#we72 imagine

[777bae]

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.

[drysdalesworld]

it’s okay to ask for help

series masterlist

pairing: pregnant!reader x william eklund

genre: fluff, angst, comfort

warning(s): teen pregnancy, tearing up from frustration & anxiety, mentions of parents not being accepting/hesitant of readers pregnancy

word count: ~400+

note(s): the way i’m pumping out this blurbs & imagines for this specific series is ridiculous. but i can’t stop (in a good way or bad way, that’s up for you readers to decide)

Circa January 2021

Everything had been hard lately. Everything seemed to stress (Y/N) more easily.

On top of all the work she missed during her first few weeks of pregnancy, (Y/N) had to get started on some of her accelerated work so she could graduate early and have some time to herself before she had her baby.

Finding out she was pregnant at eighteen-years-old before holiday break and the new year made everything much more difficult for her. William had been excited of course. But her parents were much more hesitant to accept that their daughter was pregnant while still in school. So she had been staying with the Eklund family while her own tried to come around to the idea.

She had been staying with William in his room shortly after they both found out she was expecting.

The transition had been very rocky. (Y/N) struggled with juggling her schoolwork and having to take care of herself and a baby. She managed to keep everything to herself and not try to cause anymore stress on the Eklund family. But, that all came to a head this evening.

The sun had just set. The Eklund family had begun to ready the dinning table for dinner—patiently waiting for their welcomed guest to make her way out to join them. But when minutes passed and William’s door had not opened, the matriarch of the family sent her son to go fetch his girlfriend.

“Älskling? (Darling?)”

The slow creak of a door opening barely rused you from your slumber, head surrounded by a variety of textbooks for all the schoolwork you missed and needed to turn in.

A small sigh escaped from William’s lips as he saw his lovely girlfriend passed out on his desk surrounded by paper, books, and various pens as she attempted to get some work done before succumbing to exhaustion.

“Oh, kärlek (love).”

William slowly made his way to your sleeping form, one gentle hand placing itself on your back and the other trying to carefully slide the textbook from underneath your sleeping face.

But you had immediately woke up when William touched you, eyes still groggy with sleep and lips forward in a slight pout.

“Hej (hello), sleepyhead,” William whispered, softly brushing your hair away from your eyes and face. “You fell asleep while doing schoolwork. Is this the first time it’s happened?”

The confused look on your face as you tried to process the words coming out of the boys mouth gave William the answer he needed.

The blond copied your pout and continued to brush your hair away, sometimes straying from your face to gently comb through the small knots. He knew that you were beyond stressed with school and your family, but he didn’t know that you weren’t properly sleeping.

William slept like the dead, so he often wouldn’t wake if (Y/N) woke up in the middle of the night. Though thinking back on it, he felt bad for how easily it was for him to fall asleep. He would’ve, and should’ve, caught this earlier and aided his girlfriend in her struggles. She’s carrying our child for crying out loud, he thinks to himself. Should’ve recognized it sooner.

“Was just doin’ work,” you mumbled, palms coming up to rubs the sleep from your eyes.

“But you fell asleep, baby. You don’t do that,” William rebuttaled, remembering the countless times he’d walk in on (Y/N) studying at her own desk, fully awake while doing her work.

You only hummed in response and leaned into the hands of the boy in front of you. The warmth from his hands made you want to fall back asleep, but you knew that if William had came into his room to retrieve you for something, it had to be important.

“Dinner is ready,” William piqued. “It’s your favorite—kroppkakor. Mamma (Mom) overheard you earlier about you craving it lately. Even told Viktor to stop his whining”.

You chuckled a little at your boyfriend’s last comment. It was well known in the Eklund household how much Viktor disliked the dish, always complaining whenever his Mother would make it or bring it home for dinner.

“Let’s take a break from studying and have a bit, huh?” William asked, his tone more stating than questioning. If he had to, he’d hand feed you at the dining table.

You seemed to hesitate a little, eyes darting from the opened door to all the papers on the wooden desk in front of you.

Tears immediately stung your waterline at the thought of not being able to do your work for even a second. You always told yourself you’d take a bite to eat or go to sleep once you finished your work. But it was a never ending pile it seemed, so you never really slept or ate properly.

Upon seeing the unshed tears, William felt panic erupt in his chest.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, älskling (darling)” he pleaded, thumb wiping away the tears before they even fell. “I could help you! I could feed you while you do your work if you want. I just think it would be good for you to take a break. Not just for you, but for the baby too”.

You seemed to have understood what he was saying now, face relaxing and tears no longer running.

“M’kay,” you nodded. “Kroppkakor sounds really good. Been craving it for a while.”

William smiled at that, helping you up. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and gently brought you into a warm embrace. Your arms wrapping around his middle and back, the warmth emitting from his body providing a comfort that no one else ever could.

“It’s okay to ask for help, kärlek (love)” William whispered, hands rubbing up and down your back in a soft touch. “You’re not alone in this. Ever.”

The whispered words tugged at your heart strings. You felt as if you had to did it alone because how else were you supposed to prove to your parents that you could do this? That you could be a parent to the growing fetus in you?

“I always have your back,” William added, kissing every inch of your face that he could. “We’re in this. Together.”

A smile spread across your lips, the stress now seemingly lifted off your shoulders as William offered to carry it for you and aid you in whatever you needed, reminding you that you weren’t alone in any aspect of your life. You’d always have William and that seemed to be enough.

William’s Mother had yelled for dinner, a reminder of your ever growing hunger in the moment, your stomach rumbling.

“Seems like someone’s hungry,” William chuckled, unwrapping himself from your embrace, fixing the jumper you were wearing, the slight protruding curve of your stomach more evident at the tug.

“We’re very hungry,” you giggled, allowing William to take your hands in his and drag you to the dining room table.

And for the rest of the night, William made sure to let you know that you’re never alone in any path of life you choose.

[oscquinn]

Can I request scars of the kissing prompt with William eklund

hi lovely, ofc!! ekky <333

[ scars ] a gentle kiss on the partner's scar(s) from these kiss prompts. part of my mini writing event!

william eklund x fem!reader, rated t. tw for scar talk, but nothing s/h related (surgery & childhood bike accident), soft ekky cause i couldn't imagine him any other way, implied sexual contend & some clothed touching, google translated swedish (sorry). also ekks is a boob guy lol

"how'd you get this one?" you ask in a whisper, tracing over a scar on his shoulder. it's an old one, faded with time, but you still feel the ridge of skin beneath your fingertips.

william lays next to you, the expanse of his body stretched lazily across the mattress. sheets gather around your hips, you're wearing nothing but a loose tee while your boyfriend remains bare from your previous activities.

he just smiles sheepishly, eyes wandering as if he's searching for the words. his accent curls around the syllables as he tells you, "i had to have surgery, when i was fourteen."

you trace the line again, leaning closer to him. your lips follow the line traced by your fingers, covering the scar with gentle kisses. william's sigh falls soft on your ears, his chest rising slightly before deflating, body melting into the bed.

you only pull back once you're satisfied with the kisses you've given him, fingers splaying over his bare stomach. "vacker," he murmurs, voice laced with awe, but you can't stop the giggle that escapes your lips.

"what's it mean?" you ask, tilt your head in curiosity, and go willingly when william pulls you on top of him. "eks," you whine, "c'mon, tell me."

"it means," he murmurs, large hands moving up to cup your breasts through thin, cotton fabric. "beautiful," he explains, voice coming out quiet and breathy. blue eyes stare up in reverence, like he's memorizing your features, like he can't stand to look away. "vacker tjej, beautiful girl. what you are."

god, you get so lost in him.

staring down, watching his eyelashes splay across his soft cheek as he blinks, noting the way his hair's getting long, curling a bit too much at the ends. you cup his jaw, thumb over his lips, then lean down to kiss him.

william's lips travel to your chin, pressing to the white, raised scar there. "and you?" he asks, all warm and curious. "what's the story?"

you sigh, your face still smushed a bit awkwardly against the side of his own. but his kisses keep you there, your brain remembering the pain and sending small, tingling sparks beneath his lips.

"i was six, first time on my bike without training wheels. hit a fallen branch and ate shit on the gravel." you chew at your bottom lip, finally pulling back as he laughs softly as your story.

noticing the glare you give him, william shakes his head. "sorry, i'm sorry," he manages, stifling giggles.

"you're the worst, y'know?" you tease him, crossing your arms over your chest. he pouts like a child who's lost their favorite toy, but you don't give in. "i hated that scar all through school, thought it ruined all my pictures."

"my love," he whines, really, whines, like he can't believe you'd even think that. "i like it, it makes your face special."

"oh, thanks a lot," you bite back, but your resolve is crumbling and a smile is fighting to break through your upset look.

he takes your hands, untangling them from your body, then he tugs you down against him. "vacker, every bit of you. beautiful."

you can't protest anymore, melting into his warm embrace.

© oscquinn, 2025. click here for my inbox.

[777bae]

A LOVE THAT GROWS WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William Eklund is a dedicated partner and father, supporting you through pregnancy, late-night cravings, and building the nursery. His love deepens with every milestone, always cheering on your daughter. (REQUESTED :: pregnancy -> girldad)

Warnings :: pregnancy

Word count :: 4.0k

You never thought you could love William Eklund more than you already did. From the moment you met him, he had been warm, kind, and full of life. But now, as you sit on the couch, your hand resting on your growing belly, you realize that love has a way of expanding—just like the life forming inside of you.

William had been over the moon when you first told him you were pregnant. You still remember the way his blue eyes widened, the way his lips parted in disbelief before curving into the biggest, most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He had wrapped you in his arms, lifting you off the ground as he spun you around, laughing in pure joy.

He had always been attentive, but now, he was completely devoted. Some nights, when he thought you were asleep, he would trace gentle patterns over your skin, talking to her like she was already here.

“She’s going to be so beautiful,” he murmured one evening, his fingers brushing over your stomach. “Just like her mama.”

You let out a sleepy laugh, reaching to run your fingers through his soft hair. “You’re really in love with her already, aren’t you?”

William lifted his head, his hazel eyes shining with a warmth that made your heart ache in the best way. “Completely,” he admitted.

Every morning, before he leaves for practice, he kneels in front of you, pressing a soft kiss to your belly and murmuring sweet nothings in Swedish, his voice low and full of adoration. Sometimes he hums a lullaby, his fingers tracing light circles over your stomach, as if he’s already trying to soothe the baby inside. He always tells her he loves her, even before she’s here, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, she kicks in response, making his eyes go wide with awe.

“She knows her papa already,” he whispers, resting his cheek against your belly with a tender smile.

You swear he never stops thinking about you. When he comes home after a long day of practice, sweat still clinging to his skin, his first words aren’t about hockey or how training went. They’re always about you.

“How are my girls?” he asks, dropping his bag by the door and immediately walking over to you. He kneels down in front of the couch, his hands finding your belly first before he leans up to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

If your feet are swollen, he’s on the floor before you can even complain, rubbing slow, careful circles into your aching skin. His hands, rough from hockey, are warm and soothing as he kneads the tension away, pressing kisses to your ankle between strokes.

“You’re doing so much already,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with so much love it almost takes your breath away. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does—constantly.

When you wake up nauseous in the middle of the night, barely making it to the bathroom, he’s right behind you, gathering your hair and rubbing your back as you tremble over the sink. He whispers reassurances, pressing his lips to your temple as he holds you up.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, waiting until you feel steady enough before guiding you back to bed. He disappears for only a moment, returning with a cold washcloth to press to your forehead, along with a glass of water and a handful of crackers.

He never lets you lift a finger. Laundry? Already done. Dishes? Washed and put away before you even notice. One time, you wake up to find him assembling a crib in the middle of the nursery at 2 a.m., struggling with the instructions but determined to finish before you wake up.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he admits sheepishly when you catch him, his hair a mess, frustration evident in the way his brows are furrowed. “I swear, the instructions make no sense.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You could’ve waited until morning.”

“I know,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he looks at the half-finished crib before glancing back at you, his expression softening. “But I just… I want everything to be perfect for her.”

Your heart melts at the sincerity in his voice.

William has always been the type to put others first, but now, with you carrying his child, he takes it to another level. When you’re out running errands together, he always insists on carrying the heavier bags, even if it’s just a carton of milk. If he notices you looking tired, he gently tugs you into his side, his arm wrapping around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

And then there are the cravings.

One night, you’re curled up on the couch, barely paying attention to the movie playing, when the sudden, desperate need for chocolate-covered pretzels hits you.

“Will?” you mumble sleepily.

“Hmm?” He glances over from his spot beside you, already tucking the blanket tighter around your legs.

“I think I need chocolate-covered pretzels.”

He blinks, then checks his phone. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I know,” you sigh dramatically, pouting up at him. “But they sound so good right now.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly. “You and our daughter are really putting me to work, huh?”

Still, he doesn’t hesitate. Within minutes, he’s pulling on his hoodie and grabbing his car keys.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s back, triumphant, holding up not one but three different brands of chocolate-covered pretzels.

“I didn’t know which ones you’d want,” he explains, setting them on your lap with a proud grin. “So I got them all.”

It’s in moments like these that you realize just how lucky you are.

One night, after a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed with emotions. You’re exhausted, sore, and your hormones are making you cry over everything. William finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you rub at your swollen belly.

“Baby,” he whispers, immediately kneeling in front of you. His hands frame your face, thumbs wiping away your tears. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I just… I feel huge, and everything hurts, and I’m so tired.”

He listens, his face soft with understanding as he gently pulls you into his arms.

“You’re growing a whole human,” he reminds you, pressing his lips against your hair. “It’s okay to feel this way. But you’re not just beautiful, you’re incredible.”

You close your eyes, sinking into his warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispers.

That night, he holds you a little closer, his hand never straying from your belly, as if he’s silently promising to always be there for both of you.

And in that moment, you know—he always will be.

The moment your daughter enters the world, William changes forever.

You’ve never seen him cry much, but the second he hears her tiny, wobbly cry, he shatters. Tears spill down his cheeks, his lips parting in a stunned breath as he stares at the little miracle in the doctor’s hands. His hands shake when they finally place her in his arms, his entire world shifting in an instant.

She’s so small, wrapped in a soft hospital blanket, her delicate features scrunched up as she whimpers. A tuft of light brown hair, just like his, sticks up slightly at the top of her head. His breath catches as he studies her, as if memorizing every perfect little detail.

“Hi, älskling,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His fingertip brushes over her tiny fingers, marveling at how impossibly soft they feel. When she instinctively grips his pinky, a broken laugh escapes him, followed by another round of silent tears. He leans forward, pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “I’m your papa.”

And just like that, his heart belongs to her.

Even when the nurses gently take her for checkups, his body tenses as he watches every movement, as if ready to jump up and protect her at any moment. He’s at your side immediately, his hand gripping yours, but his eyes never leave her. The second they place her back in his arms, he cradles her like she’s made of glass, like the entire universe exists within her tiny frame.

The world has faded away. It’s just her now—just the two of you, wrapped around William Eklund’s heart forever.

From the very first night, William is the most devoted father.

Late-night diaper changes? He’s up before you can even blink, moving with a surprising grace despite his exhaustion. He rocks her in his arms, humming a soft Swedish lullaby, his voice a gentle vibration against her tiny body. Even when she fusses, even when sleep is a distant memory, he never complains.

“Shh, älskling, Papa’s here,” he whispers, rubbing circles into her back, swaying gently in the dim glow of the nursery light. His lips brush over her downy hair, his expression one of pure, unwavering love.

Bathtime becomes a sacred ritual. He kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves as he carefully washes her, his touch so delicate, as if afraid he might break her. When she kicks her little feet and splashes him, he laughs, a deep, genuine sound that makes her coo in response.

“Oh, so you think that’s funny, huh?” he teases, flicking a few droplets back at her. “You’re already causing trouble.”

Tummy time? He’s right there on the floor with her, stretched out beside her as he makes exaggerated faces and noises, determined to get a reaction. When she finally lifts her head for the first time, he gasps dramatically, clapping his hands.

“She’s so strong!” he exclaims, looking over at you like she just won an Olympic medal. “Did you see that? She’s a natural.”

But the real magic happens when she starts recognizing him—when her big, bright eyes light up at the sight of him. The first time she reaches for him with her chubby little hands, his heart nearly stops. And when she giggles—her very first laugh—it breaks him completely.

“Did you hear that?” he gasps, eyes wide with amazement as he turns to you. “She laughed! She thinks I’m funny!”

From that moment on, he becomes addicted to making her laugh. He makes the silliest faces, the goofiest voices, anything to hear that perfect little sound.

She’s his little princess, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

When she insists on wearing a tutu and fairy wings to the grocery store, he doesn’t even hesitate. He scoops her up, balancing her effortlessly on his hip, nodding seriously as she waves her imaginary wand over the vegetables.

“Oh no,” he gasps dramatically. “Did you just turn me into a frog?”

She giggles, tapping his nose. “No, Papa! You’re a prince.”

He places a hand over his heart, feigning relief. “Phew. I was worried there for a second.”

When she decides he needs a “makeover,” he sits cross-legged on the floor, letting her carefully paint his nails with bright pink polish. His hands are far too big for the tiny brush, and her strokes are uneven, but he never flinches—only smiles as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

“She’s got a future in this,” he tells you, admiring his very messy, very pink nails. “Think she’ll give me a discount as her first client?”

He tucks her into bed every single night, no matter how exhausted he is, no matter how late he gets home from a road trip. The second he walks through the door, his priority is always her. He scoops her up in his arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks as she sleepily mumbles, “Papa…”

“I missed you, älskling,” he murmurs, settling her against his chest as he reads her bedtime stories. His voice is warm and animated, changing tones for every character, making her giggle.

“Again, Papa!” she pleads, her little hands tugging at his jersey.

He sighs dramatically, pretending to think about it. “Hmm…okay, but only because you’re so cute.”

Some nights, when she’s sound asleep, he sneaks into her room just to watch her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. His heart swells in his chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you, älskling. Always.”

As she grew, his devotion only deepened.

He was the dad who carried her everywhere, even when she was big enough to walk, because “she likes being close.” He was the one who let her put tiny bows in his hair, who sat through tea parties with a tiara on his head, who held her little hand as they danced around the living room to her favorite songs.

“She’s got me wrapped around her finger,” he admitted to you one night, watching her sleep, her tiny body curled up against his chest.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

William only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Not at all.”

She’s two years old the first time she steps onto the ice.

Bundled up in layers, her tiny body almost swallowed by the oversized jacket you insisted she wear, she waddles onto the rink, her skates barely keeping up with her enthusiasm. William is right there, kneeling in front of her, his hands outstretched, ready to catch her at any moment. His eyes are soft, full of warmth and pride, even before she’s taken her first glide.

“You got this, älskling,” he coaxes gently, his voice full of encouragement as he steadies her wobbly frame.

Her tiny hands clutch his fingers so tightly, like she knows he’s her lifeline. Her brows furrow in determination as she plants her skates firmly on the ice, but balance isn’t her strong suit just yet. Within seconds, her legs slide out from under her, and she plops onto the ice with a soft thud.

William freezes for a moment, his breath catching, but then she looks up at him, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and giggles. The sound melts him completely.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” he teases, chuckling as he kneels down and helps her up, brushing imaginary snowflakes from her padded jacket. “That’s okay—we fall and get back up, right?”

She nods eagerly, mimicking the way he straightens his shoulders. “Again!”

And so they try again. And again. And again.

Every time she falls, William picks her up without hesitation, his grip steady, his encouragement endless. He makes a game out of it, playfully pretending to slip himself just to make her laugh. But when she finally manages to push off on her own, gliding a few inches before coming to a wobbly stop, she gasps in excitement.

“I did it!”

William lets out a loud cheer, sweeping her up into his arms, spinning her around in celebration. His laugh is bright, uninhibited, full of pride as he presses an exaggerated kiss to her cold nose.

“Did you see that, Mama?” he shouts over to you, eyes shining with pure joy. “She’s a natural!”

From that moment on, she’s not just his little girl—she’s his biggest fan.

Every game day, she dresses in her tiny Sharks jersey, the name EKLUND printed across the back in bold white letters. It’s a mini replica of William’s own, and it’s slightly oversized on her small frame, the sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. But she insists on wearing it, proudly pointing to the letters as she tells anyone who will listen, “Papa’s number 72!”

You take her to every home game, and as soon as you settle into your seats, she’s perched eagerly on your lap, bouncing with excitement. Her eyes scan the ice, searching for him, and the moment William skates out for warmups, she’s already pressing her tiny hands against the glass.

“Papa!” she squeals, her voice high and full of joy. She taps her fingers eagerly, trying to get his attention. “Look! It’s Papa!”

William always finds you both, no matter what. Even in the chaos of warmups, even with music blaring through the arena, his gaze instinctively searches for his girls. The second he spots her, his entire face softens, and he grins, skating toward the glass.

He taps his stick twice—his little secret signal just for her.

She squeals in delight, pressing her palm to the glass as if she can reach through and hold his hand. He presses his glove to the same spot, mirroring her, before giving you a wink.

The bond they share is undeniable. She watches him with complete fascination, her eyes never leaving him as he skates, as he passes the puck, as he moves effortlessly across the ice. She cheers when everyone else does, clapping her little hands, even if she doesn’t fully understand the game just yet.

But the moment she sees him on the big screen, her excitement reaches a whole new level.

“PAPA!” she shouts, pointing frantically at the Jumbotron. “Look! It’s Papa!”

You can’t help but laugh, pulling her closer as she beams with pride. The people around you smile fondly, watching her tiny body practically vibrating with excitement. And on the ice, William glances up at the screen, catching sight of her pointing wildly. He shakes his head with a grin, mouthing a quick I love you before refocusing on the game.

William never stops being her biggest supporter.

When she’s five, she has her first dance recital. She’s a bundle of excitement and nerves, dressed in a sparkly tutu, her hair curled perfectly for the occasion. William is right there, sitting front row, his phone up and recording every second like a proud dad who doesn’t want to miss a thing. You’re right beside him, your heart swelling with pride as you watch your little girl step into the spotlight.

“She’s gonna be great,” you whisper, squeezing his arm.

“She’s already great,” he replies, eyes locked on her as she takes her place on stage.

The music starts, and even though she misses a step or two, to William, she is perfect. He cheers louder than anyone in the room when the recital ends, clapping so hard his palms turn red. You can feel your own pride radiating from him, the warmth in his gaze as he watches her run up to him, still buzzing with excitement. He scoops her into his arms without hesitation.

“You were amazing, älskling,” he says, spinning her around. “A star, just like I knew you’d be.”

She beams up at him, holding tight to the flowers he brought her—tiny pink roses, because he knows they’re her favorite. “Did you really like it, Papa?”

“I loved it,” he promises. “I’ll always love anything you do.”

And he means it, his gaze soft as he looks between you both. It’s clear that his world is right here in this moment, with you by his side, and her in his arms.

No matter how tough or busy his days are, William is always there when she needs him. When she wakes up crying from a nightmare, she knows exactly where to go. She tiptoes into your room, dragging her stuffed bunny by the ear, sniffling softly. Without hesitation, she climbs into bed between you both, curling into her father’s warmth.

William stirs almost immediately, as if his soul is wired to respond to her even in sleep. He shifts, pulling her against his chest, his voice low and soothing.

“Shh, baby,” he murmurs in Swedish, rubbing slow circles on her back. “It’s okay. Papa’s got you.”

You smile softly at the sight of them, the way his hand instinctively moves to comfort her, knowing she’s safe in his arms. She hiccups a little, still caught in the remnants of whatever had scared her, but his steady voice and familiar embrace work faster than any lullaby. He hums softly, whispering words of reassurance, kissing the top of her head like he has since the day she was born.

Within minutes, she’s breathing evenly again, safe in her father’s arms.

And even though the bed is now a little too crowded, even though he has practice early in the morning, William wouldn’t change a thing. Because this is what being a dad is—being the one she turns to, always, and you’re right there with him, holding your daughter close, loving her as much as he does.

The morning she starts school, William is a mess.

She looks so small with her tiny backpack, her shoes barely making a sound as she shuffles toward the front door. She’s excited—practically bouncing with anticipation—but William? He’s not ready.

“She’s too small for this,” he says, running his hands over his face as he watches her zip up her jacket. “She’s still my baby.”

You laugh softly, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing gently. “She always will be.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

At drop-off, she turns to him, her big, curious eyes shining as she holds her arms up for one last hug. He kneels down, pulling her in tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo. You feel your own heart ache as you watch them.

“You’re gonna have the best day, älskling,” he tells her, voice thick with emotion. “And when you get home, you can tell me everything, okay?”

She nods, her little arms squeezing his neck. “Okay, Papa.”

And then, before he’s ready, she lets go.

He watches her walk inside, his heart clenching with every step she takes away from him. When the doors close behind her, he lets out a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re crying,” you tease, nudging him gently, not bothering to hide the soft smile on your lips.

“No, I’m not,” he huffs, clearing his throat. “It’s just…dust. Or something.”

But the way he keeps staring at the doors says otherwise.

“She’s growing up too fast,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “She’s got the best dad to help her through it.”

Years later, when she’s a teenager, William is still just as soft—just as devoted.

He’s the dad who stays up late, pretending he wasn’t anxiously checking the time when she’s out with friends. The moment he hears the front door creak open, he’s there in the living room, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow.

“Have fun?” he asks casually, like he wasn’t just worried sick.

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Papa. I’m fine.”

You watch William’s face soften as he breathes out. “Good.” Then, softer, “I just like knowing you’re safe.”

She smiles at that, knowing deep down that he’ll always be the one who cares the most.

William is the dad who takes her on coffee dates just to check in, who listens—really listens—when she vents about school or friends or life. He doesn’t judge—just offers quiet advice, a steady presence when she needs him most. And you? You’re right there with him, standing as a united front for your daughter, always ready to support her.

And he’s still the dad who hugs her just as tightly as when she was little, no matter how much she grows.

No matter how old she gets, she will always be his little girl.

The years pass, and one day, she’s not so little anymore. She’s walking across a stage in her cap and gown, she’s packing for college, she’s chasing dreams that once felt so far away. William watches it all happen, pride and heartache mixing in equal measure. You stand beside him, both of you reflecting on the little girl who once wobbled on skates, now standing tall, ready to take on the world.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was pressing tiny hands against the glass, cheering him on?

Time moves fast, but one thing never changes—his love for her, and the love you share for her, too.

Because William Eklund was born to be a girl dad. And no matter how many years pass, no matter how much she grows, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. And neither would you.

[777bae]

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.”

[777bae]

PERSONAL HEATER WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: After a long, cold night, the warmth of William’s embrace feels like everything—until he pulls back, and you realize just how much you need him to stay close. (REQUESTED :: prompts 29 & 32)

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 2.0k

The night air bites at your skin as you step into the apartment, the cold so sharp it feels like it’s cutting through the layers of your coat and scarf. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, a soft exhale of relief escapes your lips as you stand in the warmth of the apartment, your senses slowly readjusting to the inviting heat. The contrast between the frigid air outside and the cozy warmth within feels almost overwhelming. Despite your thick coat, wool scarf, and the gloves you’ve only just slipped off, the cold still seeps into your fingers, making your nose and cheeks pink from the chill.

You linger for a moment, savoring the quiet, your breath puffing in the cool air. The heater hums softly in the background, its steady noise promising warmth, but it feels like it’s taking forever to reach you. Shivering slightly, you kick off your boots and rub your hands together, trying to thaw out your frozen fingertips. It’s strange, how the cold has a way of clinging to you, making it feel like it never quite lets go.

The apartment is still, save for the soft rustling sound coming from the couch in the living room. You glance toward the source and see him—William, exactly where you expected to find him. He’s curled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over his legs, the soft glow of the TV flickering across his face, casting light and shadows over his relaxed features. His tousled hair, the hint of a stubbled jaw, and the comfortable way he lounges make him seem effortlessly handsome, as though this simple moment was made for him. You can’t help but smile, watching him for a beat, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of him.

You move toward the living room, your footsteps muffled on the carpet. The warmth of the space surrounds you, though you’re still feeling the bite of the cold on your skin. “Hey,” you say softly, your voice muffled by the wool scarf you’re unwinding from your neck.

At the sound of your voice, William stirs. His eyes flicker open, the soft blue of his gaze immediately meeting yours. There’s a dreamy, drowsy quality to his expression, his lips tugging into a sleepy, affectionate smile. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you with those half-lidded eyes, taking in your presence as if you’re the only thing he’s been waiting for.

“You’re home,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with the weight of sleep, each word a lazy rumble.

“Yeah,” you answer with a soft smile, the exhaustion of the long night in your tone. “Long day. Glad to be back though.”

You shrug off your coat, letting it fall carelessly over the back of a chair before making your way over to him. Even though you’re finally indoors, you can still feel the cold nibbling at your skin—your fingers are still numb, and your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as if hugging yourself will somehow make the chill go away.

William’s gaze sharpens slightly as he watches you, his eyes softening with concern as he notices the way your hands are rubbing together in an attempt to warm them. He doesn’t need to say a word; the expression on his face is enough to tell you he’s already noticed the tremors in your arms, the subtle way you’re trying to protect yourself from the lingering cold. His brow furrows as his voice drops lower, softer, full of warmth and care.

“You’re cold,” he says gently. It’s not a question—it’s an observation, one that pulls at your heart. “Come here.”

The invitation is instant, and without a second thought, your feet are moving toward him. You don’t even pause to think, your body almost unconsciously reaching for his warmth. He shifts on the couch, sliding the blanket off his lap and patting the spot next to him with a small smile. The moment you’re close enough, his arms open, waiting for you to fall into them.

You don’t need to be asked twice.

As you sink into his embrace, you let out a long, relieved sigh, finally feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His arms wrap around you tightly, and for the first time all evening, the chill begins to melt away. You let yourself relax against him, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest grounding you, calming you. His warmth spreads through your body, and you feel the frost that had been clinging to your skin begin to thaw.

“Better?” he asks, his voice low and soft as he begins to rub slow circles on your back, trying to help ease the last bits of tension from your shoulders.

You nod, the words slipping from your mouth without thinking. “Much better,” you murmur, your face tucked into the crook of his neck. The scent of him—soft musk, a hint of fresh laundry, something uniquely him—fills your senses, making your eyes flutter closed in contentment. “You’re like a personal heater.”

William laughs softly, the sound vibrating in his chest, and you can feel the warmth spread through his body in the way his arms tighten around you. “I try my best,” he teases lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, the gesture soft and familiar.

You stay like that for a few minutes, the quiet comfort of his embrace enveloping you. The hum of the TV is distant, almost irrelevant in comparison to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You let your body relax into him fully, the cold of the night and the stress of your day slipping away with each passing second.

A thought flickers in your mind, and before you even realize it, the words are slipping from your lips, quiet and hesitant. “You’re staying here tonight, right?”

William’s eyes shift toward you, his gaze soft, almost as though he’s afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. The hint of vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard when he responds, the question almost a whisper. “Yeah,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on you. “You’re not going anywhere, right?”

You smile, your lips brushing against his skin as you answer with a kiss, soft but full of warmth. “No, I’m not going anywhere. It’s nice and toasty here,” you add, a small chuckle escaping your throat.

William smiles too, that soft, affectionate expression that always makes your heart flutter. “Good,” he murmurs, pulling you even closer, like he’s trying to draw you into him, as though he wants you to be here forever, in his arms, where it’s safe and warm. “Because I don’t want you to leave this spot. Ever.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest swell, a warmth blooming there that matches the heat of his embrace. Without thinking, you press a soft kiss to his chest, the action instinctive, full of affection. You linger there for a second, letting your lips rest against his skin, breathing in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. It feels like the world falls away in this moment—everything outside of his embrace fades into the background, and all that matters is the way he holds you, the way he makes you feel safe.

But then, just as you’re starting to settle deeper into his warmth, you feel him shift beneath you. His arm loosens around your shoulders, pulling away ever so slightly, and you instinctively feel the cold creeping back in where he was just holding you. It’s like the warmth of him is slipping away, and your body reacts with a small shiver, a wave of cold seeping into your limbs.

You pull back slightly, but only enough to meet his gaze, and you see the glint of playful mischief in his blue eyes. His lips curl into a teasing smile, and you feel your stomach flutter—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I thought you were all warm and toasty just a minute ago?” he teases, his voice light and full of playful amusement. “What happened?”

You frown, trying to keep up the pretense of being unaffected, but the chill in your limbs gives you away. You cross your arms in a half-hearted attempt to hold the warmth around you, but it’s no use—your body is still trembling, a slight shiver running down your spine.

“I was warm,” you retort, trying for annoyance, though your voice has an undeniable quiver to it. “Until you decided to take all the heat with you.” You shoot him a playful glare, even though your lips twitch at the corners.

William laughs, clearly enjoying the way you’re pretending to be upset. He shifts again, pulling the blanket tighter around him as he leans back, stretching lazily against the couch. His teasing eyes meet yours, and you can see the amusement dancing in them, knowing full well how much you need the warmth he offers.

“You sure you’re not just trying to get me to snuggle with you more?” he asks with a grin, his voice dripping with mock-suspicion. “You know, I think that’s what this is really about.”

You glare at him, trying your best to maintain the act, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your teeth are starting to chatter. You need him back, need that warmth again. “I’m not playing games, William,” you finally say, your voice becoming a little more desperate, though you try to keep it light. “I’m freezing. Come back.”

William doesn’t move immediately, instead stretching lazily, as though he’s savoring the power he has in this game. He lets out a little hum of consideration, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he glances down at you, a teasing smirk forming at the edges of his lips.

“Hmm,” he hums, acting as if he’s deciding whether or not to oblige you. “You were fine just a minute ago. What’s changed? Maybe I’ll just stay right here, and you can deal with the cold.” His voice drips with playful challenge.

You stare at him, your heart racing, the chill only deepening as your body leans forward unconsciously. “I’m too cold!” you finally protest, a mix of frustration and vulnerability slipping into your voice. “Come back!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, a soft but genuine plea.

William looks down at your hand tugging at his shirt, then back up at your face, his lips quirking into an amused smile. “You’re impossible,” he says with a soft laugh, clearly finding your vulnerability endearing. “Fine. You really can’t survive without me, huh?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, though your heart swells at the sight of him relenting. “What can I say? You’re irresistible,” you tease, letting a smile break through despite the cold still crawling under your skin.

With a dramatic sigh, William rolls his eyes, his affection for you still clear even through the mock exasperation. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, pulling you back into his arms once more, the warmth of his body wrapping around you instantly, banishing the cold.

“Better?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you close again.

“Much better,” you hum contentedly, finally feeling the warmth spread throughout your body. “Thanks, heater.”

William chuckles softly, his arms holding you securely. “You really like calling me that, huh?”

You smile, your head resting comfortably against his chest as you let out a contented sigh. “I don’t mind calling you whatever I want, as long as I get to be this close to you.”

He smiles, the affection in his eyes unmistakable. “In that case,” he says teasingly, “just remember—I’m the only heater you’ll ever need.

You laugh softly, pressing your face back into his chest, your body enveloped in warmth. “I know,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know.”

[777bae]

YOURS TO HOLD WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William Eklund doesn’t get jealous—not until he decides it’s necessary. One conversation, one too many laughs, and suddenly, he’s all possessive touches and dark looks. You should tease him, but maybe you like it too much. (REQUESTED)

Warnings :: small amount of jealousy (& possessiveness)

Word count :: 1.8k

William Eklund is, by all definitions, a golden retriever boyfriend—the kind of guy who radiates warmth the second he steps into a room. He’s sunshine personified, with an easy, boyish grin that never seems to fade and eyes that light up like he’s genuinely thrilled just to see you. There’s an effortless charm about him, something so naturally magnetic that it draws people in, but the way he looks at you? That’s something else entirely. It’s different. It’s devoted.

He’s always finding a way to make you laugh, whether it’s cracking a joke at his own expense, sending you goofy selfies from the locker room, or pulling you into his chest and murmuring something ridiculous just to hear you giggle against his hoodie. He thrives on your happiness, basking in it like it’s the most important thing in the world. No matter how long the day has been, no matter how exhausted he is after practice or a brutal road trip, he never hesitates to wrap you in his arms the second he sees you. And when he hugs you, it’s not just a fleeting embrace—it’s the kind where he holds you close, burying his face into your neck, letting out a deep breath like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

After a win, it’s even more intense. The second the final buzzer sounds, before the adrenaline even has a chance to fade, he’s already searching for you in the crowd. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, his cheeks are flushed from the effort, but none of it matters. The moment his skates hit the ice after the handshake line, he’s making a beeline for you, shoving his helmet halfway off as he grins like a little kid. His excitement is infectious—he’s breathless, exhilarated, but all he cares about is getting to you.

And when he does? He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you in, strong arms winding around your waist as he crashes his lips against yours, completely unbothered by the cameras, the crowd, or the teasing chirps from his teammates. The only thing that exists in that moment is you. You can feel his smile against your lips, feel the way his fingers tighten just slightly like he never wants to let go. When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, there’s a look in his eyes—pure love, pure adoration—like you’re the best win of all.

He’s not the jealous type. Or, at least, not usually.

William Eklund is easygoing, warm, the kind of guy who trusts you implicitly. He’s never been one to get possessive, never the boyfriend to hover or make a scene. He knows where you stand, knows that you’re his, and that’s always been enough.

But every now and then, something flickers behind those warm blue eyes. Something a little darker, a little more primal. A reminder that while he’s all golden retriever grins and easy affection, there’s a part of him that isn’t so laid-back when it comes to you.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The event is buzzing with energy, post-game adrenaline still lingering in the air as players and their significant others mix with fans, sponsors, and team staff. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—just another night of polite small talk and congratulations. You find yourself in conversation with one of the team’s new PR guys, discussing something lighthearted, your laughter slipping into the noise of the party without a second thought.

The guy’s charming, sure. Confident. But you’re just being friendly, the way you always are. What you don’t realize is that across the room, William is watching. And he doesn’t like what he sees.

His jaw tightens. His normally relaxed posture stiffens, his grip on the sweating beer bottle in his hand growing so tight that his knuckles turn white. He’s trying to be rational. He knows you love him. He knows you wouldn’t entertain anyone else. But watching another guy lean in—just a little too close, just close enough that William’s mind starts spinning—makes his patience run razor-thin.

Then you laugh.

It’s nothing more than a casual, friendly sound, but it sets something off in him. Because that’s his laugh to pull from you. His closeness to have. His spot at your side.

And then the guy leans in just a slight bit more, probably just to hear you over the music, but it doesn’t matter. Because William sees red.

Before you even register his presence, he’s there. An arm slides around your waist in one swift, decisive motion, pulling you back against a solid chest—warm and steady, yet unmistakably tense. The sudden presence sends a jolt through you, but the familiar scent of clean cologne and the faintest trace of hockey gear immediately tells you exactly who it is.

“Hey, babe,” William murmurs, his voice low, smooth, but tinged with something unmistakable—something territorial.

Your breath catches as you blink up at him, caught off guard by both his sudden arrival and the possessive energy radiating off of him in waves. His blue eyes, usually so full of light and mischief, are darker now, locked onto the PR guy with quiet intensity.

“Hey, William,” you say softly, tilting your head as you search his expression.

His grip on your waist tightens just a fraction, a silent warning as he finally turns his attention to the guy in front of you. His expression is calm—too calm—but there’s an unmistakable tension in the way his jaw is set, in the way his fingers flex slightly against your side.

“And you are?” William asks, his voice smooth and polite, but carrying just enough of an edge to make it clear he’s not in the mood for pleasantries.

The PR guy, still oblivious to the shift in energy, introduces himself with a casual ease, but William barely acknowledges it. He doesn’t shake his hand, doesn’t offer his usual friendly grin. Instead, he moves with deliberate slowness, dipping his head and pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm against your skin. He stays there just a second longer than necessary, long enough to make a point, long enough to let the other guy see.

You almost laugh. William Eklund. Jealous.

It’s ridiculous, really—this is the same guy who once tripped over his own skates mid-drill because he was too busy winking at you from across the rink. The same guy who always insists on carrying you on his back when you’re tired, who buys you stuffed animals from airport gift shops just because they remind him of you. The guy who gets chirped endlessly by his teammates for being so whipped. And yet here he is, standing tall, broad, and possessive, making it very clear that you’re off-limits.

The PR guy finally starts to catch on, his posture shifting slightly, eyes darting between you and William. He clears his throat, an awkward chuckle slipping out. “Well, I should probably—”

“Yeah, you should,” William cuts in smoothly, his voice lighter now but carrying an unmistakable finality. His golden retriever energy is nowhere to be found, replaced by something sharper, something almost wolfish. He doesn’t bother softening the words. He doesn’t need to. The message is clear.

The guy mutters a quick goodbye and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he’s gone, you turn in William’s arms, crossing your arms over your chest as you peer up at him, your expression caught somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“Seriously?”

William doesn’t even try to hide it. He doesn’t stammer or deflect. Instead, he looks down at you, eyes warm but smug, his grip on your waist still firm, still possessive.

“What?” His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk, like he knows exactly what he just did and isn’t remotely sorry for it.

“You’re jealous.”

The words slip out easily, laced with amusement as you stare up at him, waiting for his reaction.

William scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the soft pink creeping up his neck betrays him. It’s barely noticeable in the dim lighting, but you know him too well—you see the way he shifts slightly, the way his fingers twitch like he’s debating whether to defend himself or just own up to it.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, voice light, but you can tell he’s lying.

You tilt your head, giving him a knowing look. “William.”

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair in a mix of frustration and reluctant confession. “Okay,” he mutters, dropping the act, his voice quieter now. “Maybe a little.”

His blue eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, holding your gaze with an intensity that sends warmth curling in your stomach. His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, like he’s making sure you’re still right there, still his.

“Can you blame me?” His voice is lower now, rougher around the edges. “Some guy’s getting all close to you, making you laugh like that…” He trails off, shaking his head, jaw tightening again for a brief second before he forces himself to relax. “I don’t like it.”

You bite your lip, trying—really trying—not to smile, but the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to hide.

“You know I’m yours, right?” you murmur, your fingers grazing over the collar of his shirt, lightly tracing the fabric before sliding up to rest against the back of his neck.

His gaze softens at your words, but the possessiveness doesn’t fade. If anything, it settles into something deeper, something almost reverent.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “But I still don’t like it.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and you shift on your toes, tilting your chin up just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his jawline. You feel the way his muscles tense for a second, the way his breath hitches slightly before it evens out again.

“Well,” you hum, barely above a whisper, “if it makes you feel better…” You pause, letting your lips graze his skin before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again. “I like it when you get a little jealous.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes him, low in his chest, and just like that, your golden retriever boyfriend is back—his lips quirking into a smirk, his arms tightening around you like he has no plans of letting go anytime soon.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is teasing now, playful, but there’s still a hint of something darker lingering beneath it.

You nod, grinning. “Yeah.”

His hands slide lower, his touch firm but slow, deliberate. He leans in, so close that his lips just barely brush against yours, teasing, waiting.

“Then maybe I should remind you who you belong to,” he murmurs, voice just above a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine.

And just like that, the rest of the room fades away.

[777bae]

THE ICE BENEATH OUR FEET WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William finally manages to convince you to let him teach you how to skate

Warnings :: fear?

Word count :: 5.3k

William had a way of making everything seem easy—on and off the ice. Watching him skate during games felt almost hypnotic, like witnessing pure poetry in motion. The way he moved was so fluid and effortless, as if the ice itself bent to his will. Every sharp turn, each seamless pivot, and the explosive speed he brought to every play left you in awe. It wasn’t just his talent that captivated you, though—it was the joy that radiated from him. The gleam in his eyes, the easy smile that tugged at his lips, and the way he’d throw his hands in the air to celebrate, even during practices, showed how much he loved what he did. It wasn’t just a job or a passion—it was a part of him. And every time you watched him, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing, wishing you had even a fraction of that confidence or that grace on the ice.

But your relationship with skating was far less romantic. You’d told him countless times how clumsy you felt just thinking about stepping onto the ice. In fact, you still remembered the last time you’d tried, years ago at a childhood birthday party. Back then, the rink had felt more like a slick, unforgiving trap than a playground. You’d spent most of that experience gripping the boards so tightly that your knuckles turned white, silently praying that you wouldn’t fall and humiliate yourself in front of everyone. Even years later, the memory of your awkward, stumbling attempts to stay upright made you cringe.

Every time you brought up that story, William’s reaction was the same. He’d throw his head back with a warm laugh, the kind that made your heart flutter despite yourself, and then he’d reassure you: “One day, älskling (darling), I’ll show you how it’s done. You’ll love it.” There was always such certainty in his voice when he said it, like he truly believed there wasn’t a doubt in the world that you’d be gliding across the ice in no time with him by your side.

You never really thought he’d follow through—he was William Eklund, after all. Between his busy practice schedule, constant games, and travel commitments, there wasn’t much room in his life for teaching someone like you the basics of skating. But you should’ve known better by now.

The night before it happened, your phone buzzed with a text just as you were settling onto the couch. Picking it up, you saw William’s name flash across the screen.

“Be ready at 10 tomorrow. I’m teaching you to skate. No excuses.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, excitement and nerves tangling together in equal measure. You read the message a second time, your heart thumping faster with each word.

Teaching you to skate.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to learn—you trusted William more than anyone. But the thought of stepping onto the ice, of possibly falling flat on your face in front of him, made your chest tighten. You stared at the screen for a few moments, trying to think of a reason to say no. Maybe you could claim you were too busy, or that you weren’t feeling well. But deep down, you knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Another buzz pulled you from your thoughts:

“Don’t overthink it, baby. It’ll be fun. Promise.”

You smiled despite yourself, letting out a breathy laugh. He knew you too well—knew you’d be nervous, knew you’d try to talk yourself out of it. But his confidence was as steady as always, and that reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“Fine,” you muttered to yourself, typing out a quick reply: “Alright, I’ll see you at 10. But no laughing if I fall!”

The response came almost immediately:

“Never. I’ll catch you before you hit the ice.”

And just like that, your nerves began to settle. If anyone could make you feel safe out on the ice, it was William.

The next morning, you could feel the nervous fluttering in your stomach the moment you stepped out of your car and saw the ice rink looming ahead. The sheer thought of skating—something that had never come naturally to you—made your palms slightly clammy. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust William; you trusted him more than anyone. But there was still that little voice in your head whispering all the ways this could go wrong. What if you fell flat on your face? Or worse, what if you froze up completely and he realized how much of a disaster you were on the ice?

You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself as you walked toward the entrance, your breath coming out in soft white puffs in the chilly air. But then, as you rounded the corner, you spotted him, and suddenly the nervous fluttering shifted to something softer.

William was leaning casually against the side of the building, his hockey bag at his feet and his hands tucked into the pockets of a gray hoodie. He looked effortlessly handsome, as he always did, with a black beanie snug over his messy blond hair, just enough of it sticking out to give him that endearing, slightly unpolished look. His face was rosy from the cold, but when his eyes met yours, a wide smile spread across his face, and the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders seemed to dissolve instantly.

“Hey, älskling,” he called out, his voice carrying that warm, familiar lilt of his Swedish accent. Somehow, it made the words feel softer, more intimate.

You gave him a small wave, trying to smile despite the nerves bubbling in your chest. But as you got closer, your hesitant expression must have given you away, because his grin turned a little more playful.

“Nervous?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. His tone was teasing, but there was a kindness in his eyes that told you he already knew the answer.

“More like terrified,” you admitted, laughing nervously as you came to a stop in front of him.

William chuckled, the sound low and warm, and took a step closer. “Terrified? Really?” he asked, his voice dropping just a little, as though to reassure you. “Baby, it’s just ice. It’s not going to hurt you.”

You gave him a look, your lips twitching into a half-smile. “It’s not the ice I’m worried about. It’s what happens when I hit it.”

“Hit it?” He laughed again, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re not going to hit anything. Not on my watch.”

Before you could protest, William reached for your hand, his gloved fingers curling gently around yours. His grip was firm but comforting, like he was grounding you in that moment, pulling you out of your own head. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady and soothing. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”

You glanced down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your heart skip. Somehow, the simple touch calmed the swirling nerves in your chest. When you looked back up at him, his expression had softened, the playful teasing giving way to something more tender.

“I’ve got you,” he added, giving your hand a little squeeze. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Good,” he said, his smile returning. “Then just focus on me. Forget the ice, forget everything else. Just focus on us.”

The way he said it—so effortlessly confident yet so full of care—made it impossible not to believe him. You nodded, exhaling slowly as the corners of your lips turned up into a more genuine smile.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his grin widening as he reached down to grab his bag with his free hand. “Come on. Let’s get you skating.”

And just like that, the fear that had felt so overwhelming minutes earlier started to fade. With William by your side, it felt like maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be so terrifying after all.

Inside the rink, the cool, crisp air greeted you like a gentle shock, prickling your skin and causing you to tuck your coat tighter around yourself. The faint hum of the rink filled your ears—the distant sound of skates gliding over ice, soft echoes of laughter from a few skaters on the far end of the arena, and the occasional hollow clatter of a hockey puck ricocheting off the boards. It was quieter than you’d expected, the stillness making the vast space feel both intimidating and peaceful. The expanse of smooth ice stretched out before you like a blank canvas, waiting to test you.

William walked a step ahead of you, his stride easy and confident. He led you to one of the benches lining the boards, his hockey bag slung casually over his shoulder. He set it down with a heavy thud, the sound cutting through the quiet of the rink. When he turned back to you, his blue eyes gleamed with that unmistakable mix of enthusiasm and warmth he always seemed to carry.

“Alright, sit,” he said, gesturing to the bench with a nod of his head.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the pair of skates sticking out from his bag, but his expression left no room for argument. Reluctantly, you sat down, still feeling the faint tug of nerves in your chest.

As you reached down to pick up the skates yourself, William moved faster, kneeling in front of you with a playful shake of his head. “No, let me,” he said, his voice firm but teasing, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You don’t have to do that,” you protested, though your heart skipped a little at the sight of him kneeling so casually in front of you.

“Yes, I do,” he said, glancing up briefly to meet your eyes. “What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t? Plus…” He grinned, his tone dropping into a playful murmur. “I don’t trust you to lace them properly.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound easing some of the tension you’d been holding. “Okay, fine,” you said, leaning back on the bench. “I’ll let you do it. But I’m expecting professional-level results.”

“Oh, you’ll get the best, älskling,” he replied confidently, already pulling the skates from his bag.

He gently lifted your foot, guiding it into the first skate with practiced ease. His touch was careful yet firm, and his fingers moved deftly as he began tightening the laces. He worked methodically, checking the fit every few moments to ensure it wasn’t too tight.

“Not too tight,” he murmured, glancing up at you briefly, his voice calm and focused. “But snug enough to keep you steady. We don’t want your foot slipping around in there.”

You nodded, watching him intently as he continued. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, a look you’d seen countless times during his games when he was completely in the zone. But there was something different about it now—softer, more intimate. He wasn’t just lacing up skates; he was taking care of you, making sure you felt supported and secure before you even stepped onto the ice.

As he finished with the first skate, he glanced up again, his blue eyes sparkling. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” you said softly, testing the fit by wiggling your toes. “Perfect, actually.”

He smiled, satisfied, and moved on to the second skate, repeating the process with the same gentle precision. You couldn’t help but watch him closely, your heart swelling with a warmth you couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t just the care he was putting into something as simple as lacing your skates—it was the quiet affection in the way he touched your foot so carefully, the way he glanced up at you every few moments to make sure you were okay, the way he smiled so softly when he thought you weren’t looking.

When he finally finished, he sat back on his heels, studying his work like an artist admiring their latest creation. “Perfect,” he declared, his grin widening as he looked up at you.

“Think I’m ready to conquer the ice?” you asked, your voice teasing but still tinged with nerves.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on your knees. “You don’t just look ready,” he said, his voice dropping into something softer, more reassuring. “You are ready. I promise, you’re going to be amazing out there.”

Something about the way he said it, so sure and steady, made you believe him—even if you didn’t quite believe in yourself just yet. You smiled at him, your heart feeling lighter than it had since you’d stepped into the rink.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice quiet but resolute.

“There we go,” he murmured with a soft grin, standing and offering his hand to help you up. “Come on. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

As you took his hand and let him guide you toward the ice, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment skating wouldn’t feel so terrifying. Not with him by your side.

As soon as your skates touched the ice, though, a jolt of panic shot through you. The surface was so much slicker than you’d expected, your feet sliding unsteadily beneath you despite your best efforts to stay balanced. Instinctively, you grabbed onto the rink’s boards, gripping the cold, rough edge with both hands as if your life depended on it. Your legs wobbled uncontrollably, and you felt a surge of self-doubt bubbling in your chest.

William, who had been gliding a few feet ahead of you with the kind of effortless grace you’d only ever seen in professionals, immediately noticed. With a laugh that was warm and reassuring rather than mocking, he skated back over to you in a few swift strides.

“Whoa, slow down,” he teased lightly, stopping just in front of you. His voice carried a playful lilt, but when he saw the apprehension on your face, his expression softened. He closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to rest gently on your waist. His touch was firm but careful, steadying you as you clung to the boards.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said softly, leaning in just enough that his voice cut through the noise of your anxious thoughts. His blue eyes held yours, calm and full of reassurance. “You’ve got this.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice trembling as you muttered, “I really don’t.”

William chuckled again, though his tone remained gentle, understanding. “Yes, you do,” he insisted. His voice dropped, soothing and steady, as if he were trying to anchor you to the moment. “Just take a deep breath for me. Look at me—not the ice. I’m right here.”

You hesitated for a moment, still gripping the boards like they were the only thing keeping you upright. But there was something about the way he spoke, his quiet confidence and the way his hands stayed firmly on your waist, that made it hard not to believe him. Slowly, you dragged your gaze away from the intimidating expanse of ice beneath your feet and looked at him instead.

His face was lit with that easy, lopsided smile you loved so much, his blond hair peeking out from under his beanie and his cheeks flushed pink from the cold. There was no judgment in his expression—just patience and encouragement. Somehow, just focusing on him made it easier to breathe, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his voice soft but encouraging. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to move in front of you, and you’re going to take my hands. Don’t worry about anything else—I’ll do the rest. I won’t let you fall.”

He took a small step back, his hands sliding down from your waist to rest briefly on your arms before holding them out in front of you. His stance was relaxed, the movement so natural to him that it almost made you forget how unsteady you felt.

You hesitated, your fingers still clutching the boards like they were a lifeline. But the way he looked at you—calm, steady, and full of quiet confidence—made it hard to refuse. Slowly, you loosened your grip on the boards and reached out, your fingers curling hesitantly around his gloved hands.

The moment his hands closed around yours, a wave of relief washed over you. His grip was firm, warm despite the chill of the rink, and so reassuring that some of the fear in your chest began to dissipate.

“There you go,” he said softly, a proud smile spreading across his face. “Good. You’re already doing better than you think, älskling.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh, the tension easing just slightly. “I’m still standing, so I guess that’s a win.”

“It’s more than a win,” he replied, his grin widening. “Now, let’s take it slow. Push with one foot and glide with the other, like this.”

He skated backward a few feet, his movements fluid and effortless as he guided you forward. The grip of his hands never wavered, steadying you as you took your first hesitant step.

“See?” he said encouragingly, his voice soft but full of pride. “It’s all about balance. Don’t overthink it—just trust yourself. And if you don’t trust yourself, trust me.”

You nodded, focusing on his words and the way his hands grounded you. Step by step, you let him guide you forward, your legs still wobbly but steadier than before. The sound of your skates scratching against the ice was unfamiliar, but the warmth of William’s smile made it a little less intimidating.

“You’re doing great,” he said after a few moments, his tone gentle and sincere. “I knew you could do this.”

Hearing the pride in his voice made your chest swell, and for the first time, you felt the faintest flicker of confidence. Maybe—just maybe—you could do this after all.

Slowly but surely, the fear that had gripped you when you first stepped onto the ice began to fade. It wasn’t instant—your movements were still hesitant, and your legs wobbled with nearly every push—but you started to find a rhythm. William stayed close, never more than a breath away, his hands steady and reassuring whenever you faltered. He didn’t rush you, didn’t push you to go faster or further than you were ready for. Instead, he let you take things one small step at a time, his calm encouragement making it feel less overwhelming.

“Good, älskling!” William exclaimed after you managed to glide a few feet on your own without reaching for him. His voice rang out across the rink, full of pride and excitement. He clapped his hands together, his face lighting up with a smile so wide it made you laugh despite yourself. “See? You’re doing it!”

Your skates scratched to a stop as you turned back to face him, your chest heaving slightly from the effort. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm—it was contagious, and the way he looked at you, like you’d just scored the game-winning goal, made the small victory feel monumental.

“I wouldn’t call it skating just yet,” you said with a breathless laugh, though there was a flicker of pride in your voice now. Your confidence was still fragile, but it was growing with each step.

“To me, it’s perfect,” William replied softly, his teasing grin softening into something more tender. His gaze was warm and steady, his blue eyes glinting with affection as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked away, trying to focus on staying upright rather than the way he was making your heart race.

As you continued practicing, William began to skate backward in front of you, holding your hands to guide you further out onto the ice. His movements were fluid and graceful, as if skating backward was as natural to him as walking. His strong, confident grip kept you steady as you followed his lead, step by step.

“Don’t look at the ice,” he reminded you gently, his voice low and soothing. “Look at me. Just focus on me, älskling.”

It was easier said than done, but you trusted him. You forced yourself to lift your eyes, meeting his gaze. The warmth in his expression melted away the lingering nerves, making it easier to keep going. With every small glide, your trust in him—and in yourself—deepened.

“You’re doing so well,” he said after a few more steps, his smile never faltering. “You’re starting to look like a pro.”

You let out a laugh at that. “A very wobbly pro,” you joked, though you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at his words.

“Wobbly or not, you’re still incredible,” he said earnestly, his voice softening as he gave your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I knew you could do this.”

The way he said it—with so much belief and affection—made your chest swell. For the first time, you began to feel like you really could do this. With William holding your hands and encouraging you every step of the way, it was as though the fear that had held you back for so long didn’t stand a chance.

As you began to feel more comfortable on the ice, something shifted in the atmosphere around you. The tension that had gripped you earlier started to melt away, and with it, a playful spark seemed to ignite in William. His eyes glinted with mischief as he skated effortlessly around you, his movements graceful and smooth, like he was showing off just a little. The way he spun with ease, taking tight turns and then gliding away, was almost mesmerizing.

You rolled your eyes, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “Show-off,” you teased, shaking your head as you watched him glide effortlessly, his figure a blur as he made another tight circle around you.

William let out a hearty laugh, not slowing down for a second. “Hey, I’m just trying to inspire you,” he said, his voice light and full of warmth. He shot you a playful glance as he circled back toward you, his grin widening. “Besides, I think you’re ready for your first race.”

“A race?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, his confidence as contagious as ever. “Of course,” he said with a smirk, skating back a little to give you space. “But don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you, baby.”

You laughed, incredulous, but at the same time, a spark of excitement flickered inside you. “You’re on,” you said, shaking your head but feeling your own competitive spirit rising. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t resist the challenge.

William dropped into a relaxed stance at one end of the rink, the playful gleam in his eyes still there, as if he were ready to spring into action at any second. “Alright,” he called, his voice carrying across the rink. “We line up here, and when I say go, we’re off. Ready?”

You nodded, your heart already beating faster, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding your chest. You knew you wouldn’t win—not by a long shot—but there was something about being with him, his presence so confident and reassuring, that made you feel like maybe you could surprise yourself.

William gave you a grin, his body coiled like a spring, ready to go. “On your mark…”

You crouched down, balancing yourself as best as you could, already anticipating the race.

“Get set…”

Your pulse quickened, your legs still a bit shaky but steadier than they had been when you started. You took a deep breath, focusing on the sound of his voice, letting the world around you blur out of focus for just a moment.

“Go!” William shouted, and without thinking, you pushed off with all the determination you could muster, your skates biting into the ice.

You moved quickly, your legs burning as you tried to keep your momentum, but no matter how hard you pushed, you could feel him skating beside you, just a little faster, effortlessly gliding in a way that only came from years of practice. William wasn’t trying to pass you—he was just skating leisurely beside you, laughing at how hard you were trying to keep up.

“You’re not even trying!” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, the cold air stinging your face as you leaned into each stride.

He chuckled, not even out of breath, still skating slowly with ease. “I don’t need to,” he teased, his grin never leaving his face. “You’re already winning, älskling.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, breathless and grinning despite the fact that you were definitely losing. “Winning? I’m pretty sure I’m about to be lapped,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

William, still gliding effortlessly beside you, let out a mock gasp. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said dramatically, raising one hand to his chest in mock shock. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to race you. I thought we were just having fun.”

“Well, I’m having fun,” you said between breaths, determined to keep going, even if you couldn’t keep up with his speed. You pushed yourself harder, trying to show that, even if you weren’t winning, you were in this for the long haul.

“You’re doing great, älskling,” he called out, his voice full of encouragement. “Just keep going. Don’t think about anything else—just enjoy it.”

By the time you reached the end of the rink, you were laughing, a little winded, but proud of yourself. William came to a graceful stop beside you, his eyes sparkling with affection and amusement as he caught his breath.

“Well,” you said, trying to steady your breathing. “I may not have won, but I definitely feel like I’ve just run a marathon.”

“You did amazing,” William said, his voice filled with warmth as his grin stretched wider, his eyes shining with pride. His gaze never wavered, holding you in that moment as if you’d just accomplished something monumental. There was something in the way he looked at you—something so genuine, so unwavering—that made your heart race. Every little victory felt huge in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but bask in the sincerity of his praise. “You’re a natural at this.”

You smiled back, still catching your breath from the race and feeling a rush of gratitude and happiness, mixed with disbelief. “Only because you didn’t let me fall,” you teased, your voice slightly breathless but full of affection.

William chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth, as he skated a little closer, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Of course not,” he said, his voice dropping into something more tender. “I’d never let you fall.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, and your chest swelled with an emotion you weren’t sure how to name. There was something about the way he spoke, so calm and certain, that made it clear he wasn’t just talking about skating. He was talking about something deeper—about always being there for you, no matter what.

You found yourself looking up at him, your heart thumping as you asked, quietly, “You really mean that, don’t you?”

William’s gaze softened even more, and for a split second, everything around you seemed to fade. The cold air, the rink, the sound of skates scraping against ice—everything was gone, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the connection that sparked between you. “Of course I do,” he replied, his voice low and filled with sincerity. He reached for your hand, his fingers slipping smoothly around yours, his grip solid and sure.

There was something about the way he held your hand—no rush, no uncertainty. His touch was a quiet promise, a feeling of safety and trust that wrapped around you like a cocoon. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so grounded, so secure in someone else’s presence.

And then, as if sensing that moment, sensing the unspoken words between you, William moved a little closer. You felt the space between you narrow, the warmth of his body radiating toward you. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by something deeper than the physical closeness.

His hand lifted to your face, fingers brushing softly against your cheek. The touch was tender, almost reverent, like he was memorizing the curve of your skin. Your breath caught in your throat as his thumb traced the edge of your jaw, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“William,” you breathed, his name soft on your lips, a question in your voice, though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

But he didn’t need words. He leaned in slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, the intensity in his eyes sending a wave of warmth through you. His lips brushed gently against yours, tentative at first. You met him halfway, your heart racing, and then his kiss deepened, the world around you melting away entirely.

The kiss was soft and slow, as if time had momentarily stopped. His lips were warm, firm but gentle, a quiet promise wrapped in the simplest of gestures. His hand stayed cradling your cheek, his thumb moving over your skin in a tender rhythm, as if savoring the feeling of you, close and real in this moment.

Everything—the ice, the cold, the noise—was gone. There was only the softness of his lips on yours, the warmth that spread from where you touched, and the way his touch felt like home. Every little moment that led to this felt like it had been building up to this point, a quiet certainty that this was where you were supposed to be.

When he finally pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead gently against yours, the air between you seemed charged with something deeper. His breath mingled with yours, slow and steady, as if neither of you wanted to break the connection. His eyes were closed for a moment, as though he needed to be grounded, to make sure this moment was real.

Your hand instinctively reached for his arm, and you felt the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his jacket. You held on like he was the only thing keeping you anchored, and in some way, he was.

“You’re everything to me,” William whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the words almost too raw, too real, but still slipping past his lips with a tenderness that made your heart clench. “Always, älskling. Always.”

You opened your eyes, finding his gaze waiting for you, steady and filled with an affection that made everything feel right. There were no pretenses between you, no walls, just the two of you in this quiet space, connected by the kiss, by the moment, by the trust you had in one another.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the emotion of the moment still swirling around you. “For everything.”

William’s smile softened, his fingers brushing your cheek once more, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he moved his hand. “Always,” he said again, his voice steady but full of promise. “I’m always here.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you, his lips still lingering on yours, you knew that no matter what came next, you would always have this. You would always have him—by your side, supporting you, loving you—and that made everything else feel like it would be just fine.

[drysdalesworld]

about oskar eklund

series masterlist

full name: oskar warren eklund

nickname(s): os, ossie, mitt hjärta, buddy, bear, os bear / ossie bear

date of birth: june twentieth (20), twenty-twenty-one (2021)

place of birth: stockholm, sweden

age: three-and-a-half (3 ½)

zodiac sign: gemini

extra info:

— looks exactly like his father–curly blond hair & everything

— ^ LEGIT looks just like william when he was a baby

— reader & william didn’t really have a solid name for him yet when he was born so, reader took it upon herself to name him oskar (after william bc of his middle name). warren was william’s idea as it began with the same letter for his first name & it seemed like a cool name

— was born a couple of weeks before william was drafted to the sharks

— has dual citizenship (obviously) & is fluent in english & swedish (or at least he’s getting there)

— no surprise here, he’s a HUGE mama’s boy

— ^ he’s just like his papa, OBSESSED with reader lol

— ^^ he’s super close with william as well. it’s just with will’s work & all the traveling, they’re not always guaranteed to tag along & oskar spends a lot of time with reader

— this boy LOVES LOVES naps & can sleep anywhere

— ^ william doesn’t usually take pre-game naps, but if oskar is insistent on napping, you bet he’s wrapping him up in a blanket & carrying him to bed to nap together

— favorite color is pink & forest green!

— absolutely loves the snow!

— ^ always looks forward to going to sweden whenever it’s projected to snow there because then that means he can go skiing or skating with his papa & the rest of the eklund family

— has such a big heart that if he even sees a random stranger crying on the corner of the street, he’ll cry too (empath fr)

— loves holding readers hand or hugging her. he’s such a velcro baby

— has a blanket that he carries everywhere & sleeps with every night (me too honestly)

— ^ it’s a light blue color with little sharks on the back. it was a gift from william’s mother when oskar was first born & when william was drafted to the sharks (it was honestly just a coincidence that it had sharks on it & he was drafted to the sharks)

— is SUPER into hockey

— ^ william signs him up for hockey lessons & he’s in absolute awe of the sport. he much prefers defense (as of right now) & wants to become a defenseman when he progresses as a player/in the sport

— ^^ does do other sports such as basketball, skiing, figure skating, or baseball. reader wanted to give him more sport options than just hockey

— literally thinks macklin & will are his best friends

— ^ they 100% are dw. mack’s tossing him around every chance he gets & will’s coming up with new games for them to play

— ^^ which makes them his designated babysitters whenever oskar’s usual babysitter cannot look after him

— ^^^ he manages to tire them out before they tire him out so there have been many times where will & mack are passed out on the floor surrounded by toys when reader + william come back home & oskar’s just peacefully coloring at his table in the corner of the living room

— is an ambivert. he has a perfect balance of introvert & extrovert traits

— loves going to william’s games!

— ^ screams his lungs out the entire game. has a custom made jersey with william’s number on it & papa embroidered on the top

— ^^ has been in a couple of post game interviews with william & everyone absolutely eats it up. he’ll say hello & reach out to tap the microphone sometimes & will answer whatever questions the interviewer asks. sometimes he just wants to be held by his papa so he’ll stay quiet & just play with william’s hair or chain that holds his wedding ring

— ^^^ the fans are up in arms about oskar & always enjoy the content. they do respect william & reader’s choice of privacy so they never ask or pressure them to post anything about their son. but when something is posted with oskar, comments flood the post saying how cute he is & how much he looks like william or reader

— loves reading & to be read to!

— ^ i sense future bookworm hehe

[drysdalesworld]

it’s the little things | dad!william eklund x mom!reader collection

main masterlist

summary: a collection of william & readers story told through imagines, blurb, headcanons, & social media. click on whatever link & join them on their journey!

genre: fluff, more to be added!

warning(s): mentions of teen pregnancy, talks of zetterlund trade, more to be added!

♡ = fluff | ☹︎ = angst / no comfort | ✧ = comfort | ♢ = suggestive content | ♠︎ = other | ❦ = requested | ❀ = popular

some basic info on the both of them! | about oskar eklund!

Imagines:

it’s okay to ask for help | ♡ | ☹︎ | ✧

quick summary ➡︎ reader’s having a tough time catching up in some of her classes & finishing her accelerated work on time. what happens when william finds her asleep over her homework one night? (takes place in early 2021)

father & son day | ❦ | ♡

quick summary ➡︎ reader is encouraged to go out with her friends for a girls day while william & oskar have some one-on-one time.

Blurbs:

— breakfast in bed

— the comfort of family (❦)

— the orange peel theory

— oskar, papa’s #1 fan (❦)

— them finding out reader’s pregnant (❦)

— willmack babysitting oskar

Headcanons:

— reader throughout her pregnancy

Social Media

none yet!

Thoughts

— william eklund as a father (❦) (this was more of a general thought / discussion, but i think it can also apply here)

[drysdalesworld]

about william eklund & reader

series masterlist

basic info:

reader —

full name: (y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n)

nickname(s): (y/n/n), älskling

date of birth: april twenty-fifth (25), two-thousand-two (2002)

age: twenty-two (22)

place of birth: portland, oregon

zodiac sign: taurus

william —

full name: william oskar eklund

nickname(s): will, willy, eky

date of birth: october twelfth (12), two-thousand-two (2002)

age: twenty-two (22)

place of birth: haninge, municipality, sweden

zodiac sign: libra

how they met + got together <3:

— reader had lived in america all her life until halfway through her freshman year of high school

— ^ they’re both around the ages of 14-15 when they first meet since reader moved halfway through her freshman year of high school

— reader’s mother got a wonderful job opportunity out in sweden that offered her a lot of money & after a lot of pondering, they all decided to move out there

— readers family moved in next door to the eklund family

— ^ william was immediately head over heels in love with reader when he peeked out of his window & saw her unloading some of her stuff from the moving container. like heart eyes at first sight

— his mother dragged him & his brother to meet reader & her family

— ^ poor dude was stuttering over his words trying to talk to her (viktor most definitely made fun of him for it once they got home)

— since reader wasn’t fluent or well versed in swedish when she first moved, her first day of school was ROUGH

— ^ william took this opportunity to be her “translator” (even if his english was rocky) & be her swedish tutor. he basically followed her around like a lost puppy lol

— his friends most definitely teased him about it since reader was the first girl he ever really openly expressed interest in to them. so they took it & ran with it lmao

— he’d most definitely ask reader to wear his jersey to his games & say some stupid shit like “in sweden, it most definitely doesn’t have any romantic meaning behind it” but be madly blushing the entire interaction

— ^ reader would oblige & not really think anything of it until a fellow classmate asks her if her & william are dating since she’s wearing his jersey. the classmate would then explain to her how it does have some romantic meaning behind it & reader would short circuit

— ^^ she doesn’t ask william about it until a few weeks later after yet another game she attended

— ^^^ bro practically confesses right on the spot. he’s fumbling over his words, blushing like a mad man. he’s mixing up his english & sweden so reader can only understand half of what he is saying

— ^^^^ she eventually tells him that she likes him too in the middle of his rambling & BOOM‼️ suddenly william forgot what he was even talking about & kisses reader

— ^^^ they get together shortly after that

— such a cute couple as teens tbh

having oskar: (going to be so honest with y’all, i did not know eklund was 22 & thought he was at least 24-25. & i did not think about when the two had oskar until i made this AU 😭 so apologies. this does contain talks of teen pregnancy)

— both reader & eklund were around 18 when they fell pregnant with oskar

— reader had just turned 19 when she gave birth to oskar & william was 18 going on 19

— obviously readers parents weren’t too happy about what happened, but there really was nothing they could do about it since they had a few more months left of their schooling & before william was drafted

— ^ both sets of parents were very supportive & reader was able to get certain accommodations to finish her schooling early (idk if they have that kind of thing in sweden, but let’s pretend)

— william wasn’t really nervous about the whole ordeal. he knew he always wanted kids & a family someday. he didn’t mind that it would be sooner rather than later

— ^ reader on the other hand freaked out. due to being raised in america before moving to sweden, teen pregnancy is looked down heavily in the usa & she wasn’t sure if she’d get treated the same way in sweden compared to if she were back in america

— ^^ but the opposite happened. yes there were some looks, lectures, & arguments. but, she was actually treated as an adult / soon-to-be parent & was treated with respect & she very much appreciated that

— back to william, boy is STOKED

— ^ i’m talking planning what the nursery will look like weeks after finding out. he’s already checking out fatherhood & child development books from his local library as we speak

— ^^ many of my headcanons / him as a dad blurb apply here

— ^^^ when he is drafted by the sharks, his contract includes reader & oskar (+ any future kids wink wink) regarding traveling & some accommodations. he had to make sure both of his babies were taken care of

— due to oskar being born weeks (if that) before the draft, william has a hard time deciding if he should immediately start his career or wait a year in order to help out with oskar

— ^ readers parents are more than willing to move in for the first couple of months to help her adjust to her new life when william expresses his dilemma

— ^^ he does end up deciding on immediately starting, but does put a lot of emphasis on what was in his contract regarding oskar & reader with san jose. he will need to miss some games just due to the fact that he wants to be there for milestones & help reader with their baby

— it’s definitely tough the first year just due to the adjustment, but it gets better

— ^ the two of them are more in a rhythm & schedule now

when they got married:

— got married in the summer of twenty-twenty-three (2023)

— ^ wanted oskar to be a little older when they married so someone else could watch & take care of him easily during the entire thing

— william proposed a few weeks before they all left for california when he & reader where figuring out what to pack for the move

— ^ it felt like the right moment as reader was rambling on about what would be appropriate to bring on the plane & what would be shipped to california. william sort of just blurted it out & surprised (y/n)

— ^^ he then went on a ramble about how much he loves her & how much they’ve been through & how he doesn’t see anybody else but her in his future alongside him. it was really sweet & of course reader said yes!

— very basic wedding. small gathering of close friends & family (obvi some of the sharks were there)

— reader had her bridesmaids on william’s side so she could look at her closest friends if needed & william did the same with his best men

— more will be added when i can think of more interesting facts!