pride month is treating me with never before seen levels of gender dysphoria
DEAR READER

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if i look back, i am lost
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pride month is treating me with never before seen levels of gender dysphoria
A New Light - part iv
ryland grace x teacher!reader
part i - part ii - part iii - part iv
summary: You're Ryland's friend. His best friend. Now he just needs to be normal about it.
a/n: can we please ignore that i haven't updated this fic in weeks... weeks. so sorry guys, a bunch of random shit has happened, but i promise the next part will not take this long. thanks for the continued support!
ps. might have s'more works coming out too!
warning: none of my stuff is beta read :{
w/c: 3.2k
Whenever kids complain about assignments âtaking foreverâ, Ryland loves to say, âtime flies when youâre having fun!â The kids all groan, starting to begrudgingly do their work, and Ryland just kicks his feet up on his desk and smiles. But it really is crazy how fast this particular school year has flown by.
Itâs already March. Any remnants of holiday festivities are long gone. The Christmas tree that Ryland decorates his classroom with is back in storage (even though he leaves it up for 2 extra months, decorating it with paper hearts and calling it âValentinesâs Dayâ decor.) The only holiday Grace has left is St. Patrick's Day, kinda lame but heâll find some green chlorophyll related experiment to do. His students were mostly looking forward to their week-long break in April. Somehow, it still feels like the best of the year is upon him.
The spring brings sun rays that shine warmly through the large windows and gentle showers that piddle against the glass panes. It thaws the dreaded frost and chill from the air, making Rylandâs bike rides plenty more pleasurable. Most consistently, it brings breezes that float pollen absolutely everywhere. So. Much. Pollen. Ryland tracks the yellow little buggers that stick to his blazer into the building after his commuting bike ride. Heâs had to invest in medicine over the past few years because these allergies are unbearable (heâs dramatic but it really is awful).
Despite the runny nose and watery eyes, Ryland loves the spring. Sure thereâs end-of-year testing and studentsâ inconsistent attendance between spring and summer breaks, but there are field trips and outdoor experiments (and a very cute teacher across the hall wearing fun sprint-time attire.) Most importantly, now Ryland can finally teach his expertise- space!
Itâs a Wednesday afternoon. The same as any other, except Ryland is very excitingly explaining the life cycle of stars to his students. With some very terribly drawn diagrams (heâs as bad at drawing as he is at spelling) he explains the different kinds of stars while students try to take down any of the vocabulary they hear in their notebooks.Â
Bang bang bang
A series of sounds echoes in the hallway. Ryland squints his eyes and presses his lips firmly together. Now typically he leaves random hallway noise alone. There are always kids goofing off and skipping class, thatâs not new, and unless someone was screaming or dying, Ryland didnât pay it much mind. He reopens his mouth to speak when the sounds come again. It sounds as if a herd of laughing elephants were running back and forth past his classroom. Really, it was the loud slamming of sneakers against the linoleum floors.
Ryland really tries to ignore it. But after the 3rd run-by, his kids are looking at him expectantly. He sighs. Guess he better put a stop to this than letting any of the stricter teachers catch them.
He quickly wipes the white board as more ruckus resonates, not running this time, just childish laughing and speaking in rapid succession outside. He works his way to his laptop and puts on a video heâs already got queued up. One benefit to being a younger teacher is that heâs pretty technologically proficient. It would be pretty embarrassing if he was only 32 and knew how to use an atomic-emission spectroscope but couldnât work a projector.
Anyway, this CrashCourse video (thanks Hank & John Green) should keep everyone nicely entertained for about 8 minutes and 23 seconds, though he seriously doubted he needed that much time to lightly scold children in the hallway. He flicked off the main light as he stepped out of the room.
Ryand looks up and down the hall to find three girls snickering on the side of your classroom. Theyâre sitting, pushed up against the wall under the bulletin board youâve expertly set up with spring decorations- rainbows and flowers and grass cut out from construction paper. It was a little elementary, but that was just a hang up from you teaching elementary school in years past.Â
Each month you put up a recommended reading list on the board with contributions for your students. Ryland doesnât read nearly enough, especially anything that is not a scientific journal or article. Heâs working through one of your recommendations from your January list. Itâs a slow process, but he really wants to finish it for the pure purpose of reporting back to you and having something else to connect over. Itâs some sci-fi book about a man stuck in space. Unrealistic, but Rylandâs having a fun time fact checking the books science and math.
The girls in front of the science teacher have their faces buried in notebooks, rapidly scribbling across the lined paper. Ryland crosses his arms over his chest, his blazer tightening across his back and biceps. He clears his throat and puts on his disappointed dad look, glancing at them over the rims of his glasses. They looked up, startled. Theyâre already wearing expressions that show they already know what they were about to hear.
âLadies, you really should be in class y'know. Or at least be sneaky enough in the halls if you're skipping.â
One of the girls that Ryland had last year, Maya, stutters while fiddling with her long curly hair, nervous habit Ryland recognizes. âB-but Mr. Grace-â she begins to say.
You round the corner, looking a bit frazzled. You let out a huff.âGirls! I told you not to run off before I finished giving instructions,â you chide, placing your hands on your hips.
Your attention snaps to Ryland and your peeved expression wanes. âRy- Mr. Grace,â you correct yourself. âSorry about them. I hope they werenât causing too much trouble.â You throw a pierced look over your shoulder at the young girls, but it was mostly playful.
They shake their heads in protest, all opening their mouths at once to defend themselves. You shake your head at their jumbled mixed words. âI, honestly, donât care. Youâre not in trouble. Just get back to the library, and I better not catch you in the hallway again on my way back.â You glaze.
The girls nod, but theyâre smiling as they run off again. You sigh, giving up on admonishing them.
He hates to admit it, but Ryland really likes that somewhat serious tone you use when taking authority. A mix of sarcastic, funny, and stern. Itâs kind of hot. He wouldnât mind if you spoke to him like that. Oh no. Absolutely not. Rylandâs brain went too far with that thought.
He chuckles, clearing the air. âI came out here to see what the kids were up to, but now Iâm more curious about what youâre up too, having students roaming the halls.â
You raise your hands to show your innocence. âIn my defense, theyâre supposed to walk.â You laugh. âBut youâre right, this is all a part of my masterplan, and youâre in on it too.â
âI am?â Ryland raises an eyebrow, his arms still crossed over his chest.
âYep. Youâre the one to give me the idea. The mastermind, if you will.â
âI am?â
You laugh, nodding. âRemember when I told you the kids were having trouble focusing and being creative in my hamster cage of a classroom.â
He nods. Youâve complained about that many many times. Ryland doesnât really mind. He knows if he had to stay in that room any more than 30 minutes, much less every hour of the work-day, heâd be complaining too.
âYou said I could take kids outside the classroom, give them a little break. And I talked to the principal, and it turns out I can do that!â
Ryland smirks. âI take it youâre pleased about that?â
âIâm ecstatic! Itâs great. Once a week, I can take the kids somewhere on or near the school grounds and get their creative juices flowing. We started last week in the library. I had the kids write about falling into their favorite book, very The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and Alice in Wonderland coded.â
âThat sounds fun.â He speaks softly. He wasnât quite sure what he found hotter, your serious tone or your exciting chatteringâŚHe probably preferred the latter; There was just something so heart warming about it. And it felt pretty nice to know he was, in some small way, responsible for your happiness.
âIt was incredible! Mike wrote 5 pages, 5 pages, hand written. I couldnât get him to write anything but 3 sentence haikus for the first month of class and now he can sit down and chug out paragraph after paragraph. His grammar is way better too,â you ramble.
Ryland takes a half step closer, feeling drawn into you. âYou still havenât explained why you have kids running around,â he teases.
âOh so I canât be excited without doing something sinister?â
âŚ
Rylandâs silence spoke volume.
You scoff. âJerk!â
âIâm just saying!â Ryland barks out a laugh. âYou have many ideas, some more evil than others.â He wiggles his eyebrows.Â
âDonât forget, this was your idea.â
âIt really wasnât. Now will you just answer my question? You know how curious I get.â
âRiiiiggghttt.â You roll your eyes. âI told the kids to find their favorite place in the school- anyway reasonable- and write about it. Anything about it, the surroundings; how it makes them feel; why itâs so special to them. Those girls ran off before I could set reasonable parameters from âbeing disruptiveâ, but I really shouldnât have to tell them.â You sigh.
âThatâs a⌠really cool teaching concept, actually.â Ryland muses for a moment. âS-so they came here?â
You nod. âThis is their favorite place-â you gesture around- âwell, your classroom is their favorite place, but I did manage to tell them not to go into any busy classes.â
âWait, my classroom is their favorite place?â
âNaturally. You are their favorite teacher.â
Ryland pushes his hair out of his eyes with that shy smile. His hairâs getting long again, teasing you with the thoughts of running your hands through it. He easily turns shy when complimented. Itâs always been true. Heâs a talented deflector, but that resolve melts when youâre the one complimenting him (as you often do).
âYou act like you donât know youâre a good teacher.â You step closer. Rylandâs not sure if youâve ever been closer than this moment.
âI know. No, really I do. I love teaching, I know Iâm not terrible at it.â He chuckles. âIt just⌠justâŚâ
âFeels different when it comes from the kids?â
âYeah.â He says breathlessly. Because what really made it different was any kind of flattery coming from you. Sure, he still gets all warm and gooey when the kids say something nice, but your kind words literally melt him into a puddle.
The magic of the moment fades away, and youâre faced with the embarrassing realization that youâre sharing warm breath with the man in front of you. You step back like it hurts to. Youâve long given up on squandering your crush on the science teacher. It was just never going to happen; the second you laid eyes on that muscly nerd in a stupid t-shirt, you were done for. Now, youâre just forced to just deal with it. Youâre forced to remain professional; forced to keep your lingering looks secret; forced to not let him too deep into your life.
If you had it your way, youâd have as much time with Ryland as you could. But, you canât have things your way, unfortunately.
âIâve really got to stop disturbing your class time. Itâs a pattern at this point.â
âI donât mind,â says Ryland, too honestly.
You blush. âYeah, well⌠not a good habit⌠and what not.â Youâre speaking nonsense now, but staring into each otherâs eyes seemed much more interesting than paying attention to whatever you were saying. Rylandâs ice blue eyes lock with yours, searching the depths of your soul to see if thereâs a sign you feel the same as heâs felt for months. He still hasnât gotten past his own obliviousness to notice the obviousness of your emotions.Â
The silence drags from comfortable to tense. So you break it.
âWeâll be outside in the field next week.â You rock on your heels. âYour class could join. Do an outdoor experiment. Try not to distract each other too much.â
Ryland smiles. He looks like a dork with a huge grin. âMaybe,â he says, but heâs nodding.
âCool.â A pause. âSee you at lunch.â
âYep.â Ryland makes no more towards the door, so you have to be the first to walk away.
âIâm ordering from the Vietnamese place,â you call out.
âFor the both of us?â
âOf course.â
âYum. Looking forward to it!â Ryland sighs and stares off as you turn the corner. He could have straight garbage for lunch and still look forward to it if he gets to share that time with you. He walks back into his room just as the youtube video is ending.
Ryland ducks his head, taking another bite of his gyro. It was his turn to pick food for lunch, so you both indulged in a local Greek place that is basically robbing Ryland blind at this point. He hates to cook and the food is just too good, sue him! (Donât actually sue him, he cannot afford that.)
âI jus dwonât undersamb-â Ryland says, mouth full.
âWell, I donât understand you when you talk with your mouth open.â You tease. You grab a napkin and dab the corners of the manâs mouth. You dust away the crumbs and the sauce from his lips. He swats at you, smiling. Normal coworkers totally do stuff like this.
Ryland takes a second to properly chew, then swallows. âNo seriously. This book is so long. Iâve done the math, thereâs no way the main character doesnât get back to Earth; itâs the most logical thing! And nothing else bad can happen to him because he has-â Ryland snaps- âwhatchya call it?â
âPlot armor,â you supply.
âYeah, that.â He takes another bite. âSo bwasically I swhould jus read the ending.â
You laugh. âYouâre ridiculous.â You hang your head. âYouâre almost to the end! I promise if you just read through it you'll enjoy it.â
He pouts like a chipmunk, mouth full of food.
You plead. âPlease. I want to talk about every part with you and you wonât understand it if you skip a quarter of the book. Please, just take your time and finish it! Iâll read any boring science article you want me to.â
That gets Ryland to perk up. He takes a sip of water from his reusable bottle. âOkay then, thereâs this really good one on bacterial biology from a few years ago titled- blah blah blah proper name, place name, science stuff.â
You wave a hand, dismissing the topic. âYeah, yeah, whatever. Iâll read it, just finish the book. You promised me.â
Ryland groans. âI hate when I make promises I donât want to keep.â
âSucks to suck.â Youâre starting to sound like the kids.Â
You pull another item from the plastic bag of food on your desk. Two bags of Skittles. The lime green wrapper crinkles in your hand. Ryland lights up even more. You have a devilish smirk on your face as you hold out one of the bags to him.
âHey, I didnât even know you got these.â He pauses, reaching for the Skittles. âWait, when did you get these?â
âDoesnât matter.â You chew on your lip. âI have something to ask though.â
âOh, god. Itâs a bribe.â
âItâs not a bribe.â You toss him the candy. âOkay, it kind of is, but I think youâll enjoy it.â
âAbsolutely not.â Ryland pushes his chair back from the desk. âI havenât heard words like that since undergrad.â
âWell, I-â pause- âOkay, I have so many questions, I donât know where to start. Weâll touch back on that later⌠I guessâŚâ
Ryland shrugs, blushing. Why did he say that?
âAnyway, I want to send in a field trip request to the principal.â A grin spreads on your face.
âOh? A field trip?â
âUh-huh. Itâll be on a San Francisco bus tour.â Ryland opens his mouth to speak, but you hold out one finger and cut him off. âAnd before you ask âarenât those just for tourists?â,â said in an absolutely terrible impression of his voice, âyes. They are catered to tourists, but I want to use it to make the children see a new side to the city, through the eyes of great writers, which they all are.âÂ
âYouâve got the whole thing planned out, huh?â
You nod excitedly. âThatâs where I need to ask a favour of you⌠Would you chaperone the trip?â
Ryland smiles, so wide it hurts. He knows he looks dumb. âMe?â He asks, dumbly. âYou want me to go on the field trip with you?â
He knows youâre friends now, but it still surprises him when someone chooses him, specifically. Heâs spent years being the âoutisderâ. He was the odd man out during his years in academia for his theories alone. He gets drinks with his fellow teachers from time to time, and even then it felt like he was looking in through window panes. And then you came along and itâs felt like his whole world has opened up, in a sense. If heâs in a social situation, and heâs afraid heâll be painfully awkward or accidentally offend someone, itâs comforting to know you;ll be right there beside him. Youâre Rylandâs best friend (sorry Marissa), and time and time again you continue to show that you want him around.
âYes, I want you to do the field trip with me. Having another teacher chaperone already signed on for it would make it even more convincing!â
It feels like a knife stabs Rylandâs heart.
Of course. You donât actually want him there. You just need another chaperone.
Rylandâs used to being the man on the side, but it always hurts more to be included out of pity or convenience. At the end of the day, thatâs all he might be to you: A placeholder. Someone to talk to while you get used to the school, only to grow distant in the summers. Who even knows if youâll really be back next year.Â
He lets out a sigh. Heâll still agree to help you anyway. Unfortunately for him, he still painfully wants to be around you, however youâll have him.Â
Before Ryland can utter his disappointed agreement, you continue: âBut also, I really want you to come along. I know the kids will be almost excited to bring you as I am. I canât imagine doing my first middle school field trip without you.â Thereâs a toothy grin on your face. You fiddle with your fingers as you wait for an answer, part of you still thinking heâd decline.
Ryland eyes bulge open. He isnât sure when he started smiling but a rosy blush dusts his cheeks around his upturned lips. Just like that, you prove him wrong again, proving that he can be more than the âoutsiderâ and the âplaceholderâ to someone.
âSo?â You ask. âIs that a yes?â
The blonde doesnât say anything for a moment. He lightly snatches the bag of skittles from your hand. Ripping the wrapper, he pours some into his palm before tossing them into his mouth.
âOf course.â
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A New Light - part iii
ryland grace x teacher!reader
part i - part ii - part iii
summary: The school year continues, and you and Ryland are struggling to keep your emotions in
a/n: sorry bout the wait for this part! i had to really force myself to sit down and churn this out. i was rolling once i started tho so the w/c kinda got away from me, oops... enjoy! (also i finally learned how to use dividers! :P )
tags: gn!reader, coworkers to friends to lovers, nerdiness to the max
w/c: 3.9k
Ryland claps his hands together. Itâs third period, right before lunch, so Mr. Grace is fighting for his studentsâ waning attention. He can feel himself growing tired as well. He keeps throwing glances to the analog clock mounted above the classroom door. After teaching the same lesson for 5 periods a day, most teachers are holding on by a thread by 3:30âs last rung bell. Ryland usually forces himself to grow even more energetic as classes go on, which definitely conflicts with his students' depleting energy. But all the man cares about right now is drinking another coffee with his lunch.
âOkay!â He puts on a smile, counteracting his grogginess with fake enthusiasm. He grabs a marker from his desk and uncaps it. âWho can tell me what our atmosphere is made of?â
The San Francisco 7th grade science curriculum is actually pretty neat. The official curriculum, titled âEarth and Space Sciencesâ, starts on Earth at the beginning of the year and makes its way out. Actually, the lesson plan starts inside the Earth with units about the planetâs layers and plate tectonics. As the school year goes on, the curriculum goes into outer space and planets, the stuff Ryland actually cares about. In late November, they just finished ecology, so now theyâre moving on to the atmosphere before they can get to the good stuff.
A flurry of young hands raise into the air. The question was relatively simple and his students were relatively smart (when they wanted to be), so he knows theyâll have an easy time answering.
âLarry, yes.â Ryland points to the scruffy brown haired boy in the second row.
âOxygen!â He says confidently.
Ryland nods, writing down Oxygen O2 on the board. âGood, what else?â
Suddenly all those enthusiastic hands are nowhere to be found. Ryland looks over his shoulder with a raised brow. âCâmon guys, I know you know there is more than O2 in our atmosphere.â He places a hand on his hip. Maybe he was overconfident in their knowledge.
Seconds pass before Regina raises a tentative hand from the back of the classroom. Ryland points at her and nods, urging her to speak.Â
âCarbon?â
âYep, thereâs a little CO2â He writes Carbon Dioxide CO2 on the board. âWeâre still missing the main one actually-â
âWhat do you mean, Mr. Grace?â Rekhaâs voice interrupts. âOxygenâs already on the board,â she sasses. Sheâs really a sweet, and incredibly smart, kid, but sometimes she thinks she knows more than Grace, which can get on his nerves. Sheâs not the one with a PhD in molecular biology after all.
Ryland is ever so patient with his students though. âGood point, Rekha. While humans do need oxygen to survive, it only makes up about 21% of the atmosphere. The majority, or 78%, of the atmosphere is made up offfffff,â he drags out the word giving time for a brave soul to guess. Heâs met with silence once again.
âOkay, fine, Iâll tell you, it's nitrogen.â He unceremoniously writes Nitrogen N on the board.
An array of âOhhhâs comes from the room. Rekha mutters, âI was about to say that,â under her breath.
Ryland smiles and continues the lesson. âBut there are also much more than just elements flying around in our atmosphere.â
âLike birds?â Micheal, ever the wise guy, snickers.
The science teacher couldnât roll his eyes harder. âYes, birds, though I meant on more of a microscopic level. In this unit weâll also be learning about particulate matter.â He sounds out the word as he writes it on the board. He might have been a PhD student but that in no way means he can spell. âAirborne particles are basically all the stuff floating around in the air that we canât see. This contributes to pollution and climate change, which we are very familiar with in San Francisco.â
âMy dad says climate change isnât real.â
Ryland sighs. He pulls his glasses down under his chin and pinches the bridge of his nose. âRemind me to have a private conversation with your dad, Larry.â
A soft knock on the door captures his attention. He looks up, readjusting his glasses, to see you already leaning against the doorframe with a stack of papers in your arms. You smirk as you make your way over to his desk at the front of the class.Â
âSorry to interrupt, Mr. Grace,â you say softly.
âN-no-â Ryland shakes his head. He cannot be caught drooling over you in front of all his children. âNo problem. To what do we owe the pleasure?â He leans one hand on the desk, trying (and failing) to look suave.Â
âThese are for you. From the principle.â You go to place the stack of papers on his desk, only to find there is literally no space. Between the lab equipment, office supplies, and⌠beanbags(?) practically every inch of his desk is covered. âUhh, Iâll just⌠hand these to you then.âÂ
Ryland holds the dry-erase marker with his mouth (ink side away, obviously). He reaches out and eagerly takes the papers out of your hands. Your hands touch for a moment- a mere graze if anything- sending a spike of heat up his arms. How fudging juvenile is that? This isnât some cheesy romcom.
âTwhanc yow,â he gargles with the marker still in his mouth. He plops the stack down on his, mostly unused chair. He preferred to sit on the edge of his desk most times, (when thereâs space).Â
You just chuckle as Ryland takes the marker out of his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. You catch yourself staring for a moment, before casting your gaze to the windows.
âItâs nothing.â You shrug. âIt was actually a good excuse to see your teaching in action. I feel like Iâm really learning things.â
Ryland looks behind you to the students. âSee, kids, youâre never too old to learn. You always have potential energy.â The kids groan loudly as Ryland beams. His science puns not only bring him great joy, but, oftentimes, bring the children great sadness⌠which brings Ryland even more joy. :D
âHey! At least I didnât tell a chemistry joke! Those are too⌠element-ary.â
A total uproar emerges as students cover their eyes and flop onto their desks. Micheal looks up at you with pleading eyes. âStop him please,â he begs. That makes you let out a hearty laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from snorting. Ryland stares at you in awe, surely looking at you as if youâre the sun itself.Â
âIâve got to side with the kids this time, Mr. Grace.â You snicker from behind your hand.
Ryland fake gasps. âWhat? I thought you loved my jokes!?â Heâs still kidding around, but part of him appears genuinely hurt.
âI do, I do⌠usually. But these are especially bad.â
âTraitor.â Ryland hangs his head. He looks back up with an evil grin. âYouâre all wrong. My puns are proton-tastic!â
All control has been lost in the classroom. Some kids are fake crying. Regina, the quiet and shy girl, rolls out of her seat and plays dead on the floor. Okay, thatâs a little dramatic. These jokes are not that bad⌠in Rylandâs opinion. Sensing the looming chaos, Ryland raises his hand.Â
âAlright, alright. No more jokes. Letâs reel back in.â He waits until all the students are back into their seats. Meanwhile, you're barely holding yourself back from laughing more.
You sigh. âWell, I better leave you to teach. I think Iâve caused enough unrest.â
Part of Ryland wants you to stay, even though he knows that would be wildly unproductive. You just made the class fun. The kids like you- he really likes you. Over these past few months those feelings have only gotten worse. Feelings, heâs decided, heâs going to do absolutely nothing about ever. And before anyone scolds him for being a coward, Marissaâs already got the scolding covered, thank you very much.
The man smiles. âThanks again for the papers.â
You nod, opening your mouth to say something else, when the board behind him draws your attention. Your eyes squint and it looks like youâre thinking about something intently. You bite your lip and lean forward over the desk. Like very far forward. Like you hook your fingers under the overhang of the desk to keep yourself from face planting, thatâs how far youâre leaning.Â
Rylandâs heart beat quickens. In another context, he would have leaned in to meet your lips. A context where you two had been in an established long term relationship and the room wasnât full of impressionably youths. A soft âWha?â leaves his mouth. You jerk your head, beckoning him to give you his ear. He turns his face and leans his ear closer. He can feel your soft airflow tickling his cheek. Itâs incredibly distracting, but he focuses on your words.
âIâm no scientist, but Iâm 90% sure you spelled âparticulateâ wrong.â You lean back with a gentle expression.
âI did?â Ryland scratches his head as he turns back to the board. Sure enough, it says Particualite Matter instead of Particulate Matter.
âMotherfluffer,â he curses (kinda). He can tell you werenât trying to embarrass him in front of the kids, especially after that whole fiasco. But this isnât the first, and surely wonât be the last time, heâs completely butchered the spelling of a word and got roasted by 12 year olds. He pulls on his collar, feeling hot and embarrassed. The last thing he wants you to think is that heâs dumb or something- even though you would never think that- especially because he puts so much pride in his intelligence.Â
âAppears I did,â he concedes. He chuckles, laughing off the embarrassment.Â
âYeah, itâs c-u-l-a-t-e not c-u-a- yâknow what, Iâm sure youâve got it.â You wave a hand dismissively. The last thing you want him to think is that youâre some kind of annoying smart-ass- even though he would never think that. âIâll get out of your hair.â You scurry off to the door.
Rather than finding it annoying, Ryland finds your comment pretty helpful, but you are off and running before he has the chance to reassure you. Ryland speaks up, quickly, âeveryone say bye!â The class bids you a goodbye, waves in all. You wave back happily as you step out the door. Rylandâs eyes meet yours from the other side of the room. There is that signature shy look on his face that youâre slowly growing to love the more you see it. You mouth a âbyeâ- just to him. The world pauses for a moment. The door closes slowly as you leave.
Ryland takes a deep breath. Releases it. His eyes are still fixed on the door. He smiles after you, feeling a little more energized all of a sudden.Â
âMr. Grace?â
âHuh? Wha- oh, right yes.â He erases the board and respells the word correctly. âOkay, back on track,â he continues teaching.
You chew your lunch as you read the packet in your hand. Youâre going to have your students compare and contrast the writing styles of two short stories in class tomorrow, so youâre just going over all the material and marking the differences you want your students to notice. Part of the reason you love this creative writing class is that you can get the next generation to read all the stories you love, and equally get to read anything they recommend. This really is your dream job, in a way, though your dream job would probably come with higher pay.
You hear a knock on the classroom door when youâre highlighting a line of text. You look up. Thatâs strange. No one comes to you during lunch block.
You swallow the rest of the food in your mouth in a big gulp. âCome in!â
The head of a shy blonde pokes in through a barely cracked door. He almost looks surprised to find you in⌠your classroom. He smiles as soon as his eyes meet yours, however. Ryland walks in slowly. Heâs holding his signature coffee mug in one hand and tapping the fingers of his other hand against his thigh. He switches his mug between hands and wipes the sweat off his palms onto his pants.
âMr. Grace!â You try to sound aloof, but a grin has already made its way onto your face; you canât help the happiness in your tone. âWhat can I do for you?â Despite how much youâd love for Ryland to just âpop-inâ, youâre sure there is a professional reason for him coming to you. That doesnât stop you from admiring him while heâs here.
Ryand scoffs. âPlease call me Ryland. You calling me Mr. Grace makes me feel prehistoric.â
âHa! Well, I am, what? Three years younger than you? Youâre practically ancient.â
Ryland laughs. What a pretty sound. He bites his lip. You pick at your lunch. You both look like awkward kids flirting with each other.Â
âOkay, Ryland. In that case, you can call me by my first name, too.â
âReally?â Something about hearing his first name from your lips hits Ryland in the chest. His name felt like such a sacred thing in a profession where heâs called almost exclusively by his last name. Even when he worked in academia, it was uncommon to call your fellow scientist by anything but their last name unless you were really close. The only people that call him by his first name is was his family⌠and Marissa⌠and now, you.
âI donât see why not,â you say. It feels so easy to you.Â
âOkay.â His smile widens.
âSo, Ryland. Whatâs up?â You ask more casually than the last time. It only feels right, seeing as you two are now on a first name basis.
Ryland looks off before turning his gaze back to you. âI believe I was promised spelling lessons,â he says with a shy smile.
Your chest tightens. You donât even know what to say. Youâre shocked that he wasnât bothered by you correcting him earlier, and even more shocked heâs here now, asking for spelling lessons just 30 minutes later. Mostly, it seems like an excuse to talk to you, which makes you giddy at the thought. If that was a pick up line, it was pretty smooth.
âThen I better pull up a chair for you.â Without another word, you stand from the desk and grab a chair from the side of the room. You slide the chair to the other side of your desk and pat the space for Ryland. Your room really was small, so you opted for a smaller desk. This made the setting feel even more intimate.Â
You sit back down in your chair just as Ryland sits in his. Heâs making himself small, like heâs a bother. You could not see Rylandâs internal panic. In no world did he expect his terrible excuse to have lunch with you to work. Now, he has to survive the rest of the interaction. Unfortunately, heâs been sitting in silence for the last 20 seconds.
Ryland takes a long sip of his coffee. (He stopped at the teachers lounge before coming here. He was not going to face you uncaffeinated.) Ryland slumps in his chair getting more comfortable. The palpable tension melts from his body. Over time, Ryland has realized youâre nowhere near as scary as heâs made you up to be in his head. Youâre kind and sweet, but there are still moments when his nerves get in the way and he forgets all logic.
âSo⌠whatâs the first word I should learn?â Rylandâs face wears a cheesy smile.
No spelling lesson happened the first time you spent lunch together. In fact, Rylandâs horrible spelling has persisted since youâve started having lunch together everyday. You would feel bad about being a bad teacher if Rylandâs spelling mistakes werenât so funny. Some students from his class have even begun reporting the wildly wrong ones to you. Sometimes you think he does it on purpose just so he can mention it to you and tell you how the kids were making fun of him again.
Youâve grown very close to the science teacher across the hall during these past few months; so close that Ryland doesnât feel at all conflicted about calling you friends anymore. Youâre more often together during free time than not. From chatting in the morning, joking outside your classroom between passing periods, sharing lunch together, and, sometimes, grading together after school, you quickly went from strangers to colleagues to nothing less than close friends. Itâs gotten to the point that if youâre not together, students and teachers alike are asking where the other one is.
Ever since coming back from winter break during the new year, youâve seen a whole new side to Ryland. Heâs still that awkward rambler from before, but youâve seen his cocky, sarcastic side too. Itâs a real treat when he lets that part of himself loose, because he has no anxiety holding him back the same way he usually does.
Also, youâve learned more science facts than you would ever need. (Like so many science facts.) Often, either one of you is rambling on about their interests. You didnât really get half the stuff Ryland was saying most of the time, but it never bothered you to listen. He becomes incredibly animated when he talks about something heâs passionate about, and you could watch for hours. His hands whiz around so fast it makes you dizzy. Though, Ryland could more or less say the same about you. You love telling him about your favorite books, or writing ideas you have. He just rests his face in the palm of his hand as he leans against the desk- shamelessly adoring you, but youâre too busy yapping away to notice.Â
One chilly afternoon (chilly for San Francisco standards) Ryland waltzes right into your room; he doesnât even knock anymore, just bursts right in and sits down. You donât even look up. Youâre muttering to yourself as you scribble notes down in your notebook. Ryland looks at you curiously. Usually you set out the chair- his chair- on the other side of your desk after the last period, but this time the seat is nowhere to be seen.Â
âHellllooo??â He waves in front of your face.
Your head snaps up. âSorry, sorry. Just⌠thinkingâŚâ You daze off again.
âThinking pretty deeply, huh?â He drags his chair over.
You donât reply.
Ryland drops his lunch bag loudly onto the desk, startling you. âCâmon, who pooped in your Rice Krispies?âÂ
âIt- wh-what?â You laugh. Rylandâs bizarre sayings still take you out sometimes, but theyâre very effective at getting you out of your own head. âNothing, itâs nothing- justâŚâ
âJuuussttt?â Ryland pushes his glass up his pointed nose. His crystal water eyes glint mischievously.Â
âItâs the kids. I mean, itâs not theyâre fault, theyâre doing great and writing things I could never even think of and I love working with them but⌠they feel stuck.â
He stays silent, giving you space to continue speaking.
You stretch back in your chair. âItâs this room! Itâs so stuffy. I feel like the walls are closing in half the times.â
Ryland examines the room. Itâs practically unrecognizable from before. Youâve decorated the walls with posters and tapestries, added a couple mini bookshelves, and placed plenty of lamps to utilize rather than using the big fluorescent light. The space honestly feels more cozy than claustrophobic. That being said, with the limited room and small windows letting in little natural light, it made sense that it would feel suffocating after a while. And somehow the room was always hot and humid, no matter the temperature. Too many bodies in there at once maybe, but thatâs why you try to keep the door open whenever you can (which isnât often because itâs pretty hard to keep a class of kids reading focused when theyâre friends are passing by in the hallway on the way to the bathroom.)
You gesture around the room. âThe desks barely have any room between them! The kids have no space to stretch or walk around without hitting something, or someone, else. Itâs only February and their motivation is dwindling. How can I expect them to be creative when theyâre in this jail cell?â
Ryland loves how poetic you get when youâre being dramatic. âItâs a pretty nice jail cell.â
You shoot him a glare. His hands raise in innocences. âThat was pretty funny, youâve got to give it to me.Â
You nod, it was pretty funny, but you donât laugh. âSorry. Iâm just trying to figure out what I should do. There are no other classrooms available, and there is no other way to reorganize my class for more open space. This is my first year here and Iâm trying to make it a good one.â
Rylandâs heart melts. He remembers his first year at Grover Cleveland, and how he would do anything for his students. He knows youâre trying your best; that makes him respect you more than anything. He decides he wants to help you. âWhy donât you just take them somewhere else?âÂ
âWhat do you mean?â
He shrugs. âSometimes when the weather is nice, I take my students to do experiments outside, you could do that? Or you could take them to the library? Thereâs more space there and plenty of books which is your whole thing.â He gestures to the various literary texts across your desktop.
âThereâs no reason you have to stay in your classroom,â he concludes.
You squint your eyes, the gears in your brain turning. âRyland, youâre a genius.â You whisper. âI mean I know youâre a genius, but youâre seriously a genius.â
Ryland blushes. âIâm really not.â
âYouâve just given me the best idea.â You smile. He would do anything to see you smile like that.
Meanwhile, you could literally kiss him for solving this. You werenât going to kiss him, because that would surely end in the ruining of a professional and platonic relationship, but you surely could!
âShit, now Iâve got a lot of planning to do.â You tap your lip.
âLanguage!â Ryland says. He doesnât really have a problem with people cursing around him, but itâs more of a force of habit to shun it. âAnd, wait, do I not get to hear this brilliant idea that I inspired?â
You shake your head. âIâve got to make sure itâll work first. Youâll be the- youâll be one of the first to hear about it.â
Ryland pouts. He says he doesnât pout, he definitely does. âNo fair.â
âOh stop. Tell me about- what is it that you were talking about this morning- bacteria aspirations?â
âIt's bacterial expression. Donât think I donât notice you changing the subject.â He points a finger at you, but it quickly falls back to the table as he sighs. âLuckily for you, I have more to say about the evolution of bacterial genetics.â
He starts going on another ramble. Youâre bursting at the seams, ideas bouncing through your head. Youâll have to talk with the principal after school. But, for now, you just get to sit and watch a hot nerd speak.
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part i - part ii
A New Light - part ii
ryland grace x teacher!reader
part i - part ii - part iii
summary: Ryland can't stop making a fool of himself, but somehow it's working
a/n: thank you guys so much for the support on this first part! i can't promise the next parts will be posted as fast but i was hit with an insatiable desire to write and i'd like to say this part is a lot better than the last so, enjoy!
tags: gn!reader (they/them used when needed), coworkers to friends to lovers
w/c: 2.6k
âOkay, talk.â Marissa points her fork threateningly at the junior high teacher across the table.
It takes Ryland a second. Mostly because heâs never really been told to speak more. Usually people are just begging him to shut up. In fact, Marissa has almost banged her head against the table at their weekly dinners multiple times, telling him to âJust. Stop. Talking.â
âUhhh, talk about what?â He tries to feign ignorance, but heâs never been a good actor.
Marissa rolls her eyes. She cuts into her steak while sighing.
âEver since school started a month ago, youâve been all daze-y.â She gestures to his head vaguely while taking a bite.
âDaze-y,â the man muses, âvery scientific wording.â
Marissa rolls her eyes even harder. âOkay, now you can shut up.â
Ryland grins. He knows heâs being difficult, but canât help but find joy in it. Marissa has put up with him for almost a decade since they met in grad school. She really is his only friend, so she takes the brunt of hearing all of Rylandâs teaching stories and scientific rambles. He is really glad that her relationship between her and his grad school roommate crashed and burned (as many do) because he got a lifelong friend out of it.
Murphyâs was practically empty tonight. No surprise there, itâs always empty at 6pm on a Thursday. One of the two other tables is a small family of 4 in the corner. The parents of said family are obviously trying to get their teenage son off his phone to have a genuine meal together, and trying to stop their younger son from standing and bouncing on the booth seat. The last table is clearly a first date. The woman is staring blankly out the window as the man speaks way too much about himself. Ryland canât help but think thatâs what it would look like if he actually got you to go out with him. Not that heâs thinking about it of course.
âYou know what Iâm talking about.â Marissaâs voice reels Ryland back in. She might be right about him being daze-y. âWhatâs up with that cute teacher youâre thirsting over?â
The blonde grumbles and pokes at his mashed potatoes with his fork. Heat rises from behind his checks. He had mistakenly told Marissa about your very awkward first meeting, and she hasnât been able to let it go.Â
âIâm not thirsting,â Ryland mumbles into his Guiness.
âYou are, and now youâre pouting because you know Iâm right.â
âIâm not-â Ryland begins to argue, but heâs already been beaten. âTheyâre fine, good. Theyâre uhh⌠adjusting well. The kids really seem to like them.â He shrugs.
âThe kids arenât the only ones.â Marissa smirks over her wine glass. âHave you been talking to them? At all?â
Ryland shakes his head meekly. âNot really. Iâm not trying to get in their way since theyâre teaching this class for the first time.â (Heâs not going to tell her about the fact heâs been lingering outside his classroom a little bit later in the mornings just so he can tell you good morning.) Even though heâs spoken to you little over the last month, his brain seems to be fascinated in you. Not in a weird way! He promises. Over the few interactions you have had, youâve never failed to make him laugh, which definitely doesnât help his interest in you. Funny people are his weak spot.
Marissa raises an eye brow. âChrist, Ryland, youâre not even trying!â
âOf course Iâm not! Iâm not trying to get into anything with my coworker. Is that so crazy?â
âIt is when youâve been single as long as you have.â
âIâm sure the last thing they need is their awkward, nerdy colleague trying to flirt with them. Maybe Iâve been single for so long because no one wants me. And Iâm fine with that.â The self-deprecating comments fall easily from the manâs lips. Ryland is exasperated now, finally letting the pent up thoughts out. Marissa pauses for a moment instead of engaging in the usual banter. She looks deep into Ryland. He feels naked under her scrutiny; she could read him like a picture book.
A sympathetic look covers the womanâs face. She understood Ryland in ways most people never would, but one thing she couldnât understand is how unattractive he found himself. Ryland is far from ugly in any measure, but years of being alone after a messy break up has left him feeling like a nuisance to anyone he even considers pursuing. His apparent commitment issues linger as well.Â
She tosses auburn hair over one shoulder, considering her response for a moment.
âYou donât get to decide if someone doesnât want you.â She speaks lowly, despite there being few people in the restaurant to hear. âYouâre smart, and funny, and nerdy, yeah, but some people find that endearing. Maybe youâve been single because you havenât allowed anyone to want you.â
Ouch. She got him there
âMaybe.â Ryland silences himself by taking a gluttonous bite of his ribeye and chewing it particularly slowly.
âIâm just saying, you donât need to be afraid of a crush.â Marissa giggles.
He shakes his head adamantly. He regrets taking such a big bite because now he canât defend himself. âI do not have a crush. Iâm too old for that,â he says with food still in his mouth. He chokes a bit, alleviating it by downing the rest of his Guinness in big gulps.
The thing is Ryland most definitely had a crush. When you look up âcrushâ in the dictionary itâs a picture of Dr. Ryland Grace blushing after you smile at him in the teacherâs lounge. The woman across from him doesnât even have to say anything; Rylandâs already done the work at making himself look like a fool. Heâs like a little kid with a crush. Might as well dress him up in overalls and a helicopter hat and give him a big ass lollipop.
âWhatever you say,â she chips in a sing-song voice as her green eyes glint.
âJust donât get scared and run away, yet. At least try to become their friend.â Marissa states. There isnât much room for debate when she quickly turns the topic back to her job. Ryland opens his mouth to make another point, but he doesnât want to ding himself into a deeper hole. Sheâs found one way to shut him up.
That night, Ryland finds that his good friendâs argument has some merit to it. He supposed he could not expect to befriend you without, y'know, speaking to you. So great, new plan: approach you, engage in conversation, bonding, success!
Friday morning, Ryland arrives at school at 7:20. He didnât really need to be there until around 7:45, since classes started at 8, but he enjoyed having the extra time to lock up his bike and get ready for the day. He padded into his classroom and yawned. His sleeping hasnât been the best lately, last night especially since he was conjuring up conversation starters to pose to you.Â
While Ryland may arrive at 7:20, he always finds a daily excuse to walk back into the hall around 7:30, only to greet you as you come in. Today, he plans to actually talk to you more than meekly wishing you a good morning. He just hopes you arenât one of those people who hates conversation in the mornings.
Ryland peeks his head out the door of his classroom. He catches sight of you at the far end of the hallway. You look great, as always. Everyday you have on some incredible outfit that has the perfect blend of personal style and professionalism. Ryland can never bring himself to compliment you. You already know how good you look, heâs sure. (This has nothing to do with the fact that the one time he did try to compliment you, he mumbled, âWow, youâre wearing clothes! Awesome!â He had to facepalm and walk away before you got the chance to ask him to repeat himself.)
You are just so cool to him. He feels so uncool, and despite acting weirdly whenever he is in your presence, youâve never made him feel dumb. Ignoring his obvious romantic crush, he definitely has a platonic and aesthetic interest in you as well.
Okay. Time to go talk to you before he chickens out.
âG-good morning!â Ryland puts on his best peppy, but not creepy, smile and gives you a little wave as he steps out of the doorway.
You beam once you notice him, returning his wave. âGood morning, Mr. Grace. Happy Friday! How are you?â
Dang you beat him to the conversation partÂ
âGood, good.â For once Ryland finds himself with little to say. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocks back and forth on his heels. âHow about you?â
You yawn slightly, âtired.â You rub the back of your neck. Cute. How can Ryland find a yawn cute? âHey, are you going to the teachers lounge?â You cock your head to the side as you ask the question. Okay, thatâs cute.
âY-yes?â It comes out as a question, because Ryland hadnât really thought that ahead on what his excuse was for being out in the hallway. âYes, I am,â he states more firmly.
âGreat! I need to get some coffee from there, so Iâll just join you if you donât mind?â
âYes!â Ryland speaks way too loudly for the early hour. âI mean, n-no problem, come along. Itâs- uhh I mean itâs not like I can tell you to not come to the teachers lounge. You work here too so⌠yes, please join me.â The man feels pathetic to be in his 30s and acting like this.Â
You just chuckle, finding his rambling endearing if anything. âThanks. Give me one minute to put my things down.â
Ryland nods. âYep! Iâll just⌠be here.â He points down at the floor.
He lets out a shuddering breath as soon as you walk into your classroom. Câmon Grace. Lock in, as the kids say.
âReady.â You begin walking alongside him. There is a moment of silence, so Ryland seizes the opportunity to make conversation.Â
âSoooo, how are you adjusting to teaching middle schoolers?â
âGood! I mean the kids are great. But I keep almost cursing in front of them and I seriously need to stop. Iâm going to lose my job a month in.â
Ryland shakes his head but he canât help but laugh. âNo you wonât.â
âThatâs what you say now. But you canât even stop laughingâ You point a lighthearted finger at him. âI swear itâs not my fault. It wasnât this hard not to curse when I was teaching 7 year olds. But these 6th graders are cursing up a storm- and I'm not going to limit their form of expression.â
âSo youâre saying the kids are bad influences?â
âPrecisely.â Youâre able to keep a straight face for all of 3 seconds before bursting out into a fit of giggles. âOkay, that sounds bad.â
Ryland chuckles alongside you, but heâs mostly admiring the way your face lights up when you laugh. Itâs like the sun rising up over the East.Â
The both of you arrive at the lounge and the man is quick to hold the door open for you. You flash him another devastating smile, silently thanking him as you walk into the room. There are a few teachers already in the room, sipping coffee and reading over lesson plans. You wish them a good morning as you walk over to the empty coffee pot on the counter. Ryland follows you like a lost puppy, not going unnoticed by the older math teachers gossiping in the corner. The ladies eye the young pair with a knowing glint in their pupils.
âI donât even remember the last time I cursedâŚâ Ryland sighs. âAt some point all the curses got replaced with my âchild-friendly alternativesââ
âAhhhh, that makes sense.â You add a coffee filter and some coffee grounds into the machine. Not the best tasting stuff, but it got the job done and was all there was available. As you pour cold water into the pot, a moment of realization comes over you. âThatâs why you use those phrases Iâve literally never heard anyone say in real life.â
âWhich phrases?â Ryland cocks an eyebrow. (Notice how he says âwhichâ instead of âwhatâ because he already knows he uses multiple strange phrases.)
âI didnât think anyone under the age of 70 says âgee willikers,ââ you snicker
âHey! Iâm not the one with a cursing problem in front of children.â Ryland fires back, leaning against the counter.
You raise your hands up in surrender. âOkay, feisty!â
The blonde man blushes softly. âSorry, Wasnât trying to go too far.â Heâs so quick to apologize and he did absolutely nothing at all. If it wasnât so sweet it would be annoying, but it just shows how much Ryland cares about other people's feelings.
You giggle with a shake of your head. âItâs fine, seriously. I kind of walked into that one⌠But, science jokes? Cursing alternatives? Thatâs too cute.â
Rylandâs eyes widen again. âC-cute?â Heâs a sputtering mess trying to figure out what to say. He just repeats again. âItâs⌠cute?â
You can feel the eyes in the room on you from Ryland speaking a bit too loudly. You side eye the others and theyâre quick to go back to minding their own business. Except for the math teachers watching shamelessly. Ryland can only focus on you, however. He casts his gaze down where he notices you shifting uncomfortably. He probably made you feel weird with his awkwardness. Fiddlesticks, he ruined it⌠again.
Ryland looks back up at your soft gaze. âIt is cute,â you say quietly. You turn away now to face the coffee pot thatâs still brewing. What Ryland doesnât know is that youâre mentally scolding yourself for letting a line like that slip.
You go on, âitâs sweet, is what I mean. I know why youâre the âcoolâ teacher.â You wink with a hint of sarcasm.
Rylandâs face has to be on fire. If he wasnât so frozen in place he would stop, drop, and roll. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, looking like a fish gasping for air (or water he supposes). After too long of this, the only thing he says is: âOh?â
âI have my students write in a journal everyday.â You slightly change the topic. âI had them write about their favorite teachers and some of them let me read the entries. Youâd be surprised at how many of them wrote about your class.â You watch his hand rake through his tussled hair, clearly a nervous tick.Â
You shrug. âOr maybe you wouldnât be surprised. Point is, I see why the kids like you so much.â
Ryland just gives in and grins. Heâs still fire-truck red as he mouths a squeaky âthank youâ.
The coffee finishes brewing and you reach into the cabinet, grabbing two mugs. One of them is the mug that Ryland drinks out of everyday. A student of his gave it to him during his first year teaching. The glossy ceramic has the chemical composition of caffeine on it, only true science nerds would recognize that. It was the kind of gift that made him feel like teaching is really where he belongs. You didnât even have to ask which mug was his. You pour two full cups of steaming coffee. You throw him a smile over your shoulder.
âHow do you like your coffee?â
A New Light
ryland grace x teacher!reader
part i - part ii - part iii
summary: Ryland Grace's awkward attempt to make a friend leads him to love instead <3
a/n: the first part of many (hopefully). this is my first fic ever so i am extremely open to constructive criticism. like pls give me advice before i publish the next part đ
warnings: none rlly, a mix of book and movie canon, attempts at flirting, author's attempt at writing dialogue
w/c: 2.9k
Ryland Grace doesnât really have many âfriendsâ. Okay, he has Marissa of course, though he rarely sees her any more than once a week. And he has⌠well he has⌠a lot of colleagues and less so friends.
Thatâs not really his fault though! Heâs always been a loner, even as a kid. At this point in his life, however, his solo nature is more condition than preference. It isnât like he is not trying to make friends. He is definitely one of the youngest teachers at Grover Cleveland Middle, and that makes it pretty difficult for him to relate to, much less befriend, his older colleagues. Not to say they arenât good people, Ryland just couldnât see himself hanging out with them regularly after working hours.Â
Marissa suggested joining some local book clubs or running groups, but Ryland only has so much time in the day.
And, not to mention, he pretty much lost most of his established scientist friends when he released his paper claiming water was irrelevant to extraterrestrial life: Thus, accidentally insinuating their claims were irrelevant as well and insulting all of their work⌠Whoops. So maybe Ryland isnât good at keeping friends either.
But since then, Ryland has been pretty good at being alone. He wakes up alone, eats breakfast alone, bikes to work alone, bikes back to his apartment alone, eats dinner alone, and goes to bed alone. It doesnât really bother him though. He has some amazingly wise and considerate teachers around him, and a great group of, surprisingly funny, 7th graders to teach. And Marissa. So not so bad alone.
That isnât to say he doesn't get lonely. Especially during the summers, without students to surround him and lesson planning to keep his brain busy. Luckily for him, the school year is quickly approaching. In just a week now, he will have a whole new grade of kids to fill their brains with, what he hopes is, fun science information. He has worked pretty hard to establish himself as the âcoolâ teacher and heâs not giving that up now.
Ryland walks into the school building for the first time in 2 months. He walks down the dim hallway that is eerily clean. The large box shakes in his hands. Itâs filled with posters, and supplies, and any models he had to put in storage. Thankfully, he could keep the larger displays in his classroom, like his human body model and the solar system that took him way too long to set up.Â
He all but skips down the hall, humming an off-tune melody. This year is going to be a good one, he can just feel it.Â
Ryland reaches his classroom and precariously shifts the box into one arm. He removes his lanyard from around his neck with the key to the door connected on the key ring. Rylandâs questionable humming echoes through the hallway. If he is trying to sing a song, it is surely unrecognizable. He jams the key into the keyhole, jiggling it just so, as heâs learned that is the only way to get the ancient door to unlock.Â
The blonde man finally makes it into his room and sets the box on his desk. He takes a look at the bare walls and empty tables. Itâs so weird to see his classroom so lifeless. His classroom is assembled of 4 rows of lab tables from the back, where the door was. In front of the white board is his desk, obviously. He has a Jacobâs ladder in the corner and his eclectic jars of animal parts in formaldehyde line a bookcase. One thing Ryland loves most about the space are the huge windows along one wall that perfectly cast against his solar system model, making a pretty cool shadow on the opposing wall. While that might not seem lifeless to most people, Ryland is used to the room essentially looking like a mad manâs lab.Â
He smiles. Unlike a lot of teachers, he loves reassembling his room year after year. He digs into the box. âTime to get started.â
He diligently starts decorating and organizing. After an hour of sticky tack on his hands and posters on the wall, he returns the room to its true, chaotically charming, glory.Â
On the board he writes in large sloppy handwriting âWelcome to Mr. Graceâs Science Class!â. Beneath it, it says: âWhy did the sun go to school? To get brighter!â Corny? Sure. But Ryland always found it would make some kids chuckle, if not roll their eyes, and thatâs the kind of enthusiasm he loves to see!
The last thing he pulls out of the box is a collection of small beanbags, each one designed to look like a planet in our solar system.. They are a bit frayed from years of use, but still plenty good. The man honestly does not remember where he got the beanbags, but he does know they are the prized possessions of his class. âBeanbag is lavaâ is every studentâs favorite game year after year. The key to being a good teacher, Rylandâs learned, is any competitive game with prizes. Especially candy. Candy is key.
Ryland dumps the bean bags into a designated drawer in his desk for random junk. He takes another look around the room. âPerfect,â he sighs.
The science teacher grabs his big ole box and heads out the classroom. Still facing the door, he goes to lock up, when he hears movement behind him. Heâs pretty sure no one else was here when he got here. Ryland glances over his shoulder, assuming what he is hearing is just the old building creaking. So yeah, he didnât really expect to see you dangerously standing on a ladder, hanging signs outside the classroom across the hall.
Just as youâre coming down the ladder, you see him, just staring at you. It equally catches you by surprise.
âHoly sh-â you curse with a jolt, almost falling off the ladder. You barely catch yourself as Ryland drops the box and lunges closer to catch you, just in case. âIâm good,â you say wobbly. You grip the railings on the short ladder and climb the rest of the way down.
You heave a breath. âYou scared the fu- the life out of me.â
It wasnât until then, when you turned to face him, that Ryland got a good look at your face. Holy moly.
Rylandâs blue eyes go wide. He has that dumb look on his face that always appears when he sees people heâs attracted to. And, wow, youâre just⌠really cute is all. Maybe you are really that pretty, or maybe itâs been a while since Ryland has met anyone outside his normal cast of characters. But he doesn't even know who you are, so this attraction is purely surface level.
He goes to speak, opening his dry mouth, but only a short cough emerges. He clears his throat, but, somehow, his key slips right out of his sweaty fingers. Why is he sweating so much?
âCrap, sorry,â he apologizes. Why is he apologizing? Oh, right, he almost scared you so bad you fell off a ladder.Â
âNo problem,â you chime, easily bending down to pick up his keys and lanyard. You hand it back to him with a shy smile. âI just didnât think anyone else was here.â
You look young, Ryland assesses. Probably around his age, maybe a couple years younger. Mostly you look wide-eyed and new. As far as he knows, Ryland is the newest, and youngest, teacher at Grover Cleveland Middle. At least, the newest one that actually stuck around. Every other year a teacher will come straight out of their post-grad, teach for one school year, and promptly decide teaching middle schoolers isnât for them. That is partially why it took Ryland so long to build good rapport with his colleagues when he first started working here: they were just expecting him to leave.
You cock your head curiously at the blonde, who is still staring silently at you. He shakes himself out of his analytical observing.
âS-sorry, right, sorry. Iâm Mr. Grace, Ryland Grace. I teach 7th grade science across the hall.âÂ
He fumbles to put his lanyard back around his neck. Then, he raises his hand halfway, before worrying his hand is too sweaty to shake yours. You donât seem to notice (or care) as you shake his hand enthusiastically. You offer him your name in return with a small smile.
âIâm the new creative writing teacher.â You gesture back to the classroom behind you. âThis is my classroom⌠but you can see that, obviously.â You chuckle nervously. Youâre kind of awkward too, and that makes Ryland feel a lot better to know heâs not the only one.
He takes a long glance at the class. Heâd heard about a new elective being added, so he should have guessed that would mean a new teacher in this classroom. All of the science teachers were in one hallway with their large lab-like classes. At the very end of the hall, and across from Grace, stands what is honestly more of a hole-in-the-wall closet than a classroom. All of the new teachers that came in ended up with this as their classroom, because it was the only room left in the building. Maybe thatâs why they kept leaving. The space was super claustrophobic, at least to Ryland. And heâs sure the noisy science labs surrounding it didnât help.
âHow are you liking it so far?â
You scratch the back of your neck shyly. There is tape on your fingers from hanging a big sign with âWelcome to Creative Writingâ on it above the door (thus the ladder.) âUhm⌠the space is definitely cozy. I hope there is enough room for all the kids, but I donât know how many students plan to take my class.â
Rylandâs grin grew. You really were cute.
âIf it helps, I remember some of my 7th graders last year being pretty excited about a creative writing class.â
âIâm sure youâre exaggerating, but I really appreciate it.â You fiddle with your hands. âIâm a bit worried these middle schoolers are going to eat me alive.â
Ryland nods. âTheyâre ruthless, trust meâ
âOh I do.â Ryland knows youâre just saying that, but the way it comes out of your lips has his heart seizing.
His face has to be red with just how much heat he can feel radiating from his skin. âT- uhm, they really know how to get under your skin. My best advice is to not let it bother you. Kids can be cruel, but once they respect you, they grow out of it. J-just make sure the blinds are open so they can photosynthesize! C-cuz plantsâŚgrow.â
His voice wanes as he finishes his sentence. No way he just said that. The science teacherâs face falls as soon as he realizes how bad of a joke just escaped his mouth. He covered his face in utter embarrassment.
He is just about to apologize for being an utter idiot when he hears a giggle leave your lips. Though he canât quite tell if itâs out of pity or genuine appreciation for his awful joke, his head pops up to look back at you.
âIâm sure youâve got plenty of those, huh?â you chuckle again. âBut, I think getting them to respect me is the tricky part.â Ryland canât blame you for being nervous. Middle schoolers are scary. Who is he kidding, adults are scary. This interaction is scaring the crap out of him right now.
âI believe in your ability.â The blond smiles, way too genuinely. You smile back at him naturally.
âI appreciate that⌠first I need the ability to get around this school.âÂ
Ryland bites his lip. He can tell heâs kind of a wreck right now. He needs the ability to interact with people like a normal person. But you havenât ended the conversation yet, so he must be doing something right. âThis building can be kind of a maze,â he offers. âYou get used to it.âÂ
âI hope so. I canât be this lost or people will think Iâm one of the new 6th graders.â
Ryland chuckles. âI don't think your young face helps.â The words slip out before he can stop himself. He immediately starts to apologize as his face grows hotter. He really needs to learn how to think before he speaks.
You just scoff jokingly. âOkay, the baby face doesnât help, but hopefully no one will mistake me for 11.âÂ
âRight.â Ryland wants to change the subject as quickly as possible. He also desperately wants to keep talking to you. So far you seem funny and nice to speak with. And he really wants to leave you with a good impression of him if he can go three seconds without saying something dumb.
 âSo, how long have you been teaching?â he asks. Itâs clear that he is still trying to gauge how old you are. Can you really blame him though? Not only is he trying to scout out if he can possibly make a teacher friend near his age, but he also needs to know if he should feel gross about being attracted to you.
âAbout 4 years now,â you reply. âIt took me a little longer to finish my degrees. Iâve been teaching special-ed at the local elementary school for the past few years. Apparently they have a specialist coming in there, and instead of just firing me, they offered me the elective position here.â
Rylandâs eyes narrowed. âHow kind of them,â he jokes.
The public school system can be crazy. Since the teacher shortage, it feels like theyâre always moving teachers all over the place to accommodate. All this with giving teachers little to no say as they are still paid a measly wage while being forced to teach tons of random classes. Heck, Ryland knows a math teacher who had to teach French some time ago.
âI know right. Jokes on them, creative writing was my minor anyway, so this is a win.â
âGood for you. And itâs great that youâre right across the hall. Youâll have to help me with my spelling. The kids say it's atrocious.â
That makes you laugh. A win in Rylandâs book. âThe curse of being a science teacher that canât spell, and an English teacher that barely knows any science.â
âMaybe we can help each other out then. I can teach you all my science facts, and you can teach me middle school spelling and grammar.â
You bite your lip to keep your smile from getting any bigger. It was hurting your face at this point. âSounds good to me, but you have to teach me some puns too.âÂ
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
A silence falls between the two of you. You take the time to observe Ryland, just as he had you. Crooked glasses perch on a sharp nose. They lead to his pretty blue eyes that really cannot seem to look away from you for more than a couple of seconds. His blonde hair lays in perfect messy floofs atop his head. You keep yourself from looking at his pink lips, lest you get the idea of kissing the handsome science teacher across the hall in your head. Somehow the t-shirt he is wearing that says âAh! The Element of Surprise!â makes him even cuter.
âSo, you graduated 3 years ago?â Smooth, Grace. Youâd think heâd be better at asking quantitative questions.
âYep. I got my masters in education. Iâm 29 now.â
29! Okay, so Rylandâs not a total creep. Well, heâs still a creep because he probably shouldnât be attracted to his younger colleague.
âWhat about you?,â you ask.
Ryland thinks it only seems fair to offer you the same information. âI took a little bit of an⌠unconventional approach to start teaching.â He waves a hand. âItâs a long unimportant story, but Iâve been teaching for only a couple more years than you. Iâm 32 now. God that seems old.â Heâs being weird isnât he? His face turns a pretty pink color as he casts his gaze away.
You smirk, the look bringing Rylandâs attention back to you. His breath quickens as you take a half-step closer. âNot too old.âÂ
That could not be a flirty look. He must be imagining things.
Rylandâs ears burn. He pushes his glasses up his nose.
âItâll be nice to have a teacher around my age around the school,â he lets himself stay. âWelcome, by the way, weâre excited to have you.â
You speak, breathlessly, âthanks.âÂ
The man picks up the box he dropped and holds it to his chest, like a child hugging their favorite stuffed animal close. His cheeks are rosy and his lips chapped from him biting them a few too many times. He knows this is his cue to leave, but something inside him is still pulled towards you.
This is when Ryland realizes his heart is in trouble when it comes to you.
âWell Iâll leave you to your decorating.â He rocks back on his heels and finally starts to walk off.
âSee you tomorrow, Mr. Grace.â
Christ, heâs going to get to see you almost every day for an entire school year
âYe-yep, bye. Bye.â He whispers, looking over his shoulder. He shuffles back down the hall as you watch.Â
The blonde man cannot stop smiling. Heâs already decided he likes the creative writing teacher across the hall⌠probably more than he should. Even as he mounts the box to his bike and pedals back home; even as he eats his microwaved dinner; even as he lays in bed, alone, the image of you sits in his mind. Along with it, a smile sits on his face.
Ryland Grace might make a friend. :)
about to post my first ever fanfic for my fellow ryland grace x reader lovers. iâm scared shitless
but mostly iâm really excited to join the community! đĽš
