Summary: After months of wandering the space to study Tau Ceti, Grace found out that there’s another crew on board. It was only revealed when Rocky corrected him on how many people the ship has. Grace got hope for him to recall his pieces of his memories back on Earth. You must be an answer for him.
“Happy. Happy. Grace has woman now. statement.”
Pairing: Ryland Grace x fem!reader (shy!grace x soft!dom!fem )
Warning: Use of profanity / No use of Y/N / Fluff - smut / good ending / smut - !MDNI! / age gap / rocky yapper / shy!ry / bunch of flashbacks / you are rocky’s favorite human woman / ry dealing with amnesia / 50% conversation / slow burn AF/ weird safe words/
Words Count: 9k
Note: I just started reading the book so this is mostly based on the movie. Hope Andy Weir won’t get mad. tried to not make it like Passenger lol. Grammatical errors may occur.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and science claims are either imagined or used for storytelling purposes only. Any resemblance to real people or real-life situations is purely coincidental.
Part 2/2 : No Light Years Between Us ✧˚₊ || MASTERLIST ||
Waking up drunk with the worst hangover is something Grace would choose rather than waking up with IVs all over your body in a space craft in the middle of nowhere. Not knowing himself, name, age, where he lives, occupation or even his own race. Just a sub-conscious self but smart enough to observe, understand everything happening and to analyze that he is no longer on earth before he could remember his own name.
No guide, no manual. He all started with scratch but the hardest part for him is trying to recall himself rather than how to use the laboratory apparatus to study outside of the ship. From analyzing how his brains work he was able to find out the reason why he is on that ship. I am a scientist. He said to himself.
Apparently the other two crew in the ship had already passed away for unknown reasons. Names were written in the bags which he thought meant ownerships. Since the two other bags were written in Chinese and Russian, he assumes that he owns the third bag. Grace. “Am I a girl? But I have a pe— oh! it's my last name.”
Not long he was able to recall how to study matters outside the ship and what was the mission for, and he directed his focus on it, setting aside knowing about himself since doing the mission was more of muscle memory for him— like he’s been doing this before.
“Grace is quiet. statement” and not so long when he met Rocky who has a bigger and cooler ship with just a different kind of aesthetic. Six months after he woke up from coma when he met this new friend, smart, reliable,
“What Grace is thinking, question?” and full of curiosity.
“I am having a moment, bud.” Grace said while his eyes were shut.
“Why Grace need time. question?”
“Because I am trying to recall my full name, Rocky.” eyes were still shut and sitting in the center of the LED dome made for the crew in the ship.
“Grace has more names. why? Question.”
“Because on Earth— argh you know what? nevermind, I lost focus.”
Rocky accompanied him for the past 3 months, since then he never cared about knowing him at all, compared to the first 6 months since he woke up. He is now accompanied and occupied. Not until now.
“Rocky checks on Grace okay.”
“Yeah, Rocky. I am fine. Thanks bud.”
“Grace thinking but not science.”
“It’s because..” He paused, “I wanted to know how I got in here. It’s like a missing puzzle piece for me. I can’t recall what's the benefit of this to me. what made me convinced to come here. If I could just ask the crews,”
Grace sighed, “...but they are all dead now. If those 2 crew just left any note or clue before they passed and left me alone in coma.”
Rocky rolled closer to Grace, “Grace is not alone. Not all dead. statement.” and that made a smile on his face and Grace threw his shoulder over the glass. “Thanks, bud. Thank you for accompanying me, You’re making me alive too.”
Grace never expected his bond with Rocky would grow strong like this. He knew he’s middle school teacher when the sudden excitement of wanting to share new things hit him, especially when he met Rocky, “The kids would be amazed to know about you. They’re little minds would explode.”— Kids? I have kids? Oh! I am a teacher. Science teacher.
“Grace never been alone. statement.”
“Yeah- yeah. I got it, bud. I am very glad you are here.”
“No. crew still rest.”
“Yes. They are resting in peace.”
“Rocky know dead. crew only rest.”
“They are dead as fudge, Rocky. 2 dead crew.” Grace detail while showing his two fingers up. He grabbed his laptop and checked if there were any translation issues but the words he had input in here was enough to form understandable human grammar.
“Grace is wrong. 2 dead. 2 alive crew. statement.”
“What are you talking abou— two what??” Grace immediately got up and wore his glasses properly. “Where is he?”
Rocky led him back to the part of the ship where he woke up from uncounted years of coma. He never took Rocky here and never detailed to him this part of the ship as for him it won’t be necessary to look back.
“Up up up. Crew resting.” Since rocky could only roll most of the surface, Grace needed to take it from there. There was a containment that Grace did not bother to look at since most of the things on the ship were meant for 3 crew, he never thought there could be another human in the ship.
Hopes are filling up into his heart in every step he takes in the ladder to check the chamber higher than where he woke up. Another human, another chance for him to know everything. It was a bigger MRI-like chamber where you could step inside or slide out the patient’s gatch bed. Grace was able to easily open the door and step inside.
“What Grace see? question.” He can hear Rocky from below waiting for him.
Grace sees a similar apparatus he has been before, monitoring computers and your unconscious body that is perfectly resting with signs of condemnation. You are a person that is buried in his memories.
Grace heard only a few banging of the door before footsteps inside his room. He did not bother. He continued to his sleep while on his sheets and boxers. Yesterday was a tough day doing his research and preparing for his presentation. Sleeping in a Naval Station wasn't the best experience but the best option he has for all extended effort he did last night.
“Since you often get yourself ready for 20 minutes, you'll be late for approximately 8 minutes for your presentation today with the world’s leaders.” He ignores the voice and buries his head to the pillow and covers his head.
“You need to get your rocket-boxered ass ready, Dr. Grace.” You commanded with a bit of firmness.
You questioned to yourself if the rocket printed boxers were still in 30’s men's choice of underwear or scientist thing, or maybe it's just him. You turned your head to Carl and asked, “Do you have any specific choice of underwear? If you don’t mind me asking.” Carl only shook his head while still standing firmly next to you. You looked back to the scientist who is still fighting for a nice sleep. “I see. I see. It’s just him. Last time his boxers were molecule printed.”
“I don’t get why they call you a Stratt clone, Stratt doesn't talk about someone else's underwear.” Grace said beneath the pillow, and that hit him. Hair tousled when he lifted his head and the first thing he met was your eyes. “Good morning, Doctor Grace. Time to get up.”
It was not the very first time you did it to Grace and the doctor can’t get help but to feel timidly as he covers himself with his blanket to hide his flushed face from you.
Grace was lucky that the presentation went well as he practiced last night. The world leader only threw questions related to his presentation since their interests were leaning more to strategy and planning which is under Stratt responsibility already.
A sound of a box placed in his desk woke Grace from his power nap in his laboratory, “You haven’t got your breakfast.” He sits properly off his body from the head rest of his swivel chair while eyes are still half open, “Thank you” trying to keep cool.
“How did you manage to get bento on a naval station? We’re practically sailing around Faslane.”
Most people saw you as another Eva Stratt in heels, sharp-edged and impossible to rattle, all clipped professionalism and firmness. Copying it was not that hard, just a couple of years working with her. But after months of working beside you, Grace learned the truth: once you let someone close enough, the steel gave way to something warmer. Playful. Gentle.
Caring in quiet little ways that caught him off guard. Carl and him are the most who sees it.
“I made it myself,” you said simply. And somehow, even after all this time, he realized there were still so many things about you he had yet to know.
You waited for him to take a big scoop and shove it into his mouth before asking, “So what’s with rocket printed undies?” He almost spit all of the food he took as he choked.
Grace knew you were well aware of how patient he could be, years of teaching middle school had made sure of that. He never lost his temper when you pulled things like this. If anything, all he ever felt around you was that strange little flutter in his stomach he still didn’t quite have a name for.
“You don’t ask someone about their underwear.” Grace said as soon as he swallowed food that almost choked him.
“We wanted to know if it is a scientist thing or just your thing. We are just curious. Right, Carl?” You said and turned away from Carl and faced Grace again.
Carl just casually mouthed “I am not” to Grace while shaking his head.
“It's just— It just happened that they made this kind of underwear. This is something I customize myself. And for God’s sake can you please not go inside my room?” His worry lies not in his privacy but on how you would think of him seeing him sleep— during hours where he is careless about himself.
“You are in a naval station. Basically it's owned by the government and we are authorized to check it anytime.” Your eyes smiled at him. Grace raises his index. “That sounds power tripping to me.” that only made you chuckle.
You put a bottle of water in front of him at the exact moment he chokes. Grace knows how reliable you are, not just inside the laboratory but in many aspects even to the smallest one.
“Carl, would you mind getting Dr. Grace some soda?” With no question, Carl followed what you asked and you waited for him to leave the laboratory.
You pushed his loose glasses towards his radix which made him get a clear sight of you in front of him.
“Wanna go stargazing later? I know a spot on the ship.”
It was the first time anyone had ever asked Grace to do something that wasn’t tied to work. Just one simple question, yet it stirred something unfamiliar in his chest, a strange warmth spreading through him at the thought of being wanted for something other than the job.
Mission was never left behind as it is still his priority while consistently checking on your unconscious body. Ofc he would always check on you since Rocky is asking about you every hour.
“You couldn’t hide how excited you were about her, yet somehow you hid from me that there was another crew here you can see for months.” Grace said to Rocky while observing you in your sleep. “Grace did not ask. statement.”
“How could I—” He stopped from there since Rocky got a point.
It was tricky to move your body to the lower chamber where the Chinese crew, Yao, used to be placed, but Grace managed to do it.
Your unconscious body wrapped in a translucent body bag which is being monitored by designated machinery in the chamber turned into Grace’s hope to unlock his true self, to recall who he was, but he was also having fear if he should still know about himself. “I should know.” He should know the answers why his body involuntarily gives him shivers and warmth whenever his hand lands in your skin.
You could be something more than a crew. You could be more than part of this project. You must be something more.
“Woman is beautiful. Grace want Woman. statement.” Grace’s dissociation was interrupted by Rocky. As he always does. Since Grace has no clue of her name, he just set it on Rocky’s translation as Woman so he wouldn’t constantly hear it as Adrian, “Please don’t do that once she wakes up. You’ll freak her out.”
“Do Grace want Woman. question.”
“We are professionals here.”
“Professionals… |”
“Our priority is the mission.”
“mission… |” Rocky copied.
“Yes, that's correct.”
“Grace did not answer rocky question.” Rocky rolls closer to Grace, “Grace want Woman. Statement.” Grace could lie to himself but not to Rocky.
Rocky could sense how his heartbeat skips and increases pace whenever he sees you and the different toxins his brain releases whenever he checks on her. Rocky knows that all.
He never pushes himself to remember everything but only lets his brain do it by nature. Grace only relies on the images from his memory of you. Doing laboratory stuff, him asking you to search information he needed and lunch together but more of work related activities. yet feels different. His smiles were different, words from his mouth were stuttering.
“When Woman wake up, question?” No one knows. Grace wouldn't take the risk to wake her up. They just both continue their routine in finding new information about how to eliminate these star-eating bacteria while on their journey to Tau Ceti.
“Did Woman wake up, question?” Grace couldn’t give more information than no, but never failed to check her, it became part of his routine.
There will always be room for new things to learn about each other. They have discussed a lot of things about each other’s planet and practices— although Earth has different practices in every corner.
“Earth is complicated, not like Erid. statement.”
“We are guilty as charged.”
“So how do humans breed, question?”
“Wow oh! that escalated fast.” Rocky got confused with how Grace reacted. He knew that humans are not vocal about breeding.
“Eridian breeding technique is beautiful.” Rocky said while his arms were raised. “Do Grace want to see the Eridian breeding technique, question?” He added.
“No. no. not now. I am not ready to see. Maybe next time, bud.”
“Does Grace have breeding techniques?”
“Of course, I do.”
“So Grace has breeding experience, question?”
“Breeding doesn't sound appropriate to me.”
“Humans are complicated. statement.” Grace couldn't even recall any past lovers— if he does have one. Surely he got some. He said to himself before looking again to the unconscious body in the bed.
“You seriously haven't been in a relationship before? woman? man?” You shift your focus to him, off from the monitor and turn your chair to face him. “What’s making you keep your virgin ass?”
“I didn't say I’m a virgin. I said— I haven't been in a proper relationship before.” Grace clarified. “Most of them I’ve only been with for some months, 10 months max. but they never really cared. So I just focus on my career, the longest relationship I’ve been with.”
“How about the other teachers in the school?”
“Who would you pair with a Science Teacher, then?”
“Math Teachers”
“One is a married man and the other is lesbian.”
You were suggesting more,“English Teachers?”
“All were my work besties plus they were way too young”
“Physical Education?”
“They are also the Math Teachers.”
“Principal?”
“Do you seriously have a thing in office romance?”
That caught you off guard. Like Stratt, You often stay professional and have no room for romance especially in the workplace. But you are not closing the door for opportunity, after all you are just a human with a beating heart.
You were about to ask him another question just to not cause any awkward silence but then he speaks, “—Because I don’t.” Grace added, with a very noticeable movement in his throat. “I’ll do the job, finish it, pack my stuff and go home. Making my life less complicated.”
Right on time, Stratt walks into the laboratory with Carl behind her. It's like a switch, you turn back on to your work mode. “Am I interrupting something?” Stratt.
“No, w-we are just talking about my student loan haha that's it.” Grace answered Stratt which made you look at him.
“You still have a student loan, Dr. Grace.?”
“Well, It is supposed to be paid off by the university if they just keep me there.”
You gasped, “Gosh— so I’ll be still paying my student loans till my 30s.”
Eva slowly looked at you, “You have a student loan that I didn’t know about?”
You immediately look for a valid escape goat and the first thing you see is Grace. “Dr. Grace asked me to get him some food.” and quickly exited the lab. Startt’s eyes followed you as you made your way out of the room, “I did not ask for food” Grace.
In the past few weeks of being locked up in the Naval Station, the most fun activity you often do with Grace is stargazing, and surprisingly he did appear every time you asked him to.
Focus was still on the mission, Startt has this kink in micro managing and you are the first hand receiving those tasks making you unable to spend time with him by night.
That particular week had been brutal. Stratt buried you under endless workloads on top of research assignments and experiments with Grace. He noticed that. Of course, he noticed it. and at the same time he was waiting for you to ask him for stargazing tonight. “Anything I can do for you, Dr. Grace?” You asked with half eyelid open
“Rest.” he said gently. “You need to rest. I’ll be fine here.”
You did follow that else your body will collapse. You immediately went to your assigned room and slept even if it wasn't still aligned to your body clock that you often follow.
Your body suddenly wakes you up by night, it reminds you that sleep was not enough, you need to fill up your tummy as well. While eating your dinner, you open your phone, which you are trying to avoid so you could have excuse to Stratt not seeing her messages
But you received a message from someone you did not expect.
Dr. Grace *.✧: Wanna watch the stars? Here at the same spot.
While in your pajamas and cardigan, You made your way to the upper deck on the side of the naval ship. Spot doesn't often check by the authorities in the said ship where you two could have a moment in peace.
“Nice Pajamas. Kuromi is a great choice.” Grace compliment half meant tease you. “It's not something I customized for myself.” You replied to aim to copy what he responded to you before.
“Hey— how do you know Kuromi?” You asked as you walked towards him he shrugged his shoulders in response. Of course he knew who Kuromi was. He’s a cool middle grade teacher.
You sat beside him, close enough to feel his body temperature in this cold night which noon was the only source of light but light enough to see his face clear.
He sighed, “I did not prepare any star fun facts today, sorry.”
“No pressure. I’m just here to relax and get some air.” You chuckled.
“Yeah— yeah. Oh! I may have no stars fun facts today but—” Grace paused. “I could get one for you.” He winked.
You smiled while raising an eyebrow at him, “Show me then” challenging him.
He rubs his palm against each other, “Okay then. Point the star you want.”
You have chosen Alphecca in Corona Borealis which is on your far side. Grace actually reached for it, lifting his hand and grabbing it like light years distance didn’t matter, like the sky might give in if he tried hard enough. You were about to laugh, but it caught in your chest when a faint glow lit at his fingertips, soft and warm, like a secret he brought to life just for this moment.
You never knew that thumb tip light magic would be this fun.
The light glowing in his fingers while the space between you quietly disappeared, did notice but did not bother. You watched how he passed the light from his left finger to right like a kid first time seeing magic, first time feeling a newly introduced feeling.
You didn’t ruin his show—you let him show you, let him have this small magic, because the way he looked at the sky… and slowly back to you, felt more real than anything else. And maybe that’s what made your heart stutter—he wasn’t reaching for the star anymore, not really. Grace was close enough now to what he really wanted more than the stars.
You were laughing at how creative he was and there were the show ends when he saw you smiling again. “Hope it's not lame.”
A soft hit to his chest while laughing “No—no. it's not. I wouldn't think that. I find it really nice. I did not expect it. Did you use that in your class?”
“Actually.”
He watched as you got over it and didn't bother to call you out on leaning on him. His eyes landed in your smiles, in your lips. His eyes made you recall all of the unspoken things you two have— you both have.
You cannot recall when it started but being on his side was no longer part of the job for you, but willingness to be on his side most of the time.
Ryland didn't know if that new memory was helpful or not. In a moment he was full of hope, and now it suddenly shifted to not knowing what you do once you woke up and still doesn't know who you were for him back on Earth because the last thing he saw on that memory was how close your lips to his.
Did we kiss?
What are we then?
Am I not really a virgin?
“What Grace is thinking, question?”
His dissociation was again declined when Rocky appeared on his side. “It's nothing Rocky. I just found out our names. My name is Ryland, Ryland Grace.”
Grace took a marker and went closer to your bed. He wrote both your full name on the wall, big enough to be noticed first. “....is here,” he added.
It's been a month since Grace found out your comatose body and marked it his 10th month from the time he woke up.
By this point, checking on you was just helping him to recall pieces of his life, but not entirely. If Rocky is resting in his ship, he would go to you and talk. slowly hope’s fading. yet you did help him to recall some of what he was used to.
“Amaze. amaze. amaze. Grace knows all his name.”
“Yeah, feel lightened up.”
When they were about to leave, Grace stopped and looked back when he heard familliar voice command.
“Body movement detected.” followed by “What is two plus two?”
They both stopped for a while to see if there might be a real movement or just a bug on the machine. “Oh god—” Grace runs towards you when eyelids tried to open.
You have no clue where you are or what was happening. The guy caught your attention away from looking at the blank white ceiling with floating machines around you. “Am I in the hospital?” questioned yourself but felt different. It wasn't the room, it was the atmosphere.
In his excitement, Grace answered the question that supposed to be answered by you.
“What's two plus two?”
“Four…”
“What is the root cube of 8?”
“Two…”
“What is the factorial of 6?”
“Seven hundre— That wasn't asked to me before.”
He did realize that you must answer those questions yourself as it was able to recognize his voice but also it was designed to know if you are conscious enough to think and answer.
“Seven hundredzbs— glunnn— twenty.” Tube that was in your mouth may cause you hard time to speak but you were able to manage answer it till stating your name which made the tubes automatically taken away.
This man helped you to get up. He must be the doctor? but he doesn't look like one, based on your guts.
“I am Ryland Grace. D-do you remember me?” He said while sitting in front of you. You remembered nothing than your name. You looked around but nothing. Just only sub conscious thoughts and body pain.
You don't mind what you were wearing, translucent body bag, but Grace does and wrapped you with a common lab coat.
“amaze! amaze! amaze!”
“Hello woman. I am Rocky. statement.” It was a blurry glass you assume was machinery. it does not surprise you until it moves closer to you. There was an alertness switch in your body but did not make you react much. Enough for Grace to notice.
“I know it does not look like usual, and it is new. but he’s a friend. He's from Erid.” He said while holding the glass around Rocky. “I don’t want you to freak out, but I believe you should and you must be aware of this— that you are not on Earth anymore.”
“You are in Project Hail Mary. Welcome aboard”
“cheer! cheers! cheers!”
—not the best word in Rocky’s translation to use at that moment.
Ryland was hands on in taking care of her. Never feel a burden while you are in the state of recovering yourself. He knew how hard it would be, so he won't let you alone.
He could say that you’re recovering fast, and if his calculation were correct you could recall her memories faster than him. but at the moment, they are taking things slow. Days and turn to weeks since you woke up.
“Did we kiss? Should I ask?” Ryland asked himself. Yet also, not right thing to ask for someone who is recovering.
“Grace thinking what, question?”
“Nothing, Rocky.”
“Grace can't think of nothing. Humans are always thinking. statement.” He knew Rocky wouldn’t stop but he can't just tell him everything, not that you are just behind them.
You walked towards Rocky with a rag in your hand, kneeled down to wipe his barrier. “Rocky is correct. humans can't think of nothing,” you said softly. “We just take a little time—sometimes to understand things better, sometimes to rest our minds, and sometimes because we’re trying to decide what’s right. The best thing you could do while we are taking some time to think is, to let us be. spare us more time.”
It did not take long for you to get comfortable with Rocky. Ryland did a great job in being a bridge for you two to build connection and know each other. Just like two kids befriending each other.
“Awesome awesome. Woman good explanation. Woman is best human ever. statement.”
Ryland protested, “Hey! you told me that first.”
“Grace is Rocky favorite human.” He paused, “—second. statement.” Rocky added.
Ryland also did give her a tour around the ship, from do’s and dont’s to how the ship works. Ryland did pass all things he knew about their spacecraft, but most of the time he gave you a light task why you are still recovering. Also since you can't find your bag here in this ship, you use Milana’s stuff. May God rest her soul in peace.
You did not bother adding your name or changing “woman” in Rocky’s translation. You got used to it.
“Hey, something's bothering you?” shiver crawls on Ryland’s back when he feels your hands on his near waist. He cannot deny that but you don’t notice it at all. “I am f-fine haha.” He responded.
“Let me know what else I could help you, okay?” You said before going out of the room to do other tasks.
Sound object skittered noisily as it rolled.
“Grace heart skipping beat. statement.”
“Shh Rocky! She’ll hear you.”
There were no new memories of you with Ryland and what you mostly recall about your life before the project, but you have a glimpse of memories working with him. You often check on Ryland since you could hear him talking with Rocky constantly but his words are getting fewer whenever you are around.
But if you two were colleagues, you two must be comfortable with each other, right? maybe not. But your guts says yes.
Been 3 weeks since you woke up and you can sense you are starting to recall what happened during the process of this project. You could be the hope for Ryland to know how she hopped in this ship. You start to learn how to manage the facility when Ryland realizes it takes more than two hands to operate the ship properly.
Today was so different it was too hard to interact with Ryland, especially that you woke up from a dream that felt so real. It could be real. It could be from your memory. In that dream, you can feel Ryland's soft breath touch your neck while he is sleeping next to you. The tolerable weight of his arm was in your waist while two of you were sharing one blanket. Feels so soft. Feels so light. Feels free. and felt so real.
“Earth to you?” Ryland said and snapped next to your ears. He moved to your side and checked on you while you were trying to hide your flushed face from thinking about what you dreamed of.
“Impossible. Why earth to Woman. Can Woman carry Earth. question?”
“It's an idiom, Rocky.” Ryland said.
“Oh, Earth idiom. very confusing.”
Ryland faced you again and asked, “Are you alright? You seem so distracted since you woke up.” You can't answer it. God knows how much respect you have for him. You couldn't tell him what your dream was about, that couldn't happen. He leads this project, and you? You don't know, you can't recall about yourself entirely.
When you looked at his face, you saw the same detail of your dream. much detail as you were only inches away from his sleeping face in that dream.
“Are you sick?” concerned Ryland.
“Woman is sick? DIE?! Woman is going to die no no no no no!”
That made you chuckle after you saw Rocky panicking inside his glass, “No and no. I am not dying and I am not sick.”
“You sure?” Ryland asked and you just nod at him.
He clapped and wore his glasses again. “Alright, need to get back to work. We haven't figured out how these things breed fast.” referring to Astrophage captured back in Venus sitting in his table.
“Rocky taught Grace how Eridian breeds but Grace did not teach Rocky human breeding technique.” That caught off guard both of you.
“And that was out of nowhere, Rocky.”
“Rocky remember sudden. statement.”
You just watch them discussing, not bother to interrupt. Ryland responds,“It's just— It's because— we don't teach others how to do it. I just came naturally? Yeah naturally.”
“Grace parents not teach, question?”
“That's disgusting. I am glad they did not do that.”
“Rocky is curious. Show me. command.”
“Woaw that’s such a demand.” disbelief in Ryland's face. “But no! It takes two humans to do it and the opposite gender.”
For a minute, they both went quiet. Ryland just realized what he just said and immediately blood rushed up to his face that he doesn't want to turn and face you. The silence made you also realize what Ryland has just said.
Ryland took the opportunity to talk to you in your so-called kitchen and handed you a pack of skittles in a sealed pack. “No expiration date but hope it won't hurt your tummy on that light years-old Skittles.”
“Thanks, Ry.” You said and put some of your hair in the back of your ears which gave Ryland a better view of your face.
“Uhm” He pauses, “Sorry if you might find it annoying earlier. Rocky is just curious about us. humans. He finds us very complex. too complicated to understand.”
“I totally understand. We are very different from each other. I myself also curious about Eridian.” You replied
“Well, I just also think that he’s messing up with me too. He knew I don't like talking about— you know— the breeding stuff. I barely discussed sex education to my students before.” and the two of you laugh.
He does check on you time by time, to see if there's any improvement with your memory or recalls something new. something you two shared. maybe time you two with each other, only two of you. To know if that's his imagination only or if it did happen back on Earth.
“May I ask? Do you—”
You cut him off by holding his arm when you felt something strange with your weight. “Do you feel that?” You asked him. Both your heads snapped toward the nearby monitor just as the warning flashed across the screen.
[ CENTRIFUGE DISABLED - PREPARE FOR GRAVITY SHUTDOWN ]
Before you could react your feet lifted off from the floor. The thing is you haven’t practiced floating around as Ryland wanted you to focus on your recovery. “R-ryland…” Ryland could see the terror in your eyes and immediately took your hands pulling you closer to him. “Relax, relax. You're safe.”
“This is the reason why there are many strings around the ship. You could try to hold with those if you wanted to go to another facility.” He explained while your hands were gripping tight in his arms.
“Please, don’t.” You plead asking not to let go of you. Ryland agreed.
But with no control over where your body wanted to drift, your hands latched onto the first thing you could find—Ryland. Before you realized it, you were clinging to the scientist outright. Ryland didn’t mind the way you held onto him. What worried him more was whether you’d mind it once you noticed exactly how close you were.
“Okay, I’ll put us lower, closer to the floor before I go to the function deck— to turn on the centrifuge again. Would that be fine for you?” Ryland asked for your approval. As soon as you nod while face is buried in his neck, and with gentle care, he pushes the two of you off the ceiling, guiding your drifting bodies downward.
When two of you were only inches away from the floor, the gravity went on immediately with more pressure, causing a loud sound across the room.
“Ouch— my back.” You complained while Ryland’s hand was on your back which he used to support your body.
“Are you hurt?” worried Ryland.
Before you could answer Ryland, Rocky entered the room and stopped on the doorsteps— that made two of you realize your positions. How you were lying beneath Ryland with his arm at your back and side of your head supporting his body from falling to yours.
“Nice nice nice. Grace and Woman breeding. statement.”
“No, we are not!” You and him said in chorus.
Ryland’s passion in teaching is not limited to his classroom. From everything he learned in handling kids, he was able to apply it in his everyday life— or maybe he is just patient in nature.
You could hear them discussing from the other room.
“Rocky turned on the centrifuge. statement.”
“How did it go off first?”
“Rocky too”
You chuckled silently after hearing it. No gravity could be fun sometimes.
During times that you all decided to rest, you often found him sitting in front of the window. Staring at the endless space composed of stars “Y’miss earth?” You asked as soon as you stepped in.
“Who wouldn't?” He looked at you with a smirk on his lips without moving his body. “I mean, yes, People there are not highly recommended to interact with, they are incredibly unfair— but it's still home.”
Ryland continues, “I have a bunch of memories being mistreated there, but I don't think that was enough for me to join here. That's why I was still wondering how I got in here.” For a moment, he forgot what just said as he faced you, “How about you? Do you recall going in here now?”
Your face looked almost angelic in the dim light. All he could do was look at you and wonder how someone could exist and make the whole room feel gentler just by being in it.
“No, actually sorry.” You answered. Ryland hopes to know if he has indeed shared the moment you have gone again. Getting itchy to know anything, even a clue.
“— but I have this dream. I am with you—” You couldn't decide whether to tell him the truth or you’ll just be judged. You don’t want him to think you are daydreaming of him.
There's only 3 living with conscious matter in the ship and you don't want to make it awkward. “...and?” Ryland was waiting for you to detail it.
“Oh— it's just a random dream. It just felt real? That you and I… were…” You sighed, “we’re colleagues. You know, just a random scene at work.”
Ryland nodded in response. “Yeah, I think that one is real. We won’t be here together if we aren’t working for this project. Makes sense right?”
For a brief moment, there was silence in between you two. He clears his throat and takes something out of his pocket. “I also have this dream? Memory? Uhm— of us. Kinda work related. That we are stargazing together.” He said, and yes you have a glimpse of those, like an old photos in your memory.
“We often star-gaze in a Naval Station since there are only limited things we can do. We are locked in research for this project—” He explains and moves closer to you.
“So uhm— ‘kay. Choose a star and I’ll get it for you.” Ryland said. You chuckled and pointed out random bright stars since you can’t identify names of the stars from where the ship was right now.
You watched him as he acted like a catching star using his bare hard— he even showed exhaustion after his ‘attempts’, and after a couple of catching stars he finally got one and kept it in his palm. “Gotcha!”
He slowly leaned to you while palm was still closed. Curious, you leaned toward him too, your attention fixed entirely on his hand. When he opened it, a tiny folded paper star rested in his palm. “Sorry, I don't have my thumb lights, so I improvised.”
That made your memory clearer.
“Oh! Yes! Hahaha I remember it now! stargazing on the Naval Station’s deck and we…” You stops.
“And we what?” Ryland asked
Before you could answer, Your gaze went down to his lips. Unsure if that really happened or just your brain tricking you since he’s the only guy you could interact with— but don’t feel like that. Everything seems so… natural.
He also noticed how your focus shifted to him instead of answering his questions. your eyes lingering where they shouldn’t have—on the slow bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed, bullet sweats on the side of his forehead, on the faint, restless twitch of his jaw every time he fought for composure. You all notice those. surroundings went quiet, quieter than the endless dark outside the ship. Like the only person in the universe are the two of you.
Inch by inch your face was getting closer with no gravitation needed to pull each other closer. pulling you toward each other with the slow, inevitable force of magnets finally giving in.
“Are you hugging without Rocky, question?”
And just like that, you immediately part away, face flushed, and avoid each other’s eyes.
It all came back with painful clarity, even the memories you wished you could leave untouched. You remembered everything. You shared a brief time with him before this project took off but those weeks were the most wonderful weeks in your life. It was beautiful. He is.
Been almost a week since your last stargazing in Naval Station and he barely speaks to you since. Not unless it was strictly work-related and it was obvious. Unluckily for him, nearly everything that needed to be done requires talking to you.
“Carl, Can you pass me the pen— oh nevermind let me.” the pen was literally on your desk that he could have just asked you to hand it to him. Carl noticed this strange behaviour of Ryland and eye-questioned you, you only shrugged your shoulders in response.
Only the two of you left when Carl takes Stratt's call. You moved your swivel chair closer to him. “Want to grab something for lunch?” You asked.
“T-thanks but I have some errands to do.” That’s when you confirmed that he’s avoiding you.
You know he has nothing to do after lunch. You are the one who organize his schedule. You wanted to confront him but you know he would avoid you more, so you need to think of a way where he doesn't have any choice. Did he just kiss-n-run me?
In the other hand, Ryland hates himself for having no balls to tell you what he felt. It's just the hate for himself stays when he could tell her right away that he wanted that. Coward coward coward. He tells himself. He could have the chance to tell you that night, but chooses to run after kissing you.
After a long day, he immediately packs his thing like he has need to bike back home.
“Where are you going?” You asked when you saw him packing up his stuff.
“Where do you want me to go on this ship? I’ll be resting.”
“We are throwing a farewell party for them tonight.”
Everyone is having a great time, laughter is in every corner of the room while Ryland is only having an almost empty bottle of beer with his notes. You did not expect him to join but there he is. He was surprised when a hand closed his notes followed by another bottle of beer being set beside him. He heard you mutter a complaint about your head before you sank down beside him.
“Working hours are over, Dr. Grace.” He knew he couldn’t get off of this now you are there. You winked. “Set off your nerd mode for tonight, this is a party.”
Ryland knew he couldn't let this pass, so he set his notes aside and replaced the pen in his hand with a bottle of beer. Lucky for him you did not bring up what happened on that night. purely topic under the sun.
The party was loud and full of people, but you two were already in a world of your own. It was just better to be alone, as long as you were alone together, and that is what you two did.
“Be careful” He said while you were walking through the benches on the side of the deck. “It’s fun! Sometimes you need to explore things, Dr. Grace.”
He really finds you adventurous, easy to hangout with and not afraid to try new things out. Different from him who just kept himself in one place, comfort zone. One of the reasons why he can’t stop himself adoring you.
You were getting quiet, and he doesn’t want that feeling it gives him. Ryland used to hear you being expressive. Transparent of what you felt or what you were thinking. You stopped walking as soon as you reached the upper deck. “Why?” He asked.
“Nothing.”
“Humans can’t think of nothing.” He said. He is indeed a scientist. Cool scientists with just stupid displacement of eyeglasses often made you laugh.
The cold sea breeze is passing to his cardigan and making your scarf swing. You are looking into the eyes of someone who made you feel butterflies in the stomach that you thought you could only hear in teenage fiction.
You wanted to know if he treats everyone else like he did to you, or could be something special. Exclusively yours.
“Don’t you really mean that kiss?” You asked out of nowhere. His lips suddenly shut. That caught him off guard. “Was it really nothing for you?”
He wasn’t looking at your eyes, “Look, I don’t want you to get it wrong. No beef on you. It’s just—”
You stepped closer to him and pushed his eyeglasses again towards his radix. His face is almost next to yours.
“Dr. Grace, the question is closed ended. So, is it a yes or no? I am making it easier for you.” He can’t believe that he could get intimidated by someone way younger than him.
Ryland gulped, “It meant… nothing for me.” You nodded before placing your hand on his cheek and reached out his lips, placing a slow and heated kiss in his lips. You watched his eyes shut and deepen his face towards yours.
His cold hands crawl on your waist supporting your body. You move away when you feel his lips moving on yours. He even chased your lips when you moved it away. His body is telling you different story. telling you the truth that he couldn't say.
“I thought it was nothing?” You asked while foreheads were leaning to each other.
“I was.. a liar and coward to tell you it was more than everything.”
Ryland doesn’t know how to calm his pounding heart while you two are on your way to his room. He is trying to keep cool— as he doesn't want to give you an impression of being too eager.
Didn't he know you were the one being impatient.
He was thinking about what he should do once you reached his room. All of what he plotted in his mind was useless when you grab his face and claim his lips again. There was no time wasted. He reacted fast and joined you, dancing along with your lips while his arms secured to your waist and back.
Tongues were dancing, nose tips were bumping each other. It was a total mess, but exactly how he wanted. exactly how he daydreams that he often pushes away because of his respect for you. He loses it, so you do.
You're thankful that his cardigan’s button was cooperating. Your hand slides under the shirt and touches it with a light scratch of your nails, that sends him little shivers crawling all over his body. Even if he doesn't tell you, you can sense it, his arm around you tightened. “Stop.. teasing me… please.” He pleads in between the kisses.
You walked him to his bed which is a few steps away without breaking the kiss, and pushed him to his own bed. You admire the view of him in his bed leaning on his elbow.
“I like your shirt, Dr. Grace, but we need to let go of that.” and it didn't take a second for him to understand that, he immediately sits up and removes his shirt, finally showing to you the toned body he is hiding beneath.
You knew he got something under those lab coats, but it exceeded your expectations. You tried not to be impatient. Ryland watches as you slowly unbutton your tops, for him it's like a show he doesn't want to miss every scene. He crawls back till his back hits the headboard when you knelt in front of him.
His glasses were still on, but the usual not on its right place. You still find it attractive along with his messed up hair because of your hands.
“Do you have any prepared safe words, Dr. Grace?” You asked.
He let out a shaky laugh, “I’ll choose Torcularis Septentrionalis— longest name of a star but I’m not planning to use it either.”
You can't deny that his nerdy tricks attract you, making you want to devour him. Once again your lips and his links. You took the opportunity of touching every inch of his exposed skin. “Damn, where have you been all this time?” He asked while his eyes were shut.
“Hmm let’s say when you got your bachelor degree, I was in 8th or 9th grade.” You said.
“Please don't make this sound weird.”
“You were asking where I have been.”
“I love kids, but not that kind of love.” He said “Your humor is really in the wrong timing.” added.
He was interrupted when you shifted your focus to his ears. His mouth left open as you made your way through his jaw— taking much time as you enjoyed his scent there.
Ryland did not fight and surrender his body to you, letting you do anything you wanted. He enjoyed it. He did try his best not to make any sound, but you were a sucker of whimpers.
While busy with his neck, you sat in his pants exactly on top of his crotch and did an intentional friction there. Combination of light sucks in his neck and your hips rolling on top of him is driving him insane.
Not long after, his shaky breath turns to fading groans. His deep manly voice continues playing in your ears as your kisses travel down his abdomen.
He watched you while undoing his pants, giving him a final look before pulling it off was sinful. His thing sprung out proudly as soon as it freed itself. He was above average— as shown in his height and thick enough to give you a hard time later.
Ryland couldn't hide how embarrassed he was. You can't blame him, it's been almost a decade since his last.
But he let you take care of him, using your soft hands wrapping around his cock with gentle strokes— observing effects on him. He pressed his lips together once he felt your warm breath down there, trying to conceal the sound he might make.
You started with teasing your tongue on his tip,“Oh god— please.” He murmured and buried his head back in the pillow. You took him slowly inch by inch, sucking all down to the base for once only before it chokes you, then your tongue plays around his cock inside your mouth.
“Shit shit shit— fuck.” You knew he's losing his shit when he started cursing repeatedly with no censor unlike what he does most of the time. “Stop— please. I’m near. Torcularis— fuck— septentrionalis!” You slowly let him go and go up. He was panting.
“I just..” catches his breath between the words, “....finishes with you.”
You are glad he is using his words now. You stood up and stripped all of the remaining clothes you have, as you went back he was already leaning again to his headboard.
You placed yourself in his lap trapping him in between your legs. His cold hands were travelling in your bare skin, adoring every part of you. You held him again and positioned it towards your entrance.
“You sure with this?” He asked while staring directly into your eyes.
“I wouldn't suck the hell out of you if I am not sure.” Your response.
You lower yourself down, making him go inside you. You sucked up air half way through, You knew you would have this trouble. He was gripping your hips and waist. Still you manage to sit till its base. “You still sure?” He asked and you nod.
“Plus I forgot your safe word anyway, no way to stop.” You winked before clenching around him causing him to lean his head again in the headboard which gives you a better view of his neck. “You are torturing me.”
As soon as you adjust with his size, you start moving on top of him. He watched you like heaven in the sky and again your lips met his again. He held the back of your head to deepen his kisses on you while he rocked his hips so that you could bounce on him steadily. He knew what you needed.
“Fuck, Ryland.” whispered to this eat following up with a moan. The pleasure is very visible in his face. He looked helpless while eyes were half lid open. Never met someone who please you more than he did, and that encourage you to fuck him better.
He was murmuring something inaudible. You continued bouncing on his lap but you also noticed him being soft like letting you do whatever you wanted. Eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowed— signs he is trying to keep his focus. “I am near…” He said while panting.
“Hold it baby, hold it.” You whisper to his ears.
When he opened his eyes, he saw your flushed face which made it harder for him to hold. His hand landed in his bedsheet and gripped on it to help him keep his posture.
His other hand went down to your clit and rubbed it to help you. His hand was soft and his touch was gentle.
“I am near.” You announced. In just a few seconds, you were able to hit your climax and not long after a few bounce, Ryland hit his limit and released inside. “Oh no…” worries lie in his face for brief seconds.
“Don't worry, I’m safe.” then points out your inner arm.
He let rest on top of him, both restless yet satisfied. The overflowing feelings are unexplainable even to the genius mind of Ryland. He let his mind rest and let his heart take over— not thinking but only taking that moment. so you do.
You snapped back to reality and the first thing you saw was Ryland’s worried face right in front you. Heart pounding with all memories you retrieved. Your lips were shaking but afraid to let Ryland know.
Both you and Ryland found out who you got on the ship and your pasts. The exploration through the stars was also a journey to recall pieces of memories.
summary: ryland grace may be able to carry the weight of the world, but not without breaking somewhere. Luckily, he has someone who knows exactly how to bring him back.
warnings: 18+ smut, oral f receiving, p in v, submissive ryland!!, ryland has a hair pulling kink lowkey, needy! ryland, overworked! ryland, slight angst, soft ending, gentle and emotional smut, pornwith plot
The sound of the clock was impossible to ignore that night.
Now, that’s not to say it was big. Objectively, it was small. An old white thing that had come from Ryland’s first flat, now sitting proudly above the kitchen door. It was cheap plastic and most definitely second-hand, offering a loud click as the seconds crept on. Each landing deliberately as it reminded you what you were trying so hard not to measure.
You checked it again.
22:47.
You exhaled through your nose, lips pressing together as you tried to soothe the ache in your stomach that had been pushing harder and harder as the weeks went on.
The flat was warmer tonight, blame it on the oven being on for too long and the windows not being open enough. The smell of roasted garlic still permeated the air, softened now that dinner was technically over. It now sat on the counter, carefully packed into mismatched Tupperware containers. It had once been plated, earlier, when you thought he’d be home by eight.
You’d even lit a candle. You were optimistic.
The flame had travelled halfway down the wick, the wax pooling unevenly along one side, before you decided to blow it out.
He wasn’t coming back.
You pulled your knees a little closer to your chest, where you sat curled into the corner of the sofa, a blanket half draped over your legs. The TV was on as it flickered a shifting light across the room. Something mindless played on the screen, not that you were actually watching; you zoned out around an hour ago.
You just wanted some noise at this point, or rather, the absence of silence.
There is a brief war in your mind as you debate whether to put the Tupperware away. It was still sitting on the counter. You decide that it is probably for the best to move from your sanctuary on the sofa, stretch your legs and whatnot.
You wander over to the kitchen, socks shuffling across the floor as you reach for the plastic containers to put away.
He may not be here, but there are traces of him everywhere.
It’s what makes you so worried about him.
You turn towards the fridge—it was the first thing anyone noticed when they walked in. Not because it was particularly nice, but because it was covered.
Layered in magnets and paper and colour. Crayon drawings, most of them, curling slightly at the corners where the magnets didn’t quite hold them flat.
Stick figures with wildly disproportionate limbs. Planets coloured in purple and green. A sun with sunglasses. A lopsided rocket labelled—very proudly, in uneven block letters.
MR GRACE’S ROCKET SHIP!!!
You smiled softly.
He’d come home with that one months ago, careful not to let it crease too much on his bike ride home.
“Look at this,” he’d said, laughing. “They think I’m cool enough to go to space.”
You’d laughed then too, teasing him gently, telling him he was cool enough, and he’d ducked his head.
There were more of them now.
More drawings. More little notes. One that just said “Thank you Mr Grace :)” in pencil.
He’d never had the heart to take any of them down.
Your chest tightened.
Because that was him, wasn’t it?
That earnest kind of care. The way he gave himself to things—fully, without hesitation, without holding anything back. Whether it was his students, or a problem he couldn’t quite solve, or you.
Especially you.
Your eyes flicked back to the clock as you put dinner away.
22:52.
You wondered, not for the first time, what he was actually doing.
His most recent job was vague, always described sheepishly. He said there were NDAs involved, said it was "research." Papers were always hidden away where you couldn’t see them, let alone try to understand them.
You trusted him. That was enough for you not to pry. That paired with the way that he’d looked at you—not excited, but lit from within in a way you’d never seen before.
That had been enough.
You didn’t need to know the details to know that something had shifted.
It had started small. A meeting here. A call there. Then longer hours. Then missed dinners. Then the creeping realisation that whatever he’d been pulled into, it wasn’t temporary.
Most nights now, the flat felt too still without him in it.
It wasn’t that you minded. If anything, you were glad he’d found something that lit him up like this. It was the way he gave himself to it, completely and without pause, that worried you. The sense that he was stretching himself thinner and thinner, and that one day there might not be enough left to hold him up.
You lingered for a moment in the kitchen, fingers brushing along the edge of the counter as your eyes drifted once more to the clock.
23:01
Later than you’d promised yourself you’d stay up.
You should go to bed.
He’d understand.
With an exhale, you reached for the switch. The overhead light flickered softly, your hand hovering, as if you were hesitating, as if some part of you was still holding out hope.
The sound of the lock turning cut through the stillness.
You stilled.
Metal against metal. A stubborn click. The push of the door easing open.
Ryland.
You could hear he was trying to keep quiet. His shoes hardly made a sound as he kicked them off, nor did the door as it softly shut, trying not to disturb a space he already thought was asleep.
The flat stayed dim, the kitchen light still on behind you, casting a soft spill into the hallway, catching just the edge of his silhouette.
You could stand here and giggle as he fumbled around, trying to keep silent as he took off his bag and jacket, but the feeling in your chest stopped your thoughts immediately.
Before you could think better of it, you were already moving.
You rounded the corner quickly, too quickly for him to anticipate. He barely had time to look up before you were on him, arms wrapping around him and relief flooding your system.
“Oof—”
He let out a startled sound as you collided with him, hands coming up instinctively to catch you, steady you.
And then, just as quickly, he melted into you.
His arms slipped around you, pulling you in close. His chin dipped toward your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.
He smelled the same. Coffee, soap, completely familiar and him.
“What are you—” he trailed off, voice lower than it usually was, tiredness hinting at the edges. “Should be in bed by now, sweetheart.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, not taking his gentle scolding too seriously.
He should take his own damn advice.
You smiled, practically glowing in his embrace and the knowledge that you’d be able to say goodnight to him in person this time.
“I wasn’t tired.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Your eyes lingered on his face, fully taking him in, even if you hadn’t quite clocked everything yet.
“Plus,” you continued, a little quieter. “I sleep better when you’re here.”
He huffed softly, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
“That’s not true,” he said, voice still gentle. “You’re usually still snoring when I leave in the morning.”
You frowned immediately, offended.
“I do not snore.”
He gave you a look.
“Mm,” he hummed. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
You barely had time to argue before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was unhurried, something you let yourself smile into.
When you pulled back, you tilted your head slightly, still holding onto him.
“I made dinner.”
That got his attention.
He blinked at you, like the words took a second to land, his tired eyes softening just a fraction.
“You did?”
You nodded, a little eager despite yourself.
“Pasta. Your favourite.”
He let out a groan, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly.
“You spoil me,” he mumbled.
You shrugged, smiling as your fingers brushed lightly against his back.
“It’s my job.”
He huffed softly against your skin.
“Should be mine.”
“What was that?” you asked, tilting your head just enough to try and catch it.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, lifting his head again.
You studied him for a moment, then stepped back just enough to gesture vaguely toward the kitchen.
“Do you want me to heat it up?”
He hesitated.
You saw it, even before he answered.
“Nah—no, no,” he said, a little too quickly. “You go, get comfy, yeah? I’ve just got… I’ve just got some stuff I need to read. Then I’ll be right with you.”
You stilled.
“You’re still working?”
The words came out soft, but they hit.
He stopped too.
In the brief pause between the two of you, it allowed you to really see him.
Even in the low light, it was all there. The shadows under his eyes were darker than they used to be. The strain on his expression that he was so obviously trying to hide. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, unnoticed by him, his hair a little more dishevelled than usual.
He looked exhausted.
“Ry—“ you murmur as your chest tightens, lifting your hands to his face. You drag your thumbs lightly along his jaw as you hold him there. “You can’t work all the time.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“You need rest.”
“I’m gonna,” he insisted, but there was no real conviction in it.
You searched his face, your mouth turning into a frown.
“But you never get any.”
He hated to admit it, but you had a point.
Damn it.
He exhaled and it was heavy. His gaze dropping to the floor like he disappointed you. He didn’t want to argue, but he also didn’t want to deflect.
Because he knew. He knew you were right.
You brushed his hair back from his forehead gently, fingers slipping through the soft strands, and the effect was immediate.
He couldn’t help himself when it came to you.
His shoulders dropped just slightly, his eyes closing for half a second as he leaned into the touch without thinking, like his body recognised something his mind hadn’t had time to catch up with.
Like he needed it.
You let your fingers linger, nails dragging lightly across his scalp, and he let out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively.
Your heart gave a small, startled thud.
When was the last time—
You didn’t even finish the thought.
Too long. Far too long.
Your fingers curled slightly in his hair, just enough to guide his head back, and he followed easily, eyes opening again, a little unfocused now, a little softer.
You had an idea.
You looked up at him, your expression gentler now, something more deliberate settling in your gaze.
“Ry,” you said quietly, almost coaxing. “Are you sure I can’t help you relax?”
It took him no time to understand your insinuation.
He looked at you like the question physically pained him.
Torn.
He dragged a hand briefly over his face, exhaling under his breath.
“Baby, I—” he started, cutting himself off quickly, like he’d caught the words just in time. He shook his head slightly, a faint, tired smile pulling at his mouth.
“Okay,” he said, softer now. “Okay. Yeah.”
His hands found your waist again.
“We can do whatever you want.”
Something bright, almost giddy, flickered in your chest. Because finally, you could take care of him.
Your fingers slid down from his hair, tracing the line of his jaw one last time before you caught his hand in yours. His palm was warm, a little clammy from the long day, but the second your skin met his he laced your fingers together.
You gave a gentle tug and he followed, his steps heavy and dragging behind you, socks scuffing softly against the floorboards. He moved like a man who’d forgotten how to want anything except the next thing you offered him, like a tired puppy trailing after the only light left in the flat.
You led him down the short hallway. The bedroom door was already ajar; you pushed it open with your hip, and the street lamps outside spilt in through the half-drawn blinds, painting everything in soft gold and cool silver.
The way he liked you best.
The glow caught on the rumpled sheets you’d left this morning, on the curve of his shoulder as he stepped in behind you, on the faint sheen of exhaustion that still clung to his face.
He stopped just inside the doorway, blue eyes locked on you. Even half-dead on his feet he looked hungry—starved, really—desperate with his pupils blow wide and his breath hitching every time you moved.
He perked up quickly.
Good.
Time to ease his thoughts away from work and solely on you.
You could still feel it rolling off him in waves: the weeks of late nights, the missed dinners, the way his body had forgotten what it felt like to be touched with anything but clinical efficiency.
You stepped closer, letting your hip cock to one side, head tilting as you looked up at him through your lashes. The movement made the hem of his old t-shirt ride up your thighs, and his gaze dropped there for half a second before snapping back to your face like he’d been caught.
“You gonna let me take care of you, Ry?” you asked, voice low and sweet, the way you knew made his knees weak.
He swallowed hard, throat working.
“You always take care of me,” he murmured, the words rough.
“Yeah…” You smiled, teasing. “But I have a feeling you’re really gonna like this one.”
He opened his mouth—probably to protest, to say he should be the one looking after you, to offer some tired half-joke—but you rose up on your toes and kissed him before the words could escape. He melted instantly. The sound he made was broken, almost embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to let it out.
His free hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, needing something solid to hold onto while the rest of him dissolved.
You kept kissing him as your hands found the top button of his cardigan—soft green wool, the one he’d worn the day he first told you about the “research job” that was eating him alive.
One button, then another. You worked slowly, letting your knuckles brush the warm skin of his chest each time. He didn’t move to help. He just stood there, eyes half-lidded and gentle. When the cardigan finally slid down his arms and pooled on the floor, he shivered, even though the room wasn’t cold.
Next came the shirt underneath. You tugged it free from his jeans, palms skimming up the flat plane of his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jumped and twitched under your touch.
He was so pliant, so perfectly willing—arms lifting when you guided them, head ducking so you could pull the fabric over it.
The shirt joined the cardigan and he stood there bare-chested, breathing a little faster now, chest already tight from the weight of your stare.
Your fingers dropped to the buckle of his belt. Metal clicked. You looked up at him again, searching his face.
“Is this alright?”
His hands covered yours immediately, warm and steady despite the tremor in his voice.
“Baby,” he said, almost laughing but too wrecked for it, “you can have me whenever you want. You know that.”
The words came out hoarse and you couldn’t help but think about every night he’d come home after midnight, every morning he’d slipped out before you woke.
Your chest squeezed—but you shoved the ache aside.
Not tonight.
Tonight he was here, and he was yours.
You popped the button, dragged the zip down, and pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips in one. He stepped out of them clumsily, kicking them aside, and he was naked in front of you—cock already half-hard and curving up toward his stomach, flushed dark at the tip and beading at the slit.
He looked so vulnerable like this, eyes soft and a little glassy, waiting for whatever you wanted to do to him.
Before you could sink to your knees or touch him the way you were aching to, he reached for you with that same tired, adoring smile.
“Your turn?”
You giggled—couldn’t help it—and let him pull you in. His hands were eager, sliding under the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from his drawer. He peeled it off you slowly, reverent.
God, you missed him.
When your breasts were bare he exhaled shakily, thumbs brushing the undersides like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed. The shirt hit the floor and then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts, dragging them down your thighs in one go.
You stepped out and suddenly you were both exposed, skin glowing in the light, the air between you thick with weeks of pent-up need.
He didn’t waste time. He hauled you against him, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that felt deeper than the last, like the exhaustion was finally cracking open.
One of his hands splayed across your lower back, the other slid between your legs without hesitation. Two fingers stroked through your folds, finding you already slick and aching, and he groaned into your mouth when he felt it.
“Baby…” he rasped against your lips, voice wrecked. “Seems like I’ve been neglecting you, huh?”
His fingers circled your clit once, twice, slow and perfect, and you whimpered, hips jerking forward.
You grabbed a fistful of his hair and softly tugged—just hard enough to make him gasp—then shoved at his chest playfully.
“Tonight I’m taking care of you, Dr Grace.”
Dr Grace.
The title landed like a live wire. You knew exactly what it did to him; he could see it in the way you said it.
His eyes fluttered, a broken little sound punched out of his chest, and he let you push him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Let you move him where you wanted him.
He dropped down willingly, sprawled out on his back, cock now fully hard and leaking against his stomach. He looked pathetic in the best way—chest heaving, cheeks flushed, arms already reaching for you like he couldn’t stand another second without your weight on him.
You crawled over him, knees bracketing his ribs, ready to sink down and take him inside you the way you’d been dreaming about for weeks. But his hands caught your hips, stopping you. His blue eyes were hazy, pupils blown, yet somehow still so gentle.
“Baby… can you go a little higher?”
You blinked down at him, confused, thighs already trembling with want.
“Aren’t you tired?” The words came out soft, almost worried, and the sound of it made his expression melt even further. “Tonight I was gonna be good to you.”
Not that you were complaining.
He shook his head, thumbs stroking soothing circles over your hipbones.
“I don’t think I’ll last five seconds if we do that,” he admitted, bashful and honest and so fucking needy it made your stomach flip. “It’s been… Gosh, it’s been so long. Let me do my job first, yeah? Then you can have your way, okay, sweetheart?”
Your cheeks burned, but you nodded, heart hammering. He guided you higher, hands firm until your knees settled on either side of his head, and you were hovering over his face.
The light painted his features in silver and shadow—his tired eyes still locked on yours, lips parted, breath already fanning hot against your soaked cunt.
Fuck, he was stunning.
You lowered yourself slowly, and the first drag of his tongue had your head falling back with a moan.
He was tired, yes, but he knew you—knew exactly how to flatten his tongue and lick a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, how to hum in satisfaction when your taste flooded his mouth.
How could he forget you?
His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks you’d treasure tomorrow, anchoring you to him like he never wanted you to leave.
He licked and sucked with lazy, devastating precision, built from months of learning every hitch of your breath, every roll of your hips.
When you started to rock against him he groaned, the vibration shooting straight to your core, and the sound was so desperate—so pathetically grateful—that it made you clench around nothing.
“That’s it,” he mumbled against your pussy, voice muffled and wet, “ride my face, baby. Use me. Let go for me—”
Please.
His fingers dug harder into the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you down with a desperate strength that belied how exhausted he looked.
You could feel the tremble in your legs already starting, the way your muscles quivered around his head as he devoured you like a man who’d been starving for months—and maybe he had.
Ryland Grace, brilliant and overworked and so fucking touch-starved that he couldn’t get enough, kept dragging you back and forth over his tongue with low, needy sounds vibrating straight into your core.
He was rock-hard beneath you, cock straining and leaking against his stomach, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care. All that mattered was you—your taste, your weight, the way you ground down on his face like it was the only thing keeping him awake.
He cursed every single late night he had, every single hour overtime.
How on earth could he put work before this pure heaven?
You reached down blindly, fingers tangling in his messy hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan loud and broken against your soaked pussy. The sound was pathetic in the most beautiful way. He’d let you use him until there was nothing left if that’s what you wanted.
And you did.
You rode his face harder, hips rolling in messy circles, chasing that building heat while he licked and sucked and hummed like he was trying to memorise every single reaction you gave him.
He felt it when you started to tip over the edge—your thighs clamping tighter around his ears, your breath hitching into these sharp little gasps. His blue eyes flicked up to yours, glassy and adoring even through the fogged lenses of his glasses, and he doubled down, tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit until you tugged on his hair again and came with a broken cry that echoed off the bedroom walls.
It was overwhelming, the way he didn’t stop—licking you through every pulse and shiver, dragging you back down when your hips tried to pull away.
Oh no, you don't.
He cleaned you up with reverent strokes like he couldn’t bear to let a single drop go to waste.
You were shaking, quivering above him, vision blurry with the aftershocks, and only when you were completely spent and whimpering did he finally loosen his grip on your thighs. His hands slid up your sides instead, soothing, like he was afraid he’d break you even though he was the one falling apart underneath you.
You lifted off him on unsteady knees, sliding down until you could look at his face properly. His glasses were completely fogged up, cheeks flushed crimson, lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He blinked up at you, dazed and blissed-out, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.
“Was that… good?” he asked, voice hoarse and shy; he still needed the reassurance even after you’d just ridden his face into oblivion.
Tell him he was still good.
You let out a shaky sigh, brushing a thumb over his wet bottom lip.
“You know it was, Ry.”
A sleepy smile spread across his face—pure, unguarded bliss.
You shuffled lower, knees bracketing his hips now, and looked down at him with a teasing little tilt of your head.
Finally, it was his turn.
His cock was throbbing between you, flushed and leaking steadily against his stomach, and he was staring at you like you hung the moon.
“You gonna let me ride you now, Dr Grace?” you asked, voice dripping with sweet mockery.
He groaned, head dropping back against the mattress with a soft thud.
Again with the titles?
“You’re gonna kill me, I swear,” he mumbled, but his hands were already sliding up your thighs.
You chuckled, leaning down to nip at his jaw.
“Good. Maybe that way you’d finally get some rest.”
He huffed a breathless laugh that turned into another groan when you reached between you and wrapped your fingers around his cock. He was so hard it was almost painful to the touch and he jolted up with a sharp wince, hips bucking involuntarily.
“I—sorry, baby—”
It’s been so long.
His cheeks burned even darker, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment.
You looked at him. His flushed face still shiny with your slick, hair sticking up in every direction from your tugging, that tired but desperate expression that made him look so beautifully pathetic. He was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen, soft submission and needy love, and your chest ached with how much you’d missed this version of him.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, meaning it with every part of you.
He whined, hips twitching again.
“Stop teasing, please. I need you.”
You chuckled softly, finally taking pity on him. You grabbed his shaft properly, angling it so the thick length slid easily between your slick folds. The motion had his tip catching perfectly against your clit before popping free, and you both moaned at the wet glide.
Fuck, it's been too long.
He sighed against your mouth, which had fallen open in a silent ‘o’, rolling his hips up in search of more friction, chasing the heat of you like he couldn’t help it.
“Patience,” you began, but the last of the word was stolen by a gasp when you ground down to meet his next thrust. The blunt tip of him prodded at your entrance, gliding up again with just the right pressure to make sparks shoot up your spine.
You both moaned louder this time, the sound tangled together in the quiet room.
His arms circled the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, dragging you over the full length of him again. It made you shudder hard in his grasp, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.
He caught right where you needed him most, your walls fluttering greedily around his tip, trying to suck him in. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when he tried to push a little more. But it was your hips that rolled this time, taking just enough for him to finally slide all the way in with a slow, delicious stretch that had you both gasping.
“Fuck,” you whined, feeling so full for the first time in way too long. Your walls clung to him tightly, trying to accommodate his size after all these weeks apart. You sat up straighter with a low huff through your nose, letting your nails drag down the centre of his chest. He shuddered hard under you, eyes rolling back for a second. “Fuck—missed you so much—”
“Language, baby,” he managed to choke out, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as you rolled your hips again, taking him even deeper. “Taking it so well—just like that—”
His praise hit you like a spark. You clenched around him involuntarily, and he twitched hard inside you, a fresh spurt of pre-cum leaking out. His big hands found the tops of your thighs, pads of his fingers leaving trails of fire as they slid up to grip your hips.
You started riding him properly then—slow at first, savouring every inch as you lifted and sank back down, the sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room. Ryland turned into an absolute babbling mess beneath you, desperate, eyes glassy as he stared up at you like you were everything.
“Missed you so much,” he gasped, hips jerking up to meet yours. “Missed this—missed baby, I—feels so good, so—”
You let out a sharp whine when he hit that perfect spot inside you, and his eyes lit up with that familiar hunger.
“Right there? That’s it? Yeah, baby?” he panted, begging you to tell him he was doing it good. “Look so beautiful, you—“
You moaned, head tipping back as you kept moving, chasing that building pleasure while he fell apart under you. His hands roamed everywhere—your hips, your waist, up to cup your breasts like he couldn’t decide where he needed to touch you most.
“Please, sweetheart, please,” he begged suddenly, voice wrecked and so fucking pathetic it made you throb around him. “Look at me—need to see you. It’s been so long, I need your eyes on me—”
It was hard to open your eyes—the slow, dragging drag of his cock against your slick walls was almost too much, the feeling of being so perfectly connected to him after all this time. But you did, locking gazes with him as you rode him harder.
He was trembling now, fingers digging bruises into your hips, breath coming in short, desperate pants.
“Not gonna last—I’m not gonna last much longer—”
“Neither am I,” you breathed out, leaning down to kiss him messy and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue again. “Cum for me, Ry. Let go.”
That was all it took.
He did—hard. His whole body seized up, back arching off the bed as he came with a broken, guttural moan that sounded like it had been ripped out of his soul. He swore he saw stars, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open in silent ecstasy while he kept thrusting up into you through it, needy even in the middle of his orgasm.
You followed right after, clenching around him as the wave crashed over you, moaning his name like a prayer while your thighs shook and your vision whited out.
You both came down slowly, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat. His arms circled you immediately, pulling you down against his chest. You stayed there for a long moment, just breathing each other in, hearts hammering in sync.
For a while, neither of you moved. You lay half-draped over him, cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the way his heartbeat slowly began to steady beneath your ear. It was still a little fast, still a little uneven, but it was him again.
Not halfway lost in whatever equations or impossible problems had been pulling him away from you.
His hand rested at the small of your back, fingers tracing against your skin like he didn’t quite know what to do with all this quiet. Like he was relearning it.
You felt him shift slightly beneath you, reaching again for the tissues on the bedside table.
“I’ve gotcha,” he murmured, softer this time, more awake.
He's always got you.
You huffed a small breath against his chest, but you didn’t move away. Let him fuss. Let him take care of you in the way he always did. He needed to feel close as much as you did.
He worked slowly, methodically, brows pulling together just slightly in concentration as he cleaned you up, determined to do it properly. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, the light catching on the slope of his nose, the faint flush still high on his cheeks, the way his glasses had slid crooked again without him noticing.
You reached up, nudging them back into place with a small smile.
“Occupational hazard,” you murmured.
He blinked down at you, a little dazed still.
Tease.
He finished cleaning you up, then his hand came back to you, settling at your hip, thumb brushing. You traced your fingers lightly along his chest, following the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
“You know,” you said after a moment, voice softer now, “you should take nights off like this more often.”
He huffed a breath, eyes flicking down to you, something a little brighter sparking there now.
“Oh, trust me,” he said, a hint of humour creeping back in, “I will be adding that to my schedule immediately. Very high priority.”
You stilled slightly.
The smile didn’t quite leave your face, but it shifted.
“Ry…”
He noticed.
Your fingers paused against his chest, your gaze lifting to meet his properly now.
Here we go.
“I know you can’t tell me what you’re doing,” you said gently, not accusing, not pushing. “And I’m not asking you to.”
He nodded slightly, something flickering in his expression—gratitude, maybe. Relief.
“But,” you continued, quieter now, more earnest, “I am serious.”
Your thumb brushed lightly along his collarbone, grounding yourself as much as him.
“You need to take time like this. Not just for you.”
A small breath.
“For me.”
That stuck. You could feel it.
You saw it in the way his expression shifted again, the humour softening. He looked at you, not just the comfort of you, but the person who had been waiting. Who had been worrying.
Who loved him.
His hand moved from your hip to your cheek.
“I know,” he said quietly.
He exhaled slowly, gaze dropping for just a second before coming back to you.
“I think I… yeah,” he admitted, softer still. “I think I’ve been… a little—”
“Obsessive?” you offered gently.
He huffed.
“That’s a polite way of putting it.”
You smiled faintly.
“It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Yeah,” he said, a little sheepish. “It’s also one of the things that turns me into a complete disaster when I don’t manage it properly.”
Your fingers threaded lightly through his hair again, softer this time.
“You’re not a disaster.”
“Mm,” he hummed. “Debatable.”
You nudged his shoulder.
“Ry.”
He smiled at that.
“I hear you,” he said, more seriously now. “Okay? I do. I… I can take a night. Or—” he paused, recalculating, already trying to be better, “a couple. I can make that happen.”
You searched his face for a second, like you were checking if he meant it.
“Okay,” you said softly.
His thumb brushed your cheek again, lingering there.
“Okay,” he echoed.
There was a quiet between you. That was until you saw the cogs in his head turning once again.
“…we should probably shower.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
Typical Ryland.
“Probably.”
He glanced down at himself, like he was doing a very quick, very scientific assessment.
“Yeah,” he added. “Definitely.”
You pushed yourself up slightly, offering him your hand this time. He took it without hesitation. You tugged him gently toward the bathroom, and he followed, steps still a little heavy but no longer dragging.
The light flicked on with a click, filling the small space with warm yellow, as steam already began to gather as you reached for the shower.
He leaned against the counter, watching you, something gentle in his expression.
“What?” you asked, glancing back at him.
He shook his head slightly, a small smile pulling at his mouth.
“Nothing.”
He gave a small shrug as his cheeks heated again.
“I just… missed this.”
Your chest tightened, but in the best way.
“Yeah,” you said, stepping back toward him, brushing your hand against his as the water started to run. “Me too.”
He squeezed your fingers before stepping in with you, pulling you under the warm spray.
For the first time in weeks, it felt like he was finally back with you. Where he belonged.
a/n: first ever post on this blog wooo!!! not new to writing, just new to ryland and couldn't help myself.
just testing the waters to see if there is anyone interested in more of ryland, lowkey want to do a series on him for the movie/book (it will be angsty though but with a happy ending) if people were into that?
anyway let me know what you all think and if you want more of ryland x reader!!
A half asleep Ryland coming into the kitchen on an early Saturday morning. He's got one arm above his head, rubbing the back of his neck and slightly musing his golden hair that shines for a moment as he passes by the window in his small living room, his other hand is on his stomach, under his shirt and splayed against the skin there while a big yawn tears from his mouth and echoes against the plaster walls.
You can hear him as he slowly patters his way down the hall.
He's wearing a pair of dark navy sweatpants hanging on his hipbones just right and you get an eyeful of the 'v' of his lower abdomen, a tiny trace amount of his happy trail, along with a faded t-shirt, 'UM - the element of confusion'.
That tugs a sleepy smile to your face as you watch him plop his tall body into the too-small wooden chair next to you at the even smaller kitchen table that barely fit through the front door of the apartment when you moved in.
There's early morning sunshine shadowing against his pretty face and turning his beard into a mish-mash of darker blonde and throns of gold that surrounded his perky pink lips perfectly.
Ryland's half-lidded eyes spare you a tired glance, the luminance causing parts of his irises to shine a remarkable azure before he squints, cresting the rounds of his eyes with wrinkles as he leans in and presses a very lazy kiss to your forehead.
He shifts just a bit as you reach a hand up and tuck it into his stubly beard, his mouth drifting upwards and tucking into your hair.
"Thought we agreed to sleep in on Saturdays." His voice is thickly laced with sleep. There's no motion made to clear it away and it's pulling at your mind in the best way possible.
You scratch your fingers against the side of his cheek earning you a huffed laugh as the handsome man shut his eyes, arms moving to case you in an embrace and in one fluid motion, you were out of your chair and straddling him in his without much thought put behind how much weight the chair legs could handle.
"I did sleep in. It's 7:24. I usually wake up at 7." You debated weakly.
Ryland chuckled at that, the air moving your hair as he snuggled his arms around your waist. "Hm... I can't argue that logic. M'brain's still not awake enough."
"Shoulda stayed in bed then, sleepy-head." You teased.
"Imagine my disappointment waking up all alone." Ryland muttered, languidly dragging his face to the crook of your neck. You could feel the blanket of heat against the shell of your ear before his lips barely coasted a kiss along your pulse. "I needed to come find you..."
"Well, you found me." You tucked your fingers into his hair, letting them trudge deep enough to massage his scalp.
"Hm...." Ryland smiled lazily against your hot skin, drawing circles on your hips as he pushed the shirt you were borrowing from him up your torso. "Want to go back to bed and try waking up again?"
"You don't want to have breakfast first?" There was a draw of suggestion in your voice that he caught hold of in his half-awake state.
And still, Ryland had to buffer that innuendo as he shifted beneath you, the cascade of warmth between your legs escalating and the hardness in his sweatpants more than a minor inconvenience that couldn't be quashed with rational thinking, only physical touch.
"Why not have it in bed?"
Follow me here- touch starved Ryland Grace on Erid thinking he’ll never get to touch another person until he finds out another human lives on erid too (or just got there)
FEEL ALRIGHT
ryland grace x fem!reader cw phm spoilers little bit angsty, reunion fic except they've never met before, rocky calls reader she notes OKAYYYY I SEE YOU i live for touch starved ryland!! reqs are still open (see nav for rules)
ryland knew the eridians worked hard to give him anything he could want; a home, food, a fulfilling job. he was eternally grateful and told them so every single day, to the point where it had annoyed rocky (“grace repeat too much. quiet.”), but deep down there was always something that felt… off. especially at night when he was alone.
it wasn’t that his home on erid was cold. in fact, the atmospheric pressure of the planet kept everything nice and warm. but ryland still felt it. that sinking feeling that something was missing - an ache for more that settled deep in his gut and twisted around his heart.
rocky notices that something's wrong, obviously - he's perceptive as hell - but ryland doesn't know what to tell the alien when asked about it. he doesn't really know what it is himself, so when rocky probes further, it only pisses him off.
"grace has slept, question?"
"yes, rock, i've slept," he replies with a sigh.
"so not stupid. what is wrong with grace, question?" rocky tilts adorably, but the interrogation is really getting on his nerves
"i don't know!" he snaps. he feels awful for raising his voice, but it doesn't actually seem to phase rocky.
"other human never act like this," rocky mutters. "grace is—“ he lets out a melodic whir that ryland doesn’t understand.
not that he gets chance to. when he registers rocky’s words, his head snaps up. what?
"other human?" he asks, leaning forward. rocky doesn't seem to understand the bomb he's just dropped.
"other human," the eridian echoes simply, like he hasn't just said something potentially life-changing.
"rocky," ryland says, his voice dropping to something serious, "is there another human here? on erid?"
rocky does a funny little step and tilts his body again, then replies like it should have been obvious. "yes, other human. lives south of grace's house. how grace think eridians know to make dome, question?"
ryland's heart stops. there's another human on erid. he could see a human for the first time in... he doesn't even know how many years it's been.
“you didn’t think to tell me?”
“grace did not ask.”
god, he could rip his hair out.
"where?" he demands
"south."
"where south, rock?"
"grace follow."
before ryland can even clock what rocky said, the alien is off, walking quickly on all five limbs - at least he seems to understand the urgency of the situation.
sure enough, after a short walk (ryland doesn't really have any concept of time on erid aside from night and day), another dome comes into view. it's visibly more lived-in, and like rocky said, there's a human inside it.
you're... planting? the eridians developed plants? then why was he stuck eating weird synthetic meat?
rocky lets out a tune that ryland assumes is your name, and you look up.
and freeze at the sight of another human.
almost on instinct, ryland begins running. so do you. the two of you meet in the middle and, so starved of human contact, immediately wrap your arms around each other.
you laugh breathily. "oh my god."
"hey," ryland murmurs with a smile. "ryland grace."
your name leaves your mouth in something akin to a whisper, still holding onto ryland.
"grace needed human," rocky says. "she needed human."
"yeah, rocky," ryland agrees, arms still wrapped around you.
"rocky?" you ask, stepping back a little (but staying within reach) and looking up at him.
ryland rubs his neck sheepishly. "i sorta... named him. and ‘cause he looks like a rock..."
rocky watches happily in his bubble while you and ryland talk, the two of you finally feeling something settle within your chests. your hands stay holding each other. you feel warmer now, physical contact acting like a blanket over you both.
ryland stays in your dome long after rocky leaves and the sun sets.
"he thought something was wrong with me," he says. "hell, i thought something was wrong with me."
"i get that. i've been here for years. it's really hard not being able to touch the only living creatures you know." you draw in a patch of sand with a pebble.
if he were on earth, the thought of hugging a stranger and spending the night holding their hand would have had him questioning his own sanity, but now that he's met you, erid feels a little more like home.
summary rocky doesn’t know how to react when you’re an active sleeper pairing ryland grace x fem!reader ft. rocky cw reader is exclusively referred to as she to avoid use of yn, reader calls rocky honey bc i’m projecting my maternal feelings towards him, romantic stuff @ the end!! notes a little something while i work on the dean reqs in my drafts!! also i fucking love phm pls leave reqs
“grace! grace? where is grace, question?”
ryland looks up from his work and sighs.
the calls of his name are accompanied by clanking and thudding - rocky’s on his way.
he tries to quickly finish what he’s doing, knowing that once the alien finds him, he’ll get too distracted to go back to it.
too late.
“grace, urgent matter. full attention, please. important!” rocky insists. ryland lets out another sigh.
“yeah, rock, i’m listening,” he says. there’s a note of tiredness to his voice, the result of nights (or days, maybe? who knows in space) spent tinkering with astrophage.
“she needs help. serious!” rocky seems genuinely distressed, and it gets ryland’s attention immediately. help? are you sick? injured?
“okay, buddy, why does she need help? talk to me.” he tries logic, staying calm, but rocky is too worked up to explain more— actually, it’s more like he physically can’t. ryland’s translations become more patchy, the alien’s usual clicks and whirs becoming faster and more unfamiliar. he catches a few things, and his heart falls to his stomach.
“died!” “not asleep.” “wrong.”
ryland stands immediately. “show me. c’mon, rocky, if something’s wrong we can’t waste any time,” he says urgently, ushering rocky’s ball in your vague direction.
rocky follows his instructions, rolling clumsily through the ship until he reaches the sleeping quarters. your bed is pulled out, and you’re sprawled across it. one arm is slung under your head, the other by your side, and your legs are starfishing with one knee bent and pulled up. ryland rushes over to you, almost tripping over rocky in the process, and checks your pulse. it’s fine.
maybe rocky can sense illness? something ryland can’t see?
he shakes you awake. “hey. c’mon, wake up for me.”
you stir with a groan. rocky is still rolling around, distressed. you raise your head, blinking blearily at ryland. your hair is a mess, and your brows are furrowed.
“what?” you grumble. ryland’s body does a full reset at the sound of your voice and he has to blink a couple times before he realises: you’re absolutely fine.
“rocky said something was wrong…” he mumbles, almost sheepishly. your gaze turns to the alien, who has stopped his panicking and is now silently facing you.
“rocky, what the hell?” you mutter. there’s a click - a new word - that you don’t know, but ryland laughs.
“he swore.”
“she was in wrong position. not sleeping,” rocky says.
“wrong position?” you grunt, sitting up. “honey, what do you mean?”
“not sleeping position. grace not sleep like that.”
“yeah, bud, most humans change positions throughout the night,” ryland attempts to explain.
“not grace,” rocky rebuts.
“yeah, ‘cause he basically goes comatose and doesn’t move,” you tease. ryland rolls his eyes, but you can see the smile he’s trying to keep hidden from you.
“eridians don’t move when sleeping. she… is okay, question?” rocky asks, his head (entire body? you don’t know, and you’re not sure how to ask) cocks to one side.
“yeah, i’m okay,” you assure him. your voice grows softer, knowing how much even a whisper of thought of you or ryland dying distresses him. he doesn’t seem to dwell on it much, rolling away and continuing to talk, not realising you and ryland haven’t followed him.
ryland looks back at you, his eyes gentler. “you’re really okay?” he asks, taking your hand in his. his hands are warm and bigger than yours, and you’ve come to love the feeling of your own being dwarfed.
“yeah, m’okay. still tired, though,” you reply, your voice quiet and tender. you watch as the relief floods ryland at your reassurance.
“you can go back to sleep,” ryland says, quieter now, as if to soothe you back to sleep. he sits on the edge of your bed as you curl back up and gently runs a hand across your forehead, smoothing away any stray hairs.
“you know, he’s gonna be keeping a real close eye on you for the foreseeable future,” he practically whispers.
you let out a drowsy hum. “as long as i don’t wake up to him looking down at me again, i’m all good.”
ryland laughs quietly and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “i’ll pass on the word. goodnight. again.”
you let out a word too slurred by sleep to make out - something resembling “g’nigh” - but he catches your drift regardless. he doesn’t join you in bed that night, but when he finally retires to his own cot, his warm, calloused fingers find their way between yours.
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