from @hyccinths: i have an idea that includes the little prompts. maybe a reader who gets a rlly bad migraine? and ryland just looks after her? it can include kisses mid conversation while the both of them are laying in bed with the lights off? it can also include talking while kissing? up to you! (also preferably pre-canon btw, forgot to mention, so sorry!)
includes: no beta we die like men, ryland being a teacher in and out of the classroom, pre-canon ryland grace, established relationship, fluffy, fluffy fluff it's just me writing the sweetest stuff all the time forever
ryland burst through the apartment door and yanked off his bicycle helmet, trying desperately to catch his breath. "sorry it took so long, i got here as fast as i could," he panted. he threw his jacket and bags to the side of the entrance and rushed over to you, lying in the living room, all lights off, with a thawing compress resting on your forehead. "are you alright?"
he was supposed to stay after school for office hours, the time slot ranging from 3 to 4:30 in the afternoon, but rules stated that if no one showed up in the first thirty minutes, he had the opening to go home. after all, he couldn't sit in his classroom alone for an hour and a half, waiting on people that might never come. but he was required to stay those thirty minutes just in case. he did everything he could to stay busy: check emails, review tomorrow's homework assignment, nit-pick his new slideshows. but nothing could get his mind off the text you sent him during eighth period: "migraine creeped up on me. please don't turn the lights on when you come home. missing you :( " that was all he could think about until the day ended.
you lifted your head just enough to signal that you saw him before lying back down. "you got here fast, honey. you didn't cross caldway street, did you?" you mumbled, quiet but concern clear in your voice.
"my usual route would've taken too long, you know that." out of the corner of your eye, you could see his ever-patient smile, but it didn't blanket the guilt that came over you.
"i told you i don't want you crossing those streets, honey. it's dangerous." you sighed. "and they are some horrible drivers out there. the amount of seventy-year-olds that need their licenses revoked are incredible, i can't believe no one's doing anything about it."
from the edges of the compress, you could see ryland's face grow somber, and he nodded. "i understand. i'm sorry, baby, i just get so worried." his hand reached out for yours and enveloped it in a soft, comforting hold. "i apologize for acting rashly, but i don't apologize for worrying."
despite the throbbing pain in your head, you felt a little calmer. "that's all i can ask of you," you replied.
he rested his arms on the cushions of the couch and asked, "how bad is it this time?"
you shrugged. "i'm slightly nauseous, but apart from that, i'm horrible." both of you found the energy to smile at your dumb little joke, but soon ryland's eyebrows crinkled together in a familiar fashion, one that made you roll your eyes. here it comes, you thought. he was getting into teacher mode. you weren't a middle schooler, but once he got that look on his face, it summoned his more stubborn and responsible side. which meant he knew best and he wouldn't listen if you said anything close to "i can handle it" or "i'm an adult."
"i'll get the medicine and some water. your compress is lukewarm at this point, i'll get you a new one too," he accessed while touching your forehead and the compress respectively. "then we're moving you to the bedroom. i'll email your boss for you that you'll need an extra day to submit your work."
"but ryland—!"
he immediately stared you down, a warning gaze piercing you from behind his glasses. you both sat in the silence for a moment, playing into the feigned reprimand, until he raised his hand and slowly moved... to boop you on the nose. "no." and after a quick kiss, he stood to collect his things from the kitchen. there was nothing else you could do apart from close your eyes and listen to the hinges of the cabinets, the soft touches of the wood as they were opened and shut, and the quiet rush of water from the sink. soon enough, he was back.
"aren't you the wrong kind of doctor i need for something like this?"
he comically frowned, holding everything he got you close to the chest. "you want someone else? fine, whatever, i can just go and leave and crawl into a hole and die."
you stifled a laugh since too much shaking would make the headache worse, but giggles spewed out and you shook your head as much as you could. "oh, stop it, i'm just messing with you. you're such a big baby."
the frown then disappeared and there returned your ryland. "i'm your baby. now, hold these, please?" and he handed you the pill bottle, a tall glass, and the new compress, icy to the touch. it would have made you squirm before, but the coolness was a relief.
"alright. three, two, one!" he slipped his arms behind and lifted you carefully. the contradiction of his soft sweaters and the muscle underneath always made you smile, and you felt another grin appear on your face. he noticed this, because he seems to notice everything about you. from the way you try to subtly roll your eyes in public to the sneakers you always say are nice but leave to collect dust by the shoe rack.
"what? not the knight you dreamed off?" he guessed. "sorry, honey, but beggars can't be choosers."
"but i did choose you," you reminded him.
he tried to hide the glimmer in his eyes at the sound of your response, but it was to no avail. and it was funny, considering you had been dating for lord knows how long at this point. he never seemed to get tired of hearing you pick him or acknowledge that, yes, he was in fact allowed to date you.
ryland got you comfortable in bed and double checked the dose you were taking, even though you both had used the brand a hundred times before. he pulled the curtains closed, all lamps were turned off, and soon enough it was just you and him cuddled up in bed in the dark as he gently ran his fingers through your hair. neither of you knew how much time passed. you mentioned dinner, but he just replied, "whenever you're hungry, we'll eat," and with that, you fell into the peace of the late afternoon.
in between comfortable silences that could last from anywhere between a minute to twenty, ryland asked you the dumbest would-you-rather questions. you laughed the first time and refused to entertain it, but he reigned you in. the latest one he asked?
"okay, i got a good one. would you rather... have to cough at least three times during any speech you sit through or sneeze three times whenever you meet a germaphobe?"
"gosh. so it's either disrespecting any important moment or making every germaphobe around me uncomfortable."
"basically, yeah."
"i don't think i know a lot of germaphobes. they may be germaphobes secretly. how many speeches do i usually hear? i guess as long as i—!"
you were in the middle of speaking when ryland scooched closer and kissed you, quick and simple. you stopped and gave him a look. "sorry," he said. "continue?"
"right. i was saying that as long as i'm polite about either, they can't get too mad at me. people cough and sneeze all the time—!" another kissed interrupted you. "yes, ryland?" you finally asked, thoroughly amused by whatever he was up to now.
"what, i can't kiss you? i thought that came in the package deal of dating you. it's one of the main benefits advertised, actually."
"you gonna let me talk? you're the one that asked the question."
he shrugged, a little sheepish after your reply. "hard to focus sometimes when you look so lovely."
you gave him a deadpan stare. your hair was a mess, you were in the most ridiculous pajamas, and your eyes were barely open because any slight movement made you feel a little dizzy. "surely, i've looked better," you challenged. but ryland's expression never faltered. he just kept looking at you with those doting eyes.
"i think you own it," he replied. "could walk down a runway just like this. people have formed beauty standards around tuberculosis before. i don't think a migraine is too different in the eyes of the public." you were still deadpan and he was still smiling, so he gently traced your arm and finally said, "you can say your answer now."
"coughing. during the speeches. you can kiss me now."
he gently climbed over and hovered above you, forearms by the sides of your head for support so his weight didn't crush you. "we'll play more later," he whispered before leaning in and locking his lips with yours in a delicate but moving kiss.
"yeah?" you mumbled against his mouth, the small vibrations from your words sending a small chill throughout his body. "you won't get distracted?"
"i'm a doctor. i'm very professional," he muttered back between kisses. "you didn't see it, but i actually set a timer for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds. scientifically proven to be the best amount of time for kisses during migraines."
"yeah, right. i can't believe you."
he brought his hand behind your head to stabilize you and mumbled, "i'm just taking care of you. and after this, you'll have a twenty-minute power nap before dinner. i'll make something nice."
something in your heart settled, and slowly you brought your hands from his sides to neck, wrapping your arms around it gently, the closest you could bring him without disturbing your migraine too much. and he stayed there the whole two minutes and fourteen seconds, constantly aware of all your shifts and turns, kissing you with all the care and consideration you could ask for.
notes: guys i fixed my inbox are you proud of me. how did i not know it was off. anyways, hope you enjoyed what i wrote! ryland the silly ryland the goofy goober he is just a guy but he ! is my guy (or our guy). requests are open (and actually possible to submit now) so send some my way!
I can't pretend to be normal anymore unfortunately. Heed the mature warning (minors DNI, you will be blocked)
Simon and Grace making out, lounging on Grace's bed. It's slow, it's loving, it's everything the two of them need. Simon, of course, gets just a tiny bit overzealous, and nips at Grace's lips. The noise he gets in return almost makes Simon panic, thinking that he hurt the other, but when he pulls back, Grace is blushing fiercely. It takes Simon only a moment before it clicks that, no, he did not hurt Grace. In fact, Grace seemed to like that a little more than Simon expected. With renewed energy, they return to kissing, but it's more heated now. It's hands wandering under shirts, tongues and teeth mingling and exploring. Its warm. And Simon absolutely relishes every sound that he can drink from Grace's lips. Every tiny breath or muffled moan.
Simon focuses his attention on slowly trailing kisses down Grace's neck, taking extra care whenever Grace's breathing studders. His hands are in Simon's hair, as he tries to focus on anything but the feeling of Simon's mouth on him. He can't help himself from tugging lightly when he feels teeth against his collarbone.
The instant that Grace lets a quiet, breathy "fuck" slip from his lips, Simon is pausing but only for an instant, before he's focusing back on the canvas of Grace's skin. He hadn't realized that was an option. Obviously he was enjoying the effect that he had on the other, but swearing? When Grace typically took so much care to censor himself? Simon makes it his personal mission to draw as many obscene words and noises as he possibly can from Ryland.
summary: new year with professor bucky consists of three things. one: hot chocolate. two: snuggles with alpine. three: a kiss at midnight.
word count: 200
warnings: age gap (reader 19, bucky 34)
a/n: this was meant to be posted on new year but i got too drunk and forgot to post it, so here you go! enjoy folks.
🔮 series masterlist 🔮
please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy it - it’s always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.
🔮 buy me a coffee ko-fi 🔮
🔮 follow my patreon for early access and exclusive content 🔮
You remembered most of the New Years that had passed in your nineteen years of life. There was the year that you and your friends from high school had snuck out to your best friend’s empty house to drink cheap champagne from her parent’s alcohol cabinet. There was the year that you had spent with your family, curled up on the couch with the fire blazing watching the countdown on TV. There was the year you spent at home alone re-reading your favourite novel and almost missed midnight altogether.
But this year was different, because you weren’t alone, or getting drunk, or stuck with your family. This year you were with Bucky.
New Year with Bucky consisted of three things. One: hot chocolate on the couch tucked under a blanket together as he cradled your feet in his lap. Two: Alpine snuggled up between you, content and happy, purring softly. Three: A simple kiss at midnight.
The clock struck twelve, and Bucky leaned over to you, pressing his lips against yours sweetly, the sugar from his hot chocolate lingering on his lips when he pulled away.
“Happy New Year, doll,” he whispered. “I love you.”
