#soft confession

The second you see him, your instincts kick in.

“Bucky?” You jog toward him. “Hey, what happened—are you hurt?”

He flinches at your voice.

Actually flinches.

You freeze mid-step.

Sam and Clint rush in behind you, weapons drawn until they realize he isn’t being followed. There’s a smear of purple dust across the metal plates of his arm, a faint shimmer clinging to the fabric of his vest.

Sex pollen. A very rare, very Hydra, very wrong biological agent.

Clint groans. “Ah. He’s screwed.”

“Med clinic,” you say immediately, reaching for him before you can think.

Bucky jerks back like your hand is fire. “No.”

Your chest tightens. “Buck, you need to be evaluated—”

“Not by you.” His voice is sandpaper, thick and strained. “Anyone but you.”

It hits like a punch.

You try to laugh it off, but your throat is tight. “Wow. Okay. I—Sam, take him. It’s fine.”

Sam shoots you a look that says it is absolutely not fine, but he hooks an arm around Bucky’s back and guides him away as the super-soldier keeps his gaze locked everywhere except you.

You stay rooted to the dirt long after they’re gone.

By the time the pollen burns out of his system, it’s been a full twelve hours. You know because you’ve been staring at the clinic’s digital log for that long, waiting for the status light next to his name to change.

When it finally flicks to DISCHARGED, you close the tablet and leave before he has the chance to walk out and see you hovering.

Avoiding him for the rest of the day is easy. You bury yourself in a report, hide in the comms room, claim you’re reorganizing supply lists. Natasha catches you once and raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t say anything.

You don’t want to be pathetic. You don’t want to care that he said it. Except you do. You really, really do.

By nightfall, you’re heading back to your room when someone steps out of the shadows.

“Can we talk?”

His voice—the normal one, the low warm rumble you know like a pulse—stops you instantly.

You swallow and keep your eyes on the wall. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” he says. “I just need to explain what happened.”

You force a smile. “You don’t have to. I get it—nobody wants their medic to see them… like that.”

“That’s not it.” He steps closer. “That’s not it at all.”

Everything in you goes rigid.

Bucky shifts his weight, metal fingers flexing. Nervous. You’ve only seen him nervous a handful of times.

“I wasn’t… afraid of you,” he starts quietly. “I was afraid for you.”

You blink. “What?”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “That compound is designed to lower inhibition and heighten fixation. Whatever you were to me before… it would’ve amplified it.” His throat works around the words. “By a lot.”

Your heart kicks. Hard. Whatever you were to him before.

He continues, eyes glued to the floor like he can brute-force the confession out that way.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. Or say something I didn’t mean in a way that would make you think it wasn’t real. Or—god.” He exhales shakily. “Or touch you without wanting to.”

He finally lifts his gaze to yours, and suddenly the hallway feels too small.

“I wanted you near me more than anything,” he admits. “You were the worst possible person to be within arm’s reach.”

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

“Bucky…”

“You walking toward me? I could barely stand still.” He huffs a weak laugh. “Sam had to practically drag me to the clinic just so I didn’t do anything stupid.”

You take a slow step forward. “But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He winces. “And I’m sorry. I panicked. If you’d touched me, even just to check a pulse, I would’ve—”

He cuts himself off, jaw working.

“Wanted me?” you murmur, unable to stop the question.

His breath stutters. “Yeah. That. Exactly that.”

A beat of silence settles between you, trembling and fragile.

You inch closer. So close that his dog tags brush your sweatshirt. “Just to be clear… you mean all this? You’re not still foggy?”

“I’ve been clear as day since noon.” He swallows. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about you since long before that.”

Something melts in your ribcage—slow, warm, unstoppable.

You lift your hand, hesitating just in case—he doesn’t make you wait long. He steps into your palm, cheek pressing gently into your touch like he’s starved for it.

“I didn’t want you near me,” he whispers, “because if you were, I wouldn’t have made it out of those woods without pinning you against a tree and begging.”

Heat floods your face.

“Bucky—”

“And that’s not how I wanted our first kiss to happen.”

The air disappears.

“Kiss?” you echo, breathless.

He glances at your mouth. “Unless you don’t want—”

You grab his collar and pull him down before the sentence finishes.

It’s slow at first, careful—the kind of kiss you give someone you’ve been wanting for a long, long time. His hands hover at your waist until you nod, silently giving permission. Then they settle, warm and steady, drawing you in.

When you part, he rests his forehead against yours.

“For the record,” you whisper, “you can come to the clinic anytime.”

He smiles—small, relieved, devastating. “Not unless it’s to see you.”

A week.

A week since your ex — a finance bro named something-you'd-already-forgotten — had told you he "needed space" and "wasn't ready for something serious" and "it's not you, it's me."

The usual.

You'd cried. You'd eaten instant ramen. You'd re-watched old movies and pretended you weren't sad. But tonight, you were just... empty.

Someone knocked on the door.

You didn't move.

Another knock. Louder this time. More insistent.

"I know you're in there."

Satoru. His voice was firm — not angry, just... bossy. The tone he used when he was done letting you wallow.

"I can see your light on," he continued. "And I can hear your sad playlist. And I know you're ignoring me because you think you're being subtle, but you're not. Open the door."

You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head.

"I'm coming in," he announced. "You have three seconds."

The lock clicked. You'd given him a key months ago — for emergencies, you'd said. He'd never used it without announcing himself first.

He stepped inside, and the first thing you noticed was that he was wearing his favorite sweater — the oversized grey one with the elbow patches. His glasses were slightly crooked, like he'd been running his hands over his face. His hair was messier than usual.

His arms were full. A bag of takeout from your favorite ramen place. A six-pack of your favorite soda. Another bag that crinkled — more snacks, probably. And tucked under his arm, a DVD case.

He set everything down on your desk, then walked over to the bed. He stood there, hands on his hips, looking down at you with an expression that was equal parts exasperated and concerned.

"You look terrible," he said.

"Thanks."

"I mean it in the nicest way possible."

"You're terrible at compliments."

"I'm not here to compliment you." He reached down and pulled the blanket off your face. "I'm here to make sure you eat something that isn't instant ramen."

"You don't know that I've been eating instant ramen."

"There are three empty cups on your desk."

You looked. There were, in fact, three empty cups on your desk.

"Get up," he said.

"No."

"Yes."

"Satoru—"

"Get up, or I'll carry you."

"You wouldn't."

He bent down and scooped you up like you weighed nothing.

"SATORU—"

"You had your chance." He carried you toward the small couch under your window, ignoring your protests. "You're going to eat real food. You're going to drink something that isn't crying fuel. And you're going to watch a movie so bad you forget your own name."

"This is kidnapping."

"This is friendship."

You stopped struggling. "You're impossible."

"I'm efficient." He set you down on the couch and pointed a finger at you. "Stay."

"I'm not a dog."

"Could've fooled me."

You threw a pillow at him. He caught it.

He made you change into comfortable clothes while he set up the room.

When you came out of the bathroom, he'd turned on your fairy lights — soft, warm, easy on your puffy eyes. He'd fluffed the pillows. He'd laid out the takeout containers on the tiny coffee table. He'd even opened your soda can for you.

"Sit," he said, pointing at the couch.

"You're very bossy tonight."

"You've been sad for a week now. Someone has to be bossy."

You sat down.

He sat down on the other side of the couch — close, but not too close. He handed you a container of ramen and a pair of chopsticks.

"Eat."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't be sarcastic."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He shot you a look, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

The movie was, as promised, terrible. A low-budget sci-fi film from the 90s that Satoru had found in the library's free bin. The acting was bad. The special effects were worse. The plot made no sense.

You both made fun of it — you more than him, because he kept stealing glances at you instead of watching the screen. Every time you caught him, he looked away quickly, his ears turning pink.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing."

"You keep looking at me."

"I'm making sure you're eating."

"I'm eating."

"You're pushing your noodles around."

"I'm eating strategically."

He snorted. "That's not a thing."

"It is now."

He shook his head, but he was smiling.

The movie ended. The credits rolled. The food was gone. The soda cans were empty.

You were lying on your side, facing away from him, curled up on the couch. Your head was on a pillow. Your knees were pulled up to your chest.

Satoru was still sitting up, his back against the armrest, his hands in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No."

"Okay."

He didn't push. He never pushed. He just sat there, waiting, his presence warm and steady.

After a while, you spoke.

"He said I was too much."

Satoru went still.

"Too emotional. Too needy. Too—" You shrugged. "Too me."

"That's not true."

"I know. But sometimes I wonder."

"He's an idiot."

"Satoru—"

"He's an idiot," he repeated. His voice was firm. "He didn't deserve you. He never did."

You turned to look at him.

"How do you know?"

He looked at you. His eyes — soft, brown, magnified behind his glasses — were intense.

"Because I know you," he said. "I know what you deserve. And it's not someone who makes you feel like you're too much."

"Then what do I deserve?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away.

"Someone who shows up," he said finally. "Someone who stays."

"Satoru..."

"Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved."

The room was quiet.

Your phone buzzed.

You reached for it on the coffee table. A text from your ex.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

Your heart dropped.

Satoru must have seen your expression, because he leaned over and looked at the screen. His jaw tightened.

"Don't reply," he said.

"I wasn't going to."

"Good." He took the phone from your hand and set it face-down. "He doesn't get to do this."

"Satoru—"

"He doesn't get to break up with you, ignore you for three days, and then text you like nothing happened." His voice was low. "He doesn't deserve you."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"How do you know?"

He looked at you. His eyes were soft, but there was something underneath — something he was holding back.

"Because I've been watching you date the wrong people for years," he said. "And I'm tired of it."

"Satoru..."

"He's not the right guy for you."

"Then who is?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"The right guy might be right in front of you," he said quietly.

The room was silent.

His face was red. His hands were shaking. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he didn't push them up.

"Satoru?" you said.

"I've been in love with you since freshman orientation." The words came out rushed, like he was afraid he'd lose his nerve. "You were sitting in the back of the lecture hall, and you had this look on your face like you'd rather be anywhere else, and I just — I couldn't look away."

"Satoru..."

"I know I'm not — I mean, I'm not the kind of guy who —" He swallowed. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to say it without sounding —" He stopped. "I just... I wanted you to know. You don't have to say anything. I just — I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

The room was quiet.

He still wasn't looking at you.

"Satoru," you said.

He flinched. "Yeah?"

"Look at me."

He looked up. His eyes were wet. His glasses were crooked. His lower lip was trembling.

"Hey," you said softly.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Come here."

He didn't move.

"Satoru. Come here."

He scooted closer, his movements hesitant, like he was afraid of being pushed away.

You reached up and fixed his glasses for him. Your fingers brushed his cheek. He held his breath.

"I've been in love with you too," you said.

He froze.

"What?"

"I've been in love with you too."

"You're not —" He swallowed. "You're not just saying that?"

"I'm not just saying that."

"You're not going to wake up tomorrow and pretend this didn't happen?"

"I'm not."

He stared at you for a long moment.

Then he pulled you into his arms — tight, desperate, like he was afraid you'd disappear.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," he whispered into your hair.

"I know."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner."

"I know."

"I was scared."

"I know."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wet. His face was red. His glasses were crooked again.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"You're asking?"

"I don't want to mess this up."

"You won't."

He leaned in — slow, hesitant, like he was giving you time to change his mind.

He kissed you.

It was soft. Gentle. His lips were warm. His hands were shaking. His glasses bumped your nose, and he pulled back, embarrassed.

"Sorry —"

You kissed him again.

He made a small, surprised sound. Then his hands cupped your face, and he kissed you back — deeper this time, but still soft, still careful.

When you finally pulled apart, he was smiling like he couldn't believe this was real.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of losing you." He pressed his forehead to yours. "You're my best friend. I couldn't lose that."

"You won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He was quiet for a moment. His thumb traced small circles on your cheek.

"You know," he said, his voice still soft, still a little shaky, "I practiced what I was going to say. Like, a lot. I rehearsed in front of the mirror. I wrote it down. I had a whole speech."

You blinked. "You wrote a speech?"

"Multiple drafts." He laughed — a small, embarrassed sound. "Shoko found one. She made fun of me for a week."

"What was in the speech?"

His face went red again. "I'm not telling you."

"Satoru."

"It's embarrassing."

"I just told you I love you. You can tell me the speech."

He hesitated. Then he took a breath.

"I was going to say —" He stopped. Swallowed. "I was going to say that I've been in love with you for so long I don't remember what it felt like before. And that you're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I fall asleep. And that I know I'm not — I'm not smooth or cool or any of that. But I'd spend the rest of my life trying to be the person you deserve."

Your heart stopped.

"Satoru..."

"And then I was going to say something about how your smile makes me forget how to breathe." His voice got smaller. "And how I've been saving up to take you to that ramen place you like because I know you've been wanting to go. And how I already picked out a spot in my apartment for your books because I thought — I hoped — maybe someday you'd want to move in with me."

"You thought about me moving in with you?"

"I thought about everything." His ears were bright red. "I thought about what our wedding would look like. I thought about what kind of dog we'd get. I thought about —" He stopped. "This is so embarrassing."

"It's not."

"It is."

"It's cute."

"It's pathetic."

"It's romantic."

He looked at her like she'd just said the most absurd thing in the world.

"How is any of that romantic?"

"Because you thought about our future." You cupped his face. "You thought about a life with me."

He stared at you.

"Of course I did," he said quietly. "I couldn't stop myself."

You kissed him again — soft, slow, full of everything you couldn't say.

When you pulled back, he was smiling.

"So," he said, "does this mean I can stop pretending I don't stare at you during study sessions?"

"You stared at me during study sessions?"

"I'm not confirming anything."

"You literally just confirmed it."

"I'm a bad liar."

"You're a terrible liar."

He grinned. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Yeah," you said. "I do."

You woke up to sunlight streaming through your window.

Satoru was still asleep — his face soft, his hair messy, his hand still wrapped around yours. His glasses were on the coffee table. He looked younger like this. Peaceful.

You watched him for a while.

Everything had changed.

Nothing had changed.

He was still your best friend. Still the person who bossed you into eating real food and made you watch terrible movies and showed up when you needed him most.

But now, he was also yours.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He stirred, pulling you closer without waking up, his arm tightening around your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear even in his sleep.

You smiled.

Then he stirred again.

"Mmm," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "If you're staring at me, that's embarrassing."

"I'm not staring."

"You're totally staring."

"I'm admiring. There's a difference."

He opened one eye. "That's the same thing."

"It's not."

"You're impossible."

"You love me."

He smiled — soft and sleepy and full of love.

"Yeah," he said. "I really do."

He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you," he murmured.

You reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. "I love you too."

His eyes fluttered shut. "Say it again."

"I love you, Satoru."

"One more time?"

"You're greedy."

"I know."

You laughed, and he smiled against your hair.

"

"Hey," he whispered after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"I meant everything I said last night. About the future. About the dog. About—" He stopped. "About you moving in with me. I wasn't just saying that."

"I know."

"I have a spare toothbrush. I bought it months ago. Just in case."

"Satoru."

"I also have your favorite tea. And an extra blanket. And—"

"Satoru."

He looked at you.

"I'd love to move in with you."

He stared at you.

"Really?"

"Really."

His face broke into the biggest smile you'd ever seen.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little wobbly. "Okay. Good. That's—" He took a breath. "That's good."

"You're crying."

"I'm not crying."

"You're literally crying."

"These are happy tears. There's a difference."

You laughed, and he pulled you closer, and the sunlight streamed through the window, and everything felt right.

A/N. I LOVEVEEE COLLEGE AU NERD GOJO !!!!!! i love nerds sm why cant nerdjo be real 😭 now that part 1 is done, part 2's coming !! stay tuned for it 😼💞 and also, why are all my fics 2.5k+ words most of the time!?

You click open another email, you boss asking for your days material plan, you quickly typed a reply. As you heard the little whoop sound that signalled it was send, it was followed by another one sound. One you had found comfort in the last year of doing Commentary for Sky Sports. You turned your head to see Nico walking into the Media pen area, two coffees in his hand. "Well good morning, Liebling" (Darling) He said to you as he sat down on the couch beside you. He was in a white suit today, with a black crew neck tee and matching Sneakers. It was sort of his signature look at this point. He handed you one of the coffees. "For you" He smiled. You took it with a smile and thanked him. He asked how you were, how you slept, and if you were ready for today, ready to put up with his annoying ass. His words. Before he stood up again, and told you he'd see you later. You smiled, "Looking forward to it"

He walked away with that effortlessly cool walk and you smiled to yourself. He had become a good friend to you over the past couple races. He was more present, did more media than usual. You had chalked it up to him not being alone since the divorce almost a year ago. "Oh. My. God" Your best friend and photographer for Sky said hushed behind you. You jump at the words, having been startled. "Jezz, Maddy, Warning would be nice. You scared me" You tell her she just smirks and sits down next to you.

"What did you and Nico talk about?" She asks, way too excited for some reason. You didn't understand the whole excited over every little thing she did. It was admirable, but also you didn't understand it. Then again she was a couple years younger than you, so maybe it was just normal for girls her age.

"Nothing really? Why?" You ask utterly confused.

"He had no reason to come to this side of the paddock this morning" She says.

"So?"

"So, he came to give you coffee and have a chat with you, before walking away."

"Okay?" You ask still confused.

"Am I going to have to spell this out for you?" She sighs. "Nico likes you, I've suspected it for a while, and this is hard core evidence."

"Maddy, No. Nico definitely doesn't like me. You're reading things the wrong way" You tell her closing your email.

She says your name. "He literally has become a more prominent person in your life since you broke up with whatshisname. That's not a coincidence." She says and you chuckle.

"Maddy, I can promise you. Nico doesn't see me that way. We're co-workers, friends at best. There's no way he likes me. Now if you excuse me, I have to go get ready for the first interview of the day. I'll meet you for lunch?" You tell her before you pack up your laptop and grab your coffee.

"Yea, just think about what I've said alright?" She asks and you roll your eyes.

"Fine, but only because I love you" You tell her and she smiles.

You walk away, lifting the coffee to your lips. You expect it to be bitter but it's perfect. Not too sweet, Not to bitter, perfect.

It had been a few hours since Maddy had gotten into your head. You hated to admit it, but she had. Every little joke Nico had made, every time you caught him looking at you. You had felt like an idiot. Surely he didn't see you that way. You weren't exactly his type, not on paper at least. But you couldn't stop thinking about it. Until you started the Prerace show. Work was always a way for you to escape your mind.

"Liam, you're starting P10 today. Walk us through those first few laps, what’s the game plan" You ask with a smile. The four of you along with Jenson Button, discuss the race.

"Well, we are all hoping for you to have a good race today, Liam" You glance down to see what's next on your cue cards, preparing to move the segment forward.

"Well, you are here this weekend, so I'm sure I'll be fine." Liam smirks and winks in your direction. You go to make a joke when Nico interrupts.

"Well, that's all the time we have with you Liam. Thank you for chatting with us. Next up we have the grid walk with Martin Brundle" He says into the camera and nods. The camera operator gives you a thumbs up confirming that you were off air.

You could be reading too far into this, but that was weird, right? You silently curse Maddy. You were at work, you were supposed to focus. Not question if your, quite frankly, good-looking co-worker was into you. Hell she even has you openly admitting that you find him attractive.

You send Nico a weird look, and he avoids your gaze. You internally roll your eyes before turning to Liam. "Good Luck out there today, yea?" You tell him.

"Like I said my lucky charm is here" He smirks. "Are you going to be at Lewis's dinner party thing tonight?"

You nod, giving him a half-smile. "Promised him I'd make an appearance."

"We can catch up more tonight then? When Mr Spears over there isn't shooting me daggers" Liam jokes. You stifle a laugh. Oh god, if only Liam knew how much Nico hated that old nickname. You watch him walk away and look back at Nico, who's talking to Jenson, but yet is still watching you. You shake your head at him before walking away.

Lewis's dinner party was exactly what you needed. He had decided to have it on the top floor of a restaurant in the city. You had a glass of wine, had spoken to a few of the drivers and their girlfriends, but otherwise had spent your night mostly alone. It didn't bother you. You were at the singles table and no one there had really been your type anyways. Nico had been at the table but you hadn't said much throughout dinner as another patron had kept him occupied by chatting about classic cars or some start-up pitch. The music was classical, and you smiled as it shifted to something familiar. "Hey, this is my song" You hear Charles blurt at one of the tables. You chuckle lightly to yourself.

Dinner had ended about half an hour ago, and guests had been mingling ever since. As the two other guests at the table, a guy and a girl who had been flirting the whole night, stand up and leave, you sigh. They had left you alone and you could feel the seemingly pitiful eyes wander onto where you were sitting

You stood up, picking up your glass of wine and walking towards the private terrace you had spotted on the way in. You took the last sip of wine and swiftly put it down on the bar as you walked out. The night's air was cold, but not freezing. It had a nip to it, yet made you feel relaxed. You leaned against the railing looking at the city below.

You stood there for a while, losing track of time. You watched cars drive past the restaurant and admired the way the city lights changed colours. There is art in everything of which you see. You smiled to yourself feeling content, even relaxed.

"You’re missing dessert, you know. Nothing as sweet as you, but still" His voice echos into the night like fireworks, setting your skin alight. You hear the clack of shoes as he walks towards you and puts down a glass of red wine. "St Hugo DR3 Shiraz, I know it's one of your favourites. Or maybe that Daniel was one of your favourites" He smiles and you turn and look at him.

You study his features, the way his hair is slightly slicked back in the way that made it look effortless. The ways his blue eyes reflected the lights below. He had grown crows feet over the years, yet it had somehow made him look younger. "Thank you" You whisper, taking a sip and turning back out towards the city. "I didn't think you would be here tonight, thought you and Lewis didn't like each other anymore."

"We have a complex relationship" He admits. "But I'm glad I came"

"Yea, me too"

There's a beat of quiet passed between the two of you. He takes in a breath. "How are you finding Sky so far. I know the first year or so can be quiet hard"

"Surprisingly alright, you get used to it eventually. The way things are run. Plus I've had some really good co-workers"

"Like me?"

"Sure, there's also Button, and Brundle, although he is very biased towards the British, in my opinion at least"

He makes a noise you can't quite describe. A sort of huff and chuckle at the same time. You fall back into a comfortable silence.

"You know, Maddy?"

"Yea, your friend right? Photographer?"

"That's the one. She said the most insane thing today" You just wanted to make sure she was imagining things. He couldn't like you. He looked at you waiting for you to continue. You felt nervous. Sure, you’d flirted before, and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have been opposed if something happened. But this felt different. Maddy was convinced you had a crush on him, said the way you spoke of him was too highly for just friends, but crush was such a school girl word. Although there was no real word for how you felt for him.

"She thinks you like me" You spit and immediately regret it. His eyes widen and he swallows. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, not it's just" He takes a sip of his own drink and sighs. "You really didn’t know?"

Your entire body freezes. Oh. My. God. Your head whips to him. "What?"

“I’ve been obvious, haven’t I? Or I thought I had. The coffees? The jokes? I always find a reason to sit next to you. I've started working more, only on the weekends you're here. I thought you were playing hard to get. I’ve been… careful, maybe too careful. But I like you. A lot.”

Your world feels like it's spinning, your heart in your throat and beating faster than the cars he once drove. "You could have just told me" you whisper.

“You have no idea how much you make me nervous. I'd say the wrong things, mumble and stumble. I'd mess up. I overthink everything I say to you. Imagine if I had tried.”

"Nico" you say his name and the air shifts. You stare into his eyes and he stares into yours. It feels as though the entire world disappears and it's just the two of you floating in space. You watch as his hand lifts and tucks a strand of hair behind you ear before cupping your face.

He leans in close enough to feel his breath but not enough for your lips to meet. You weren’t prepared for this. Not really. But now that it was happening, it made more sense than anything else had all year. "May I?" he asks, and you nod. You barely register who moves first, only the quiet pressure of his mouth against yours, steady and certain, like he’d been waiting to do this and just needed permission. It's soft, slower than you'd have expected. Like he’s trying not to spook you, like he’s afraid of rushing a moment he’s been waiting for.

It deepens slightly, but never loses that caution. When he finally pulls away, just a fraction, his forehead leans against yours. “Still think Maddy was being ridiculous?” he murmurs.

You let out a breath, your smile curling against his mouth. “Maybe just a little.”

✩Ask✩ ↳ Hii! I asked previously about the retired drivers and I'm really happy that you are open for some of those too! :) I wanted to ask for a fic, Nico Rosberg x reader, they are both comentators for Sky Sports, and they have a playful banter going on and somehow one way or another they get together (Kiss, confession, whatever). It's a troop I love but found like one fic about :( Anyways, thank you for your time and work! Love ya <3 ✩Authors Reply✩ ↳ Hi my lovely Anon, I wanted to say I absolutely loved this idea and I hope that by making this a tad longer than my usual oneshots, I help fill that gap for you. I had a lot of fun writing this. I will say I'm not a Nico fan per say, I think he's really cool and I absolutely love him on sky sports. I also added some jokes I've heard from him and I hope that I wrote his character in a way that you like!! This also took me like seven hours to write, not because of the contents but because like 3 of my siblings showed up to my house unannounced and distracted me, but it's been on my mind since you sent in the request!! I'm actually quite like this, so I hope you enjoy!! Lot's of Love, - Lia ♡ ✩Asficdiary Masterlist✩ ↳ Introduction, blog guide, and masterlists