I recently saw Project Hail Mary and it absolutely blew my mind away. I went down an entire Ryan Gosling rabbit hole and here's the mess it created.
I made this account as a fresh new start from my old one, so I have a little bit of writing experience, but I am still working my way up to writing longer more in depth pieces so bare with me here
Requests are open!! Just keep in mind that I dont write NSFW unless its like just suggestive or whateva. Feel free to also just give me any ideas, I would love to expand on them and give my input
warnings : drunk Holland; declarations of love; existential crisis;
It’s nearly two in the morning when the sound of your phone yanks you out of sleep. Loud, relentless ringing cutting through the dark. When you finally answer, there’s a heavy sigh on the other end, followed by a painfully familiar voice. “Hi…” Holland March. “Holland? Where are you?” “No idea…” You hear him sniffle. “Are you crying?” “It’s allergies.” From the noise in the background, you immediately realize he’s in a bar. And judging by his voice, he’s completely wasted. Another sniffle, then suddenly: “You canceled… You canceled our date.”
“Holland, I told you,” you sigh, rubbing your sleepy eyes, “I had to stay late at work, and then something came up and…” “I knooow!” he groans dramatically. “But it feels like you broke up with me. Besides…” another miserable sigh, “the bartender already hates me. I kept telling him how much I love you and he…” “Jesus Christ… just give me the address.”
Half an hour later, you’re standing inside the bar. A few exhausted customers still linger near the booths, and your disaster of a boyfriend is slumped at the very end of the counter looking like human heartbreak. The bartender gives you a look full of sympathy. “You came,” Holland says the second he sees you, his face lighting up instantly. “I’m having an existential crisis. Without you, my life is just… a black hole.” You shake your head in disbelief that this is somehow your life now. Though honestly, you aren’t even surprised anymore.
The entire drive home is filled with Holland’s drunken rambling. “You showed up in my life and then, boom! Suddenly you were everywhere. Every day. In every thought. I love you so much. I don’t know why you left me…” “I didn’t leave you, Holland.” “Maybe I do know…” he mutters sadly. “But does it have to hurt this much? What if I’m having a heart attack? Can you drive to the hospital?” “You are not having a heart attack. You’re drunk. And dramatic.” “So… basically a heart attack.”
Getting him out of the car is a battle all on its own. He leans almost his entire weight against you, mumbling nonsense about eternal love, unbearable loneliness, how deeply he loves you, and how much deeper he suffers. Getting him upstairs and into the bedroom takes nearly half an hour. It feels less like helping a man and more like wrestling a large, emotionally unstable animal. Eventually, he collapses onto the edge of the mattress.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, staring up at you. “Seriously… devastatingly beautiful.” You try loosening his tie, but he keeps catching your hands to kiss your hands instead. When you start unbuttoning his shirt and reach for his belt buckle, a sudden look of concentration crosses his face. “Foreplay, sweetheart?” he asks hopefully. “I’m ready.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re going to be embarrassed about this in the morning.” He begs you to stay like you’re abandoning him forever "I’m literally just getting you water.” By the time you come back, he’s already asleep.
There’s no point driving back to your apartment now, so you slip into bed beside him. Barely seconds later, Holland rolls toward you in his sleep, one strong arm wrapping around your waist while his head settles heavily against your shoulder.
“…love you.” Your heart aches instantly. Then, a second later. “…and the sex was unbelievable…” You freeze. “…could barely walk after…”
Before you can even recover from the shock, he’s already dead asleep again. “The universe is testing me,” you mumble under your breath. You press a kiss to his forehead and close your eyes. You already know you’re never letting him live this down in the morning.
So I was thinking of Ryland dating someone who posts like a shit ton of silly pictures of him on their socials. Like, just straight bullshit LMAO
It would be funny if his students find their social media somehow and find a ton of stupid videos and pictures of him and start referencing and quoting them in the middle of class LMAO
Like maybe even printing them out and making him sign them 🥀 poor guy
Please reblog and add onto this if you have any funny ideas im curious..
There’s definitely a video of him singing karaoke when he’d gotten way too drunk and he’s absolutely murdering a classic like Wonderwall or something and then when the kids find it they make sure to be in class really early after lunch and have Wonderwall blaring from his sound wave machine and are chanting at him to stand on a desk and sing like in the video and he’s just like wha-
sometimes u headcanon a character as a sexuality but then also ship things that contradict that. sometimes you ship things you would NEVER EVER want in canon. this is because these things are fun and silly and not legally binding.
Summary: Playing Scrabble with Lars leads to the two of you exploring one of the words you spelled out.
Warnings/content: fluff, kissing, hand holding
‘You’re really good at Scrabble.’ Lars blinked up at you for the briefest moment, then averted his gaze back down to the board, blushing madly, as though he’d just confessed his undying love for you.
‘Thank you, Lars. I have pretty stiff competition though,’ you smiled as you added I-S-S beneath a word he’d just placed that ended in K.
‘Kiss,’ you read out, only semi-proudly. ‘Not this round though; kiss was the best I could do. At least it’s a pleasant word.’
When you’d updated the score sheet with your pitiful attempt, you looked up to see that Lars had wrapped his arms around his knees and was tapping his foot, nervous energy radiating from him.
‘Lars? What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, uhm...’ he breathed, ‘I’m... considering my next move.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a pick up line,’ you laughed.
Lars didn’t laugh. You weren’t sure whether he didn’t understand your joke, or whether he understood it perfectly and you’d just made things horribly awkward with the worst flirting you'd ever attempted.
‘Lars, forget it, I was being silly.’
‘No, it’s ok. I just need to stop-’ He took a deep breath and held it, pinching his eyes shut. ‘I need to stop thinking and focus on my next word. That's all.’
‘Alright. Take your time.’
And that he did. Silence spread over the space between you with an atmosphere you so thick you could have cut it with a knife.
Eventually, Lars stood and quickly left the room. Without placing a word, without speaking.
You cautiously leaned over the table to take a peek at his tiles and couldn’t understand what had made him so anxious to put them down. He had the opportunity of a perfect eight letter word that would no doubt win him the game.
Something’s going on with him, you mouthed to yourself. Something's up.
You carefully took the stairs and peered into each room as you wandered down the corridor. It felt strange, poking around the house when Gus and Karin weren’t here, but you couldn’t leave Lars like this, and knew they wouldn't want you to, either.
You found him in the last room you checked. The pink room. He looked sweet sitting on the cosy bed, surrounded by the soft, warm glow of dim light bouncing off the pastel walls.
You hovered in the doorway, but he didn’t look up.
‘Lars? Are you alright? You could have played oxidized! Don’t you want to win?’
Lars shook his head.
‘Why not?’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s…’
‘Did I upset you?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’m afraid I’m lost, Lars. Help me out a little?’
He gestured for you to enter the room, nodding his head to the side, and you obliged, taking a seat on the bed beside him.
He straightened up a little, clearing his throat as he turned to face you.
‘It was the word you put down,’ he whispered, as though anyone overhearing this conversation would be positively outraged by the topic.
‘Which one?’ you whispered back.
‘The last one.’
‘Kiss? What’s wrong with that?’
Lars whined. Kiss. That word again from your pretty mouth.
‘It’s not just the word itself-’ he sighed in frustration, toying with his fingers in his lap, ‘it’s- it’s the meaning behind it.’
You didn’t speak for a moment, realisation slowly dawning on you.
‘Lars, may I ask you something personal?’
He nodded, avoiding your eyes. A strand of hair fell over his face and he pushed it immediately back with a shaky hand.
‘Have you ever kissed anyone before? I mean, aside from Bianca, of course,’ you added carefully.
He shook his head quickly as though shaking the very thought of it from his mind.
‘…Would you like to?’
He clenched his fists into tight balls on his lap, and squeezed his eyes closed, biting his lips together.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again, nodding.
‘Would you like to kiss me?’
He nodded again, but didn’t look up.
‘Lars-’
‘Do we have to use our tongues?! Bianca never used her tongue. I don’t think I’m ready to use mine for… for that.’ The words erupted from him with unexpected force, his worries of physical intimacy bubbling to the surface all at once.
You smiled. ‘Of course not. Let’s just… start with the basics.’
He looked across at you through watery eyes.
‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, leaning closer, ‘tell me if you want to stop.’
He nodded and leaned in too, less than an inch between the two of you now.
Lars braced himself, griping the fabric of his trousers so tight his knuckles turned white, and then pressed forward, his lips crashing onto yours with firm force, one of his hands daring to reach up and gently brush your cheek.
He smelled like soap, light and floral and clean, and his fingers were so gentle against your flesh as they pressed into your jaw that you shivered, his moustache softly prickling at your upper lip. You were enveloped in his warmth, sighing sweetly as his lips lingered on yours.
A tear ran down his face as he pulled back a little, catching his hitching breath for a moment before closing his lips over yours again, a little desperately this time, and he inhaled deeply, breathing you in, memorising the moment.
He dropped away after a while, retreating and avoiding your eye contact again, worried he’d somehow gone too far, been too rough.
But it had been nothing short of perfect.
‘Wow, Lars…’ you gasped, breathless.
He didn't answer, busy tracing his lips with his fingertips, inspecting them as though he might be bleeding from the impact.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded.
‘Was it… ok? I know I’m no Bianca…’
‘It was incredible,’ he said quietly, voice cracking halfway. ‘Really incredible. Thank you.’
You smiled at one another then, and somehow your hand found his and he took it. It felt good.
An hour later, Gus and Karin returned home, climbing the stairs to hear feint giggling and chattering echoing down the hall from the pink room.
Gus was hesitant while Karin silently signalled for him not to disturb whatever was going on in there, but he knocked on the door anyway, slightly alarmed.
‘Lars? You ok in there?’
‘Yeah! You can come in. We’re just talking!’
The door was already ajar, so Gus pushed it just enough to peer into the room, blinking in surprise at you and Lars laid on the bed together, holding hands and grinning like lovesick teenagers giddy from the high of an evening spent together.
‘She’s really good at Scrabble,’ Lars beamed at Gus.
You giggled again, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, knowing that Scrabble was secretly Lars’s code for kissing.
‘Oh- ok… good. Well. I’ll leave you to it then. Night.’
Gus clicked the door shut, with no idea how to explain what he’d seen to Karin, who was delighted that Lars had someone over at all, let alone that he appeared to have taken you upstairs.
Now that you were alone again, Lars turned on his side to face you.
‘Hey, so… you think we could… kiss again maybe? Just a little?’
And without another word, your lips met once again.
You stayed with Lars that night, right there in the pink room, your lips gently ghosting together between whispered words and tender hand holding.
You didn’t realise how much time had passed until morning, when your lips were sore and swollen. And neither of you cared.
Summary: Going through old photos with ryland when moving in with himmmmmmuhhhhh
W/C: 1k
CW: Coltland twins au mention, not beta read because im annoying
A/N: im still trying to figure out how i wanna do my layout so bare with me here please
You let out a troubled grunt as you carefully yet impatiently plop yet another box onto the wooden floors of your new home. You take a moment to lean against the box, taking in the room around you and exchanging your previous grunt for a relieved sigh.
You and Ryland had finally made it. Your relationship with him was going absolutely great and by now the two of you have been able to even get an apartment to share.
Though you're absolutely ecstatic to finally take the next step in your relationship with him, worries are, obviously, always there. Is the first week gonna be awkward? Is there something he's been hiding that he's eventually gonna let out and surprise you with?
You shake your head to shake the thought away. You peer around the room for a moment, looking around at the cardboard boxes of all of your little wonders stacked and stuffed into every nook and cranny of the room. Your previous thoughts seem to completely slip from your mind as your eyes land on one specific box pressed up against the wall. The little piece of tape on the front labels the box as “memories”.
“Memories?” You shuffle over on your knees to peek at the contents within. Eventually, you give up your sneaky composure and pull the box in towards you, opening it and beginning to rummage inside.
It's a lot of keepsake junk that Rylands parents passed down onto him. It's not right to snoop around in his stuff and normally you would just brush it off… that is, until you find a plastic baggy filled with a ton of Rylands childhood photos.
You begin shuffling through them, chuckling here and there before turning around and peaking through the doorway.
“Ryland, come check this out,” You shout, hearing him shuffle quickly over to the room you're in, tripping over boxes here and there on the way.
“Whats up?” He drops down onto his knees and crawls over, looking at what you're holding in your hands. His shoulders lose as he leans against yours, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, gosh. I forgot I had these…”
He reaches over to grab one, holding it so the two of you can both get a good look. A louder, much more apparent chuckle leaves him and you follow not long after. His face reddens slightly and he runs a hand over your face.
The photo portrays a young Ryland—maybe around ten or eleven—standing with a big toothy grin in what seems to be an alligator costume. His giggling at the image ends but yours carries on, having a hard time to even catch your breath at the sight. “Oh my god! You were a theater kid?!”
The red coats his cheeks even more as he removes his hands from his face, sighing but letting his smile linger on his face, “I mean, yeah,” he admits, taking the picture from your hands to get a closer look, “Ah, I remember this! I forgot my line and had to just stand there, but my mom was still so proud of me! Colt teased me for it for years after, though…”
You giggle again, beginning to sift through the other photos, stopping here and there to take in his childhood memories. It's nice, in a way, to see old pictures of him. He doesn't really talk about his childhood a lot but it’s almost comforting to
More photos from old school plays, photos of him and Colt together, pictures of him at science fairs… it's all so cute, it simply melts your heart. He really was such a cute kid. A silly one for sure, but still very adorable.
Though you come to a complete halt at the sight of early college Ryland. Glasses slipping down his nose, tongue stuck out, with him sticking his middle finger out right for the world to see. He nurses a beer in his other hand. You gasp and turn to see the horrified look on his face, which causes you to choke out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Oh my gosh,” you croaked, putting it closer to his face to take it in. “Ryland-”
The smile that begins to creep on your face only upsets him more. He reaches over and rips the photo out of your hand, sitting up higher and putting it above your reach. “Nope, nope, we're done looking through photos, that's enough!”
“Ryland! Stop, it's not even that bad! Just let me look at it again!” You reach over to try and grab it from him again, practically laying on top of him at this point. In an attempt to keep it away from you, he angles it just enough so that you can catch a glimpse of the photo again, causing you to lose focus and break out into another fit of giggles.
“No! Don't even consider that guy as me, I am nothing like that—it was a phase!” He tries to keep an angry facade but the sound of your giggling breaks him, causing him to join back in.
You lean forward and rest your head against his chest. He responds by fully laying back on the floor and using his free hand to run his fingers through your hair.
“Oh please,” you mutter through laughs, “I think you looked cute in all the photos.”
When you lift up your head to look at him, his glasses have slid down his nose, just like the photo. He has a stupid giddy grin on his face, letting out a content sigh. You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment before you decide to break it.
“You're still really cute.” You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. He shifts a bit, biting his bottom lip as if he's expecting something.
You let out an amused huff and lean forward, pressing a thoughtful kiss in his lips. As the two of you melt into it, making small comments between kisses, he carefully moves his hand up to slide the photo into your back pocket. As you break away and glance back at his hand, which has now moved up to rest on the small of your back, he only smiles sheepishly.
It's safe to say you didn't really get much done for the rest of the day.
So I was thinking of Ryland dating someone who posts like a shit ton of silly pictures of him on their socials. Like, just straight bullshit LMAO
It would be funny if his students find their social media somehow and find a ton of stupid videos and pictures of him and start referencing and quoting them in the middle of class LMAO
Like maybe even printing them out and making him sign them 🥀 poor guy
Please reblog and add onto this if you have any funny ideas im curious..
OKAY this fic idea has been marinating in the back of my head since forever so hear me out
You and Ryland have been together for years. Like, married and maybe you've even had kids at this point.
Though one day, after an argument, he realizes that he misses the honeymoon phase of your relationship. He misses the excitement in the relationship. He wants the spark back.
So he plans a perfect date for the two of you in secret only for it to go completely wrong last minute.
Lmk if this is interesting at all... I just love the idea of being in a really long relationship with ryland idk something about it
Contains: Angst, probably one or two suggestive references, reader and Ryland have kids, RYLAND IS A GIRL DAD
Summary: After being in a relationship with Ryland for so long, your kids and respective jobs got in the way of you and ryland ever being able to spend quality time together
A/N: Hey guys... I posted this thought here a week or so ago and yall ate that shit up so I finally wrote it. This is going to be multiple parts so lmk if you guys want part 2...
Silence was a privilege. Something having kids and a very talkative husband had taught you. But nights like this felt too quiet, restraining almost. As if the warmth had been torn away though it was only upstairs fast asleep.
A creak behind you snaps you out of your train of thought. Ryland carefully tip-toes toward you, carefully trying not to wake the kids up upstairs whom he had just spent a whopping hour-and-a-half trying to put to bed. His eyes find yours and he lets himself lean against the doorframe of the kitchen, letting out a long, profound sigh and resting his palm on his forehead.
The two of you sit in silence for a beat, taking in the chaos of the day, which—for the past nine years—has now become every day. Rylands eyes find yours once more and he shifts in his place.
“We really gotta get the kids melatonin gummies or something,” he starts, “It feels like I'm facing one of heracles's great challenges every night.”
He chuckles lightly to himself and you echo him as he pushes off the doorway to sit next to you at the kitchen table. After getting comfortable in his seat he rests his chin on his palm and draws circles on the dining table.
“Well, to be fair, they are your daughters,” you joke, giving him a glance and noticing the smile creeping back on his face. His eyes wander around your face for a moment—a beat too long, almost leaning in slightly to take a closer look as if the face he's been in love with for years has somehow changed. He catches himself and leans back in his chair, playing with his hands in his lap.
“Welp,” he announced, “I should probably go uh…grade some papers.”
He mumbles the last part, practically a whisper as he shuffles out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the conversation he's dreading. Your eyebrows furrow and you shoot up from your seat.
“Honey!” You whisper-yell, scooting your chair back and following after him. He only rubs the back of his neck and continues on his journey to his desk, “you told me you had those papers graded already! You literally promised we could watch our show together tonight!”
“I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just- the girls needed help with their homework last night and… y'know,” he shrugs, sitting down in the plush chair and sliding over to his desk. The grunt you let out in response makes him flinch.
“Ryland.” You put your hands on the back of the chair, turning it so he can look you in the eyes. “We haven't spent any actual quality time together in months. Please, just tonight, let loose a little.”
It's hard to not completely fold at the look in your eyes. But he is dedicated. Only, how dedicated. He glances at the papers and runs a hand over his face.
“Honey…” by the disappointed tone in his voice you can already tell what his next line is gonna be. Your shoulders drop and you sigh, “I promise after this quarter I will spend as much time with you as I can. Its just, parent teacher conferences and all-”
“You've been saying the same thing for months, Ryland!” Your voice raises, only to be followed up by a loud thump upstairs. Before either of you can even throw up another defense at each other, a voice from upstairs cries out.
“Daaaaaaaad!!”
Ryland groans and pulls his glasses off, leaving them on his desk and shuffling up the stairs and calling back to the, seemingly, arguing kids upstairs, trying to sort out whatever mess they've gotten themselves into now.
【☆*.】
He crawls into bed that night awkwardly, desperately trying to slide under the covers unnoticed. He tries his damn best to completely forget about the conversation between you and him.
When you turn your head around to look at him he practically jumps up, his mouth agape as the two of you stare at each other in complete darkness for what feels like hours.
“M’ sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head in defeat and huffing. “It's just, with parent-teacher conferences coming up and everything, I-”
“It's fine.” You turn back over, cutting him off completely and shifting to pull the comforter further over yourself. He follows in your steps, laying his head on his pillow.
He scoots forward slightly and places a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, muttering a few more apologies, mostly to himself, as he drifts off to sleep with one last thing on his mind. He has to bring the spark back.
The next day is… a lot. A whole lot. The morning starts with your two daughters jumping onto your bed and pulling on your and Rylands hair, begging for one of you to turn something on the TV because the morning is just unbearable without a screen in front of their face.
Ryland lets out a low, annoyed grumble and groggily shuffles out of bed and down the stairs. You emerge from the bedroom not much longer to make the girls breakfast before they're off to school.
The tension between you and Ryland is still thick. Very thick. So thick that you're almost certain you could cut right through it with the knife in your very hand as you slice up apples and place the portions on two plates.
You sigh when you hear a set of feet pad over to you from behind, pretending not to hear it. Even though you could never really be upset with him, you pretend so as Ryland leans against the counter next to you.
“Look, honey, I'm sorry,” he starts, running a hand through his hair and letting his glasses fall down to his chin. “I miss when we were… y'know.”
He makes a hand gesture, waving his hand back and forth between you and him. The look on your face when you turn to look at him almost makes him jump back. He only whines. Your face softens and turns to a look of disappointment in both yourself and him. “I just wish you would still be my Ryland.”
Ouch, he thought to himself. He bites his cheek and pushes off the counter, wandering off to get the girls at the kitchen table.
Your Ryland. Had he really strayed that far away? Are the two of you even a loving couple anymore or just roommates who get intimate every once in a while just to keep the relationship somewhat still there? When was the last time you and him almost passed out from laughing so hard? The last time he felt his heart skip a beat when you leaned in and peppered his face with kisses?
He had been using adulthood as an easy excuse for this whole situation when there really isn't an excuse for this. He simply had lost himself in the labor, his work and having children.
He will bring the spark back between you and him. He will become your Ryland again and he depends on it.
【☆*.】
Work went by fast.
So fast, in fact, that by the time the seventh period bell had rung he hadn't even fully comprehended what the heck he had been rambling about to his class all day. He would just get their attention and… ramble. He normally is very particular about what he says, spending forever in his head to craft the perfect response. But today he had just word vomited everywhere. He even forgot to take attendance for multiple periods and got yelled at over the phone for it.
As his final class all files out of the class, he takes a step back, falling into his chair and sliding backward into the wall behind him. He only stares at the ceiling for a while, scratching his chin in deep thought.
How can he bring back the spark, anyway? You're already married to him with kids for god sake.
Maybe he can retrace his steps… Yes, that's it! He already wooed you once, he can surely do it again! Why act his age when he can act like the idiot college student he was back when he first fell in love with you.
He quickly wrangles his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts and stopping on the desired component.
[ Ryland: Hey there! I apologize for the short notice but are you available to babysit the girls for us tonight? ]
