synopsis: seeing if my boyfriend melts into a kiss
warnings: ---
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀requested here <3
You sit on the sofa in your hotel room with Arvid, both on your phones. Standing up for a moment, you look down at him, “I want to try something,” he grins at you from his seat. “For a TikTok, okay? We don’t need to post it…” You drag him up by his arms into standing, setting your phone up on the windowsill. “Hold your arms out like this,” you look at him with a smile, “stay here.”
The video begins, and Arvid looks into the camera with a sly smirk. You put your hands on the back of his neck, going in for a deep kiss. His lips feel soft and hot against yours, giving in with no fight. His arms fall down to your slides, fingers subconsciously drawing circles on the skin there. His kiss is languid, continuing on and on.
You pull away from him, moving your hands up to cup his cheeks instead. There's so much love in his eyes when he looks at you, the green outer ring of his eye glimmering in the light. You press a quick kiss to each cheek, feeling him flush warm beneath your lips, goofy smile widening.
“Okay,” you walk over, retrieving your phone, “You may have gotten a little carried away.” he looks over your shoulder as you look down at your phone. The loss of composure is clear, the second your lips are on him, he melts. He gives a slight grin in embarrassment, eyes darting to the floor. “Baby,” you look him in the eye, “It’s so cute. Please don’t be embarrassed.”
He comes around at the adoring look in your face, clearly loving it. “If you’d like to,” he sits down again, “you can post it. Think I deserve some presence on your feed by now, no?” you smile at that, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you, baby,” he rubs his hands over your back, shoving his chin into your shoulder and exhaling.
When you pull away he presses a quick kiss to your forehead, sitting down beside him. He's beautiful like this, his eyes, his hair, his skin. Everything about him makes you giddy like you have a crush all over again.
You take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I love it when you kiss me,” he smiles at you, “gives me butterflies.” you continue.
“Well, might need to do it more often, then,” he chuckles, squeezing your hand in his palm, “I’m free, if you…” you turn your head away in embarrassment, unable to look at him. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. “Love you, so much,” you turn into him again, giving him a peck on the lips.
summary: another cousin, another wedding. that was arvid's current lifestyle. racing and goddamn weddings. the only difference about this one was that this one had you.
warnings: fluff, poor humour, desi culture, really bad interpretation of a (hindu) indian wedding, yearning, flirting, reader has a little brother, arvid falling hard // poorly proof read as usual
word count: 8.6k
a/n: this was so cute ahhhh. as a person who doesn't wanna get married, i write too many wedding-themed fics but i can't help itttt. // kinda in time for his birthday too!
Arvid Lindblad had always been decisive. He was a man of opinion, unafraid of the words that had come out of his mouth. And for him, there were two truths in the world. One: it was racing or nothing. Two: wedding season happened between the months of October and March.
And while his Formula One debut had gone swimmingly, contrary to the non-existent headlines about him, Arvid had found his second truth crumbling in the matter of seconds this year.
He wasn't sure how it was possible.
Somehow, every break he had had was filled with a circled date and blank's wedding attached to it. Even during the unexpected month-long break at the start. It was bizarre.
The questions came flowing naturally, of course.
Do we even know these people? To which his mother responded, "Of course, we do. This is your cousin's neighbour's wedding."
Do we have to go to it? "There's no question in it, beta."
Can't we at least leave early? "Fine. Might as well commit a crime while we're at it."
And the merciful look to his father had done nothing. It was final. Arvid was absolutely helpless. Even now.
Sixth. This was his sixth goddamn wedding of the year as he stood in front of his mirror, lamely adjusting the scratch of his brighly yellow kurta against his skin, gold embellishments throughout. He sighed tiredly.
"I thought these weddings happened in like November," Amil, his younger brother mumbled as he walked into his room, flopping onto the bed with a dramatic groan. "It's August," he lamented.
His eyes flickered to his younger brother through the mirror, also dressed similarly to him.
"You're telling me," Arvid muttered, head shaking. This was supposed to be his summer break. He had it mentally planned. The few odd karting races, lounging by the pool, trying new restaurants and cafés, training (obviously), and some contractual obligations.
A wedding-free summer break was what he had planned. That was until his mother had burst his bubble a few days into his temporary safe haven. Another wedding. And not belonging to some fifth cousin of their family doctor or anything.
His very own uncle's.
The only one Arvid had added into his calendar and forgotten about amidst the plethora of ceremonies.
He was horrible for it. Yes. But could you blame him? Sure, he'd never turn down the disgustingly delicious wedding food. But another whiff of some special chicken biryani or even freshly made jalebi... God, the thought alone was beginning to activate his gag reflex.
Arvid sighed yet again, turning from the mirror, head tilting at the blank expression on his brother's face. "Do you think mum will let us leave early?"
Amil's head peeked up slightly, loose grin sprawling onto his face. "I knew you had some comedic talents."
Arvid rolled his eyes, shifting on his feet as he opened his phone, eyeing the dates blocked out on his calendar. It was just a few days. He could do this. It'd be just like the others and then boom—freedom.
What could possibly be so different about this one?
Addington Palace was only what could be described as a dream. Landscaped gardens, the grand staircase, endless mounds of grass, and a beautiful gazebo perfect for the seven rounds to be taken in the next few days.
But twisted with the Western architecture were the various shades of yellow and pink in decoration formats.
Flower garlands of white, yellow and pink blanketed the walls, intertwined with faint yellow fairy lights. Yellow and white curtains flew in the breeze as intricate patterns decorated the garlands. Stations of food and drinks were set one corner of the lawn while in the other was pots of yellow turmeric paste and water near a stack of towels. And in the air was a fresh herbal fragrance combining with the aroma of the jalebis, kulfis, vada pav slides, and chaat masala
A historic venue turned desi in all its glory.
And while Arvid could appreciate it all, the restlessness to escape it all was felt in his bones.
"How many guests are there?" Amil queried to his father as they entered the venue.
"Uh... a hundred and forty?" His father answered unsurely, looking over at his wife to confirm before nodding. "Yup. A hundred and forty."
Amil hummed silently, nudging his brother with his elbow. "Smaller than the last one at least."
"Thank God," Arvid mumbled while he continued to walk.
That had been the main source of the problem. It wasn't just the long hours, the fact these weddings were held over a week and that they seemed to be endless. But it was more about the amount of people he encountered, asking about Formula One or racing.
Yes, he loved his job with his entire heart. Not to be dramatic, but it was his whole world. But it came to a point when forty people asked the same question the entire evening for an entire week.
Maybe it was a selfish thing to say because he was living his dreams, but it got tiring.
And it would be on a day like this. The choice of yellow attire across his family intentional as everyone else's. A requirement of the haldi ceremony. Because nothing screamed more fun to Arvid than applying turmeric paste onto his face and walking around to answer the same question over and over again.
God, how he wished he could just go home.
"Hey! Naksh! Stop eating all the jalebis!"
It was fast for a moment. The passing of a small kid with his hands full of the crime in question—sweet, sticky jalebis escaping the confines of his fingers while a young, evil laugh fell from his lips.
But the world seemed to slow before Arvid even really knew it. Your voice in the air having his head turn as the kid bristled past him. And as his eyes fell to you, double-take immediate, the first glance of you had his soul fluttering.
Your long tresses seem to float in the air while you passed them. The drapes of your simple saree, yellow and pink, brushed past his skin, sending goosebumps sprawling across his body. The chime of your anklets tingled in his ears and the grin on your face sent a shiver down his spine.
Arvid watched silently as you finally captured your thief, hand wrapped around the kid's arm. You seemed to heave lightly while you gave the smaller boy a playful glare. "Naksh, put those back. They're for the guests. We'll have some later," you promised, voice coaxing.
Those big, brown eyes of your own younger brother seemed to pout back at you warily, clutching the food tighter to himself. "But I wanna eat them now!" He whined, stomping his foot on the grass.
You looked at your brother blankly, smile tight and barely patient. Wedding logistics were already tough enough and they only got more difficult with the young ones roaming around carelessly.
"We have to wait. It's important you eat with everyone. I'll save an extra one for you as well. Okay?" You added through gritted teeth.
Naksh tilted his head, letting a feigned pondering expression fall into his face. He hummed before stopping, letting his pursed lips drop into a cheeky grin. "No!" He stated before running off, escaping the grasp of your hand.
Your mouth fell open with disbelief. This kid... "Naksh!" You stepped out to run after him, hands tightening around your skirt as you did.
Arvid pressed his smile down, forcing himself to peel his eyes away as the figure of his uncle came nearby. He tried not to laugh so obviously as he heard your voice fade in the air, still yelling for your brother.
"Hey! I'm so glad you guys made it," his uncle breathed with a wide smile, hugging Arvid's mother as his eyes flickered over to him. "I know you're busy and all. So I appreciate it."
Arvid laughed softly, shaking his head as he brought his uncle into a hug. “It’s your wedding, mama (uncle). How could we miss it?"
His uncle inhaled slowly, nodding along with his nephew's words. "That is true, isn't it?" He teased, ruffling Amil's hair playfully. "Now come on. Let's get this started."
Arvid only smiled, brown eyes darting around the numerous guests to find you. He frowned quietly when he didn't. All shades of yellow and pink bland all of a sudden. He blinked and breathed out. Whatever. This was still going to be the longest few days of his life.
Your stink eye was ever apparent. Even as your oldest cousin, the bride-to-be, dragged both you and your brother along to officially meet some of your new additions to your familial circle. A brother whose hands were empty only for the same reason his mouth was now full. Comedic if it wasn't for the occasion.
"Naksh," you hissed, glaring shamelessly while you traversed the endless crowds of guests. "Spit it out."
Naksh only shook his head, cheeks full of sweets, small hand wrapped around your cousin's tightly.
You huffed while she chuckled. "Let him be. He's a kid," she pointed out as if you didn't know.
You narrowed your eyes. "You'll feel differently when the guests arrive to an empty food stall."
Your cousin simply rolled her eyes, smile stretching onto her face as she spotted those familiar faces you had all yet to meet. "Look who it is!" She gasped, sizing the thirteen-year-old in front of her. "Amil, have you grown taller since the last time I saw you?"
Amil cleared his throat, broadening his shoulders in his kurta. "Definitely a possibility," he affirmed with the nod of his head making you snigger quietly. Now this was comedic.
She only grinned, looking over at you and your brother. "Amil. Arvid. Meet ___ and Naksh and vice versa."
You smiled politely, giving a small wave as you skimmed over the older male in front of you, cheeks almost instantly burning once you locked eyes. Swallowing tightly, you eyed the grass beneath you awkwardly, feet shifting. Hmm... yellow was a good colour on him.
"You're an F1 driver, right?" Naksh asked Arvid enthusiastically, mouth still full of food.
"Naksh!" You and your cousin both chided, giving him a pointed look. You sighed at the slowly bulging cheeks and wary glance from your brother.
Arvid only chuckled, not as perturbed by the question as he thought he'd be. "It's fine," he waved his hand in dismissal. He bent down, meeting your brother's height. "You watch?"
Your brother nodded, taking a big swallow of God knows what. Jalebi... laddoo... samosas.
"I like Liam."
The brief silence was cumulative for you, your cousin, and Amil—all three of you trying to hold in your laughter as Naksh blinked as blankly as the driver in front of him.
Arvid's brother breathed out quietly, corners of his mouth still teetering. "Naksh... has anyone ever told you you're the funniest person ever?" He queried with raised brows, receiving the shake of a head. "No? Walk with me."
Your own brows rose as Naksh and Amil began walking away, undoubtedly up to no good and you were almost certain it had all to do with the male still bent down, frozen with embarrassment.
Your cousin smiled, evidently amused as her eyes flittered over to you. The gesture only ran a little deeper. Drawing in a quick breath, she feigned the explorative expression on her face. "I think someone's calling me, hmm?"
Your eyes widened in horror. She wasn't... was she? Your head slowly tilted towards her, capturing the cheeky glint in her own eyes. You glared at her, practically begging her with your gaze to not do this.
"You guys have fun!" She said, patting your shoulder as she scampered bast you, quick and fast before you could even retaliate.
You blinked almost confused, watching your cousin's retreating figure while Arvid stood back up, tugging on his kurta as he looked over at you. He smiled quietly at the clear flush to your face, distracting him from his own momentary lapse of mortification.
Your ears perked at the sudden sound of Arvid clearing his throat. You slowly drifted your eyes towards him, breath caught at the sight of his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, head tilted at you.
"You watch Formula One?" Arvid asked, almost instantly regretting the question. He sure didn’t feel as smooth and suave as he looked on the outside. Well yeah... he wasn't a goddamn shampoo ad.
You pursed your lips before giving him a fretful smile. "Would it hurt if I say I don't?" You queried.
He winced with all the theatrics he could muster, standing with his hand over his heart. "That is slightly hurtful," he grunted lowly, eliciting a small chuckle from your mouth.
God, your laugh sounded like some beautifully pieced music. With the cadence of spring in summer. Honey-soaked notes and all.
You breathed in quietly, watching his grin etch into his face. God... maybe you should start watching Formula One. You blinked, shaking the thought away. You eyed him carefully yet again. "This your first Indian wedding?"
Arvid paused, grin falling off of his face, replaced quickly with confusion. "No? Sixth of the year actually."
You mended your brows almost disbelievingly. “What? No way," you huffed, folding your arms. "You're standing like a noob," you retorted.
He blinked with surprise, brown eyes checking over his stance with hurry. "I... what the hell gives you that impression?"
"Hands in your pockets, the distanced look in your eyes... you look... I hate to say it, but you look detached if anything," you pointed out.
Arvid swallowed tightly at your comment, unable to really comprehend how you, a stranger, had read him in the matter of seconds. And by all means, he was unsettled. But nothing quite quelled the curiosity beginning to unfurl in his chest.
A sigh fell from his lips after a moment, hands raising with a small defeat. "Okay. You're right. You got me," he mumbled, giving you a light glare. "Look, it's a sweet occasion and all but after the second one, you kinda get a bit used to it. That’s all it. They're all the same. The food. The ceremonies. All of it."
You tilted your head, looking at him like he had just begun explaining the ins and out of an engine. Used to a wedding? You had never heard of such a thing. Every wedding you had ever been to had its own story. Its own moments. Its own colour. How could one get used to such a thing?
You hummed decidedly, clicking your fingers at him like a light bulb had just lit up in your head. "I know what it is... you don't get it."
Arvid narrowed his eyes on your face. Its blank and slow. "You're right," he nodded vaguely. “I really don't get it," he chuckled almost dryly.
What on earth were you on about?
You tilted your head, hands on your hips. "Arvid, how much do you really know about an Indian wedding?"
The sound of his name seemed to roll of your tongue sweetly, strangely making his body churn. But rather than staying fixated on it for too long, he blinked and sucked in a sharp breath. His shoulders slumped resignedly. "I'm practically an expert, ____."
You raised your brow. "Right then... so you know why the bride and groom go around seven times? Or what it means to put mehndi on the bride's hands?"
Arvid's throat dried, unable to peel his gaze away from the big doe eyes staring back at him. Your amusement evident and remarkably beautiful in this light. "I..."
"Let's stick with today then. The meaning behind applying haldi?" You queried, unable to stop your lips from quirking as he clearly struggled to come up with an answer: mouth parted like a fish, opening and closing around nothing in particular.
You failed to stifle your chuckle, elicting a small glare from him. Clearing your throat, you nodded markedly to yourself at this undertaking that had fallen into your hands. "Well, You're in luck. I'm a real expert."
He snorted, rolling his eyes despite the strange tingle in his body. "What? You're gonna teach me weddings?"
"Teach you?" You grinned loosely, head already shaking as you spoke. "Lindblad, I'm going to make you fall in love with weddings."
Arvid blinked, brain failing momentarily. You were going to do what? He swallowed tightly, braving a stoic face as your grin only widened and made it difficult for him to think.
Days... hours... all about to be spent with you.
God have mercy on him.
Arvid had been cautious from the moment you had stepped away from him, inevitably whisked away to participate in other wedding logistics that were beyond him. And while he should’ve been relaxed about it, something about you being so far away had kept him on his toes.
Nervous.
He had never felt this way at a wedding.
Even as he stood with his family and some nearby guests to apply the haldi, his brown eyes lurked around the crowd. Heart and mind waiting to see that familiar shade of yellow and pink of your saree.
"You didn't think I forgot about you, did you?"
Arvid blinked, heart practically leaping from his chest as he turned his head and found you on his right side, still grinning from the last that he had seen you. He swallowed hard before huffing. "Here's to hoping."
You rolled your eyes, folding your arms as you turned to find your cousin and her fiancé sat in the middle of what seemed to be mounds and mounds of turmeric paste. You pushed aside the sudden surge of heat as your arm rested against his.
"Lesson one," you murmured, clearing your throat. "The haldi ceremony offers the couple our blessings. When we apply the haldi, it cleanses their bodies before they get married."
Arvid mended his brows, looking at the yellow-filled bowls with sudden curiosity. He had seen then time and time again. But now they seemed to look a little different with you. "Like protection or something?"
You hummed with a little surprise. "Faster learner, aren't you? Yeah, like protection," you nodded. "Wards off any negative energy or omens that could damage them before the wedding."
Time seemed to fly by with the endless amounts of guests coming up to apply the haldi to their faces. You weren't sure when you had gotten so close to Arvid, you were cackling half into his shoulder at some of things you had seen.
And his brother was no better than the others.
You both laughed hard when Amil's turn came, leaving the bride and groom as what you could only describe as minions. The gasps were beyond theatrical amongst the crowd as their uncle only retaliated with the same enthusiasm. You practically winced at the copious amount of yellow smeared onto the poor boy's face. Minions or Jake the Dog... you couldn't tell.
Arvid sighed with a small grin, looking over at you when it came to be your turn. He gestured with his hand. "Ladies first."
You rolled your eyes yet again, taking a step either way. "Arvid Lindblad... a gentleman. They don’t put that in the headlines," you clicked your tongue teasingly as you both inched closer towards the couple.
"You keeping an eye out for me, ____? Thought you didn't watch," Arvid teased.
You only snorted. "Like my brother said... I like Liam," you shrugged, lifting the skirt of your saree up before you spotted the cheeky look on your cousin's face.
He narrowed his eyes, head shaking with disbelief. Yet the grin never quite fell off his face. He watched you scoop up a generous amount of haldi onto the tip of your hands, rubbing the paste before you applied a distasteful layer onto your cousin's face.
Your cousin gasped from the umpteenth time that day while her fiancé only burst out laughing. "You little minx!" She grumbled, not wasting a second to grab a handful of the paste before smearing it onto your neck and arms hastily.
You blinked at her choices of area. Not the face? That seemed like a pretty easy target in your opinion.
But as your eyes drifted to her face, your brows seemed to raise at the mischievous glint settled in her own. You blinked once again, cogs in your brain turning slowly as you took another second to realise why she had missed the free real estate.
You huffed, head shaking like you were disappointed as you stepped back, letting Arvid move his haldi-coated hands towards your cousin while you shifted towards his uncle, taking more paste onto your hands.
"Cupid at her own wedding," Arvid's uncle clicked his tongue, head shaking with a grin on his face.
You gave him a pointed look, applying the yellow paste onto his face. "Don't you start now too," you sighed.
Arvid smiled, happy with the damage he had created as you both stepped back in front of the couple. You silently watched your cousin share a smug smile with her fiancé. Like telepathy, both of their hands reached out to grab some haldi before leaning up to smear some onto both of your faces.
Your eyes snapped to the couple in disbelief as the obvious cheers and awes filled the air. You made your playful glare obvious while your cheeks warmed impossibly. Arvid only looked confused, slowly retreating away with you as you grumbled something incoherent under your breath.
Arvid nudged you when you both came to a halt amongst the crowd, registering the grins and teasing eyes falling the both of you as everyone eventually reverted back to the ceremony. "What was that? What just happened?"
You shook your head, hand waving in dismissal. "Nothing. That was nothing," you mumbled, taking a deep breath in, eyeing the grass heavily. God... it was getting hot in this open air.
"I thought you were going to be my teacher. Make me fall in love with weddings," Arvid teased, not particularly thinking (how could he when you look so flustered) as he tilted your chin up to look at him. "You're not going to make me fall in love?"
Your skin only burned even more if it was possible. A point past the boiling point. Hotter. Scarier.
You swallowed hard, gaze shaking at the brown eyes that never seemed to steer away from you. Sucking in another sharp breath, you cleared your throat, shifting your head swiftly to leave his hand falling from your face. "It's just something stupid," you shrugged, feeling the traces of turmeric seep into your boiling skin.
"Well?" He queried when you hoped your silence would make him give up. But he was a Formula One driver for crying out loud! Giving up wasn't in his name.
You sighed, eyes rolling begrudgingly. "They say if the bride or groom applies the haldi onto… single friends or relatives, those people will soon get married or together," you muttered so quietly, you hoped he wouldn't hear.
But the etching grin on his face told you otherwise.
Goddammit.
"So they purposely did that?" Arvid queried, leaning in, face teasingly closer, brown eyes watching your every move.
You grunted with annoyance, pushing his head away with your turmeric-stained fingers. "They're idiots. Ignore them," you mumbled.
Arvid supressed his chuckle, taking a step back. You were cute when you were flustered. "Can I ask a question? Purely educational," he maintained, hands intertwining behind his back.
You gave him a blank look, clearly not believing him. "If you have to," you sighed dramatically, drifting your attention to the couple momentarily. You blinked when Arvid retook his step towards you. Your eyes flickered up hesitantly, spotting the smile lines on his face easily.
"If the bride and groom bestow someone... does that mean anything?"
Your breath caught. What kind of question was that? Had you been duped? Was Arvid really the expert he claimed to be?
Your fingers tightened into your palm while you nodded slowly. "It would mean the relationship would be stronger," you shrugged like it was nothing. As if your chest hadn't suddenly tightened or your lungs didn't burn.
Arvid hummed softly, watching your eyes flicker nervously around your surroundings. Anywhere but him. "Good to know."
"So..." Arvid said after a long period of silence as he sat in front of you, head tilting at the scene before him: you sat with your legs folded, light blue shahara spilling across the blanket underneath you while your arms laid over a pillow.
Today was the mehndi ceremony. Yellow and pink decorations upheld with every other bright colour known to mankind. The music was upbeat, a mix of old and new for the range of guests. People mingled and ate; the kids ran around enthusiastically while some danced... all while you were sat getting your own mehndi done.
"Does this count as educational material?" Arvid queried, pulling his knees to his chest, grin loose on his face. "Homework, even? Because this is out of class stuff."
You gave him a pointed look, peeling your eyes away from the intricate designs beginning to form on your arms. "I told you already," you sighed, narrowing your gaze on him. "You don't have to stay."
You had said that. Multiple times during the walk over to the many mehndi artists. But for some reason, the hour and a bit wait time didn't repulse Arvid. He didn't quite know why. But if he had to take a good guess, he assumed it had something to do with you and that weird magnetic pull you had over him.
It was bizarre really.
In the past two days, you had occupied more of his brain than he'd like. He went to bed thinking about you. He scrolled your Instagram after he found out Amil now followed you before he did. His eyes seemed to search for you before he could even really think.
He had heard of it before. From the movies and the mouth of his grandmother... love at first sight.
Was that what this was?
But with enough mind wandering late at night, Arvid had decided it wasn't. This was just what happened when a tedious wedding finally had someone interesting at them.
"Well, I'm more worried that you'll call me out and say I was skipping class," Arvid simply said.
You blinked blankly at his determination. "Why would I—Fine," you sighed again. "You can sit here and be quiet then," you muttered, head shaking as you looked back at your arms.
A small smile stretched onto his face. Kissing the front of his teeth with his tongue, he took no time to revel in the silence. He shuffled closer to you, crossing his legs the same way you had. "I don't want to be quiet. How 'bout we talk? You start."
You turned your head slowly, brows raised while your ears perked at the poorly stifled laugh of your mehndi artist. "What am I supposed to say?" You huffed, looking at him incredulously. You swallowed tightly as he leaned on his knee, chin on the palm of his hand and smiled at you.
You rolled your eyes. "Seriously? Oh, Arvid, you have a very very nice smile?" You feigned a flattering tone.
Arvid grinned at you, clicking his fingers with approval. "I knew you thought I did! Keep going," He egged teasingly.
Your cheeks warmed, corners of your mouth teetering with amusement. "Right... Oh Arvid, what nice eyes you have! Oh Arvid, what big teeth you have–"
"Okay, okay, Red Riding Hood," Arvid dryly interjected, making you laugh for a moment, and it was angelic as the first time he had heard you. The soul of everything good in the world. He could even see it in the way your eyes crinkled with joy. How your smile healed all the bad.
He could remember the numerous moments where he had dreaded attending this wedding. But in this particular one, he thought it would’ve been a travesty in of itself to miss you.
A misalignment of fate itself.
"So you think I have a nice smile?"
You blinked at the sudden question, smile settling down as the heat instantly poured back into your face. Clearing your throat, you shrugged ever so casually. "It's okay," you mumbled, looking over at your arms. "I've seen better. Liam's is nice."
An offended but entirely theatrical gasp fell from Arvid's mouth. "Take that back," he huffed, lips already forming into a small pout while his chest thrummed at your grin. "I never pegged you as a liar," he sighed, shaking his head.
You raised a brow, turning back to him. "Who says I'm lying?" You retorted challengingly.
"These cheeks," Arvid simply said.
You swallowed hard at the gentle graze of his hand against your searing cheek. Pointing it out as if he wasn't making matters worse. Your fingers itched to move his hand away from you for the sake of your sanity. But all caught up with the ropes of henna on your skin, you remained frozen in your seat.
Your eyes, for the first time, didn't move away from his. It was as if they were stuck in this warm chocolate brown vortex. The silence between you so comfortable, it was nowhere reflective of the nervous rhythm in your chest.
"There you guys are!'
Arvid's hand snapped back to his leg while you looked away instantly, blinking rapidly as you spotted your cousin. You pulled on a tight smile. "What's up?" You queried, eyes falling to her own mehndi-covered arms, designs etched in such a way you were sure it was the most beautiful labyrinth of art you had ever seen.
Your cousin suppressed her own grin, spotting the awkward look on Arvid's face from a mile away. Eyes wide, cheeks slightly flushed, body rigid as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.
"Nothing. I was just checking up on you guys. Making sure you're having fun," your cousin shrugged casually.
You raised a brow. "Well... it's hard with this one being so annoying but I'm coping. He's even worse than Naksh," you whispered loudly, lips curving into another grin.
"___," Arvid groaned, clearly fed up with your own teasing. He supposed it was true. He didn't like the taste of his own medicine.
A chuckle fell from your cousin's mouth. "Well as long as you're doing something," she sighed, shaking her head as she watched the both of you begin to argue back and forth in short huffs. Smiling to herself, she quietly bent down next to your mehndi artist and whispered something gently.
Before you or Arvid had even realised, your cousin had disappeared with one last grin as she looked at the both of you. "Cute."
The sangeet had been as loud and cheery as all the other ones Arvid had ever attended. Separate from the mehndi ceremony, the music was thriving in the smallest of corners, groups dancing, laughter a new harmony in the air, and the smell of food whirled deliciously.
And yet, despite all of that richness, it was you Arvid's eyes couldn't peel away from.
You had been in conversation with a few people for God knows how long. Too long, if you had asked him.
The more Arvid leaned against the nearby pillar and watched the sky and grass wrap around you, the more things about you he seemed to like.
You were quite expressive. He knew that. But watching you animatedly talk with people was a pleasure of his he didn't know he had. Your eyes seemed to light up whenever someone brought up something you enjoyed. Your smile deepened with agreement. Hands flailing when you laughed too hard.
Your laugh... God, your laugh.
It was driving him crazy. Haunting him if anything. Even when you weren't around, he could’ve sworn he had heard it in the far distance.
Expressiveness aside, he found you were still cautious. One of those people who couldn't stop worrying when you were assigned with responsibility. For every other second you weren’t talking, you were marching to do something else. Driven with the need for everything to be right, leaving you with this crease between your brows that he wanted to smooth out with the pad of his thumb.
"Are you going to stare forever?"
Arvid's shoulder almost slipped at the sudden sound of his younger brother's voice. And beside him, your own brother, evidence of laddoo on the sides of his mouth. His cheeks flamed with an embarrassing heat despite his shift in posture. He cleared his throat, straightening his back. "I'm not staring," he said.
Amil raised a brow. "You are. You look like a creep."
Arvid gave his brother a small glare. "No, I don't," he gritted out, fingers itching with the urge to give him a brotherly whack to the head. Because aside from the pure annoyance his brother brought him, he hadn't accounted for your brother to be present. The mere idea of Naksh going back to you with this terrible recount of him... God, it was mortifying.
"Well... are you gonna stop being a scaredy cat and talk to her?" Amil queried, folding his arms like the movement was backing up his point.
Arvid's eyes twitched before he sighed deeply and bent down to wipe your brother's mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "I talk to her," he muttered, gently ruffling the kid's hair, pursing his lips at the big wide eyes looking back at him.
"Sure, you do," Amil mused. "Is it telepathy from here?"
"Do you have nothing better to do than piss me off?" Arvid grumbled, disbelieving of this situation as he stood back up.
"Not really," his younger brother confirmed with a smug grin. "Oh look. Another person about to talk to ___ who isn't you."
The glare from Arvid was beyond heavy. “Okay, okay," he huffed, pushing his legs forward with a propelling force. He muttered some unkind words under his breath, still spotting the grin as he walked away. Little piece of—
"Whoa!"
Arvid's hands stretched out almost instantly as you both bumped into one another, falling to your arms to keep you steady. He blinked rapidly, feeling his brother's grin deepen from the back of his head. "Shit. I'm sorry," he apologised, sheepish and awkward smile stretching onto his face.
You swallowed tightly, shaking your head as you both stepped away from each other with the feel of his touch still searing into your skin. "It's okay. It gets so busy around here," you waved him off.
His eyes fell to the dark red lines suddenly flourishing into the air. It was almost natural the way he caught your hands, gaze falling to the intricated designs stained onto your skin. "Wow... that's a lot darker than I thought it would be. Another person's was faint orange," he murmured, pads of his fingers trailing over the patterns.
You could feel the hairs on your body stand up as the goosebumps littered your skin through his gentle touch. You hummed quietly in response, breath struggling when he tried to get a closer look. "Must be a McLaren supporter," you joked lightly, eliciting a soft chuckle from his lips.
Your throat tightened as he continued to navigate the patters with what you could only decide was genuine interest. As if he was mystified, unable to look away. It was so strong it made your hands burn. It made your brain turn into much, leaving the words flying off your tongue before you even knew it.
"They say that the darker the colour on the bride's hand, the deeper the groom's love is for her," you murmured, heart stilling when those brown eyes snapped up to yours. You cleared your throat, giving him a small shrug. "Trying to make up for our lost class time," you teased quietly.
Arvid stared at you for a second longer than you’d liked before returning his gaze back to the flowers stained onto your palm. "Really? Yours came out really dark," he whispered. "You must have one crazy lover."
You blinked, heart now skipping one too many beats. There was something about watching the sun set behind him as people danced in the background that made you shiver. While your cheeks warmed impossibly, you only snorted in response. "Yeah right," you chuckled dismissively, hands curling to move out his grasp, but he had caught them once again.
"Is that... is that my name?
"What?" Your eyes widened, flickering down to where the tip of his index finger ended. Where his name was indeed painted into your skin. And you knew it had to do with the bride cheerfully dancing nearby. Goddammit...
Arvid smiled at your flustered face; your lips parted with not a single idea of what to say or how to respond. He drew in a quick breath. “My dadi (grandmother) told me that this signifies love and bonding," he murmured, brown eyes meeting yours, sending a jolt through your body. "That it gives sweet energy to the couple. You know... to the ones getting married."
You watched with large eyes as Arvid brought your hand near his breath. His warm breath grazed your skin. And yet his gaze never quite seemed to shy away from yours. No matter how ridiculous your heart seemed to thud in your chest as he pressed his lips right over his name etched onto your hand.
Your faint gasp, although barely audible, rung in his ears loudly. Like the echo of a clocktower that had struck midnight.
The beat of a heart.
Arvid knew he shouldn't. But he let his eyes drop a little further down, the glisten of your lips oh so enticing... the smell of jasmine wrapping around him a little stronger and it made his stomach churn.
The clink of your bangles erupted into the air as you pulled your hands away from the hues of devotion. You swallowed once again, breath shaky while you struggled to find the words. "I... I... I should probably go. I think someone's calling my name," you so obviously lied.
The curve of Arvid's mouth lifted upwards. “Okay. It’s not like I'm keeping you or anything," he teased, voice thick.
You nodded slowly, taking an unstable step back. "Y-Yeah," you chuckled awkwardly, body burning with a warmth you had never felt before. Strong and all-powering. "I would tell you off for getting a new teacher but she's your dadi," you shrugged with a small, tight smile.
"My dadi never lies you know," Arvid gave a slight shrug.
You bit your lip, suppressing your full-blown smile. "I'm sure she doesn't, Arvid," you remarked, turning on your heel to leave him.
Arvid grinned shamelessly at your retreating figure. God... you were killing him. Did you know that?
"You know..." Amil's voice suddenly broke the warm trance his brother had fallen into, standing next to him. Folding his arms, his eyes narrowed scrutiny. "As disgusting as that was to watch... I have to give it to you. You do talk to her."
Arvid looked down at his brother, glare instant despite the teetering grin on his face. "Shut up," he huffed, pressing his lips as he watched you walk off, replaying the moment in his head already.
There was no denying it now.
Not really.
He liked you.
Sure. Maybe he had known it from the first glimpse of you just days ago.
But this weird, mushy feeling in his chest confirmed it. With the overwhelming need to kiss you right here and now and the desire to sit with you and talk for hours on end... yeah, he liked you.
Out of all the wedding Arvid had been to, he had never been quite as nervous for this one. Today was the actual wedding. Where the bride and groom actually became one. And where he usually didn't really care, he found himself caring so much he didn't know how to act.
Arvid wasn't sure if he was going to be able to handle you in an actual wedding setting. It made his mind wander a little too far when it came to you. Even when you were both on the precipice of something and nothing all at once.
A gruelling reality.
He had had the daring thought—replacing his uncle and your cousin with him and you in his head. It was brief and immediately shot down. The sliver of a nanosecond. Faster than any timing on any leaderboard. But God, it was electrifying.
One thing that hadn't changed, however... weddings did make you go crazy.
The venue had been dolled up to the max. It almost didn't look like the same place. The wedding planners had combined the classical outdoor architecture with Indian decor; colourful garlands, shining lights and candles, all guest tables littered with the intricate designs of his uncle and your cousin's heritages.
The whole place just felt like... love.
His uncle stood at the front of the venue, near an elevated foundation with the priest close by, waiting for his wife-to-be with an eagerness unlike anything Arvid could imagine. Arvid stood next to his brother, both of them watching with mystified eyes as the once chattering room had gone quiet at the entrance of your cousin at the opposite end of the room.
Your cousin, of course, looked gorgeous as she trailed out with a red veil hovering over her head. The veil was upheld by her bridesmaids, which is where he had spotted you.
You walked alongside your cousin with a heartwarming smile, murmuring encouraging and comforting words the suddenly nerve-ridden bride.
Arvid could feel his heart pace and then come to a stop before repeating the cycle. You looked like... well, what he had so dared to imagine—the woman of his dreams. And when you came closer down the aisle, he could look at you more closely: the warmth of your rosy cheeks against the lights; the thicket of curls that swayed upon your lengha; the small crinkles near the corners of your wide doe eyes as you smiled.
And upon nearing his uncle, when you had caught Arvid’s eyes, you could feel your heartbeat spike and freeze over. His gaze, fixated on you, was glowing with a kindling fire. Warm and heavy. In such an intimate and touching atmosphere, Arvid made you feel bare despite not lurking anywhere other than your eyes.
You averted your gaze nervously, focusing back on your cousin. You came to a stop with her and the other bridesmaids as you strived at the breathtaking taking temple that had been set up. The fire in the middle had been lit, roaming at a constrained height in the open air. You took off the veil while your cousin lifted the skirt of her lengha to walk up a small flight of stairs, coming to her glassy-eyed lover.
You grinned at the two of them as they found themselves stare at each other like there was no one else in the room. You followed after your cousin, grabbing her veil and his husband-to-be's dupatta, tying a firm knot between them before gently navigating the nearby crowd of guests, returning to sit next to Arvid on the floor nearby.
You both said nothing for moment. Watching his uncle and your cousin participate in the flower garland exchange. It was playful. Some their closest family members and friends lifting each one of them up, preventing the other from putting on the garland.
"They say that whichever partner place the garland on first gets the upper hand in the relationship," you quietly chuckled to Arvid, grinning at the couple. "But that's just a myth. It's more about the formal acceptance of each other as partners."
Arvid and his brother snorted once your cousin placed the garland first minutes later, eliciting a chorus of groans and cheers from the crowd as you clasped your hands. "That's my girl," you muttered proudly.
Arvid raised a brow at your compliment, giving you a gentle nudge with his elbow. "I thought you said it was a myth."
You pursed your lips sheepishly. "Doesn't mean I can't believe it, does it?"
He chuckled softly, returning his gaze back to the altar. "It's seven rounds, right?"
You nodded, doing the same as the couple sat down to retrieve the next line of blessings and wishes from the priest. "The knot I made is to unify them as they walk around the fire. Each round is a promise. You know what each one means?"
Arvid shook his head; smile strung onto his face as he turned to you. "But I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
Rolling your eyes, you drew in a quick breath at his lingering gaze. "The first round has them pray for the welfare and happiness of their families and to promise to share their responsibilities. Then to be each other's strength, loyal, and provide stability for one another. The third round asks for prosperity for the family."
Arvid nodded slowly at your commentary, watching your doe eyes glaze over with that same animated look he had seen before. The one with immense happiness, leaving him in a situation where he could only nod for you had stolen every breath.
"Fourth round is about commitment to one another. The fifth asks for the blessings to have healthy children. Sixth, they vow to love and respect each other in times of happiness and sorrow. And lastly," you murmured fondly, corners of your mouth lifting. "They promise to have an undying friendship and ask for divine blessings to unite their souls."
Arvid swallowed tightly. Five. He had been to five wedding this year alone. And not once had he truly understood the reason behind each trip around the ceremonial fire. He simply assumed it was a religious... cultural thing he wouldn't get. But they were vows strengthened by this fire. By a knot of unity.
And it was beautiful.
Soon enough, you, Arvid, and your siblings stood and held grains of puffed rice and flower petals in your hands, throwing them in unison over the fire and the couple. You explained to Arvid that this symbolised prosperity, a prayer for a long and happy life, and a lasting promise of support from your cousin's family.
After the seven rounds, the groom and the bride stopped in front of the priest, standing facing each other. They beamed at each other as more petals fell on them. His uncle smiled gently, pushing aside the maang tikka on your cousin's head and painting the front of her hair-parting with sindooram with his thumb.
"They look so happy," Arvid whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your body stand.
You looked at Arvid, eyes searching him deeply. It was as if he was in some sort of trance or daze. You averted your gaze and smiled at the couple. "That's because they are," you hummed quietly. "You know... this morning, she said that this would be the happiest day of her life," you whispered.
"I can see it on her face," he agreed with a small nod before looking down at you. "One would say it's the happiest day of your life too by that smile," he gently teased.
You smiled deeper, ignoring the flush on your cheeks. "I just love weddings," you shrugged, eyes sparkling.
Arvid only returned the gesture, keeping quiet as you both watched. So he did he, apparently. At least that was what the lurch in his chest told him.
Just days ago, he had been full of dread, resenting the idea of coming to another wedding.
But you were right.
You hadn't taught him weddings.
You had made him love weddings.
Arvid's eyes flickered over the slowly emptying venue. Most of the guests had returned home after the newly married couple had left, leaving him appreciating all the decor in all its glory against the darkened skies.
He leaned on the pillar, looking up at the full moon with a unexplained tightness in his chest. His ears perked at the sound of your anklets chiming in the bare air. He smiled quietly as you stood next to him, doing the same as him. "Hey."
You returned the gesture, shivering at the slightly cold night air. "Hey," you greeted back, folding your arms for a little warmth. You chewed your lip, watching the same scene Arvid had just been eyeing. The sparseness of the event suddenly weighing on your shoulders.
"So... this is it, huh?"
A frown immediately made its way onto his face. His brows mended. "What?"
You shrugged, throat awfully tight all of a sudden as you kept your eyes trained on your surroundings. "The wedding's over. You'll be back racing. I'll be back home. Back to our normal lives," you sucked in a sharp breath.
Arvid blinked. There it was. The explanation for the constricted ache in his chest. This had an ending. And it wasn't one he liked. He swallowed thickly. "At least I had a good teacher this time round," he joked quietly.
"I'm your only teacher, Lindblad," you huffed despite the corners of your lips tugging upwards. His chuckle felt warm in your ears as you took a moment to think. "Can I tell you something, Arvid?"
He shifted against the pillar, head nodding. Always, he wanted to say. Tell him something. Anything to make this a little longer.
The silence was long. Heavy and thick as the remnants of what had happened today. Of the promises that had been made. Of how much they weighed.
"I don't want this to end."
Your whispered confession made his brows raise and his lips part.
Maybe he had misheard you.
"You mean the wedding? Kinda hard to rewind this," Arvid teased almost cautiously. "I need to get a time machine, but I mean... I could make it work."
You gave him a pointed look, skin now impossibly warm against the cold air. "You know what I mean. This. Whatever this is," you murmured, pointing between the both of you. "But I... I don't think it'll work."
Arvid caught your hand with a smooth ease, fingers trailing your mehndi-stained palm almost instantly. His chest warmed as your admission. “We’ll make it work. I'll make it work," he promised with a firm nod, lips leaning down to ghost over the heat of your palm.
You breathed in at the softness of his lips against your hand. "Will I get to meet Liam?"
You could feel his grin on your palm. "Here I am being pouring my heart out and you wanna talk about Liam?" Arvid raised his brows, leaning his cheek onto your hand while his brown eyes holding yours.
You pursed your lips, gaze narrowing. “Oh so you are pouring your heart out?" You teased.
Your heart echoed in your ears as Arvid took a step closer to you, leaving barely any room between the both of you as he kept your hand to his chest. He grinned quietly, eyes dropping to your mouth. "Wanna test that theory?"
Your cheeks burned as he leaned in closer. Your free hand fell over his mouth without a second thought. "Geez, take a girl out first, Lindblad," you huffed, grinning widely before moving your hands to hang around his shoulders.
Arvid smiled as he pondered. "You free on Wednesday?"
"Depends... is meeting Liam still on the table?"
God, you were impossible. That Arvid was sure of.
But for the first time in a while, it felt like he had known peace. So if all he needed to take was a little impossibility, he would gladly do so.
햇살───🐞 ៸៸ bffs-to-future lovers ! arvid × readerㅤ ✦ ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 + crack ─── oneshot ⋆ w.c. 2.9k ◟ warnings ∿ none ❛ radio. you asked and i shall deliver. a bit of lovin for our baby goat who didn't have the best weekend in chinaㅤ﹙◜ᴗ◝﹚ㅤthere is like one line where it's mentioned reader has red hair but other than that, feel free to imagine what you want ❪ LiBRARY ❫
The moment the call connects, your attention snaps to the phone set up against a giant box of nail paints ranging from neon green to electric blue. You smile at the closeup on the face you'd been waiting to see all day. The same one you had only caught brief glimpses of on the broadcast playing on the telly all weekend, while your mum exasperatedly chided about the electricity bill.
“Why the long face?”
Arvid's groan is muffled as he rolls onto his side, face smushed against the hotel pillow. “Don't even start.”
Not that you planned to. After the fantastic weekend in Melbourne — where your best friend scored his very first points on debut! — Shanghai has been a colossal let down in comparison.
And the thing about Arvid is that he hates being coddled. Technical debriefs are one thing, but it's the pitying looks that spook him out. He'd much rather simmer in his thoughts alone for a few hours before he bounces back; that's his whole process.
So, instead, you shrug, carefully drawing the tiny brush with shiny polish on your fingernail. “Hey, I wasn't the one bringing it up first.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you already got what you wanted last week,” he says, one singular eyebrow raised.
You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing at the priceless yellow mini helmet sitting on your nightstand. He notices of course, and scoffs playfully. “So that is why you're friends with me! So you can get all your merch signed. And it's not even my merch!”
“Because you don't have merch yet, you nutter,” you chuckle at his theatrics before pausing. “Except that t-shirt from Etsy that cost way too much to have spelled your name wrong. Lindbald.”
“Let it go,” Arvid drawls in a singsong manner, running a hand down his face. But you see his shoulders shake so that counts as success.
You clap enthusiastically like he's just finished performing at the opera, committed to the bit. “You'd make a brilliant Elsa.”
“Well, if this racing career doesn't pan out, best keep my options open,” he mumbles.
That catches you off guard. Sure, retiring out of a sprint qualifying and finishing twelfth in a race while a million people have their eyes on you is a sizable blow to anybody's ego. But Arvid has never once picked himself apart for something like a mechanical problem, ergo out of his control.
“Arvid,” you huff, frowning.
He acknowledges your pout with a forced cough. “Yeah, yeah, alright– enough about me. Why in the world are you using your grandma's nail polish?”
You flex your fingers in front of the camera in lieu of a response. “You like?”
The smile that blooms on his face is enough to light a fire in your chest, red creeping up to your ears. It's cheesy, not to mention way too late where he is, to be looking so openly smitten. “Is this you fishing for compliments?”
And of course, he wields deflection like a machete, uprooting anything sentimental before it can grow roots.
You narrow your eyes playfully, “This is me giving you a chance to be a good mate before I deck you in the face.”
Arvid makes a noncommittal noise. “I'm joking. Every color looks good on you.”
“Eh– dunno know about that,” you kiss your teeth with a dramatic inhale. “But it's the only red I own and most airlines are allergic to having fun, so.”
There's rustling on the other end and you look up from your half decent nail art to find him settled snugly after making a dent on the pillow. The familiar habit makes you smile, knowing firsthand how often he used to try that with an inflatable before eventually moving to the bed where you made space for him under the covers. It was always a tight fit, but the warmth of his presence and the way your heart kicked into overdrive before settling at his incoherent mumbles easily lulled you to dreamland.
Everything was easier back then. For one, sleepovers didn’t need months of planning, just running across the street and putting on your best smile for each other's parents as they placed an extra plate on the dinner table without asking.
“How are you getting on, over there? Made any friends yet?” Arvid asks and it makes you melt just a little.
It's the bare minimum, some might say because you're friends after all. Attached at the hips – according to your parents. But the thought of him cooped up in a fancy hotel room after a long day of getting ripped apart in front of cameras in the name of journalism and calling you the first chance he got, it's mildly dizzying.
“I've got Bingo Night at the pub later. With the girls in my CPR training group,” you reply, trying for aloofness instead. “They're very friendly. Apparently very invested in GK, too.”
He bites his lips to hold back a smile. The same one he does before saying something particularly ridiculous. “What'd I tell you? Grandma.”
Bang on. You scoff, sticking your tongue out. “Says Mister ‘I am sulking alone in my room because I hate socialising.’”
“This is by choice! I'm actually very happy as a loner.” Arvid doubles over in a wheeze and it is decidedly not cute. Nope, nothing about him is adorable. “And, I would have gone to dinner if there was better company around.”
“Dunno whether I should be flattered or offended on your dad's behalf.” Your laugh tapers off at the dip in his voice, the lightness fizzling out into crinkled eyes and a soft tone you'll deny ever using around anybody, “Hey, you know I'd have been there if I could.”
“I know,” he affirms, blowing air into his damn fringe falling across his chocolate gaze in a rare show of vulnerability. “Doesn’t make this place any less boring, though.”
You don't comment on it. Far as you're concerned, it'll just be another addition in a long list of things that have gone unaddressed between the two of you.
Right up there with late night calls fueled by homesickness for a home he hasn't lived in for five years. Or whatever crescendo that suffocating tension was leading up to, the last time he came to visit on your big eighteenth, that ultimately went nowhere.
Only this time it's different.
There's a nauseating finality in permanence that you refuse to accept. In what universe can you afford to make this a habit? And watching Arvid now, halfway across the world yet plainly confessing that he just wants your presence — wants you, the deeply delusional part of your brain supplies — a small idea plants itself.
Offhandedly, you continue, “Just a couple more weeks. Are you flying to Lisbon right away?”
He sighs, some of the tiredness leaking out in droves. Like he has resigned to this fate. “Nah, we've got loads of debrief left. They have also added new upgrades to the sim, and I want to get on that as soon as possible.”
Still, the excitement is palpable. It's endearing how passionate Arvid is about this. A career he's been chasing since he was a little kid, dreaming of seeing himself beside the legends of his sport, maybe even overtaking them for a position, a podium, a win.
And here he is now, living that dream after years of jetting around the globe. Racing with the support of people no longer limited to his family, or to you, but to thousands who believe in him.
Yet, the only person he looks for when he feels undeserving of that love is you. Always you.
What was that thing your instructor said? Right, ‘the first rule of emergency is to not panic’. You feel like this realization classifies as a pretty aggressive emergency, if the erratic thumping beneath your chest is anything to go by.
“Sounds like a good time,” you mumble, catching his amused expression before clearing your throat. “But you should probably consider going to bed if you want to catch your flight. Red Bull's got a mean streak of firing people for no reason. Who knows what might happen?”
The amusement morphs into a playful scowl as he flips you off. “Fuck you! That is nightmarish, that.”
“Love you too, Arv,” you giggle. Maybe meaning it in a literal sense, too, as you blow him a kiss and end the call, falling backwards into the embrace of a hundred stuffed animals.
Yeah, you need to do this for him.
The absolute gall of this airport, functioning as if his entire world hasn’t just been compressed into a six-hour red-eye from Shanghai. Arvid slumps against the cold metal railing of the Heathrow pickup zone, the London grey seeping into his bones after the sterile, recycled air of the plane.
His suitcase feels like it’s packed with concrete blocks instead of sweat-soaked laundry. It's as heavy as his mood, knowing what awaits him is a torturous list of medical assessments and meetings before he can actually get behind a wheel.
Not to mention, there's been a mix-up with the car rentals, and he vaguely hears his mum arguing passionately with the receptionist about it. His manager is trying to mediate, but he knows that's a losing battle from personal experience.
Regardless, it is a scene he would very much like to avoid, so he hangs back on an empty row of seats by the waiting area — a welcome surprise on a busy Tuesday morning.
Arvid pulls out his phone, thumb hovering over your contact. Debates calling you, but the rational part of him instantly shoots down that idea.
It's unfair for him to assume you'd be free at his convenience. You have your own life — one you're furiously ambitious for. Traveling the world and helping people have always been your priorities, and you've found a job that's a perfect middle ground.
For him to impose on that would be insanely selfish. More so than he already is. He should just text. Let you know he’s landed. But even the thought of forming a coherent sentence feels monumental.
Then he hears it. A screech that cuts through the drone of diesel engines and the weary murmurs of travellers like a perfectly tuned downshift.
“Oi! Arvid, you absolute noodle!”
His head snaps up. And like the universe has heard his wishes and decided to snap it's fingers, work it's magic, whatever that fuck— you are here.
You’re half-hanging out of the driver’s side window of a car he vaguely recognises as your mum’s, waving your arm like you’re trying to flag down a rescue helicopter. Your hair is a mess, whipping around your face, and your grin is so wide it’s a physical blow.
His brain short-circuits. The concrete-block suitcase ceases to exist. The simulator can burn. You’re here. You’re supposed to be at your institute.
You’re not supposed to be… here. At the airport. Waiting on him.
He abandons his luggage, letting it fall with a tragic clatter to the tiled floor. A man behind him swears. Arvid doesn’t hear him. He’s already moving, long legs eating up the distance, and then he’s crashing into you as you leap out of the car.
His arms wrap around you, lifting you clean off the ground. You squeal, a sound that’s pure, unadulterated joy, and he buries his face in your hair. You smell like that sweet strawberry shampoo you’ve used since you were twelve — an oddly fitting choice for flaming red hair. It smells like homecoming.
“You’re here,” he mumbles, his voice muffled and thick. “You’re supposed to be—how are you here?”
“Had to beg mum to lend the car. Reckon this is more important than groceries,” you say, words vibrating against his chest. “Couldn’t let you rot in a factory all day without a proper lunch first. Damn, do I make a decent knight, or what?”
Arvid pulls back just enough to look at you, and that’s when he sees it. His hands are on your face, cupping your jaw, and his thumb accidentally swipes across your cheekbone.
He pulls his hand back, and there it is. A perfect, rose-gold smudge of something shimmery on the cuff of his hoodie. He looks from the smudge, to his sleeve, to your face, a grin creeping up to his lips. “Are you wearing makeup?”
He watches as your expression shifts from exhilarated joy to a flicker of uncertainty. You follow his gaze and your smile becomes a tiny, hesitant thing.
“Do you… like it?” you ask, your voice losing its earlier bravado. “I’m still learning. The liner's a bit wonky on the left, I think. I almost redid the whole thing three times and then I was late leaving and–”
You’re wearing makeup. Proper makeup. Not just the mascara you sometimes swipe on, moaning about the inconvenience of it all. Your eyes are lined in a way that makes them look huge, and there’s a soft, rosy glow on your cheeks.
The thought of how much he'd actually missed – or deliberately overlooked in an effort to make the days fly by quicker – nags at him. But it's all overshadowed by unrestrained giddiness.
You dolled up just for him.
His heart does something violent inside his chest. A chaotic, stuttering beat that even the adrenaline rush of five flickering lights going out cannot pull from him. And an uncontrollable laugh bubbles out.
Arvid can’t help it. It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid. He’s been crushing on you since you were barely teenagers and you beat him at Mario Kart so badly he threw a controller at the wall (you still haven’t let him live it down).
He’s spent years cataloguing your quirks – stuff that people brush off, but makes him oddly endeared.
The way you steal his food when you think he's not looking only for him to swat your hands away before feeding it to you anyway. The way you look when you’re furious on his behalf about a racing incident and the resulting rant that follows.
But this? You, dressed up, nervous about what he thinks, having driven an hour just to surprise him, this might take the cake.
And… all he did was ask.
The simplicity of that fact has him in shambles.
“Arvid?” your voice is smaller now, the hesitation deepening. “Is it really that bad?”
He shakes his head so fast, he thinks it might get knocked off his shoulders. “It’s perfect,” he says, and his voice cracks on the word. Like he’s thirteen again, grinning like a complete idiot in your presence. “You look… I mean, it's–” he reaches out, his fingers hovering near your temple, not quite touching, “–it needs a bit of work, but you'll get there.”
“Oh, you're fucking insufferable!” Your cheeks puff up in a lovely consequence of indignation and you punch his collarbone. Lightly, mind, but Arvid still makes a pained expression before it devolves into a laugh.
“No, okay– Seriously, what do you have to worry about? You'll be the prettiest cabin crew out there,” he teases. “I imagine a few guys getting heart attacks when they see you.”
Your whole face transforms, the trepidation evaporating into that blinding, brilliant smile again. “Yeah?”
What he wouldn’t do to keep it the same way forever. “Yeah.”
He’s about to say something else. Something monumental, probably. Something that starts with ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you’ and ends with his entire world view shifting on its axis.
But you’re already spinning away from him, pointing a dramatic finger at the patiently waiting figure of his dad, who’s been standing by the abandoned suitcase with the resigned air of a man who has watched this scene play out a hundred times.
“Mister Lindblad!” you yell, your voice echoing across the pickup zone, earning you a few nasty looks that neither of you care for. “Permission to kidnap your son for a bit?”
His dad just sighs, the sound carrying on the damp air, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Just return him to the factory in one piece by three o’clock, please.”
“Deal!”
You grab Arvid’s hand, your fingers lacing through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His skin tingles. You’re already dragging him towards the car, your energy a whirlwind that’s completely blown away his earlier exhaustion.
“Come on, come on, I’m starving, and I found this place that does insane paneer dishes, and you have to tell me everything about Shanghai, and–”
Arvid lets himself be pulled, his universe narrowing to the pressure of your hand in his and the sway of your hair as you bounce on your heels. As he finally buckles himself into the driver's seat — because in your words, it's blasphemy if someone else drives when you've got your own million quid personal chauffeur — there’s a smile so wide it almost hurts splitting his face.
The GPS flickers on, getting lost somewhere in your enthusiasm, and he thinks you are it for him.
Of course, he can’t tell you that yet. The words feel too big, too clumsy and somehow entirely inadequate for the steady warmth blanketing him snugly.
But as you launch into a detailed, chaotic story about how some of your friends managed to get banned from Tesco of all places, one hand sneaking to his arm just to squeeze once in a while — as if you're assuring yourself he's right there — Arvid realizes he doesn’t need to rush.
With you, there has never been a ‘what if’, just a gleaming ‘when’ that's as promised as sunrise after dawn.
And Arvid is already completely, utterly, and irrevocably yours. He’s just got to figure out how to tell you that without making a complete idiot of himself.
🪐 ★ 𓈒𓏸 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . guess who procrastinated for a whole week before finally locking in? but how was this for my first request? anon, i hope you like this !! let me know in asks / comments / reblogs <3 edit: i've now realized arvid doesn't have a driver's license but whatever. now he does, cuz, my universe my rules ;)
summary: Arvid is nervous for you to meet his parents, not because of you, you're great, that's just how he was, luckily he was quickly proven wrong.
word count: 1,3K +
fc; n/a
warnings: awkward momments and... not that much really
[masterlist]
You had been dating for a few months now, and honestly, Arvid couldn’t have been more grateful to James for introducing you, since there wasn’t a day he didn’t text you, or receive a message from you on the days you couldn’t see each other in person. So he knew the day would come when he’d have to introduce you to his parents—but now, as he waited outside your house, the nerves started to take over.
He saw you come out of the house, and as always, you looked beautiful. He remembered seeing you buy the shirt you were wearing on one of your dates, and the best part was that smile that appeared on your lips when you saw him.
He was leaning against his car and walked over to where you were, leaving a short kiss on your lips, which you immediately returned, running your hand through his curls like you always did whenever you saw each other.
“You look great.” You knew he meant it completely, but you still sensed something different in him.
“So do you.”
Instinctively, his hand found yours, and he intertwined his fingers with yours for a few seconds before letting go and opening the car door for you.
During the ride to his house, you easily figured out what was going on with him—he didn’t hold your hand once or even rest it on your leg, something he never failed to do when he was driving.
“It’s going to be fine, you know that, right?” you said, taking his hand and caressing it with a smile, seeing him nod as he tried to calm his breathing.
“I really want them to like you.”
“So do I, but let’s not think about what could go wrong, okay?” Your hand reached his neck, letting your nails gently scratch that part of his skin.
For a moment, your words managed to calm him, although when you finally arrived at his parents’ house, all that progress you thought you’d made on the short drive disappeared instantly.
“Sorry,” came out of his mouth almost instinctively, and it caught you a little by surprise since your boyfriend had always been very confident—even when he met your parents, who had undoubtedly adored him from the first moment.
“It’s fine, do you need some time?”
“I don’t think we can.” You tilted your head slightly, looking at him, but relaxed when you saw a smile appear on his lips again. “My mom is watching us from the window.”
You raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the house, catching a glimpse of a woman ducking away from the window, which made you laugh a little.
“Should we go then?” you asked, picking up the bag where you had brought a small gift for his parents.
He didn’t respond with words, just left a small kiss on your lips before pulling away and nodding, that nervous smile still lingering on his face.
You got out of the car, and once again his hand intertwined with yours as you walked together to the door, which you didn’t even have to knock on—his mother opened it with a sweet smile.
“Took you a while, huh?” Anita said, scolding her son a little, who simply pursed his lips. Luckily, she didn’t focus on him for long when she saw you. “Look at you! You’re even prettier than in the pictures. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Anita, in case you didn’t know.”
“She knows,” Arvid complained, and you gave him a small nudge in the leg to scold him for answering back to his mom.
“It’s a pleasure, I’m y/n.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, please come in.”
She led both of you to the dining room, and that’s when she noticed you had brought something. You carefully took it out of the bag and placed it on the table.
“Aww, darling, you didn’t have to,” she said, taking the bottle of wine and smiling at you before heading into the kitchen, leaving Arvid’s father to make his entrance.
“Your mom already scolded you, huh?” he said with a smile, hugging his son on one side before turning to you and offering his hand. “You must be the girl this one won’t shut up about.”
“Well, I hope so. It’s a pleasure, Mr. Lindblad.” He quickly shook his head at your words.
“That makes me feel so old. Stefan is more than enough.”
You simply nodded, and then his father led you both to the dining room for dinner. You took the opportunity to grab Arvid’s hand, noticing he was no longer so tense.
“Where’s Amil?” your boyfriend asked about his brother while his mother handed him the plates to set the table. When you offered to help, his mother shook her head at you.
“Let him work,” she laughed softly before turning back to Arvid. “He’s at Mike’s house. He has a project due tomorrow.”
“Shame, he would’ve loved you,” Arvid said, hugging your shoulders after placing the plates on the table, making you smile.
You managed to set at least one plate of food on the table before everyone sat down to eat.
“So, Arvid told us you’re already in university, right? What are you studying?”
“I’m in physics, second year,” you said, taking a small sip of your drink—these kinds of conversations still felt more like interviews to you.
“You got yourself a smart one, huh? How come you're with him?” Arvid’s dad jumped into the conversation, first addressing him, then you.
“Dad…” Arvid tried to scold his father, though you couldn’t help but laugh.
“He’s a funny one.”
“Now that makes sense.”
Arvid crossed his arms, softly pouting, which prompted you to lean toward him under the excuse of kissing his cheek, whispering something in his ear.
“You can be a bit smart too.”
“Just a bit?”
“You told me not to lie to you.” That, of course, only made him pretend to be even more offended, making his mother laugh.
“You all hate me or what? They like you too much.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Of course it was—it was great, actually. He just hadn’t expected a whole alliance against him on the very first night.
Dinner went perfectly, full of laughter—and, of course, a little interrogation directed at you. After all, everything they knew about you came from things their son had told them. And no matter how much they trusted him, they preferred hearing it from you.
That’s why Arvid decided to jump back into the conversation, and the late hour helped him finally call the evening to a close.
“I know she’s great, but I think we should get going,” he said when your hand found his under the table. You had started doing that whenever you were getting tired in a social situation. Even though you didn’t think much of it, your boyfriend had already learned to read you.
“I think you just don’t want your mom showing her your baby pictures,” Arvid’s dad chuckled softly before standing up to properly say goodbye to you.
Both his parents kissed your cheeks goodbye and walked you to the door, continuing the conversation until you and Arvid were already outside.
“Bye love, come back whenever you want,” were Anita’s final words before closing the door and letting you leave.
His arms quickly wrapped around your waist, kissing your cheek with a smile as he leaned into you.
“Oh my god, they really loved you,” he sighed, that silly smile he always had when talking to or about you lighting up his face—something you adored.
“See? Told you there was no need to panic.” You kissed his lips shortly with a smile.
“You’re always right. That doesn’t count,” he laughed, heading to the car and opening the passenger door for you. “Let’s get you home now.”
Sitting by the dinner table at Arvid’s house, you eat dinner with him and his family on a Friday night. It’s been good, it’s always good with him, and you’re so happy that his family has taken a liking to you. Stefan speaks up, “I’m excited for you, Arvid. I really, really think this will be worth it. We’re all proud of you, and we know your hard work will pay off.” Arvid looks down after he says that, flustered. This is what he’s always been working for, you think. Even just his previous seasons, he’s always practicing, training, doing what he can. And yet, he still makes time for his family, his personal life, and you. You’re the luckiest girl in the world.
You celebrate him with his family in London, of course, but the following period when he’s not allowed to tell anybody almost breaks him (and his parents, for that matter, how could they not?). He’s beyond happy and almost ecstatic. “I’m so proud of you, everyone is. I’m so glad you’ve reached your goal. Ready to celebrate?” He responds with a kiss to your cheek, sweeping you off your feet. A little cake for him, “Congratulations” with a smiley face, confetti and a colorful party hat. He’s in a good mood all night long, giddy and a little woozy. After his family leaves, and it’s just you and him left, music playing lowly.
He’s in his dress shirt, your favorite. “Many good things to come this coming year,” you lean your head to his side, “And I have a feeling a lot of it will involve us together.” He smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him. “Well, of course. How could I do without my lucky charm, my dream girl and my one and only?” he already has a lipstick mark to his cheek but you give him another for good measure.
If your relationship wasn’t made public before, it certainly is now. Even the attention he gets after is loads more than he’s ever been used to. He doesn’t really mind it, but he’s good with keeping his privacy and dodging invading questions. It’s one of the things you appreciate most about him; he’s considerate of your privacy and would never out you in any way you’re not comfortable with. Private, not secret. He’s happy to have you there on those nights. After practice, after races, at events, just you and him.
You continue to be in the background of his photos and with him to most places, though it’s usually never paid special attention to. You’re just glad you can be there to support him and accompany him, especially on the nights when you are apart and all you have is your messages and infrequent calls to hear each others’ voices. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you get up from your seat and snap a photo of him, party hat and all.
After this his circle grows a lot, and you’re rarely unoccupied. But he’s glowing, he’s so happy, proud. He’s getting recognized a lot more, always working and being out with his team. You talk and kiss over facetime, sending messages, listening to your shared playlists. He can’t wait, and you know he will always come back to you even though he’s away so often.
The photo you took of him is later posted to your private Instagram, captioning, “Well congratulations Starboy :)”
note I'm sorry this is only a blurb, I've been having such bad writers block&im working on a long fic! apologies bb:,) I do see your requests I will get them soon!
