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@lorsdelapluie
Bienvenus on lorsdelapluie's blog ༉‧₊˚✧
hi everybody, my name is fleur. I go by she/her. I am a french girlie working in a museum and on her way to have a teaching degree.
Born in 2000, I'm an adult, and write for adults only. If you are a minor please exit this page.
Here is my masterlist.
Hold on to Me
summary: Getting ready to approach Tau ceti-E. You and Ryland are forced to perform an EVA to take care of damages on the outer coat of Hail Mary. Nothing goes according to plan...
pairing: ryland grace x reader
tags: kinda established relationship, angst, hurt, mention of blood, fear of death mentionned, very stressed characters, not a fun time, a slight bit of comfort, ryland loves you more than himself
author note: once again.. I am back with a very heavy fic. I am sorry. I just love putting the reader and Ryland in sad and stressful situations. Next fics are gonna be softer I promise. And Imma write smut too to make up for hurting reader and Ryland. This story kinda takes place before The quiet between stars.
The stars looked different outside the ship during an EVA.
Through the reinforced observation windows of the Hail Mary, space always felt distant somehow. Framed and contained. Like watching the ocean safely from shore. Out here, there was nothing separating you from it. There were no walls, no humming ventilation, and no artificial gravity grounding you on the metal floors.
There was only silence. And it was an endless and absolute one. You always hoped somehow that space looked more like the ones in movies. A place not so different from the sky, where you could hear the engines and natural noises of the dark.
But it was not the case.
Your boots locked carefully against the outer hull while Tau Ceti burned in the distance beyond your shoulder, casting pale gold across the curved metal surface of the Hail Mary. Its light reflected softly against your helmet visor every time you moved.
And sometimes you dared to look beneath your feet, where infinity stretched itself. It was so dark and felt so cold that for one terrible second, the scale of it all nearly made your chest tighten. A chill ran up your spine as you raised your head breaking eye contact with the void that was pulling you in. You were impossibly small out here. It was freaking you out.
“Heart rate elevated.”
Rocky’s translator crackled calmly through your helmet comms. You exhaled sharply through your nose. Closing your eyes for a quick second as your hands clenched around the metal bars of the outer hull. You had to calm down. It was not your first EVA and wouldn'tbe your last.
Sure you were not trained as well as your other two dead companions. But they were not here anymore, and Ryland couldn't be the one risking his life alone. You had to be there.
“Thank you, Rocky.”
“Friend welcome.”
A snort escaped Ryland somewhere behind you over the comm channel.
“Told you he’s getting sassier.”
You turned your head slightly, eyes opening in search of your… companion. Ryland floated several meters away near the damaged communications array, one magnetic boot anchored against the hull while he worked. Safety tethers drifted slowly around him in lazy red arcs. His gloved hands moved carefully across the exposed panel while the gold light of Tau Ceti reflected against his visor.
Even in a spacesuit, Ryland somehow still looked distinctly Ryland. Slightly awkward. Slightly messy. Like a scientist accidentally thrown into the role of astronaut, which, technically, was exactly what happened.
A faint smile tugged at your lips.
“What exactly hit this thing again?” you asked while adjusting your grip against the outer rail, slowly climbing farther toward the damaged helioscope that refused to retract properly.
“Micro-meteor debris,” Ryland answered. “Probably. Unless space itself personally hates me now.” A soft chuckle crackled through the comms.
“Rocky believes both possibilities statistically valid.”
Ryland groaned dramatically. “Pal, you’re getting way too good at those jokes.”
“Rocky no joke.”
The familiar banter settled warmly beneath the quiet static inside your helmet. You even found yourself laughing softly as you imagined the expression Ryland was probably making right now behind his visor.
It almost made space feel less enormous.
Almost.
Your eyes drifted instinctively toward Earth’s distant direction somewhere beyond the endless dark. Ryland had shown it to you before, during what he stubbornly insisted was “not-a-date date night.”
The memory surfaced softly in your chest.
Both of you had been sitting near the largest observation window aboard the Hail Mary, wrapped together beneath Grace’s favorite blanket, the ridiculously soft one he claimed belonged permanently to him now. The ship lights had been dimmed low while stars stretched endlessly outside the glass.
Ryland had pointed toward an apparently empty spot in space.
“This is where Earth is,” he murmured quietly. “Eleven-point-nine light-years from here.”
You remembered him turning toward you with a faint smile, eyes shining with wonder. His love for space still intact even lost in the empty.
“Outstanding, right?”
It was not visible from here. It was too far. And even if the idea of surviving that trip so far away from home was… Outstanding as he said. The thought left an ache in your chest you had grown unfortunately familiar with lately.
You had begun to question what was Home to you. What truly held that word in your heart now. The Hail Mary had become strangely alive over the months since waking from the coma. Its mechanical noises. Its narrow hallways. Rocky’s rhythmic clicking through ventilation shafts. Ryland absentmindedly humming while working late in the lab.
A tiny fragile world drifting between stars. And somehow against every logical instinct, against every hypothetical turn you had imagined back on Earth. You had started fearing losing all of that. Losing Mary. Losing Rocky.
Losing him. Returning to Earth didn't matter as much anymore.
“Sunshine?” Ryland’s voice cut gently through your thoughts.
You blinked. “Hm?”
“You drifted off for a second.”
Of course he noticed. Sometimes you really thought he was a mind reader and decided not to let you know about it. You adjusted the equipment case floating beside you instead of answering immediately.
“Just tired.”
Static crackled softly through the comms. Then came his answer “Liar.”
Warmth flickered traitorously through your chest. You looked toward him again. Ryland had stopped working now. One hand still resting against the damaged panel while his visor angled toward you fully. He was watching you.
Even through layers of reinforced glass and suit, you could somehow feel the weight of his attention. And there it was again. That strange softness he’d been looking at you with lately. Like his memories worked harder and harder each day to piece back what you had before all of this. You still refused to talk about it with him... And sometimes it terrified you how close he seemed to getting there.
“Rocky observing prolonged silence,” Rocky interrupted.
“Yes, thank you Rocky,” Ryland muttered immediately.
“Possible mating behavior question.”
“Oh my God.”
You burst into laughter before you could stop yourself, the sound crackling warmly through the comm channel. Ryland groaned dramatically.
“I created a monster.”
“Incorrect,” Rocky replied. “Rocky self-created !”
Another laugh escaped you. You could easily imagine Rocky straightening up in pride on his two front legs at his own words. And for one fleeting beautiful moment, everything felt normal. Three individuals floating at the edge of another solar system. Not humanity’s last desperate hope. Not survivors. Just people. And an alien.
Then the warning alarm activated.
It was sharp and violent. Immediately causing you to flinch as your smile vanished instantly.
“Wow wow,” Ryland panicked, “Rock ?”
The Hail Mary shuddered beneath your boots. A deep metallic vibration rolled through the hull hard enough to rattle your teeth inside the helmet.
“What was that?”
Rocky answered immediately this time.
“Debris field proximity alert. Mary says friends come back.”
Another impact slammed somewhere across the ship. Harder. You didn’t see it, didn’t hear it. You felt it, the strong vibration rattled the outside of the ship. Your body jerked instinctively against the tether line.
“What the-?!”
“Additional micro-meteor fragments.”
Ryland cursed sharply beneath his breath. “And it had to be right now.”
Warning lights suddenly flashed red along the outer hull. Your heartbeat accelerated instantly. Mary was signaling you both to come back inside, as if it was urging you to protect yourselves. The stars around you no longer looked peaceful. Now they looked dangerous.
You started to move, never letting go of the iron bar between your hands. "You would be back after the small asteroïd rain." you promised yourself. Right now you felt too open, too exposed to danger. You wouldn’t be in the right mindset to do any good work on the ship.
Another impact struck nearby. Metal rang violently through the hull. And then…your tether jerked. Hard. First towards the ship as the Hail Mary repositioned itself to avoid more damage done to the same part of its outer coat. Your breath caught sharply as the front of your helmet smacked against the metal. Your forehead hitting against the inner part of your suit. It hurt. Then the tether snapped violently sideways. And before your brain fully processed what happened, the recoil yanked your body away from the hull this time.
“Fuck—”
Your magnetic boot lost contact instantly due to the force. Suddenly there was nothing beneath you. Nothing at all. The Hail Mary dropped away beneath your body as momentum pulled you backward into open space. Your stomach lurched violently. Throat tightening up at the sickening sight.
“Sunshine!”
Ryland’s voice cracked through the comms with real panic. The static was louder over his voice, you were getting too far away. The tether line floated slowly beside you. Broken. Your pulse stopped.
No.
No no no–
The stars spun endlessly around you as your body drifted farther from the ship. Too fast. Your hands clawed instinctively toward empty space while terror exploded violently through your chest. The Hail Mary already looked farther away. Impossible. How was it already so far away ?! Your breathing became sharp and uneven instantly.
The suit alarm activated.
WARNING: ELEVATED RESPIRATION DETECTED.
“Look at me!”
Ryland’s voice again.
You turned your head frantically, searching for him. Where was he ?! Everything was spinning so fast. You could barely see, your vision already clouding due to the spinning. You were trying so hard to stabilize yourself. Clenching all your muscles as if it would stop you from drifting and spinning away.
And then you saw his shape. The red astronaut, Ryland, was pushing off the hull. Untethered.
Your eyes widened in horror. “Ryland NO—”
Too late.
His body launched after you into open space.
The force of the push sent him gliding fast through the darkness between you and the ship, propelled only by the small maneuvering bursts from his suit thrusters. The Hail Mary shrank behind him now, all silver metal and blinking emergency lights against infinity.
Your pulse quickened violently. He untethered himself. Oh God.
“Ryland Grace, what are you doing?! Are you insane ?! ” you gasped.
“What does it look like I’m doing?!”
His voice cracked slightly through the comms. It was fear. Real fear. You had heard Ryland stressed before. Panicked during calculations. Frustrated. Exhausted. But this…this sounded primal somehow. Like instinct overriding thought.
The stars rotated slowly around you both while Adrian glowed faintly far below like a burning emerald wrapped in orange storms.
You kept drifting.The broken tether floated uselessly nearby, twisting silently through space.
“Rocky,” Ryland barked breathlessly, “ask Mary to calculate the interception trajectory.”
“Rocky already calculating.”
You watched Ryland propel himself toward you again. One burst. Then another. It was too hard, too fast.
“Careful!” you shouted instinctively.
“I AM being careful!” That was a blatant lie.
Even through the panic, you knew it immediately. Ryland was terrible at self-preservation on a good day. And right now he looked one bad movement away from throwing himself into vacuum barehanded if it meant reaching you faster.
The realization made you pinch your lips a bit too tight.
Your hands shook as you tried activating your own maneuvering controls. Your fingers gripping at the panel of your suit, pushing the red button Ryland was pushing too. Nothing happened.
Your stomach dropped.
“Guys.”
“What?”
“What happening question.”
“My thrusters aren’t responding.”
Silence. Just for half a second. But long enough.
Long enough for you to hear the sharp inhale over the comms before he controlled it again.
“Okay,” Ryland said quickly. “Okay. That’s fine.”
Another lie. Your spinning slightly slowed down now. Slow disorienting rotations that made the stars blur together with the distant glow of Tau Ceti. The Hail Mary looked smaller every second.
Your breathing accelerated again.
WARNING: OXYGEN CONSUMPTION ELEVATED.
“Sunshine, listen to me.” Ryland’s voice cut through the panic sharply this time. He sounded focused, yet somehow gentle. He was trying to ground you. Like you did so many times for him before. “Look at me, okay?”
You forced yourself to focus on his visor instead of the endless black around you. He was closer now. Close enough to see the frantic movement of his breathing fogging faintly against the glass.
“You’re okay,” he said carefully.
Your throat tightened painfully. You knew he was lying for your sake. Because both of you understood exactly what drifting untethered in space meant.
“Rocky,” Ryland said without looking away from you, “distance?”
“Current separation: 11.3 meters.”
Too far. Way too far. Ryland adjusted his trajectory again. A burst from his right thruster pushed him closer. Then another. You saw it happen before he did.
“Ryland wait-”
Too much force. His body spun abruptly sideways.
“Fudge !”
The polite curse exploded through the comms as Ryland struggled to stabilize himself mid-flight. One arm reached instinctively outward while his body rotated once through open space before the suit thrusters corrected the motion.
But the correction cost momentum. Your stomach twisted. He was losing speed.
“Rocky,” you whispered weakly.
“Rocky aware.”
For the first time since meeting him, Rocky sounded afraid too. The clicking vibrations beneath his translator came faster now. Sharper. He was thinking.
“Grace oxygen reserves sufficient for one retrieval attempt only.”
Your heart physically hurt. Ryland ignored Rocky’s words entirely. His eyes never left you.
“Hey,” he said softly. The gentleness nearly broke you apart. “You still with me?”
You nodded quickly despite the tears beginning to blur your vision. Was he not scared ? No, Ryland could only be terrified right now. You knew it. He was just being brave for your sake. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was not your first time outside anymore ! You weren’t supposed to die out here. Not like this. Not so far from home. Your gaze drifted instinctively toward the ship again.
Your chest tightened so painfully it became difficult to breathe. You tried to close your eyes and remember the breathing exercises you gave your patients back on Earth. 1... Deep breath. 2... Deep breath. 3... They usually worked. But not in the middle of fucking space ! Not on the verge of dying !
“Sunshine.”
Ryland’s voice again. It felt closer. Less static clouded his voice, as if the radio had less troubles communicating now. You blinked hard, and opened your eyes once more.
He was reaching towards you. Only a few meters away. His gloved hand stretched desperately through the darkness between you both.
“Come on.”
Another controlled burst from his thrusters.
Closer. Your own hand reached instinctively toward his. Almost there. Almost- Another impact hit the Hail Mary. The vibration rolled visibly through the hull. Your eyes widened. A second debris fragment. Ryland turned around to look where your eyes focused, towards the cause of that shock on your face. That tiny distraction was enough. His trajectory shifted slightly sideways.
And suddenly- he missed you. Barely. His fingertips brushed the edge of your glove before momentum carried him past.
“No!” The sound tore itself from Ryland’s throat.
Your bodies drifted apart again immediately. The sight of him reaching desperately back toward you while space silently widened between you nearly tore something inside your chest.
“Buddy !” Ryland shouted.
“Rocky recalculating.”
Your vision blurred harder now. Not from tears. Not from the spinning. From panic. Your oxygen consumption warning flashed again. You were breathing too fast. You couldn’t stop. The stars spun slowly around you while Ryland fought to turn himself back toward your direction.
Suddenly, you felt something watery slide down your face. Thicker than sweat. It was blood dripping down your brow. Ok. Ok.. You had a cut. You frowned, the pain came from your left eyebrow. It was gonna bleed a lot. You already knew it.
And then…Your helmet cracked. The sound was tiny. Almost insignificant. A soft sharp tick near the side of your visor. But every molecule in your body froze instantly. No way. A thin fracture spread slowly across the lower corner of the glass. Tiny.
But there. Your pulse stopped. The glass must have been weakened by the impact of your collision with the Hail Mary earlier. That was the only explanation. And soon “Ryland…”
He looked up immediately, searching for the danger that he felt in your voice. His eyes squinted searching for the problem. Then he saw it.
You watched the blood drain from his face in real time.
“No.”
The word came out broken. Absolutely broken. The crack spread another centimeter.
WARNING: SUIT INTEGRITY COMPROMISED.
Suddenly Ryland moved differently. No hesitation anymore. No caution. Just desperation. He fired the thruster burst at once.
“Grace trajectory unstable!” Rocky warned immediately.
Ryland ignored him completely. The force launched him toward you fast enough to make your stomach lurch. Too fast. Dangerously fast. But he didn’t care anymore. You saw it clearly now. Nothing mattered to him except reaching you. The realization hurt worse than fear itself.
“RY—”
He collided with you hard enough to force the air from your lungs. His arms wrapped around you instantly. One hand gripping the back of your suit. The other locking desperately around your waist. The momentum sent both your bodies spinning violently through open space.
But this time, you weren’t alone anymore.
Ryland’s breathing sounded ragged through the comms. “Got you.”
The words came out shaking. Relieved. Like he still couldn’t quite believe it himself. Eyes wide opened at his own actions.
You just need to find someone to be brave for.
Your hands clutched tightly against his suit instinctively. As did his. The crack in your visor creaked softly again. And it was as if Ryland heard it. He looked at you, his face visibly pained by the stress of this situation, by the sheer panic of seeing you in so much danger.
And suddenly his breathing became even more uneven.
“Rocky please,” Ryland whispered hoarsely, “get us home.”
The stars spun slowly around you both.
Your bodies danced together through open space while Ryland held onto you with desperate force, one arm locked tightly around your waist as though he believed letting go for even a second would send you disappearing back into the dark. Maybe it would. And this time he wouldn’t be able to reach you.
The fracture in your visor creaked softly. Tiny. Fragile. But loud enough to make fear tighten violently inside your chest every time you hear it. You closed your eyes once more. Grabbing onto Ryland a bit more than before. Praying for any gods out there to let you stay with them a bit longer.
WARNING: SUIT INTEGRITY COMPROMISED.
The alert pulsed steadily inside your helmet. Ryland heard it too in his. You could tell from the way his breathing kept hitching unevenly through the comms.
“Rocky,” he repeated sharper this time, “trajectory.”
“Rocky transmitting return path now.”
Coordinates flashed across Ryland’s visor. His eyes scanned the numbers and instructions that you couldn’t decipher from the other side. Behind him the Hail Mary floated painfully far away against the black. Not impossibly far. But far enough. Far enough that every remaining burst of fuel mattered. Your fingers tightened unconsciously against the front of Ryland’s suit.
“Your thrusters…” you whispered.
He didn’t answer immediately. Which answered enough. Your stomach twisted.
“Ryland.”
“We’re fine.”
A lie. Again. You almost laughed at how predictable he was.
Rocky’s voice crackled softly through the comms.
“Grace remaining maneuvering fuel at 19%.”
Silence. Then: “Oh good.”
The attempt at humor sounded weak. Strained.
Ryland adjusted his hold around you carefully, trying not to worsen the crack spreading slowly across your visor. Every movement had become impossibly gentle now. Careful in a way that made your chest ache. His hands were shaking. Actually shaking.
The stars reflected across his visor while he stared at the fracture near your face like it physically hurt him to look at it.
“You’re okay,” he said quietly.
The words sounded more like something he was trying desperately to convince himself of. Another tiny creak echoed through the intercom. Ryland closed his eyes briefly.
“What sound ?” Rocky's voice echoed in worry, not aware of this dire situation.
“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. We’re moving.”
“Grace. Grace. Why not answering question. Friends okay question.”
“We are coming back Rocky. Ask Mary to be ready for arrival.”
A controlled burst from his thrusters pushed you both gently toward the Hail Mary. The motion immediately started another slow spin. Your stomach twisted as space rotated endlessly around you again.
Black. Stars. Silver hull. Tau Ceti burning gold in the distance. Over and over.
Ryland tightened his hold instinctively. “I know,” he murmured quickly. “I’ve got you.”
You weren’t sure whether he was speaking to you or himself anymore. The Hail Mary looked agonizingly small against infinity. You had never hated space more. Silence stretched between bursts. Only breathing. Static. The occasional anxious clicking beneath Rocky’s translator.
And beneath all of it fear.
Raw and alive between both of you now. Ryland kept glancing toward the crack every few seconds despite trying not to. Each time his expression worsened slightly. The fracture had spread farther. Not catastrophic yet. But enough.
Enough that you could hear faint pressure strain whispering through the helmet.
“Don’t look at it,” you whispered softly.
His eyes snapped immediately back toward yours. For one awful second, you saw it fully. How terrified he really was. Not scientist fear. Not mission fear. Personal fear. The kind that reached somewhere deep and primal.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly.
Your throat tightened painfully. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” His grip around you tightened instantly. “No, don’t apologize.” The stars reflected sharply across his visor. “You don’t get to apologize for almost dying.”
A weak breath escaped you that might have been a laugh. “Pretty sure I can apologize for whatever I want.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Since when?”
“Since I watched you drift into open space!”
The words cracked apart louder than intended. Silence followed instantly afterward. Ryland froze slightly like he regretted raising his voice. But his breathing remained uneven. You swallowed hard. Because hearing him say it aloud made the reality settle differently inside your chest. You nodded.
He thought he lost you.
The realization left something aching and warm and devastating beneath your ribs. Rocky interrupted softly through the comms.
“Friends approaching hull proximity.”
The Hail Mary finally loomed larger ahead now. Relief hit so hard you almost passed out. Exterior lights glowed softly along the curved silver hull while emergency beacons flashed near the airlock entrance. Wide open.
Home.
You had never thought of the ship that way before. But now, seeing it waiting there against endless darkness, it felt like survival itself.
Ryland adjusted your trajectory carefully with another small thruster burst. Too small. Your momentum slowed too much. The airlock suddenly looked farther away again.
Ryland cursed quietly beneath his breath.
“Fuel critical,” Rocky warned immediately.
Your pulse jumped. Ryland looked toward the airlock. Then toward the fuel display. Then finally back toward you.
And suddenly you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“No.”
His eyes widened slightly.
“What?”
“You are NOT throwing yourself to push me the rest of the way.”
“Sunshine- ”
“No !”
Panic sharpened your voice instantly. Because of course he would think that. Of course Ryland Grace would immediately decide sacrificing his own return trajectory was acceptable if it guaranteed yours. His silence confirmed everything.
Anger flared hot through your chest despite the fear. “You are unbelievably predictable !”
“I can make the distance.”
“With less than nineteen percent fuel?!”
“I’ve done worse.”
“You literally almost crashed into me five minutes ago!”
“That was an emotionally complicated moment!”
You stared at him in disbelief. Then somehow… despite the terror, despite the crack in your visor, despite the endless vacuum surrounding you both, a laugh burst unexpectedly from your throat. Small and breathless. You should probably get yourself checked for any concussion when you come back inside the ship. But the fear never left you one instant. It's just that situation was so… So unbelievable. Your brain couldn’t help but laugh.
Ryland blinked. Then he laughed too. Weak and exhausted and relieved all at once.
Rocky’s translator crackled.
“Humans laughing during near-death experience confusing.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Ryland muttered.
“Negative. Rocky very concerned.”
The airlock drifted closer now. Close enough to see Rocky waiting inside through the inner hatch window. The ball silhouette filled nearly the entire window, claws tapping rapidly against the floor in obvious agitation.
The sight hit unexpectedly hard.
Rocky had been scared too.
Ryland made one final controlled burst. The remaining fuel warning flashed immediately afterward.
CRITICAL.
But it was enough. Your boots collided gently against the outer hull beside the airlock. Ryland caught the nearest rail instantly before momentum could pull you away again. The second contact stabilized, he physically sagged with relief.
“Oh thank God.”
But your chest suddenly tightened violently. The breath you tried taking never fully came. Your heartbeat spiked instantly. The adrenaline of the moment finally crashing down at the sight of definitive safety again.
Your lungs worked too fast again. The breaths you were taking were too shallow.
WARNING: OXYGEN CONSUMPTION ELEVATED.
The alert flashed red across your visor. Ryland noticed immediately as the red light flashed across the glass of his suit too.
“Hey.” His voice softened instantly through the comms. “Slow your breathing for me.”
You tried. God, you tried.
But every time you looked past him toward the endless black surrounding the ship, panic clawed tighter around your ribs again. Too much space. Too much silence. Too easy to disappear forever out here.
Your fingers trembled harder against his suit. “I can’t-”
“Yes you can.” His voice remained calm. Gentle. Even while you could hear his own breathing shaking beneath every word. “Look at me, sunshine. Don’t look anywhere else.”
You forced your eyes toward his visor again. Toward the familiar shape of him floating against the stars. Messy curls visible through the glass. Glasses slightly crooked beneath the helmet straps. Fear written openly across his face despite how hard he tried hiding it.
“You’re okay,” he whispered again.
Another lie. But a beautiful one. The outer hatch opened immediately. Artificial gravity began pulling weakly inside the chamber. Ryland practically dragged you through the doorway. The second the hatch sealed behind you, the atmosphere hissed violently back into the room. But your body still couldn’t catch up.
The helmet suddenly felt too tight. Too small. Your pulse thundered painfully in your ears. Your hands went up your helmet, letting go of him. Blood dripped over your closed left eyelid. You grabbed and pulled, trying to get rid of it.
“Sunshine.”
Ryland’s hands flew desperately toward your helmet seals. His fingers shook so badly he missed the latch twice.
“Come on-”
You barely saw Rocky hovering anxiously nearby, claws tapping rapidly against the xenonite ball. Then the helmet finally released. Cool recycled air flooded against your face. But your lungs still refused to cooperate. You gasped sharply. As if you were under water for hours.
Nothing felt real anymore. As soon as Ryland took away his helmet, dropping his glasses on the floor inadvertently, he caught your face carefully between both hands. “Hey hey hey. Look at me.”
His forehead nearly touched yours now. Blue eyes moving frantically with panic. “You’re safe. You’re inside. Breathe with me, please?”
You tried following the rhythm of his breathing. Putting your hands down from the collar of your suit and lending them on his chest. You couldn’t feel his heartbeat, nor his breathing under all that protection. Maybe that worsened your mental state for a second, you couldn’t tell. In. Out. You were having a full blown panic attack.
But your body wouldn’t listen.
The room tilted suddenly sideways.
Your hands slipped weakly from the front of his suit.
“Hey.”
His voice sounded farther away now.
“No no no! Stay awake.”
You wanted to answer.
Instead darkness pressed heavily at the edges of your vision.
Your chest spasmed painfully one last time.
Then everything disappeared.
—
The first thing you felt was warmth. Not the artificial heat of the ship. Something softer. Just like the blanket Ryland would use to cover you both at night. It was cosy.. You also definitely could tell that there were arms around you.
And voices nearby.
“…oxygen levels stabilizing.”
Rocky.
“... slight concussion and lack of oxygen.”
Armando.
“…she just passed out.”
Ryland.
His voice sounded wrecked. He was stressed, and tired, you could hear it before even seeing it. Speaking of seeing.. You forced your eyes open slowly.
Dim amber lights greeted you overhead. The dormitory…
You were lying half against Ryland’s chest now, curled instinctively toward the warmth of his body while he held you tightly against him on the floor.
The second he realized you were awake, relief hit his face so hard it almost looked like he was about to cry. Tears cripping their way behind his eyelids.
“Oh thank God.”
The words left him like a prayer. One shaking hand moved immediately against your skin, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“You with me?”
You nodded weakly. Your head still spun slightly, probably from the lack of oxygen due to the panic attack.
Ryland exhaled something dangerously close to a laugh before dropping his forehead briefly against yours. Avoiding putting any force next to the bandage on your left brow bone.
His entire body trembled.
“You scared me so badly.”
The honesty in his voice hurt more than the dizziness. You raised your eyes towards his face. You pinched your lips.. You felt guilty.
You swallowed weakly.
“Sorry.”
“No.” His answer came instantly. Sharply.
One arm tightened around you again unconsciously. “Again. You do not get to apologize for almost dying today.”
Despite everything, a faint exhausted smile tugged weakly at your lips. You were not going to contradict him this time. Ryland stared at it for one silent second. Then suddenly his eyes closed hard.
As if that tiny smile alone nearly shattered whatever composure he still had left.
Rocky’s translator crackled softly nearby. “Grace leaky blob again question.”
Ryland let out a strained breath against your hair as he kissed the top of your head.
“Yeah,” he whispered shakily. “No kidding.”
✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ Fleur's masterlist ˚｡⋆ ༘˚✧
Project Hail Mary
🦊 Ryland Grace
°Sunshine - ryland x gn reader - bit of angst, rocky being curious about human mates, reader lying to Grace, partial amnesia, no established relationship, Stratt haunting the narrative °The things we sing instead - ryland x gn reader - Angst, reader feeling responsible, Stratt haunting the narrative once again, ryland being selfless, sort of established relationship °The quiet between stars - ryland x gn reader - kinda established relationship, toothrotting fluff, reference to other chapters i have written, cuddling
House of the dragons
⚔️ Aemond Targaryen
°Aemond's vow - Aemong Targaryen x fem reader - dornish reader, panic attack, angst, fluff, spoilers for season 2
The Quiet Between Stars
summary: what better date than to cuddle with Ryland Grace while watching the stars ?
pairing: ryland grace x reader
tags: kinda established relationship, toothrotting fluff, reference to other "chapters"?? i have written, cuddling, i love inserting golden lighting in my stories
author note: very short self indulgent story that popped in my brain while listening to Chasing cars and Dream a Little dream of me. I am working on another more heavy leaning "chapter" so have something cute for now. ALSO I DONT HATE STRATT IM STICKING TO HER BOOK CONTENT
Tonight, the ship was quiet. Not silent… the Hail Mary was never truly silent.
Mary, as you often called her now, was like a sleeping giant. You found her always breathing all around you, humming songs and sounds that lulled you in a sense of security. At times she would be loud and flashy, screaming orders, screaming protocols but always with the goal to protect her passengers.
Mary was your never quiet home.
But compared to the chaos of the past few days, which included a lot of arguing between Rocky and Ryland (because they wouldn’t agree on the subject of what is a custom and what is not), tonight was peaceful. The “C-word”, as Ryland would say, wasn't mentioned at all today.
So tonight, the observation room glowed dimly beneath amber evening lights while stars stretched endlessly beyond the massive reinforced window.
You lay curled beneath Ryland’s favorite patchwork blanket with your head resting against his chest.
The blanket itself was ridiculously soft. Slightly worn now after months aboard the Hail Mary, and of being carried around by the scientist next to you whenever he stayed up at night. But it still felt warm enough to make the ship feel less like cold metal drifting through space and more like something close to home.
Ryland refused to admit how attached he was to it. Which only made Rocky’s constant comments about “Grace nesting instincts” infinitely funnier.
Speaking of your alien friend, your gaze drifted to the xenonite corridors hanging in the air. Rocky had been sleeping soundfully for 5 hours now. The longest nap he took yet. Of course, you were both in charge of looking after him as he slept.
One of Ryland’s arms that rested loosely around your shoulders beneath the blanket moved while the other lazily traced patterns against your arm without even realizing he was doing it. His glasses sat abandoned nearby, against the enormous window next to you both.
You always thought that without them, he looked softer somehow. He looked less like a scientist. Less smart. Less like humanity’s reluctant savior. And more like simply Ryland.
Ryland the exhausted teacher, and terrible singer. The gentlest and most hopelessly affectionate soul that you had ever known. Oh you loved him so. No matter how much you tried to keep your feelings to yourself, you couldn’t help yourself.
Outside the window, stars drifted slowly across the dark as the Hail Mary rotated gently through space. The centrifuge weighed you both down for more comfort, for more “normality”.
You could have stayed like this forever.
Ryland shifted slightly beneath you, pressing his cheek absentmindedly against the top of your head, his eyes looking up at the void outside the room. Blue eyes still shining with that same adoration he always had for that subject, despite his situation.
“You know,” he murmured sleepily, “this is technically the best date location in human history.”
A quiet laugh escaped you. “Oh really?”
“Absolutely.” His fingers tightened slightly around your shoulder, as his thumb brushed your skin. “No restaurants on Earth can compete with this view.”
“Pretty sure most restaurants have better food though.” you raise your gaze towards him as he lowered his towards you.
“That’s fair.” he smiled in a chuckle. “Nothing tastes as good as the burgers outside of the camp. Ugh I would kill for that right now.”
You chuckled softly against his chest, nuzzling your nose against the shirt as you closed your eyes.
His heartbeat pulsed steadily beneath your skin, quick and delicate, like a tiny bird fluttering against his ribs. Alive. Warm. And real.
For a while, neither of you spoke again.
There was something intimate about the quiet between you now. Months ago, silence aboard the Hail Mary often felt heavy. Claustrophobic. Another reminder that humanity existed impossibly far away. Ryland couldn’t help but fill the quiet all the time. He would ramble non-stop about stuff that crossed his mind. Stuff that didn’t make sense at times. But you quickly understood that the quiet was as uncomfortable for you as it was for him… And he tried his best to find ways to comfort himself, because… You were not willing to do it for him at first.
You needed distance.
But now, with Ryland… silence had become something softer.
Comfortable.
Like your souls had quietly relearned how to exist beside one another again.
Your eyes drifted back toward the stars beyond the observation window.
You didn’t think Ryland was your soulmate. Not in the poetic, destiny-written-across-the-universe kind of way. The stars had not chosen you for him. Life had simply thrown two exhausted people together at the edge of another solar system and told them to survive.
And Ryland would have survived. You knew he would have.
Maybe not happily. Maybe not easily. But he would have found ways to keep moving forward beside Rocky. He would still laugh at terrible jokes, still lose himself in science, still try to save humanity even while pretending he never wanted the responsibility in the first place.
But you…
You knew, with painful certainty, that without him, you would never have survived this loneliness intact.
He called you sunshine, referred to you quietly when you slept as “the sun of his life”.
Yet every day aboard the Hail Mary reminded you that the center of your own universe had quietly become him.
Ryland Grace.
The man beside you beneath the blanket. The warmth against your skin. The heartbeat beneath your cheek. The person who made the endless dark of space feel a little less frightening simply by existing in it with you.
The realization made the stars and space look beautiful tonight.
“You remember,” Ryland said quietly after a long moment, “when I showed you where Earth was?”
You tilted your head slightly to look back at him.
His gaze remained fixed on the observation window, distant memories reflected softly in his eyes.
“During the ‘not a date night’?” you teased gently.
A groan rumbled through his chest beneath your cheek.
“I still maintain that it wasn’t technically a date.”
“We were sharing a blanket.”
“It was cold.”
“You asked for hot chocolate from Armando.”
“In my defense, morale was low.”
You laughed softly.
Ryland smiled too, small and sleepy and so unbearably fond that it physically hurt a little to look at him.
“I remember,” you whispered.
The room fell quiet again afterwards. You didn’t want to add anything cause you guessed that he was gonna keep talking soon. After he made up his mind. So you watched him. Following the tracing of the light along his jaw and nose. You waited…Ryland’s fingers slowed their absentminded tracing against your arm.
Then finally, so quietly you almost missed it: “I think that’s when I realized.”
Your breath caught slightly, and you blinked. Not sure you heard him right. “When you realized what?”
“Even at the edge of another solar system,” he murmured softly, “I still would have fallen in love with you anyway. Even while remembering every sexist thing Stratt said.”
For a second, he didn’t answer. His cheeks were getting a bit more pink. And you could actually feel his heartbeat speed up beneath your cheek. Then his arm tightened around you just a little more beneath the blanket.
The words settled gently into the quiet room.
A breathless scoff escaped you almost immediately at the memory. You remembered standing beside him in that cold briefing room on Earth while Stratt listed guidelines with her usual detached efficiency.
“There is no room on this mission for sexual tension.”
“All candidates must be heterosexual men.”
You still remembered the look on his face that day. The disbelief. The irritation. The way his jaw tightened behind every restrained argument he offered in women’s defense.
You remembered the silence afterward. The anger simmering quietly beneath your skin.
And Ryland, exhausted, frustrated Ryland, pushing back against it as calmly as he could despite everything.
It didn’t matter in the end, because Ilyukhina had made it. And she was the best materials specialist on this planet. And she was ready to sacrifice it all, unlike all her male counterparts.
Yet your thoughts quickly drifted back toward the softness of his confession now. Because this wasn’t dramatic. It wasn't some grand declaration torn from a romance novel.
It was simply Ryland being honest with you. And somehow, that felt infinitely more intimate. Because you knew how much it had taken out of him to say those words. It all felt simple and devastating.
Your chest ached instantly. Ryland finally looked down at you then, curls falling messily across his forehead while starlight reflected softly in his blue eyes.
And suddenly he looked terrified. Not terrified of space, not of the mission. He was terrified of your answer. Of your probable rejection.
The realization melted something warm inside you.
Your hand lifted slowly toward his face, fingertips brushing carefully against the faint stubble along his jaw.
“Good,” you whispered.
Ryland blinked once. “Good?”
A smile tugged softly at your lips.
“Because I fell in love with you long before space, and I never stopped.”
For one silent heartbeat, Ryland simply stared at you. Then he laughed quietly beneath his breath in disbelief. Even after everything, the mission, the fear, the impossible distance between you both and Earth, he still couldn’t quite understand how something this gentle had managed to survive all the odds. You were strong. Stronger than him.
Him who had to fall in love all over again while you waited with the memories safe in your heart.
“You know,” he murmured while leaning closer, “you’re dangerously beautiful when you say emotionally devastating things.”
“You’re emotionally devastating all the time.”
“That feels unfair.”
“Yet it’s true.”
His forehead rested gently against yours now beneath the dim golden light. It was close enough that your breaths mingled together.
Ryland smiled softly.
Then quieter still: “Hey, sunshine?”
“Hm?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
The tenderness in his voice made you hum. Cheeks reddening at the warmth spreading through your chest. You slipped your hand into his, beneath the blanket, intertwining your fingers slowly.
Outside the observation window, stars stretched endlessly across the universe. But wrapped together beneath Ryland’s favorite blanket, with his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek and his hand holding yours like he never wanted to let go, space no longer felt cold at all.
Do not expect new content as quick as those two short stories... I just hyperfocused at work with these two fics 😭
The things we sing instead
summary: Left alone by Rocky, Ryland decides that it would be a great time to put his karaoke skill to use.
pairing: ryland grace x reader
tags: Angst, reader feeling responsible, Stratt haunting the narrative once again, ryland being selfless, sort of established relationship
author note: I just wanted to write a short karaoke session... It got out of hand LMFAO I'm sorry for making everything so sad, it will happen again.
The Hail Mary felt different when Rocky was gone.
Not empty, exactly.
Rocky’s presence lingered everywhere in the ship now. In the faint scratches left along xenonite surfaces, that he was building, where his claws occasionally scraped. In the soft rhythmic tapping noises that no longer echoed through the ventilation shafts. Even the air itself seemed quieter without the constant mechanical melodies drifting from the Eridian compartment.
But tonight, for the first time in days, there were only two human heartbeats aboard the ship.
Rocky was off in his own ship. “Rocky prepare surprise for friends” he said before rolling away in his, what you called, “hamster ball”. And you watched him leave leaning against the entrance of your ship.
“Don’t be away too long ! I don’t know if I will be able to handle Ryland all by myself!” you joked.
That earned you a wave from Rocky and a grumble that resonated throughout the ship that surely belonged to the scientist. You stayed a bit longer than originally planned, thinking that it might be the last time you saw your alien friend leave the ship before you left for Tau Ceti-E together.
Now you floated slowly through the central corridor, one hand brushing against the walls to guide yourself forward in the low gravity. The overhead lights had dimmed automatically into evening mode several hours ago, bathing the ship in soft amber tones.
Somewhere behind you, life support hummed steadily. Water pulsed faintly through pipes hidden behind metal walls. The Hail Mary breathed around you like a sleeping animal. Outside the nearest observation window, stars stretched endlessly across the dark.
It was beautiful.
You paused briefly beside the glass. Tau Ceti burned in the distance, still impossibly bright against the black ocean of space. It cast pale golden reflections through the corridor, light catching softly against the silver edges of equipment panels and floating tools someone forgot to secure properly.
Probably Ryland.
Again.
A smile tugged faintly at your mouth.
You pushed yourself gently toward the lab module, expecting to hear Grace muttering to himself over calculations. You picked up the tools that were floating around you on the way, putting them back to place one by one as you made your way to join your human crewmate.
The room greeted you with silence.
Well. Almost silence.
Music drifted faintly through the speakers. Old Earth music. Soft piano. The static crackling gently beneath the melody. You recognized it as one of the few things you allowed yourself to carry with you aboard. You were a big fan of music, it accompanied you in your daily life. Never could you have imagined being in the middle of space, in another galaxy, without something to fill the natural silence of the emptiness.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. It was one of your favorite songs.
Ryland sat upside down near the far workstation, one foot hooked beneath a restraint bar to keep himself from spinning away completely. A tablet floated loosely beside him displaying lines of astrophage data he was very clearly no longer reading.
He looked tired. Gaze lost in thought. It was not the sharp exhaustion of stress for the upcoming next part of the mission. It was something softer. Quieter. Ryland looked lonely.
He often did lately. You figured it was because he was remembering flashes of his life back on Earth as he once explained.
The golden light from Tau Ceti spilled through the nearby observation port and illuminated one side of his face, catching in the messy curls that had started growing out again. You really needed to give him a haircut soon. His glasses sat slightly crooked down his nose. One hand absentmindedly tapped against his thigh in rhythm with the music.
For a moment you simply watched him. Ryland, in all his messiness, tiredness, was still one of the most beautiful men to your eyes. He had nothing perfect like those top models in those TV ads back on earth. But he was perfect to you.
And suddenly your memory surfaced again.
Rain against laboratory windows, on a cold night of winter. Ryland sitting exactly like this on top of a desk at three in the morning while finishing the reports he kept procrastinating on. Music playing too quietly from his laptop, the same that was playing right now but in space. Half-finished coffee forgotten beside stacks of files.
You remembered watching him back then too. There was something hypnotizing in watching Doctor Grace focused on a subject or an idea of his. His eyebrows would frown behind his glasses as he muttered, writing down whatever his genius brain would come up with.
Long before space. Before humanity placed the weight of an entire dying planet onto his shoulders. This responsibility that he never desired. The title of hero he never cared for. Cause he probably knew that he was already one to “his kids”. And that was all that mattered to him.
Long before both of you learned how fragile happiness really was.
The ceiling creaked softly beneath your hand as you steadied yourself, fingers curling instinctively against the cold metal. Your breath faltered halfway through your lungs.
Lately, everything felt heavier.
Not physically. Not the ship’s gravity simulation or the exhaustion settling into your muscles after endless days aboard the Hail Mary.
Something deeper.
As if the haze that had wrapped itself around your mind since awakening from the coma had finally begun to dissolve completely, leaving reality exposed in its raw and terrible clarity.
There would be no return waiting for you at the end of this mission.
No Earth. No quiet apartment glowing softly at dusk. No rainy evenings in the lab with Ryland working beside stacks of papers and unfinished coffee.
That life is gone now.
And maybe the cruelest part was that your brain finally seemed awake enough to understand it.
Ryland looked up immediately.
“There you are,” he said.
Something warm unfurled quietly in your chest at the simple words. Chasing away all the grim thoughts you were having a few seconds ago. It was not because of what he said. It was because of the way he said it.
Like he had been waiting for you.
You crossed your arms lightly against your chest. “Rocky finally banished you from his plans?”
Grace snorted softly.
“No, he banished both of us out actually.” He gestured vaguely toward the sealed corridor leading to Rocky’s ship. “Apparently he’s preparing something important and humans would ‘contaminate surprise integrity.’”
You laughed quietly.
“That sounds serious.”
“Oh, terrifyingly serious.” Ryland rubbed tiredly at one eye. “He threatened me with ammonia. Can you believe this !”
One of your eyebrows rose at that information. You couldn’t help but smirk. Rocky registered really quickly that the smell and the effect of ammonia was particularly bad for humans. “That’s basically a declaration of war.”
“Exactly ! ” He exclaimed dramatically, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Silence settled again afterward, but not uncomfortable silence. The kind that only exists after spending too long beside someone. Familiar and comfortable.
Outside the observation glass, starlight drifted slowly across his face as the ship rotated. His eyes closed in a wince when light touched his retina, he pulled away from the window a little. So you pushed yourself gently off the doorway and floated closer, catching yourself beside the workstation across from him. Your hands resting now against the border of the window as you watched your surroundings in silence.
A “silence” still accompanied by the music that played softly between you both.
Ryland glanced toward the speaker.
“You know,” he said carefully, “I think isolation is damaging my brain.”
“That is not new.” you retorted.
“Probably fair.” His smile widened briefly before fading into something softer.
“But hear me out..”
That tone immediately made you suspicious. His hands were already rising to his chest level, in what appeared to be defense.
“Whatever you have in mind, it can’t be good.” you answered, looking towards the scientist who already had a smirk on his lips.
“Karaoke.”
You stared at him. “Karaoke.”
“Yes.”
“In space.”
“Yes.”
“With just the two of us.”
“Yes,” he repeated patiently. “See? You understand perfectly.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Ryland looked unfairly pleased with himself for causing it.
“You’re serious.”
“I am deeply serious.” He gestured toward the tablet floating nearby. “I found an old offline music database while reorganizing the files. Under your name might I add.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Oh, incredibly.” His eyes gleamed now with the familiar kind of stupidity that usually preceded his terrible ideas. “I didn’t know that you were such a sucker for old time songs. Or even musicals ! I wished I could have made a playlist too.”
You shook your head softly, forcing a smile on your lips. You didn’t have the time to, because you couldn’t. Those words were so close to escaping your lips… But you couldn’t.
Don’t let him know. Don’t let your feelings stop him from accomplishing the mission.
Yet the Hail Mary suddenly felt smaller tonight. It didn’t feel claustrophobic. It felt intimate.
The amber lights. The quiet hum of machinery. Music drifted lazily through the air while stars burned silently outside the windows. Two people alone at the edge of another solar system pretending, for a few fragile hours, that they were allowed to simply exist instead of survive.
Ryland watched you carefully over the rim of his glasses. His blue eyes scanning your face. And there it was again.
That strange look he sometimes gave you now. It was not confusion exactly. It was a type of recognition trying desperately to become memory, to ground itself in a hazy timeline.
“You used to sing,” he said suddenly.
Your breath caught slightly. “What?”
His brow furrowed immediately afterward, like he was trying to grasp onto something slipping through his fingers. Unsure for a second. Did he mistake you for someone else ? No it couldn’t be. His heart was beating the same way it was every time you appeared behind his eyelids.
“I…” He blinked. “I think.”
The room suddenly felt very quiet. Even the music seemed distant now beneath the pounding of your heartbeat.
Ryland looked away first, frustration flickering briefly across his expression.
“It’s fuzzy,” he admitted softly. “I just..”
He stopped. Outside the observation window, Tau Ceti’s light washed gold across the room again.
And suddenly another memory surfaced without warning.
Your laughter echoing through, what he guessed was a tiny apartment kitchen on Earth. Ryland dramatically butchering song lyrics while trying to cook. His socks sliding across the floor as he danced terribly to make you laugh after a fourteen-hour workday. There was warm light. There was rain against the windows.
Home.
Your chest ached so suddenly it almost hurt to breathe. “You hated karaoke,” you said quietly.
Ryland blinked. Then laughed under his breath. “Oh my God.” His face lit slowly with realization. “I did hate karaoke.”
“You said public singing was psychological warfare.”
“That still feels true.”
You smiled helplessly at the thought. You remembered when the rest of the designated crew for the Hail Mary pushed him to sing a few notes. How his face turned crimson, and you laughed so hard you almost couldn’t breathe.
And the times where you would sneak away to sing at the local pub. Where he would go up the stage only if you accompanied him to sing your favorite songs. “But you sang anyway.” you murmured.
The look he gave you then nearly shattered something inside you. Because for one small terrible second, he looked exactly like the Ryland you lost. Soft-eyed and warm. And completely yours.
“Maybe,” he said quietly, “I just liked singing with you.”
You looked at him for a while, cheeks burning at the sight. Heart pounding at the words. Stratt and her orders felt so far away now. Her that you could hear so clearly in your head when you opened your eyes every morning.
For one night… You nodded with a smile.
“Then I think… I would like to sing with you tonight.”
Ryland’s grin widened almost boyishly at your answer. He was obviously very happy that you decided to entertain his idea.
“Oh no,” you immediately murmured, already regretting your decision. “That smile means disaster.”
“It means,” he corrected while pushing himself away from the workstation towards the entrance of the lab, “that tonight, Dr.Grace is hosting the first interstellar karaoke night in human history.”
“Truly a groundbreaking achievement for mankind.” you added with a smile following him out of the lab.
“I expect statues after this.”
You laughed softly as he floated backward through the corridor, one hand gripping the walls to guide himself toward the central recreational module. You followed close behind, your shoulder occasionally bumping lightly against his whenever the ship rotated slightly around you both.
The Hail Mary hummed quietly. And for once, the sound no longer felt lonely. It no longer was obvious enough to disconnect you from your home.
By the time you entered the hexagonal room, Ryland had already managed to connect the tablet to the main display system. One by one, the dark screens surrounding the chamber flickered awake.
Suddenly Earth bloomed around you.
Forests drenched in sunlight spread across the walls. Rivers flowed quietly beneath mountain ranges dusted with snow. Somewhere distant, birdsong crackled faintly through old audio files mixed imperfectly with the low static of the ship’s speakers.
Your chest tightened painfully.
The room always helped with homesickness. That had been the purpose behind its creation. And you were the one who designed its purpose. You remember so clearly mentioning to Stratt that avoiding the feeling of homesickness was imperative, to help the crewmates handle this one way trip. Simulations to trick the human brain into forgetting, if only briefly, that it was trapped millions of miles away from home. You were not supposed to be the guinea pigs of your own idea.
Tonight, though, it felt almost too real.
Warm summer light painted Ryland’s face gold as he floated near the center of the room, squinting suspiciously at the music database.
“You have concerning music taste,” he announced.
You crossed your arms. “I’m sorry my playlists don’t exclusively contain educational podcasts about microbes.”
“They’re fascinating.” He glanced at you over his glasses, squinting.
“They’re horrifying.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“That is the most “nerdy science teacher" sentence you’ve ever said.”
Ryland gasped dramatically. “And that right there. That was targeted violence.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. God. You had missed laughing like this. And he seemed like the only one able to pull that out of you. It had nothing to do with the restrained little smiles exchanged over calculations or mission updates. It was real laughter. The kind that made your stomach ache and your shoulders loosen and your brain forget, for one dangerous second, that humanity rested on the fragile skeleton of this ship.
Ryland looked at you quietly afterward. There was something that softened in his expression. Like hearing your laughter physically eased something inside him. The moment stretched slightly too long.
Then Ryland cleared his throat awkwardly and pointed toward the screen.
“Karaoke rules,” he announced quickly. “No judging vocal abilities.”
“That sounds specifically directed at you.”
“It absolutely is.” He adjusted his glasses. “Also, dramatic performances are mandatory.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
The first songs were disasters.
Complete disasters.
Ryland intentionally chose overly dramatic rock songs he could barely reach vocally, clutching the microphone while floating upside down through the room with absolutely no dignity left intact. At one point he nearly slammed directly into the wall trying to perform an air guitar solo in zero gravity.
You laughed so hard tears blurred your vision.
“Stop encouraging me!” he shouted while helplessly spinning sideways, and yet he was still smiling so brightly.
“You’re humiliating yourself without my help!”
“Science requires sacrifice!”
And slowly… The tension between you began to loosen. It didn’t disappear. It would never disappear again. But it softened around the edges.
You sang too eventually.
At first quietly.
Then louder after Ryland started intentionally singing backup vocals terribly off-key just to annoy you.
The ship no longer felt like a coffin suspended in space tonight. A doomed and terrible reminder that this moment wouldn’t last forever. It felt alive. It felt almost normal again. At some point Ryland floated beside the tablet again, scrolling lazily through playlists while breathing slightly harder from laughing too much.
Then suddenly he froze.
“No..” you said immediately.
“Yes.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously as recognition spread slowly across his face.
“Ryland.”
He turned the screen toward you with the triumphant expression of a man about to make catastrophic decisions. Behind him the screens glitched to show little by little the famous view of Los Angeles at night, atop of a hill.
You groaned instantly. “You are absolutely insufferable.”
“And yet,” he replied smugly, “you continue spending time with me voluntarily.”
Unfortunately. He selected the song before you could protest further. Soft piano filled the room almost immediately. Your heart betrayed you at once. Because of course it had to be that song.
Ryland glanced toward you once as the instrumental began, and suddenly his confidence seemed to falter slightly.
“Oh,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay this one actually might have emotionally damaged me. I didn’t remember, you know, the-”
“Too late to back out now, Grace.”
“I regret everything.” he said with a smile.
“You say that constantly.”
“Because life keeps proving me right.”
Still, he sang. And despite all his complaining, despite the joking and the sarcasm and the awkwardness Ryland always wrapped around himself with, like an armor… his voice was soft. Warm. Not professionally good. Not polished.
Just human. The kind of singing people only do around someone they trust enough to sound imperfect beside.You wonder if that was due to his lack of choice in trusting you, in the middle of the impossible. Or was it because his soul remembered what you both shared before everything.
The simulated sunset around the room slowly shifted deeper purples as the song continued. Purple light drifted across Ryland’s face while he floated weightlessly near the center of the hexagonal room, one hand lazily holding onto a restraint bar to keep himself grounded.
Then the lyric came.
“What a shame those two are you and me-”
You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand against your chest in mock offense. Ryland nearly choked mid-song. You, who had been so calm and so serious since the beginning of this karaoke session, started the dramatic performance out of the blue. That obviously caught him off guard.
“Oh my God,” he spluttered immediately, face turning crimson. “No ! No, I don’t mean… It’s literally just the song!”
Your laughter echoed through the room instantly. “I cannot believe you’d say that to me aboard humanity’s last hope.”
“I am being framed by the music right now.”
“You looked directly at me!”
“Be- Because you were there!”
“You’re digging this hole deeper, doctor.”
Ryland buried his face briefly behind one hand while laughing helplessly under his breath. The sight shattered something quietly inside you. Because for one terrible moment, all you could see was the life he should have had. Not this cold metal ship drifting endlessly through the dark. Not astrophage calculations and survival protocols and the unbearable weight of an entire species balanced on exhausted shoulders.
He should have still been on Earth. And the thought hit you so suddenly it hurt.
He should have been standing in front of classrooms full of teenagers pretending not to adore him while secretly changing their lives forever. He should have been losing sleep over unfinished grading and microwaved dinners, and lesson plans he always procrastinated on until midnight. He should have been growing older somewhere warm and ordinary.
Not here. Not millions of miles away from the world that made him.
Your smile faded slowly.
Ryland was still laughing softly beneath his breath, glasses slipping slightly down his nose while purple and pink artificial lights flickered across his face.
God. You wished you had fought harder.
Wished you had screamed louder in those meeting rooms back on Earth. Wished you had looked Stratt dead in the eyes and refused to let them take him. Refused to let humanity place another impossible burden onto a man who abandoned recognition in the first place.
Ryland never cared about being humanity’s hero. He cared about his students. About tiny discoveries that made his eyes light up behind his glasses. About bad coffee and science jokes and quietly helping people understand things. About music playing too softly in laboratory offices at three in the morning.
He was never supposed to become this.Your chest tightened painfully.
Because maybe if you had been stronger… more selfish… you could have changed something. Maybe he could have lived longer beneath sunsets that were real. Could have grown old somewhere peaceful. Could have fallen asleep on a couch grading homework while rain tapped softly against apartment windows.
Maybe he could have had a future untouched by sacrifice. Instead he was here. Floating in artificial gravity at the edge of another solar system trying to make you laugh through karaoke because humanity was dying.
Why him? Out of eight billion people- why did it have to be him? Life was cruel sometimes. Cruel in quiet ways. It took the gentlest people and asked the most terrible things from them.
You inhaled shakily. Only then realizing your vision had blurred.
Tears welled slowly in your eyes before you could stop them, burning hot and sudden beneath the dim purple light of the simulation screens. You looked away quickly toward the false city projected across the walls, swallowing hard against the ache climbing painfully into your throat.
The music continued softly around you both. Piano notes drifting weightlessly through the room. And suddenly another memory was triggered without warning.
Ryland asleep at his desk back on Earth, cheek pressed awkwardly against stacks of papers while weak winter sunlight spilled through laboratory windows. You remembered carefully removing his glasses so they would not leave marks against his skin. Remembered the sleepy confused sound he made when you brushed your fingers through his curls.
You remembered thinking then: He works too hard.
Back when “too hard” meant skipped meals and late nights. Not sacrificing his entire life for humanity. A soft movement pulled you back to the present. The music had stopped. Ryland was looking at you now. Not joking anymore.
Concern softened immediately across his expression the second he noticed your tears.
And somehow that only made it worse. Because even now, when exhausted, traumatized, carrying the weight of Earth inside his chest… his first instinct was still to worry about you. The joking warmth faded from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something painfully gentle.
“Oh,” he said softly.
Just that. One tiny word barely louder than the hum of the ship. But it held so much concern that your chest ached harder because of it. You looked away quickly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand before the tears could properly fall.
“Sorry,” you murmured automatically. “I don’t know where that came from.”
A lie. Both of you knew it.
The song now done, the screens rebooted, slowly building the image of a simulated beach sunset glowing softly across the hexagonal room, bathing everything in amber and gold. Somewhere behind the walls, the Hail Mary creaked faintly as it adjusted rotation. The sound blended with the distant hum of life support and the quiet static still lingering from the speakers.
Ryland stayed very still. Watching you carefully. And then, slowly, he pushed himself away from the center of the room. Floating toward you. You hated how your heartbeat changed immediately.
Even now. Even after all this time. Even after forcing distance between yourself and him for weeks aboard this ship. Your body still recognized him before your brain could protect you from it. Ryland stopped directly in front of you, one hand catching the edge of the observation panel beside your shoulder to steady himself in the low gravity.
He was close. Too close.
Close enough that you could see exhaustion resting beneath his eyes. Close enough to notice the faint scar near his jaw you had patched yourself a week ago after an equipment accident. Close enough to feel warmth radiating from him despite the cool recycled air surrounding you both.
“You don’t have to apologize for being sad,” he said quietly.
Your throat tightened painfully. “I’m not sad.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly in immediate disbelief. “You are literally crying.”
“That proves nothing.”
A soft breath of laughter escaped him. God. Even now he was trying to make this easier for you. The realization hurt almost as much as the memories themselves. Your gaze dropped briefly toward his hands gripping the wall beside you. Long fingers. Ink stains are still faintly visible near the side of his thumb. You remembered those hands so clearly.
Writing equations too quickly. Resting absentmindedly against your back in crowded hallways. Reaching for you in sleep. The memory struck too fast.
Your breath caught again. Ryland noticed immediately. Of course he did.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he murmured gently.
You laughed weakly through the tears threatening your voice. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Yeah, well.” His smile softened sadly. “Neither does any of this.”
Outside the false beach projected across the walls, beyond steel and vacuum and impossible distance, space stretched endlessly around the ship. It was cold. Infinite. Unforgiving. And somehow this tiny room still felt unbearably warm.
Ryland’s eyes searched your face carefully, like he was trying to solve something far more complicated than astrophage. Then his expression shifted slightly. For the second time today, you triggered a memory in him. Not a full one. But enough to make his voice soften in that familiar way that still wrecked you completely.
“You used to look at me like this before,” he said quietly.
Your heart stopped. “What?”
His brow furrowed faintly. “Back on Earth.” His voice dropped lower, uncertain but sincere. “Whenever I worked too much.”
Emotion climbed painfully into your throat. Another fragment. Another piece of him finding its way back.
Ryland looked frustrated suddenly, like he was fighting through fog inside his own mind. “I can’t see it clearly,” he admitted softly. “But I remember feeling…” He hesitated.
Then looked directly at you.
“Loved.”
The word shattered every remaining defense you had left. Your eyes closed briefly. Because hearing that now and here, aboard this ship, after forcing yourself for weeks to become smaller and quieter and less attached for the sake of the mission, it felt unbearable.
A shaky breath escaped you before you could stop it. And suddenly Ryland’s hand was there. Careful and slow. His fingers brushing gently against yours where they rested against the wall. Like he was giving you time to pull away. You didn’t. His hand curled softly around yours in the low gravity. The contact sent something painful and desperate through your chest.
Ryland looked just as affected by it. Like his body remembered this too. Like somewhere beneath damaged memories and lost years and impossible distance; loving you had remained instinctive.
“You know, sunshine…” he whispered carefully, thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles, “for someone who keeps trying very hard not to love me…” Your breath faltered. “…you’re really bad at it.”
A broken laugh escaped you instantly. Half laugh. Half sob. “Ryland- ”
“I know,” he interrupted softly. His forehead rested gently against yours before you could finish the sentence. And suddenly the entire universe seemed to go quiet.
No more music. No more humming ship. No more mission. Just warmth. Just him. His breath mingling softly with yours in the dim golden light while an artificial beach glowed around the room like dying pieces of Earth itself.
“I don’t remember everything yet,” he confessed quietly against your forehead. “But I think…” He swallowed softly. “I think my heart figured it out before my brain did.”
Tears slipped free despite yourself. And Ryland smiled faintly at the feeling of them against his skin.
Then, very gently, he kissed you. It was a tender kiss, like the first one you ever shared. Like rediscovering something precious he thought he had lost forever.
Sunshine
summary: Ryland Grace remembers the nickname he used to call you when you were on earth together.
pairing: ryland grace x reader
tags: bit of angst, rocky being curious about human mates, reader lying to Grace, partial amnesia, no established relationship, Stratt haunting the narrative
author note: this fic is just an excuse to write a headcanon i have of Ryland calling his significant other "Sunshine". Also english not my frst language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.
“Rocky not understand.”
The robotic voice of your alien crewmate echoed through the Hail Mary, cutting through the low mechanical hum of the ship.
You sat alone in the cockpit, shoulders hunched toward the observation console, focused on the glowing Petrova line wrapped around Tau Ceti like threads of red ropes. Beyond the reinforced glass, space stretched endlessly in every direction. It was silent, black, immeasurable. The nearby star burned brighter than it should have, golden light spilling across the cockpit panels in dim reflections.
It was wrong.
A sun infected with Astrophage should have been weakening. Dying. And yet Tau Ceti still shone defiantly against the darkness. Against the odds. Your fingers adjusted the smaller lens of the spatial telescope, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach as equations and theories circled endlessly in your mind. You were not particularly good at it. But keeping an eye on it and listening to Ryland’s lessons helped you pick up some basic math and scientific understanding.
However hearing your small companion bickering with Grace finally pulled your attention away.
You leaned back slowly from the instrument, exhaustion tugging at your muscles. Leaning into the chair. How long were you hunched over that console ? It felt like hours to your back.
Rocky and Grace had a very… particular relationship.
Grace had been the first human to make contact with him. The first to bridge the impossible gap between species. The first to understand the music hidden beneath Rocky’s vibrations and clicks. And in return, Rocky trusted Ryland in a way that seemed almost instinctive.
Not that you and Rocky disliked each other. Quite the opposite, actually. But what existed between those two was rare. The kind of connection forged under impossible circumstances. The kind that only happened once in a lifetime.
Soulmates, maybe.
Even if Rocky frequently declared: “Rocky think male human stupid. Rocky prefer female human.”
You heard Ryland answer him from the lab module, his voice lowered deliberately, like he was trying to keep the conversation private.
Which, naturally, made you suspicious immediately.
You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way through the narrow corridor connecting the cockpit to the lab. The ship creaked softly around you, metal expanding and contracting with temperature shifts. Pipes rattled faintly behind the walls. Somewhere deeper in the Hail Mary, the life-support systems breathed with rhythmic consistency.
It was home.
Or at least the closest thing any of you had left.
“What are you two whispering about?” you asked as you stepped into the lab, leaning against one of the walls of the wide entrance.
Grace nearly startled hard enough to fall backward off his stool.
Rocky, meanwhile, remained perfectly still inside his xenonite enclosure, several of his limbs tapping rapidly against the floor followed by a quiet musical rhythm, what you had learned to be amusement. His body angled slightly toward the vibrations of your footsteps as he mapped your position through echolocation.
“Nothing,” Grace answered much too quickly.
“Grace lying,” Rocky announced immediately.
You crossed your arms. “Obviously.”
Grace groaned and dragged a tired hand down his face. His beard had grown a bit again. There were dark circles beneath his eyes that no amount of sleep ever seemed to fix anymore.
“Okay, fine,” he muttered. “Rocky asked me a question.”
“A weird question?” you guessed.
“An extremely weird question.”
Rocky’s translator crackled softly.
“Rocky ask why human female not choose mate. Grace explanation confusing.”
You blinked once.
Then twice.
“Oh no.”
Grace pointed accusingly toward the glass enclosure. “Hey, pal, this is your fault. You started asking questions after movie night.”
“Then movie inaccurate,” Rocky replied. “Human mating process efficient. In movie, humans mating process done in approximately 78.5 minutes.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Grace looked wounded by the betrayal.
“Don’t encourage him.”
“Rocky correct,” the Eridian continued proudly. “Human spend excessive time signaling. No ammonia exchange. No carapace touching. Very bad system.”
That did it.
You burst into laughter, the sound filling the cramped little lab and bouncing off metal walls that had become far too familiar over the weeks since you woke up.
Grace stared at both of you with exhausted resignation.
“I crossed eleven-point-nine light-years to save humanity,” he said flatly, “and somehow I became an alien relationship counselor.”
Rocky angled himself toward you.
“Friend,” he said, “explain why Grace not have mate.”
Grace froze.
The humor drained from your face almost instantly.
You didn’t answer right away.
He has one. Well… Had one.
For one terrible moment, your mind betrayed you. Your memories surfaced too fast to stop. A building hallway filled with fluorescent lights. Ryland walking beside you with two coffees balanced dangerously in one hand because he refused to make two trips. The smell of rain on warm pavement outside the lab in Chicago. The sound of his laughter at two in the morning after both of you had been awake far too long.
And then-
“Sunshine.”
The nickname drifted through your memory with aching clarity. You could hear his voice saying it so easily back then. Soft and amused and warm in ways he rarely allowed himself to be anymore. The problem was that Ryland barely remembered Earth now.
Not really. The coma had taken too much from him.
Sometimes he remembered scientific formulas perfectly while forgetting entire conversations from the week before. Sometimes he recalled the molecular structure of Astrophage but stared blankly when you mentioned a restaurant the two of you used to visit near the camp.
But some things remained. Fragments. What felt like instincts to his body or to his soul.
You crossed your arms tighter against your chest, hiding the nervous movement of your fingers. Grace looked up at you from where he sat slouched over the table, one hand buried in his hair.
Waiting.
Expecting something.
Something you had promised yourself long ago that you would never give him again.
The mission comes first.
Stratt’s voice still haunted you sometimes. Cold. Absolute. Unavoidable. You close your eyes trying to shoo away the picture of the blod-haired woman sitting in front of you in that cold office.
You shall not be a distraction. No more attachments like they allowed you both on earth .You needed him to save Earth first. You were just here for psychological and physical medical care, in case the robot was not enough.
You swallowed carefully.
“Careful, Rocky,” you said lightly, forcing humor into your voice. “That’s a sensitive topic.”
And as those words left your lips, you could see Ryland’s body relaxing. Not from relief. But what looked like disappointment.
“Rocky aware,” he replied immediately. “Grace emits stress sweat.”
“I hate both of you,” Grace muttered. Face nuzzling between his arms in a defeated sigh.
“Incorrect. Grace affection levels high.”
Your smile softened despite yourself. Because beneath the teasing, beneath the absurdity of discussing human dating habits with a giant alien spider-crab engineer in another solar system, there was something painfully genuine between all of you.
Friendship. Real friendship. The kind built in isolation and fear and trust. The kind strong enough to survive the end of the world.
Rocky shifted slightly, listening to the subtle changes in both your breathing patterns.
“Female human heart rate elevated,” he observed.
Grace sighed heavily, now straightening up. “Rocky…”
“Male human also distressed,” Rocky continued. “Both humans display unresolved bonding behavior.”
You pressed your lips together hard to stop yourself from reacting.
“That’s not what this is,” Grace said quickly.
Rocky tilted slightly, one of his “hands” up.
“Then explain.”
Grace opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
You looked away before he could catch the smile threatening at the corners of your mouth. Ryland was struggling. And you couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't his first time being at loss for words on this topic. Did the children ask him those questions too ? Did he blush the way he was right now ?
Unfortunately, Rocky noticed everything.
“Female human avoiding direct orientation,” he said thoughtfully. “Classic behavior of mating ritual.”
“Rocky,” Grace warned.
The Eridian ignored him entirely.
“Grace explained how human mating rituals inefficient. Rocky now understand why species struggle.”
A snort escaped you. Of course, he would tell Rocky about his sentimental problems in life. Grace was an introvert at heart. And when he tried to stick to the “conventional” ways of flirting… Well. It was usually a failure.
Grace looked personally offended.
“Oh, so you’re enjoying this now?”
“A little,” you admitted.
He shook his head, but then he smiled too. It was small, tired. But familiar. And it hit you with painful force. Because for one awful second, it felt like being back on Earth again.
Like late nights in the camp observatory. Like arguing over topics, that you pretended to not understand, while sharing takeout containers. Like Ryland absentmindedly calling you sunshine without realizing he was doing it. Life before the mission. The life you had before the distance.
Before becoming ghosts of the people you used to be.
Grace’s expression softened as he looked at you. Putting his glasses up his nose once more today. Something flickered there suddenly.
Recognition. Not a full memory. Fragments.
But something buried deep inside him reached toward the surface. His lips parted before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
“Careful, sunshine- ”
Silence swallowed the room almost immediately. Grace froze, lips still parted. Your breath caught painfully in your lungs. You didn't expect to hear that word from him again. Tears prickled behind your eyes. Oh you missed it. You miss him so much, it hurts.
Even the endless hum of the ship suddenly felt distant. Rocky’s claws tapped loudly against the xenonite floor. Breaking the silence between you all.
“New designation detected.”
Grace stared at you like he couldn’t believe the word had come out of his own mouth.
“I…” He rubbed a hand over his face slowly. Moving his glasses in a weird angle again. “Wow. Okay. I don't think I have said that in a while.”
Your chest ached. You blinked faster trying to hold back those tears in place. Because he remembered. You shouldn't be mourning the Grace you knew. Cause he was still right here. Maybe not fully. Maybe only fragments.
But somewhere inside the damaged maze of his memories, he still remembered you. He still remembered what you had together.
Rocky angled himself toward Grace.
“ ‘Sunshine’, affectionate title for female human?”
Grace looked absolutely anywhere except directly at you. He frowned for a second trying to hold onto the memory that just resurfaced.
He could only picture your smiling eyes in a hazy memory. Your laugh is echoing in his brain. You were probably making fun of him ? Golden light filled the room. The kind of light that warmed the Earth when night was close. He could decipher a white board in the corner of his eye. His chest warm with the love he knows he holds for you. “Careful, sunshine.”
“Yeah,” he muttered quietly but with certainty.
Rocky considered this carefully. A “oh” coming from the computer in the center of the room. Then his body turned toward the vibrations of your breathing.
“Appropriate,” he decided. “Friend improves Grace mood immediately. Similar effect to sunlight on Earth plant life.”
Heat rushed to your face despite yourself, and a soft laugh escaped you.
Grace groaned. “Rocky, please stop helping.”
“Rocky excellent helper.”
Your eyes met Ryland’s again. This time neither of you looked away.
Outside the observation window, Tau Ceti burned against the endless dark like a living ember.
And somewhere in the silence between you, buried beneath years of restraint, fading memories, and the crushing weight of humanity’s survival, the old nickname lingered quietly like something nothing or no one could take away.
Sunshine.
Dog years
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Aemond Targaryen - Aemond’s Vow
Summary: As Aemond Targaryen assumes the role of Prince Regent, his Dornish wife grows increasingly isolated within the cold walls of the Red Keep. When her loneliness culminates in a frightening panic attack, it is Aemond himself who steadies her, forcing them both to confront the distance that has grown between them. In a court ruled by whispers and ambition, they must choose not power, but each other.
Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader
Warnings - None - This is a short headcanon about reader being from Dorne and experiencing a panic attack for the first time. As someone who is subjected to this oftenly I just wanted to write down how Aemond would handle it. Oh and english is not my first language so I apologize in advance.
Word count - 3951
The atmosphere at the Red Keep had been stifling ever since your husband, Aemond Targaryen the Kinslayer, had been made Prince Regent following the injuries sustained by his brother, the king. Not that you had any role in the matter, but you were already hearing whispers about your possible new title of queen in the coming weeks, or days. You should have denounced this treason, but you didn't have the heart to mention this detail to Aemond.
In fact, you didn't have the heart to talk to him at all.
Aemond had never been the type of person to initiate or maintain a conversation. He was silent. Not out of disinterest (not in your case, anyway), but because the one-eyed prince was an observer. At the beginning of your relationship, you hated this aspect of him, mistaking his silence for deadly boredom for your topics of conversation. But over the past three years, you had learned to pay attention to his gestures, and above all, his gaze.
Your husband's eye was of that mysterious purple color common to most Targaryens. A color you had rarely seen on the coast of Dorne. But a color that seemed to reflect your spouse's emotions, like the surface of a mirror.
But since Aegon's accident... Everything had changed. If you had time to sit in the living room or garden and have tea with your husband every day, that was no longer the case. Aemond had deserted your bed and your life.
“His Grace has more important things to do.” Sir Criston Cole stood before you, wearing the grave expression he had worn since the accident, as if the weight of the situation was bearing down on his shoulders. His skin, tanned by the sun of your native lands, seemed to have paled in recent days. Your eyebrows furrowed and your hands rested on the soldier's armor to move him out of your way.
But Sir Cole quickly stopped you. He said he had no time to waste on your childishness and that your husband would want you to realize this. Your cheeks burned with anger and humiliation at his words. Taking advantage of your surprise, the new Hand of the King asked the other members of the guard to escort you to your room.
Like a child.
Since then, a horrible routine had set in. You woke up every morning in the golden silence of your apartments, the curtains drawn, the light filtered, and the faded scent of lilies still lingering in the air. The valet greeted you with an overly rehearsed gesture, and you responded with a vacant smile. Far from the warm smile you had been known for when you first arrived in King's Landing. There was no one here anymore to watch your moods.
Your husband had been at the Council since dawn, far too absorbed in his new duties as Prince Regent to remember your sleepless nights or your sighs. You were surely nothing more than a name in his speech.
It was true that you were not born here. Your land was where the sun split the sky shamelessly, where colors shouted their joy from fabrics to markets, where voices sang more than they spoke. There, you were called by your first name with warmth, the maids dared to laugh beside you, and the children offered you flowers picked without permission, their feet dirty and their eyes shining.
Here, everything was hushed, silent, weighed down by propriety. No one dared to approach you. They spoke to you in low voices, as if your loneliness had to be tamed without a sound. You no longer found those frank looks and warm welcome that made every day there a simple but sincere celebration.
Aemond had been that person for you after your marriage, with a smirk and a look in his eyes that you later understood to be a kind of admiration. “Your love for life,” had been his response when you asked him what he was observing. But today, he had traded your walks for advice, your conversations for decrees.
So you withdrew. You thought back to your father, to evenings on the terrace where your hair was braided to the sound of the waves. You thought of the warm sand beneath your bare feet, the smell of citrus fruits, the bursts of laughter that splashed off the walls. You didn't think it was possible to die from such a sweet longing.
It was as if you were reliving the first days of your exile. Far from home, surrounded by cold stones, bad people, and tight clothes. Much too tight.
Suddenly, your walk to the gardens took a different turn, lost in memories of your home, this realization gripped your chest. A first strangled breath. Then a second.
You were suffocating.
With your hand on the corset, you tried as best as you could to regulate your breathing. But the sudden realization of feeling so confined had triggered a kind of reaction... You didn't know what was happening. Damn it, you weren't a maester. You were suffocating in a corset and a dress you had worn time and time again. Had you been poisoned? A strangled sound escaped your lips at the thought.
Quickly, your ladies-in-waiting gathered around you, keeping you upright as they spoke to you, questioning you. But you were unable to understand the worried questions forming on their lips. Your ears were ringing, your heart was pounding against your temples. This had never happened to you before.
“Maester,” “Breathe,” “Stand up” were some of the words you could make out. But your attention to these voices was short-lived. With one arm braced against the cool wall beside you, you tried to push away the women and soon the men around you. Air. You needed air.
No sound escaped your lips despite the urge to scream.
“Where,” “Choking,” “Hurt,” “Prince Aemond.”
Aemond. Aemond. Your vision, clouded by the dizziness that was setting in, was soon blurred by the onset of tears. You needed him. To hell with the pride of House Martell, you needed your husband. But once again, the Targaryen's name was stuck in your throat.
However, news traveled fast within the Greens fortress, and the maester, Orwyle, was already running toward you, lifting his robe above his ankles to prevent himself from tripping. But he was not running alone. Ahead of him was Aemond Targaryen, striding through the garden. The council was in session when the maester was notified of the incident, and of course, the Prince Regent was also informed.
The royal guard followed the two men as they rushed to your side. Aemond called out to you, but received no response. His concern skyrocketed even if he made sure no one could tell. The unfortunate person who stood in his way was pulled out of it as he finally reached you, the ladies-in-waiting stepping aside so that your husband could put his arm around your waist to support you.
You were clearly out of breath. Your gaze was lost in space, your skin clammy with cold sweat. No matter how many times he called you, you didn't answer. And for a few moments, he swore he saw himself as a boy, harassed by his own family, his dreams crushed by reality. “You have a big heart, Aemond. But the world is too cruel.” That's what his mother used to say when his crying took his breath away.
“Stand back!” exclaimed the maester. “The princess needs air!”
So the circle widened, the king's guards surrounding you both to prevent anyone from getting any closer. But Aemond stayed close to you, his grip tightening around you. His face lowered close to yours, his long silver hair hiding your anxiety-twisted face, offering you a modicum of privacy.
“Focus. Breathe.” he whispered. Slowly, he took your hand, which was resting, or rather clutching, against your corset, and placed it against his own chest. His goal was to anchor you in the present moment. To bring you back to him.
“Focus on my breathing. Find your rhythm.” Your hand pressed against his chest, he made sure to accentuate his own breaths for you to notice, to follow. Somehow through the cloud of your own sudden anxiety, you could feel that Aemond was there and tried to anchor you. You tried to focus, and you did. Following Aemond’s breath and settling your own. You closed your eyes and rested your head against his shoulder.
Aemond stared at you, looking at your momentarily weakened estate. What happened ? Who triggered that reaction ? Was it one of your ladies ? A maid ? But you never complained about them. However he couldn’t take the risk of triggering another episode. He snapped his head around looking at the all too curious crowd. “Clear the gardens, this is no spectacle.”
As soon as those words left his mouth the guards made quick work of clearing the garden. And soon there was only the maester, Aemond and you. (and of course the guards that were more walls than they were people) Without any warning, the prince regent slid his arm under your legs to carry you against his torso.
“Could Your Grace carry the princess to a nearby seat ? I would like to make sure she is not ill.”
“Of course.”
“Not inside..” you managed to mutter within the conversation. And Aemond heard you as he lowered his ear towards your lips. So he walked towards a nearby bench and settled you down. You were well enough to stay straight against the backrest, but you still felt a bit lightheaded.
The stone bench was cool beneath you, a welcome contrast to the feverish heat crawling over your skin. The gardens of the Red Keep blurred at the edges of your vision, sunlight splintering through leaves like shards of glass. You tried to swallow. Your throat still felt impossibly tight.
Maester Orwyle knelt before you, his chain clinking softly as he reached for your wrist. His fingers were dry, and steady against your pulse. “Slowly now, Princess,” he murmured, voice measured, as though you were something delicate on the verge of breaking. “In through the nose. Hold it. Out through the mouth.”
You obeyed because Aemond’s hand was still wrapped around yours. He had not let go. Your palm remained pressed to his chest where he had placed it. Beneath silk and leather, his heart beat firm and even not racing, not faltering. Controlled. You focused on that rhythm. The rise of him. The fall. The rise. The fall.
You tried to match it.
Air came in ragged pulls at first. Your lungs resisted, as if they had forgotten how to expand. Your fingers trembled against him. You hated that they trembled. You hated being weak, this is not how you were raised.
“I cannot…” you whispered hoarsely. “I cannot breathe.”
“You are breathing.” Aemond’s voice was low, close to your ear. Not sharp. Not commanding. Certain. “You are doing it now.”
The maester nodded faintly. “Your Grace is correct. This is not choking. Nor could it be poison.” His eyes studied you carefully. “The princess is in the grip of a panic fit.” The words felt strange. Foreign. Panic? You frowned weakly. You never felt panic before… You never saw anyone panicking.
Orwyle continued, speaking not only to you but to Aemond as well. “It is the body’s alarm sounding without true danger. The heart races. The breath shortens. The chest tightens. The mind believes death is near, though it is not.” He adjusted his grip on your wrist. “It can be brought on by strain. By prolonged distress. By feelings long restrained.”
Silence fell heavy at that. You did not look at your husband. But you felt him.
Aemond went very still. The kind of stillness that came to him before violence or revelation. His jaw tightened faintly beneath the sharp line of his cheek. His single visible eye, that deep, unsettling violet, did not leave your face.
“Distress,” he repeated.
Not a question. A reckoning.
Your breathing hitched again at the weight in his voice, but his thumb moved, barely, brushing against your knuckles. A grounding pressure. The texture of the leather adds to the process of grounding you. The maester released your wrist once your pulse steadied. “It will pass fully within a short while, provided she remains calm. Open air is wise. Crowds are not.” He hesitated before adding. “This has likely been building for some time.”
Aemond’s gaze sharpened at that, his gaze now leaving you to settle on the man in front of you. “For how long?” he asked.
The maester chose his words carefully. “That, Your Grace, is not for me to answer.”
Your lungs finally obeyed you. Air flowed deeper now, no longer scraping like thorns. The roaring in your ears softened into the distant rustle of leaves. You became aware again of the garden, of the scent of roses, the faint salt carried from Blackwater Bay, the warmth of the sun on your chilled skin.
You were not dying. You had truly believed you were.
Aemond exhaled slowly, as though he too had been holding his breath this entire time. He shifted closer on the bench, angling himself so that his body shielded yours from the open paths of the garden. A silent barrier between you and the world.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
You did.
His expression was not the cold mask he wore at council or in general. Not the distant, cutting thing that made lords tremble. He looked… furious. Not at you. At something unseen.
“You thought you were alone,” he said. It was not an accusation. It was a realization that he needed to voice out loud, to make it real. For you. For him.
Your throat tightened again but not from panic this time. From the truth, only now realizing that it was the fear of being alone, and far from him that terrorised you. Love truly did change you in that regard.
“I did not wish to burden you,” you admitted, voice fragile but steady. “You have a kingdom on your shoulders now.”
“And you,” he replied, a dangerous softness threading through the words, “are not a burden.”
The maester discreetly rose to his feet, sensing the shift in the situation. Good maesters were known for their dexterity and sharp minds. But they were also favored by their rulers when they knew when to go. And that was his cue. “The princess should rest. No tight lacing for several days. Light meals. Fresh air.” He bowed his head. “If it happens again, focus on breath as His Grace instructed. It is most effective when guided by someone trusted.”
Trusted. Aemond did not miss that word either.
When Orwyle stepped away, leaving you beneath the watch of distant guards, Aemond remained seated beside you. His hand moved from yours only to undo the fastening at your wrist, then the upper ties of your bodice, not indecently, but enough to ease the pressure. His movements were precise. Controlled. After all, he has done this many times now.
“You will not be confined to rooms like some septon’s relic,” he said, voice low and edged. “If anyone has made you feel so then-”
“No,” you interrupted gently. “No one made me.”
The truth lingered between you. Circumstance had. Silence had. Distance had.
Aemond’s jaw flexed. For a fleeting moment, you saw the boy his mother once comforted, the one with too-big feelings in a world that punished softness. The one who had learned to bury everything to protect himself.
He reached up, brushing a tear from beneath your eye with the pad of his thumb, right after he took off the glove that covered his calloused skin. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender it stole what little breath you had regained.
“You will send for me,” he said. It was not phrased as a command. It was a vow. “Council can wait.”
You almost smiled at that. Almost. “They will say I distract the Prince Regent.”
“They already say worse,” he replied flatly. He knew you wouldn’t ask him to elaborate, because you didn’t care what the council thought. Despite everything, a faint, breathless laugh escaped you. The sound changed something in his expression. Some of the tension eased.
Aemond rose then, but instead of stepping away, he bent and lifted you once more into his arms, slower this time, giving you the chance to protest.
You did not.
The gardens remained cleared as he carried you through them, silver hair catching the light like a blade. His hold was firm, unyielding, as though daring the world itself to challenge him. Let them whisper about queens. Let them whisper about treason. Let them whisper about the Prince Regent abandoning council for his wife.
For the first time in weeks, you did not feel like a ghost wandering cold stone halls. You felt anchored. And as your head rested against Aemond Targaryen’s shoulder, listening to the steady drum of his heart you let yourself relax.
The corridors were quieter than they had ever seemed. Or perhaps it was simply that your thoughts were no longer roaring loud enough to drown them. Aemond did not speak as he carried you back through the winding passages of the Red Keep. Servants flattened themselves against the walls at the sight of him, and of you in his arms, their eyes lowered, their curiosity hidden behind polite facade.
He ignored them all.
When he reached your chambers, he did not wait for attendants to bustle forward. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and entered. “Out,” he ordered. Your ladies, who retreated here earlier, hesitated only a heartbeat before bowing and retreating. The door shut with a heavy thud.
Silence. He set you down carefully upon the edge of the bed, not releasing you immediately. His hands lingered at your waist, as if assessing whether you would sway again.
You did not.
Your breath was steadier now, though exhaustion crept through your limbs. Aemond straightened, but he did not step away.
“You have felt this before,” he said in a way that was not quite a question.
You hesitated.
“Not like this,” you admitted softly. “But… the tightness. The loneliness.” You glanced down at your hands. “I thought it weakness.”
Something flickered across his sharp face, almost offended.
“Weakness?” he repeated.
“In Dorne, we endure heat and drought and war,” you said faintly. “Here I could not even endure silk and silence.”
Aemond exhaled slowly through his nose. He removed his remaining glove finger by finger, deliberate, controlled. When his bare hand returned to your chin, tilting your face upward, his touch was warm.
“You endured exile,” he said quietly. “You endured this court. You endured my family. You endured me.”
A fragile smile touched your lips. “You are not so terrible, husband.”
“No,” he agreed coolly. “I am worse.”
You huffed a tired breath that might have been a laugh. It faded quickly. His thumb brushed along your jaw, then stilled. “I did not see it,” he said after a moment.
And the admission hung heavy in the air.
You blinked up at him.
“I thought distance would keep you safe,” he continued. “The court circles like carrion birds. If they believe you central to me, they will look for ways to wound you.” His eye darkened. “So I made myself scarce.”
The realization settled slowly over you. “You withdrew to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“And in doing so, you left me alone.”
His jaw tightened, closing his eye. “Yes.”
There was no defense in him. No excuse. Only truth. You reached for him then, a small, deliberate movement, and placed your hand against his chest once more. Not because you could not breathe this time. But because you wanted to feel him there.
“I do not need protection from whispers,” you said softly. “I need my husband.”
The words were simple. They felt enormous.
Aemond’s composure cracked in the smallest of ways: a faint furrow between his brows, a tightening around his eye. He was a man who had studied war and statecraft, who knew the histories of dragonlords and conquerors. Him who fought, strategized and killed. But this…this quiet plea, seemed to unmake him.
“You have me,” he said at last. Low. Certain. “Entirely.”
He reached behind you then, fingers deftly loosening the laces of your corset further. The pressure around your ribs eased at once, and you inhaled more deeply without thinking.
His eye watched the movement carefully. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” A pause. Then, softer, “If it begins again, you will look for something solid. Something real. A sensation. My breathing. The feeling of the stone beneath your hand. I can’t be certain but it should remind your body that it is, in fact, not dying.”
“You speak as though you know this well.”
He went still. For a long moment, you thought he might retreat behind silence again.
But instead, he said, “When I was a boy, I would wake in the middle of the night, unable to breathe. After…” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “After I lost my eye.”
You had rarely spoken of that night, the night at Driftmark, the blade, the blood, the price of a dragon. Of how he had gained Vhagar and lost part of himself.
“I thought I was drowning in my own chest, my eye burnt as if the dagger was still slicing it,” he continued evenly. “My mother would sit with me. She would place my hand here.” He guided your palm to the center of his chest once more. “And tell me to follow her breath.”
The image pierced you, a younger Aemond, wounded, gasping in the dark, lying down on a bed too big for a child. And his beautiful young mother leaning over him, her red hair a curtain to shield him from the world just as he did for you.
“You never told me,” you whispered.
“There are many things I have not told you.” Quiet settled between you. Not cold. Not suffocating. Shared.
He stepped back only long enough to remove his outer coat and sword belt, setting them aside with controlled precision. When he returned, he sat beside you on the bed, not as Prince Regent. As your husband.
“The council can manage a day without me,” he said.
Your brows lifted slightly. “A day?”
His mouth twitched faintly. “Half a day.”
You smiled then let out a small laugh, but real. He noticed. Of course he noticed.
“You will walk in the gardens when you wish,” he continued. “Without being turned away. If Cole or any other forgets himself, they will answer to me.”
Your lips parted, ready to argue that Sir Criston had only followed orders. But you closed them again. This was not about Cole. This was about Aemond reclaiming something he had let slip.
He shifted closer, one arm coming around your shoulders, tentative at first, as though uncertain whether you would accept the contact. You leaned into him without hesitation. The tension in him eased almost imperceptibly.
Outside, the bells of King’s Landing rang faintly in the distance. Life continued. Councils schemed. Lords whispered of crowns and succession. But here, in the quiet of your chambers, none of it mattered. Your breathing remained steady.
His hand rested over yours where it lay against his heart. After a long while, he spoke again, so softly you nearly missed it.
“You will not face this alone again.”
It was not a political promise. It was a personal one. And this time, you believed him.
My first phantom bway 🥹
