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777bae · 17 days ago

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FLUENT IN YOU WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William starts teaching you Swedish phrases

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 4.7k

It all started as a seemingly casual moment—a quiet afternoon, the two of you lounging together after a morning practice. William had been chatting with his teammates, speaking to them in Swedish, and you found yourself listening more intently than usual. You’d always had a soft spot for languages—how each one had its own rhythm, its own flow—but Swedish? It was different. You’d never really considered it before, but as the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to understand it. The way the words flowed from William’s lips, smooth and melodic, almost felt like music. You’d never really thought about how beautiful Swedish sounded before.

Your curiosity got the best of you. You’d been quiet, listening for a while, but you finally spoke up, breaking the spell that the conversation had cast. “Hey, I’ve got to ask—what exactly are you saying?” you asked, not sure what had prompted you to speak, but the fascination had taken hold. “It sounds so different… What does it mean?”

William glanced over at you, his grin widening slightly. It was that signature smile of his—playful and mischievous, as if he knew exactly what was coming next. He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your interest. “You want to know what we’re saying?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Well, I can tell you, but I have a better idea.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What do you mean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in return.

Without missing a beat, William’s eyes sparkled with that characteristic mischievous glint. “Do you want me to teach you some Swedish?” he asked, the suggestion so sudden and effortless, it caught you off guard. “I promise, it’ll be fun. And I can teach you some useful phrases.”

You chuckled, still unsure of whether he was serious. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a whole new language,” you replied, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Swedish sounds so complicated. I mean, I can barely handle English half the time.” You let out a small sigh, almost as if you were talking yourself out of it. The thought of trying to tackle a completely new language, especially one as intricate as Swedish, was intimidating.

William’s grin didn’t falter in the slightest. If anything, it widened, like he was savoring the challenge of convincing you. “It’s not complicated, I promise,” he said, his tone full of certainty, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world. “And I’ll make it easy for you. Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher. Think of it like learning a secret language, just for us.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and despite your initial hesitations, there was something about his offer that intrigued you. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was the way he said it, the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth in his voice. He made it sound like a game, something fun and lighthearted, a little adventure just for the two of you.

The idea of learning something new, especially with him by your side, felt appealing. Plus, the thought of sharing this private thing with him, something just between you and him, made it feel like an invitation to something deeper. You smiled, realizing you couldn’t resist the temptation.

“Alright,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “But don’t make fun of me when I mess up.”

William raised his hands in mock defense. “No promises there,” he teased, his grin turning even more mischievous. “But I’ll try to be nice.”

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting on his couch with a notebook in hand and a pen between your fingers, ready for your first lesson.

The afternoon sunlight poured through the window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The warmth of the light seemed to fill the space, adding to the quiet comfort of the moment. The living room felt peaceful, almost like a little bubble of calm in the midst of the day’s hustle. You sat on the couch, a notebook open on your lap, nervously clutching a pen, and tried to calm the fluttering in your chest.

Beside you, William seemed effortlessly at ease. His posture was relaxed, his legs stretched out, one arm resting casually along the back of the couch. The look on his face was one of someone who was completely comfortable in this setting, like a natural teacher with no hint of tension or hesitation. You, on the other hand, felt like a beginner in every sense of the word. The thought of speaking a new language, especially one you had never even considered before, made your nerves spike.

Still, you had agreed to this—you were here, ready to learn—and there was no one better than William to guide you through it. He had a way of making things feel effortless, even when you were still fumbling with the basics. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was meant to be fun, that you were here with him and that you didn’t need to be perfect. You were ready to dive in.

“So,” William said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts, his tone light and warm. He reached for his phone, swiping through a few screens as he set it aside, clearly preparing for the lesson. “Let’s start with the basics. Something simple to begin with.”

You nodded, feeling a little more relaxed now that he was diving in, and you could focus on the task ahead instead of your racing thoughts. “Okay, I’m all ears,” you said, managing a small smile, trying to settle your nerves. “Hit me with it.”

He shifted slightly, facing you fully now, his eyes soft with amusement and that familiar playfulness that always made you feel at ease. “Alright, here’s where we start,” he said with a small smirk. “‘I love you.’”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected phrase. The seriousness of it made your heart skip a beat. “Wait… what?” you asked, chuckling nervously, hoping to brush off the sudden rush of heat that rose to your cheeks. “We’re starting with ‘I love you’?”

William’s grin only grew wider, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes. It was the kind of grin that you knew all too well—one that promised both mischief and something deeper. “Why not?” he replied, his voice light but earnest. “It’s essential, don’t you think? And, I’ll teach you how to say it properly so you can tell me in my language.”

Your mouth parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you at how bold he was being. “You’re really starting with that, huh?” you said, trying to mask the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his words.

William didn’t miss a beat. He simply nodded, his expression softening slightly, though that mischievous smile never quite left. “Yep. You’ve got to know how to say it, especially if I’m going to teach you this secret language.” His tone became quieter, almost a little more serious. “You’ll want to know how to tell me.”

His words struck you in a way that you didn’t expect. Something about the way he said it, the warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his gaze, made the simple sentence carry far more weight than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t just a language lesson anymore—it was something personal, something shared. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, and it wasn’t just from the sunlight streaming in through the window.

William cleared his throat and then spoke the phrase slowly, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. “Jag älskar dig,” he said gently, as if offering you a glimpse into something meaningful and intimate. He repeated it again, his voice soft but firm, emphasizing each syllable, letting the words linger between you. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your every reaction, as if he were both teaching and sharing something important at the same time.

You swallowed, focusing intently on his pronunciation, trying to absorb the foreign sounds and make them your own. “Yahg… ehl-skar deeg?” you said, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar sounds, your voice a little unsure.

William didn’t laugh or make you feel embarrassed, though. Instead, his eyes softened with pride, and he offered a small nod of approval. “Close,” he said, his voice warm and patient. “You’ve got the right idea. Let’s try again, but slower this time.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still fluttering in your chest but feeling more determined now. You wanted to get it right, to do this properly, for him, for yourself. You repeated the words again, more slowly this time, focusing on the rhythm and the softness of the syllables. “Jag älskar dig.”

When you finished, you glanced up at William, your eyes meeting his. The pride in his expression made your heart swell. He was watching you so closely, his gaze soft yet filled with affection. “Perfect,” he exclaimed, his voice sincere, lighting up with warmth. “That’s it. You’re a natural.”

A laugh escaped you, the sound both relieved and a little awestruck. It wasn’t just that you’d gotten the pronunciation right—it was the way William had looked at you. His words weren’t just about the lesson. There was something in his eyes, a deeper meaning behind the praise, and it made the flutter in your chest return with a force that left you speechless. It was as if he was genuinely proud of you, not just for speaking a foreign language, but for being there with him, sharing this experience together. You couldn’t help but feel like you were learning more than just Swedish in that moment.

You gave him a small, shy smile. “I didn’t think I’d be saying ‘I love you’ so soon,” you teased, though the words felt strangely significant in your mouth, like they carried more weight than you expected.

William’s grin softened, his eyes locking with yours as he gave a small, almost intimate shrug. “I think you needed to learn it. You’ll use it one day, I’m sure of it,” he said, his tone quieter now, as if the moment was more than just about the words. There was something deeper there, a silent acknowledgment that this lesson was a bridge between the two of you—a connection built on shared words, shared meaning.

With the first phrase under your belt, William’s playful side began to surface. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and the lesson lightened. You no longer felt the pressure to be perfect with your pronunciation, and you both started to enjoy the learning process more. Each time you stumbled over a word, William would smile and encourage you, never making you feel self-conscious. Instead, his laughter would fill the room, and the entire lesson felt less like work and more like a fun game.

“Okay, now for something really important,” William said, a mischievous gleam lighting up his eyes as he leaned toward you, clearly about to spring something unexpected on you.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

William’s grin widened, if possible. “I’m going to teach you something every person should know.”

You chuckled, leaning back slightly, not sure if he was being serious. “What’s that?”

He gave you an exaggerated serious look before breaking into a grin. “It’s ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, what?” you asked, your voice filled with both confusion and amusement. “Are you serious?”

William’s grin only grew, and you could tell from the playful twinkle in his eyes that he was definitely messing with you. “Yes. This is a vital sentence,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “You never know when you might need to tell someone your cat is wearing a crown.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was truly serious or if this was just part of his playful charm. “You’re kidding, right?” you asked, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all.

He shook his head with mock indignation, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Nope, not kidding. This is real knowledge. You have to be prepared for anything.” He raised an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Min katt har en krona.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. The phrase was entirely new to you, the sounds unfamiliar, and you didn’t immediately know how to translate it. William gave you a moment to digest the words, and when he saw your slightly confused expression, he added with a wink, “It means ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, your mind processing the absurdity of the phrase he was teaching you. “Wait… so that’s what we’re learning? Really?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Absolutely. It’s important to know. Imagine a situation where you need to tell someone that your cat is wearing a crown and you don’t know how. What then?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’m not sure when this situation would ever come up, but okay. If you say so…”

“Try it,” he encouraged, clearly having far too much fun with this. “Say it, and you’ll be ready for anything.”

Still laughing, you focused on the phrase, trying to repeat it, though you were struggling to get the pronunciation right. You said, “Min katt har en… krona?”

It wasn’t perfect, but you gave it your best shot. The sounds felt strange on your tongue, and you could feel yourself stumbling over some of the unfamiliar words, but you didn’t mind. William’s face lit up when he heard it, and he burst into laughter, clearly delighted by your attempt.

“Perfect! That was great!” he said, clearly entertained by how seriously you’d tried to say it. “Now, you’re ready for anything.”

You laughed with him, shaking your head at the silliness of it all. “I’m glad I’m prepared to tell someone my cat is wearing a crown,” you said, still amused at how absurd the entire lesson was. “I feel so much more… equipped for life now.”

“Exactly!” William said, still chuckling. “You never know when it’ll come in handy, right?”

You both laughed together, the sound of it filling the room and making you feel more at ease than you had been when the lesson first started. The tension that had come with trying to master the new language had faded, replaced by a lightness, a sense of ease, as the lesson turned into a shared joke between the two of you. The whole thing felt so carefree—no pressure, no expectation, just the joy of being in this moment together, laughing and learning at the same time.

As the laughter settled down, you glanced up at William, your heart lighter than it had been all day. You realized that this wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about something deeper. The way he made the lesson feel personal, how he’d managed to turn an absurd sentence into a moment of connection, was more meaningful than you realized.

You smiled, looking at him with appreciation. “Thanks for the lesson. You definitely know how to make it fun,” you said, feeling genuinely happy with how things had gone.

William gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening with affection. “Anytime,” he said, his voice quieter now, filled with warmth. “I’ll always make sure you’re ready, no matter what.”

As the lesson went on, the initial nerves you had felt started to melt away completely. William’s presence beside you was steady and reassuring, his focus entirely on you. There was something incredibly calming about the way he interacted with you—no rush, no judgment, just the quiet encouragement of someone who genuinely wanted you to succeed. Each phrase you learned, each new word you mastered, felt like a small victory, and with every accomplishment, you felt more connected to the language and, surprisingly, to William himself.

The words were still unfamiliar on your tongue, the sounds sometimes difficult to wrap your mouth around, but every time you stumbled, William was there with a smile and a gentle correction. He never made you feel self-conscious about your mistakes. Instead, he made each misstep feel like a part of the learning process, something to laugh about together rather than a failure. His encouragement felt like a soft anchor in the sea of newness, and with every word you said, you felt more at home in his presence.

But then, just as you were beginning to settle into the rhythm of the lesson, something shifted. William’s tone, which had been light and playful, softened. His usual teasing smile faded into something more sincere, more intimate. His eyes, which had always been warm and inviting, became even more focused, and there was a quiet intensity behind his gaze that made you pause. You looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close you both were on the couch, the space between you feeling smaller than before.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice quieter now. There was a tenderness in his words that you hadn’t noticed before. His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a flutter in your chest, something deeper than the simple joy of learning. “Now, let me teach you something I really want you to know.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his tone. You couldn’t tell whether he was still talking about the lesson or if there was something more in the words he was about to say. It felt like this was no longer just about Swedish—there was something unspoken, something in the air between you that made everything feel different.

You looked up at him, your voice soft as you asked, “What is it?”

He paused, as if carefully considering his next words. When he spoke again, his voice was even more gentle, almost like he was sharing a secret with you, something that mattered deeply. “It’s Du gör mig lycklig,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that felt intimate, personal. His eyes softened, and the intensity in them grew, making your pulse quicken. “It means ‘You make me happy.’”

You repeated the phrase after him, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to absorb the new sounds. “Du gör mig lycklig.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, but they were beautiful in their simplicity. And as you said them, something about their meaning sank deeper into your chest—more than just the translation, more than the language itself. The weight of the phrase, the truth in it, settled in the quiet space between you.

William’s smile returned, but it was different this time. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was something warmer, more tender, as if he was allowing you to see a side of him that was rarely exposed. He nodded at you in approval, his eyes full of affection. “Perfect,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You make me happy too, you know?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his words hitting you harder than you expected. The phrase—Du gör mig lycklig—suddenly felt like more than just words. It felt like a declaration, a shared moment of truth between you two. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish; it was about the way William was making you feel. It was about the way his words reached you, deeper than you had expected, and how they seemed to confirm something you hadn’t fully realized until now: that he truly cared about you, not just as a student, but as something more.

You looked into his eyes, the words carrying more weight than just the language itself. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about the way he was making you feel.

The lesson continued, but it was clear that something had shifted in the air between you. The words you were learning, the phrases you were repeating, had begun to feel more significant, more personal. As William guided you through each new phrase, there was an unspoken understanding building between the two of you. It wasn’t just about the language anymore—it was about something deeper, something more intimate. With every word, you found yourself drawn closer to him, and each time he smiled at you, each encouraging glance, made your heart beat just a little faster.

The afternoon light cast a warm glow over the room, the soft golden beams drifting through the windows, wrapping around you both in a quiet embrace. The room felt still, the world outside fading away as you focused entirely on William and the lesson that had taken on a new depth. You felt his presence next to you more than ever—the way he was so attuned to you, how his every word seemed to draw you closer. The distance between you, both physically and emotionally, seemed to shrink with each passing minute.

William’s voice softened, no longer the lighthearted tone of a teacher, but something deeper, more meaningful. He moved just a little closer, his eyes locking with yours, and there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure what it was, but you could feel the change, the moment that you both seemed to cross a line into something more.

“I think you’re ready for the final lesson,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though the words were meant just for you. The air between you both seemed to thicken, the tension building in a way that had nothing to do with the language itself. “This one is very important.”

Your breath hitched at the softness in his tone, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. You couldn’t help the way your heart began to race a little faster, the quiet anticipation settling in your veins. “What’s that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, though you tried to keep it steady.

William’s lips curled into a smile, one that seemed to carry all the warmth and affection he had for you. Slowly, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice lowering even more as he spoke the words. “It’s Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” he said gently, his words lingering in the air, their meaning settling over you like a soft blanket. “It means, ‘I’m so happy you’re here with me.’”

You repeated the phrase after him, the words feeling both foreign and incredibly meaningful. “Jag är så glad att du är här med mig.” The words felt like a promise, like something more than just a translation. As you said them, you felt them resonate deeply within you, a quiet acknowledgment of how much this moment, this connection, meant to you.

William’s eyes softened as he listened to you, the smile on his face turning tender. He nodded slowly, his pride clear in the way he looked at you. “You’re really getting it now,” he said, his voice thick with meaning, as though the words carried more weight than they ever had before.

You could feel William’s gaze on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to vanish—there was nothing but him, his eyes locked onto yours with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you blurred, the faint hum of the room fading into nothingness as the space between you seemed to shrink. The warmth of the sunlight still filled the room, but it felt like it had settled around you both, enveloping you in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

William’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a hint of something deeper in them that made your breath catch. He reached out slowly, as if the very act was deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. His hand, warm and steady, gently cupped your cheek, the touch light but firm, grounding you in the present. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, and it was as though the whole world had stopped moving. Every other thought, every lingering doubt, disappeared in the wake of his touch. His hand on your cheek felt like an unspoken invitation, a promise without words—inviting you closer, drawing you into a space where the world beyond didn’t matter.

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat thudding louder as you held his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away. It felt like an electric charge in the air, a current of something that you both couldn’t deny. The closeness between you seemed to grow with every breath, the space between you becoming smaller and smaller, and it was impossible to ignore the heat that flared between you. Every inch of your body seemed to lean into him, drawn in by the quiet force of his presence.

“Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” William whispered, his voice lower now, soft like velvet, a careful, deliberate sweetness in the way the words left his lips. The phrase, one you had just learned, felt even more powerful in that moment as he repeated it, the quiet intensity in his voice carrying a depth that took you by surprise. You could feel the sincerity behind the words, the warmth of them, as they seemed to hang in the air between you.

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. He leaned in closer, and everything inside you felt like it was suspended in time—your heart, your breath, the very air itself. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, soft and warm, each inhale and exhale blending together as the distance between you vanished entirely. It was as though your bodies were pulling toward one another, as if you were being drawn into a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that this was where you were meant to be.

And then, the moment stretched out, just a fraction longer before he closed the distance, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, soft—a tender exploration that felt more like a conversation than a gesture. His lips were warm, almost impossibly soft against yours, as though he was savoring the moment as much as you were. The kiss wasn’t rushed, there was no urgency—just the quiet, intimate connection between the two of you, full of meaning and unspoken words.

Each second of the kiss felt like it held everything—the lessons, the laughter, the connection you had been building over time. It was as though this kiss was the culmination of everything that had come before it, all of those little moments of vulnerability, those shared smiles and glances, now woven together into something undeniable. His lips were so gentle against yours, the sweetness of the kiss lingering even after he pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that—close, your foreheads touching, your hearts still racing in time with one another. The softness of his breath brushed against your skin, and the space between you both was filled with a quiet intimacy that made everything else feel distant, unimportant. There was only him, only this moment, and it felt like everything in the world had led you to this.

When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his eyes fluttering open and meeting yours, you were both breathing softly, as if the world had slowed down to a gentle pace. You couldn’t find the words at first. Your chest felt tight, your heart still beating faster than normal, and everything in you was full of warmth—of something more than just the kiss, more than the lesson. It was something that lingered in the space between you, something that felt unspoken yet understood completely.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, and it felt like the words had been there, waiting to be said. You realized then that it wasn’t just about the Swedish phrase anymore—it was about the truth you had found in each other, the connection that had deepened without either of you needing to say anything more.

William smiled, his eyes warm and full of affection as he met your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything more, but the way his fingers brushed against your cheek, the way he pulled you just a little closer, spoke volumes. “Always,” he said softly, his voice rich with meaning. “You’re always welcome here, älskling (darling). Always.”

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puckdrunklove · 5 days ago

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How many babies would it take to take down Connor Hellebuyck?

3 apparently

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puckdrunklove · 6 days ago

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the nuzzle from dellandrea to eklund?!?!?

i'm ill

3/12/2024 - SJS @ WSH

🦈💗🤏a frenzy of sharks 🫳💖 🦈

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shoppingbyte · 5 years ago

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izsample · 5 years ago

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MSI WE72 7RJ-1032US 17.3 CORE i7-77700HQ NVIDIA QUADRO M2200 32 GB 512 GB SSD MSI WE72 7RJ-1032US 17.3 CORE i7-77700HQ NVIDIA QUADRO M2200 32 GB 512 GB SSD Price : 825.00 Ends on : 2020-05-29 04:16:12 View on eBay

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atakportal · 7 years ago

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MSI WE72 7RJ-1083US 17.3" Workstation Laptop i7-7700HQ 16GB 256GB SSD M2200 W10P

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3rood-misr · 4 years ago

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يشبه MSI WE72 7RJ سمك البوري العمل في المقدمة والحفلة في الخلف في حين أن محطة العمل التي تبلغ 1799 دولارًا و 17 بوصة متواضعة عند إغلاقها إلا أنها تحتوي على لوحة مفاتيح RGB مريحة وقابلة للتخصيص وشاشة بألوان زاهية تجعل الصور ومقاطع الفيديو تتألق امزج ذلك مع SSD فائق السرعة وستكون محطة العمل هذه مُعدة للعمل وقليلًا من اللعب ومع ذلك مع عمر بطارية MSI WE72 7RJ القصير سترغب في التأكد من أنك دائمًا تأخذ حجرًا قويًا طوال الرحلة .

التصميم: مباشرة من Batmobile

- من بعيد يبدو WE72 مثل معظم محطات العمل الأخرى: أسود ومكتل ولكن هناك بعض التفاصيل التي أقدرها حقًا يتم وضع شعارها الفضي الرقيق فوق شعار محطة العمل وغطاء الألمنيوم الأسود به بعض النتوءات الصغيرة المتماثلة يشبه غطاء محرك السيارة Batmobile . - عندما رفعت الغطاء استقبلتني الشاشة ذات الحواف السميكة مقاس 17.3 بوصة بدقة 1080 بكسل ولوحة مفاتيح على طراز الجزيرة مع إضاءة خلفية RGB. - يبلغ وزنها 6.2 رطلاً و 16.5 × 11.3 × 1.2 بوصة ، وتتمتع WE72 بمساحة أكبر من محطات العمل المنافسة ولكنها ليست الأثقل. يذهب هذا الشرف إلى Lenovo ThinkPad P70 بوزن 7.6 رطل. يقع Dell Precision 5520 (4.4 رطل ، 14.1 × 9.3 × 0.4 بوصة) و HP ZBook Studio G3 (4.6 رطل ، 14.8 × 10 × 0.7 بوصة) على الجانب الأصغر ولكن لديهم أيضًا شاشات مقاس 15 بوصة. - كما يتوقع المرء من محطة عمل ، فإن WE72 لديها الكثير من المنافذ. على الجانب الأيسر توجد فتحة قفل Kensington ومقبس Ethernet وزوج من منافذ USB 3.0 (مخرج HDMI و Mini DisplayPort و USB Type-C) ومنافذ منفصلة لسماعات الرأس والميكروفون على اليمين يوجد محرك أقراص ومنفذ USB 2.0 وفتحة بطاقة SD.

الشاشة: ملونة ولكن ليست ساطعة بما فيه الكفاية

- الألوان على شاشة WE72 غنية وحيوية لكنني تمنيت أن أتمكن من رفع سطوع الشاشة إلى أعلى عندما شاهدت المقطع الدعائي لفيلم Thor: Ragnarok برز طلاء الوجه الأحمر على جلد الممثل كريس هيمسورث وكان Hulk هو الظل المثالي للغابات الخضراء. - تغطي WE72 نسبة مذهلة تبلغ 196 بالمائة من التدرج اللوني sRGB (100 بالمائة ممتازة) وتتفوق بسهولة على متوسط استبدال سطح المكتب (120 بالمائة) الدقة (113 بالمائة) ، ThinkPad P70 (158 بالمائة) و ZBook Studio (169 بالمائة) . - هذه الألوان ليست زاهية فقط إنها دقيقة أيضًا درجة Delta-E الخاصة بـ WE72 هي 0.4 فقط (0 مثالية) وهي أقل من المتوسط (1.3) و ZBook Studio (2.4) و Precision (1.5) و ThinkPad P70 (0.7).

- لسوء الحظ فإن لوحة WE72 أغمق من المتوسط (293 شمعة) بقياس 200 شمعة فقط لقد فات كل من ZBook Studio (241 شمعة) و ThinkPad P70 (277 شمعة) العلامة لكنهما أكثر إشراقًا من جهاز MSI كانت الشاشة التي تبلغ 335 شمعة في الدقيقة في Precision أكثر إضاءة من شاشات المنافسة.

لوحة المفاتيح ولوحة اللمس

- تعد الكتابة على لوحة مفاتيح SteelSeries على WE72 متعة مطلقة لا تشعر بسفر 1.4 ملم ضحلًا و 71 جرامًا من قوة التشغيل (55 إلى 60 نموذجي) تمنحها إحساسًا قويًا وسريع الاستجابة في اختبار الكتابة 10fastfingers.com قمت بضغط 117 كلمة في الدقيقة بمعدل خطأ أقل من 1 بالمائة (الحد الأقصى المعتاد هو 115 كلمة في الدقيقة مع معدل خطأ 2 بالمائة). - ومع ذلك فإن لوحة اللمس قابلة للخدمة فقط. بحجم 4.2 × 1.8 بوصة هناك مساحة كبيرة للتنقل وتدعم برامج تشغيل Synaptics الإيماءات الأساسية مثل الضغط للتكبير والتمرير بإصبعين ولكن لا تعمل مع إيماءات Windows 10 الأكثر تعقيدًا مثل النقر بأربعة أصابع لفتح مركز التحكم.

الصوت

عندما تنتهي من استخدام WE72 للعمل يمكنك استخدامه كجهاز استريو. هذا الشيء يصبح لطيفًا وبصوت عال عندما استمعت إلى أغنية "You Make Me Smile" من Blue October ملأت على الفور المساحة في إحدى مناطق الاختبار لدينا وكانت الطبول والقيثارات والباس والغناء متوازنة جيدًا فقط لا ترفع مستوى الصوت تمامًا أو يصبح قليلًا.

أداء

سينطلق MSI WE72 في المهام اليومية بفضل وحدة المعالجة المركزية Intel Core i7-7700HQ بتردد 2.8 جيجاهرتز وذاكرة وصول عشوائي سعة 32 جيجابايت و SSD بسعة 512 جيجابايت ووحدة معالجة الرسومات Nvidia Quadro M2200 مع ذاكرة VRAM سعة 4 جيجابايت كان لدي 40 علامة تبويب مفتوحة في Chrome أحدها كان يبث حلقة بدقة 1080 بكسل من "The Daily Show with Trevor Noah" ولم يكن هناك حتى عثرة.

في اختبار الأداء العام Geekbench 4 ، حقق WE72 درجة 14400 متفوقًا على متوسط استبدال سطح المكتب (13193) ولكنه يتخلف عن Precision (Intel Core Xeon E3 15309). وميض وسوف تفوتك - نسخت WE72 4.97 جيجابايت في 6 ثوانٍ فقط بمعدل 848.2 ميجابايت في الثانية المتوسط هو 561.1 ميجابايت في الثانية والدقة (462.7 ميجابايت في الثانية) و ZBook Studio (508.9 ميجابايت في الثانية) كلاهما أبطأ لكن ThinkPad P70 ربط درجة محطة عمل MSI. على ماكرو OpenOffice Spreadsheet قام WE72 بإقران 20000 اسم وعنوان في 3 دقائق و 22 ثانية شعر أسرع من المتوسط 3:24 و ThinkPad P70 و ZBook Studio (مقيد في 3:23) كانت الدقة أسرع عند 3:08.

عمر البطارية

هناك سبب يجعلنا نطلق على WE72 بديلاً لسطح المكتب استمر لمدة ساعتين و 57 دقيقة فقط في اختبار بطارية الكمبيوتر المحمول والذي يتضمن تصفح الويب باستمرار عبر شبكة Wi-Fi في حين أن متوسط الفئة هو 4:19 ، فإن ZBook Studio (5:08) و ThinkPad P70 (5:53) و Dell Precision 5520 (11:57) استمرت لفترة أطول.

الحرارة

ظل WE72 لطيفًا وباردًا في اختباراتنا بعد دفق 15 دقيقة من الفيديو عالي الدقة من YouTube كان قياسه 90 درجة على لوحة اللمس و 88 درجة في وسط لوحة المفاتيح و 85 درجة في الأسفل.

كاميرا ويب

تتميز كاميرا الويب بدقة 720 بكسل في WE72 بأنها صلبة وتتميز بألوان دقيقة وتفاصيل كثيرة في لقطات اختبارية تم التقاطها على مكتبي التقطت الكاميرا الخطوط الحمراء في قميصي بالضبط وكان بإمكاني تحديد شعيرات فردية على رأسي بالإضافة إلى ذلك لم يتم إطفاء الأنوار من خلفي بالطريقة التي تظهر بها كاميرات الويب الأقل.

البرامج والضمان

معظم البرامج المحملة مسبقًا على WE72 مفيدة يعد MSI Dragon Center مركزًا لمراقبة أداء النظام وتخصيص سرعات المروحة ومعايرة البطارية وتسجيل الكمبيوتر المحمول يقوم تطبيق True Color بضبط شاشتك لإزالة الضوء الأزرق (رائع للعمل في الليل) ويوفر إعدادات مخصصة للألعاب والأفلام والعمل. بالطبع هناك أيضًا بعض برامج bloatware التي تأتي على كل جهاز كمبيوتر يعمل بنظام Windows 10 مثل Candy Crush Soda Saga و Minecraft: Windows 10 Edition و Twitter و Facebook و March of Empires and Sling. تبيع MSI الطراز WE72 7RJ بضمان لمدة ثلاث سنوات تعرف على أداء الشركة في تصنيف الدعم الفني وتصنيف أفضل العلامات التجارية وأسوأها.

#لاب توب إم إس آى MSI #مراجعات اللاب توب

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laptoplanta · 5 years ago

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#@!#^ ^ MSI Mobile Workstation WE72 Laptop PC 17.3" i7 32GB 512GB SSD 4GB M2200 3D CAD https://ift.tt/2wzO9Ts

#Laptop

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777bae · 9 days ago

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IN EVERY TOUCH WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: You and William are wrapped up in a love that doesn’t need to be spoken. His every touch, glance, and quiet confession speaks volumes, and you feel it in every moment. He doesn’t care who notices, he just wants you to know—you are his world, and he’s completely all in. (REQUESTED :: loverboy)

Warnings :: kissing, a little bit of making out

Word count :: 7.0k

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened—when he went from a shy, almost uncertain admirer to someone who was so clearly, so unapologetically, down bad for you. But somewhere between those stolen glances in crowded rooms, when his eyes would find yours across the space and linger for just a beat too long, and the tentative, almost hesitant touches that sent electricity through your skin, you realized something had shifted. He wasn’t just interested in you anymore. He was completely wrapped up in you, tangled in your presence, and there was no turning back. It wasn’t something he could just shrug off or pretend wasn’t happening. No, this was deeper, permanent, something that had taken root in him. And you could feel it in every look he gave you.

Every time your eyes met, you saw it. It was in the way his gaze softened, how it held yours a fraction of a second longer than usual, like he couldn’t tear himself away, like he was drawn to you by some invisible force he had no interest in fighting. He was captivated, and it was painfully obvious. When you were near him, the world seemed to fall away—his focus, his attention, his entire being, all fixated on you. It didn’t matter who was around, who was watching; nothing else existed except for the two of you in that moment. And somewhere along the way, he stopped trying to hide it. He stopped second-guessing himself, stopped worrying about what others might think. It was as though the weight of his feelings had finally spilled out of him, and it felt too good to try to hold it back anymore. You were his, and that was all that mattered.

He was never really shy about how he felt about you, but now it was something different. The whole world could see it. It wasn’t just in the way his eyes would quietly seek you out in a crowd, scanning the room for your familiar presence, even in the most hectic of spaces. It wasn’t just the way he’d catch your gaze and flash you that soft smile of his, one that was so full of warmth it felt like you were the only person in the room. It wasn’t even just the way he would step a little closer to you when you spoke, or how his body would always angle towards you like you were his true north, guiding him home. No, it was in the small, subtle things—the tiny actions that no one else would notice but you.

It happened so effortlessly, so naturally, that at first, you almost thought you imagined it. You were standing in the middle of a crowded party, the music loud, voices blending into a blur, the energy almost overwhelming. William was nearby, talking with a few of his friends, his laughter rising above the noise like a warm wave. You glanced over at him, watching the way he smiled and gestured as he spoke, and for just a moment, you felt that familiar pull toward him. It was then, as if on instinct, that he reached for you.

His fingers brushed yours as he passed by, so light, so casual, it could’ve easily been brushed off as an accident. But it wasn’t. There was no hesitation in the way his hand met yours, no second-guessing or awkwardness. It was the kind of touch that spoke volumes, the kind that was as familiar to him as breathing. His fingers barely skimmed yours, but in that moment, something electric passed between you, a connection so sharp it almost felt like a spark. You blinked, caught off guard, but before you could even think to pull away, you felt the weight of his gaze on you. His eyes were already on you, locking onto yours with such intensity that it was as if the rest of the room had simply faded into the background.

And then, just like that, he smiled. It wasn’t a big, showy grin—just a soft, gentle curve of his lips, one that only you could truly read. His eyes softened, and you could see the warmth there, the affection that radiated from him without a word. It wasn’t the kind of smile he gave anyone else. It was the smile of someone who had found something worth cherishing, worth holding onto. And even though there were people all around you, the noise, the conversations, the chaos—it felt like time stopped in that moment. There was no one else. Just the two of you, standing there in the middle of the crowd, your fingers still lightly touching.

His fingers didn’t move away. They lingered for a second too long, just long enough for you to feel the heat of his palm against yours, to recognize the quiet desire for more. It was like an unspoken promise, one that passed through that brief contact. His hand was warm, his grip light, but steady, as if he wanted you to know that he was there—that he was yours.

You didn’t need to look around to know that other people were probably watching. But somehow, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you were in a room full of people, with the noise of conversations and music swirling around you. All that mattered was the way his attention never wavered, never faltered. His focus remained entirely on you, and for a moment, you felt like you were the only thing that existed in the world. His gaze held you captive, not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel seen, cherished, and adored. Like he couldn’t pull away from you, even if he wanted to.

You could see it in the way his body leaned just a little closer to yours, in the subtle shift in his posture as if, even in the middle of all the people, he was making sure to create space for you to exist beside him. His whole world had narrowed to that simple touch. Your fingers still brushed, his hand hovering near yours like it wanted to stay there forever. And in that brief, stolen moment, you realized that this was no accident. This was intentional. This was him, showing you, without saying a word, how much you meant to him. How much he was already wrapped up in you.

When his fingers finally, reluctantly, pulled away, it was like the world around you shifted back into focus. The voices, the music, the clatter of dishes—everything came rushing back in, but the bubble between the two of you remained. That quiet connection, that unspoken understanding, was still there. His eyes lingered on you, watching for your reaction, and even though the party had started to hum again, there was a calmness that settled over you both, a shared secret between just the two of you.

It wasn’t just those fleeting moments though. It was the quiet ones too—the way he would look at you when you weren’t looking, as though he couldn’t help but drink in the sight of you when you were absorbed in something else. His gaze would soften, his expression relaxed into something peaceful, as if everything in his life made sense in that moment. And when you’d catch him, when you’d glance up and meet his eyes, he’d always flash you that grin—gentle, open, as if he were rediscovering his love for you all over again. Every time. Like you were the most important person in the world, and every look was a reminder of how much he adored you.

The door to the living room opened with a quiet creak, and in walked William, laughing along with a few of his teammates. The sound of their voices filled the room as they chatted casually, clearly in good spirits after a long day of practice or a game. You didn’t immediately look up from your book, letting the soft noise wash over you as they settled into the space. The familiar, comforting hum of their conversations blended with the low background music, and for a moment, you were content in your little corner of the room, lost in the world of your book.

But then, you felt it. That subtle shift in the air. The moment he entered the room, your attention couldn’t help but be pulled toward him. Even with the chatter and movement around you, there was something magnetic about the way he walked into the space. It was the way he carried himself, the easy confidence he exuded, the way his eyes were already scanning the room, searching for you. Without fail, he always found you first. No matter how many people were there, no matter the distractions—he knew exactly where you were.

You could feel his gaze even before it reached you. It was a quiet thing, an almost invisible thread that pulled at you, the sense that someone was looking, really looking, at you. And just as you turned the page of your book, you caught it—his eyes, locking onto yours across the room. It was a split second, but it was enough. His focus narrowed immediately, the noise of his teammates’ conversation fading into the background as he homed in on you.

You met his gaze, and for that brief moment, it was like everything else in the room disappeared. The sounds of his teammates joking around, the clinking of bottles, the laughter—it all faded into silence. All that remained was the look in his eyes, soft and full of warmth, like the rest of the world was secondary to what he felt in that moment. His teammates might’ve been there, laughing and talking, but none of that seemed to matter to him. It was as if, in that second, everything in his life made sense because you were there, sitting just a few feet away.

Then, as if it was second nature, his lips curled into that smile—the one you knew so well. It was slow, easy, and so full of affection that it made your heart skip a beat. There was no need for words. His eyes said it all. The way he looked at you, as if he were rediscovering his love for you with every glance. And when he saw you smile back at him, when your eyes softened in return, something in his expression shifted, becoming even more tender.

You could see the peace in his face, the quiet joy that only you seemed to bring him. And even though the room was still filled with the sounds of his teammates and the evening’s activities, William’s attention was firmly planted on you. The way his eyes never strayed, the way his body subconsciously leaned toward you as if he couldn’t help himself—it was all so obvious. So real. His teammates, laughing and talking among themselves, might not have noticed, but you did. You always did.

And then, just when you were about to look away, he did it—he flashed you that grin. The one that made your heart flutter every time, no matter how many times you’d seen it. It wasn’t big, or grand, or over the top. It was small, gentle, a quiet curve of his lips that spoke volumes. His eyes still locked onto yours, and the look he gave you was the kind of look that made you feel like the most important person in the world. It was a look that said, I see you. I adore you. You’re mine.

You could feel the sincerity of it in the way he smiled, as if rediscovering his love for you all over again in that single, unspoken moment. It wasn’t just affection. It was the quiet certainty that you were everything to him. And as he leaned back in his chair, still watching you with that same soft smile, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. You didn’t need him to say anything. His eyes said it all.

And when you smiled back, when you gave him that brief, tender smile that only the two of you understood, you knew. You knew that this was love—the kind that didn’t need to be shouted from rooftops, the kind that existed in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances, in the softest of touches. Every time your eyes met, it was as if he was reminding you, in the gentlest way, that you were the center of his world. He didn’t need to make a spectacle of it. His love for you was written in every look, in every shared second of silence between you.

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Nothing else needed to be said. You and him, two hearts beating in sync, lost in the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood. It was a love that was so obvious in its simplicity that it left no room for doubt. And as his gaze lingered on you, you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. Because, for him, you were all that mattered.

And when you texted him—oh, that was his favorite part. The way his phone would buzz in his pocket, the vibration almost like a quiet invitation to escape from whatever he was doing. It wasn’t just another message. It was your message, and the world would pause for a moment when he saw your name on the screen. His fingers would fly across the screen as he typed out a reply, always thoughtful, always sincere, and never without a little term of endearment.

It was late, a quiet evening after the chaos of a long day. The house was calm, dimly lit by the soft glow of a few scattered lamps. The world outside was still, and you found yourself curled up on the couch with a cup of tea, just unwinding after a busy few hours. The hum of the city filtered in faintly through the windows, but inside, everything felt peaceful—until the buzz of your phone vibrated against the coffee table.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. A smile tugged at your lips as you reached for the device, your heart already fluttering at the sight of his name lighting up the screen. William. He was never far from your thoughts, but when it was a message from him, everything else seemed to pause, like the world gave way to something softer, something that belonged to the two of you. You picked up your phone, fingers tapping over the screen to unlock it.

The moment you saw his message, a small, content sigh escaped you.

“Hey, beautiful. How’s your night going?”

It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it didn’t have to be. His words were always like a balm, simple yet so full of meaning. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a second, contemplating how to respond. You didn’t want to sound too eager, but you were already smiling, already warmed by the fact that he thought of you, even in the middle of whatever he was doing.

You typed out a quick reply, and before you could even put your phone back down, the familiar buzz came again, signaling that he’d responded in kind. Your heart fluttered a little at the speed, the immediacy, and you couldn’t help but feel a small, private thrill.

“Good, älskling. I miss you already.”

Your breath caught, and your heart swelled a little. He always did that. No matter how casual the conversation, no matter how brief the exchange, he would sneak in a line like that, as if it were his own secret message to you—a quiet promise he’d never break. His words always felt like something precious, like he was holding onto a little piece of you in every one, even if you were apart for just a few hours. You didn’t need grand declarations when you had these moments. The sincerity in his tone, the care he put into every message, made you feel like he was right there with you, every step of the way.

You quickly responded, teasing just a little, because you knew how much he loved when you’d play along.

“Miss me already? It’s only been a few hours, William.”

And just as you’d expected, the reply came almost immediately, and you could feel the grin in his words before you even saw them.

“You know I can’t help it. I’m counting down the minutes until I see you again, baby.”

Every word was dripping with affection, and your smile widened. He didn’t try to hide it, didn’t try to play it cool. William was all in, all the time. And you, well, you felt the same.

You could practically hear the quiet chuckle in his voice as you typed out your reply. His messages were never rushed or careless. He took his time with each word, as if each sentence mattered. It made you feel special in a way no one else could. His messages, just like his gestures in person, carried weight.

“Can’t wait either. How’s practice? Hope you’re not overworking yourself.”

You could almost see him smiling on the other end as he read your message. He might’ve been surrounded by his teammates, lost in the buzz of a busy locker room, but when it came to you, he made everything feel like it could wait. His next message came with the same deliberate pace, as if he was crafting it just for you.

“No, it’s all good. Just a bit tired. But thinking about you always makes it better, älskling.”

A laugh bubbled up in your throat at his sweetness, and you immediately typed back.

“You’re such a flirt.”

You didn’t expect him to be anything other than amused by your comment. A few seconds later, his reply came, and this time, there was something even more endearing in his words.

“Only for you, beautiful. Can’t help myself when I’m talking to you.”

You bit your lip, feeling that warm flutter in your chest. It wasn’t just flirtation. It was genuine. Every word from him felt like a piece of his heart slipping into your hands. You had no doubt that he meant every word, that his feelings were real, and they were always wrapped in something that felt so… sincere.

As the conversation wrapped up, you felt the familiar sense of longing tugging at you. The quiet ache of being apart from him, even for just a little while, but that ache was tempered by the warmth of his words.

“Alright, I’m heading to bed. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

And, of course, there it was. The phrase that always made you smile, that quiet promise he gave you without even thinking.

“Miss you already. Sleep well, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

You could practically hear his voice when you read those words, and your heart thumped a little harder in your chest. A simple text exchange, but to him, it was so much more. It wasn’t just a goodbye. It was a piece of him, wrapped up in a message that would linger with you long after you put your phone down.

You set your phone on the table beside you, but for a moment, you sat there, still holding onto the words. “Miss you already.” You smiled softly, your chest full. This was the part of your day you cherished the most—the quiet connection, the unspoken promises. No matter how busy the world got, no matter where you were or how far apart you were, it was moments like these that reminded you how deeply he was invested in you. How much he cared.

It wasn’t about the grand gestures. It was in the small moments, the quiet words, and the promise that even when you weren’t together, you were always on each other’s minds. And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that he would be thinking of you, too.

He was all in. No reservations, no second thoughts. His devotion to you wasn’t just in the grand gestures, though there were plenty of those. No, it was in the small things—the way his eyes softened whenever you spoke, like he was hanging on every word, like he could listen to you for hours and never grow tired. The way he would adjust himself just a little closer to you, like there was no place he’d rather be. When you laughed, you could almost see his heart skip a beat, like he couldn’t get enough of it. You were his muse, his reason to smile, the one thing that could make his heart race just by being in the same room.

You were sitting together in a crowded café, the kind of place where people would talk over one another, conversations blending into a hum of background noise. But to William, there was nothing but you. Your voice carried easily across the table, talking about something trivial—a funny story about something that happened at work or a moment that made you laugh. And William? He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His gaze followed every movement of your lips, as if the words you spoke held some kind of magic. His body leaned just a little closer, as though subconsciously drawn to you, the distance between you growing smaller without either of you having to move. He adjusted his posture, pulling his shoulder closer to yours, almost like he wanted to be as close as possible without actually crowding you.

And when you laughed—a light, carefree sound that made the edges of your eyes crinkle and your smile widen—he was completely captivated. It wasn’t just the sound that got to him, it was the way your entire face lit up, how your whole body seemed to embrace that joy. The laughter was like a melody to him, and in that instant, it felt like his heart skipped a beat. He could feel the warmth spread through him, a mix of happiness and admiration, something that made him ache with the desire to keep you smiling forever. He didn’t even realize he was staring at you until your eyes met his, and he could see a hint of curiosity in your expression.

A soft blush crept up on his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his coffee cup for a second. But even as he looked down, his fingers tapped nervously on the edge of his mug, betraying the way you made him feel. His mind was racing with thoughts of how lucky he was to be sitting here with you, how each little moment with you felt like a gift. The way you laughed, the way your hair fell just so around your face, the way you looked at him with such warmth—it was all so perfect to him. He had never felt this sure about anyone, about anything. You had become his world, his peace, his heart.

You noticed the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his expression softened even more when you caught his eye. It made you smile, and without thinking, you reached out to touch his hand. The simple action was enough to break the momentary tension between you. His fingers immediately wrapped around yours, a quiet sigh escaping him, as though being close to you was the only thing that ever truly made him feel whole.

“Hey,” you said, your voice gentle, laced with a teasing smile. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He looked up at you, his smile shy but filled with warmth. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he confessed, his voice low but steady. He didn’t need to say more; you could see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he said the words. He was always thinking about you, always wanting to be close, always trying to find a way to make you smile.

Your heart fluttered, the quiet confession hanging in the air between you. You didn’t need to ask for more. His love was clear, even in the smallest moments. It was in the way he reached out when you needed support, in the way his hand instinctively found its way to the small of your back when you walked together, in the way his body would shift ever so slightly to stay in sync with yours. You never had to worry about him not being there for you—he always was. He was constantly reminding you, in little ways, how much you meant to him. Even now, as his fingers brushed against yours again, it wasn’t just a touch. It was a silent promise that no matter what, he was there. He would always be there.

And as the two of you sat there, surrounded by the noise of the café, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, lost in your own bubble of comfort, love, and understanding. You could feel his gaze on you again, but this time, you didn’t look away. You met it with your own, and in that shared look, everything was said. No words were necessary. You knew that no matter how many people were around, no matter where life took you, he was all in. Completely, undeniably, all in. And that was exactly where he wanted to be.

When you were alone together, it was even more intimate. It was in the way he would tenderly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, or the way his lips would brush against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that you could instantly feel him smirk at. Every touch, every glance, every word between you felt real—like you were two people who had finally found something that mattered more than anything else in the world. And when he looked at you in those quiet moments, it was as if he could see right into your soul, like there was nothing more important than the connection you shared. His touch would tremble just slightly, as if he were afraid he might lose you, and in those moments, it was impossible to deny how completely wrapped up in you he was.

It happened one evening, just after dinner. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustle of leaves outside the window. You were curled up together on the couch, the soft fabric of a blanket wrapped around both of you, keeping the evening chill at bay. You were perched in his lap, your body tucked comfortably against his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, holding you close. Your arms were draped around his shoulders, your chin resting softly on his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breath beneath your cheek. The world outside seemed so far away; it was just the two of you, content in the simple silence of being together.

You were speaking quietly about your day, your voice low as you described the little things that had made you smile. He didn’t say much, content to simply listen to the sound of your voice, his gaze soft as it rested on you. His face was nestled in the crook of your neck, the warmth of his skin against yours, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. He seemed lost in the moment, as if he was savoring your closeness, as if every second of being with you was a treasure.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling his lips brush against your neck as he shifted ever so slightly, pressing a soft kiss against the skin there. The gesture was quiet, simple, but it made your heart beat faster. You couldn’t help but smile, the sensation of his warmth against you making everything else seem insignificant.

Turning your head to glance at him, you caught him staring at you—his eyes were soft, filled with affection, and there was a quiet intensity in them that made your chest tighten. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and easy. “What’s got you so focused?” you asked, your voice playful but warm.

He didn’t immediately answer, instead letting a small smile play on his lips. His arms tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you a little closer, as if he wanted to be even nearer to you. He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting back to your face, and when he spoke, his voice was full of tenderness, like every word was carefully chosen. “I was just thinking about how much I want this moment to last forever,” he said softly, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke. “How nothing else matters when I’m with you.”

The sincerity in his words sent a warmth rushing through you, and you felt your pulse quicken as you leaned in just a little, the space between you closing as you rested your head on his. His fingers gently caressed the small of your back, sending a shiver down your spine as you melted into him.

You could feel his breath on your skin, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you as his arms pulled you even tighter against him. Every movement, every word, every touch felt like an unspoken promise. He wasn’t going anywhere, and in that moment, neither were you.

His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with such tenderness it made your heart swell. “You make everything feel right, älskling,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, sending a soft tremor through you.

As if on instinct, you turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft kiss, a silent gesture of affection. You could feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, and you knew he was savoring every bit of this—of you. His lips found the soft skin just beneath your ear, pressing a light, lingering kiss against it, sending a shiver racing down your spine. You tilted your head to give him better access, your breath hitching as his kiss deepened, his lips moving against your neck in a way that was gentle yet full of meaning.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours as he asked, his voice hushed with a teasing yet affectionate tone, “Did I make you shiver?”

You smiled softly, your breath still unsteady from the kiss, and rested your cheek against his, your arms tightening around his shoulders. “You always do,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet warmth that mirrored the tenderness of the moment.

Without saying another word, he leaned in to kiss you again, slow and deliberate, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that spoke volumes without a single word. As soon as his lips connected with yours, the world outside the bubble of the moment seemed to fall away. It wasn’t a rushed kiss—there was no urgency, no pressure—just the sensation of being with him, completely, as if time itself had paused in reverence of the connection you shared. His kiss was tender, but there was a certain intensity behind it, a depth that spoke of everything unsaid between you, of all the moments you’d shared and all the ones yet to come. Each movement was deliberate, like he was savoring the taste of your lips, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of the feeling of you against him.

His arms tightened around your back, pulling you in closer, as if he wanted to make sure you knew, with every fiber of his being, that you were his and he was yours. You responded without thinking, sliding your legs around him, shifting your weight to straddle his lap, and settling fully into his embrace. Your heart raced, but it wasn’t with nerves—it was the electricity of being this close to him, of being in his arms like this, feeling the heat of his body, the strength of his hands holding you. His chest was solid beneath your palms as you instinctively pressed yourself closer, seeking more of the warmth he radiated.

Your fingers tangled through his soft blonde curls, pulling him nearer, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss. It was a movement so natural, so fluid between the two of you, that it felt like nothing else mattered in the world. When his lips parted slightly, you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss even further, tasting him with a quiet urgency, a desire that seemed to hum through you both. His breath hitched, and you felt the little smile he couldn’t quite suppress against your lips. It was a smile full of affection, full of appreciation, as if he couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to be holding you like this.

Then, the feel of his hands on your body—one moving slowly, purposefully down your side, his touch sending a shiver through you—became something you could no longer ignore. His fingers traced the line of your spine, sending sparks of warmth wherever they touched. One hand slid further down, until it settled on the curve of your waist, and then lower, brushing lightly against your hips. As he did, you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, his boldness surprising you in the best way. But just as quickly as he made that move, his grip softened, and he pulled you back up, shifting your body so that you were closer to him once more, your chest flush against his.

You couldn’t stop the small squeal that slipped past your lips as his hand moved to gently press against your lower back, a teasing, playful touch. But as soon as you adjusted, pulling yourself up and away just slightly, he responded, guiding your movement with care. His hands found your hair, the soft strands tangling beneath his fingers as he shifted his weight, keeping you pressed to him but allowing just enough space to make the moment feel even more intimate.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless, your lips swollen and warm from the intensity. For a moment, neither of you moved, just existing in the stillness that had enveloped you. Your forehead rested against his, your breaths coming in soft, matching rhythms as the air between you seemed to hum with the silence that held all the words you didn’t need to speak.

He held you there, his hands on your waist, the grip of his fingers firm but gentle, grounding you both in the moment. His touch was steady, like he never wanted to let go, and you could feel the sincerity in it. The way he held you was a quiet promise, one that was clear without the need for anything more to be said. You were everything to him. And in his embrace, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

“I love you,” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The words fell between you like a soft breeze, but they carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in his tone—only the quiet, unshakable certainty of a man who knew exactly what he felt, who didn’t need to shout his love to the world because it was already known, already understood in the simplest way possible.

The truth of his words wrapped around you, curling into your chest like a warm flame, igniting something deep inside you. You could feel it spreading outward, like the warmth of the sun seeping into your bones. It was a feeling that could only be described as pure, unadulterated joy—joy that came from knowing you were loved, deeply and unconditionally, by the person who mattered most in the world. There was no need for grand gestures, no need for anything flashy or over the top—just the quiet beauty of this moment, of being with him, of being his.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, a smile that was as much a reflection of the love he’d just confessed as it was of the happiness that bloomed in your chest. Your heart felt full—so full that you thought it might burst—and it had nothing to do with words or promises, but with the simple connection you shared in that instant. You leaned in, your lips seeking his once more, but this kiss was different. It was gentle, slow, the kind of kiss that spoke of everything that had already been said and everything that didn’t need to be. It was a kiss born of a deep, quiet understanding—a kiss that conveyed all the things that words couldn’t capture.

The world outside the two of you ceased to exist. There was nothing more important than the way your lips met, the way his hands gently cupped your face, holding you in that moment. The touch was tender, almost reverent, like he was cherishing you in a way that only he could. His kiss was light, as if he were savoring every second, every brush of your lips against his. There was no rush, no urgency—just a shared space of warmth and peace, a silence that was more meaningful than any conversation could ever be.

When the kiss broke, you both lingered there, faces inches apart, breath mingling in the soft quiet between you. The rhythm of your breathing matched, slow and steady, as though you were both holding on to the very moment, unwilling to let go. His hands remained around you, pulling you closer as you nestled into his chest, resting your head against the warmth of his shoulder.

There were no words for this moment—not because they weren’t needed, but because they couldn’t quite do it justice. The silence between you spoke louder than anything you could have said. His arms, loosely yet firmly around you, gave you a sense of safety, of being exactly where you were meant to be. His presence was a constant reassurance, a silent promise that this, what you shared, was real, and it was enough.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes, feeling his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and calm. The gentle rise and fall of his chest matched your own breath, and in that quiet unity, you knew—you knew without a doubt how completely wrapped up in each other you both were. You were his world, and he was yours, and there was no greater truth in that moment than the love that you shared.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t brash. But in its quiet, steady way, it was the most profound thing you’d ever known.

And the most beautiful part of all his love for you? He didn’t care who noticed. He didn’t care about the glances from others, the quiet whispers behind his back, or the raised eyebrows that sometimes followed the two of you. It wasn’t just about the gestures, the little touches, the way his eyes softened when you spoke, or the way his body seemed to naturally lean into you whenever you were near. It wasn’t something he did out of obligation or as an attempt to prove something to anyone else—it was just who he was. Completely, irreversibly, and authentically him.

In those moments, there was no hesitation. No self-consciousness. His love for you wasn’t something he would hide, something he would shelter from the world’s gaze. It was there, in the way his voice would soften when he said your name, in the way he reached for you instinctively in crowded rooms, as if his body couldn’t stand the distance for a second longer. He didn’t need to analyze it, didn’t need to overthink whether it was too much or too soon, because it was just right.

He showed the world, in the quietest of ways, how much you meant to him. He didn’t shout it from the rooftops, but his every action, his every glance toward you, whispered louder than any declaration ever could. When he looked at you, the love in his eyes was evident to anyone who was paying attention, but he didn’t care if anyone was. The only thing that mattered was you.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a little too obvious. Maybe there were moments when people noticed how he would hold you just a bit longer than expected, how he would brush his fingers against yours with a tenderness that didn’t need to be explained. Maybe they noticed the way he would always make sure you were comfortable, that you were cared for, that you never had to ask for anything because he already knew. But even if it made him stand out in the crowd, even if it made others raise their eyebrows, he didn’t care. He would never apologize for loving you in the way he did.

Because for him, there was nothing more natural, nothing more real than the love he had for you. It was a love that didn’t hide in the shadows or shrink back in the face of judgment—it radiated from him, a constant, quiet presence that followed him wherever he went. People could talk, they could whisper, they could try to label it, but nothing could ever change the truth. He was hopelessly, entirely, and completely down bad for you.

And, in the end, that was all that mattered. He would never hide it, never suppress it, never try to make it something smaller or quieter than it was. The love he felt for you was a part of him, as essential as breathing, as necessary as the air in his lungs. So, if people were watching? Fine. Let them watch. Because as long as you knew—as long as you knew that you were his world—he was content. There was no shame in loving you this fiercely, no embarrassment in showing the world how much he adored you.

The truth was, he wasn’t just yours—he was all in. Entirely, completely, forever yours. And nothing, not the whispers or the judgment or the passing comments, could ever change that.

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