(I tried something new, and I really hope I executed it well. I've had this hidden in my drafts for about two months because I just didn't think it was good enough to post, and it probably isn't, but I rewrote it and I think it's slightly better. Hope y'all enjoy! Not really proofread, but I tried. I also had no idea what to title it...so yeah.)
Workplaces are complicated. Deep hatred hidden behind fake smiles and pleasant conversations, bitter coworkers spreading rumors, the constant pressure to look perfectly put together, expectations to work nonstop...and as utterly insufferable as that all sounds, there's a good side to it. Stolen glances, genuine compliments from the girls in the bathroom, and for you- well, you were privileged enough to float above it all. As Robert Edwin House's personal assistant, you were plenty busy and quite stressed...but you also got breaks, enjoyed lunches out with your boss, even had the privilege to accompany the man to events and conventions-...even if you were only there as a buffer. Mr. House may seem charming, but he is truly a recluse.
At the most recent rendezvous you attended, you met House's newest...side chick? You were never sure what to call these women. Oh well! Not your job! Her name was Jane, and she was such a sight to see. Too bad she was already married...though you were sure she didn't care much about the ring on her finger considering she had something- whatever it was- going on with your boss. You almost wondered what she was doing entertaining a man like Robert. She was so out of his league! A stunning starlet. Gorgeous, humorous, playful...she was the cat's meow. You two girls clicked instantly and it was honestly quite lovely to have another lady around. Some things could really use a woman's touch, y'know? ....including yourself. What?! Who said thaaat? No matter! You had other things to focus on. SO many things...
As of last Tuesday, you were practically running every facet of RobCo Industries. Some extravagant project has been taking up all of Mr. House's time in recent weeks. And you, being his personal assistant and technically his right hand, were expected to take over. And you did! Quite well, infact! Well...there was just one problem; balancing your own social life whilst being under so much pressure to handle your boss's. Rescheduling or flat out canceling meetings, cancelling your own plans with friends and family, handling press and giving them just enough info to keep folks interested in Robert House's business ventures and RobCo Industries, practically living off coffee, attending events for him to secure deals in his absence, and keeping everyone as happy as you could. With exceptions, of course.
After about two weeks, Robert- Mr. House...- finally came out of hiding one weekend and showed up at the first party hosted at The Lucky 38 in about a month. He relieved you of your usual duties during these events- being his social buffer and fetching him drinks-, his attempt at saying thank you- you figured, but you did still want to be in attendance. So you found yourself sitting at the bar sipping on an atomic cocktail. It was so nice to just be able to sit and watch for once...no need to constantly entertain some big CEO or listen to meaningless yammering regarding business. You took a deep breath, letting your shoulders drop for a moment...only to be spooked into sitting upright again when you felt a pair of hands on your hips. You whipped around in your stool, your calm expression now replaced by a scowl...until you realized it was only Jane, and her hands were still on your hips...
Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing through your body, maybe it was your exhaustion making you weak, maybe you were just finally giving in...but you almost instantaneously became putty in this gorgeous woman's gloved hands as she took a seat beside you. It started with just talking...but talking soon turned into simple drunken flirting, and then simple drunken flirting turned into her hand on your thigh beneath the bar counter, and it was only a matter of time before she was tugging you through the foyer by your tie. You see, Jane was starting to get sick of Robert constantly ignoring her in favor of his inventions and contracts and weird math equations, so reasonably; she was beginning to get bored. And well...she knew she had you wrapped around your finger. You'd drop everything for her no matter how busy. She's cold? You're handing her your blazer without a word. The buckles of her heels needed adjusting? You were kneeling before her in seconds.
And now? She needed something, and you were there to provide as always. So here you stood in the confines of the private elevator headed up to the penthouse- you resided there with your boss so he always had you nearby for assistance. You were pressed against the cool metal wall as she undid the buttons of your button down, running her nails along the newly exposed skin. As the elevator dinged, you reluctantly broke apart. And oh...the smirk she gave you when you pouted...you nearly melted right then and there. She laughed at your reaction and pulled you along once more, only this time; it was by the belt loop of your slacks. That was evil, and she knew it. And well, before you knew it, she was shoving you onto the couch, settling on your lap, and drowning you in kisses.
You couldn't believe you were doing this behind your boss's back, yet here you were...making out with his newest fling. If you had it your way, you'd die to a lack of oxygen before you pulled away from the enchanting beauty straddling you. It wouldn't be a bad way to go, you thought. But alas, you still had to breathe. So as you two briefly broke apart for air, you cast a quick glance up to the dark haired woman. Despite being younger than her, and having less experience, you were keeping up pretty well. When she laughed, the sound breathless and airy yet so full of joy...you felt your own breath catch. In an attempt to regain any semblance of composure, you reached out and gently slid her dress strap back into place. It had been slipping down her shoulder all night.
Your "quick" glance from only seconds before soon turned into full out staring, your eyes drinking in the sight of the beauty straddling your thighs. Your grip tightened just a little on her hips- though you were trying so very hard to stay respectful- as you cursed under your breath. Were you even allowed to look at her like this? To touch her like this? "Fuck..." "What is it?" The older woman inquired, subtly quirking an eyebrow at you. Oh, that grin...she knew what she was doing to you. "You're so...-" You muttered, "-fucking pretty..." "Awe, thank you, sugar." She smiled, "You know, you're an awful lot nicer than Robert. I always feel like he's bored when he's around me. Having some good attention on me for a change is quite lovely." Your state of awe briefly dimmed as she brought up your boss. Right, you were just a substitute for the man at the moment...ouch.
"It's the least I can do, ma'am." You eventually managed to say. Your body language returned to its earlier primness. You dropped your hands from her hips, sat up a little straighter, and glanced off to the side. Why did you suddenly feel as though you weren't allowed to look at her? Like you were less than? Which arguably; you are. You were just Robert House's right hand...no more no less. Soft laughter and gentle hands broke you out of your thoughts. Jane smiled and cupped your chin, guiding you to be eye to eye once again. "Oho! Ma'am? Please, dahling, no need to be so proper." You let out a sigh, dropping the act as you gave into her again. You made a soft hum and leaned into her warm, soft palm. "Jane, then?" You corrected quietly. She nodded, a grin spreading across her face as she watched you melt into her attention. "Mhm..." The older woman confirmed, moving your hands back to her hips. She noticed your gaze drop to her rosy lips and linger. "More?" Jane offered, bringing her hand back up to your chin and rubbing her thumb along your bottom lip...stained by her lipstick. Before you even finished nodding, she was pressing her lips to yours again.
And for now, you simply let yourself enjoy this. You knew neither of you would ever speak of it again come tomorrow, that you'd have to move on and act like you don't dream of her nearly every night...and it hurts. But for as long as you could prolong the inevitable, you would.
could you do zagreus or melinoë with a little sister reader thats gloomy plspls
zagreus & sister!reader
summary: headcanons for being the gloomy younger sister of zagreus
tags: 2nd person pov, reader is female, no spoilers for hades II
a/n: thank you for the request nonnie! i didn't really have any ideas for a full fic, but i did write down some headcanons!! if you have any other ideas that youd like for me to expand on, or youd like for me to write for melinoë instead, feel free to shoot me another request!! im happy to write them to the best of my ability !!!
MASTERPOST
Oh you’d fit right into the House of Hades. The endless gloom suits you almost too well. The quiet halls, the muted torches, the whispers of the shades, it’s as if the Underworld itself made room for your melancholy.
It’s hard for most to believe you and Zagreus share blood. He burns with restless defiance, while you flow with quiet sorrow, fire and water, each mirroring what the other lacks.
Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Zagreus treasures you above all else. He’s not a difficult man to get along with, especially when he tries, and everything he plunders from his numerous escape attempts (gems, keepsakes, ambrosia, etc) becomes yours the moment he thinks you might like it.
Some whisper that your gloomy nature comes from your father. Zagreus refuses to believe that for even a moment. Hades is nothing like you! You’re kinder, calmer, infinitely more pleasant to be around.
He hates it when others compare you to anyone, to your father, to himself, even to Nyx. You are you, and that’s all that matters. He would do anything to make sure you see the worth in that.
There are times Zagreus finds thoughts weighing too heavily on him, things he can’t say to Achilles, or to Nyx. It’s in those moments that your grounded nature steadies him, anchoring his reckless soul before it burns itself out.
That said, he’s still stubborn as ever. You might have his ear more than most… might.
If something makes you smile, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Truly. No hesitation.
He tries, oh gods does he try, to make you smile. With gifts, with news from the surface, with ridiculous gossip from Olympus. When all else fails, he may even resort to the desperate tactic of tickling you. (Please, for his sake, don’t be immune. It would devastate him.)
Dry banter between you two is a House of Hades staple. To onlookers, your exchanges might sound like thinly veiled insults, but anyone who truly listens can hear the affection tucked between every word.
Some might imagine Zagreus feeling threatened by a sister who might one day surpass him as a more fitting heir to the throne. But the thought has never once crossed his mind. You’re his little sister. If you wanted the throne that badly, he’d personally drag Father off it and sit you down in that oversized chair himself.
Mention wanting anything around him, and you’ve sealed your fate. Nectar? Gems? Easy enough to plunder. A relic from the surface? Trickier, but he’ll find a way. Perhaps a deal with Charon, or a favor from Hermes.
And if you speak of wanting to see your mother? The tone of his fights with Hades changes entirely. He’s not just struggling for himself, he’s fighting for you. For your chance to know her. For your family to be whole again.
Whenever he’s cast back into the House after defeat, he doesn’t tell you how it went, though he knows you already know of it from the administrative records. He doesn’t want to burden you with more fractures in the family. Instead, he fills the air with stories. About his travels, his victories, the shades he met along the way.
Let him distract you for a while. Soon enough, he tells himself, he’ll bring Mother back. You’ll be together again, as a family. And maybe then… maybe you’ll smile a little more often.
And third, you’d made the news again. And not in the way you’d hoped.
The ideal was a short piece buried somewhere in the middle of the paper, briefly mentioning last night’s event, and that would be the end of it.
Not wall-to-wall, front-page coverage.
Most papers used the photo that the acrobatic reporter had taken, with you wide-eyed in the foreground and Robbie springing to your defence in the back. Others used pictures of the reporter being hauled out by security, another had led with a very blurry picture of you and Robbie sat in the booth together. But not a single paper in the stack Robert always had delivered to breakfast didn’t feature ‘Mr and Mrs House’ somewhere on the cover.
Turning another paper face down on the breakfast table, you looked over your half-eaten toast to the clock above the door.
Robert must have seen the headlines and walked straight out. What was strange was that Victor wasn’t around either.
With a sigh, you abandoned your food and went back into the bedroom to change so you could go hunt down your wayward husband.
While your apartment occupied the top two floors, Robert had a personal workspace below – that’s where he kept all of his equipment and did his experiments. You had an open invitation to visit, although you hadn’t gone since you’d walked in on your husband wearing a helmet that made him appear like a deranged hedgehog.
After putting on a day dress, you headed to the ground floor to take the elevator down.
There, the first welcome surprise of the day stood waiting.
“Victor,” you exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing in here? You’re usually in the apartment in the morning.”
“Howdy,” Victor responded in his usual fashion.
You tried to step into the elevator, but Victor didn’t roll back to create any space for you.
“Move over, Victor. I want to go downstairs to the lab.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, and then another moment longer. Just before you could start to panic that he’d broken down, he finally rolled back enough to let you inside.
Then, before you could do so, he activated the elevator.
Looking up at the screen, you gave him a suspicious look but didn’t say anything on your way down.
As soon as the doors pinged open, you walked into the lab, but with all the lights still off it seemed clear your husband wasn’t here either.
Throwing your hands up, you turned to Victor, who had stayed inside.
“This is ridiculous. Where is he?”
Victor stayed quiet.
Taking a step closer, you made it a more specific request. “Victor, where is Mr House?”
“Mr House left this morning.” He replied, but didn’t elaborate.
“What aren’t you telling me, Victor?” You said, stalking forward to jab a finger against his metal shell. You hurt yourself more than him.
When he didn’t reply, you huffed.
“Fine, then I’ll just keep looking for him.”
Victor’s immovable body stopped you from pressing a button for the lower floors.
“I’m afraid I’m under instruction to guard you on these floors, Mrs House. But if you would like to return upstairs…”
“I’ve already looked upstairs,” you said through gritted teeth. “Are you telling me my husband ordered me under house arrest this morning?”
Another pause.
“Those words were not expressly used.”
You were about to yell when you remembered something important.
Robert depended too much on technology.
Turning on your heel, you walked away from the elevator.
“Mrs House?” Victor called out.
You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response; you just headed for the stairs.
It was a bit of a trek to the ground floor of the Lucky 38, but, like your elevator, your stairs were also private, so you didn’t have to worry about any other photographers leaping out at you. It was just a shame you didn’t consider that risk once you entered the lobby.
“Mrs House!” A photographer called out excitedly, stopping Robbie midway through his interview with the assembled press. Immediately, the crowd surrounding him started to flock towards you.
Thankfully, security stepped in to form a bubble, only admitting Robbie to your side, who did his best to look stern, but you spotted that slight twinge of panic behind his eyes.
“Hello, dear.” He greeted, turning his back fully on the press to shield you from their lenses. Leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, he stopped there to whisper, “What are you doing here?”
“Is that you asking, or” you nodded up, wondering if you were at least talking indirectly to Robert.
“Me.” He said, standing straight but not taking a step back. “I’m just about to start a press conference explaining that last night was a fiasco, and as a result, I’ll be keeping you safely out of the spotlight for the foreseeable future. A stance you’re somewhat undermining by turning up for the cameras.”
You had the good grace to look sheepish.
This plan you had known about.
Last night’s party was meant to quell speculation before your quiet retreat from public life. Robbie would remain the face of RobCo, but with rising global tensions and threats common for people like Robert, Mr House understandably wanted his wife out of the spotlight for security reasons.
That way, the rouse would be over, and you could go back to the kind of quiet life you preferred. Albeit one that now included a casino, robot butler, and a husband who possessed more money than God.
“Sorry. Really. I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve stayed upstairs, but…”
Knowing his employer even better than you, Robbie didn’t need you to finish that sentence.
“You didn’t know.” He sighed. “Well, okay. Just follow my lead. Yes?”
“Yes.” You promised.
“I’ll get us out of this, dear,” Robbie promised right back.
Looping an arm around your waist, he turned you both back to the crowd, who immediately started squawking excitedly.
A few flashes went off, though in the morning light, they weren’t nearly as blinding this time.
“After the unfortunate spectacle of last night and some of the less-than-reputable actions of the press, which included the public exposure of our marriage, I asked esteemed representatives of the American media to join me here today. And while I alone am a public figure, I cannot speak on this alone. On matters regarding our marriage, we will speak as a united front. Which is why I asked Mrs House here while I deliver this statement.”
More flashes went off, but before you could try to turn your face away, Robbie pulled you closer to reminder you of the charade.
You expected him to produce a written message, but Robbie simply waited for the press to be entirely silent and the pictures to stop before proceeding.
Evidently, he was good at memorising his lines.
“As the founder and CEO of RobCo, I accept the responsibilities and the risks that come with the public spotlight. For the good of my employees, our shareholders and our customers, I also accept the threats to my personal safety that have become more frequent as political pressures continue to rise.
“However I do believe that every husband in America and the rest of the world would agree, no matter how he feels about RobCo or me, that a woman should not be placed at risk just because of who she married. And while I am perfectly willing to put myself on the line, I will not tolerate any threat to the health, safety or happiness of my wife under any circumstances.
“To that end, last night and this morning will be both the first and last public appearances Mrs House will make. I hope it’s not asking too much that you respect her privacy and afford her the rights of any other American citizen – to live their own lives as they see fit.”
As he finished, you realised you’d been staring up at him the entire time rather than looking at any of the reporters. He might be the public face of your husband, but the eloquence of that speech could only be your Robert’s words.
Turning to the reports, you saw some were hastily finishing their notes recording his message, while others leaned in with further questions.
“Mr House.” Most led.
But some appealed to you: “Mrs House. Do you have a comment?”
Robbie looked down at you, willing to handle all the talking, but you gave him a small nod. Hopefully, hearing the words from your mouth once would put the whole matter to rest.
“As Mr House said, on issues regarding our marriage, we are a united front. And as my husband has already delivered our message, I have nothing further to add.”
The questions picked up, but Robbie shut them down – “That will be all,” – then he pulled you away.
He was leading you back toward the residence elevator, but you stopped him.
“Victor’s in there.” You whispered. “Let’s take the another way.”
Robbie arched a brow at you but didn’t argue, leading you off the public part of the floor into the employee-only space. A few members of staff – dealers from the casino, chefs from the restaurants, or maids for the hotel – stopped abruptly as you passed, but one look from Mr House and they continued on their way.
“Well then…” Robbie said, pressing the button for the penthouse, “That was more interesting than I had expected.”
“I’m so sorry.” You said again. “I really didn’t think about coming downstairs, but I can’t find Robert anywhere.”
“Odd. He didn’t mention any plans today.”
The doors pinged open. You only realised Robbie’s hand was still pressed to your back when it finally dropped away. It might have been the only anchor keeping you upright in front of that pack of hyenas down there.
You expected Robbie to take his leave then, but he got off in the penthouse with you.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” you said, watching as Robbie slackened his tie and headed for the bar. “I know I already ruined your plans this morning, but I don’t want to keep you from any more.”
Coming back with two glasses of water, Robbie reassured you that, “After delivering a message like that, it’s to be expected that a husband would want to stay with his wife. Besides, my next meeting isn’t until 1 o’clock.”
Taking one of the proffered glasses, you relaxed a bit.
“Oh, okay.”
Robbie took a seat on the sectional, casting his eyes around the apartment as he did so.
“So is Victor still in the elevator?”
You shrugged, taking a seat opposite him in one of the armchairs. “I suppose so. I haven’t seen him anyway.”
“What happened this morning?” Robbie asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I woke up to an empty apartment and a stack of newspapers with my face on them. Then I went looking for Robert, all I found was Victor trying to keep me hostage up here.”
You looked at Robbie keenly.
“Are you sure you don’t have Robert in your ear?”
He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. We’re not in constant communication. Although” he looked around the room again, “if there are any cameras in here, they might have microphones.”
“No, there’s not. I already asked him about that.” You said wryly, remembering the conversation vividly. You’d made your husband swear on his life, more concerned about sensitive material being captured on film rather than a lack of privacy. Goodness knows, newlywed passion doesn’t stop at the bedroom door.
“Well, in that case, I’m not sure what to suggest.” Robbie apologised. “I guess you couldn’t get anything out of Victor?”
“Not a peep.”
“How’d you get past him?” He asked curiously.
“Oh, I took the stairs.” You sighed.
Robbie surprised you by laughing.
You surprised yourself by joining in.
“And he can’t follow because…”
“…he has a wheel instead of legs.” You chuckled.
“Let me go bring him in,” Robbie said, standing up. “He’d be better off sorting lunch than standing out there.”
Going to the main elevator, Robbie summoned it. Once it arrived, Victor wheeled out.
“Howdy.” He said.
“Howdy yourself, Victor,” Robbie replied. “I think I found someone you’ll have been looking for.”
Stepping aside, Victor rolled towards you.
“Howdy, Mrs House.”
You half-expected a scolding, but one never came from the friendly automaton.
“How about some lunch, Victor?” Robbie prompted. “Call the kitchen.”
He rolled off.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Robbie said. “I was a bit presumptuous there…”
“No, I’d like that.” You interrupted. “If I sit here by myself, I’ll go mad.”
“Mr House will be fine, dear.”
Robbie grimaced.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you sighed, “honestly, I’m worried if I try to call you anything but Robbie I’ll end up slipping if we ever end up in public again.”
“Today’s conference will take care of that. You shouldn’t have to deal with me again.” He assured.
You knew Robbie was trying to be nice, but the thought made you a bit sullen. Not that you wouldn’t see him specifically, but after Robert’s stunt with Victor, you were starting to worry a little that the plan was for you to be cooped up in this apartment forever.
“Did I say something wrong?” Robbie asked, clocking your expression.
“You said last night that I could go anywhere I wanted. Galleries, shows, concerts, anything… but I think the opposite is true.”
“You’ll be able to go out again,” Robbie said weakly, probably not believing it himself, “once things calm down.”
You arched a brow. “Are they ever going to calm down? You probably know better than me how close we are to a bomb dropping. And if it’s not war, I can’t imagine the spotlight will ever fall far from the great ‘Mr House.’ I’m not going to be able to sneak past it.”
Robbie didn’t argue.
“Since we’re alone,” he said. Although he did cast a sceptical look around the apartment. Victor had wheeled away, but Robbie was used to being under constant surveillance.
“I promise you we are. My husband knows full well that if he lied to me about that, there’d be hell to pay.”
“Worse than being skinned alive?” Robbie teased.
You squirmed. “Oh god, you did hear us last night?”
“Sorry,” Robbie said, not sounding sorry at all as your face flushed cherry red. “I promise I could only hear what Mr House said, not you.”
You dropped your head in your hands.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Robbie continued, trying to distract you from your embarrassment. “Since we’re alone, can I ask you? Why did you marry Mr House?”
You gave him a puzzled look.
“Not that I don’t understand the attraction – I’m usually on the receiving end of people trying to get close to Mr House. But you don’t strike me as someone who’s interested in money or power. Which pretty much leaves love.”
Smiling gently, you confirmed, “I do love him. But you’re right, if I had known who he actually was when we met, I’d have run in the other direction. None of this,” you threw a hand at your surroundings, “is me. Of course, I didn’t know who he was. And I was already in love by the time he told me.”
“I know which conversation I would’ve rather overheard.”
“Hmm, it was something.”
It would be when you got hold of him again, too.
Robbie gave you a concerned look as your shoulders slumped further.
“I’m just going to go make some calls. Can I fix you a proper drink before I go?”
You smiled up at him. “That’s okay, thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Victor wheeled in and out a few times, but you were left to sit with your thoughts. Which made you feel even worse.
When Robbie did return, he had news that improved your mood a little.
“I checked in with my secretary. The private plane is still at the airport. Wherever Mr House went, it’s probably not out of the city. I reckon he’ll be back home by tonight.”
“Thank you, Robbie. That’s good to know.”
The sound of a cowbell hailed Victor’s arrival.
“Lunch is served.”
“Shall we?” Robbie asked, holding out a hand.
You both talked about Vegas over lunch, a relatively mundane but safe topic. What shows were coming to town, who’d been spotted out and about, and new developments in the work to extend The Strip. Robbie opened some wine, and after relenting to take a glass, you actually started feeling a bit more relaxed. You’d spent so long wrapped up in your newlywed haze that you forgot it was quite nice to sit and shoot the breeze with someone. And when he wasn’t channelling Robert, Robbie was an easy person to talk with.
You could imagine being friends, although maybe under different circumstances.
“Have you lived in Vegas long?”
“As long as I’ve worked for House.”
“Ten years?”
“Ten years.” He confirmed.
“Where do you live?”
“In the Lucky 38.” He said, his tone making it clear that the answer should have been obvious.
“You do?”
“Same floor. It has a separate entrance, but I can reach it through the penthouse if I need to. Easier sometimes, when we need to switch places.”
That made sense.
“Well, you’ll have to join us for dinner sometime. If my husband ever comes back. It’s nice to have some company, and I guess you’re one of the few people on Earth who knows about this arrangement.”
“‘Fraid so.” He confirmed. “Only Victor and I in Vegas.”
Great, the only people you could have a real conversation with were your invisible husband, his body double, and a robot on one wheel.
“Anyway, Mrs House,” Robbie said, standing up. “I should get going to my meeting.”
“Of course.” You said, standing too. “Here, I’ll walk you out.”
Heading back to the elevator, you saw it was already lit up.
With a ping, Robert stepped into the penthouse.
He froze when he saw you and Robbie waiting for him.
“Darling.”
“Where the hell…” You started, before abruptly changing tracks, “Is that blood?”
Rubbing a hand against his cheek, Robert looked down at the splatter that came away.
“So it is. Not to worry, my love. It’s not mine.”
You and Robbie shared a look.
As the two men moved closer to talk to each other, you headed back into the dining room to pour another glass of wine.
* * *
Erm so my plan was to write any chapters without a cliff hanger so if I loose inspo at any point no one's left wondering, but this chapter was getting a bit long. But I know what happens next, don't worry 😅
Also, just fyi I only watch the show. Basically my dad has played every Fallout game ever, so he got me to the watch the show. And he does fill me in on some lore and I've watched a few Oxhorn videos on YT (I love his character deep dives), but I'm trying not to spoil things too much because I'm loving the show and I want to be surprised. So if I fuck up and something seems way ooc, I'm sorry!
You held your hair with one hand while Robert slid your coat into place.
With a turn, you held out your arms and asked, “Well? Do I look presentable?”
It was the nicest outfit you’d ever owned, even if it did feel suffocating – but that was more to do with the circumstances. The plum coat had a floral lining that matched your fit-and-flare dress so perfectly that the pattern aligned when your lapel was facing out. Finished with satin gloves and the first jewellery set Robert had gifted during your intense, yet brief, courtship.
Reaching out to smooth your lapel, Robert gave you a smile that came nowhere near his eyes.
“Lovely.”
“Gee,” you said, rolling your eyes, “careful on those compliments or my head might get big. Then I’ll just up and float away.”
“You’re beautiful.” He clarified. “But you’re lovelier still when you’re happy.”
Touching the corner of your mouth, he said again, “You know you don’t have to do this?”
“You’re the one who said this was the best course of action!” You laughed. “The most logical solution to sate their curiosity. Once and done. Get it over with. Feed the machine before it consumes us…”
“I recall.”
“We can’t all have a body double waiting in the wings, you know.” You huffed.
“I should have arranged one.”
“The press found our marriage licence, then they found me. It’s not your fault.”
“I should have predicted it,” Robert said, refusing your absolution.
The elevator chimed with impossibly impeccable timing.
You knew what the fake Mr House looked like. Like the rest of the world, you believed that was the real man. The Robert you met was just a regular man. Well, maybe not regular. He had his eccentricities. On only your second date, he told you he’d run some numbers – you never did find out what sort of numbers – which had brought him to the conclusion that you were going to be his wife.
Fortunately, the same numbers must have told him not to propose then and there, or you might have run screaming.
It wasn’t until you accepted a proposal that he revealed the truth.
Now the old-real Mr House stepped out, greeting the actual Mr House and for a minute your pulse thumped behind your eyes.
Victor must have sensed it because, while the men chatted to each other, it rolled over with a martini on a tray.
“Thank you, Victor.” You said, taking a sip.
Robert guided his double over, scrutinising the man as he introduced you.
“This is my wife.”
You both shook hands.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Both you and the double waited for a long minute while Robert continued to stew, only exhaling when his eyes moved away to the bank of screens behind him.
“Did you see the investors on your way up?” Robert asked, leaning into the railing as he scrutinised the recorded feed of the casino floor.
“I did.” His double confirmed. “They’re not happy.”
“Why?” You asked. “Were they sad we didn’t invite them to the wedding?”
You were joking, but both men nodded. At your expression, Robert clarified: “Appearance is everything to these people. I’m not surprised they view it as a snub.”
“Then there are some concerns about leadership.” His double added. “The influence of an unknown party has some of them worried.”
“Am I the unknown party?” Turning to Robert, you asked, “Do I have influence?”
He smiled gently. “Up here, yes. On the business, no. No offence, darling, but you have a humanities degree.”
“And an intense fear of math.” You intoned, nodding solemnly at the body double.
You weren’t lying; Robert’s numbers speech really very nearly did send you running for the hills.
“I think meeting you will put their minds at ease. And hopefully give the press just enough to run with that they drop the entire thing.”
“Hopefully.” You echoed.
“Take good care of her,” Robert warned one last time.
“This way, Mrs House.” His double said, holding out an arm to hold the elevator doors open while you entered.
“You can just use my name, you know.” You said, moving to the back.
Robert’s double body pressed the button for the casino floor, and you both watched the real Mr House – who was staring fixatedly at his double – vanish from view.
“I’m not sure…” he said, running a finger behind the collar of his shirt, “if that would be appropriate.”
“We’re meant to be acting as a newlywed couple, won’t it sound weird if you keep calling me Mrs House?”
“Mr House has his peculiarities.” He replied with a nervous look at the ceiling. There was probably a camera installed up there.
“Fine. Use something generic, like… aren’t all husbands supposed to call their wives ‘dear’? ‘Yes, dear.’ ‘No, dear.’ That sort of thing.”
“Would that make you more comfortable?” He asked.
“Well, yes.”
Robert must have been talking in his ear because it took a while before he replied.
“That will be fine. In public.” He hastened to add.
“And I’ll just call you Robert.” But even as you said that, you grimaced. Robert was your husband. “Maybe I’ll just call you ‘dear’ too.”
“Robbie works as well.”
You nodded. That would do. Just different enough for you to separate them in your mind without attracting attention from anyone else.
“How long have you been doing this again?”
“Ten years, Mrs… I mean.” Robbie huffed. “Ten years, dear.”
Glancing at the floor indicator, you laughed. “You only have six more floors to get that right, you know.”
Robbie rolled his shoulders back and forced himself to relax. “Don’t worry. I’m good at getting into character.”
“Well, I appreciate having you with me. I’d hate to do this alone.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Robbie said, tightening his tie, “I know how to keep the wolves at bay.”
And it definitely felt like facing down wolves.
As soon as the doors pinged open, all eyes were on you. If it wasn’t for Robbie’s hand on your back – carefully and respectfully placed – you might have stayed in the elevator. But you let him gently lead you out.
Security guards appeared from both sides, wary and ready to push a crowd back.
Immediately, people began to approach, but Robbie waved them back and led you to a booth past the bar. There, a secretary welcomed batches of men in smaller groups who took turns taking your hand and pressing kisses to the back of it.
Thankfully, you’d left your gloves on.
“Mrs House.” They’d say. “So glad to finally make your acquaintance.”
Whatever they came out with, Robbie had a response that soon sent them on their way. Clearly, he’d been instructed to keep any interactions brief.
“Mrs House. I do hope I can introduce you to my wife at some point tonight.” One portly, disconcertedly red-faced executive said. “She’d love to talk to you about joining her charity.”
“Are you not taking enough of my money, Benny?” Robbie droned. “Now you’re looking for donations?”
“I only thought…”
“Mrs House isn’t looking for a job. But keep this up and pretty soon you will be.”
“Mrs House.” Another man said, leering over your hand to press what – even through the fabric – you could tell was a wet kiss. “What a lovely creature you are. I can see why Mr House was quick to snap you up.”
“Snap up your own wife, not mine.” Robbie said, pulling your arm back.
“I didn’t mean…”
“You have the look of a snake but not the subtly of one. You can go now, Iain.”
“Mrs House.” An elderly man said with ear-splitting enthusiasm. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Mr House finally married.”
“I never thought you’d live past sixty, Gerald. Yet, here we are.”
Gerald laughed so Robbie went in with another shot.
“For now, anyway.”
A suddenly ashen Gerald gave you a hasty goodbye then scampered off.
The cycle carried on a few more times.
As you watched yet another investor walk up and leave, you shot Robbie a look.
“I thought you were meant to be the smooth talker?”
“Depends on the situation.” He said, taking a sip of his scotch. The glass failed to cover up his smirk.
“You love this, don’t you?” You chuckled.
“It’s a living.”
Leaning back in your seat, you glanced around the casino floor. “Have I met all of them then?”
Robbie snorted. “Not even.”
When you groaned, he was quick to reassure: “But I think news has spread among them. We shouldn’t be bothered by many other people.”
“And what about them?” You asked, nodding your head at the crowd of reporters being held back in the far corner of the room. From your distance, you could see the flashes of their cameras, but doubted they were getting any clear pictures of you.
“We won’t be posing, dear.”
“Thank god.” You sighed, taking the list sip of your drink.
Once again, as soon as your empty glass hit the table, Robbie was off to fetch you another.
In the booth nearest to you, you heard a couple of women chuckle.
“She’s got him well trained, that one.”
“I think it’s sweet.” Her friend sighed. “I wish my husband were that considerate.”
“I wonder how she did it. I couldn’t even get Robert to remember my name, and we dated for almost a month.”
Even though you knew – logically – that they weren’t talking about your Robert, you couldn’t help but frown as a pang of jealousy made an unwelcome announcement. Fancy the nerve to talk about a woman’s husband that way when you were sitting right beside her. Not that they were actually talking about your Robert, but they thought they were talking about the real Robert and that you were his wife and…
Your brain hurt again.
Whether Robbie overheard the exchange or caught sight of your expression, he soon dispensed with the problem.
“Ladies,” he said, pausing by their table to give his former lover a warning look. “I haven’t had the pleasure of talking to your husbands this evening. Yet. Although if you’re all still here in ten minutes, I might just have to find them and tell them I’ve lost interest in their investments.”
Immediately, they collected their purses and made their way to the casino.
Twisting your lips together to prevent a laugh, you couldn’t help but giggle as they hastened past you.
“Am I a bad influence, or do you usually treat your guests like this?” You asked.
“I just want you to be happy, dear.” He replied, throwing his arm back over the back of your booth. From a distance, it probably looked cosy, but his hand came nowhere near your skin.
Picking up your glass, you took another welcome sip. You didn’t really drink much, but it certainly helped to take the edge off. Even after the rounds of introductions, people were still staring at you from across the floor. You felt like there was a neon sign over your head, but instead of saying “Roulette” or “Poker”, it said “I’m a Big Fat Liar.”
“You’re doing very well, you know,” Robbie said.
“Really? I feel like I’m absolutely terrible at this.”
“I know it’s a lot, but from what I’ve heard, the situation’s already calming down. Although…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against the booth to resist the urge to play with his tie.
“Although…” You prompted.
“People might like you a bit too much. We’ve been getting invitations all evening.”
“Really? I’ve hardly said a word.”
“That part might have backfired. I think it makes people want to talk to you even more. Forbidden fruit as such.”
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t chased everyone off.” You laughed. “What are we being invited to? More parties.”
“Some. It’s Vegas; there are plenty of options. Shows, plays, exhibitions, dinners, openings, and award ceremonies. Trust me, Mrs House,” he leaned closer so his words stayed between you, “to get on his good side, they’d give you anything. Ask for a rocket ship to Mars, and they’ll start building one tonight.”
You almost snorted into your drink at the absurdity.
“Don’t tell me things like that, the power will go straight to my head.”
Robbie started watching the floor again, his gaze drifting to nothing in particular. You wondered if Robert was still conversing with him. It would be rude to interrupt, but there was something you’d been meaning to say, so you rested a hand on Robbie’s to draw back his attention.
“I’ve been meaning to say, well, it might be an odd thing to say, but well…” you sighed. Maybe you should stop drinking. “I’m sorry.”
Robbie frowned. “For what?”
“Well, I’m literally going to be your ball and chain now.”
His eyes lit up with understanding, but you kept going.
“Now all the ladies are going to ask about your wife, it doesn’t seem like a very fair deal for a bachelor. And I’m only keeping you company tonight, then I’m going to be locked up in the penthouse for the rest of human existence, I reckon.” You chuckled, not really joking. Annihilation had never felt so real; it was one of the reasons you ended up in the middle of such a whirlwind romance.
Again, for the sake of privacy, Robbie leaned in close. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that at all, Mrs House. I promise you, my arrangement is most agreeable. I wouldn’t have stuck it out for ten years if it wasn’t.”
“That makes me feel better. Thank you.”
“Not at all, dear.” He said, relaxing back in his seat just as a member of staff walked over to whisper something in his ear.
“Don’t tell me I have to meet anyone else.” You sighed.
“Quite the contrary, a few stakeholders have already left. Looks like we’re finally free to make our escape.” He said with a smile, sliding out of the booth and offering you a hand up.
Taking it, he soon returned its placement to your back to guide you back to the elevators.
You were almost there when a scuffle to your right brought everything to a halt. The next thing you knew, there was someone leaping, and a flashbulb was going off right before your eyes.
Robbie bundled you in his arms as security swept a reporter away and he hastened you into the elevator. You were still blinking away the afterglow of the flash, leaning into him for a steady presence.
He shared a sharp word with a member of the security team before jabbing the penthouse button.
As soon as the doors shut, he was pulling his tie loose.
“Goddamn.” He swore. “Don’t worry, Mrs House. I’ll get you upstairs, then I’ll deal with this. The fucking incompetence. One job, I told them to keep the press away. And when one lunges for us, what do they do? Let them!”
The doors slid open, and your Robert was there, pulling you back into his sphere. He must’ve heard what Robbie said because they didn’t exchange a word before his body double returned downstairs.
“Are you alright, darling?” He asked, running a hand along your face.
“I’m fine,” you said, fully meaning it. “I’m just a bit blinded from the flash, is all.”
“Here, come. I’ve got you.” Robert said. Before you could take a step towards the stairs leading down into the penthouse, he’d swung you up in his arms and was carrying you there instead.
“Oh, honestly, Robert.” You chuckled against his neck. “It was just a picture.”
“That’s not the point, and you know it.” He replied tightly. “You know what the situation is like out there. It could’ve been a gun or a knife. Clearly, our security needs refining.”
Once you were downstairs, he started to set you down, but you tightened your arms around his neck.
“That’s alright, my love. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
That made him smile, and he sat down in the chair with you situated on his lap. Snuggling against his chest, you sighed as you felt your shoulders relax for the first time all evening.
“I hope you pay that body double of yours well, Robert. I barely had to talk to anyone. It was bliss.”
“I’ll give him a pay rise if it makes you happy, dearest.”
“So, tell me,” you said, looking up at him, “how much of tonight did you listen in on?”
“Every word.”
“So do you always have a microphone on Robbie when he’s out playing you? I can’t imagine having another voice in your ear. Doesn’t it get confusing?”
“We’ve been doing this a long time,” Robert said, picking up one of your hands. Upon meeting your gloved skin, he tutted and started yanking it off. You did him a favour and slipped off the other with your teeth.
“You know,” you said, slinging it away somewhere, “this was the longest we’ve been apart since we got married.”
“There’s a first and last time for everything.” He muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck.
“Hey.” You pretended to object. “Robbie didn’t get this fresh with me.”
“If he did, I’d skin him alive,” Robert replied, continuing to mark your skin.
You were about to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.
“Wait a minute.”
His kisses were trailing further down.
“Robert House.”
He looked up.
“Can he hear us right now?”
You’d never seen such a smart man look so dumb. Slowly, he reached up and removed a small earpiece before tugging loose a microphone.
“Sorry, darling.” He said with a somewhat embarrassed smile.
“You’re lucky I love you, you know.”
“Yes, dear.” Robert sighed happily, capturing your mouth with his.
Might continue. Will see if the next episode inspires me more.
Thinking about Body Double!Robert dating a famous singer who performs in Vegas
When Robert saw you perform, he felt like a sailor meeting a siren. Sure he's heard your songs on the radio, but seeing you live was a whole different feeling. You had completely control over everyone in the room; their attention, their emotions, and even their thoughts were completely controlled by how you acted or which song you sang and even how you sung it. A woman with that much control was a woman with power, and he loved it.
He just had to meet you.
First it was just a couple of drinks when the club quieted down. You were a little annoyed by his advances at first, thinking he was just trying to get you in his bed for the night and then never speak to you again, like many men in his field. But then he started waiting outside of your dressing room before your set, conversing with you from the door way as your did your hair and makeup. Then he began watching you perform from behind the curtain, watching you with a smile as you walked off the stage while you were still running on the high of the applause. But never a true date. It wasn't like he never asked, he actually asked you quite often, but your response was always the same, "While I do love the time we spend together, I'm a busy woman, Robert. I don't have time for a relationship right now." He could tell you hated having to tell him that, the tightness in your lip and the slump of your shoulders as you walked off spoke for you, but it was the truth. Not many people know this, but you don't work 5 shows a week for the fun of it - you're in debt to The Tops casino, and part of repaying that debt is giving 75% of the money you make from these shows back into the pocket of the owners. Sure, you could convince the rich and powerful Robert House to help clear your debt in exchange for a date, but you weren't that kind of person. You worked hard to get what you wanted in life, and you can work hard to get out of the messes you've put yourself in.
However, the more time Robert spent with you, the more he began to wonder why you were so dedicated to working at The Tops; sure it's a great gig for publicity, but 5 shows a week just to make what was basically pocket change didn't seem like a great set up. So in his spare time, he began to do some digging. After talking to one of the stage managers before you're set, he found out about the debt you were in. Next thing you knew, you got a call from the casino owner that you were relieved from your debt and you were free to stop performing whenever you wanted. As if it was planned, there was a knock on your door as soon as the phone call had ended. And there stood Robert House, a boquet of flowers in hand and a smug smirk stretched across his lips. "I heard you had the night off, care to join me for dinner?"
You didn't know if you wanted to kiss him or slap him, so you kept your face neutral as your examined him. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this sudden day off, would you?" He shrugged as he took a step closer, that smirk holding it's ground as he looked at you with half lidded eyes. "I might've made a few calls..." His hand moved to hold yours with a type of gentleness you had never felt before. He raised your hand to his lips, keeping his eyes in yours as he gave them a soft kiss. "So, dinner?" You slowly pulled your hand back, placing it on your hip. "I don't appreciate men who go over my head, if I wanted your help I would've asked." Robert wasn't offended by your words, instead leaned in closer till your noses were inches apart. "I know, but I also wasn't going to wait 10 years while you settle a debt just to take you out, when I have connections to help you." You scoffed at his words, crossing your arms in defense. "So what now? I just fall into your lap and sing you praises, like a good girl?" He let out a low chuckle. "Well I wouldn't complain, but a night out with you isn't the only reason I made those calls." Now he definitely had your attention. "I have a business proposal for you. Come and perform at The Lucy 38."
You quickly went to deny his offer - to scold him for asking you out just to bring up business - but he was quick to come to his own defense. "Now before you say no, I want you to know that my personal feelings about you are not the reason for this offer. I've seen what you can do, you have a way of grabbing people's attention - including my own - and I think it would be great for business. 50% of ticket sales will go to you, and you'll be offered a penthouse suite in the casino - and trust me, it's better than anything here in The Tops." You let your guard down slightly - your stance less tense but your hardened glare remained on him. "What's the catch? I go out with you, be your little side piece for a few weeks until you find a new one?" He shook his head as he laughed at your skepticism. "Are you always so defensive? There is no catch - if you accept the offer and the date, then it's a win for you and me. But if you only accept the offer, well you still win." You let out a small sigh, almost hating yourself for what you're about to do. You quickly shut the door, leaving Robert confused. He almost turned to leave until the door swung open, your hair and makeup slightly changed and a long coat that hid your figure. That smug smirk reappeared on Roberts face as he offered his arm to you, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes before wrapping your arms around his. "I like a drink after performing and you're paying, no other reason."
You've had many men try and win your affections, but they always fell short. They talked about themselves and their achievements while completely undermining yours - to those men you were just a pretty little song bird whose only purpose was to make them feel young again. Shockingly, Robert wasn't like that. Sure he was smug, he knew who he was and wasn't ashamed of it, but he was interested in hearing more about you. You came from nothing and are now one of the most recognizable names in the music industry, he just needed to know more. The two of you stayed in The Ultra Luxe well past closing, but between both of your status in Vegas, the managers didn't mind. It wasn't until 3am when the two of you stumbled back to your room at The Tops; Robert's wrapped around your waist as your arms are wrapped around his neck. His hand stayed on your waist as you fished for your keys in your bag, his fire head rested on your shoulder as the two of you drunkenly swayed. With no warning, Robert began to leave soft kisses on you skin. He was so drunk he didn't realize he was doing it, but the action was so soft and sweet you almost completely forgot about your keys.
Almost.
As Robert leaned in to seal the kiss, you pulled back with an evil smirk on your lips. "I don't kiss on the first date." Robert's smile matched yours as his eyes started into yours. "Then I guess we'll have to plan a second..." He pulled away, slowly turning you around, and letting his hands hold yours. Just like earlier, he kissed your knuckles softly. But this time, the kisses went further. Moving to your palms, then to your wrists, and they kept moving down until you had to pull away. You held his face in your hands, then you brought his face close to yours and placed a kiss on his cheek. Your lipstick was planted on his cheek, but he couldn't care to wipe it off. Slowly pulling away, you backed up to your door and began to back up inside. "Goodnight, Robert."
When Robert made it back to his place at The Lucy 38, still running on the high he felt after seeing you, his phone rang. The feelings going on in his head vanished as the ringing echoed in his empty room, there's only one person who calls that phone. He let out a sigh before picking it up. "Yes, sir?"
"Please meet me in my office, we have something that must be discussed."
Robert sighed, as if for a moment he forgot the whole reason why he was even in this position in the first place. He went to the elevator and was brought down to the office of the real Robert House. Mr. House was sitting in his chair, watching the camera of the never-ending night life of the Vegas Strip. Robert stood behind him, waiting to be addressed.
"I noticed you've taken a liking to that singer from The Tops, you seem much more interested in her than your previous romantic companions." Mr. House slowly spun his chair around, fully facing Robert. "She will not be a distraction, will she?" Robert quickly shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "Of course not sir, I just figured having a bit more of a permanent companion would keep the press a bit more occupied."
"Or it can give our enemies a chance to reveal your weakness." He said sharply. "I will allow you to have romantic partners, but I need to be sure that no matter what, you will focus on what you were hired to do. She cannot be you biggest priority."
"Of course, Sir." And with that, Robert was sent away. The elevator ride back to his room wasn't quiet, his mind was racing with a million thoughts. Did he really care about you so much that Mr. House saw you as a potential threat? The thought of caring about someone that much was terrifying to him, but also comforting. Ever since he became Robert House, he hasn't been his real self, and for awhile he was okay with that. But with you, being himself felt natural again. It felt good. He wanted to feel that way all the time, to hell with what Mr. House says.
He wanted you. And he will make sure he'll have you, no matter what
synopsis: V, coming out of a really bad relic malfunction, is bed ridden for a few days as they’re pretty sick. Johnny cares for V as best as he can but wishes he could do more.
tags: 18(+), sfw, johnny silverhand x v(reader), lil hurt/comfort, cyberpunk 2077, lil angst, one-shot
creator notes: maaaaaybe a part 2 of this will be posted but in johnny’s pov instead c:<
‘RELIC MALFUNCTION‘
Those two fucking words, haunting every step you took. Ever since the heist that took Jackie’s life, you had gotten far too familiar with those holographic letters scrolling across your vision. You definitely were beyond sick of reading those damned words every few days now. No matter the hate you had residing inside yourself for those few words, it didn’t stop the attacks from happening.
From what you had been told by Vik, this attack had been a little too severe for his liking. Especially seeing as he put you on a strict bed rest for the next few days. Normally he’d just hand you a maxdoc inhaler and send you on your way. Didn’t approve of the things you did but he wasn’t the one to stop you either.
Everything was still blurry even as you lay in bed. The shades were drawn shut tight but they did nothing ro stop the pounding in your head. The world felt like a boat, slamming against waves in the ocean. A rock back and forth even if you laid still.
The distant sound of a whirring machine catches your attention. Glancing over at the edge of your bed that you weren’t sprawled out on lays the reason you’re pathetically lying in bed.
Johnny.
“Hey, how you feelin’?” Johnny asks as he lights an imaginary cigarette. He places it between his lips as he looks over you from behind his iconic sunglasses. “And don’t lie either cause you look like shit.” He adds with a smirk.
You obviously don’t laugh. Maybe you would if breathing didn’t feel like your lungs were being repeatedly stabbed.
“It’s your damned fault.” You manage to slur. Sucking in a sharp breath since every word you speak also makes you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. “So…fuck you.” You add. You’d flip him off if your arms weren’t so heavy.
At least you get a laugh out of Johnny.
Closing your eyes, you settle back into your bed, willing yourself not to throw up. You expect Johnny to leave but instead you somehow feel a hand brushing through your hair. Cool metal fingers caress your face, shifting any loose strands away from your closed eyelids.
“I’m sorry,” You hear Johnny whisper somewhere off inside your head. Or maybe it was out loud. You couldn’t tell.
You must be imagining it in your sickly induced hysteria. Not only was Johnny Silverhand, a parasite inside your skull, caring for you, even apologizing for your state of being, he was comforting you? Feeling his touch? Yeah, you were definitely going insane.
After that, You hear nothing for a while. Feeling only the soothing motion of Johnny’s very not real hand. It was comforting for a phantom touch. Your sick mind craved that affection wherever it could find it. Even if it meant finding it in something not there.
Silence fills the space between you and your imaginary friend. His ‘hand’ leaves your feverish body and you assume he’s left you entirely. Receding back into whatever pit he’s picked out inside your brain. With no further distractions to keep you awake, now was the time to sleep. You completely relax into your bed. Snuggling up with your pillow and piles of blankets. As you’re feeling your consciousness slip away you hear Johnny’s voice once more.
“Wish it didn’t have to be you, V.”
He mutters something else but you can’t make out the words as sleep consumes you finally.
a spook/kinktober series + celebration [18+ ONLY]
warnings: graphic sexual themes, depictions of violence, character death
clips from re4r main game + dlc, vendetta movie and re3r
The death of thousands was damned from the beginning. The A-Virus is impenetrable, intricately manufactured to attack selectively from the shadows without a trace. You are one in five (Jill, Ada, Leon, Carlos) recruited all over the States to eradicate the bioweapon straight from the source—its headquarters in rural Mexico. Your objective: find Glenn Arias and stop him. At all cost.
But you didn’t know—Infection is already among you. Something different. Something more aggressive and violent that will drive you to the brink of lust and insanity.
Who will you trust with your life?
[Canon-Adjacent on the events of Resident Evil: Vendetta. This series has spoilers for Vendetta.]
CURRENT WORD COUNT: 33K [IN PROGRESS]
CHAPTERS:
i. THE BEGINNING.
PART 1: Prologue
ii. THE CHOICE.
PART 2: Follow The Girls Version
PART 3: Follow The Boys Version
iii. THE RESOLUTION.
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
iv. THE ENDING.
PART 6: Epilogue
(Individual Endings for Leon, Carlos, Ada, Jill, and TRUE ENDING)
Has A Romance Ending: Jill Valentine, Ada Wong, Carlos Oliveira, Leon S. Kennedy
Doesn't Have a Romance Ending: Rebecca Chambers, Glenn Arias & Chris Redfield.
FAQ: HOW DOES THIS SERIES WORK??
please let me know if you like to be added to the taglist!
Its so hard to find Luis Serra fics and I read yours multiple times.
I was wondering if i could request a resident evil where Luis is alive and in the future helping Leon out in RE 9 but he gets distracted by his wife wearing his lab coat. Thanks
Thinking about Luis helping Leon find a cure for the T-Virus in RE9...
A/N: Hello, love! Thank you so, so much for requesting Luis. I love him so much, but no one ever seems to like him as much as Carlos or Leon. I actually have another two fics lined up for him. I've been dabbling in working on, hoping someone would show interest in content for him. If you have more requests for Luis, please send them in when requests reopen!
CW: 2k words, Established relationship between the reader and Luis (married), AU in which Luis survives RE4 and Leon get's him a job at the DSO, Luis is helping Leon find a cure for T-Virus, Takes place right before RE9 would take place, Spanish petnames galor (I'm not gonna list them all out we all know Luis goes crazy with that shit and I will always write him like that), Domestic fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF.
"Mi amor, you’re still awake?" Luis’s voice carries from the doorway, half-amused, half-concerned, as he toes off his shoes with a tired sigh. The lab coat draped over the couch arm catches his eye first, his spare one, the one he keeps by the door at home for emergencies, before he spots you, curled under it like a makeshift blanket, glasses askew on your nose, hair spilling over the cushions.
The apartment smells like overcooked pasta and faint citrus from the half-finished mojito abandoned on the coffee table. You’d promised yourself you’d stay up until he got home, but the clock on the wall reads 2:17 AM, and the documentary you’d put on for background noise had long since given way to static. Luis crosses the room in three strides, kneels beside the couch, and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. "Dios, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day," he coos fondly, but there’s no real scolding in it, just warmth.
You blink awake, disoriented, then light up like a firework the second your brain registers him. "Luis!" The name bursts out of you, giddy, as you fling your arms around his neck. He laughs, catching you, his stubble scratching your temple as he presses a kiss there, then another to the bridge of your nose, then your forehead, relentless. "You’re home, you’re home- how’s Leon? Did you- ?"
"Shh, shh," he soothes, but he’s grinning, cupping your face in his hands like you’re something precious. "Leon’s holding on. Stubborn bastard." His thumbs swipe under your glasses, wiping away sleep crust, and you wrinkle your nose at him. "But you- mi vida, mi estrella- you should’ve gone to bed."
My life, my light.
You don’t answer, too busy mapping the exhaustion on his face, the dark crescents under his eyes, the way his shoulders slump forward like gravity’s doubled. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and Luis’s gaze drops to it, then back to you, his smirk lazy but bright. "Stealing my clothes now, cariño? Should I be flattered or concerned?"
Sweetheart.
"Both," you mumble, fingers already plucking at the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt. "You smell like antiseptic and coffee." His laugh is a rough, tired thing, but he leans into your touch when you push his hair back from his forehead. "When was the last time you ate? Actually ate, not just- " you gesture vaguely at the empty energy drink cans littering his lab reports on the kitchen counter "Energy drinks and ashy protein bars."
Luis opens his mouth, then closes it when you narrow your eyes. "...Lunch?" he tries, and you groan, shoving at his chest. He catches your wrist, presses a kiss to your palm. "Ay, don’t look at me like that. You know how it gets when we’re close to a breakthrough."
"You’re worse than Leon," you grumble, but you’re already swinging your legs off the couch, tugging him toward the kitchen. He follows, compliant, his fingers laced with yours. The fridge light paints his face in stark relief as you rummage for the Tupperware you’d packed hours ago, arroz con pollo, his favorite, now cold but still edible. Luis makes a noise behind you, something soft and wounded.
You’d wanted to surprise him.
"You made this?" Luis's voice cracks as he watches you pop the Tupperware into the microwave, his fingers tightening around yours. The hum of the appliance fills the silence between you, the faint scent of garlic and saffron beginning to seep into the air. His thumb traces circles over your knuckles, a silent thank you, a silent “I’m here” even if his body is still halfway to the lab in his head.
You don’t answer, just press a Gatorade into his other hand, the one not currently clinging to you, as if you might vanish. "Drink. Now, babe," you order, nudging the bottle toward his lips until he obeys, the corners of his mouth quirking up around the rim. The microwave beeps, and you turn to grab the food, but Luis catches your waist and spins you back toward him. His nose brushes yours, his breath warm and sweet from the drink. "Te quiero," he coos, the words soft against your lips before he kisses you properly, slow and lingering, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again despite years of marriage.
I love you.
The first bite of food is a revelation. Luis moans, shameless, his eyes fluttering shut as he chews. "Dios, I forgot what real food tastes like," he mumbles around the fork, already reaching for another bite. You snort, stealing a piece of chicken from his container just to watch him pout. "You’re lucky I love you," you grumble, but there’s no heat in it, just the same fond exasperation that’s been there since the first time you dragged him out of his lab to eat proper food.
The kitchen is too small for two people, really, but neither of you moves. Luis eats like a man starved, and you lean against the counter beside him, your hip brushing his, your fingers carding through his thick, wavy hair just to feel him sigh into the touch. His free hand finds your thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles through the fabric of his stolen lab coat. "You’re gonna crash soon," you murmur when his eyelids start to droop, his head lolling toward your shoulder. "Bed?”
Luis shakes his head stubbornly, even as his body betrays him, his shoulders sagging forward, the fork wobbling slightly in his grip. "Can't," he mumbles around another mouthful of arroz con pollo. "Need to review the latest viral sequences before- " A yawn cracks his jaw mid-sentence, and you press your lips together to keep from giggling.
"Before you faceplant into your microscope?" you finish for him, plucking the fork from his slack fingers. He blinks at you, slow and owlish behind his smudged glasses. "Luis. You've been awake for thirty-six hours. That’s a new record, honey."
"Thirty-eight," he corrects automatically, then winces when you pinch his side. "Ay, okay, okay, yeah, bedtime." He lets you tug him upright, his arms looping around your waist as he stumbles into you. His nose bumps against your temple, his breath warm and uneven against your curls. "But you're coming with me," he murmurs, half-plea, half-command.
You don't argue. The bedroom is dark, the sheets cool when you tumble into them, and Luis collapses beside you with a groan. He's asleep before his head hits the pillow, his arm slung heavily across your stomach, his face smushed into the crook of your neck. You card your fingers through his hair, still slightly stiff with curl gel, and listen to his breathing even out.
The quiet settles over you both like a second blanket, broken only by Luis’s slow, even breaths against your collarbone. His fingers twitch against your hip, some residual instinct from surviving Spain, before stilling again. You press a kiss to the top of his head, his hair smelling faintly of disinfectant and his own stupidly expensive cologne. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:02 AM, but you’re wide awake now, your brain buzzing with the leftover energy of seeing him home safe.
____
Morning comes too soon. The sunlight filters through the curtains, painting stripes across Luis’s back as he stirs with a groan. He blinks up at you, bleary-eyed and disoriented, before his face crumples into something unbearably soft. “You stayed,” he rasps, his voice rough with sleep. His thumb brushes your cheek, like he’s checking you’re real. “Thought I dreamed you.”
You huff a laugh against his palm, your fingers curling around his wrist to keep him there. "Where else would I go, idiot? I’m your wife." The morning light catches the gold in his eyes, the exhaustion still lingering but softened by sleep. His stubble scratches your fingertips as you trace the line of his jaw, memorizing the way his breath hitches when your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.
Luis exhales through his nose, a half-laugh, half-sigh that ruffles your bangs. His fingers trail down your arm, pausing to fiddle with the cuff of his stolen lab coat still draped over your shoulders. "You look ridiculous in this," he murmurs, but his voice is thick with something that makes your ribs ache. He tugs at the collar, pulling you closer until your foreheads bump. "Like some mad scientist's beautiful assistant."
"You are a mad scientist," you remind him, but he's already rolling you onto your back, his weight a comfortable anchor as he noses along your jaw. His stubble rasps against your skin, his breath hot where it ghosts over your pulse. "Luis- "
"Fuck the lab today," he growls against your throat, and the vehemence in his voice surprises you both. He freezes, then pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own wide and startled behind his crooked glasses. "I mean- not fuck it, obviously, but- " He huffs, frustrated, and collapses onto his elbows beside you, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. "Dios, I can't even insult my own workplace properly anymore."
You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but your shoulders shake anyway. Luis lifts his head just to glare at you, but there's no heat in it, just exhaustion and fondness and the lingering panic of a man who'd almost lost too much already. His fingers find yours on the mattress, threading together tightly. "I need this to work," he says quietly, his thumb pressing into the hollow of your palm. "For Leon. For everyone."
The admission hangs between you, raw and unguarded, the first time he’s said it out loud since Leon collapsed at the DSO three days ago. Luis’s fingers tremble against yours, and you squeeze back, hard enough to ground him. “I know,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his knuckles. The taste of antiseptic lingers on his skin. “But you can’t save him if you’re dead on your feet.”
Luis makes a noise low in his throat, half-protest, half-surrender, before rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. The morning light catches the silver streaking his temples, the lines around his eyes deeper than they were a month ago. “I had the sequence right there, y’know?” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “But the viral load in his bloodstream, it’s adapting faster than we can…”
“Hey.” You straddle his hips, your knees bracketing his waist, and press your palms to his cheeks until he meets your gaze. His stubble rasps against your skin. “You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can outthink this thing, it’s you.” His breath hitches when you lean down, your curls curtaining his face, and brush your nose against his. “But even geniuses need showers. And coffee. And maybe a break from smelling like a Petri dish.”
He huffs a laugh, his hands settling on your waist, thumbs rubbing absent circles through the fabric of his stolen lab coat. “You’re a menace, honey,” he murmurs, but he’s already tilting his chin up to catch your lips in a lazy kiss. His mouth is warm, still sleep-soft, and you can taste the lingering salt of last night’s arroz con pollo. God, you missed him.
Caution: this text includes graphic descriptions of involuntary violence/abuse (themes of mind control), vomiting, self-harm (scratching hands) and blood. Be mindful of your media consumption.
[When Miss Goldenweek paints you angry and vicious, Zoro has to be the one to wipe the paint off. There's one problem: he absolutely refuses to use force against you.]
Sanji's version
You used to find Zoro’s blasé attitude charming. It was like a breath of fresh air when you’d get too deep into your thoughts or let your anxiety run wild. Zoro would just shrug, give you a ten-word response and move on. In all their vagueness, his answers always show you a new, healthier, perspective – if it can’t be helped, don’t worry and if something can be done, then why lose sleep over it? Zoro never failed to be a dependable rock you can lean on.
Now that you think about it, stuck in a jungle with dinosaurs, his lack of care is entirely infuriating. What was once an easy-going attitude currently appears to be complete and utter disinterest in your person. His laconic answers are nothing more than doing the bare minimum to keep you around – just enough engagement to have a pretty thing on his arm whenever he’s bored. Now that you think about it, he tends to form longer sentences when he’s bickering with Sanji. It seems that arguing with the cook elicits more emotions from him than spending time with you, whom he claims to love. For the record, Zoro has never used the “l-word” towards you. Perhaps that should have been your first clue. You’re left guessing as to the nature of your relationship, using only breadcrumbs of his attention as evidence. He seems completely content with that arrangement and it’s no wonder – Zoro gets all the benefits of being in a relationship without acknowledging any of the commitments.
He’s walking a few paces ahead of you, hand loosely gripping the sword as he slashes through some of the thicker bushes. Zoro is marching on through the jungle like some sort of a pioneer, when anyone who’s met him knows that the great swordsman is capable of getting lost on a roundabout. Ridiculous.
With gritted teeth, you sigh audibly. Who put that joker in charge anyway? Since when are you supposed to listen to that man-child with swords sharper than his brains?
“You’re lost, Zoro,” you call out to him. “Let’s turn back.”
“I know where I’m going,” he answers, without as much as looking at you.
“No, you don’t. You’re clearly too stupid for that.”
The moment you hear the insult in your own voice, something switches inside you – anger and frustration suddenly disappear, like fog does in the early hours of a spring morning. Even if you were cross with him, it’s no excuse for being mean to him. When did you get so rude with him?
Zoro momentarily stops. Slowly, he turns around to look at you. His stern gaze, along with a blank face, doesn’t tell you much in terms of what’s going on inside his head. Whether he’s angry, surprised or doesn’t care at all, it’s impossible to tell.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The wanton tone of his voice drips from his words and burns through you like acid. “I didn’t realise I found myself in the presence of an expert navigator.”
He doesn’t seem interested in a response as Zoro turns around and continues walking forward. For a moment, you’re just standing there, watching his back steadily move away from you. Whatever guilt you have felt for being rude to Zoro is completely gone now. If he’s allowed to be snappy, why shouldn’t you be? Perhaps it’s high time you finally stopped excusing his childish behaviour and dish out what he makes you take day after day.
“This is the longest sentence you’ve said to me today.” Your voice cuts through the pleasant rustling of jungle foliage, the first lightning that splits the black sky on a stormy night.
Zoro marches on, swinging his sword to cut through vines and bushes. “You keep score?” he asks in a casual voice, seemingly unaffected by your comment.
Could he at least pretend to care about what you have to say?
Your hand clenches into a tight fist, nails digging into sensitive skin. “Yeah, a whole lot of zeros in there.”
He stops again. Zoro turns slightly, now standing sideways towards you. A tired sigh leaves his lips as the man barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“If you like talking, go find the cook,” he says. Despite the blasé attitude, there’s tension in his voice. “I’m sure he’d be glad to talk your ear off.” Having said that, Zoro turns his back to you once more. His shoulders sit strangely higher than they did before.
For a second, you’re completely speechless. It’s as though he’s grown weary of pretending to like you or even tolerate you. As long as you were convenient to him, Zoro was fine with putting up with you. Now that you’ve developed some backbone, he can’t be bothered.
“Hey, you green-haired ass! I’m still talking to you!”
“And I’m not listening.”
“I hate you!” Your voice is carried by the echo of the jungle, long-held fury shaking ancient trees at their very roots. The chirping of small critters or insects suddenly dies down.
The silence that follows your words is strangely loud. It feels as though for a moment even the genius loci of the forest remains unnervingly quiet, awaiting what comes next.
Zoro stands frozen, only a couple of metres away from you. He would resemble a marble statue if it weren’t for a slight twitch of his hand – he’s stopping himself from doing something terribly unwise.
His long-awaited answer comes in a shaky, strangely quiet voice:
“Cool.”
Roronoa Zoro is tearing through the forest like he has a personal grievance against the island of Little Garden. The loud rustling of foliage could well be a never-ending plaint from the woodland spirits residing in each leaf and each flower destroyed underneath Zoro’s heavy boots. With each swing of his sharp sword, the vines are silently begging for an explanation. When have they insulted him? Why is he taking his anger out on them?
Zoro’s breath is forced out of his lungs as he hits the ground with a loud thud. He has no chance to inhale – an arm wraps around his neck, it’s hold quickly tightening with surprising strength. Two legs circle his waist, rendering him immobile to simply shake off the attack. Tears momentarily fill his eyes. The foliage underneath him blurs into a vague sea of greenery.
Somehow, Zoro manages to keep his focus instead of giving in to the rising, primal panic of suffocating. With a good kick against the ground, he turns over, forcing his assailant to lie against his rather large frame and the dirt. The right arm keeps choking him. Before the left hand can rest on the back of his head and finish the move, Zoro twists so that he and the attacker are lying on their left sides. The hand is stuck under the weight of his body. He easily kicks off the legs around his waist. Both of Zoro’s arms lift the assailant’s right hand and the swordman swiftly slides out of the deadly hold.
Zoro gasps for air. With oxygen returning to his lungs, the world surrounding him becomes sharper. Perhaps he was choked for a little too long, as he can’t quite believe the image before him is real and not a crazed nightmare brought by asphyxiation:
You’re staring at him with a frenzied look in your eyes. Fury melds with something as empty as it is terrifying; it’s as though your soul, your humanity, has left you for good. This husk has once responded to your name but it has nothing in common with the woman nagging at Zoro to clean up after himself or cuddling him as he sleeps into late, afternoon hours.
He knows you’re not being yourself. There is no doubt in his mind that if you had any control over your actions, you wouldn’t be trying to choke him. Still, he remains frozen. To his own surprise, Zoro doesn’t feel any will to fight. Even as much as defending himself carries the risk of hurting you. You wouldn’t hold that against him; he knows that. His heart, however, refuses to listen to reason.
I had no choice! You made me do it! I did it for your own good!
Isn’t that exactly what all brutes say? If he raises his hand against you, what exactly separates Roronoa Zoro from a violent tyrant? As the world is long and wide, is there a deity that would accept his excuse and grant him absolution for such a sordid sin?
Perhaps the question should be reiterated: could he ever deserve your grace and forgiveness for acting no better than a savage?
His moment of reckoning is fast approaching. Whatever beast resides inside your body now, it crawls on top of Zoro once more. Hands that used to caress and cradle are wrapped around his neck. They are choking his life out of him, yet he can’t force himself to fight back. To some degree, he’s willing to accept such an end.
Your voice sounds hoarse, croaked. It doesn’t resemble human sounds. “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired of your bullshit, Zoro.”
The realisation settles in his viscera like a blunt knife slowly being pushed through each layer of his body: there is no malevolent spirit, no demon or anything of that sort. All of the anger, violence and murderous hands… it’s you.
“What… the hell?” With your hands tightly wrapped around his throat, Zoro’s words come out as a wheeze.
“After all I’ve done for you!” One of your hands leaves his throat only to grab his jaw. You pull his head up a few inches and smash it against the ground underneath you. “All you had to do was be fucking grateful, you vermin.”
Zoro repeats to himself that something strange had to happen for you to turn into a beast blinded by rage. As you keep hitting his head against the dirt, the quiet reassurance inside him dies down. It’s replaced by high-pitched ringing. The deafening sound is disorienting, slowly making Zoro incapable of telling left from right.
His dying need to survive takes over for a moment. Large arms try to push you off of the man with pathetically weak shoves, no stronger than a child. He could free himself. Zoro knows that. However, a cruel sense of loyalty stops him from exercising any more of his power; Roronoa Zoro can’t bring himself to even risk hurting you. The infamous pirate hunter is going to die on some god-forsaken island because he can’t stand the sole thought of being unkind to you. Not a glorious end by any means but a fitting one. He vowed not to raise his hand against you and Zoro would be damned not to keep that promise.
Some die for honour, others die with it.
Everything stills. The ringing in his ears quiets down a little. A sense of relief washes over him. For a moment, he wonders whether this is what death feels like: time stops, the world becomes silent and he simply drifts away, as if carried by languid ocean waves. Peace, at last.
If there is some higher being watching over him, they’re making themself known. The hands clenching around his neck and jaw pull back. As Zoro tries to breathe again, a wheezing cough disturbs each shallow inhale. The weight of your body leaves him as quickly as it caged him to the ground in the first place.
When Zoro finally manages to sit up, he’s met with a quite dramatic scene. You’re leaning against a nearby tree, trembling body curling into itself in a futile attempt to become so small you could slip through the cracks into another universe where none of this had taken place. Tears are running down your face. Your breathing turns into shallow pants, chasing air that keeps escaping your lungs. Nails scratch palms with obsessive fervour, almost breaking open the sensitive skin. It’s as though you’re trying to remove the sickening sensation of feeling Zoro’s life slowly leaving him.
He should be angry, wary. The same person tried to kill him mere minutes ago. Zoro may be a seasoned swordman but right now, he is only a man. And this man has to bear witness to how the woman he loves is losing her sanity, crushed underneath the weight of guilt that might not even belong to her.
The woodland shrubbery rustles underneath his feet as Zoro steps towards you. Immediately, you look up from your scratched hands and try to crawl back further into the tree trunk behind your back. There is nowhere else for you to go.
“Don’t come any closer!” you yell. Despite his better judgment, Zoro stops. The confusion and terror in your eyes are already gnawing at his lovesick heart. He doesn’t dare make it worse. “I don’t…” Your voice dies in your throat. How can you even explain yourself when you don’t understand what’s going on? “I don’t know what happened. I-I can’t control it.”
Some part of him begins to wonder whether this is some ploy to gain an advantage over him. Zoro, being just a man, decides to trust your words. He forgoes ideas of schemes or betrayals. You are under someone’s influence but demons, witches and evil spirits are all bedtime fairytales for unruly children. Since there is no magic involved, there must be something…
A speck of red catches his eye. There, right above your ankle, is a swirl painted on your skin. He’s seen it before.
“Miss Goldenweek,” Zoro says quietly, suddenly understanding what exactly had taken place in the jungle. The fight, the choking, the fear. “I’m getting that paint off of you and then I’m going to kill her,” he states. His voice carries no emotion, as though Zoro is announcing something completely ordinary, like killing someone is a routine on par with taking a shower and tying his shoes.
Hearing him mention paint and Miss Goldenweek, you start examining your entire body. There’s no way to tell when the hallucinogenic chemicals will start working again. When that happens, Zoro might not have as much luck as he had before. Considering his state, the fact that he is somehow still conscious and lucid, there’s no point in hoping for another miracle. He might, finally, drift away with the ocean waves.
The moment your eyes fall on the red paint above your ankle, something switches inside you: your head is filled with strange, violent thoughts that you grow to agree with. It’s impossible to tell where Miss Goldenweek’s work ends and you begin. As the whispers of fury gnaw at your brain and force you to believe them, a strange sensation burns right under your skin. It feels like a call to action that cannot be ignored. You have to move, to hit something or crush in your hands, maybe that will be some relief.
You have to make him pay.
Even now, he’s standing a few paces away from you, staring down at your curled body. He doesn’t offer to help you stand up. Your hands are almost scratched raw and he’s completely unbothered. Zoro couldn’t care less. As if a selfish, childish man-thing like him could ever look past the tip of his own nose. The fact that he’s refusing to fight back is further proof of how little he thinks of you. He doesn’t think your tantrum is worth as much as breaking a sweat. After all, he won’t have any trouble finding another commodity to take your place. One with even less backbone, perhaps.
You lunge at Zoro with speed and strength that surprises both of you. He falls, hitting the ground once more. This time, however, Zoro is prepared. When you try to put your hands on his neck, he grabs them. His hold is firm, yet strangely gentle considering the circumstance – he’s using just enough strength to keep your arms in place. In an attempt to gain more leverage against him, you pull your legs further up his torso. You’re almost sitting on top of his chest, knees closing in on his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Zoro takes notice of the red paint staining your skin. It’s withing reach, only if he decides to lower his defense. Not exactly a great choice.
The decision is made for him. Perhaps there is something, or someone, watching over him. Frustrated with your inability to end Zoro’s life, you sink your teeth into his forearm. Unfamiliar sweet and metallic taste overwhelms your senses, warm liquid running down your chin in a thin streak.
A groan of pain rumbles inside his throat. Zoro clenches his jaw, trying desperately to regain control over himself. He knows what he has to do.
Zoro takes advantage of your temporary interest in chewing on his forearm. He reaches his other hand towards your leg. The red paint smears into a stain that looks more like a rash, rather than an artistic design.
That unnerving silence again. It is the stillness of nature in the face of a prowling predator; the tense quiet of a necropolis awaiting its new resident.
You crawl off of Zoro in clumsy, hastened moves. He’s still within reach when your body shakes with emesis. Blood, bile and saliva mix in your mouth, only to be vomited onto the green foliage below you. A sour smell fills your nostrils, making you even more sick.
He’s quite unsure what he should do, so he settles for the most simple action. Zoro kneels beside you, a warm hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He keeps whispering something but in your state of mind, you only catch every other “you’re okay” and “I’m right here”. Zoro consoling his would-be killer would sound hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.
There’s no telling how much time has passed until you stopped retching and sat down. Sweat and tears mix into one sign of suffering. The raw skin of your palms burns. Your whole body is tingling with numbness. If only you could claw your way out of it. Maybe then you could finally say that the one who tried to kill Zoro is not you; only then would it be true.
“So, uhm…” Zoro hangs his voice, silently debating whether he truly wants to meet the consequences of his pending question. “Do you really hate me?”
Roronoa Zoro is a formidable man. He towers over others and demands respect solely through his presence. A simple flicker of his gaze could bark orders that should not be defied. The man in front of you, however, has little in common with the infamous pirate hunter. He appears as a completely different Roronoa Zoro – small, fidgety, unsure. His silence no longer creates an aura of power but that of a boy wondering whether he deserves the love he so desperately craves.
“No,” you whisper, voice hoarse from throwing up. “I don’t hate you, Zoro.” The words bring you some sense of relief. It’s as though you’re expelling the remnants of Miss Goldenweek’s sick game out of you. Maybe it’s you who needs more convincing than Zoro. “I could never bring myself to hate you.”
He only hums in response. It’s hard to tell whether he believes you. He wants to believe, that much is certain.
“I care about you,” says Zoro. The sound is quiet, unsure. In some way, it’s fearful. What if some other incomprehensible malice hears his confession? “A lot.”
“I know.”
It is quite symbolic that it’s Zoro he reaches for you. Whatever strength is left in him, he uses it to pull you towards him in a tight embrace. Your head rests in the crook of his neck. One of Zoro’s arms circles your shoulder. Quite unfortunately, you have the perfect view of the bite on his forearm. Dark, crimson blood is already drying, leaving long streaks along his skin. This your doing. Your cardinal sin, a stain that shall cling to your very soul.
The rustling of jungle foliage almost drowns out your whisper. “I could’ve killed you.”
“Fat chance.”
Zoro’s eyes also stay on the wound. The bite will remind him for the rest of his days: Roronoa Zoro could fight back, and yet he didn’t. When it mattered, he chose loyalty and love over his own survival. Some might call that foolish. There is, however, much wisdom in that final sacrifice. To take lives in the name of adoration is easy. The tragedy belongs to someone else. The killer gains glory and power in exchange for their humanity, if there still is something to sacrifice. Death in the name of love is not unlike a leap of faith. Will it change anything? The echo of church bells and marching cortege shall repeat the answer until it joins the silence of aeons past: I hope.
Perhaps that is the greatest show of strength. To know that proving your skill or prowess doesn’t always make one a winner. That to win one must be willing to bleed, for to bleed is to be alive.
┆ - ۫ ׅ "Would you miss me if I died?" "I always miss you."
Your Leon's partner for his mission to rescue the president's daughter, you unexpectedly run into someone when you and Leon split ways.
⸝⸝ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthis is part one - 𝓛eon Kennedy x fem!reader
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnow playing - Your Love by She Wants Revenge
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻
╰┈➤ ｡ content & warning(s) : Reminder! This is just part one of a large fic (idea) I came up with last night. established relationship: you and Leon are strictly partners... or are you? Angst mixed with fluff, some funny parts. This takes place in RE4, sassy!leon, yearning!leon (?), protective!leon, jealous!leon, sassy!reader, reader with a personality (you do NOT need protecting), Luis being Luis, Implied Luis x reader, Luis flirting with you, Lara Croft type of reader (?), No y/n, just [name].
word count: 3,477
author's note: there MIGHT be a few grammar issues, so pwease forgive me. I thought to get this out of my drafts because... it has Luis in it, and I love Luis, I'm planning on making the second part 3k words or more to make up for this being short, teehee ( ᴗ ̫ ᴗ )
summary / synopsis : You and Leon are assigned as partners on another mission to rescue the president's daughter, Ashley. You two thought it would be a simple mission, boy, how wrong both of you were. You decided to go your separate ways, and you met a Spaniard named Luis, who gets you in trouble, and Leon doesn't like that.
It was simply another night for you. You were going to get ready for bed after working all day, and you had just gotten back from a long mission that had simply exhausted you of your patience. unlocking your apartment's door as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you sighed, placing your bag down, letting it drop with a small thud.
Your apartment was an utter mess, papers after papers, layering over each other on the walls; you hadn't bothered to take down your old research and merely stuck new research on top of the old ones over and over again, as they never saw another day of light.
God knows how long it's been since you actually cleaned out your cluttered apartment; it's probably been months now. walking past your recent research as you placed your phone down on your nightstand, taking off your dirty clothes as you threw them into the dirty basket that was almost full of clothes again.
Walking to your small bathroom, lazily opening the door as you catch your reflection in the mirror, how odd. You squinted your eyes, grabbing your hair as you threw it over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your lower back. Yet to no help, you couldn't see it, you could've sworn you'd seen small black blotches or... bruise-like marks.
How odd. Maybe it was just in your imagination, quickly brushing it off as you stepped towards the shower, turning the water on as you waited for it to get hot, waiting for the steam to show. picking at your nails silently, until, eventually, you stepped inside, the hot water hitting your tense body.
Yet, the hot water felt cold on your body, like someone threw a cold bucket of water on you. You stood there silently as the water draped over you like a blanket. You hadn't realized you were spacing out again until you remembered a rather embarrassing memory, snapping out of your daze as you shuddered.
Nonetheless, you quickly took your shower, and it only took twenty minutes as you eventually stepped out, your feet hitting the cold floor as you grabbed a towel and wrapped yourself with it, not bothering to tie your hair up as you stepped out of the blanket, making it past your research as you settled down on your messy bed.
The once soft mattress felt hard under your weight, as if you had been sleeping on a rock for countless nights, as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking the notifications as it surprised you, seeing large amounts of missed calls that weren't there before.
How long were you in the shower? You could've sworn you were only in there for twenty minutes at best, but deciding to quickly get dressed and dry your hair quickly, it was still damp before your phone rang. The noise startled you. Was your phone at full volume?
It was probably just some random person calling you over and over again, a wrong number perhaps. You were going to have a normal night, or well—
—It was just supposed to be another night, but you got assigned to a mission in Spain with Leon to save Ashley Graham. You were forced into another mission after just getting back from one. But you pushed off your tired act, forcing yourself to work again. Both of you thought nothing of it when you were assigned together, since you were frequently assigned to missions concurrently, so here you were, in a bumpy car ride with Leon and two local officers. green surrounded the car as the night sky barely shone through the leaves.
giving it an almost dead look. It was quiet during the entire ride before one of the officers eventually spoke up; you hadn't bothered to listen in on the conversation between him and Leon. Mostly focusing on the odd surroundings, there was no sign of life anywhere. How strange. You only snapped out of your daze when the car suddenly halted.
Arriving at the odd destination, it gave off a very eerie vibe.
You decided not to comment much, but one of the officers stepped out to take a 'leak.' You watched the two exchange words as you and Leon mostly remained silent. Neither of you took the cigarette that the man had offered you as he shrugged his shoulders, pulling out a lighter as he lit a cigarette.
Minutes had passed ever since the first officer had left, showing no sign of returning, as the other officer messes with the radio for a few moments before turning it off with a huff, as you and Leon remained quiet in the back seat. Leon was watching on to how utterly still it was outside of the car, as if the only safety was in the vehicle.
It was too quiet. That's the first thing that caught your attention. There's no sign of life anywhere, no wildlife, people, nothing. just... a dead yet gloomy atmosphere. The silence was soon interrupted. " He sure is taking his time. Did he fall in? " the officer commented, looking out the open window as smoke came out of his nostrils.
Looking in the rear view mirror as he spoke up again, his gaze turned on Leon's figure, " Maybe you should go and take a look? " addressing Leon as the man huffed at the other's words, opening the car door and stepping out before pausing, looking back at you, " You coming? " Leon quietly asked, looking at you with an almost expectant look as you shook your head.
" I'll stay back for now. " Your words seemed to dampen Leon's mood, seeming almost... disappointed that you weren't coming with him before he looked away quickly, shutting the car door as he walked where the officer had gone off to with the officer in the car, commenting, " I'll stay here, wouldn't want to get a parking ticket. " you could only watch as Leon commented a snide remark under his breath as he walked away to where the officer had went.
leaving you and the officer behind in the small comfort of the vehicle as it remained quiet, nothing filling up the awkward silence aside from the crickets and the car engine making noise. god knows how much time had passed before you sighed, shaking your head. How long does it take to get one officer?
The silence was almost overbearing. Taking a glance outside, hoping to see Leon's familiar figure, you saw nothing but darkness. It was doing nothing to ease your unease about the current situation; something was so odd about this location, but you couldn't put your finger on it.
You tried not to think much about it, maybe you were overthinking, and they were taking their time. Yet as time went on, your gut feeling grew even worse, tapping your finger on your thigh as you took a look outside, seeing nothing but the darkness again.
You quickly opened your door as you bluntly spoke up, " I'm going to look for them, " not bothering to wait for the man's response, as you shut the car door from behind you. Once you were finally outside, the cold air hit your skin, just a small breeze; it was almost comforting, but you shook your head quickly, closing your eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, and you walked in the direction where Leon and the officer had gone off.
The soles of your boots hit the muddy ground, making light splashing noises as you stepped into a small puddle of water. It was darker than you had expected it to be. And aside from that, it was quite messy, a sight you hadn't expected to see, but it was there, unfortunately. After a few minutes of walking on the same path, " Where did they go off to? " you lowly complained under your breath.
You hadn't seen Leon's figure at all, but you did see footsteps, assuming that they were his. You followed them carefully, annoyed by the large amount of mess, crouching down a few times, being careful not to catch your shirt in the wire, standing back up as you let out a sigh. You really hoped you weren't getting lost.
You paused in your step when you heard the rustling of something. catching your full attention as you quickly looked around, trying to catch sight of a shadow, yet you saw nothing, you could feel the gaze of someone watching you closely, yet with how dark it was, you couldn't pinpoint where it was from.
Something screamed in your body that you weren't alone; that much was obvious. Nothing about this mission was going to be easy; that was clear enough for you. You quickly pulled out your gun as you rushed off in the open path, hoping to find Leon and the officer soon.
You eventually made your way across a small lodge, carefully stepping inside as you peeked your head in, seeing blood spattered a few steps away from you, alerting you to danger. Investigating the lodge as quietly as you could before you stepped into a room, seeing the utter mess in there, you let out a small groan.
As you searched the odd room, you found the badge of the officer with blood on it. Well, that didn't look like tomato sauce, that's for sure, dropping the badge on the floor, well, now you knew that Leon was in danger, or god knows what that man is in right now.
So there you were, trying to see if you could find a way out without making too much noise or drawing attention to yourself, eventually making it upstairs and into a smashed-open room, settling your sight on the broken window, which definitely screamed dramatic, most likely Leon. Before your attention was caught by the wall, seeing the map with pictures surrounding it.
The girl was here, no doubt about it now. But you still needed to catch up with your partner. Deciding to go the same route as he did, you quickly looked around, making sure you won't miss anything important, as you eventually jumped out of the window, landing on the ground, and you stood up, scanning the area before you rushed towards the only path you saw.
hoping to see Leon's familiar figure, yet you saw nothing as you continued down the unfamiliar path. As you ventured down, you heard rustling from behind you, holding up your gun as you turned around, your eyes swept over your surroundings before your eyes landed on a figure hiding behind a bush, very poorly.
" You are terrible at hiding, " you called out to the person, still holding your gun up and not lowering your guard as a figure emerged from the bushes, holding his hands up, " okay- okay, you caught me, my apologies, señorita. " The Spaniard held his hands up, trying to appear as defenseless as he could, clearly meaning no harm.
The first guy you meet in this creepy forest was a creep itself. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, then. lowering your gun as you glared daggers at the Spaniard, not trusting the man whatsoever, yet, did you really have a choice? He was the only person you've seen so far since leaving the car.
" Do you regularly stalk people, or is it your part-time job? " you commented, earning a light chuckle from the Spaniard. He seemed... amused by your comment as if you two were long-term friends meeting again instead of total strangers. " I'm not gonna hurt you- you can trust me.. but I got a quick but important question. "
You lowered your gun in confusion, and the man took that initiative to speak up, " You got a smoke? " You sighed. Was he being serious? " Got gum. " you curtly replied, turning away as you started to walk away from the man, but he immediately spoke up, " Wait- wait! I can help you, and you can help me, eh? Think of it as a partnership! " The man quickly rushed up to you, walking by your side as he continued with his ramble.
You finally paused in your step, looking at the man with an 'are you serious?' look. He was practically pleading for a partnership rather than proposing one to you. You sighed in disbelief, wondering how you could've met someone like him. " I have no use for being your partner. Why would I accept your offer? " you asked simply, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. He immediately had the opportunity to explain himself as soon as you gave him the opening.
" Look... you're looking for someone, eh? I can help you find them, a girl perhaps? We could make a good partnership, consider it, Chica hermosa. " The man quietly offered, his body close to yours, your breaths mingling with each other, you had no way of trusting him yet... his words made you perk up with interest.
" I don't even know who you are. How can I trust you? " you curtly pointed out the obvious as he chuckled at your tone of voice, " Ah.. my apologies, señorita. I'm not usually this forward, but I suppose you made me come out of my element. " You paused at his words. Was he seriously trying to flirt with you right now?
Your bodies were inches apart from each other, but he took the courtesy to step away once he realized he had interested you in his offer, " Luis Serra. Don't forget it, eh? I'd hate to have a pretty girl like you forget my name. " you were unimpressed by his flirts, giving him a flat look as he laughed at your expression.
Before you could say anything back, both of you heard a branch snapping, alerting you both; you two looked at your surroundings and saw a tall man emerging from the trees, taller than you both. even as you shot him in the head two times, the bullets rang out, and only his hat flew off.
well shit.
Leon had just finished fighting the villagers, the bell had suddenly rung out, drawing them away mysteriously, so utterly confused on the sudden switch up, but as soon as everybody had left, Leon let down his guard, letting out a sigh as he moved through the rather messy village, he could've sworn that he heard a gun rang out nearby when he was fighting.
He dismissed it as nothing before he suddenly remembered his partner, you. Leon paused as he was searching a house, instantly becoming worried, you were staying at the car... were you okay? Leon couldn't go back even if he wanted to, cursing himself and hoping that you were okay, trying not to worry so much about you, trying to distract his mind with the mission, yet even as he tried his best to dismiss it, he was worried sick over you.
Leon entered a house that was near the village. As soon as he entered, he heard a sudden banging noise, immediately becoming alert as he moved around the house, seeing a villager banging his axe on the trap door. Leon was confused. trying to sneak up on the villager, yet the man seemed to have heard him somehow.
Leon quickly got rid of the villager, opening the trap door easily as he dropped down to the basement. The darkness engulfed his figure as Leon grabbed his flashlight, turning it on as he held it up, searching the basement before he rounded a corner to see someone moving around in a body bag, letting out a sigh as he knelt and put the flashlight on his shoulder, keeping it still with his head as he undid the ropes on the top.
revealing a man whose mouth was taped, Leon ripped the tape off the man's mouth as the other grunted, " That hurts, you know? " he kept his voice low as he looked at Leon, who was now holding his flashlight in his hand as he spoke, " Seemed like you really wanted to talk. "
" How observant, señor. Now, say- you got a smoke? " The man asked curiously despite his current position, earning a light huff from Leon as he spoke up, " You know, those things will kill you. " to which the man shrugged it off, seemingly a bit disappointed with Leon's answer, but started shifting, " Oh, well, maybe just untie me then? " as he shifted, heavy footsteps, he looked up as the steps grew closer, " ¡Joder! Not this guy!- " He tried to shift away with little success.
Leon immediately got up, shifting his flashlight in his grip as he turned around, his flashlight shining on a tall man, immediately yelling out, " Who are you? " noticing that he kept coming closer, Leon immediately pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man, " Ok, stop right there! " yet even as he said that, the man or whatever he was slapped the gun out of Leon's grip, the gun clinked down to the floor, and then the next minute?
Leon was grabbed by his throat with a tight grip before being thrown like a rag doll towards a stack of crates. The sudden contact was abrupt enough for Leon to pass out immediately as the man walked close to Leon, pulling out a syringe as he injected it into Leon's neck.
When you woke up, you were in a daze, your head was spinning, and you were starting to get tunnel vision. All you could feel was the sting of the ropes holding your hands together, which immediately snapped you out of your daze. Once you remembered what happened, you were talking to a man, and then that thing showed up.
You were looking for Leon.
Yet here you were, distracted and now tied up with most of your gear missing, you looked up to see the light blinding your vision for a moment, letting out a soft groan at that as you tried to move your wrists, but as you tried to move around, it was like the rope was getting tighter on your hands.
lovely. Maybe this was your sign not to talk to anyone in a creepy forest, thinking of that interaction, Luis... was that his name? You couldn't remember the details of your odd interaction with him, but pushing those thoughts aside, you tried to look around for something sharp to cut you out of the ropes.
Your throat was aching from being choked out earlier, and you were sure that you couldn't speak for a moment or so before groaning, unimpressed with your current predicament. How could you get stuck so easily? All because you let your guard down while interacting with that odd man.
Well.
You couldn't do much aside from hanging there like a fish on a hook; your wrists were tightly tied together, ensuring that you wouldn't escape, as you quite literally had nothing on you. You were sure they got you undressed in the process of taking all of your crap. For once, you were defenseless, hanging there like an idiot.
Maybe if you waited long enough, someone would come? Maybe more preferably, your partner who you hoped was still alive and not in some creepy basement with that odd man you met earlier.
So there, you waited, and waited because that's all you could do in your current predicament.
You didn't even know how much time had passed, yet as you were waiting for God knows how long, you heard the door unlocking, immediately piquing your interest as you tried to look up, hoping to catch your partner's familiar face, yet the light was making it difficult for you to see the silhouette.
barely making out the features of the person that unlocked the door to the room you were trapped in before you realized that it wasn't your partner.
How bad was your luck today?
Where was—
—[name]? Leon silently wondered to himself, annoyed by the fact that the Spaniard had left him so easily, but thankfully, he was able to get his gear in the end, making it outside as a rather odd man talked to him. He said he was the merchant; Leon didn't need to trust him, but he was able to sell and buy things from the man.
Leon did have to find you and Ashley soon; he was worried about you. Were you even alive? Yet, pushing those dark thoughts out of his head as he tried to make his way towards the church with the information that Luis had provided him earlier.
He could only hope that you weren't in any sort of danger.
After all, he would much prefer you alive and safe rather than being in danger with a certain Spaniard, besides. It's not like you would actually team up with someone like him, right?
. ౿ Where to? ── masterlist , rulebook , see me .✦
Summary: 8 different ways Ryland tells you he loves you, most of the time, without actually saying it.
wordcount: 5,755
warning(s): There is a starvation scene (on the way to Erid) to try and stick close to the book. There is also mention of blood and wounds.
authors note: This is very heavily inspired by one of my fav Star Trek fics that you can read here. Shoutout to this amazing writer!
You can find this fic you're reading right now on my ao3 here, but I've written fics for many fandoms and they seem to do well on tumblr so here we are.
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One.
You were frustrated to say the least.
You had been living on the Hail Mary in the vastness of space trying to figure out the astrophage issue for two weeks with no remembrance of how you knew Ryland.
You knew you were selected as a medical assistant because Ryland had done research with you before, but you had no idea how you met, or even how you got on the ship, you just couldn’t remember.
That was until you had suddenly remembered a memory involving you and Ryland. You had suddenly woken up from sleep, when you were bombarded with a memory of you both working in the lab together. The memory was so strong you could hear the conversation.
You sat on a spinning office chair in the lab, you were spinning slowly in circles with your legs up to your chest. Ryland stood in front of you staring at a whiteboard of stuff on astrophage.
“Why do they go to venus?” He asked vaguely, his arms crossed in front of him.
“Maybe they are like birds.”
“What?” He asked, readjusting his glasses.
You continued spinning in your chair.
“I read an article that they found fossil of birds from 73 billion years ago with hatchlings and–”
“You know I love your tangents, but I’m sort of working on saving the world right now.”
You stopped your spinning and smacked his arm, rolling your eyes.
“They discovered that they went to the arctic to breed.”
Ryland rubbed his eyebrow in thought, bringing his glasses to hang below his chin.
“Okay? Birds migrate to breed, I taught that to my students all the– wait! You’re saying–”
“Maybe astrophage go to Venus to breed! Exactly!”
Ryland leant down and pulled you out of your chair, hugging you tightly, before running off to the corner to grab some duct tape.
The memory brought you to tears, mostly because it gave you physical relief, since it felt like you had been literally holding everything tight in your brain and you didn’t have the key to unlock it. But all the emotions from the memory felt so familiar to you. You obviously felt a strong sense of familiarity and comfort around Ryland, but now you knew a small part of exactly why that was. Of course it didn’t tell you exactly how you met, or how you ended up on Mary, but it was something.
When you rushed into the lab and brought it up to him, he told you he didn’t remember, and moved back to his work.
To his defense, you could tell Ryland was trying so hard to remember, he really did want to remember. Throughout the day he tried to squint his eyes hard, even rubbed his forehead to try and simulate some neurons or something, and he felt extremely bad when you laughed at him in those moments. You couldn’t blame him, both of your memories were just waiting to bloom, it just was taking a bit of time.
Ultimately, despite him not remembering, your knowledge of astrophage helped you both remember why you were on the ship to begin with.
After some time Ryland was beginning to stare into space instead of tracking the ship’s trajectory. You put your computer down.
“Ryland, you’ve been up for way too long, go take a nap.”
When he went down for a nap you began to log your memory into your tablet, you didn’t have much there yet. You groaned as your back ached, you hated the lab stools because they hurt your back, but it’s not like you had patients to tend to. So that was what you could do without Ryland’s supervision.
After an hour or so Ryland walked into the lab after his nap. You turned around at the sound of his feet on the floor, and when you saw him, your smile dropped as you noticed the tears in his eyes, his glasses long abandoned, and his stature falling.
“Ryland?”
He crossed the floor immediately toward you and pulled you into a tight hug.
“What’s going on?” You asked as you brought your hands up behind him to run through his hair maybe instinctively, yet still nervously.
“My head hurts—you—you met me at—we stayed up all night together—we—” He stammered.
Your eyes widened and you rubbed his back comfortingly. His sobs made his body shake against you.
“I remember. I remember it all. You’re my best friend.”
You smiled into his shoulder, and let yourself for the first time tighten your arms around his waist.
Two.
You stood in front of a whiteboard. Ryland sat on the floor in front of you beside Rocky.
Ryland could tell you were excited by the way you kept swaying side to side and the giant grin on your face. He knew your passion was human biology, you had told him that everything about it fascinated you, which is why you became a doctor in the first place.
He asked you while you were both trying to get to know each other better in the mental health room, he remembered spending late nights in the lab with you, he remembered eating in the dining room on the boat with you, the jokes you’d make together, but he didn’t remember why you became a doctor. He knew you remembered and maybe told him already before, but insisted you tell him again anyway. And you insisted he tell you why he became a teacher. It was like watching a flower that had been planted last spring bloom again after the long winter.
However, because Ryland was a microbiologist and a biologist he knew as much about human biology as you did, but sometimes he’d pretend not to remember just so he could see the excitement on your face when you did.
Ryland knew, by the way you fidgeted and constantly reminded yourself of basic medicine by reading textbooks on the online database, that you missed medicine so much. So when Rocky asked Ryland to explain human biology and to explain what human doctors do one day while he was in the tunnel meeting Rocky for one of the first times — while you slept — he knew exactly who to talk to — you.
The whiteboard contained info about specialities that weren’t your speciality, but you felt were still important to take note of. You had written down, OBGYN, and neurology, and surgery, you were discussing surgery just then.
“Humans cut people open when there is a problem inside their bodies, that is what surgery is.” You explained.
“Like…uh, heart problems. Or to get these harmful growths called tumours out of our bodies.” Ryland explained, he moved his glasses to rest on the top of his head.
“Bad bad bad! Human bodies inefficient statement.” Rocky squealed.
“They sure are sometimes.” Ryland groaned.
You nodded and laughed.
“I was in emergency medicine before I was on this mission, and one time there was this guy who came in with heart issues,” You started explaining, your hands moving all over the place. “and we ended up having to crack open his chest, we cut his chest open so we could see his lungs and heart, and we found out there was air from his lung entering into his bloodstream. This is called an embolism–”
Ryland’s mouth formed into a smile, wide at you, a smirk on his face like he was about to laugh. He was just perplexed, some of the memories he remembered best were ones where you went on heated tangents in response to his questions.
You paused when you noticed Rocky giving you excited jazz hands to laugh, then noticed Rylands gaze directed at you. You suddenly felt shy for the first time in front of him.
Did you explain anything wrong? You admired Ryland for his intelligence, and you loved his tangents as much as you loved going on tangents. You were overcome with a desire to impress him constantly. But you sometimes worried you were getting things wrong when Ryland let you talk too much. There he was staring at you making you flustered?
He watched as you shyly bit your lip, clearly nervous.
“What?” You asked.
He shook his head and his lips moved to a more serious expression, hoping you couldn’t read his mind. He moved his glasses onto his face so he could see you more clearly, overcome with wanting to watch you more.
Ryland pulled his legs in front of his chest and crossed his arms overtop his knees.
“Nothing. I like watching you explain things.” He said.
You smiled in relief, and looked away.
Three.
When you woke up one morning, you found yourself becoming anxious at the sight of the stars out your window. You wanted desperately to revisit Earth, and you knew the one place to do it — the mental health room.
You and Ryland had bonded in the mental health room twice before, he showed you all his favorite places on Earth — and also the places he wished he had visited — but Blip-A, or Rocky’s ship showed up before you got a chance to show him yours. You knew what you needed to calm your anxieties was to visit Greece, or Canada, or New York, or to see a tree for God's Sake.
You headed down the ship, toward the semi spherical room, climbing down the ladder leading down. When you jumped off the ladder and turned around you saw Ryland sitting on the platform, staring at a projection of the beach.
“Hi.” You said.
Ryland turned around, lifted his glasses off his chin and looked at you.
“Hi.”
You walked toward the platform, stepped around him and pulled yourself down on the metal grate to sit on the left of him.
“Everything okay?” You asked.
He shrugged, he closed his fox cardigan further with his hands.
“Yea, I just missed the beach. I miss Earth.”
You tilted your head in a nod.
“Me too.”
A moment of silence passed and neither of you interrupted it. You felt as though you might’ve been intruding on his peace and silence, on his moment of reflection. So you stood up.
“Alright, well sorry to interrupt, I’ll let you have your peace.” You said, stepping around him.
You felt his hand grab your wrist to stop you, you looked down at him. His face was comically almost in a pout, and his eyes stuck glued onto you. You couldn’t help but admit he looked well…attractive, in the lighting of the room. You brushed that aside as you stepped closer toward him.
“Stay. I like this room better with you in it anyway.”
“I guess I have to stay then.” You fake complained, which earned you a chuckle from Ryland.
Ryland Grace had a way of saying the nicest things anyone had ever said to you. Your mouth formed a grin shyly, and you lowered yourself down next to him again, you playfully brushed your shoulder against his and you both laughed. Finally, you wagered against something blooming inside of you and the urge to rest your head on his shoulder, and shyly without looking up at him, lowered your head to rest on his left shoulder.
The shy touch felt different than the touch you both usually shared before, and you almost wondered if you made a mistake. But when Ryland lowered his head to the left to rest on top of yours, you were filled with relief and a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager.
Four.
“Grace and Rocky teach y/n how to fly ship.” Rocky said matter of factly.
You were all headed up to the pilot deck, floating through the halls of the ship. You knew you had to learn how to fly it in case anything were to happen to Ryland when he grabbed the sample from Adrian. You were just nervous. You had very little driving experience, let alone flying experience.
As you floated with Ryland and Rocky into the control room and pilot deck, Ryland reached for your floating body and guided you into the pilots seat. His glasses floated off of his face beside him, before he reached and put them.
“Pilot detected.”
“Ugh.” You groaned in response to Mary as you lowered yourself into the chair.
“I know, but if I have to fly this hell machine, then you also gotta fly this thing.” Ryland responded.
You pouted up at him and a laugh tumbled out of his mouth.
Ryland helped you strap in, his hand brushing lightly over your body in the process, and it some how felt like the most intimate touch you both experienced. When he buckled you in he made sure to tighten the straps to your liking.
“Grace ready teach, question?” Rocky asked, his body moving enthusiastically in his geometric ball.
“Yea Rock, I think we’re ready, right?” Ryland grabbed your shoulders with his hands and looked at you for a response.
You could feel him scanning your face. Something in his expression reassured you.
You simply just nodded out of nervousness.
“It’s time go!” Rocky exclaimed.
“You mean ‘go time’, but yea.” Ryland mumbled.
He pushed Rocky toward a metal spot right beside you and clicked Rocky’s magnets to stay in place.
“Okay so you see that joystick thingy?” Ryland asked, floating beside you.
“Yea, that thing?”
You placed your hand on the joystick, Ryland grabbed onto the pilots chair and floated behind you.
“Yea, so I’m going to guide you the first time, since it’s sort of…sensitive. Then you can try on your own.” He explained.
You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by ‘guide you’, until he leaned down behind you so his mouth was close to your ear, and his right arm reached around you to put his hand overtop of your hand onto the joystick. You could hear his breathing, his breath on your ear.
The touch was again, different than the rest. It shot up your body, and you tried your best to make it seem like it didn’t affect you. If anything it made you more nervous, but you trusted him to not let you make a huge mistake.
“Alright now, we’re gonna go slightly forward like this, smooth and steady.” He whispered.
You had to resist the urge to let out a laugh at the sensation of his breath on your ear. God, you were embarrassed by how much that was affecting you, and hoped he couldn’t tell. Afterall he was just doing what he did best — teaching.
“Careful!” Rocky chimed in, but you had barely heard it over the sensation of Ryland.
He guided both of your hands slowly to move the joystick forward, you gasped as you felt the ship move.
When you gasped, Ryland felt the way it affected his body physically. He had forgotten for a moment, how intimate this kind of touch was. The conventions were different in space. But the way you gasped, made sparks shoot up his body. He was suddenly aware of how close your skin was to his.
He watched you move along with him, and when your touch felt a little too similar to something unplatonic, he pulled back suddenly.
“Uh, that was great,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now, go ahead and try it yourself.”
He watched as you slowly moved the ship forward, and as you did, you turned to face him giving him an excited expression. After a few minutes of you attempting to navigate different maneuvers effortlessly, you stopped, and leaned forward to unstrap.
“How’d I do for my first try?” You asked.
“Much better than Grace first try!” Rocky said. “Grace almost make Rocky die!”
Ryland rolled his eyes, patting Rocky’s ball.
“A bit dramatic don’t you think?”
“Well, I had a good teacher.” You responded. You met eye contact with Ryland that for — the first time — felt a bit awkward.
You unstrapped yourself and leaned forward to activate centrifuge.
“I’m gonna turn on centrifuge, since we still have a bit more work to do.” You said.
Ryland nodded, remembering he had found another case of the specific coffee you liked in the storage room.
“I’ll make you coffee. When you’re ready in the lab.”
You watched him excitedly hurry down to the lab, and you activated the centrifuge.
Five.
Rocky finds Ryland on the floor of the lab.
Ryland laid in the fetal position groaning, his eyes opening slowly from sleep, trying to remember how far away Erid was. He placed his hand on the cold floor feeling for you in the spot in front of him, confused at your absence, he heard the sound of Rocky’s geometric ball rolling toward him.
“Grace! Grace friend need help statement.”
Ryland’s eyes shot open wide as he weakly pushed himself off the floor. He grabbed his glasses that laid on the floor and put them on.
“Okay Rock, just give me a second to stand up.”
“Hold ball so no fall.” Rocky said. “Grace weak.”
Ryland just nodded his head, standing up and holding onto Rocky who led him slowly toward the lavatory.
When he saw you on the ground he collapsed on the floor next to you.
“Grace here to help, statement, no worry.” Rocky reassured you.
“No more taumeoba, it tastes so bad.” You whined.
You could feel your ribs through your skin, you had lost a significant amount of weight when you started to run out of food on the way to Erid. You both knew it was going to happen, but you didn’t think it would happen so quickly. You hated the taste of taumeoba, but you and Ryland had been relying heavily on that for a while, careful to preserve enough for Erid.
Rocky in particular was sure to feed it to you both, chastising you if you didn’t eat it. You had been taking care of each other well enough, until you secretly slipped away from your spot on the floor next to Ryland to throw up.
You leaned above the metal toilet and gagged again, dry heaving, tears stinging your eyes as you sobbed in pain. You refused to open your eyes, the lights were making your head spin. Your face was pressed against the toilet seat, you groaned.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Ryland asked.
“You don’t want to see this.” You said vaguely waving your hand toward yourself.
“Rocky, go get my hoodie on the floor.”
“Where is, question?” Rocky asked.
“It’s in the lab I think.”
You heard Rocky scamper around away from you and Ryland.
You felt Ryland’s arms slither around your waist as he sat behind you, he pulled you into him. You felt his glasses prod at your shoulder. Your eyes shot open, not because physical contact was not common between you two, but because you really didn’t want him to see this side of you. You shivered as you felt his cold fingers graze around you and above your ribs.
The feeling of his fingers specifically now, made your heart speed up, him trying to hold you at your most vulnerable made something bloom inside of you.
“You’re trying to keep me warm, it’s not working, you’re cold too.” You struggled to say.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, you’re too important for me to lose.”
The words shot up your body, you assumed they weren’t that unusual to say, after all you were best friends, but it hit you differently just then, but soon they were immediately interrupted by your nausea.
You knew this moment was going to happen, you knew he was going to see you at your worst, he was your crewmate and your best friend and you were both dying of starvation. However, there were things you had felt you didn’t want Ryland to witness. You just knew you had never been that vulnerable in front of anyone in a long time.
Hell, from what you remember Ryland hadn’t even seen you drunk vomiting since you had no time to drink between your time in the lab and on the boat. If he had, maybe then you’d feel more comfortable with him witnessing you like this.
Despite what you felt, you grabbed his arms and pulled them away from you.
“Ry, go away, you don’t want to see this, I can handle it–”
Another gag escaped your throat, and your spit dripped into the toilet.
“Did you know–” Ryland gulped, his own reserve slipping. “if you don’t get enough nutrients when you’re starving, then you’ll start throwing up blood?” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear.
His voice was smooth and calming despite the pain you were both in, you laughed at him quoting you.
“I told you that.” You mumbled, head falling backward onto his shoulder, finally giving into him. You could feel him exhale in relief.
“Yes you did.”
Rocky scampered back, and you felt Rylands arms coming over you. He put his baggy hoodie over your head, and you tried your best to slip your arms into the arm holes.
You laughed as you wiped the spit from your mouth.
“You’ve only seen one side of me, this is something new I guess.”
He ran his hand over your forehead to wipe your hair away from your face.
“I’ve seen just about all sides of you.”
You turned around to face him, grabbing onto his shirt tightly, as if letting go of him would make you fall into space. Ryland picked up a pack of wet wipes beside him and started wiping your face gently. His eyes occasionally drifted to your mouth, and you caught it, you told yourself it was because he was wiping your face.
You stared at his face, the way he looked when he was concentrated — his eyebrows folded down, his glasses now askew, his tongue sticking out of his lips, and his eyes squinted — always made you smile. So you let your smile appear on your face, and admired your best friend in front of you. The only source of warmth in that moment was the warmth coming out of your chest.
“Now, stop acting so tough. Let me take care of you.”
Six.
When Ryland and you finally arrived at Erid, the Eridians welcomed you both with open arms for helping save Erid. Ryland and you got to meet Adrian for the first time when they launched a ship to attach to the Hail Mary. Adrian was able to quickly replicate some nutrients you both needed to get you both back to health before moving you down to the planet's surface.
Adrian asked Ryland and you individually where you wanted to live. Adrian began building separate houses under the same biodome. Ryland shyly insisted you live relatively close to each other, hoping you wouldn’t think he was creepy or clingy. He wanted you close, he knew he was going to miss sharing a space with you. You agreed. Adrian tried to make sure everything was perfect for you both.
Ryland stood in his kitchen, reluctantly eating the food Adrian had replicated, some kind of protein shake. He admired his home, he was amazed at what the Eridian architects could do, and wondered what your house looked like, how you asked it to be designed. He knew you were particular with those kinds of things, while at the same time, kind of a slob.
He put down the protein shake and looked out the windows, the day cycle was set to night, Ryland was usually very productive at night. So Ryland’s laptop was opened in the living room, he was focusing on working on a lesson plan for the Eridians that Rocky said wanted to be taught by him.
He reached to grab his glasses from the kitchen counter, when he felt a pain in his right arm near his scar. He winced and put on his glasses, he watched as the scar opened and blood started to pool. This had happened once before the weeks leading up to arriving at Erid — because of malnourishment the burn opened into a wound. This was probably waiting to happen, he had only just started to get the nutrients he needed.
“Fudge.” He whispered, trying his best not to fully look at the blood.
He turned to grab a rag from under the kitchen sink. He thought through all his options. He could wake Rocky or Adrian with a press of a button that Adrian designed if Ryland ever wanted to contact them. Or he could show up at your door, late at night, asking for help. He knew — despite not wanting to — that he had to go to you, you were a doctor. Eridians didn’t know about tending to human wounds the same way humans do.
He groaned, leaving his house and slamming his door on the way out. He walked to your house that was conveniently a few seconds away.
He peeked into the window, he could see a lamp on but nothing else. He reluctantly raised his hand to knock on your front door. He heard some commotion before you opened the door.
“Hi.” Ryland said, waving.
By now the rag had turned from white to red, his blood seeping in.
“Hi what are you—whoa,” You grabbed Ryland’s arm with both of your hands. “It opened again?” You asked as you pulled him inside and closing the door.
He nodded silently. Shutting down at the memories from earlier.
You pulled him through your surprisingly clean house and sat him down in your bathroom, pulling a chair beside the sink. You pulled out medical supplies left over from the Hail Mary: suture supplies. a squeeze bottle full of saline, and gauze to hold pressure to your wound.
Ryland’s hands were shaking, he noticed how steady your hands were removing the rag and placing the clean gauze overtop. Once the bleeding stopped to a minimum, you removed the gauze and held the wound over the sink, you began spraying saline into the wound to flush anything out.
Ryland felt how gentle your fingers were against his skin, watched you bite your lip in concentration. He couldn’t understand how you were so calm, he hated the sight of his own blood. When you finished you started preparing the materials for stitches.
When his burn turned into a wound on the ship, you were just as calm and collected as you were in that bathroom. The moment made him think about how starved you both were, how afraid he was of losing you, how much he really cared for you.
You looked up at him, and smiled, Ryland was surprised when one of your hands reached out to cup his cheek. He felt your thumb running over his stubble, the touch making him melt into you. Then he began crying. Uncontrollably. There was something about you that often made him come completely undone. Sometimes in an adolescent way, but sometimes in a way that made him wonder if he could have you for the rest of his life.
“I’m so sorry.” He apologized between sobs.
You reached out to cup your face into both of your hands, the tears he felt fall from his cheeks were being wiped away by you. His heart sprung at the idea of it all.
“Hey, why are you apologizing?”
“I could’ve asked Rocky for help or I could’ve figured it out but–”
“Hey, we both know I have the most knowledge on human medicine out of anyone on this planet.”
Ryland laughed through his tears.
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“It’s my job to worry about you,” You leaned forward and planted an innocent kiss on his cheek.
Ryland blushed, and was thankful you missed his expression as you leaned down to grab the suture kit.
“however…you’re going to hate me when I jab stitches into you without anesthetic.”
Ryland grimaced.
Seven.
You had been with Adrian all day when you were rushing home.
You loved Adrian so much, you both had become attached by the hip, you loved gossiping about Rocky and Ryland…Adrian was insistent on the fact that you and Ryland would be perfect ‘mates’. You denied their statement over and over again, but admittedly, it was getting harder to rationalize to yourself why you weren’t falling for Ryland.
This day in particular was stressful. Adrian asked if you could try and teach a course for some Eridians interested in human biology. Adrian also just wanted to know what to do in case they had to take care of you or Grace when you got older.
Essentially, you were teaching a human CPR/first aid training course to a small group of Eridians.
You rushed home climbing the hill away from the beach, textbooks in hand, opening the door and dropping them on the floor. You slammed the door, and took notice of your house. It was a huge mess, papers were thrown everywhere, coffee mugs were gathered in the sink and your other Project Hail Mary jumpsuits were thrown on the floor.
You took it all in just as you heard a knock on the door, you groaned and turned around to open it expecting Adrian.
“Adrian I’m–”
It was Ryland. Your heart contracted at the sight of him, then panicked as you remembered your plans.
“Oh Ryland,” You sighed as you ran your hand across your face before dropping it to your side. “I forgot we had plans tonight.”
Ryland rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
“Is this a bad time? I can come back tomorrow.”
You shook your head, desperately wanting to spend time with him.
“No, no, come in, I just need to clean up.” You blushed as you said it.
You and Ryland made plans constantly now that you settled in. You proposed that he come over every other day to have a productive evening, since you both now had lesson plans to work on. You also proposed that sometimes he comes over and you watch one of the many movies provided for you on the Hail Mary’s media system. You selfishly proposed this because you couldn’t handle not seeing Ryland everyday. You were relieved when he was as enthusiastic as you were.
When Ryland stepped in you watched the expression on his face go from shocked, to serious in a second. His eyes scanned the mess carefully.
“Yea…I’m sorry, I’ve just been planning everything with Adrian today, and–”
Ryland placed a hand on your lower back, you blushed as he did, his touch had been making you more flustered than usual lately.
“Hey, it’s okay. Sit down, I’ll clean for you.” He said.
He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, and you swore to god, you saw him blush as he turned away.
Eight.
One one of your movie nights, you and Ryland had found a stash of leftover vodka from the Hail Mary in his kitchen. You had long abandoned the movie playing in the background on the monitor Ryland had installed in his living room and instead you were sitting on his kitchen counter, Ryland standing in front of you taking turns drinking out of the bag of vodka.
The porch light shined through the darkness of the window, and the only light in Ryland’s house was coming from a warm yellow lamp and the slight flashes of Jurassic Park.
Ryland was admittedly intoxicated, his glasses askew on his face, and he could tell you were too. You both laughed at the mere sight of it. You had never been drunk together before, and now that you were just getting used to the food provided by the Eridians, you both had a much lower intolerance than anticipated.
“So then Adrian says to me,” You drunkenly explained. “‘Rocky always messy, Rocky always grumpy.’ and I’m like, that sounds like Ryland.”
Ryland watched you throw your head back in laughter.
“Hey, you’re the messy one!” He responded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Okay fine, I’ll give you that.”
A drunken silence overcame the both of you.The sounds of roars and voices emitted from the ‘tv’.
Ryland stepped closer to you instinctively placing his hands on your thighs. You shivered, the drunken clarity making you realize how much you wanted him. You took the glasses off of his face, to see him better.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Adrian.” Ryland barely whispered.
His eyes stared into yours, his mouth open. He grazed his thumb up and down your thigh, shivering as you placed your arms over his shoulders.
“Yea,” You pondered, then suddenly he watched as realization spread across your face. “Oh, I’m sorry I should’ve told you, Adrian said the Hail Mary is fueled, we can go home…I mean if you want.”
“Rocky told me.” He said, his eyes drifting down to your lips, a question in his mind he didn’t realize he had been holding onto for a while.
Another beat of silence. And suddenly everything made sense for Ryland, you sitting on his kitchen counter, your head thrown back like a little kid, watching you bloom into this amazing person, it was all making sense.
“Okay good.” You whispered, not waiting for a response, as if you both knew the answer already.
And as if you both came to the realization at the same time, you pulled each other both in and kissed each other's mouth. Hard and sloppy at first, but when Ryland moved his right hand to cup your face, you tilted your head to allow him to kiss you more passionately. His stubble brushed against your face, and you moaned as you deepened the kiss. You allowed yourself to melt into it, his arms reaching to skim your waist, then slipping his tongue into your mouth experimentally.
Ryland pulled away with a gasp, his face blushing, his breath ragged. You both stared at each other intensely, you waited for him to tell you that this was a mistake, that he was mad it came from Rocky instead of you, that he wanted to go home. But instead he said,
“I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life here with you, but if that’s not what you want then we can stop right now.”
Your heart melted, and you grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him again.
How would you like a little Jedi!reader caring for an injured Captain Rex???? I’ve been passionately thinking of it for a while and I really hope you see the vision for maybe a short fic??? I’d be over the moon if you wanted to write anything longer but absolutely no pressure! I’m thinking especially of something skittle angsty. Rex being absolutely in love, but you know… Jedi.
lots of love and thank you already!!!
Out Of Reach
Rex x gn Jedi!reader
description: Rex is injured during a mission and you, a Jedi he’s secretly in love with, go to check on him. He almost wishes you hadn't.
warnings: angsty, one-sided pining (on Rex's part)
notes: honestly I'd love to turn something like this into a longer fic. I think I do slow burn/tension a lot better than oneshots ironically lol, which tbh is why I've just been doing oneshots to try to improve. But I'll consider doing a longer fic once I get through all the requests I've got built up
The medbay always smelt too clean. Rex had never trusted that kind of smell. Sharp antiseptic and recycled air, like the war could be scrubbed out of existence with enough polish and bright, sterile light. He shifted slightly on his narrow cot, immediately regretting it as pain flared along his ribs. He remembered hearing something about fractures and bruising and rest. He'd nodded, but rest had never come easily to him, not even before this.
The curtain at the edge of his cot rustled, and Rex assumed it was Kix coming to check on him. "If you're here to tell me to stay still," he muttered a little sardonically, voice roughened from disuse and strain, "no need. I'm being good."
There was no immediate response. Just a pause, and then, "…Captain."
Rex jolted and then winced at the pain in his ribs, his head snapping over to the curtain, where you were now standing. You were just inside the partition, hands folded neatly in your sleeves, posture composed in that distinctly Jedi manner that spoke of control and discipline. You weren't supposed to be here.
"Oh, General. I--" Rex cut himself off and swallowed. "…Did General Skywalker send you?" he asked, a little furrow in his brow. It was easier than asking the question he wanted to ask.
Your gaze flickered just for a second before steadying again. "No. Anakin is still doing, ah-- mission cleanup."
That tracked. But it still didn't explain why you were here, and Rex found himself almost desperate to know the reason. "So," he said, forcing his voice to stay even, "you just happened to wander into the medbay?"
The corner of your mouth softened, not quite a smile. "I heard you were injured."
Rex swallowed again, his throat very dry. Your words settled somewhere deep in his chest, heavy and unwelcome in the stupid hope they gave him. You came specifically to see him. You were worried about him. You-- he cut off his train of thought. "It's nothing I can't handle."
You didn't look convinced. Your gaze dipped to the bandages wrapped tight around his ribs, then to the faint discoloration still visible along his jaw, and then back to his face. There was something quieter in your expression now, something that made Rex very aware of the both the distance between you and how easily it could be closed.
"You should be resting," you finally said, gently.
Rex huffed softly. "That's what everyone keeps telling me."
"And you don't listen to them?"
"Well. Not unless I have to."
That earned him a smile that lingered at the edges of your mouth before fading. You stepped a little closer, and Rex tracked the movement a little too eagerly.
"You're hurt more badly than you're letting on," you observed quietly, looking over the tired lines of his face. "You really should rest, Captain."
Rex tilted his head back against the thin pillow, exhaling through his nose. "Getting hurt is part of the job, General."
"That doesn't make it insignificant."
No. It didn't. But it made it easier to handle. But before he could respond, the curtain rustled again, and this time it actually was Kix, stepping through with a datapad in one hand and a fresh set of supplies in the other.
"Rex, I need to--" Kix stopped short when he noticed you, straightening. "Uh. General." He glanced between you and Rex, something knowing flickering in his expression before it disappeared quickly. "I was going to change his bandages," he said, lifting the supplies slightly. "Check the healing. Only take a minute."
Rex grimaced faintly. "You say that almost like it's not going to hurt."
"It's definitely gonna hurt," Kix replied dryly.
You shifted slightly. "I can take care of it."
Both men looked at you in surprise. Kix raised a brow. "General, with respect--"
"I'm capable," you said, not sharply but with certainty. "And you have other troopers that need your attention. I can handle it, Kix."
There was a pause as Kix weighed your words, before he relented and handed over the supplies. "Alright. Just don't let his complaining talk you out of it."
"I don't complain," Rex muttered irritably.
Kix gave him a look, but didn't say anything else. With a final glance between the two of you, he stepped back out, leaving the curtain to fall closed behind him. Rex watched as you set the supplies down and unfolded what you needed. He felt like he should say something, like make a joke or deflect, anything to break the tension, but the words refused to come out.
"Sit up a little," you said gently. Rex obeyed, pushing himself up with a restrained breath as pain flared along his side.
You noticed. "You don't have to pretend," you murmured.
Rex let out another quiet, uneven breath. "Habit."
You didn't argue, instead stepping closer and sitting down on the edge of his cot as you reached for the bandage wrapped tight around his ribs. The first touch was light and careful…but Rex felt it everywhere.
His breath stuttered, the sensation of your fingers barely brushing his skin sharper than the pain, sharper than anything else he'd felt since waking up in this too-clean, too-bright place. You started to unwrap the bandage slowly and carefully, and he had to lock his jaw to keep from reacting like it meant something more than it did.
"You're tense," you observed softly, your touch shifting slightly and steadying as you worked the bandage loose. Rex didn't answer, but attempted to force his frame to relax a little. It didn't really work. You glanced at him. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes," he said quickly, because that part was easy.
You stilled for half a second, and then continued, somehow even gentler. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
Because it wasn't. But you were sitting right there, close enough that if he leaned forward, just a little-- no. He swallowed hard and forced himself to stay still.
The last of the bandage came away, and he sucked in a quiet breath as cool air hit bruised skin. You didn't comment, but kept your movements slow and careful in a way that made his chest ache worse than his injuries did.
"You should've let Kix do this," he muttered, not because he meant it, but because he needed something to say. Something to put distance back where it belonged. Your hands paused. "For your sake," he added quickly.
"…And not yours?" you asked, just barely audible.
Rex stiffened, and he didn't answer. Couldn't. Because now the truth was just…sitting there, heavy and obvious.
You didn't push, instead just reaching for the fresh bandages, your hand briefly brushing faintly against his arm as you repositioned yourself. The contact was accidental, but it still made his pulse jump, and he shifted slightly as if it would make him feel less flustered.
"Hold still," you murmured.
Rex let out a breath that was almost a shaky laugh. "I am holding still."
"More still."
He huffed softly but obeyed. Your fingers pressed lightly against his side as you began wrapping the clean bandage, guiding it around his ribs carefully. It probably should've hurt more, but all he could focus on was you. Everything in him was screaming to lean into the warmth of you, to close that last fraction of distance. It didn't help that your touch seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary. Maybe he was imagining that part. Hoping for it. He didn't trust himself to know the difference.
"Rex."
His name pulled his attention back to your face.
"Breathe," you advised him.
He blinked. "I am--"
"You're not."
Rex exhaled slowly, realizing belatedly that you were right. His breaths had gone shallow at some point, uneven in a way that had nothing to do with pain. "Sorry," he muttered.
"You don't have to apologize."
Easy for you to say. You weren't the one trying not to lean into someone you weren't allowed to want.
The bandage tightened slightly as you secured it, your hands smoothing it into place. For a moment, they lingered there, resting lightly against his side. Rex went still again. It would be so easy to move just a little, to turn his head, to close the space, to let himself have something more than what felt like fleeting, accidental contact. But he didn't, and your hand withdrew. The absence of it was immediately noticeable, and made his chest ache again.
Rex swallowed, his gaze fixed somewhere just past your shoulder, because looking at you now felt like pushing his luck too far.
"Feel okay?" you asked softly.
"Yeah," he replied, voice rough. "Thanks."
Silence settled again for a moment. He forced himself to meet your eyes. "Probably should get back," he added, because someone had to say it.
You hesitated for a moment, and he could swear that something in your expression shifted to something unguarded, and it made it hard for him to breathe again. Then, to his absolute shock, you reached out and just briefly squeezed his hand. He went rigid.
"Rest, Captain," you said gently. Your hand withdrew and you stood, and there it was again: the line, the distance.
Rex's breathing was shaky, his frame still rigid, but he forced a nod. "Yes, sir."
You smiled faintly, your gaze lingering on him for just one more brief moment, and then you turned, stepping back toward the curtain. Rex watched, because he didn't know how not to. Because he knew this was all he was ever going to get.
Just before you left, you paused. "I'm glad you're alright," you added, quieter.
Rex's chest tightened yet again, very painfully. "Yeah," he managed. "Me too." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was all he had.
Then the curtain fell closed behind you, and you were gone.
Rex sank back against the pillow, staring up at the bright, sterile lights, the faint imprint of your touch still burning against his skin. He let out a slow breath. It didn't matter. It couldn't. But still, he wished, just for a moment, that he'd leaned into it.
warnings : angst, mention of a suicide mission, raising a kid alone, ryland grace in those glasses are mentioned a few times, written really fast. not edited, fem reader, minor descriptions of pregnancy, fear of miscarriage, description of depression
summary : ryland must not have had a life worth remembering, at least that's what he tells himself.
a/n : watched the movie like two days ago and I'm only just starting the book so lowkey if it sucks don't come at me
w/c : 1.8k
read pt ii here
Ryland threw the dry erase marker at the board. Why couldn’t he remember anything? Was he that alone when he was on earth? Did he really not have anything worth remembering? He shook his head and went back to work, trying to remember what the heck would have made him choose this suicide mission.
“Jeez, Rock! I forgot you were here.” Ryland ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the alien.
“Grace not answer question. Ask again. Why go to Tau Ceti if no option to go home.”
Ryland paused. He pulled his glasses off and started cleaning them with his shirt. “I don’t know Rocky.” He thought about what he did remember. Sitting on the couch in his apartment, watching some movie he was uninterested in. Walking down the street in the rain. Grading papers late at night in the dim light of the kitchen. “I don’t think I had much to lose, Rock.” He admitted.
“Grace loser back home. Question.”
“Probably,” Ryland shrugged and went back to checking the tests he was running in the lab.
11.9 light years away, Ryland’s assumptions proved to be very untrue. Y/n Grace lived her life almost the same as before her husband had been kidnapped and ejected into space against his will. She slept on the same side of the bed. She wore the same perfume, the one that would cause Ryland to forget the force of Earth’s gravity. She went to work. She returned home, made dinner, and went to bed. The largest difference was the fact that she was taking care of a three year old.
Miles Grace was the spitting image of his dad. The same nose, same blue eyes, same smile. He didn’t have his dad physically with him, but he knew his daddy was important. He would go to preschool and tell all his friends that his daddy was saving the world.
The ache of losing your husband was nothing when compared to having to raise your son with only stories of his dad. It had been a little over four years, but time doesn’t heal all wounds. Sleepless nights because of a crying baby were a lot easier than sleepless nights thinking about the fact that the bed felt too empty. Gone now are the old times.
Every morning she wakes up, reaches for someone who's not there, and relives the moment she found out he wasn’t coming home. After over four years, one would think that the memory wouldn’t replay that often, but it did. She remembered the knock on the door waking her up. She had reached over for Ryland, ready to ask him to go get the door. She reached for his side of the bed only to realize it was empty. He never came home the night before. He was supposed to be on the first flight back yesterday. She was three months pregnant and had an appointment that Ryland had been itching to go to.
The knock sounded again.
She pulled on his science club hoodie that read “STAFF” on the back and pulled it over her head. “Coming!” She hollered as she trudged from the bedroom to the front door.
She opened the door and found a stern looking woman. “Mrs. Grace? Eva Stratt.”
“Miss Stratt, you work with my husband?” She asked. Stratt was looking into the apartment. She looked uncomfortable. From what Ryland had told Y/n, that wasn’t normal.
“I supervise him. Mrs. Grace-”
“Y/n.”
Stratt hesitated. “Y/n, we need to talk.” Y/n made space in the doorway and followed her into her own kitchen. “Have a seat, please.” Stratt sat down and gestured for Y/n to do the same.
“What’s going on? Where is Ryland?”
“I presume he told you about Project Hail Mary?”
“Yes, he’s a blabbermouth. Now where is my husband?”
“Mrs. Grace,” She paused. “Y/n, there was an incident on the base.”
Y/n let her hands fly to her face as she muffled a gasp. “Is he okay?” She breathed out, fear laced in every word.
“He was unharmed.”
“Thank god.” She breathed out. “When can I see him?” She asked, her words holding more vigor than before.
“The scientist who was going to fly out, he died.” Stratt said, clinically.
Y/n bit the inside of her bottom lip and her knee started to bounce. “What are you saying?”
“Dr. Grace was the only one who could possibly do the job.”
Y/n’s breathing quickened and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. “Do you mean to tell me,” She started, salty tears starting to trail down her face, “That he was on that rocket? That he left me? And I didn’t get to say goodbye?”
Stratt said nothing. She was way out of her depth.
“I’m going to be sick.” Y/n remembered spending the morning throwing up, not from morning sickness but from sheer anger. And that's where the memory faded. Every morning, that's where it started.
She would finish getting ready, get her son ready for preschool, the closest one in budget was the one attached to the middle school that Ryland used to teach at. The staff would look at her with pity. People would tell her he was a hero. That he was saving humanity.
She would go to work, push through the day. Then she would go and pick up her son from preschool, go home, eat dinner, and pretend like everything was fine. She would play cowboys and aliens with Miles after dinner. She would tuck him into his dinosaur bedding. Every night he would ask for a story about his dad. So Y/n would tell him one of the thousands of stories she had. His favorites were the ones where his dad would get pranked by his students.
Then, after he was asleep, she would sit outside his door and think about what Ryland would do if he were there. After getting ready for bed, Y/n would stare out the window and talk to Ryland, not that he could hear her anyway. Tonight was no different.
“Oh, Ry,” She started. “I have no clue what I’m doing. Remember when you would come home and tell me you had no idea how to teach middle schoolers? And I would tell you you’ve got it?” Y/n let out a sigh. “It would be really helpful if you would just show up and tell me it’s gonna be okay.” She let her gaze fall to the stars, waiting for something, anything she could take as a sign that he was watching over her. “Stratt called today, said that you should be pretty close to Tau Ceti if everything worked correctly,” She mumbled after a beat. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her, Ry. I never got to tell you goodbye.” She wiped a stray tear and sucked in a breath. “Dinner is at six tomorrow night, don’t be late, okay?”
11.9 light years away, Ryland sat in the holodeck next to Rocky, looking at the fake beach. “Time with ♪🎵♩not enough. Question. Grace have mate?”
Ryland suddenly felt something familiar settle in his chest. “I think so.” His brows knit together as he tried to piece things together. “She always smelled like vanilla and flowers.” He said suddenly. His memory was thrust head first back into his apartment. He was on the couch watching some movie he was uninterested in. He didn’t care, however, because all he could think about was how her perfume was pleasantly making its way into his orbit. She let out a small giggle at something happening in the movie.
“Her laugh was one of the best sounds in the world.”
Suddenly the mental scene around him shifted. He was walking down the street in the rain. He was soaked to the bone and freezing. But he was smiling. “Come on, Ry! We’re going to be late!” He couldn’t quite make out her face but her manicured nails glittered as she reached for his hand. It was soft and warm. It fit perfectly in his.
“She hated it when I was late.”
Now he was back in the apartment. He was exhausted. He had barely made a dent in his grading. The cup of coffee next to him had long gone cold. He was hitting the pen against his forehead as he attempted to grade the millionth Punnet square on the page. He was pulled from his, not so coherent, thoughts when a blanket was draped over his shoulders. Arms wrapped around his neck and he felt her lean her head against his. “Baby, it's two in the morning, let’s go to bed.”
He pulled his glasses off and set them on the table. “I have to finish grading this stack,” He mumbled, fighting a yawn.
“No, you need to get some sleep. C’mon, I’ll help you finish tomorrow.”
Ryland closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Fine but only because you’re so bossy.”
She rolled her eyes playfully and helped him to his feet. He pulled her into an embrace, finally letting his body have some movement. He pulled back and got a good look at her face. Her eyes were tired, but they held all the love in the world. Her hair fell the same way it always did when she left it down. Her lips were pulled into a tired smile. “What would I do without you, Y/n?” He asked as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Crash and burn, Ryland.”
“Grace. Your face is leaking. Is that good sign or bad.”
Ryland didn’t even realize that he had started crying. He had gotten so lost in the memory. “Y/n,” was all he was able to get out. Then another memory started playing.
He was at the kitchen table again. Y/n had been extra bubbly all night. Something was up, but he had no clue what it was. He didn’t remember everything in between but he did remember a skinny stick of plastic being handed to him. He remembered seeing the two lines.
“Is this real?” He asked.
Y/n only nodded.
“We created life! We- You! I can’t-” He was ecstatic. “We’re going to be parents!” Y/n was being wrapped up in a hug before she knew what was happening. “We did it!”
He remembered suggesting all kinds of sciency names that night. “How about Newton?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Kelvin?”
“Like the temperature?”
“Kilomi!”
“As in kilometers?”
“Okay, compromise, Miles.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I missed it, Rock. I missed all of it. She had to go through everything alone. And what if-” He took a sharp inhale. “What if something happened- and I wasn’t there to help her?”
Ryland didn’t know if he had ever felt such intense emotion before. Indignation that he was forced to miss everything. Sadness because he would never get to be there for the milestones. Renewed fervor to find a solution.
He wiped the tears away and stood up. “C’mon Rocky, we’ve got to get this ship in running condition.”
grace have mate, question? (ryland grace x fem!reader) PART 1 (PART 2)
summary: rocky and grace talk about the mates they left behind. grace finally gets around to making a video log for her
wc: 5.1k
cw: angst! (sorry)
a/n: had to make a whole new account so I could post this! I looooove PHM and have been dying to write some fics for it! there are elements from both the book and movie here, so spoilers for both, and I rearrange the original scene a little to fit the story a little better! enjoy :D
“What about you, Rock? What do you miss most about home?”
If someone would’ve told Doctor Ryland Grace, ex-molecular biologist turned middle school teacher, that he would one day be leading the charge on an intergalactic suicide mission to save the human race, he would’ve thought they were crazy.
The sun wasn’t due to die in several billion years. There would be no feasible reason why it would suddenly start dimming during his lifetime that would warrant for such a mission.
He would’ve turned tail and ran if they had then told him that on said mission, he would be bunking with a spider-looking rock alien who was having the same sun-destroying dilemma in his own galaxy. Would’ve keeled over dead if he knew he’d be having deep, sometimes philosophical discussions with this alien.
But he was.
That was exactly what his life had turned out to be.
As odd and terrifying as it initially was, Ryland was beyond grateful to have found Rocky. With the death of his two initial crewmates, he had not been looking forward to spending the rest of his days alone. Luckily, Rocky quickly filled that emptiness and they became quick companions amongst the chaos. As mildly annoying as it was to have Rocky move all of his things into the Hail Mary, take up much of the limited space and knock all of his precious, expensive science equipment over as he moved around in his xenonite ball, Ryland loved the guy.
As the Hail Mary cruised through the Tau Ceti system, they had a lot of time to talk. Both astronauts naturally had a lot of questions about the other so they used the time to describe their biologies, cultures and home worlds.
At the current moment, the two were relaxed in the LED room part of the ship, Ryland leaning back against Rocky’s geometric ball as they looked out over the screens that were depicting a beach. Rocky had his texture monitor pointing towards the screens so he could see it too.
Ryland couldn’t see the alien, as he had his back to him, but he could hear the silent pause after he’d asked his question. The gentle scraping of rock had him wondering if Rocky was lightly running his front claws against each other like he usually did when he was feeling a negative emotion.
The soft tune of his voice transferred over to the microphones in the crudely duct taped computer contraption he’d invented so they could communicate, translating the notes into a response Ryland could understand. His words were quieter, a little sad.
“My mate.”
Ryland shot to sit upright, turning to look at his companion. Indeed, Rocky was running his claws against each other, brushing a spot on one of his arms that had a little turquoise gem embedded into the stone.
“You have a mate?!”
This was a subject they had yet to breach in their many talks; the people they’d left behind. While he figured it would probably come up eventually, it was a painful topic. Their families, their friends. His students, his-
Ryland never brought it up. It hurt too much to think about.
Rocky tilted his carapace to the side like Ryland’s shock at the question was surprising. “Yes.”
“Huh. That’s awesome. How long have you been together?”
“186.3 years.”
Woah. “Oh wow, that’s a long time.”
Rocky contemplated Rylands words for some time, continuing to lightly brush over that turquoise gem on his arm. He seemed to deflate. “It not enough.”
Well damn, if that wasn’t enough to tug on Ryland’s heartstrings. Even through the slightly robotic tone of the translator, the genuine emotion Rocky expressed was clear. Rocky cared for his mate very much and had been away from them for some time. Longer than Ryland had been alive. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done it.
“Tell me about them, Rock.”
That had him trilling. Rocky told all sorts of stories about his mate, who had a beautiful and elaborate name Ryland couldn’t even begin to pronounce, but Rocky talked about his mate like they’d put the stars in the sky. Ryland listened intently, learning about their story and interesting tidbits about Eridian culture when it came to choosing someone to spend their long lives with.
He wasn’t sure how long they talked, but by the end Ryland felt like he knew about Rocky’s mate more than Rocky himself. Then, Rocky did what Rocky does and began pressing Ryland with his own question.
“Grace have mate, question?” Rocky’s voice perked up in interest, as it always did when he asked about the scientific mystery to him that was earth.
It was Ryland’s turn to be silent- hesitant to answer.
The gold band around his ring finger felt heavy.
After several seconds, he nodded. “Yeah. I did- er, I do.”
Rocky’s carapace raised even more, an indication that he was very excited at what he’d just learned. “Grace has mate! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
Ryland couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. “Well… we worked together. Before I became a teacher. When I was a scientist. That’s how we met.” He smiled at the memory. How he’d completely embarrassed himself when he’d met her.
At the time, he hadn’t known what she did for work- didn’t know that she was a well known (to everyone except him, apparently) scientist in her field, a Doctor in the same regard as him in every way. His equal, if not even better.
But no, he didn’t know her and had been startled when he’d come into the lab he regularly worked at and found her conducting some experiment with his equipment (it wasn’t his, it was the labs, but it was his regular spot he had an unsaid claim over. Had she ruined the experiment he had been painfully conducting for months??).
‘Excuse me, sorry, students aren’t allowed in this lab.’ He’d said. He wasn’t usually so forward and firm, but he was protective of his experiments- his attempts at finding proof water wasn’t always needed to sustain life and thus proving life on other planets could be possible. It was his life’s work, he didn’t want some grad student destroying it.
She had been surprised at his appearance, gently setting down the pipette she was holding to look at him through her safety glasses. She’d looked him up and down, no doubt taking in the street clothes he still wore (his cream cardigan with foxes on it) and quirked a brow.
The next several minutes of his life were some of his most humiliating. The embroidered name on her pristine white lab coat, a name with a very definitive Dr. listed before it, had him left standing with his foot in his mouth. He’d stammered over an apology, accidentally dropping his coffee all over the sterile white floor in the process.
Most other scientists he crossed paths with were very picky about how they were addressed, finding it very offensive when you left off the Doctor before their name, much less mistaking them for a student. Rightfully so, Ryland supposed. He knew firsthand how much time and effort it took to get to where he and the other professionals in his field were so it made sense that some wanted that respect.
Ryland didn’t care too much about it, and thankfully the new face in his lab didn’t seem to care either.
She handled his bumbling apology with grace and assured him all was well, even helping him clean up his coffee spill. He’d learned she was a published scientist, specializing in microbial genetics and the evolution of microorganisms. They were scientists in the same vein. She knew him, he didn’t know her.
While most people laughed and berated him for his theory that water wasn’t always needed for life, something that was proven time and time again in the scientific world, she was very interested in his work which was what brought her to him in the first place.
Ryland was wrapped around her finger from that moment on.
They rarely went a day without seeing each other after that, usually running experiments together but occasionally meeting up for lunch on the weekends to discuss the latest scientific findings in the world. Those conversations eventually turned into less science focused, more personal ones. Then they started meeting up outside of weekends.
Ryland was too hesitant to call them dates, out of fear of getting his hopes up.
He didn’t dare put a label on what they had together. He didn’t want to ruin anything.
The fleeting touches between experiments, the shy smiles, his regular coffee order that she’d memorized. None of it felt casual, but what did he know?
When he published his theory and got shunned by the scientific community (they didn’t take his wording about the professionals in the community very kindly), losing his job and all of his funding, she was the only thing that kept him afloat. She didn’t turn her back, she saw the passion in his work. Whether she believed his theory or not, she supported him.
When she’d appeared on his doorstep one night as he tried to work out his finances- how to pay the next month's rent- takeout in hand, he knew right then that he loved her and would until the day he died.
It only solidified in his mind when she’d kissed him as they sat side by side on his couch. It was slow, gentle, full of understanding and warmth, an attempt at comfort when he was so low. It worked too- he didn’t feel nearly as down about his situation after that because now he had something else to work towards.
Things worked rather quickly from there. He moved into her apartment the next month and she helped him hunt for jobs. A friend of her friend got him an interview at Grover Cleveland Middle and thus began his teaching career. He found himself loving it much more than he’d expected, quickly finding his groove in the classroom and earning the ‘Favorite Teacher’ title from the students.
They teased him constantly about his girlfriend, always asking when she’d be coming to visit next. She’d bring him lunch sometimes, or just pop in to say hi, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek that had his students ooo-ing and aaa-ing, much to his chagrin.
A couple of years down the road, when they’d married and life seemed perfect, everything went to hell.
The sun was dying and there was no solution in sight.
She spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for more information, trying to understand why it was happening. She didn’t specialize in astronomy or heliology, didn’t understand it like she did genetics and DNA, but she tried anyway.
It took him shutting her laptop himself, gently taking her hands and pulling her away from her desk to get her to stop, forcing her to come back to the bed and sleep.
Ryland wasn’t as passionate, figuring there were more qualified people in the world working on a solution, and that it would blow over.
It didn’t.
When he was approached by Eva Stratt and suddenly thrust into the astrophage madness, he started to worry that maybe this was a bigger deal than he’d thought. Maybe he should’ve been studying like her.
She was excited for him to be a part of this, as scary as it was. To be the first person on earth to come in contact with whatever was killing the sun, with what they would learn is the first form of alien life.
As much as he begged Stratt, his wife wasn’t allowed to come along with him. Something about it being top secret to the public for now. When he tried to reason with her that she wasn’t just some random person- that she was smart and an expert with microorganisms even more so then he was, that she could help- Stratt would hear none of it. They wanted him because he believed in life that could survive without water; an alien lifeform that lived on the sun sounded just like what he’d spent years trying to prove.
So as Ryland was whisked away to study the new life, she was stuck at home to wait. The couple years between initially being found by Stratt and the launch of the Hail Mary, Ryland only saw her in person a handful of times, otherwise too busy or too restricted by those in charge to take trips home. He could tell she was hurting, missing him immensely, the sad strain in her voice prominent even over the static of his phone, but she never complained, all too aware how important he seemingly was to the mission.
And then…
Rocky was listening intently, at one point folding his arms underneath him and resting on them like a cat to get more comfortable. When Ryland got to the point that was still too painful to even think about, Rocky finally chimed in.
“She sound good.”
Ryland laughed but it was painful. “Yeah. She is good. I miss her.”
Rocky tapped a claw on the ground. “You miss her but you see her again soon.”
Right… he’d never told Rocky that this was a suicide mission. That Ryland wasn’t going back to earth.
Rocky would see his people again- his mate again. His people had planned for his and his crew’s return back to Erid.
Ryland wasn’t so lucky.
This certainly didn’t feel like the time to bring that little fact up to Rocky. Not while they were talking about the people they loved so dearly. So Ryland just nodded.
“What is Grace mate name, question?”
The scientist thought about her face, her smile, her everything. “(Y/n). There’s no real word for her name in your language, not like mine. It’s just a name.”
Rocky was able to ‘say’ Ryland’s last name, Grace, because grace was also a noun their languages shared. His companion shifted slightly as he thought before perking up. “I call Grace’s mate, ♪♪♪♪.”
The translator didn’t pick up the word he said, meaning it was a new word he’d never used before. “What does that mean?”
“Someone who cares about others. Special word in Erid.”
Ryland smiled. (Y/n) deserved a special name. “I like the sound of that.” He pulled out their communication laptop and had Rocky say her name again, logging the new sound. While (Y/n)’s name in Rocky’s language wasn’t as long and intricate as Rocky’s mate’s name was, it sure beat his own name in Eridian, which was a singular note (not fair).
Setting the computer aside, Ryland dug into the pants pocket of his red jumpsuit, carefully slipping free the polaroid he’d found in his bag of belongings when he’d first woken up.
(Y/n) was one of the first things he remembered amidst his amnesia scrambled brain. In fact, he’d remembered her before he’d remembered his own name. The ring on his finger helped, but he couldn’t forget her. Not in a million years, not if he’d been in a coma for another decade.
The polaroid was grainy, not at all perfect, but it was the only thing he had in his belongings that had her face on it.
They had been dating at the time, pretty new to the relationship to the point where Ryland still had butterflies any time she gave him any kind of affection.
She’d taken a whole day off to be with him and help in his classroom on one of his students favorite and most rowdy days of the year- Halloween.
Obviously, they had matching costumes and of course they had to be science related. His class had been in the space unit of the curriculum, so naturally she was an astronaut and he was an alien. A little ironic, considering where he was now.
The costume she wore was a generic astronaut costume from the local pop-up Halloween shop, a bright orange jumpsuit with a little patch over the chest that was supposed to say “Save Our Planet” circling around a little Earth but apparently had a manufacturing issue because it said “Save Our Plant” instead. She loved it so much, they didn’t bother taking it back to swap it out for a new one.
Ryland had a green morph suit underneath his regular teaching getup, only wearing the face covering for a couple minutes at the beginning of class to appease the masses before unzipping the head because it was way too stuffy and nearly impossible to teach in. His students complained about his costume, claiming it “wasn’t halloweeny enough” now. (Y/n) was quick to find a solution with the help of some craft supplies, making up an antenna headband and gluing a googly eye to his forehead. This was enough for his students who giggled every time he moved now, the puffball antennae and googly eye swaying wildly with any movement.
Very little teaching was accomplished that day,
By 3pm when all of his kids were headed home in their costumes, Ryland was sweating through his morph suit and (Y/n) was exhausted from wrangling pre-teens. Once everything was straightened up and bags were packed, (Y/n) whipped out her polaroid camera for a picture to remember the day.
Ryland ran his thumb over the smooth plastic, taking in her bright smile as she leant back into his torso. Ryland’s cheeks were pink but he'd had enough of a mind to throw up a neon green clad peace sign before she snapped the picture in an attempt not to look completely infatuated by the woman who pressed herself against him. It took several months of dating before that initial “honeymoon phase” wore off and he stopped blushing furiously at just the sight of her.
“That (Y/n), question? Rocky see, question?”
Rocky pointed his texture monitor at the polaroid to get a better view and started bouncing. “Pretty pretty pretty! Prettier human than Grace!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Ryland smiled. “She would’ve loved to meet you, Rock. She loves evolution and would be chomping at the bit to find all of the similarities Earth and Erid life have with each other, if our hypothesis of stemming from the same common ancestor has any merrit. She would’ve loved to see Eridian families too, the whole egg process you told me about. Genes and stuff are her thing. She’d ask you all about how traits are passed from generation to generation.”
Rocky’s claws clacked together. “No understand half of what you said.”
Ryland sighed and moved to lay on his back, holding the polaroid above his head. “That’s ok. Basically, I just think you guys would get along really well.”
A trill emanated from Rocky. “Yes yes yes! She friend! I send her message!”
Propping himself up on his arms, Ryland looked quizzically at the rock. “You want to record something for (Y/n)?”
All he got in return was an excited dance.
-
Ryland had yet to record any video log to send home specifically for (Y/n). He had plans to… eventually. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was terrified that recording something for her would feel like the final nail in the coffin- it would finally settle in that those would be his last words to her and he would never get an answer back.
Was she angry at him for leaving? Proud? Was she even still alive? For all he knew, humanity had already been wiped out and he was the only person left. He had no way of knowing. No way to know if it was already too late or if any information he sent on the beetles would make it to earth.
Has she moved on? Found someone else to spend the end of the world with?
These sorts of thoughts plagued him at night when his mind wasn’t focused on the mission. It made him sick to think about but he couldn’t say he really blamed her.
He had yet to remember how they’d parted ways. If he got to hold her in a crushing hug and tell her he loved her, that he was sorry that they didn’t have more time. That he’s sorry he was picked for this important mission. Were their final words exchanged over the phone? A faceless, painful goodbye? Did they even get to say goodbye at all?
He wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer. His brain couldn’t remember but every time he thought about it, his heart squeezed in his chest, like it was a horrible memory that wanted to stay hidden. Maybe that was enough of an answer for him.
Rocky was swaying his ball back and forth, waiting impatiently for Ryland to start recording. If Rocky noticed his hesitation, he didn’t acknowledge it, which meant he probably didn’t notice because he absolutely was the type of guy to point it out.
Making sure the two of them were within view on the screen, Ryland sucked in a quiet breath. The hand holding the camera was shaking as he pressed the button.
“Uh-“ How do you even start a video that would be the final words the person you love more than anything hears from you? “Hey, how’s it going?” Not like that.
“This video is for (Y/n) Grace… if whoever gets this could get this to her that would be super cool? If you’re not her then stop watching I guess.”
He’d never wanted to be sucked into space more than at that moment. How embarrassing. Rocky nudged his ball against Ryland’s leg.
“Ah- anyways (Y/n), I have someone who wants to say hi.”
He angled the camera so Rocky took up all of the screen this time. The alien stood proud and opened a claw in greeting. “Hello, Grace mate!”
Ryland chuckled. “This is Rocky, the weird alien I happened across while on my galaxial excursion. Messy guy, takes up a lot of my precious space with his hamster tunnels.”
“Me messy? You are messy!” Rocky stomped his claw and rolled closer to the camera. “Grace have garbage everywhere when I move in. You have messy mate. Was Grace like this on earth, question?”
Shoving his ball back a bit (as much as the scientist could manage anyway, Rocky did weigh like 300 pounds), Ryland shook his head furiously at the camera like (Y/n) was on a video call. “Not true, I’m a clean guy. The journey through space has been bumpy, it’s impossible to keep anything in its place these days. Space turbulence.” Ryland couldn’t have (Y/n) thinking he’d turned into some kind of slob (even if it was sort of true). He couldn’t believe Rocky was trying to rile up his own wife against him. Worst of all, he knew she would take Rocky’s side, if just to tease him.
The two bickered for several minutes, Rocky commenting on every little thing he could think of to tattle about, then switching to talking about himself and his mate, remembering what Ryland had told him about (Y/n)’s expertise, and going into detail about Erid reproduction just as Ryland said she’d want to learn about.
“Lay egg next to each other, then they combine and then baby Eridian! You and Grace have egg soon, question?”
Ryland sprung to his feet and pulled the camera to his chest like it could muffle the alien’s voice. “Alright! I think it’s time you go fix something while I talk to (Y/n) by myself. Mate talk.”
“Mate talk?”
“Yeah, important stuff. It’s a human thing. Try not to eavesdrop, it’s rude.”
Rocky made a noise that sounded like a humph. “It’s rude. Fine. I talk later.”
Pulling the camera from his chest, Ryland allowed Rocky to say goodbye. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance to ‘talk’ to her. “Later friend (Y/n)! Grace is good friend to Rocky. You have very brave mate. He very excited to see you again.”
And with that, he rolled off to do whatever he deemed worthy of his time. Ryland had trouble swallowing the lump in his throat, glancing down at the camera before walking towards the opposite of the ship. It was probably no use, Rocky could hear everything in the ship no matter how far apart they were but hopefully he’d keep to himself and not listen to the very private conversation he was about to have.
Finding a tiny alcove amongst boxes of storage, Ryland settled down in the dim light and sniffed. Moving to nestle his glasses in his hair, he rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh. “He’s something, isn’t he?” He talked softly, like he was indeed having a private conversation. “Pain in my ass sometimes but… I’m glad he’s here.”
Ryland stared blankly at the box of equipment that sat opposite of him, brushing the flat of his shoes over the surface as a distraction. His heart began to race as he scrambled to put together the words he so desperately wanted to tell her since he woke up.
“Uh… I’m sorry I haven't made you any video logs yet, we’ve been a little busy. That and… I was in a coma for 4 years, give or take, so recording time has been sparse.” He forced a smile and chuckle, trying to throw humor into his words when there was none. A coping mechanism he’d had as long as he could remember.
“That and… I didn't think I had the courage to do it at the time. Still don't actually.”
The thrum of the ship underneath him started to feel too loud in the silence between his words.
“The coma really did a number on my brain. I don’t know how much the Hail Mary team on earth has told you, if anything. At least, I sure hope they gave you an explanation on why I’m here and not back home. I don’t remember anything from the days leading up to the launch. To be honest, I'm not even sure how I ended up on this mission. Everything that I've remembered this far has pointed to me not being a part of the crew. It's weird and I don't understand it but I'm sure it’ll make sense eventually. Something must’ve happened and I volunteered to go. Rocky says I’m brave for being here. I should be honored for being picked to come here, to be a hero. But…”
He choked. Choked on his words and the burning in his eyes told him enough of how he truly felt.
“I miss you,” he stuttered. “So much.” A sob escaped him. “So much it hurts. I wish I was home with you, in bed, worrying about the next parent-teacher conference. Worrying about my students passing their final tests. Worried about the old lunchlady, Ms. Ruth, in the cafeteria who’d flirt with me any time I had to eat school lunch.” He laughed at the memory, a small genuine laugh this time amidst the tears that were now streaming down his face. How simple his life had been, the worries that seemed so trivial now.
“I miss our late night talks about your work. What you experimented on that day. I miss your smile. I miss when you’d steal my glasses so you could read your book, claiming they helped you see better. I still think that’s baloney by the way, I think you just liked wearing them.”
Moment after moment flitted through his mind, things he could remember about their shared lives. He wanted to list all of them, to let her know how much he thought about her, but it would take 13 years more to say it all. There was just one thought- one thought that truly plagued him, that squeezed his heart so tightly he could barely breathe. One he was terrified to learn the answer to.
“Did we even get to say goodbye?” He couldn’t manage to say it louder than a minuscule whisper. He wasn’t even sure the recorder would pick up the sound.
“Are you even still alive out there? Am I already too late? Has the earth turned into an icy tundra and there’s no one left to save?” He wiped at his eyes, hands furiously shaking now. “It kills me that I'll never know. That I'll never get to say goodbye.”
Rocky hadn’t learned the word goodbye- they hadn’t exchanged the word yet so he wouldn’t understand it if he was indeed listening through the walls.
“I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I hope you’re safe, wherever you are and you know that any decision I made, I made for you. To keep the earth safe and give you and humanity a slim chance for survival.”
At least, he hoped that’s why he was stuck on this ship until he died. That he’d chosen this. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t remembering quite right but if (Y/n) was alive, he wanted to give her some comfort. Let her believe he’d gone into this with the courage to be a hero.
“Anyways…”
Wiping his cheeks of tears, he tried to compose himself. He didn’t want her last real memory of him to be such a downer.
“Well, we’ve got a lot of brainstorming to do before we reach the planet the astrophage are flocking to like they are to Venus. Hopefully we find something that solves this mystery so I can actually send this video to you… Fingers crossed.”
He crosses his fingers for the camera and moves his glasses back to his nose. “ I love you. No matter how far apart we are, that’ll never change.” A small, genuine smile creeped over him. “Bye…”
After stopping the recording, Ryland gently set the camera down in his lap and rested his head back against the boxes. If Rocky and himself didn’t find a solution to send home, there was no rhyme or reason to send the beetles back with their video logs. What was earth going to do with the information besides confirming aliens are indeed real? It wouldn’t matter in the long run, it wouldn’t save their sun.
He supposed, if it meant giving her a message one last time, that could be worth it.
As hard as it was to find the words, Ryland felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Coming to terms with his new reality, exposing the feelings he’d kept bottled up since he woke up. As time went on, he hoped more memories would return, that his hunch was wrong. But he’d cross that bridge when it came. For now? Find a solution to give her a fighting chance.
a/n: now imagine how heartbroken ryland will be when he remembers that he indeed never got to say goodbye and she was left wondering 🤩 hope you enjoyed! I'm thinking..... smut next?
𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ryland grace & fem!reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you're the medic on the hail mary and come across a photo that must've slipped from your personal supplies which changes the entire dynamic between you and who you thought was your co-worker.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.6k
𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i CANNOT believe it has taken people this long to jump on the ryan gosling train. as always, i this nawt proof-read whatsoever #lewl. nerdy silly white boy with biceps, i want you.
you thought you had it all figured out.
well...most of it anyway.
you thought that you know who you are, why you're here, etcetera or whatever, but a single photograph you discovered that had slipped into a nook of the ship has single-handedly destroyed all of the progress you've made in terms of remembering yourself.
your breath shakes just as badly as your hands, and you feel a nervous pounding in your chest accompanied by a pattern of drums in your ears.
this photo can't be real.
you repeat your name in your head. you are an astronaut, and one hell of a doctor. you are on this ship to assist in completing a mission with your co-worker, ryland grace, the only other crew member to survive the journey's coma.
co-worker.
so why the hell are you staring at a photo of the two of you kissing.
there's a little more context to it though, which actually makes everything a hundred times worse.
there's an arch decorated with an array of lush white flowers that frames you both on a sunny spring day, grace is dipping you into the kiss, a beaming expression on each of your faces as he does so. he looks happy, so you look happy, and you're also dressed in a traditional white gown while grace is wearing a tailored suit, but not black, because—
"black is boring," ryland uttered, elbow propped up onto your dining table while his chin rested on his fist. you looked up at him from your laptop where you were browsing websites to get him a suit.
"then don't wear black," you giggled. he reached for your left hand to toy with your fingers, eventually brushing a thumb over your engagement ring. "i thought you said you wanted 'traditional'," he teased.
you scoffed, "i did not say that!"
"you did say that."
"ryland."
"honey," he mocked with a smile. you grinned and smacked his hand away, tending back to your laptop.
"obviously if you don't want to do something, you don't have to do it. and i agree with you, black is boring."
ryland sighed dreamily, tilting his face into his palm after settling his elbow up onto the table again. "i love us. we're so compatible," he hummed.
you smiled shook your head a little in amusement, eyes still on your screen. "you're ridiculous."
"yeah, well, you're marrying me. probably makes you the ridiculous one."
ryland then wordlessly took the laptop from you to scroll through the options, then clicked on one of the sites. he scrolled a little more in silence, squinting slightly even though his glasses were right there that he could've put on. ryland clicked on the touchpad once more before turning the screen to you, dead serious.
"i want this one."
you blinked at the screen. he had pulled up one of the site's photos of one of their models showing off a tacky purple suit and an ugly gold tie, all pulled together by a matching purple fedora. your eyes flicked to your groom-to-be.
"now you're really being ridiculous."
"what's wrong with it?"
"you'll look like a pimp."
"nothing wrong with that," he shrugged.
you snatched your laptop back and deleted the tab with another smile and shake of your head. this time, he smiled back.
"i love you," he uttered.
you looked up again, lingering in those three words. he slid his hand towards you, palm facing the ceiling.
"i love you too," you murmured back.
you slid your hand into his, and ryland laced your fingers together, giving you a squeeze.
you thought you would carry on from there, but of course ryland had to open his mouth again; "even if i dress like a pimp?"
"oh my god."
the memory ended in a flash, and you dropped the photograph. looks like grace settled on a brown corduroy suit with a burgundy tie for a pop of colour. your own voice echoes in your head again; 'the brown will look nice in spring.', as does ryland's; 'i do look incredible in brown, don't i?'
you feel like your wedding ring is burning into your skin.
both you and grace knew you were married via your rings of course, you just couldn't remember who to yet, and it never occurred to either of you that it might've been to each other because why would it?
you take a deep breath, closing your eyes, before picking up the photo again to go find the supposed love of your life.
you navigated your way through the ship with a sense of urgency, photograph clutched in hand. when you heard a crash and a clumsy ‘uh-oh’ coming from the lab, you stopped by the doorway. suddenly the urgency disappeared. maybe this could wait until tomorr-
“who goes there?”
grace’s chair creaks when he leans back to get a peek of you hiding behind the doorframe.
when you look at him now, it all comes together.
ever since the two of you woke up from the coma, there’s been a gravitational pull that brings you two together. in terms of the mission, you operate in perfect unison and create such a steady flow that it makes everything feel oddly domestic. grace flicks a couple of switches there, you repair a part of the control panel here.
every time you both finish a task, it’s tradition to wrap it up with a high-five. however, one time when the two of you got too lost in the work, your fingers ended up intertwined and fell to your sides in a ten second hand-holding session where neither of you flinched.
as soon as the both of you realised, you each recoiled and spent a few beats staring at each other, marvelling at how natural the encounter felt like it was a subconscious effort. all grace could do was clear his throat and walk off, saying something about lunch.
“well, well, look who decided to come back,” grace quips as he wipes down a piece of equipment with a cloth. his glasses are practically hanging off of his face as they so usually do.
“y’had me thinkin’ you were going for a space walk.”
“grace.”
“without a helmet.”
“grace.”
“yeah?”
he finally looks up to see you holding out the photograph.
ryland’s hands freeze before he gently sets down the XRF analyser which looks to be like it was dropped in ramen water.
he rises from his chair, eyes refusing to peel away from the picture as he steps closer. he carefully plucks it from your fingers and slides his glasses onto his face properly to look down at it. white flowers, white dress, and a brown suit, because black is boring.
his head lifts back up to meet your nervous gaze.
“we’re married.”
it sounds like he’s saying it to himself rather than you.
you nod, trying to see through the blank stare he’s giving. dr. ryland grace, possibly one of the smartest men from earth has had his brain turned to mush by a photograph.
“you’re my…we’re-”
“married, yes, i know,” you snap.
“oh my god."
he inhales.
"oh my god..."
he blinks.
he pauses.
"oh my god-"
"grace!" you plead.
"you're my wife, and we're-”
“yes, grace, we’re married. can you please say literally anything else?”
he takes a deep breath, then suddenly hands you the photo again to start pacing around in a circle with his hands on his hips.
“grace…?”
“yeah.”
“are you okay?”
he stops, facing away from you and rubs a hand across his face.
“um…” he pivots to you on the spot, “i think so.”
you remain standing with your feet together, slightly curled in on yourself as you hold the photograph in front of you with two hands.
“do you…remember anything?”
ryland settles both hands on top of each other on the back of his head, inhaling deeply. “i’m starting to,” he says with the exhale, “do you?”
you nod. “bits and pieces.”
you drag your feet over to one of the lab tables and sit on the surface, staring down at the photo.
what now?
“i proposed to you at the beach,” ryland says.
you look up, and in his eyes, you see waves and a bright grey sky. you smile.
“you did,” you hum, setting the photo down on the table next to you. “when you got on one knee, you were too close to the water and it washed up on you so your pants got soaked.”
you giggle at the sudden memory. ryland smiles, “i don’t think i remember that part…”
“yes you do, you’re just embarrassed,” you grin. “and you stayed on one knee to ask the question because you were too proud to admit you made a mistake even though i was laughing at you.”
you’re in a fit of giggles now, and ryland just chuckles as he approaches you. his eyes land on the two bands around your finger; your engagement ring, and the basic wedding ring that so clearly matches his now that he looks closer.
suddenly, he reaches for your hand, thumb grazing over the humble gemstone on the engagement ring. your favourite gemstone, he suddenly remembers.
he lets the tender moment pass, then carefully drops your hand to place his hands on his hips.
“looks cheap. you probably deserve better.”
you give him a look before your eyes drop to the ring on your finger. you twist it a little, observing the gem from different angles.
“no…it’s actually pretty perfect,” you decide.
ryland watches you over the rims of his glasses, his heart beating quicker when he catches the complete genuineness in your tone. his eyes flick back down to the photo next to you on the table.
“we're really married, huh?"
you lift your head, gazing at him with a fond curiosity. what else could you learn to remember about this silly man?
“i guess so,” you hum.
ryland gives a nod and glances down at his own ring.
“okay…” he murmurs.
then, louder; “then let’s be scientists and figure this out.”
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