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onlyquinns · 2 months ago

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VALENTINE’S DAY BLURB, w. eklund

pairing: w. eklund x bff!reader, fluff!

content: you and william exchange early valentine’s day gifts :) possibly ooc william

valentine’s day was quickly approaching—it was obvious in the grocery stores nearby your apartment. a good portion of the store had become home to all things pink and red since the early days of january.

you stroll through the pink and red aisles, coolly pushing along a small shopping cart filled with your groceries and other miscellaneous goods, the wheels squeaking against the dirtied linoleum flooring.

you finally come to a stop as your eyes fall onto a small heart shaped box, snoopy and woodstock printed on the front of it. your lips twitch into a soft smile as you reach for it, your fingers brushing along the cheap and oddly shaped plush of snoopy that clings to the cardboard. you immediately think of william and place it into your cart with gentle hands, thinking of the little basket back home that you curated for him.

you and william were best friends, nearly inseparable from each other—and every year, the two of you spent valentine’s day together, curled up on his couch watching silly rom coms and enjoying each other’s company. you both always agreed that you wouldn’t give each other any gifts, always saying that being next to one another was the best gift either of you could’ve given, but that was rarely the case.

you’d already made him a little valentine’s day basket, the idea brought to you by a little tiktok you’d seen near the beginning of february. you’d blushed at the words that the original poster had used, calling it a valentine’s day basket for your significant other, but brushed the implication aside—william would understand you meant it in a friendly way.

even if you didn’t want it to be.

you quickly check out with your items and rush home, extra cautious with your small box of chocolates. the little smiley snoopy plush on the front already hangs onto the shiny cover as if its life depends on it, it doesn’t need to suffer any more harm.

when you finally get home, you slide your bagged groceries onto the counter and immediately turn your attention to the small gift basket hidden snugly behind your keurig. small things that remind you of william fill its contents; bags of swedish candy from a local candy shop take up majority of the space, the empty areas shoved full with matching woodstock and snoopy keychains and a gift card to the country club he likes—not that he ever needed the silly card.

the box of chocolates barely fits into the basket, hanging halfway out of it and leaving snoopy’s entire body out in the open. you contemplate dumping the entire basket and reorganizing it before a succession of rabid knocks on your door draws your attention away.

your brows furrow as you check the time, unsure of who could be at the door. when you lean over to look through the tiny peephole, all you see is black, a clear sign that someone has their finger pressed to the little circle—and you know only one person who would ever do that.

you swing your door wide open and grin brightly at william, his hand still outstretched as if to continue covering your peephole. his cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed a bright pink, a beautiful contrast to his turquoise colored jacket. he has a gorgeous bouquet of flowers pressed to his chest and a very familiar looking box of chocolates tucked into the thick red ribbon that’s binds the flowers together.

“hello,” he says, smiling crookedly. “can i come in?”

you nod and step aside to let him in, careful to leave enough room so he doesn’t crush the large roses against the doorway. “who are those for?” you ask dumbly, shutting the door behind him and leaning into the wood. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, weirdly nervous that he’s going to say something unpleasant—something like he’d just been on his way over to a date and happened to be in the vicinity.

instead, william thrusts the bouquet toward you in a grandiose gesture, the deep red roses bobbing on their thick stems. “for you!” he says, cheeks burning impossibly brighter as he lets out a shy giggle.

you accept with shaky hands, unsure of what to make of this. he’d always given you a gift on the day of valentine’s, never a few days before. your heart beats even harder. “thanks, will,” you murmur gently, looking at the nearly perfect flowers. “i don’t know what to say… they’re very pretty.”

“you’re welcome.” william smiles fondly at you, his eyes rounded with something you think is adoration. “i like you,” he blurts quickly—so quick you almost miss it.

“what?”

william’s head cocks slightly to the side, eyes drifting over your face and then the area surrounding your head as if he’s scared to make eye contact with you. “i like you,” he repeats, “i know we are always each other’s valentine, but… will you be my valentine?” his words lilt with his gentle accent, soothing you like it always does as you fumble to keep hold of the bouquet in your hands.

you start giggling, unsure why, but still laughing. “yes,” you manage through your laughter, placing the roses on the kitchen countertop and throwing your arms around william’s neck. “i would love to be your valentine!”

the way you react is as if he’s done you the greatest favor ever, as if he’d just gotten down on one knee and asked you to marry him—and to you, it almost feels like it. william’s palms grasp the back of your shirt and you can feel him grinning into your shoulder, his cheek pressed snuggly against you.

“is… is that basket on the counter for me?” he asks, voice muffled.

you stiffen in william’s hold, having forgotten about the gift basket on full display atop the kitchen counter. you turn to look at it and cringe when you see that the snoopy plush has fully fallen off of the cardboard, now laying next to the exact same box of chocolates william bought for you.

“yeah,” you murmur, pulling away from his hold to rub at your nape. “it was supposed to be for valentine’s day. it’s got some snacks and stuff in it for movie night…”

william picks the little snoopy up and grins, dimples on full display as he wrestles the box of chocolates out of the bouquet’s ribbon to get access to your own snoopy. he gingerly takes the plushy from the box and situates the two little dogs next to each other, working their little hands together. your heart jumps at the sight of him, all cute and shy as he moves from the two dogs to the basket, his rough fingers brushing through all of the things inside of it.

“i love it,” he whispers, looking back at you and smiling. his head is slightly tilted to the side, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright pink.

“can i kiss you?” you ask suddenly, enamored with the sight of him standing in your kitchen. “it’s just… i also like you and you’re really cute and—“

you continue to ramble, embarrassment flooding your body, until william comes up to you and places a gentle hand on your cheek. when he presses his lips to yours, he’s unbelievably soft—as if you’ll suddenly pull away. instead, you press him closer to you with a placed hand on his nape, feeling him tilt his head to deepen your kiss with a soft brush of his tongue on your bottom lip.

fireworks explode in your stomach and behind your eyelids, all pink and red—the colors of valentine’s day and love.

#val’s writing 🧃#nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #william eklund x reader #william eklund x y/n #william eklund x you #william eklund #william eklund blurb #william eklund fanfiction

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777bae · 2 months ago

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IN EVERY TOUCH WILLIAM EKLUND

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

Warnings :: kissing, a little bit of making out

Word count :: 7.0k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, älskling. I miss you already.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a flirt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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