Lars and the Really Big Crush ❀˖°
Pairing | Lars Lindstrom x reader Summary | You and Lars—two awkward humans, clumsily orbiting around each other for months. And before you know it, you're in the midst of a developing crush, and he isn't helping with his "accidental" run-ins with you. Warnings/tags | strangers to friends to potentially more, awkward lil babies ahead, Lars is too nervous to talk to reader, fluff, Karin and her kid make an appearance, single use of 'ope' (because latrg is apparently set in wisconsin, and it's my culture), the cat's name is Goose (sorry, i had to...ever since my doggy was born, i've called him goose), no use of y/n Word Count | 4.3k (this was supposed to be short, idk what happened) A/N | hi :3 i think i'm slowly drifting to the goose fandom. i still have my toothbrush and my own drawer at bucky's place, but i think i need a wee lil break. apologies:( fun fact...it was my one year anniversary of writing on tumblr dot gov a week ago. i wanted to post something, but...life. so here's...whatever this is, enjoy:)) (please, let me know if i should continue this 𖹭)
In a small, rural town where everyone knew each other, you knew Lars Lindstrom. Had you shared a conversation? No. Had you ever even introduced yourself to him? No. But you were familiar with him all the same.
He was a popular topic of conversation around town—one you were constantly included in because you just had to meet Lars. You tried. You really did try to introduce yourself.
You were fairly new to town, of course, you would want to meet everyone. It was kind of a priority for you, something your grandmother instilled in you since you were little. 'First impressions are everything, make the effort to get to know them,' she'd said before presenting you to one of her many friends. She was the kind of person to greet you with a homemade casserole and a friendly conversation if you were a new arrival.
But now roles were reversed, and you were the new arrival. You had moved in with her in a cottage beside a long, winding creek at the beginning of Fall. Now, it was Winter—the time of year when a thin layer of frost covered car windshields and snow was scattered on the sidewalks, the powdery snow softly crunching beneath your worn boots.
The grocery store was the first time you had seen Lars in person. Your grandmother asked you to run uptown to pick up milk, a carton of eggs, and two boxes of cream cheese. Easy enough.
However, as you were pacing up and down the cramped aisles, you spotted an unfamiliar face at the far end, towards the canned fruits. Or he spotted you, and you just noticed, since his eyes were locked on you, scanning you like you were the nutrition label on a cereal box. As if your features and frame were ingredients he was having difficulty sounding out in his head, and he had to read you all over again.
Feeling slightly vulnerable under his intense scrutiny, you offered him a tight-lipped smile—one that he did not return. Instead, he froze, limbs locking and eyes widening. He tried to duck behind the corner, peeking through the gap between the cans.
Amused by his embarrassment, you softly snorted. You took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance. You raised your hand to give him a small wave, and he only blinked rapidly in surprise.
"Hi," you greeted, giving your full name in case he connected it to your grandmother’s. "I moved here a couple of months ago, and I don’t think we’ve met before."
As if you hadn’t said a word, he kept staring blankly at you. Still, you reached out your hand, letting it hang in the space between you for what felt like forever until his eyes finally dropped to it. Even then, he didn’t move to take it. He seemed frozen. Suspended in time. Like a photograph of a man with a piercing gaze and gloved hands at his sides—only the frame that once held him had fallen away, and no one had thought to tell him.
Being this close to him, you registered how…handsome he was. He had soft features where it mattered, and sharp lines where it made sense. His blue eyes were kind, gentle, even if they were intense. You could almost sense the emotion beneath his unwavering gaze—an unexplainable grief that you clocked right away. Perhaps it was because it was the same one you buried deep within yourself. The one you hid behind forced smiles and the bright, distracting colors of scarves wrapped snugly around your neck, not unlike the one you were wearing now.
His mustache was neatly trimmed along his upper lip, and his hair was slicked back as though he’d run a comb through the dirty blonde strands several times before heading out. The navy blue and cream coat he wore was zipped to his chest, revealing just a sliver of the white dress shirt collar beneath.
Two hard blinks, and then he was moving. He was speed-walking in the other direction before he disappeared from your view completely.
You stood there with your hand still outstretched for three full seconds before you dropped it back to your side. You should've been insulted by the way he fled, but it was quite the opposite. You found the action…endearing in a strange way. Gently shaking your head, you huffed a laugh, going right back to your task.
You saw him four more times after that. Around town. In passing at the mall, or in the church parking lot. And every time you waved or grinned at him from afar, he'd get that same look in his eyes. A deer in the headlights until a loud horn would go off in his head, and he'd sprint away.
It wasn't until you started working at the local bookstore that you finally addressed the oddity. You were scanning one of the romance novels that Karin had placed on the counter, along with a book titled Terrible Twos: All the Ways to Deal with a Misbehaving Child. You had been well acquainted with Karin, knew she was married with a kid, and, more importantly, knew her relation to Lars.
You lifted the second book, a too-big smile stretched on your lips. "It's already that time, huh?"
"Yeah," she sighed in defeat. "It honestly snuck up on us. I didn't even have time to catch my breath. I swear that little rascal only behaves for her uncle."
You froze for a second too long before moving the scanned book into a brown paper bag. Karin noticed the subtle slip in your demeanor and tilted her head.
"You know Lars, right?" she asked as she unzipped her burgundy purse and dug for her wallet.
"Yeah," you answered too quickly. "Yeah, no, I know Lars. I mean, not really, but y'know…"
"The two of you have never talked?" she prodded, handing you her credit card.
You swiped it before you replied, busying your mind with the purchase instead of making her worry about your internal problems with her brother-in-law. But you couldn't hold it in any longer, so you spilled.
"I don't think he likes me."
She scoffed. "Don't be silly. Lars likes everyone."
"Yeah, well, does he sprint the other direction with everyone else?" Your confession came out as a whisper, not really ready to admit that it was affecting you. That maybe it hurt you that he hadn't even spoken to you, yet he'd already made up his mind about you.
"Oh," she breathed, then it tumbled into a giggle. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion at her amusement. She pressed a palm to her parted lips, muffling the sound. "I'm sorry…it's just…" she paused, retrieving her card and shoving it back into one of the empty slots in her wallet.
Sighing, she restarted. "I think someone has a little crush, is all."
Your cheeks heated as you felt somewhat flustered by her revelation. Regardless of it being his secret, it still bothered you that it was exposed in such a way.
"He was so quiet at dinner the other night, and he's been asking for dating tips. I guess I never put two and two together that he might be interested in someone," Karin trailed off, her eyes locking back on yours.
You had gone quiet, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. Your mind had gone into a downward spiral as you listened to her ramble on about a crush you had no inkling of.
The realization crept in slowly. Honestly, it wasn’t something you noticed until someone outright spelled it out for you. A giant neon sign flashing 'they like you' in bold letters wouldn’t have made it click. But after Karin pointed it out, it all made logical sense. The nerves that made it difficult for him to speak to you. The stopping in the middle of something just to look at you.
"Ope, I shouldn't have said anything," she inhaled sharply. "I only wanted to assure you that he doesn't hold any ill feelings towards you."
"Well…good," you said, voice slightly wobbly.
"I'll have a talk with him."
You offered her a thumbs-up, lips pressed into a tight line, then instantly regretted it, and pretended you were only trying to slide her purchases closer to her instead. Eventually, she slid her wallet back into her purse, slung the bag over her shoulder, and picked up the paper bag of books. The smile she gave you before exiting the shop was beaming, as if she had been gifted the juiciest secret.
And that juicy little secret occupied your thoughts constantly.
About a week later, there was a shift. And it wasn't subtle either.
You started seeing Lars more often. And it wasn't the 'oh gosh, we just so happened to bump into each other' kind of way. It was more intentional. It seemed like he had learned your routine.
He started showing up at the same café that you'd swing by before work. Sometimes, he'd be at the corner table, sipping from a mug. Other times, he'd be right behind you in line, humming some tune that sounded way too familiar. You always wanted to ask about it, but somehow talked yourself out of it every time; you didn't want to scare him off again. But for the rest of the day, that same melody would play in the back of your head like he was lingering in the ridges of your brain.
The park became your go-to place for a bit of peace during your lunch break or after work. The cold persisted in the last days of winter, but it was warm enough to stay outside without freezing your ass off. You’d settle on the bench nearest to the river, unwrapping whatever your gran had packed, and there he’d be—almost always by the tree line, holding a slice of bread, tearing it into pieces to toss to the birds. He’d meet your gaze for a moment before shying away first, leaving you with a silly grin at the sight of his flushed cheeks and trembling fingers.
Slowly, he grew bolder with the eye contact, holding your gaze a little longer each time. Then came the shorter distances between you. And finally, the moment that surprised you most—a wave paired with a full smile that reached his eyes and rounded his cheeks.
The first time he did it, your breath caught.
Lars was leaving the corner music store as you were strolling down the opposite sidewalk on your way to your morning shift. It stopped you mid-step, almost tripping over your own feet. Yeah, you'd seen it in passing. You'd seen him smile in conversations with Mrs. Gruner after Sunday service, or around his work friends. But for some reason, it seemed forced then, or at least fairly strained. But this one—this one—was real. It lit up his entire face, creasing the corners of his eyes and dimpling his cheeks.
After your initial shock wore off, you mirrored his grin, waving back. His expression faltered for half a second, smile dipping at the corners before lifting again. As if your world hadn't just tilted onto its axis, he kept moving toward his car, a plastic bag swaying in his grip. You continued on your walk, and maybe you had an imperceptible pep in your step that you didn't have before.
Your co-worker, Holly, noticed the boost in your attitude. She pointed it out whenever she got the chance. The smile that stayed plastered on your face for the next couple of days was persistently questioned. You blamed it on the change in the weather. The sun wasn't hidden behind the clouds anymore. The snow was beginning to melt, and you could see more of the grass being revealed as spring closed in.
But after you kept your cool with a particularly rude customer, Holly sensed something deeper than a mere shift in temperature.
"Who is he?" she asked, hoisting herself onto the edge of the counter.
You had your nose buried in a novel you had snatched from the 'new arrivals' shelf. It was a sci-fi novel that had instantly captured your attention from the introduction alone. Technically, you weren't supposed to read potential purchases, but your boss wasn't around. So, what was the harm in a little light reading?
"Who's who?" you chirped back, half pulled into the discussion.
"The guy who’s made you so…happy."
Lowering the book a hair, you arched a brow. "A guy? There's no guy," you lied, tone rising an octave.
"There's totally a guy. I can see it all over your face."
"Why is it that every time a woman is happy, it immediately has to be connected to a man?" you muttered, rather annoyed.
A flat look washed over her face, not buying it. "Just give me a name, or how you met, or something."
"No," you said, like it was final, turning back to your book.
She laughed, wiggling on the counter. "So, you admit it. There is someone."
You only rolled your eyes in return, blocking your entire face with the novel.
When spring rolled in, you spent more time at the park. Kids and their parents crowded the playground, but you didn't mind the background noise. Unwrapping your sandwich, you took a bite, and you let your gaze drift to the river. You watched as the water rippled from the light breeze in the air. Ducks floated past, a mother and her babies following close behind.
You were halfway through your lunch when you felt it—that familiar tingle on the back of your neck from being watched. When you turned to find where he was hidden, you hadn't expected to be met with the sight of Lars pushing his niece on the swing.
She was facing towards him, tiny hands wrapped around the chains, attempting to pump her legs, but instead it looked more like she was clumsily kicking the air. He gently pushed the center of the bucket seat that held her, patient and cautious. The little one giggled with delight each time she was forced backward, and an easy grin stayed on his lips.
You’d never seen him so relaxed, so at ease. It made something loosen in your chest unexpectedly.
But when he registered that you were observing him, his posture straightened, swallowing thickly. He pushed his niece with a little more effort than he intended, and she came back quicker with a kick straight to his gut. Letting out a small huff, he took a step back. He seemed momentarily stunned, which only made his niece giggle harder. As her laughter bloomed, her little feet kicked wildly. He shook his head in disbelief that she found this humorous, but his smile betrayed him.
A snort of your own slipped out before you could catch it, and his head whipped your way. You focused back on the river in front of you, pretending you hadn't seen anything.
A few seconds passed before you peeked back over your shoulder. Karin was standing beside Lars now, one hand propped on her hip as the other shielded her eyes from the blinding sun. You couldn't hear their conversation, but she nudged him with her elbow and then nodded her head in your direction. That could only mean one thing, which made your heart do a strange flip.
You shifted on the bench awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing your legs as you tried to turn your attention to anything other than the exchange at the swingset.
Before you knew it, you could hear a set of heavy boots shuffling in the grass before he appeared in your periphery. You blinked up at him; he stood there for a beat too long, hands buried in his pockets, and the toes of his boots kicking at the dirt. He cleared his throat, as if you weren't staring directly at him.
"Can I sit?" he rasped, not quite meeting your eyes.
"Sure," you answered, tone light.
He settled in beside you, leaving enough space between you for another person to fit. He leaned back, then sat up before finally scooting to the edge of the bench, his knees a shoulder width apart.
Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, he eventually made eye contact with you. "That was…uh—"
You raised your hands in surrender. "I didn't see anything."
Lars made an amused sound in the back of his throat, dipping his chin in acknowledgment. Silence stretched; chirping birds and squealing kids were the only ones to fill it. He drew a line in the dirt with his boot, rolling his shoulders like his skin didn't feel quite right on his body. Eyes bouncing around the playground, he checked on his niece one more time. She was kicking her feet dramatically, begging for Karin to push her higher. Her mother reluctantly obliged with an exaggerated groan.
A smile tugged at Lars' lips. "She's, uh…kinda bossy."
You bit back a smile. "I respect a girl who knows what she wants."
He hummed, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you once more. This time, he held your gaze, eyes wandering over your features—the same way he did in the grocery store all that time ago. His knee started bouncing, a wave of nerves running through him. Pressing his palms into his thighs, he rubbed them down his pants, as if he'd suddenly gone sweaty.
"Are you getting settled into town okay?" he asked, voice somewhat strained.
"Yeah," you answered cheerfully. "Everyone's really welcoming. I already feel right at home."
"Good…that's good," he mumbled, gaze drifting down to your half-eaten sandwich beside you. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch."
"Don't worry about it," you waved him off. "You didn't."
Folding his hands in his lap, he drew in a sharp breath. "I saw you here the other day."
"Yeah?" you inquired softly, like this was news to you, but you noticed. You always noticed him. "Why didn't you say 'hi'?"
He nudged a loose pebble with his boot. "Didn't wanna bother you. You looked…relaxed…didn't wanna ruin that."
"You wouldn't have," you blurted too quickly, then your tone softened. "I would've enjoyed the company."
A pink bloomed across his cheeks, causing your heart to thump against your ribcage erratically. His jaw clenched once, twice, before he finally opened his mouth, a burning question scorching his lips.
"Does your…boyfriend ever join you?"
You huffed a laugh, eyes glinting. "I don't have one."
"Oh," he murmured, then, even softer, "Good."
You felt it, an unmistakable hum of something settling right beneath the surface. Something you couldn't quite place, or weren't ready to name. For now, you'd label it a blossoming friendship.
Before you could fill the quiet with whatever awkward comment you had rattling in your skull, his niece's voice carried clear across the park. "Uncle Lars, push me!" she demanded with a squeak.
He flinched, not only at the volume, but at the timing. Blinking hard twice, he stood slowly, as if the last thing he wanted to do was leave. He brushed nonexistent dirt from his pants before straightening.
"I should—" he sighed, not finishing his thought.
"Of course, go," you chirped in understanding. "Hurry before she sends in the cavalry."
Lars let out a laugh, one that made his eyes crinkle and the edges of his mustache curl in glee. When his laughter faded, he turned to you with more to say, but the words stayed trapped in his throat. Staring at you for a fleeting moment longer, he nodded, and the way he did felt like a gesture one does after memorizing something important. Then, he rejoined his family at the swing set.
After that small conversation, the two of you had settled into a rhythm. An ungraceful rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless. He'd show up at the bookstore every other day, making a habit of seeing you without it being obvious. Except everyone noticed.
It wasn't like he was hiding his feelings for you—not well, anyway. He'd skim the shelves for a book he had no intention of buying, risking a glance in your spot by the register. Or ask you for a fairly specific novel, obscure enough that it'd take you longer to locate. You'd hand it to him with a victorious glimmer in your eyes, and he'd thank you. After you wandered back behind the counter, he'd tuck it back where it belonged. An absurd dance that you didn't mind learning the steps to.
Conversations began to flow more smoothly, too. Lars found it easier to open the discussion if it didn't directly involve him, so he often led with something humorous about his niece.
"She’s been askin' for a cat, but Gus isn’t keen on havin' an animal in the house while she’s still young," he'd muttered one day, toying with the display of bookmarks near the register. "Well, she's stubborn and normally doesn't take no for an answer. So, yesterday, after she finished playing in the yard, she came in carrying a gray cat she 'found' outside. More like, dragged it in 'cause it clearly didn't wanna be held. Anyway, turns out, it was the neighbor's cat, and she had to return it with tears in her eyes."
You snorted, leaning forward with your elbows pressed to the wooden surface, and your head propped in your hands. "Oh, that's adorable," you cooed. "If she just so happens to get in trouble, tell your brother that I'm her lawyer, and I expect her to be acquitted of all charges."
"I'll be sure to let him know," he teased back.
"Oh, and if she ever wants to stop by the shop, Goose is always in need of extra attention." You pointed to the space where the brown tabby cat was perched between the books.
Goose was Janet’s cat, your boss’s pride and joy. She lived above the store in a cozy little apartment shared only with the kitty. The fluffy troublemaker was famous for slipping out during the day when Janet opened the shop, eager to roam the bookstore as if he owned the place. Eventually, your boss grew tired of constantly herding her pet back upstairs, so Goose became the community cat. Some customers even stopped by just to see him, which didn’t bother Jan in the slightest.
"Alright," he said, nodding. "I'll bring her by."
And finally, when the days were warmer, the trees were in full bloom, and the grass was particularly green, Lars stepped into the shop as if on a mission. With perfect posture and an unmistakable confidence, he approached you as you were stacking the latest batch of new releases.
Your gaze lifted as you slid the next book onto the shelf, and there he was, leaning into the end of the bookstand, arm extended and palm pressed flat against the wood. You couldn't force the smile off your lips once it unfurled. He looked especially handsome in his nice beige sweater, and his hair slicked back. The jasmine laced with the deeper scent of oakmoss swirled around you, drawing you closer. And almost on cue, your stomach did that stupid little flip it did when he was in your proximity.
Clearing his throat, he tilted his head. "Karin wanted me to…no…I—" he paused, gathering his composure. "I was wonderin' if you had any plans for dinner tonight."
He winced, as if bracing for rejection, then adjusted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest in a poor attempt to appear casual. "Karin was going to make extra…and she wanted to invite you…Actually, I wanted to invite you."
Your grin only grew, pulse fluttering wildly. "Dinner," you repeated, testing the word.
"Yeah," he confirmed as his anxious fingers played with the sleeve of his sweater. "It's okay if you—"
"I'd like that," you cut in gently.
"Okay," he managed, eyebrows twitching in surprise. "Okay. Good. That's great."
And as if standing still while looking at you—with that radiant smile and bright eyes—was physically unbearable, he spun on his heels. He made his way to the door with a stiffened posture and the stride of a man running from his own emotions. You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. Before he reached his exit, he shook his head, whirling around once more.
"Oh," he blurted out. "'m supposed to ask if you have any food allergies."
"Nope. Not that I know of, at least."
He dipped his chin in understanding. "Let's hope we don't find out tonight." He made an attempt at a joke, even if his voice did wobble faintly.
Before you could potentially change your mind (you wouldn't), he vanished behind the closing door, the tiny bell above it announcing his departure. The town swallowed him once again, and you were left with a sea of muddled thoughts and the very wrong sensation of your heart galloping like a racehorse. You placed a palm over it, willing it to slow. But it persisted, knocking even harder into your ribcage.
Maybe you should see a doctor?
No.
You had more important things to worry about. Like, what the hell were you going to wear? Was it a fancy or casual situation? You should've asked, but it was kind of hard to when he was asking you to dinner, and the way his voice cracked with nerves, and—
The brush of fur against your ankles broke your train of thought as you noticed Goose weaving between your ankles. It was almost like he knew you were internally freaking out and needed someone to help anchor you.
The rest of your shift passed by in a blur, a dazed smile on your face, and a tingling feeling dancing across your skin that refused to leave. It was all thanks to Lars.
And deep down, you knew that feeling was here to stay.
"OMG, that's soooo me!!" i say as i look at a 45 year old man who's just a baby girl, pookie bear :3
💌 general taglist: @wherewinterblooms @phoenix-in-writing @overwintering-soldier @wint3rbarnes @paankhaleyaaar @mysteriousmysticc @sergeantsebastian @canyon-moon-carly @ornateglass @sheriff-bodecker @juniebjonesin (pls, pls, pls, let me know if you would not like to be tagged in future goose fics, i promise i won't be offended)
LOVE LOVE LOVE OH MY GOSH THIS WAS SO CUTE PLS HE’S SO ENDEARING GAHH
