ash ❤️‍🔥 @siirenvi - Tumblr Blog

unplanned

summary: in which ryland grace is really really bad at life planning - until he sees you holding a baby, and suddenly knows exactly what he wants.

CWs: gonna go with an 18+ MDNI for this one because we've got some suggestive content here! fem!reader x ryland grace, soft little makeout moment, i guess you could say dry humping but like only for a SECOND, ryland's POV and he is SO deep in his own head (poor guy), established relationship, no use of y/n, general fluff and cuteness.

word count: a little less than 4k!

author's note: this was a request!!!! guys, i never get requests, and i LOVED this one. it was just so cute. thank you so so so much for requesting it. i really hope that i did your idea justice and that you enjoy this!!!! for both my beloved requester and anyone else reading this, feel free to request more!

It's hard for Ryland Grace to plan things. That much is true. He could wholeheartedly say that he never really planned a path for his life at all after college. Sure, he knew what he was going to do in college. But he didn't plan anything after it, like going into academia.

He didn't plan on leaving it, either. That was an accident. Who would have thought that calling the lead scientist in your field a staggering waste of carbon was fire worthy? Not Ryland Grace and his very rarely appearing awful temper. So he didn't plan on it happening to him.

He didn't plan on going into education after that. Definitely didn't plan on middle school; anyone with a doctorate usually wouldn't. But he's glad he did it, because his kids are his entire world. He's actually pretty glad that his lack of planning led him to applying to the only job opening in education in San Francisco. Led him to Grover Cleveland Middle. Led him to what he's pretty sure is his true calling in life.

Led him to you.

But, again, Ryland Grace doesn't plan anything. He just sort of stumbles into everything. So when he stumbled into you after you moved into the classroom right next to his, he didn't plan on falling in love. It's not that he was closed off to it; he just never had any luck with relationships, and you were too pretty to end up liking him. Too good to be true.

When you were the one who ended up asking him out, then, he was completely taken aback. Because, just like everything else in his life—he didn't plan on it.

Regardless, he was over the moon excited about it. Jumped in head first. Really fell for you hard, although a lot of it wasn't planned. He didn't plan on what your relationship would be like after three months. He's never made it that far with any relationship after college.

Didn't plan on moving in with you after a year. That absolutely wasn't in the cards considering what happened the last time he moved in with someone, but he kicked himself in the seat of the pants for doubting you on that front. Moving in with you was the best thing that ever happened to him.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He did plan to go with you to your friends' house after they had their baby, though. That much is true. He's pretty good at day-to-day planning. And lesson planning. It's the major life planning that he's not so great at.

That's another internal conversation for another day.

He wanted to go with you to your friends' house. He knew them well enough. They were your friends first, but he liked them after you introduced him to them. He was ecstatic to learn that they had their baby. To see them and help them in any way that he could.

Plus, them having a baby meant another kid for him to teach and love as his own in 13 years, give or take.

But, at the end of the day, it was a chance for him to see your happiness. To see the way you jumped up and down with excitement at the prospect of meeting the baby. To see the compassion you'd display when you'd inevitably end up cleaning up around the house to spare your friends the pain of doing it with a newborn.

So, yeah. He planned on going with you. Any chance he gets to see how gorgeous you are when you're excited or how big your heart is, he'll take.

That's why he's right here, standing next to you on their doorstep, gift bag that you put together for the baby in his right hand and left arm wrapped around your waist. You're practically vibrating from the elation weaving its way through your nerves and muscles.

He can't stop staring at you. Hopefully you don't think he's weird for it.

"God," you whisper while frantically rapping your knuckles against the front door. "I'm so excited."

He doesn't say anything at first. Too stunned by your sweetness. Too hypnotized. All he can do is look down at you, give your waist a squeeze, and kiss your temple. When you lean into it, he feels his heart flutter in his chest.

It flutters harder when you peek up at him and steal a featherlight kiss on his lips. Borderline heart palpitations after that one. God, he loves you so much it hurts.

"They'd be dumb to not make you the godmother," is the response he blurts out when you pull back and stare up at him instead. Stupid thing to say. Makes his cheeks flush with a simmering, slightly embarrassed heat. You short-circuited his brain. His doctorate-holding brain.

But his stupidity paid off. Made you laugh and glance up at him. Any time your eyes are on him, he feels like the universe's favorite child.

"I'd only accept that title if they make you the godfather," you joke.

The upward quirk of your lips, a gentle little indication of a smirk, only makes him blush harder. You have such a hold on him. He loves you more than words can describe. He's actually certain that there are no words to describe how deeply he loves you. None at all.

"Is this your way of asking me to marry you?" he jokes back. You gasp. You bless him with a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek. He isn't fully convinced that he's not dead and in a paradise of an afterlife right now.

"How'd you know?" you mumble into his skin before you pull back just enough to look at him. Not the first time you've spoken something into his skin. Definitely not the first time you've done it in public.

Ryland laughs. Then he shrugs. Diverts his eyes away from you and focuses on the intricate patterns inlaid on the door's window to prevent himself from getting too flustered.

"Just had a hunch."

You huff and knock again, quicker than the last time. Your impatience is just another thing he loves about you. It ensures that the job gets done when he's got his head lost in the clouds.

"Funny. I always thought you were the one who was supposed to do the proposing."

That's on the way, is what he wants to say. It's one of the only things he actually did plan. That ring's been burning a hole in the back of his bedside table drawer for the last few weeks.

But he can't let you know that.

So, "I'm full of surprises, hon," is what he actually says.

"Don't I know it." You plant one more kiss on his cheek. Then a lingering one on the corner of his lips. That one has him huffing and gently tilting his head away from you despite very desperately wanting to stay there. He clears his throat, a little awkward and a lot flustered, then reaches up to knock on the door himself.

"Where the hell are they?"

"Probably dealing with their adorable brand-new baby. Patience, Dr. Grace," you purr into his ear.

Jesus.

Takes all of his strength to not pass out and ruin your night before it even starts. It's like you're trying to kill him, and you're really good at it. You've studied his weaknesses and you know exactly how to exploit them. He knocks a little quicker. A little harder, too, to cover up the sound of his stilted, breathy laugh.

His salvation arrives a few seconds later. Just before you could plant the open-mouthed kiss on his jawline that would have fully killed him, the door whips open. You yank yourself out of his hold and dart into the house while squealing about wanting to see the baby, leaving Ryland and your friend's husband all alone.

"They're in the kitchen!" Charlie shouts, an attempt at speaking over your own shouting. You had taken a left turn toward their bedroom. Within seconds, he and Ryland see you shoot past the hallway again, bee-lining to the right toward the kitchen.

"I guess she's excited," he mutters while he turns back to look at Ryland, who nods. He can't help but laugh at just how high pitched your voice got. How it's still high pitched all the way across the house already. He isn't sure he's ever heard it get that high. He also doesn't remember the last time he'd seen you run so quickly.

"She's been talking about this all day," he gushes through a grin. A little embarrassing, probably, but he can't help it. He's pretty certain that he was put on this godforsaken earth just to gush and fawn over you at any given moment.

Oh, and to teach his kids. But it's summer vacation, so…just gives him more time to fawn over you.

"For the record," Ryland says while handing the gift bag to Charlie, "I'm also excited for you guys. Congrats, Dad."

Charlie expresses his gratitude with a bashful little nod of his head. The hug he pulls Ryland into was a little shocking, but appreciated. That's probably the only time he's ever gotten a hug from this guy.

Not bad. Pretty firm. Relatively comforting. Granted, not as comforting as your hugs, but…it was a nice gesture, you know?

"How's everything been going here?"

Charlie sucks in a breath. Lets it out as a stressed little sigh as he's in the process of walking deeper into his house.

Ryland would be lying if he said he didn't notice the bags under the poor guy's eyes when he opened the door. It's odd, though, because he still looks really happy.

"It's hard. Definitely way harder than I knew it'd be, but…"

Charlie pauses, then hums. One of his hands waves his complaint away. Pushes it off so that it can't plague him anymore. Ryland's still slowly following behind while they head toward the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter. She's perfect. We love her so much. Everything is just…right. She was the missing piece we needed."

He's got a big, beaming smile on his face. Ryland returns that grin with one of his own softer smiles. No teeth. He's hoping that smile reads as heartwarming, or something along those lines. Because, yes, it's really sweet that Charlie feels that way, but now he's in his own head.

Kids.

Just another thing that Ryland Grace has never planned for. Never thought about it for more than a second because, for God knows how long, he hadn't been in a relationship. Plus, he has kids—they're not biologically his, but that doesn't mean he loves them any less than if they were.

Does he want kids? Who knows. Do you? Who knows. He's never asked you. You've never asked him. This could potentially be a ticking time bomb. What if you want them and he doesn't? What if it's the other way around? What'll happen then?

Panic. Panic will happen. Hell, panic is already happening. His heart's slamming in his rib cage at an alarmingly quick degree. He can hear his own pulse in the blood rushing through his ears. It's so loud that he's worried everyone in this house can hear it. That it might wake the baby.

He didn't plan for the bad things, either. Like you leaving him over something like this.

The heat in his face is almost unbearable. He feels bad because he can see Charlie's lips moving, but he can't hear the words he's saying. He can also feel his own lips moving and his legs still carrying him to the kitchen. How on Earth is he talking and walking through this? That's a talent he didn't know he had. He thought that crossing over the threshold to the kitchen would kill him.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. In reality, he thought that he wouldn't be able to do it, so he paused right before the kitchen door. Charlie walked into it without any issues. Ryland? Not so much.

The catch of his feet at the kitchen threshold is almost as rough as the catch of his breath in his own throat. Nice to feel you again, air. Forgot you existed for a moment.

It's only when he hears your voice float out of the kitchen that he gets a sort of second wind. It breaks through the rush of blood in his ears and gently falls into it, a single, soft question that makes his heartbeat slow to a somewhat acceptable speed.

"Where'd Ryland go?"

Three words. Incredibly generic. Still makes him melt, though, because you're the one who said it; he swallows his fear and his panic to the best of his ability. Steels himself a little bit to will away the typhoon of blood still rushing through his ears, then takes a step forward and enters the kitchen.

And it hits him, then. While you're standing there with that brand new baby girl, cradling her like she's your own, it slams into him like a freight train.

Sure, he didn't plan on wanting to have kids. On wanting to start a family. He never had to think about it because it had never been right in front of him. Here he's been for the last almost-40 years, unknowingly barreling toward something he hadn't planned for:

He wants kids.

Like usual, he stumbled into it. Literally. Because he almost tripped on the threshold when he saw just how natural you looked with that baby in your arms.

Once he regained his stability, he managed to take a couple steps in your direction, but you're the one who closed the gap. The way you floated over to him was ethereal, to say the least. Gentle, slow, easy. Like what you were doing, and the little bundle of joy you were holding, came so naturally to you.

"Hey," you excitedly coo at him, grin so big it's almost like your face is splitting in two. You turn your body just enough to let him see the baby, but he can't look at her for too long. He's too busy focusing on you.

"Look at her. Isn't she precious?" you whisper. While you're gently rocking her in your arms, Ryland's fighting back tears. Why is he even tearing up? Is this a panic cry or a sentimental, heartwarming cry? What the hell is going on?

Your voice breaks through his internal monologue. Soft and sweet, laced with just a bit of concern. Through a tiny laugh, you ask, "You alright?"

It makes him blink a few times. He clears his throat and tries to act like he wasn't just on the verge of tears.

"All good," he murmurs. He leans down to kiss your temple. It had been too long since he had done it and he was starting to get withdrawals. He looks down at the baby in your hands, smiles, then looks back up at you for a moment.

Within that split second that he's looking at you before he turns his head to meet the gazes of your friends, he's certain that he's got a plan for the rest of his life.

And for yours, if you'll have him.

The gruff noise that pushes its way out of Ryland's chest when you tackle him on the couch is embarrassing only for a moment. The embarrassment doesn't get its chance to bloom as a pink, humiliated blush on his face. He's too busy getting lost in the kiss you've ignited upon falling into his lap.

It's slow and steady, albeit a little desperate—and that's on both ends. Sure, you were the one who pushed him down onto the couch, but he was the one who got handsy the second you walked through the front door.

When a day is long, or a little overwhelming, or just plain confusing, he finds comfort in you. Although, if he was being honest, the day could be perfectly normal and he'll still find comfort in you.

He just loves you. Sue him.

One of his hands splays out over your lower back. His grip is probably tighter than it should be as he pulls you closer to him to deepen the kiss. He'll feel bad about it later. The way you whine and roll your hips against his is much more important to him right now.

"Ry," you whimper into his mouth, all breathy and needy and utterly intoxicating. He can't help it when he breaks that kiss and his head falls back onto the couch. He also couldn't help punching out a pathetic little groan while he did it. Gives you the opportunity to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head to the right a little bit. Just enough to give you more access to his skin. To give you space to press those soft, open-mouthed kisses on his neck, the ones that he loves so much because they make him shiver and force goosebumps to pop up all over his arms. Remind him of what it's like to be alive, to be in love, to want someone and to be wanted by someone.

He could do this for the rest of his life. That's the one thing he's planned: A life with you. Whatever it has to offer. He's hoping for happiness, marriage, and kids—the biological kind—but he'll take anything he can get.

Speaking of…he never really got an idea of where you land on that. Please, God, let it be in the same camp as me. It'd be a lot better than having to break up with her.

So, when you're in the process of sucking a hickey onto that sensitive spot just below his jawline, he blurts out, "Do you see yourself getting married? Having kids?"

You stop. Like, immediately stop. He's pretty sure he heard your breath hitch in your throat. He definitely felt your back and shoulders tense. You're so wound up that he's almost concerned about what your answer will be.

You press your hands against his chest. With one soft push, you're sitting up on his lap instead of burying your face into his neck, the intensity of your gaze making him squirm.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ryland caves immediately. "Don't worry about it. Wasn't important."

He lets out an awkward chuckle. Gravelly and stilted and utterly embarrassed. He leans up to kiss the corner of your lips, then your jaw, then dives into your neck the same way you did to him only a few seconds earlier. If he can distract you well enough, you might forget what he said.

"Ryland Grace," you softly but sternly scold him. Now he's the one stopping in his tracks. Sorta like a deer in headlights. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays to whatever higher power is out there that you'll drop it.

"First and last name seems a little unwarranted," he mumbles into your neck before he continues pressing kisses on it.

"Stop it," you giggle and squirm on his lap as he kisses down to your collarbones. A classic indication that he probably should shave, but…once again, that's for another time. There are bigger fish to fry right now.

He listens. He stops kissing you, but he leaves his face buried in your neck. It's better that way. You won't see how bright red his face is even though his skin is probably burning yours right now.

"Look at me," you demand. Earns you a sigh. As he wraps his arms around your waist, he contemplates pretending like he didn't say anything at all. A good boyfriend does that, right? Gaslights his girlfriend?

Ryland lets out another sigh and lifts his head up, instead. Should probably listen to you if he wants to enact those life plans he wants. The softness of your eyes is enough to calm his shot nerves just a little bit. Enough to get him to stop feeling like he needs to jump off the nearest bridge right now.

"What'd you ask me?"

"I…" he begins, but he cuts himself off with a grumbled little noise and shakes his head. In his defense, it's not easy for him to think when you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself closer to him.

"It's nothing. Really. I was just thinking. I guess."

One of your eyebrows quirks up. Then you smirk at him. He tries not to think about the way your fingers are twirling a few strands of his hair at the back of his head.

"You were super casually thinking about marriage and babies?" you joke.

"Why were you gonna make me say it again if you knew what I asked?!" he tosses back at you.

That one earns a big laugh from you. He's noticed you always laugh when he gets louder. Something about how his voice gets…high-pitched? He tries not to think about it. Why overthink it if it makes you laugh?

"I just wanted to be sure that's what I heard!"

"Yes! You heard me correctly!"

You shake your head. Your smile's still bright. Pretty enough to make him forget about whatever the hell is going on right now. He finds his arms slipping around your waist almost instinctively.

"You're so dramatic." You sigh. He chases your finger after you tap the tip of his nose with one of your index fingers. When you pulled that hand out of his hair, he isn't sure; he was too busy staring at you to notice.

"I can't believe you asked me that."

"I'm just trying to make a plan for—"

The press of your palm on his lips shuts him right up. What a blessing it is to be shut up in such a gentle way. Have his eyes turned into hearts yet? You'll manage to get it done.

"Let me ask you a question," you softly tell him while you slide your hand off of his mouth. Ryland straightens. Why is he as stiff as a board right now? It's like he's in his dissertation defense all over again.

All you do is smile. That stiffness in his spine starts to melt away.

"Do you think I'd get married to anyone except you? Have kids with anyone except you?" you ask.

It's like a million wedding bells all started crashing the second those words left your lips. Goodness gracious. All of that tension in his body dissipates, and he's nothing but grateful for it.

Your hands slide up so you can cup his cheeks. Something he often does to you, something he's not really on the receiving end of most of the time. Something he's could get used to when he feels the gentle back and forth swipe of your thumbs over his cheeks.

"Technically," he mumbles into your palm after pressing a soft kiss on it, "that was two questions."

You roll your eyes. He laughs when you flick his forehead. Swats your hands away from his face with nothing but adoration in his touch. Ends up grabbing your wrists and cradling them against his chest.

"But, to answer both of them," he murmurs just before leaning up to steal a kiss from you.

"I sure hope not."

taglist: @clarkscolumn @thceseus @clarknsun @sparklingsin @notebookmixup @frivolousimagination @qardasngan @aerixae @snoopysupe @pinksplace

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

ash ❤️‍🔥