summary you couldn't say that you ever dreamed of a group of twelve-year-olds intervening in your love life, but maybe you weren't too upset about it. cws no spoilers/au with no dying sun, friends to lovers, painfully oblivious protagonist wc 3.6k words
thank you anon for requesting, i wrote this swift af i'm not gonna lie. the title comes from the taylor swift song state of grace, i'm very funny. i've only see phm twice, i'm hoping to see it again thursday :)))
The sun shone into the classroom in the way that you always enjoyed, the irritatingly bright and bug-corpse-filled overhead fluorescent lights turned off while you graded papers. It was always the most relaxing like this, with the sun shining light on the desk, rather than the lights that always felt like they were two seconds away from giving anyone who had to be around them for too long a headache.
However, it also meant that you would soon have company, a routine that you had also grown accustomed to over time.
Like clockwork, Ryland Grace appeared at almost four in the afternoon on the dot, the moment that he was finished with his own grading (though he was often just keeping more scientifically inclined students after class because they had more questions). Ryland was popular with the kids. He was funny and kind, he cared about the students more than some teachers, and each and every one of them felt comfortable coming to him with anything and everything.
Granted, you were in the same boat. He was the science teacher, and you were the English teacher. But, you were both popular with the children because you were able to relate to them to help them. Both of you were always there to help, to make school more bearable for children who were being forced to be there. Naturally, the two teachers with the most whimsy in the school were the most popular with the kids, and the two closest of any of the faculty members.
“Mr. Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, setting down the pen under the guise of faux-professionalism. But that was dropped the moment he tugged a desk closer to yours, sitting on the desk rather than the chair, and tossing a crocheted ball of the Earth at you. Or, as you had come to discover, lava… apparently.
“I’m just here for my daily community service, teaching the school English teacher how to do physics.” He joked, reaching his hand out as he caught the ball you tossed back at him. Because that was part of the routine, too. Ryland liked to tell you all sorts of things about science, but mainly physics, because it was the one that you found the most interesting; at least, in the way that he broke it down. “So, what did you want to learn today? I was thinking that we could learn about stars, you seemed to like that last time.”
You smiled as you tilted your head down, finishing the paper that you were working on before setting the stack of them off to the side. Ryland’s smile was infectious when he sent it your way, but it always was. He was sweet, and he always came here to talk to you. But you were both always talking to each other, anyway. You ate lunch together, chaperoned the same field trips, and presented at assemblies with each other instead of anyone else. You were naturally closer to each other than anyone else.
That closeness didn’t come without its pitfalls.
Ryland was very, very attractive. Especially when he wore his cozy-looking sweaters and his glasses the wrong way. You always found him beautiful, and you didn’t understand how he was still single. You knew his last relationship hadn’t gone well, from what he told you. He’d told you that she thought his head was too high in the clouds, that he didn’t have quite as much ambition towards a relationship as he had toward his work and the science that he studied.
Still, he was too beautiful to be single, in your eyes. Though you weren’t complaining. You would, admittedly, hate it if he were in a relationship.
“Stars,” You finally mused, tilting your head as you thought about it. “Later, we’ve gotta talk about the field trip in two days; we haven’t talked about it yet.”
“Well-hey-I’ve tried, you just said ‘sorry, I’m reading Romeo and Juliet right now’. Crazy excuse by the way, who reads Romeo and Juliet recreationally?”
You tossed a balled up sticky note at him before showing him the paper you had been grading. “Not recreationally, Ryland, it’s our current lesson.”
“You’re torturing the kids? No wonder they’ve been asking to stay after class with me instead.”
“Hush.” You groaned, but you couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled up in your throat. Ryland didn’t have a problem, necessarily, with the books that you taught or with books in general. But he certainly did like picking on you about it, just like you enjoyed picking on him for a month straight when he was the unfortunate teacher who had to show a grade of kids the dreaded birth video. “Field trip. Planetarium. Stars. Are we taking the same bus?”
“We always take the same bus; let Mrs. Johnson deal with the other one.” He joked, but his words were true. There wasn’t a time in recent memory that you had gone on a separate bus from Ryland. You often sat across from each other, but you sometimes sat together if there were too many kids for you to sit across from each other. He liked to sprawl out in the seats, though. Using the bus bench as his own personal bed until he complained about whacking his head when the bus bumped too hard.
“True, yeah, okay. Same bus. I was thinking that we could do two lunch breaks since there are more kids than usual this time around.” Ryland groaned at the idea of having to wrangle the kids for two separate lunch breaks, but you raised an eyebrow. “Imagine if we had to give one hundred and fifty kids lunch at the same time in public, Ry, that would be horrendous.”
“Yeah, alright. But we-” He made a motion between the two of you, far too exaggerated when you were giving him your direct attention. “Are having lunch together.”
“Sure, let Mrs. Johnson handle the other lunch, too.”
The thing was, Ryland liked being around you. He insisted upon it, really. Just as you did, even if you weren’t as blunt. But you figured it was just because he was nice, because you were both friends and hung out outside of school. You knew he didn’t have many people he was close to, if any. So you figured he just liked having the connection, which was why you never once allowed yourself to wonder if he reciprocated the feelings that you made a habit of hiding from him.
“Good, deal. Now, can I teach you about stars?”
“Mm… you got any snacks?”
“Obviously.”
Ryland jumped down from the desk as he passed you a share-sized bag of Sour Skittles that he had certainly taken his share from earlier. That, however, didn’t stop him from eating them while he stood behind you, giving a presentation on your whiteboard in a way that only he could give. Nor did it stop him from walking out with you, insisting that you both get coffee before you go home, even though it’s not typical for people to get coffee on the way home from anything.
The next day came quicker than you would have liked. Ryland walked in with you, because you both discovered a bit ago that you lived relatively close to each other. Sometimes, you carpooled. Other times, he liked to tail you just to annoy you. Today was no different than any other day, your fingers tapping along your coffee cup as you walked into class.
Handing back the papers that you graded, you leaned against your desk as you went over everyone’s papers and their different interpretations of love that they gave in their papers. You, of course, had noticed that there was a lot more snickering within the class since you’d started the lesson on this story. You figured, at the time, that it had something to do with kids being kids. The idea of romance made them giggle. It was probably something that kids did back when you were their age, so you didn’t think much of it at first.
“So, I want you guys to find your favorite adaptation of this classic and do a paper or presentation on it for the midterm. Can anyone think of a real-life adaptation of Romeo and Juliet?”
There was more snickering from one side of the room, and one student from said side raised their hand for your attention.
“Yes, Ashton?”
“Yeah, um, can I do mine on this class? Sometimes I think it’s an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet.”
More snicking, especially when you gave perhaps one of the more perplexed expressions you had given in class before. “Okay, no to… whatever that means.” You responded, moving on to the next student.
“I think what Ashton means is that Mr. Grace is like totally in love with you and he talks about you all the time and stuff, but you can’t be together because of the principal.”
Some students nodded in agreement, but you just felt your jaw fall open as yourself trying to speak but not feeling anything coming out, causing to more laughing in the class. “Okay, first of all, totally intrusive and inappropriate, but I’ll let it slide this time. Second of all, I don’t think he’s totally in love with me, and third, I don’t think the principal would care, not that it’s any of your business.”
“No, Miss, he’s definitely in love with you.”
“I sincerely don’t think that’s true. And anyway, it has nothing to do with adaptations of Romeo and Juliet, let’s get back on track about that.”
One of the girls in the class audibly sighed at your insistence, but you just continued on with class even though you could feel yourself still a bit flustered. You were pretty flustered throughout the day, which was ridiculous because a bunch of twelve-year-olds teasing you shouldn’t fluster you. Naturally, it was a part of the job. But something about it was different. Because children were nothing if not honest, to you, at least. And they liked you and Ryland; they’d been rather clear about that. Meaning that they certainly weren’t out to humiliate you.
Did just about everyone think that there was something going on between the two of you? You were a bit surprised, given the fact that you doubted that Ryland felt that way. But you were left curious and warm throughout the day. Even during lunch, you found yourself sharing food with Ryland like you normally did. All he ever ate was Ramen, so you often took it upon yourself to try to make him eat other things. Granted, he still just went back to his old reliable Ramen.
You were still thinking about it even when you were getting in the car together, but he distracted you pretty quickly when he diverted the car away from home and toward a restaurant that you’d both been talking about going to for a while.
“I’m definitely not dressed for this, Ryland. And I think it’s reservation only.”
You were standing outside some new, fancy Italian place that you had been salivating over the prospect of for a week now. But you didn’t like going to fancy places alone, and you didn’t feel confident enough to ask Ryland to go to dinner with you. So you figured that you would wait for a bit until one of your other friends was free enough to go, which was getting harder since they all had… families and stuff.
“I made a reservation, and you look beautiful.”
He brushed it off like it was nothing, leaving his side of the car before you had the chance to even process the compliment. You opened the passenger door, but were perplexed by him holding out his hand for you. You just quirked a brow and unbuckled, taking his hand as he helped you out of the car (you didn’t need help, but you’d take the contact, anyway). Ryland, in fact, had made a reservation for two about five days ago. That was probably day three of you showing him pictures of their housemade alfredo and telling him that you’d die if you got to taste it. So, maybe he was trying to kill you.
But he sat across from you, and he ordered wine, and he paid for everything. It felt like a date; it had all the makings of a date. But you didn’t want to assume; it felt wrong to assume. He was your friend, a close, close friend who was bringing you out to dinner after work so he didn’t have to keep hearing about how badly you were craving pasta while he was trying to make the most of his forty-nine cent chicken noodle Ramen noodles. It wasn’t anything more than that.
When he was taking you back home, he stopped outside of your house, still talking about something stupid that one of his students had done during the day. He was always so animated when he spoke, and you couldn’t help but be too enthralled to even notice that you were even home. But he eventually stopped speaking, his head turning so he could look at you.
“I think we’re here,”
“It does look pretty familiar.”
You had half a mind to remember what the kids had said earlier about him being ‘totally in love with you’, but they were just kids, right? Unreliable narrators. You opened your mouth to say something, to tell him about what they had said. But something about the way that his eyes met yours made you pause, your smile falling a bit. Everything felt tense, neither of you knowing exactly what to say. You were almost certain that his eyes moved down to your lips, and you were positive that your eyes had moved down to his lips in return.
But Ryland cleared his throat, and you turned your gaze toward your house when he did.
“Thank you for dinner, really. I’ll pay you back.”
“No, no, absolutely not. I paid, you just have to suffer the consequences of having an extra fifty dollars in your bank. Tough ask, I know.”
You smiled and moved to grab the door, but what the kids had said was still giving you pause. You contemplated for all of ten seconds before you leaned over to kiss his cheek. It could easily be perceived as platonic; you knew that. But you felt his skin heat up under your lips for the brief moment you had them there, your eyes locking on his for a moment before you moved back toward the door. “Really, thank you, you’re the best man in the whole galaxy.”
Maybe you were being bold, but maybe it didn’t matter. It was predominantly like nothing had happened the next morning, but that was mainly because you were both very busy trying to wrangle kids and last minute permission slips for the trip to the planetarium. Some of the kids who had made the comments in your class the other day were on the trip, so you made sure that they were on a different bus since the attendance turnout meant that you were going to be sitting next to Ryland.
That effort was… fruitless.
More children than you knew were under the distinct impression that you were both in love with each other. At the very least, they were all under the clear impression that Ryland was in love with you, and you were pretty sure you had kept your pining on the down-low.
If it wasn’t one kid taking a picture of you both sitting together to post online, it was another group of kids insisting upon sitting across from the two of you in the front of the bus so they could somewhat loudly talk about you both being ‘their favorites’ and saying that you should ‘get married so you can be their favorites and also be married’. You just ignored it, though you could still see a little pink flush on Ryland’s cheeks. And maybe that was confirmation, a bit of one at least.
Once you were inside the planetarium was when the teasing became a bit more relentless, though.
You’d both been called up by one of the employees to do a demonstration for the kids before they did it, a standard thing for the teacher to be called up first. You were supposed to show them how to pull the lever that would move one of the projectors, and it was helpful to have Ryland up there since he actually knew what he was talking about and what to point out. But the lever was a little stuck, and instead of just waiting for assistance, you both decided to just un-stick it instead of wasting people’s time.
The issue with that, though, is that you were both a bit clumsy.
Fixing it meant pulling really, really hard. And eventually it freed itself, but Ryland just about crashed right into you. Your hands immediately shot out to his shoulders to stabilize yourself and make sure that he, too, didn’t fall on his ass. But your eyes were on his as he held onto you in return, apologizing for almost ‘treating you like a bowling pin’. You were both very close, though. Touching each other, eyes locked on each other. And the kids noticed, a few whistles coming from some of them.
That noise made you both jerk apart, going back to the presentation.
But you couldn’t help wondering. What if they were right? You didn’t expect them to be right about personal, adult matters. They were children; what did they know about romance? But Ryland was a talker, and if he did like you, he probably made it… obvious.
Shit, he did make it obvious. You’d just been an idiot about it.
All the following each other around the school, bringing you snacks that he knew you liked, sharing coffee, and going to shops after work. He had been just about properly courting you in every single way besides asking if he could properly court you, and you couldn’t put it past him to admit to his students that he was carpooling with you for energy efficiency or something. He was someone who liked to talk, and he often overshared. But he didn’t even have to do that. Because he had been obvious, he basically took you on a date, and you just didn’t notice.
The moment the first lunch break started for the kids, you let Mrs. Johnson handle her group while your group explored. But while they were watching the light show, you were tugging Ryland off by the sleeve into a more secluded area. You were nervous to ask, to talk to him about any of this, but you felt like you had to. You wanted to, because you knew that you had just been too oblivious to read a single one of the very obvious signs that he had been dropping.
“We should probably, uh- what’s wrong?”
“Was that a date?”
“What?”
“Last night, was that a date?”
“Um…”
Ryland rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from you. But you reached up to him now, your hand on his chest, resting over the dorky t-shirt that he had decided to wear to work that day. His attention turned back to you, his cheeks flushed.
“Do you… want it to be a date?”
You smiled softly at his question, “Yeah, I do.”
Ryland seemed a bit stunned for a second. For a man who had spent so much of his free time hanging out by himself, he was a bit surprised that you were openly admitting that you wanted to go on a date with him. But he also wasn’t the type of person to deny himself of something that he absolutely wanted. Something that he knew you wanted, too.
“I think all of our students want it to be a date, too. My kids are persistent that you’re ‘like totally in love with me.”
His cheeks flushed a bit darker, but he laughed this time. Ryland let one of his hands move to your cheek, sighing when you leaned into his touch. His thumb stroked over your cheek delicately, like you were made of porcelain. “Yeah, maybe a little.” He admitted, his eyes moving back to your lips like they had done the night before. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah, quick. Don’t want any of them to make any illegal bet money off of us.”
You weren’t sure who closed the distance first. You just knew that you were never going to forget the feeling of his lips pressed against yours, or how soft his hair was in your hand when you finally got to tangle your fingers in it for a moment. When the kiss broke, he was just about to go back in for another before he heard talk about Pluto from the other room, his head perking up like he’d been activated by the gaseous giant.
“C’mon, wanna make sure they don’t call poor Pluto a planet in there.”
Laughing, you let him drag you back into the other room by the hand. You were a lot more relaxed throughout the day, laughing with him now that you both knew the truth, now that you knew what exactly this was. But you did end up giving the kids the illegal bet money that they wanted anyway when you held hands on the bus, and especially when he dozed off with his head on your shoulder on the way back.
As grateful as you were, you would never live down a bunch of middle schoolers being what got you both to stop being so oblivious.
Dr. Brendon Park who insists to Reader after their second child is born that they should start planning out another...they have to compete with the neighbors across the street.
"Brendon, They have SIX kids."
"I know, and the dad is too smug about it. Every block party I have to listen to him talk about his kids and the stupid #1 Dad coffee cup they got him. Our kids are way cuter."
"They're literal children. For fucks sake."
"Yeah and they're sticky and loud. They leave their bikes all over the yard. Our kids aren't sticky...most of the time."
Just Park the Shark becoming convinced he has to one up the family who lives across the street because of some weird probably one-sided beef he's got with the dad.
⭐︎⋆˚࿔ ryland grace has a crush on the art teacher next door…and his students know it.
“Good morning,” you muse, leaning against the door frame during transition. Your hands are still stained with clay from helping students make figurines — he can see when your doors are both propped open. Not that he’s looking.
“Oh! It’s you! Hi there!”
“Your prep is next period, right? Can you do me a huge favor and watch my kids for a bit at the beginning of class?”
“No.” He blinks rapidly. “I mean, yes! No as in it’s no problem. I, uh — I’ve got you covered.” He gives a thumbs up. Smooth.
You laugh, a twinkling sound. “You’re the best. Thanks, Ry.”
You’re only supposed to address each other by your last names in front of the kids. That must have been on accident. But, either way, surely nobody noticed that, or the way he could barely muster a response as you left.
So he thought.
When everyone’s passing around the lava bean bag, the first student who tosses it to him wastes no time. “Are you and Miss Y/L/N dating?”
The whole class oohs. Middle schoolers.
“I — woah.” He immediately clears his throat. “No questions about your teacher’s personal life, guys. Come on.”
“So…are you dating or not?”
Before he can even get a word in, another declares, “I ship you!”
“Shh, don’t tell him that!” someone adds.
“Not going to ask what that means,” Ryland murmurs, almost to himself. When the class starts to get more out of control, he puts his hands up. “Alright, alright, guys, settle down. No, we are not dating. Now back to the lesson.”
Although, when he looks up what a ship is in between classes later, he feels so stupidly giddy that his face is on fire. He’s seeing stars, and not just from the models hanging from his ceiling.
summary: the eridians offer you and ryland a runt pebble
tags: requires suspension of disbelief! does not follow the correct eridian lore!, fluff, slice of life, established relationship, kissing, accidental child acquisition, kid/family fic, original eridian characters
a/n: love you all!!!!
divider cred: me!
Part 2!
Nervous chirps fill your ears as you look up from your book, sitting up in the xenonite chair of the small porch of the house Rocky and Adrian had kindly made for you and Grace. Suzy, as you had named the pink Eridian nurse you’d taken a liking to after she’d cared for you and Ryland when you’d arrived on Erid. “Hey, Suze… what’s going on?”
“Runt! Pebble is a runt!” Your brows furrow softly, eyes following the movement of her pink claws as she frantically moves in front of you.
“What do you mean? Is there a new litter?” Her carapace moves in a way that mimics a nod. “Why are you telling me?”
“Needs mother.”
“Oh…kay?”
“You should be mother.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Why would I be the mother? I’m… human!”
“Eridians not have time for motherhood of runt. Human have time while Grace teach.”
“How often does this happen? Runts?”
“Every two hundred years. Statistic.” You nod slowly, thinking over your options.
“Can I get back to you? Talk to Grace after class and then give you an answer?”
“Need answer by end of sunlight cycle.” You nod.
“Come back to the house later this evening, alright?” The eridian purrs happily and nuzzles against your leg before walking off.
✶
“Do you want a baby?” Grace almost trips over the top step as he reaches the house, dropping his books and snapping his head up at you.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve been… offered a baby?” His brows furrow as he stands and fixes his glasses.
“Offered… a baby?” He looks at you over his frames.
“Suzy visited today, asking if I want the runt of the litter.”
“I mean… do you? Can we even… do that? It wouldn’t be able to survive in our atmosphere?”
“Mini zenonite suits?” His hands envelope yours as he looks down at you where you’re sitting.
“Are you being serious?” You burst into laughter, making him smile.
“I am! I swear! Suze should be by in a few hours for us to give her an answer.”
“Not a few hours! Here now!” The soft melodies of the alien ring out, making you smile.
“Hey, Suze!” Grace smiles, moving to sit, back against your knees as your fingers drift to his hair. “I’ve heard you’re trying to make us parents.”
“Runt pebble needs parents.”
“What happens if we say no?” You ask gently, feeling Ryland’s nod beneath your fingers.
“Runt die.” Both of you frown at the words, heart twisting uncomfortably.
“How are we supposed to feed it? Human babies need a lot of emotional connection, skin-to-skin contact.” You explain softly, watching the eridian purr and curl up in front of Grace.
“Pebble understand feeding. Born with ability. Not need skin-to-skin. Runt possible deformities, could possible survive in human atmosphere.” Grace’s brows furrow.
“You guys think it could survive in our atmosphere? Here in the dome?”
“Is possibility.” The eridian chirps gently.
“How are we going to get the food?”
“Deliveries.”
“Do you know anything else about it?”
“Human equivalent of male. Missing leg.”
“He’s missing a leg?” Grace muses gently, lifting a hand to grab and squeeze yours.
“Yes. Without help, we will die. Statement.” Grace looks up over his shoulder at you, and you give a shrug and soft smile.
“What do you think?” He muses.
“I think it could be fun. We can see if it’ll survive in the dome and then go from there. And we can’t just… let it die. We might as well try.” Grace nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly.
“Human say yes?” Suzy jumps up happily, jittering and making you grin.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Bring tomorrow morning! With food!”
✶
“You ready to be a mother?” His arms come around you as you make dinner, grinning softly and leaning against his warmth.
“I don’t see why not. She said this only happens every two hundred years. I don’t want him to die… I really hope it doesn’t when they get him in the atmosphere.”
“Got a name?” You pause for a long moment, stirring the food in the pot.
“Hmmm… Sebastian?”
“Sebastion? Really?” He snorts softly, making you laugh.
“Ken?”
“Like the doll?” Your laugh gets louder, making him smile and press a kiss to your cheek.
“Jacob?”
“Are we raising a frat eridian? Some kind of Playboy?” He muses, squeezing you tighter.
“Zimmer?” He pauses for a long moment, hooking his chin on your shoulder.
“I don’t… hate that.”
“Just alien enough for us? We can call him Zimm.”
“Zimmey? Zizi?” You giggle, turning the makeshift stove off.
“I like Zimmer.”
“If you like it, I like it.” He hums, making you turn to face him and press a long kiss against his lips.
“Dinner?”
“Please.”
✶
You stand beside Grace and watch as the small alien is delicately set in the box and pushed into the dome. You and Grace hold your breath for a long moment to see if the pebble starts to smoke, but as the second slowly passes, a grin breaks across your face as you approach the box and reach in to grab the purple creature.
Grace watches as the small alien shifts in your hold and makes a soft noise, probably equivalent to a babble, and shifts in your hands. “Hi, Zimmer.” You whisper.
“Is anomaly!” Rocky cheers happily as you nod.
“It seems that it is.”
“What’s the probability of that, hm?” Grace smiles, one of his hands meeting your hip.
“Probability is 0.0000000003–”
“I was being hyperbolic, Rock.” Grace grins, watching the pebble move happily in your hands.
“Need word.” Rocky hums, making you laugh.
“Later, Rock.” Grace grins, pulling you closer. You glance at him over your shoulder.
“We’re parents!” You giggle, making the small creature tilt its carapace in curiosity at the unfamiliar noise.
“We really are, hm?” He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away and looking back at the pebble.
✶
You sit in the sand, watching as Zimm tries to climb around and explore his surroundings, clumsy with only four legs. Frustrated ‘babbles’ leave his carapace as you smile. “Tired?” The alien crawls into your awaiting palm with a content thrum. “You’re doing well, hm? Lots of practice.”
“How is pebble?” Adrian’s tones ring out behind you.
“Zimm’s doing great. Can I ask you something, Adrian?” The alien nods.
“Yes, ask please.”
“How do I know he’s tired? He can’t fully speak yet. I don’t know when he’s hungry or tired.” Adrian moves closer, the xenonite suit pressing against your arm as she observes the smaller alien.
“I will mimic noises.” You nod and listen closely as two melodic tunes leave the alien a few times, slowly nodding. The pebble mimics the noise of hunger, making your eyes snap towards the pebble.
“So that’s what you want…” You grin.
“Need food?” You nod softly. “Adrian can get.”
“You sure?”
“Adrian happy to help.”
“I think there are still some on the porch of the house.” Zimm curls up in your hold with a soft noise that makes you smile. “Adrian’s getting you some food.” You pout softly, gently petting a smooth part of the purple carapace.
It’d only been a few days, but you already couldn’t stomach the thought of ever leaving your baby behind. Sure, he was clumsy, and the language barrier was proving a struggle, but you could also tell the affection was reciprocated. A terribly unharmonious sound would escape the small creature anytime you left him alone or moved to a different room.
You watch as Adrian reuters, carrying the small xenonite bowl, filled with the necessary foods, Zimm happily chittering at the sight. You set him down to eat, smiling softly before looking back up at Adrian. “Adrian?” A noise leaves the alien for you to continue. “How codependent are Eridians?”
“Not very. Not raised with nourishment such as humans.” You nod slowly, watching Zimmer play with his food.
“Can you promise me something?”
“Eridians no promise.”
“You get what I mean.”
“Humans too absolute.” You can hear the ‘scoff’ in Adrian’s tone, making you snort.
“Promise you won’t experiment on Zimm. Sure, I’ll report back the things he does, but no taking him off to labs, doing tests–”
“Adrian understands. Promise will be upheld.” You nod, reaching out to gently tap the top of their carapace. Zimmer lets out a happy grumble to let you know they’re done before clambering back into your lap and twirling around before nestling against your hip, body slumping. “Pebble is ready for sleep.” You grin.
“I’ll watch him the whole time.” Adrian purrs happily, settling beside you in the sand, warmth radiating through the xenonite suit.
✶
“How's the baby?” Ryland asks, kicking his shoes off and immediately enveloping you in a tight hug. You grin, cupping his cheeks and planting a gentle kiss against his lips with an affectionate hum.
“He’s happy. At a big lunch today, and has been asleep ever since.” Grace looks over at the small xenonite ‘bed’ the eridians had made and dropped off, Zimmer’s purple carapace stark against the dark metal.
“Y’know… I never thought I’d be a parent… thought I had enough students to cover that… but I can’t say I hate this.” You shake your head, burying your forehead against the side of his neck and taking in his warmth. The sound of Grace’s voice makes Zimmer purr happily as he wakes, clumsily jumping up and rushing to happily greet Ryland. The jitters are like the noise of an excited dog as Ryands lifts the aliens to his face. “Hey, you!”
You grin as Zimm babbles happily, probably trying to talk about their day, watching as Ryland nods and gasps at certain parts for dramatic effect. “You were meant for this.” You murmur, making his eyes move to yours.
“What?”
“Fatherhood.”
“Even though it’s not quite traditional?” He grins, walking back over, making Zimm jump into your hold.
“This… is perfect.” You hum, his lips meeting your temple, Zimm’s vibrations strong in your palms.
summary: zimm's nerves about his first doctor's appointment
tags: fluff, so much fluff, read part one!, rocky and adrian do not appreciate leaky space blobs, family fluff, kid fic, first words
a/n: love you all!!! this was request by @sporkupine12 under the last part and a few other people in the reblogs so enjoy!
divider cred: me!
The false sunlight of the biopdome begins to filter through the window, and you watch with an affectionate smile as Zimm slowly wakes, stretching out clumsily. Ryland shifts as the weight on his chest moves, eyes fluttering open as he glances between the two of you with a smile. “G’morning.” His voice comes out raspy with sleep, making you grin and curl closer.
“Hi…” Your lips meet his, and Zimm lets out a displeased noise at the sight, making the two of you pull away with a laugh. The moment is interrupted by a pounding on the door, making your smile grow. “It’s open!”
Two xenonite suits echo through the house before Rocky and Adrian step into the space, watching your family. “How is Zimmer?” Rocky asks, making you grin and gently lift Zimm from Ryland’s chest, settling the small alien on your shoulder.
“He’s doing wonderful.” You feel Ryland’s arms move to wrap around your middle, face smushed against your back.
“Eridians would like to take Zimmer for a doctor checkup. Promise no extreme tests, just want to make sure Zimmer is ok.” You look over your shoulder as Grace perks up, grabbing his glasses off the beside table.
“That sounds fine.” You feel Grace nod against your shoulder. The aliens communicate, and you feel Zimmer shirk in fear against the side of your neck, a whine-like noise leaving his carapace. Matching frowns paint your and Grace’s faces, and you reach up to softly stroke one of the small legs.
“Zimmer is scared, statement.” Rocky lets out, making you nod.
“Doctors can be scary. Especially because Grace and I can’t come.” You murmur, Grace’s warm hand against your side.
“Zimmer will be taken care of very well. Adrian promise and be there whole time. Will bring back to home.” You nod slowly, taking Zimm from your shoulder and bringing the alien face-to-face. Unpleasant tones leave the small creature, making you frown.
“I know it’s scary, my love… it’ll be ok. It’ll be fast, and Grace and I will be right here waiting.” You gently pet Zimm’s back carapace, the one you found most soothing when touched.
“Mommy and daddy will be right here.” Grace murmurs, reaching up to gently grasp one of Zimm’s claws. A long silence follows before Zimm lets out a defeated sound mixed with what you had come to recognize as a cry. “M’sorry…”
“Will take now. Will be safe. Promise.” Adrian purrs, making you raise a brow.
“I thought Eridians never promised.”
“Promise important to safety and human family.”
“Thank you, Adrian.” You gently hand Zimmer off to the Eridian couple, gently waving them off. You can’t help but tuck yourself into Grace’s chest, covering your ears to drown out Zimm’s retreating cries.
“It’s the same as if we took a human baby to the doctor. The shots are the worst for us to watch, but the most necessary for the baby. Just remember you’re keeping him safe, alright? You love him enough to keep him safe and healthy.” You nod slowly, feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks.
“I hate when he cries.” Grace pulls back at the weakness in your voice, frowning and moving to wipe your cheeks.
“Me too. Me too.” He huffs, pulling you back into his chest and laying both of you down.
◈
The second the door opens, you swiftly stand from the bed, finding the three Eridians in the doorway. “♩♫♪𝅘𝅥𝅰!” Gasps leave you and Ryland, equally surprised noises leaving the Eridians.
“Did he just–”
“Zimm!” You grin. “Say it again, say it again!”
“♩♫♪𝅘𝅥𝅰!” A sob leaves Grace’s lips as you lift the baby alien into your arms.’
“Is Eridan word for mother!” Rocky squeals happily, making you nod as tears fall down your cheeks, Zimmer pressing happily into your chest.
“It sure is, pal.” Ryland sniffles, bringing both of you into his arms, forehead falling to your shoulder. Another word leaves Zimmer, making you give a sympathetic smile.
“It was scary, hm? Didn’t like the doctor?” You pacify gently. His carapace shakes in your hand.
“With mommy and daddy!” Another heavy sob is ripped from Grace’s lips, and you can’t help but smile at the disgust radiating off Adrian and Rocky before they shuffle out of the house. “Want lunch!” Laughs echo out from the three of you.
Ryland wants to be your real life husband, statement.
He’s sooooo nervous about crossing professional boundaries or something, like actual jittery about making it obvious how much he likes you and wants to spend time with you outside of work hours but doesn’t wanna fuck things up and make it awkward.
This man is just so damn helpful around work, always picking up your printing if he swings by the staff room and it’s there, maybe he brings you coffee on spare periods or during lunches.
You’d totally eat lunch together, probably do your supervision duties together too- some things are better with company. He also totally gets roped into playing with the kids when he’s on duty at the basketball courts.
He would see some of the kids doing the ‘this is for you meme’ and would a hundred percent dribble the ball towards the hoop, when the kids aren’t defending because they want to see the incoming disasters, and point a hand to you.
“This one’s for you.” And do a proper jump shot. He’d miss though. It's a close call, but it would bounce off the rim and bounce off sadly towards the side of the court. He slinks back to stand beside you, a little sheepish when he admits “okay I was always better at defence.”
The rest of the duty, and even for months afterwards, the kids would attempt to badger him into another try or point at you and copy his words with varying degrees of success.
You guys definitely chaperone each other’s school excursions. Like, they need a female and a male teacher by law, and every year when he takes his students to the planetarium for the astronomy unit, he asks you first, having already filled out the paperwork saying that you’re going to be attending.
Teachers are the cliquest mother fuckers around so best believe that everyone has just sort of accepted you and Ryland as one unit. The teasing in the staff room kicks it off, coworkers joking about Ryland being husband material. Then the admin girls calling him your work husband when he starts walking in with you in the morning (which totally isn’t intentional- he definitely doesn't time his morning commute so he’s chaining his bike up when you’re walking past the bike racks each day. He’d laugh, sunny and bright from the morning light, a little rosie flush high on his cheek. “Guess we’ve just got good timing”).
And once the students catch wind of this? Oh it’s over for you two.
If there’s one thing pre-teens love, it’s getting their grubby hands on a teacher’s personal life- especially their love life.
Your students joking about finding you a boyfriend is nothing new, you always laugh and evade the prodding, but maybe your friends with one of the kids mum’s or their older sibling, someone who’s just close enough to find a way to glance and your private social media, and gets the word around that you are single.
It starts simple, whinging in the morning while you read the daily announcements saying “But Miss, Mr Grace is perfect for you.” and then on Mondays they hit you with the “Did you and Mr Grace do anything over the weekend?”
They start referring to your supervision duties and ‘dates’ and during free time, when you let the kids pick music out, they play that one Raye song ‘where is my husband’, turning the chorus up loud enough that it lures Ryland in from a few rooms down, for a noise complaint.
Still, the music volume is nothing compared to the screeching a class of thirty-odd eighth-graders make, when the lyrics: Baby, where the hell is my husband? What is taking him so long to find me? play while Ryland rounds the corner of your classroom doorframe, leaning up against it with an amused smile at the sight of your rampant students.
His glasses low on his noise bridge as he looks at you over the rims, arms crossed as very obvious laughter threatens to spill past his lips.
You’d just hold your left hand up, mouth the lyrics to him. I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger. I would like a big and shiny diamond that I can wave around And talk, and talk about it. Maybe you’d wriggle your ring finger for emphasis. He’d raise his eyebrows, mouth ‘wow’ at you before reminding the students that there are other classes around and to keep the screeching to a minimum. He’d saunter back to his own class and the kids in yours would fawn over the whole thing- maybe asking if you’re already secretly married (a conspiracy that does its rounds every six months or so).
But the next day, you’d walk into your class room before the day really kicks off, a little wrung out from marking and last minute lesson plans, fully prepared to put on some lofi and have the kids do independent assignment work, go through the drafts you’d finally finished giving feedback on.
Your desk is tidy, as it usually is before the sheer mass of everything from your work bag is dumped on it throughout the day. But right when you’re about to chuck your bag in the middle of the wooden desk top, you pause. There’s a ring pop, in the center of your desk. No note or anything, but it’s early, and your room had been locked- only teachers with rooms in this block had a key, so there’s no need for a sticky note claiming the ring. There really is only one option.
And during recess, when you lean up against the fences at the basketball court, warm under the summer sun, watching Ryland chatter with the students. You note idly, that he keeps glancing over at you, cheeks as red as the ring pop you’re sucking on, as rosie as the candy has left your lips.
summary: you and grace put on a puppet show for rocky at his request so he is able to understand human culture better. little do you know, the engineer is setting you both up.
tags: a lot, a lot of rocky. he thinks humans are gross and stupid and you and grace should mate already. statement. ryland referred to as "grace".
Waking up to see a sentient alien creature waddling about in a glass looking ball in the Hail Mary is not something you could say you expected when taking on this mission.
Said creature being the most hilarious living organism you have ever encountered in your life was also not on your list of expectations.
Bracing a hand on the ball, you double over, wheezing at him just tearing Grace apart (likely without meaning to, though sometimes he's so intentional with it it cannot be a coincidence) with a clumsily translated string of words.
"Friend sick, question?" Rocky inquires, bracing a claw against where your hand is resting. Then, voice taking over a more urgent tone — how did Grace manage to convey that via code or translation system, you will never know —, another claw tapping to get Grace's attention; "Grace! Grace! Friend leaking! Emergency, statement!" Pressing his head to your side of the xenonite in a hasty attempt at comfort, "Grace! Intervention. Now!"
"They're good, Rock," Grace sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They're laughing because they think you said something funny," Turning to you, he points an accusatory finger at you in such a way that an image of him scolding a rowdy student in a classroom flashes in your mind. "About my "inability" to pilot, by the way!" He even does air quotes to emphasize his point. Cute. "Ouch!" He presses a hand against his chest, then waving it off with a dismissive huff. "So pay no attention to the fact that they sound like they're dying."
"Friend alright, statement." Rocky pulls back from the xenonite as he awaits confirmation.
"Yes."
Visibly relaxing, "Grace so dramatiiiiiic—" Rocky drawls, and you're sure if he had eyes, he would be rolling them. "Grace is bad pilot. It fact. Friend try. See if better than Grace. Rocky thinks so. Grace worse than average."
"Mary! Back me up, please?" Grace looks to the ceiling for any kind of support.
"Dr. Grace has no previous records of pilot training received." Echoes from Mary's speakers, dealing the final blow as Grace purses his lips in a pout.
In Mary's defense, that does contribute to his argument. He can get better if he trains a bit more, but alas. The delivery of the line has comedic timing too good to ignore.
"Oh my God—" you cackle, snorting to catch your breath, "Let him live, both of you!"
"Rocky is no threat to Grace. Grace live. Odd human expression, question?"
Nodding, you manage to choke out a sound resembling yeah, wiping your eyes. As if remembering something, Rocky turns to you, and uh-oh, looks like you're next on the chopping block as the finger-like appendages meet into a point to gesture to you.
"Friend also! Inefficient human design. Leak for everything! Disguuust! Make Rocky worry. Apologize, statement."
Shaking with laughter, you lean against the xenonite, wrapping your arms around it in a hug. It's not like you can be mad at him for worrying about you, even though the things that worry him come with human anatomy itself. "Sorry for being human, buddy."
"Acceptable."
Rocky rolls next to your bunker when you're cleaning up your space a little.
"Friend. Time good, question? Rocky have question."
"Sure, hun. What's up?" you settle down to get comfortable. Rocky usually doesn't have simple questions, especially when seeking you out in private. If you're not the readily available human to ask in the first place, the reason why he seeks you out is to either get a second opinion (or confirm the information previously provided), or that he has not been able to get a satisfactory answer out of Grace.
"What word mean, question?" Rocky echoes, tilting his head, tapping a claw twice on the xenonite floor.
"Oh," This might be the first time you call him that petname, actually. "It's short for "honey", — a sweet subtance for consumption. It can also be used as a term of endearment for people who are close to you."
"Do not consume Rocky. Will not digest." You're still amazed at how well the humour carries on despite the translation device. "Eridian term of endearment not have "sweet" substance for consumption. We have ♫𝅘𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮♩ ♪___♩. ♪ ♬𝅘𝅥𝅭 𝅘𝅥𝅮 ... But not same word."
"Do you want me to add it as a word?"
"No. Rocky think for more similar word. Question, now. Statement," Rocky tumbles closer, "Rocky observe. Friend no touch Grace. Hand up," he raises a claw, acting as if he's going to touch his another claw, then suddenly puts it down and slumping in place. Putting a show for your dumb little brain, as Grace would say. "Then change mind. Display intention, but no act. Why?"
"That's a loaded question, bud," A long sigh leaves you before you can stop it. Shrugging, you opt for a mild; "I don't want to cross any boundaries, you know?"
"Rocky not know. That why Rocky ask."
Oh, great.
"Boundaries, Rocky knows." Rocky supplies after a brief moment of silence to prompt you into talking, "Grace has explained before. When Rocky first arrive on ship. But you Grace same. Species, same. Mission, same. Same same same. Why boundary, question?"
"... Humans are—" you start.
"Stupid. Statement." Rocky finishes your sentence for you.
"I was going to say complicated, but you know what? You are absolutely right."
Rocky makes a satisfied noise, "Rocky always right." There is a dolphin-like sound you pick up as Rocky shakes up and down, laughing. You think he's being smug about being right until he adds; "Rocky is favourite. No boundary. More hug. Friend love Rocky more than Grace."
"Hey, now—"
"What counts as human mating behaviour, question?"
Unlike Grace, you live to yap with Rocky about the differences in species, perhaps owing to a personal interest in anthropology.
"Ooh, very sudden but flavourful question," grinning, you tap your chin in thought, "Do you mean like, courtship, or behaviour displayed exclusively between mates?"
"Second."
"You first, then. Just to provide an example."
Rocky gives a contemplative hum, one claw fluttering over the turquoise mark along his arm. "Mating mark, here. Rocky have Adrian mark."
"It's beautiful..." your eyes graze over the mark. Even with the sentimental meaning aside, it does look like something precious, like a gem or mother of pearl. "A little similar to that, humans have tattoos. We, uh... force ink under our skin to create patterns we like. But it's more of a personal expression, and not exclusive to mates, even if you get matching tattoos with another."
Rocky thrums, and he's definitely judging. You can tell.
"Otherwise, off the top of my head? Kissing, but... on the lips. That's exclusive to mates, I think. Kissing the cheek or hand for example, are not, and can be a display of affection or even respect, depending on the culture."
"... Matching patterns not sign of mate. Touching mouths is sign of mate." Rocky makes an exaggerated motion with his body, displeased at the mere idea, though before he can comment any further, you jut your hands out in a panic;
"We have wedding bands!" you blurt, pointing at your ring finger, "It's when you — supposedly and arguably — commit to your mate for life. You take a vow, and the collective recognizes you as a pair. Traditionally, you wear matching rings made of precious metal to signify the "unbreakable bond" or something."
"... Are you explaining the concept of marriage to Rocky?" You whip around to see Grace leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and with an amused grin on his face.
"Help," Pleading, you reach out for him, and surprisingly, he takes your hand momentarily as he sits down.
Unnecessary physical contact.
You might, in fact, be so touch starved that you classify the action as flirting before you bury it deep down.
"Rocky no understand. Do puppet show."
Both you and Grace blink.
"For... for what..?" Grace asks, putting the glasses hanging off his chin back on his nose bridge.
"For everything! Rocky study Earth culture. Do puppet show! Grace and friend as puppets for better understanding, statement."
Rocky opens and closes his claws in a very enthuastic display of jazz hands.
".... I can narrate." you offer dumbly, the mere thought of close contact with Grace frying your mind, "We both can, actually. ... Shall we?"
The two of you get up, casting one last awkward glance at each other before holding hands and interlocking fingers.
"Why does this feel like explaining reproductive biology to middleschoolers..." Grace sighs, and you bark out a startled laugh.
"Ryland Grace!" you squeak, putting on your best scandalized form, swiftly delivering a light smack to his bicep, "We're not procreating! Certainly not in front of Rocky!"
"Would procreate if Rocky leave room, question?"
"Don't even, Rocky." Grace raises his pointer finger at him, brows raised as the ultimate warning.
After a getting past the initial awkward phase of trying to talk through scenarios and where to put your hands, you realise both you and Grace have a knack for acting.
It starts off with showing Rocky an initial meeting, mostly consisting of explanation and dialogue. Then come the dates, with a lot more props involved, like a makeshift wheel made out of a large valve as Grace pretends to pick you up from your home. It's like a dam has been broken with how many ideas flood the two of you.
Neither of you comment on how you're essentially acting out on your fantasies.
You act out a fancy dinner date, blundering through explaining why mood lighting in the form of candles is so important. Then, a more causal dinner date, something like a diner; showing classic things like sharing a milkshake with two straws, and somehow it's cute and playful to steal fries off of your lover's plate.
Moving rooms, you start getting more specific.
Acting out beach dates and swimming together, and at some point the conversation derails so bad that Grace ends up having you sit on his shoulders while he sits on his knees, and;
"It's played with two pairs. The one on the bottom is usually the stronger out of the pair, both to be able to carry the other and to have a strong foundation so the other pair can't push you off that easily," He keeps a hand on your thigh as a safety measure while he gestures to his waist with his free hand, "You would be in the sea water waist-deep at the very least, though going higher is usually preferred. And then the ones on top try to topple each other, and the pair who stays standing wins."
"It's a bonding activity for all parties and induces some friendly competition," you add, a hand resting on Grace's head, absentmindedly noting how soft his hair is before you pat the crown of his head to signal you want to get off.
"Display of strength. Rocky understand."
Then come the cinema dates, and Grace, of course, does not miss out on the opportunity to show the classic "pretend-yawn-and-embrace" move, to which Rocky visibly looks confused at, and Grace covers all his bases as he mentions cuddling is much more common in more private viewings, like at home.
"Okay, and then— again, traditionally," Grace shoos you a few steps ahead before tapping your shoulder, sinking to one knee as you turn around, bringing his hands together, then opening it as close to a ninety-degree angle as he can, pretending to open a ring box. "The male gets down on one knee to propose."
"Propose what, question?"
"Marriage, Rock."
"Oooh. Ceremony, question? Knee down also part of propose?"
"Eh," Grace makes a small, non-commital noise, "Pre-ceremony, more like. As for the kneeling, yes, but I'm not sure of the reason."
"I heard it dates back to knights." Avoiding his gaze in favour of looking at Rocky, your hands cup his, "Like, bending the knee to take the chivalric oath, or to swear loyalty to their chosen Lady. Haven't checked my sources, though, so don't quote me on that."
"That... makes so much sense, actually."
"Ceremony over when knee down, question? Proposal just gesture?"
"Oh! No Rock, you actually give a speech," Grace tilts his head like a cat, "Let me think, uhh..." A short sniffle out of reflex, "Something like..." gears in his head turning, he takes a moment before clearing his throat, fixing his posture before looking into your eyes, a hand resting over yours, "I, Ryland Grace—"
No matter how nervous you feel, you must not flex your hand, he will feel it. Pull it together, deep breaths. Deep breaths.
"Promise to love and cherish you for all my days. I promise to be true to you in good times and the bad, in sickness and in health,"
Can he feel your pulse from your wrist? God, you hope not. It feels like your heart is trying to beat itself out of your ribcage.
"Will you marry me?"
Time stops.
Something in his gaze is different. You look for any semblance of humour or pretend, just something to let you know that he is doing this for the sake of the puppet show, and find... none.
"Yes," you manage to breathe out, the sound barely audible.
Grace— Ryland? Even if it was an act, you just proposed, and accepted the proposal respectively — does not take his eyes off yours as he rises, leaning a bit closer, breath mingling with yours, and—
He bypasses your face entirely, opting in for a hug.
"Couples usually kiss after that, since it's a happy event." He presses you closer to him, talking to Rocky over your shoulder.
You don't mourn the fact that you cannot see his face when you can feel his heart beat is just as thunderous against his chest when you're so close you can feel the heat emanating off his skin.
"Touch mouths after everything. Uuugh! Unsanitary. Disguuust!"
The government is trying to convince Ryland to go on some insane mission because he has "no wife, no children, and no one waiting for him at home."
So, naturally, Ryland panics and says:
"Actually, I'm engaged."
Silence.
Stratt asks who he's engaged to.
Ryland blurts out the first name he can think of: yours.
The problem?
You have NO idea you've apparently agreed to marry Ryland Grace.
Cue him showing up at your door the next day with tears in his eyes, looking like he's about to throw up and basically begging for you to go along with it.
"Please."
"No."
"Please."
"Ryland, you told the government we're getting married."
"I know."
"WITHOUT ASKING ME."
"I KNOW."
Bonus: Ryland has been secretly in love with reader for ages and accidentally outs himself because he knows way too much about them.
getting emotional thinking about marrying grace :(
he’d want to do an actual proposal- would work with adrian and rocky to make you a ring and set up the perfect day for you!
you two would sleep in and he’d ask if you two could go for your daily walk on the beach a little later in the day so you two could watch the sunset… he’d even take you off the usual path so the spot where he proposes is much more memorable-
and oh he’d be so nervous- he probably practiced getting down on one knee with rocky for hours (rocky makes sure his postures good and that he can open the box for you)
then- when it’s finally time the biodome illumination team makes the sky fade into the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen
and grace cries, you cry- if rocky and adrian could cry they do when they see you with your ring
the ceremony is just as beautiful.. adrian helps you get ready and rocky helps grace- both of your outfits were made to look like they were from earth with added eridian touches (rocky and adrian have the opposite- eridian clothes with bits from earth’s fashion)
all the eridians who worked on the biodome are there- excited to see such an important day for you two.. and when the time comes, grace’s kids spread little fake flowers down the aisle- setting the path for you to walk in
grace cries when he sees you- how could he not?? by the time you reach him you’re both teary eyed and smiling so hard your cheeks ache
his vows are incredibly thought out and genuine. he promises to love and take care of you forever and ever!
then rocky- the self ordained priest (he did extensive research on his laptop though) announces you married and all the eridians cheer and you kiss! and you both live happily ever after :)
warnings: Rocky asks uncomfortable questions; Rocky gets acquainted with adult films; Ryland has a crisis; noodles; uncomfortable questions
You and Ryland are eating dinner. Once again, the Hail Mary has decided that noodles are the answer to all of life’s problems. It’s a rare break between experiments, desperate attempts to solve impossible problems, and the usual scientific and moral dilemmas. The only sounds are the occasional exchange of words and the clatter of chopsticks against metal food containers.
Rocky rolls into the room inside his xenonite sphere. “Question.” Ryland looks up at the alien. “I’m scared.” Rocky ignores him completely, and you glance at your companion with curiosity. “When Grace and female Grace were sleeping, I studied the Hail Mary database.” That wasn’t unusual. Rocky did it all the time. But somehow, this announcement immediately filled both of you with a strange sense of dread. “I noticed something interesting. Correlation between pizza delivery and reproductive behavior among humans. Why. Question.”
Ryland nearly chokes on the noodles in his mouth. He coughs violently. You stare at Rocky in complete surprise. “What are you talking about?” Grace finally manages once he can breathe again. “There is connection,” Rocky continues, spreading his arms as if explaining something obvious. “Pizza delivery. Human female pleased. Copulation follows.”
And then you understand. Far too well. Ryland doesn’t even need to look at you. Judging by the increasingly horrified expression on his face, his brain is already producing one terrible possibility after another. The tips of his ears turn red.
“Does it depend on pizza type. Question?” Ryland lets out a pained groan and rubs a hand over his face, nearly knocking his glasses off. “Is this mating ritual. Question?” “Buddy, please...” Grace’s voice is bordering on desperate now.
You try not to laugh, but a quiet snort escapes you anyway. Rocky immediately turns toward you. “Female Grace. Question.” “Ummm… yeah?” “If Grace brings you pizza, will you copulate?” At this point, Ryland’s greatest wish is to open an airlock and throw himself into the endless void of space.
“Please don’t answer that,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Oh. I think that…” “No.” “...if someone managed to deliver pizza all the way out here…” “No.” “...considering how many light-years separate us from the nearest pizzeria…” “Don’t go that way…” “...I might consider it…” “I’m done.” Ryland lifts his head. The expression on his face finally breaks your self-control. You burst out laughing.
He points accusingly at you. “You’re encouraging him. You’re making it easier for him to ask questions like this. You’re making the situation worse.” You raise an eyebrow. “Me? You’re talking like I’m responsible for whatever’s in the Hail Mary database.” “You... Oh. You know exactly what I mean.”
Rocky shifts uneasily. “Grace upset. Bad that Rocky tries to find Grace mate. Question.” Ryland looks at you. His face is the picture of complete helplessness and despair. Maybe there’s a trace of amusement buried somewhere underneath it all, but nothing about the two of you has ever been obvious enough to justify this level of investigation.
Finally, Grace raises a hand. “I hereby declare that we are no longer discussing pizza, copulation, mating rituals, or anything remotely related to any of those topics. Rocky, you’re grounded. I’m putting parental controls on your database access.” Then he points at you. “And you?” You smile slightly. “Think about your behavior.” He storms out, leaving both you and Rocky staring after him in stunned silence.
You set down your container of unfinished noodles and slide onto the floor. “Female Grace.” Rocky turns toward you. “You like pizza. Question.” You shrug. “I do.” “Good. You like Grace. Question.” You pick up both containers and glance down the corridor, smiling to yourself. “Yeah.” “Good. Good. Good. Hard to get pizza here. Sad.” You laugh softly. “Definitely.”
Rocky thought that a hickey was the human equivalent of a mating mark. So, one day when the purplish bruise on your neck finally faded, Rocky panics.
“Grace and (YLN) not mates anymore. Question?” Frantic chords vibrate from him. Both you and Ryland look confused as to where he got this idea. “Huh? No, buddy. No way. We’re still very much together” Ryland answered, reaching up to push his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, “why did you think we weren't?”
The verbal confirmation that his favourite humans haven’t split up, calms Rocky down. He lets out a slower series of notes, “Mating mark not there on (YLN) anymore”. Ryland’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Mating mark?” He blinked, tracking Rocky’s pointed claw, which was pointed at you. Ryland turned his head toward you, only to find you already touching the exact spot at the base of your neck where the hickey had been. Ryland’s eyebrows shot upward, his lips parting as he breathed a faint, horrified, “Oh”.
Immediately, he flushes. “Rocky, no!” his voice cracking slightly. “Uhm, that’s completely…that’s not…” He trailed off helplessly, his eyes darting to you in a plea for backup. You offered absolutely none. Instead, you bit down hard on your lower lip, shoulders shaking as you held back your laughter.
“That is absolutely not a mating mark, bud" Ryland attempted to tap back to his teacher-voice, though it was currently a full octave higher than normal, "humans don’t carry permanent biological indicators of…of pair-bonding”. Rocky’s form tilts, “But Grace give that mark during mating, yes. Question?” Letting out series of curious chords.
Whatever composure Ryland had left shattered. His shoulders slumped forward. At that exact moment, he looked like he would gladly float into the scary, infinite dark space rather than spend another second explaining his sexual choreography to a five-legged alien. “Grace not answer Rocky" the Eridian says, his tones shifting into a disapproving hum. "Grace not good mate to (YLN). Statement”. That was your breaking point, finally letting yourself laugh.
Ryland buried his face entirely in his hands, letting out a groan. “Oh my God, stop laughing, baby” Ryland mumbled into his palms, his voice muffled. He looks up at Rocky again, “Rocky, It’s just…a pressure mark. Uhm, kind of a bite. It has nothing to do with our relationship status”.
Rocky lifted two claws, mimicking a pinching motion, “Grace bite (YLN) for science. Question?”You leaned against a table, wiping a tear from your eye. “Yes, Dr Grace” you managed to breathe out, “please tell our Eridian friend. Was it for science?”
Ryland dropped his hands, glaring at you with a mixture of betrayal and embarrassment, though a tiny smile threatened to crack through his flushed state. “You are evil” he muttered to you, before turning back to Rocky, “No, Rocky. Not for science. Just…human biology is weird. Can we talk about actual science now? Please?”
Rocky let out an amused tune “Humans weird weird weird. Grace more weird”. Ryland suddenly felt the same helplessness he felt back on Earth, being a middle school science teacher trapped in a classroom full of giggling preteens.
Reader who started calling Rocky pet names out of habit and, after explaining, Rocky loves it. But then reader and Grace start dating and you call him a pet name and suddenly Rocky is seething with jealousy.
“Rock, honey, be careful,” it slips out when he barrels past in his ball one day.
You’re writing on a white board when he squeezes past, knocking into the leg of the table and causing it to shake, sending some utensils flying. Obviously he’s incredibly sturdy (…rocky…), but he can be kind of reckless sometimes.
“No understand second word.” At least he stops rolling around to ask.
Grace looks up from his work bench, glasses sliding down his nose to where they’re almost falling off, and glances between the two of you. He’s in one of his stupid pun shirts that grip his biceps too tight, and you can’t think about that too much or else your mind will wander.
You realize what you said and that now you have to explain pet names to an alien. “Oh uh…” you look back at Ryland for assistance, but he just throws his hands up in a this-one-is-on-you gesture before returning to his work, slipping his pen between his teeth as he thinks.
You look back to Rocky who is eagerly awaiting your explanation.
“…It’s a pet name. A term of endearment,” you decide to go with, “Like something you call someone you care about.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then, “care about Rocky? Question.”
You’re shocked that it’s a question. You squat down to be semi-level with him, hand finding the top of his ball, “yeah. Of course I do Rocky.”
He extends himself so his carapace bonks the tops of the ball where your hand is. The ball does a great job at insulation, but you can still feel a little more heat seep through when he does.
“Amaze amaze amaze. Rocky cares about humans too, statement.”
You smile, but then remember something else, “Oh! Honey is also a food, though.”
He shrinks back down, you assume because he’s put off by the mention of eating. He takes a single step back, ball rolling a small amount.
“Rocky food? Question.”
You burst out in laughter, Ryland can’t help but join too.
“No! Rocky not food! Honey is sweet, so you call someone honey when their personality is sweet too.”
“Oh, understand. Rocky sweet!” He does his little happy chirps and jazz hands that always make you get a little cuteness aggression.
“…debatable…” you hear Grace murmur from his station, probably because Rocky rolled over his toe this morning.
“No, Rocky sweet, statement. Other human said so, Grace is dumb dumb dumb human, smart smart smart human call Rocky sweet.”
You stand and laugh, happy to gang up on Ryland with Rocky, “yeah, Ry, I’m smart smart smart.”
It’s months later after you and Ryland finally stop pretending that you only love each other as ‘crew mates’ that it gets brought up again.
“Ry, can you pass the p20,” you’re running more experiments on the taumoeba, at this point more out of boredom than anything.
He hands the pipette to you from across the bench. “Thank you, honey.” The word slides out without you even realizing it, but someone in the room definitely takes notice.
Rocky stops his ministrations with his xenonite, dropping it and rapidly tapping on the barrier.
“What. Grace not honey, Rocky is honey! Only Rocky get pet name, statement.”
You look up incredulously, unaware that Rocky felt so strongly about his pet name.
Grace seems fairly shocked at his insistence too, but he’s not one to pass an opportunity to tease Rocky. He tilts his head like he’s thinking before looking over at Rocky, “Well, no bud, I’m pretty sure I’m honey. Maybe when you can pass a pipette…” Ryland teases.
“No no no, Rocky honey, Grace is leaky space blob, other human knows Rocky better.”
You can’t stop your giggle. It feels a little mean because clearly Rocky is actually passionate about this, but his possession is cute.
“Okay! I’m sorry!” You say through the giggles, “It was an accident. Rocky is honey. Ry, you…we’ll workshop it.” You’re not sure if he even likes pet names, let alone which ones.
He pouts across the lab bench to you.
“No workshop. No special name for Grace, only Rocky.”
IDEA: ryland grace x wife!reader, a power couple in the field, sent on the mission together, not bothering with contraceptives because after years of failed attempts to conceive, you were told you were infertile…
“ryland, it’s impossible!” you insist, scrubbing vigorously at the counters, cleaning off invisible residue from breakfast. “years of tracking my cycle, fucking like rabbits, failed fertility treatments, i can’t—god, i can’t even say it.”
you’ve spent the whole day ranting and raving but your husband’s dopey smile persisted. “honey, we’re eating synthetic alien food, stranger things have happened! something could’ve changed!”
“or it’s a false alarm. it’s not like we don’t have plenty of those under our belts.” you paused your ministrations, swallowing at the sour memory.
ryland’s smile faltered for a moment—maybe he wasn’t being the most sensitive with his excitement. it was hard to contain, though; after grieving the idea of becoming parents for years, you might finally have the chance.
“hey,” he whispers, approaching you carefully, pulling you away from the countertop and back against his chest. “whether it’s a false alarm or the real deal, we’ll figure it out together—always.”
“…i just don’t want to feel that disappointment again. i don’t want to disappoint you again.”
ryland’s arms tighten around you immediately, his face traveling down to your neck, placing a gentle kiss there. “hey, you are not disappointing me. you didn’t disappoint me back then either.”
you sniffle. “you wanted kids, ry—”
“i wanted you first,” he corrects. “i didn’t marry you for your ability to produce offspring, i’m not a chimp. i love you.”
as if on cue, the pitter patter of rocky’s many appendages traveled through the door, adrian trailing a few steps behind him. “sometimes eridian cannot reproduce, they take stray pebble from other litter. very noble, statement.”
you laugh tearily, wiping your eyes. “on earth, we call those orphans, not strays.”
“like the annie, question?” adrian asks—you forgot you showed them that.
you nod, and feel ryland smile against your neck.
“you don’t take stray orphan pebble,” rocky states, hobbling forward—it’s then you see a paper is pinched between his fingers. “you have pebble. on earth, you urinate in jar. dumb, dumb, dumb, rocky take saliva for testing.”
the tests shockingly resemble those from earth; you forget, sometimes, that the spider alien that calls your husband “dumb dumb dumb” is actually a genius. the test detected hCG and that, along with rocky’s detection of a second heartbeat—or as he called it, a “thump-thump”—confirmed it: you’re pregnant.
you always thought you’d break down in tears if this moment ever came, but your shock froze you, eyes and mouth agape. ryland, though, was already on his knees.
“oh my god,” he sobbed, face pressed against your stomach, glasses pushed askew on his reddened face. “oh my god…”
“why grace leaking, question? pebble amaze, amaze, amaze!” rocky chirped, dancing around in place.
“happy tears, buddy, happy tears.”
you lowered yourself down to your husband’s level, your knees suddenly feeling weak, your skin tingling with excitement. the second you were within reach, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you reverently. it tasted salty from the tears, his mingling with your own now.
you felt a familiar poke at your shoulder as rocky nudged his way into the embrace. “excuse, excuse, rocky come in now.”
adrian scolded him, but gave you a pat on the back as well.
you smiled tearily at your friends, patting rocky’s back (head? eridian anatomy still confused you). you were a far cry, and a few light years away, from what you dreamed this moment would look like all those years ago, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
(enjoy me cleaning out my drafts full of bf!ryland grace)
ryland loves his job for many reasons. working with kids turned out to be really fulfilling and he loves building relationships with them. but now that he’s dating you, his personal favorite is he gets out early enough to pick you up from work everyday.
it’s the bay area, and with him both of you working in the city, taking public transit just makes life easier. and now that you’re living together, ryland is living the dream.he walks you to work, hand in hand, every morning. he gets off at the same stop as you, walks you to your office building, always making sure to give you a slow, loving and deep goodbye kiss. so you won’t forget about him during the day, of course. then he walks down the block to hop on the bus that drops him off right at the school.
and every afternoon, ryland takes the bus back to your building, and sits in the little quad area right outside. sometimes he’ll grade something small, like an easy worksheet he had his students do, or he’ll read to fill the time to wait for you. other times he’ll sit and people watch, then he’ll tell you all the silly stories he made up about them on the way home. and sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, he’ll find a little treat to surprise you with. whether it be a a pastry, or flowers, really anything to get you to smile. (that man loves surprising you with flowers. he likes the particular look on your face when admiring them and the genuine appreciation in your eyes when you thank him).
and you’ve told him before that he doesn’t need to drop you off and pick you up from work. “im a big girl, ry. you don’t have to wait for me if you’re tired from work.” you tell him one morning, legs tangled together, your head on his chest. he looks at you, sleep still in his eyes, but a playful smirk on his face. “why? is your other boyfriend getting jealous i get all your time.” you smack his chest, giggling you lol up at him. “no, he knows your my favorite.” you barely get out before he squeezes your side, tickling you.
“ry, im being serious.” you pout at his betrayal of your defenseless state. “trust me, we all know you can take care of yourself. i’ve told you many times that you’re a little scary.” he laughs and you rolls your eyes, attempting to push yourself off of him. but he holds your tighter against him. “i do it because i want to. i like to know you’re safe, and i want to spend every. single. second i can with you before you leave me all day.” he punctuates every word with a kiss, the last one landing on your lips. “i just want to take care of you. make sure my girl is okay.” and you melt at his words. you were so in love with him, and it was written all over your face.
you and work friends all walk out together, laughing at whatever stupid joke one of you made about someone else in the office. and ryland hears your polite chuckles over every sound in the city, and immediately gets up for his seat, walking towards you. your coworkers spot him first, shouting a “you’re bodyguard is here!” and he nods politely at them. he always pulls you into the biggest, bone crushing hug, then cradles your face, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years - and if you ask him anytime away from you is too long.
“hi baby,” you say against his lips. and you hear your coworkers snicker at the two of you. “see you guys tomorrow,” but your attention is not on them anymore, just fully focused on the man in front of you. “see you both tomorrow. don’t have too much fun,” as they walk the opposite way from you and ryland. it doesn’t matter that his backpack is already on, he’s carrying your bag while his free hand reaches for your hand.
“anything particular you want for dinner tonight?” you ask, kissing his shoulder as you approach the crosswalk. the light turns red and you guys wait for the light to change. he pulls you in him, his front flush against your back, mouth dipping to your ear. “no, but i know what i want for dessert.” he rasps in your ear. you laugh pushing him slightly, “what you missed me or something?” he kisses the top of your head and the light changes and he leads you across the street. “oh honey, you have no idea how much.”
Robby has never been a fan of birthdays. This year, loneliness drives him to download Tinder on an impulse, only to come across the last person he expected to find there: his favorite resident.
warning/tags: minors DNI, p0rn with little plot, masturbating, sexting, pet names (sweetheart and good girl) robby loves talking you through it, unprotected piv, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, body hair, fingering, creampie, handjob, kinda softdom!robby, age gap (I imagined reader being in her 20s or 30s but could be in her 40s too, tried to keep it broad)
For those of you who read it the first or second time I uploaded it: during the days the fic was down, I expanded some scenes, added a bit more dialogue, and made it a little kinkier along the way. You might want to read it again for some extra content
He knew this was stupid, plainly a terrible idea. On any other day, the thought wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but today wasn’t any ordinary day. Today was his birthday. Fifty-five years old, and he had never felt more lost in his own life. Nothing had turned out the way he’d once imagined it would. If someone had told him, back when he was a resident, that he would still be coming home to an empty apartment at this age, no wife curled up on the couch waiting for him with a tired but loving smile, no chorus of small feet thundering toward the door, shoving drawings into his hands and saying “Look what I made for you today, daddy!” he would have laughed in their face and called it a cruel joke.
Yet here he was. No relationship had ever survived the weight of the hours and the way his mind stayed trapped in the ED long after he left it. He couldn’t be present anymore, not the way a partner deserved. The job had hollowed him out in ways he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
It had been almost a year since he ended things with Noelle, not long after he returned from his sabbatical. He’d told himself it was the right thing to do. Maybe it really was better this way. At this point in his life, trying again felt pointless, almost selfish. He was saving whatever good women were still out there from the inevitable complications of loving Michael Robinavitch.
But today the emptiness hit differently. The apartment felt quieter than usual, and his thoughts were louder, circling like a vulture. He knew it was the birthday doing this to him. Birthdays had a way of dragging the sorrows out into the light, every missed milestone, every abandoned version of the life he thought he’d have. Jack had tried to pull him out of it, offering a beer after shift, but Robby had politely declined. He wasn’t in the mood for forced cheer, for anyone raising a glass to another year of the same.
He’d made it clear to the whole department that he didn’t want any birthday cake, no cards, no presents, nothing. Still, the well-meaning murmurs had followed him all day: “Happy birthday, Dr. Robby,” each one met with a progressively wearier smile until the words blurred together. By the end of the shift, he was only managing quiet nods of acknowledgment, the kind that said thank you and please stop at the same time.
So here he was, in an apartment that was too big for himself, lying on a couch that felt even bigger, downloading Tinder on his phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, he’d tried Tinder once, maybe two years ago. Downloaded it, swiped for a week, then deleted it when the superficial nonsense started bothering him too much.
He started with the basics. Photos. Robby opened his gallery and scrolled slowly through the meager collection. Most of the images were work-related, grainy screenshots of charts, or blurry shots of trees and roads he’d taken during his bike rides. After a long hesitation, he picked a silly selfie he’d sent Jack a few weeks earlier. He was holding up the book the two of them had been texting about, half-smiling at the camera like he felt ridiculous even taking it. It wasn’t terrible, he supposed. He looked… friendly. Approachable, maybe.
Next, he chose one from the department barbecue he’d actually forced himself to attend last summer. He was wearing the sleeves rolled up on a button-down shirt, and holding a beer in his hand. He didn’t hate it, it showed a version of himself that still showed up for people, even when he didn’t feel like it. The last one was from the hospital fundraiser gala two years ago. He looked elegant in that photo in a black suit, but he had to crop Jack out of the frame, his face was still half-visible over his shoulder. Three photos, not exactly a compelling portfolio, but they were honest, he wasn’t pretending to be anyone other than himself.
He moved on to preferences. Gender: Women. Age range… His thumb froze. At first, he set it to 50–60. Women at the same stage he was, maybe divorced, maybe widowed, or just tired of feeling alone. But then something flickered in his chest, part curiosity and part desperation, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dragged the lower end down. Twenty to sixty. The wider net felt reckless, almost embarrassing. But what if the love of his life existed somewhere in that range? What if he missed her by something as stupid as a single year on a slider?
As if the love of your life was sitting on Tinder on a Sunday night, he thought. Don’t be fucking stupid, Robby.
He stared at the screen for a long moment, and with a quiet sigh that sounded too much like surrender, he tapped confirm. Now it was time for the bio. Robby stared at the blank field for a long minute. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t looking for anything specific. Company? Distraction? Someone who wouldn’t mind a man who came home at crazy hours, sometimes covered in blood and whocarried more baggage than he could carry?
He typed slowly what felt the most honest: “ER doctor in Pittsburgh. Love long bike rides to clear my head and 70s rock. Not entirely sure what I’m looking for here, but if you can handle sarcasm and odd hours, we might get along.”
He read it back. It sounded stiff, after all, he wasn’t used to this. But it was him, and so he hit save before he could overthink it more. The app prompted him to start swiping. Robby leaned back against the couch as the profiles began loading, smiling faces, pictures of holiday destinations, and bios full of lists of requirements. He swiped left on most without much thought.
Left. Left. Left. Some of the women seemed nice, but nothing pulled him in. He kept going until the endless scroll of faces started blurring together. No one stuck, just the same hollow feeling that had driven him to download the damn thing in the first place.
But then your profile appeared. Robby’s entire body froze. The photo loaded first: you, one of his own residents. You were standing in scrubs outside the Pitt with the same smirk you got after a particularly chaotic shift. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as the heat crawled up his neck. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling right now.
At work you were talented and dedicated, but still green enough that he rode you hard during shifts. And here you were on Tinder, of all places. The thought that you, or anyone else from the department, might stumble across his profile made his stomach twist with embarrassment. He could already imagine the gossip: Dr. Robby on Tinder. How pathetic.
He should swipe left immediately, delete his profile, and pretend this never happened. Instead, curiosity won. Robby tapped on your profile, telling himself it was just… professional concern. Making sure you weren’t doing anything stupid. He cared about his residents. Yeah, that was it.
Your bio loaded beneath the main photo: “If you like girls who will force you to watch her Letterboxd top four and then talk your ear off for hours about the hidden meaning behind her favorite songs, then I’m your girl. Emergency med resident with zero free time. Not looking for anything serious, just fun, meeting people, seeing where it goes.”
Robby let out a chuckle despite himself, the sound was unexpected in the quiet of the moment. He had only ever seen you in the chaos of the ED, running on adrenaline and too little sleep. But this version of you felt… different. He found himself thinking about how little he actually knew you. How little he’d allowed himself to know.
He didn’t know where you were from, or what your family was like, whether you had siblings who called too often or parents you tried to make proud. He didn’t know what you did outside of the hospital besides the occasional beer in the park, or what made you laugh until your sides hurt. All those small and ordinary pieces of a life that existed outside the emergency department.
It felt strangely intimate, seeing you like this. Like stumbling across a part of you he wasn’t supposed to have access to. A version of you that wasn’t filtered through the hierarchy of resident and attending. Up until now, you had been “his resident”, contained within the professional boundaries he’d carefully maintained.
He started swiping through your photos. The second picture was you laughing in what looked like a group hike, with your hair windblown and your eyes bright. You looked undeniably pretty. Objectively, he’d always known you were attractive. The kind of natural attractiveness that turned heads in the hospital corridors even when you were exhausted and covered in sweat. But once again, he’d never thought about it. You were a resident, he’d gone down that path before, and it’d ended badly. That made you off-limits, end of story.
The third photo was of you in a cozy sweater, curled up with a book and a mug of coffee. It was cute, almost sweet. The kind of image that made the loneliness in his chest ache. He kept swiping until the last photo hit him like a defibrillator. You were on a beach somewhere sunny and sandy, wearing a bikini. Your skin was glowing under the sun, and you were smiling at the camera in a confident pose, the kind of effortless beauty that could stop any man cold. Holy fuck, your body barely contained by the fabric of the bikini, the photo capturing the gentle swell and the way the light played across your body.
Robby’s mouth went dry, the heat flooded his face and then lower down his body. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t let himself imagine you like this, outside the hospital, undeniably a woman and not just one of his residents. His pulse kicked up, the nervousness made his hands shake and his grip slippery. He fumbled the phone, trying to swipe left fast. Swipe left, damn it, he thought.
But he accidentally jerked his thumb the wrong way, to the right, and the screen lit up with that unmistakable animation.
It’s a Match!
On the other side of Pittsburgh, you had been lying in bed, still trying to unwind after another brutal twelve-hour shift. Sleep felt miles away, so you’d given in to the guilty habit of late-night Tinder scrolling. Sure, swiping at 1 a.m. probably looked desperate to anyone else, but who cared? It wasn’t like you had much of a life outside the hospital anyway.
You swiped left with efficiency. Guy whose entire bio was just a link to his podcast. Left. Gym mirror selfies and nothing else. Left. Self-proclaimed “entrepreneur in the crypto market” with a Lamborghini in the background that probably wasn’t even his. Left.
How was it this difficult to find someone even remotely decent? You weren’t expecting to meet the love of your life in this digital dumpster, but was it really too much to ask for a man with basic social skills and a profile that didn’t scream immediate red flags? Someone whose opening line wasn’t just “u dtf?”
Guy who still clearly lived with his mom. Another left. “No feminists” in the bio, followed by a rant about “high value woman.” Left.
Then your thumb froze mid-swipe. Michael Robinavitch. Your heart slammed against your ribs. There he was, Dr. Robby, looking straight into the camera in one of the photos, that familiar half-smile you’d seen a thousand times in the ED, only now it was on a dating app.
You sat up straighter in bed, suddenly wide awake. What the hell was Dr. Robby doing on Tinder? You’d scrolled through this app for weeks and never seen him before. He must have created the profile recently. The man you’d been quietly (and not-so-quietly) thirsting over since your very first day of residency was right here. One match away.
How could you not like Robby? He was everything you’d ever wanted in a man, strong, steady, impossibly smart, and so damn capable it made your legs weak every single time he gave you a calm and yet authoritative instruction in the middle of a trauma.
You’d lost count of how many times he’d gently reprimanded you for being distracted while charting. He always assumed you were just tired from the long hours. He had no idea that you kept getting lost in vivid daydreams about him: running your fingers through the silver-flecked hair and that coarse, greyish beard, feeling those big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close.
You loved the way his eyes crinkled warmly behind his glasses when he smiled, the way his voice dropped into that gravelly register when he needed to command attention in the ED… it did things to you. Dangerous, addictive things. Sometimes getting in trouble with him felt more exciting than it had any right to.
His Tinder bio was unexpectedly adorable. He looked a little lost, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged on the app but was willing to put himself out there anyway. That bike is not the only thing I’d like to ride, you thought, as a little smile tugged at your lips.
His pictures made you melt and sigh at the same time. That warm, contagious smil, the glasses that struck the perfect balance between hot and endearingly sweet. The silver threading through his beard that made you press your thighs together at the mere thought of feeling it against your skin, between your legs, specifically.
You swiped slowly through the rest of his photos. Those wide shoulders, that tall and solid frame, that soft belly under the button-down shirt… you wanted him in a way you had never wanted anyone before.
It was almost pathetic the way your heart did a little skip every time he complimented your work on a tough case. The way your thighs squeezed together almost involuntarily whenever he stepped in close during a complicated procedure, guiding you step by step, his voice low and patient near your ear. “Yeah, grab the blade like that… make a two-inch incision, softly, very gently.” “Hold the tube with your left hand, tight, don’t move it.”
It made your mind wander to dangerous places. Was he like that in bed too? The kind of man who talked you through it, calm and devastatingly attentive? In your fantasies, he absolutely was. Late at night, alone in this very bed with nothing but your hand and your imagination, you could almost hear his voice murmuring against your skin: “Keep your legs open for me, nice and wide… just like that.” “Look at you… already making such a mess. I’m gonna start with one finger, okay? Think you can be good and take it for me?”
Should you swipe right? It felt like the only logical choice. If he swiped left, which seemed like the most likely outcome, he would never even know you’d swiped on him. But if he did swipe right… then maybe, just maybe, you could end up in Robby’s bed.
Your hopes stayed low. Never in a million years did you actually expect Robby to be attracted to you the way you were to him. You would’ve noticed something by now, maybe in lingering stares, subtle flirting, or any shift in the way he treated you. But he didn’t. He treated you exactly like the rest of the residents: a young doctor he needed to teach, who could sometimes be frustratingly distracted.
Still, you couldn’t contain the tiny, thrilled scream that escaped your lips when the screen lit up:
It’s a Match!
Robby had matched with you. He wanted you too.
“Shit!” Robby dropped the phone onto the couch like it had burned him. It bounced once and landed face-up, the match confirmation still glowing on the screen. He and you had just matched on Tinder. All thanks to that goddamn bikini photo and his clumsy, nervous fingers.
He stared at it, feeling his heart hammering harder than it had during the worst trauma cases. This was mortifying. You’d seen his profile, you’d swiped right, and now you were going to see that he’d swiped right as well. Part of him, the tired and lonely part that had downloaded the app and widened the age range, wondered what you’d think.
A dozen what-ifs tumbled through his mind. What if you saw his profile and laughed? That disbelieving laugh when something genuinely surprised you. What if you messaged him first? Maybe it had been a mistake on your end too. Maybe your phone had slipped, or you’d been swiping too fast after a long shift, half-asleep and a little buzzed. Or maybe… maybe you’d swiped right on purpose, just to tease him. He could already picture the text popping up on his phone: “Oh my god, Dr. Robby. What are you doing on Tinder? lol.”
Robby ran both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. He picked the phone back up, looking straight at the Send message button. He shouldn’t. The responsible thing would be to delete the app, pretend this night never happened, and go back to being your attending, not your Tinder match.
Instead, he opened your profile again. Robby tried to move past it, he really did, but his eyes lingered on that last photo far longer than they should have. You in a bikini, your skin glowing under warm sunlight. He couldn’t believe that was what you looked like underneath the baggy scrubs you wore every day in the ED.
It felt wrong. Like he wasn’t allowed to see you like this, like he was intruding on something deeply private, crossing a line that should never even be approached between an attending and his resident. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough to make him look away.
His body reacted anyway, a sudden heat stirring unwanted, a throb of arousal he hadn’t felt this sharply in longer than he cared to admit. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hating himself for it even as the reaction deepened. What the hell is wrong with you, Robby? he told himself, but the self-reproach did nothing to dull the pull. What could he do? You were a woman. A beautiful one, and for the first time, he was seeing you not just as his resident, but as someone undeniably, breathtakingly desirable.
Before he could delete his account and go to bed as he should, your message popped up.
You: hii :)
Robby’s breath hitched in his throat. For a split second, he swore his heart actually stopped. Then it slammed back into rhythm, pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, in his temples, in the tightness of his chest. The little smiley face stared back at him from the screen, innocent and cheerful, as if it hadn’t just flipped his entire night upside down.
You had matched with him. At eleven at night. On his lonely fucking birthday. What the hell was he supposed to say to you at 11 pm. after accidentally matching with her on Tinder? “Hey, funny seeing you” here felt pathetic. “This is wildly inappropriate” felt like a lie because the rush of heat still lingering in his veins said otherwise.
He set the phone down on the coffee table for a moment, dragging a hand over his face for the millionth time. Part of him wanted to delete the match immediately, pretend it never happened, and go to bed like the responsible, professional attending he was supposed to be. But another part, the part that had been sitting alone on his fifty-fifth birthday, couldn’t bring itself to swipe left on this one unexpected connection. So he picked the phone back up and stared at the blinking cursor in the message box.
Another message came through a minute later.
You: robby? it’s me from work... guess you saw my profile too haha
Robby let out a long breath, he couldn’t avoid it now that you’d initiated a conversation with him. It was better to be direct, explain the mistake to you, and shut this down before it got any more awkward.
Robby: hey
yeah, I saw it
listen, this is embarrassing as hell, i was messing around with the app, dropped my phone and it must have swiped right by accident
sorry about that, didn’t mean to make things weird
He hit send and immediately regretted how cold it sounded, but it was the truth. The phone stayed quiet for a moment that stretched too long. He had his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for your reply so he could shut down this awkward conversation and delete this stupid app before he accidentally matched with anyone else from work.
You: oh. so it was a mistake? damn, i thought you had swiped right on purpose. bummer.
Robby’s eyes widened. You were being direct, not beating around the bush or deflecting by saying it had been a mistake on your end as well. He could practically hear your voice saying it with a teasing edge.
Robby: Sorry about the confusion
i know it might be awkward finding me on here. probably the last person you expected, i don’t usually do this.
You: honestly it was surprising. didn’t peg you as the tinder type at all.
but hey, we all have our moments i guess
Robby: i’m not the type
this is my second time ever downloading it and i already regret it, should probably delete the whole thing before i make an even bigger fool of myself.
You: yeah i get it. i thought the match was mutual so i figured i’d say hi. sorry for texting if it was just an accident. didn’t mean to make it weirder
Robby read your message twice. Thought the match was mutual. The words echoed in his brain. You had swiped right on purpose, not as a joke, not out of morbid curiosity about your boss’s sad dating life. You had chosen him willingly. The realization of what that meant sent a confusing rush through him. You liked him, that had to be it. The thought of you… having a crush on him made a warm feeling run through his body, one he immediately tried to shove down.
Robby: What do you mean you thought it was mutual?
You: idk... i saw the notification and figured you wanted to match with me since it happened. that’s why i said hi right away. didn’t want to leave it hanging if we were both curious
He stared at the screen, his heart beating a little harder. You were so honest and blunt about your feelings, he found himself almost intimidated by it. Some rational part of his brain was trying to tell him this had to be a big joke, there was no way in hell you could like him. You were… you. What would you see in a man like him?
Robby: you wanted us to match? seriously?
You: lol yeah i did swipe right, didn’t i? your profile was actually really nice. the book pic is cute and the 70s rock mention made me smile. plus... i don’t know, you’re interesting. figured why not. no pressure though
Robby: i thought maybe you did it out of curiosity
or just to see if I’d swiped on you didn’t expect you to actually want that
You: well i did. but if it was an accident on your end then no big deal. we can pretend this never happened and go back to normal tomorrow. i won’t mention it at work or anything. promise
Robby let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a long moment as he exhaled heavily. He knew exactly what the responsible Chief of Emergency Medicine should do right now: unmatch immediately, delete his profile, and pretend the entire night had been nothing more than a lonely fever dream.
But tonight… tonight he didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to be Dr. Robinavitch, the attending who had sacrificed nearly every personal connection, every version of a fuller life, on the altar of the ED. For once, he wanted to be Michael. Just Michael. The man who had matched with you on Tinder. The man who was currently staring at his phone with his heart hammering like he was twenty years younger.
Before he could piece together a polite but firm way to end the conversation and retreat back into the safety of professional distance, another message appeared.
You: i think your profile’s part of the reason i swiped right. the book pic’s really nice
He smiled faintly at that, a rare genuine twitch at the corner of his mouth. Robby leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.
Robby: your profile’s pretty good too, better than most of the ones i’ve seen tonight
You: aww thanks. your’s so much better than the usual bullshit on here which is not that hard to be
but still finding you here is a nice change :)
Robby: you on this app a lot? seems like you’ve got the profile down
You: not really. i’ve been on a couple dates from here but it’s honestly exhausting. hard to find someone decent in this city. most guys are either looking for hookups with zero conversation or they’re boring as hell. you know how it is
Robby: fair enough.
your age range must be set pretty high if it pulled me up
fifty five isn’t exactly the usual crowd for you or is it?
You: haha yeah well
i like older men
Those four stupid words hit him square in the chest like a defibrillator. “I like older men.” Robby reread them slowly, feeling a dangerous warmth bloom low in his belly and spread outward through his chest. He was an older man, and apparently, that fit exactly into your preferences. Was that flirtation? Were you subtly implying that he was the kind of older man you liked? Or was it just a casual, throwaway comment, something you’d say to any guy on the app who happened to have a few gray hairs?
No. He was spiraling too deep, overthinking it the way he always did. Your words didn’t carry some hidden, special meaning meant just for him. They couldn’t. And yet… No matter how hard he tried to talk himself down, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of validation that lit up inside him. He felt desired, really desired. Not just by anyone, but by you: someone younger, and so strikingly pretty it almost hurt to look at your photos for too long. Someone who, in his mind, was clearly way out of his league.
Robby: It’s okay to have preferences
everyone does.
You: yeah exactly. i just find older guys more attractive than the ones my age. they’re usually more mature, know what they want, have actual life experience. it’s... hotter, i guess. plus the conversations are better
He swallowed hard, feeling his throat suddenly dry. He could practically see your face as you typed those words, maybe biting your lower lip in that teasing way you sometimes did right after nailing a difficult procedure.
Then the bikini photo from earlier flashed unbidden through his mind, and the heat in his body flared hotter. He pictured you exactly as you’d looked in that shot: sun-warmed skin, curves barely contained by the fabric. The thoughts he had no right to entertain came rushing in anyway, pulling him deeper. Thoughts of having you all to himself, of finally being able to run his hands slowly over every inch of that bare skin, tracing the line of your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping the soft weight of your breasts. Of putting his mouth on you and every sensitive spot until you were trembling beneath him.
Robby: makes sense
i usually go for women closer to my stage of life
we have more in common that way
You: do age gaps bother you?
Robby: in what way?
You: like as a concept. are they a problem for you?
Robby: i’m okay with consenting adults doing what they want
as long as everyone’s on the same page it’s not my business.
You: have you ever been in an age gap relationship or anything like that?
Robby: i once dated a woman a bit younger than me
but usually around my age
He paused before sending the next part, he shouldn’t keep engaging in this deeply unprofessional conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. And you were simply so easy to talk to that he couldn’t stop himself from letting his walls down a little.
He typed before he could second-guess himself.
Robby: how much older are we talking anyway?
the men you usually like i mean.
Your reply came fast, like you’d been waiting with the phone in hand.
You: usually over fifty up until their sixties or so. around that range. but it’s just a preference, nothing crazy. i feel like older men usually treat you better. they’re more gentlemanly, know how to actually listen, and they tend to understand what a woman wants... in every way, if you know what i mean ;)
Robby read the message twice. Three times. Four. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck me. You weren’t just being polite or making casual conversation. That winky face, the implication hanging there about “every way”. You were deliberately flirting with him, there was no other way to see it. He shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of his own body and the fact that it had been a long damn time since anyone had spoken to him like that.
He took a slow breath and replied, trying to keep some semblance of control.
Robby: do you date men closer to your own age too?
or is it mostly the older crowd?
You: i have tried guys closer to my age. some of them are sweet but a lot are still figuring their shit out. you should try dating a woman younger than you sometime though. maybe it’s exactly what you need.
Robby didn’t know what to say. The words hung there, full of possibilities around them. He was still wrestling with a response when another message from you popped up.
You: anyway sorry again for the confusion earlier. i’ll leave you alone so you can keep scrolling through profiles. i’ll go back to robbing the graves haha (joke, get it? because i like older guys... sorry that was sooo bad)
Robby chuckled despite the whirlwind in his head. The joke was cheesy, so perfectly you that it cut through some of the tension. But it also gave him an out, you were offering to back off and let this weird moment fade into nothing before tomorrow’s shift made everything awkward as hell. Part of him wanted to take the exit ramp, wish you a good night, unmatch, delete the app, and pretend none of this happened. But another part, the one that had been sitting alone on his birthday didn’t want the conversation to end.
He tapped over to your photos again, almost against his will. There it was the last one. You on the beach in that bikini, with the perfect swell of your tits catching the sunlight. Holy fuck. He wanted you, the realization hit him all of a sudden, making him switch back to the chat and move his thumbs almost on autopilot.
Robby: Nothing to apologize for
honestly you’ve kept me better company tonight than I expected
You: see? younger women can be good company too :) you shouldn’t close the door so fast. you could meet someone nice if you give it a chance
Robby: you shouldn’t close the door on guys your own age either
there are decent ones out there, you’ll find someone who can keep up with you
You: out of all the guys i’ve matched with here... you’re easily the best one. no contest
Robby: Really? that can’t be right
you’re selling yourself short.
You: no i mean it. you’re exactly the kind of man i’d usually go for. tall, older, smart... and hot
The word hot hit him harder than it had any right to. His face flushed deeper, his clothes felt constricting, his pants uncomfortably tight. Robby’s cock was already half-hard, thickening and pulsing insistently against the zipper of his jeans with every new message.
All because you’d called him hot. Just a little cheeky, playful comment, and it was enough to unravel him. The touch starvation wasn’t helping. It had been so damn long since anyone had looked at him with real interest, longer still since he’d felt this fluttering feeling low in his stomach. This rush of ego, this sharp need to be close to someone, to be wanted, to touch and be touched.
Robby: thanks i guess
you’ll meet someone worth your time, you’re a good girl
The message was sent before he could fully reconsider the wording. The second it went through, Robby winced. It sounded weirdly sexually charged, maybe it was because he was feeling sexually charged, painfully so. A Freudian slip at its finest.
You: good girl? 😏
Robby: shit i didn’t mean it to sound weird
just a figure of speech i suppose.
You: should i call you daddy then? ;)
Robby nearly dropped the phone again. The winky face, the bold suggestion, the way it played so perfectly into the tension that had been building sent a bolt of pure want through him. He could imagine your voice saying it, teasingly so, with that mischievous glint in your eyes. His mind supplied far too many vivid images: you in nothing but your skin looking up at him, you saying it in person with a flirty smile. He was fully hard. Actually hard, just from a fucking text conversation.
The professional alarm bells were clanging loudly in the back of his head. This was his resident, the age gap, the power dynamic, the fact that you’d have to face each other at the Pitt in a few short hours... it was all wrong. But god, it felt good. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.
He glanced down at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, his cock straining against the fabric like a flagpole. He couldn’t believe it. One flirty text from his resident and he was rock hard. Don’t get hard for your fucking resident, he thought. She’s one of your own. Off-limits. This is insane. He adjusted himself uncomfortably, trying to will it down through stubbornness, but the ache only sharpened.
You: too much? sorry i was just messing around lol
Robby exhaled and typed back, trying to sound more composed than he felt.
Robby: Don’t worry about it
i know it was a joke, no harm done
You: it was... unless you don’t want it to be a joke
He let out a surprised laugh, his cock twitched again at the follow-up, you were relentless, and something told him you were noewhere near done.
Robby: you’re funny, i’ll give you that.
You: that’s what i’ve been told. glad you’re having fun with me tonight
Robby: Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep
early shift tomorrow and all
You: i don’t mind staying up. i swiped right on you, remember? yk for a minute i really thought you were gonna flirt with me or maybe even ask me to come over to your place or something
The words hung there. You had been excited, you had hoped he would flirt. The image flashed through his mind, you showing up at his door in the middle of the night, stepping inside and… He shifted again, pressing his hand down against his insistent erection through his sweatpants, trying to get some relief even as guilt gnawed at him. This was crossing so many lines he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross after Heather. But the loneliness that had driven him to download the app in the first place was quieter now, replaced by an electric tension.
Robby: that would be very inappropriate
i’m your boss and there are lines we can’t cross
You: but you’re not dr. robby my attending in here. you’re michael robinavitch, 55, the guy who loves 70s rock and long bike rides. and i’m not your resident in this chat. i’m just a girl who likes movies and older men... and who is really, really into you right now
You were separating the roles so cleanly, drawing a line between the hospital and this private space. It was tempting, dangerously tempting.
Robby: you know it doesn’t work like that
we can’t just turn it off when the shift starts tomorrow
You: nah i’m pretty sure i can
Robby: No.
You: If we really can’t meet then we can do it over text, you know.
He stared at the screen trying to guess if you really meant what you were saying.
Robby: what do you mean?
You: sexting, duh
He let out a short breath, Jesus fuck you were actually gonna kill him tonight.
Robby: that’s basically the same thing.
You: no it’s not. technically we’re not doing anything if it’s just messages. no one has to know.
Robby rubbed a hand over his jaw, his mind was screaming at him to shut this down, but his fingers were already moving. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering to do this.
This was a terrible idea. What difference did it really make whether it was real sex, his hands on you, feeling your heat around him, or just describing it in detail over text messages? A line was still a line. One he had promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. He didn’t want this to end with you giving up your residency, transferring to another hospital, another city, once things inevitably fell apart.
But fuck, his cock was achingly hard, straining against the front of his pants like a caged animal that desperately needed to be freed. The thought of you right now, maybe lying in your bed in, pressing your thighs together, that sweet slick already soaking through your panties because of him… it made it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t leave you like that, so wet, so needy, aching for him.
Robby: what do you want me to say?
You: i don’t know… just say something hot. you’re goot at being hot
He hesitated, he wasn’t sure of what to say. He was scared of seeming naive and old school to you, but he wasn’t used to this whole… sexting thing. The most spicy exchange over texts had been insinuating pictures before asking someone to come over. Okay think Robby, if you can save someone’s life under extreme preassure then you can sext with a woman, just say something typical, he thought
Robby: who’s been a naughty girl?
The second he hit send he regretted it. He winced, already typing another message to backtrack when your reply came through.
You: lmao that was the best you’ve got?
Robby groaned out loud, dropping his head back against the couch.
Robby: forget it. i’m going to bed
You: nooo wait. let’s try again :(
He should’ve put the phone down. He really should’ve. Instead he waited to see if you had anything else to say.
You: you’re so good at giving orders and guiding me at work. maybe you could do that now too? tell me what to do
You were right, in theory. He was good at instructing, guiding, teaching. It came naturally to him to step into that mentoring role, he had always been the one others looked to for direction.
Robby: i feel stupid doing this.
You: pleeeease. i’ve always thought you were the kind of guy who talks people through it in bed. it’s the same here, just write it instead of saying it. tell me how you want me to touch myself
Your words hit him hard. He reread the message twice. He had never consciously thought about it before, but yes… that did sound exactly like him. Fragments of memory surfaced unbidden: the commanding tone he’d used with past partners, the way he’d instructed them. “Open your legs for me.” “Turn around.” “Look at me.” He remembered the way their breathing would change, the way they’d tremble under the weight of his voice and his hands.
Robby: you really want me to talk you through it, sweetheart?
You: yessss that was so much better. keep going
If anyone had asked you how it happened, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to explain it. You weren’t even sure yourself. One moment you were typing a slightly embarrassed apology to Robby for matching with him and the next, the conversation had taken a turn and you were the one demanding he sext you so you could get off. It was bold, stupidly reckless, and yet it felt inevitable.
Robby: good girl that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, i want you to get those pretty legs spread nice and wide for me, can you do that?
You whimpered softly and obeyed him instantly, letting your knees fall farther apart on the mattress. The cool air hit your exposed pussy making you shiver.
You: yes. they’re open
Robby: Perfect
i’d be on my knees between them right now if I could
run your fingers up the inside of your thighs for me slowly, feel how soft they are
As you trailed your free hand up one thigh, you imagined his callused palms and the scratch of his greying beard following the same path.
You: doing it… feels so good thinking about your hands instead.
Robby: that’s my girl
now slide two fingers through your pussy and ell me how wet you are for me
You did exactly as he says, gasping as two fingers glided easily through your slick heat. You were soaked, embarrassingly so, the wet sounds filling the quiet bedroom as you stroked yourself.
You: So wet… i’m dripping. all because of you.
Robby: fuck i knew you would be
i want you to circle your clit for me now
Do it slowly and imagine it’s my tongue instead, licking you just the way you need
i’d take my time, taste every inch of you
Your mons got louder, tipping your head back against the pillows as your fingers obeyed, traxing circles around your clit that sent sparks up your spine. In your mind, it was Robby’s mouth devouring you while his strong hands pinned your thighs down.
Robby: how does that feel, sweetheart? tell me
You: so good, i’m so sensitive. keep talking please
Robby: Good
now slide one finger inside that tight pussy, nice and deep
curl it up just like I would, searching for that spot that makes your legs shake
i’d be watching your face the whole time, telling you how beautiful you look spread open for me, how good you are for listening
When you pushed a finger inside yourself, you curled it upward as instructed to hit that sensitive spot while your other hand kept working your clit in circles.
Robby: add another finger and stretch yourself open
i’d be so much thicker than your fingers, but we’ll start like this
imagine me pumping them in and out while i rub your clit
Adding a second finger, you continued fucking yourself to the rhythm of his words on the screen. It was not enough, it was nowhere near enough to calm the hunger and desperation that was threatening to consume your whole being. You knew nothing would be enough, only feeling him inside of you.
You: wish it was you inside me. can’t get off like this. i need you robby please
Robby: you were the one who told me to do this
You: i know i did. but it’s not enough
send me your address
He was tempted, so tempted that for one second his fingers almost started typing on an impulse. But the reality crashed back in immediately. The risks, the morning after, the way he’d have to look at you during rounds, knowing what you’d done. He was rock hard and aching for you, but the responsible part of him still refused to crumble completely.
Robby: what for?
you’re not seriously thinking about coming over right now, are you?
You: robby i’m literally only like 2 miles away from you. are you dtf? not as dr. robinavitch and his resident, but as two adults who casually matched on tinder tonight. there’s no title or hospital here. it’s just us.
Two miles. You were so close. He stared at your message, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs. His cock gave another insistent throb, the head already leaking a little against his underwear. The thought of you actually coming over, right now, in the middle of the night, made his mouth go dry.
Robby: Send me your address and I’ll order you a ride.
You sent your address a moment later. It really was only two miles away. He confirmed the ride, watching the estimated arrival time tick down. Fifteen minutes… only fifteen minutes until you’d be at his door.
You: this is exactly what i meant earlier about older guys. so much more gentlemanly. taking care of the details instead of just telling me to get there
You had no time to get ready, and honestly, you didn’t care. Makeup? Hair? None of that mattered when you were this desperate, this aching for him. You climbed out of bed still wearing the thin tank top and soft sleep shorts you’d worn to bed, and threw an oversized jacket over everything, one that swallowed most of your body and made you look far more put-together than you actually felt.
Your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys and phone. The rideshare arrived sooner than you expected. The drive across the city felt both endless and far too short, but eventually the car pulled up outside his building.
You stood on the sidewalk for a second, staring up at the apartment complex, suddenly hit with the full weight of what you were doing, showing up at your attending’s door in the middle of the night, soaked and trembling with need, because a stupid Tinder match had spiraled completely out of control.
But you didn’t hesitate for long, you took a deep breath, pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, walked toward his door and knocked on it.
Robby opened it right away. He didn’t say a word, the second you were in reach, you had one of his strong hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. It was electric to say the least. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His beard was scraping deliciously against your skin as he moved his lips with experienced urgency. You melt into it instantly, fisting your hands in his shirt, tasting the pure, overwhelming taste of him. Finally. Here he was, kissing you like he’d been starving for it just as much as you had.
He kicked the door shut behind him without breaking the kiss, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his taller frame. You felt the warmth of his hands roaming everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, squeezing the curve of your ass through the fabric of your shorts. In your mouth, he groaned, making a vibrating sound that went through you as he explored every inch he could reach, like he was memorizing the feel of you.
Your breasts were the next to get his attention, he was cupping them with his big hands through your tank top, brushing his thumb over your already hard nipple, while he tangles his other hand in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
You pulled back just enough to gasp against his lips, “It took you long enough.”
Robby chuckled, the sound coming out breathless. “Took you long enough. You have any idea what it’s like waiting twenty minutes for you with a hard-on?” He pressed you closer, letting you feel the thick and insistent bulge against your stomach.
As if they had a mind of their own, his hands couldn’t stop moving, squeezing, caressing, claiming, running down your back, over your thighs, everywhere he’d fantasized about touching. Before you could respond, he bent slightly and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively.
The strength in his arms, the way his broad chest felt against you, sent a fresh rush of heat between your legs. He carried you through the house with purposeful strides. The door to your room swung open and he layed you gently on the bed, climbing on top of you immediately until his full weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress.
The kissing resumed instantly, slower now but no less intense. Robby’s mouth was moving from your lips to your neck, sucking lightly and scratching you with his beard in the most perfect way. Now his hands got bolder, continuing their exploration but this time sliding under your tank top, pressing his palms against your bare skin. He lifted the fabric higher, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room.
“Fuck,” Robby groaned, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you could see his soft brown eyes turning darker as he stared down at you. “Look at you. These tits… so perfect. So fucking pretty.” His voice was rough with want, the same commanding tone. He cupped them reverently, as if they were something precious, circling your nipples until they pebbled tighter under his touch. “They’re made for my hands. For my mouth.”
He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, then harder, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. The wet touch of his tongue made you arch into him with a moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he kept lavishing attention on your breasts.
From one side to the other, Robby switched sides, licking and sucking the other while his hand massaged the first, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation, the tingly heat of his mouth and the firm squeeze of his callused hand, had you writhing beneath him, making you so wet you were soaking through your shorts.
The humming of his mouth against your skin sends sparks straight to your core. “So responsive,” he murmured, switching back to the first breast and sucking it harder than before. “These tits are going to ruin me. I could spend hours right here.” Sliding his free hand down your side, Robby gripped your hip possessively, continuing with the worshipping of your chest, licking broad stripes, sucking marks into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading until he had you panting and grinding up against the hard line of his cock through his pants.
The age difference between you only heightened everything, his experience was showing in every skilled touch, in every perfect flick of his tongue. He was being patient but hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long. You could feel how hard he was, he was making you feel it, pressing insistently against your thigh. The knowledge that you did this to him made you even wetter.
Robby lifts his head briefly to lock his eyes on yours. His lips were swollen and his beard slightly damp with his saliva. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, but his hands never stopped, squeezing and caressing, teasing your sensitive nipples with his thumbs as he waited for your answer.
You shook your head, pulling him back down. You’d rather die than stop right now. “Don’t stop. Please.”
His mouth trailed a hot path down your sternum, over your stomach, scraping you teasinglywith his beard against your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hands followed strong, sliding down your sides and gripping your hips as he settled between your spread thighs. The weight of him, the sheer size and presence of this man, made your core clench with anticipation.
“These shorts have been teasing me since you walked in,” he murmured with the same steady tone he used in the pitt, but now turned intimate and commanding. Robby hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly peeled them down your legs, taking his time as he revealed more of you. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Good girl.”
You obeyed instantly, lifting your hips so he could slide the fabric off completely, leaving you in just your thin panties and the tank top. Robby smoothed his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle but firm pressure. “Keep your legs open like that,” he instructed you. “Nice and wide for me. Don’t close them unless I tell you to.”
You were already moaning softly, and he wasn’t even touching your core yet. Robby dropped his eyes to the damp spot on your panties, making the fabric cling to your pussy lips, and he let out a groan of desire and hunger. He cupped you over the fabric with one hand, pressing his palm firmly against your heated pussy while his thumb found your clit through the material and began rubbing slow circles.
“Oh god,” you moaned, twitching up your hips into his touch, seeking more of the contact. The friction was simply perfect, it was teasing, and it kept building higher and higher. Robby’s callused thumb was applying just the right pressure on your swollen nub.
He watched your face intently through his hooded and lustful eyes as he worked you higher. “Feel good?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his own breathing grew heavier. “You’re so wet already. Soaking through these panties for me. That’s it… rock against my hand, sweetheart. Show me how much you need this.”
Your moans only grew louder and more unrestrained, as he kept rubbing your clit with precision. The fabric added a delicious layer of friction, and every circle sent sparks shooting up your body. He got you gripping the sheets, your thighs already trembling as you fought the urge to close them around his hand.
Robby leaned down to kiss the inside of one thigh, scratching your skin deliciously. “You want my mouth? Want me to taste this pretty pussy? You gonna wrap these gorgeous legs around my neck while I do it?”
“Yes,” you gasped, nodding frantically. “Please, Robby. I need it.”
He hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down slowly, revealing your glistening, bare pussy to his hungry gaze. “Fuck… look at you. So wet and perfect.” He kissed along your inner thighs, taking his time, brushing his lips and beard against the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer. “Wrap them around me, sweetheart. Lock your ankles behind my head if you need to. I want to feel you holding me right where I belong.”
You did exactly as he said, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders and pressing your heels into his upper back. The position left you completely open to him, vulnerable and exposed. Robby groaned, the sound vibrating against your core as he finally leaned in.
The first lick of his tongue was broad and slow, dragging from your entrance up to your puffy clit. The sensation was overwhelming, and it made you cry out loudly, threading your fingers into his greying hair as he began to devour you with the same intensity he brought to every procedure at work. He licked and sucked with precision, alternating between long and flat strokes to tight and quick circles around your clit.
His beard was scratching your inner thighs and outer lips in the most delicious way, adding a kind of texture that made your toes curl. “Robby… Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his mouth.
He hummed in response, pulling back with his lips glistening with your arousal just so he could speak to you. “Tell me how it feels, sweetheart. I want to hear it.”
“So good… your tongue—oh god, your mouth, Robby. It’s driving me crazy. Don’t stop, please.”
“You’re being so good for me,” he praised, diving back in to suck your clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly while applying suction with his lips.
Before you could register it, he teased your entrance with two thick fingers, slowly sliding them inside you, letting your own greedy hole swallow them. Once he curled them upward to find that perfect spot, the sensation had you moaning loudly and arching off the bed.
Robby pumped his fingers steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue with his digits. A few moments later, he stopped again briefly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and shiny lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Spread open for me, taking my fingers so well. This pussy is perfect, made for me. Keep moaning for me. Let me hear how much you love my mouth on you.”
You obeyed, your moans spilling freely as he returned to his task with renewed hunger. The pleasure built fast and faster, making your thighs tremble around his head and your feet dig into his back as you held him exactly where you needed him. Robby gripped your hip with his free hand, holding you steadily while he worked you closer and closer to the edge with expert skill. Every command, every praise, every flick of his tongue pushed you higher.
Robby didn’t relent, he kept his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with rhythmic pressure, devouring you like a man starved. “Robby—oh fuck, yes!” The pleasure was overwhelming, every single nerve ending in your body was alight as he worked you higher.
“Keep those legs open for me, sweetheart,” he growled against your clit. “Don’t you dare close them. I want to feel you squeezing around my fingers while I eat this pretty pussy.” He added a third finger slowly, stretching you wider, the burn blending perfectly with the pleasure. “That’s it… take three for me. Feel how full you are? You’re doing so well. Such a good girl taking everything I give you.”
The wet sounds of his fingers plunging into your dripping pussy and his mouth sucking hungrily on your clit filled the air. You were soaking his beard, his chin, his wrist, but he didn’t care. Robby slid a hand under you, grabbing a firm handful of your ass and lifting your hips slightly off the bed. The new angle let him bury his face even deeper, working your clit with more precision while he fingerfucked you harder. “Just like that,” he praised you between licks. “Grind on my tongue, baby. Use my mouth. Show me how bad you need to come.”
You obeyed helplessly once again, rolling your hips and bucking them against him as the coil in your belly tightened unbearably. The pleasure built in powerful waves until your thighs started to shake violently around his head. Robby kept talking you through it, pushing you closer to the edge.
“You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel this tight pussy clenching around my fingers. Come on, let go. Cum all over my tongue. I want to taste it. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”
The orgasm crashed over you with blinding intensity, making your back bow off the bed, a loud and broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy spasmed hard around his digits. Your thighs were squeezing his head tightly, your heels digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Robby didn’t stop though, he kept sucking your clit through the peak, curling and thrusting his fingers to draw out every last shudder.
You came harder than you ever had. So hard that your vision went white for a moment as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming. Your moans turned into whimpers as the orgasm slowly ebbed, leaving you limp and gasping on the bed.
Robby finally eased back, gently lowering your hips and kissing softly along your inner thighs. He looked up at you with dark and satisfied eyes. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So beautiful when you cum for me.”
You lay there panting, your thighs were still twitching, completely wrecked and already aching for more of him. Robby climbed back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. He was so close that his hard cock was pressing insistently against your thigh through his pants.
“That was… amazing,” you whisper with your voice hoarse from moaning. “So much better than I ever imagined.”
Robby chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Yeah? Better than your hand?” His eyes were sparkling with lust.
You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “So much better. Your mouth… God, Robby. I’ve never felt anything like that.”
He hummed in satisfaction, grinding his still-clothed erection slowly against your bare, sensitive pussy. The thick ridge of his cock was being pressed perfectly against your clit, giving him some much needed relief while teasing you both. “I loved doing that for you,” he murmured. “You were so good for me, sweetheart. So responsive, so wet. The way you moaned my name and squeezed my head with those pretty thighs… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”
Robby rolled his hips deliberately, the friction making you whimper and arch up into him. You could feel how achingly hard he was and how much he’d been holding back. You slid up your hands down his chest, feeling the soft flesh beneath his shirt.
“I want you,” you breathed, looking up at him with need. “Please, Robby.”
He stilled for a moment, as if to pulling himself together. “Tell me what you want. Be specific.”
You bit your lip, feeling the warmth invade your cheeks. “Your cock. I want you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”
Robby let out a groan, sitting back on his knees between your spread thighs. He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out the anticipation. You sit up slightly, eager to help, moving your fingers to tug his pants down along with his underwear.
“I’ve been dying to see you,” you confessed as you pulled his pants down his hips. He caught your wrists before you could push his boxers down.
Robby looked almost nervous, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Wait… I, uh—” He cleared his throat, flicking his eyes away for a second. “I haven’t trimmed down there in a while. This whole night was… unexpected. I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known we were gonna end up here.”
He said it like it was something to be embarrassed about. Like it might actually make you want him less. It made you soft, you cupped his jaw, turning his face back to yours.
“Robby. Do you honestly think I give a damn about that? It’s just hair.”
He let out a self-conscious breath, still looking a little defensive. “I know. I know it’s just hair. It’s just… it’s probably a fucking jungle down there right now. You don’t have to— I mean, you don’t have to do anything if it’s too much.”
The way he was trying to give you an out was almost painfully endearing. You shook your head. “Just let me see you,” you whispered.
You slid his boxers down his thighs and freed his cock, it sprang out, thick and hard, the head flushed in a dark red with arousal. It was beautiful, so long, girthy, with a slight upward curve, prominent veins running along the shaft. Exactly like he’d warned, there was a thick, dark mat of coarse hair at the base, dense and untrimmed. He looked completely natural, it was so him, deeply masculine and unpolished.
A fresh rush of wetness slipped down your inner thighs. Your fingers twitched with the need to touch him there.
You looked up at him through your lashes “I love it,” you slowly carded your fingers through the thick hair at the base of his member. “You look so fucking hot like this. I like every single inch of you.”
Robby’s whole body shivered under your touch. “God…” he rasped as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna kill me tonight.”
Almost with instinct, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking the shaft slowly from base to tip, feeling the heat and weight of his member.
Robby hissed in pleasure, twitching his hips forward into your grip as he watched your hand move up and down his cock. “Fuck, your hand feels good,” he groaned, letting you stroke him for a while, savoring the sight of your smaller hand working his thick length, making a bead of precum leak from the tip.
After a few moments, he gently stopped you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Lay back down for me, sweetheart. Keep those legs open nice and wide. Just like before.”
You obeyed, lying back against the pillows and spreading your thighs for him. Robby reached over toward the nightstand, stretching one arm past you as he pulled open the top drawer. He rummaged through it for a few seconds, before his hand closed around what he was looking for.
A moment later he sat back, a condom held between his fingers. He held it up, searching for your eyes with his. “I’ve got this if you want me to wear it.”
You shook your head, reaching up to touch his arm. “No. I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”
You both knew it might not have been the smartest option, doing it raw, with nothing between you. But there was a deep, unspoken trust between the two of you, forged through long shifts, that made you feel safe. And in that moment, that trust felt solid enough to lean on.
The hunger that had taken over both of you made anything else almost unbearable. The need to feel each other completely bare, skin on skin, heat on heat, with nothing separating you, was overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” He tossed the condom aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply again. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel all of you.”
He groaned, positioning himself between your legs and nudging the thick head of his cock against your slick entrance. The anticipation felt electric, this was the culmination of over a year of longing, of hours of texts, and now all that was left was this desperate connection. Robby gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he looked down at you with hunger.
The night is only beginning, and the way he’s looking at you promises he’s going to take his time ruining you in the best possible way.
As his cockhead was being rubbed up and down your folds, teasing your clit with every pass, coating itself with your juices, the sensation felt maddening, promising everything you’d fantasized about for so long. You whimpered, twitching your hips up instinctively to chase more contact.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Robby commanded you softly, the same authoritative tone that had guided you through countless procedures was now guiding you through this. He cupped your chin gently, tilting your face so your gazes locked. “Keep looking at me the whole time. I want to see you while I fuck you.”
You nodded shakily, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Robby continued rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, drawing out the anticipation until you were squirming beneath him.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “So wet for me already. This pussy is going to take me so well. Breathe for me, relax and let me in.” He pressed forward slowly, breaching your entrance with only the tip. The stretch was immediate and intense, opening you up inch by inch as he sank deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, but you forced your eyes open, locking them on his as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.
“Easy, baby,” he cooed, stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braced beside your head. “You’re doing so good. Feel how you’re stretching around me? So tight and warm… fuck, you feel incredible.”
You moaned loudly as he continued sliding in, the deliberate thrust filling you completely until he was buried to the hilt, until his hips were flushed against yours. The fullness was overwhelming, his thick cock stretching your walls like nobody had stretched you before, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.
Robby stayed still for a moment buried deep, resting his forehead against yours as he looked straight into your eyes. “There you go. All the way in. You took every inch.” He started to thrust with deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock along your walls with exquisite friction. “Wrap your legs around me. Hold me close while I fuck you.”
You did as he said, locking your legs around his waist and digging your heels into his lower back. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out in pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders. Robby kept talking you through it, just like he knew you liked.
“That’s my girl. Feel that? I’m hitting that spot inside you, huh?” He angled his hips slightly, grinding deep on every stroke. Robby slid one hand up to cup and squeeze your breast, rolling your nipple as he thrusted harder.
Robby moved his hand from your breast to cup your chin. His grip was gentle enough not to hurt, yet firm enough that you felt every one of his fingers pressing against the bones of your jaw. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see how good my cock feels inside this tight pussy.” He tilted your face up and held it there, leaving you no choice but to meet his eyes.
And God… what a glorious sight he was. This handsome man, with his face flushed, his brow glistening with sweat, devouring you with his gaze as he kept driving his cock into you.
His face was only inches from yours, and he kept fucking you in long strokes while he held your chin like that, as if he were starving for every single expression that crossed your face. He loved watching the way pleasure wrecked you. The way your lips parted around helpless moans, the way you bit down on your lower lip only for it to slip free again with a broken sound. The way your eyes went glassy and pleading, silently begging him for more even as your body trembled around his cock. He drank it all in like a man who had been thirsty for years.
With his free hand, he gripped your waist, holding you in place so he could drive into you with more power. Every slide of his cock stretched you perfectly, dragging the fat tip along your g-spot like that was what it was made for.
“Robby—oh god, yes!” You moaned loudly, raising your hips to meet his thrust and tightening your legs around him. Your tits were bouncing with every powerful stroke, and he leaned down to suck one nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue as he continued fucking you.
“You feel so good,” he groaned against your skin, switching to the other breast. “So tight and wet around me. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Taking me so deep.” His hand on your waist slid down to grip your ass, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle as he thrusted harder. “Lift your legs higher for me, sweetheart,” he said against your neck,kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there. Ronny held the back of your thigh, helping guide your leg up. “That’s it… over my shoulder. Let me get deeper.”
You whimpered as he assisted you, hooking your leg over his shoulder. He did the same with the other, folding you nearly in half beneath him. The new angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper, until he was pressing the head firmly against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, grinding against your g-spot relentlessly.
“Fuck—Robby, it’s so deep like this,” you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut for just a moment as the intense sensation washed over you.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided gently but firmly, cupping your jaw with his hand to tilt your face back to his. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Keep them open. I want to watch you while I fuck you like this. Don’t look away.”
You forced your eyes open, locking onto his hungry gaze as he continued hammering into you. The eye contact made everything more intimate and overwhelming. The feeling of his hand leavinf your jaw and sliding down between your bodies made you shiver. Robby found your swollen clit and began rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
The combined stimulation was devastating. The pleasure was burning higher in your core, so close to finally exploding. Your body was arching and squirming beneath his frame as you scratched down his back and trembled over his shoulders. Every thrust, every rub of his fingers on your clit, every moan and grunt that escaped his mouth pushed you closer to the edge.
“That’s it,” Robby groaned, never removing his sight from yours. “Look at you taking my cock so deep. You’re getting close again, aren’t you? I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you cum all over my cock. Keep your eyes on me when you do.”
You bowed your back off the bed as your climax took over your body. A loud cry tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his length. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders and you dug your nails harder into his back when the waves of pleasure crashed through you. Robby sekpt thrusting through it, drawing out your orgasm with deep strokes and continued pressure on your clit.
“You look so beautiful when you cum for me… that’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me. You’re being so good.”
By the time he finally slowed and gently pulled out of you, you were still trembling and gasping. Robby layed back on the bed beside you, with his cock hard and glistening with your release. “Come here, baby,” he said. “Get on top. I want to watch you ride me.”
He helped you shift positions, gripping your hips firmly to guide you as you straddled him. “Easy, sweetheart. Take your time… that’s it. Feel me right there? Let me watch you take every inch.”
You positioned the head at your slick entrance and began to sink down, inch by inch. The stretch was intense all over again, his girth opening you up as you lowered yourself onto him. Robby kept his hands still on your hips to steady you, stroking your skin soothingly while watching every expression on your face.
“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned. “You’re doing so well. Keep going… take a little more. Feel how full you are?”
Louder moans left your mouth as you sank lower, the fullness was overwhelming in the best way. Bracing your hands on his broad chest for balance, you finally took him to the hilt, resting your ass against his thighs. Robby squeezed your hips encouragingly. “Ride me. Roll your hips like that… yes, just like that.”
Whn you started moving, rolling, and grinding your hips in a steady rhythm, the pleasure built quickly. His cock was dragging along your walls as you found a rhythm that made your tits bounce and your clit grind against his pelvis.
Robby kept moving his eyes are everywhere, watching where your pussy stretched around his shaft, sliding up to your bouncing breasts, then locking onto your face. He reaches up with both hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples as you ride him.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep going… faster if you want. Take what you need from me.”
Without a word, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward. He sat up just enough to help you pull it off, and the second the fabric cleared his head, your hands were on him.
God, you loved his body. Your moved your palm slowly over his chest, feeling the coarse hair and the thud of his heart beneath your fingertips. You dragged your hands lower, mapping the soft, rounded curve of his belly with desire. It turned you on more than any gym-honed torso ever could. As you pressed your palms into the softness, your fingers dag in gently. Then you smoothed your hands over it again and again, savoring the way it yielded under your touch.
You were mumbling praises and moans between gasps, completely lost in the sensation. “Robby… you feel so good… so deep… fuck, I love your cock inside me…”
At one point, Robby planted his feet firmly on the bed, bent his knees, and started thrusting up to meet you. The change felt devastating, he was now fucking you from below with powerful strokes that made you cry out loudly as he droveinto you.
The slap of skin on skin grew louder when the slamming into you intensified. “Fuck—Robby!” you moaned, letting your head fall back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.
“Eyes on me if you can, sweetheart,” he growled, moving his fingers down to rub your clit again. “I’m getting close. You feel too good. You’re gonna make me cum.”
You were a moaning and squirming mess on top of him, riding and grinding as he thrusted up harder. His fingers on your clit and his cock hitting deep pushed you toward another peak, but it was his impending orgasm that had you focused on him.
“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, snapping his hips up faster. “Fuck—can I cum inside you? Please, I want to fill you up.”
“Yes,” you gasped, riding him desperately. “Cum inside me, Robby. I want it. Fill me up. Please—”
With a deep groan, Robby thrusted up hard one last time and came, pulsing nside you, flooding your pussy with thick and warm ropes of cum. He held you down on him, gripping your hips tightly as he emptied himself completely. The feeling of him cumming inside you, fully claiming you, triggered your own smaller orgasm, making your walls clench rhythmically around his pulsing cock.
You both stayed locked together, panting. Robby stroked your back and thighs as you came down from the high befor pulling you down against his chest, kissing your forehead, keeping his cock still buried deep inside you as his release slowly leaked out around him, so much that you could feel the hot nd sticky evidence of his climax.
There were no more walls, just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’ve both wanted and repressed for so long. You stayed draped on top of Robby for a long stretch of time, both of you catching your breath as the intensity slowly ebbed. Eventually, you lifted your head and looked at him. “That was… amazing. I wouldn’t even have dreamed that it’d be that good.”
He hummed in agreement, continuing his soothing path along your back. “It was. Better than I let myself imagine. You felt perfect.”
The praise made a warm feeling bloom in your chest. After a few more quiet moments, Robby gently helped you sit up, easing you off his cock with a shared sigh. You both winced slightly at the loss of connection and the feeling of emptiness, but he pulled you down beside him on the bed, wrapping his arms around you again as you cuddled into his side.
“So… you don’t regret it, do you?”
He met your eyes as a small smile began tugging at his lips beneath the beard. “Right now? I can’t regret having amazing sex with you. My mind is still somewhere up in the clouds.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow when reality hits, but tonight… no regrets.”
You nestled closer, throwing one leg over his. The cuddling felt easy, natural, like you’d been doing this for years. For tonight, the outside world, the hospital, the guilt, the what ifs didn’t exist. There was only the two of you, and Robby might be right about reality hitting tomorrow, but right now, in the darkness of his room, everything felt right.
A/N: Two attempts at posting this fic, and two times Tumblr’s stupid AI mistakenly flagged it😭 I’ve spent days trying to figure out what was causing the problem and doing everything I could to finally get this fic posted for all of you. So if you’re reading this, it means it worked. Hopefully.
If you end up enjoying the fic, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me share it with a reblog (only if you enjoyed the fic) cause I’ve put a lot of work on it
Well, I hope you enjoyed this little something I worked on when inspiration finally struck me. I don’t know if I read it somewhere or if we all collectively decided it, but Robby absolutely feels like the type of guy who talks you through it. You’re telling me the man who spends all day teaching med students and residents how to do procedures wouldn’t also be guiding his girl in bed? It’s literally in his nature!!! This TikTok also got me inspired because, yes, he absolutely looks at you through it too.
I also think Robby’s canon texting style is weirdly inconsistent. In that scene in season one where he’s texting Jake, sometimes he starts messages with capital letters and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he ends sentences with a period, sometimes he doesn’t. In my head, he has perfect grammar but deliberately tries to sound Gen Z and chill when he’s texting someone younger than him lol. Anyway, I tried to replicate that here too.
Thank you all so much for your patience. I really appreciate it, and I hope I can stick around for good this time🩷
Summary: when jack becomes a single dad over night you and robby are there to help in a heart beat, even if you are a stranger. but when the tables turn and you end up in need of help true feelings come to light
CW: reader is she/her & afab (leaking, childbirth), burn injuries, medical inaccuracies
Request:
Hiii it’s me again 🤍 I love your writing! I have an idea and please only write it if you’re happy with it.
Jack becomes a singe dad overnight — as in he gets a call saying theres a baby here for you come pick them up. Jack didn’t know about the baby — the woman he slept with 9/10months prior was a one night stand, they used contraception etc… so he never suspected any of this.
Anyways, Jack accepts that he’s become a dad with zero protests, and it’s him and Robby trying to figure it out. Until reader, who’s their friend (can be a nurse, or a resident orrrr maybe a single mom 🤭) steps in to help Jack, and well Robby too because he now thinks he’s the cool uncle and never leaves the baby’s side.
It can be reader x jack or if you want to spice things up it could be reader x jack and Robby 🫠❤️🔥🤌🏻
Love you @lunarayletters <3
“Shushhhh” Robby’s lips softly blew air over the baby girl's strawberry blonde hair wisps, her face red and flushed with infant anger. Her big chubby leg rolls rippled as she hiccuped and sobbed, her father sitting over on the couch, prosthesis cast aside while his elbows rested on his knees. His palms dug into his eyes…
A week of this, a week of no sleep and a screaming baby who Jack (embarrassingly) still hadn’t gotten around to naming. Simply left outside of his apartment door with a note from a conference fling from the summer of last year. As if the hair wasn’t enough of a tell tale sign of his paternity, the baby's stubbornness was enough of a confirmation. “She has some lungs on her…” Robby carefully bounced the baby girl in his arms, flinching as she screeched into his ears.
Eventually the sobs and screams hushed down into small hiccups, a little burp escaping her tiny cupid’s bow as her puffy eyelids sealed shut. A sigh of relief escaped the two men as Robby lowered himself onto the couch, the baby still had that newborn scrunch as she stayed snuggled up on the man’s chest. His large burly hands turned innocent to touch as it rested on the baby’s back.
“I’m sorry for calling you on your day off brother…” Jack groaned, easing back into the leather couch with a grunt as his residual limb throbbed.
“It’s alright…” he pressed a kiss to the crown of baby Abbot’s head “You know I love the slugger…” Robby’s hand rubbed up and down her back soothing her deep into sleep with a content little noise.
“Perlah told me to sign up to one of those…mommy and me…support classes…” Jack’s eyes flickered between his little girl and Robby's, never losing the deep look of care.
“It’s not the worst idea…” Robby’s head leaned back onto the pillow behind him, head tilted towards Jack. “when are you sleeping…?”
A snort escaped Jack, “You’re funny. I’ll sleep when I’m dead”
“Well the way you’re going right now that doesn’t seem all too far away…” Robby scoffed, playfully tugging at Jack’s shirt to gain his attention “Go to bed jack…shower, have a nap…” Robby’s brows furrowed, concern etched into every feature of his face. no… love. “This girl needs her dad…and a name sometime soon.”
“I know” he groaned, standing with his crutches as moving towards the bathroom.
…..
A day later Jack was in a position he never thought he would be, at least not on his own. Occasionally glancing back in the rearview mirror at the baby girl innocently laid in the carseat completely dead to the world. With the amount of work Jack had done over the last 15 years in that goddamn ER he had enough vacation, PTO and sick days to allow him to stay off and take care of his own “Personal business” as he had described it to Gloria. He pulled into the parking lot of the church, eyes bearing into his baby girls the second the car stopped.
“Hi little lady…you ready?” her eyes opened, drool collecting on her lips, Jack couldn't help but smile at the sleepy look. “Daddy’s going to embarrass himself…” he slung the baby bag over his shoulder before moving to the trunk to unfold the stroller as his baby girl made little squeaks. “Lets home Daddy can get his stroller to- shit- sorry- fuck- i-” his hands went back over his eyes. “I need to stop cursing in front of you…”
“It’s okay…they can’t understand anything at this age…” Jack turned to see you, stood in a halo of sunlight, a baby carrier strapped over your chest while a baby paws up at your cheeks. “You could uh…use a hand?” you giggled, gently unfolding the stroller with a now practiced ease.
“Sorry I’m just a new dad…” you carefully moved around into his car to unbuckle the car seat, she shushed completely as she moved into your arms staring up at you sleepily.
“She’s adorable…what's her name…?” you spoke gently as your son pawed over at the baby girl curiously.
“Uh…” his mind scrambled, struggling to admit he hadn’t named her yet, fuck he’d only had her a week and what if her mom already named her and he did it wrong and- “Josephine” it was the first name that came to mind. “Josie…” it has been his wife's name, he couldnt tell if that was fucked up or not.
“That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl…” you carefully placed her down in the stroller with a grin. “I’m assuming you’re also heading to the mommy and me class…kind of a restrictive name now i’m realising it- just- sorry- uh- the dad usually never comes along…” you sighed looking at the tan line around where your wedding room used to sit.
“Well it’s…it’s just me…” Jack forced a small smile looking down at the baby as the two of you took off to walk across the street to the church.
“No judgement here…just me and georgie here” you pressed a kiss to George's bucket hat as he happily played in his carrier, occasionally pulling at your top as you huffed.
“Dad not in the picture?”
“Oh his dad is definitely in something” Jack couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as you released your lip from your teeth to laugh. “God…leaving your post-partum wife for some 19 year old…” you huffed barely being able to believe your son came from someone as vile as your soon-to-be ex husband. “I’m-” you looked over at him, his face stoic and angry “god- i’m sorry thats a lot to put on a stranger.”
“He sounds like an absolute asshole…” Jack opened the door for you to step into the church as you gestured directions to the mommy and me room. “I’m more annoyed at your husband- or ex?”
“That is if he’ll sign the divorce papers…” you groaned as you led him in, not oblivious to the stares of the women around the room. You settled down into the beanbag as Jack stood in front of it with tense eyes. “What's wrong?” you watched as Jack tugged up his pantleg to show his prosthesis. You unstrapped George and placed him on the playmat “watch him” you groaned as you stood, body aching from carrying around a 16 pound 3 month old.
“You don’t have to-” you placed Josie down onto the playmat carefully while placing the stroller aside, putting two arms out to jack to help him down onto the beanbag, creating your own body as a frame for him to sit.
“You can take it off if that would make you more comfortable?” you hummed as he landed with a grunt. Jack's eyes tracked over you. It would be embarrassing to admit that this was the first human contact he had had outside of the emergency room or SWAT in far too long. He’d refused accommodation for so long he forgot people offered it. He pulled up the pant leg to remove it but left his covering on, not quite ready for that move.
“I see some new faces today…” the instructor cheered as she bounced around, immediately having to back your eyes from rolling. “Let's start with you!” she pointed towards you, you spoke your name before shyly introducing Georgie to a cacophony of cooing.
“I’m…I’m jack abbot” his eyes fixed on you, begging for reassurance before continuing. “This is Josephine…shes about…a month and a half…” he hummed. The woman joked about his marriage status, seeing the same tanned line that was around your own finger.
Your eyes stayed fixed on the way George investigated Josie, gently pawing at her too big baby clothes which you’d assumed someone had given to Jack in a jam. You grinned as Georgie smiled up at you, something he had been doing more and more lately as Josie began to fuss slightly. You nudged Jack with your elbow before he picked her up and sniffed her diaper. “Yup-” he groaned as his face scrunched “thought so”
You giggled and stood, placing Georgie next to one of his other friends while Jack fitted on his prosthesis back on and got your help to stand before you kneeled to lift Josie while Jack grabbed the bag. “Wow…the two of you really are a team aren’t you?” you flustered at Annie’s words (Annie being one of the other mums) rolling your eyes as you supported Josie’s head, "when's the wedding?”
“Never again.” Both of you spoke in unison, heads snapping to each other with a zap. A zing.
“Are you good to go to the bathroom or do you need my help?” you questioned jack, a sly smile on his face about how it sounded without context. You handed Josie over to him with his prompting.
“I’ll try not to fall in…” he grinned and strolled off to the bathroom as you sat back down into the beanbag. Immediately having a plushy thrown at you as he left the room-
“What was that for!?” you giggled placing bluey back down on the play mat where the babies messed around.
“You swooped in on ‘doctor tall, dark and handsome’ before any of us could get a look at him!”
“Most of you are married okay- also I’m just helping him out his wife just left or something-” you huffed suddenly becoming hyper aware of everyone around you staring into your soul. “Poor thing couldn’t even unfold the stroller-”
“Bet he could fold you-” you launched the plushy back at Annie while some of the women cackled or covered the babies ears. You got lost in the laughter until your eyes caught on one shirtless Jack Abbot peaking his head through the doorway.
“I’m gonna go check on him…” you stood quickly rushing out the door with a hand over your mouth as you made it into the hall.
“Stop laughing- I thought girls were the ones that didn't excrete onto you!” Jack whispered as he held Josie in his old t-shirt.
“You didn’t pack back ups?” you giggled as you ushered him back into the bathrooms before you scavenged through the diaper bag. “Oh god Jack…” you sighed seeing how gravely undersupplied he was, your eyes snapped back up to him swearing you could see tears brimming in his eyes. “Put the baby down…” you pointed at the changing mat.
He gently put Josie down, you tried to ignore the probable poop smeared all over him and gave him a hug. You felt the tears wet your shirt as he folded inwards. “Why am I so bad at this…?” his voice was low and scratchy as he nuzzled in. He didn't care that you were strangers, all that he cared about was that a human being was showing him real and intense care.
“You’re not….you’re not bad….” your hand went to his curls “it’s all new and you’re doing this alone…we all feel shit in the beginning- being a single parent fucking sucks…” you sighed rambling on and on until he soothed and quiet settled over the two of you.
“Hey um…” he spoke your name softly and you looked down. A whole shirt soaked with breast milk as a long whine escaped you, “i’m sorry i think it’s because I cried-” he pulled toilet paper and wipes desperately trying to clean your shirt as you grinned.
“It’s fine Jack…I’m going to grab my diaper bag and maybe I have some old spares that fit her…but Georgie has always been a big kid- maybe you can um- call someone to bring you new clothes.” you rushed out doing a quick run into the room and being able to borrow a strawberry shortcake onesie that one of the other babies had grown out of, yet, no spare t-shirts to be seen.
You moved back to the bathroom with the bag and managed to clean the little girl up, showing Jack to do the same before placing Josie back in the room with the rest of the mums to keep watch so Jack could have a break. You both sat on the floor of the bathroom staring at each other while waiting for one of Jack's friends to come supply clean clothes.
“I never asked…how come you’re a single parent…? IF you don’t mind me asking…” you sighed, staring at the broken down exhausted man, trying not to distract yourself with his huge freckled pecks.
“um…Josie is a result of a one night stand and- her mom- she apparently couldn't handle it…and dumped her on me last week….” your eyes blew as wide as saucers.
“A week? A week?” you gasped crawling over the floor to sit by his side, his head weighed down onto your shoulder.
“I have a feeling we’re going to be involved in each other's lives for a while…” Jack sighed with a small smile on his face, the doorknob rattled and another fucking handsome guy stood waiting in the doorway. “This is um- this is my best friend Robby or Michael…” Jack introduced you using a support bar to stand up.
“Hi Robby or Michael….” your arms went over your shirt trying to hide the mess you’d made.
“It’s okay we’re both doctors, nothing we haven't seen before…” Robby handed Jack the extra t-shirt before handing one to you as well. “We’ll leave you be for now so you can change.” Robby's hand patted your shoulder, every part of your body stalling for a few seconds. You nodded as the door shut, tugging off the milk soaked tee and replacing it with an oversized shirt that smelled of spruce and mint. It was a dusty green with ARMY printed over the front.
You stepped out seeing the two men deep in conversation that immediately seized when you stepped out, Jack’s hand stopped moving mid air. “How about we blow this joint…?” you giggled walking back towards the room to pick up the kids, getting Robby’s help to get the kids back into their strollers and carries and out to the cars getting QUITE the looks from the other ladies.
…..
From that day it was pretty much history, it was a rarity to see the three of you separated from one another outside the hospital, you had created quite the system. You worked from home, so there was never much of a need for childcare, which worked perfectly for Jack as everything in your apartment doubled, baby bottles, bouncers, clothes. You’d take Josie from 6pm to 8am when Jack would pick her up or alternatively, Jack would come over and simply sleep in your apartment's guest room while George slept with you and Josie with Jack.
Mike was the perfect uncle, to both kids, constantly babysitting when one or the other needed a break. The three of you had sworn this was a specifically and solely platonic deal, the perfect balance maintained over the first 7 months of Josie’s life- until the first night something went a little bit off.
It was a night where it was just Josie, George and you, which meant dinner and bed seamlessly almost all of the time. You sang to the giggling happy babies, now far more aware and animated than they used to be. Josie had just turned 6 months while George closed in on 10. The spoon over the stove being your microphone as some random dad rock from the spotify playlist you jack and robby had created (one conveniently under the family plan).
As you spun your hand banged off the pot, boiling water falling fully over your upper body- a painful scream escaping your lips as the babies howled with their own. “FUCK FUCK FUCK” you slipped as you ran towards the bathroom with phone in hand, both babies secured in their highchairs as you crawled into the bathtub and turned on the cool shower water. “SIRI CALL ROBBY!”
The phone rang twice before Robby's voice crackled over the speaker “whats wrong? You never usually call at this time-” your screaming cries cut him off and the sound of his sheets ruffling gave away his haste. “WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU OKAY? ARE THE BABIES OKAY!?”
“It burns Mikey it all fucking burns!” you sobbed out as Mickey turned on the ignition of his car swerving down streets to the apartment. It felt like hours when he finally broke down the door, paramedics on his tail as he rushed to the babies, checking them over and seeing the state of the kitchen.
“Oh my god…” he petted back the babies' heads inspecting them for any trace of injury, nothing more than the red puffy face and ginger curls of Josie and the wet cheeks and dark hair and thick hair of George. He carefully moved them from the high chairs into their play pens and ran into the kitchen. “Oh god-” his hands went to his head as the paramedics stripped you of the hot burned clothes, welts and blisters down your front as you went faint. “It’s me- i’m here- i’m here- it’s Robby-”
“What's your relationship to the patient-” a paramedic questioned as robby helped hold you up under the water.
“I’m-” his eyes scanned your blurry ones, searching for a word that fit “- her partner- I’m her partner-” he helped carry you out of the bath and onto a stretcher. He held your cheeks as they moved you into the living room “you got burned really badly okay? So we’re going to take you to the hospital…” his thumbs pet over your red cheeks, his lips connecting to your forehead as you began babbling.
“Are the babies okay? What about the babies- i was supposed to look after them I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry…”
“shhhhh shhhhh shhh” Robby’s lips pressed to the corner of your lips not quite a real kiss, he wouldn't want it to be like this- with you hurt like this. “I’m gonna take them to the hospital alright? You be good with the paramedics-” he had to hold back the gag from the appearance of the burns all over your torso and legs, the legs being the worst where you’d been wearing shorts. His lips pressed to your forehead as you spluttered out more ‘I’m sorrys’ and robby replied with “it’s okay baby”
As soon as you left Robby pressed his phone between his ear and shoulders putting the babies into the car seats which all of you now had fitted into your car. He secured them both in with their now joint baby bag as Jack picked up. “What are you doing up at this time-?”
“Don’t panic-”
“Okay never say that- telling me not to panic will immediately make me panic-” Jack’s chest immediately tightened hands gripping around the phone until they were white. “Is it the kids- is it honey? - please- please robby-”
“She had an accident-”
“Fuck-” his voice wavered as ellis and lena perked up watching him with a concerned glare “are- what happened are they sending her here?”
“Yeah- yeah- she um-” his hand drew down his face as he turned around the streets the two babies still crying in the background “she spilled a pasta pot- of b-boiling water- down her front- second and third degree burns, third on her legs- mostly- um- it was bad- it was really bad-” Robby’s voice cracked painfully as he sped down the streets with as much restraint as possible.
Just as he finished the sentence the case was pulled into the ER, Jack dropped his phone, Lena grabbed it as he ran to your gurney, seeing the peeling of your skin and the agony on your face. “I’m here- i’m here Honey i’m here…” jack’s lips pressed to your forehead as you hiccuped, tilting your chin up. “I know it hurts, it does- I know…”
“Nghh-” you whimpered “the babies- my babies-”
“Yes honey our babies are fine- they’re fine-” he kissed the corner of your lips the opposite one to robby, together they would have made a full kiss. “Robby is coming okay?”
“Who- since when do you have children-?” Shen questioned as he rolled you into a bay “who is this Abbot-”
“My partner-”
“They said the partner found her at the scene with paramedics-”
“That was robby-”
“Then whose the partner you know you will see her regardless-”
“We are- we are all partners!” Jack snapped “me and robby, robby and her, me and her- all of us okay?!” He was shaking as Robby rushed into the nursing bay with two babies in their carseats.
“Where- where is she-” Robby placed the babies with Lena and sprinted towards you, his arms went to Jack immediately as Jack held him back, pulling him into a deep hug. He placed a kiss on the other man’s shoulder as he shook violently.
“Shes-” your sobs broke though as they inspected the injuries.
“Mikeyyy- jackkk-” you whimpered as they moved to pet back the hair on your hairline. “It hurtttsss” your back arched as the doctors tried to hold you down.
“We’re here- we are okay the babies are safe.” Robby kissed a tear off your cheek. Jack’s hand grasping yours, “there's gonna be a sharp scratch okay…?” jacks forehead pressed into yours as they placed the IV much to your dismay. “They’re gonna take away the pain baby…” he pressed his lips to the tip of your nose.
You’d become accustomed to this kind of affection, it was never a conversation, instead it was a simple rhythm. People often talk about falling in love at first sight, in truth you had considered it maybe happened in the bathroom of the church with Robby, or maybe it was watching Jack fumble with the stroller. But no, it was platonic, at least to a degree in the start, then it gradually relaxed and settled, as if you were falling through clouds gently being ushered down each bump. But here, the men who protected and cared for you, two men who were essentially the fathers of their child. You often joked that in losing one husband you’d overcorrected and provided your son with two dads.
Now they were more than dads, or friends, they were protectors, comforts. Gradually the doctors filtered out, you got transferred to the burns unit. For the rest of your care but that in no way stopped the two men from seeing you constantly, always bouncing the babies on their hips, sometimes with the nurses or coworkers when you were up to meeting new people. Eventually you were discharged and sent home with a few scars.
The men each held an arm as you walked into your now apparently shared apartment. Robby and Jack's things strewn around. “We’re gonna need a bigger place…” Robby huffed as he lowered you down onto the couch, playfully pushing Jack over to do the same and kneeling to remove his prosthesis. The babies babbled about in their playpen, you weren't playing much attention instead just whining as robby tried to check your bandages.
“Stop rob-” you huffed as Jack pressed a long kiss to your jaw, just breathing you in. “wh…what are we?” the men stalled looking up at you as Jack's breath fanned over your cheek.
“Partners ... p-partners-” Jack's lips reconnected with your jaw, wet and nipping as he went along, eliciting little noises out of you as robby scoffed, finally removing the lining and sitting on your other side.
“We love you…we love each other…we love the kids…that's all we need” robby hummed, taking advantage of the position of your jaw to gently press a kiss to your lips. A little hum escaping you as your eyes flutter shut. He nipped at your lower lip before moving to switch off with Jack, his hand carefully wrapping around his neck with a grin as Jack weakly groaned into your mouth. Your eyes flickered open remembering that the kids were in fact in the room and went to pull away when “Oh MY GOD!” you squealed as robby chuckled.
“We’re not that good baby-”
“NO THE KIDS ARE PULLING UP!” you saw the two toddlers with their eyes on the TV both stood up in their play pen. Jack grinned and grabbed his phone taking photos of the two. RObby leaned into your ear with a grin against the shell “maybe we should make one…3rd times the charm-”
