out. It felt like it was you and Grace against the world.
Wordlessly, you admired him as he collected his things and threw on his jacket. He noticed you watching him only as he started toward the light switches. He slowed down halfway there, pausing to look over his shoulder at you. "...What? Do I have something on my face?"
Heat crept up your neck as you averted your gaze. You shook your head minutely and hurried to catch up with him. "Nope."
He waited for you to reach him and put his free arm around your shoulder with a smile, leading you out of the classroom. You flipped off the switch as you left. "How was school today?"
"Long," He sighed. "The kids are worried about the Petrova line, but I can't tell them anything about it until the probe reaches it." He readjusted his coat hung over his arm. "What about you?"
You took a deep breath. You didn't want to tell him about what was going on at work, but you didn't really want to keep anything from him. The only secret you'd ever kept from him was that you were in love with him. "So... I think I might get fired." Grace stopped in his tracks, brow bunching together with worry. "I had a patient the other day who'd been banned from three other practices... He kept starting fights over his care. Wanting us to do specific procedures but not wanting us to perform the needed tests. Dr. Meyer-- you know him--"
"Unfortunately," Grace grumbled, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Dr. Meyer was the office manager and lead doctor of your practice, and very very persistent in getting you to go out with him. Every time you denied, you got repercussions at work-- forced leave, complaints from staff, and every time you reported him nothing was done. He was apparently under investigation, but you saw no evidence of that. The only time Grace had met him was at a plus one work event a few years ago, and despite Grace being right there had kept trying to flirt with you and pull you away.
Needless to say you'd been looking for other options, but you couldn't afford to be without a job and it was very, very difficult to find a position in your town.
You continued with a sigh. "Well, he accepted him, and when he started requesting the procedures, I denied care. He wouldn't accept the pre-admission tests, and we can't do anything without that. He didn't even want me to read his medical history. Nothing is wrong with him physically. It's neurological, but he refuses to see a specialist. He just keeps coming to doctors.
"Yesterday, I found forged papers okaying the procedures with my name on them. Once it leaves our practice to the surgery department, I'm screwed. I never even did a full exam on the guy."
"Y/N," Grace interrupted in warning, his voice soft. "...You won't be able to work in healthcare again. At least, not easily." You shook your head solemnly. The wind blew your hair into your face and you pulled it away. "Maybe that's a blessing in disguise," Grace added, helping to tuck your wild hair behind your ear and wholly unaware of the way your heartbeat quickened. "You'd be able to pursue a science degree like you always wanted."
"I can't afford that, Grace."
He stared at you for a moment, like he was doing calculations in his head. Finally, he took your arm and began leading you to your truck. "We'll figure it out, don't worry. Whatever happens, happens. You know I've got your back."
"I know." You tossed him your keys and turned toward his bike. You didn't have to look to know he caught them. He always did. He didn't have to ask to know you'd already snatched his bike lock keys out of his back pocket. By the time you'd gotten his bike unlocked, he'd already pulled up behind you. He parked by you and started to get out. You rolled your eyes. "I'm fully capable of putting it in the bed."
He shrugged. "It's my bike, though." He tossed it in a bit unceremoniously as you got in the passenger side. He smiled at you when he returned. "Sooooo, Dairy Queen, then my place? What do you want to watch?"
"I dunno." As he pulled out of the school, you added, "To be totally fair I don't even know what kind of ice cream I want. Or if I'm gonna get food while we're there."
Grace chuckled a bit. "You'll figure it out."
"That's your answer to everything."
"Our answer to everything," He specified, and pulled up his right sleeve to reveal a bracelet you hadn't seen in a very, very long time. Just simple brown cord with a couple of beads, it said "We will always..." You'd made that for him in high school.
"You still have that?!"
Grace smiled at your agape jaw. "What? You still wear yours." He laid his arm on the center console, silently asking for you to lay yours by his. You pulled up your own sleeve a bit, dumbfounded, and let your bracelet finish the sentence on his. "...Figure it out." "Your job, ice cream, movie, the Petrova line, doesn't matter what it is. We'll figure it out."
"I guess we will," You were stuck staring at the bracelets in shock for a minute. You were sure it'd been stupid when you made them. You still wore yours out of habit-- you'd never gone without it-- and your half of the sentence kind of made sense by itself, even if it made it singular rather than involving Grace in whatever you were figuring out. Seeing that he still wore it unlocked some kind of giddy well of emotion that you struggled to keep under control as you turned your gaze to admire his profile.
"What?!" He laughed, glancing at you while trying to pay attention to traffic. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
"Maybe I'm trying to decide what kind of ice cream I want."
"By looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
Grace sighed with exasperation and shook his head as he pulled into Dairy Queen. "Nothing. Nevermind. Drive-thru?" You just nodded, frustration keeping you silent. You wouldn't show it, but sometimes you wished when he caught you staring he'd actually keep going with it. Push you into admitting how you feel.
You kept your hand where it was-- hanging beside his over the center console-- and leaned forward to turn up the news. They were still talking about the Petrova line, speculating on what it could be. You both tensed, anxious at the possibilities that all ended in global catastrophe. Subtly, you slipped your fingertips between his. "Grace..."
"Yeah?"
You couldn't look at him. At some point, you'd have to confess before you both inevitably died terribly, but not yet. "...Will we figure this out, too?" You weren't just talking about the Petrova line. You're sure he must like you too, at least a little bit-- unless you were just wishful thinking. Surely his tender hugs and gentle touches like you were made of glass or long stares meant something more than just friends to him too.
Grace surprised you by shaking your hand away. You were briefly hurt before he repositioned his hand to take yours, entwining your fingers with a gentle squeeze. "Yes." He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and met your gaze meaningfully. "I promise."
Maybe he wasn't just talking about the Petrova line, either.
~~~
"Grace! Grace!" Your hoarse voice cut through mechanical beeping and squealing of the medical systems panicking as you crawled out of your cot. Tubes left every orifice but your mouth, which was raw from the feeding tube that had been removed. Everything hurt worse now. You couldn't stand. Your vision blacked in and out. This was day two of trying to get to him.
Olesya and Yao were dead. They had to be. But Grace's vitals were still working. He was fine, right? What if he died next?
No. You couldn't take it. Not your Grace.
"Grace!"
The computer's mechanical voice cut through the chaos: "Eye movement detected. Preparing Dr. Ryland Grace for wake up procedure."
You felt the anesthesia in your IV again. It was quick-acting. Your vision began to fade as his cot was pulled from the wall. He has eye movement. He's waking up. But is he sound? Did Stratt actually induce amnesia? Please tell me he fought it. Please...
You filled your lungs and yelled his name with everything you had before you were swept away into darkness again.
~~
You and Grace sat on his couch, half asleep as the credits of Return of the Jedi played.
"Good movie," You mumbled, head nodding into the pillow on your lap. Grace didn't answer right away. You smiled warmly at his sleeping form before switching off the TV and bracing yourself for the drive home. It wasn't long, but it was certainly lonely.
"Y/N," He said groggily, making you jump. He didn't seem to notice. "I was thinking."
"Apparently hard enough to knock you out."
He hummed a laugh and cracked his deep blue eyes open, hesitating. "What if we just moved in together?"
Your heart dropped. "What?"
Grace started listing things off on his fingers. "We're literally always together, we're always spending the night at each other's apartments, you're about to lose your job, you have a car we both can use. It's not like we really have any concept of personal space anyway."
"I mean... I have seen you at your worst. You were dying." Grace immediately knew you were talking about when he was sick a few years ago-- just a basic cold. But he'd taken a week off of work because he could barely breathe or move, you stayed at his place to nurse him back to help, and he acted like he was on death's door. You dramatically started mocking him. "Oh my God, I can't feel my face, I'm gonna die--"
Grace raised his voice to speak over you, rolling his eyes. "I was sick, I couldn't even walk--"
"Please, get me a pen so I can write my will I'm not gonna make it--"
"The one time I call for you for help because I'm sick and I could barely breathe--"
"I'm LITERALLY dying I need to go to the hospitaaaaal--"
"I thought I really needed to go!"
You busted out laughing. "To be totally fair, you really were sick enough to have me worried. I just like teasing you."
"So I noticed!" He scoffed, glaring at you from his place on the couch-- still half-asleep. "You're one to talk, anyway. Any time you get the slightest congestion--"
"I'm gonna stop you right there--" You held up a hand in a futile effort to stop him, but he ignored you.
"Graaaace, can I borrow some benadryllll?"
"I do not sound like that!"
"You're a doctor how do you not already have benadryl?!"
"I keep forgetting to buy some and you're always prepared for anything."
Grace made it a point to judge you over the rim of his glasses. "Well? Living together? You'll always have access to Benadryl."
"And you'll always have someone to take care of you when you're sick, you big baby."
"I am not--"
"Can I think about it?" Your tone had shifted into something more serious that Grace could sense. You two hadn't lived together since that one summer you'd both went to your grandparents' house out west when you were teens to run a science experiment on the Great Plains. But living with him now?
The world could end any day now. You're kind of on a deadline here. Living with him might push you to make the leap into confessing. But could you bring yourself to do it?
Grace only nodded. "Take as much time as you need. No pressure if you decide to or not. You know that. You sleeping here tonight?" You answered with a distracted hum. You usually slept over on the weekends, insisting to stay on his pullout couch while he got his bed. He brought you some bedding as you got everything ready and pulled a pair of pajamas out of your purse.
"Y/N?" Grace lingered in the door to his bedroom, the rest of the lights in the house off except for the TV.
"Yeah?" You paused on your way to the bathroom to change, turning to look at him.
He chewed on his bottom lip for a minute and straightened his glasses before clearing his throat. "I don't know if you... have anybody. Romantically, like that. But if they're uncomfortable with it--"
"There's nobody, Ryland." Your voice cracked. You never used his first name unless it was very, very serious. He knew that. He couldn't bring his gaze up to meet yours. Nobody but you. "I don't have anyone." You hesitated, then added with a breezy cough, "But if you--"
"I don't." His eyes flicked up once, almost like he was gauging your reaction. "I-I'm not with anybody. Haven't been in a long time." A heavy silence dragged between you. You were only separated by a hallway, but it felt so much longer than it really was, so much deeper. It was like the vastness of space itself stretched between you. "Do you have anyone you're interested in?"
You froze. Say it now. Say it. Your tongue was like lead in your mouth. "Grace--" You choked, and you inwardly cursed. It sounded like you were only reprimanding him. "Grace uh..." Panic made you change the subject. "Do you?"
Grace met your gaze intently. Your face flushed. "...I don't know yet." The two of you lingered in the hallway a moment before he half-turned away. "'Night."
The door clicking shut behind him was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.
~~~
You choked as you woke up. A tube was in your throat again, hindering your screams as you groggily flailed around, trying to pull out the IV but finding yourself restrained.
You had moved in with Grace. You two had been living together for only a couple of weeks when he told you about getting signed on for the Petrova taskforce against his will, then his discoveries about astrophage. He told you all about his findings-- a mistake, actually, because you woke up in the middle of the night to a couple of FBI-looking guys kidnapping you and whisking you away to the lab, where you were basically put on house arrest unless Grace was with you-- and Stratt, refusing to deal with the loopholes of getting you slowly in the loop, allowed you top security clearance just so you could be with Grace. She called you his security blanket, which wasn't entirely a lie, although he was also yours. Comforting each other from shared panic attacks wasn't easy, though.
Stratt had been nice enough to order some of your things returned to you. Stratt had been nice enough to do quite a lot of things, and you couldn't even blame her for doing what she did to Grace.
From an unbiased perspective, it was the logical thing to do.
To you, she wrestled your love onto a ship bound for a star never to return, against his will, forced him into a coma, and erased his memory for a little while.
"Hey, hey easy!" Grace. Oh my God, he's okay. You weren't thinking straight. All you wanted was off of the damn bed. "Calm down! Let me help you!" It took everything you had to calm down. You were in space. No trees, plains, rain, ever ever again, just endless space and death waiting for you--
--but Grace was here. Grace, who you'd chosen to die for.
"Hold still," He urged, leaning over you. You welled up, tears streaming down your face when you see him. A little more tired, his hair a bit longer and his face hastily-shaven. "I had the robot take everything else out. You were out of it for a couple of days though, so I had them put the feeding tube back in. I didn't want you to starve. Relax." You forced yourself to, watching as he gently began to pull the tube out of your mouth.
You choked and coughed, doubling over; it was over quick, and he undid your restraints hurriedly. "The computer did this. It said you kept throwing yourself out of bed-- oh--!"
You threw your arms around his neck and let out sobs held back by four years of a medical coma. You'd had all of twenty minutes to decide if you were going to die for Grace by the time Stratt got to you. Now that you were awake, and so was he, it was all hitting you at once.
You were going to die. Within the next couple of years.
You weren't ready.
"Grace--"
"I don't remember you," He managed, voice cracking. "I know you're important. I just can't remember why."
Your sobs came heavier. You'd hoped she wouldn't have drugged him. You'd hoped she'd trusted you enough to keep him from sabotaging the mission-- and you both knew he'd never do that. But she had to take precautions. Vaguely, you heard Grace mumble more to himself than anything, "You're shaking... Uh..." He kept his arms wrapped around you, though, supporting you on the bed. "Computer, do we have heated blankets?"
A moment later, a wall of warmth enveloped you. "I take it you remember a lot more than I do," Grace commented, resting his chin on top of your head. "I'm sorry. I don't know how else to comfort you except hold you."
"It works," You choked, eyeing his wrist. Stratt had listened to you. She didn't have his bracelet removed, or yours. You stared at it as your sobs slowed and your vision faded away.
~~~
"This is stupid," Grace grumbled, adjusting the telescope again. Your eyes found the bracelet on his wrist and smiled. "We can't see it. It's too cloudy. We're on the wrong side of the hemisphere anyway."
"Then find a star other than Tau Ceti," You countered softly, "Find a closer one."
Grace huffed and squinted against the telescope. You fought a giggle, despite the seriousness of the circumstances. At the end of a long, difficult, tiring day, Grace had still wanted to come out and stargaze with you, even if he was being grumpy about it. Being on Baikonur, if you got a few miles away from the base, the sky was endless. Of course, a security detail had to follow you, just so you wouldn't decide to bolt. Grace had disguised it as "research."
He froze then, locked on something. You saw him turning the knob to zoom in and excitement fluttered in your chest. "Find one?"
"Um. Yeah?"
"Why do you sound unsure about that?"
He stepped back, frowning. He extended a hand for his notebook, which you happily handed over. You liked watching him when he's doing something science-y. "It's... It's supposed to be Betelguese."
Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. "'Supposed to be'? Does it have on a fake mustache or something?"
Grace shot you a glare and you raised your hands in poor self-defense. "It's really, really dim. Take a look." You did as he asked and the usually bright red, pulsing orb was much fainter than you'd ever seen it. Your stomach dropped as Grace sighed and jotted down a couple of notes.
"Grace..." You tapped on the telescope's metal casing worriedly. "If... Even if the Hail Mary saves our sun... Will there just be a massive star-death? Will our sky be dark?" You couldn't help the crack in your voice. The thought of thousands of stars dying scared you. A dark sky at night felt unnerving to even think about. Ever since you were a child, you'd adored the stars. You and Grace used to take camping trips solely to stargaze, before all of this with building the Hail Mary.
"Probably," Grace breathed as an icy wind blew across the fields, "Yes. Most likely. I'm sorry. If I could save them all, I would."
"I know you would..." You stepped back from the telescope and let him take over again as he pivoted toward another nearby star. Your heart was pounding. It's now or never. Literally. "Grace... I uh... Can I tell you something that might utterly ruin our friendship?"
He glared at you over the edge of the telescope's eyepiece. "Is it worse than the time you called me back in college and told me you drove into my dorm when you were drunk and trying to park? And then I had to come bail you out of jail?"
You weighed the possible outcomes and winced heavily. "In my defense, I wanted to say hello to my best friend ever?"
"You don't sound sure about that." He tried to hide a smirk and sighed deeply as he went back to the telescope. "Nothing's going to ruin our friendship. Not at this point. What is it?"
You turned away from him, heart pounding and breath coming in short, quick bursts. You can do this. You can definitely do this. "...We've known each other a really long time."
"Yeah."
"We're pretty close."
"Well, I didn't invite you to live with me and get you trapped on this mission because we're not close, so."
You started pacing, keeping your back to him. "You didn't get me trapped here."
Grace scoffed. "I did, actually."
"No, you didn't, last I checked you didn't dress up as some FBI guy and bust down the front door to kidnap me--"
"I love you."
You're pretty sure your heart collapsed in on itself. Your lungs just decided to stop working entirely. You whipped around to face him; his hands were shaking as he fiddled with his pen and notebook, unable to look at you. "Always have. I just... Recently, I realized just how much. I invited you to live with me because I hated being away from you. After I moved back... It was like finding out you can poke an astrophage and kill it. It was jarring." A smile spread across your face at his own reference. "I can't stop thinking, dreaming, about you. Every day is just waiting until I see you again. Just..." He kept his head down as he shortened the distance between you slowly, cautiously, like you'd run away if he moved too fast. "Your cooking, your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your humor, your hair, the way you talk, the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking or the way you interrupt every single movie with your own commentary. I love it. All of it. Every part of you. And if I could go up there and save all your stars, I would. I love you." Finally, only a foot away, he looked at you. Really looked at you, his sapphire eyes glistening with a hint of fear. "Is that by any chance what you were going to say, or did I just ruin everything?"
Now that he'd said it, it was less intense. Your hands and knees trembled as you took a few more steps forward, until you were practically up against him. From here you could hear how quickly he was breathing. "Ryland... I wouldn't want you to save my stars." His shoulders dipped ever so slightly. "I need you here. With me. Every day until it's over. Every day until the stars are all gone. I need you more than any star, even our own. You mean everything to me. And to answer your question, yes. I was going to say 'I love you' and make a whole dramatic speech, but you stole my moment. So. I love you."
You'd barely finished your sentence when he kissed you, as gentle as his fingers were ghosting across your face; like he was asking for permission, almost. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he took that as a sign to go ahead, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, cupping your face in his hand. "When this is all over, we'll move somewhere where you can see the stars every night before they're gone."
"Only if we can get a dog."
Grace smiled, kissing you again. It was softer this time, more passionate as he moved slow, taking his time. He was savoring you like a man starved. "Deal," He said against your lips.
~~~
On shaky, unsteady legs, you left the washroom of the Hail Mary.
After Grace had helped calm you down, he carried you to the washroom since you couldn't walk by yourself. Even not knowing who you were, he was still resoundingly kind. He helped you where he could, and then he left when you decided to clean yourself up. You detangled four years of rats in your hair, washed, and when you smelled decent, you pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top underneath an orange NASA jumpsuit.
Finally, having eaten a tube of surprisingly good-tasting sludge, you made your way to the lab. You couldn't imagine he'd be anywhere else. You turned the corner and there he was, fiddling with a couple of instruments with no particular experiment nearby. Nervous, maybe.
You watched him for a second; he'd cut his hair since he'd helped you out. It had been hours ago, now. Messy, just like it always was. His glasses hung by one ear and he wore one of those stupid science pun tees under a yellow cosmonaut suit. The man who'd promised to save your stars metaphorically. You'd never wanted him to do it physically. Yet here you were.
The love of your life sat only feet away, and your entire lives together had been erased.
A hollow, aching hole opened up in your chest and you hiccuped with the effort of fighting back sobs. "Grace..."
He looked up. Unknowing of who he was to you, of how much you meant to him, about the sacrificed promise of a home to watch the stars and a dog you'd never have. Of a life you'd never have. You weren't sure if the amnesia was permanent, but it hurt. It hurt worse than knowing you were going to die. Grace's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I... I know you're important. I just can't... I can't remember. Did I know you?"
"Yes," You choked out. Forcing memories on someone coming out of a coma was a shockingly bad idea. You would have to suffer alone for however long it took for him to regain his memories. The thought made you hiccup again. "Yes, we knew each other."
"How long?" His eyes pierced through you, vague recognition there. But he didn't know you. Your Grace was gone, even if temporarily. Who knows? Maybe he was gone forever. When you didn't answer, he asked again. "How long did we know each other?"
You wiped tears away. You needed to be professional, like he was your patient, but... It's Grace. It's my Grace. "A long time."
Grace stood up, taking a deep breath. "Who are you?"
"I'm..." Your best friend. Your lover. Your lab partner. "Your doctor," You choked, managing to look him in the eyes. "I'm your doctor."
"What's your name?"
The sentence hurt more than you thought it would. "Y/N."
The silence that dragged between you was as heavy as your uncertain fates.
~~~
Stratt had you sat across from her. It was only a day after the explosion that killed Shapiro and DuBois. Why were they in the lab together? They knew better than to be in one place... And to use that much astrophage... Worryingly, after he'd come to check on you in the chaos, you hadn't seen or heard from Grace.
And you had a sinking feeling as to why.
"I think you know why you're here," Stratt breathed shakily. Tears rimmed her red, puffy eyes. "I didn't want to do it, Y/N. Really, I didn't. But I had to make a choice."
The ragged gasps of your struggling lungs gave way to desperate sobs. I'll never see him again. I'll just know he's out there. My Grace, my Grace-- "Oh, hail Mary," You breathed. A coincidental exclamation leftover from your upbringing, one that didn't come out for anything short of life-changing.
"I'm about to give you a choice," Stratt's voice cracked as she spoke. You couldn't villainize her. However much you hated her right now, you couldn't. She murdered the love of your life, but her reasoning was so legitimate you couldn't blame her for what she did. Grace was the only one who knew anything about the astrophage. The Hail Mary launches in three days. There's no time to train anyone else, and the human race is on the line.
Even if Grace was the sacrifice.
"A choice?!" You shrieked quietly, "Like you gave him?! What's my choice, Stratt? What kind of statue to build in his honor?"
She drummed her fingers on the table, taking a breath like she was trying to hold back the tears. "...Do you want to go with him?"
Your heart dropped.
Stratt continued with little emotion in her voice as she tried to conceal her pain. "You're a capable doctor. They might need one. You know everything about the medical robot, the supplies, everything. If you want to go, I will let you. You can have a few hours to decide."
You'd leave Earth. Forever. No grass. No rain. No wind, no storms, no waterfalls or hiking or camping or going to Dairy Queen. No BBQs or mindless grocery trips or just going for a summer night drive.
But you wouldn't have Grace.
"I'll go." It felt like a bullet to the chest. It might as well be. Stratt didn't even seem surprised. "I'll go," You reiterated, "I don't need to decide. I'm not letting him go alone. I can't."
Respectfully, Stratt nodded. "Whatever you want, within my power, I can give to you."
"Seeds," You said immediately. "Fruits, vegetables, flowers, trees. I want a whole ecosystem. Eggs. Uhhhhh... Any way to get a small population of breedable livestock would be cool. A dog, maybe. Definitely a dog, if nothing else. I want all the kitchen utensils and ingredients and food that you can get. When we're not in zero g, I want everyone to feel at home."
"Done," Stratt whispered. There were still tears in her eyes, but there was also gratitude. A profound, deep gratitude. But also grief, like she was saying goodbye now. "You could die for him so easily. He couldn't do it for the world."
The words stung your heart.
~~~
You stared at the frozen assortment of seeds, plants, and embryonic livestock. At the bottom of the fridge was a puppy, frozen in cryogenic fluids and vacuum-sealed like you and Grace had been. Stratt really had given you everything you'd asked for. It wasn't like you were interstellar colonists, but she'd been happy to give you a couple of chickens and small pigs to work with if you'd wanted to take the time to raise it and make the crew fresh chicken stew.
And the dog. She'd included the dog. Plenty of chicken and dog food, too.
"I named her Laika," Grace mumbled from behind you. "I can't find any logs on why this was included. Everything down to the last piece of dirt was cataloged, except for this. I just can't figure out why."
"I asked for it," You explained softly, closing the fridge. Now wasn't the time to defrost any of it. "You could say I was a very, very last minute addition to the crew."
"Why?" Grace pressed, following you to the control room's ladder. "What aren't you telling me?"
You whipped around, frowning. "What?"
Grace put his hands together, clearly exasperated. "You're hiding something. I don't know why I know that, but I do. You're hiding something and you won't tell me because you're a doctor, and if I freak out from how much you're loading on me then you're gonna blame yourself. I get that, I really do, but you have to tell me why I'm here. I know we're not orbiting our sun, but why?"
You were backed into a corner-- literally and figuratively. If you told Grace everything and left out the parts about you being a couple, or him being forced, he'd feel betrayed later. If you told him now, he might not trust you. Unfortunately for him, letting him remember on his own might be the best way of going about this.
So, start slow. He isn't asking about your personal relationship right now. You took a deep breath, and tried to recall every detail of the Hail Mary mission you could to brace for follow up questions. "Well, Grace..."
His own words under the plains that night came back to you. If I could go up there and save all your stars, I would.
"...We're here to save the stars."
Thank you so much for reading part 1! I post very slowly but I had to get this out of my head!
summary: driver comes home after a bad day, and there’s only one thing he needs to make it better: you
warning: SMUT MDNI 18+ only, rough messy and sloppy sex, driver in charge and controlling, consent is given!, edging, light slapping from driver (only once), blowjob, use of good girl, possessive!driver, swearing, driver marking you, sloppy making out, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please!), missionary, cock drunk reader(?), pulling driver’s hair, praise kink, mating press, slight breeding kink (if you squint), creampie, aftercare
note: thank you to the nonny who sent in this request! i had fun writing this, and i hope you enjoy <3
word count: 4.3k
there are very few times when you’ve seen driver be anything but soft around you or in front of you. he’s extremely good at controlling his emotions, keeping calm in tense moments and not letting people know how he’s feeling.
but some days, he loses that. you can tell from the minute he walks in the door whether it’s been a good day or a bad one, but it usually takes a little longer to decipher how you’ll need to go about it.
it had already been a long day for him: shannon had got him on set early that morning (meaning he had to skip your usual morning routine together); then there were a few dickheads at the garage demanding for their cars to be fixed faster; and to top it all off, his car broke down just as he was leaving, meaning he had to stay later to fix it.
he had called you around lunch, explaining that he he might late home, but not realising how late it would actually be. he just needed to hear your voice in that moment, letting you talk about your morning and your plans for dinner. driver so desperately wanted to be at home with you, but he knew in his gut that he would be missing dinner.
still, he kept going, controlling himself in front of others as they shouted at him and shannon, continuing his work on the cars already in the garage as opposed to those who had just rocket up. driver was well and truly ready to go home to you, and that’s when his car broke down and he had to spend another two hours fixing it.
he dropped you a short text, letting you know what had happened. at that, you realised he had been having a truly horrible day, you just didn’t know how to make it better.
it was late when he finally got home. you could sense the tiredness coating his bones as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. he was surprised to see you still awake, all ready for bed in your matching sleep set that he had bought for you the other week.
the colour matched you perfectly, bringing out your eyes and complimenting your skin. in that moment, he knew what he needed. he knew what he had been craving all day, and it wasn’t until he saw you that he realised it.
his touch was rough as you felt your back meet the wall beside the front door within seconds of it closing. driver was pressed up against you soon after that, one hand grabbing your waist while the other came up to cup your jaw tightly. his palm was warm on your skin, his fingertips squeezed you slightly.
you were balanced on your toes to maintain some height against him. his bad day had gotten to the point of needing to be slightly rougher, but you weren’t complaining. usually he’s soft, so soft with you, and sometimes you wished he would let go a little. but when he was like this, it wasn’t just for his benefit. he wanted this to be good for you too.
a gasp escaped you as the hand on your jaw pressed harder, your head falling back onto the wall as your hands reached out for purchase on his denim jacket. driver’s usual baby blues had turned a dark, hazy colour, lust already covering his vision as he looked down at you. he titled his head to the side, a silent question that you knew all too well.
“yes,” you tried to nod, your movements obstructed by his proximity. “please, baby.”
at your consent, he pushed a leg between your thighs, widening your stance and pushing you slightly off balance. his hands help to keep you up right, the one on your waist squeezing tighter as he pushed you down and began to grind your crotch along his jean-clad thigh.
your moan was instant; the pressure and warmth from his muscle hitting you exactly where you needed it, and along with the hand on your jaw, it felt like heaven.
you let driver take control completely, only moving when and how he wanted you to. the hand on your jaw kept you facing him, his eyes boring into yours possessively as you whimpered at your pussy gliding along his thigh. he kept a steady pace, pushing your hips down harder to achieve a moan that slipped out easily.
he could feel you were drenched. it had begun soaking through your sleep shorts and onto his jeans, but he didn’t care. after the day he had had, all he wanted was to see you fall apart on top of him, exactly like this.
the hands that had been bundled up in his jacket were now scratching for purchase on his arms. his constant push and pull of your hips and the flexing of his thigh had built up your orgasm quickly, but you needed just a little bit more to get there. you hoped that driver would realise what you needed as you grabbed onto his biceps and squeezed slightly.
your pathetic whines were enough for him just then. he knew what you wanted. the hand on your jaw loosened slightly as he pulled away from you, taking away his thigh and the build up of your first orgasm of the night. you whined even more when you lost his warmth, your legs shaking as you grabbed onto him harder.
driver just kept his gaze on you, moving his hand from your hip to bring it up to your face. his fingers were still on your jaw as his other hand lightly slapped your cheek.
“you’re going to behave,” he started, a finger pointed in your face with his voice turned low as he looked at you. your eyes were blown wide with lust and complete safety as you listened to him. “you’re going to do as i tell you, or else i won’t let you come. got it?”
“yes,” you nodded immediately, grabbing his wrist. “yes, i promise, i’ll be good.”
“good.” he nodded back to you, happy with the knowledge that you would be good. he knew you knew how to behave, and he was going to let you prove it.
the fingers on your jaw squeezed you once more before his hand started to push you down. he stepped back, giving you space between him and the wall to slowly kneel down. you kept your eyes on him, your head leaning up to look at him as he stared down at you.
cautiously, you brought your hands up to his waist line, ghosting over the leather of his belt and waited for his nod. once you saw the subtle movement, you were quick to unbuckle it, your hands moving quickly to unzip his jeans and pull out his cock from his now stained underwear.
he was thick and heavy, the tip red and already spilling out pre-come. you gave him a few strokes, your hand gentle as it moved up and down his shaft, your other hand resting on his thigh for support. as you squeeze him suddenly, driver jumped forward, his hands falling onto the wall in front of him as he quietly groaned.
“you know what to do.” he muttered after a moment, looking back down at you as you just nodded.
your hand twisted once more before you brought your lips towards the tip of his cock. it was heavy on your tongue and you enjoyed the taste of his come already. the hand on his thigh kept you steady as you moved forward, breathing through your nose as you took in half of his length before pulling back off.
before you could move too far away, you licked the underside of him, tracing the outline of the vein all the way back to his tip. driver’s breathing shuddered above you. his hands clenched against the wall and it took everything in him to not touch you. he enjoyed giving you freedom to taste him however you wanted, but if he didn’t get what he wanted, he wasn’t scared to speak up.
“tastes so good.” you comment shyly, glancing up through your eyelashes to see how fucked out he was already. before driver could say or do anything, you took him in your mouth once more, this time going further down his cock to take him fully.
as he sat heavy in your mouth, you enjoyed the stretch of him, feeling him pulse on your tongue as driver groaned quietly. you swallowed around him before pulling off, setting a steady rhythm of bobbing up and down. when you needed a second, you would press a kiss to his tip, licking off the come that kept dripping out before taking him again.
you were enjoying this, enjoying pleasing him. as soon as you realised what mood he was in, this was all you had wanted to do. but driver? driver was falling apart above you. you were so distracted by his cock to realise how difficult he was finding it to hold in his whimpers, wanting to stay in control, but losing his will with each glide of your tongue on him.
when he finally moaned out loud, you knew that he was close. his thighs began to shake under your hand. one of his came down from the wall behind you to keep guiding your head back and forth. every ounce of his self control was withering away, and it was all because of you.
he tapped your cheek twice just before he came, managing to pull back slightly to come in your mouth rather than your throat. but you sat there and let him pump himself empty, your mouth hanging open as you watched him close his eyes and bite back a moan.
he’s silent for a moment after that. his cock was in his hand, starting to soften as you watch from where you’re still knelt down. his eyes opened to meet yours immediately, tucking himself back into his boxers, the zipper of his jeans still down, before he reached down to help you up.
“such a good girl, hum?” he praised, one hand cupping your jaw again as the other stroked the back of your head. “so good for me. knew you would be.” you just nodded at his words, your hands grasping at his denim jacket once more.
after a moment, he turned you both so that you were walking backwards towards your shared bed. your steps were hesitant, but driver kept both his hands on you to make sure you didn’t fall.
it didn’t take long for the back of your knees to hit the edge of the bed, your balance wobbly as you kept your grip on his clothes. he didn’t flinch, keeping both of you upright as he leaned over you more. the hand on your jaw tightened again, his face coming down so close that you would feel his hot breath on your skin.
“i’m going to let go of you, and you’re going to strip and get on the bed.” he said in a low whisper, his eyes boring into your own with a hazy look.
you nodded your head once more, “okay.” you felt him step back slightly before letting go of you. your legs were shaky as you pulled off your sleep shorts, feeling driver’s eyes on you with every movement you took. his attention turned to your chest as you pulled your shirt up and off your body, and you saw him slyly lick his lips before you moved onto the bed.
not wanting to disobey him while he was like this, you did as he asked. you were stripped and sat on the bed, knees bent as you sat back onto your feet. the soft sheets surrounded you and you were reminded then that you only changed them that morning. that thought left your head as driver began to crawl on the bed closer to you.
“so pretty,” he praised once again, towering over you on his knees as a gentle hand began to trace up your right side. you shivered slightly, keeping your gaze on him as his own eyes followed the curves of your body. “all mine.”
as soon as he said those words, his head bobbed down towards your chest, his mouth enveloping your nipple as his hand came up to squeeze the other one. you couldn’t help but moan, your hands reaching up to thread themselves through his hair as you tugged harshly at the blond strands. he groaned into your skin, flicking your nipple with his tongue as his fingers pinched the other.
“oh, fuck.” you exhaled, looking down to watch as he pulled away from your breast, a string of spit still connecting him and your nipple. you moaned so loudly that you knew your neighbours would hear. you didn’t care.
no one would ever be lucky enough to see what you were seeing right now; driver’s eyes were blown wide with lust, his hands were still kneading your breasts as he licked his lips and shifted his focus onto your other nipple. he repeated his actions, sucking and biting as he held in his groans.
you closed your eyes and threw your head back, hands still tugging on his hair. he pulled away from your nipple after a moment, moving to your skin to mark you with his teeth before kissing the area softly. he reached over and made a matching mark on your other breast.
“my good girl.” he muttered into your skin, licking over the growing red marks before pressing a hot kiss onto your lips. his hands gripped your waist tightly to pull you flush against his chest, his tongue pushing forward into your mouth to taste as much of you as possible.
“please.” you started to beg into his mouth, moving your own tongue against his just to tease him slightly.
“please, what?” he asking condescendingly after he pulled away. he was towering over you again, his face so close to yours it would be intimidating to anyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel more turned on. he tilted his head to the side when you took too long to answer him.
“please, need to feel you.” your hands started to grab at his denim jacket again, fingers fumbling over the buttons.
“i’m touching you, aren’t i?” he mocked, reaching out to stop your hands from moving before tugging them down to your sides.
“need more, baby.” you kept begging, your voice coming out in a whine as driver began to guide you to lay down. your head hit his pillow, the faint smell of him mixed with fresh laundry filled your senses as he moved himself on top of you.
he was still fully clothed, you could feel the scratch of his denim everywhere. it was overwhelming and not enough all at once. you kept your hands at your sides, letting driver shift inbetween your legs as you opened your thighs and he hovered above you, held up only by his strong arms.
you could feel his now hard cock against your bare pussy, imagining the material becoming soaked from his pre-cum, your saliva from earlier and how wet you already were for him. he was ignoring your pleas, letting you whine and restlessly shuffle underneath him whilst he traced along your neck with his nose. he stopped every so often to press a gently kiss onto your skin, but it wasn’t enough.
“ugnnh, please!” you squealed as he kissed your ear, your hands flying to cup his cheeks as you pulled him to face you. “need your cock, baby. need to feel you inside me, please. been wanting you all day.”
“yeh?” he asked, his eyes lighting up at your last words. of course, he had been thinking about you, too. every time your face or bare pussy begging for him popped into his mind, he gripped his steering wheel tighter and felt his cock twitch. but hearing you say that made him harder than he thought was possible.
he ground his hips against yours, pushing his clothed tip between your folds as they separated and let the rest of his cock glide through. you moaned loudly again, throwing your head back into the pillows as he repeated his actions. his gaze was still on you, hard and heavy.
“been thinking about my cock?” he asked, pulling his hips back again before pushing forward. he could feel how wet his boxers had gotten from you alone. “been thinking about me inside of you?”
“yes,” you gasped out, eyes opening to look at him again as he kept dry humping you. “always thinking about you. always want you.”
your words hit deep inside of him causing an animalistic growl to escape him. you’d never heard that from him before and it distracted you enough to not realise that he had pulled back from you, pushing down his boxers and jeans just enough to free his cock and run his tip up and down your folds.
only when you felt the slight pressure of him pushing into you did you realise what was happening. one of his hands were still next to your head as his other guided his red and dripping tip into your pussy. his breathing was shaky, both of you looking down to where your bodies met as you held your breath.
when he was fully seated inside of you, you finally took a breath. your body fully relaxed into the sheets as you finally felt the fullness you had been craving all day. driver rocked his hips forward, his pubic hair rubbing over your clit as his cock shifted against your walls. you felt hot all over, so blissed out that he could do anything to you right now and you’d let him.
while still moving his hips slightly, he leant down to press soft kisses across your chest once more. his tongue dragged over the blossoming marks as he made his way up your neck and over your chin. you could feel a slight trial of spit following his movements, but you couldn’t care less. he was inside of you, he was all around you and it was the best you’d felt all day.
“happy now?” he teased, whispering the words into your ear which made you shiver.
“yes, so good.” you praised in reply, one hand gripping the bedsheets as the other reached around to his back. the only grip you could get was on his denim jacket, but you didn’t care. his hips started to pick up pace, his face was squashed in the crook of your neck and you’d never felt more at peace.
at your words, driver shifted more. his hips started to move at a bruising pace as his cock dragged against your walls. you lifted your hips slightly and wrapped your legs around his hips, shifting his position and making him hit even harder and deeper inside of you.
as his tip started to hit your g-spot, both of you moaned in harmony. his was muffled by your skin, but yours was music to his ears. his hips snapped forward even faster than you thought possible, one of his hands creeping down your body to start rubbing your clit.
“fuck, right there.” you whimpered into his ear. the arm around his back tightened, holding onto him even more as he keep pounding into you. you could feel yourself dripping onto the clean sheets, driver’s fingers gliding over your clit expertly as he applied just the right amount of pressure.
the heels of your feet pressed harder into his lower back as your hand once wrapped in the sheets pulled his hair to get him to look at you.
“feels so good, baby,” you gazed into his eyes, your vision blurry. “fucking me so good, like always. always need you. only need you.”
at your words, driver growled once again. his hands moved to grip your thighs, pulling your legs from around his waist to push your knees up to your shoulders. his cock never left you, his hips still moving as he shifted you how he wanted and made you feel him even deeper.
“shit.” he groaned, his head now looking down between your legs as he watched his cock disappeared and reappear, completely covered and slick with your juices. the only sounds that could be heard were the slapping of skin, your laboured breathing and the squelching of your pussy.
driver was hitting so good and so deep inside of you, it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to start to build in your stomach. he could feel you squeeze around him, hear your pathetic moans as he keep pounding into you.
“going to come f’me?” he asked sweetly, so innocently as if he hadn’t made a mess of you.
“yea,” you agreed, nodding your head as he looked at you. “yes, want to come for you. want you to come, too. need to feel you.” you tried to bargain with him, wanting him to fill you up as much as you wanted to come, maybe even more so.
“yeh? want me to fill you up? want my come inside of you?” he teased, looking up at you to see how fucked out you were. he had done that to you. “ask nicely.”
“yes, please,” you whimpered. “please, please come inside of me. fill me up.”
it didn’t take much longer of him rutting against you for you to come first. his fingers found your clit again and moved rapidly, white hot pleasure filling your fuzzy brain as you came hard on his cock. you squeezed him tightly, moans falling from your lips like a prayer as he kept his promise. ropes of warm come filled you as driver’s hips stuttered and they pressed into you one last time.
he dropped his head into your neck again, both of your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. his weight on you felt like a blanket, keeping you safe as you came back down while shifting your legs and hips to a more comfortable position. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss into his hairline.
after a few moments, driver pulled away from you. a hand gripped the base of his cock as he pulled out, watching his come slide out of you slowly. as he sat back on his feet, he traced a single finger around your pussy, collecting his come and yours before leaning towards you. your mouth opened instantly, welcoming his finger as you sucked off your mixed come, keeping eye contact the whole time.
when he was satisfied, driver climbed off the bed, heading towards the bathroom opposite you. you heard him shuffling about for a moment before the tap ran shortly and then turned off. he walked back out in nothing but his stained boxers, a wet towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
he placed the glass on your side of the bed before sitting in between your legs once more. you nodded as he held the towel up to show you, trusting him to be gentle as he wiped your thighs and sensitive pussy. when he was done, he threw the towel on his bedside table before leaning down to kiss you softly, a silent question of how you were that you knew all to well by now.
you just nodded as he merely pulled away, your noses still touching as you whispered, “i’m okay. you were so good.” he smiled at you shyly before pulling away fully, holding his hand out for you to take. he helped you off the bed and carefully guided you towards the bathroom, making sure that you didn’t even wobble as you walked across the room.
as you used the toilet and freshened up, you heard him stripping the bed, riffling through the clean bed sheets to find a matching set before remaking what you had already done that morning.
the sight before you as you walked out was something you would always be grateful for. the old bedsheets and towel were in the laundry basket, ready to throw on tomorrow when either of you woke up. driver was laid on his side of the bed, the glass of water in hand as he waited for you, the sheets pulled back inviting you in.
you walked over and sat on the bed facing him, never once taking your eyes off his own. he handed you the glass and you drank the whole thing, knowing he wouldn’t let you sleep without it. you placed the glass down exactly where he had earlier before shifting to lay down next to him and curl up into his side.
he wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you got yourself comfortable and basked in his warmth.
“did so good for me.” he praised one last time, placing delicate kisses along your hairline and across your nose as he tangled your fingers together over his chest. “such a good girl.”
“jus’ wanted to look after you,” you replied sweetly, your voice quiet as you tried not to fall asleep. “wanted to make you feel better.”
“you did,” he promised, kissing you once more. “you always do.”
you hummed once more before letting sleep take you. you had driver in your arms and that’s all you needed. he laid awake a little while longer, listening to your relaxed breaths as you fell into a deep sleep. his thoughts were filled with you, of how you made him feel, of your future together. he never thought he’d be lucky enough to find someone like you, so he held you a little tighter as he fell asleep himself.
Hi! New anon here. If you’re not into this you can just delete me, but I’ve been thinking about the scene where driver (in the movie) pushes the lady onto the bed and like slaps and threatens her. And I just love your writing so I was wondering if you’d maybe possibly kindly write something related to that?
hi nonny, thank you for joining us! i assumed this was a bit of a smutty request so that’s the direction i’ve gone for in rough day. if that’s not what you wanted, i apologise, but that’s were my brain went lol
i didn’t write about driver slapping a lot, but i think it’s got the vibes of that scene with him being rough and in control (and honestly it’s hot 🫠)
also sorry for it taking so long! i had an idea, but had a bit of a block writing around it, but i hope you love it!
how could you find him sexually attractive? (he's a hands-on learner by the way.)
pre-astrophage!grace who has his reservations believing he's desirable in the bedroom. good thing you're a willing teacher with a passion. and authority, for the material.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
ryland isn't helpless in the bedroom by any means – that man would 100% talk you through it.
sometimes, though, that confidence wavers. you're not a thesis he can prove or an equation he can solve for, you're a human being who – for some reason – has a romantic interest in him. That's infinitely more complicated (and a little terrifying for him).
on the contrary, you're of the belief that his attractiveness is fairly easy to study. is a study even necessary? (not like you'd complain if it was.)
it is.
you try explaining this to him one night in your shared apartment. it's not going very well. he's not very responsive to words of encouragement alone... hm, maybe apply supplemental stimuli?
your eyes darken. "do you need me to just show you?"
his throat bobs as his cheeks flare crimson. "maybe."
without further discussion, you lead him into the bedroom.
you have him undress first. slowly. "let's see... initial observations." his dark t-shirt falls to the floor. you allow only a sliver of distance between your bodies.
"lovely mouth." a brush of your thumb under his bottom lip. "best kiss-bitten. pretty words," you slip the digit passed his teeth and he welcomes it readily. "good with your tongue." with a hushed, dreamy huff, you withdraw to explore further.
"big arms." drag your nails down both his biceps, let them dig in a little. "always hugged so nicely by your sleeves."
he's tense, adorably so. muscles taut like he's trying not to sweep you up and forget about this whole experiment.
"broad chest." you flatten your palms there and his breath catches.
"strong core." a shiver as your touch trails down his stomach.
he's listening, ears straining to absorb every word. you're saying simple things, too sultry to be entirely clinical, but he's already pink around the ears.
a strangled little sound when you pull at the loops of his jeans, pressing his hips into yours. he's already hard. you have to feel it – the denim doing little to hide it.
his hands are flexing at his sides. he's literally aching to touch you. but ryland wants to listen to you, so he contains himself. this will be about you, you'd said to him.
you pull away – ever controlled – just enough to unfasten his belt, having the nerve to hum as you're systematically unravelling him. he lets you undo the button and zipper. reminds himself to inhale, exhale when he's left on display for you in only his boxer briefs.
are you going to–? you are.
his eyes are so big as you start to lower yourself, leaving gentle kisses in your wake. worshipping. memorizing. oh, and speaking of big...
"more than enough to fill me up." and you actually lick the imprint of him – a single stripe from base to tip – through the fabric of his underwear. a broken moan of your name. there's a weak spasm in his abdomen as his dick gives a desperate twitch for more pressure – more of you. he's honestly surprised that he doesn't combust right then and there. statistically, he isn't sure he'd be able to replicate that outcome.
his skin is burning. you can feel it near your face. under your hands, which are gripping his bare thighs.
poor thing.
when you stand, ryland is biting back a soft cry. your breath had been so warm on him, right where he needed.
you lick your lips. make sure he watches you do so. "take everything off. sit back on the bed, ry." barely a whisper and he's scrambling to obey. the command you hold over him is more than any worldly power he can name.
you remove your own clothes, relishing in the cool air against your own heat – molten just below the surface. your results aren't due anytime soon. you take your time.
"syllogisms," you sigh as you climb on top of him – straddling his lap, but sat forward on your knees, "are deductive tests where a conclusion is found to be either true or false given a set of assumed premises."
fuck, it's hot when you know what you're talking about. both of you are all too aware of the mere inches separating where you want the other the most. he rests his large hands on your thighs, steadying you. his thumbs are rubbing twin arcs into your skin. don't stop, please, he just can't help it.
bringing your lips down, you kiss him. despite the salacious nature of everything else, it's sweet. loving. you don't want him to forget what this is for. "so let's test that original hypothesis, yeah?"
a swallow, "okay."
"attractive things make me wet. this is fact, the main propostion." you reach down to your practically dripping core. ryland doesn't dare tear his gaze away as your cupped hand glides between your folds, gathering slick. you don't even need to push them inside to have enough to coat your palm.
can't refuse when you bring your fingers up to his mouth again. he swallows them greedily, your taste exploding across his tastebuds, pure wonder in his expression as he looks at you from under mussed blond strands.
ryland is still licking them clean when you ask, "taste that?" he's a bit dazed, but he nods, too busy to speak. "mm, good. minor premise: I'm presently aroused. another fact." you remove your fingers and his jaw clenches at the loss.
he doesn't have time to complain. because, in the next moment, you drop. you're flush against him, laving your silken sex across his in blissful rolls of your hips. the sound he makes – mixing with a gasp of your own – is unfathomably embarrassing, though he can't bring himself to care. only manages to blush a deeper red. match your rhythm.
"feel it too? 's because of you, ryland." he actually whimpers. his mind is blank, it's just consumed by youyouyou–
and then, because you must love seeing him tormented, you rise. it borders sin, a glistening thread of your essence still connecting the two of you.
his hips jolt upwards involuntarily, trying to chase the sensation you've taken away. "oh, god, I'm sorry, so sorry," he babbles, words tripping over one another.
"so," you shakily regather your composure, fraying yourself, "if physically attractive things cause me to produce lubricant, and I'm soaked from looking at and touching you, then what can you determine?"
he knows the answer. ryland looks like you just asked him to stand up in front of the class. "don't make me say it." you repeat the sequence. no change in tone – the reiteration alone does the trick. he groans. "attractive things make you wet." his grip on your thighs tightens. "I made you wet." he's looking up at you over his glasses. god, his pupils are huge. "therefore, I'm attractive."
satisfaction swells in your chest. "there you go." the praise makes him throb.
he needs to be buried inside you, now. whatever gets him that honor.
"please, I get it." "do you now?" "yes, God, please– wanna, need to feel you. all of you." "understand now? think you've earned it, hm?" "I have, I promise. I'll show you."
