finally finished watching the fall guy and while a lot of it was not for me personally, the concept of putting these characters into a dimension 20: never stop blowing up scenario, where these movie makers suddenly get sucked into an action movie world jumanji-style and trapped in the bodies of various action movie archetype characters and have to get to the end of the movie to get back to the real world, has been rotating in my brain for three entire days
anyway colt seavers waking up as a femme fatale cat burglar send tweet
trying to get myself to write for any of my various gosverse fanfics that have been living rent-free in my brain for MONTHS at this point but what if instead i just. come up with more ideas and write them never. what if that
Artificial night had settled over the Hail Mary hours ago and now most of the ship was dark, lit only by dim strips of amber lighting along the floor and the soft glow of monitors inside the lab. Ryland sat alone at one of the consoles pretending very hard to work. Numbers blurred together on the screen while his brain remained catastrophically occupied with thoughts it absolutely should not be having.
Specifically: you. Again.
Nights were the worst. That was when his thoughts stopped listening to reason and took over completely. He rubbed tiredly at his face.
“Jesus Christ, Grace,” he muttered under his breath.
This was getting embarrassing, because it wasn’t even anything dramatic. You hadn’t kissed him. Hadn’t flirted intentionally. Hadn’t done anything except exist near him in ways his stupid brain apparently found devastating. The problem was the little things.
The way you leaned against doorframes while talking to him late at night. The way your voice softened when you got tired. The absentminded touches to his arm during conversations like physical affection with him was the most natural thing in the world. The way you sometimes looked at him.
Ryland was doomed. And he knew it.
He stared blankly at the monitor again, trying to focus on astrophage data instead of wondering what it would feel like if you fell asleep against his chest. Your body would be warm, your breathing slow and steady. Maybe he'd be able to feel your heartbeat. A strange feeling twisted deep inside him.
Bad. Terrible. Inappropriate.
His stomach twisted. Because the worst part? Sometimes he thought you trusted him enough that if he reached for you… you might actually let him. That thought alone made guilt crawl up his spine immediately. He shouldn't have been thinking things like that.
You were his friend and his partner. The only other human being for light years. Trapped with him inside this metal can in the middle of nowhere. You were supposed to be safe with him. And meanwhile Ryland was over here imagining the warmth of your hands against his skin at two in the morning like a complete disaster.
He exhaled sharply. Nope. Absolutely not.
“Focus, Grace. Focus.”
The lab doors slid open quietly behind him. And Ryland nearly launched himself out of his chair. You blinked at him sleepily, your hair a mess. You couldn't have been awake for more than a few minutes.
“Okay. That reaction was... weird.” You smiled faintly.
“Oh my God,” Ryland breathed, hand over his chest. “You can’t sneak up on people in space.”
“Relax, Grace. It's not a Xenomorph or anything.” A mischievous grin flashed across your face. You were wearing one of those oversized sweaters that always made Ryland’s brain stop functioning correctly.
Sometimes he wondered if you wore them on purpose because some subconscious part of you knew exactly what they did to him.
“You okay?” you asked softly.
“Fantastic,” he lied instantly.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re here alone talking to a monitor at two in the morning. It sounded a little emotional for working.”
Ryland looked away immediately. If he ignored that comment hard enough, maybe you'd let it go. You wandered closer anyway, carrying one of the ship’s terrible coffee pouches in your hand before settling beside him at the console.
Too close. Your shoulder brushed his lightly. Ryland forgot every language he’d ever spoken. How this kept happening, he had absolutely no idea.
“So,” you murmured sleepily, glancing at the screen, “are we saving humanity or having a breakdown tonight?”
“Can we do both?”
“Of course. Both sound pretty tempting.” A soft laugh escaped you and there it was again.
That warm ache in his chest. That horrible, wonderful feeling that filled him as if he were a teenager all over again. You smelled faintly like soap and recycled ship air and something entirely, uniquely you. Ryland became painfully aware of every inch separating your bodies. His pulse stumbled hard.
You turned your head toward him at the exact wrong moment, suddenly very close now in the dim light. And you had to notice something was wrong with him. You were smart. Observant.
“Ryland?”
Oh no. Bad. Very bad.
You were looking at him with sleepy concern, completely unaware of the catastrophic spiral happening in his head. He could kiss you right now. The thought arrived so suddenly it almost knocked the air out of him. Now. And the truly horrifying part? He thought maybe you’d let him. He could practically see it playing out in his imagination already...
Ryland pulled back so quickly that his chair scraped sharply against the floor. You blinked in surprise.
“Did I do something?”
God. Immediately guilt flooded him so hard it made his stomach hurt.
“No.” he said too fast. “No, you didn’t do anything.”
Your expression softened with confusion. “Then why are you looking at me like I caught you committing a crime?”
Because it felt like one. Because every soft thing he wanted from you felt dangerous in the small loneliness of space. Because sometimes at night Ryland imagined touching you with such terrifying tenderness it made him feel guilty afterward. Because he imagined you, the two of you, in situations that left him breathless… He laughed weakly under his breath, scrubbing both hands over his face.
“Do you ever have thoughts so embarrassing your brain should legally apologize to you?”
“Sometimes,” you answered, and somehow he could tell you were telling the truth.
“That’s reassuring.”
You studied him quietly for another moment. “Ryland...” The softness in your voice nearly killed him instantly. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”
He looked at you then. At your tired eyes, your concern. How instinctively kind you always were with him. And suddenly the guilt became almost unbearable because God… He wanted too much. Not just kissing you. Everything.
He wanted sleepy mornings with you. Wanted your legs tangled together under blankets. Wanted to hear you laugh beside him for the rest of his life. He was always wanting more, but every day he pretended that friendship was enough. It wasn't. He was greedy for everything that had anything to do with you.
Ryland swallowed hard. “You’re gonna make me insane,” he admitted quietly before he could stop himself.
Your breath caught slightly and the room went still. Even the ship seemed quieter around you. As if everything had paused for a few heartbeats.
“Ryland…” you whispered carefully.
He immediately panicked. “Okay, wow, ignore that. That sounded significantly more emotionally revealing than intended.”
But you were still looking softly at him. And Ryland suddenly realized with absolute terror… Maybe he wasn’t the only one thinking dangerous thoughts in the dark.
Ryland wished desperately that he could take the words back. Not because they weren’t true. That was the problem - they were too true.
The lab suddenly felt unbearably small around both of you, dim monitor light reflecting softly across your face while you kept looking at him like you were trying to understand something fragile.
“Ryland…” you repeated his name quietly.
His pulse was so loud he was convinced the entire ship could hear it.
“Nope,” he said quickly, standing too fast again. “Actually, let’s all collectively pretend I didn’t say that.”
You blinked up at him from the chair, surprised. “Why?”
“Because.” He gestured vaguely with both hands. “Words are dangerous.”
A tiny confused smile pulled at your mouth. “That sounded dramatic.”
“I’m in space. I’m allowed one dramatic moment.”
Usually the jokes helped him recover but tonight they weren’t working. Because you were still watching him. Still soft and patient. And now there was something else in your expression too. Something careful. Ryland’s stomach flipped painfully.
“Oh no,” he muttered, “You’re thinking.”
You blinked. “You say that like it’s threatening.”
“It is when you look at me like that.”
Your brows pulled together slightly. “Like what?”
Like you finally saw him too. Like maybe the thing ruining his sleep for weeks wasn’t one-sided after all. Ryland laughed nervously under his breath and looked away before you could read too much from his face.
As long as it existed only inside his own head, Ryland could control it. But if it had taken root in yours too? If you were thinking about it as well?
“This is a terrible idea,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed hard. “You and me.”
Silence. Your voice came quieter this time. “Why?”
The question genuinely startled him. Ryland looked back at you in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
He stared at you for a second like he couldn’t comprehend the answer wasn’t obvious. “Because we’re trapped alone together in space,” he said carefully. “Because emotions get weird in isolation. Because if this goes badly, we still have to save humanity afterward.”
You listened quietly. Ryland rubbed exhaustedly at the back of his neck.
“And because I…” He exhaled shakily. “I don’t trust myself around you anymore.”
You took a deep breath. The honesty in his voice seemed to hit you harder than anything else. “What does that mean?” you asked gently.
Oh God. He really should stop answering questions honestly around you. But it was too late and you were close. And Ryland was tired of carrying this alone. The universe was conspiring against him.
“It means,” he admitted quietly, “sometimes you stand too close to me and I forget how to think.”
The room fell still again. Ryland watched the exact second your expression softened completely. Not uncomfortable or frightened. Just warm. And that look again. The one that seemed to peer straight into his soul.
“You know,” you murmured after a moment, “you could’ve told me.”
His laugh came out weak. “Yeah, because that conversation would’ve gone smoothly.”
“You think I’d make fun of you?”
“No.” He shook his head immediately. “That’s the problem.”
You looked at him carefully then. “So what is the problem?”
Ryland opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because the real answer was terrifyingly simple: If you wanted him back even a little, Ryland didn’t think he’d survive it gracefully.
And judging by the way you were looking at him right now, soft-eyed and nervous and slowly standing from your chair, he was beginning to think that might actually happen.
You stepped closer carefully. Giving him room to move away. He didn’t. He couldn’t. And he didn’t want to.
“Ryland,” you whispered, “look at me.”
Reluctantly, he did. And God, that was worse. Because now you were standing right in front of him in the low golden light, close enough that he could feel your warmth again. Close enough that he noticed your breathing hitch slightly too. Not just his. Yours. Something in his chest nearly stopped.
“You’re not the only one thinking dangerous thoughts,” you admitted softly.
Ryland stared at you. Like his brain had completely lost the ability to process language. “W-What?”
A nervous little laugh escaped you. “That bad, huh?”
“You…” He stopped, completely overwhelmed for a second. “You can’t just say things like that to me.”
Your smile turned shy around the edges. “Why not?”
Because he was already hanging on by threads. Because every lonely, guilty little fantasy he’d been trying to bury suddenly felt horribly possible now. Ryland looked at your mouth for one disastrous second too long. You noticed. And when you stepped just slightly closer again, his entire body went still.
“Tell me to stop,” you whispered.
Oh, he was doomed. Completely. Because instead of stepping away, Ryland’s hand lifted carefully toward your face like he physically couldn’t help himself anymore. His fingers brushed your cheek gently. Almost reverently. And the expression on his face right then - soft, stunned, wanting - looked exactly like a man realizing he’d crossed the line a long time ago and never actually wanted to go back.
Your eyes fluttered slightly at his touch. That tiny reaction nearly destroyed what remained of Ryland’s self-control. Damn, he should stop. He knew he should stop. Every rational part of his brain was still screaming warnings at him: bad idea, complicated, dangerous, mission-threatening. But none of those thoughts survived very long when you leaned into his hand so instinctively.
Like you trusted him there. Like you wanted him there. Ryland’s breath left him shakily. He wanted so badly to feel wanted by you.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
Your expression softened immediately. Something achingly tender flickered across your face then, because suddenly you understood: he’d been fighting this alone for a while. Maybe a long while.
You lifted your hand carefully, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist where it rested against your cheek.
“You’ve been scared of this,” you realized quietly.
Ryland laughed weakly under his breath. “Scared feels too calm a word.”
The honesty of it made your chest ache. Outside the tiny windows of the Hail Mary, stars stretched endlessly through the dark. Cold observers of whatever was happening between the two of you. But inside this tiny lab, everything suddenly felt unbearably close.
Ryland looked at you like a man standing too near the edge of something life-changing. And maybe heartbreaking too.
“I kept trying to convince myself it was isolation,” he admitted. “Or stress. Or shared trauma. Or the fact that you're literally the only person my brain sees anymore.”
A tiny smile touched your mouth. “And?”
His thumb brushed lightly beneath your cheekbone. “And then you'd laugh at something stupid I said and ruin the whole theory.”
You laughed quietly at that, and the fondness that crossed Ryland’s face afterward was so open it almost hurt. There it was. The thing he’d been trying to hide. Not just attraction. Adoration. The kind that sneaks up slowly until suddenly someone's existence starts feeling woven into every part of your day.
Your voice came softer now too. “You really thought you were alone in this?”
Ryland hesitated, then gave a tiny helpless nod. Your heart nearly broke for him. You stepped closer again until barely any space remained between you at all. And Ryland let you. God, he let you. Like he was finally too tired to keep resisting something he wanted this badly.
“You know what’s funny?” you whispered.
His eyes flicked nervously between yours. “What?”
“I thought you were avoiding me because I made you uncomfortable.”
Ryland looked horrified instantly. “What? No.”
“You kept pulling away. And I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”
“Because I was trying very hard not to kiss you constantly.”
“Oh.”
His face flushed immediately afterward. “Oh my God, I said that out loud too.”
A helpless laugh escaped you. Ryland looked seconds away from combusting.
“This is awful,” he muttered, closing his eyes “I had dignity once.”
“You’re very cute when you spiral.”
He looked at you. “Cute?”
You smiled. And then you kissed him. Not dramatically or rushed. Just gentle. A soft press of your lips against his that completely erased every thought left in Grace’s head. He froze instantly. Not because he didn’t want it. Because he wanted it so badly he almost couldn’t process it happening.
Your hand slid lightly into his curls and that finally broke him. Ryland kissed you back with a quiet sound against your mouth that felt dangerously close to relief. Weeks of restrained wanting collapsed all at once. His hand moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer carefully but urgently at the same time, like he couldn’t quite believe he was finally allowed to have this. Allowed to have you. In the way he'd been longing for.
The kiss deepened slowly, warm and aching and impossibly tender in the dim lab light. And underneath everything else, underneath the desire and nervousness and loneliness, there was wonder. Pure stunned wonder. Because Ryland had spent so long feeling guilty for wanting this that he never prepared himself for the possibility that you might want it too.
When you finally pulled back slightly, his forehead dropped against yours immediately. Breathing uneven. Still holding you like letting go would physically hurt.
“You realize,” he whispered shakily, “this is probably going to make me insufferably in love with you now.”
Your laugh brushed warmly against his lips. “Probably?”
Ryland closed his eyes briefly. “Okay. Catastrophically.”
You smiled against his lips, still close enough that Ryland could feel every small breath you took. And the terrifying thing? He already knew he’d never recover from this.
His arms tightened slightly around your waist as if his body had decided for him that this was where you belonged now. Which was dangerous. But when you brushed your thumb gently along his cheek, Ryland melted instantly anyway.
“This is so unfair,” he whispered softly.
You blinked up at him. “What is?”
“You being real.”
A laugh escaped you quietly. At that moment, he thought you looked even more beautiful.
“I’m serious,” he murmured, forehead still resting against yours. “You can’t spend weeks looking at me like that and then kiss me. My nervous system isn’t built for it. I’m far too weak.”
“You seemed pretty eager.”
“I have never been calm a single day in my life.”
“That’s true.”
Ryland let out a soft groan of betrayal while you smiled warmly at him. The ship hummed quietly around you. Dim lights. Soft shadows. Endless stars outside. And somehow, despite floating alone through space at the end of the universe, Ryland had never felt less alone in his life.
The realization hit him suddenly enough to steal his breath for a second. Because this wasn’t just attraction anymore. It hadn’t been for a while. You noticed the shift in his expression immediately.
“What?” you asked softly.
Ryland hesitated. Then laughed quietly under his breath like he couldn’t believe himself. “I’m in so much trouble.”
Your hand slid gently into his curls again. “Why?”
He looked at you for a long moment before answering honestly. “Because I think if you asked me for literally anything right now, I’d do it.”
The tenderness in his voice made your chest ache. You brushed your nose lightly against his. “That sounds serious.”
“It is serious.”
His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth again before returning to your eyes. “You kissed me and my brain immediately started planning emotional permanence.”
You laughed softly, warm and breathless. Ryland looked at you like hearing that sound might genuinely keep him alive. God, he was gone. And maybe the most dangerous thing was that he was starting to realize he didn’t mind anymore. Because for the first time in a long time, wanting someone didn’t feel guilty. It felt safe.
You squeezed his hand gently. Ryland looked down at your joined fingers for a second before speaking more quietly.
“You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“I think this ruined friendship for me forever.”
Your smile softened. “Ruined?”
“Yeah.”
He looked back at you, fondness written all over his face now. “Because now every time you touch me, my entire soul leaves my body a little.”
You leaned closer, smiling helplessly. “That sounds dramatic.”
“I’m in love with you,” he said immediately. “Everything is dramatic now.”
Silence. A stunned one. Ryland froze the exact second the words left his mouth. His eyes widened behind his glasses. The realization crashed straight into his heart.
“Oh no.” Your heart nearly stopped. Ryland looked horrified with himself. “That was supposed to stay inside my head significantly longer.”
And somehow, impossibly, that was the moment you kissed him again. And he stayed there. Maybe this feeling was reckless, irrational, and completely opposed to everything logical. But he wanted to hold on to it. And he wouldn't let anything tear you out of his arms.
you know i've seen a few gosverse family aus where ken is there as like the weird cousin or smth but have we considered ken being one of the other gosboy's childhood toys
obviously if we're going coltlandgentry bros (my fav) then their/court's hyper-macho dad would probably have gotten rid of it in some deeply messed up way bc he's the worst and how dare someone give his sons dolls and how dare they like them but does this not make sense for a ken who never felt like he was #kenough. a ken who perhaps never had the chance to be cared about by his humans. a ken who for a while thinks that the patriarchy is the way for him and the other kens to finally feel valued and respected
Biblically accurate Ryland Grace from Ryan Gosling himself.
[VD: A Project Hail Mary animatic titled "We ask the Project Hail Mary crew what they would take on a trip to space". The art is toned in purple, yellow, and orange. The characters answer with audio from interviews with the movie actors as microphones are held towards them.
Grace, sweating and laughing sheepishly: "Well, I wouldn't go to space... Just like never, I would run."
Ilyukhina, smiling: "A picture of my family."
Dubois smiles and stands with Yao, who nods seriously: "Nerds Gummy Clusters."
Grace, smiling nervously: "Why do I have to?"
Stratt: "My phone."
Grace: "Can I pick three? (He counts off) Coffee, donuts, and then, like, some choose-your-adventure novels so I can get a few multiple reads out of them. (He holds up his hands defensively) But I don't want to go. Just to be clear."
(Hands appear to drag him away, and Grace looks and sounds mildly panicked.) "Why are you sending me--?" End VD] Cred: @nebulations
Wingman-Classroom. ( Ryland Grace x Teacher!Reader Oneshot. )
Title: Wingman-Classroom.
Pairing: Implied - Ryland Grace x Teacher!Reader. ( Gender neutral. )
Rating: K. ( FLUFFY )
Words: 3.3 K.
Summary: You've heard of a wingman. But... What is it called when your entire classroom conspires to get you to admit to your crush on a fellow teacher?
Ryland Grace Masterlist.
The bell hadn’t rung yet - that alone was cause for suspicion as Ryland came into his classroom with a minute or so to spare, hot cup of coffee in his hands. His blue eyes spot the twenty students of his 3rd period, already seated, facing forward, all of them with their hands folded and looking at him as his feet came to a slow pause about halfway into the room.
It wasn’t loud, nothing chaotic like flying balls of papers, not the usual pre-class energy he was used to, no students trying to finish up their homework or someone arguing about what the best mechanical pencil was.
Something in the air felt… organized.
Like they were just waiting for him.
Slowly, Ryland brought his cup of coffee down onto his desk after trailing into the room with a bit more care behind his steps. “Okay…” This was weird, “I’m going to go ahead and say it. I don’t like… this.” He gestured vaguely towards the entire class.
There was no laugh. There was no shift in movement. They just… looked at him. This is not good.
One student in the front - Marcus, who had never in his life ( at least that’s what Ryland assumed ) respected the concept of subtlety straightened up out of his seat like he was about to present at the science fair in a week.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grace.”
His blue eyes narrowed. That was… too polite for a usually mouthy 6th grader.
“Why does it feel like I’m being threatened?” Ryland muttered under his breath, going to reach for one of the dry erase makers like it was going to offer him some sort of protection.
“It’s not a threat!” Another student - Emma - said sweetly from the other side of the classroom. “It’s a presentation!”
Ryland paused as he clicked the eraser lid open and shut, eyebrows furrowing at that announcement. Slowly… He turned on his heel to face the class again, “A what?”
“A presentation,” Marcus repeated, coming to stand at the front of the class with entirely too much confidence. “We’ve been conducting an ongoing observational study.”
Ryland looked at the kid, eyes squinting in suspicion. “On… what subject?”
Instead, someone was already at the board - when did they even get there? - dramatically drawing down a large piece of paper that had been taped up in advance. It crumbled to the ground with theatrical flair to reveal…
TOP 10 SUSPICIOUS MOMENTS.
There were bullet points. There were subpoints. There were arrows. There were color-coded annotations!! Ryland completely stopped all movement, his lenses flaring a bit as he stared at the board.
“No.” He said immediately, “Nope, absolutely not. We are not doing---” He gestured wildly at the board, “Whatever this is!”
“Too late!” Someone called from the back left. Ryland couldn’t see their face as he looked back at the board. “We already made charts.”
“Of course you did.” He whispered, staring at the board like it had personally betrayed him.
Marcus cleared his throat dramatically. “If you’ll direct your attention to item number one-”
“I will not,” Ryland said, pointing at the brunette boy, “I will not direct my attention anywhere.” He sighed, “This is not the curriculum.”
“Actually,” Another one of his students chimed in, raising their hand without waiting to be called on, “It is data analysis, which is a part of this semester's curriculum.”
Ryland’s mouth popped open. “I… hate that you’re right about that…”
“Thank you,” Marcus beamed at his fellow student who helped justify. “Now, onto number one.”
1. Said ‘uh’ approximately ten times when they visited the class.
“We are not naming names!” Ryland’s head snapped up.
“We don’t have to, Dr. Grace!” Someone said immediately. “Context clues.”
There was a chatter of agreement that swelled through the room. Marcus continued reading from the board. “Uh - hi - uh -we’re - -uh -doing - uh - science.”
“First of all,” Ryland pointed at the quote, “That is not a verified transcription.”
“We counted!” A student interrupted his denial. “It was actually fourteen.”
Ryland got quiet and looked out at the crowd of his students, face almost deadpan. “You counted my filler words?”
“Yes.” That was unanimous.
“During class.”
“Yes.”
“Instead of learning?”
“It was learning!” The class all chatted with agreement.
“HOW?!”
“Data collection.”
Ryland opened his mouth to argue but… There was none. “I guess I walked right into that one.”
Marcus tapped the board with a marker, checking off next to the spot that said:
Conclusion: Severe cognitive disruption.
Ryland stared at the words and sputtered, half impressed by the phrasing used and half embarrassed that it was that noticeable. “Or, it’s just normal human speech variability!!”
“Crush-related.” Marcus said, writing it down under the conclusion section.
“Don’t annotate my personality.” Ryland said weakly, looking at the word ‘crush’ a bit too long. All twenty of them ignored his small plea, continuing onwards with the next piece of evidence, as if it was the strongest of the bunch. They all leaned in harmoniously.
2. Declared study hall after they waved at him.
Ryland straightened up immediately at that, ready to refute it in any way he could. “That was a teacher’s decision!”
“You were staring out the door.” Someone said.
“Pft… I was… Thinking…” He pressed his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushed them up.
“You watched them walk away.” The same student said. Oh god, it’s finally happening. He was bartering with his students.
“I was being observant of my surroundings!”
“You said, ‘Y’know what? You can… study hall’, in a weird voice.”
“That is my totally normal voice.”
“It was not!”
Ryland flailed his arms non-sensically. “Voices can shift depending on airflow, fatigue---”
“Emotionally.” Marcus added that to the board in parentheses.
“That is not a scientific category!”
“It is now.” Marcus declared like he was the present, students nodding their heads in agreement.
Ryland sharply exhaled through his nose before bringing in an even more painful breath as he groaned under his breath, “I’m being peer-reviewed by chaos.”
3. Tried to explain gravity and forgot the word ‘gravity’.
The energy in the room shifted, there were more hoots and hollers as each piece of evidence was uncovered. Ryland felt heat against his cheeks as a laugh boomed from the class.
“I did not forget gravity!”
“You literally said ‘the force that does the thing.’” A student in the second row shot back.
“That is a placeholder description and more than welcome in the scientific community!”
“Aren’t you a Doctor?”
“Of Molecular Biology! That doesn’t mean I can’t have a moment.” Ryland said defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“A moment where you forgot gravity.” Marcus said, nodding his head and underlining it twice, just to add salt to the wound.
Ryland pointed at the board, “You cannot reduce my entire career to one poorly phrased sentence.”
“We already did.”
4. Smiled at nothing for eight seconds straight after reading a text on his phone ( presumably from them )
Ryland read the words carefully, a tiny blister of embarrassment hitting his chest as he whispered carefully, “Define ‘nothing’.”
“Your phone.” Someone replied in confidence.
“I was reading.”
“You weren’t even typing---”
“I can read without typing, it’s not always about the response!!”
“You were smiling.”
Ryland opened his mouth before closing it slowly in contemplation. “Smiling is not illegal. I mean, maybe in some countries but not---”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Marcus finally agreed and it made Ryland breath a sign of relief. That barely lasted. “But it is suspicious.”
“Not suspicious!” He snipped.
“Very suspicious.”
Ryland pressed his hands flat onto the oak of his desk and leaned on it, towards Marcus. “You’re weaponizing human behavior."
“Correct.” The boy said in response, a smile spread across his face.
5. Fixed his hair using the reflection from a lab beaker.
There is an audible ‘oooohhhhh’ from the entire class as Ryland stiffened up, freezing on the spot and but still letting his mouth fall open. “You did not see that, there’s no way---”
“Oh, we saw it!” A girl pipped in.
“You tilted it.” Another one added, demonstrating with an imaginary beaker in her hands as Ryland glanced over the rims of his glasses towards her.
“Pft, optical alignment.”
“You were making sure you looked good!”
“I was not grooming myself!” Ryland felt a vicious blush on the tips of his ears.
“Pre-interaction grooming.” Marcus had erased the previously put words and placed those in their place. Ryland looked at them, mortified.
6. Used them as an example three times in one lesson.
“That is called good and interactive learning!” The teacher was quick to quip.
“Why are they in every problem?”
“Simple,” He sat himself on the edge of his desk and re-crossed his arms. “Names make scenarios relatable.”
“Why don’t you use another teacher’s name?”
There was a moment of hesitance as he… Did not have a good answer to that. “I… do…” He murmured, rubbing the back of his head with one of his hands.
“Name one!”
“……… New….ton….”
“That’s not a teacher!”
“Maybe not at this school.”
Silence. The entire class was staring at him. “I’m losing this, aren't I?” Ryland admitted quietly.
“Yes,” Marcus said with some semblance of… kindness? Ryland squinted at him as the kid added. “You are.”
7. Got defensive when asked if he liked them.
“I did not get defensive.” He said… defensively.
“You knocked over a vial with solution in it.”
“That was totally unrelated!”
“You didn't clean it up!”
“I was trying to make a point!” What point? Ryland had no idea but the words fell from his mouth like they made sense.
“You said to us, ‘that’s inappropriate,’ and then walked into your desk.”
“The desk… moved.”
“It did not!”
Ryland lifted his hand, shifting his glasses a bit so he could drag it down his face dramatically. “This is deeply unfair.”
8. Wore a nicer shirt the day they observed class.
Finally! Something he had a good excuse for! “That is called professionalism, but I wouldn’t expect you guys to know about that.”
“We noticed you ironed it!”
“I… Iron sometimes….”
“We thought you didn't own an iron!!”
That was a correct statement. Ryland had asked the art teacher if he could borrow hers for a day.
“I… iron… sometimes. One time… Maybe.”
“When they were here?”
“…Yes…”
Marcus nodded, pressing the back end of the marker to his cheek before jotting something down on the board quickly, as if that sealed the deal for all of them.
9. Paused mid-lesson when he saw them in the hallway.
“Hey, there are distractions in a dynamic learning environment!”
“You stopped talking all together.”
“I was using the time to… think.” Ryland offered that as he looked at them from over the rims of his glasses.
“You forgot what we were doing!”
“I did not--- Okay…” Ryland shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe… briefly…”
“We had to remind you what the lesson was for the day.”
“So, you participated in your own education? I see no problem.” Ryland said, trying to keep calm as the last bullet point was coming.
“That’s not what that was, and you know it, Mr. Grace!”
“And finally!” Marcus said, turning dramatically to the board.
10. Called them by their first name.
Silence, heavy and hard, hit the room as they all stared at the words. Ryland couldn't bring himself to move as he looked at the statement. The… Fact out in the open made him shifted out of unease. There are twenty pairs of eyes on him as he coughed into his hand.
“That was… An accident.”
“A catastrophic accident.” Someone corrected him, just to make matters worse.
“One we will never forget!”
Ryland closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in. “I’d really like to transfer schools now.”
“So, to conclude our findings!” Marcus’ voice was drawn tight with excitement, having switched from a black marker to a red one. Ryland looked at it as it came crashing onto the board, circling the bolded letters and making it more noticeable.
MR. GRACE HAS A CRUSH.
The entire class nodded as if they rehearsed this moment. They were all so certain, he could see the confidence beaming from their expressions. This was… scientifically unbearable.
Slowly, the scientist rose from his desk and trailed around to get a better look at the lettering. Had he been… That… Oblivious to the fact that his twelve year old students noticed?
Ryland opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could, the door creaked open as you stepped into the moment. Right inside the doorway, you freeze. The entire room seemed like it was holding its breath, and every eye that had been on Ryland was now on you, including those of the teacher. There’s something unreadable in his gaze though as you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Almost… Guilt?
Everyone was staring; Marcus at the front of the classroom, looking a bit too smug, the whispering kids in the corner, wide-eyed at you, and even the more quiet and reserved kids that usually never spoke, even in your class room. It was like an electric current ran across the room.
The board was looming at the very tip of the classroom, but for a heartbeat as you lock eyes with him, it’s almost irrelevant. The entire class seems to lean forward in their desks ever so slightly, like spectators in a tense duel.
“Hey, uh…” You started softly, smiling at the group of students as you trailed in, “I let you borrow my notes on uhm…” Your gaze flickered to the board. “Oh…”
You looked. You read, much to Ryland’s horror.
The title.
The annotations, sprawling and choppy in 12 year old hand writing. The very, VERY large and undeniable conclusion, circled in red.
MR. GRACE HAS A CRUSH.
You glance back at your co-worker, confusion written all over your face as he felt his shoulders tense, hands flexing at his sides as a blush crept up his neck. He felt like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What uhm… What’s going on here, guys?” You asked cautiously to the class, letting your eyes wander over the group again, meeting each of their eyes for a fraction too long.You were expectant in only the way a parent or teacher could be, resting your hands on your hips as no one was willing to speak. For half a second, that bled into at least a minute, the silence stretched so tightly you could cut it with a ruler.
“WE MADE A CHART.” Someone finally blurted out from the pressure, voice cracking somewhere between panic and pride.
Ryland made a strange noise, strangled and straight from the back of his throat, “It’s not a real chart--”
“It’s evidence based!” Marcus said proudly.
“It is not-” Ryland sputtered, his expression torn between agony and embarrassment and it was hard not to stare at him with wide eyes. You take a careful step forward, the room’s attention still on every miniscule motion you and their teacher were making. They were observing.
Tightly, you lips pressed together to suppress a small smile as you looked over the words and charts again. “Is this.. About me?”
Ryland was caught mid-breath, almost choking on the straight up air as he shook his head viciously. “N-no!”
At the same exact time, there was a chime from the class behind you.
“Yes!”
You blinked, a slow nod coming to the surface at the dual sides of this conversation. Ryland glanced at his students, almost feeling a bit betrayed but more overwhelmingly self-conscious than anything else. They stared back at him, all knowing. Denying it was just going to make matters worse but he kept going as he spun on his heels towards you, unraveling in real time.
“This is not what it looks like.”
“It looks like a chart, Mr. Grace.” You said, amusement peaking behind your voice.
“It’s a very accurate chart!” Someone added.
“Backed by data.” Another offers.
Ryland is so red, he felt like he was going to burst as he now refused to make eye contact with you, “Ey, stop helping!” His hands were thrown into the air dramatically. A small laugh tumbles from your mouth, the entire class going silent again as they watched Ryland stare at you during the action. More data!!
“Did you really forget the word gravity?” You just had to ask.
“Why is that what everyone wants to focus on?” He groaned.
“That’s a yes.” Someone speculated, the entire class roaring with a small giggle.
You smiled. This time, only for him as you turned to face the science teacher. Baited breath from the room. Ryland felt his shoulders stiffen, like he was suddenly remembering that he was… a teacher and had a reputation of sorts to uphold!
“I didn't forget,” He muttered quickly, pushing up his glasses once again, “I temporarily… misplaced it.”
“Emotionally!” Marcus added with a grin.
“Marcus!” Ryland’s voice was sharp, one corner of his pink lips twitching.
“Romantically!” Another voice chirped from the back.
“Okay, woah! Everyone stop talking!” Ryland could see the blush against your cheeks at that mention, another look of guilt washing over his face. You look away this time, looking back at the class. You were avoiding eye contact, great.
“For what it is worth,” You told the class with a gentle tone, Ryland hating to admit to himself that watching you shift into that teacher mode was… Incredibly attractive. “I think your data might be incredibly biased. Did you have a control while collecting for baseline comparison?"
They shook their heads. You tilt your head with a small sigh, nodding your head with a knowing grin spread across your face. “That’s what I thought!”
The kids began chattering amongst themselves at this derailment of their plans. You smiled, satisfied and grabbed the notebook from Ryland’s desk that you came over for in the first place.
“They’re not entirely wrong though, despite the bias.” You told Ryland with a small smile. He opened his mouth, hesitating and afraid to say something wrong. “Anyway, I need to get back to set up for my next class.” You waved the notebook at Ryland who stared at it mindlessly.
He could feel his throat tighten as he tried to decipher your words. “Yeah… Right. C.. Class.”
There is one more smile sent his way from the doorway of his classroom. Ryland looked at it with a tilt of his head. It said… Way more than either of you were willing to admit before you disappeared, the door closing softly behind you.
There is a wave of relief in the room, at least for Ryland as he felt he could breathe again.
But, the moment the door clicks shut, the class erupts. Not in any cheers, but in whispered plotting.
“Okay,” Marcus said, pointing to himself as the leader of this and rubbed his hands together like a villain in a heist movie, “Operation Get Grace-(Last Name) together is officially on.”
He can hear chatter about the whiteboard being utilized again, post-it notes are considered, someone had written his name and yours on the board with little hearts around them. But he was locked in place for a moment, still staring at the door.
“Who’s in charge of the charts?” A voice said.
“Who’s making sure they don’t mess it up this time?”
“What if they don’t actually like each other?” That was a counter-point that was quickly torn down.
“They totally do!” Marcus was confident, “They just need a little help!”
Ryaldn threw himself into his chair as he listened to the chatter, looking over at the door in hopes that maybe you’d come back and save him from this but unfortunately… He seemed to be caught in a class full of twelve-year olds engineering pure chaos.
Wingman-Classroom. ( Ryland Grace x Teacher!Reader Oneshot. )
Title: Wingman-Classroom.
Pairing: Implied - Ryland Grace x Teacher!Reader. ( Gender neutral. )
Rating: K. ( FLUFFY )
Words: 3.3 K.
Summary: You've heard of a wingman. But... What is it called when your entire classroom conspires to get you to admit to your crush on a fellow teacher?
Ryland Grace Masterlist.
The bell hadn’t rung yet - that alone was cause for suspicion as Ryland came into his classroom with a minute or so to spare, hot cup of coffee in his hands. His blue eyes spot the twenty students of his 3rd period, already seated, facing forward, all of them with their hands folded and looking at him as his feet came to a slow pause about halfway into the room.
It wasn’t loud, nothing chaotic like flying balls of papers, not the usual pre-class energy he was used to, no students trying to finish up their homework or someone arguing about what the best mechanical pencil was.
Something in the air felt… organized.
Like they were just waiting for him.
Slowly, Ryland brought his cup of coffee down onto his desk after trailing into the room with a bit more care behind his steps. “Okay…” This was weird, “I’m going to go ahead and say it. I don’t like… this.” He gestured vaguely towards the entire class.
There was no laugh. There was no shift in movement. They just… looked at him. This is not good.
One student in the front - Marcus, who had never in his life ( at least that’s what Ryland assumed ) respected the concept of subtlety straightened up out of his seat like he was about to present at the science fair in a week.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grace.”
His blue eyes narrowed. That was… too polite for a usually mouthy 6th grader.
“Why does it feel like I’m being threatened?” Ryland muttered under his breath, going to reach for one of the dry erase makers like it was going to offer him some sort of protection.
“It’s not a threat!” Another student - Emma - said sweetly from the other side of the classroom. “It’s a presentation!”
Ryland paused as he clicked the eraser lid open and shut, eyebrows furrowing at that announcement. Slowly… He turned on his heel to face the class again, “A what?”
“A presentation,” Marcus repeated, coming to stand at the front of the class with entirely too much confidence. “We’ve been conducting an ongoing observational study.”
Ryland looked at the kid, eyes squinting in suspicion. “On… what subject?”
Instead, someone was already at the board - when did they even get there? - dramatically drawing down a large piece of paper that had been taped up in advance. It crumbled to the ground with theatrical flair to reveal…
TOP 10 SUSPICIOUS MOMENTS.
There were bullet points. There were subpoints. There were arrows. There were color-coded annotations!! Ryland completely stopped all movement, his lenses flaring a bit as he stared at the board.
“No.” He said immediately, “Nope, absolutely not. We are not doing---” He gestured wildly at the board, “Whatever this is!”
“Too late!” Someone called from the back left. Ryland couldn’t see their face as he looked back at the board. “We already made charts.”
“Of course you did.” He whispered, staring at the board like it had personally betrayed him.
Marcus cleared his throat dramatically. “If you’ll direct your attention to item number one-”
“I will not,” Ryland said, pointing at the brunette boy, “I will not direct my attention anywhere.” He sighed, “This is not the curriculum.”
“Actually,” Another one of his students chimed in, raising their hand without waiting to be called on, “It is data analysis, which is a part of this semester's curriculum.”
Ryland’s mouth popped open. “I… hate that you’re right about that…”
“Thank you,” Marcus beamed at his fellow student who helped justify. “Now, onto number one.”
1. Said ‘uh’ approximately ten times when they visited the class.
“We are not naming names!” Ryland’s head snapped up.
“We don’t have to, Dr. Grace!” Someone said immediately. “Context clues.”
There was a chatter of agreement that swelled through the room. Marcus continued reading from the board. “Uh - hi - uh -we’re - -uh -doing - uh - science.”
“First of all,” Ryland pointed at the quote, “That is not a verified transcription.”
“We counted!” A student interrupted his denial. “It was actually fourteen.”
Ryland got quiet and looked out at the crowd of his students, face almost deadpan. “You counted my filler words?”
“Yes.” That was unanimous.
“During class.”
“Yes.”
“Instead of learning?”
“It was learning!” The class all chatted with agreement.
“HOW?!”
“Data collection.”
Ryland opened his mouth to argue but… There was none. “I guess I walked right into that one.”
Marcus tapped the board with a marker, checking off next to the spot that said:
Conclusion: Severe cognitive disruption.
Ryland stared at the words and sputtered, half impressed by the phrasing used and half embarrassed that it was that noticeable. “Or, it’s just normal human speech variability!!”
“Crush-related.” Marcus said, writing it down under the conclusion section.
“Don’t annotate my personality.” Ryland said weakly, looking at the word ‘crush’ a bit too long. All twenty of them ignored his small plea, continuing onwards with the next piece of evidence, as if it was the strongest of the bunch. They all leaned in harmoniously.
2. Declared study hall after they waved at him.
Ryland straightened up immediately at that, ready to refute it in any way he could. “That was a teacher’s decision!”
“You were staring out the door.” Someone said.
“Pft… I was… Thinking…” He pressed his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushed them up.
“You watched them walk away.” The same student said. Oh god, it’s finally happening. He was bartering with his students.
“I was being observant of my surroundings!”
“You said, ‘Y’know what? You can… study hall’, in a weird voice.”
“That is my totally normal voice.”
“It was not!”
Ryland flailed his arms non-sensically. “Voices can shift depending on airflow, fatigue---”
“Emotionally.” Marcus added that to the board in parentheses.
“That is not a scientific category!”
“It is now.” Marcus declared like he was the present, students nodding their heads in agreement.
Ryland sharply exhaled through his nose before bringing in an even more painful breath as he groaned under his breath, “I’m being peer-reviewed by chaos.”
3. Tried to explain gravity and forgot the word ‘gravity’.
The energy in the room shifted, there were more hoots and hollers as each piece of evidence was uncovered. Ryland felt heat against his cheeks as a laugh boomed from the class.
“I did not forget gravity!”
“You literally said ‘the force that does the thing.’” A student in the second row shot back.
“That is a placeholder description and more than welcome in the scientific community!”
“Aren’t you a Doctor?”
“Of Molecular Biology! That doesn’t mean I can’t have a moment.” Ryland said defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“A moment where you forgot gravity.” Marcus said, nodding his head and underlining it twice, just to add salt to the wound.
Ryland pointed at the board, “You cannot reduce my entire career to one poorly phrased sentence.”
“We already did.”
4. Smiled at nothing for eight seconds straight after reading a text on his phone ( presumably from them )
Ryland read the words carefully, a tiny blister of embarrassment hitting his chest as he whispered carefully, “Define ‘nothing’.”
“Your phone.” Someone replied in confidence.
“I was reading.”
“You weren’t even typing---”
“I can read without typing, it’s not always about the response!!”
“You were smiling.”
Ryland opened his mouth before closing it slowly in contemplation. “Smiling is not illegal. I mean, maybe in some countries but not---”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Marcus finally agreed and it made Ryland breath a sign of relief. That barely lasted. “But it is suspicious.”
“Not suspicious!” He snipped.
“Very suspicious.”
Ryland pressed his hands flat onto the oak of his desk and leaned on it, towards Marcus. “You’re weaponizing human behavior."
“Correct.” The boy said in response, a smile spread across his face.
5. Fixed his hair using the reflection from a lab beaker.
There is an audible ‘oooohhhhh’ from the entire class as Ryland stiffened up, freezing on the spot and but still letting his mouth fall open. “You did not see that, there’s no way---”
“Oh, we saw it!” A girl pipped in.
“You tilted it.” Another one added, demonstrating with an imaginary beaker in her hands as Ryland glanced over the rims of his glasses towards her.
“Pft, optical alignment.”
“You were making sure you looked good!”
“I was not grooming myself!” Ryland felt a vicious blush on the tips of his ears.
“Pre-interaction grooming.” Marcus had erased the previously put words and placed those in their place. Ryland looked at them, mortified.
6. Used them as an example three times in one lesson.
“That is called good and interactive learning!” The teacher was quick to quip.
“Why are they in every problem?”
“Simple,” He sat himself on the edge of his desk and re-crossed his arms. “Names make scenarios relatable.”
“Why don’t you use another teacher’s name?”
There was a moment of hesitance as he… Did not have a good answer to that. “I… do…” He murmured, rubbing the back of his head with one of his hands.
“Name one!”
“……… New….ton….”
“That’s not a teacher!”
“Maybe not at this school.”
Silence. The entire class was staring at him. “I’m losing this, aren't I?” Ryland admitted quietly.
“Yes,” Marcus said with some semblance of… kindness? Ryland squinted at him as the kid added. “You are.”
7. Got defensive when asked if he liked them.
“I did not get defensive.” He said… defensively.
“You knocked over a vial with solution in it.”
“That was totally unrelated!”
“You didn't clean it up!”
“I was trying to make a point!” What point? Ryland had no idea but the words fell from his mouth like they made sense.
“You said to us, ‘that’s inappropriate,’ and then walked into your desk.”
“The desk… moved.”
“It did not!”
Ryland lifted his hand, shifting his glasses a bit so he could drag it down his face dramatically. “This is deeply unfair.”
8. Wore a nicer shirt the day they observed class.
Finally! Something he had a good excuse for! “That is called professionalism, but I wouldn’t expect you guys to know about that.”
“We noticed you ironed it!”
“I… Iron sometimes….”
“We thought you didn't own an iron!!”
That was a correct statement. Ryland had asked the art teacher if he could borrow hers for a day.
“I… iron… sometimes. One time… Maybe.”
“When they were here?”
“…Yes…”
Marcus nodded, pressing the back end of the marker to his cheek before jotting something down on the board quickly, as if that sealed the deal for all of them.
9. Paused mid-lesson when he saw them in the hallway.
“Hey, there are distractions in a dynamic learning environment!”
“You stopped talking all together.”
“I was using the time to… think.” Ryland offered that as he looked at them from over the rims of his glasses.
“You forgot what we were doing!”
“I did not--- Okay…” Ryland shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe… briefly…”
“We had to remind you what the lesson was for the day.”
“So, you participated in your own education? I see no problem.” Ryland said, trying to keep calm as the last bullet point was coming.
“That’s not what that was, and you know it, Mr. Grace!”
“And finally!” Marcus said, turning dramatically to the board.
10. Called them by their first name.
Silence, heavy and hard, hit the room as they all stared at the words. Ryland couldn't bring himself to move as he looked at the statement. The… Fact out in the open made him shifted out of unease. There are twenty pairs of eyes on him as he coughed into his hand.
“That was… An accident.”
“A catastrophic accident.” Someone corrected him, just to make matters worse.
“One we will never forget!”
Ryland closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in. “I’d really like to transfer schools now.”
“So, to conclude our findings!” Marcus’ voice was drawn tight with excitement, having switched from a black marker to a red one. Ryland looked at it as it came crashing onto the board, circling the bolded letters and making it more noticeable.
MR. GRACE HAS A CRUSH.
The entire class nodded as if they rehearsed this moment. They were all so certain, he could see the confidence beaming from their expressions. This was… scientifically unbearable.
Slowly, the scientist rose from his desk and trailed around to get a better look at the lettering. Had he been… That… Oblivious to the fact that his twelve year old students noticed?
Ryland opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could, the door creaked open as you stepped into the moment. Right inside the doorway, you freeze. The entire room seemed like it was holding its breath, and every eye that had been on Ryland was now on you, including those of the teacher. There’s something unreadable in his gaze though as you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Almost… Guilt?
Everyone was staring; Marcus at the front of the classroom, looking a bit too smug, the whispering kids in the corner, wide-eyed at you, and even the more quiet and reserved kids that usually never spoke, even in your class room. It was like an electric current ran across the room.
The board was looming at the very tip of the classroom, but for a heartbeat as you lock eyes with him, it’s almost irrelevant. The entire class seems to lean forward in their desks ever so slightly, like spectators in a tense duel.
“Hey, uh…” You started softly, smiling at the group of students as you trailed in, “I let you borrow my notes on uhm…” Your gaze flickered to the board. “Oh…”
You looked. You read, much to Ryland’s horror.
The title.
The annotations, sprawling and choppy in 12 year old hand writing. The very, VERY large and undeniable conclusion, circled in red.
MR. GRACE HAS A CRUSH.
You glance back at your co-worker, confusion written all over your face as he felt his shoulders tense, hands flexing at his sides as a blush crept up his neck. He felt like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What uhm… What’s going on here, guys?” You asked cautiously to the class, letting your eyes wander over the group again, meeting each of their eyes for a fraction too long.You were expectant in only the way a parent or teacher could be, resting your hands on your hips as no one was willing to speak. For half a second, that bled into at least a minute, the silence stretched so tightly you could cut it with a ruler.
“WE MADE A CHART.” Someone finally blurted out from the pressure, voice cracking somewhere between panic and pride.
Ryland made a strange noise, strangled and straight from the back of his throat, “It’s not a real chart--”
“It’s evidence based!” Marcus said proudly.
“It is not-” Ryland sputtered, his expression torn between agony and embarrassment and it was hard not to stare at him with wide eyes. You take a careful step forward, the room’s attention still on every miniscule motion you and their teacher were making. They were observing.
Tightly, you lips pressed together to suppress a small smile as you looked over the words and charts again. “Is this.. About me?”
Ryland was caught mid-breath, almost choking on the straight up air as he shook his head viciously. “N-no!”
At the same exact time, there was a chime from the class behind you.
“Yes!”
You blinked, a slow nod coming to the surface at the dual sides of this conversation. Ryland glanced at his students, almost feeling a bit betrayed but more overwhelmingly self-conscious than anything else. They stared back at him, all knowing. Denying it was just going to make matters worse but he kept going as he spun on his heels towards you, unraveling in real time.
“This is not what it looks like.”
“It looks like a chart, Mr. Grace.” You said, amusement peaking behind your voice.
“It’s a very accurate chart!” Someone added.
“Backed by data.” Another offers.
Ryland is so red, he felt like he was going to burst as he now refused to make eye contact with you, “Ey, stop helping!” His hands were thrown into the air dramatically. A small laugh tumbles from your mouth, the entire class going silent again as they watched Ryland stare at you during the action. More data!!
“Did you really forget the word gravity?” You just had to ask.
“Why is that what everyone wants to focus on?” He groaned.
“That’s a yes.” Someone speculated, the entire class roaring with a small giggle.
You smiled. This time, only for him as you turned to face the science teacher. Baited breath from the room. Ryland felt his shoulders stiffen, like he was suddenly remembering that he was… a teacher and had a reputation of sorts to uphold!
“I didn't forget,” He muttered quickly, pushing up his glasses once again, “I temporarily… misplaced it.”
“Emotionally!” Marcus added with a grin.
“Marcus!” Ryland’s voice was sharp, one corner of his pink lips twitching.
“Romantically!” Another voice chirped from the back.
“Okay, woah! Everyone stop talking!” Ryland could see the blush against your cheeks at that mention, another look of guilt washing over his face. You look away this time, looking back at the class. You were avoiding eye contact, great.
“For what it is worth,” You told the class with a gentle tone, Ryland hating to admit to himself that watching you shift into that teacher mode was… Incredibly attractive. “I think your data might be incredibly biased. Did you have a control while collecting for baseline comparison?"
They shook their heads. You tilt your head with a small sigh, nodding your head with a knowing grin spread across your face. “That’s what I thought!”
The kids began chattering amongst themselves at this derailment of their plans. You smiled, satisfied and grabbed the notebook from Ryland’s desk that you came over for in the first place.
“They’re not entirely wrong though, despite the bias.” You told Ryland with a small smile. He opened his mouth, hesitating and afraid to say something wrong. “Anyway, I need to get back to set up for my next class.” You waved the notebook at Ryland who stared at it mindlessly.
He could feel his throat tighten as he tried to decipher your words. “Yeah… Right. C.. Class.”
There is one more smile sent his way from the doorway of his classroom. Ryland looked at it with a tilt of his head. It said… Way more than either of you were willing to admit before you disappeared, the door closing softly behind you.
There is a wave of relief in the room, at least for Ryland as he felt he could breathe again.
But, the moment the door clicks shut, the class erupts. Not in any cheers, but in whispered plotting.
“Okay,” Marcus said, pointing to himself as the leader of this and rubbed his hands together like a villain in a heist movie, “Operation Get Grace-(Last Name) together is officially on.”
He can hear chatter about the whiteboard being utilized again, post-it notes are considered, someone had written his name and yours on the board with little hearts around them. But he was locked in place for a moment, still staring at the door.
“Who’s in charge of the charts?” A voice said.
“Who’s making sure they don’t mess it up this time?”
“What if they don’t actually like each other?” That was a counter-point that was quickly torn down.
“They totally do!” Marcus was confident, “They just need a little help!”
Ryaldn threw himself into his chair as he listened to the chatter, looking over at the door in hopes that maybe you’d come back and save him from this but unfortunately… He seemed to be caught in a class full of twelve-year olds engineering pure chaos.
