jealous 𖦹°. ᵎᵎ | “i know that i’m being hateful, but that ain’t nothing.”
lars lindstrom x fem!coworker!reader
—jealousy, friends to a little more than friends??
LARS has never considered himself a jealous person. for one, jealousy requires confidence. it requires believing you could have some sort of claim over another person. it requires believing that maybe, just maybe, you stand a chance.
lars doesn’t think he stands a chance with you. he’s not being dramatic about it. he genuinely doesn’t.
you’re kind and funny and warm in a way that makes every room feel brighter. people naturally gravitate towards you. conversations seem to find you wherever you go. meanwhile lars spends most days hoping nobody notices him sitting quietly at his desk.
so no, he doesn’t think he’s jealous.
until your coworker, jim, starting to rest his elbow on your desk every morning.
then suddenly he discovers that maybe he is a jealous person.
it starts innocently enough. at least that’s what everybody else seems to think. you and jim have one of those friendships that develops naturally between coworkers. constant teasing. inside jokes. playful bickering that makes everyone around you roll their eyes.
you’re always laughing, and lars likes hearing you laugh. probably a little too much. sometimes he’ll be focused on paperwork across the room when he hears that sound and immediately finds himself looking up before he can stop himself. every single time without fail.
and unfortunately your coworker seems to be responsible for a lot of those laughs. lars hates the feeling almost immediately.
not because it’s jealousy, because it’s ugly. at least that’s what he tells himself. every morning he arrives at the office and promises himself he isn’t going to pay attention. he’s going to focus on work, he’s going to stop looking across the room every time you laugh, he’s going to stop noticing who you’re talking to.
he’s going to stop thinking about you altogether, then you walk through the door, and suddenly none of those promises matter anymore. because there you are. smiling at everybody, carrying your coffee, tucking your hair behind your ear while you laugh at something one of your coworkers says, and lars’ entire day rearranges itself around your existence before he’s even sat down at his desk.
it happens so naturally now that he barely notices it. the way his eyes search for you whenever he enters a room, the way his mood improves whenever you stop by his desk, the way he remembers tiny things about you without even trying. your coffee order, your favourite cookies from the break room, the fact you always hum quietly when you’re concentrating. none of it is deliberate, it just happens. the same way breathing happens, the same way the sun rises.
loving you has become such a natural part of his life that he doesn’t even know when it started anymore. he only knows it did.
the problem is that everyone loves you, because of course they do. you’re easy to love. and normally that isn’t something that bothers him.
until jim.
the coworker.
the one who’s always making you laugh.
always finding reasons to stop by your desk.
always somehow ending up beside you during lunch breaks.
lars notices it all, he notices everything. he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t. but every time he hears your laugh, his eyes automatically find you. and somehow that jim guy is always there, leaning against your desk, smiling and talking and existing.
what makes it worse is that jim is actually nice. lars can’t even hate him properly. he’s friendly, he’s helpful, funny from what he hears. the sort of person people naturally enjoy being around. which creates an entirely different problem.
because whenever lars watches the two of you together, he doesn’t think: why him?
he thinks: why wouldn’t it be him?
and that’s so much worse, because jim is everything lars isn’t. comfortable around people, confident, effortlessly charming. able to walk up to you and start a conversation without spending three days rehearsing beforehand.
meanwhile lars still sometimes gets nervous when you smile at him unexpectedly. sometimes you ask him a question and his brain simply stops working. sometimes you touch his arm while talking and he spends the next twenty minutes staring blankly at spreadsheets because all his thoughts have evaporated.
how exactly is he supposed to compete with somebody like that?
one afternoon he catches himself watching the two of you through the office window. you’re outside during lunch, jim says something and you laugh. then you lightly shove his shoulder, jim laughs too.
and suddenly lars feels this strange ache in his chest. it’s sharp and unpleasant. it’s scarily unfamiliar. he stares at the screen in front of him afterwards and can’t focus on a single word. because all he can think about is how easy it looked. how natural it seemed. how comfortable you seemed together. and beneath the jealousy is something far worse.
fear.
because for the first time, lars starts imagining what happens if somebody else gets there first. what happens if one day you walk into work smiling differently. what happens if somebody asks how your weekend was and you casually mention a date. what happens if eventually you fall in love with someone. build a life with someone, and it isn’t him.
the thought physically hurts.
he hates how dramatic that sounds, but it really does.
that night he lies awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about you like always. thinking about losing you. because suddenly he realises something. he’s been treating his feelings like they’ll wait forever, like there’s no rush, like eventually he’ll find the courage. eventually he’ll say something. eventually he’ll ask you out. but eventually isn’t a real thing.
eventually is how opportunities disappear.
and somewhere across town, you’re living your life completely unaware that a quiet man is lying awake having an existential crisis because you laughed at another guy’s joke.
it’s so unfair. you’re his friend, his best friend. with other people, there was always kindness and an unspoken pity. it was different with you. yes, you were kind to him, but you treated him like he’s normal. you weren’t overly careful, you didn’t have that reserved politeness, you smiled and laughed with him normally. you were patient with him when he struggled with his words, you’d sit with him in silence when he just wanted to be in your presence, you’d include him in conversations when people flat out ignored him. you were the love of his life.
it’s so unfuckingfair.
by the following week, lars is miserable. not visibly. lars is too anxious to be visibly miserable. but everyone who knows him can tell something’s wrong. he’s even quieter, more distracted, he keeps making mistakes. small ones. the kind he normally never makes.
and every time he catches sight of you, the same thought repeats itself.
say something.
say something.
say something.
except then you smile at him and he forgets how language works.
one afternoon things finally reach their breaking point. it’s over something that isn’t even that serious, that’s the ridiculous part.
you’re standing near the photocopier. jim says something. you laugh. then, without thinking, you shove his shoulder lightly. he shoves yours back. you both start arguing about something completely stupid.
lars can’t stand it.
he spends the next twenty minutes trying to focus on his work and failing miserably. his stomach feels tight, his chest feels weird, he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like any of it.
most of all, he doesn’t like the possibility that somebody else might realise how wonderful you are before he figures out how to tell you himself.
the thought follows him all day.
it follows him home.
it follows him through dinner.
that green eyed monster is haunting his dreams.
it follows him right into the next morning.
by lunch, lars is a disaster. he’s barely spoken, he’s made three separate mistakes entering data, and he accidentally walked into a door. twice.
eventually he sees you heading towards the break room alone. before he can talk himself out of it, he’s standing, his legs move before his brain catches up. which is honestly the only reason this conversation happens at all, because if he’d had another thirty seconds to think about it, he’d have backed out immediately.
“hey.”
you turn, instantly smiling when you see him, and somehow that makes everything worse. or better. probably both.
“hey, lars.” your smile softens slightly. “you okay?” the concern in your voice nearly kills him. “yeah.” he lies. “actually no.” he corrects himself. you blink. lars never does this.
lars barely volunteers information about what he had for breakfast. the fact he’s voluntarily initiating a conversation is already alarming. the fact he looks nervous enough to pass out is even worse.
“do you want to sit down?”
he nods immediately. the two of you settle into a quiet corner of the break room. and suddenly every ounce of courage he’d managed to gather evaporates. gone. you wait patiently, because you’re nice like that, because you’ve always been nice to him.
eventually lars speaks, “i don’t really know how to say this.” you immediately feel your heart start beating faster. something about his expression, something about the way he’s looking at the table instead of you.“that’s okay.”
he takes a breath, then another, and then another. he might as well have been preparing for surgery.
“i don’t like him.”
“who?”
“jim.”
lars closes his eyes briefly, embarrassed. realisation dawns instantly, and suddenly you’re fighting very hard not to smile. “oh.”
“yeah.”
he’s still looking at the table, still refusing to meet your eyes. which means he doesn’t see the expression spreading across your face.
“i don’t think he’s a bad person,” lars rushes out. “he seems nice. i mean, he’s probably very nice. people like him. and that’s good. i don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
“that’s very charitable.”
“thank you.”
“but?”
lars swallows, “but i don’t like how much time he spends with you.” he continues before you can say anything. once he starts talking, the words seem impossible to stop. months of feelings spilling out all at once.
“and i know that sounds ridiculous because you’re allowed to spend time with whoever you want. obviously. i know that. i understand that. i don’t actually have any right to be upset about it and i’ve been trying very hard not to be but every time he comes over to your desk i get distracted and then i can’t focus and yesterday i entered the wrong information three times because you were laughing at something he said and—”
he finally pauses to breathe, you are now actively trying not to laugh. not because it’s funny, because it’s adorable.
“lars.”
he immediately stops and slowly lifts his eyes, and for the first time you see it. all of it. every feeling he’s been trying desperately to hide. every nervous glance, every shy smile, every moment of quiet affection. suddenly it all makes sense.
“are you jealous?”
the poor man looks horrified. absolutely horrified, like you’ve accused him of a crime.
“yes!”
the honesty nearly knocks the wind out of you. “oh.”
“i know it’s stupid.”
“it isn’t.”
“it is.”
“lars.”
he finally looks at you properly, and whatever he sees in your expression seems to give him just enough courage to keep going. just enough. and if lars was going to do it, he was going to do it scared.
“i like you.” the words arrive quietly and simply. completely sincere. “i’ve liked you for a long time.”
your heart melts completely, because he sounds so earnest and so vulnerable. like he’s handing you something precious. “and i know i’m not very good at this.” an understatement.
“and i know i probably should’ve said something sooner, but every time i tried, i got nervous.”
you smile softly, “i noticed.” his face immediately turns pink. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
for a moment neither of you speaks, the silence isn’t awkward though. just warm and gentle. the kind of silence that only happens when two people finally understand each other. eventually you reach across the table and place your hand over his.
lars doesn’t freeze and shrink like he would with other people. you’re the only one who’s touch doesn’t make him feel like his skin is burning.
“for the record,” you say softly, “he’s just my friend.”
the relief that floods his face is almost comical. it’s immediate and overwhelming. “really?”
“really.”
“also, i’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me out.”
this time lars actually stops functioning entirely. you watch approximately seven different emotions pass across his face in under three seconds. shock, disbelief, panic and hope. and finally pure happiness. he smiles.
you think it might be the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.
“oh.”
“oh?”
“that’s… good.”
you laugh. there it is again, that laugh he loves so much. except this time, when he hears it, the jealousy is gone. all that’s left is you sitting across from him. holding his hand. smiling at him like he’s something worth choosing.
the relief on his face might be even sweeter than the confession itself. because for the first time in months, lars isn’t imagining a future where somebody else gets the girl.
25 hours of work. 8 watchs of the movie, 12 listens of the audiobook. I haven't felt this amount of passion and love for any media since into the spiderverse came out. PHM has ignited my love for art and lit a spark for science I never thought would be possible. Thank you for looking at this piece that took about a month to finish 🤍🤍✨️
I still can't get over the scene of movie rocky eating in front of Grace 😭 It's the equivalent of meeting an alien and, assuming they will never encounter another of your species again, say "hey check this out we humans always do this in front of eachother to strengthen pack bonds" then proceeding to drop your draws and start playing in your ass.
I know if rocky could sweat he would be DRENCHED as they got closer to Erid, trying to come up with a polite way to tell Grace that he's been trolling him on Eridian culture this entire time
Like poor movie Grace would probably meet Adrian and immediately request getting to know them over dinner together (a standard human custom he assumed they shared cus of rocky) and Adrian being MORTIFIED. I love rocky he's such a little freak lmao
I JUST GOT BACK FROM MY 12 HOUR SHIFT TO THE GREATEST GIFT! I’m so glad you get me with his hands, what you wrote is EXACTLY how I pictured them and their hand language. I’m literally giggling and kicking my feet, I will be rereading that religiously yip yip yip. (I also would love to hear your nsfw thoughts, statement.)
Queen, genuinely thank you so much it made my day. Still giggling and kicking my feet thinking about it LOL
- your eggy anon 🥚
EGG I’M SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!
ask and you shall receive baby, NSFW rygos hand headcanon’s coming right up! uh I’m writing these way past my bedtime so if this whole post is incoherent, that would be why (part 2 to this post for those who may have missed it!)
RYLAND’s hands are long. He can reach and massage parts of you that you can’t reach on your own. He’s able to curl his fingers and press against your walls in such a way that you swear he’s slowly rearranging your guts to mold perfectly to his digits. If you plead enough, he’ll even stick those fingers in your mouth, pressing firmly on your tongue to make you drool. His precise control over his hands means he’s methodical in the bedroom. He knows just where to touch you, when to touch you and how to touch you so you’re able to get the most out of your time with him. With patience and practice, he knows your body better than his own. Basically, Ryland can play you like a fiddle. One specific thing he does that drives you crazy is use those long fingers of his to push the extra droplets of cum that drip out of you back into your heat, coaxing it deeper where it’ll stay. He’s always mesmerized when he does it and frankly, you enjoy it too much to bother asking why
HOLLAND’s hands like to wander and he’s not ashamed to hide it. Keep this man on a tight leash when you’re out because he can and will touch you in ways most would find insanely inappropriate for the public eye. You’re at a restaurant sitting side-by-side at a table that has a long tablecloth? His hand is already on your knee and winding between your thighs within minutes of ordering your drinks, right in front of your waiter. Walking down the street? His hand is in your back pocket. Driving him to meet one of his clients? He’s leaning over the center console to unbutton your pants/pull your skirt up or do whatever it takes to reach what’s underneath. His hands are always moving when you’re alone too- sliding under your shirt when you’re trying to brush your teeth or tugging your towel loose when you’ve just stepped out of the shower. You occasionally get your revenge by pinning his hands above his head when you ride him to oblivion, not letting him touch you like he wants as punishment
LARS’ hands are huge. He’s hesitant to really use his hands to their full potential at first; for whatever reason, he’s terrified he might hurt you. Only after you’re able to reassure Lars that he couldn’t hurt a fly, much less hurt you, then he gets a little bolder. His hands dwarf every part of you he touches. Palming your chest, cupping your cheek, splaying between your legs all has you weak at how much surface area his hands cover. The aching stretch that his fingers provide have your eyes rolling back into your skull. It’s only a matter of time before Lars realizes just how easy it is to make you squirm and becomes confident enough to use that to his advantage. He’ll even hold a palm to your throat once he’s comfortable, not squeezing hard enough to cut off your air but just enough so he can feel your neck bob under his hand.
COLT’s hands are rough. As mentioned before, his hands are a little worse for wear but it only makes things all the more enjoyable for you. The scrape of his callouses against your flesh- when he trails his fingers down your sides, smooths his thumbs over your nipples or slipping his middle finger into your heat- the scuffs are enough to have your back arching off the bed. He’s teasing both in and out of the bedroom. Colt’s hands will edge you until you’re seeing white before he’ll pull away, just to see you beg for more. Once, he had you straddling his hips and riding his hand to pleasure yourself, barely able to find relief while being impaled on only one of his fingers, so worked up your eyes were lined with tears. He was so turned on by the sight that he came untouched and shot ropes of cum all over himself.
might try to watch drive tomorrow gotta see what this driver guy is all about
HIII I HOPE YOU ARE WELL! I HAVE BEEN STALKING YOUR PAGE RELIGIOUSLY! YOU ARE SUCH AN INCREDIBLE WRITER AND YOU REALLY UNDERSTAND THE CHARACTERS SOOOOO DEEPLY! I hope you are treating yourself kindly and staying hydrated!
also I FEEL LIKE YOU MIGHT GET ME COZ ALL MY FRIENDS THINK IM WEIRD BUT MAYBE IM JUST A FREAK!
I’m NOT a hands person, but Ryan’s hands actually make me like…feral.
He uses them in such an expressive way and it always endears me so much to his characters. You can get a sense for who his characters are just by how they use their hands in both mundane and complex situations, along with interacting with another person and how it kinda gives way what his characters are thinking.
Also the way Ryan’s thumb is kinda like…square at the joint makes me gnaw at my enclosure (is it possible to get gender envy via someone’s hands? If so, I also have that) .
Anyway. Yeah LOL
- eggy
EGGYYYYYYYY I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS! 😭😭 as someone who is deeply self conscious about everything I write, it means so much to hear from kind eggs like you 🥹
I don’t think you’re crazy at all because I am a hands person so I have several thoughts about all of his characters and their hands! here’s little hc’s for the current Rygos on my mind!
RYLAND’s hands are steady. Long and precise, several hours in labs and handling delicate microscopic life means he has a lot of control over his movements- until he gets flustered. When you do something that gets his heart racing, his concentration gets shot and he gets uncoordinated. Its so endearing. Fumbling fingers, unsure touch. He talks with his hands, sometimes communicating with them even more so than his mouth. One of your favorite things to do is to lay next to him and listen to him ramble about something or other while his hands wave in the air. Ryland has veiny hands and ooooh how you love mapping the raised bumps they make in his skin, following their trails up his arms before they disappear. After his dance with death when he saved Rocky, Ryland’s right hand and arm are very tender and stay overly sensitive to touch for a long time thanks to his slowly healing skin. You both have doubts it’ll ever truly heal, leaving his raw skin vulnerable and raggedy. It becomes a daily ritual for you to carefully apply burn cream to the puckered scar. Ryland says your touch alone ebbs the pain more than any medicine (he’s sappy like that).
HOLLAND has shaky hands. At the beginning of your acquaintance, they shake because he’s drunk. Clumsy and fumbling thanks to the whisky in his system. His hands are shaking when he tries to woo you the first time you meet, attempting to smoothly brush an eyelash off your cheek which ends with a thumb in your eye, an angry you and a frantic apology from him. He tries not to drink around you after that. But then, his hands would shake because he’s nervous. You terrify him. Something about you calls to him- more than the fleeting attraction he’d have towards those he might want a fling with. He actually wants to try with you, which scares him. Holland both hates and craves the way you make him feel and his hands reflect that. He’s so unsure and cautious around you, dying to touch you but too worried about what you might think. Why would someone like you want a screwup like him? On multiple occasions does he reach out to graze your arm or hold your thigh before he second guesses himself and pulls back. Only when you reach out to him first- grabbing his wrists to bring his hands to your hips so you can kiss him stupid- do his hands stop shaking around you.
LARS’ hands are hidden- at least for a good several months after you first meet. Always covered by thick gloves, even when the weather gets a little warmer. You weren’t sure why but never pried for answers- if Lars wanted you to know, he’d tell you. It was rare that you ever touched at all, the inly contact being the occasional brush of his hand against yours while you’re walking together which he’d pull away from like you were a hot pan. It should’ve hurt you, that he seemed so averse to touching you, but it didn’t. That’s just how Lars was. The first time you actually saw his hands, you weren’t at all surprised by what they looked like. They were strong- thick fingers, meaty palms- hands to match the rest of him. When Lars started experimenting with touch, carefully dusting his fingers over your skin to see if it hurt, you found Lars’ hands to be extremely soft: both physically and in the way he kissed them over you. Once he’s comfortable enough, Lars LOVES holding your hand. While his trumps yours in size, he feels like your hand is protecting his- a lifeline when he gets overwhelmed while around other people. He relies on that tether and has a hard time letting go when you’re alone again.
COLT’s hands are rough. As a stunt man, especially one who’s been around the block as many times as he has, his hands have roughened up over the years. Small scars, callouses, fingers that have been broken more times than he can count and fingernails that have seen better days. Despite that, his touch couldn’t be more gentle. The way he cradles you, cupping the back of your head to hold you close- not once has his toughened hands hurt. He’s maybe a little self conscious of them? Not too much, he’s overall very confident with his body, but when you point out the light catch of his skin against yours when he rubs a thumb along your neck or slides a hand down your bare spine, he gets worried the roughness bothers you. That couldn’t be farther from the truth of course and you spend ample time kissing his palm and fingers to get your point across. His hands are also very teasing; poking your soft spots to get you to laugh, flicking your ear to get your attention or swiping something out of your back pocket so you’d come to him later begging for his help because somehow, Colt was always able to find your misplaced things.
i kept this pg for the masses but uh… i have many nsfw thoughts as well if there’s any interest
grace have mate, question? (ryland grace x fem!reader) PART 2 (PART 1 )
summary: ryland calls his wife after being presented with an impossible decision. she has to learn to traverse life after he’s gone. years later, eva stratt comes knocking with a gift
wc: 6.3k
cw: brief mention of suicide, sadness, hurt minimal comfort
a/n: a prequel and a sequel! also wanted to preface this by stating that I DO NOT HATE EVA STRATT !! also also, I took some creative liberties with the timeline, what happens to stratt after everything and what earth would be like while the sun is dying so apologies for any inaccuracies or continuity errors between the book/movie!
When your phone rang around 11am two days before the Hail Mary launch, you didn’t think much of it.
Mid-experiment, carefully peering through a microscope at the little cells zipping around the slide in front of you, your mind was distracted. You assumed it was a spam call.
However, a haphazard glance at your watch to check the caller ID had you ripping your latex gloves from your hands and hurtling across the lab where your bag was stuffed in a locker.
mister grace ☝️🤓
Ryland never called this early in the day.
Not since he’d been whisked away by Eva Stratt. He was rarely ever given the chance to call due to the secrecy of the mission, but when he did it was usually in the evening after a long day of meetings he didn’t think he needed to be present for, extensive astrophage testing and whatever other various tasks Stratt gave him. He knew you worked during the day too and didn’t want to interrupt until he knew you were home.
The unusual time immediately threw red flags up in your mind- confused and curious as to why he could be calling.
Was he finally calling to tell you he was coming home? With the launch this close, maybe Stratt was finally unclipping his leash and letting him go back to his regular life now that the fate of the world would be resting in the hands of three astronauts in less than 48 hours. Once they’d left, it was a waiting game. Surely they would give him some more free time now?
You barely answered the phone in time, quickly pressing the answer button before it disappeared. Resting the phone against your shoulder, you wasted no time with hello’s.
“Ry?”
Silence.
Or no verbal answer, at least. There was shuffling on the other end, the brush of the phone against something but other than that, nothing.
“Ryland?” You pressed, checking the screen to make sure you’d actually answered. You had.
A suppressed sniff crackled through the line. Your heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.
“Ry, baby, are you ok?”
More silence before he finally answered, voice weak and broken, thick with tears. The last time you’d heard him sound even remotely close to this was when he’d lost everything after publishing his paper challenging the scientific leaders in his field. Only, somehow, he sounded worse.
“They’re dead,” he whispered.
He sounded like he was still trying to make sense of whatever he was troubled with himself.
You tried to pick through who he could be talking about, but he answered your question without you needing to ask. “The two scientists who were picked to go on the mission. The science officer and his emergency back-up. Killed in an astrophage explosion. A freak accident. It destroyed an entire building.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. That couldn’t be good. You didn’t know the specifics of the Hail Mary crew- who was going or what their jobs were- you just knew there were 3 going. And if Ryland was this upset about it, it was probably a huge problem.
“Ok,” you stated, trying to work out what to say, how you could comfort him, but all you could think of were questions. “Are you hurt? What does this mean for the mission?”
Ryland’s voice was so strained and shaky it was barely recognizable. “I’m ok, I wasn’t nearby when it happened but… there are no science specialists trained and ready to go on the trip.” A sound erupted from his throat that had your chest aching for him. A sob. “And…” he whispered the next part so quietly you almost missed it, “they want me to go in their place.”
The world stopped spinning under your feet.
Stumbling blindly backwards, your hand found the marble surface of a lab station and all but collapsed against it. “Wh-What?”
“I… I understand Astrophage more than anyone. Stratt’s had me in every meeting possible pertaining to the mission. I know what equipment will be on the ship and how to use it. I understand the basics of the ship and its layout.” A wet hiccup. “There’s no time to train someone new.”
Your hands were shaking, trembling as you ran your free hand over your mouth. “Ok…” The backs of your eyes began to sting. “And… have you thought about what you want to do?”
The lab was quiet, sun gleaming through the open windows and sparkling off of the pristine equipment. It was tranquil. Complete contrast to the dark nightmare unfolding in your head.
You would support him in whatever decision he made, no matter which path he took. If Ryland decided to go, he could save the world. Save millions. But that would mean leaving you behind. He would die in space. You didn’t know if your heart could handle the love of your life suffering such a fate. If he chose to stay, the guilt would eat at him for the rest of his life. It was a lose-lose situation and you didn’t know how to get him out of it.
More shuffling on the line and a heartbreaking sob. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”
You wished more than anything to jump through your phone to envelope him in a hug at how small he sounded. “I can’t die. I’m a coward, I know that. I should go. I should do it for you. For my kids. For the world. But… I’m not brave like the others are- willing to give up everything to give Earth a chance. I won’t give up what I have here on the slim chance the answers to our problems are in another galaxy.”
He sounded so ashamed, so humiliated that he could even be thinking this way.
You felt ashamed for being relieved he wanted to stay.
If you ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with Eva Stratt, you weren’t certain you could hold yourself back from clobbering her. How could she, or anyone else who had anything to do with this, put so much pressure on one man. A man who had people to live for. A man who sacrificed years of his life to help understand astrophage. And now they wanted him to sacrifice every year he had left on a long shot? Not on your watch.
Wiping your eyes on your lab coat’s sleeve, you straightened up and steeled yourself. “Ok. How did they tell you all of this, Ryland?”
Ryland cleared his throat as he nervously recalled. “Well, they strongly enforced the fact that I was their only hope. They said there was no time to train someone new in everything they needed to know for the mission. I tried to tell them I wasn’t the one for the job but they insisted. When I asked if I could think about it, Stratt said I had 3 hours to decide. I… spent the first two crying on the roof and then ran inside to call you.” He sounded so tired, so defeated. “Does this make me a horrible person? Choosing to stay?”
The fact that Ryland had to even wonder if he was in the wrong had you seeing red. “Ry, you are not a horrible person. Period. I would never think little of you for choosing this- choosing to live the rest of your life here, however much longer Earth has. Don’t spend one second wondering if I think you’re a coward. Not in my eyes, you’re not.”
“But… what if it gets out that I chose not to go, that someone less qualified had to go in my place? They could track us down- news stations, social media. They could come knocking and we would never know peace again. We might have to move, uproot our lives.”
He was starting to spiral, panic evident in his voice as he thought up all sorts of worst case scenarios and ‘what if’s’. “Ry-”
“What if it comes back to you? You could lose your job, everything you’ve worked so hard for! Like I did, when I stood by my paper. Can you live with that?”
“Baby, listen-”
“You’d be married to the person who let down humanity,” his voice wavered. “Married to a failure-”
“Ryland Grace!”
He stopped talking. You rarely ever raised your voice with him. In fact, you weren’t sure you ever had.
“Are you listening?”
“…Yes,” he croaked after a second, releasing a wet breath of air through his nose.
“I don’t care about any of that. If that’s what happens after you stand your ground, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“But-“
“No, we’re not going to worry about that right now.” Standing up properly, you began pacing the lab in quick strides as you worked through all of the thoughts in your head, piecing together how Ryland would get out of this. “Ry, they cannot force you onto that ship. Not when it will cost you everything. They have to understand that, right?”
Your husband made a sound like he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know if they do.”
“Well, they gave you the opportunity to think about it which means they must have some sort of backup plan. You were just the first and most logical option so they’re going to push and push for you to agree but you have to stand your ground. Tell them you won’t- that your mind is made up. They’ll find someone else. They have to.”
Ryland listened quietly as you spoke, soaking in your confidence and surety that everything would work out. With another sniff and a wipe of his eyes he deflated in a tiny rush of calm.
“Ok, yeah. You’re right.”
“Will you be ok on your own?” You question, already getting nervous for him- for the hell he might receive when he refuses a direct order from the most powerful woman on Earth. Ryland had a hard time telling an 18 year old fast food worker they forgot his fries. You can’t imagine him confronting the governments of the world. “You can keep me on the phone and put me in your pocket?”
You could hear the tiny smile in his voice at your offer. “I’ll be ok, promise. You’ve already given me enough courage to work with.” He paused, the slight click against the receiver of the phone told you he’d moved his glasses. You’d heard it a thousand times. A weak laugh. “I need a drink.”
With all of the stress he’d been under for years, and specifically the terror he’d endured the past 2 hours, you would have to agree.
“Once you decline their offer, I can’t imagine they’ll be keeping you on the project for much longer, right? They’ll send you home?”
Ryland hummed. “Probably. Now that I’m no longer of any use to them. Unless they want to throw me in jail or something for saying no.”
You laughed. “First of all, they’re not going to jail you. Second, how about we plan a nice dinner when you get back?” You smiled at just the idea. The two of you hadn’t spent much longer than a couple of hours together every couple of months in years. How nice just spending the evening together would be.
“I like the sound of that. Even better, what if we go out to eat? A real nice restaurant, like that new Italian place that opened while I've been gone that you’ve been dying to try? I don’t even care how much it costs.”
It was insane how giddy you got from just the thought of going on a date with him again. It felt something like your initial dating months. “That sounds amazing. It’s a date.”
“It’s a date,” he parrots, a smile in his tone.
When he blew air out of his nose and cleared his throat, you knew what was coming next. “I have to go. Stratt will be waiting for me.”
Why was this feeling like a much bigger goodbye than it was?
“Ok… good luck, Ryland. Everything will be ok. I promise.”
“Thank you. I love you.” There was a waver in his tone again. You’d run out of things to say to try to comfort him.
“I love you too.”
Click.
-
Two days later, while watching the Hail Mary launch in your small living room after taking the day off of work, curled up on the couch in anticipation, your world turned on its head.
The launch was successfull- 3 brave astronauts leaving Earth’s orbit and beginning their unconscious journey to the reaches of space no man made thing had ever gone before to save the world.
People were celebrating- praying for their safe travels and the hope of a solution.
You, however, were not celebrating.
When the news broadcast announced the names of the 3 heroes, splattering their pictures on the screen, your heart broke to the point of no return.
Ryland Grace.
His picture was cheerful- he was smiling, bright, hopeful- just like how the other two astronauts were depicted.
Ryland was on that ship.
He’d gone on the mission.
A one-way trip.
To die.
And he hadn’t told you.
You were sick for weeks.
During the first initial hours of the launch, you had been in a trance. Staring blankly at the TV that had all sorts of things to say about the mission- facts that the government finally released and made public; things about the ship, the mission, the star they were headed to, the crew. Every channel, no matter what usually played, broadcasted the same footage. Over and over and over.
The Hail Mary taking off. Flying into the sky at breakneck speeds. And disappearing.
Once you’d snapped out of your trance some hours later, you wailed. Collapsing onto the floor and throwing up everything in your system, you wept. And wept. And wept. And didn’t stop for several hours more.
It took days for the tears to dry up. From there, you just became numb to everything.
Your phone rang and rang and dinged and dinged with messages. Family, friends, coworkers, people you’d barely ever spoken to who had your number- all of them sending their love and thanks. Thanks for Ryland and his bravery. Thanks for you and your strength and sacrifice to give up the man you loved for the greater good.
Their words only made it worse.
You never left your apartment, you didn’t go to work, you rarely ate. You barely slept, although you wished more than anything you could- if only to escape this reality. But then again, the nightmares always found you in your dreams too.
Ample amounts of time alone in the dead quiet of your apartment gave you a lot of time to think.
And think.
And think.
So much thinking eventually led to the inevitable: questions.
Ryland had been so terrified at the mere thought of being sent into space. You could hear it when he’d called you; when he’d cried with you. Even before the mission, before he’d been wrapped into everything, he’d talked about how little of a desire he had to go to space if he was given the opportunity. Yes, he’d spent much of his life studying the stars, the potential biology of other worlds and loved teaching his students about it. But he never wanted to actually go.
It didn’t make sense; how he would’ve changed his mind so quickly.
And how he changed his mind and didn’t tell you.
It wasn’t like him. Even if he had changed his mind, he would’ve let you know. Probably would’ve fought tooth and nail for the clearance to fly out that second and see you beforehand to tell you in person.
He’d sounded so eager to come home. So excited for your date.
You’d had plans of a future with him. He wanted kids. Whether or not that would’ve happened, with the end of the world rather close by and all, you probably would’ve reconsidered but Ryland wouldn’t have given up that slight possibility of a family.
With every passing thought, one thing remained abundantly clear to you- he must’ve been forced.
Somehow, someway, they’d forced Ryland onto that ship.
Blackmail, threats, or perhaps they’d genuinely just shoved him onto the ship and buckled him in.
Maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, maybe you were trying to find some kind of solace in the hell you’d found yourself in.
But you refused to believe any different. For your own sake.
-
You’d never been to a prison before.
Not as an inmate or a visitor.
And you could confidently say you never wanted to go inside a prison again.
It was bleak, cold and still; officers abundant in the hallways as you were led into the facility. You felt out of place.
No, you didn’t want to be here. But you had business to attend to before you could leave in good conscience.
Eva Stratt was a bitch to track down.
After the Hail Mary launch, Stratt evidently had a long line of people who wanted her arrested for the slew of crimes she’d committed to complete Project Hail Mary. You didn’t know many details, not everything was public, but after years of searching and searching you finally found where she was held- currently serving a sentence in a U.S federal prison. She had most likely been trucked around to several nations of the world to be tried for her crimes for the past couple of years, but just so happened to find herself back within your reach. Lucky you.
It was a process and a half to get approved to visit. Background checks, applications, phone calls as to why you could possibly want to meet with her. Stratt herself also had to approve your visit, which she surprisingly had. Maybe she’d assumed you’d find her eventually and expected your confrontation. Whatever the case, you couldn’t decide if you were eager or dreading to hear what came out of her mouth.
Stratt wasn’t quite what you pictured. She looked a little weathered, no doubt from her years in courtrooms and cells, but she still sat with an aura of authority that was, frankly, impressive.
Behind the glass pane, she watched quietly as you moved to sit on the other side, carefully watching her back as you shrugged off your coat. It was mid-July but you wouldn’t know it. The temperature was gradually dropping, making summer feel like fall. The sun was dying exponentially, and soon the world would fall into an eternal winter. You doubted you’d ever wear shorts again.
Draping your coat over the chair opposite of Stratt, you dropped into the seat and took a second to steady your emotions. This felt like the conclusion to the very long, very difficult story you’d been living in ever since Ryland left. It took a long time to come to terms with what had happened, and now all you wanted was closure. To see if what you truly believed with your whole heart was true. And maybe to punch Stratt in the face, but that part of your dream wasn’t achievable given the environment you had to converse in.
Neither of you spoke, daring the other to speak first. It was an uncomfortable couple of minutes. You were pretty certain the guards that watched were starting to fidget too. When she finally spoke, the crackle of the small intercom between the glass panels grated against your ears.
“I was wondering when you would find me.”
Stratt’s accent was thick, just as Ryland said it was. A European accent. You didn’t care to ponder which one.
“It’s not easy tracking down the most criminally decorated human being in the world. They’ve been keeping your whereabouts close to the chest so I’m just surprised I got lucky enough that you’re locked up here right now and not halfway across the globe.”
She didn’t blink at your jab, that she indeed had a mile’s long list of crimes under her belt and would likely spend the rest of her life in prisons. Or maybe humanity would die first and her crimes wouldn’t really matter anyway. You hoped it would be the former. Justice, for what (you assumed) she did.
“Lucky me,” she nodded. “Although I suppose you would’ve flown to find me wherever I wound up.”
Stratt knew she was right and it made you angry knowing that she knew that. You would’ve flown to the remnants of Antarctica if that’s where they were keeping her. Anything for the answers you needed.
When you only glared, Stratt waved her hand in the air like she was batting away a fly. “Enough of the pleasantries. You came here for a reason. You want answers. So ask for them.”
The threads of your sweater shook under your grasp. She was being so casual about this- about what she’d done. Like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter.
“The truth,” you whispered, so quiet you weren’t even sure the intercom relayed it to her. “I just want the truth.”
“The truth? He was our only hope. The only person who could’ve replaced the two scientists we lost.”
“I understand that. So did Ryland. He knew the risks and he knew the stakes. But even then, he said he couldn’t so it- couldn’t risk his life for a long shot. He’d told me that not 20 minutes before going to meet with you!” Your voice cracked. “Then I see his face on my TV screen.”
You tried to blink away your tears. You would not give this woman the satisfaction of seeing you cry. She would probably get a kick out of it. “He would’ve told me if he changed his mind. But he didn’t. So I don’t believe he went on that ship of his own volition. You’re going to tell me the truth. I don’t want the fabricated story that’s been fed to the press for years. I’m done with the bullshit.”
Stratt didn’t talk for a while, mulling over your words and even, dare you say, look a little hesitant to answer. It didn’t make you feel any better.
“You’re right,” she stated, nodding and clasping her hands together on the desk between the two of you. “With the launch so close, we couldn’t waste anymore time training someone new. It would set us back months and increase the potential for casualties here, which we couldn’t risk- not if it meant the astronauts might find a solution the tiniest bit sooner. So, I had no choice.”
The way she said it, quiet and reverent, had your heart in your throat. You’d always assumed the worst, but now hearing maybe you weren’t so crazy didn’t make you feel better. “What did you do to him?”
“We induced his coma early. It was the safest option.”
She didn’t say it outright, but you could read between the lines. “You drugged him,” you breathed. “You forced him into that coma and shoved him onto that ship unconscious.”
Horrified. You were truly horrified.
Stratt didn’t deny what you’d said, only looking down at her hands. She sort of looked ashamed. “I didn’t want to resort to force, as surprising as that might sound. I know how you must think of me. I wanted him to decide to go on his own- to find the courage to do it for you. But he didn’t, so I had to think of the greater good. One man’s life is not worth the lives of the billions he could save.”
Hearing her talk about Ryland’s life so casually, tore something in your soul. “Ryland’s life might not’ve been worth it to you, but it was worth everything to me.” Your tears flowed freely now, to hell with Stratt and what she might think of you.
She nodded gently. “I understand.”
“No. You don’t,” you sneer.
You wanted to ask her more- ask specifically how they’d drugged him. Was it a sleeping pill slipped through a harmless drink? Chloroform? Brute force and an injection? Did he fight back? Was he scared?
You were going to be sick all over again. You wanted this conversation to help- to help you find a semblance of peace. It hadn’t worked.
Snapping to your feet so forcefully your chair fell backward, you gave Stratt a look full of so much malice even she seemed to downcast her eyes. “His death is on your conscience Eva Stratt. For the rest of your life. You deserve to live the rest of Earth’s days behind bars thinking about what you did. I will never forgive you and I hope to God I never have to see you again.”
Snatching your coat from the floor, you buried your mouth into the fabric and began to sob as a guard began leading you away. You didn’t look back at Stratt, didn’t care to see how she reacted to your harsh words. She probably didn’t react at all.
-
“Don’t forget to draw the life cycle of a plant before class next week, ok?”
A chorus of agreements and goodbyes greeted you as your ten little students rushed through the metal doorway of your small classroom into the LED illuminated halls beyond. You couldn’t help but smile at their eagerness for the weekend, when they had no class and could do as they pleased. At least, as much as the underground facility you all called home now would allow.
A couple of decades have passed since Ryland was taken from you. There had been no word from the ship ever since. Hope had mostly vanished that the astronauts had found something worthwhile at Tau Ceti, or that they had even survived the journey there at all. Some believers still prayed that a solution would find its way back to you, but with every passing day, it seemed useless to keep wishing.
The world had frozen over, just like the scientists of the world (yourself included) expected. The surface of the Earth was practically unlivable now, at least permanently. People still ventured out for resources, but they were met with an icy, windy tundra. A lot of humanity had died those first several years. Starvation, hypothermia, panic induced suicide. You were surprised you’d managed to stay alive this long.
Those who did survive the initial years of dangerous temperatures moved underground in large facilities where geothermal heat could be utilized, constructing little… colonies of sorts. Everyone got new jobs, since a lot of jobs became obsolete, jobs that would further the new civilization. With your science background, you helped some with underground agriculture, testing new ways to farm and grow crops to withstand colder temperatures. While that took some time, farming techniques were practically mastered now so you weren’t needed much for that anymore.
To keep your mind busy, you found another way to find a fulfilling life.
Kids weren’t very commonplace- most couples choosing not to have kids in order to save them from a miserable life underground- but the few kids who were born needed an education. You figured it was a way to keep Ryland close.
It was immediately clear that you weren’t nearly as good of a teacher as he was, but you found a rhythm eventually and saw how easy it was to get attached to your students. You taught science to a little pack of 3rd graders. Even though some lessons weren’t as applicable to their lives, such as learning about various animals (it was assumed many species had been wiped out), and learning about stars they couldn’t see, you still taught them. These children didn’t know life outside of the facility, only occasionally getting a glimpse of the frozen horizon. You wanted to give them a peak into what life was like and what it might return to. If they were lucky.
Scooping up piles of colored pencils, you straightened out your classroom for the weekend. You had plans to enjoy yourself at the little bar a couple stories down, like you did most weekends. It was nice to take a couple of shots and loosen up. You had some friends here you spent your time with, a couple of individuals who had no one else, just like you. You found solace in each other.
As you picked tiny pieces of paper off of the hard carpet under some desks, you didn’t notice the click of shoes against the concrete floors outside your classroom until they came to a stop just inside the door.
“Doctor Grace?”
You froze in place. That title was something of the past. Your PhD didn’t hold much meaning anymore, so it was an honorific you’d abandoned. Besides, the title felt like it belonged to Ryland much more than it belonged to you.
But that voice. The accent.
Surprise. Fear. Anger. Many emotions flooded your body at once.
Using a desk to help you back to your feet, you came eye to eye with the one person you truly never thought you’d see again.
After the world really turned to shit and the surface became increasingly less and less habitable, the government had to decide what to do with the people under their care. Prisoners who had no history of violent crimes or who had only committed lesser crimes were let go to fend for themselves, while the real dangerous criminals were put into prison under the surface. There was no use keeping around more mouths to feed than what was needed.
You didn’t know if Stratt was even still in the US when this had all been decided, or if she’d already been trucked off to another country to serve time elsewhere. You hadn’t cared enough to check. Apparently, the governments of the world decided her crimes weren’t terrible enough to keep her incarcerated and use up their limited resources. Or maybe she’d escaped and ran. There was a lot of chaos during those days, you wouldn’t really be surprised if some inmates slipped through the cracks.
“I told you I never wanted to see you again,” you said, voice slightly wavering but firm.
“You said you’d hoped you’d never see me again.”
Glare.
“I have news.”
The room became so quiet you could hear the usually silent thrum of the HVAC system in the walls.
“News?” Surely, it was too good to be true. She probably had news about something else. Although why she thought it was important for you to hear was a mystery. How she’d managed to track you down was also something that didn’t sit right.
“A probe returned from Tau Ceti. With an astrophage predator.”
Your brain was running in circles. What did this mean?
“A predator? Like, something that could eat the astrophage on the sun and balance the population? Something that could save the Earth?”
Stratt nodded, a gleam in her eyes that you hadn’t seen the one time you’d met her. She was way older now, probably at least in her 60s or 70s, wrinkles sprinkled on her face and hair silvered- but she seemed happy. “We’re preparing a launch as soon as possible to deliver the predator to Venus. The notes we were given with the predator have made us believe that they should work quickly. It’s undetermined how long it will take for the Earth to defrost, but at least it will stop getting colder.”
Your breath was heavy, keeping the tight grasp on the desk next to you to stay standing. Was this really happening? This hell is over? Maybe not soon, and maybe not in your lifetime, but one day.
The Hail Mary was successful. They’d made it to Tau Ceti and found something to save what was left of humanity. They were truly heroes now. And…
“The notes that were sent with the predator… are they from Ryland?”
A gentle nod.
You broke.
Ryland had survived and saved the world. Your Ryland.
“The predator came with a lot of video logs. Some of them are addressed specifically for you.” You let out a choked sob. “We’ve already made a copy of the flashdrive to take the videos we need, and left the original for you to have.”
She reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a small gray flash drive along with a little figurine you couldn’t make out. You weren’t able to find any words as she approached and slid the two objects across the desk. Videos. For you. From Ryland. Would you even be able to handle seeing his face again after so long?
Stratt turned to leave when you stayed silent, but paused as you finally, quietly said, “Thank you. I still hate you, but… thank you for this.”
A nod of acknowledgement and she was gone.
-
In the dark, cramped space of your bedroom, your hands shook violently as you plugged the flashdrive into your laptop. It was night hours now, the compound quiet and peaceful. The glow of the screen was the only source of light in the room, shining off of the metal walls and the little metal man you held tightly in your hands. You didn’t know what the purpose of the figurine was, but Stratt had given it to you so it must be something that held meaning to Ryland.
A moment later, a file popped up on the screen labeled ‘Hail Mary Footage Surveillance’. Your cursor hovered over the beige file for several minutes. When you finally double-clicked the icon, a huge list of videos popped up, sorted by date. There were hundreds of them. There were tiny pictures next to the dates- tiny snapshots of what was happening in each video. In what seemed like every single one, tiny glimpses of Ryland and his life on the ship. The tears were instant.
It didn’t get any better from there once you actually began watching. All night and all weekend, you spent every second watching hours upon hours of video footage of the ship and the video logs Ryland eventually started making.
An emotional rollercoaster, to say the least.
Terror at the fact that Ryland did not remember what had happened to him or why he was in space. Some sort of amnesia affect from the coma or something. He’d seemed so scared and lost, remembering practically nothing about who he was before he woke up.
Joy that he remembered you at least- dedicating a whole column of his whiteboard to facts he could recall about you (wife, scientist, funny, coffee over tea, sleeps with window open, likes fantasy, selfless, loves me, loves my students, good kisser!). He’d blushed and erased the last one, thought about it, pursed his lips, then wrote it again with an embarrassed sigh. It made you laugh.
Awe at the spaceship he stumbled across at Tau Ceti. It’s massive and intricate design unlike anything that humans had ever made.
Pure, immediate love for the little alien that terrorized your husband day in and day out.
Devastation at the first video log made specifically for you.
You’d giggled at Rocky’s eagerness to speak to you, telling you all about his world. You’d muffled your sobs as you watched Ryland speak directly to you after dismissing Rocky. He was so confused at how he’d ended up on that ship. You wanted to scream through the screen, scream into the vastness of space to tell him what had happened- that he’d been ripped from you and from Earth against his will. But he wouldn’t hear you.
The rest of the footage wasn’t any easier.
Horror at the ship careening out of control and both Ryland and Rocky getting hurt.
Relief at Rocky being ok and Ryland finding an astrophage predator.
Brief hope when Ryland started his journey home that was quickly squashed when you realized that Stratt hadn’t said anything about Ryland coming back to Earth. Then the outbreak; the Taumoeba leak that your scientist was able to stop but the terrible realization that Rocky wouldn’t be able to do the same.
Ryland’s heartbreaking turmoil at deciding whether to continue home or turn back to save his friend.
You knew your husband. You knew what decision he would make before he made it himself.
No words could describe how proud you were when Ryland made his last video log- a final goodbye. Instructions on how the Taumoeba worked and how to breed enough of them to send to Venus. A farewell as he sent the probes back to Earth and turned the Hail Mary towards Erid.
Once he got there, you wouldn’t know what happened after that. If they were indeed able to make it back and save 40 Eridani too. And after that… was Ryland doomed to die in space like originally planned? Based on how intelligent Rocky was and how advanced some of his technology with xenonite seemed to be, surely they could figure out something on Erid to keep Ryland alive? They could build him a little home of sorts so he could live the rest of his days and not starve to death alone in space.
Rocky wouldn’t leave him to die like that, you knew it. He would keep Ryland safe, now that you couldn’t.
Before Ryland signed off, he gave a gentle smile to the camera and told you goodbye. An official, final goodbye this time. Sad but resolute. He told you he loved you. You whispered it back.
a/n: thanks for the patience, yall! had a lil bit of a writer’s slump and lots of life stuff got in the way but we got ‘er done! thank you for reading! a little something for my male readers is next (god willing) ;)
(tag list for those who asked to be tagged in part 2! @ittakesabitmore-mak @unabashednightmarepizza @activate-drs @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx )
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