#lars lindstrom fluff

[ken-dom]

3. Cold hands in warm hands

Lars (... or any of the Goose characters*swoons*) being warmed/warming up the reader after they have to be exposed to the cold.

Melts. My. Cold. Heart

Hand holding 3. cold hands in warm hands

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

∘₊✧ We have @heresthestorymorningglory to thank for clearing my head with this one. To quote her — ‘not to sound too much like Lars but…’ — and then she proceeded to resolve all my writers block 💕 sorry it took a while anon!

∘₊✧ Pure fluff! Please don’t take any advice from this about being cold or frostbite!!

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‘It’s better to warm yourself slowly. If you’re too quick you could go into shock,’ Lars said confidently. There was an air of concern that he tried to hide, but it showed in his eyes and it made your heart leap that he would worry about you.

You nodded dutifully, standing before him with hands frozen stiff, unused to the cold here and having spent too long outside without gloves, believing it wouldn’t bother you. Turned out it did bother you, quite a lot more than you’d realised it might.

So thank goodness you ran into Lars at the Lake. You trusted him with ease, never having doubted him a day since you first met.

‘It’s scientifically proven that…’

He trailed off, mumbling the last couple of words as though he regretted speaking at all.

You leant forward, waiting for whatever he was hesitating with, whatever could help you regain the feeling in your fingers and avoid frostbite.

‘Yeah, Lars?’ you prompted.

‘It’s nothing… uhm… here-’

He pulled off his gloves and immediately dropped to his knees, a dull almost silent thud in the snow, the pressure of his weight wetting his trousers on the surface of it without a care. He was entirely focussed on covering your hands with the gloves, forgetting himself along the way.

He was careful not to graze your bare skin with his as he slid them on, but when he stood, he took hold of your gloved hands and placed one on top of the other, sandwiched between his own, and rubbed slowly.

He was strong. You knew this, but now you could feel it, from the firm way he gripped your hands in his and the vigour with which he massages them, gentle and careful, but firm.

And his hands must be huge because yours feel tiny inside the gloves. The thought makes your cheeks burn.

‘It might take a while,’ he muttered, staring down at your hands. You could feel him trembling as he rubbed, now, too. ‘You’ll experience some pain, and some tingling most likely, before they’re warm enough to move your joints comfortably. That’s normal, though. Try not to worry, ok? You’ll be ok, I’ll make sure of it.’

‘Thank you,’ you breathed, voice shaky.

Lars’s head was dipped, but you could see the way his mustache moved and you knew he was smiling. He always liked to be useful.

‘Hey, Lars, what were you gonna say to me before?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Something that’s scientifically proven?’

‘Oh… well,’ he cleared his throat, ‘it’s scientifically proven that… in cases like this, skin to skin contact is technically more effective because it’ll warm you the fastest way while still being safe.’

‘Oh, ok.’

You know he couldn’t do that, that it would only cause him pain or in the very least, distress. He was already doing his very best to help you; you wouldn’t ask him to try.

‘I don’t mind giving it a go, if it’ll help you,’ he looked up at you from under those gorgeously long eyelashes, partly hopeful, partly scared.

‘I couldn’t ask that of you, Lars. Really. This is fine.’

‘It’s fine, but it’s not the most effective method and…’

He stopped rubbing your gloved hands, took a deep, steadying breath, straightened his shoulders, and looked you dead in the eyes as he gently pulled the gloves from your hands and let them fall to the ground.

Visibly trembling now, his hands moved tentatively toward yours.

‘Is this ok?’ he asked, eyes glittering with nervous energy.

‘Yes,’ you said simply. ‘As long as it’s ok for you.’

He nodded, chest heaving, his heavy breath creating a cloud in the frosty air between you.

And then his hands covered yours once again. This felt warmer, all encompassing… intimate. His hands covered yours completely, confining your theory that they must be big. It felt safe.

His breath hitched and you could have sworn a little whine escaped his throat.

Lars’s shoulders dropped and he began to rub with confidence again, warm palms sliding over the backs of yours hands, skin to skin.

‘Does that- f-feel… better?’

‘Yes, it feels good. You sure you’re ok?’

He felt a feint pain, burning somewhere in the background where your skin met his, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he had touched, or been touched, by anyone else.

This was new. It was kind of nice. He never wanted to break apart.

He nodded, worried he might make an embarrassing sound if he tried to speak now.

‘The science was right,’ you huffed out a laugh, ‘it’s working. I feel so much better now, thank you Lars.’

He stopped rubbing, but he didn’t move away. He was frozen to the spot, hands clamped around yours.

‘Want to hold my hand and walk me home? Better make sure I’m not out here too long without protection against the cold again…’

Lars beamed at you. ‘Yes. Yes! Oh! Hold on…’

He let go and bent to pick up his discarded gloves from the fresh layer of snow.

‘Here — you wear one glove…’ he slipped a glove onto your right hand, ‘and I’ll wear the other,’ he slipped the other glove onto his left hand, ‘and we can hold hands with the other two to keep warm!’

You beamed back at him.

The fingers of his bare hand interlocked with yours so easily it felt like they were made to fit together. ‘It might be warmer if…’

‘Go on,’ you encouraged, squeezing his hand with yours.

He don’t answer but you saw the blush creeping over his cheeks. He guided your connected hands into the pocket of his coat.

‘There. Now let’s get you home.’

[gooseloverfiction]

Theory

Lars Lindstrom x f!reader

Wordcount: 1,775

Summary: Lars working on his theory about touch, less than more.

A/N: A humble contribution to the wonderful RG B-day! And to lovely Lars fandom.

Content Warnings: none, just some fluff

It was late summer, you had just moved to your grandparents' house to help them. The town's community was wonderfully welcoming, but even you needed a moment of respite. You chose to walk by the lake that day.

Lars sat on a gentle slope leading to the water. From afar, he heard noise. A girl in a yellow dress and knee-high rubbers approached, Walkman headphones on her ears. Her high, sometimes squeaky voice carried far. It seemed she was too engrossed in music and gazing at the sky to notice where she was going. Straight into the reeds where shore abruptly ended, straight into water. Lars stood up, heading toward the girl, seeing her eyes being closed. He shouted, trying to get her attention. Too late.

One step, and you were already waist-deep in the water, quickly losing balance. Swiftly, you emerged onto the shore, glancing at the man standing nearby, nervously smoothing his dirty blond hair. His slightly reddened lips under the mustache puffed as if he had been holding his breath until now.

"Oi! Why didn't you shout earlier?" your voice, though loud, broke into suppressed laughter.

Seeing your dress covered in duckweed, you quickly reached for your belt. Attached to it, the Walkman was full of water.

"Damn..."

You took off your rubbers and poured out the water.

“Well, at least I won’t have to shower today…” you joked and with the boots under your arm, you extended your hand to the man who nervously fidgeted, perhaps deciding whether to leave the lunatic who fell into the lake of her own accord. You wouldn't blame him for that. You introduced yourself, and he, with some reservation, extended his hand, hidden under a long sleeve, exchanging a handshake with fabric between your skins.

"Lars."

He pointed in some unspecified direction and finally spoke.

"My brother's house is nearby, you can ask for a towel. Karin will surely lend you something to wear."

For a moment, you hesitate. You should go back home, but now, soaked to the bone in dripping clothes, it feels so far away. And suddenly, it stopped being warm and sunny.

In the house Lars brought you to, his sister-in-law Karin and an enthusiastic one-year-old awaited. The hostess seemed deeply shocked upon seeing her brother-in-law with you at the doorstep. She let you in quickly and wordlessly rushed for a towel. Lars started talking to the child, introducing you both. He looked adorable with the little one in his arms, the kid tracing the outline of his mustache with a tiny finger. Before Karin could return, calling something from the depths of the house, Lars putted down his nephew and took the player from your hands, promising to fix it and return it to you when he was in town and managed to stop by the café where you started working. He vanished before his sister-in-law returned.

Lars didn't bring back your Walkman a week later, but he came to apologize for not having fixed it yet. Weeks passed this way. The man would drop by once a week, and you used his visits as an opportunity to take a break and talk with him. You heard various things about him from your colleagues. Everyone spoke warmly of him, even if some comments expressed surprise at his aversion to touch or any close bond with another person. Then there was that one story about Bianca, a doll-sized human-like figure, Lars's ex-girlfriend. At first, you thought they were making it up, trying to play a joke on you. But one day, as you were closing the café and wiping down the table under a wall covered in various photos, you noticed one that hadn't caught your attention before. A woman in a wheelchair, not entirely resembling a real woman. Bianca...

You pondered that story for a while. You observed that Lars was talking to you in a more open manner, sharing details about work, his nephew, and Margo's new boyfriend. About Karin's ideas for renovating their house. When he wanted to share, Lars conveyed enthusiasm. Any thought about Bianca, which had been lingering in your mind for the past few days, quickly gave way to the growing affection for this lovely, usually quiet man.

————————————————————————

Lars waited in the same place where you first encountered him…

Although winter was still a bit away, both of you were dressed in several layers. Well, Lars might have had three more of them, you weren’t sure. In his hands, hidden in gloves, he held your Walkman. In your pocket, there was a cassette with your favorite compilation of old songs.

Of course, Lars would never admit that your device had been fixed long ago. He buried himself in excuses more and more, noticing how easy it was for him to talk to you. And even though you didn't know him well, after the first time your arms brushed and he admitted he wasn't a fan of physical contact, you respected that without a hint of surprise. And even when, under the influence of emotions, your hand shot toward him, it quickly returned to your side. He liked you for that even more. You weren’t throwing yourself at him.

But lately, Lars had been wondering if maybe it would be different with you. Perhaps your touch wouldn't burn him? After nearly two weeks of pondering, he decided to test it. However, he needed special conditions for that. The only conceivable reason in his imagination for you to meet without anyone around was your Walkman.

"Hey!" Your smile immediately felt like a beacon that warmed his face.

"Hi" he knew his voice was probably too quiet, but he still wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. "Would you like to go somewhere?" he asked, simultaneously handing you a single flower, which he pulled out of the bouquet intended for the hospital. Of course, with Mrs. Gruner's permission.

"Oh, thank you. Sure, Lars," you smiled, putting your nose into the petals. You tucked the player into your coat pocket.

You tried to keep a bit of distance from Lars, but every now and then, he took a step closer to you, eventually walking just a few inches away.

After some time, you found yourselves in the woods, near a small treehouse. Or rather, what was left of it. A platform around a tree, a hanging rope on one side, and a few ladder steps nailed to the trunk. Lars smiled seeing your enthusiasm, even if you didn't know that this house used to look much better.

"Can I?" you asked, reaching for the first step. Lars nodded, biting his lip. It was about to happen. He would test his theory on you.

At the top, he took off his jacket and laid it down so you could sit comfortably, but you grabbed it and pushed it back into his hands.

"You'll freeze!"

Lars just smiled and pointed to his sweater and the collar sticking out from underneath.

"It's not that cold, and besides, I've got layers, remember?"

You looked at him, contemplating his words for a moment, and nodded, watching as he spread the jacket on the planks. You lay on your back, legs resting on the trunk, shaking off mud and snow from your shoes before you did it. Lars smiled and did the same, your boots touching. He moved close enough that he almost touched your shoulder. You took the Walkman from your pocket, inserted the cassette, and rewound it to the first song. You placed the headphones on your shoulders and set the volume as loud as it could go, pressing "PLAY."

L is for the way you look at me,

O is for the only one I see,

V is very, very extraordinary,

E is even more than anyone that you adore...

You knew your voice wasn't suitable for singing, but nothing could stop you from harmonizing with your grandparents' favorite song. After a while, you felt that your left foot wasn't hitting the heavy boot of Lars. You opened your eyes. The headphones barely clung to your shoulder, and Lars now sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. You stopped the song and sat down. At the last moment, your hand froze over his shoulder as he wiped his eye.

"Lars, what happened?"

"N-nothing. It's just... that was our song, mine and Bianca's." Lars took a deep breath and exhaled, looking up. Over a year had passed, yet he still felt the sorrow. Quickly, you stowed the player away, uncertain if you should leave him alone. Especially since all you could think about now was how much you wanted to hug him.

"Sorry, I didn't know..." you started, slowly pulling away to stand or maybe sit.

Lars grabbed your hand before your mind chose any option. Looking into his blue, sad eyes, still slightly moist, you stopped thinking rationally. You reached with your hand to his cheek, wanting to wipe away the wet trace. You hesitated at the last moment, but Lars grabbed your glove and slid it off your hand.

"Could you maybe... try this? Or can I..." you weren't sure what he wanted, but you nodded. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cheek covered in a few days' stubble. He mentally prepared for the burning pain. But when your skin connected, he only felt tingling. The tingling of a warm hand on his cold face. And something else, but pleasant. It was much easier when he had control over someone's touch. There was one more thing to check. Lars let go of your other hand, which he subconsciously held the whole time.

"You can do it yourself," he tried to convince himself rather, you thought. You smiled cautiously and with your other hand, joined the first, on the other side of his face. Through the material of your glove, blissful warmth seeped. Holding your breath, you moved the first hand, tracing the curve of his nose, his eyebrows, and forehead. Lars kept looking into your eyes all the time, trying to remember to breathe.

"Are you okay, Lars?" you asked, trying not to get closer than necessary. "Should I stop?"

"No, please," you felt his shoulders drop with another breath, and his whole body finally relaxed.

"You're beautiful," you mumbled, and Lars giggled, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You wanted to kiss his eyelids. His sweet nose. And his lips, which he now bit and licked. Maybe someday you would be able to.

————————————————————————

You walked towards the Lindstroms' house. Lars insisted on driving you home.

His hand was warm in yours.

[ken-dom]

I feel like Hugs 33 and Touching 43 are sooo Lars coded, because he doesn’t really realize how strong he is, he’s just such a softie :,(

Hugs 33. picking them up +

Touching 43. giving them a piggyback ride

∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

∘₊✧ Pure fluff! This one ended up just a little longer than the others… also I want to thank my darling @heresthestorymorningglory for the telepathic link that finally gave me the right idea!

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Gazing up at the stars glittering through the gently falling snow, you lean your head against Lars’s shoulder wish a quiet sigh. ‘I don’t know how I’ll make it back.’

‘It is magical out here at night, isn’t it?’ Lars breathes with a soft giggle.

‘It really is,’ you squeeze his gloved hand lightly with yours, ‘but I actually meant the walk back. My legs are frozen and kind of tired.’

There’s a pause then; you feel Lars tense. You think that maybe he’s unsure how to help you, and you know how that upsets him, but then he takes a deep inhale of frosty air and blurts, ‘I can carry you back if you want!’ squeezing his eyes tight shut.

The thought of being so close, safe in his arms, floods your cheeks with heat. ‘Oh… oh, Lars I couldn’t possibly-'

‘It’s okay,’ he reassures you, breath steadying and eyes blinking open to gaze down at you instead of up at the moon. ‘I don’t mind, and besides, I’m really good at it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ he shrugs, ‘I used to carry Bianca a lot when she didn’t have her wheelchair. She always used to tell me that she loved how strong I am.’

You watch Lars’s cheeks flush with colour, too as he averts is gaze.

‘Alright,’ you agree casually. ‘I would love to see how strong you are.’

All the breath leaves Lars’s body at that, and you feel almost guilty for a moment, but you do so love it when he blushes. You’ve already noticed how strong he is, of course — you’ve watched him chop firewood enough times to know.

Lars turns on the spot and holds his arms out behind himself. You have to bite your lips together to keep from letting out a whine as you mount his back. Even through all the layers, he’s soft and thick and strong and sturdy. If he wasn’t holding you to him so tightly, you might swoon.

‘The stars look even more beautiful from here,’ you whisper, hot against the exposed part of his ear, and a shiver runs through his whole body.

As you finally approach the warm lights of the house and his garage apartment, he carefully sets you down, slips off his woolly hat and unfastens the front of his coat.

‘May I?’

He holds his arms out in front of him this time, and smiles at you as you tilt your head, curious. It’s a handsome smile, lips curling up slightly more at one side, genuine and warm. It’s almost hypnotising. And the next thing you know, Lars is carrying you bridal style into his apartment.

Once you’re back on the ground, and Lars has shed his coat and the little blanket from around his neck, he smiles at you again, with an extra twinkle in his eye.

‘Are your legs too tired to dance?’

[ken-dom]

Need fluffy tummy lars fic 😭

I know this says fluff but we’ve discussed it since, and it’s got some spice too, so… under the cut 😈

NSFW, gn!reader, making out, mentions of panicked and overwhelmed Lars, touch therapy, very light themes of body worship

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Lars flinched at the hand rucking up the front of his sweater, his three additional layers sliding up with it, leaving his lower belly exposed to the cool air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, worried what you’d think when you realised he didn’t have a six pack of rippling abs you could use as a washboard, but also bracing himself for the impending sensation of his trousers tightening around his waist as you unfastened the clip, and the sound of the zipper being lowered enough for you to free his length.

That’s what came next right — after a kiss like this one? Hungry and needy and desperate? When you’d been practising touch for so long and he’d practically begged you to take it up a notch?

But his trousers remained closed, too tight over his growing bulge, half relief and half disappointment settling uncomfortably in his gut, swirling with the butterflies he couldn’t control.

You moved so slowly, dragging your fingertips along his waistband, ghosting over his skin. He’d never been touched there by someone else. It felt surprisingly nice. Tingly. Warm. He waited for you to change your mind.

As you somehow deepened the kiss further, you eagerly grabbed a handful of his belly, the soft curve filling the hollow of your palm as your fingers tenderly kneaded his flesh.

He moaned, not expecting it to feel so good, but it was comforting as far as touch went, and it sent thrills shooting right to his throbbing core each time you squeezed. A strange combination, but one he felt he’d missed out on for far too long.

Was he supposed to enjoy it like that? Was it supposed to be… sexy as well as comforting? Was he supposed to enjoy that his lips felt swollen and his guts felt like they were churning? Was he supposed to want to c-

He startled as you pulled your lips away to trail hot, sloppy kisses over his stubbled jaw and down his neck, still grabbing at his stomach, and he breathed a choked out and incredulous, ‘Y-you like that?’

‘Mmhmm,’ you hummed against his throat, and he whimpered, swooning back against his pillow, thankful you’d laid down part way through the kiss or he might actually pass out.

‘Your body is incredible,’ you whispered, sliding your hand further up inside his sweater to explore his very grabbable pecs, too. ‘Strong. Soft. Safe. So sexy it’s unreal…’

‘My… body? You like my body?’ he whined, writhing under your touch now. Your arousal pressed against his thigh was doing nothing to steady him.

‘I would’ve thought it was obvious how handsome you are all round, Lars,’ you soothed, leaning down to gently press your lips to his once again.

Lars swallowed hard. Touch therapy was one thing, but boosting his confidence too? Worshipping his body? You were making him dizzy. His cheeks burned.

‘Now take this sweater off, hm?’

‘W-why?’

‘I wanna watch you chop wood with those deliciously strong arms of yours. Too many layers.’

‘Oh- uhm- oh-ok,’ he agreed, smiling, and you lifted yourself off him, stopping to leave a final, wet kiss on the happy trail of that gorgeously soft, exposed belly and a hint of a bite too; just a gentle scrape of your teeth and a light suck, feeling him shudder as your lips popped away before you stood from his bed.

‘I know you want more. One step at a time, though? Like we agreed?’

He nodded, furrowing his brow. You were right. He was so close to becoming overwhelmed and panicking, but he wasn’t sure if even wood chopping would burn off this feeling, or if he’d be able to calm his erection at all without… well…

You took his hand and led him to the door. There, you smoothed down his mussed hair and leaned in close. His breath caught in his chest.

‘When you’ve built us a fire, we can take the rest of your clothes off and try more touching if you want to, alright?’

Was it safe to chop wood when he thought he might pass out? He wasn’t sure he cared.

[ken-dom]

My Body's A Zombie

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

∘₊✧ ~1k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Lars singing your favorite spooky season song leaves you only only option - kiss him

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I commissioned this gorgeous autumn Lars from the wonderful @demon-dai, spent a whole day listening the the Dead Man's Bones album (stopping as usual to appreciate how very Lars the vocals in My Body's a Zombie for You sound), and here we are. The Larsiest part starts at 1:40 if you're wondering. Endless thank yous to @heresthestorymorningglory, my very own Sherlock Holmes 🩷

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: Very mildly on the spicer end of the fluff scale, kissing, little hint of a voice kink maybe? ok definitely.

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A big, shiny pumpkin lays discarded by your crossed feet, half-carved triangle eyes glaring up at you, abandoned, while your attention is entirely focussed on Lars.

His strong, careful hands caress and grip, the little tools of the carving kit even smaller within his precise yet delicate hold.

You wonder how it’s possible to be this powerful and move so gracefully at the same time.

You’ve held those hands. Been held by them. Short bursts of time, a little longer with every night spent in one another’s company. Maybe tonight he will manage more. He hopes he will. 

An unexpected sigh pushes up from your chest, and Lars’s head snaps up. A quiet smile pulls at his lips; a tremulous smile designed to ensure you’re okay. That everything is okay.

He nods when you smile back at him and after a sip of cinnamon hot chocolate, you both return to carving the pumpkins again.

Your heart beats just a touch faster, and you know it’s not just the heat of the crackling fire making the back of your neck prickle with heat. As soon as his eyes met yours over this adorable autumnal activity, the perfect quiet date for both of you, butterflies took flight low in your gut.

Despite your flustering, there’s a comfortable silence, aside from the slosh of pumpkin innards and the soft sawing to create pointy-tooth smiles. It’s familiar and warm, and it fills Lars’s stomach with something like hope. There are butterflies there for him, too, but there’s also a nervous energy building up that he knows he needs to channel into something if he wants to keep from running.

A forgiving hum cuts through the silence, and as Lars feels some relief at the tender release, you’re struggling to hold back.

‘You’re sexy when you sing,’ you blurt, cheeks burning, and Lars’s, too.

He doesn’t answer, and for a moment your stomach sinks. But Lars hums again, louder this time. It’s a tune you recognise.

As if with an unspoken agreement, you both drop everything. Your eyes lock with his again, and you lean forward, testing the waters. Would it be too much to dive forward?

Lars sits cross-legged and his fingers find his knees, squeezing hard enough for his knuckles to whiten, but he perseveres, humming right through the chorus.

Drawn to him like a magnet, you pounce, and Lars lands on his back with you right on top of him, all the breath squeezed from his chest as he adjusts to this new overwhelming feeling.

There are layers upon layers between you, but this is closer than he’s been with anyone since Bianca and oh, how he’s missed these simple intimacies. 

It’s different to being close with Bianca, yes, but welcome all the same, and quickly, you’re both very comfortable; Lars bold enough to slide his arms around your waist as he smiles up at you, and you propped above, an inch from his face, legs tangled.

Laughing, you breathe an apology for your conduct, but he’s laughing too until it all melts away into more humming and effortless acceptance that you’re touching now, and not just with hands. 

‘I know that song,’ you whisper, eyes dipping to his lips. ‘One of my favourites.’

Lars raises an eyebrow and you swear you see a smirk pass over his lips. ‘Oh?’

There’s a tense beat and you take a deep breath — cocoa powder and floral soap (the brand his beloved mother used to use) — and ready yourself to kiss him just the way you’d dreamed about for weeks upon weeks.

As you lean in, Lars moves his face away, mouth connecting instead with the crook of your neck, and a shiver runs down to your core. 

‘Oh!’ you utter, mind racing. I never thought he’d have it in him. Not this soon, anyway. Not-

Lars begins to sing, husky voice vibrating where his lips are at your throat, teeth nipping and mustache scratching at the tender flesh. Any resolve you may have had would be weakened if you hadn’t abandoned such formalities long before stepping through his front door.

‘The smell of my breath, From the blood in neck-’

You can’t help but let slip a little groan at the way his voice cracks just a touch, the way he shifts his range low to high so captivatingly, and how you can feel it in every nerve of your body, resonating through you with every syllable.

‘Oh, I hold my soul-’ 

Lars moves away from your neck, face to face with you again. His eyes squeeze shut in concentration. He’s trying to get this spot on for you, and it is spot on; you’re lost in his enthusiasm to please you sooner than you can miss his soft lips brushing against your skin.

‘From the lands unknown-’

Your breath catches heavy in your throat. The gentle vibration of his voice is radiating out from his chest and right into yours, and you know what’s coming. You know this song inside and out, and frankly, there’s no time to prepare for where this is heading. Oh god.

‘So I can play-’

His voice dips so hypnotically deep, you don’t realise how hard you’re biting until his hesitant fingers trace up your sides, eliciting a gasp that drags your swollen bottom lip free of your teeth.

‘The strings of your death-’

Entirely breathless, you cut him off with a hot, bruising kiss, and all at once he melts into the floor beneath him and floats up into you, fingers once a ghost of a touch now unwittingly driving into your hips to hold you still against his body and ground himself here with you forever.

Lars imagines you’ll sing the chorus together, the way he’d daydreamed every time he found himself alone at the lake, wishing you were there with him, but he forgets the next line of the song when your tongues meet, anyway.

[ken-dom]

Lingered Lips

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

7.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: When you move from a warmer climate into the house next door to Gus and Karin during winter, Lars helps you to keep warm, and to feel a little more at home in the process.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: This is for my pal @webbo0 who deserves all the warmth and comfort Lars would be able to give (that's a lot). I hope this is something close to what you imagined ! Thank you to my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading and encouraging endlessly! Title from Holding Your Hand by Yung Bae.

∘₊✧ Please note: The story has two possible endings. If you want fluff and kissing with some suggestive bits only, stop when you reach the break in the text (indicated with a photo set), 5.5k. If you want to end on a spicy note, there is an optional NSFW scene after, 1.6k.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: Fluff, homesickness, kissing, heated making out, lots of touching, nervous Lars. In the additional scene; NSFW, dry humping, touching over clothes, cumming in pants.

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To say there’s a chill in the air is an understatement. Somehow, it seems the inside of the house is colder than the outside. It had been left empty for a good few days before you arrived today with a moving truck full of your worldly belongings, but even so, feeling your fingertips turn numb, you never imagined you’d feel the chill this much.

An uncomfortable question flashes through your mind; Have you done the right thing?, but, already engaged in an internal battle to keep homesickness at bay, you force yourself to think about how you’d not had much of a need for thick duvets and firewood before, reminding yourself that you will adapt. That it will all be worth it. That the cold will soon feel like home.

The house is nice, and you know that once it warms through properly it will feel cosy and homely, even if right now it’s an empty shell of a building waiting for your stamp. But it’s getting there. You can already picture yourself settling down in front of a roaring fire with a blanket and a slice of pie.

You sigh at the fireplace. You have no means to build a fire, and even if you did, where do you begin? Instead, you settle with lighting a few candles you found with a book of matches in the box marked ‘KITCHEN’ in a futile attempt to create a feeling of warmth.

Once you begin the process of dragging furniture around and unpacking boxes that, despite being labelled perfectly well before the move seem to be all out of order again, you generate a little heat as the rooms begin to take shape.

After a while (you’ve no idea how long; you’ve misplaced your phone in the bubblewrap and the clocks are currently hidden in an unopened box, but it’s long since been dark out) you grow tired of organising your things and decide rest is in order. If only that fireplace was roaring and there was a freshly baked pie on the kitchen counter…

You reluctantly blow the candles out, wolf down a couple of the cookies you’d packed for the road, and shiver yourself to sleep under a couple of thin blankets, planning to venture into the town tomorrow and purchase a few items to help you adapt to your new climate a little more comfortably.

****

You’d not yet had time to hang drapes, so when morning arrives, with it comes the sharp winter sun flooding your bedroom, disturbing your dreams and pulling you back to the cold reality you’d fallen asleep in.

You stretch, gradually taking in your new surroundings, and start your day by finding some warmer clothes and a pair of boots packed into one of your overflowing suitcases. 

You step outside to appreciate the crisp covering of snow. It crunches beneath your feet, and you think you could get used to that.

There’s a little parcel a few feet from your doorstep, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. Looking around for a sign of who might have left it and seeing no one, you pick it up to carry inside. It’s heavier than you anticipate and has a label attached to the string which you read the moment you drop the package onto the kitchen table.

‘Welcome neighbour! Don’t be a stranger! Karin and Gus x’

It must’ve come from the big, white house just a short walk from your own; your closest neighbours, the others being at least a couple of minutes walk away.

You pick at the knot in the parcel string, the paper beneath falling away as the string loosens, and you see a huge tray of pasta bake. It’s homemade and makes your stomach growl just looking at it. The homesick churn in your stomach relaxes in turn, and a smile pulls at your lips.

You should introduce yourself to this Karin and Gus before you venture into town today. That would be the neighbourly thing to do, right?

Rifling through the bag of snacks you’d packed for the road, you found the large tupperware of homemade hamantaschen cookies you’d raided the night before, and, removing just one more cookie to eat immediately, you tuck the tub under your arm, shove your hands into your pockets (adding gloves to your mental shopping list) and set off to greet your new neighbours.

Rounding the corner at the end of your driveway, you see the figure of someone swinging what looked like an axe outside that big, white house.

Gus, you remind yourself of the names on the parcels tag. Karin and Gus.

As you step closer, you can’t help but notice that this Gus guy is kind of…

No. Stop. You cannot find your neighbour attractive. You can’t.

Can you?

‘Hey, Gus?’ you call with a wave, and the man, frankly oozing sexual energy with his brawny arms and that big axe held in an exceptionally strong grip, turns around.

Oh shit. He’s handsome too.

Your gaze drops from his sparkling blue eyes to his handsome mustache, perfectly groomed and sort of dashing…

‘Hi… I uh… I just moved in next door,’ you gesture over your shoulder whilst trying to snap yourself out of whatever this is, and focus on the steamy breath you can see in the air every time you breathe out instead. ‘Gus, isn’t it?’

He doesn’t answer. He bites his lips together and averts his gaze, shoulders hunched.

‘I wanted to thank you and Karin for my welcome gift. It looks so delicious.’

Dropping the axe, the handsome Gus straightens up and your eyes widen at his height.

He steps back, blinking excessively, cheeks blazing hot and hands clenching into tight fists as his sides.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ you try. A whisper.

‘Y-yeah, I-’ he stutters, swallowing hard and thrusting a hand out to you with his eyes closed tight, as though he’s bracing himself for some sort of terrifying impact.

Carefully, you take it, feeling the way his arm tenses when your flesh meets his. He’s warm and clammy and you want to pull him close.

‘I- I’m Lars,’ he breathes, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘Gus is my brother.’

Lars. Your heart skips a beat.

‘Ah… Lars. Nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ you say softly, ‘I just wanted to bring some cookies over for Gus and Karin.’

Lars clocked the container under your arm and visibly settled. ‘Oh… oh, they’re not in right now. I could look after those cookies for you until they’re back though? I promise not to eat them.’

‘Ok, sure! I’ll maybe stop by tomorrow to introduce myself properly, but if you could tell them I said thank you for the warm welcome, I’d appreciate it?’

‘Sure,’ Lars nods, a little skittish.

‘And you can have a cookie,’ you joke, pushing the tub toward him.

Lars huffs out an awkward little chuckle and instead of taking the tub from you, whips what you thought was a thick blue scarf from around his neck.

‘Y-you look cold. Here-’

He shuffles toward you, averting his gaze as he fumbles with wrapping the little handmade blanket around your shoulders, his fingers delicate but shaky.

The fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with light musk hits you and you all but swoon at the combination. It’s not just a swoon; it’s homely, too. Lars is homely.

‘Thank you,’ you breathe, smiling. Is everyone so kind and polite here?

‘It’s alright. I’m getting a bit hot from chopping wood anyway.’ Lars steps backward, staring at the ground as he creates a more comfortable distance between the two of you. Is it comfortable though? He feels an urge to go back to you. ‘You can bring it over when you’re warmed up and all unpacked.’

He’s so sweet you feel like your heart is on the verge of exploding.

‘I don’t have many winter clothes, actually. That’s where I’m heading now – into town to introduce some wool and a decent coat to my wardrobe, and a nice big duvet to my bed. I knew it’d be cold here but I didn’t think it would be this cold.’

Lars looks down, biting his lips together again, bracing himself to say something. You wait patiently.

‘W-where did you move from?’

‘Somewhere much warmer than this,’ you shiver, sucking in a sharp breath of cool air. ‘For a fresh start.’

Lars’s brow furrows and he lets out a small, ‘Ok!’ He isn’t sure whether it would be too much to question any further, so he drops the subject, reaching a hand out to you.

For a moment, you freeze, a whole movie playing out in your mind of what might await you in the future if you take his hand right now and just… kiss him.

Lars clears his throat. ‘The um… the cookies?’

‘Oh- yes.’ You push the box toward his outstretched hand. ‘Take a couple for yourself too.’

You see a crimson blush dust flare up on his cheeks again.

‘Th-thanks.’

The air thickens then as your gazes lock, until  Lars turns away, and you wonder if you’ve overdone it. He did seem a painfully shy. Maybe he could read your mind and was horrified of what he’d witnessed… or the offer of a cookie was just too much.

Just as you open your mouth to ease the tension and singsong a, Well, see you around, Lars!, he sets down the tupperware full of cookies, gathers a few logs in those burly arms and turns back to you. His cheeks are positively glowing now.

‘Th-these are for you.’

There goes that lightheaded swooning feeling again. ‘Oh, Lars, are you sure?’

‘Of course! I’m really good at it. I chop the wood for Gus and Karin’s house all the time, so it’s really no problem to spare a few… for my neighbour.’

‘Oh! You live here too?’

Lars turns sheepish, nodding toward the garage behind you. ‘I live… there.’ He remembers the time he spent in his home with Bianca. Moments far and few between, but usually tender. He remembers dancing with her by firelight, a jazz record playing softly. He clears his throat. ‘Do you know how to build a fire?’ he asks, much more confidently.

You get the feeling he would take great pride in teaching you, but still feel a little silly admitting the truth to him. How could you accept these logs in all good conscience when you’ve never built a log fire in your life and have no idea where to begin other than… setting them on fire?

Embarrassment creeps onto your cheeks and you hold your breath, scrunching your nose up. ‘Nope. You got me. Something else for me to learn now that I live here.’

‘I could show you some time,’ Lars mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. His voice cracks as he backtracks, ‘if- if you like?’

You nod, and both of you are blushing so hard you’re barely able to look at one another aside from surreptitious stolen glances.

You hug the firewood close to your chest and take a deep, steadying breath. ‘Thank you, Lars. For everything.’

As you trudge back over the undisturbed snow to store the logs in your porch, you chuckle to yourself. You needn’t have worried about the cold, all you have to do is talk to Lars for a few minutes and you’ll soon warm up.

****

Wrapped in the same paper and tied with the same string, another parcel appears on your doorstep the very next morning. 

Your head tilts as you bend to collect it, wondering what else Gus and Karin could possibly have sent you when you haven’t even met them yet. Would this turn into a never-ending exchange of reheatable meals and cookies?

It feels lighter, soft in your hands.

You tear the paper open right there and then, too curious to wait. Two thick sweaters spill into your hands, a small sheet of note paper floating to your feet.

They smell like Lars, and you know instantly that they’re his. It’s the same scent you caught from his blanket yesterday; the same one that lingered on his skin when he had leaned in close to wrap it around your shoulders – fresh and soft with a hint of musk. Comforting. Homely.

Butterflies soar in your stomach and for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the frosty air in just your pyjamas and socks.

You collect the note up and shut out the cold, heart beating a little faster as you sit down to read it and learn what his handwriting looks like. It’s neat, large letters, cursive. Romantic.

You shake your head, still in denial that you’d ever dare to think of him that way, pretending you hadn’t fallen asleep wondering what his soft lips might feel like against yours and dreamed about him teaching you to chop wood, his strong arms braced around yours to guide you as you swung the axe.

You tried to focus on the words rather than the style of the handwriting or your own wandering mind, almost nervous to begin reading, wondering what he wants to say to you.

I hope you don’t mind me leaving these for you – I don’t wear them so much any more and thought they would be put to better use building up your winter wardrobe. 

One has a hole in the sleeve. I’m sorry about that. I would have fixed it but I never learned how to sew. It’s ok if you don’t like them.

Hope you’re keeping warm! 

Lars (your neighbour)(the one from the garage)

You bite your lips together to keep a whine from escaping. Your neighbour? The one from the garage? As if you could possibly forget him.

‘Could you be any cuter?’ you grin, and fold the letter, standing to head right back to your bedroom and dress immediately throwing on the new puffer coat you bought in the town yesterday over a Lars scented sweater, grab your last tub of cookies and head out, marching straight up to the door of the garage next door.

****

‘Hi.’ Lars swallows the word, opening his door just enough to poke his face through the gap. 

He’s just as handsome as you remember. Maybe more. The way the bright winter sun hits his eyes and sets the deep blue sparkling, the coy little smile he can’t quite hide beneath that impeccably groomed mustache…

‘Hi,’ you sigh. You might feel a twinge of embarrassment, but Lars seems so taken aback to see you, you don’t think he’ll notice your indiscreet little swoon.

You clear your throat. ‘Thank you so much for the sweaters, Lars. You really didn’t have to.’

‘Oh it’s nothing,’ he protests, struggling to meet your gaze and chewing his lips as though he’s scared of what he might say if he doesn’t bite them together.

‘I brought more cookies. Just for you this time.’

Lars squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep steadying breath.

‘Are you ok?’

He blinks his eyes open again and finally looks into yours. ‘Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.’

Even so, his fingers fiddle with the slightly chipped paint around the edge of the door he’s holding ajar.

‘Alright, well…’

‘Did you use the firewood yet?’ he blurts, eyes closed again but voice much louder.

‘No, I never got the chance to look up how to build a proper fire last night, so-’

‘Would you like me to show you? Now?’ His face scrunches up in what looks like pain.

‘Yes! That would be great.’

Lars nods, smiling, and opens the door. ‘Please, come in,’ he breathes, and you notice his hand gripping so tight onto the door now that his knuckles have turned white.

You step inside the little garage apartment, immediately so at ease that you almost feel at home here.

There’s a jazz record playing softly, and you sway a little as you glance around, clocking the log burner in the corner. His bed is neatly made with two or three blankets layered on the top, warm and cosy. You wonder what he wears to bed.

The kitchen is sparse and clean, a small double hob occupying a whistling kettle and a pan. There are a few cupboards you imagine are mostly bare. 

A door to the left looks like it must lead to the bathroom, because aside from a small closet and a couple of shelves on the wall, that’s all of it. Lars’s entire home.

He doesn’t appear to have many worldly belongings, but what he does have, he appreciates and takes good care of. You smile at that. Maybe he would take good care of you, too.

In many ways, you think, perhaps without even knowing it, he already has.

Lars closes the front door, but doesn’t move from his spot beside it, staring down at his feet.

‘W-we might as well enjoy the fire after I show you how to get it going. Would you like to stay for a drink? We could share the cookies? If you like?’

He glances toward you with that pained look again, but it quickly softens when you answer simply with a gentle; ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

Lars grins, incredulous, and springs into action, preparing to start work on building the fire, dropping to his knees before the log burner.

‘Alright, the first thing we need to do is make sure the firewood is in good condition. I know mine is, of course, but it’s always worth checking, because…’

You sit beside him, fully intending to learn a valuable lesson that will no doubt serve you for many winters to come, but Lars picks up a log with such care the mere sight of it makes you shiver.

Carefully, he runs the tips of his long, thick fingers over the smooth edge of the wood, treating it so delicately that every word out of his mouth blurs into barely perceptible background noise and all you can manage to do is watch those elegant fingers tracing over the contours and try not to imagine how they’d feel on your skin instead.

Startlingly, he stops the demonstration short and turns to you. It’s far from abrupt, but it drags you out of your reverie nonetheless.

‘Got that?’ he asks eagerly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Ready for the next step?’ Lars beams at you. He’s been talking nonstop, completely lost in the world of firewood while you were lost in the world of… Lars.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ you lie, hoping the next part won’t be as difficult to take in and that you can piece together whatever you’ve missed.

Lars opens up what he calls the damper, leaning forward to place kindling into the centre of the stove, his sweater rides up a little at the back, and although you try with all your might not to look, you can’t quite avoid it. Beneath those three layers, his exposed skin looks so soft and pale and… warm.

There are a few small beauty marks dotted close to his hip and you get the urge to trace them with your finger tips, follow them like a constellation and connect the stars with your tongue…

But you’re not supposed to be thinking about the flesh of Lars’s lower back under your fingers and lips. You’re supposed to be listening to his instructions.

You close your eyes and try to focus.

Good logs. Damper open. Something about kindling.

You can do this. You can.

Oblivious, Lars continues, arranging dry wood around the kindling and placing the logs gently on top, taking as much care as if he was creating a work of art.

He’s so passionate and thorough in the way he describes the process, the way he’s handling the equipment, that this in itself is making you come over too hot.

Is he this passionate and thorough with a lover? 

Stop.

You shake the thought from your head and wonder if you will manage to actually sit in front of a blazing fire with him at all if he carries on like this. Carries on being so… so…

‘Would you like to do the honours?’ he grins, sitting back on his heels.

You swallow hard. ‘Sure!’ 

Lars hands you a half empty box of matches. His hands are no longer trembling, you notice, but yours have certainly begun to shake as you select and strike a match.

Lars’s palm slides over the back of your hand, warm and soft, to guide your flame to the kindling. Your head spins and you lean forward together, bodies pressing close as you hold the match still and wait.

Both of you watch with delight as the fire takes hold and bursts to life before you.

You smile at Lars, who beams back. There’s but an inch between you and you can’t help but lick your lips and you glance down at his.

‘We did it,’ he breathes. ‘Next time, you can try arranging the kindling-’ He stops himself. 

Next time.

Suddenly his face is burning, his forehead is damp and his chest is tight, and a voice in his head is firmly telling him to run in the opposite direction.

‘How about that drink?’ you remind him, hoping it’ll ease the tension.

Lars is more grateful than you could ever know for that simple suggestion. It gives him a reason not to completely consume you, which is both his greatest fear and his strongest urge with you so close. He isn’t sure whether the heat he feels is from the fire or from his burning attraction to you, but thinking about it is making him dizzy.

He snaps up to stride into the kitchen and start the kettle boiling, and you try to focus on breathing.

As you feel comforting warmth radiating from the glow of the fireplace and listen to him pottering in the kitchen, your eyes slip closed.

This is home.

‘Is hot chocolate ok?’ Lars calls over.

‘No lactose for me, please, Lars.’

‘No problem! I can work around that. See, if you mix the cocoa powder into a paste with a small amount of the water first, you can make it smooth and thick without the need for milk! Neat little trick, huh? And I can skip the cream topping, just for you.’ 

Lars is once again in his element. He seems so happy to share his habits with someone – with you – that it eradicates the overwhelming nerves he was fighting moments ago. 

‘That sounds wonderful. Thank you.’

‘Uhm- do you… do you mind if I have a little cream on mine?’ he asks, cautious. ‘I’ll only have a little bit.’

‘Of course I don’t mind!’

He chuckles quietly with a shaky exhale of nervous energy. ‘Ok!’

You watch as he finishes up and joins you again placing two big mugs of hot chocolate on the little rug in front of the fire.

‘You know, I used to treat myself to a hot chocolate now and then before I moved here, even though it was much warmer. I wonder if it’ll hit different now that I actually need heating up,’ you laugh, blowing out a steady breath to ripple over the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a careful sip.

Lars watches the way your lips move, snapping his eyes shut when he realises where his thoughts are going – the same place they went last night when he was trying to fall asleep but you kept appearing in his semi-unconscious state, asking if you could hold his hand and kiss him.

He clears his throat. ‘So, how are you adjusting? Have you seen the doctor yet?’

Your brow furrowed. Did you need to see a doctor just for moving here?

‘No, I mean, it has felt a little strange, but I thought it was just a touch of homesickness…’

‘I think that’s normal,’ Lars nods, face turning serious and voice lowering like he was keeping a secret from prying ears. ‘I had a girlfriend who came from a much warmer climate, you see. She was half Brazilian and half Danish, and she’d been used to warmer temperatures before she came here. So, I’m used to it.’

Lars shrugs and sips his drink, casually sure of himself.

‘Girlfriend?’ you blurt before you can stop yourself. You try to at least sound easygoing, but it comes off more strained than anything thanks to curiosity getting the better of you.

‘Oh, wait, I’m not suggesting that we’re uhm… friends of any sort- I mean-’

‘No… no, it’s ok.’ Another easy smile. ‘I just wondered about her, that’s all.’

You move to place your mug back down as Lars makes the same motion, and as you reach forward, your skin brushes his.

Time stops. Lars almost flinches, but he lingers instead, seeking you out once again, grazing the back of his fingers against the back of your hand, witnessing the connection, awe pulling at his features.

It’s different from when he guided your flame to the kindling, and he realises that then as much as now, your flesh against his feels almost… tolerable. More than tolerable. It feels good.

You hold your breath, needing to be closer again. Needing to feel heat from him and not just the fire, inhale that comforting scent that you’ve already come to associate with your new home, the one laced on his hand knitted blue blanket that you forgot to return today in your rush to get back to him. You don’t plan to tell him you’d slept clutching it for comfort, or that it remained beneath the covers on your unmade bed.

‘It’s getting a bit hot,’ you breathe shakily, eyes locking on his. ‘May I take off my coat?’

Lars doesn’t answer, he just helps you with removing the coat from your shoulders like a true gentleman, folding it neatly and placing it on the bed for you.

‘Better?’

‘Much.’

‘You’re wearing one of my old sweaters,’ he says quietly, staring at you as he takes in how it fits your form compared to his, how good it looks on you and how he wants to help take the sweater off your body, too…

His fingers wander to the collar, where he drags a fingertip gently over the familiar wool before dropping back to his lap.

The air between you grows thicker again and all at once you’re breathless.

‘Lars…’

‘Hmm?’

‘You have some, uh…  cream… just-’

His gaze is intense on your lips as your fingers move to wipe the cream from his perfect mustache. It’s tender. Loving, almost. His breath is hot and ragged against your fingers and for a wild moment, you think about slowly pushing a finger between his plump, shiny lips.

Instead you come to your senses and bring it back down, coated in a light covering of the cream.

‘You know, lactose intolderance doesn’t always stop me,’ you smirk, licking the cream from your finger. ‘If it’s just a little bit. Perhaps… a little bit more?’

Lars doesn’t move as you press forward, closing the gap between you and leaving enough pause for him to move away. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips to yours and elicits contented hum that makes him simply melt into you.

There’s more cream on his mustache that smears onto your upper lip and you pull back, licking yourself clean and pushing forward to lick the last of it from him, too.

Lars parts his lips to allow your tongue inside. It feels natural yet unusual, not at all how he imagined kissing would feel. But it’s just as thrilling as he’d hoped it would be, and the butterflies in his stomach that he’d been trying hard to control begin to explode into something wonderful, a new sensation that he had the overwhelming urge to chase.

Your lips against his are so soft and wet, and his head is swimming with what all of this means.  The feeling growing somewhere deep inside him pushes through to the forefront. It’s something he can’t seem to control. It’s too new, too exciting, so he follows his gut.

With a shaky hand, he reaches forward to touch you. He’s not sure where, or how, but he’s overcome with that sudden urge to consume you entirely again, and he can’t stop the hand hesitating midair from grabbing your shoulder and pushing you down onto the rug.

He’s strong, and that sets your nerves alight. You knew when you saw the perfect control with which he wielded his axe. Your hands slide up over his biceps and squeeze the firm muscles, and Lars whines.

Even with this newfound dominance, he’s unsure, hesitant — but eager. Your tongue guides his, gently leading him into a steady rhythm with slow flicks and languid slides, each one setting his desire aflame until he’s breathless.

Your guidance doesn’t falter when he positions himself on top of you. If anything, the kiss turns hungrier and Lars moans, muffled in your mouth, and he wants more despite the nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Worries creep in that he’ll do something wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. 

There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that making out like this isn’t something he should be doing. It feels far too exciting to be allowed. Far too naughty, and that seems to spur on the excitement, and it all feels so good how could it be wrong?

His pants are getting tighter and he knows he can control himself if he just manages to get back outside and pick up his axe and burn it off, but he doesn’t want to this time. Not with you here, kissing him, touching him, making him feel good.

But what will Gus and Karin think when they find out he kissed their new neighbour with such fierce passion less than forty-eight hours after you arrived in town? Somewhere within his muddle of thoughts, he hears Gus muttering an impressed, ‘It’s always the quiet ones…’ and his cheeks burn a little hotter.

He feels you pushing at his shoulders then, a signal to stop, and he scrambles back to sit up, covering his face with his hands.

He was on another plane of existence just a moment ago and now everything was crashing down around him. He had gone too far, been selfish with his affections. What had he done?

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-’ he sobs into his palms, muffled and desperate.

‘Don’t be,’ you soothe, sitting up to join him as you fight off the haze of pleasant lightheadedness his kiss had caused. ‘I liked it.’

You grab the half-full mugs of chocolate and pass him his. He accepts with a nervous smile and you sip the remaining drinks together in comfortable silence, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the kiss having broken the tension.

You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh, content. You hadn’t felt so at home since you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to leave. You also didn’t want to admit that you’d not really listened when he’d been kind enough to show you how to use the logs he’d gifted to you.

Meanwhile, Lars’s head is buzzing. He thinks over how he’s already shared his first kiss with you (first kiss with tongues, anyway — he’d kissed Bianca once or twice in moments of madness, but never with tongue). He thinks about how far he’s come since Bianca, and how if it weren’t for her he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to finish a conversation with you yet, let alone push you onto the floor and dare to let desire consume him for a short while.

And he can’t just leave it there now, not now he’s tasted you, shared a part of himself with you; he needs more. He decides he needs to act now or he will think about it so much he’ll scare himself away from the idea.

So before he can even formulate an actual plan to ask you out, he blurts;

‘You want me to show you around sometime? There’s the lake, and- oh, I have a treehouse there!- and we could go into the town together, too, maybe to the mall? Gus and Karin would love to have you over for dinner, I bet. They’re always asking me, so I could bring you as my guest! Do you bowl? I’m not very good, but I’m getting better and-’

‘I’m absolutely shit at bowling,’ you laugh, and Lars laughs too, relieved you’d stopped him talking himself into a certain hole he’d never climb out of. ‘But I still like to play. I’d actually really like to go with you sometime.’

You feel Lars holding all his breath in his lungs, and smile to yourself. He’s so easy to fluster. You could have fun with that, you muse, but stop yourself thinking on it for too long.

‘C-can we still… kiss?’ Lars stutters, trailing off, ‘I liked it, too.’

You chuckle to yourself, giddy at how nice this all feels. ‘Do you make a habit of kissing your neighbours, Lars?’

It’s a playful question, and although you can’t see his face you can sense that he’s blushing profusely, blinking hard again.

‘No! No, I’ve never-’

‘Good. But, how about… you do it again? Just for me?’

∘₊✧─────────NSFW─────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars throws his coat and hat on so haphazardly to get out of work at the earliest possible moment, his hair is sticking out at every angle.

He rushes home, wheels spinning against the gravel before his car screeches to a halt outside the garage. He grabs his briefcase and the little plastic bag he carries his good shoes to work in, and darts out of the car to his front door.

Gus and Karin don’t know about you yet. Or rather, they know about you, but not about the way you’d touched and kissed Lars. Or the way you occupied his thoughts every second since. When they’d mentioned you to Lars over breakfast this morning, he made his excuses and ran, worried he’d give himself away with blushing cheeks or breathlessness.

He may as well have not gone into work today. He might have been physically present, but his mind was very firmly elsewhere. All he could think about was the way your lips felt when they had slid so sensually against his. Not burning or uncomfortable in the least. It’s almost jarring, how good it made him feel. He’d only ever been that comfortable with Bianca before, and the thought sets his teeth on edge and his heart racing.

His stomach churns every time he replays the kiss you’d shared. And the second kiss. And the third. Except it’s not churning exactly. It’s more like fluttering, low and unsettled in his belly. Is that what people mean when they say they have butterflies? He’s never felt that before.

Right now he needs to focus on getting inside before he’s stopped by Karin. His chest heaves when he finally unlocks his door and slams it shut behind him. Luckily Karin doesn’t see him, or has decided against chasing him for dinner tonight. She’d been better at that since Bianca, leaving Lars to mind his own business much more often than she used to. Lars thanks his lucky stars that tonight is one of those nights.

He’s trembling, he realises, as he hangs up his coat and sets his bags down. His stomach is in knots with these mysterious butterflies again, and his heart is thudding in his ears.

He braces himself against the wall by his coat pegs, resting his forehead to the back of his hand as he tries to force his breathing slow, and to focus on organising his thoughts.

All he has to do is choose a sweater, brush his teeth and comb his hair. Simple, easy steps. One thing at a time. Sweater. Let’s start there.

Within twenty minutes, there are six discarded sweaters scattered on his bed and Lars is staring himself out in the bathroom mirror, hair perfectly combed back, breath minty and teeth shiny. He runs his tongue over them, wishing he was running it over your teeth instead.

****

You settle down for dinner with a successfully built fire crackling and hissing in the hearth. You were a bit distracted as you spent far too long adjusting the kindling and remembering the order of the steps to take, piecing together the scraps of information you’d somehow retained from your lesson with Lars. But you did it, and now your house is the glowing, cosy home you’d hoped it would be.

Before you can take a bite of your delicious looking dinner, courtesy of Karin and Gus, an urgent banging at the door makes your heart jump in your chest.

Please be Lars, please be Lars, please be Lars, you hope, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror as you head for the front door, trying your very best to appear casual, and as though you haven’t been thinking about him nonstop since you left his place yesterday.

‘Lars!’ you exclaim, far more excited than you intend it to come out, and your cheeks prickle with heat.

Lars is leaning with one hand up against the door frame, mock confidence oozing from him, and he looks so handsome it makes your head spin. He’s wearing a gorgeous sweater which you gather he must save for special occasions. His hair is combed back perfectly, and a warm smile graces his lips.

Your eyes lock with his when you’re done checking him out so obviously his cheeks are crimson now too, and you simply can’t say another word. The gaze between you is so intense, so filled with intention, the cold air turns thick and you can barely breathe.

Lars lunges forward and presses himself to you. Your lips crash, then his chest is flush with yours and you realise his arms are snaking around your waist, but it’s all so fast and so frenzied you can’t quite keep up. You just need each other and in that moment, knowing he’s close is enough.

With a shaky sigh, he rolls his hips into you. He’s rock hard. You gasp, and he whines into your mouth as the frictions tingles through his core.

He’s fighting to control himself but it’s so difficult when you want this as much as he does and he knows he can chase the thrill with you.

He didn’t even mean to get hard, but after thinking about you for twenty four solid hours and trying not to think about how you’d feel touching him there, it truly was a task not to succumb to the natural pull of arousal before now. He’d done well to last this long.

Only, what if you’d changed your mind since yesterday? He should have asked. He shouldn’t have assumed from your dilated pupils and the way you bit your lip as your eyes grazed over his lips. 

He pulls away, mortified. His body had betrayed him, he lost control, he-

But you push forward, reaching between your flush bodies to stroke the hard bulge tenting in his smartest pants. The fabric is soft against the flesh of your palm and you sigh into his mouth, rubbing needily over his length.

You’re ok with it, he thinks somewhere from within the haze of incredible pleasure and fading embarrassment, a prickly combination that falls away as he kisses you back and it all just becomes you and him. I can be ok with it, too. 

You pause for breath and Lars hisses from between gritted teeth, feeling the overwhelming urge to moan and to chase the coiling sensation tightening in his gut.

He needs more, but it’s already too much. He’s not sure how these things work exactly. He doesn’t know if you would consider him a… what are they called? A one night stand. Or if you’d expect something in return, or for him to make a move before he-

‘Ohhhmmnn…’ he groans. It’s low and primal for such a small sound and it makes your core ache.

His head falls to the crook of your neck while his fingers grip at your arms with a strength that makes your breathing catch in your throat, and just as you’re considering unfastening those smart, grey pants to get your hand inside and really feel him, Lars’s whole body shudders and you wrap your free arm around his lower back to steady him as he turns weak and flops against you, hips bucking as he spills, hot and thick, inside his pants.

A string of ragged, breathless moans and weak little whimpers slowly tear from his throat as he tries to regain composure.

Weak, he keeps his face buried against you for now, his eyes shut tight as you slide a hand up to stroke through his hair, bringing him back to you.

He needed that release, and with it came a sense of clarity that he only wants more of you. He wants to see you, feel you, kiss you every single day. Is that unreasonable?

The real reason he’d knocked on your door swells within his stomach, butterflies returning swiftly to replace the heated coil that had wound up and finally sprung free at your touch.

Desire – in particular, sexual desire – is not the original reason Lars came over tonight. He never dreamed he would make such a mess in his trousers or that you’d kiss like that again, even though he’s kinds of glad both of those things did happen. Glad but… embarrassed.

His underwear is sticky against his skin, and he knows his release is soaking through the front of his pants. Along with the uncomfortable sensations he wants to soothe away with a refreshing shower and a clean pair of underwear, shame consumes him as he struggles to peel himself off you. 

But you come to the rescue as you so often seem to do, guiding him over to your sofa and flopping down onto it with him. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together as you settle comfortably.

It feels like home. Lars feels like home, and once again you get that feeling in your gut that tells you never to leave his side.

‘Lars…’ you start, voice barely a whisper, and he turns to you, finally meeting your eyes, and you notice how wet his are. Had he cried when he came? 

‘Was there… a reason you came over tonight? You know, other than-’

Lars clears his throat before you can say any more. There’s still a pang of shame, and he knows what he did, he doesn’t need to hear it too. ‘Yes, I… I wanted to ask you something.’

As you prepare to hear it, he presses his lips together into a tight smile.

‘What is it?’ you ask gently. ‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’

‘I wanted to ask you… well, I thought- maybe- I could be your boyfriend? I-if you’d like…’

Your answer comes as another bruising kiss, head spinning at the question until you pull back, panting, and rest your forehead against his. He nuzzles against it, never having found such comfort in anything but his blanket before now.

Lars smiles, ‘I think you mean yes.’

‘Yes,’ you confirm, your own lips curling upwards. ‘Take me bowling?’

[ken-dom]

Thinking about forgetting your sweater with Lar’s and he feels so flustered having it with him in the garage holding it the night before he giving it back to you

Or that prompt reversed, Lar’s forgetting his sweater with you and you return it to him the next day with it smelling like you!! - <3

You knock gently at Lars’s door, knowing him well enough to understand that an unexpected visitor could startle him. Perhaps even more so if he knew it was you (you’d like to think, anyway).

He appears at his window first, peeking out under a knitted brow, curious, cautious, with a half-full glass of milk clutched in his hand.

You pretend not to notice him there, but you can't help but bite your lips together at how cute and… kind of hot he looks in his longjohns.

You wait patiently, and he eventually appears at the door, layered up with a few more clothes, but his face turns white as he realises he hasn't actually checked a mirror. His arm slowly moves up, wiping the milk off his moustache with his sleeve. He's very thorough about it and you bite your lips again trying not to giggle at how cute it is.

He doesn't say a word, standing before you in stunned silence, hoping you won't ask to come in.

‘Hi Lars,’ you greet softly with a gentle smile pulling at your lips. You can't help but grin and blush every time you look at him, and it's even harder not to when he's mere inches away.

‘Hey,’ he breathes, frozen to the spot, eyes like a rabbit in the headlights.

‘I think you accidentally took my sweater, and I have yours. I know they’re kind of similar…’

His eyebrows raise. ‘Oh! Ok… hold on.’

He closes the door so there’s only an inch of space. You peer through, not intending to intrude, but wondering why he needed to close it at all. You see him shuffle hurriedly over to his bed in the far corner, fighting with the duvet for a moment before whipping out your sweater.

Your heart leaps in your chest. He’s slept with it in his bed?! Wearing it? Holding it?

He opens the door again as you clear your throat, trying not to look like you just watched him fish your clothes out of his bedsheets. Hs's somehow more sheepish than before as he holds the garment out to you, folded neatly now.

You reach out, eyes locked on his. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are pink, but so are yours, and you feel drawn together like magnets. Only not enough to move actually closer. Not yet.

With your focus tied up in his eyes, and his on yours, your finger brushes lightly against his. It was the briefest, tenderest of touches, but even so, you knew it might hurt him and you retreat.

But he doesn't flinch. He simply continues to gaze into the depths of your eyes until you break away with your jumper in hand.

You’re not sure what's come over you, but you immediately press it to your face, breathing in deeply. It feels... warm. Has he just now been curled up with it? In his underwear, drinking his milk? Good heavens.

‘Smells like you,’ you whisper with the ghost of a smile, knowing that if there's ever a time to let him know that you like the way he smells, now would be that time.

His cheeks turn positively crimson then, panic setting in that you’ll know he slept clutching it to his own nose so he could smell you, that he rushed home from work to curl up with it again, to soothe the stresses of the day with that small comfort. The rest of his blush is made up of heat at the thought that you might not actually mind him doing that. He kind of hopes you'll accidentally swap sweaters again... even if it did initially take him a solid hour to actually lay beside it in his bed.

You hand him a paper bag with his sweater neatly folded inside and smile again, trying not to skip back to your car as you depart on that note, leaving him blushing and lost for words on his doorstep.

‘Bye,’ Lars mutters under his breath, so quiet that you have no chance of hearing him.

He waves dreamily as you climb into your car, then slams his door closed, falling back against it to steady himself before going to finish his glass of milk. That will calm him. Probably. But not as much as your sweater.

[ken-dom]

Home

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

2.3k words

Summary: Lars has something extra special in mind tonight.

Author's notes: Ok I've got it bad for Lars. Gorgeous artwork is by the wonderful @dranna 🩷

Warnings/content: fluff, marriage proposal, touches on Lars's possessive side if you squint, kissing, gif at the end

The afternoon sun illuminated Lars’s soft, moustache-adorned face in a warm glow as he peered out of his garage window with mild concern, completely unaware, as ever, of how handsome he was.

And even more so tonight, because he had dressed up for something special. Something he had been planning for weeks, and thinking about since the very first time you held hands.

He cautiously stepped away from view when he saw your headlights approaching, and peeked around the curtains to check it really was your car. His heart sped up and his shoulders tensed as he was overcome with the thought that you might not actually show up tonight.

It surprised Lars more every week that you kept coming back. You only shared your first kiss two months into dating. He knew this was considered a long time in the dating world, but it had been a big deal for him and you’d been patient and kind. You’d told him he was a good kisser and let him take it at his own pace. You’d waited another couple of weeks until he was ready to use tongues (and you didn’t make him feel bad for moaning into your mouth when you finally did and he discovered that he liked it). He found you incredible for that small courtesy, despite your protests that you’d wait a lifetime and then some, as long as he was happy and comfortable.

Of course, it was you pulling onto his driveway. You’d turned up for tonight’s date early as usual, easing his anxieties with that one effortless act.

He shuffled over to his full length mirror to triple check that his hair was sleek, his moustache neat, his sweater uncrumpled and his posture straight. Tonight had to be perfect. It had to be special. He wanted you to feel as special as you made him feel, if that were at all possible.

He ran through his rehearsed words one last time, smiling sweetly at his reflection for getting the simple phrase right, cheeks glowing pink at the thought of you actually hearing them later. He’d felt terrified the first time he’d said them out loud to his reflection, wincing and forgetting how to breathe for a moment, but after a few weeks, they began to sound like his favourite song. They brought him hope instead of fear, and they made him feel more connected to you. He just had to make that connection real now.

His stomach turned somersaults when your unmistakable tap at the door broke his reverie.

‘This is it,’ he breathed giddily, slipping on his coat, with one last nod to himself in the mirror, pacing himself with measured breaths as he made his way to the door and creaked it open just a few inches. He stepped into the doorframe to block the entrance, keeping the door pressed to his back.

You tilted your head, curiosity pulling at your lips. ‘Not letting me in, Lars?’

‘Not today,’ he beamed, voice high with excitement.

You beamed back, wondering what had him so amused and skittish. ‘Oh?’

‘I uhm… I thought we could go for a walk. I just need to-’

Curious what he was up to, you attempted to be surreptitious as you peered over his shoulder into the garage as he leant back for his blanket, but Lars, hyper aware of your every movement, noticed as soon as he’d wrapped it around his neck.

Flustered by your inquisitive glances, he pushed his body forward, clumsily closing the door behind him and inadvertently forcing you off the doorstep in the process. You stumbled back, and without thinking, Lars held out his ungloved hand to yours, catching and pulling you toward him in an almost graceful dance. The space between you closed to barely an inch and you felt his breath, hot and fresh, tingle against your lips. Your eyes locked. You shivered.

‘Sorry,’ he breathed, and at the same time you uttered a quiet, ‘Thank you…’

The words fogged the gap between you. You eyes slid for a moment, hoping he might kiss you, but after ensuring you were firmly on your feet, he pulled away and you sobered.

Lars glanced over the top of your head toward the house, where Karin was holding two thumbs up through the window, the broadest smile he thought he’d ever seen plastered across her eager face. He shot his gaze back to you, wanting to keep your attention on him and definitely not draw it to Karin who could give the whole thing away if he wasn’t careful.

‘Would you like to hold my hand?’ he asked hurriedly, watching every minute flicker on your face in an attempt to gauge your reaction. His stomach was in knots and if he wasn’t absolutely sure that you were in the mood for romance tonight he wasn’t sure he could go through with his plan.

You took one glove off and slipped your fingers between his, lifting your clasped hands to slide them inside his coat pocket as you smiled up at him.

He huffed out a heavy, half-relieved breath, heart hammering in his chest at your hand being inside his clothes and your thumb rubbing at the back of his hand. He anxiously squeezed his long, thick fingers around yours and you jumped a little at the pressure.

‘Lars, is everything ok? You seem sort of… nervous.’

‘No! No, I’m not nervous,’ he protested, while forcing himself not to run in the opposite direction, ‘I’m uhm… hey, let’s head to the lake. I want to show you something.’

You knew there was something on his mind, but you also knew he would get there in his own time with your support. So for now, you rested your head against his shoulder, and took a deep breath, enjoying the crunch of frosty twigs and leaves beneath your feet.

At the gentle lapping of the water, you sighed dreamily. The sun was setting over the lake as you approached, and as the treehouse came into view, you saw another glow – there were fairy lights strung up all around it.

‘Lars?! Did you do this?’

He nodded sheepishly, cheeks red with the bitter cold while burning hot with anticipation beneath that soft, pale flesh.

‘It’s beautiful! Can we climb up and watch the sunset together?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered, delighted, his lips curling at your reaction, watching you let go of his hand to skip toward the rope and eagerly climb up to the top where you found a pile of thick blankets and huge plush cushions.

‘Lars!’ you exclaimed, turning to him with tears welling in your eyes. ‘What’s all this for? For me?’

‘All for you,’ he nodded, following you up to the little wooden platform. ‘I wanted to share a romantic evening with you.’

‘I love it,’ you laughed, wrapping your arms around him the moment he was at the top. He was stiff at first, but lingered in your embrace.

You laid down a thick blanket to sit on, and Lars dropped down beside you, smiling gleefully when you rested your head against him again and covered your legs with another, fluffier blanket.

‘Come here…’ he uttered, pulling you with him until you were laid side by side with your heads resting on the same big, squashy cushion.

Lars stared across at the horizon, bracing himself to wrap an arm around you. As if you’d read his mind, you lifted your head at the exact moment he shifted his arm, and placed your head on his chest. That was one of the things he adored most about your time together; you were so in sync, it was painless.

‘You look beautiful tonight,’ he sighed, breath catching in his throat, and then, ‘L is for the way you look at me,’ Lars sang quietly, tentatively.

You hummed, delighted to hear him, and he continued;

‘O is for the only one I seeV is very, very extraordinaryE is even more than anyone that you adore can-’

His voice was dreamy. You’d never heard him sing before, and the sound came as a wonderful surprise; the freedom in the voice and range he played with as he serenaded you made your heart swell and your skin prickle.

Lars had begun to wave his arms in time with the music he was making, and you wrapped an arm around his soft middle, shifting on his chest to gaze up at his face instead of at the sunset. Lars was far more beautiful anyway.

‘Love is all that I can give to youLove is more than just a game for two-’

Wanting the moment to last forever, you joined him, harmonising perfectly;

‘Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break itLove was made for me and you.’

You wondered again if he was going to kiss you then, but his trembling lips were poised to ask a question rather than press to yours.

‘Marry me?’ Lars blurted, eyes so intense on yours you could have melted under the heat.

‘Yes,’ you answered simply.

There was not a single trace of doubt lacing your voice, and his heart soared, but for a brief moment, it was as though the conversation had never happened. You were frozen, laid on his chest, softly weighing him down and staring into his glossy blue eyes while he laid beneath you, sucking in shaky breaths and staring up at you, startled as a rabbit in the headlights but filled with such awe.

The world stood still as the meaning of it all sunk in for you both. The biggest and possibly most important question you'd ever been asked, and the effortless way your agreement slipped from your lips without a second thought. It was easy for you both. The most natural interaction you’d ever experienced.

He’d asked Bianca after only a short time together and still felt the sting of her saying no. He needed time to prepare to hear that again. 

But you had said yes! It was no longer a rehearsal with his reflection that helped form the beginnings of a perfect daydream in his imagination. It was actually happening. It was real.

You both burst into a fit of laughter, and he finally kissed you, firm and passion-filled, fingers threading into your hair to hold the back of your head still.

You missed the sunset. You didn’t care. There’d be others. A lifetime’s worth to share with him, or to miss with him. The thought made your heart swell.

‘Oh, wait! I have something,’ Lars breathed after an eternity, blinking his gaze away and struggling to reach his inside coat pocket with you laid upon it. 

You stood on wobbly legs to give him the space he needed, giddy with the knowledge that you were engaged and you were the only two people in the world who knew. You were giddy, too, at the tingle of his lips against yours, the way his soft moustache had gently brushed your upper lip, the way he had hummed into your mouth each time your tongues slid together.

Lars scrambled around on his knees, clumsily knocking a cushion from the treehouse platform as he finally found what he was looking for. By the time the cushion hit the ground with a dull pouff!, he was knelt before you, holding out a shiny ring with the most hopeful glint in his eye you’d ever seen.

‘Do you want to wear it?’

‘Of course I do,’ you said softly, kneeling with him to slip the ring on. It looked tiny in his huge hands. His long fingers felt surprisingly warm against the cool of your skin, and as the ring slid into position, a rush of butterflies swelled in your stomach. Even after months with him, they hadn’t ceased. You were sure they never would.

‘I could wear one too, if you’d like,’ he offered, unsure.

‘Do you want to?’

‘Maybe. I think so… I want everyone to know I’m engaged to you. That we belong to each other.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ you smiled, flexing your fingers to admire the fit of the ring and the way it twinkled brighter than the stars reflecting off the gently rippling water when you moved your hand around. 

It didn’t capture your attention for too long though. Lars was the real star of the show. You tugged gently at the pale blue comfort blanket tucked neatly around his neck, pulling him closer with it. He didn’t always wear it when he was with you. He’d grown comfortable enough to go without most of the time, but you understood now why he’d wanted it tonight. Your lips pressed to his once again, and he sighed dreamily.

When you dropped back, Lars kept his eyes closed and lips parted as though he was still kissing you, his eyebrows raised in bliss. You supposed he never wanted it to end. But his nose was turning red, and as much as you never wanted to cover your hand up now that Lars had given you a promise to display there, your fingers needed warmth.

‘Let’s go home?’ you beamed, slipping your fingers into his hand again.

‘Yes,’ Lars agreed, with a broad, crooked smile, removing his blanket and draping it around your shoulders to keep you warm.

It turned out that you weren’t the only two people in the world to know about the engagement after all. Lars waved at the house on the way back to his garage and gave a clear thumbs up to an anxious Karin, who was still waiting in the window, and began to bounce up and down and call excitedly for Gus when she saw Lars’s signal.

You waved too, and slipped your hand out of Lars’s pocket to wiggle your fingers and show off your ring.

Lars watched you closely, everything seeming to move in slow motion as you displayed your utter joy to his proud brother and sister in law.

Home, he realised, was wherever you were.

----------------

[ken-dom]

touches: 22 - falling asleep for Lars!

Touches 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

∘₊✧ Fluff and comfort

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

‘Y-you can stay… if- if you want?’ Lars breathed shakily as the credits began to roll. A question he’d been building himself up for the entire movie.

Sitting on his bed, you’d watched one of his favourites together — a romance film you’d never really been keen on until he suggested it.

You were glad to have agreed to it tonight, though, seeing him enthralled by the onscreen chemistry, blushing and shifting uncomfortably when the big reunion kiss became heated, and even shedding an anticipatory tear as the story neared it’s end.

He squeezed his eyes shut for almost a solid minute when you’d commented that he looked kind of like the handsome male lead, and you wondered if you’d somehow broken him.

Still, Lars welcomed you shuffling closer and even sighed contentedly when you snuggled into his side, even though you could hear his heart thudding in his chest.

You would have said yes to staying — you would have jumped at the chance. But as it happened, you hadn’t heard the invitation, because as the movie drew to a close, you’d slipped off into a comfortable sleep with your head nestled against his shoulder, his warmth and softness and soothing scent lulling you into a peaceful state that you simply couldn’t resist.

Lars tilted his head to try and see your reaction, realising with a heavy huff of relief that you hadn’t heard him at all.

Sliding himself out from against your sleeping frame, he gently guided your head onto his pillow before covering you in a thick blanket.

Tender fingertips brushed your hair back as he smiled at you. ‘Goodnight.’

[ken-dom]

Signs Of A Lifetime

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

600 words

Summary: Lars’s takes you to his first New Year’s Eve party where he learns a brand new tradition

Author’s notes: Happy New Year everyone, hope you have as good a night as Lars whether it’s a kiss or some good news or a nice quiet night in 🫶 title from Don’t Delete The Kisses by Wolf Alice

Warnings/content: fluff, kissing, first kiss, slight sensory overload

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

With only one more minute to midnight, the couples dancing around Cindy’s living room had begun to pair up, anticipating the tradition of bringing in a new year together.

Lars watched carefully. He’d never been to a New Year’s party before and he wasn’t entirely certain of the etiquette, but he could tell something specific was about to happen and he might need to know what it was.

Silently, he checked off a list of social cues to try and figure out what exactly he was missing, but the seconds ticked by fast and as the rest of the party began to count down from ten, he felt a warm tingling against his palm where you’d taken his hand, pulling him away from his worries of what he might be doing wrong.

When your fingers intertwined with his, Lars was immediately breathless. The room was loud, almost obnoxiously cheery, and now you were touching him, skin against skin. And then the countdown ended and it was overwhelmingly apparent that the clock had struck midnight. Fireworks sparked and crackled and banged somewhere nearby and the room erupted into excited roars of, ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR!’

Lars felt the urge to cover his ears and close his eyes, but he wanted to try and enjoy this experience the way everyone else seemed to. He didn’t have to do it again next year, of course, he reassured himself, and then he muttered an unsure, ‘Happy New Year,’ with a coy smile, turning to you and wondering why your eyes were sparkling so hopefully back at his.

One last glance around the room gave him the answer; all the couples in attendance were now completely wrapped up in one other, lips locked in passionate, playful kisses that gradually erupted into yet more laughter and singing.

All the blood drained from Lars’s cheeks as he turned back to you, and his hand in yours began to tremble.

‘Am… am I supposed to- uhm- I mean, do you want me to-’

‘No, no, of course not. It’s alright if you’re not ready,’ you smiled back at him, and you meant it, but you couldn’t stop your eyes slipping down to his enticingly soft, rosy lips and wondering what he tasted like or if his neatly trimmed mustache would tickle.

You bit your lip, forcing your gaze to the floor before you allowed your thoughts to give you away, but you felt a sharp tug pull you forward.

Lars’s lips crashed onto yours. They were indeed soft, and when you teased them apart with your tongue, you discovered he tasted like mint toothpaste and strawberry lip balm, with a faint malty fizz from the one beer he had earlier in the evening. His mustache was soft, too, warm and oddly comforting, but it did tickle. Pleasantly so.

Lars’s body was frozen to the spot, his tongue the only part of him moving now — along with his heart slamming against his ribcage, of course. His fingers were balled into tight fists, his eyes were squeezed shut and his face felt like it was on fire. Yet, despite all this, your mouth against his felt like nothing short of heaven and he never wanted it to end; somehow this feeling drowned out everything else in the world and he was filled with something like peace.

You didn’t overwhelm him with an embrace this time, no matter how you had longed to thread your fingers through that thick, perfectly slicked hair. There’d be time for that.

You felt Lars sigh contentedly as you dropped back for breath, and his freshly swollen lips pulled into a sweet, kiss-drunk smile.

‘Happy New Year, Lars!’

He finally opened his eyes, locking onto yours with a brief but intense gaze before blinking furiously and breathing out a shaky, ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is.’

[ken-dom]

I have a cliche idea for Lars, I headcanon that after a while the burning sensation he gets from being touched slowly fades away after being with his partner for a while. I just imagine him always wanting to be touched by them, and it makes him so flustered and eager to wrap them in a strong embrace. For everyone else it still burns him. :')

Yesss anon I’m totally with you on that. Here are my thoughts! Slightly nsfw below the cut but nothing too spicy, just some nudity!

The way he becomes comfortable enough to touch Margo’s hand without gloves after admitting to Dagmar that the only touch he can manage is with Bianca… and then his feelings for Margo begin to bloom and he learns from Gus what it means to ‘know when you’re a man’ and the whole world is opening up to him and it’s confusing and jarring but suddenly he can do it! Without pain!

I love that moment of growth for him. It’s gorgeous.

And I do love to imagine that once he’s comfortable enough to touch you without it burning, it opens the floodgates and he can’t stop. Yes, he’s been the one avoiding touch, it hasn’t been denied to him, but even so? Without it for so long and then suddenly finding that he can not only do it, but enjoy it? He must feel somewhat touch starved.

So, he’s constantly seeking out your hand with his fingers, wrapping an arm around you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck when you embrace so that he can breathe you in while he feels the warmth of your flesh against his.

His hugs are always warm, too, he’s always slightly musky and hot from all those layers, his arms strong and safe around you. And he always takes his time, relishing in the closeness, this new whole form of comfort for him. He wants each touch to last and so it’s never a hurry.

He loves having his hair stroked, your fingers combing through his thick, soft locks, tugging gently, and fingertips scraping pleasantly against his scalp. Wait until you share a bath for the first time and wash it for him. He will flush bright crimson at the way it makes him moan.

Kissing is slow and gentle and languid, for a while anyway. He gets a little more confidence with that later too, and isn’t afraid to claim you with his lips. But for now, it’s tender.

The first time he sees you naked he spends a lifetime tracing over every part of your body with the most gentle fingertips, exploring every last part of you with awe and adoration.

He likes to cuddle naked once you’re at the stage of being that comfortable together. It’s intimate but it doesn’t always need to be sexual — it’s enough for him to fall asleep in your arms, bodies pressed flush together without the barrier of clothes, safe together beneath the duvet. Just the two of you.

And the way he’d hold you in those moments, too? We only need to look at this, and ✨swoon✨:

[ken-dom]

hihi i was wondering if you could do a lars x reader fluff when the reader is non verbal and lars helps reader communicate? sorry if this is confusing ☹️ please and thank you

Hi anon! I haven’t taken it as a fic request but I’m always ready to talk about Lars so here are my thoughts on Lars helping you communicate in social situations, hope you enjoy! 🩷

Lars is wonderful with you any time you’re non verbal. After helping Bianca, he is well practised in helping you to communicate when you want him to. He’s a great listener, too, so anything you have said to him in private, he will remember and repeat word for word when you need it. He memorises almost everything you say, placing a high level of importance in getting to know your thoughts and feelings.

Lars is the most patient, thoughtful partner. He never puts pressure on you and is always very receptive of the way you’re feeling in social situations. He finds them difficult himself, always slightly on edge in case someone tries to touch or hug him, or compliment him publicly, at which point his eyes squeeze closed and he needs to take a series of deep breaths to remain grounded and not run away. So, he understands the pressures you might feel and will do anything he can to help you with that, starting with keeping a close eye on your body language to make sure he doesn’t miss any cues or messages.

With you, touch isn’t painful for him, and he knows it helps you to feel involved when you can’t speak, as well as giving you a way to communicate to him, so he’s always close by. He leans in closer to pick up on anything you want help with, and whispers so quietly and gently into your ear to check he’s got it right, waiting for your nod, happily navigating the situation with you, proudly holding your hand or sliding an arm comfortingly around your waist.

If needed, he will tell people you’re non verbal in the most thoughtful, tactful way — but only if you’ve asked him to, always putting your comfort first.

The praise and compliments never end with Lars. He’s always got something to say about you and it’s usually a glowing report of something you’ve done, a fact about you that he loves, or a personality trait of yours that he really likes. It helps direct attention away from him and it gives people less time to start badgering you to talk to them too, so it’s a win-win.

Lars always checks in with you on the way home, and fills any of the gaps he knows you might worry about even when it’s just the two of you. It’s never quiet for long thanks to him, unless you’re falling asleep on his chest, listening to just the dull thud of his steady heartbeat with just the occasional whispered sweet nothings.

[ken-dom]

∘₊✧ Ryan Gosling ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Masterlist ✧₊∘

All works are x reader unless otherwise stated - interships are highlighted by character names in blue

I don’t take requests in the traditional sense, but I’m always up for talking about my faves and sometimes it inspires a fic!

Don’t be afraid to ask if you want to see more of a certain character, it’s good for me to know and I’ll try my best!

Relevant warnings are included in the individual fic posts

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

KEN ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Ken blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

Fluff ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Comfort headcanons

∘₊✧ Lavender Ken worries he’s not good enough (includes original artwork)

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ NSFW headcanons

∘₊✧ Sex On The Beach Ken learns about the cocktail and gets curious

∘₊✧ Ken After Dark Ken has a dirty secret that you’ll only discover if you skip girls night (includes original artwork)

∘₊✧ Ken’s Glitter Ken’s stuff ✧₊∘ is not like other humans

∘₊✧ Ken’s First Orgasm Exactly what it says on the tin!

∘₊✧ Ken Can't Do Flips But He Sure Can Strip Ken wants to put on a little show for you

∘₊✧ Pretty Doll (Lars Lindstrom x Ken) Lars has a new doll

∘₊✧ It's Crazy How I Need Your Friction (Driver x Ken) Driver leaves a gift for Ken

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

DRIVER ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Driver blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Kiss Driver has been fantasising about kissing you so much that when you do, it’s overwhelming

∘₊✧ Gloves Driver keeps his gloves on for you

∘₊✧ Lips You give Driver a blowjob

∘₊✧ Short Stories: Driver Three stories shipping Driver with Julian Thompson, Luke Glanton and Lars Lindstrom

∘₊✧ Bite My Lip ‘Til You Break It solo Driver, kissing kink

∘₊✧ It's Crazy How I Need Your Friction (Driver x Ken) Driver leaves a gift for Ken

∘₊✧ Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down Driver gets hard from a car chase (and breaks into your house)

∘₊✧ Might Wanna Kiss Before The End of This Song You like Driver riled up, so you push him

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

HENRY LETHAM ✧₊∘

Fluff ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Your Voice Henry thinks he recognises you and finds comfort in your kiss

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Make You Worse you encourage Henry to be what he considers his worst

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

HOLLAND MARCH ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Holland March blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ NSFW alphabet

∘₊✧ A Long Time Holland wants you, but he's scared to move on

∘₊✧ A Nice House (With Nice Carpets) You mess up the carpet in Holland’s nice house

∘₊✧ Did I Dream That? Holland had a great time last night. You were amazing, apparently.

∘₊✧ Perfect Match Holland’s first time in a long time

∘₊✧ Cumming For Days Holland wants you filled to the brim with him

∘₊✧ I Can Fix Him Holland can’t perform when he’s wasted (part of a triple threat with @hollandstrophyhusband and @webbo0 — fics linked in post)

∘₊✧ Interview With The Mermaid Holland gets curious about mermaid anatomy

∘₊✧ One More Night Holland’s horny while you’re away

∘₊✧ Did You Get It? Holland gets horny in the middle of the day. And Healy is waiting right outside

∘₊✧ Forever (Holland March x Jackson Healy) Healy is amused with how much cum Holland can produce

∘₊✧ Dare To Dream (Holland March x Jackson Healy) There’s only one bed! And oops… Holland has a wet dream

∘₊✧ A Few Things About Holland You blindfold Holland

∘₊✧ Accidental Innuendo (Holland March x Jackson Healy) Holland needs to jerk off. Right. Now.

∘₊✧ March Magic Three times Holland couldn’t get it up and one time he did

Angst ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Come Back To Me Nightmare or dream? Why not both. (part one of a two part series with @heresthestorymorningglory — fic linked in post)

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LARS LINDSTROM ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Lars photo collection series

∘₊✧ Lars blurbs, imagines, scenarios, etc.

Fluff ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ K-I-S-S Scrabble night ends with a flustered Lars

∘₊✧ Home Lars has a question for you (includes art)

∘₊✧ Signs Of A Lifetime Lars’s first New Years Eve

∘₊✧ My Body’s A Zombie Lars sings to you (includes art)

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Thank You Lars’s first time

∘₊✧ Possession Lars needs to know you belong to him

∘₊✧ Prioritise Pleasure Lars is nervous about cumming

∘₊✧ Part 2 Lars wants to return the favour

∘₊✧ Pretty Doll (Lars Lindstrom x Ken) Lars has a new doll

∘₊✧ Training Wheels Lars is such a dirty boy, getting hard for you at a party. Only one thing for it: bathroom hand job

∘₊✧ What’s Left In Me (Lars Lindstrom x Bianca) Lars needs Bianca to know she’s his

∘₊✧ Riding Lars Lindstrom’s Thick Thighs Exactly what it says on the tin!

∘₊✧ Wake Up To Me Every Morning Lars gets a taste for you

∘₊✧ Lars and sexual desire thoughts and an imagine about Lars’s sexiness

∘₊✧ Thoughts on eating Lars’s pussy

∘₊✧ Lingered Lips you move in next door. Lars helps you settle in (and warm up)

∘₊✧ Lay With Me, I'll Lay With You (afab!Lars) Lars follows your directions when he’s desperately turned on but can’t take any more touching

∘₊✧ I Guess I’m Already There Lars has a wet dream

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SIERRA SIX ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Sierra Six blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

Fluff ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Alone Together you share a carnival date with Six

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Aftercare headcanons

∘₊✧ Sense drabble - Six can sense what you want

∘₊✧ Just Another Wednesday Six surprises you after a long day

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

STEVEN WINGDINGS ✧₊∘

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Keyboard Smash Steven is not pleased with the font you’ve used. Until you find one he really likes

∘₊✧ Keyboard Caress Steven makes peace with Papyrus

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

JULIAN THOMPSON ✧₊∘

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Touch Julian needs to learn he’s worthy of being touched

∘₊✧ Comfort Hurt/comfort and smut with Julian after the fight

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

OFFICER K ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ K blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Take Me Home A sleepy morning with K

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

NOAH CALHOUN ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Noah blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

SEBASTIAN WILDER ✧₊∘

Fluff ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Dreams post-canon comfort drabble

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Midnight Thoughts (Sebastian Wilder x Jacob Palmer) sexting

∘₊✧ All of Your Flaws are Aligned with This Mood of Mine Seb goes too far during an argument

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

LUKE GLANTON ✧₊∘

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ I've Got You On My Lips Luke gifts you lipstick. It's for you, and for him

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

COLT SEAVERS ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Colt blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ I’ll Do Anything You Say If You Say It With Your Hands Long hair Colt + praise + overstimulation

∘₊✧ Stay Quiet, Stay Near, Stay Close You help Colt unwind with a hot bath and a massage

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

RYLAND GRACE ✧₊∘

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ The Stars Look Very Different Today Ryland is relieved to carry out a new command from the computer

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

JACOB PALMER ✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Jacob blurbs, imagines, scenarios etc.

NSFW ────────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ Midnight Thoughts (Sebastian Wilder x Jacob Palmer) sexting

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

[high-sea-husbands]

It was so heartwarming 😭🫶🫶

Home

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

2.3k words

Summary: Lars has something extra special in mind tonight.

Author's notes: Ok I've got it bad for Lars. Gorgeous artwork is by the wonderful @dranna 🩷

Warnings/content: fluff, marriage proposal, touches on Lars's possessive side if you squint, kissing, gif at the end

The afternoon sun illuminated Lars’s soft, moustache-adorned face in a warm glow as he peered out of his garage window with mild concern, completely unaware, as ever, of how handsome he was.

And even more so tonight, because he had dressed up for something special. Something he had been planning for weeks, and thinking about since the very first time you held hands.

He cautiously stepped away from view when he saw your headlights approaching, and peeked around the curtains to check it really was your car. His heart sped up and his shoulders tensed as he was overcome with the thought that you might not actually show up tonight.

It surprised Lars more every week that you kept coming back. You only shared your first kiss two months into dating. He knew this was considered a long time in the dating world, but it had been a big deal for him and you’d been patient and kind. You’d told him he was a good kisser and let him take it at his own pace. You’d waited another couple of weeks until he was ready to use tongues (and you didn’t make him feel bad for moaning into your mouth when you finally did and he discovered that he liked it). He found you incredible for that small courtesy, despite your protests that you’d wait a lifetime and then some, as long as he was happy and comfortable.

Of course, it was you pulling onto his driveway. You’d turned up for tonight’s date early as usual, easing his anxieties with that one effortless act.

He shuffled over to his full length mirror to triple check that his hair was sleek, his moustache neat, his sweater uncrumpled and his posture straight. Tonight had to be perfect. It had to be special. He wanted you to feel as special as you made him feel, if that were at all possible.

He ran through his rehearsed words one last time, smiling sweetly at his reflection for getting the simple phrase right, cheeks glowing pink at the thought of you actually hearing them later. He’d felt terrified the first time he’d said them out loud to his reflection, wincing and forgetting how to breathe for a moment, but after a few weeks, they began to sound like his favourite song. They brought him hope instead of fear, and they made him feel more connected to you. He just had to make that connection real now.

His stomach turned somersaults when your unmistakable tap at the door broke his reverie.

‘This is it,’ he breathed giddily, slipping on his coat, with one last nod to himself in the mirror, pacing himself with measured breaths as he made his way to the door and creaked it open just a few inches. He stepped into the doorframe to block the entrance, keeping the door pressed to his back.

You tilted your head, curiosity pulling at your lips. ‘Not letting me in, Lars?’

‘Not today,’ he beamed, voice high with excitement.

You beamed back, wondering what had him so amused and skittish. ‘Oh?’

‘I uhm… I thought we could go for a walk. I just need to-’

Curious what he was up to, you attempted to be surreptitious as you peered over his shoulder into the garage as he leant back for his blanket, but Lars, hyper aware of your every movement, noticed as soon as he’d wrapped it around his neck.

Flustered by your inquisitive glances, he pushed his body forward, clumsily closing the door behind him and inadvertently forcing you off the doorstep in the process. You stumbled back, and without thinking, Lars held out his ungloved hand to yours, catching and pulling you toward him in an almost graceful dance. The space between you closed to barely an inch and you felt his breath, hot and fresh, tingle against your lips. Your eyes locked. You shivered.

‘Sorry,’ he breathed, and at the same time you uttered a quiet, ‘Thank you…’

The words fogged the gap between you. You eyes slid for a moment, hoping he might kiss you, but after ensuring you were firmly on your feet, he pulled away and you sobered.

Lars glanced over the top of your head toward the house, where Karin was holding two thumbs up through the window, the broadest smile he thought he’d ever seen plastered across her eager face. He shot his gaze back to you, wanting to keep your attention on him and definitely not draw it to Karin who could give the whole thing away if he wasn’t careful.

‘Would you like to hold my hand?’ he asked hurriedly, watching every minute flicker on your face in an attempt to gauge your reaction. His stomach was in knots and if he wasn’t absolutely sure that you were in the mood for romance tonight he wasn’t sure he could go through with his plan.

You took one glove off and slipped your fingers between his, lifting your clasped hands to slide them inside his coat pocket as you smiled up at him.

He huffed out a heavy, half-relieved breath, heart hammering in his chest at your hand being inside his clothes and your thumb rubbing at the back of his hand. He anxiously squeezed his long, thick fingers around yours and you jumped a little at the pressure.

‘Lars, is everything ok? You seem sort of… nervous.’

‘No! No, I’m not nervous,’ he protested, while forcing himself not to run in the opposite direction, ‘I’m uhm… hey, let’s head to the lake. I want to show you something.’

You knew there was something on his mind, but you also knew he would get there in his own time with your support. So for now, you rested your head against his shoulder, and took a deep breath, enjoying the crunch of frosty twigs and leaves beneath your feet.

At the gentle lapping of the water, you sighed dreamily. The sun was setting over the lake as you approached, and as the treehouse came into view, you saw another glow – there were fairy lights strung up all around it.

‘Lars?! Did you do this?’

He nodded sheepishly, cheeks red with the bitter cold while burning hot with anticipation beneath that soft, pale flesh.

‘It’s beautiful! Can we climb up and watch the sunset together?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered, delighted, his lips curling at your reaction, watching you let go of his hand to skip toward the rope and eagerly climb up to the top where you found a pile of thick blankets and huge plush cushions.

‘Lars!’ you exclaimed, turning to him with tears welling in your eyes. ‘What’s all this for? For me?’

‘All for you,’ he nodded, following you up to the little wooden platform. ‘I wanted to share a romantic evening with you.’

‘I love it,’ you laughed, wrapping your arms around him the moment he was at the top. He was stiff at first, but lingered in your embrace.

You laid down a thick blanket to sit on, and Lars dropped down beside you, smiling gleefully when you rested your head against him again and covered your legs with another, fluffier blanket.

‘Come here…’ he uttered, pulling you with him until you were laid side by side with your heads resting on the same big, squashy cushion.

Lars stared across at the horizon, bracing himself to wrap an arm around you. As if you’d read his mind, you lifted your head at the exact moment he shifted his arm, and placed your head on his chest. That was one of the things he adored most about your time together; you were so in sync, it was painless.

‘You look beautiful tonight,’ he sighed, breath catching in his throat, and then, ‘L is for the way you look at me,’ Lars sang quietly, tentatively.

You hummed, delighted to hear him, and he continued;

‘O is for the only one I seeV is very, very extraordinaryE is even more than anyone that you adore can-’

His voice was dreamy. You’d never heard him sing before, and the sound came as a wonderful surprise; the freedom in the voice and range he played with as he serenaded you made your heart swell and your skin prickle.

Lars had begun to wave his arms in time with the music he was making, and you wrapped an arm around his soft middle, shifting on his chest to gaze up at his face instead of at the sunset. Lars was far more beautiful anyway.

‘Love is all that I can give to youLove is more than just a game for two-’

Wanting the moment to last forever, you joined him, harmonising perfectly;

‘Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break itLove was made for me and you.’

You wondered again if he was going to kiss you then, but his trembling lips were poised to ask a question rather than press to yours.

‘Marry me?’ Lars blurted, eyes so intense on yours you could have melted under the heat.

‘Yes,’ you answered simply.

There was not a single trace of doubt lacing your voice, and his heart soared, but for a brief moment, it was as though the conversation had never happened. You were frozen, laid on his chest, softly weighing him down and staring into his glossy blue eyes while he laid beneath you, sucking in shaky breaths and staring up at you, startled as a rabbit in the headlights but filled with such awe.

The world stood still as the meaning of it all sunk in for you both. The biggest and possibly most important question you'd ever been asked, and the effortless way your agreement slipped from your lips without a second thought. It was easy for you both. The most natural interaction you’d ever experienced.

He’d asked Bianca after only a short time together and still felt the sting of her saying no. He needed time to prepare to hear that again. 

But you had said yes! It was no longer a rehearsal with his reflection that helped form the beginnings of a perfect daydream in his imagination. It was actually happening. It was real.

You both burst into a fit of laughter, and he finally kissed you, firm and passion-filled, fingers threading into your hair to hold the back of your head still.

You missed the sunset. You didn’t care. There’d be others. A lifetime’s worth to share with him, or to miss with him. The thought made your heart swell.

‘Oh, wait! I have something,’ Lars breathed after an eternity, blinking his gaze away and struggling to reach his inside coat pocket with you laid upon it. 

You stood on wobbly legs to give him the space he needed, giddy with the knowledge that you were engaged and you were the only two people in the world who knew. You were giddy, too, at the tingle of his lips against yours, the way his soft moustache had gently brushed your upper lip, the way he had hummed into your mouth each time your tongues slid together.

Lars scrambled around on his knees, clumsily knocking a cushion from the treehouse platform as he finally found what he was looking for. By the time the cushion hit the ground with a dull pouff!, he was knelt before you, holding out a shiny ring with the most hopeful glint in his eye you’d ever seen.

‘Do you want to wear it?’

‘Of course I do,’ you said softly, kneeling with him to slip the ring on. It looked tiny in his huge hands. His long fingers felt surprisingly warm against the cool of your skin, and as the ring slid into position, a rush of butterflies swelled in your stomach. Even after months with him, they hadn’t ceased. You were sure they never would.

‘I could wear one too, if you’d like,’ he offered, unsure.

‘Do you want to?’

‘Maybe. I think so… I want everyone to know I’m engaged to you. That we belong to each other.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ you smiled, flexing your fingers to admire the fit of the ring and the way it twinkled brighter than the stars reflecting off the gently rippling water when you moved your hand around. 

It didn’t capture your attention for too long though. Lars was the real star of the show. You tugged gently at the pale blue comfort blanket tucked neatly around his neck, pulling him closer with it. He didn’t always wear it when he was with you. He’d grown comfortable enough to go without most of the time, but you understood now why he’d wanted it tonight. Your lips pressed to his once again, and he sighed dreamily.

When you dropped back, Lars kept his eyes closed and lips parted as though he was still kissing you, his eyebrows raised in bliss. You supposed he never wanted it to end. But his nose was turning red, and as much as you never wanted to cover your hand up now that Lars had given you a promise to display there, your fingers needed warmth.

‘Let’s go home?’ you beamed, slipping your fingers into his hand again.

‘Yes,’ Lars agreed, with a broad, crooked smile, removing his blanket and draping it around your shoulders to keep you warm.

It turned out that you weren’t the only two people in the world to know about the engagement after all. Lars waved at the house on the way back to his garage and gave a clear thumbs up to an anxious Karin, who was still waiting in the window, and began to bounce up and down and call excitedly for Gus when she saw Lars’s signal.

You waved too, and slipped your hand out of Lars’s pocket to wiggle your fingers and show off your ring.

Lars watched you closely, everything seeming to move in slow motion as you displayed your utter joy to his proud brother and sister in law.

Home, he realised, was wherever you were.

----------------

[high-sea-husbands]

😭😭😭😭pls , it was so adorable

His arm slowly moves up, wiping the milk off his moustache with his sleeve.

Has he just now been curled up with it?

It’s that not the cutest thing I’ve ever read—-

Thinking about forgetting your sweater with Lar’s and he feels so flustered having it with him in the garage holding it the night before he giving it back to you

Or that prompt reversed, Lar’s forgetting his sweater with you and you return it to him the next day with it smelling like you!! - <3

You knock gently at Lars’s door, knowing him well enough to understand that an unexpected visitor could startle him. Perhaps even more so if he knew it was you (you’d like to think, anyway).

He appears at his window first, peeking out under a knitted brow, curious, cautious, with a half-full glass of milk clutched in his hand.

You pretend not to notice him there, but you can't help but bite your lips together at how cute and… kind of hot he looks in his longjohns.

You wait patiently, and he eventually appears at the door, layered up with a few more clothes, but his face turns white as he realises he hasn't actually checked a mirror. His arm slowly moves up, wiping the milk off his moustache with his sleeve. He's very thorough about it and you bite your lips again trying not to giggle at how cute it is.

He doesn't say a word, standing before you in stunned silence, hoping you won't ask to come in.

‘Hi Lars,’ you greet softly with a gentle smile pulling at your lips. You can't help but grin and blush every time you look at him, and it's even harder not to when he's mere inches away.

‘Hey,’ he breathes, frozen to the spot, eyes like a rabbit in the headlights.

‘I think you accidentally took my sweater, and I have yours. I know they’re kind of similar…’

His eyebrows raise. ‘Oh! Ok… hold on.’

He closes the door so there’s only an inch of space. You peer through, not intending to intrude, but wondering why he needed to close it at all. You see him shuffle hurriedly over to his bed in the far corner, fighting with the duvet for a moment before whipping out your sweater.

Your heart leaps in your chest. He’s slept with it in his bed?! Wearing it? Holding it?

He opens the door again as you clear your throat, trying not to look like you just watched him fish your clothes out of his bedsheets. Hs's somehow more sheepish than before as he holds the garment out to you, folded neatly now.

You reach out, eyes locked on his. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are pink, but so are yours, and you feel drawn together like magnets. Only not enough to move actually closer. Not yet.

With your focus tied up in his eyes, and his on yours, your finger brushes lightly against his. It was the briefest, tenderest of touches, but even so, you knew it might hurt him and you retreat.

But he doesn't flinch. He simply continues to gaze into the depths of your eyes until you break away with your jumper in hand.

You’re not sure what's come over you, but you immediately press it to your face, breathing in deeply. It feels... warm. Has he just now been curled up with it? In his underwear, drinking his milk? Good heavens.

‘Smells like you,’ you whisper with the ghost of a smile, knowing that if there's ever a time to let him know that you like the way he smells, now would be that time.

His cheeks turn positively crimson then, panic setting in that you’ll know he slept clutching it to his own nose so he could smell you, that he rushed home from work to curl up with it again, to soothe the stresses of the day with that small comfort. The rest of his blush is made up of heat at the thought that you might not actually mind him doing that. He kind of hopes you'll accidentally swap sweaters again... even if it did initially take him a solid hour to actually lay beside it in his bed.

You hand him a paper bag with his sweater neatly folded inside and smile again, trying not to skip back to your car as you depart on that note, leaving him blushing and lost for words on his doorstep.

‘Bye,’ Lars mutters under his breath, so quiet that you have no chance of hearing him.

He waves dreamily as you climb into your car, then slams his door closed, falling back against it to steady himself before going to finish his glass of milk. That will calm him. Probably. But not as much as your sweater.