Cottoncandycliche

i'm going to miss seeing my chef husband on screen (he's right next to me)

𝐌𝐑. & 𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 part I part II

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ryland grace & fem!reader 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you're the medic on the hail mary and come across a photo that must've slipped from your personal supplies which changes the entire dynamic between you and who you thought was your co-worker. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.6k 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i CANNOT believe it has taken people this long to jump on the ryan gosling train. as always, i this nawt proof-read whatsoever #lewl. nerdy silly white boy with biceps, i want you.

you thought you had it all figured out.

well...most of it anyway.

you thought that you know who you are, why you're here, etcetera or whatever, but a single photograph you discovered that had slipped into a nook of the ship has single-handedly destroyed all of the progress you've made in terms of remembering yourself.

your breath shakes just as badly as your hands, and you feel a nervous pounding in your chest accompanied by a pattern of drums in your ears.

this photo can't be real.

you repeat your name in your head. you are an astronaut, and one hell of a doctor. you are on this ship to assist in completing a mission with your co-worker, ryland grace, the only other crew member to survive the journey's coma.

co-worker.

so why the hell are you staring at a photo of the two of you kissing.

there's a little more context to it though, which actually makes everything a hundred times worse.

there's an arch decorated with an array of lush white flowers that frames you both on a sunny spring day, grace is dipping you into the kiss, a beaming expression on each of your faces as he does so. he looks happy, so you look happy, and you're also dressed in a traditional white gown while grace is wearing a tailored suit, but not black, because—

"black is boring," ryland uttered, elbow propped up onto your dining table while his chin rested on his fist. you looked up at him from your laptop where you were browsing websites to get him a suit.

"then don't wear black," you giggled. he reached for your left hand to toy with your fingers, eventually brushing a thumb over your engagement ring. "i thought you said you wanted 'traditional'," he teased.

you scoffed, "i did not say that!"

"you did say that."

"ryland."

"honey," he mocked with a smile. you grinned and smacked his hand away, tending back to your laptop.

"obviously if you don't want to do something, you don't have to do it. and i agree with you, black is boring."

ryland sighed dreamily, tilting his face into his palm after settling his elbow up onto the table again. "i love us. we're so compatible," he hummed.

you smiled shook your head a little in amusement, eyes still on your screen. "you're ridiculous."

"yeah, well, you're marrying me. probably makes you the ridiculous one."

ryland then wordlessly took the laptop from you to scroll through the options, then clicked on one of the sites. he scrolled a little more in silence, squinting slightly even though his glasses were right there that he could've put on. ryland clicked on the touchpad once more before turning the screen to you, dead serious.

"i want this one."

you blinked at the screen. he had pulled up one of the site's photos of one of their models showing off a tacky purple suit and an ugly gold tie, all pulled together by a matching purple fedora. your eyes flicked to your groom-to-be.

"now you're really being ridiculous."

"what's wrong with it?"

"you'll look like a pimp."

"nothing wrong with that," he shrugged.

you snatched your laptop back and deleted the tab with another smile and shake of your head. this time, he smiled back.

"i love you," he uttered.

you looked up again, lingering in those three words. he slid his hand towards you, palm facing the ceiling.

"i love you too," you murmured back.

you slid your hand into his, and ryland laced your fingers together, giving you a squeeze.

you thought you would carry on from there, but of course ryland had to open his mouth again; "even if i dress like a pimp?"

"oh my god."

the memory ended in a flash, and you dropped the photograph. looks like grace settled on a brown corduroy suit with a burgundy tie for a pop of colour. your own voice echoes in your head again; 'the brown will look nice in spring.', as does ryland's; 'i do look incredible in brown, don't i?'

you feel like your wedding ring is burning into your skin.

both you and grace knew you were married via your rings of course, you just couldn't remember who to yet, and it never occurred to either of you that it might've been to each other because why would it?

you take a deep breath, closing your eyes, before picking up the photo again to go find the supposed love of your life.

you navigated your way through the ship with a sense of urgency, photograph clutched in hand. when you heard a crash and a clumsy ‘uh-oh’ coming from the lab, you stopped by the doorway. suddenly the urgency disappeared. maybe this could wait until tomorr-

“who goes there?”

grace’s chair creaks when he leans back to get a peek of you hiding behind the doorframe.

when you look at him now, it all comes together.

ever since the two of you woke up from the coma, there’s been a gravitational pull that brings you two together. in terms of the mission, you operate in perfect unison and create such a steady flow that it makes everything feel oddly domestic. grace flicks a couple of switches there, you repair a part of the control panel here.

every time you both finish a task, it’s tradition to wrap it up with a high-five. however, one time when the two of you got too lost in the work, your fingers ended up intertwined and fell to your sides in a ten second hand-holding session where neither of you flinched.

as soon as the both of you realised, you each recoiled and spent a few beats staring at each other, marvelling at how natural the encounter felt like it was a subconscious effort. all grace could do was clear his throat and walk off, saying something about lunch.

“well, well, look who decided to come back,” grace quips as he wipes down a piece of equipment with a cloth. his glasses are practically hanging off of his face as they so usually do.

“y’had me thinkin’ you were going for a space walk.”

“grace.”

“without a helmet.”

“grace.”

“yeah?”

he finally looks up to see you holding out the photograph.

ryland’s hands freeze before he gently sets down the XRF analyser which looks to be like it was dropped in ramen water.

he rises from his chair, eyes refusing to peel away from the picture as he steps closer. he carefully plucks it from your fingers and slides his glasses onto his face properly to look down at it. white flowers, white dress, and a brown suit, because black is boring.

his head lifts back up to meet your nervous gaze.

“we’re married.”

it sounds like he’s saying it to himself rather than you.

you nod, trying to see through the blank stare he’s giving. dr. ryland grace, possibly one of the smartest men from earth has had his brain turned to mush by a photograph.

“you’re my…we’re-”

“married, yes, i know,” you snap.

“oh my god."

he inhales.

"oh my god..."

he blinks.

he pauses.

"oh my god-"

"grace!" you plead.

"you're my wife, and we're-”

“yes, grace, we’re married. can you please say literally anything else?”

he takes a deep breath, then suddenly hands you the photo again to start pacing around in a circle with his hands on his hips.

“grace…?”

“yeah.”

“are you okay?”

he stops, facing away from you and rubs a hand across his face.

“um…” he pivots to you on the spot, “i think so.”

you remain standing with your feet together, slightly curled in on yourself as you hold the photograph in front of you with two hands.

“do you…remember anything?”

ryland settles both hands on top of each other on the back of his head, inhaling deeply. “i’m starting to,” he says with the exhale, “do you?”

you nod. “bits and pieces.”

you drag your feet over to one of the lab tables and sit on the surface, staring down at the photo.

what now?

“i proposed to you at the beach,” ryland says.

you look up, and in his eyes, you see waves and a bright grey sky. you smile.

“you did,” you hum, setting the photo down on the table next to you. “when you got on one knee, you were too close to the water and it washed up on you so your pants got soaked.”

you giggle at the sudden memory. ryland smiles, “i don’t think i remember that part…”

“yes you do, you’re just embarrassed,” you grin. “and you stayed on one knee to ask the question because you were too proud to admit you made a mistake even though i was laughing at you.”

you’re in a fit of giggles now, and ryland just chuckles as he approaches you. his eyes land on the two bands around your finger; your engagement ring, and the basic wedding ring that so clearly matches his now that he looks closer.

suddenly, he reaches for your hand, thumb grazing over the humble gemstone on the engagement ring. your favourite gemstone, he suddenly remembers.

he lets the tender moment pass, then carefully drops your hand to place his hands on his hips.

“looks cheap. you probably deserve better.”

you give him a look before your eyes drop to the ring on your finger. you twist it a little, observing the gem from different angles.

“no…it’s actually pretty perfect,” you decide.

ryland watches you over the rims of his glasses, his heart beating quicker when he catches the complete genuineness in your tone. his eyes flick back down to the photo next to you on the table.

“we're really married, huh?"

you lift your head, gazing at him with a fond curiosity. what else could you learn to remember about this silly man?

“i guess so,” you hum.

ryland gives a nod and glances down at his own ring.

“okay…” he murmurs.

then, louder; “then let’s be scientists and figure this out.”