#young royals drabble

[hergrandplan]

Maybe in another life

This idea hit me after posting the first one, so I guess we are doing two drabbles in one day! hopefully this makes up for that bit of angst?

@youngroyals-events

Wille falls headfirst on the couch, groaning loudly.

“Another successful date?”

Simon’s roommate just responds with another groan, this time muffled by a pillow, before rolling onto his back and grimacing. “I think I’m cursed to be forever single. Maybe I’ll find someone in another life.”

Simon takes a deep breath. “But you could be with me in this one.”

Simon’s about to brush it off as a joke when he sees Wille swallow before he, softly, hopefully, asks, “is that a serious offer?”

Simon nods, barely able to breathe, to speak, until suddenly, Wille surges forward, and kisses him.

[itsmadreia]

Here's a bonus drabble for the @youngroyals-events Drabble Challenge and since I'm a little burnt out from life, I'll take tomorrow off and will be back on Sunday with two more. I just feel that I need a small break. Oh, and I used a dialogue wheel. :))

A PARTY FOR TWO

Simon stands in front of a mirror, buttoning his shirt's cuffs, trying to hide from Wille's hot and unwavering gaze that travels all over his body. “Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop.”

“Or what?” Wille asks him, all smug and light.

“We won't leave,” Simon shudders by feeling his boyfriend's lips landing on his neck. “W-won't leave t-this room."

“Maybe we shouldn't,” Wille suggests, slowly sneaking one of his hands into his dress pants for a teasing squeeze, “We deserve it after all the craziness; no one can deny it.”

[caramelpenguin]

Simon's head thumps onto Wilhelm's shoulder, and Wilhelm cards a hand through his soft curls. The lights are loud, the music is flashing, their friends are dancing, drinking, sprawled on the floor, chatting—everywhere at once.

Simon's breath is warm against Wilhelm’s neck. "Wilhelm?"

"Yeah?"

"Willeeeee?"

"Yeaaaahhhhh?"

His next words come out muffled, barely audible over the music. "Thank you for taking care of me."

It was Simon's own idea that maybe he should try drinking, just a little bit to start. He did't want the echoes of his childhood to prevent him attempting something new. If Sara could it, couldn't he? And it was Wilhelm's idea that he wouldn't drink anything alcoholic for Simon's first try.

"Anytime, Simon."

There's a giggle against his neck. "I've got a big secret."

"What is it?"

“You can’t make fun of me, though,” Simon insists.

Wilhelm presses a kiss to his forehead, his voice warm. “I won’t. What’s the secret?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He holds back a snort. "I love you, too."

“No, no,” Simon protests, pulling back just enough to look at him, his eyes glassy but determined. “I’m like in love with you. You’re so amazing, and you have so much love in you to give, and I’m in love with your face because you look so good.”

Wilhelm feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he swallows it down. Simon’s head lolls against his shoulder again, and Wilhelm tilts his head to rest gently on top of Simon’s. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”

“I’m serious,” Simon mumbles, poking at Wilhelm’s chest with a clumsy finger. “You don’t get it. You smell really good. Like remember your orange sweater that you wore to Hillerska a few times and then never saw again? I took it. Because I missed you so much. And I put it under my pillow and when I missed you so much that I thought I might explode, I would smell it and it was almost like you were there. And I love your stupid hair. And I’d fight anyone who says you’re not the best person in the universe.”

This time Wilhelm can’t hold back his laugh, quiet and warm against the curls. “The universe, huh?" Then he freezes for a moment. “Wait. The orange sweater?”

Simon hums sleepily. “Mhm. It smelled like you, so I stole it. I’m not sorry.”

“You stole it?” He shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ve been wondering where that went for months.”

“It’s mine now,” Simon mumbles with a lazy sort of defiance. “Finders keepers.”

Wilhelm presses another kiss to his forehead, his cheeks aching from smiling. “We’re so talking about this in the morning.”

“Sure, sure,” Simon murmurs, his voice fading into a contented sigh. “Still in love with you, though. Like, a lot.”

His cheeks are aching from smiling. “I know,” he whispers, holding Simon a little closer. “I'm in love with you, too. Like, a lot.”

[skibasyndrome]

"please, speak to me" for the prompt thingy?🫶

Tinaaaa!!! Thank you so much for sending me this prompt! I'm extremely sorry for taking forever to write this, but here it iiiis.

Because I simply couldn't leave them in their messy little fwb situation, this is a follow-up to this drabble here.

Hope you'll enjoy! 💜💜💜

For the first couple of days, Wille is so caught up in replaying his last night with Simon that he doesn’t fully notice to which extent he’s being avoided. When he does, the realization hits him square in the chest.

Wille doesn’t think that, during the admittedly relatively short time they’ve known each other, he’s ever gone this long without speaking to Simon. They just clicked, right away, became friendly very quickly, became… more than friendly equally quickly. And up till now they’ve never gone this long without speaking, at least a little bit. Wille misses his friend’s presence next to him during the one lecture on postmodernism they normally attend together. And he misses the stupid jokes they tell each other in the cafeteria during lunch breaks. Wille texts Simon twice during the week following the incident. Both times, Simon answers quickly, but the conversations die down just as quickly. Wille knows he’s busy with exams, but this is different. Simon won’t admit that anything’s wrong, continues to throw Wille a quick smile every time they cross paths on campus. But before Wille has the chance to approach him, he’s gone again. It feels like something ended between them. And Wille doesn’t know what to do about it, let alone what to say. He can’t suggest they have sex again. Well. He would like to, but he won’t. Every time he thinks back to Simon storming off, he feels like an idiot. But any other suggestion feels almost more ridiculous. He can almost hear Simon scoff at him whenever he thinks of something new to say. They’ve never done anything else, they’ve been friendly at uni, then spent their time back in the dorms fucking. Anything beyond that feels like an imposition. In front of his mind’s eye, Simon is rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Wille’s suggestion for brunch on Sunday or a couple drinks Thursday night. And so he keeps them to himself, his silly suggestions. But by week two, Wille feels like he’s going to burst if he lets the scenario play out inside of his head another fucking time. He needs to figure this out, needs to fix whatever there is to fix. Right whatever wrong it was that Wille did. Even if this arrangement, whatever it was, is over for Simon, Wille wants them to part on good terms. And not have Simon think badly of him. He feels more than a little silly as he finds himself walking through the halls of the music lecture building. And even while he’s waiting outside of the room he knows Simon’s choir is practicing in, he almost gets up and leaves again two times. Scrolling on his phone is barely enough of a distraction. Especially when, from time to time, a few beautiful notes hit his ear, coming through the large door. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t immediately recognize the beautiful voice. or Or if he didn’t remember what other beautiful sounds that voice is capable of producing, under the right conditions. 

He clears his throat and rolls his neck, trying to banish those tempting images from his mind. He’s about to give up and leave again, go for a walk or go find something else to distract him from his own misery, when the door opens and a couple of students start streaming out. Wille immediately gets up from the random chair he’s found sitting in the hallway, straightens up, feeling weirdly caught and weirdly out of place. Before he can wonder if Simon will even notice him standing in the hallway like a lost little puppy, the door closes again. It leaves Wille standing face to face with the man he hasn’t gotten a proper look at in a very long two weeks. Wille raises his hand for an awkward wave and notices too late that he clearly must’ve interrupted a conversation between Simon and his choir teacher, who now looks between the two of them, visibly confused. Even she must notice that this amount of silence isn’t very normal. Giving Wille another once-over, she retrieves her key from where she was about to lock the door and hands it over to Simon. She tells him to leave it on her desk later before walking off. For a gratingly long moment it looks like Simon is about to run after her. When he turns back around to Wille he looks a little less panicked, albeit no less confused. His bag is casually slung over his shoulder, and something inside of Wille’s chest aches at the familiar picture. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he shakes his head slightly, takes a step towards Simon. “Hey,” he starts and tries to smile, but it must be coming off exactly as weird and forced as it feels, because Simon only nods at him. “Hey.” Simon’s own smile is late, seems a little out of place. Maybe there’s still time to run away. But when Simon opens his mouth to speak, a different sense of panic washes over Wille, so he simply has to blurt it out. “I wanted to see you.” The silence that follows Wille’s confession is clearly taunting him. Simon just looks at him with his brows furrowed. “And I wanted to talk to you,” Wille continues, and maybe it’s the way Simon’s gaze darts back and forth between Wille’s lips and his eyes that makes Wille go on.  “Because I missed you,” he says. And because he’s not made enough of a fool of himself.  “Miss you, I mean.” Simon only nods quickly and, for a second, Wille gets caught up in his eyes. It's been entirely too long since he’s gotten a proper look at them. If Wille didn’t know any better, the idea that he’s spent hours looking at them before would sound ridiculous.

Simon is the first to break contact. He clears his throat. “So…?” he starts, then trails off, lifting himself up and down on his tiptoes. “Can we talk?” Wille is practically pleading and, as if on cue, a student pushes his way past, apparently seeing no better path than going between him and Simon. “I mean, maybe…” Wille gestures towards the room and Simon catches his hint. He gives a curt nod, one that Wille can’t read. But he does turn around, and not to leave. He slips in through the door, Wille at his heels. And before Wille has any chance to take in the interior of the room, or think about what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, now that he’s gotten to this point, Simon is on him. Wille's back hits the door with a loud thud, his chest immediately colliding with Simon's. He lets out a strangles sound of surprise when he suddenly has an arm full of Simon. But even his moment of shock is cut short when Simon’s lips are on his. Finally again. Wille quickly melts into the touch, relishes in the way Simon licks into his mouth, almost like he's been plagued by the same desperate need that has rendered Wille sleepless for these past two weeks. Wille's arms close around Simon's middle, backpack and all, and Wille lets out a sigh of… something. Relief, probably, but also pleasure. This is what they're good at, this is a way in which they've always understood each other. This is what makes sense for them. So much sense that Simon has Wille heavily panting against his lips in no time, so much sense that Wille’s hands easily find their way into the back pockets of Simon’s jeans, like they’re two puzzle pieces. So much sense that it takes Wille a long time, many seconds, minutes maybe, to realize that this isn’t what he came for. Not really, not initially. He tries to pull back, not going far with the wood of the door right behind him. But Simon understands, moves back, then takes a big step away from Wille that causes Wille’s hands to slip out of his pockets. He weakly holds them at his side, suddenly feeling really awkward about just standing here. He clears his throat. “I…” It’s like Simon didn’t only take away his breath, but also his speech. Wille tears his eyes from Simon’s face, from the soft reddish hue on his cheeks, from his wet lips. “I wanted to talk about last time, what you said. I-” Simon interrupts him with a groan. “Can’t we just forget about this already?” He sounds frustrated, angry almost, but there’s a trace of desperation. Wille swallows hard, very unhelpfully notices Simon’s taste on his tongue. While every bone in Wille’s body is yearning to just get back to what they were doing, to get back to what’s always felt good, he knows he shouldn’t. Not like this. Not until he’s tried, not until-

Simon groans loudly again and moves towards the handle, trying to get past Wille. His rib cage contracts painfully at the sight, and his last resolve crumbles. “Wait, please, wait, Simon,” he tries, quietly, too quietly, but, fuck, how else is he supposed to say this. Without thinking about it, he goes in for Simon’s wrist, grabs it, squeezes once, then lets go again, suddenly terrified he’s making it worse. He back away from the door, stops blocking it. “I’m sorry, Simon, I don’t-” “Don’t say it,” Simon rushes out. As quickly as he reached for the door, he’s taking a few steps back again. Wille opens and closes his mouth again, entirely helpless. He’s not fucking following. He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. “But what you said then, and when you left-” “It doesn’t matter, okay?” Simon is pacing, and there’s too much distance between them for Wille’s liking, way too much. But he doesn’t want to reach out, doesn’t want to overstep, but, fuck he needs to fix this, he needs to understand, he needs Simon to tell him. He can’t keep wondering if maybe, just maybe…. When Simon stops pacing only to go for the door again, it bursts out of Wille. “Please, just speak to me!” He startles himself with his raised voice, and Simon stops dead in his tracks, head whipping around towards Wille. It’s Simon’s turn to gape at him, speechless.

He juts out his chin in defiance and crosses his arms. Wille’s heartbeat quickens when Simon turns towards him again. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes Wille feel like Simon is the one towering over him. For another few seconds, they just stare at each other, neither willing to be the first to break contact. It’s scary, tense, like any wrong move could shatter everything. Wille decides then and there that he’ll keep this up for hours if he has to, if it means that Simon isn’t going to run away again. But it seems like Simon has different plans. With a long, exasperated sigh, he turns away again. Wille watched his shoulders sag, watches him throw his head back in frustration. When he runs a hand up and through his curls, a silly part of Wille’s conscience wishes he could be the one doing that. “Look,” Simon starts, and Wille steels himself for whatever revelation might be coming his way. His eyes never leave Simon’s face, still. “I’m sorry, okay?” Wille feels his face fall. “I’m sorry that this isn’t what we wanted, I’m sorry that I said what I said, I just-” Simon tugs on his hair again and lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s okay,” he says, and suddenly all the fierceness drains out of his voice. When he twists his head to look back towards Wille, Wille’s pulse yet again picks up speed.

“It’s okay that you don’t want the same thing, it is!” Wille has trouble listening with his heartbeat hammering away at his temples. “We can keep doing this,” Simon gestures between the two of them ”I’ll be fine, I swear, can we just not talk about-” Suddenly, it clicks. Oh. “Stop,” Wille says, quietly, carefully, and it must be such a stark difference in tone that it’s unsettling. Simon immediately quiets down, enough for Wille to take a step towards him. To finally close the distance between them. Wille doesn’t think his pulse has ever been this quick without him nearing a panic attack. Once again, he swallows. “You’re saying that you… like me?” Simon presses his eyes shut, lets his head fall back in a movement of aggravation. “Wille…,” he groans, but there’s no edge to his voice, no hostility. He rolls his head back, looks pained, but he doesn’t withdraw, stays where he is. “Yes, I like you. That’s the whole point, that’s why-” Oh. Wille doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t give Simon any more time to misunderstand him. With a fervor that’s entirely new in its intensity, he rushes forward. One hand on Simon’s neck, the other reaching for Simon’s arm, linking their fingers together loosely, Wille kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him and lets out a pathetic little noise when Simon presses back after a moment, returns the kiss with equal force. Fuck. Wille can’t keep it in any longer. A wave of relief washes over him, strong, intense, warm, just like Simon. Wille giggles into their kiss, breaks away from Simon’s lips. When he does, he doesn’t pull away, rests his forehead against Simon’s. And he simply can’t hold back his stupid grin. ��I like you too,” he says and fuck, that feels a lot like butterflies. “A lot.”

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[hehehereliesmysanity]

New Boy

"Wille, just kiss me already." Simon begs.

"No." Wille says firmly.

"It is just a kiss. Just kiss me." Simon huffs. He is really tired and he wants to just go back inside.

"No, i am not gonna kiss you." Wille sighs. He is looking into Simon with a look Simon can't quite place. "Not like this." he says in a small voice. If Simon wasn't that close, he would have missed it. "Not like this." he repeats, softly this time. Simon doesn't know what he should make of it.

They were playing truth or dare and it was Wille's turn. So one of their friends dared Wille to kiss Simon. He doesn't even remember who was behind this devious plan because Simon was busy freaking out. Wille didn't agree to it, as horrified as Simon and they locked them in the balcony until they completed the task. But Wille doesn't kiss him. So they have been waiting here for the past half an hour.

Wille knocks on the window to get them open the door. They were watching them through the glass for the whole time and Simon is almost glad Wille doesn't want to kiss him or can't stand a little peck for the sake of a game. They let them in finally, already losing hope, and Wille gives him a last look before he disappears into the kitchen with an undecipherable brow on his face.

He comes back with two cups of hot tea and gives the cup to Simon. Right, they were outside but Simon forgot to feel cold because of all those nerves but he can now realise that he is actually shivering a little. It is shit like this that made him fell for Wille in the first place.

The game continues and their friends keep getting drunk and Wille keeps averting his eyes from him but Simon can't look away.

About an hour later, people say goodbye and leave the apartment. Simon goes in his room, and Wille, his roommate, is also nowhere to be seen, probably in his own room, only a wall between them.

Simon runs into Wille in the corridor, apparently not everybody has left and Wille is sending off a couple of friends at the door and they make eye contact and Wille's cheeks turn a little pink but Simon doesn't know why. He comes closer, meeting Simon in the middle, right in front of their bedrooms. When Simon is about to say goodnight and go back in his room, Wille pulls him by his arm and catches his lips in one swift motion. Simon transports to another dimension.

He kisses his lips softly at first but then it gets messier and hungrier. He pulls him even closer with a hand on his waist, close, so close they can hear each other's heartbeat. His right arm surrounds his whole waist and Wille keeps pulling him to himself, not leaving any space between them and the other hand goes in his hair, running through his strands softly and gently, Simon thinks he has died and gone into heaven. For some time later, Wille pulls back and smiles. "I meant something like that."

[in-amor-veritas]

Hii! Perhaps 17 and wilmon?

Eeeee Thank youuuu!!!! 💕

You got

Girlfriend: Omar Rudberg 😅

cheating/university (Wille is crown prince) au oops

More below nsfw🌶️

When Wilhelm had been invited by his classmate over to study this hadn’t been his intention.

No. He had definitely not been expecting to end up like this, a hand tangled in Simon’s curls, trying to suppress the sounds coming from the back of his throat as the other man kneeled between his legs with Wilhelms cock in his mouth.

But here they are.

And okay, maybe he had made it far too obvious that he found Simon completely distracting and alluring, judging by the teasing lilt in his voice when he agreed and the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when Wilhelm had asked.

And okay, this isn’t exactly the first time this has happened.

Actually it’s happened a few times now over the past month.

They’d met in a shared philosophy class and Simon had been quick to challenge him every time he answered a question or shared an opinion. Wilhelm was convinced Simon took immense pleasure in putting him on the spot considering his title and the whole royal of it all which Simon had been quick to disparage from day one.

And fuck Wilhelm thought it was hot. He had never been challenged by anyone before Simon, at least not so publicly with so many eyes on him.

Simon was something delicious and forbidden, hanging just out of reach like original sin.

But maybe not so out of reach.

It hadn’t taken long at all for them to give into the strange, electrifying tension between them. It shouldn’t make sense, it shouldn’t turn him on this much but when Simon had cornered him, pinned him against the wall and looked him over with a sirens smile and bright eyes and said — no one has to know — well Wilhelm had folded instantaneously.

Simon does this thing with his tongue that makes Wilhelms toes curl. He knows exactly how to draw every desperate cry and stifled moan out of Wilhelms lips. The slick heat of his mouth and pressure of his tongue has Wilhelm seeing stars as he feels himself getting closer and closer to oblivion.

It’s just the two of them in this room, well Malin is stationed outside but she doesn’t count. It’s just the oppressive heat and lack of air and Simon’s lips and the filthy noises they make on his cock.

And then he pulls back and Wilhelm falls forward, following the loss of sensation, gasping, “What—“

“Look at me.” Simon demands and he does, he has to.

Simon is a debauched vision there on the floor, on his knees looking up at him. His lips are pink and swollen and glistening wet and his hair is a mess from where Wilhelms fingers have been twisted into the dark curls.

“Simon—“ he groans, letting his hand take him by the jaw, tilting his face up to stare in awe at him, his fine features, thick curls, dark eyes hooded in pleasure, “You’re so…”

A flash of satisfaction blooms in those eyes as he speaks, Simon leans into his hand which is now cupping his face. “What? Tell me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Wilhelm murmurs, biting his lip as everything in him feels too tight, too sensitive, too hungry.

Simon smirks and rises from the floor, Wilhelm can’t draw his eyes from the planes of skin, seemingly endless and burnished gold in the lamplight. He crawls into his lap and Wilhelm holds him there.

“Am I taking good care of you?” Simon teases and he nods burying his nose into the other mans neck, dragging in a long deep inhale.

“Yes.” He chokes,

“Better than her?”

And for a moment Wilhelm feels guilt, white hot and lancing as he thinks about Karolina, his girlfriend who is out with friends tonight, who has no idea what he’s doing.

No their relationship isn’t perfect, yes they fight a lot, yes he might be forcing himself to be with her because she’s everything his mother and the court wants him to be with. But fuck—he’s been lying to her all this time.

The thought is gone as quickly as it comes however when Simon rocks their hips together, their cocks grinding together. It’s pulled from his mind and vaporizes into nothingness as his synapses fire and his vision is only Simon Simon Simon.

“Tell me the truth and I’ll let you fuck me again. Just like this.” Simon whispers into his ears, sending shivers rippling through him.

“Better.” His voice is strangled.

Nothing is better than this.

[gulliblelemon]

Christmas Drabble

I wanted to write something about their first Christmas together, but didn’t have enough ideas to do it justice. So I just wrote this little drabble instead 🎄

The panic building in Wille’s chest is familiar, but luckily so is the warm hand in his.

“We can leave whenever you want,” Simon whispers.

“Promise?”

The answer is a gentle squeeze and a smile.

Doors open and they’re ushered past gigantic Christmas trees, beautiful garlands and glowing candles.

Simon leans close. “This isn’t our Christmas,” he says. “Remember, we’re having ours tomorrow. They can’t take that away.”

“Can I stay in my pyjamas?” Wille says, tugging his collar.

“Absolutely.” Then Simon leans closer. “Or even better. Nothing at all.”

Perhaps Wille can tolerate one more Christmas at the palace.

[grapehyasynth]

maus what if i was curious to know what drabble you cook up based on the song 'impossible' by shontelle?? 💜

MY BELOVED MAUS!

oh boy did this get ANGSTY! my original idea was canon-compliant, since the playlist is meant to align with canon, but then this bubbled up. sorry to my boys </3

Wille wakes up to a splitting headache and a missed call from Simon. He’s not sure which one is the stronger force in keeping him immobilized in his bed for another half an hour. 

They haven’t talked since the breakup, even though it was mutual and mostly amicable. It just hurts too much. Not like it doesn’t hurt, not talking to him. Everything hurts. 

He puts off calling Simon back. He pushes back the thick curtains, washes his face, brushes the stale alcohol breath off his teeth and tongue. He debates not returning the call at all. People still accidentally butt-dial, don’t they? 

It’s only when he catches himself nibbling at his thumbnail, a habit he’s (mostly) kicked, that he drops onto the chaise longue, drawing his knees up to his chest so he can tug his sweatshirt over his legs. 

“Hej?” he ventures, when the call connects. “What’s up?” 

An indignant little huff of a laugh shivers in his ear. He’s spent the months since their breakup absorbing Simon’s voice through videos and mp3 files, but hearing it just for him is better, worse, everything. “Wille, I get that the situation is shitty, but this is your only warning. Next time I’m blocking you, on all the platforms. I know that sounds harsh, but I just can’t -- I need to not--” 

“Platforms?” On a sudden, vertiginous, half-remembered hunch, Wille puts the call on speakerphone and flips through to see which other apps are still open on his phone. Instagram - open to his direct messages with Simon. Shit. Apparently, at 2AM last night, Wille had sent could you maybe act a little less thrilled to be done with me? or give me half the grammy jfc. thanks so much puss och kram. “Shit. Simon--” 

“My manager wanted to cancel my appearances today. And you know how much she does not believe in days off.” 

“It wasn’t -- I didn’t mean to--” He’s not going to tell Simon it was a joke. Not even the most generous interpretation of text tone would let that message read as a joke. 

He’d been drunk, thoroughly blasted from a friend’s birthday party. He’d gotten back to the royal residence well past midnight, and in an effort to escape the silence of the dark, massive, lonely hallways, he’d wound up on his stomach in his bed, still wearing a suit, watching a seemingly endless parade of Simon’s live performances to promote his new album. The new album that exudes fuck you, that proclaims boy bye, that flaunts Simon’s singlehood and freedom. And the whole world knows Wille was Simon’s last boyfriend. So not only does he have to live without Simon, he has to see him thriving, and he has to read all the strangers on the internet, especially Simon’s superfans, speculating about why they broke up, about how shitty Wille must have been as a boyfriend to make Simon this desperate to move on, about how he never deserved Simon and Simon was probably never happy with him. Wille knows it’s not true - they’d fucking loved each other, neither of them wanted to break up, but it got too hard, the demands of their respective careers and duties threatening to ruin what they had. But alone in this castle, drunk and morose, he’d started to wonder. Hence, the DM. 

“It wasn’t about you,” he offers Simon eventually, dully. “Not really, not like it seemed. It just... fuck, Simon, I know your songs aren’t all autobiographical but it hurts.” 

Simon’s quiet too long, a tense silence Wille remembers, when Simon is nearly vibrating with emotion but trying to breathe his way through it. “You’re right, they’re not all autobiographical. And these songs were written ages ago, before we were together - I didn’t even write all of them myself - they’re not about you, not the - not the ones people think, anyway. And of course I know that it hurts, Wille, god, I - do you think I want to sing about a shitty ex and perform like I’m having the time of my life when I’m so heartbroken I can barely get out of bed?” 

Wille doesn’t know what to say. If they were in person, this is when he would go to Simon, hold him as he cried. 

Wasn’t the breakup supposed to prevent them both from falling apart? 

Simon sniffles. “I’ll try to make it more clear, in my interviews. I’ve tried to steer them away from you but I’ll do better. Is that what you want, Wille? Would that help?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t - I don’t know what I want, Simon,” he admits brokenly. “I just want you.” 

“Wille--” 

“I just want you.”

[willesworld]

"I miss your hair."

"What?"

Wilhelm opens his eyes and looks at Simon across the pillow they're sharing. His eyes are wide and unfocused, staring vaguely at the top of Wilhelm's head. Simon lifts a hand and brushes his fingers carefully over the fringe that barely brushes Wilhelm's eyebrow. 

"I miss your hair," Simon repeats, his voice soft. He drops his hand between them on the pillow and finds Wilhelm's gaze. "Your long hair."

Wilhelm scrunches his eyebrows together. He didn't know Simon had any opinion on his hair, to be honest, much less that he missed Wilhelm's old haircut. 

"Before I cut it?" Wilhelm asks, even though he knows. Even though he understands what Simon's trying to say. 

"Yeah," Simon murmurs. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, burrowing back into the hazy doze they'd been suspended in. 

Wilhelm, however, keeps his eyes open. He blinks at Simon several times. He supposes he finally has his answer on what Simon thought of his haircut, all those months ago.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Jay! For the Spotify drabble thing… 17 💜

hi hi!!! ding ding ding you’ve selected an Omar song!!! i based their dynamic here on this idea where Wilhelm is a model and Simon is a popstar and they find each other in super casual ways all across the world <3 thank u for the ask Kate! xx

#17 Off My Mind – Omar Rudberg

“Where are you?”

Wille’s laugh comes crisp over the phone, “Hello to you, too.” 

Simon stares out the window at the setting sun, waiting, toe tapping against the floor as someone messes with his curls. 

“Berlin,” Wille finally says, voice still light with amusement. 

“Come to Milan.” 

Fabric rustles on the other side of the line, the faint chatter of voices in the background. 

“When?”

“Tonight. I’ve got a show— Meet me after.” 

“I’ve a shoot with Prada tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Simon shoos away the hairdresser and heads to his wardrobe. “Fly back in the morning.” 

“Miss me already?” Wille teases, but Simon can already hear his voice has gone slightly distant, like he’s pulled his phone away from his face to start booking a flight. 

“You want me to beg for it?” Simon asks, slipping on a silky blouse. “Because I will.”

There’s a short gasp, followed by a long pause. Then, Wille lets out a long, shaky exhale, mouth up close to the speaker again.

Simon pretends he can feel it, hot against his ear. 

Ignoring the few other people in the greenroom, he drops his voice to a low whisper, “I need you, Wille.” 

“Simon—” It almost sounds like a whine; all the cockiness from before, lost. 

“Is that what you want to hear? I need you. I can’t get you off my mind. Your hands, your taste.” 

(Patron, from the last party where their paths crossed. Where Wille abandoned his tequila to follow Simon into a black town car.)

A door slams, and it gets a little quieter wherever Wille is. His breathing is even more audible now, heavy. Familiar. Simon lets his hand trail over his own bare neck, remembering.  

“We can do it all over the—”

Wille finds his voice and cuts in, “I’ll be there in three hours.”

[hergrandplan]

Hi Nina! I have a request for the Drabble Challenge 😊

Could I please have Wilmon + “Ugh! It’s like I’m cursed or something!”

Thank you 💜💜

Hiiiiii 💜 Thank you so much for requesting this, this was so fun to write!

For Young Royals Drabble Week // @youngroyals-events

“Ugh! It’s like I’m cursed or something!” Wille bolts to the sink to run his hand under the water, praying that it doesn’t start blistering.

He had lost his keys that morning, had spilled a glass of water over his laptop, and now, he has burned himself on the stove.

“Well, you’ve got all the right traits: prince, dead relative….” Simon looks at Wille’s hand, which is barely even red, and grins. “Mega-dramatic.”

“In that case… do you think a true love’s kiss will fix me?”

Simon rolls his eyes playfully. “Well, I’d say it’s at least worth a try.”

[itsmadreia]

Here's the third one for the @youngroyals-events Drabble Challenge. I'd say it gets harder and harder to stay within the 100-word limit, and by this point, I have at least two one-shots to share with you, which is fine, ofc. The word prompt was moonlight.

MOONLIT KISSES

Simon looked even more beautiful under the late summer moonlight, Wille thought. Its luminous glow touched every part of his face, from his curls to his cheekbones to his lips, lips that he wanted to kiss and never let go. But there was a catch, there always was.

“Simme, will you,” he started, “Will you–”

“Yes?” Simon asked, looking at him.

“Kiss me?” Wille blurred out, “I know I'm drunk and it may seem like–”

His rambling was interrupted by Simon's soft lips landing on his and he didn't dare to breathe, wanting to memorize this for tomorrow. Or forever.

[caramelpenguin]

Free prompt!

@youngroyals-events

i'm not exactly sure what counts as NSFW, but there's only very very very VERY little in this!!

Ayub thinks it's a bit childish, and Rosh says it's kind of funny but still, 'Simon, you've got to show him who's boss.' Sara rolls her eyes whenever he's complaining, but listens as if she's piecing a puzzle together. Maddison raises her brows, grins and says they should fuck to get it out their systems.

What none of them know is that they have, actually, fucked. Many times. Not once has it 'gone out of their systems.'

The first time was after an all-staff meeting. Wilhelm had been making subtle jabs all morning, his sharp comments always landing with a smirk. Simon’s patience had already been stretched thin by the time the meeting ended. He had stopped Wilhelm before he could leave, closing the door behind them with a snap. He pointed to Wilhelm’s chest, pressing a finger into the pristine, infuriating fabric of his shirt. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, eyes narrowed.

In less than five minutes, Simon’s legs were wrapped around Wilhelm’s waist, fingers knotted in dark brown hair as Wilhelm pinned him to the wall. The kiss was hot and eager and molten, lips clashing like they were trying to outpace the fire in their veins. Simon’s fingers tangled in Wilhelm’s hair, pulling just hard enough to elicit a groan that sent a shiver straight through him. Wilhelm’s hands trailed firmly along his thighs, holding him in place as they ground against each other.

The sound of footsteps shattered the moment. Wilhelm set Simon down with a tenderness that didn´t match any of their actions. Simon straightened his shirt, cleared his throat and left the room without looking back.

The second time was eerily similar: another meeting, another tense exchange that escalated into Wilhelm’s fingers deftly undoing Simon’s buttons as their mouths collided again and again. Simon knew it wasn’t a good idea but his resolve crumbled the second Wilhelm’s lips traced the edge of his jaw. Then his phone suddenly rang and interrupted the two.

Simon’s resolution to stop this stupid behavior and ignore the urge that swelled in him whenever he saw Wilhelm in a shirt that somehow made his biceps look unfairly good was shattered again. But maybe blaming the biceps wasn’t fair. After all, he´d been making eyes at Wilhelm from across the staff room before carefully retreating to his office, pretending it wasn’t deliberate.

When he sits down, his heart is already racing. There is a knock.

He clears his throat. “Come in.”

Wilhem steps inside. He closes the door, the click of the lock loud in the silent room. A small smile rests delicately on him. “Hey.”

Arms. Crooked teeth. Deep eyes. Simon drowns in it. 

The third time, he really has no excuse. Wilhelm is golden syrup and follows as he’s dragged over and pushed into the desk chair, a grin on his face. Simon swings a leg over to straddle him, hands cupping his jaw, thumb brushing lightly over faint stubble as Wilhelm greedily digs into his back.  

“That guy in the meeting today,” Wilhelm murmurs against his lips. “He couldn’t stop looking at you.” His hands roam, warm and steady, anchoring Simon in place.

This was meant to be self-gratifying sex. Quick. Against the wall. Done and over with and then Wilhelm would leave.But brushing his nose against Wille’s and running a hand through the hairs at the back of his neck is strangely soothing too. 

Simon tilts his head, a teasing lilt in his tone. “Did he look irritated?”

Wilhelm smirks, brushing his nose against Simon’s. “He looked like he wanted to be alone in a room with you.”

Simon wonders if he can merge his entire body with Wille’s, removing the space between them. All he can do right now is press closer, “I’d rather have been alone in that room with you.”

Wilhelm laughs softly, his lips grazing Simon’s neck. “He’s your ex, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Simon admits, his breath hitching as Wilhelm’s teeth graze his skin. “He’s a dick.”

Wilhelm hums in response, his hands sliding lower. Simon melts, fingers threading through brown hair. For a moment, everything else fades —the meetings, the tension, the people outside the door who had no idea.

“How long do you have?” Wilhelm murmurs, voice a low rumble.

Simon leans in. “As long as you want.”

[skibasyndrome]

"tell me the truth" 😉🤧

Juuuune! Thank you so much for the ask! 💜💜💜 Idk where this came from, but have a little canon divergent s1e4 moment

Simon is already halfway down the hill, almost at the bus stop, when the first, dry sob rattles his rib cage. He gasps from the force of it, gripping onto the straps of his backpack more tightly, stomps his feet into the gravel a little harder than necessary to shake off the ugly feeling. Tries to keep himself together before her bursts into a million pieces in the middle of Hillerska's driveway. This doesn't make sense, none of it. Simon doesn't think he said anything wrong, feels like some of those texts must have shown Wille that Simon wanted to be there for him, wanted to be- something. Something, someone that isn't this, a person Wille wants around one second and then can't seem to stand to even look in the eye another.

Simon feels the prickle of angry tears in his eyes and rubs over them aggressively. He doesn't understand why it has to be like this, why Wille doesn't even want to speak to him. Or let Simon speak, let him tell Wille some the things he thought about saying while Wille was gone, home, dealing with everything. Nothing sounded particularly good or comforting, but he wanted to try at least. His phone feels like it's burning a hole into his pocket, holding the texts still, and Simon clenches his fists to fight the urge to grab it and text Wille, out of spite, is what he thinks, but there's something else, stronger, more aching, that makes him want to try one last time to ask, to make Wille explain it so Simon understands- Simon stops abruptly. He is not leaving without an explanation. ***

Just as he is starting to think the student he asked for the way to the prince's room was fucking with him, Simon rounds the corner and almost collides with a distraught Wille. A last spark of Simon's defiance flares up and he is ready to fight if he has to, but as soon as Wille's head whips around, his eyes meeting Simon's through the strands of hair he has falling into his face, Wille freezes. His shoulders sag, as do the corners of his mouth, his eyes go soft, but not like Simon wishes they would. He looks like a frightened animal caught in the headlights, like he's looking up at Simon even with him being taller. And if there wasn't a crack in his heart already, Simon knows there's one now. Simon feels dumb all of a sudden, a gnawing voice telling him he's presumptuous and selfish for showing up again. He hasn't seen Wille grieving yet, he realizes with a start, not like this. He's seen the grieving prince, in a lots more clips and photos than felt comfortable, but he hasn't seen the Wille he knows, he thought he knew, he- "Simon...," Wille's voice cracks, the word breathy and unsteady. As if he's only just realized that he can still move his body, that Simon hasn't put a spell on him, Wille raises a quivering hand to his face, trying to put his hair back into place. Something about the gesture cuts Simon deep. Feels out of place and wrong, and like the Wille with the unruly bangs and the toothy smile shouldn't be the same one who has to give a eulogy to his dead brother in front of the entire school. Simon's eyes flit to the two tall figures looming in the back of the hallway, then back to Wille. Maybe he is interrupting something, maybe he shouldn't even be here, maybe the bodyguards shouldn't see him, maybe this is all part of the problem, and maybe he should've just gone home and deleted everything and forgotten about whatever it was that this could've been. But Wille is shaking, Simon can tell, even with how hard Wille is trying not to show it. And for a silly little moment, Simon wonders if anyone even thought to hug the crown prince. Simon shakes off the thought, squares his shoulders and raises his chin. Because despite everything in him screaming to reach out and do something, he needs to know if Wille wants him to at all. Or if he needs to suck it up and forget about this, for good this time. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath. "Tell me the truth," he says, and hopes it sounds more confident to Wille's ears than to his own. Wille's eyes quickly move over Simon's face like he's unsure where he's allowed to look. Simon straightens his back a little more, tries to make himself look taller and less nervous about the answer he might be getting. Despite it all, his breath catches inside his throat when he tries to continue. He lowers his voice, thinks it's so the bodyguards don't hear, but knows he has to to keep speaking at all. "Do you really want me to go and forget about this?" Wille's eyes find Simon's, wild, wide, dark, unreadable. For a few horrible seconds, Simon thinks coming here might've been one of the stupidest decisions he's ever made. But then Wille drops his eyes again. Simon follows his gaze and watches, breath quickening, how Wille slowly, carefully, grabs his hand. Wille shakes his head once, then again, more fervently, and Simon's heart drops. But Wille pulls him closer by his hand, takes a tentative step, waits to see if Simon will follow. "Stay," he says, so quiet that Simon barely gets to hear it over the sound of his own blood rushing in his head. "Stay, please."

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[hehehereliesmysanity]

Champagne

Wille and Simon are best friends and Wille comes up with the brilliant idea to do a fake proposal for free champagne served for the newly-engaged couples in fancy restaurants. Wille gets up from the table and gets down on one knee with the cheap prop ring he got from the dollar store and proposes to his best friend Simon and every customer erupts with joy, cheering for them. Simon theatrically gasps with one hand over his mouth for the dramatic effect and says yes. Of course he does because that's the ruse. And then they share a brief close-mouthed kiss just like they agreed before. The waiter comes back with the free champagne and everybody is happy.

Except Wille feels different than a few minutes ago. Different than the reality where he didn't kiss his best friend and felt Simon's warm lips on his. He feels the electricity coursing through in his veins but that's probably because he is straight and he has never kissed a man before.

They keep doing the ruse a couple of times more. Each time something is different. Each time the kiss is getting longer. And one time there was tongue. And the other times after that. It is for free champagne and nothing more.

A year later, Wille gets down on one knee and produces a ring box in a crowded fancy restaurant. Simon laughs heartily at him.

"Baby, I think we are already past that point." he chuckles. "We don't have to fake propose to find an excuse to kiss each other now."

"This is not fake." Wille says instead.

That is when they get free champagne for the last time.

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

96

Hello! 96 is a good one, I think. WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. She's a long one, I apologize.

When Simon was 18, he and Wilhelm broke up for university. Staying together didn’t make sense — they were going to opposite sides of the country, and Wilhelm was starting his military service. It wasn’t going to work anymore. It was mutual, and it hurt, but it was okay.

At 19, he began singing in his University’s choir. That’s how he’d gotten there in the first place, even if he wasn’t studying music anymore. He’d considered it briefly, but decided not to. It didn’t bring him the same joy it used to. Every time he tried to compose, the notes inevitably turned into songs about Wilhelm, to songs about them, to melodies wrapped in memories. He did his best not to think about how Wilhelm probably still thought he was majoring in music, about how they’d stopped keeping each other updated.

At 21, he thought he saw Wilhelm’s familiar face in the crowd at one of his performances. He had a slight moment of panic that was overshadowed by an immense sense of hope, and then the moment was gone. Wilhelm was a million miles away, living a life Simon knew nothing about, and if there was even a chance he was here, he’d be standing in the front row cheering Simon on the loudest. He always had, even when they weren’t together.

When Simon was done with that show, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something fundamentally missing about his life. And he couldn’t figure out why.

Sure, he’d had that schoolboy fantasy life and all the romcom moments that came with it, but it was simply that: a fantasy. He never expected any of it to be real. There were talks about future apartments and the colors of their wedding and what they would name their children, but none of it had ever been real. They were just the musings of two young people who hadn’t yet learned the weight of time and distance.

But Simon still wore that stupid t-shirt to bed, with that stubborn stain from that ridiculous party. That stupid t-shirt that still made Simon think of Wille every time he wore it, because it had been Wille’s to begin with.

So, after debating about it for months, at 22, Simon decided to call Wilhelm again. They were both done with university now, stepping into the next chapters of their lives, and he figured it was time. At 22, he met Wilhelm at a coffee shop to catch up, not knowing what he was getting into.

And then there was Wilhelm. He looked older, more confident, maybe, as though time had chiseled away at the boy Simon once knew. But then Wilhelm smiled, and Simon saw it — saw him. Because no matter how much time had passed or how much they’d changed, Wilhelm was still just Wille.

“So... what are you doing now?” Simon had asked him. He didn’t know what he was looking for, really. He already knew Wilhelm had stepped down from the line of succession, knew he’d pursued literature and had probably stuck with it. “Are... are you seeing anyone?”

Oh, god. Where had that question even come from? Why should he even care?

Wilhelm laughed, soft and warm, a sound so achingly familiar it took Simon’s breath away. It was exactly as he remembered — gentle, beautiful, perfect. “Simme,” Wilhelm said, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt, “we both know there was never anyone else for me.”

-

oops. that was a lot of words.

send me a number from my spotify wrapped and I'll write something