warnings : dangerous amounts of awkward, nerdy ryland? terrible writing, not edited
summary : ryland has a crush on the kindergarten teacher that his class visits once a month
w/c : 4.3k
a/n : the chokehold this man has on me is INSANE
It was the last Friday of the month, Ryland’s favorite day. Once a month, he got to walk his homeroom class ten minutes down the street to the local elementary school. Once a month, his students got to hang out with their kindergarten buddies. Once a month, he got paid to sit around and be with her.
Y/n was the kindergarten teacher he was partnered up with. Last year he had been stuck with Mrs. Wilson. Her classroom always smelled of microwaved fish and sweaty fourth graders. She also had a bad habit of leaving the classroom without telling him, leaving him alone with nearly sixty children. Y/n was very different. Her classroom always smelled of lavender and citrus, and the only time he had ever been alone in her classroom was when she dropped the students off at lunch and went to the restroom.
Ryland was very grateful that he was visiting her classroom and that she wasn’t visiting his. Her room was a stark contrast to his. He had planets hanging from the ceiling, his desk was cluttered and trashed, and things fell down regularly. Here, there were paper lanterns hanging down, but that was all. They were evenly spaced and gave the room a cozy feel, not a trapped in low budget space feel. Everything had a place. Her desk was cleared, at least the top was. He had no clue if the drawers were in the same condition. The classroom was organized from the row of backpacks hanging on the wall to the cabinet filled with toys. It was structured, warm.
However, nice as the classroom was, that was not the best part of this arrangement the two schools set up. Working with Y/n was the highlight of his school year. There was just something about her. Maybe it was the fact that she always had a tupperware filled with baked goods for him when he brought his class to visit. Maybe it was the fact that she always smelled like vanilla and jasmine. And maybe, just maybe, it was the way she taught her students. The way that she could help one student understand a concept using props and hand motions and then turn around and help another by turning it into a game. She had a passion for helping them get from where they were, to where they were going. It was written all over her face.
This was what Ryland thought about as he walked his eighth grade homeroom over to the elementary school. The morning fog was still thick and a slight breeze sent a chill down his spine. The buzzing chatter of his students was making the grey sky seem a little lighter. He loved that they were just as excited as the kindergarteners were.
They made it inside the elementary building and the warmth immediately seeped into his bones, welcoming him like the embrace of an old friend. He navigated his class through the now familiar hallways and stopped outside a door that had been decorated with small laminated ducks, each one bearing the name of a kindergartener in the classroom. He turned to his gaggle of students.
“Remember, go in quietly and sit on the floor near your kid.” He said, making eye contact with the students who loved to go in squealing and hug their kindergarten partner.
“Yes, Mr. Grace,” the class echoed.
Ryland knocked on the door. He suddenly felt nervous. This had become the new normal since the first time Y/n opened the door. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. He wiped one sweaty palm on his jeans and ran the other one, shakily, through his tousled hair. His stomach knotted, he felt like an idiot.
The door opened, and there was Y/n. She was wearing dress pants and an oversized sweater. Her hair was falling naturally. The smell of her perfume was wrapping him up like he just stepped inside after being out in the cold too long, which technically he did. His breath hitched quietly and he hoped she didn’t hear it. He felt the small smile creeping onto his face and there was no point in trying to fight it.
He didn’t get to bask in the feeling as long as he wished to, the overly excited five year olds started babbling behind her. She smiled at him. What kindergarteners?
“Hey,” she said, her voice low, like she was whispering a secret for his ears only.
The small smile broke into a full blown grin. “Hey,” he whispered back. Y/n opened the door fully so Ryland and his class could enter. The two teachers stepped aside while the students entered the space and situated themselves. As he entered the room, his eyes settled on her desk, finding a tupperware sitting on it, a pink sticky note on top with his name on it. He could feel the tips of his ears match the color of the sticky note.
“My kids have been excited all week. We had to make a countdown paper chain on Monday,” She said, beaming up at him.
Ryland let out a small chuckle. “Mine too. They try to play it off and act cool, but they’ve asked me once a week when we’re coming back.” Y/n laughed and both teachers got back to what they were actually supposed to be doing.
The schedule was simple enough. First was penmanship. The eighth graders had to help the kinders write a three sentence story. Y/n stood in front of the whiteboard, pink marker in hand.
“So if Mr. Grace is my partner,” She said, looking at the group of fifty or so kids crammed into the room. “Then he and I are going to come up with the story together! It can be about anything!” She looked over at him. “For example, I might write, ‘Mr. Grace is a good teacher.’” She wrote the sentence on the board. Her lettering was smooth and elegant, only in the way that teachers can have. She glanced over at Ryland expectantly.
“And I might want her to write, ‘Miss Y/n is a great teacher.’” He hoped that it wasn’t obvious that he was trying to elevate her. The smile and roll of her eyes told him he was unsuccessful. She wrote it anyway. He moved to stand next to her.
“After that, we might say, ‘They make a great team.’” She said, and the smile she gave him went right to his stomach. He had to snap his eyes anywhere else or he feared he would forget himself and make a really dumb move in front of the students. He felt his neck heat up and he was sure he was beet red. Y/n noticed. Her gaze drifted back to the students. “Are there any questions?” She asked.
A hand shot up instantly. Y/n nodded for the student to ask his question. “But, Miss Y/n! Our papers have a big square on top of our writing lines!” Y/n smiled at the urgency of the question.
“They do! Good job, Jeffrey, I almost forgot! At the top of your paper you have a blank space. You and your buddy are going to color a picture that goes with your story.”
Another hand went up. “Miss Y/n, you didn’t draw a picture.”
The middle schoolers chuckled, noticing the way their teacher was avoiding looking at Miss Y/n. One of them raised their hand. “Yeah, Mr. Grace, you have to help Miss Y/n color a picture of the two of you!”
He wanted to die. He hated how bad he was at being subtle. He was rescued when Y/n let out a laugh. “You guys are right. Tell you what, while you guys write, Mr. Grace and I will draw a picture on the board.”
The students got to work as Ryland uncapped a black marker. He started drawing a stick figure. It was lopsided, and the eyes weren’t evenly spaced out, but Y/n assumed it was his best efforts based on the way his brows knit together and his tongue poked out slightly from between his lips.
He looked over to where Y/n was finishing her drawing. It was very obviously him. From the glasses to the cardigan he was wearing, the dry erase drawing was very evidently Ryland. He was even giving a thumbs up. He glanced back at his drawing. Not terrible. Not great. He picked up the pink marker she had been using earlier. He drew a flower in the stick woman’s hand. He took a step back and admired his work. Y/n did the same.
“We really do make a great team,” she said, turning to look up at him.
His brain short circuited. She didn’t even compliment him. Why was his brain offline? Think of something! Say something! Say anything! She’s looking right at you! Say something! Say something now!
“Like ribosomes and protein synthesis.” Not that! Idiot.
But the panic subsided as Y/n let out a huff of laughter and her body involuntarily leaned into his. It was brief, a slight graze of her shoulder against his. Yet it was all he could focus on. He stilled as it happened, trying to memorize the feeling instantly. He spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out if his arm tingled from the force of impact or if his brain was experiencing a minor chemical imbalance. His internal debate subsided as Y/n instructed the students to turn in their work.
The rest of the morning passed by in a flurry of raised hands and tiny confused sighs as math worksheets were handed out and completed. There was a breath of relief when Y/n announced it was time for recess. He shrugged his cardigan off and onto the chair as he pulled his blazer back on. Y/n led the group down the hall and outside as Ryland manned the end of the line, ensuring no wandering or straggling.
This time, the fresh air felt less inviting, like it was stripping the atmosphere of all the warmth and depth that Y/n’s classroom supplied. It smelled Earthy and sharp. Normally it would be one of his favorite things in the world. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to be inhaling her scent. Her classroom scent, that is, or so he told himself. His inner lament was silenced when a soccer ball went flying into his left foot.
“Mr. Grace!” A chorus of students yelled his name and ran over to him. A tiny boy with a mop of dark curly hair peered up at him through thick eyelashes. His hands were clasped near his chest as he started to speak. “Mr. Grace, will you play with us?”
Ryland felt something profound tug at his heart strings as the boy looked up at him expectantly.
“Sure, but only if we beat these middle schoolers, deal?” He stuck out his hand, the soccer ball now pinned under his foot.
The boy, Miles, shook his hand and giggled out, ‘deal’.
“Kinder versus middle school!” was all Ryland shouted before kicking the ball towards a five year old and running towards the goal, guarded by one of his own students.
Y/n watched from the sidelines as Ryland weaved, not so elegantly, between the students. He was constantly stumbling over his own feet, and his glasses kept sliding down his face. However, Y/n also saw the way he passed the ball to her students every time. The way he would steal the ball from an eighth grader, pass it to a little kid, only to have the ball stolen by a middle schooler again. She noticed the way he fell backwards and landed on his back in order to avoid lightly bumping one of her students. She watched him pause the game to help a girl tie her shoe. He had never looked so attractive. He was squatting down, her yellow shoe resting atop his knee. His glasses hung around his chin and his hair was tousled and sweaty from running. The way he smiled, watching as the girl ran back to the game once her shoe was properly tied again. She noticed the way that the water ran down his hair to his cheek to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Wait, water?
Y/n’s train of thought was cut off by a splash of rain hitting her forehead. Oh great. Before she knew it, five year olds all around her were losing their minds. She pulled her sweater tighter around herself as the rain picked up. Ryland was by her side in an instant, shrugging his blazer off and, awkwardly, draping it over Y/n’s head, an attempt to shield her from the rain. Y/n smiled despite herself as she watched him concentrate. A whistle blew and all the kids quickly got in line as Y/n led them towards the classroom. Ryland, soaked to the bone, stood at the end of the line, waiting for one kindergartener to catch up after he ran back into the playground for his water bottle.
The group was buzzing as they re-entered the classroom. Y/n gave instructions for the kids to hang up their coats and find a seat on the rug. Ryland stood next to Y/n, who was finally pulling the blazer from her head. “You didn’t have to do that,” She whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Yes I did,” he breathed out. Y/n tried to hand him the blazer, but it was quickly draped around her again, this time, over her shoulders. She smiled as he rubbed the fabric up and down her arms. There was a faint smell of clean linen and stale coffee. It was uniquely Ryland, like the scent only existed for him. She had been mostly protected from the rain, and she didn’t really need dried off, but she let him do it.
His glasses had little drops of water on them, sliding down the lens and onto the floor. His hair was completely soaked, dripping down his face steadily onto his clothes, which had been thoroughly drenched. Yet here he was, drying her off. The whole world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them as Ryland pulled the blazer off of her and wrapped his knit sweater around her. The sleeves were too long for her, but she pushed them back slightly, freeing her hands. The soft fabric brushed his arm as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, Y/n waited with baited breath.
“Miss Y/n?” A tiny hand pulled on the sweater and Y/n reluctantly pulled her eyes away from Ryland’s.
Ryland felt his mouth shut quickly, suddenly very aware of where he was. He looked over at his students, who were smirking and looking away. Because that's what he needed, a class of middle schoolers noticing his awkward crush on the nicest woman in the world.
He tried looking anywhere else. The pattern of the floors was suddenly riveting. His gaze snapped back to Y/n as she turned on a movie and told the class to watch quietly and eat their lunches. He turned the lights off and made his way to the back of the classroom, sitting on a tiny table. Y/n sat next to him, tupperware in hand, pink sticky note still on top. She handed it to him wordlessly, the air around them full and comforting. He opened the container as Y/n started eating her lunch next to him.
“Banana bread?” He whispered excitedly. “You didn’t!”
Y/n smiled, and she was overjoyed that the lights were off and he wouldn’t be able to see the way that her cheeks flushed. “Of course I did. You said it was your favorite.” Ryland leaned back in the chair slightly and started eating quietly, eyes trained on the students in front of him.
He let his hand settle on the table beneath him, slowly letting it drift closer to Y/n’s until his hand was ghosting hers. Y/n didn’t look away from the kids as she carefully shifted so her hand was pressed against his, trying to get him to just take a hint already.
He let his fingers delicately trace over her knuckles before hooking his pinky under her hand and flipping it gently so it rested in his. It was slow, and a little clumsy, but it was also warm. Solid.
Ryland could feel the quickening thump of his heart against his chest. His throat was dry and he was suddenly very nervous that his hand was going to start sweating.
The thoughts were subdued when Y/n brushed her thumb over his knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge, every valley. He looked down where they were joined together. A small smile graced his features and he went back to watching the kids.
Lunch was over too soon in his humble opinion. In reality, they had actually gone fifteen minutes over because Y/n didn’t want to let go of Ryland’s hand. Only two more hours before he had to leave, and he tried to push the thought away, like not thinking about it delayed the inevitable. He took his place at the front of the room as Y/n settled her students into their seats.
“Alright you guys! Who’s excited to learn about space?” Every little hand shot into the air.
He uncapped an expo marker and started asking questions. “Who knows what is in the middle of the solar system?” A middle schooler started whispering into her kindergartener’s ear. The five year old jumped up frantically, waving her hand in the air.
“I know! I know!”
“Tell me, Amaya!”
“The sun!”
“Good job! Yes! The Sun is in the middle of our solar system! Everything goes in circles around it.” He drew a sun on the whiteboard. “Alright, Amaya, I need your help now.”
Amaya looked over at Y/n for reassurance. After receiving a nod of approval, Amaya walked to the tall teacher.
“Okay. Amaya, you are the sun. You’re gonna stand right here.” He gave her a high five as she stood where she was told to.
“Who knows what planet is closest to the Sun?”
There was more whispering. Then more voices shouting out ‘I know’ and ‘Me! Me!’.
“What is it, Jack?”
“Mercury!”
“Good job! Come on up!” Ryland added another circle to the board. “Okay, Jack. You're gonna go in a circle around Amaya, and you’re the fastest planet in the solar system! So go! Faster! Faster!” The class erupted into giggles.
“What comes after Mercury?” He didn’t have to wait this time. “Which planet is it, Claire?”
“Uh, Venus?”
“Venus is right!” Claire didn’t wait for permission before walking to the front. “Okay Claire, you have to walk in a circle too, but you’re very slow,” He said, dragging out the last part of the sentence. Claire started marching in slow motion around Jack. Laughter again.
He continued on until he had an entire solar system of kindergarteners running around the space. Y/n watched as he laughed with the kids and inevitably started to ramble about how technically Max, the Earth stand-in, was moving slightly too fast for this example to be realistic. She didn’t realize she was smiling until Ryland glanced over and shot her a grin.
He finally settles them down and returns everyone to their seats. Y/n watched him for a moment longer before remembering the coloring sheets in her hand.
They sat together at her desk once the kids started coloring together. “I don’t think they’ve ever had that much fun during science,” Y/n said, her voice sincere, with a hint of something more. God, Ryland hoped he wasn’t imagining it.
“I don’t know about that,” He said, his gaze flicking quickly to her lips and back up to her eyes. Y/n noticed. Her cheeks heated up and her eyes shifted to the ground, remembering quickly that they were still working.
Ryland wanted to die. He looked up at the ceiling and wished that it would fall on him. He was saved from the awkwardness when a voice called his name.
“Mr. Grace,” A teary eyed Amaya approached him with her coloring page in her grasp. He was moving before he realized it, crouching down so he was eye level with her.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He held his palm out and let her grab it with her small hand. She sniffled and Y/n felt her breath get caught in her throat at the interaction. The way his eyes scanned Amaya for something wrong. The way he subconsciously made her feel seen. The way he knew to hold out his calloused hand. It all caused something to bubble under the surface.
“I messed up my drawing,” she mumbled, showing him the paper. Ryland looked at the page and then back at the small girl.
“Messed up? I don’t see anything wrong!” He said, embellishing his confusion slightly.
“Saturn isn’t supposed to be pink,” She sniffled again and let out a small, sad sigh that made Ryland want to tear up a little.
“Well you know what?” He asked, looking at the girl holding his hand.
“What?”
“I think pink is the best color anyway. I think that Saturn looks better in pink than any other color.”
Amaya cracked a small smile. “Pink is your favorite color?”
Ryland beamed back. “Well, I don’t know, orange is pretty cool, but pink is too.”
Amaya giggled and let go of Ryland’s hand, bouncing back to her seat. He stayed crouched on the ground, watching her go back to her seat for a while longer.
It was at this moment that Y/n subconsciously noticed how strong his shoulders looked through his still damp shirt, which clung to his muscles in all the right places. She shook her head as he stood up, like it would remove the thought from her brain.
“You’re really good with them, you know.” Her voice was quieter. It sent a warm tingle down Ryland’s spine. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly.
Y/n giggled and looked back at the students. He opened his mouth to try again.
“Well, statistically speaking, it’s easier to induce dopamine at that developmental stage.” He noticed the way her lips curved into a smirk and her eyes slightly narrowed in confusion. “Their baseline for excitement is much lower than in adults, so small achievements tend to produce disproportionally strong reactions. So like,” He took a breath, realizing he was still staring at her lips, and moved his eyes to meet hers. “High return on minimal input situation.”
Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “That was a lot of words to say that I was right.” He smiled and pressed his shoulder into hers.
They sat together until Y/n went up to give the next instructions. Her eyes kept wandering over to his frame, sitting in a tiny, blue chair meant for a five year old. The older kids helped their kindergarten partners put their things away and start their reading work.
Y/n started picking up markers that had fallen on the floor. Ryland followed suit. He stopped at Amaya’s seat, noticing how Saturn was bright pink with orange rings around it. He smiled softly and went to pick up the orange marker at the same time that Y/n did. Their fingers brushed, and at first Ryland pulled back, startled by her presence, letting out a quiet gasp.
Y/n let out a small giggle, and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. He rolled his eyes at her laughter, but smiled despite himself. They cleaned up quietly, enjoying the last moments together.
“Alright, kinders! Let’s say bye to our middle schoolers!” Y/n said as the eighth graders lined up with their bags.
“Bye!” The class shouted. The middle schoolers waved and filed out of the room, Ryland hesitated outside the door. Y/n stood in the doorway, wanting to see him as long as she could before closing the door.
He turned from Y/n to his class. “Start walking to the bus, I’ll meet you there. Gotta ask Miss Y/n what grade you guys should get.” The class groaned but started walking anyway.
He turned back to Y/n. “I uh,” what was he doing? This was a terrible idea. “I, well, you,”
Y/n smiled and he completely forgot whatever it was he was trying to spit out. In a moment of foolish bravery, his mouth moved faster than his brain.
“Would you want to go out with me?” He breathed out.
Y/n smiled, looking at the ground, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked back up at him, cheeks flushed. “I’d love to.”
He let out a sigh of relief. There was something about the way she looked at him. The way her eyes flitted down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He forgot himself for a moment. His lips went crashing into hers. It was a little clumsy, and a little rushed, but his lips were soft, and molded nicely with hers.
He pulled away, breathless, eyes a little wild. Y/n leaned against the door, not registering the students behind her talking and coloring.
“I‘ll see you later,” he mumbled as he walked backwards, eyes still trained on Y/n. He stumbled only twice before he turned around and walked towards the school bus waiting for him in the rain.
He was startled as he climbed on board and was greeted with applause.
“Yeah! Get it Mr. Grace!”
“Finally did it!”
“You wanted her so bad!”
“It was like an awkward nerdy soap opera!”
He rolled his eyes but smiled as soon as he sat down. Now he just had to survive the date.
pairing: various ryan gosling characters x fem!reader
featuring: ryland grace, colt seavers, holland march, court gentry, jacob palmer, lars lindstrom, officer k, sebastian wilder, and ken
warnings: none, enjoy!
- Ryland Grace -
⤷ sometimes you’ll sit in his lap while he’s grading papers, fiddling with his hair and peppering his jaw with kisses… overall being very distracting
⤷ you also love admiring his hands, often playing with them while you guys are relaxing
⤷ when he wears his ridiculously tight science shirts that make his biceps look a little too good, you can’t help but stare and give them an experimental squeeze
⤷ poor, unsuspecting Ryland will be prepping a science lab for his kiddos, and then jump in surprise when he feels your hands around his arms
⤷ “hey sweetheart, did you need som–”
⤷ “shush, i’m concentrating”
⤷ if he had a rough day teaching (or a bad interaction back when he was still in the scientific community), he immediately seeks out your comforting embrace once he gets home
⤷ one day while you were kissing his face, he reached up to remove his glasses so they weren’t in your way
⤷ when you realized what he was doing, you interlocked your fingers with his to stop him, and continued about your business
- Colt Seavers -
⤷ he’s down bad for you, so anything you want, it’s yours
⤷ cuddles? hand holding? kisses? your wish is his command
⤷ please be careful while snuggling with him though, this poor boy has at least ten bruises on him at all times from getting thrown around for his job
⤷ you both like laying on top of the other when relaxing, and Colt falls asleep every time
⤷ if you’re draped over him, he’ll have his arms wrapped around you and knock out in minutes– he claims you’re like a cozy weighted blanket
⤷ on the flip side, if he’s laying on top of you, he’ll bury his face in your neck and drift off while your hands comb through his hair
⤷ whenever he’s sitting in a chair, you like standing in front of him to hold his face and press gentle kisses into his skin
⤷ Colt just sits there and soaks it up, completely drunk on your love
- Holland March -
⤷ oh you’re touchy? don’t need to tell him twice— he’s allll over you
⤷ especially when he’s drunk, Holland’s hands are physically unable to stop roaming your body
⤷ one time, when you were guiding him to his car after a night out (he was DRUNK drunk), he was shocked to find a pretty girl on his arm and couldn’t stop spewing out cringey pick up lines
⤷ you just buckled him up, kissed him on the cheek, and got in the driver’s seat
⤷ he normally blacks out after drinking too much, but his resolve to stare at the pretty lady driving him home won out
⤷ after a particularly long day of detective work with Healy, he’ll collapse into your arms without hesitation
⤷ likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck or lay on your stomach if you guys are lounging
⤷ you idly scratch his head or play with his hair in these positions, and he absolutely melts
⤷ when he’s smoking, you’ll kiss him around his neck and face… sometimes the cigarette gets forgotten as a result
- Court Gentry -
⤷ BIG MUSCLESS… who said that
⤷ anyways you’re one of his “safehouses”
⤷ every time he shows up at your doorstep all battered and bloodied, he berates himself for always endangering you even though he’s double and triple checked that he wasn’t followed
⤷ before the regret can fully sink in, you never fail to dissipate it when you embrace him and usher him inside
⤷ to Court, your house is cozy and warm, but your arms are warmer
⤷ when he gets in his head about how dangerous his job is and how he’s risking your life, you shut him up with a kiss and firmly restate that you’d rather take the risk of being with him than choose to be with anyone else
⤷ if it was an especially rough mission, you force him straight to the bathroom where you turn on a hot shower and prep first aid materials
⤷ you take your time to wash him, and Court finally lets himself relax while you lather him up and massage his tense muscles, careful to avoid his injuries
⤷ in bed, you love to delicately trace his scars, fingers just barely ghosting his skin
⤷ you also make a habit of reaching under his shirt, running your hands along his abs
⤷ when he inevitably has to leave, the two of you stand in front of the door for a while, with you slowly kissing his face and refusing to let go
⤷ “darling, I really need to leave now”
⤷ “one more minute, please”
⤷ when you whisper into his ear like that with that pleading tone, he can’t refuse
- Jacob Palmer -
⤷ as much as you love touching him, he’s equally all over you
⤷ he’s used to girls getting with him to ogle at his body, so when you simply caress his face and hold his hand, he falls hard
⤷ the two of you spend a lot of time in bed, morning and night, just talking about life while being a mess of tangled limbs
⤷ he never realized it before you, but he loves being held– with previous girls, he was always the one to take the lead and initiate touch, but now that he has you, he’s able to let loose and be the one receiving all the affection
⤷ spooning is the go to sleeping pose, and you guys definitely switch between being the big/little spoon
- Lars Lindstrom -
⤷ back when he was still hesitant to touch you, he would often give you his special blue blanket to snuggle with
⤷ whether you guys are at church, on a walk, or resting at home, holding pinkies is a must
⤷ one morning, he was putting on one of his many sweaters, and you took a special liking to it
⤷ “that’s a nice sweater”
⤷ his head whipped up to look at you, and after a moment of processing, he couldn’t repress the genuine smile spreading on his face
⤷ you held the sleeve of his sweater for the rest of the day, and you couldn’t help but notice that he wore it a little more often ever since
⤷ at night, he’s grown accustomed to falling asleep with his hand intertwined with yours
⤷ you’ll work up to cuddling/spooning, and you reassure him there’s no rush
⤷ Lars was pleasantly surprised to find that your touch doesn’t burn as much as others
- Officer K -
⤷ for the longest time he only had Joi, so this boy is touch starved like crazyy
⤷ he loves coming home to you and he deeply treasures the fact that he has someone tangible to hold and be held by after a long day
⤷ you’ve formed this nightly ritual of him coming home and collapsing into your arms– you like to lay there as he tells you about his day while you rub soothing circles into his back
⤷ if his hunting job was particularly brutal or bloody, you gently peel off his clothes, draw a bath for him, and help him clean up
⤷ his favorite part is when you wash his hair– the way your fingers scratch his head just right and how they trail down his shoulders to gently squeeze his arms really gets him
⤷ one rainy night, he led you out to the rooftop, hands intertwined as you let the rain hit your skin and drench your hair
⤷ he reached out to tuck your soaked hair behind your ear, and when he let his hand hover beside your head, you guided it to rest on your cheek, nuzzling into it
⤷ K doesn’t smile often, but in that moment, he couldn’t help it because of how real everything felt to him
- Sebastian Wilder -
⤷ one of your favorite pastimes is to curl up with him at night and listen to his grand plans for his club, all while absentmindedly tracing shapes on the palm of his hand
⤷ after his performances, you love pulling him in by his tie for a kiss (and he’s so into it)
⤷ when you’re done with him, his tie is loose and his hair is all messed up, but he’s got this drunk smile plastered on his face
⤷ you guys go out to jazz clubs at least once a week, and without fail you’re holding his hand under the table
⤷ he’s a traditionalist, so he loves offering his arm to you whenever you guys are walking together, which you gladly take
⤷ your shared bed is small, but it doesn’t even matter because of how thoroughly entangled you guys are while sleeping
- Ken!! -
⤷ after a long, laborious day of beach, he’ll happily prance into your open arms (beach is not an easy job!!)
⤷ if you’re holding on to his arm, he’ll puff out his chest a little and deliberately walk past the other Kens to make them jealous
⤷ you love running your hands down his abs or feeling up his biceps and this man absolutely soaks it up
⤷ he lovesss when you make him feel macho
⤷ but in the privacy of your dreamhouse, Ken will cling to you like a koala
⤷ bonus: one day, you asked him to stay the night to cuddle, and let’s just say his reaction was NOT as subtle as he thought it was
⤷ he had to excuse himself (which meant walking a few feet away, still directly in your line of sight) to triumphantly pump his arms and yell “SUBLIME!!”
⤷ he comes back all nonchalant, so you just scoff with a smile and drag him inside your dreamhouse by the hand
a/n: this was so fun and easy to write UGH the rygos obsession is hitting hard. requests are open!!
summary bored of research and missing you, grace seeks out your company !
content quiet gn!reader, established relationship, grace is very in love and unabashed about it, use of baby and pretty, a kiss. pre-hail mary mission, reader and grace are researching together!
masterlist ♡
wc 381
⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆˚࿔
Ryland steps in easy and familiar behind your chair, bends over himself to press his stubbled cheek to yours, and thinks you smell lovely. Something mellow but sweet even so, honey and fresh cream. A mug of tea billows up calm steam from your desk. It kisses his chin.
"Ry," you breathe. "What's happening?"
"Nothing," he murmurs. "I was missing you."
You're quiet. He doesn't mind, just watches your hand scribble down fast words with a pencil and reaches to still it. His grip is gentle, and he gives your palm a soft squeeze with his fingers.
"Why-"
"You smell good," he says. "And you've been trying to crack this for hours. Take a break, pretty."
You swivel your chair around to meet his gaze, and his hands settle on the armrests, leaning low towards you. His nose would brush yours, if you'd just inch a little closer. He'd like you to. You're very pretty. Stars pale in comparison.
"You never want me to work," you tease and smile so sweet, his heart aches.
"Not true," he replies. "I just want you to take care of yourself."
You hum, and his chest feels a welling of light. Gone is the stress of research and timelines and the Hail Mary. All he can see is you, smiling at him, and he can't resist giving a chaste kiss to delicate skin of your under eye.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi, Ry."
"You look really nice today," he tells. "Every day, really."
Your lips twitch and petal with bashfulness, he tilts his head. In full honesty, you're glowing, and he's amazed by it. So smart and all sorts of perfect, he can't believe he gets to be the one bothering you like this, while you're trying to get important things done.
"Oh." You swallow. "Thank you."
"Will you please come get lunch with me?" he asks.
He watches as you think. There may as well be big hearts in his eyes.
"...Can we go to that new place that just opened?"
"Yeah, baby, wherever you want." He nods feverishly. "C'mere."
He pulls you up and away, weaving through research stations and busy astronomers with a warm hand on the small of your back, and decides to keep you for himself the rest of the day.
Summary: The entire school knew how close you and Ryland Grace had become since you'd joined Grover Cleveland Middle's staff a year prior. That knowledge only fueled the rumor mill, that one that ran between the staff and students alike, on just how close the two of you were. It didn't help that you were definitely head over heels for the slightly awkward and endearing science teacher.
Warnings: pre-Project Hail Mary and should not include spoilers but caution anyways just in case, pre-movie storyline, tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, workplace romance, friends to lovers, slightly suggestive-ish comments but no smut, female reader but no characteristics described, definitely some incorrect science information but I am not a scientist so apologies, I am also not a teacher so I am sorry for any inaccuracies there lol, lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
“Can anyone tell me why it was that Penelope asked her suitors to string Odysseus’s bow?”
The silence that followed was deafening. Your eyes shut for half a second, a tiny sigh escaping through your lips. Reopening your eyes, not a single one of your students had dared to raise their hands. No one except for Olivia, your star student, who waved her hand repeatedly in the air from the back of the classroom. A single glance to the clock told you all you needed to know.
11:55. These kids were already in lunch mode, and there was zero way you were getting them to listen to you.
With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you gave Olivia the okay to answer the question. She happily took your permission and ran with it, always the first to answer any questions you posed in class. If only the rest of these damn middle schoolers were as eager as she was.
“Penelope didn’t want to marry anyone else, so she gave them an impossible task,”
“Why does she always know everything?”
Marcus thought his comment was whispered just low enough that you wouldn’t hear him in the first row, but he was never quite that lucky. He quickly shut his mouth and looked anywhere but in your direction the second he caught sight of the disapproving look you were casting directly at him.
“You are exactly right, Olivia. Thank you for answering my question,” there were a few chuckles in the room at the obvious sarcasm laced through your words, as you hopped up onto your desk to relax and get a better look around the room full of kids. “Penelope knew the only person that could string her husband’s bow, was her husband himself. She needed to buy time, especially when these suitors only really wanted to be the ones to inherit Ithaca-”
There was a loud knocking on the door to your classroom that had been left open for the last 20 minutes of class, interrupting your words. You weren’t surprised in the slightest to meet the eyes of none other than Ryland Grace, the science teacher.
“Uh- sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt important book talk stuff. Super important, you uh-you never know when Shakespeare will come up at your future desk job,” the cringe that Ryland physically did at his own comment was easy to see, even from across the room. He gave you a sheepish smile, his glasses barely hanging onto his face from their unconventional spot hanging off of one of his ears. The blonde held up the brown bag in his hand, and you could practically smell the food that rested inside. “I’m early, I’m sorry. Didn’t think you’d want to have a cold burger for lunch.”
“I told you!” Marcus still didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, leaning over to his best friend Jason at the desk beside him, slapping him on the arm. “They’re totally dating!”
“As if Mr. Grace could pull her,”
There was a chorus of snickers and laughter through the class, any semblance of order you might’ve had descending into chaos as every single one of your loveable, little shits just kept casting looks between you and Ryland, who still stood awkwardly in your classroom doorway with reddened cheeks.
Your face was surely no better, you were sure you could feel the heat that was emanating off of your skin, as you ran a hand down the burning skin of your face and wondered why you chose to teach these little menaces for the rest of your life. The world decided to be kind to the pair of you though, for once, letting the lunch bell save you from any further embarrassment from a group of 13 year olds.
“Please come to class prepared to actually answer questions tomorrow!” you called out over the hustle and bustle of the class as they grabbed their things, eager to scurry off to their lunch hour and finally eat. “Your unit test is at the end of next week, and I would prefer not to fail all of you.”
They weren’t listening, but by this point in the day you were hungry and didn’t have the energy to try and argue with them.
Any of that tiredness they brought to your bones? It disappeared the second you watched the way they all interacted with Ryland on their way out the door.
Big smiles, every single one of them excited to see the school’s favorite science teacher lingering in the doorway to their English class. You could just barely hear the tail end of one of Ryland’s terrible science puns, something about a hungry planet needing a ‘light snack’ that got a groan out of Marcus. All it did was bring a soft smile to your face, though, one that somehow softened even more at the quick, secret handshake Olivia shared with him before she was out the door.
Then, it was just the two of you, smiling like idiots as you locked eyes across the room again. And god, did you want that fluttering group of butterflies in your stomach to calm down for just a moment.
Having a crush on Dr. Ryland Grace, the former molecular biologist turned San Francisco middle school science teacher, was inevitable from the moment you turned up at the school for your first day over a year ago. Incredibly smart, amazing with kids, and so incredibly handsome you thought your heart stopped beating the first time you saw him–hell, Mrs. Doyle, the math teacher for over 5 years, said there were at least 4 other young teachers that absolutely had crushes on this man. You were far from the first.
He broke that perfect vision of himself you were building in your head within 5 minutes of meeting, tripping over his own two feet and knocking the stack of papers a mile high from the Principal’s hands, but you had only found it even more endearing.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he apologized again, long legs striding across the room and reaching your desk in a matter of seconds. “I had a free period before this, a-and you mentioned this morning you forgot lunch so I grabbed some for both of us-”
“Sal’s?” you questioned, pointing to the bag of foot now sitting on your desk with the familiar logo. “They’re, like, 10 blocks away. Why’d you go that far?”
“Because I know they’re your favorite,”
The flare of heat in your cheeks was instant. Ryland Grace, who rode a damn bike to the school every day, used his free period to ride 10 blocks away and pick you up lunch from your favorite spot, all because you mentioned offhandedly at 7 a.m. about forgetting your lunch for the day.
Well, he certainly didn’t do that for the four fresh out of college teachers that had crushes on him. You’d mentally consider that a hefty win in your book.
“How sweet of you to remember,” Ryland simply waved you off, head turned away as he passed your wrapped burger into your hands, taking up space on your desk chair while you stayed comfortable on top of your desk. “You even remembered tomatoes this time!”
“I forgot them one time and I never hear the end of it,” laughter was shared between you both for a moment as Grace took a bite of his own burger. “I caught the tail end of that discussion. Olivia answering all your questions like a champ?”
“Isn’t she always,” you shot back with another laugh, turning slightly on your desk to better face him. “I swear she’s the only one that I can ever get to answer any of my questions. She might be the only one that does any of my assigned readings.”
“To be fair, can you blame her?” Ryland’s words were muffled slightly by the food in his mouth. You couldn’t even contain the slight smile that grew as he managed to just barely catch the ketchup dripping off his burger before it could smear itself on the stack of papers that needed graded at your desk. “Shakespeare was just…so interesting. Couldn’t get enough of his stuff. Don’t know why your kids don’t want to read it.”
There was silence for a moment, your eyebrow quirked in his direction. The blonde stopped mid bite of his burger, looking back at you quizzically, trying to figure out what he had said wrong.
“You know we’re currently learning The Odyssey, right?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll let you think about that for a second,”
He did, just slowly blinking in your direction. He glanced at the chalkboard behind you, covering in little notes you’d made throughout the class discussion, before they flickered to the copy of the book that sat on your desk. That was finally when you saw the light bulb flicker on above his head, Ryland’s eyes shutting as he let out a loud sigh.
“...that wasn’t written by Shakespeare, was it?”
The laughter that bubbled out of you practically had you throwing your head backward.
“No, but I’m sure Homer won’t be too offended,” feet landing on the ground as you hopped off your desk, you gave Ryland’s shoulder a quick squeeze as you moved past him. “The attempt was cute, though, it was a good try.”
Cute. Why in the world did you let that one slip? You were practically cursing yourself in your head for that one, taking another bite of your burger as you worked to erase the whiteboard to prepare it for your next class. You didn’t dare steal a glance over at Ryland, in fear that your little slip-up was going to ruin everything.
There was only quiet for a moment before the single moment of awkwardness was gone.
“I promise you I know Homer wrote that. I swear!”
The desperation to believe him drew another laugh out of you. Sparing a glance in his direction, Ryland was giving you his best, exaggerated puppy dog eyes, begging you to believe him, as a smile just barely squeaked its way onto his lips.
“Right, of course you did. My mistake. Whatever you say, Ryland-”
“I mean it!” It was his turn to laugh this time, a sound that had those butterflies rattling around once more. “I was just…distracted.”
“Uh-huh, distracted,” as if you were preparing to scold one of your students, you turned to face him fully with a hand on your hip, eyebrow raised expectantly. “By what, exactly?”
If a human being could buffer, Ryland Grace always seemed to be constantly buffering. Your eyebrow remained raised, waiting for him to piece together his response. All he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish, before looking away and taking another bite of his food.
“Nevermind that, just finish your food before it gets cold. I did bike, like, three miles to get that thing,”
With a roll of your eyes that held zero malice what-so-ever, you made sure the blonde could see your next bite of your food, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Back to the previous topic,” you steered the conversation in another direction, wiping off the last bits of chalk on the board and writing down your next period at the top so that you could start the discussion on the reading over again. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard to get some of these kids to just read the content. They all pay attention in your class!”
“I heard Jason make a comment yesterday during class that Marcus has a crush on Olivia. Maybe they’re too distracted to read,”
You shot him a skeptical look.
“Marcus, crushing on Olivia? He was just making fun of her before you came in the room,”
Ryland averted his eyes, suddenly very interested in his ID badge hanging around his neck from his school issues lanyard.
“W-well, maybe he just doesn’t…know how to express his feelings,” he spared a glance up at you, seeing you were still watching, as he tripped over his words again. “It can be hard for boys–and men–of all ages, to…tell someone how they feel.”
“Well, I don’t know where he’s learning from, but making fun of the girl you like isn’t the right way to go about things,” you shot back.
“Then teach them!” Ryland sounded absolutely ecstatic, that light bulb over his head going off again as he looked like he’d come up with the world’s greatest idea. “Classic literature, there’s plenty of great love stories in there. Get his interest by teaching them about that, so he can learn from them.”
“Alright, give me an example then, Mr. Suddenly an Expert in Classic Literature,”
“Romeo and Juliet,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world, balling up the remnants of his finished food and tossing it in the bag it came in. “Greatest love story ever told, so great Taylor Swift wrote a song about them.”
“Except they don’t run off and get married and live happily ever after, Ryland. Romeo thinks she is dead and kills himself with poison, and when Juliet realizes he’s dead she stabs herself,”
Ryland’s excitement fell slightly, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape.
“...oh,”
“Don’t think that’s what I want to teach young, impressionable pre-teens about love-”
“Daisy and Gatsby, then! He loved her so much he stood on that dock staring at the-the bright yellow light of a stoplight for her,”
“It was a green light and it was the dock light, first of all. I’m not even sure how you could be that off. Secondly, Gatsby is murdered at the end of the book and Daisy doesn’t even attend the funeral, she and Tom move away and pretend it never happened,”
Ryland’s eyes are shut at this point, his fingers massaging his temples and those glasses just barely hanging on from their place around his neck.
“...does anyone not die in these old books?”
The sound of your laughter permeates the room and you sweep over, collecting his trash and combining it with yours. You never even spared him a glance, though you could feel his eyes on you, as you swept the trash away with you to the other side of the room, his voice echoing across to you.
“I’m going to get lucky on one of these guesses!”
What Ryland Grace was really lucky about was how adorable you found him, and how head over heels you were for him, because his lack of literary knowledge was astounding.
❤︎
“I’m sorry, you’re trying to tell me that aren’t currently fucking the eye candy that is the science teacher in room 305?”
“Evelyn!”
Evelyn Doyle was in her late thirties, married since she was 18, and already had three kids with her high school sweetheart. Since you had transferred into Grover Cleveland Middle, you’d become fast friends and she had become a great mentor.
She had, sadly, caught onto your pathetic crush on Ryland Grace before you had even fully realized it, and was now ‘vicariously living through you’ as she always said.
“There’s not a single child left in this entire school right now,” she shot back, gesturing around her empty classroom, as she finished cleaning up anything her students had left around at the end of the day. You rolled your eyes at her excuse, perched on the edge of her desk. “Please, I’m tenured, what are they going to do?”
“I’m more so yelling at you for butting into my love life, once again,” was your reply through laughter. “Ryland and I are good friends, that’s it.”
It was her turn to laugh, finishing up her cleanup around the room before she joined you at her desk, packing her things away into her shoulder bag.
“Oh please, you keep denying that little crush of yours-”
“I never said I was denying that,” you cut her off. “Lord, you realized I liked him before I even did. But he and I aren’t anything besides friends. I’m not lying.”
Your pleas fell on deaf ears, like they typically did when you were around Evelyn. She simply waved your statement off, tossing her bag over her shoulder as you followed her out of her room and down through the quiet of the school hallway. The quietest the hallway ever was, in the hours right after students were sent home for the day. You’d rather be anywhere else, preferably at home, but these mandatory once-a-month staff meetings were unavoidable.
“Whether you’re telling me the truth or not, you have to understand why everyone thinks so–teachers AND students. I think even some parents think so!” The only response she got was an eyeroll, her shoulder bumping into your’s playfully. “He brings you lunch at least once a week, meaning he rides that dingy bike to get whatever you’re craving that day.”
“It’s usually just something random-”
“Constantly in your classroom, or vice versa,” she cut you off, and you quickly realized you weren’t getting a single word into this conversation. “I’m pretty sure Principal Marshall has considered, somehow, moving your classroom closer to his just so he’ll stop being late to classes because he’s busy talking to you.”
Okay…yeah, you didn’t have a retort for that one. Your classroom was on the opposite end of the school building from Ryland’s own, and yet every time he had even a split second he was somehow always leaning in your doorway. Even if it only resulted in a conversation that lasted all of a minute.
Many times those ended with your students having to remind him that the bell rang and he definitely had students in his own class unattended, waiting on their teacher. More than once he’d slipped as he tried to sprint back to his classroom from yours. It didn’t matter how short those little conversations were, though, because every second around him was precious to you.
“Awe, look at you blushing about it-”
You slapped Evelyn’s hand away, throwing her a look of disdain that didn’t really hold any true malice to it.
“Look, all I’m saying is the ball is in his court,” was the response you finally settled on as Evelyn propped the door of the small auditorium open for you to enter. “Ryland is nothing but friendly to me, so if he’s interested then he’s got to show me.”
“You’re acting as if you’ve made your own feelings clear, honey,”
“No, but I clearly don’t do a good enough job of hiding them,”
Speak of the devil: there he was. Ryland’s head shot up the moment the pair of you walked into the auditorium. Those damn glasses hanging down from one side of his face, framing his stubbled jawline perfectly. A smile lighting up his face the second those blue eyes found yours, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.
A packed auditorium, as you and Evelyn were the last ones there. Every seat up practically filled, and yet Ryland Grace sat among a crowd of people, eyes trained on you and a single seat saved for you amidst it all.
All you could feel was the heat in your cheeks, and the touch of Evelyn patting your back as she laughed, voice low but loud enough to hear as she shifted past you to find a seat of her own.
“Doesn’t have interest in you my ass,”
Her words swam through your head with every apology you muttered to the other teachers as you snuck past them in the cramped rows, happily taking the empty seat beside Ryland.
“You didn’t have to save me a seat, you know,” your voice held a hint of teasing to it, but it was soft. Filled with an adoration that you knew you were terrible at hiding. Luckily, Ryland was terrible at picking up on it.
“Wanted to sit next to you,” he whispered back as Principal Marshall began to drone on about updates neither of you particularly cared about. He leaned in close, a hint of his breath wafting over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You make these slightly less boring.”
Close proximity to this man was your worst nightmare, and the cramped auditorium wasn’t helping. That single touch of his breath against your skin was enough to send a simultaneous shiver down your spine and another round of heat to your cheeks. His suit jacket covered arm rested on the shared armrest between your seats, the edge of his bicep ghosting against the bare skin of your arm with every little shift he made, tapping incessantly against the armrest.
The slight action made you smile. He never could sit still in these meetings, always hated them.
“Did anything fun happen in class today?” you kept your voice low, eyes trained on the principal, as your head tilted slightly over to Ryland so he could better hear you.
“Uh, if you count Madison telling me that she thinks the sun orbits the earth, then sure,” you had to stifle your laugh at that, casting Ryland a side glance as he grinned at you, doing a terrible job of whispering back at you as usual.
“How could she possibly think that?”
“You’d be surprised,” Ryland leaned just a tad bit closer, the side of his arm pushed up fully against your own. You could almost hear the smile in his voice without even having to look over at him. “The National Science Foundation estimates that 26% of Americans still think the sun orbits the earth.”
“Jesus, that many?”
“Well, 100% of them are stupid, so,”
Nasty looks from other faculty were shot your way that second you choked on your own breath, slapping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself from breaking out into uncontrollable laughter. You gave them the most sympathetic look you possibly could, learning how to breathe normally again before mouthing sorry at them all.
Ryland didn’t care in the slightest for the warning look you shot him, a bright smile on his face as his eyes seemed to trail over every inch of your face.
“If you keep doing this in every faculty meeting, they’re going to separate us, Ry,”
“I met Madison’s parents for the first time last month for parent-teacher conferences,” he continued, ignoring your plea. Instead, he leaned in even closer, eyes locked on yours, and god it was impossible to look away. “They are, 100%, undeniably, part of the Flat Earth Truthers Club.”
You shook your head, a smile creeping back up on your lips. Ryland’s gaze could still be felt on the side of your face as you turned back to face the front, eyes focused back on the principal again in an attempt to pay attention to the meeting.
“Flat earthers are ridiculous. They’re just scared of science,”
“Well, you know what they say…the only thing they have to fear is sphere itself,”
There simply wasn’t enough time to clap your hand over your mouth and conceal your laughter, a split second of it breaking through the quiet of the auditorium. And Ryland? His smile was somehow even brighter than it was before, still locked onto your face, never having strayed once.
“Dr. Grace, is there something you feel needs to be shared with the rest of your fellow faculty?”
Principal Marshall’s voice was enough to knock Ryland out of whatever trance he seemed to have put himself in. Eyes wide as if he’d just seen a ghost, hands barely able to catch his glasses as they almost fell right off of his ear where they dangled, a burst of red spread through his cheeks instantly as his deer-like eyes locked onto the unamused principal.
“I-I uh, no. No, nothing, Principal Marshall,” he scratched at the back of his head, ruffling up his already messy hair, a nervous tick you’d picked up since the moment you’d met him. You simply buried your head in your head, eyes trained on your shoes and Ryland out of the corner of your gaze, terrified to look up at your fellow faculty that you’d already apologized to once. “Just getting super jazzed about faculty updates. Hard to keep it in here. I’m like a mushroom, getting all…hyphae…”
A collective groan sounded through the auditorium at the terrible biology pun that rolled off of him with ease. All you could do was smile into the palm of your hand.
“Please just…pay attention to the meeting, Dr. Grace, before I separate you and your other half,”
Other half. That’s not how she meant it, but it was impossible not to let your mind wander to the idea.
Early mornings. Coffee, the smell of eggs and toast burning in the kitchen. Ryland and his hair that was surely even more unkempt that early in the day. The guarantee that he definitely had about 120 science puns ready to go at any moment.
Late nights. Curled up on a couch. A movie, a shared blanket, warm in the embrace of his arms. The quiet of just being with someone that made you happy in ways you’d never felt before. The promise of another day with them on the horizon.
It was becoming increasingly harder not to think about Ryland Grace like that every day, of what a life with the awkward, endearing science teacher could be.
And as Principal Marshall continued her meeting, and your eyes met the blue ones that were already looking at you: soft, kind, a hint of something you couldn’t understand in them, you could only dream he thought the same thoughts when he looked at you.
❤︎
“Alright, who can tell me the day of the first human space flight?”
Not a single middle schooler, packed into the building’s planetarium, raised their hands at first. Many of them started whispering to each other, confused looks on their faces, but Ryland just waited with a smile on his face. A brave soldier from Mr. Harkin’s class, Damien, finally raised his hand.
“Uh, Mr. Grace? Wouldn’t that…be today?”
“Excatly!” Grace’s clap echoed through the room as he pointed toward the young kid sitting in the front row of seats. “International Day of Human Space Flight, commemorating the first human space flight by Yuri Gagarin. It was a trick question, and you passed my tiny friend.”
Were you excited about losing a chunk of your day to escorting your class to the planetarium, along with other classes in the building, for a special science presentation? Absolutely not, especially not with how terribly your class did on their last The Odyssey assignment.
When you found out that Ryland was giving the presentation during your allotted time? Suddenly, The Odyssey meant nothing to you. Not when you could watch Ryland teach, something he did so effortlessly.
The way he captured every single child’s attention with ease. That glowing smile on his face every time they answered a question right, and simply the way he seemed to love what he taught. You were captivated every time you got the chance to see him teaching the thing he loved so much.
“Yuri Gagarin was a Soviet cosmonaut who became the first person in space in 1961 aboard the Vostok 1,” the planetarium was lit up with the night sky, little stars reflecting down. You could almost see them in the students eyes, in their bright smiles as they looked up into the vastness of space. Your eyes trailed to Ryland, already looking at you with a soft smile of his own, before he cleared his throat and moved throughout the room, focusing back on the kids. “Over the course of 89 minutes, his ship traveled to a maximum altitude of 187 miles, as it orbited the Earth.”
“Wait, so we weren’t the first people in space?” one of your students, Lydia, called out. Ryland laughed, pointing over at her.
“No, we kind of sucked,” you rolled your eyes with a grin at Ryland’s statement, though it drew a laugh from all of the kids. “No, America had actually scheduled its first space flight for May 1961, so this was a huge blow to us. It really heated up the space race.”
“He really is good with them, isn’t he?”
Glancing over, Mr. Harkin had saddled up beside you on the edge of the room, head tilted toward you and voice low so as to not disrupt the lesson the kids were being taught. Your gaze drifted back to Ryland as he continued his lesson, eliciting more laughter from the kids. It only brought another soft smile to rest on your lips.
“He is, in a way that I just don’t understand,”
Those blue eyes you’d become so fond of met yours for a moment across the room, face illuminated by the light projecting onto the planetarium’s dome walls. The little grin he wore seemed to drop just slightly, gaze still locked on you but flickering every moment over to Mr. Harkin as he spoke to the students. Harkin’s elbow dug lightly into your side.
“Careful, you’re giving him major ‘heart eyes’ across the room right now,”
You did your best to conceal your laughter, shooting Harkin a look, Ryland’s gaze still felt on the side of your face even as you looked away.
“Why do I feel like I’m about to find out that every teacher in this school has a secret betting ring going on when it comes to Ryland and I?”
“I mean, it’s not a secret. Principal Marshall runs the damn thing,”
“Mr. Grace?” one of the youngest girls in the grade, Aurora, called out, raising her hand up to get Ryland’s attention. “My mom told me the other day that there’s 8 planets in our solar system. What happened to Pluto?”
Ryland went to answer when Mr. Harkin beside you laughed, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, as he shook his head at his young student.
“No, honey, scientists a couple years ago decided that Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore,”
Your eyes flickered to Ryland, who was already staring at Harkin from across the room as he tossed his little crochet earth back and forth in his hand. His response was a bit of a forced laugh.
“Well, your teacher isn’t wrong. Scientists classified Pluto as a dwarf planet a couple years ago,” he explained to the kids, eyes trained on the little crochet sphere in his hands. “But there’s 8 other very important, even closer planets that we should focus on. I mean, who really cares about a tiny, slow planet that takes 248 years to orbit the sun–honestly, he should just accept that he’s slowly falling into obscurity and stop trying to steal the spotlight.”
The room got quiet. Your eyebrow raised slightly, head tilted, as everyone just seemed to stare at Ryland, who had yet to look up.
“Uh, Mr. Grace?” some student in the back called out. “Why did you call Pluto ‘he’? Are the planets boys and girls like us, too?”
Ryland’s head shot up, as if he suddenly remembered he was in a room full of students. His eyes shot to you, his mouth opening, then closing, before he quickly looked away.
“I–well…planets don’t really…I’m not trying to misgender the planets, you know? That’s not for me to decide, that’s for them to–you know what, does anyone else have any other questions that aren’t related to Pluto?”
You really didn’t want to laugh at Ryland, but only he would be able to accidentally turn a lesson about space and planets into almost a lesson on bodily autonomy. He caught your eye, his widening just slightly and you could almost see his cry for help written across his face, but it only made your laughter worse.
It was little Madison that raised her hand next, speaking before she’d even been called upon.
“Are you sure the Earth isn’t the center of the universe?”
Ryland hung his head in shame, the shaking of his head evident from across the room as a few of the kids around laughed at the young girl’s comment. You were quick to shoot them a warning look, not keen to hand out any detentions today.
By the time your gaze turned back to Ryland, he was already looking at you. His gaze flickered to Harkin, then back to you, and it was like a light bulb had just flickered on the way his eyes lit up.
“Yes, Madison, I’m sure the Earth isn’t the center of the universe. And I can show you,” his long legs crossed the room in seconds, his body sliding between you and Mr. Harkin as his hands landed on your shoulders with a tiny little squeeze that sent your heart leaping through your chest. “But to do that, I’m going to need this volunteer that I’m not quite giving a choice.”
“It’s not volunteering if you didn’t ask, Ry!”
You exasperatedly tried to whisper to Ryland as he steered you across the room to stand before all the kids. He only shook his head as a bunch of your own students started cheering for you around the room, only worsening the red that coated your cheeks the second his hands had landed on your body.
“I need you for this,” he shot back hastily, positioning you in the middle of the room, standing in front of you. His body blocked the students from your vision, blue eyes boring down into yours, hands gently squeezing at your upper arms as you begged the blush in your skin to not be too obvious. “You trust me?”
A ridiculous question, because the only answer was yes. You gave him a nod, and Ryland’s smile only widened as he turned back to the kids in the room.
“Alright, kids. Your gorgeous teacher here is the Sun,”
Little oohs and awes sounded from the kids around the room at Ryland’s little slip in of the word ‘gorgeous.’ There was a sting in your bottom lip as you bit into it with your teeth, trying to contain your own smile. Marcus spoke up from across the room without raising his hand, as usual.
“Then what’s Mr. Harkin?”
“Oh, he’s Pluto,” Ryland shot back immediately, nodding his head. “Suits him.”
Laughter rang through the room, the young boys as rambunctious as ever. Ryland met your astonished look with a tiny wink of his own, one that forced a small laugh to tumble from your lips. Then, he began to slowly spin, walking around you in a circle.
“And I am the Earth,” he called out to the kids, and you could only hope he didn’t trip over his own two shoelaces. “The Sun holds 99.8% of the mass in our solar system, which means it’s packing some massive gravity.”
Ryland stopped spinning himself, still moving around you in a circle. He held his hand out toward you, and you slipped yours into it without hesitation, spinning in that circle slowly with him.
“Because the Sun holds such intense gravity, it’s actually pulling Earth into it. But, Earth has such high forward velocity that it actually keeps us moving sideways. Put these two together, and it keeps Earth moving in an almost perfect circle around the sun. Can anyone tell me another fun fact about our movement around the sun?”
The words went in one of your ears and straight out the other. There was no paying attention, not when Ryland’s hand held your own. Soft skin, just slightly rough around the edges, and those blue eyes were so soft, locked onto you as if there was nowhere else he wanted to look.
“Our speed changes!” Olivia called out from somewhere in the back, but you didn’t even try to look and find her. “When we’re closer to the sun in our orbit we move faster, and the further away we are, the slower we move.”
“Very good, Olivia!” Ryland called out, sparing just a quick glance over to the kids in the room as his hand held yours tighter, still spinning slowly together. “Madison, we also know this works because there’s other sun-like stars out there that are also orbited by planets. Like Tau Ceti, which has four Earth-like planets orbiting it.”
“Is the sun important for other things, besides just being the center?”
Ryland’s eyes flickered to you, and you watched as he paused. The slight hesitation on his face, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple for a moment, before those blue eyes locked onto yours and refused to look away.
“I-It is…for a lot of reasons. The Sun is the Earth’s entire reason for existing. The Sun gives the Earth life. The Sun is the reason the world is beautiful,”
Your breath hitched, eyes still trained on Ryland. There was something in his words, something in that earnest, raw look that he had written across his features as he looked at you that added a weight to his words. A weight that sent a tiny chill across your skin, raising the hair on your arms.
“Without the Sun…the Earth would be nothing,”
There was quiet across the room. Then, a couple snickers, followed by Olivia’s smug little voice.
“The Sun sounds beautiful the way you talk about it,”
“She is,” his voice was lower, softer than it was before. Until, he seemed to realize what he said, the red on both of your faces spreading further than before as his eyes shot wide. “THE SUN I mean! I-I’m talking about the sun, obviously, b-because this is a science presentation!”
Laughter rang through the room, little chants of your names mashed together coming from some of the kids as the bell rang and saved either of you from further embarrassment.
Ryland, being Ryland, chose that moment to finally trip over his own two feet. You pulled on his hand as hard as you could, saving him from plummeting to the ground as he instead just landed on his one knee.
“Make good choices,” Ryland commented lowly as some of the kids walked past the two of you, still snickering and giggling to themselves. You let go of his hands finally, simply resting it on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t uh, I don’t know, blow up the world during lunch or anything. Or pop those chip bags and give kids heart attacks, whatever you kids do these days.”
You laughed, stepping around Ryland as your kids lined up outside of the room, waiting for you. He shot you a sheepish smile from the floor, and your skin still burned with heat at the memory of his words as you looked at him.
“Every time I think you’re doing well with those kids, they manage to knock you down a peg,”
“Yeah, well, what’s new?”
When you met your class outside, you didn’t let them get a word in before you warned them not to say anything. You could still hear little comments talking about ‘shipping’ their English and Science teachers the entire way back to your classroom.
❤︎
Ryland Grace didn’t understand how he had ended up here.
Well, he did. Calling the leading scholar in his field a “staggering waste of carbon” at a UNESCO conference in Denmark was an easy way to get blacklisted from the field he’d studied in for many years in college. It was an easy explanation for how he ended up teaching middle school science at Grover Cleveland Middle in San Francisco.
Not that he had a problem with teaching! He actually loved it. Loved his kids, loved talking about science. He loved teaching the future little scientists of the world about why every facet of science was awesome. The pay wasn’t great, though.
Especially when it was the reason he rode a bike to school daily.
And there was currently the equivalent of a monsoon raining down from the sky onto the pavement, the reason he’d been standing at the front doors for the last 20 minutes hoping that the rain would simply let up. The heavens didn’t take pity on him, though, and it only rained harder and harder. His rain coat and bike were not meant to withstand heavy rain and damaging winds to this extent.
Best cast scenario? It takes him a little longer to get home on his usual 20 minute bike ride than normal. Worst case? He crashes and dies, dead in a ditch covered in mud.
“Ryland, please tell me you aren’t thinking of riding your bike home in this?”
Then there was you. You were probably the single greatest reason why he loved teaching at Grover Cleveland Middle. If he ever had the unfortunate chance to meet that scientist from the conference again, he’d thank him this time for being a staggering waste of carbon, because it led him down a path to you.
“I can’t be that bad,” he tried to joke, waving you off as a crack of thunder seemed to shake the entire building, and his fake confidence faltered for a second. He glanced back at you, coat wrapped around your bag instead of yourself in order to keep its contents dry. “Just, you know…the slight threat of bodily harm.”
He really wished the path that led to you was less bumpy and full of himself looking like an idiot, but at this rate he’d take what he could get from the universe.
“Yeah, absolutely not,” was your immediate reply, head shaking as she fished your car keys out of the bag still covered with your coat. “I’m giving you a ride home, can’t risk the best science teacher’s life over a dumb storm.”
Ryland immediately shook his head, turning to face you beside him. He was not letting you risk your own life in the storm for him. If it really came down to it, he’d sleep at his desk. There was a change of clothes he kept in the bottom drawer, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to do it.
“I can’t let you-”
“This isn’t up for discussion,” Ryland snapped his mouth shut as you cut in once again, dangling your car keys up in front of him with a little shake. “I…care about you, okay? I want to know you are home safe.”
There was no stopping the immediate heat that filled Ryland’s cheeks, and he knew it. There was red blooming across your own, but Ryland shook all wishful thinking from his mind. The AC unit in this school was unreliable, you were definitely just flushed from the heat. No other reason.
Ryland decided he wasn’t going to put up a fight at this point, but he wasn’t going to let you do this without anything in return. He shrugged the yellow raincoat hanging over his own shoulders off as he kicked the glass door in front of him open, the muffle sounds of the torrential downpour now louder as droplets of water splashed into the front door. He held the jacket out, hanging it above your head to protect you from the rain.
“At least let me save you from getting drenched,”
“You’re going to look like a dog that just had a bath by the time we reach my car,” Ryland only smiled at your joke, and the little giggle that fell through your lips. The close proximity didn’t help as he held the jacket up around you.
“Actually, it’s not windy today,” he shot back with a grin, nodding out the propped open door into the rain. “That means if we run, I’ll be drier than if we walked, because the rain that’s hitting us from above is proportional to time. Though, the rain hitting us from the front is proportional to distance, and when running-”
“Ryland Grace, you are adorable when you get all science-nerd, but if we’re going to run…we should run,”
Ryland was thankful that you couldn’t see the renewed heat flooding his cheeks, as you were both too busy sprinting through the torrential downpour to the staff parking lot.
Being a gentleman (who was head over heels in love with you and too terrified to say a damn thing) was thrown out the window with how fast you were booking it to your car, the idea of shielding you from the rain with his jacket abandoned after just a moment booking it across the lot. He could feel the coolness of the water settling against his skin as it soaked through every layer of clothing he had, every few seconds having to furiously wipe at his glasses in hopes of seeing through them.
None of it really mattered in the end, not when he heard your laugh. The little shrieks of laughter as a particularly big drop happened to fall right in your eyes. Or the laughter as Ryland managed–in his signature fashion–to slip on the final step into the parking lot, and you had to double back in laughter to help haul him to his feet.
He’s spring clumsily through the rain a thousand more times if he got to see you smile like that. And that is why his kids always told him that he was definitely ‘whipped’ for you. Whatever that meant.
The second you had both jumped into your respective seats of your vehicle, doors slamming shut, there was only a moment of silence between the both of you. Ryland felt like his chest was going to explode, remembering why he always hated gym class, his heavy breathing mixed with yours as you both caught your breath, before you locked eyes over the center console.
Then the laughter resumed.
He held his hand to his stomach, feeling an ache settling in as he couldn’t stop his own laughter. Your’s grew slightly louder in his ear as you leaned over, trying to help him wipe at his glasses that were still covered.
“I was right, you look like a wet dog,”
Ryland’s only response was to shake his soaking wet hair like one, a simple reaction that earned yet another shriek of laughter from you and a light slap to his shoulder. You muttered something unintelligible under your breath, but Ryland found himself unable to tear his gaze away from your lips as you started the car and began to pull out of the staff lot. How soft they looked, the way the little beads of water running down your cheeks fell over them.
Whipped. He still didn’t get it, but he agreed wholeheartedly with his kids at this point.
There was no driving fast in this rain, especially when the windshield wipers were moving at their highest programmed speed and it still wasn’t enough. It was quiet in the car for just a moment as you pulled out of the parking lot, but Ryland broke it the second your phone had connected to the car’s bluetooth, music filling the space between him and you.
Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.
“Frank Sinatra,” Ryland couldn’t help the growing smile on his lips as the familiar song flooded through the car speakers. He kept his eyes trained on the side of your face, watching the little smile grow on your own lips, eyes focused on the road conditions in front of you. “Old books and old music. Didn’t know you had such an old soul.”
“You calling me old, Ryland?”
“N-no!” Ryland immediately back track, hands flying up and shaking back and forth as his eyes went wide. “I might say some stupid stuff some–okay, most of the time–but I know better than to comment on a woman’s age.”
“I’m just teasing you,” he could thankfully hear the sincerity mixed in with the teasing lit to your voice. “But yes, I do enjoy some old music. Always been a big fan of Sinatra, especially this one.”
“It’s a nice song…just not scientifically accurate,” he caught the side eye that you threw his way for just a moment, another crack of thunder banging across the sky and almost shaking the car. Ryland couldn’t help but jump slightly. “Jupiter only has a 3.13° tilt to its axis, so it doesn’t experience seasons like we do. Mar’s would, though, because its axis is tilted at 25°, only 1.5° more than our own tilt…”
Ryland trailed off as the car rolled to a stop at a red light, and he caught you fully facing him this time with a bemused expression written across your face. His smile dropped just slightly as he let out a sheepish laugh, adjusting his glasses as they slid back down the wet bridge of his nose.
“...I went full science-nerd again, didn’t I?”
Your laughter drowned out the rain beating against the roof of the car as your attention returned to the road once more.
“You always do, but I happen to enjoy it very much,”
If only teaching paid more, because the commute to Ryland’s apartment was a lot shorter than his bike ride home every day from work.
Parked in an open space across the road from the dimly lit apartment building, Ryland Grace hesitated with his hand on the handle of the door. His eyes swept out over the area around the vehicle, still being hounded with rain. The top of his road looked like the beginning of a river, the way the water was rushing down the small incline to pool at the bottom.
“Thanks…for this,” he gestured toward the weather right outside the card.
You moved to respond to him, when the weather alert on your phone propped up on your dashboard sounded out. Ryland could just barely make out the headline: FLASH FLOOD WARNING.
The roads were far too dangerous, and Ryland already knew from various conversations that you lived on the opposite end of town from him.
He…could ask you to stay for the night. Just for safety reasons, obviously! He was quickly trying to work through the pros and cons list in his head.
Pros: his only friend that just so happened to be the woman he’s been head over heels in love with for the last year would be safe and not driving in this storm.
Cons: his only friend that just so happened to be the woman he’s been head over heels in love with for the last year would be inside his tiny little apartment that looked like it had been hit by a separate hurricane than the one it felt like they were currently suffering through.
“I should probably get home-”
“Stay,” Ryland cut in, quickly continuing his words after his vague statement. “I-It’s just, the roads are bad, and you live on the other side of town. This storm is just going to get worse, and I-I’d hate to know something happened to you.”
You hesitated, he could tell, shaking your head.
“Ryland, I couldn’t ask you to let me stay,”
He hesitated himself for a moment, every feeling he’d kept bottled up for a year now threatening to escape past his lips. Instead, he settled on echoing your own words.
“I…I care about you. I want to know you’re safe,”
Moments later, he had his rain coat draped over your head as he rushed you inside his apartment to shelter from the storm.
Ryland’s hands shook the entire time as he put his key into his front door’s lock. The last time he had guests over…was never. His apartment was built and designed for him and his brain, scattered with notes and books and piles of arts and crafts that he worked on in order to decorate his classroom. It was not meant for visitors, especially not ones as pretty as you.
“Don’t, uh, mind the mess,” he mumbled, holding the door open and motioning after you, allowing you to take a step inside his apartment as he let out the small breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
Chucking off his sneakers, little puddles of water forming below them on the ground, his jacket found its way into a pile with them. Ryland wiped his hands nervously against the thighs of his jeans, the action doing nothing against the soaking went material, as he watched you take in his apartment.
The apartment that looked like it had been ransacked, at least partially. Stacks of books relating to a thousand different topics were stacked on the ground by the tv stand, on top of the coffee table along with the coffee cup he’d abandoned there early in the morning in a haste to get to the school, and and by his desk that had a stack of papers scattered around it after her strewn them about in order to find one specific slip of paper at 11 p.m.
It was a mess, and Ryland regretted everything.
“It’s not messy, it’s homey,” your reply sent a burst of heat through his skin as you turned to him with a bright smile, leaving your own bag and coat by his pile of wet items before gesturing to your own soaking wet clothing. “Do you maybe have something a little less…wet?”
He scurried away into his bedroom, trying to ignore that little section of his brain that took your comment in a MUCH different way.
His bedroom was worse. Ryland wasn’t letting you sleep on the couch, but he surely wasn’t letting you see his room in a state like this.
Clothing was thrown across the room and Ryland quickly ran about, shoving piles of clothing away into corners where he was certain you wouldn’t be able to see any of it. Throwing it into his closet and slamming the door before it could fall out, pushing it down in his laundry basket, kicking it under his bed so it was out of sight and out of mind, whatever he could think of.
“Great idea, Ryland,” he muttered to himself, pulling on a dry pair of sweatpants and a tshirt for himself, trying to shake the remaining water out of his hair as he rummaged for something you could wear. “Almost get the woman you’re in love with killed by letting her drive you home in a monsoon. Invite her to stay the night in your apartment that makes you look like an even bigger loser than you are. Amazing idea. A doctorate in molecular biology and this is the best you can do.”
You were waiting by the couch in his living room, just glancing around at everything with a smile, when he reappeared. Sheepishly, he handed the folded clothing over to you, hand running through his soaking wet hair as he pointed down the hall.
“You can take my bed for the night. Uh, just leave your clothes in the bathroom, I can throw them in the dryer in a bit. I can scrounge up something to eat in the meantime,”
“Thanks, Ry,” your hand reached out, squeezing his upper arm lightly, and he felt the heat in his skin instantly bloom under your touch. “For all of this.”
If it wasn’t for the giant crack of thunder that flickered the lights of the building for a moment and made Ryland jump out of his skin, he would’ve forgotten how to breathe again.
He rummaged through every part of his kitchen, desperately trying to find something that he could make the two of you to eat that also wouldn’t make him seem pathetic. All he could come up with…was a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly.
Yesterday. He’d stayed late after the end of the day to help in tutoring. He forgot to go grocery shopping. Ryland let out a sigh at his realization, back to his fridge door and head banging back against the stainless steel, hand running down his face and dragging against his skin as his glasses were knocked off, hanging off of one ear.
“Great,” he muttered into his palm. “Just absolutely freaking great, Ryland.”
Ryland Grace desperately wished he had the guts, the bravery, to just simply tell you how he felt.
From the moment he met you, when you had arrived for your first day at Grover Cleveland Middle, he was a goner. It had been a long time since he’d had a partner, his last one certain that he was too busy with his head in the clouds to pay attention to her, and she wasn’t wrong. But from the moment he looked at you, waving and smiling as you introduced yourself to all of the teachers that had gathered to welcome you, you were suddenly the only thing his brain wanted to focus on.
He had been so focused on you, too busy admiring every inch of you in silence, that in his typical clumsy fashion he tripped over his own two feet and knocked Principal Marshall’s papers out of her hand, spreading them five feet across the floor. But you’d joined him on the ground, laughing lightly to yourself, as you helped him clean up the papers, and Ryland knew he was a goner for you.
It only continued every single day, getting worse, and you somehow became his friend. His only friend, if he was being quite frank. So he tried to hide the way he really felt, too scared to mess anything up. He’d rather have you in his life in any way he could, then mess this up and lose you forever.
Keeping those feelings in was getting increasingly harder in the last few months. Which explained why he’d traveled cross town just to get lunch from your favorite place, or compare you to the sun and basically called you his entire reasoning for living in front of a bunch of children-
Either Ryland was going to blurt it out at some point, or he was taking these feelings to the grave with him.
“Peanut butter and jelly? Sounds like we’re eating like royalty tonight,”
He shouldn’t have looked over at you. He really, really shouldn’t have. Leaning against the opposite wall of the kitchen, hair still damp and dripping onto the cheesy “I had potential” shirt he’d been gifted by one of his students the following year. Sweatpants that were bunched up around your ankles so that you didn’t trip over the length, waist tied in as tightly as possible so they didn’t just slide right off your hips.
Ryland Grace had never thought it possible that you could look more gorgeous than you did every day, but he stood corrected. He felt more in love than he ever had just looking at you right in this moment.
“Sorry, I don’t exactly…live a life of luxury,” Ryland awkwardly laughed as he spoke, pulling out two sad paper plates from the cabinet next to him and flashing them in your direction, shaking them lightly in the air. “Hope this doesn’t ruin my perfectly curated image.”
His eyes followed you as you brushed past him, humming to yourself with a little grin. You fumbled through every drawer in the kitchen, looking for something, when Ryland quickly popped open the one right next to him, showcasing his small selection of utensils. You flashed another heart-stopping grin at him before digging out two knives from the drawer.
“That image cracked a long time ago, Ry. Like that time you let Marcus perform some chemical reaction and got the fire department called to the school,”
The tall blonde groaned to himself, rubbing at his temple as you pushed past him to throw some of the bread down onto the plates and crack open the jars of peanut butter and jelly set out.
“That was one time!” he tried to defend himself, saddling up beside you as you passed him one of the knives. He almost completely missed the opening of the peanut butter jar, eyes too transfixed on the sight of you in his clothing. It was still up in the air if his heart was actually working correctly yet. “I learned my lesson very quickly not to let him handle any more chemicals.”
“Don’t worry. I made the mistake of doing popcorn reading when we were working on The Outsiders. Marcus seemed to end up with every single instance of profanity in the book, which he would yell at the top of his lungs,”
Ryland snapped his fingers, glancing down at you at his side with a teasing smile.
“You know what? That explains that really loud ‘HELL’ I heard across the school a couple months ago. I was so sure that it was going to shatter the windows of my classroom,”
“Oh, shut up! It wasn’t that bad!”
Your laughter permeated the air, elbow digging into his side as you spoke. And when your eyes locked with his, and Ryland got the perfect look at every square inch of your face, he could see it so clearly in his head.
Mornings just like this, where you’d both struggle to get out of the warmth of the blankets. The way he would surely annoy you with his very disorganized morning routine, but he’d make up for it with coffee already set out for you, just as you liked it. The lingering moments by the door, too wrapped up in each other because you didn’t want to leave the peace of this space, even though you were going to the same place.
Late nights, curled together on the couch with some movie playing on TV that neither of you were particularly paying attention to. Whispered words, laughter shared. Kisses that lingered, hands that trailed-
Thunder broke Ryland from his spell, thoughts gone in a flash. He was back in his dingy kitchen, with you just inches away, staring up at him as the picture of true beauty.
“T-This is nice,” he cleared his throat, turning back to his sandwich as he spread his toppings along the bread, heat blooming across his cheeks again. It always did around you. “Making dinner with someone…no matter how sad the dinner is. I haven’t done this in awhile.”
“Right,” your voice responded after a momentary pause. “Sarah, wasn’t it? You were dating her when we first met. What, uh…what ever happened to her?”
“Oh, we broke up a long time ago,” Ryland waved the comment off, shaking his head. “She just, uh, thought my head was too far in the clouds. Didn’t think I wanted to be down here on Earth. She wasn’t wrong. It was for the best, though. She hated…all of this. The rundown apartment, the lack of a car, my love of science. She just never understood it. I was just…too much for her. But she’s with Mark now, so I’m sure she’s happy.”
Ryland chose not to mention that his last relationship had been dead long before it officially ended, the pair not having seen each other in well over a month by that point. If his math was right, which it usually was, Sarah had started dating Mark before she’d even broken it off with him.
He also failed to mention the relief he felt inside when she had called it off, knowing his heart had belonged to you the moment your eyes had locked with his.
Fingertips just barely ghosted over Ryland’s cheek, and he froze in place. Eyes trained on the plate in front of him, he could feel the way your hand curled around his cheek. The way your thumb glossed over his skin, back and forth, and the way your other fingers barely grazed over the shell of his ear. He couldn’t help the way he instantly leaned into the touch, a touch he hadn’t felt in so long.
Ryland turned his head, still resting in the palm of your own, to look you in the eyes. You gave him the softest smile, hand trailing across his cheek and ghosting over his jawline. His eyes watched it move, the way your fingers gently curled around the frame of his glasses dangling precariously from his face, and placed them gingerly back where they belonged, resting on the bridge of his nose.
His breath caught, your body so close to his, as your hand trailed back down and rested on his chest for just a moment, your own gaze flickering to its resting spot while his gaze stayed on your face.
“You are never, and will never be, too much, Ryland. Not for the right person. They’ll love every part of you. The clumsy parts, the nerdy parts, every part that makes you…you,”
The Sun. That’s what you were to Ryland Grace. He meant every word he had said in that planetarium that day, driven by the rare jealousy of seeing Harkin that close to you.
The Sun was the reason Earth had life. Without the Sun…the Earth would be nothing.
Without you…well, Ryland Grace had accepted long ago that he didn’t understand what it was like to truly live until he’d met you.
Your eyes flickered for just a second, and Ryland took in an audible breath, swearing they settled on his lips for just a second. The apartment was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and the pattering of the rain against the living room windows.
The moment shattered with yet another terribly timed clap of thunder, your body jolting away from his, focus turned back to the counter in front of you, face hidden from his wide eyes.
“Y-you know…I can’t tell you the last time I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,”
Ryland shook his head, smiling slightly to himself at the little stutter in your own words, turning back to finishing his own food as well. But the moment still lingered in his head, the heat that bloomed from where your skin touched him still lingering.
“Since peanut butter is banned in school for allergies, probably awhile,”
“I almost forgot that rule a couple weeks ago and almost packed peanut butter crackers,” you joked back, before Ryland heard you snap your fingers. “Oh! Speaking of work, did you put yourself down to volunteer for the school dance next week?”
Sandwiches finished off, Ryland packed the ingredients away and stashed them back in their appropriate spots, laughing awkwardly to himself.
“Hah, uh, no I didn’t. I chaperoned last year and kind of left covered in punch, became the kids’ favorite ‘meme’ for a week afterward since one of them got a picture of it,”
He turned back to you. Leaning against the island counter, holding your sad little sandwich in your hands, face still lit up red as you smiled toward him.
“I think so far it's me, Doyle, and Harki, plus Principal Marshal and I think Katie and Dawson from the front office. We could really use another teacher,” he swore the fluttering of your lashes was on purpose just to kill him and his resolve. “Sign-up? For me?”
Well, there was no universe in existence where Ryland said no to a request like that.
Rejoining you at the counter, he held his own sandwich in his hand, reaching out and tapping it against yours as if you were sharing a toast.
“For you? Totally,”
Even as you both took a bite of your sandwiches, eyes still locked together, Ryland felt as if something had shifted in the air. Your eyes were still as kind, your smile still bright, but it felt like there was a new weight to your gaze as you looked at him.
And he swore–and hoped–for just a split second, that your eyes had just flickered down to his lips again.
❤︎
The student council had outdone themselves with this end of the year dance.
As you stepped through the main doors of Grover Cleveland Middle’s building, the smile on your face grew immediately at the sight before you. The walls were lined with little fairy lights, little styrofoam planets hanging down from the ceiling at various lengths, glow in the dark stars right around them and glowing. Silver streamers hung around the fairy lights, with the check in desk decorated with tons and foam and lights behind them to look like twinkling lights in the clouds.
“A space theme?” you called out as the two kids in front of you ducked away from the registration desk. Evelyn Doyle finally looked up from the sign-in sheet, grin growing as she took in the sight of you and rounded the desk. “I hadn’t heard anything from the student council on the theme, but they did well.”
“Nevermind the theme, you’re finally here!” you laughed as you threw her arms around you, reciprocating the hug, before her hands landed on your shoulders in order to get a good look at you, eyes trailing you up and down. “And look at this dress, oh my god!”
The deep yellow dress fell right around your knees, the fabric light and airy as it swooshed through the air with every move you made. Buttons lined the front down to the tie around your waist, leaving just enough room for the little gold necklace resting against your collarbone. You thanked yourself for choosing a short sleeve option, already feeling the heat in the building from how many kids were all packed in and dancing together.
“Thank you,” was the sheepish reply you gave your friend as she let you go. “I’m sorry I’m late, I caught one of my student’s parents in the parking lot and they turned it into a mini parent-teacher conference, sadly.”
“Not a problem,” she waved the comment off, gesturing toward the doors of the gym just off to the left of you both. “Just get on in there, have some fun, and keep those slow dancers at least 12 inches apart at all times.”
If the hallways were gorgeous, the inside of the gym shone even brighter. Bathed in blue and purple, even more little lights twinkled around the room, hung off the walls, the ceilings, and on every surface they could possibly find. Moon and star decals, made by the art students, hung off the walls and from the ceiling, almost glowing under the lights.
Your eyes trailed over all of your children, scattered throughout the room, already having been dancing for at least thirty minutes. The smile on your face grew as you watched each one of them, gathered with their friends as they danced together in groups, or even stood off to the sides and just observed from beyond the dimly lit dance floor.
Mr. Harkin had been stationed at the punch table, and you could hear him from across the room warning these middle schoolers not to try and spike the punch. You could only giggle to yourself, shaking your head at his antics, before your eyes swept over the crowd once more-
The music seemed to stop in your ears, breath hitching, the second you laid eyes on him across the room. Ryland Grace.
He wasn’t in anything fancy. A nice pair of jeans, the worn pair of black dress shoes you’d seen by his apartment door that night. A dark green shirt was tucked into his jeans, adorned with a worn, navy blue suit jacket overtop, and those same glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose as he spoke animatedly to Olivia.
Ryland looked good. Too good, in your eyes.
For just a second, he looked up, and his eyes happened to meet yours across the room. You thought for sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.
Whatever had happened that night, in the silence of his apartment with only the beating of the rain against the windows and the roof as a witness, had shifted something. From the moment your fingertips had ghosted along his skin, your hand had rested against his chest, and you’d been close enough to see the specs that danced in those ocean blue eyes of his up close, nothing had been the same.
Like the little bubble you had been existing in with your harbored crushed had finally popped. Like a toe had dipped just slightly over a line, and there was no going back from then on.
You always blushed around your friend, every time he’d manage to fumble his way through a comment that borderlined on a kind-of-not-just-friendly compliment. But since that day just a week or so ago, every time he has been within a few feet of you, your face lit up like a hot summer’s day.
Moments where he’d find a second to linger in your classroom door, held a new weight to them. Sharing lunch together, fingers just barely brushing for a second as you both reached for your food, to moments when you’d simply be walking together down hallways, back of hands brushing along each other’s but no one making any moves to stop it from happening.
Something was different, and you weren’t sure you wanted to go back to how things were before. Not after touching his skin, or existing in his orbit like that. Not when you’d seen the side of him beyond these school walls.
You were in love with Ryland Grace. You had been for a long time. And, finally, you were done trying to pretend that there wasn’t at least a small chance that he felt the same.
“I need your help,”
The heated staring contest between you two was broken by the sound to your right. You turned, just to see Marcus standing directly beside you and reaching up to pull on the sleeve of your dress. His hands wrung together, foot tapping incessantly on the ground, and you immediately knelt down in front of him to get a better look at his face that he was trying to hide from you.
“Marcus? Honey, what’s wrong?” you asked gently, hands coming to rest on his arms as you tried to get him to look at you.
“I…I like Olivia,”
Oh. It was one of those problems. The anxiety you felt in that moment finally washed away, an easy smile falling to your lips as you took a quick glance over in Ryland and Olivia’s direction, the former’s eyes still locked onto you from across the room.
“I did hear a rumor about that. Olivia is a great girl,”
“She is,” he said quickly, finally looking at you. His nerves were basically written across his face. “I-I’ve been really mean to her. I didn’t mean to be.”
“I know, honey. Sometimes feelings can be confusing,” you stood up, hands on your hips as you looked down at him with a smile. “Do you want to dance with her?”
“I do,”
You held your hand out toward him with a smile.
“Then why don’t we start by going and apologizing to her?”
With Marcus’s hand in yours, you confidently led him across the room, eyes locked back onto Ryland’s as you approached. He stood with Olivia at his side, who was talking his ear off, a dopey looking grin on his face as he nodded to whatever she said as he continued to watch as you approached him.
“Dr. Grace, I’m sorry to interrupt you and Olivia,” you announced yourself to the pair with a grin of your own, hands on Marcus’s shoulders and you lightly pushed him forward. “But Olivia, there’s something that Marcus here wants to say to you.”
The young boy shuffled awkwardly forward, hands wringing together again as he stood in front of his crush.
“I, uh, I wanted to say I was sorry. For being really mean to you. I didn’t mean it,”
Olivia’s eyes went wide, as she too shuffled uncomfortably for a second. Ryland saddled up to your side, the pair of you sharing a glance as you watched the interaction happen right before your eyes. His hand graced over yours lightly, and it took everything in you not to reach out and lock your fingers with his.
“Oh! It’s, um, it’s okay. Thank you,”
“Say, Marcus?” Ryland called out to them both, catching the boy’s eye and gesturing toward Olivia with a wink. “What do you think of Olivia’s dress?”
“I…I think she looks really beautiful,”
That comment finally seemed to catch Olivia off guard, her eyes wide in shock as she giggled nervously.
“Oh! I…thank you, Marcus. You look really nice too,”
“Thank you,” his posture seemed to straighten out at Olivia’s reaction, like seeing her accept his compliment gave him the confidence he needed. “Do you want to dance with me?”
Olivia shot you and Ryland a look, and you both immediately gave her a thumbs up. Then, your happy eyes could only watch the two pre-teens awkwardly shuffle away together to the dance floor, not daring to meet the eyes of the other.
“Look at us, playing matchmaker for middle schoolers,”
“I think they did that for themselves, we just helped,” you laughed, turning your head. The laughter died on your lips the second your eyes met with Ryland’s, voice low and breathy as you whispered to him through your smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he whispered back just as breathily. His hand came up to the back of his head, running through his hair for a moment, and you could see the red and pink hues that lit up his cheeks. “I got worried when I didn’t see you. I was ready to call you.”
“You could’ve,”
“I’ll remember for next time,” he shot back, hands finding their way to rest in the front pockets of his jeans. His eyes moved back over the crowd, finding your two young students once more. “I’m proud of him for that. That…must have taken a lot of guts to do.”
You followed his gaze, landing on the pair as they danced together, laughing and talking like old friends.
“Like you said before, it can be hard for boys to express their feelings. All he needed was to pull up his big boy pants and ask her,”
Ryland laughed beside you.
“Yeah…I should probably follow in his footsteps,”
You glanced back to him, seeing him already watching you. A single eyebrow raised toward him quizzically, even though your heart felt like it was ready to beat directly out of your chest.
Ryland’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if he were trying to force out words that he couldn’t quite seem to get right. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath, hoping inside that whatever he wanted to say would address the weight that seemed to be hanging between your gazes.
“Stay here,”
There wasn’t even time for you to respond before the tall blonde rushed away, almost tripping as he dashed over to the DJ booth across the way from the makeshift dance floor. He whispered something to the DJ, and you could see the thumbs up he got in return, before he rushed back over to you, panting slightly.
“Ryland?” you questioned softly, the man who held your entire heart without knowing it standing just a foot in front of you with a nervous grin on his face. “What did you just do?”
As if on cue, the song changed, and familiar lyrics floated through the room, bouncing off the walls.
Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars
“I’m pulling up my big boy pants,” he responded with a nervous laugh, his hand outstretched toward you. “And asking you to dance with me.”
Nothing else existed the second that you slid your hand into Ryland Grace’s without hesitation, letting him pull you in. You weren’t in the school, not in a room decorated for a middle school dance, and certainly not surrounded by middle schoolers and a bunch of faculty that had placed bets on you both.
It was just you and Ryland Grace. That’s all you wanted it to be.
Your arms found a place to rest around his shoulders, fingertips just barely brushing past the strands of hair that tickled the back of his neck. There was a fluttering in your chest the second that his hands made their way to your waist, curling around the divet just above your hip bone, pulling you into him just by another inch.
In other words, hold my hand. In other words, darling, kiss me. Fill my life with song, and let me sing for ever more.
"I didn't tell you yet…,” his voice was soft, words whispered just between the two of you in a crowded room. “But you look beautiful,"
"You don't have to flatter me, Ryland,"
"No, really, you look-"
"Like a banana in this yellow dress?"
He paused. His tongue poked out, running along his bottom lip, and you could see the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple before he spoke again.
"...like the sun,"
You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.
Oh. That fluttering in your chest was back, and suddenly, you weren’t at a middle school dance anymore. You were back in that planetarium, spinning in circles. And this time, there were no doubts in your mind. You were the Sun, and he was the Earth. And what was the Earth, without its Sun?
"Ryland-"
"I wasn't lying,"
You cocked your head.
"...about what?"
"That I knew Homer wrote The Odyssey,"
That drew a short laugh from you, but you could still see the nerves that were laced through Ryland’s smile.
"Right, you were just distracted,"
"I was. By you. I'm always distracted by you,"
In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you.
You took a deep breath. He’d crossed the line for you, thrown himself onto the other side, and was waiting for you with open arms. It was just a leap of faith.
“I’m always distracted by you, too. Since the day we met,”
The song faded away, melting into the next. There could’ve been eyes on you both, either from students or from faculty, but nothing would break either of your gazes away from the other.
Ryland took a quick look around the room, before his hands took hold of your own, bringing them down between you both. He gave you a grin, one filled with more happiness than you had ever seen–and you knew your own matched his perfectly–before he tugged you toward the doors of the gym.
“Come with me,”
“Ry, we’re supposed to be chaperoning!”
“I don’t see Principal Marshall anywhere. What’s the worst she could do, fire us?”
“Quite literally, yes!” you shot back with a laugh.
Ryland only shrugged his shoulders, tugging you again, and you didn’t even try to fight back. Your feet simply moved with him.
“Worth it,”
Hands clasped together, fingers intertwined, your laughter echoed off the walls of the empty hallways as Ryland Grace ran you down them, a destination clear in his mind. Every few seconds he’d look back, just smiling at you as his eyes trailed over every single inch of you, before you’d yell at him to look at his own feet before you’d both be sprawled across the linoleum floors.
The door to his classroom was open as you flew inside, hand slipping from his as you caught yourself on the projector cart sitting in the middle of the room. Spinning on your heel, you caught his eye just as he shut the classroom door behind him, and the silence enveloped you both once more. Finally alone, no prying eyes to watch.
The momentarily confidence that seemed to seize hold of Ryland dissipated in that moment. He wiped his hands against the front of his jeans, chuckling awkwardly as he took a few steps toward you.
“What was your plan here, Dr. Grace?” you teased, taking a couple steps toward him as well, too high on the feeling of everything you’d just finally realized. High on the feeling of finally not denying what your heart knew long ago: you and Ryland Grace were never just friends.
“I’m not going to lie,” he shot back, coming to a stop just in front of you, barely an inch or two separating you. “I hadn’t thought this far ahead.”
“Then stop thinking,”
No one had leaned in first. It had been both of you, as if drawn together like two magnets, as your lips finally found one another's.
Goosebumps rose across your skin as Ryland Grace’s mouth moved against yours with an ease that shouldn’t exist between two people that have never kissed before. It was like a perfect dance between two partners that knew each other better than anything.
Your lips never left his, moving against his as if you couldn’t believe you had deprived yourself of this for so long, as your hands wound around his shoulders. Fingers curled into his hair, finally carding themselves through the blonde strands that felt so soft between your fingers.
The slightest little moan, enough to send heat coursing through your body the second you heard it, slipping from Ryland’s mouth into your own. His hands grasped at your hips, winding around your back to press into your lower back and tug you as close as humanly possible, as if he was a starved man that craved to touch you in any way that he could.
His lips were soft, a feeling that you knew you were going to crave for the rest of your life now that you’d had a single taste of them. You pressed further into him, a small mewl tumbling from your own lips and swallowed by his mouth as you pressed every inch of yourself into him, desperate to hang onto the moment in case the world would be cruel and wake you from this dream moments later.
The need to breathe was what finally separated you, but not far. Ryland’s forehead pressed to yours, his breath fanning out across your skin. His hands still gripped at your hips, holding him to you, as yours stayed carded through his hair, nails gently scraping at his scalp as you chest heaved as it tried to level your breathing back to normal.
“If I haven’t made it clear already, you’re my best friend,” his words were breathy, accented by the way he was still trying to catch his breath. But his smile was bright, his eyes almost shining, as he looked down at you. “And I’m completely in love with you. Literally, since the moment we met.”
You laughed, trapped in this little bubble with him, as your hands slid from his hair to instead cup his cheeks. The tip of your nose just barely brushed against his, and he bumped his right back against yours without hesitation.
“I’m completely in love with you too, Ryland Grace. Since the moment you tripped over your own two feet,”
The sound of your laughter filled the empty, dark science classroom again as Ryland’s hands came to scoop you up around your thighs, spinning you in relentless circles. All you could do was hang onto his broad shoulders and smile, his lips peppering a thousand kisses to every inch of skin he could possibly reach.
The Earth needed the Sun, like how Ryland said he needed you. The person that makes it all worth it, that makes the days brighter, that makes this short little life worth it.
all night ˚₊‧꒰⏾⋆꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹ | “kiss up, and rub up and feel up on you.”
noah calhoun x fem!reader
—established relationship, fluff
BY the time the second trailer finishes, noah’s already got you tucked so tightly against him it’s honestly a miracle either of you can move at all.
you’re half sprawled across his chest, legs tangled together in the cramped theatre seat while his arm stays wrapped around your waist like it belongs there permanently. every few minutes he pulls you closer absentmindedly, like his body keeps deciding you aren’t near enough yet.
the movie starts, but neither of you care. not really. because noah keeps kissing your forehead during quiet scenes. keeps brushing his nose against your temple. keeps turning his head just enough to look at you whenever the light from the screen flashes across your face.
and every single time you catch him staring, he just smiles lazily instead of pretending he wasn’t. “you know there’s an entire movie playing right now,” you whisper eventually. noah hums. “couldn’t tell you a thing about it.”
“you picked it.”
“mhm. still not my main focus.”
you try rolling your eyes, but he’s already grinning against your hair, warm and smug and so unbearably affectionate it makes your chest ache. the theatre’s cold from the air conditioning, so at some point noah quietly shrugs off his flannel and drapes it over both of you like a blanket before pulling you even closer into his side. “better?” he murmurs. “yeah.”
“you cold before?”
“a little.”
he frowns immediately, genuinely offended by the concept. “why didn’t you say somethin’, baby?” you laugh softly at that. “I survived.”
“barely.”
his hand slips beneath your jumper after that, resting warm against the small of your back, thumb moving in slow absentminded circles over your skin while the movie dialogue drones uselessly in the background. noah’s affectionate in this constant instinctive way. like touching you is as natural as breathing to him.
every time you shift, he adjusts with you automatically. every time you yawn, he kisses your temple. every time you look up at him, his entire expression softens immediately. at one point you catch him just… staring at your intertwined hands resting against his stomach.“you okay?” you whisper. noah looks down at you for a long moment before answering quietly, “yeah. i just like holdin’ you.” and it’s so simple. So sincere. No teasing underneath it this time. your heart practically folds in on itself.
you bury your face against his shoulder to hide your smile, and noah laughs softly like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you “c’mere,” he murmurs again, even though you’re already basically in his lap. still, he pulls you closer anyway.
the position becomes ridiculous after a while. your legs thrown across his, his chin resting on top of your head, your fingers hooked lazily through the open buttons of his shirt while his hand strokes up and down your spine in slow sleepy motions.
neither of you have looked at the screen in at least half an hour. instead noah keeps pressing little kisses everywhere he can reach. your hair. your forehead. the corner of your mouth. your cheek whenever you smile. not rushed kisses either. lingering ones. the kind that feel less like desire and more like pure overwhelming affection.
eventually you tilt your head up and kiss him properly, soft and slow, and noah immediately melts into you with this quiet hum against your lips like he’s been waiting for it all night.
his hand slides up to cradle your jaw carefully while the other tightens around your waist, pulling you fully into his lap without even thinking about it. you end up smiling into the kiss because he’s so warm and sweet and clingy.
“noah,” you whisper breathlessly when he keeps kissing you anyway. “what?”
“we’re in public.”
“so?”
“so people can see us.”
he glances lazily around the mostly empty theatre before looking back at you completely unbothered “then they’ll see me lovin’ you, i guess.” you actually have to hide your face in his neck after that because your brain completely short-circuits. noah just laughs softly, wrapping both arms around you tighter. “there she is,” he murmurs warmly against your hair. “knew i could make you blush.”
later, somewhere near the end of the film, you’re curled fully against his chest listening to his heartbeat while he absentmindedly plays with your fingers. the screen glows blue across the theatre. popcorn sits forgotten by your feet. noah smells like laundry detergent and summer air and your perfume faintly clinging to his jacket.
and when you start drifting sleepily against him, he just holds you closer and kisses the top of your head again. so gentle and careful.
like loving you is the easiest thing he’s ever done.
lars and the new girl 𖦹 ⋆ﾟ꒰♡꒱༘ | new neighbour! [long hcs]
lars lindstrom x neighbour!fem!reader — no warnings.
—strangers to something more than friends
❅ lars felt like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. he stood by his window, watching you move into the house across the street. he’s so hyper aware of your existence already, he knew this was going to be disastrous.
❅ on your way to bring in another box from your car, you spot him and his poor attempt at hiding. you wave at him with a small smile and he immediately moves away from the window. he wanted to disappear right this second. oh. oh, no. you were pretty. this can not be good for him.
❅ lars sat very still, quietly listening to you moving boxes in your house for about forty minutes instead of offering help like a normal person. he’s was mentally grappling with the fact that he was going to start seeing a new face—a very pretty one—around town often. yet another pair of eyes were going to be on him.
❅ he avoids you like the likes of plague for the first two weeks. from home to work, work to home, and church every week. he didn’t want you to pop up out of nowhere and watch him embarrass himself.
❅ he was still watching you though, not spying! just.. observing. he had memorised your schedule, 8 am your bedroom lights come on, 8:45 you leave for work and you’re back sometime before 4:37. good, now he knew when to avoid you, now he just had to figure out where to avoid you.
❅ the first time you see him fully, you’re both outside on a saturday. he was getting some mail, and as he’s rummaging through the mail box, he hears a cheerful “good morning!” he looks back for one second, and it’s you. and you watch the poor man quickly waddle back into his house, while a couple of letters fall out of the box with a small “oh…? uhm, okay…”
❅ after that, you notice him everywhere. a tall figure behind frost covered windows, his curtains slightly shuffling when your cars pulls out of your driveway. catching him through your window once, but he moves to quick you thought you genuinely imagined him.
❅ the second time you see him, it’s at a record store that recently opened. he was so excited to go buy some new albums after gus introduced him to a band that made ambient jazz, but when he walked in, his heart might as well have fell out his ass. there you were, the pretty girl next door, placing down vinyls and cds on the display shelves. he wanted to run away again, but he genuinely froze.
“hi! are you looking for a new album to buy?”
“…yeah… a… jazz band…”
❅ he stood there, internally panicking as you told him about what albums you had. he was sweating, even though it was freezing cold outside. you pick up the album he was looking for, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that it’s what he wants, instead blurting out a quick “i left my keys at home, sorry.”
❅ he locked himself inside his house for the rest of the day, but when he was about to leave for work the next morning, that same album was waiting outside his door with a small note on it. sorry about your keys! enjoy -y/n
❅ now he had a name to the face, and later that day, he told gus and karin about the gifted record, and karin tried to get him to talk to you. “i’ll bake you some cookies, why don’t you bring them to her?” but lars didn’t know the difference between seeing you again and being held at gun point. he insisted on the fact that you probably wanted privacy.
❅ on your way out to work the next day, your driveway was shovelled and freshly salted. and when you looked across the street, he was standing by the his window, yet again. but this time, when you waved at him and smiled, he nodded and stood there for one second, before quickly walking away.
❅ something in him relaxed just a little bit when he realised that you didn’t find him to be a complete freak weirdo. you kept waving at him every time you saw him, you would flash him that gorgeous smile, even left a couple more records from the band just because you wanted to. well, now he obviously had to pay you back, right?
❅ your rubbish bin would be dragged back up your driveway after collection day, your porch light would mysteriously be fixed after flickering for a whole week. you had no proof, but you knew it was him.
❅ he became obsessed with the sounds of your routine. the sound of music through your open window when he’s chopping wood in the evening. the sound of you struggling to open your car frozen car door in the morning.
❅ there’s this one horrible moment where you knock on his door (knowing damn well that boy is not opening up) unexpectedly to introduce yourself after months of silently watching each other from a distance. lars completely panics and freezes, he can see you through the window and he stupidly decides to pretend that he’s not home, despite the fact that you can literally see him standing there.
❅ but afterwards, he felt so guilty, he literally couldn’t sleep. but you had walked away quietly giggling because this man looked absolutely petrified of you.
❅ your first actual conversation lasts less than a minute. it happens when you catch him outside while he’s shovelling snow, thanking him for clearing your driveway. he muttered “it was in the way,” despite the fact that it objectively was not. that’s when you finally get his name.
❅ you start lingering outside longer after that. taking your time to open your front door, watering plants that the freezing weather had killed weeks ago, anything to see him appear near by again.
❅ and he somehow always does.
❅ there was an odd chemistry between you at this stage, and it’s unbearable because it’s built on restraint. longing looks through windows, tiny acts of care neither of you acknowledged. you feel his eyes on you before you you see him, and he spends everyday convincing himself that he needs to stay away while unconsciously orbiting you like a planet.
❅ lars grew very obsessed with this chemistry because it was only interesting thing going on for him. between small talks in the morning, you would mention minor inconveniences because seeing him so focused to get something done just because you mentioned it in passing was kind hot. it was clear that he was a very attentive man.
❅ a loose cabinet hinge? he’s on it. snow shovelled before dawn. your heater is making a weird noise? he’s outside your house before he’s even fully put on his gloves.
❅ it was ridiculous because after a while, it was you watching him from afar. maybe you had a massive little crush on your shy neighbour. watching him chop wood and shovel snow just because seeing him breathing hard would get to you a little. you would ask him to pick up a heavy box just to hear him groan or whimper a bit.
❅ you quickly figure out that he likes routine, so you’d appear in predictable ways to see him relax, maybe even give you that adorable awkward smile of his. same time everyday at the mailbox, same overly sweet wave through the window.
❅ you couldn’t tell if it was the proximity, or the fact that he always seemed to be there when you had an issue with your house (no matter how small it was), but you had your eyes on him now.
❅ you’d lean against the doorframe, gently teasing him while he’s red-faced, gripping a mug of tea so tightly it might break, looking like he’s seconds away from going into cardiac arrest.
❅ lars hadn’t even realised that you’ve been flirting with him until karin pointed it out. because “what do you mean she asked you to change her bedroom lightbulb three times this week?”
❅ oh? is this what intentional flirting was like? when you’d call his hair perfect, while brushing snowflakes off of his sweater even though touching him felt like it needed medical approval? looking at him with that hypnotic gaze while he accidentally rambled about carpentry? oh.
❅ this poor baby would go back to hiding for days in his house, but he’d always have his eyes on you. he didn’t want to be outside unless he looked perfect, he’d put on his best sweater just to look good for you. combing his hair in different sides to hear you say which side you liked better, showing up to the record store just to say hi and buy nothing.
❅ one night the power goes out after a particularly violent snowstorm, and you show up at his door, wrapped in a blanket asking if you can stay with him because your house kept making scary creaky noises. you sit together in candle light, drinking terrible hot cocoa. one point you fall asleep next to him with your thighs touching, and he terrified of moving because he doesn’t want to wake you up.
❅ lars tells gus and karin, and they’re immediately invested. thank goodness, it’s a human girl this time! gus trying not to laugh every time lars “just happens to be” outside your front door again, and karin watching you to talk to lars even though he’s one touch away from falling to his knees.
❅ he’s hyper focused on everything you say. when you mentioned that you had a favourite candy that you used to eat as a child, he’s suddenly giving them to you with a quiet “i saw these in the store and they reminded me of you…”, even though he ordered them from a different city. you genuinely had to look away because it had affected you so badly.
❅ and the tension gets so unbearable because you want to touch him so bad, but you feel like you need government clearance for that. and it was almost a year to the day you moved in when you finally caught him looking at you with that soft, helpless expression he didn’t even realise he was making. just pure affection, like he couldn’t believe you were living next to him. and that was the exact moment he realised, you both are definitely having the same thoughts about each other.
{inspired by @larsandthewritergirl , @prudejudee , @astrophxge}
Ryland who always has to kiss you on his way out the door, or makes sure you kiss him on your way out the door. If he leaves without one, no matter HOW FAR he gets, he will come back and kiss you. A fast, swift peck to the lips that leaves you reeling for more and it's always accompanied by a winded smile before he's leaving again.
If you try to leave without giving him one, he'll follow you to the door, grab you by your hip and turn you around before planting a firm one. You smile against his lips, shuffling a little bit closer and murmuring, "Ry, I'm going to be late."
"Just one more." He utters back, his breath against your lips and before you know it, he's got you against the door and his mouth is falling back to yours.
warnings: bad day, Ryland and reader are in a committed relationship, some arguments, lots of kissing, overall romantic (I hope so), some flirting, she deserves all the best.
note : You had an exceptionally bad day, but you also have an exceptionally supportive boyfriend.
[Ryland Grace masterlist] [main masterlist]
Ryland glanced at his watch as he hurried down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the carpet beneath him. Damn. The meeting had taken way longer than he'd expected. End-of-semester faculty meetings required full attendance, and even if he'd tried, there was no way he could've escaped early. Still, he hadn’t thought it would drag on this much.
He reached into the pocket of his yellow jacket and pulled out his apartment keys. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
The hallway was dark, but farther inside, a dim, warm light glowed softly.
“Babe, I’m home!” he called as he stepped inside.
He set his helmet on the table and quickly kicked off his shoes, leaving them carelessly against the wall. He’d deal with them later.
“Sorry. I thought we’d finish sooner, but Mrs. Morrison still had something else to add. That woman genuinely has no sense of time—”
He stopped halfway across the living room when he spotted you curled up on the couch, wrapped so tightly in a blanket that you barely looked human anymore.
“Oh my,” he muttered, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I never thought I’d live to see my girlfriend turn into a human burrito.”
You stirred slightly before pushing the blanket down just enough to look at him.
“Hey.”
Your voice was barely audible, and Ryland felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. He crouched beside the couch, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.
“Hey, pretty burrito,” he said softly. “Have you seen my girlfriend anywhere?”
“I had a terrible day,” you mumbled. “An absolutely, horribly terrible day.”
Ryland rested his chin on his hand and looked at you sympathetically.
“On a scale from one to ten? Where one is just a bad day and ten is the end of the world?”
“Eleven.”
“Geez,” he said quietly. “Rough day, huh?”
The two of you sat there in silence for a moment before Ryland sighed dramatically, stood up, and started taking off his jacket.
“Move over.”
“There’s no room. This is a one-person zone of emotional suffering.”
“Don’t you know misery loves company? Scoot.”
“Ry—”
Grace could be incredibly stubborn. You knew that. Which also meant you knew you had absolutely no chance of winning this argument. A moment later, he was lying beside you, pressing you gently against the back of the couch. He smelled faintly of cologne and cold wind.
“Tell me everything.”
So you did.
You told him how your day had started horribly after you spilled coffee all over yourself that morning. About the mountain of work waiting for you at the office. About your unbearable coworker. About forgetting lunch and ending up with a terrible sandwich from the vending machine. About your phone dying halfway through the day.
“And then it started raining,” you finished miserably. “And I didn’t even have an umbrella. Susan says it’s Mercury retrograde.”
Ryland blinked. “What?”
“Mercury retrograde,” you repeated more quietly.
“Sweetheart.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I love you, you know that. But when I hear things like that, as a scientist…” He shook his head. “Mercury retrograde is an interesting astronomical phenomenon, but its ‘effect on people’s lives’ is more about belief than actual science.”
You buried your face in his shirt with a muffled groan. “I know, but I can’t help it.”
He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you as tightly as the couch allowed.
“Okay,” he said after a moment, once you finally looked up at him again. “Let’s break this down scientifically. We have one spilled coffee, one terrible coworker, one terrible sandwich, one dead phone, and one missing umbrella.”
“Are you seriously about to make a graph out of my breakdown, Dr. Grace?”
“If necessary, yes.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and lifted a finger like he was about to start a lecture. “Individually, none of these events are catastrophic. Together, however, they create the illusion of a statistically significant bad day—”
“Ryland.”
“—however,” he corrected quickly, “I am willing to acknowledge that human emotional responses do not always correlate with objective data.”
“Wow. Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
A quiet pause settled between you. Then, more gently this time, he added, “But also… yeah. That really does sound like an awful day.”
Something in your chest loosened at that. “It was,” you admitted quietly.
Ryland looked at you carefully—really looked at you—and then reached up to tug the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders. A second later, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Wait a second.”
Before you could react, he pulled part of the blanket away dramatically.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked, his voice going slightly higher than usual.
A sly smile spread across your face. “Maybe.”
“It’s definitely my shirt! I recognize that cat!”
You grinned. “Ryland, you like it when I wear your clothes. Besides, I came home sad, wet, hungry, and lonely. I needed emotional support.”
He opened his mouth, fully prepared to argue that he absolutely did not like it when you stole his clothes. Which would’ve been a complete lie.
Sometimes you borrowed his sweatshirts, and afterward they smelled like your perfume for days. Ryland would put them on and instantly feel calmer, softer somehow, like a part of you was still there with him. But there was absolutely no way he was admitting that out loud.
“That’s theft, young lady,” he announced firmly. “Take it off.”
“Oh, you’re using your teacher voice now?” you teased. “You know what that does to me.”
He cleared his throat immediately, pretending your comment hadn’t sent a very real shiver down his spine.
“I’m counting to three.”
“Make me.”
The apartment filled with laughter almost instantly.
Ryland lunged for the blanket while you tried desperately to hold onto it, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. Within seconds he was hovering over you, pinning you against the couch while tears gathered at the corners of your eyes.
“Ryland!” you gasped between laughs. “I can’t move!”
“That’s gravity, my dear.”
He braced himself on his elbows above you, breathing hard, his glasses hanging crookedly off one ear.
“Are you surrendering?”
You shook your head stubbornly. “Never.”
“That was a very expensive shirt.”
“That’s not true,” you argued. “Besides… I can pay for damages.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Oh? And how exactly are you planning to do that?”
Instead of answering, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was warm and a little messy from laughter, but sweet enough to make his chest ache.
“Deal?” you whispered against his lips.
“It’s a valuable shirt,” Ryland muttered weakly without opening his eyes.
You kissed him again.
“Vintage, actually.”
Another kiss.
“I’m emotionally attached to it.”
“You’re a difficult negotiator, Dr. Grace.”
He kissed you again before you could say anything else, slower this time, softer.
God, he loved you.
He loved you so much it honestly terrified him sometimes.
With you, he never had to pretend to be someone cooler or smoother or less awkward than he really was. You saw every strange, anxious, overly talkative part of him—and somehow, that only made you love him more. Even if you kept stealing his clothes, he’d probably give you everything he owned without hesitation.
His hand slid lower against your waist as he lifted himself slightly, watching you loosen his tie and undo a few buttons of his shirt.
“You know,” he began thoughtfully, “I think we should consider conducting some practical research regarding Mercury retrograde.”
You laughed softly. “I thought you said that was bullshit.”
“Yes, well.” He adjusted his glasses with exaggerated seriousness. “Science requires an open mind. And according to extremely reliable research, after a day this bad, the best possible treatment involves direct physical contact and significant emotional support.”
“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “The research says so?”
“Very serious research.”
“And Dr. Grace agrees with these findings?”
“Completely.”
Your smile made his heart stutter. “Well,” you murmured, pulling gently on his tie again, “I suppose I should trust the science.”
“Good choice.”
You kissed him once more, soft laughter still lingering between you.
For a brief moment, Ryland’s mind drifted away from the warmth of the couch and the comfort of your arms, wandering instead to the jewelry store window he’d passed on his way home—the one he’d been stopping in front of for weeks now just to stare at the rings inside.
The thought still scared him sometimes. Wanting this much. Wanting a future this badly.
But sitting there with you tangled together on the couch, your fingers still curled loosely around his tie, he found himself thinking:
Tomorrow, he was finally going to walk into that store.
And if Mercury retrograde really was real… Well, then he’d just have to risk it anyway.
Thought I’d post this on tumblr for the non ao3 users!
Hypothetically
In which Ryland proposes in a nerdy way.
AU: No astrophage
Pairing: Ryland Grace x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Word count: 535 (Oneshot)
Warnings: None. Just pure fluff
Ryland Grace doesn’t do big and fancy. He prefers creature comforts, what he knows.
Which is why he proposes to you at home, where the lighting is soft and nobody is watching but your cat, a chunky ginger boy called Charlie.
It’s Saturday evening, and Saturdays for him usually mean lesson plans and grading papers, but today he took you out.
It was a foggy day, his favourite, cool and crisp. The two of you got coffee and visited The California Academy of Sciences before heading home, getting takeout on your way.
You’ve just finished a quick once-over clean of the kitchen when he clears his throat behind you, fingertips nervously skimming over the ring box in his cardigan pocket
Turning around, you raise an eyebrow at him. You know his body language and he’s clearly gearing up for something.
“Ry,” you smile at him, leaning against the kitchen island, “what’s up? You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” He stares at you, shifting from foot to foot.
“The thing where you think too much and work yourself up before you’ve even said anything.” You push yourself off the kitchen island and take a few steps towards him, reaching out to brush the back of your hand against his face. “What’s on your mind?”
“Okay… okay, yeah. I’m thinking, um..”
“Ry.”
“Okay. Right. Yeah. So, hypothetically…” He takes a few steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Hypothetically…?” You repeat, looking him up and down.
“Hypothetically, if two people had… say, extremely strong chemical compatibility…”
You laugh, but don’t interrupt. Where is he going with this?
“And excellent long-term data suggesting stability, mutual support, and high levels of happiness…” he continues, gripping the ring box in his pocket. Oh, God. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Is this really a good idea?
“Yeah?” You prompt gently, seeing that he’s starting to second-guess himself.
Finally, he finds the words.
“Would it be reasonable to propose a permanent merger of resources and-“
“Ry…”
He drops to one knee.
“Oh my god.” You breathe, hands coming up to your mouth.
“Will you marry me?”
There’s a brief, heart wrenching moment where you’re silent and he thinks he’s messed up big time. But then you’re crying, and laughing wetly, and nodding.
Before he can react properly to that, your arms are around him and you’re kissing him all over his face, repeating “yes” like if you stop saying it, this will stop being real.
After a good two minutes of pure, unfiltered emotion, you pull back and grin.
“Show me.”
“Huh?” In his nervous haze, he hadn’t even shown you the ring when he’d asked. His brain doesn’t register what “show me” means for a good ten seconds.
“The ring, Ry.”
“Oh! Yeah, the ring. Right. Of course.” He retrieves the box from his pocket and opens it up to show you.
It’s nothing massive, which is to be expected from a middle school teachers salary, but it’s beautiful and it’s for you.
When he puts it on your finger, you stare at it for a long, quiet moment before kissing him.
↬depicts: colt seavers, holland march, lars lindstrom, and ryland grace
↬warning: nothing serious. mild mentions of alcohol abuse and dangerous stunts. no spoilers for project hail mary either
↬notes: this is my first time writing anything in a year.. be nice. hoping that this'll push me to be more consistent with writing
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒
• you know how little kids will beg you to turn around and watch them do a cool trick, only to show you a three inch jump off the ground? yeah, that's colt. only those three inch jumps are more like dangerous, life threatening stunts.
• he tries sooooo hard to impress you. not because he needs to, but because he loves the look on your face after when you're hitting him on the shoulder with a poorly contained smile and asking what the fuck is wrong with him.
"whattt, you can't tell me that wasn't a good shot! come on, i did, like, three rolls in that car and barely have a scratch! that's *got* to get some sort of recognition." colt wraps an arm around your shoulder, peering down at you with a much-too-excitable expression for your taste. it made pretending to be annoyed with him pretty hard— his ultimate goal at the end of the day, you knew that by now.
"yeah, that's ignoring the bruise on your side the size of texas, you adrenaline junkie." you snarked back, barely managing to push down a smile at his antics. it didn’t matter, colt knew you well enough to sense your amusement no matter how well it was masked.
"you, my friend, need to get new insults." he huffs playfully. "do you know how many times i've heard that? it's practically recycled material at this point—! i didnt take you for a plagiarist.." he leans in closer to your face with a proud smile before pulling back moments later. you notice a flush spreading to his ears, and silently avert your eyes with a small grin of your own.
"you know you've got about three minutes to meet ryder in his trailer for a stunt revision, right?"
"...shit—" is all he colt says before taking off, leaving a small cloud of proverbial dust in his wake.
• being a crew member constantly surrounded by moving parts and very loud, very demanding split-second decisions made it hard to get any real socializing done, but somehow colt had found a way to worm himself into your routine. it was like he'd just showed up on set in front of you one day, all messy hair and a teasing glint in his eyes, leaning down to smirk "watch this" into his walkie talkie.
• you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.
• thats why when he glances at you for a little too long, or smiles at you when he thinks you won't notice, you dont mention it. not the way he always seems to be hovering around you the second he's got a moment away from the scene, nor how his voice cracks when he says your name more than anyone else's (okay, thats a lie, you do mention that last part, but if only to tease him for the momentary high note).
• theres a part of both of you that is afraid to take the next step. to push your playful arguing into something more serious: more unexplored. not to mention the amount of explaining you'd have to do to your parents around dating a stuntman— rather than some secure, tight lipped businessman like they'd always imagined. and god, the paperwork surrounding workplace relationships alone was enough to have you retreating back into that old rhythm of push and pull with colt... never too much to break the seal, but never enough to satisfy the ache in your chest. you were sure he felt the same way, but it was better to stick with what you had. the both of you knew that.
• er, at least, you did. colt's search history said differently. "movie themed pickup lines," "love song playlist," "best food in town," "cheapest food in town," the list went on.. modern problems require modern solutions, okay?
𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇
• get ready to have a grown man pinning after you like a middle schooler, because holland march is a force of nature with a penchant for stupidity, and then some.
• how on earth you captured his attention is beyond me. there are simply too many places you could have caught the detectives eye— promptly saddling himself up by your side with a five o'clock shadow and a grin that screams trouble. that's almost assuredly what happens.
• the minute you ignore him to greet holly instead, holland knew it was over for him. someone who didn't roll over at his shit and liked kids??? label him as successfully whipped, for he just found his favorite new thing to daydream about. and a little more, if you know what i mean.
• god he wants to look cool in front of you so bad. boasting about cases that he's solved (and ones that he hadn't..) is his favorite way to pass the time around you— at least until holly calls him out for it, grumbling that "no self respecting adult wants to hear about the time you lost a suspect in downtown traffic."
• he neglects to mentioned failed cases from that point forward.
• when holland is sober, he's far more easily riled up by you than anything else. he has penchant for calling you his "secret weakness," even if its anything but a secret with the way he's practically tripping over himself to catch up to you at any point.
• on the rare occasion that he had enough money to spend on something other than food, bills, or booze, holland takes a trip down to the local radioshack in order to make a mixtape. whether or not he realizes it, a lot of the songs he puts on there are ones that bring the thought of your smile to his mind. holly notices a change in the type of music playing the next few times she's in the car, but she doesn't say a thing.
• drunk holland is a different story, but when is he ever not?
• healy can barely stand to be around him when he's drunk after you enter the picture. if he had to sit through one more drunken, hiccup-y monolog about how goddamn beautiful you are, he swore that he would give up drinking (a boldfaced lie, sure, but that's how fed up he had gotten with holland's blubbering).
• you definitely get more than a few payphone calls from holland, the detective doing his best to sound coherent as he giggles into the receiver how sweet you are, and that you should come over to... whatever street he happened to be standing on that night.
• on the rare occasion that you show up its always to get him back home safely. not that he remembers much other than the smell and interior of your car
"y'er sho good to me. i ever told y'that?" holland mumbled into the upholstery lf your backseat, face smooshed against the fabric unabashedly. you were sure there'd be a drool puddle by the time you got to his place.
"yes. almost every time we do this actually." the sight that follows your sentence carries a feeling of pity with it. mostly for holly for having to deal with them when you got him home, but also for holland. things had been starting to make more and more sense ever since healy let it slip about his wife (rest her soul).
the car makes a slow right turn into a cul-de-sac as holland shuffles around in the backseat, fighting with a seat belt for a moment before leaning up into the front seat.
"you smell like a bar." he giggles as your nose scrunches up at the scent, and despite yourself you feel your heart seize a fraction. "sit back and buckle up before you fly through the windsheild, march."
"y'sound sho nice when you say my name." he either ignores you or just doesn't register your words; either possibility could be true when he's in this state.
"sit back." you twist briefly to shove holland into your backseat, cheeks flushing with heat when you accidentally make content with his exposed chest instead of his shoulder. since when did he take his tie and jacket off?
"button your shirt up before we get inside." you demand, killing the engine and slipping out of the car to walk over to the door holland was currently using for support. your expression remained unchanged as you opened it, watching his frame spill out onto the sidewalk below.
"hi." came a toothy grin as he looked up at you from his spot on the floor. you had one hell of a time trying not to smile down at him.
"just— get indoors before the neighbors see you ass."
"whatever y'say partnerrr."
• god he was a mess. unfortunately, you happened to like that
𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌
• ohhhh baby you're in for a treat... a very sweet, very awkward treat in the shape of one lars lindstrom.
• you probably met him through work or karin and gus. new to town, more likely than not, and new face for the rural wisconsin residents to welcome and usher around. it's almost like being surrounded by excitable toddlers in elderly church-going bodies— every one of them more excited than the last to show off their home (and, apparently, a few matchmaking skills of their own).
• besides visiting the chappel every sunday (sometime wednesdays!) lars doesn't really make much of an effort to show up around town. bianca helped with that some, but it's still a slow process. it's not impossible to get ahold of him, per se, just very... rare. even rarer to capture his attention longer than an initial meeting— at least according to his family, the likes of which had practically begged the two of you to meet just a month into your move.
• lars can't remember what he liked about you at first.
• no really, he couldn't even if you asked. he was too busy trying to turn in the opposite direction of the diner at the time. unfortunately, karin's bruising grip on his parka had long since decided his fate.
"they're nice lars! everyone has been telling them about you since they've got here," came karins encouraging whisper as she comandered lars into the warm embrace of a diner "they're excited!"
her crackling voice, while normally familiar and comforting, was instead sending lars' brain into overdrive. he'd been promised a nice calm trip to the thrift store, not an ambush.
he blinked in rapid sucession, doing his best to look he wasn't literally being dragged into a nightmare scenario. the intense fidgeting of his mittens and self-soothing sway to his stature broke that illusion almost immediately.
a desperate look was tossed gus's way, but his brother returned it with a sigh and a shrug as if to say "what can you do?"
"a lot, actually." lars' mind whispered back traitorously.
"lars.. just give them a shot." karin's tone sounds heavy with something he can't place, so he turns around to get a better look. he's unsettled to find that she's using her pleading face. she knows how lars feels about that.
"please, buddy?" gus finally steps in, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. he looks at something over lars' shoulder. "just this one time, okay?"
lars swallows thickly.
against his better judgement, he nods, and that's that.
• maybe it was your unabashed smile or the way that you included him in nearly every conversation, waiting patiently for lars to put in his (brief) two cents before speeding along, that has lars sitting in the booth longer than just a few minutes. whatever the case, he found himself unable to look away from you, even if his line of sight was fixed on the slope of your nose rather than your own cheerful gaze. baby steps.
• gus and karin did most of the talking on lars behalf that day, but by the time the two of them had driven lars home from the diner and said their goodbyes, he couldn't help but feel like your attention had been on him the whole time.
• he could be imagining things...
• ...but he could be right. and that thought was more exciting than anything else.
• hope you're ready to have a shadow. any chance he gets to cross paths with you from that point on, and lars is nervously asking you to visit, always for a new reason or another.
• it starts out with helping him collect firewood while he hacks away— innocent enough, even if the thoughts running through your head as you watch him are anything but —to coming over anytime karin and gus had leftovers, taking walks down by the lake for "vitamin d", and, eventually, borrowing extra sweaters that lars just so happened to have "lying around." the both of you know that's not really the case, but you wear them anyway, and come back smelling like him the next day. a fact lars can't seem to handle without a few dozen blinks to reset his brain.
• he knows it's a crush. you know it's a crush. karin and gus know it's a crush. hell, lars wouldn't be surprised if his local office creep and cubicle buddy kurt knew he had a giant, head over heels crush on you. the photo of you smiling at him behind the camera sitting on his work desk was proof enough. he really was just that obvious; especially when his ears happen to turn fire engine red at the mention of your name. every. single. time.
• one day he'll ask you out, theres no doubt about it in lars mind. mostly because he knows if he doesn't do it, the rest of the town will for him
• but for now, lars is content enough to take you to his tree house and help you up the ladder every step of the way— even if you don't need it. he's content to send you home with a sweater smelling like detergent and firewood, especially when you lean forward to whisper your thanks like its a cheeky secret between the two of you, breath ghosting across the shell of his ear like a phantom touch.
• yeah, lars lindstrom is content alright. as long as he has you to look forward to.
𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄
• depending on the situation, he's either the most obvious man on the planet about it, or avoiding everything to do with his feelings. possibly a fine mixture of both.
• part of ryland grace is alight with excitement at the tell-tale signs of a crush (rapid heart rate whenever you're around, an increased flush to his cheeks, and severe loss of speech capabilities, just to name a few), but another, much louder part of him, wants to ignore it completely.
• he was afraid, simple as that. it's stupid, sure, but what if you didn't like him? thought his interests were dorky? what if he said something embarrassing?? or worse, cringe (as ryland's class so often described him). there were simply too many variables for his scientific brain to handle.
• unfortunately, avoidance wasnt an option when he happened to run into you at his diner nearly every week (well, not his diner, but it may as well have been with how often he showed up every morning, wallet already set out and stomach grumbling).
ryland always took the booth in the corner of the room. he liked to made sure that he could peer out the window at san francisco's rolling fog while he waited for his coffee— same as every morning. it was soothing. familiar.
so why was he currently sitting on a rickety bar stool at the counter, anxiously bobbing his knee up and down?
simple: you.
"nice shirt."
the force of ryland's knee hitting the underside of the counter caused a nearby salt shaker to spill over with a clatter, turning a few heads his way.
"uh— what?" his voice came out higher than usual, a breathy laugh tapered onto the end that sounded far too nervous for rylands taste.
"your shirt—" you had turned from your spot two seats down, fork poised in front of you with a bite of egg teetering on it. he'd noticed you by now, of course he had, but the sudden conversation had caught him severely off guard. he hoped you couldn't see how sweaty his palms were.
"i said it was nice. very science-y." the last bit of your sentence was punctuated with a playful wiggle of your fingers
ryland looked down at his chest, past the knit cardigan drapped over his shoulders. the cheery words 'i wear this shirt periodically!' stared back at him.
"thanks." his laugh is full of nerves, glasses sliding down his nose unhelpfully as he desperately tried to pretend your attention isn't pinning him to the spot. "my students say they're cheesy, but, uh, i might be the only one keeping the science pun buisness in tact so..." he trailed off, unsure how much more he should say.
"not the only one." you cracked a smile, tilting your head slightly. you'd set your fork down at this point, and ryland felt a jolt of electricity run through his spine at the knowledge that all your attention was on him. "i'm pretty sure my cousin has a whole collection at home of geology themed shirt-puns. not the same as—" you squinted closer at his shirt before pulling back, thankfully unaware of the flush spreading across ryland's neck. "—chemistry, but still!"
"well, good to know someone out there appreciates a good joke just as much as me." ryland gives you a boyish smile of his own, gaze meeting yours for a second too long before flitting away nervously.
you hum at him happily and turn back to eggs, spotting the approaching waitress by his side before he did.
"coffee?" she asks helpfully, and ryland does his best to sound thankful at the delivery instead of grumpy that she'd inturrupted a very rare moment for him. if only she'd come a few seconds later, maybe he would have built up the courrage to ask you more about yourself.
by the time the coffee had stopped pouring and his server had left to attend to someone else, you were gone. he hadn't even heard you get up and leave.
"darn it."
• the next time ryland sees you, you're wearing a science shirt with one more coffee than usual in hand. you seem to be just as nervous as him, if not more. it has a small smile tugging at the corner of the middle-school teachers lips as he approaches you, sitting down for what he hoped was another conversation.
• who knew stupid shirts could help you make friends in l.a? much less with diner-crushes that he'd been trying to talk to for weeks. now that was just a bonus.
Ryland Grace headcanons// sfw// inspired by the movie but a lot of the characters points are from the book since i've read it multiple times
cw/ just a lot of fluff/ i need him bad/ established relationship/ fem reader/ mentions of crying (not angst!)/ mentions of kissing+skinship/ lmk if i missed anything/ am probably going to do a nsfw version soon bc... ahem
he doesnt have a jealous bone in his body, not really. he can just get... overprotective. he wants you close All The Time. whether hes grading tests or projects or watching you cook dinner in your shared apartment (the only thing he ever makes for himself is ramen noodles), he needs you near him. hes in the bathroom brushing his teeth while youre showering because he doesnt want to lay in your bed without you, even for five minutes.
hes a deep sleeper. and a long one, too. whenever you two share a day off you have to bribe him out of bed with coffee and pancakes, because if it was up to him, hed rather spend the whole day in bed with you. hes also Always falling asleep with his glasses on. he goes through pairs of them so often youve started keeping a spare in the apartment, along with an always-updated copy of his prescription for when he inevitably loses the spare set too.
the epitome of golden retriever boyfriend, theres no denying it. all he ever wants is for you to run your hands through his hair and tell him hes doing a good job, no matter what it is hes actually doing. Needs reassurance from you whenever youre willing to give it to him, which is always, of course. cycles constantly through having lots of energy to none at all (hence the sleeping in).
we all know hes a cryer. hes crying at anything and everything even a little bit emotional. he always tells you its the price you have to pay for having an emotionally intelligent boyfriend, hes gonna be emotional. more than once hes handed you a tear-stained book and asked if you could read him the ending, because the words are too blurry for him to do it himself.
hes a Huge believer in goodbye kisses. if you two are going to spend any time apart at all, he needs a kiss goodbye. usually this isnt a problem, with his teaching job starting so early in the morning hes almost always out the door before you, and in charge of the goodbye kiss. but theres been a few times where you left before him and decided not to wake him in your rush to get out the door. not only do you get a very pathetic text about it whenever he does wake up, he wrestles you directly into bed the second you get home, complaining about how lonely he felt all day without your kisses.
the least organized person you know by far. his desk is the one place that doesnt get organized in the apartment, at his request, and its constantly strewn with gradebook binders and alternate test question forms for his different classes. you have no idea how he can stand working with his space like that, but he always tells you just because his papers arent in neat stacks doesnt mean he doesnt know where they are.
absolutelty Hates when you use titles on him. all he hears all day from students and colleagues is 'Goodmorning Mr. Grace!' and 'How are you doing today Doctor Grace?'. after hearing it for hours on end at work he cant stand it coming out of your mouth. he doesnt even like when you call him grace, since there are so many pet names he prefers. the only thing he lets slide is his contact name in your phone, which changed from 'Dr. Grace' to 'My Grace <33' in between you two being friends and dating.
ryland grace calls you baby around the ship, which is another cultural thing he has to explain to rocky. when grace needs to find you, "baby" has replaced your name, and he never thought much about it. but rocky was curious. "what is baby question?" grace looks over his shoulder at rocky and chuckles as you come over. "it's a nickname," he explains. "it's a sweet way you talk about your, uh..." and he gets shy, avoiding your gaze. "your mate." "baby is common name on earth?" "no, no. i mean, yeah, sort of. when humans are born, they're babies. then they grow up." this baffles rocky and he starts waving his "hands" around in confusion. "but not baby. is grown adult exclamation!" so, ryland walks over and pulls you in close, then starts up the baby voice as you laugh and cringe. "it's just a term of endearment! it means that she's just a little baby, yes, she is." "oh my god, grace, stop!"
ryland grace calls you baby when he gets cuteness aggression from seeing you. you could be doing the most boring thing in the world: checking coordinates, updating travel time and fuel necessities, cleaning, or cooking the weird astronaut packets they gave you. he'll watch you for a moment in complete awe because look at you! you're just a sweetheart doing your little chores! and when you spot him, he holds his arms out and you just roll his eyes. the guy is nothing but a big, mushy mess. "aren't you the cutest little baby in the world?" he pinches your cheeks, and you complain. "grace, i'm trying to work!" but he doesn't stop. "i know, but look at you! how are you just walking around looking so cute? cutest little baby i ever did see—!" and on and on and on he goes. you'll have to find another time for chores.
ryland grace calls you baby in small whispers when you're trying to sleep. rocky and him are talking quietly about something, who knows. you're trying to get some shut-eye. but just as you're about to doze off, you hear, "baby. hey, psst. sorry, didn't mean to wake you. um, how do you explain a merry-go-round?" you let out a quiet sigh and reply. "it's a bunch of... horse statues you sit on. you pretend you're riding them. and they go... around. in a circle." there. you readjust onto your side and close your eyes again, but it's much too soon when you hear, "sorry, baby. do you know their history or anything?" "honey, i don't know. for all i know, it's war propaganda. tryna get kids to wanna charge onto the battlefield." and then it's quiet. you think, great. it's finally over. rocky and grace have fallen back into their own conversation with just the two of them. vague, colorful pictures begin crossing over your eyes and a scene forms behind your eyelids... "baby?" "jesus christ."
ryland grace calls you baby when he has no idea what's going on. if he's alone in the laboratory, doing calculations, and suddenly the lights turn red and an alarm starts blaring throughout the ship, he shrieks like a child and immediately drops everything he's doing. and the first thing he does is call out for you. "baby! baby, what's going on, where are you?" this godforsaken ship, he'll never be an expert on its layout. he'll never be an expert about space in general! it seems that there's always something else he doesn't know about (but that's the life of a scientist). when he does find you, he's more than relieved, but before the two of you start pillaging to find out what the problem is this time, he always hugs you or gives you a quick kiss: an acknowledgement that he's grateful you're here, and that you two will always be safe as long as you have each other.
ryland grace calls you baby after the long days and sleepless nights, when you, him, and rocky finally break through on something. you three have been slaving away for weeks, running the same tests over and over and over again, each time changing something miniscule in your work to salvage what little calculations are correct and to be as thorough as possible. none of you thought that the work you'd have to do up here could be this meticulous. space is a whole different playing field. but after weeks of work, the glass tube turns the right color and suddenly you're a whole lot more awake, waving at rocky and shaking grace on the shoulder to snap both of them out of their dazes. "what? what is it...?" rocky notices first and his musical cheers ring out, waving his "hands." grace then looks over and sees you holding the tube, and he springs out of his chair and tackles you, laughing with absolute glee. "we did it! what'd you change? oh, baby, you're a genius!" you all know you'll do this same song and dance in a month or so, but three brains are better than one. you'll keep trudging onwards for as long as you need to.
notes: guys i finally wrote for project hail mary, they were gonna get me soon enough. aughhhh grace my wife grace my love. haven't stopped thinking about this movie since i saw it. i'd be happy to write more for the gosling verse in general, so we'll see! requests are open so feel free to drop any request, headcanons, or if you just wanna geek out with me
not long enough was so heartbreakingly beautiful oh my lord pls write more for ryland 😭😭
omg, thank you so much!! i have so many ideas for ryland and i can’t wait to finish writing them and share them with you all, but here’s some headcannons of an au where there’s no astrophage and the sun’s not dimming !!!
lazy sunday mornings, every single week. both of your weeks are filled with work, saturday mornings you usually get up and do house chores whilst ryland is grading papers or doing lesson plans, so you make every conscious effort to have lazy sundays. no alarm is set, both of you stay in bed until you either have to pee or get some food, but usually you’ll crawl back into bed and into the other’s arms immediately after
ryland loses his glasses all the time. i don’t make the rules, i just follow them. the amount of times you’ve had to take his backup pair to school, go out and get him yet another pair, or help him search for his glasses at home is indescribable. of course, you do it because you love him, but most days you want to put an airtag on them just to stop the madness
before each major holiday, or before he starts a new topic with his students, you’ll go into school with him on a saturday to decorate his classroom. the amount of saturdays you’ve spent up a ladder or stapling things to walls is more than you’d like to admit, but spending time with ryland and doing something for his students? it made it worth it
ryland is a terrible cook and refuses to admit it!! after dating for a few months, he invited you to his apartment for dinner and promised to cook your favourite meal. he had everything planned out, had all the ingredients, and somehow managed to burn it within minutes of starting to cook. you ended up ordering take out that night, but it’s one of your favourite memories
and speaking of dates, ryland will take you out or do something special at least once a week for you to remind you of how much you mean to him and make sure that you get some time to be a couple, and not just people going through life together. yes, you live together and make important decisions together, but ryland makes sure that you know that you’re it for him. he loves you and cherishes you, and he makes that very clear
for his birthday, you’ll always buy him something that’s either based on foxes or has a fox on it somewhere, and you best believe that he uses them almost everyday. once you got him a fox keychain and it broke after a couple of years, and this man found out where it was from and got another one the next day. it hangs from his house keys and he smiles every time he sees it
monday nights are movie nights. you take it in turn to choose a film each week, and you learned a lot about him in the first few months of your relationship due to this. both of you love snuggling up on the couch together wit snacks in your laps and a blanket covering you as you enjoy watching something the other loves
ryland will forget to get his hair cut, even if you’ve made him an appointment, which has lead to some fun discoveries. you accidentally pulled a few strands at the top of his neck too hard once and the groan that escaped him was indescribable
he’s trained himself so well to not swear at school that he also doesn’t swear at home either. so many times have you heard a crash or ryland drop something, only for it to be followed with a “fudge”, “fiddlesticks”, or his favourite of “crudders". he never fails to make you smile with those
and on that topic, he’s the silliest man you’ve ever met, wanting nothing more than to make you smile and giggle all the time, so he will do the stupidest things to make you break. after being together for three months, ryland once pretended to trip over something before actually falling over his own feet. you didn’t let him live it down for years and it still makes you laugh out loud to this day
so! many! pet names!! you forget your own name until someone else says it to you because you’re so used to ryland and his “sweetheart”, “honey”, “darling”, and “my love”. and when you come home after a bad day and ryland realises straight away, he calls you “sweetheart” in the softest, most gentle voice ever, and you’re a puddle in his arms
big into abba and elton john. absolutely loves the 70s and 80s for music, but he will also latch on to more modern pop songs and play them for weeks on end before getting bored of it one random day and he never listens to it again
each morning before school, ryland has a shower and you hang up his jeans, shirt and tie for when he’s out and you make breakfast for the two of you. a few people have criticised you for it, but you love doing small things for him to make his mornings easier (acts of service please and thank you)
speaking of love languages, i truly believe that ryland’s is physical touch. no matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you’re together and he’s able to, ryland will be touching you in some way. an arm around your waist or shoulders, your hand clasped tightly in his, a hand on your thigh, his foot tapping against your own, this man thrives on touching you
