🌊 𝙗𝙚𝙚 🌊

Still, you were both begging for some alone time, when Ryland quickly led you both into the bathroom and attacked your mouth before you could protest. And hey, why would you?

You slid his tie loose and he swiftly unzipped his dress pants, waiting for you to provide him with easy access as well, shifting your wedding fit swiftly. No words were spoken, it happened at lightning speed, knowing you only had so much time.

You were both locked inside of the bathroom stall, trying to stay as silent as possible. Ryland had your hips lifted so perfectly, his hands gripped your ass with a strong grip, his cock was hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You threw your head back whining, and he was hiding his head inside of the crook of your neck groaning as his hips pistoled forward. He was gasping and whining, you had him right where you wanted him, and he had you where he wanted you too.

“Missed you so much.” He whined. “God, you feel amazing.”

“Ryland, don’t stop, I’m–” Your sentence was cut off by a moan as he thrusted harder.

Suddenly you felt his hands slip, and he lost hold of you.

You yelped as you dropped to the tiled floor on your feet and he slid out of you abruptly.

You both had a look on each other's faces that said you’ve been blinded by horniness like teenagers. Ryland pulled you towards him so your bodies were still pressed up against one another. When you looked at Ryland’s tie that was way too loose to be taken seriously, you both let out a fit of laughter.

You smiled at the absurdity of the situation and he leant his head down toward you to kiss your mouth again. 

“God, we are idiots.”

“Married idiots.” Ryland murmured, kissing your cheek.

“You know, this is so much better than reciting vows.” You joked.

Ryland gasped at you in shock.

“I’m joking!” You half whispered, half shouted.

“Your vows were so good. Did you see how much you were making me cry?" He asked.

You laughed.

"Hey, says you! I was a sobbing mess."

It was true, both of your vows had been the perfect amount of bantery and kind. He managed to tell you how attractive and talented you were in five different ways. He brought up inside jokes you had forgotten about. And you recounted falling for him reluctantly during his PhD (your Master's) and his obliviousness to your flirting. You even teased him about his nerdiness and his tendency to talk in puns. And by the end of it, you were both sobbing and laughing.

Ryland pecked your lips again, and you were overcome with a feeling of being utterly content.

"I'm so happy." You sighed.

"Me too. I just wish I could find my glasses so I could see you better.” 

You placed your hand on his cheek, cupping his face softly. Those were expensive glasses, and a gift from Colt.

“What do you say we try again, I was just about to cum.” You said, looking deep in Ryland’s eyes.

“Were you now?” Ryland teased. "Yea we can try again. Please, let's try again."

You let out a giggle at his begging.

He placed his hands on your waist again, he was about to place you back in position, when you heard the bathroom door open and a knock directly on the stall you were, it made you both jump. Ryland quickly tucked himself back inside his pants, and you tried to adjust your outfit too.

“Ryland, y/n? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It was Colt.

“Are you serious right now!” You whisper screamed at Ryland.

Ryland gently rubbed your shoulder.

“Yea, we’re uh a little preoccupied.” Ryland cleared his throat.

“Ew really? Here? Out of all places?!” Colt asked.

You and Ryland both cringed, the ridiculousness of the situation coming to light. Colt banged his hand against the door again.

“Alright, that’s enough, come on love birds, it’s time for your entrance.” Colt demanded.

“Do something.” You whispered, looking at Ryland with pleading eyes.

He laughed, catching your puppydog look.

“Uh, okay wait, can we get 10 more minutes you think? Please?” Ryland said, turning his head toward the door of the stall.

You heard Colt audibly sigh, then groan in disgust.

“What’s in it for me?” Colt asked.

And without seeing his face you could see the way Colt was giving you his squinty eye, face scrunch. You sighed. Ryland gave you a look that read, ‘you know what he wants’.

“Fine!” You whined. “You can do a backflip! But only after your speech.” You grimaced.

You could feel Colt pumping his fists in excitement.

“Alright, fine! I guess I can tell them to delay the entrance because of an emergency or something. But only for at least 10 more minutes. Use protection you weirdos.” Colt said, his footsteps getting farther away. 

Ryland turned back towards you.

“You think you can do this in ten minutes?” You asked.

Ryland scoffed as if you were doubting his skills.

“It’s our wedding day, of course I can do this in ten minutes.”

You shook your head and Marissa caught you, placing her hand on your shoulder to stabilize you further.

“I think I better head home.” You said.

“Okay, well you better call Ryland, I mean if he doesn’t pick you up he’s a total jackass, but I know he will.” Marissa spoke.

You nodded in her direction.

“He definitely will.” You confirmed.

And she gave you a look that said, “I know, I trained him well.”

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and tapped Ryland's contact to call him.

“Hey, are you having fun?” He asked, once he answered. “I know Marissa can be quite the partygoer-”

Your lips upturned in amusement at his need for defense of Marissa. You just laughed, your drunkenness seeping through.

“Yea it’s going good, but…well…I’m way too drunk to be taking the bus home. Will you come pick me up, I know it’s out of your way and everything-”

“I will absolutely come pick you up.” Ryland replied. “Just send me your location.”

When you hung up you smiled, missing Ryland already, despite spending every minute with him already.

You had been together for two years at that point, having met during his PhD, and watching him pursue a career in teaching after his catastrophic failure at the UNESCO conference (that you frankly thought was badass). You had taken the next steps moving together to San Francisco, you had even met his brother Colt who would stay with you and Ryland when he had a production in San Francisco.

You even discussed the idea of marriage…okay, you discussed the idea of marriage with Marissa, not Ryland. But why rush it, you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with Ryland. You were already getting on each other's nerves, but in the way that married people do when they know their partner better than anyone else.

When Ryland showed up in your car, you said goodbye to Marissa giving her a kiss on the cheek, and you stepped off the wet pavement to cross the street towards the car — your car that you let him borrow from time to time — and he led you by the waist to the passenger door catching your zigzagging footsteps.

You turned to face him, as he reached for the car door. You took in his familiar demeanor. His glasses framing his face perfectly, his sweatpants, and his cat's shirt tight on his body. He was absolutely amazing looking, and you felt extremely lucky all the time to call him yours, but now more than ever.

You swore to god it was the glasses that made you fall for him, he got them about a year into his PhD when you mentioned he might need reading glasses. That’s when your pathetic little crush started

“Those damn glasses.” You whispered, not expecting him to hear. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He must’ve heard, because he looked down at you sheepishly. He was the only man you knew who was incapable of taking a compliment.

“They’re just glasses.” He whispered.

“Just take the compliment, please.” You begged.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed your mouth, and in your drunken state the kiss felt like it was your first kiss all over again. You melted against him, and you pulled back with a smile.

“Alright let me get the door-” He managed, still flustered.

You interrupted him, sending him a goofy smile, and he laughed lifting his hand to cup your cheek.

“I missed you.”

“We saw each other three hours ago.” Ryland mumbled.

When he saw you pout he rolled his eyes, and opened the door.

“I missed you too, now get in the car please.” He requested.

You nodded and planted yourself in the passenger seat, he leaned over and pulled the seatbelt over you, clicking it into place, before closing the door gently.

The drive back mostly consisted of you trying not to fall asleep while admiring how attractive your boyfriend looked driving your car. His hand was on your thigh most of the way home, running it up and down in gentle motions to check up on you. The radio was on, but one of Ryland’s dumb science podcasts was on so you weren’t all that interested, and if you weren’t drunk Ryland would have turned to you to tell you what they were talking about. But his eyes stayed focused on the road.

When you got home Ryland held your hand the entire way into the apartment complex, in the elevator, and only when you had both reached the door did he let go to unlock it. It was nice, sharing a constant sense of comfortability, enough to know that Ryland didn’t expect you to talk in your quiet drunken state.

You stepped inside and when Ryland closed the door you walked toward him and started peppering little kisses all over his face.

When you kissed his mouth, he relaxed, humming into the kiss. When you tried to deepen it, grazing your tongue against his lips, he pulled back.

“Sweetheart, go get changed and I’ll make you some coffee before we do anything, okay?”

You whined, and he laughed.

“You’re right.” You admitted. “I’ll be back.”

You planted another soft kiss on his stubble, and he kissed your forehead before you disappeared into you and Ryland’s bedroom.

You took off your shoes and socks first, feeling the cold hardwood floor with your feet. Your drunkenness was beginning to get less intense, but you still felt the room spinning. You grumbled as you slipped out of your pants, leaving you in your underwear. When you heard the sound of Ryland’s kettle steaming from the kitchen your shirt was the next thing to go.

You wanted to be sexy for him, you wanted him to know you had missed him, and yes you were still drunk and leaning into your ridiculousness. So you pulled Ryland’s favorite button up out of the closet and slipped your arms through.

“Sweetheart, do you feel like black coffee today or the regular?!” Ryland managed to shout from the other room.

You started to button up the shirt, and you were halfway there, the shirt was closed enough to cover your stomach, but open enough at the top to have your chest peek through, when you stopped. You noticed Ryland’s dress pants on the ground on the left side of the bed, he usually liked to put them up in the closet right away, maybe he had forgotten.

“Sweetheart?!”

“Uh, black!” You shouted back.

You stopped your motions on the shirt, and you walked around the bed, picking up the pants. Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion when your hands felt something square in the pant pocket. You put your hand in and pulled out a small blue ring box, and you gasped at the same moment the kettle stopped steaming and you heard the sound of coffee being poured into a mug.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” You heard Ryland asked.

You turned around to face the open door, and you heard footsteps walking toward you. Ryland was holding your cup full of coffee. Suddenly, you were less drunk than you had thought you were.

When you made eye contact with him, he paused, noticed your shocked expression before looking at the ringbox in your hand. His eyes widened and he immediately placed the mug of coffee on the dresser just inside the bedroom door.

“Ry, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to snoop, but I was just putting away your pants and-” You started to tear up.

“Hey, hey,” Ryland whispered. He walked to you, placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay, I can explain–”

“Is this what I think it is?” You asked, your mouth pulling up in a smile as you felt yourself tear up even more.

When Ryland looked at you the same way you were looking at him — like you were falling apart with happiness — your knees gave out, and he caught you pulling you into his chest as you collapsed on your knees onto the ground.

“I can explain, if you just give me that.” Ryland said, placing his hand on yours, the one holding the ringbox.

He stole the box from you, taking it out of your very tight grip, and he laughed. He pulled back from you, holding you by the shoulder with his free hand. And he was looking at you in that exact same way he always did, like you were the sun. Yes it was cliche, but you really felt like you radiated when he looked at you too.

He lifted his hand from your shoulder to wipe away a tear from your eye, and you noticed the tears forming in his too.

“Remember when I took you to the planetarium, where we went for our first date?”

You nodded, letting him take the reins, ready to feel your heart explode.

“I was going to propose to you, but um, then that group of teenagers was being way too loud and it didn’t feel like the right time.”

Ryland’s gaze was perfectly still on you, like if he said anything wrong this moment would be broken.

“That would have been hilariously catastrophic.”

“Exactly.” He laughed.

Ryland opened the box, and showed you the perfect ring. The one you knew you wanted, the one you told Marissa you wanted. She was good, she had given Ryland all the information you needed.

“Well, I kept bringing it with me, hoping it’d be the perfect time, but I just didn’t know what qualified as ‘perfect’, and I just…I’m doing a really horrible job at this aren’t I?” Ryland dropped his head, embarrassed.

You shook your head, you ran your fingers through his hair to bring his gaze back to you.

“You know Ry, this might be perfect. I’m a little drunk, but otherwise…perfect.”

You gave Ryland a suggestive gaze, saying, ‘do it already!’, and Ryland’s face lifted in recognition. He pulled the ring box to hover in between your bodies and he grinned, his tears coming down his face under his glasses now. Your face and heart both melted at the sight of him loving you to the point of tears.

“I have loved you ever since you told me to get these stupid glasses…I mean that’s the moment I could see you so clearly.” He joked.

You poked his shoulder.

“Stupid joke.”

“You are smart, most times smarter than me, I learn so much from you everyday. I love making you coffee when you’re drunk…and when you’re sober. I love when you tease me for being a giant nerd, even though I know deep down you love it. I love waking up with you every morning and going to sleep with you every night. You are the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I guess this isn’t the most movie worthy proposal, you’re on our bedroom floor, and I may have forgotten a lot of what I was supposed to say here, but will you–”

“Yes, Ryland.”

“Can you let me get the rest out?” He asked, teasing you.

“Go ahead.” You sniffled, rolling your eyes.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, finally.

You nodded your head, whispering a quiet ‘yes’.

“Really?” He asked, you could tell how nervous he was.

You shut him up by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. A passionate kiss, one where you’d only let go if he did. You smiled, kissing him harder, only pulling back when he went to put your ring on the ring finger of your left hand.

“Looks good on you.” He whispered, pecking your lips. “Goes with the shirt.”

You smirked at him, discarding the ring box on the floor, pulling his hands up to your waist.

“Can we have coffee in bed?” You asked.

But, again, Ryland Grace doesn't plan anything. He just sort of stumbles into everything. So when he stumbled into you after you moved into the classroom right next to his, he didn't plan on falling in love. It's not that he was closed off to it; he just never had any luck with relationships, and you were too pretty to end up liking him. Too good to be true.

When you were the one who ended up asking him out, then, he was completely taken aback. Because, just like everything else in his life—he didn't plan on it.

Regardless, he was over the moon excited about it. Jumped in head first. Really fell for you hard, although a lot of it wasn't planned. He didn't plan on what your relationship would be like after three months. He's never made it that far with any relationship after college.

Didn't plan on moving in with you after a year. That absolutely wasn't in the cards considering what happened the last time he moved in with someone, but he kicked himself in the seat of the pants for doubting you on that front. Moving in with you was the best thing that ever happened to him.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He did plan to go with you to your friends' house after they had their baby, though. That much is true. He's pretty good at day-to-day planning. And lesson planning. It's the major life planning that he's not so great at.

That's another internal conversation for another day.

He wanted to go with you to your friends' house. He knew them well enough. They were your friends first, but he liked them after you introduced him to them. He was ecstatic to learn that they had their baby. To see them and help them in any way that he could.

Plus, them having a baby meant another kid for him to teach and love as his own in 13 years, give or take.

But, at the end of the day, it was a chance for him to see your happiness. To see the way you jumped up and down with excitement at the prospect of meeting the baby. To see the compassion you'd display when you'd inevitably end up cleaning up around the house to spare your friends the pain of doing it with a newborn.

So, yeah. He planned on going with you. Any chance he gets to see how gorgeous you are when you're excited or how big your heart is, he'll take.

That's why he's right here, standing next to you on their doorstep, gift bag that you put together for the baby in his right hand and left arm wrapped around your waist. You're practically vibrating from the elation weaving its way through your nerves and muscles.

He can't stop staring at you. Hopefully you don't think he's weird for it.

"God," you whisper while frantically rapping your knuckles against the front door. "I'm so excited."

He doesn't say anything at first. Too stunned by your sweetness. Too hypnotized. All he can do is look down at you, give your waist a squeeze, and kiss your temple. When you lean into it, he feels his heart flutter in his chest.

It flutters harder when you peek up at him and steal a featherlight kiss on his lips. Borderline heart palpitations after that one. God, he loves you so much it hurts.

"They'd be dumb to not make you the godmother," is the response he blurts out when you pull back and stare up at him instead. Stupid thing to say. Makes his cheeks flush with a simmering, slightly embarrassed heat. You short-circuited his brain. His doctorate-holding brain.

But his stupidity paid off. Made you laugh and glance up at him. Any time your eyes are on him, he feels like the universe's favorite child.

"I'd only accept that title if they make you the godfather," you joke.

The upward quirk of your lips, a gentle little indication of a smirk, only makes him blush harder. You have such a hold on him. He loves you more than words can describe. He's actually certain that there are no words to describe how deeply he loves you. None at all.

"Is this your way of asking me to marry you?" he jokes back. You gasp. You bless him with a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek. He isn't fully convinced that he's not dead and in a paradise of an afterlife right now.

"How'd you know?" you mumble into his skin before you pull back just enough to look at him. Not the first time you've spoken something into his skin. Definitely not the first time you've done it in public.

Ryland laughs. Then he shrugs. Diverts his eyes away from you and focuses on the intricate patterns inlaid on the door's window to prevent himself from getting too flustered.

"Just had a hunch."

You huff and knock again, quicker than the last time. Your impatience is just another thing he loves about you. It ensures that the job gets done when he's got his head lost in the clouds.

"Funny. I always thought you were the one who was supposed to do the proposing."

That's on the way, is what he wants to say. It's one of the only things he actually did plan. That ring's been burning a hole in the back of his bedside table drawer for the last few weeks.

But he can't let you know that.

So, "I'm full of surprises, hon," is what he actually says.

"Don't I know it." You plant one more kiss on his cheek. Then a lingering one on the corner of his lips. That one has him huffing and gently tilting his head away from you despite very desperately wanting to stay there. He clears his throat, a little awkward and a lot flustered, then reaches up to knock on the door himself.

"Where the hell are they?"

"Probably dealing with their adorable brand-new baby. Patience, Dr. Grace," you purr into his ear.

Jesus.

Takes all of his strength to not pass out and ruin your night before it even starts. It's like you're trying to kill him, and you're really good at it. You've studied his weaknesses and you know exactly how to exploit them. He knocks a little quicker. A little harder, too, to cover up the sound of his stilted, breathy laugh.

His salvation arrives a few seconds later. Just before you could plant the open-mouthed kiss on his jawline that would have fully killed him, the door whips open. You yank yourself out of his hold and dart into the house while squealing about wanting to see the baby, leaving Ryland and your friend's husband all alone.

"They're in the kitchen!" Charlie shouts, an attempt at speaking over your own shouting. You had taken a left turn toward their bedroom. Within seconds, he and Ryland see you shoot past the hallway again, bee-lining to the right toward the kitchen.

"I guess she's excited," he mutters while he turns back to look at Ryland, who nods. He can't help but laugh at just how high pitched your voice got. How it's still high pitched all the way across the house already. He isn't sure he's ever heard it get that high. He also doesn't remember the last time he'd seen you run so quickly.

"She's been talking about this all day," he gushes through a grin. A little embarrassing, probably, but he can't help it. He's pretty certain that he was put on this godforsaken earth just to gush and fawn over you at any given moment.

Oh, and to teach his kids. But it's summer vacation, so…just gives him more time to fawn over you.

"For the record," Ryland says while handing the gift bag to Charlie, "I'm also excited for you guys. Congrats, Dad."

Charlie expresses his gratitude with a bashful little nod of his head. The hug he pulls Ryland into was a little shocking, but appreciated. That's probably the only time he's ever gotten a hug from this guy.

Not bad. Pretty firm. Relatively comforting. Granted, not as comforting as your hugs, but…it was a nice gesture, you know?

"How's everything been going here?"

Charlie sucks in a breath. Lets it out as a stressed little sigh as he's in the process of walking deeper into his house.

Ryland would be lying if he said he didn't notice the bags under the poor guy's eyes when he opened the door. It's odd, though, because he still looks really happy.

"It's hard. Definitely way harder than I knew it'd be, but…"

Charlie pauses, then hums. One of his hands waves his complaint away. Pushes it off so that it can't plague him anymore. Ryland's still slowly following behind while they head toward the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter. She's perfect. We love her so much. Everything is just…right. She was the missing piece we needed."

He's got a big, beaming smile on his face. Ryland returns that grin with one of his own softer smiles. No teeth. He's hoping that smile reads as heartwarming, or something along those lines. Because, yes, it's really sweet that Charlie feels that way, but now he's in his own head.

Kids.

Just another thing that Ryland Grace has never planned for. Never thought about it for more than a second because, for God knows how long, he hadn't been in a relationship. Plus, he has kids—they're not biologically his, but that doesn't mean he loves them any less than if they were.

Does he want kids? Who knows. Do you? Who knows. He's never asked you. You've never asked him. This could potentially be a ticking time bomb. What if you want them and he doesn't? What if it's the other way around? What'll happen then?

Panic. Panic will happen. Hell, panic is already happening. His heart's slamming in his rib cage at an alarmingly quick degree. He can hear his own pulse in the blood rushing through his ears. It's so loud that he's worried everyone in this house can hear it. That it might wake the baby.

He didn't plan for the bad things, either. Like you leaving him over something like this.

The heat in his face is almost unbearable. He feels bad because he can see Charlie's lips moving, but he can't hear the words he's saying. He can also feel his own lips moving and his legs still carrying him to the kitchen. How on Earth is he talking and walking through this? That's a talent he didn't know he had. He thought that crossing over the threshold to the kitchen would kill him.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. In reality, he thought that he wouldn't be able to do it, so he paused right before the kitchen door. Charlie walked into it without any issues. Ryland? Not so much.

The catch of his feet at the kitchen threshold is almost as rough as the catch of his breath in his own throat. Nice to feel you again, air. Forgot you existed for a moment.

It's only when he hears your voice float out of the kitchen that he gets a sort of second wind. It breaks through the rush of blood in his ears and gently falls into it, a single, soft question that makes his heartbeat slow to a somewhat acceptable speed.

"Where'd Ryland go?"

Three words. Incredibly generic. Still makes him melt, though, because you're the one who said it; he swallows his fear and his panic to the best of his ability. Steels himself a little bit to will away the typhoon of blood still rushing through his ears, then takes a step forward and enters the kitchen.

And it hits him, then. While you're standing there with that brand new baby girl, cradling her like she's your own, it slams into him like a freight train.

Sure, he didn't plan on wanting to have kids. On wanting to start a family. He never had to think about it because it had never been right in front of him. Here he's been for the last almost-40 years, unknowingly barreling toward something he hadn't planned for:

He wants kids.

Like usual, he stumbled into it. Literally. Because he almost tripped on the threshold when he saw just how natural you looked with that baby in your arms.

Once he regained his stability, he managed to take a couple steps in your direction, but you're the one who closed the gap. The way you floated over to him was ethereal, to say the least. Gentle, slow, easy. Like what you were doing, and the little bundle of joy you were holding, came so naturally to you.

"Hey," you excitedly coo at him, grin so big it's almost like your face is splitting in two. You turn your body just enough to let him see the baby, but he can't look at her for too long. He's too busy focusing on you.

"Look at her. Isn't she precious?" you whisper. While you're gently rocking her in your arms, Ryland's fighting back tears. Why is he even tearing up? Is this a panic cry or a sentimental, heartwarming cry? What the hell is going on?

Your voice breaks through his internal monologue. Soft and sweet, laced with just a bit of concern. Through a tiny laugh, you ask, "You alright?"

It makes him blink a few times. He clears his throat and tries to act like he wasn't just on the verge of tears.

"All good," he murmurs. He leans down to kiss your temple. It had been too long since he had done it and he was starting to get withdrawals. He looks down at the baby in your hands, smiles, then looks back up at you for a moment.

Within that split second that he's looking at you before he turns his head to meet the gazes of your friends, he's certain that he's got a plan for the rest of his life.

And for yours, if you'll have him.

The gruff noise that pushes its way out of Ryland's chest when you tackle him on the couch is embarrassing only for a moment. The embarrassment doesn't get its chance to bloom as a pink, humiliated blush on his face. He's too busy getting lost in the kiss you've ignited upon falling into his lap.

It's slow and steady, albeit a little desperate—and that's on both ends. Sure, you were the one who pushed him down onto the couch, but he was the one who got handsy the second you walked through the front door.

When a day is long, or a little overwhelming, or just plain confusing, he finds comfort in you. Although, if he was being honest, the day could be perfectly normal and he'll still find comfort in you.

He just loves you. Sue him.

One of his hands splays out over your lower back. His grip is probably tighter than it should be as he pulls you closer to him to deepen the kiss. He'll feel bad about it later. The way you whine and roll your hips against his is much more important to him right now.

"Ry," you whimper into his mouth, all breathy and needy and utterly intoxicating. He can't help it when he breaks that kiss and his head falls back onto the couch. He also couldn't help punching out a pathetic little groan while he did it. Gives you the opportunity to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head to the right a little bit. Just enough to give you more access to his skin. To give you space to press those soft, open-mouthed kisses on his neck, the ones that he loves so much because they make him shiver and force goosebumps to pop up all over his arms. Remind him of what it's like to be alive, to be in love, to want someone and to be wanted by someone.

He could do this for the rest of his life. That's the one thing he's planned: A life with you. Whatever it has to offer. He's hoping for happiness, marriage, and kids—the biological kind—but he'll take anything he can get.

Speaking of…he never really got an idea of where you land on that. Please, God, let it be in the same camp as me. It'd be a lot better than having to break up with her.

So, when you're in the process of sucking a hickey onto that sensitive spot just below his jawline, he blurts out, "Do you see yourself getting married? Having kids?"

You stop. Like, immediately stop. He's pretty sure he heard your breath hitch in your throat. He definitely felt your back and shoulders tense. You're so wound up that he's almost concerned about what your answer will be.

You press your hands against his chest. With one soft push, you're sitting up on his lap instead of burying your face into his neck, the intensity of your gaze making him squirm.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ryland caves immediately. "Don't worry about it. Wasn't important."

He lets out an awkward chuckle. Gravelly and stilted and utterly embarrassed. He leans up to kiss the corner of your lips, then your jaw, then dives into your neck the same way you did to him only a few seconds earlier. If he can distract you well enough, you might forget what he said.

"Ryland Grace," you softly but sternly scold him. Now he's the one stopping in his tracks. Sorta like a deer in headlights. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays to whatever higher power is out there that you'll drop it.

"First and last name seems a little unwarranted," he mumbles into your neck before he continues pressing kisses on it.

"Stop it," you giggle and squirm on his lap as he kisses down to your collarbones. A classic indication that he probably should shave, but…once again, that's for another time. There are bigger fish to fry right now.

He listens. He stops kissing you, but he leaves his face buried in your neck. It's better that way. You won't see how bright red his face is even though his skin is probably burning yours right now.

"Look at me," you demand. Earns you a sigh. As he wraps his arms around your waist, he contemplates pretending like he didn't say anything at all. A good boyfriend does that, right? Gaslights his girlfriend?

Ryland lets out another sigh and lifts his head up, instead. Should probably listen to you if he wants to enact those life plans he wants. The softness of your eyes is enough to calm his shot nerves just a little bit. Enough to get him to stop feeling like he needs to jump off the nearest bridge right now.

"What'd you ask me?"

"I…" he begins, but he cuts himself off with a grumbled little noise and shakes his head. In his defense, it's not easy for him to think when you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself closer to him.

"It's nothing. Really. I was just thinking. I guess."

One of your eyebrows quirks up. Then you smirk at him. He tries not to think about the way your fingers are twirling a few strands of his hair at the back of his head.

"You were super casually thinking about marriage and babies?" you joke.

"Why were you gonna make me say it again if you knew what I asked?!" he tosses back at you.

That one earns a big laugh from you. He's noticed you always laugh when he gets louder. Something about how his voice gets…high-pitched? He tries not to think about it. Why overthink it if it makes you laugh?

"I just wanted to be sure that's what I heard!"

"Yes! You heard me correctly!"

You shake your head. Your smile's still bright. Pretty enough to make him forget about whatever the hell is going on right now. He finds his arms slipping around your waist almost instinctively.

"You're so dramatic." You sigh. He chases your finger after you tap the tip of his nose with one of your index fingers. When you pulled that hand out of his hair, he isn't sure; he was too busy staring at you to notice.

"I can't believe you asked me that."

"I'm just trying to make a plan for—"

The press of your palm on his lips shuts him right up. What a blessing it is to be shut up in such a gentle way. Have his eyes turned into hearts yet? You'll manage to get it done.

"Let me ask you a question," you softly tell him while you slide your hand off of his mouth. Ryland straightens. Why is he as stiff as a board right now? It's like he's in his dissertation defense all over again.

All you do is smile. That stiffness in his spine starts to melt away.

"Do you think I'd get married to anyone except you? Have kids with anyone except you?" you ask.

It's like a million wedding bells all started crashing the second those words left your lips. Goodness gracious. All of that tension in his body dissipates, and he's nothing but grateful for it.

Your hands slide up so you can cup his cheeks. Something he often does to you, something he's not really on the receiving end of most of the time. Something he's could get used to when he feels the gentle back and forth swipe of your thumbs over his cheeks.

"Technically," he mumbles into your palm after pressing a soft kiss on it, "that was two questions."

You roll your eyes. He laughs when you flick his forehead. Swats your hands away from his face with nothing but adoration in his touch. Ends up grabbing your wrists and cradling them against his chest.

"But, to answer both of them," he murmurs just before leaning up to steal a kiss from you.

"I sure hope not."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

at 6am on a rainy friday morning your car comes barreling into the grover cleveland middle school parking lot. ryland’s in the passenger seat wearing his usual teacher getup, blue eyes scanning the itinerary he put together for the academic team’s trip.

it was pouring when you woke up, so you offered to drop him off before you went to work to keep him from getting soaked while riding his bike.

you pull into a spot near the school bus that’s awaiting his arrival and put the car in park.

“good luck this weekend,” you smile, patting ryland’s shoulder as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“well, im not worried about the team’s performance,” ryland laughs. “moreso their behavior.”

he’s been looking forward to this competition for a looong time. every tuesday and thursday he’s stayed after school for hours, quizzing his prized academic team until he’s sure they know every fact and tidbit there is to know about their designated subject.

he pops the passenger door open and steps out, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“call me if you need anything, i know you hate having the place to yourself,” he jokes, knowing you could use some alone time for once.

you smile and give him a little wave as he sprints off to hop onto the bus. he looks so dorky in his yellow raincoat, you can't help but smile to yourself when you notice that he perfectly matches the bus.

you’ve lived with ryland for a few years now. the two of you met at a coffee shop after you were stood up by a date. it turned out you had a few mutual friends and a lot of things in common, so you graciously accepted his offer to move in to the empty bedroom in his apartment.

you quickly settled into a comfortable routine. he’s a great roommate. always considerate, clean, and generous. with time, you became best friends who lived together rather than just roommates.

as you drive home in the fog and rain, you plan out what you want to get into this weekend in your head. you can’t remember the last time ryland left for even a night, let alone an entire weekend.

you could walk around naked, maybe blast your music, perhaps do some spring cleaning. ryland doesn’t necessarily have a hoarding problem, but he never wants to throw anything away, which is why the kitchen cabinets are bursting at the seams with collectible cups and plates that nobody uses. they’ve got to go.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

the workday drags by. ryland texts you updates on his adventures every few hours.

one kid threw up on the bus, classic.

finally, the clock strikes 5 and you leave to head home to an empty apartment.

you pause for a moment and think that maybe you should invite over the fling you’ve been entertaining, but you just shrug and make a mental note to revisit that idea later.

you ultimately decide to run yourself a bubble bath, order chinese, and drink wine. then, you'll see how you're feeling.

after eating dinner and soaking in the tub for so long that you are practically a raisin, you step out and slip into a silk robe and lingerie set that you never wear.

it’s not like you have anyone to wear it for, and it’s definitely a little risqué for everyday wear.

you smile in the mirror. maybe it’s the 2 glasses of wine that you've chugged or the way your cheeks are flushed from the hot bath, but you look really good.

delighted, you prance to the kitchen to start your cleaning. the wine is making the task much more fun, and it’s keeping you from thinking about how upset ryland may be at you for throwing so much stuff away.

after awhile, you place the box full of throwaway dishes in the corner of the laundry room. out of sight, out of mind!

the wine is officially getting to your head now and you have half a mind to call that hinge date to come over.

you waltz to your bedroom and lie back on the bed, pondering your next move.

maybe you’ll just send a flirty text. you'd been chatting earlier anyways, what's the harm? you’ve been on a few dates over the past two months and fooled around a handful of times, it’s not like it would be too bold.

so you take a picture of your chest, one hand squeezing yourself through the lacy bra beneath your silk robe.

you giggle and close one eye as you press send along with a message.

“thinking about you.”

you put your phone on the nightstand, awaiting a response. maybe they will come over and you can finally seal the deal!

but after awhile, your phone never buzzes. in the meantime, you've picked up a book, trying to distract yourself while waiting for a response.

you glance at the clock on your bedside table.

it’s been nearly 45 minutes!

you pick up your phone, opening it back up to the text stream.

your heart jumps up into your throat, jesus fucking christ.

you sent that to ryland.

and he read it.

read 9:45pm.

it’s 10. he saw it 15 minutes ago and didn’t say anything.

mortified, you frantically start typing out a message.

but then you see him typing, so you stop.

“yeah? what exactly are you thinking about?”

you squeal and throw your phone across the bed. no way he just asked that.

then you feel it start buzzing. someone is calling you.

and of course when you pick up the phone with shaking hands you see that it's ryland's contact lighting up the screen.

you answer.

“h-hello?”

“that wasn’t for me, was it?” he asks, teasing. you can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly entertained.

“no, im so so sorry! i was-”

but he cuts you off.

“i know it wasn’t for me, but i liked it. it definitely made me wish it were for me.”

your mouth falls open. “ryland,” you whisper breathily.

you hear what sounds like sheets ruffling from his end of the line. he must be in bed.

“what?” he asks, voice low.

and you realize how hot your body is. not from embarrassment or shame anymore, but from want. hearing his voice on the phone, knowing he saw the picture you sent him. it’s making you dizzy.

“are you alone?” you ask.

“yes.”

“i miss you,” you admit.

“i miss you too,” he laughs. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we can pretend you never sent me that picture if you want.”

“no no no,” you quickly gasp. “it wasn’t for you, but im glad it went to you instead.”

“yeah?” he rasps.

“mhm,” you hum. “i-i want you to see me like that.”

“like what, sweetheart?” he groans, “use your words, tell me what you want me to see.”

you’re officially lightheaded. head spinning with thoughts of your best friend, your roommate, seeing you bare before him.

“want you to see me naked, want you to touch me,” you admit.

you hear him take a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale.

you back arches off the bed as you trail your hand down to the waistband of your underwear. your fingers toy with the fabric there, not daring to push beneath it yet.

“i want to see and touch you too. you have no idea how long i have wanted to. and-and i am not trying to sound like a creep, i promise i am not a pervert," he stops himself before he can keep rambling and back tracking.

he pauses for a second, not sure what to say next. then, he finally asks, “well, do the bottoms match?”

you nod, then realize that he can’t see you through the phone, so you mutter a quiet yes.

“wanna see them too,” he says softly.

you hear his sheets rustling again.

you snap a pic. on your back, one hand slipped into your panties, back arching slightly off the bed, and send it to him.

you hear him whine a little when he receives it.

“you’re unreal,” he gasps. “listen, honey. im sorry, but i don’t want this to be our first…encounter.”

you whine, “no-no, please. i don’t mind. please keep talking to me.”

but he’s so old fashioned. you know that he won’t budge on this.

“i’ll be home sunday, try to control yourself," he orders.

you groan in frustration.

“i know, i know,” he sympathizes. “and don’t send anyone else any pictures, you’re all mine now. if you want to be, that is.”

“i do. goodnight, ry.”

“good, i'm glad. i’ll see you sunday, sleep tight,” he whispers.

and the line goes dead.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

it's 7:30am on a beautifully sunny sunday when your car skids back into the grover cleveland lot. your hands are trembling, anticipation looming in your belly.

you watch ryland step off the bus and help the kids with their luggage. he sees you and waves, smiling brightly.

after a few minutes, all the kids have left with their guardians, and ryland begins making his way across the parking lot to you.

he's wearing a grover cleveland middle school sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. he looks so cozy, it makes your heart swell.

he yanks the car door open and climbs in, settling in with his duffle bag in his lap.

he looks over at you, blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight that's cascading through the windshield.

"we won!" he smiles.

of course that's the first thing he says, what a-

but before you can finish your thought, he's grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours.

you pull back slowly, eyes coming up to peer into his.

"let's go home," he yawns.

the ride there is nearly silent. luckily, it's just a few minutes.

the tension is thick, you feel his eyes running over your bare neck, tracing your collarbones as you drive.

you feel his gaze slide down to the swell of your breasts, which are situated behind a very thin tank top.

you feel it burning a path down to your thighs, which your pajama shorts are doing very little to hide.

when you pull back into the parking lot of the apartment, ryland hops out quickly and you trail behind him as he heads up the stairs.

"im gonna jump in the shower," he says, already walking in the direction of your shared bathroom

about 20 minutes later, he emerges. a fluffy towel wrapped around his hips, low enough to show off the beginning of his v-line. you're practically drooling from your seat on the couch.

"see something you like?" he smirks.

you nod and rise to your feet, then you walk slowly across the room to him.

you drop down to your knees in front of him, hands finding the hem at the top of the towel and sliding just beneath the makeshift waistband.

"yeah, i do," you finally reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

ryland groans softly as one of your hands comes to palm him through the cotton.

he feels big. way bigger than you expected.

"as much as i want you to y'know...i don't want this to be how our first time starts," he says, hand coming to tip your chin up.

"but i want to!" you pout, dying to get his towel off.

"go sit on the couch, i will be right back," he says, giving your head a gentle pat.

he trots off to his bedroom and you reluctantly rise and saunter over to take a seat on the couch.

when he comes back in a pair of grey sweats and a t-shirt you smile up at him. his glasses are back on and his hair has been towel dried. he takes a seat next to you and you turn to face him, sitting criss-cross.

he takes both of your hands in his and leans in to kiss your cheek.

"are you sure you want to do this?" he asks softly.

"yes, i am very sure. can we think about the implications later? i just want you to touch me," you nod.

"okay, but we are going to do it my way," he replies.

he drops your hands gently. his left hand moves to your right hip, holding as he moves back in to kiss you on the lips, his right hand coming to cup your cheek as he does.

he smells like body wash and toothpaste and he tastes like the chapstick you put in his stocking a few months ago at christmastime.

he deeps the kiss, the hand on your hip pulling you to arch into him. he hums into you when you start to push your tongue into his mouth.

"so," you start, breaking the kiss. "what does 'your way' entail?"

he smirks, the hand on your face retracts to push his glasses back up the slope of his nose.

"well, first, i want to taste you right here on the couch. the couch we bought together after a week of living together."

he leans back in, lips finding the side of your neck just below your left ear. his breath fans over your ear as he pants, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there.

he moves down to your clavicle, kissing right above where your collarbone meets your shoulder. his left hand squeezes your hip again, then slides up to palm your chest through your tank top.

he's talking into your neck now as he continues, "then, i am going to take you to my bed, if you want, and lay you down on the duvet cover you picked out for me."

he slides carefully to his knees on the floor, adjusting so you are facing straight ahead with his head between your legs. your calves come to rest on his shoulders and he presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

"does that sound okay?" he asks, looking up at you.

you nod fervently. he looks so pretty between your legs. his glasses are askew again, eyes heavy with lust, lips kiss-bitten and pink.

he kisses up your right leg now, moving from your calf all the way up to the bottom of your sleep shorts.

"can i get these off, angel?" he asks, fingers coming up to tug at the waistband.

you lift your hips and let him slide them off of you. he tosses them to the side and leans in to press a kiss to your hip.

with your panties still on, he presses his nose to your clit. teasing, he mouths at your slit. you're soaked, the thin cotton nearly translucent from your slick.

you push your hips forward, chasing the friction.

"i know baby, can smell how much you want me," he groans, his own hips bucking against the wooden base of the couch.

"let's get these off, hm?"

he slides your panties off and throws them somewhere behind his head. then he's on you immediately.

his hands hold your thighs, keeping you spread for him as he leans back in and flattens his tongue against you.

you cry out his name, clit pulsing as he continues to devour you.

you clench around nothing as he toys with your clit, begging him to touch you by bucking your hips.

"please," you whine, hands gripping his hair now.

he keeps going, licking long strips and sucking your clit.

finally, he brings a finger to your entrance and slips it in.

"f-fuck," he groans, his own hips bucking into the couch again when he feels you clench around him.

he adds a finger and pulls his mouth away from you. you feel his eyes move to your face, your cheeks turning crimson at the sensation of him watching you fall apart.

your eyes fall closed, face scrunching up as he curls his fingers inside of you.

"doing so good for me, can you come like this?"

you nod, eyes still closed.

you feel him lean back in and pepper kisses all over your thighs as his thumb moves to your clit to rub tight circles.

"yeah, i know you can do it. let go for me, thats my girl."

his voice is strained and he's sure he is going to explode soon. your whines and moans are going straight to his cock which is no doubt leaking in his boxers by now.

he crooks his fingers up just right and you moan out his name while you clench down and fall apart, the band in your belly breaking.

you ride out your high with ryland still gently curling his fingers inside of you, then your hips still and your face relaxes.

you open your eyes and look down at him. he's leaned back now, his free hand cupping himself through his sweats while he sucks on the fingers that were just inside of you.

you commit that image to memory.

"was that okay?' he asks, slightly nervous.

"are you fucking serious?" you laugh, still out of breath.

he smiles a big goofy grin, then stands up to reach down and scoop you up bridal style in his big arms.

he carrie’s you down the hall to his bedroom and tosses you gently on the bed. you suddenly realize you have no bottoms on, you’re completely naked except for your tank top, so you sit up and strip that off too. ryland is walking over to his desk to turn on his small lamp.

his jaw drops when he turns around and sees you fully bare on the his bed.

"you are not real," he groans. "where did those things come from?" he asks, gesturing at your boobs.

"oh come on, you've seen my boobs before!"

"no i have not."

"well you have seen them through all of my shirts! and you've seen me in swimsuits.”

"well i guess i wasn't looking, then. you know i am a respectful gentleman!"

you get a little offended, you kinda assumed he always thought you were hot.

he notices.

"okay, i lied. i knew you had nice boobs, i’ve looked,” he concedes.

you smile, pleased.

"i am naked in your bed and you are attempting to feign sexual innocence," you laugh.

"i am trying to be respectful!" he laughs back.

he sits down next to you and faces you. his eyes are stuck on your chest like glue.

"well don't be."

one hand reaches out to grab your hip again.

"don't say things like that, you don't know what that does to me," he groans.

you move a hand to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt.

"things like what?" you ask, putting on an innocent act. "like how i don't want you to be respectful with me?"

you lean in, hand coming to squeeze him through his sweats, which have a wet patch forming.

he lets out a shaky sigh when you touch him.

"or that i want you to do whatever you want to me," you purr, leaning in to kiss his neck the way he kissed yours earlier.

"b-baby," he whines.

you find a tender spot on the right side of his neck and bite down on the flesh, noting the location so you can return to it later.

"or that i want you to fuck me so hard i can feel it tomorrow?"

"that's it," he mumbles, suddenly moving to get on top of you.

he lays you back and crawls over your body, propping himself up on his elbows. he's still fully clothed, a tasty juxtaposition to your nakedness.

he moves to grind his hips into you, his clothed cock pressing between your legs. you grind up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"want me to take you like this?" he asks, hand coming to grab your chin.

"mhmm."

he sits back on his heels and yanks his shirt over his head. you always forget how toned he is, so you gawk at his abs a little.

he stands and slides off his sweats, leaving them pooled on the floor.

you watch as he starts to slide his underwear off, eyes zoned in on his crotch. when he finally springs free, your eyes nearly roll back in your head from want.

he looks so heavy. his pink, flushed tip is leaking copious amounts of precum. he's long, like very long.

he wraps his hand around the base and strokes himself a few times, his eyes heavy as he looks down at you.

"you sure?" he asks again.

"yes, really sure. god, you're so big, ryland."

he crawls back on top of you and lines himself up at your entrance.

when he pushes his tip in, your back arches off the bed. ryland groans into your neck, "so fucking wet for me."

hearing him talk like that, hearing him say fuck is crazy, and it turns you on.

he keeps pushing in, filling you up so full you see stars.

"s-so big," you mewl.

your legs wrap tighter around his waist as he starts to thrust into you. his lips are right by your ear and his breath tickles as he pants and groans.

"feel okay, baby?" he asks, starting to move faster and deeper.

you whine his name and a garbled yes as he finds a steady pace.

"still want me to fuck you disrespectfully?" he asks, pressing up to look down at your face.

"y-yes, please fuck me harder," you cry.

he readjusts you both so that you are nearly folded in half, then he starts driving into you.

"so pretty, i wish you could see yourself."

your eyes roll back in your head when one of his thumbs comes to rub your clit.

he's getting closer. he's spewing praise and grunting as he fucks into you with reckless abandon.

"so good, my good girl."

"all mine now, right sweetheart?"

"it was worth the wait, huh baby?" "yeah, i know it was."

“s-so fucking tight. i’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.”

he's starting to falter, thrusts getting sloppy as he comes closer and closer to the edge.

"ryland," you whine, "cum for me."

you look up into his eyes and that does it. he spills inside of you for so long. hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. you convulse around him, hitting your own peak as he wraps his up.

he fucks you through it, although you’re sure it hurts him.

when he pulls out, he pushes his spend back into you gently with two fingers, an unexpected move that makes your mouth drop open in shock and arousal.

“Hey! Can you help me? I um…locked myself out of my apartment again on accident.” Your neighbor, Ryland, had locked himself outside of his apartment for the past five nights in a row. And frankly, it was getting a little frustrating.

You open your apartment door and see Ryland standing there in nothing but plaid pajama pants, and mismatched socks, and no shirt to be seen. And it was driving you crazy to see him that way. You’ve had a crush on your neighbor for months now and this wasn’t helping you one bit.

“Again?” You can see his shoulders slump in defeat. “Again. Sorry, y/n.” You don’t even ask questions anymore, you just hold the door open for him as he makes his way inside. “You owe me pizza for this.” You said with a wink, as you glance at Ryland over your shoulder. “I owe you like six pizzas at this point, y/n.” “Correct.” You said with a smirk as you made your way over to your sofa.

An hour later Ryland was still perched on your couch, waiting for maintenance to be finished with fixing his door. You were curled up on your armchair with a book in hand, listening to him explain why he had gotten locked out. “So…I was taking the trash out.” “Mhm.” You said quietly in response. “And I thought, ‘Ryland, you don’t need your keys. You’ll be right back.’ And look what happened.” He shook his head vigorously in shame.

You covered your face in embarrassment for him. “No. Seriously?” “See that’s what I thought immediately after it happened.” “How are you alive?” Ryland immediately points at you. “You keep rescuing me. It’s all you, y/n.” Your stomach fluttered with butterflies at that. But you ignored it.

The thing was, Ryland kept showing up. Not always because he’d locked himself out. Sometimes he’d knock on your door because he’d made too much pasta. Or because he wanted a second opinion on a science joke. Or because he’d found a documentary he thought you’d like.

At some point, you stopped noticing who started it. You’d come home from work and find a sticky note on your door.

Movie night?

Or:

Made cookies. They’re slightly burned but still edible.

Or:

Question. Could a raccoon theoretically pilot a vehicle?

The answer was almost always yes. Not about the raccoon. About hanging out.

One rainy Saturday evening, you found yourself sitting on the floor of Ryland’s apartment helping him assemble a bookshelf. A task that should have taken forty-five minutes. It had been two hours. “You put the shelf on backwards.” Ryland looked offended. “The shelf is judgmental.” “The shelf is upside down.”

“Oh.” You laughed. He laughed too. For a moment neither of you looked away.The apartment suddenly felt quieter. Then the shelf collapsed and you both jumped. And that moment vanished. “Okay,” Ryland said. “The shelf has declared war.”

A week later, there was another knock at your door. You opened it automatically. “Keys?” Ryland blinked. “No.” “Phone?” “Yes.” “Wallet?” “Yes.” You narrowed your eyes. “What happened?” For some reason he looked nervous.

Actually nervous. Which was unusual. Ryland was the kind of person who would explain astrophysics to strangers without blinking. Now he couldn’t seem to look directly at you. “I wasn’t locked out.” “Oh.” There was a pause and then another. You crossed your arms. “Ryland.”

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I was actually wondering if maybe you’d want to get dinner.” You stared at him. He continued talking immediately.

“Not because I got locked out.”“Good to know.” “Or because I needed help.” “Excellent.” “Or because I forgot how to function as an adult.” “Debatable.”“Fair.” You smiled despite yourself. His ears turned a bright pink.

“I just…” He laughed softly. “I realized I spend most of my free time with you anyway.” Your chest tightened. “Yeah.” “And somewhere along the way…” He glanced down at his socks. “I think hanging out stopped being an accident.” The smile that spread across your face felt impossible to stop. “About time you figured that out, Grace.” His head snapped up.

“Wait.” “Wait what?” “That’s not a rejection.” “No, Ryland.” His entire face lit up. The kind of smile that made your heart stumble. “Okay, wow.” “You really are a genius.” “I know.” “Except when it comes to doors.” “That’s a completely unrelated skill set.”

You laughed and then he laughed. And before either of you could overthink it, you reached over and slipped your hand into his. Ryland looked down at your joined hands like he’d just discovered a new branch of science. A very exciting branch of science. “So,” you said, squeezing his fingers, “dinner?” “Dinner sounds great.” Then he glanced toward his apartment. The door slowly swung shut behind him.

That’s what led you to tonight, sitting with Ryland in the comfort of your apartment. It’s a Friday, which means he doesn't have work tomorrow, and luckily you're off. You guys have chatted, the lights are low, you're wearing a very nice matching set underneath this. All the conditions are perfect.

You’ve lost your mind.

Have you mentioned you need to get laid?

Because you do. Really badly. Preferably by your really sexy boyfriend.

Not even in a horny way anymore, to be blunt. At this point it’s become a matter of pride, scientific curiosity you might say. Human beings are apparently out here having sex every day without incident and you, a fully functioning adult with multiple degrees and a stable income, haven't got the first clue about it.

And there’s Ryland, currently sitting cross-legged on your couch. He’s explaining, with immense detail, why the movie you just watched was “so scientifically inaccurate”.

“And another thing for that matter,” he says, gesturing with a chip, “there is no sound in space. None. Explosions should be silent. Completely silent. Sure it doesn't make good movies, but, come on!”

You just stare at him. Damn it, he’s cute.

His hair is sticking up from where he kept dragging his hands through it during the movie. He’s wearing that faded Stanford shirt that’s soft from over-washing nowadays. His glasses have slipped down his nose.

You are so in love with him.

And maybe… maybe… tonight can be the night.

You scoot a little closer.

Ryland immediately pauses mid-rant.

“…Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

His eyes flick down to your mouth.

Sweet, that's a good sign if you've ever seen one.

You lean in, kissing him gently. Ryland melts into it almost instantly, one hand finding your waist like muscle memory by now. Kissing Ryland is embarrassingly addictive; he always kisses you like he’s just happy to be invited. It’s so sweet you don't think you could've helped but get obsessed with him.

You shift closer until your knees bump together on the couch.

The kiss deepens a little, then a tad more. Ryland makes this tiny noise into your mouth, pleased, and your stomach flips so hard you nearly lose your nerve immediately. This is, normally, where it'd end.

But not tonight.

No. No, you are an adult. And adults do this all the time.

Your hand slides up into his hair.

His hand tightens carefully at your waist.

And then, because apparently your brain was assembled by raccoons, you blurt against his mouth:

“I’ve never had sex before.”

Why the hell would you say that?

He pulls back, eyes wide with shock and lord knows you’ve ruined everything. You should've kept quiet, broken up with him, died a virgin, anything would be better than him looking at you like you're some kicked puppy. Oh God, he's gonna break up with you- he's gonna think you're a freak for never having sex and kick you out and then-

“Hey- no, no, no.” Ryland interrupts you, worry overtaking the surprise on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You blink dumbfounded and still slightly panicked. Marginally panicked. Very panicked.

“I… I just told you I’m a virgin?”

“Okay?” he says carefully, like he’s not understanding the problem. “That’s not… bad?”

“You’re saying that because you’re nice.”

“I am nice,” he agrees, then squints. “But I’m also confused.”

Your stomach twists miserably. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

Ryland stares at you for a long second.

Then he says, very sincerely, “Honey, I spent six years in graduate school eating peanut butter out of measuring cups because I didn’t own plates. I think my weird isn't the same as the average person's.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, you really do love him. His expression softens immediately like he’s relieved to hear it.

“You thought I’d care about that?”

“A little,” you admit quietly. “Okay, a lot.”

Ryland looks genuinely stricken.

“Wait, is that why you keep getting nervous every time we make out for more than ten minutes?”

“…Maybe.”

“And why you looked like you were preparing for a hostage negotiation when I touched your thigh last week?”

You groan and cover your face. “Please stop remembering things.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters, horrified on your behalf. “You thought I was judging you?”

“Well, you’re very…” You gesture vaguely at him. “Experienced-looking.”

“Experienced-looking?” he repeats.

“Y’know.”

“I don't know. What does that even mean?”

“You know! You’re charming and confident and- and you kiss like you know what you’re doing. Everyone probably wants to have sex with you.”

Ryland suddenly goes very quiet.

His ears start turning pink.

“…Oh,” he says.

You slowly lower your hands from your face. “Huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes now. “Uh. I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach drops. “You have a girlfriend.”

“What? Other than you? No!”

“You’re secretly married.”

“No!”

“You’re an alien.”

“Somehow more likely than the first two, but still no.”

“Ryland.”

He takes a breath.

Then, with the expression of a man preparing to confess he's from another planet, he blurts, “I’m a virgin too.”

…

…

“What?”

You must've not heard him right. Ryland Grace… a virgin? No way. Not a single shot. He’s… he's genuinely the most attractive guy you've ever met in your life, and you're not just saying that because you're dating him. You can't imagine a single coffee shop he can walk into without getting someone's number. Not to mention how sweet and caring he is. Your boyfriend is a hook, line, and sinker.

You didn't hear him right.

“You're a liar," you spit out all too quickly.

Ryland lets out an offended little squawk. “I am not!”

“There’s literally no way. Not even a little bit of a way.”

"There is definitely a way."

"Oh my God,” you mutter, staring at him.

He looks deeply embarrassed now, face flushed pink as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

“I just thought you knew or... assumed.”

"How would I assume that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up. “You’re smart! You infer things!”

"You flirt like a man with experience.”

“I flirt like a guy who memorized too many romantic comedies!”

You stare at each other for one long second before a laugh bursts out of you unexpectedly. Ryland immediately joins in, both of you dissolving into slightly hysterical laughter against the couch cushions.

The tension snaps like a rubber band.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze. “We’re both idiots.”

“The dumbest people alive,” Ryland agrees warmly.

“You really never…?”

He shakes his head. “Came close a couple times in college, but I was too anxious. Then grad school happened, and apparently science became my entire personality.” He pauses. “Plus, I always kinda wanted it to matter.”

Your chest squeezes painfully hard at that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Turns out I’m secretly very lame and sentimental.”

“That’s not lame.”

“No?”

“No.” You tuck your legs underneath yourself, looking at him carefully. “I think it’s nice.”

His expression softens so much it nearly kills you on impact.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because I really, really like you.”

The words settle over you warm as sunlight.

“You thought I didn’t want you?” he asks softly after a moment.

You groan immediately. “Don’t.”

“You did.” He looks devastated now. “Honey.”

“I know it’s irrational.”

For all the spiraling you’d done, all the panic and humiliation and catastrophic assumptions, the reality is just… Ryland. Sweet, nervous, earnest Ryland, sitting across from you like confessing this is somehow riskier than astrophysics.

You scoot closer again until your thigh presses against his.

“So,” you say carefully.

“So,” he echoes.

“We have no clue what we’re doing.”

“None whatsoever.”

You nod once. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, suddenly smiling. “That actually makes me feel a lot better.”

Ryland visibly relaxes.

“Me too,” he admits. “Honestly, I was kind of terrified you’d eventually realize I had no idea how to be sexy.”

You snort. “Ryland, you once pushed your glasses up with while explaining your day to

me and I had to excuse myself to calm down.”

His jaw drops.

“That did it for you?”

“You have no idea.”

He looks unbearably delighted by this information.

“Wow,” he says faintly. “Okay, that’s... wow. That’s a huge confidence boost for me, actually.”

“Anytime.”

He grins at you, all soft and crooked and real.

Then, more cautiously, he asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

The fact that he asks makes your heart ache.

“Please.”

He leans in slowly this time, giving you every chance to pull away, and you meet him halfway. The kiss starts sweet again, warm and familiar, but now there’s something new underneath it. There's less trying to guess what the other person wants, more sure of yourselves.

Ryland’s hand settles at your waist carefully, thumb brushing against your side through your shirt.

You melt immediately.

He makes that tiny pleased sound again when you kiss him deeper, and you swear your brain briefly shuts off.

“Still with me?” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Mhm.”

Ryland pulls back slightly, studying you with such open affection it makes your stomach flip.

“We can go as slow as you want,” he says quietly. “Seriously. Tonight, another night, halfway tonight and then panic and watch a documentary instead. I’m good with whatever.”

“You’d really be okay if I panicked and made us watch a documentary?”

“Honey, I’d make popcorn.”

You laugh again, helpless. Then you cup his face gently and kiss him once more, softer this time.

“I don’t think I’m panicking anymore."

And Ryland exhales, slow and steady like it was something he was holding this entire time. Maybe longer. His lips find yours again, with slightly more heat now. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he responds instinctively, as though he’s cataloging every reaction you have (“Okay, she liked that…”). You fall deeper for him with how deliberate everything feels, how his fingers touch come to caress your jawline with a familiar care.

His mouth parts just slightly against yours in a question, not forcing, asking if you want it. Something thrills within you at how sweet passion is with him. He smiles into the kiss when you part your mouth as well. You didn’t even know that was possible, maybe just a cheezy thing they say in romance books, but it’s there. It’s warm and giddy and so him.

He shifts forward, nudging one knee between yours on the couch cushion. The closeness feels right as you tuck a hand into his soft hair, kisses getting a bit deeper.

A soft breathy noise comes out of his mouth at the touch, and it feels like a crime you’ve heard. When his tongue brushes just barely against your lower lip you gasp without meaning to. He doubles down, leaning in closer as his tongue pushes past your lips, taking control.

The kiss turns more confident, Ryland’s anxieties melting into quiet confidence as he takes the lead. His tongue moves gently against yours, testing and learning. It’s not the first time you two have made out like this, but it’s the first time you’ve known where it’s going.

You gasp again. not from surprise this time, but from the sudden rush of sensations. Your fingers tighten in his hair on instinct. He hums softly at the reaction, God he likes that, and does it again: slow, warm pressure of his lips with just enough teasing glide to make your stomach flip over itself.

“Can we- can-...” You don’t know how to ask, but Ryland seems to understand as he starts taking his own shirt off before helping with yours. Once it’s off he stares for a beat or two before kissing at your neck.

“You’re so gorgeous… how’s no one done this yet?”

The words make you bite your lip, and you grow more needy by the minute. You’ve heard about sex, red about it, know there’s usally more build up and foreplay but you think if you don’t have Ryland Grace in you right now you might die. So you express that, very calmly.

“I really need you to fuck me.”

The tops of his ears turn an even more scarlet color as he sits up to look at you before nodding, kissing you again and helping you out of your shorts.

Ryland's hands are warm and shaky as they slide down your back, his breath hitching when he takes you in with your matching set. He kisses you again, softer this time, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips.

When he pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s a quiet awe in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

He leans in slowly, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline, then down the side of your neck.

Your hands find his jeans, helping him out of them till he's just in his boxers and you in your underwear and bra.

“My- my room?”

Ryland nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. If… if that’s okay? I mean- your bed is bigger than the couch, and…” He trails off, suddenly flustered again.

Without another word, he stands and offers you his hand, you take it with a gentle ease.

Before you know it you're in your room, grinding against each other on your bed. It's a bit awkward, but it feels too good for either of you to care.

Ryland reaches behind you, fumbling slightly with the clasp of your bra. His fingers brush against your back and he’s trying so hard to be careful.

When it finally comes undone and slips off, he stares for half a second too long before leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss just above your heart. More and more kisses before you drag him back up.

"Ry... need you, please?"

Without hesitation, he kisses you deeply, one hand sliding up to cup your breast as the other finds its way to the edge of your panties.

He breaks away just long enough to pull off his own boxers (You try not to gawk but, wow. Will it even fit?) then hovers over you for a second like he's double-checking that this is real. That you want him.

Then his mouth crashes back onto yours.

The kiss is messy, hungry, Ryland’s hands are everywhere at once, exploring your body like he's been starving for this. When his palm finally brushes over your bare breast, he makes a quiet sound against your lips.

Your back arches automatically in response, and Ryland stops looking so nervous as he drops to his knees between your legs, against you with more certainty than either of you ever thought was possible.

Both of you gasp when he moves his hips slowly against yours, pressing down against you with his hard-on through your panties.

He backs up far enough for a few seconds to gaze down at you with a ragged breath and red-cheeked face, the state of his hair a testament to the work of your hands.

Taking another deep breath, he lowers his lips to kiss a trail down your neck, farther down and farther down until he meets the line of lace on your panties.

Shaking slightly, his fingers slide inside the lace fabric hesitating for one breathless moment before tugging them down.

Once he takes your panties off, Ryland looks at you in amazement for a few seconds before kissing down to your stomach.

Before you have a chance to feel embarrassed because of his gaze, Ryland gives you a gentle kiss on the spot you want him most.

He does it again, and with a bit of confidence… then again with more force.

You exhale heavily and move your pelvis, not out of impatience because of his inexperience but out of pleasure. It was beyond your expectations to experience something like this.

Ryland understands you are enjoying this, and he becomes more confident now.

Again, Ryland kisses, and with curiosity, licks you.

When you whimper and your fingers tighten in his hair? That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His movements grow more confident as he starts exploring with soft licks and gentle suction.

"Ry- no, no, no... want you... want your..."

Ryland lifts his head immediately at the sound of your voice, eyes dark with want but still so full of concern.

"Want me?" he breathes, hovering over you.

You nod wildly, helping him up off the bed using his shoulders until you’re making out again. That taste, the flavor of you on his lips, has your stomach doing somersaults.

You assist him into position, feeling a little anxious yet equally eager for what he wants.

Ryland shudders as he nestles between your thighs, pressing the length of his body to yours.

He lowers his hands to align himself, pausing as the two of you take deep breaths, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

And then, oh so slowly… he slides inside.

A soft gasp escapes his lips, overwhelmed at the sensation of that tight heat closing around him for the first time.

It’s intense, but Ryland holds still, allowing you time to get used to it.

Once the initial discomfort fades slightly, he rolls his hips in the tiniest experimental movement, just an inch deeper.

He’s trying so hard not to rush or hurt you despite how overwhelmed he clearly feels too.

Ryland starts moving properly now, small, careful thrusts that gradually build in rhythm. Every time he sinks deeper, his breath hitches.

He kisses you at every motion: kisses your lips, your cheekbone, the edge of your mouth, wherever needed to relieve the pressure of intense pleasure with tender kisses.

His hands are soft against your hips as he begins moving steadily in such a way that pleases both of you. He places one of his hands on yours beside your head, holding your fingers in a vice-like grip.

Ryland's lips open into a silent cry as the pleasure mounts, his thrusting becomes more frantic.

Your bed groans softly beneath the two of you, and then he crushes his lips against yours with fierce passion and biting.

You can feel his body tensing with every movement; he’s so close but trying to make it last for you, even though it’s clearly overwhelming him.

Seeing him like that brings you over the edge, tightening around him with a sharp bite to your bottom lip.

Ryland feels the tightening sensation enveloping him; suddenly, all of him tenses up. With a strangled gasp, he succumbs to the feeling. For an instant, Ryland gazes at you in disbelief, eyes wide open and struggling for breath… Then with an earth-shattering groan, he drives into you, spilling himself in a torrent of pleasure while jerking his hips in spasms.

Ryland slumps on top of you, limp and panting, his chest pressing against yours as he remains embedded in you… shaking from head to toe because of the after-effects.

In silence, he rests for what seems like ages… then plants a languid kiss on your shoulder, saying:

"Holy fudge."

For a long moment, neither of you moves.

The room is filled with nothing but the faint hum of your fan. Ryland’s face is buried against your shoulder, warm and flushed, hair damp at the edges from sweat. His hand is still tangled tightly with yours like he forgot to let go.

You can feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest.

Slowly, he lifts his head just enough to look at you.

His glasses are gone somewhere. His lips are swollen from kissing. He looks absolutely beautiful.

“…Did we just do that?”

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “I think we did.”

“Oh my gosh.”

He drops his forehead onto your collarbone dramatically.

“Oh my gosh,” he repeats, voice muffled now. “People are just walking around having sex like that regularly? On weekdays?”

You start laughing harder, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably.

Ryland lifts his head again, looking almost offended by the concept itself.

“No wonder everyone’s distracted all the time. I don't know how I’m gonna be able to focus anymore.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And you like it.”

“I really do.”

That soft, wrecked smile appears again immediately.

You brush sweaty hair back from his forehead gently, and his expression melts further somehow, eyes fluttering half-shut beneath your touch.

“You okay?” he asks after a second, suddenly serious again. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The concern in his voice is so immediate, so genuine, that your chest aches.

“No,” you promise softly. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ryland visibly relaxes, exhaling hard through his nose before dropping another kiss to your shoulder.

“Okay. Good.”

He stays there another moment before abruptly freezing.

“Oh no.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“The condom.”

You blink.

Then both of you look downward simultaneously like two scientists realizing they forgot a critical variable halfway through an experiment.

“…We absolutely forgot the condom.”

Ryland makes a strangled noise of horror and flops sideways onto the mattress.

“We’re too smart for this,” he groans into your pillow. “This is humiliating.”

“You teach biology!”

“I know!”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified and laughing all at once. “Oh my God.”

Ryland peeks at you from where he’s collapsed dramatically beside you.

“In my defense,” he says solemnly, “you were very distracting.”

“In your defense?”

“Yes. I’m assigning blame collaboratively.”

You make an incoherent embarrassed sound while he grins lazily at you. Then, predictably, the grin fades into concern again.

“…We should probably handle that responsibly.”

“Probably.”

“I can run to the pharmacy?”

You glance at the clock.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“There are twenty-four-hour pharmacies.”

“You don’t have to sprint into the night immediately after losing your virginity.”

“That sentence feels fake.”

“It does a little.”

Ryland laughs quietly, then reaches over to tuck you against his side. The mood settles softer after that. You lie there tangled together beneath your blankets, skin cooling slowly, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your arm.

After a while, Ryland speaks again, voice quieter now.

“I was really nervous.”

You tilt your head to look at him. “You hid it well.”

“I absolutely did not.”

He smiles faintly at the ceiling.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I got so into my own head about it over the years that it started feeling impossible. Like everyone else had some instruction manual I missed.”

Your heart twists.

“Yeah,” you admit softly. “Me too.”

Ryland turns toward you then, expression open in that devastatingly sincere way of his.

“Well,” he says gently, “for the record? I’m really glad it was you.”

You lean forward and kiss him again, slow and sleepy this time.

“I’m glad it was you too.”

Ryland hums happily against your mouth.

“…Also?”

“Hmm?”

“We were actually pretty good at that for two people operating entirely on instinct and yearning.”

You snort so loudly you scare yourself. Ryland immediately looks smug.

“I’m serious! There was teamwork. Communication. Strong fundamentals.”

“You’re grading our sex like a lab report.”

“I’m saying we showed promise.”

“Oh my God.”

“Further research may be necessary.”

You groan into his shoulder while laughing helplessly, and he catches your hand to kiss your knuckles with ridiculous fondness.

You’re not embarrassed anymore.

Not even a little.

______________________

“Ry? What’s wrong?” You kept your voice low, even in the soundproof study room. This conversation had apparently been too important to wait until you were in the privacy of your home.

You held your breath as you waited for his answer. Your time was his, for however long he needed to get the words off his chest.

“There’s no easy way for me to say this, Y/N.” Ryland leaned towards you a bit, as if he was about to entrust you with a secret that he needed to get off his chest. In the end, he cut right to the chase. “I’ve been asked to go on the Hail Mary.”

The words chilled you to the bone. “What?”

You hadn’t realized how drastically your life would change when your husband had been recruited for Project Hail Mary. Over the course of his experimentation with Astrophage, Ryland had covertly updated you on his progress. It was something you were thankful for, especially now.

You had been under the impression that he would be exempt from going on the mission. After all, he had gone through none of the typical training required of astronauts. Apparently, that didn’t matter in this case.

You listened carefully as Ryland provided you with an explanation. Both of the scientists who had been selected to go ln the mission had died in an accident in the lab. And now, in a twist of fate, there was no one else who could possibly fulfill all the necessary criteria for the role…except for him.

“I have less than three hours to think about it,” he concluded.

Your heart sank. So that was all the time you had left with him, before he would be lost to you forever. No wonder he had come running straight to you with the news.

“What are you going to tell them?”

You knew what his answer would be the moment you looked into his eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t want to leave you.” Ryland wiped away a tear before it could drip down onto the study desk and leave a temporary stain. “Besides, the kids need me here.”

You nodded solemnly. “I know.”

You had seen firsthand evidence of exactly how much Ryland cared about his students. He always cheered them on, encouraging them to be their best selves no matter what life decided to throw in their paths. And from what you could tell, they adored him for it.

“But…” Ryland continued with a shaky breath. “I can’t do it.”

He shook his head, as if this entire scenario was unbelievable to him as well. But to you, this was hardly news. He had never been the bravest person…unless it involved you.

“What if I came with you?”

The decision had been made before you even opened your mouth. It had been so obvious; right there in front of you the entire time. You would do whatever it took to stay with your husband.

“What? No, Y/N, you can’t…” Ryland wiped at the tears that had begun to well in his eyes once again and amended his words. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

You reached for his hand across the study room table. The longer your fingers stayed intertwined, the more it struck you that this could be the last time you ever felt his touch. “But that way, you won’t be alone. It’ll be me and you, together. Okay?”

It was practically unthinkable for you to be separated from him. In the span of time that you had known each other, you had rarely been apart for so long, until now. You couldn’t conceive what it would be like to part with Ryland forever. For all intents and purposes, you were his only family.

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll do this together.” He wiped away yet another tear, seeming to resign himself to his fate. If all went according to plan, it was a fate you would share. “So how is this going to work?”

“I’ll just say…I don’t know.” You sat back in your seat, your posture straight. As soon as you spoke, the beginnings of an idea had already formed in your mind. “Someone has to record and keep track of all that data, right?”

You spent the rest of your time in the study room discussing everything you could do to persuade the team to send you along with Ryland on the mission. And in the middle of all your brainstorming, you came up with what you saw as a foolproof tactic.

You ultimately decided to offer yourself up as collateral. Ryland had helped you go over your argument time and time again, perfecting it until you were certain that there was no way the answer would be no. You would convince every government of the world to make an exception for you; make them see how much they needed you. Failure was not an option.

In the end, you would remember that moment as one of the worst moments of your life. It was second only to when the time came for Ryland to give his answer, a mere few hours later. The only small comfort you could think of was that you would be by his side long before the two of you wound up eleven lightyears away from Earth.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

From the moment you woke up on the Hail Mary, you forced yourself to remain calm and collected. Your mind was still fuzzy during your reintroduction to the waking world, but lucid enough to have your memories slowly return to you. At the very least, you could be grateful for that fact.

“Welcome back, Payload Specialist Y/N,” the ship’s computer greeted you when all was said and done, and you had passed the cognition assessment.

“Thank you, Mary,” you replied.

You decided to dress in the orange mission jumpsuit you had found that was tailored precisely to fit your frame. Directly above the patch with your maiden name on it, a golden winged badge had been affixed to your suit. It was as if you were meant to be part of the crew all along.

Flashes of memories passed through your mind, from your whirlwind plan to board the Hail Mary to the plan’s ultimate execution. You had gotten exactly what you wanted in the end. It had been surprisingly easy to convince the team to agree, despite all of the accommodations that would have to be made for you. Your presence on the ship was seen as an added incentive for your crewmate to complete the necessary work to save humanity. But that was something you had anticipated, and would never regret.

A minute or two of exploration revealed that you were not the only one who had survived the trip into space. You took a moment to pause at the signs that marked two of your fellow astronauts deceased, pondering what could have been. But all was not lost. Judging by the sole empty bed you had observed upon first waking up, at least one other person had survived besides you.

A series of footsteps caught your attention, abruptly bringing you out of your thoughts. And then a man stepped into the room.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake!”

You looked up sharply and found yourself staring into the captivating blue shade of his eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you knew him from somewhere, but you couldn’t be sure.

His blond hair was cut short, the way he clearly preferred it. His glasses rested properly on his nose, although they had slid down a bit. Oddly enough, you felt the need to readjust them for him. He even wore the same jumpsuit as you, identical to yours in nearly every way, except for the name Grace embroidered on the patch.

There was another name on the tip of your tongue that you were sure also belonged to him. You took a chance and spoke it out loud.

“Ryland?”

His eyes widened as you slowly stood up, intending to make your way over to him. He took a slight step back, as if to prevent you from coming any closer to him. You could understand; after all, you were as much of a stranger to him as he was to you. At least you had full confirmation that you weren’t the only person alive on the ship.

And yet the words that left his mouth filled you with a sense of dread.

“I guess you know me; that’s great, but…I don’t seem to know you.”

You indicated the patch on your jumpsuit as if it was the only thing that could help to jog his memory. “I’m your crewmate, Y/N.“

The words came out stilted, not quite the way you had imagined them in your head. You hated that you couldn’t fully remember anything about who you were, but it was the most logical explanation you could come up with. Of course you would be lucky enough to have the privilege of dying in space alongside such an attractive man.

“Y/N. Hi.” Ryland gave you a soft smile.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice equally as soft. It was as if you had known each other in a past life, and were picking up right where you left off.

Ryland stared at you over the top of his glasses. “So how much do you remember?”

“Not much,” you admitted. But as soon as you spoke, an idea struck home. You dug around in the pockets of your mission standard jumpsuit. “But I think these photos are supposed to help.”

Your hand closed around a Polaroid and you showed it off to Ryland. It had been one of the first things you had found among your belongings, and you were already growing particularly fond of it. In the photo, you stood in front of a library, a grin on your face.

Ryland leaned over to get a better look at the photo. He studied it as carefully as if he was studying a crucial science experiment. You caught the smile that flickered across his face.

After a moment, he looked up. There was something almost hopeful in his expression. “Can you help me get my memories back, too?”

In the span of that moment, you had found a new purpose, in addition to the one you already had. You would make it your mission to help Ryland remember his past, while figuring out the pieces that were missing from your own life.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I can do that.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You sat across from Ryland on the floor in the observation room, making sure to keep a careful distance. In between you, several Polaroids were splayed out in no particular order. Most of them had been stashed among your belongings, except for the single photo of him all alone that sat directly in the middle of the pile. By all rights, that belonged to him.

It had been your suggestion to try this method in the first place. You were thankful that it had helped both of you to remember a little bit more of your past, even if the first few memories to resurface were far from being as vivid as you’d hoped.

Each time Ryland remembered something new, he would run it by you, waiting for your confirmation or denial. The two of you would compare notes and see if your stories matched up. It had almost become a game that you thoroughly enjoyed. After all, it brought you closer to him.

There was no trace of the frightened man who you now vaguely remembered from your last moments on Earth. In fact, he seemed to be almost at peace with the situation.

Ryland spent his time toying with the simple gold ring that rested on his fourth finger, twisting it around almost long enough to become a habit. So far, he hadn’t asked you about it. You anticipated the inevitable day when that particular conversation would have to happen, since you had noticed a similar ring on your finger as well.

As if he could read your mind, Ryland looked up. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You know, I…” Tears began to form in his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

All of a sudden, leaned forward and wrapped you up in a hug. He clung to you as if you were the only thing in the world that was keeping him together. And up in space, that was more crucial than ever.

You immediately melted into his embrace. From what you could remember, the last time you had been so close to Ryland had been when the two of you were still on Earth. And now, it was like feeling the ground beneath your feet again. Like coming home.

You had slowly begun to remember bits and pieces about Ryland, triggered by an arbitrary set of variables that you felt you had almost figured out. He had been so touch starved, deprived of any other human connection before he met you. It hurt so much to think about, even after all this time.

You sat back and looked into his eyes.

“And I’m glad we’re not alone anymore.”

Without thinking, you reached for his hand. The moment your fingers brushed his, your heart began to race. But Ryland didn’t pull away. In fact, he laced his fingers through yours.

Little did you know how true your words would turn out to be.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It had taken time to get used to the idea that there was intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. From the moment the Blip A arrived in your orbit, you and Ryland had been of the same mind, wanting to protect yourselves in case of the very real possibility that your companions in space were hostile. No matter the outcome, you would never be able to think of science fiction novels in the same way again.

You were well aware of the limits of what your mind could handle. Data sets and cataloging were no problem for you, considering how often you dealt with them in your career. The fact that aliens were real? That left you completely out of your depth.

You stood next to Ryland at the airlock as he prepared to communicate with the alien aboard the Blip A for the third time. He had foregone the bulky red EVA spacesuit that he had used during his first two trips into the tunnel that connected both ships. As Ryland had discovered, the precaution was unnecessary, since his half of the tunnel was full of oxygen.

This time around, he carried two of the laptops that had been stored on the ship, held together with duct tape and a dream. You had worked with him to establish a language model program; a better way to communicate with the almost spider-like alien who Ryland had decided to call Rocky. It was a historic moment that deserved to be celebrated and documented.

You held out your hand, an invitation for him to accept or deny as he saw fit. Ryland mimicked your motions, aligning his free hand with yours until your fingertips brushed. You took a risk and threaded your fingers through his.

“Be safe,” you told him, squeezing his hand once. It took everything you had not to let the words you truly wanted to say tumble from your mouth. You had no idea if he would ever be ready to hear them, coming from you.

“I will.”

You watched carefully as Ryland let go of your hand and began his journey into the tunnel. The long cords attached to the LED lights he had used during his second venture created a pathway for him to navigate his way forward. He walked backwards a few steps, allowing himself the best view of the Hail Mary…and you.

You lingered at the edge of the airlock for as long as you could. It became impossible to tear your eyes away from your crewmate. There was still a high possibility that this would be the last time you ever saw each other. If that was the case, you wanted to make sure that the moment would be ingrained in your mind forever.

Ryland gave you a smile that was barely visible from inside the dimly lit tunnel. This was shortly followed by a small wave, which you promptly returned.

When Ryland had fully disappeared into the tunnel, you headed back into the Hail Mary with a slightly heavy heart. You knew very well that there was still plenty of work to be done. And for the moment, you were the only one left to see that the tasks would be completed.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You spent hour after hour scrolling through all the data that Ryland had brought back to you, as a result of his subsequent trips into the xenonite tunnel. A small, triumphant moment of gloating had been allowed in honor of your past self’s intuition. You had been right, after all.

Your purpose in coming on the mission was even more vital than you had anticipated. The skillset you possessed in synthesizing data was best utilized towards transferring the information Ryland had obtained over to the probes that would eventually be sent back to Earth. You had made a promise and you were determined to keep it, despite your lingering ire at all parties involved.

The footage you viewed had been taken during the early stages of when Ryland had begun to communicate with Rocky, which already seemed like it had occurred a lifetime ago. According to the footage that had been captured so far, Rocky had proved to be extensively smart and curious.

“How many humans on Grace ship, question?”

“My original crew was four,” Ryland replied. “Two died on the way here. Now it’s only me…and Y/N.”

A crash sounded from somewhere on the ship, startling you away from the work you were supposed to be focused on. You paused the video and briefly took your eyes off of the footage before you had the chance to decide how to categorize it.

“Ry? Are you okay?”

The sound of footsteps was shortly followed by your husband’s voice. You recognized the tone; it was the one he used when his students were growing unruly. And it was something you hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Ryland? What’s going on?”

Moments later, his voice reached you. It was enough to calm you down, but only so much.

“Y/N, hey. Don’t freak out, okay?”

You kept moving forward, regardless of the request. Nothing good ever followed the words your crewmate had spoken.

The moment you stepped around the corner, your breath caught in your throat. You stopped in your tracks at the sight that awaited you.

“Oh my God.”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you to finally meet Rocky, in person.

Instead of being comfortable staying on his side of the tunnel, he was encased in a clear ball that allowed him to move around freely in the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the Hail Mary. If you had to take a guess, it was made of the same material as the tunnel connecting the Hail Mary to the Blip A. A material that Ryland had dubbed xenonite.

“Hello Grace friend! I am Rocky. Rocky from Erid.”

He raised one of his claws and waved at you.

“Oh.” You let out a slow breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, then gave him a slight wave in return. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Ryland said, turning to you and running a hand through his hair. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “He invited himself up.”

“My bedroom over there!” Rocky suddenly exclaimed, pointing to an empty corner of the dormitory.

You followed the gesture with your eyes, letting the words sink in. “You’re…moving in with us?”

There was a limited amount of space on the Hail Mary as it was. But now, if things worked out as planned, the space would be shared among three of you.

“Yes. Is good plan.”

“A plan I never agreed to,” Ryland protested.

The more you thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The three of you would need to work together, given the amount of work that would go towards saving Earth and Erid. That was the only way your stars would survive.

“I dunno,” you mused. “It could be fun.”

It would be a completely new experience for you. Then again, you had experienced a lot of things for the first time up in space.

Rocky was silent for a moment, as if he was processing your answer. And then a series of solemn notes came from his carapace, and he echoed your thoughts from moments ago.

“Crew must stay together.”

You exchanged a glance with Ryland, hoping to convince him that this was the right thing to do.

After taking a few moments to think it over, he relented.

“Okay.”

And just like that, it had been decided. Rocky would join your crew.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Over the past several weeks, you had been spending more and more time in the laboratory, looking over some of the experiments that Ryland had done with the Taumoeba. He had implemented Rocky’s breeder tank design and would occasionally ask you to check his work, a task you were all too happy to perform.

Ryland stood next to you, analyzing the samples as you input the data into the laptop. From time to time he glanced in your direction, as if he was working up the courage to ask you a question. And at last, he did.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up, giving him your full attention. Ryland leaned against the wall of the ship, having decided to take a break from his work. His gaze was fixed on you, as if you held all the secrets of the universe in the palm of your hand.

“Can you tell me that story again? About how we first met.”

You turned away from your work and decided to indulge him. That particular memory was ingrained in your mind, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It was far past time that he knew the truth.

For a long time before you had even started dating, Ryland had been one of the San Francisco Public Library’s most frequent patrons. He’d tended to use the excuse of the quiet environment to spend his afternoons grading his students’ assignments. But, as you found out later, it was really an excuse to see you.

Over the course of several months, both of you had slowly gotten to know each other better. You had bonded over working with children and how much you enjoyed it. He became your favorite patron, though you would never admit it to anyone but yourself.

It had taken a long time before he’d worked up the courage to ask you out.

Ryland had a thoughtful look on his face when you finished your story. If he needed more time to absorb this information, you were determined to let him have it.

“So you’re telling me that we,” he gestured between the two of you, “were married.”

“Yeah,” you said. The words were careful, as if they would shatter the moment. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, because…I wanted to ask you about this.”

Ryland held up a Polaroid and passed it to you.

Your mouth fell open and your heart skipped a beat as you absorbed each detail that you could discern. This was it; the photo you had been unable to find, until now.

“Oh my God.”

In the photo itself, you had been lifted into Ryland’s arms, bridal style, as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. The two of you had been captured mid-kiss, oblivious to the rest of the world. A diamond engagement ring rested on your finger.

If this wasn’t enough proof to confirm the validity of your past, you had no idea what it was.

“So it’s true,” he said. “You’re my wife.”

“Yeah. It’s true.”

Ryland stretched out his hand, spending several seconds gazing at the gold band that rested on his ring finger. The same one from the photo, unchanged and untarnished after all this time.

“Holy smokes.”

He looked back up at you, eyes filled with wonder. You held up your hand to him, bringing your own matching wedding ring into his field of vision. It was another testament to the truth, and you hoped that it would be upheld as valid in a court of law, especially given your current circumstances.

“I know.”

The vows you had exchanged still echoed in your mind, as clearly as if the event had only taken place yesterday. It had been a small and quick ceremony down at City Hall. That had been more than enough for both of you.

“I must’ve done something right,” Ryland said. “I mean, gosh. Wow. You’re just so…”

He gestured at you, as if that could encompass everything he wanted to say.

“Thank you.” A slight heat crept into your cheeks. The last time you’d heard such a compliment from him had been back on Earth.

It warmed your heart to know that your wedding vows still meant something.

He moved closer to you, until his hands came up to gently cup your face. You leaned in at the same time, making your intentions clear. It was the perfect moment, everything you had been wanting.

And just as his lips were about to lower to yours…

“What Grace Y/N doing, question?”

You jumped apart immediately, as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Ryland turned to face Rocky and put his hands on his hips. “Rocky, we talked about this. You can’t just interrupt us when we’re having an important conversation.”

“Grace Y/N very close proximity,” Rocky observed, completely ignoring the admonishment. “Increased heart rate. Is part of human mating process, question?”

Heat began to build beneath your skin. “How do you even know about that?” you asked.

“Grace teach Rocky human biology.” There was a pause, and then… “Humans need time alone to mate, question? I will give.”

Ryland covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

With a series of satisfied notes, Rocky headed towards the dormitory, where his bedroom had been set up.

“Wow,” you said with a light laugh. “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Ryland smiled. “But you get used to it.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The dormitory was bathed in dim light as the Hail Mary switched to the night cycle. You had settled in the space next to your husband, looking forward to spending another night in his arms.

Rocky prepared to watch you and Ryland sleep from his place above your bed. The Eridian cultural norm was something you still hadn’t quite gotten used to. But over time, you had come to accept it.

Ryland shifted onto his side, his arm stretched out towards you in invitation.

“Come here, honey.” He gave you a fond smile. “I sleep better when I’m with you, anyway.”

“Me too.”

You fulfilled his request and snuggled up to him. The warmth of his body was comforting as you rested your head on his chest. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend that you were back on Earth.

Muscle memory took over as your fingers wound absently through Ryland’s hair. Without prompting, another pleasant memory rose to the surface of your mind. There had been countless times when you and Ryland had lied together in bed almost exactly like this, talking late into the night. You had anticipated never having the opportunity to experience that again…but you had been proven wrong.

Ryland made a small sound in the back of his throat, bringing you back to the present.

You pulled your hand away as quickly as if you’d come into contact with the ammonia-rich atmosphere on Rocky’s ship. “Are you okay, Ry? Sorry. Was that too much?”

“No, no; please don’t stop,” Ryland said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “That feels really nice.”

You didn’t hesitate to oblige him. Your hand went back into his hair and you continued to card your fingers through it. A soft smile spread across his face.

Eventually your hand motions stilled. But as your hand came down again, Ryland brushed his hand against yours before intertwining your fingers.

“Let’s stay like this for awhile,” you suggested.

“That’s a great plan. Yeah. I like that plan.”

Your eyes fluttered closed. For awhile you were content to lay beside your husband, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

You had nearly drifted off when Rocky decided to speak up.

“Grace still awake, question?”

“Yeah, pal.” The words were punctuated by a yawn. “What’s up?”

“You are lucky to have mate here.”

“Trust me, I know,” Ryland said. Even in your half-asleep state, you could feel his gaze drift to you.

“Grace Y/N complete human mating process. Have many tiny humans!”

You felt Ryland’s heartbeat speed up as he let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

A slow smile started to spread across your face. Though you had never had the opportunity to discuss it with Ryland back on Earth, you had always imagined that future for yourself. For a time, you had thought that there was a possibility that it wouldn’t be able to happen. But you had been proven wrong.

Your hands were still intertwined with your husband’s when you finally drifted off to sleep, fully content with your life for the first time in a long time.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The green light on the small handheld camera blinked once before remaining steady. You sat next to Ryland, making one last contribution to the series of vlogs the two of you had put together, detailing all your findings. Rocky had insisted on being a part of the project, offering valuable contributions and insight.

You had spent weeks on end making extra copies of all the research you had organized, as well as all of the footage from your vlogs, so that there would be an increased chance of it surviving. There had been enough storage space left for one last recording before the probes would have to be sent off.

“Do you miss home, question?”

“Not really,” Ryland admitted. “I have everything I need right here.”

“Same,” you added.

You looked into each other’s eyes. A smile spread across your face.

“Good good good. Other humans treat Grace Y/N like ♫. Eridians different. Eridians will love you.”

Tears began to well in Ryland’s eyes. “You promise?”

“Yes. I promise. Rocky love love love Grace Y/N.”

“Aw,” you said. “We love you, too, Rocky.”

You and Ryland enveloped Rocky in a group hug, the recording briefly forgotten. He participated in the only way he could, pressing up against the barrier of xenonite that kept him safe.

Eventually, Ryland turned back to the camera and gave his closing statement.

“This is Dr. Captain Ryland Grace and Payload Specialist Mrs. Y/N Grace, reporting from the Hail Mary.”

You performed an Eridian farewell for all the people of Earth, copying your husband’s actions. In the background, Rocky voiced his approval.

After making sure that the camera had captured everything, you leaned forward and stopped the recording. The screen faded to black, severing your last link to Earth. And in that moment, it was as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Ryland peaked from behind his fingers, his eyes set on your figure as you were busy preparing bowls of different coloured frosting for the sugar cookies in your next batch. Your hair was tucked behind your ears, wearing one of his oversized science pun shirts, body lightly swaying to the music that played from your headphones that you put on in courtesy as not to distract him from his work.

Gosh, he was so in love with you. You were the biggest sweetheart he had ever met. During the early years of you both being together, he had once mentioned that he wanted to do something special for his students at the end of the school year. It was a thought in the passing, but you remembered and came back with the idea of baking cookies for all your students as a ‘well done’ reward for finishing the school year, and since then it has become an yearly tradition for this time of the year. Each year, you would ask Grace to put a bonus question on one of his tests about the kid’s favourite type of cookie, and make a bunch from those for the last week of school. Initially, Ryland tried to help out with the baking aspect, however, it was evident pretty quickly that the skill wasn’t part of his forte. So, instead you baked extra batches of sugar cookies he could help to decorate to make sure he had a part in the process.

His hand moved to where his head rested against his palm, leaning into his arm. He sat there, a smile on his lips, captivated by your presence, your whole being, just finding joy in admiring you in your element. He felt as the luckiest person on earth to have married you. As he gazed at you, with literal hearts in his eyes, he noticed your eyes shift towards him, having felt his stare on yourself. He noticed the gentle smile that instantly tugged towards the corner of your lips, your eyebrow playfully arching with a playful expression of ‘what’.

He just continued to look at you for a moment, holding your gaze with his, before he mouthed you an ‘I love you.’ The smile on his lips widened when you replied with a ‘I love you more.’ He couldn’t hold himself anymore. He had this sudden urge to hold you, have you in his arms, be as close to you as possible. He suddenly got up from the high stool chair he sat on, almost knowing it over, but catching it just in time. Before turning the corner of the kitchen island, in a hurry that seemed as if he was missing a train, before literally crashing into you and wrapping his arms tightly around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. This earned him a laugh from you, feeling it through your body as he held you, causing him to smile against your shoulder.

For a few moments, he just held you in his arms, leaning the side of his head against your, gently swaying your bodies to the music that leaked from your headphones, as you finished making the frosting for the sugar cookies. You grabbed a clean spoon, dipped it into the bowl and brought it up to Ryland for him to taste. He poked out his tongue, and took a little lick. In the process, he noticed the little amount of frosting that had gotten on to your fingers, leading to a little mischievous idea to play in his mind.

The hand that had sat against your tummy, came up to grab the spoon out of yours, still enclosing you in his embrace, while the other took a hold of your wrist, his thumb pressing into the curve of your palm. He brought your hand to his mouth, gliding his tongue along the side of your pinky, in a slow and deliberate motion, licking up any stray frosting in the way. He then turned his attention to the crevices between your fingers. There was no frosting there, he was just doing this out of his own greed now, licking between the spaces while looking up at you, as your own eyes gazed intently at his action.

After a few moments, he retrieved slightly, a small string of saliva making a path connecting from his bottom lip to your hand, breaking when he leaned in to place a kiss on your palm, just below your fingers. Your breath staggered for a moment, which he noticed as it made him grin against your palm.

Oh, he was having too much fun with this.

You pulled your hand out of grip, giving him a light glare. You grabbed the spoon back from him and finished the frosting that he hadn’t, maybe just ever so slowly, giving the spoon deliberate long licks. His eyes were locked on your lips, on the way they part just enough let your tongue slip out to lick the frost, noticing the way some smudged on your lips. The visual just sent blood rushing through his body, a small flush starting to appear on his cheeks, as his ears started to turn red.

In a swift movement, he had you turn around, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the edge of the kitchen island, his lips meeting yours with desperation that had built up in him. Your one arm wrapped around his shoulder, while your other hand gripped his bicep, in an effort to ground yourself as you melted into his kiss, the sweetness of the frosting remnant between the exchange.

The kiss broke, as you both parted to catch your breath, his eyes meeting yours with the look of someone so hopelessly in love (which he totally was), a beaming smile on his lips. He began to lean in for another kiss, just as the sound of the timer for the cookies rang through the space, and before his lips could meet yours, you pressed your fingers against his mouth.

“The cookies are done,” you voiced the obvious, prying out of Ryland’s hold and walking to the oven that was behind him. A whine left your husband's mouth, missing your presence against his. You heard his frustrated ‘honey’ from behind you‘, as he leaned against the island, crossing his arms in front of his chest, brows furrowed as his eyes followed your movements. You grabbed an oven mitten, taking out the two trays of cookies and placing them on top of the stove, replacing the empty oven with the two new trays of cookie dough you had already prepared.

You turned around, having put in the new batch, to see Ryalnd’s eyes locked onto you, a frown apparent on his features, while his blue eyes looked at you with intent and a slight plea behind them. You cross your arms in front of your chest as well, imitating his pose. Both of you just stood there looking into each other’s eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He broke the silence first with his question.

“Well yes, you have, in fact you do quite often,” you rebutted.

“Have I ever shown you how much I love you?”

Before you could answer, he began talking once more, “actually, I don’t think I show you enough,” he exclaimed, answering the question himself.

“You’ll let me show you how much I love you, right? Honey?”

How could you resist him, when your husband looked all hot like that. You pretended to ponder on the question, looking behind you at the clock on the oven. You walked over to him, propping yourself onto the counter and pulling himself between your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“We do have fifteen minutes before the next batch finishes, so-” before you could even finish, his lips were already on you.

“I love you!”