-Follow where the wind takes you-

“Port side of the hull could use a few new panels, we’ve got some damage around the edges, they’re all a foot long each,” you smile when Rocky’s robo voice sounds off. “Copy, copy,” he’s not even in the control room, he made Ryland set up a microphone for him down in the lab so he could multitask while you’re out there. You can hear him clicking away with some tools, know he’s the most comfortable when he has something to do with his hands. 

“Hey bud,” Ryland’s voice comes through your earpiece, “let me take over for a while, you’ve been awake for days at this point.” You hear Rocky shuffle, hear more clinking as he sets down whatever he was holding, “Grace stay up for days and never listen to Rocky.” You laugh, “get him, Rock.” Ryland sighs, you can picture the look on his face as he contemplates if the fight is worth it. 

“I’m just saying, I can take over for a little, you’ve got a different tool in every hand at this point,” Ryland absolutely has his hands on his hips, probably looking at Rocky over his glasses like an old man. Silence falls, you can imagine the stare down happening on the other side of the wall. 

“Fine,” Rocky sings, “hungry anyway.” You laugh again as you hear his footsteps clack away from the lab, Ryland’s voice comes through a little muffled. “Let me get to the control room, I’ll be just a sec.” 

It’s a little eerie, floating alone on the outside of the ship with no one in your ear. The silence feels deafening until Ryland clicks the mic on again. “Okay,” he starts, “what do you got?” You trace a hand over one of the Beatle hatches, counting screws, and find a dent in the small lid. “Just a little damage around Ringo’s housing, I can probably hammer it out real quick.” 

And as helpful as it is to have Rocky on comms, Ryland is much more of a conversationalist in these kinds of moments. He’s always been a talker, so he fills the silence between your next observation with talk of home, stories from his students, how he feels about celebrity drama. You talk too, telling him about your last apartment, your cat that went to live with your parents when you volunteered, the farm you used to visit for little festivals and fruit picking. It was light, easy topics that kept you from feeling too alone with the vastness of space pressing in on every side. 

Your relationship with Ryland wasn’t only professional at this point, you’d been alone together for months at this point, it was only expected that you’d land in bed together at some point. And you had, several times. The day you found a giant bag full of condoms tucked away in the supplies was the day you sent a prayer up for Stratt, of course she packed condoms for a co-ed crew, the last thing she needed was a space pregnancy fucking up the mission. 

And Ryland was thrilled with the discovery, if a little red in the face. But if the way he kissed you was anything to go by, he would get over his embarrassment happily if it meant getting his rocks off with you. It had really only been sex, both of you clinging to each other to meet your physical needs, not putting any labels on it because you were supposed to die up until a few days ago. 

“I used to go to a little ice cream shop off main street at home, they had the most amazing white chocolate raspberry flavor. I’m pretty sure they won awards for it, god knows I would have given it to them,” you laugh quietly, mouth watering at the memory. A soft groan is all you get in response, like Ryland’s in pain listening to you ramble about ice cream. “Sorry,” you mumble, “desserts not doing it for you?” 

His voice comes back through quickly, sounding a little strained. “No, no, you’re fine, I had a bakery near my place that I went to for peach cruffins, I miss those so much.” That opens the door for you to talk about your own favorite bakery, then your favorite restaurants. He lets you talk, you think he’s just talked himself out at this point. 

Until you hear another soft groan and a quiet sound like skin on skin. You keep talking, brain working overtime to dissect what you’re hearing. “There was an Italian place that had the best ravioli, they made it all in house, always seasoned the meat perfectly,” you moan like you’re tasting it again, then pause, listening intently, your task on the outside of the ship forgotten.

A whine floats through your headset, heavy breaths alerting you to his predicament. “Ryland,” your tone is velvety, a smirk pulling at your lips. “What are you doing, baby?” He gasps, the line goes dead for a second, then his small voice sounds off. “I - uh, nothing, sorry, what were you saying?” He’s panting, trying to hide how dry his throat is. “You sure?” You have to bite back a laugh, excited by the potential here but not wanting to scare him off. “Because it sounded like you were touching yourself, Ry,” you keep your voice soft, trying to avoid any hints of judgement. 

He’s quiet again, then a whispered “sorry,” comes down the line. “God, this is so unprofessional, I’m so sorry,” he’s panicking now, you can picture how red he probably is. “No,” you’re quick to correct, “keep going, you sound so pretty.” He moans at that, you hear how he lets his head fall back against the pilot’s chair. “Are - are you sure?” It’s tentative, like he’s not sure if you’re just teasing him. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “what got you so worked up?” You don’t even pretend to be working on the ship anymore, hanging on to your tethers and floating freely. This was basically just phone sex, you weren’t going to work through it. 

“Just you,” he whispers, “your voice, like hearing you talk.” You hear his hand moving again, close your eyes when he lets out a small groan. “My voice made you hard, baby?” He downright whimpers at that, “mhm,” falling from his lips. “You thinking about my hands on you?” You ask, gaining confidence with every noise he makes. He gasps, his hand speeds up. “Thinking about how good it feels to have my mouth around you?” 

“Mhm,” is all he can get out. “Bet you’re throbbing for me, picturing how I look up at you when I suck on your tip,” that one even surprises you, but his reaction spurs you on, lighting a fire in your own core. “Please,” he whispers, breaths coming fast. “Or are you thinking about my pussy, wet and warm, just for you?” That earns you the loudest moan yet, the sound of his hand flying over his cock making you bite your lip. 

He whines your name, gasping and groaning around soft pleas. “I’m close,” he grunts, his voice shaking with the effort. “Not yet,” you murmur, smiling at the high sound that rips from his chest. “Hold it for me, you sound so sexy, Ry.” You imagine him in the control room, hard length pulled out of his pants, the restraints of the pilots seat holding him in place. He would be flushed, his face and neck red, the color tracking down under his shirt. You can see the veins in his forearm bulging as he strokes himself, his thumb slipping over his tip every now and then. 

“Play with your balls,” you ask sweetly, breathing a laugh when he whines. “Roll ‘em around for me, let me hear how good it feels,” and he does. A broken moan crackles through the line, “please, please can I come?” He sounds absolutely gone, you love when he begs for what he wants. “Yeah, baby, you can come,” you hold your breath.

He groans, you hear his hand speed up for just a second, then it slows down with a cry from him. It’s one of your favorite sounds, honestly. He pants, your name slipping out as he tries to calm down. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “forgot there’s no gravity.” You scrunch your nose, understanding dawning on your face as you laugh. “Don’t get cum on my control panel,” you smile.

“I got it,” he huffs, letting out a long sigh. “God, that was hot,” he’s smiling, you can hear it in his voice. “If I knew that was an option, you’d be on comms for all my spacewalks,” you joke, pulling yourself back to the ship. “You still got a lot to do out there or do you wanna come in and let me return the favor?” His voice drops an octave, smooth tones convincing you easily. 

You pretend to think for a moment, listening to how he tries to control his breathing. “Mm, I can call it a day,” you murmur, “think I deserve a treat after that.” He laughs, “you absolutely do.”

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more phm because i am riddled. i made rocky on tomodachi life too but i'm not done YET. i need adrian to complete him...

also honorable ocs (mostly estelle)...