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I feel like Ryland would be SUCH a yapper when it comes to things he's interested in 🥹 if you're interested, would you mind writing Grace x reader who knows what his favorite things to talk about are, and intentionally asks about them because they know it makes him happy to infodump? <3
(or if you don't wanna write that, I'd love to hear what you think he'd enjoy talking about aside from the obvious stuff!!!)
RYLAND GRACE !!
with someone who validates his interests <3
A/N: I didn’t feel like writing a whole fic / oneshot so here’s this little drabble!! Tysm for requesting, I love seeing something in my inbox lol<33
-he’s guarded about his interests, considering they’re primarily in molecular biology, astrobiology, and biochem - people are argumentative about things he oftentimes considers facts or interesting theories that hold potential - and it’s difficult to converse with others on such a manner outside of a professional setting
-so for someone to inquire about science outside of work, it catches him off guard momentarily.
-“I read a little about the Drake equation, can you tell me about it? I know it involves the star formation rate or something, but I wanted to hear you explain it.”
-he’s genuinely dumbfounded for a moment because wdym you researched something just to ask him about it and because you enjoy the way he articulates concepts like this to you?? He’s given you minute work stories about what he’s working on, and he tends to rant about how another scientist has ‘no idea what the hell on earth or any other planet what he’s doing’ and how they could’ve simplified the process while addressing the concerns of-
-and then he’d stopped because he thought you’d get bored, but you were still listening.
-just like now, but he’s quick to snap to the present and explain. You multiply the rate of sunlike stars in the milky way by fractions of stars with planetary systems by life friendly planets and xyz…
-“it’s pretty rudimentary since Drake was a pioneer in astrobiology but it’s what established the field in the first place,” he shrugs before continuing on another tangent on the beginnings of the astrobiology community
-you don’t ask about his controversial paper until far later into your relationship- it’s an intimate matter and while he’s not embarrassed of it, he definitely doesn’t like to bring it up for fun.
-he mainly finds molecular biology and astrobiology intriguing, and while most consider astrobiology pure guesswork, he’s grateful you’re interested in it, in him
-he gesticulates a lot as he speaks, utilizing nearby objects to illustrate his point (akin to the film, using his planetary model within his classroom). suddenly that pen cap he’s fidgeting with illustrates the length of a fragment in a gel electrophoresis study
-he’s an excellent storyteller. sometimes he reminisces on hilarious crap from college (after you’ve laid your cards too, you’ve got dirt on each other now lmao), how he almost messed up in his genomics lab once or twice, a crazy party he went to, etc
-you acknowledge every aspect of his character, something others hardly do. he’s either the argumentative academic from his past, the unruly teacher, or an awkward witness to everything else. but you make him feel seen and heard, and he couldn’t be more grateful for that.
what’s more intimate than being understood?
I plan to do a post w/general ryland grace hc’s so stay updated :))
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colt does not mess around about skin-to-skin contact with your newborn.
the second that baby is born, his shirt is already off so he’s ready to hold her when it’s his turn. he doesn’t know much about babies but he does remember that skin contact is important to them so by god, is he gonna make sure he does a good job.
even after bringing her home, when he’s just carrying her around the house, 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t have a shirt on. his skin is naturally a furnace so she loves resting against his shoulder.
make fun of him all you want, those two are bonded and she never cries when you pass her into his arms because thanks to his hard work, she’s just as familiar with him as she is you.
You paused in front of the mirror, doing one last check over your appearance before heading out. After touching up your perfected lip combo, you nodded in satisfaction and turned to call out over your shoulder.
"Lars, hon, I'm leaving now!"
He gave a low hum of acknowledgement from another room before standing up, the sound of his lumbering footsteps telling you that he was coming to see you off. Although it's not often, when you do go out by yourself, he never fails to cease what he's doing and send you off. Likewise, he always awaits your return home, standing by the window and making sure you come back safe. Always so thoughtful.
You unlocked the door, just passing the threshold as he rounded the corner. With a shy smile, Lars's big strides quickly closed the gap between you two, until he was leaning against the doorframe about a foot away.
He wrung his hands together ever so slightly, staring out past your shoulder at the icy roads. "Drive safe," he mumbled. His gaze returned to you, the look of soft, tentative adoration still plastered on his face.
"Don't worry about me," you smiled. Without thinking too much of it, you leaned forward to place a small peck to his cheek as a bit of extra reassurance. As soon as you pulled back though, you realized some of your lip combo transferred onto his skin, leaving a perfect, classic imprint.
"Oh!" You couldn't suppress the surprise in your voice before it devolved into giggles. Instinctively, you reached out to wipe his cheek with your thumb. "Sorry hon, let me clean that off—"
Before you could finish your sentence, his huge hand quickly caught yours, catching you by surprise.
He averted his gaze, a small blush creeping up his neck as he stumbled over his words. "I— I don't mind." He paused, but you could tell he had more to say.
You tilted your head slyly, "Go on."
Lars forced himself to meet your eyes again, clutching your hand a little tighter. "Can I, um… have more?"
He absolutely didn't need to ask twice. At his sweet request, your eyes lit up, and you wasted no time in gently cradling his face to kiss it— his lips, his cheek, his mustache.
Lars didn't say anything, but he really didn't need to. His dazed smile spoke for itself as he let himself melt into your touch. As everyone knows, normally, he's very averse to touch. But something about yours was different. Lars couldn't quite place it himself, but he knew it felt soft. Fleeting. So full of love. He didn't care to identify the specifics in the moment, but whatever it was, Lars felt like he could get drunk on it.
With one last kiss to his nose, you released his face and hurried over to your car after realizing the time.
"Sorry Lars, I'm running a bit behind. Love you!" With one last air kiss in his direction, you got in the car, pulling out of the snow-free driveway Lars had freshly shoveled.
He didn't even remember going back inside the house, but before he could register anything or form a coherent thought, Lars found himself face to face with his reflection. The same mirror you had used to apply that lip combo.
Unbeknownst to you, he stood in front of that mirror for who knows how long, softly tracing over the various outlines of your lips on his skin with a smitten smile.
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me at 2 P.M. yesterday: haha wouldn’t it be funny if ilyukhina met rocky
6,666 words later: *crying into my pillow* what have i done
(second installment of my soulsong au fic series is up now! get it while it's still hotttttt)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
summary:
Ilyukhina flops back down onto the bed. “You’re no fun. Hey, Rocky, what it is like sharing a head with Grace?”
Leaky. Memories always falling out. Have to remind it eat, much disgust.
I put up a finger. “First of all, Rocky doesn’t share a head with me. He has his own head. It’s just that he’s always butting into mine.”
Only because I love you.
“Love you too, buddy.”
“Aww, you guys are so cute.” Ilyukhina rolls onto her stomach. “Hey Rocky, did you know that Grace once accidentally called Stratt ‘mom’?”
(Grace introduces Rocky to Ilyukhina. Too late, he realizes this was a mistake.)
edit: forgot to mention, but if you haven't already, check out @jube-art's comic series of this au :) it's what inspired this fic and it's amaze amaze amaze
"Sorry, Stratt, I'll be sure to double check my work to make sure my imaginary hallucination base six number system doesn't clog up the works of the rest of the scientists here on board."
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summary: Lars needs reassurance that he’s masculine enough.
warnings: mentions of touch aversion, struggles with masculinity and I guess a teeny bit angsty…
note: Lars my angel I’d give you the world
Lars had always had this feeling deep inside of him.
That he wasn’t man enough.
That he wasn’t the man you needed.
It crept through his bones like a virus and gnawed at his every nerve, some days the worry of his weak masculinity filled his every waking moment with a pit in his stomach and a ball of anxiety in his throat.
You’d been together for about a year, and it was pure bliss. Lars was gentle, kind, always listened and remembered and respected you no matter what. He wasn’t loud, or rowdy, or ignorant, he practically worshipped the ground you walked on - you knew he was your absolute dream man.
But Lars still had that feeling.
That worry.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t handle much skin-to-skin contact. You’d made it to the point in your relationship where hand holding or a fully-clothed cuddle was okay, but anything past that was too painful for him to handle. The burning sensation which spread through his body like wildfire, sending his body into panic.
You began to notice it, his worry, when one morning you woke up to Lars gazing into his mirror with an unsure smile.
His hair perfect combed as usual. His pants pressed and shoes shined, but he was missing his sweater.
Every single day he’d wear a new sweater, your favourite being the beige one with little reindeers on it. Lars would slip it on over his dress shirt and look at you with joy as you told him, ‘that’s a nice sweater.’
But where was his nice sweater?
You’d asked him about it, and all he’d said was that he wanted a change. That sweaters were too soft for him.
Too soft? For a gentle giant like Lars?
You weren’t having it.
He’d replaced it with a suit, one which made him look perfect as always, but something still seemed off. The waistcoat was tight across his torso, something he always tried to avoid due to sensory issues, and the blazer was stiff and well-tailored, far different from his usual soft, breathable sweaters.
You finally addressed his worry when Gus spoke to you about something Lars had asked him earlier in the day - how did he know he was a man?
You felt as if your heart could genuinely ache out of your chest. Your sweet boy had been thinking this? Gus told you that Lars had always felt different, and it would benefit him if you could reassure him of his manliness.
And by god did you.
It started with comments in passing, a quick ‘my handsome man’ or asking him to help you around the house with heavy lifting or handy work.
Sure, it was stereotypical, but he needed it.
One January evening, one where the frost creeps through your skin and settles deep inside of your bones, Lars was outside chopping wood.
It was a common occurrence, but recently he had been doing it far more often, and in far less layers.
His blazer had been strewn aside, hanging from a branch on a nearby tree, and his dress shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms and shivering hands.
Slamming the axe into the stump, Lars pushed his sleeves up further, extenuating his biceps. He threw a look of approval in your direction before picking up the axe once more and continuing to chop, breathy grunts breaking the atmosphere.
He was showing off.
“Lars, Angel?” Wrapping your dressing gown around yourself to shield from the chill, you stepped outside.
“Hm?” Putting down the axe and walking over to you with open arms, Lars masks a shiver with his usual warm smile, the one which melts your heart every time.
“It’s cold, don’t you think you should come inside?” You place a warm hand on his biceps, juxtaposed to the icy material of his shirt.
“No, I’m okay.” He smiles at you, gaze full of love.
“I’m worried about you y’know.” You adjust his waist coat.
Lars shrugs, pulling you into a rare but welcomed hug as an idea pops into your brain.
As his arms envelop you, your hands run over the plane of muscles on his back before travelling to his biceps and shoulders, tense from the hard work of swinging the axe.
“You’re so strong, Lars.” Smiling wide, you look up at him with doe eyes. “I love your muscles. My big strong man.”
His eyes practically light up.
“You do?”
“You bet it, baby.” Taking his hand, you gently guide him inside.
“Don’t want you getting ill now do we? How about you go and put on a nice jumper and we can snuggle down in bed, yeah?”
Nodding in agreement, Lars slips inside with a newfound sense of happiness and self.
In the morning, when you wake up to see Lars in his reindeer jumper with the cosiest smile you’ve seen on him in weeks, you know he’s the one.
gummygunk
kianamaiart
