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no amount of supernatural info you passively get from tumblr will prepare you for just how notoriously the gay angel ghosts the guy he loves more than anything
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WE GOTTA TALK ABT “I LIKE TO KEEP A WALL UP IN MY RELATIONSHIPS ANYWAY”
That line is the reason I think fwb ryland is the most realistic version of him I've written!! I think he's scared of connection (same) and he doesn't do well with commitment only bc he's afraid that he'll make the wrong decision. He takes orders from stratt no problem and lets rocky boss him around bc he isn't huge on being the decision maker, it's easier to just nod and do what someone says but that also means he has no one to tell him how to choose a partner
BUT that makes it so easy when he meets rocky, because there's only one choice to make, he's going to befriend that alien and he's going to save the world because there are no other options!
What type of government do you think Eridians have?
Im thinking Communist
I think they're big on councils, but huge ones, gigantic gatherings of eridians that make decisions together. They're not predators like humans, so I think their societies evolved differently to ours. They probably have different countries and dialects but they thrum in one language, so world councils are really succinct and they get a lot done.
I think it might be comparable to socialism but whatever an alien version of that would be 🤷♀️
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entered a fugue state and accidentally wrote the longest grace fic i've done yet LOL
3.7k words, smut, p in v, oral m and f, Stratt's a very blunt wingman
summary: ryland doesn't revisit the kiss like he said he would, so Stratt steps in to make sure her scientists are getting the stress relief they need
----------------
Stratt noticed the energy shift between you and Dr. Grace almost immediately. There was less fighting and more laughter, fewer jabs spoken in annoyance and more appreciative tones. She felt a little like a matchmaker, a title she would happily wear if it meant less stress on the Vat. Most of the people that got together on the ship were able to do it without outside help, though, much to her relief. But Dr. Grace was a nervous man by nature, and she understood that he needed a wingman if he was going to get what he wanted.
And she knew that you were waiting him out, letting him find his courage without putting any pressure on him. It’d only been a couple of days since she meddled the first time, but if she had to watch you lay your hand on his arm without him reacting one more time, well, she was going to lose it. So she did what she does best and took charge.
Ryland stumbles into her office with a smile, passing her his most recent report and dropping in the chair across from her easily. “We did some tests with different atmospheres from other planets, the astrophage reacted weird to a few but we haven’t figured out why,” he dives right into the research, expecting her to nod and excuse him quickly.
She doesn’t, though, instead leaning back in her chair and leveling him with a look he can’t decipher. “How are you, Dr. Grace?” Stratt asks, aiming for a disarming tone. It doesn’t land, he’s immediately on edge. “Fine,” he gives a small smile, confused and wary. She hums, “your station has been cheery these last few days, I’m assuming you fixed whatever was broken.”
He shrugs, “we talked it out, we’re acknowledging pain points when they arise instead of letting them fester.” Stratt gives a tight nod, “good.” Silence falls, Ryland squirms under her gaze after a minute, not sure if he should leave. “How are you?” He asks finally, hands clasping in his lap.
“Dr. Grace,” she sighs, “do you intend to follow up on your promise to revisit that kiss you shared with your assistant, or are you blind to her advances?”
He freezes, mouth gaping and eyes wide. “I don’t - uh, how do you - when, um…” he stammers, hands coming up like he’s trying to defend himself. Stratt fights back a smile, leaning forward to rest her arms on her desk. “I know about everything that happens on this ship,” she states, amusement fighting its way on her face. “You’ve been sitting on the fence, I strongly encourage you to decide what you want, because she won’t wait around forever.”
Stratt knew how things went out here in the middle of the ocean, especially with the scientists. If someone wasn’t quick enough to return interest, the interested party would move on. She didn’t expect you to go jump someone’s bones any time soon, but she’d seen it happen enough to know that Ryland was wasting an opportunity to actually relieve stress, especially with someone he was comfortable letting his walls down around.
“She likes you,” Stratt murmurs, leveling him with a look that almost feels like a warning. He lets out a breath, looking at his hands so he doesn’t have to see her, “isn’t it like, a crazy fraternization problem?” His voice is quiet, she realizes at once what he was afraid of. “I didn’t take you as the kind to worry about crossing professional lines, Dr. Grace,” she raises her brows, taunting him. He meets her stare with one of his own, the debate in his head clear on his face.
“I keep the medbay stocked with contraceptives for a reason, it’s good for morale,” she smirks, “make a move or don’t, your position on the project will not be in jeopardy. Just tell her sooner than later, she’s not going to wait much longer.”
He stands with a sigh, “yeah, yeah okay, I get it.” He steps to the door and turns back with a frown, “you know about every hook up on the ship?” She just nods, pursing her lips and tapping a finger on her desk. “Hm,” he huffs, closing the door behind him.
—----------------
You’re wrapping up for the day when Ryland returns to his desk, jotting down one last note before you go search out a hot meal. He gives you a tight smile, standing awkwardly by his chair. You look him up and down, sensing that he’s had another conversation with Stratt, and throw him an olive branch. “I’m going to get dinner, chow hall should be pretty empty by now if you wanna come,” you throw your sweater on and move to the door.
“Yeah,” he follows you at a distance, “I could eat.” The food is always good, something else Stratt made sure they didn’t skimp on, and the mess deck is always quiet later at night. When you and Ryland sit in a corner with your trays, he leans forward and whispers conspiratorily, “a gift from Stratt.” And he pulls two small bottles of vodka out of his pocket, sliding you one with a grin. “Did you steal these?” You whisper back, biting your cheek to keep from laughing.
He just settles more in his chair and smiles, looking at you over his glasses. You glance around like you could get in trouble, knowing no one cares, and uncap your bottle. “Cheers, then,” you bump your bottle with his, downing it in one go. He does the same, grimacing at the burn. It warms you up, helps you relax a little after a long day, and he seems to loosen up too.
When the food is eaten and the conversation lulls, he walks you back to your room. This walk feels different than the last one, a few nights ago it was a drunken, giggly stumble, now it’s calm and sure. You stop outside the door, noticing the quiet apprehension on his face. “You okay?” You ask softly, leaving space for him to gather his thoughts. He sighs, leaning a hand against the wall, “I just, uh - I’m not a particularly brave man,” he whispers, shuffling in a little closer. You reach for his hand, the way he cages you in against the wall making you dizzy. He lets you intertwine your fingers with his, big eyes letting you know he’s going to make you make the first move.
“Is this what you want?” You prod gently, smiling brightly when he nods and squeezes your hand. “Yeah,” he breathes, leaning in an inch. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into a slow kiss. He pushes you back against the wall with a hand on your waist, groaning quietly when you don’t resist. The cool metal makes you gasp, he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, his hand on the wall dropping to your cheek.
He angles your head just right, kissing you languidly, smiling when you break away and suck in a breath. “Come on,” you laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him into your room. He chases you with a grin, letting out his own laugh when you close the door and shove him against it. Your lips are back on his quickly, months of tension leaking out through how hungrily you lick into his mouth.
You’re all over him, hands on his chest, in his hair, tugging his belt loops to give you leverage. He realizes all at once how blind he’s been, so focused on being professional that he missed how desperate you were for him, how badly you needed him to scratch this itch. He feels you roll your hips into his and something shifts, he tugs you back by your hair, holding your head in place while he kisses down your neck. You moan softly, pressing into his hardening length, teasing your fingers under his shirt.
He lets you push his sweater off, helps you get his shirt over his head, and watches how your eyes darken when you see his pecs and biceps on display. “You’ve been hiding all this?” You trail your fingers over the muscle, squeezing his arm and smirking when he flexes. “Show off,” you laugh, reaching for his pants again. You pop the button and shove them down, giving him enough room to toe off his shoes and kick the pants to the floor.
You get your own shoes off, turning to throw your sweater over the chair in the corner. Ryland slides up behind you, planting wet kisses against your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso. He peels your shirt off slowly, hands moving up to cup your breasts, squeezing through your bra. “I didn’t mean to make you wait,” he whispers into your ear, grinding against your ass with a stuttering breath. “Let me make it up to you,” he bites your shoulder, earning a high moan from you.
He unhooks your bra and turns you around, pulling the straps down your arms with tender fingers. Goosebumps raise on your skin and he watches how your breath picks up, your chest heaving with the growing tension. “Please,” you sigh, tired of the slow touches, desperate for more. He smirks, dropping his head to your chest and licking a nipple into his mouth. You whine above him, tugging his hair and throwing your head back.
“So soft,” he hums, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, basking in the way your breath changes when he sucks a little harder. He unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your thighs and backs you up to the bed. You land with a small squeak, his laugh drowned out by the sight of him sinking to his knees to finish removing your pants. He looks up at you with flushed cheeks, hands running up your legs and smoothing across your hips.
Your name falls from his lips, just a whisper, and he leans in to kiss the inside of your thigh, the light scratch of his beard tickling your skin. “Dr. Grace,” you gasp, feeling how he smiles against you. He hooks his fingers in your panties, tugging them down your legs while he studies your face. A big hand lands in the center of your chest, pushing you to lay flat on the bed, your pussy on display for him. He groans lowly, spreading your legs farther apart to slot his shoulders between them. “Jesus,” he breathes, staring at your core and wrapping his arms around you. “How long have you been wanting this?” He asks, eyes flicking to yours when you lift up on your elbows.
He sees the mixture of desire and embarrassment wash over your face, the latter of which makes him want to kiss you until it's gone forever. “Tell me,” he encourages sweetly, stroking your sides, “I’m the one who couldn’t take a hint,” and he winks at you. It surprises you, his openness, the ease with which he can disarm you. “A while,” you mumble, lacing your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he rests his chin on your thigh.
He bites his lip, meets your eye, and shifts forward, licking a slow line up your center. You hold his gaze, moaning quietly when he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. You tug his hair just a little, holding him in place, feeling how he exhales against you. “Mm, you taste incredible,” he whines, words muffled because he can’t bring himself to pull away. “Ry- Dr. Grace,” you cry, dropping into the mattress and rolling your hips into his face.
“Ryland,” he groans, “call me Ryland.” He grips your thigh and lays his other arm over your hips, holding you down. His mouth goes right back to work, focusing on your clit and listening to your hushed noises. Every sound gives him more information, his technique changing until he finds all the spots that make you shake.
A careful finger prods your entrance, making you gasp. He slips it in, growling when your back arches, your walls clenching around him. You can feel him talking against you but you can’t make out what he’s saying, the vibrations on his tongue making you squirm. He crooks his finger, searching for that spot. There’s no rush, he’s patiently learning your body, experimenting until he’s sure he knows how to get you off.
And when the heat starts building, it doesn’t stop. Your moans get higher, signalling your end, and he just groans a little louder. You can feel how wet you are, feel it on your thighs and running down to the bed. He murmurs something, it rumbles through you right when the rope snaps. You come with a cry, holding his head in place, grinding through the waves until it’s too much. He drinks down everything you give him, his eyes finally closing when he rests his head against your thigh again.
You can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of you, laying naked on your small bed with Dr. Ryland Grace kneeling between your legs. He just smiles and pushes to his feet, leaning over you to plant a deep kiss to your lips. You snap the waistband of his boxer briefs, making him jump. He’s sporting an impressive tent, his cheeks going pink when he sees you staring.
“You want to keep going?” He nips at your bottom lip, groaning when you reach down and stroke him over the fabric. “I didn’t wait this long just to stop now,” you smirk, kissing him one more time. He steps back, digging a condom out of his pants pocket before he pushes his underwear down. You take a second to admire him, he’s average length, tip flushed and leaking, and you can’t help but shift forward. He sees you lean in, sees you bite your lip, sees the desire in your eyes, and he steps closer. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, gathering your hair in his hand. You look up at him, eyes wide and wanting, and you lick up the underside of his cock with a quiet whine.
He groans as soon as you make contact, fingers tightening against your head. “God, sweetheart,” he whines, his head falling forward like he can’t hold it up anymore. He watches you swirl your tongue around his tip, almost drooling when you take him in your mouth. “Sorry I didn’t make a move earlier,” he whispers, his breath hitching when you peer up at him. “Could’ve been doing this all along,” and he uses both hands to pull you off of him. You wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly until he jerks and pushes you to lay down.
“I would love to let you continue,” he grins, moving to hover over you, “but you’ve been too patient for me to blow so early.” You nod with a smile, “next time, then.” And he drops his head with a quiet moan, “yeah, next time.” He kisses you and pushes up to his knees, pressing a leg against your core to give you something to grind against while he rolls the condom on.
You take what he offers, shifting your hips slowly, the flex of his muscle pulling a soft breath from you. He watches you for a minute, hooded eyes flying between your face, your breasts, and where you’re rubbing on him. When he falls back over you, his lips going to your neck and length teasing your entrance, you have a thought.
He sees the gears turning in your head, worry creasing his brows when he pauses, “what do you want?” He asks so softly, almost reverently, like he’d give you anything you ask for. You bite your lip, deciding at once that you’d simply tell him. “I want to see your face when you push in,” you murmur, “then I want you to take me from behind.”
He smirks, exhaling a long breath. “We can make that happen,” he nips at your jaw, “knew you’d have a bossy side in bed.” You grin, “you asked.” He huffs a laugh and lines himself up, lifting his head so you can see his face. His brow furrows as he presses in, his lips parting and eyes nearly crossing. He groans, the feeling of your warm, wet walls heavenly around his hard cock. “Oh, baby,” he whimpers, it’s barely audible but you see his lips move and know you heard him right.
You kiss him, it’s clumsy and messy and perfect, tongues sliding together with low moans and heaving breaths. The stretch of him is delicious, filling you just enough, never stepping over the threshold of pain. He gives a slow thrust, his head dropping to your shoulder again at the feeling. You let him have all the time he wants like this, let him soak in the closeness. It’s not like either of you get this kind of intimacy regularly, so he tries to make it count, tries to bury himself in the sweet heat and shared breaths of missionary before he’s willing to give you what you asked for.
Firm hands grab your waist, flipping you over with a grunt. “Hands and knees, sweetheart,” he pats your ass, fingers digging into your hips for purchase. He kneels behind you, rubs his length against your center until he nudges your clit. You choke out a gasp, the sensations already amplified. He presses back in, thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper. Your head drops, a loud moan falling from your lips.
He understands why you asked for this suddenly, you’re so much more responsive in this position. And he can’t argue that it’s good, he can feel you all the way to his base, your thighs slapping against his with enough force to make his eyes roll. You push back on him, closing your legs a little, squeezing him until he groans. You’d smile if you could, but the way he’s pounding into you is the only thing you can think about.
Firm fingers sink into the plush skin of your ass, leaving red marks that ripple with each thrust. He watches the way you arch, gauging how close you are by the sounds you make again. “You were made for this,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss along your spine. “Fuck, you feel good,” spoken around a whine he can’t stop. “Ryland,” you whisper, needy and wrecked, your arms shaking with the effort of keeping you upright. He whimpers again, that same quiet sound slipping out, like he can’t hold it in any longer.
He reaches a hand around your front, fingers finding your clit quickly. He rubs firm circles and scrapes his teeth against your shoulder blade, “this what you needed?” His voice is cracking around the edges, but he can feel how you clench around him with every word. “Just needed me to help you relax for a while?”
You groan, your arms giving out, your head dropping to the pillow below you. If he felt a little crazy seeing you on your hands and knees, seeing you face down ass up has his vision tunneling. He pounds into you, groaning when your legs start to shake. Heat shoots through you, you try to tell him, try to warn him that you’re close, but the most you can do is cry out softly. “I know,” he whispers, “I know.”
And that’s all it takes, you come with a broken moan, tensing and shaking. He falls right over the edge as soon as you squeeze him, shuddering through his own high. He tries to keep up his movements on your clit, tries to let you ride it out as long as you can, but he can’t fight through his own pleasure. He folds over you, panting into your neck, arm dropping out from under you.
When he’s coherent again, he pulls out and flops to the side, tugging you down with him. He’s got his chest to your back, hand splayed over your stomach keeping you close. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, his legs tangled with yours. “Needed that,” you murmur, turning enough to see him. He smiles, taking in your sleepy expression as he brushes some hair out of your face. “Me too,” he kisses your cheek and rolls over, dropping the condom in the trash under your desk.
He all but dives back to you, throwing the blanket at the foot of your bed over you both and wrapping you in his arms. “What did Stratt talk to you about earlier? You came back to the lab all nervous,” you ask quietly, twisting in his hold until you’re facing him. He huffs, embarrassed smile working its way across his face. “This,” he admits lowly, watching your face. “This?” You smirk, “Stratt talked to you about sleeping with me?” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the playful jab, “yeah, turns out, she knows about everything that happens on this ship.”
You understand immediately, eyes going wide, “she told you to make a move,” you accuse, watching him fight to keep his composure. “Oh my god, she told you to make a move!” The laugh you let out is enough to have him groaning into his hands. “Please don’t,” he whispers, peeking at you from between his fingers.
“Dr. Grace, leading researcher of literal alien life, needed help figuring out if I was flirting,” you bite your lip, not trying to hide your grin one bit. “I didn’t need help, I was just trying to be respectful,” he grumbles, looking anywhere but you. “It was sweet when we were drunk, but sober me doesn’t mind a little disrespect,” you wink, shoulders shaking when he gives you an incredulous look.
“This feels mean, you’re bullying me,” he whines, flopping on his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. You chase him, curling against his side, “you bully me in the lab, I think it’s fair.” He looks at you seriously, his arm falling to wrap around your shoulders, “if you think that’s bullying, you haven’t seen anything.” He gives you a lazy smile, taking in the content sigh you let out.
“You think we should log this as team building on Stratt’s calendar?” You ask with a snort. He just groans, his free hand covering your mouth, “okay, stop talking.”
--------------
he likes taking orders, I think he gets overwhelmed sometimes and just needs someone to tell him what to do lmao
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