#sap stuff

pairing: aroace!ryland grace & aroace!medic!reader

genre: hurt/comfort (ish)

word count: 1.0k

notes: this is lowkey self-indulgent because i've been struggling to sleep and wake up on time recently. this is post-fishing. mentions of injuries. (as per usual, not proofread bc i write these late in the night)

you have trouble sleeping after feeling the weight of both of your dear friends' lives on your hands.

Sleep was hard. You already had a tough time sleeping; your brain was absolutely restless most of the time, but after being caught in Adrian’s orbit, it made things hard. Hauling Ryland over your shoulders to get him to Armando, then getting Rocky back into his little enclosure of a room, back into his atmosphere, hurt like hell. Your arm burned up from your wrist to your elbow from carrying him.

It’s been a while since that happened. Rocky had just woken, and Ryland’s arm was healing up slightly. You made sure Rocky was in good health and changed Ryland’s bandages periodically, even giving the man periodic medical exams after having his skull pressed so hard against the console in the cockpit. None of it gave you peace of mind.

“You look really, really tired,” Ryland commented.

Rocky chimed in, “Friend only slept two hours.”

You brush the two off, “I always have trouble sleeping. This is my standard of normal.”

“Yeah, but I’ve barely seen you sleep, like ever.” The blond had a frown on his face as he said, “When I’m awake, you’re always up. When I go to sleep, you’re not even in bed. And also, two hours of sleep is really bad. I’m a freaking biologist saying that.”

He stared at your bandaged arm, noticeably smudged but not insanely unsanitary. Ryland asked, “Did you even remember to change your own bandages?”

You look down at your arm before humming, “Huh. I guess I forgot.”

“Friend needs sleep.” Rocky said, “Friend make Grace change bandages often. Confusion, forgetfulness, bad bad bad sign.”

“Guys, I’m fine!” You raise your hands defensively. “I’ll change my bandages and get back to work.”

Raising your hands might’ve been a mistake. Scratch that, definitely a mistake on your part. Ryland bent down near you, grabbing you with both hands, and hauling your body over one of his shoulders like you weighed nothing. Both his hands gripped your legs while your upper body dangled downward.

“Dr. Ryland Grace, what the actual fuck.” You struggled against him, but he was just too muscled for you to properly fight back. That, and you simply did not have the energy to do so. You can carry this guy; fighting him off should be easier.

He exclaimed, “Language! I’m taking you back to the dormitory.”

At this point, you gave up and just went limp in his hold. You knew you couldn’t argue with him either.

Rocky’s carapace tilted in confusion. His translator spoke robotically, “Grace and Friend going, question?”

“I’m putting this one to sleep,” Ryland explained. “I’ll be back to get back to work, and you can watch them while they sleep.”

Rocky nodded in agreement before going back to tinkering with some xenonite. He could read the room well enough that this was a human matter he shouldn’t intervene on, at least not yet.

“Goodnight!!” Rocky called out as the two of you left the lab.

After a short walk, he set you down on your bed. It was a thin mattress that dipped under you, but still comfortable. A colorful quilt was pulled over your lap and a medkit laid beside you.

Ryland sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to give him your arm. You reluctantly obliged, letting him treat you. You were the medic, not him. He shouldn’t have to be treating your wounds when you were more than capable of doing it yourself.

“You don’t have to change them out,” you muttered quietly. “I can do it myself, y’know? I know your arm still hurts.”

He rolled his eyes at you, replying, “My burn looks like a freckle compared to your arm. Plus, we have painkillers. Now, let me take care of you.”

Ryland was particularly gentle with your arm, carefully cleaning and applying ointment before covering it with gauze. He was hyper-focused on properly treating and rewrapping your burnt arm. He always had this particular face when he was trying to focus hard on something: furrowed eyebrows that gave him a wrinkle between his brows, and biting his tongue. As if his rambling like his usual self would break his concentration from the task at hand.

“It’s hard sleeping here,” you murmured. “I try to, but I keep on thinking about when we were fishing. I was really scared of waking up to both of you gone.”

Ryland paused for a minute, looking up at you. You couldn’t look at him while admitting this; you’d probably stare at him all teary-eyed, and you didn’t want him to worry harder.

When he finished wrapping your arm, his hand still grasped yours, gently squeezing it. They weren’t the softest hands. They were calloused from countless past experiments and his god-awful grip on pencils and pens, creating a bump on his middle finger. Despite the callouses, his grip on you was awfully tender.

Ryland reassured, “We’re okay now. Rocky and I are both up, healthy as we can be, and analyzing these Taumoeba samples. You can rest, because we’re gonna be here when you wake up.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Can you stay with me ‘til I fall asleep, Ry?”

He nodded vigorously, “Uh- yeah. Of course!”

It’s not the first time that you both slept next to each other. It often happened back home during documentaries and movie nights, or when one of you was too lonely on the Hail Mary. It was comforting to have someone living beside you.

Ryland lay down next to you, entangling his arms into yours. He pulled your head to his chest to rest on. You could hear every breath, every beat of his heart, and feel the rise and fall of his chest. It was more assurance for you to know he’s well.

His hand fidgeted, twitched, and eventually he started playing with your hair. Occasionally, his nails would end up scratching your scalp, making you attempt to bury yourself deeper into him. The content hum you let out made him chuckle lightly.

pun unintended.

pairing: slightly aroace!ryland grace x medic!aroace!reader

summary: ryland grace figuring out he was aroace, with some support of reader.

word count: 1.4k

notes: NOT PROOFREAD OMG IM SORRY, pre-phm, some book deets in here, and lowkey self-indulgent. written all for you, anon! shit making me realize ryland grace is lowkey relatable as fuck. or maybe i'm actually projecting hard onto him. or both.

—

Ryland Grace thought that it was just expected that he’d be married to a lover and have kids in the future; the perfect nuclear family. He thought that the sparks, the butterflies in people’s stomachs, the extravagant romances people talked of were only things of fiction.

Yeah, he lived with his grandparents when he was younger. Ryland saw how close and how much his grandparents loved each other. They would tell him that he would find his special someone, like how they found each other.

As years went by, he didn’t really have any interest in anyone. It felt abnormal. His friends in high school would talk about how attractive girls were, how much they desired certain people, but Ryland never felt that. Maybe he was a late bloomer; he was a little nerdy prodigy. Teen girls around him weren’t really interested in the little nerds.

Then college came, and he made closer friends, but he didn’t feel any interest in romance still. It made him feel uncomfortable, like he was an anomaly in college. While his peers were in romantic relationships, he still thought they were exaggerating about how they felt the butterflies and sparks with their significant others.

Then he met Linda in his last semester.

Linda was nice, sweet on him. His peers teased him, saying that Linda likes him and he should ask her out. He didn’t get the vibe. Ryland couldn’t understand how anything she did with him, or for him, had romantic intent.

Friends study with each other, they eat lunch together, and they keep each other company. She’s doing what anyone else would do for their friends.

One day, she came up to him, completely flustered. She was a bit of a mess while talking to him. He was really concerned. Was she sick? Did she get enough sleep?

Then she blurted out, “I like you! A lot! Can we go out, like on a date?”

One date turned into two dates, then four, and then many more. Before he knew it, he and Linda were an official couple. Despite this, despite liking Linda as a person, he still didn’t feel the lovey-dovey feelings everyone talks about. It didn’t feel normal. Ryland didn’t feel normal. Maybe he hasn’t spent enough time with her to truly gain those feelings?

As college ended and they graduated, Linda had to find a place to stay in San Francisco or else she would have to move back home. Ryland, conveniently, had his own apartment in San Francisco off-campus.

Linda moved in shortly after graduation, bringing boxes upon boxes into his home. By the time she fully moved in, his place was cluttered with her belongings. Her beauty products took over his bathroom counter, her framed photos covered his walls, and her magazines took the place of his science textbooks on the coffee table. If he spent more time with her, essentially every waking moment with her, then maybe he could feel those sparks too.

It was perfect in terms of society's expectations. He lived with his girlfriend and was on his way to live the rest of his life with her. Despite how right it was, it felt horribly wrong.

The way she would try to kiss him, pull him into bed with her, and all the intent behind her actions, it felt uncomfortably wrong to him. It created perpetual discomfort in his stomach. Not the fluttering discomfort, stomach-churning discomfort that weighed heavily on him. It's not that he wasn't comfortable with the physical affection; he enjoyed it. Her intent behind it made his chest tighten. His feelings on romance not only affected him, but also started to show effects on Linda.

She’d complain, argue with him. Why couldn’t he be more romantic? Why couldn’t he set up dates or be the romantic partner she wanted? And he’d try, try harder, but it was draining. He couldn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

The worst part was that Linda loved him very much, and it scared him from breaking her heart. Eventually, she initiated the breakup. He expected that it was coming, but it hurt to know that she broke up with him because she found Mark, a man who could actually give her what she wanted.

Ryland wound up in a bar, invited by you to have a drink to take his mind off the breakup. There he was, a sad grad student, nursing his glass of beer.

You tilted your head, “Ry, what’s on your mind?”

“I just can’t be normal,” he lamented. “I thought that if I spent more time with her, maybe I could love Linda? I mean, like, I love my friends, I love my grandparents, and I did love Linda, but not in the way she loved me, y’know? And then she just walks in with a new guy and tells me she’s done?”

“Did you love her, romantically?” You asked, “Or did you love her in the same way you love everyone else?”

You added after sipping your drink, “It was also a dick move that she walked in with the guy she left you for. That’s completely unnecessary.”

Ryland took a minute to think before responding, “I mean, she was good company. She was nice, although really disorganized. But now that you mention it, I think I was forcing myself to be more ‘lovey-dovey’ to be with her.”

“Did you really want to date her?”

“I…” He trailed off, before fully speaking, “I don’t think I did. I’ve never felt the want to date, even when I was younger.”

Ryland laughed humorlessly, “I thought everyone had to, at some point, date and find love. People always talk about romance and love, but I— I don’t find that appealing. I thought people were making romance up, and I would start to feel it once I started dating.”

“Well, that’s what most people would expect,” you reassured. “But that doesn’t mean you have to force yourself to fit into the expectations of love and romance. You can just, y’know, be you.”

He fidgeted with the glass in his hand, wiping off the condensation with his thumb. “That’s not normal, though. I feel not normal about it. Like— maybe I can’t love people.”

Ryland felt like some weird, loveless creature. He felt so out of place, like he was missing out and falling behind compared to others. He liked being close with Linda, being affectionate with her, but he just couldn’t be romantic about it. He didn’t even know how romance was supposed to feel like.

“You obviously love and care about people, Ryland. Just because you don’t love the same as other people doesn’t mean you can’t truly love people.” You look down at your own glass. “Besides, you’re not the only one who feels like that. You know about my dead-end dates in freshman year; I just realized I felt better without a lover than trying to be one to another person.”

You look up from your glass to see Ryland looking at you. His face was indescribably emotional. You can’t tell if you made things worse or better for him.

“I don’t know— I’m sorry, I was honestly rambling,” you held your hands up defensively, a sheepish expression on your face.

The small smile that graced his face felt like mercy on your soul. If you made your closest friend sadder, you would purposefully give yourself alcohol poisoning.

“No, no, I get it,” he said, then joked, “Maybe we’re just abnormal.”

“Yeah, we’re actually just some homunculi that were put on Earth.”

A year later, Ryland was teaching at Grover Cleveland Middle School. He completely ditched academia and ran to teaching preteens. His usual class agenda was interrupted by a required assembly, the principal using this particular period to gather students into the auditorium.

“Hello, I’m Jennifer. I’m a part of GLSEN. We’re an organization that works with the school’s GSA. Does anyone know what GLSEN is?”

The whole presentation explained their purpose, educating students about the LGBT+ community as well as the impact of bullying and discrimination against queer students. Two terms throughout the presentation stuck to his brain like glue.

Aromantic. Asexual.

pairing: aroace!ryland grace x medic!aroace!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

summary: it's hard to describe your relationship with ryland back home, but not in space.

notes: not proofread so sorry!! i lowkey mixed both the book and movie together just because i can. established qpr with reader and grace. i lowkey got a whole backstory for this reader archetype and grace. this also might be ooc, i like barely write in my life. pls lemme know if u want more, or even request ideas.

—

There was a little party in the makeshift break room on the hangar deck. You and Ryland sat near the main Hail Mary crew as you watched the TV screen that was mounted on the wall. Parts of the ship were to be sent up near the ISS to be built as they came. This was the ninth out of sixteen modules of the ship that were to be launched and assembled.

The chair you were settled in was not as comfortable as the couch the crew was on. They were going to die, so obviously they had the best seats in the room. You and Ryland were just cramped in an armchair. At some point, you both gave up on trying to sit on it, so you ended up just sitting on one of the armrests. Ryland’s arm wrapped around you and held you at the hip so you didn’t tip over.

He took a sip of his glass of Guinness as you gulped down some Soju. You couldn’t make a cocktail, so you just settled for flavored ones. It was sad.

Dubois looked over to you both, asking, “Will Ms. Stratt not join us?”

You and Ryland shared a glance before shrugging. The bespectacled man responded, “Eh, I don’t think so. She doesn’t care about fun stuff like launches.”

“She’s probably looking over spreadsheets in her office, or making calls to different UN reps,” you added.

Dubois nodded in understanding, gesturing to Ryland. “It’s fortunate you’re here to represent her, in a way.”

Ryland furrowed his brows in confusion, almost spitting out his drink. You, on the other hand, choked into giggles. Imagining Ryland back in suits and ties from grad school, but stern and serious, was amusing. He was too much of a loudmouth to be like Stratt.

“Representing her? How’d you get that idea?” He sputtered the question, extremely confused.

Ilyukhina’s head turned quickly. Her accent was especially thick from the “You’re number two, no? Aren’t you the first officer of Hail Mary with them as your second?”

You responded incredulously, “We’re both scientists, guys! Like the others here! Us being some scientific diplomats sounds crazy.”

Ilyukhina and Dubois shared a look before looking back at both of you. They were equally confused. “You honestly think that?”

“You both aren’t like the rest of us,” Bob Redell, the guy in charge of the astrophage breeders, added from behind you two.

“Of course we are,” Ryland responded. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Point is, you’re both special to Stratt,” Dubois said. “Honestly, doctors, I assumed you both and Stratt were engaged in sexual congress.”

You almost spat, laughing even harder at this assumption. On the other hand, Ryland’s mouth was agape in shock. He managed to speak through his shock, “What?! Are you out of your mind?! No freaking way.”

“I don’t— I don’t even believe that,” you laughed. “Stratt? She’s too stressed for anything! And me and Ryland?! That’s like— that’s an even crazier assumption.”

Ilyukhina hummed, “Then are you two fucking? Honestly, you should bring in Stratt as a third. She is uptight. Stratt could probably relax in an American sandwich.”

You couldn’t even laugh off the shock anymore; it started to hurt your abdomen. Ryland and you both looked at each other, exchanging equally confused and surprised expressions.

In peculiar unison, both of you responded, “We’re not having sex.”

“You literally have a hand on their hip,” pointed Ilyukhina.

Ryland rolled his eyes, “This one is prone to falling. Wouldn’t wanna clean up a puddle of good Soju off the floor.”

Dubois added, “Didn’t you guys live together since college?”

“We got too used to being in each other’s company,” you shrug. “Rather live with my best friend than find a weird roommate.”

“Best friend? Grace, they call you pet names,” Ilyukhina incredulously spoke.

Ryland simply responded, “Oh, they always do that.”

“Yeah, it’s silly,” you add. “He’s an utter dork. It’s too silly not to.”

Dubois asked, riddled in confusion, “What are you guys then?”

The molecular biologist flatly put it, “A partnership.”

The conversation was getting redundant, and the two astronauts seemed to be even more confused. It’s already been hard to explain to colleagues back home that you two aren’t dating or romantically involved, despite how intimately you two knew each other. Most of the time, you would be told that it was a wonder you and Ryland haven’t started dating yet. You didn’t want that, though, nor did he.

You changed the topic, “We’re not Stratt’s number twos, nor fuck buddies. We’re just scientists that she happens to consult often. Nothing more.”

“Yeah,” Ryland agreed. “We got drafted into the project just like the rest of you!”

—

“Grace Friend mate, question?” Rocky asked.

You were busy stitching up Ryland from a mechanical accident. While repairing part of the ship, he cut his arm on part of the wall panel. It was deep enough that he needed stitches.

You both froze up, turning to Rocky, simultaneously voicing your responses.

“What—”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“Grace and Friend always proximity. Lots touch,” reasoned Rocky. “Grace watch Friend sleep. Friend watch Grace sleep. Friend comfort care for Grace. Grace same. Grace Conclusion: Grace and Friend are mates!”

You mumble offhandedly while stitching him up, “Rocky, there’s more to that than for humans to be mates, uh— Ry, can you explain? I’m trying to focus here.”

“Sure,” He winced as you stuck the needle through his skin. “Jesus Christ, are you sure we don’t have any anaesthetic?”

“Nope, I asked Armando, there’s nothing, and this is the last stitch anyway.” You started to tie a knot, “C’mon, Emperor Comatose, explain to the alien human culture around dating.”

Ryland scoffed, “Fine. Fine.”

“Your feelings for Adrian are different from your feelings for us, or other Eridians, yes?” He asked.

Rocky trilled, “Yes! Adrian Rocky very close. Grace Rocky Friend close, but not like Adrian.”

The biologist winced, glaring at you as you started another knot. You rolled your eyes, “Lighten up, this is your last stitch. I’ll slap a plaster on so you don’t snag them.”

He proceeded to explain, “We don’t feel the same way you and Adrian feel about each other.”

“Friend and Grace just friends, question?” He tilted his carapace like a confused dog.

“I guess a little more,” Ryland pondered. The things you two did weren’t something most human friends did, like living together long-term or making financial/life decisions with each other in mind. The amount of commitment to each other was significantly more than that of friends.

He spoke after some thoughts, “At first I just thought I was too scared to become mates with anybody, but I just ended up realizing I didn’t really need or want one. They too felt that they didn’t need one either.”

Rocky hummed. “Grace and Friend feel bad bad without mate, question? Rocky miss Adrian much, feel bad bad.”

You gently placed a plaster over the stitched wound. You waved your gloves in a jazzy motion before turning towards Rocky.

A small smile made its way to your face. “No. I have Grace, and that’s all I really need. No need for mate.”

Ryland turned to you, face softening with a fond smile. “You’re all need to.”

“Grace and Friend much more than friend,” Rocky thought aloud. “Rocky and Adrian planned on laying eggs, have pebbles. Rocky understand humans mate, not to mate, but for act of it. Grace and Friend do, question?”

You and Ryland turn to each other, shaking your heads at each other, before both shaking your heads at Rocky.

“No, Rocky,” Ryland responded.

You were amused, “Rocky, you happened to meet two humans that aren’t the ‘norm’ in human culture.”

Rocky trilled, “Understand. Rocky unusual in Eridian culture.”

Ryland was confused, but you held in a giggle. You noticed clothing with some of Rocky’s belongings, but he never wore any since you met him. You decided to keep that to yourself when Rocky started panicking, when it was just you two talking about it while Ryland was working on the Taumoeba.

Rocky didn’t have a face, but you could just see that he was telling to shut up based on his body language. The spider-like rock decided to quickly change the subject before it went beyond what he wanted.

“Grace and Friend beyond friendship, but not mates,” Rocky said. “Mate without feelings, or mating. Need word.”

“Partner?” Ryland suggested.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, partner.”

- Carlander & Wedeen, 2019. Translated it myself from their Swedish book Att förstå sin egen utsatthet; “To understand your own exposure/vulnerability”.