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youngroyals-events · 4 days ago

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Red Light (for simonweek2025)

Luz Roja (Red Light)

*Jalaluddin Rumi-13th century poet

*Shams Tabrizi-Rumi's mentor and teacher

*Jannat (Arabic name meaing-heaven)

Here is my entry for #simonweek2025 @youngroyals-events

Touring has exhausted him. A friend offered respite, on the island of Rodloga, part of the Swedish archipelago, a cabin surrounded by thick silver birch trees.Near a small lake, warm enough to swim in. Erratic WIFI, deep quiet. Difficult to find if he wants to disappear for a while, a week or two?

Simon drives out to the skiff that will take him across, leaving a note for his crew and handlers, that he's going off the grid. Kurt, his friend, will know where he is but he doesn't want to be disturbed unless it's an emergency. He needs a break.

He arrives in the afternoon, sunlight filtering in long shafts through the old growth, green everywhere. He already feels restored, breathing the clean air, the only sounds bird song and the occasional chittering of a squirrel. Brown bread and a can of soup for dinner, he sinks gratefully into a twin bed, the darkness completely dark, a velvety black.

Early in the morning, he decides to follow the faint trail to the lake. He take his time, placing his feet carefully, watching for small life, glimpsing a red deer and her faun further up the path. There are small stones at the water's edge, mottled green and copper, washed by the clear water. He breathes in deeply inhaling the subtle movement of the waves, the swaying of the treetops, their fluttering leaves. The calm penetrates him.

A bit of red catches his eye. Far down the shore is a motionless figure, someone sitting wrapped in a red blanket. He's facing the lake, the red streaked sunrise illuminating his face. Unsure, Simon walks a bit toward the silent figure. As he gets closer, he sees that it is a man, about his age. He's very still. His eyes are closed, his hands on his crossed legs. A crunch under Simon's foot causes him to look up. He turns his head slowly, making eye contact.

Suddenly Simon feels like he is intruding. But curious. Who is he and where did he come from? The man in red fixes him with an unwavering stare, not belligerent, not distant, not warning him away.

Then he speaks.

'Hello Simon.'

'Do I know you?' Are you a friend of Kurt's?'

'Yes, you know me. No, I'm not a friend of Kurt's, but I'm not friendless.'

Simon ponders this. Is this a riddle? Who IS he? And he knows him?

'Do I know you from the city, my band or? Did you follow me here to get a story?'

'No Simon. YOU called me to be here. You summoned me. And I came.'

'What? I don't remember doing that! Is this a practical joke? No one knows where I am except Kurt and he would never...Did you follow my car?

'I didn't need to follow you. I was already here when you arrived.'

'I don't understand.' Simon stands uncertainly, twisting his hands.

'Think. What have you been yearning for?

'Uh, time off. Solitude.'

'Yes and what else?'

Simon says slowly, 'A real connection, someone who asks nothing and everything of me. Honesty.'

'I am that. I am he.'

'But how, you're, how could you be, I've never told anyone that? How could you know what I want?

'I know you, Simon. You're not ready to embrace your deepest desire yet. But you conjured me. You created me.'

'You're real, aren't you?'

'Touch me.'

Simon puts his hand tentatively on the man's red blanketed shoulder. The contact makes him jump back.

'Whoa!' A shock has traveled up Simon's arm to his face.

'Try again, Simon. This time leave your doubt behind.'

Simon hesitates. He approaches again. This time touching his shoulder he senses solidity and warmth. He leaves his hand on the other man while a series of images flash through his head; childhood memories, his first kiss, the first time he sang for others, the first time he saw the northern lights, the first time he held his infant sister in his arms, all appearing and disappearing before he can attach to any of them.

'What the...'

'Memories don't exist anymore except in the recesses of your heart. Your deepest self is yearning for wonder again, far away from the business of the business. The magic is not gone, just dimmed, distant.

Shams says calmly, 'Until you are fully aware of what you are missing, you won't be ready for me.'

Simon asks,

'What's your name?'

'Shams. Read some Rumi poetry and you will find Shams.'

'How do I make myself ready or??'

'That's for you to discover, Simon. Will you swim with me?

Before Simon knows it, Shams is naked in the lake up to his waist. Simon hurries to follow him but by the time he's splashed into the water, Shams is almost out of sight. Simon watches until he disappears. An apparition, a mirage, a messenger from Simon's subconscious?

All that is left is a red blanket, surprisingly lightweight. He holds the cloth to his nose. It smells like the forest and the sky, the air just before it rains, the smell of snow. He decides to leave the blanket on the shore. He folds it and places it on a rock.

He returns to the cabin for a meal. Time has played tricks on him. It's almost dinner time and he's ravenous. After he eats, he thinks to go back to the water but without a flashlight he might get lost. He'll come back at first light.

At dawn he's awake, the sky purple and pink. He's being pulled to the forest path by some unseen force. He dresses quickly, barely tying his shoes. He's eager to return to the shore and Shams.

This time he doesn't see him at first. Then there he is. He's sitting on the red blanket. He's nude, pale limbs and sparse hair the color of wheat under his arms and in his groin. As Simon approaches, he again turns he head and makes eye contact. His gaze in unnerving, the sunlight glowing in his eyes.

'Shams?'

'Lie with me, Simon. Before I fade away.'

Simon waits, trembling. Then he sheds his clothes and sits down beside the long pale body of Shams.

'Touch me, Simon. Make me real. Kiss me.'

Simon places his hand on Shams chest, surprised by its warmth, the deep thud of his heart.

'Kiss me.'

Simon leans in and finds his lips warm too, slightly open, his warm breath on Simon's face. Is this really happening? Is he lying with a figment of his imagination? Shams is responding to Simon's touch. Is this a Nokken? Or a Selkie? Should he be afraid? Has Shams enchanted him? Like a magnet, the pull to Shams is irresistible. They are merging and blending, their bodies moving as one. If this is something like other worldly sexual union, this must be it. Simon is flying or floating over the treetops or swimming underwater without needing to breathe. There is pleasure of the body and then there is this. He drifts out of time and when he comes back to the water's edge, Shams is gone. Simon is lying on the red blanket. He sits up and scans the horizon. Shams has disappeared. He look down at himself. There are no outward signs that Shams was ever beside him. He must have made it up. It was a dream. If Shams had only marked him is some way.

He dresses and returns to the cabin. In the mirror is a faint outline of the constellation of the lovers, sprinkled across his chest and shoulder. He touches the stars gingerly, afraid they might disappear too.

Every day afterwards he hurried to the lake. Shams is gone. When he returned to the city, he brought the red blanket with him. He's withdrawn, quiet before he steps on stage. A small tattoo, Shams, is on the inside of his wrist. A song, Red Light, has been added to the set list. When he sings it, he asks for the house lights so he can scan the crowd for a man in red. Occasionally, a man in a red leather jacket is standing under an exit sign, bathed in red. Simon searches in the streets after performances but never sees him. Once he followed a tall man in a red scarf for three blocks but lost him in the train station. He eventually gives up and lets go. Or he convinces himself he has.

A year later, he is again at the cabin on the island. He needs to be alone, to grieve perhaps. He brings the red blanket with him. The first night he sleeps soundly, no dreams of a shimmering apparition, a tall pale man with piercing eyes. In the morning he walks the path to the lake, scanning the horizon. He unfolds the red blanket and kneels on it.

'Shams, I summon you! I'm calling you!'

He's holding out his arms, his face tipped to the sky. Perhaps Shams will arrive in a chariot of seashells, pulled by sea creatures. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing Shams to appear. Nothing. He hears nothing but the gentle lapping of the water. He opens his eyes. It was just a fantasy, a fever dream he had. As he thinks these thoughts, his heart...releases. He's lighter, free. He exhales and in that moment there is a movement far down on the shoreline.

He turns and a man wrapped in a red blanket is walking toward him.

Shams. Simon stands up, the quivering in his heart causing his whole body to tremble.

'Simon.'

Shams enfolds him in his arms. They stand embracing, Simon inhaling the sea and sky, the oceans and mountains, all creation as Shams slowly disappears, dissolving into the red glow of the sunrise.

'Thank you, Shams, ' Simon smiles, tears caught in the corners of his eyes. He folds the red blanket over his arm and walks back through the old trees, the quiet filling him.

As the cabin comes into view, he smells cooking? As he opens the door, a tall pale man is at the stove, his back to Simon.

'Uh, hello?'

The man turns so suddenly, he drops the spatula on the floor with a clatter.

'Oh, you scared me! Hi Simon. I'm Jannat. Kurt said you wouldn't mind if I came out here. He said you knew me so...'

Is this Shams-tall, pale, deep set eyes in an angular face? Simon is very confused.

Jannat says, 'Is that your red blanket? I left one here a while ago.'

'I don't think it's yours but I'm not sure.'

Simon notices an open notebook next to a pile of books, many thick with bookmarks on the table. In his bewilderment, Simon asks whatever comes into his head.

'Are you studying something?'

'Oh, yes, I'm a scholar of the poet Rumi. Have you heard of him? I'm translating some of his more obscure work. He had a teacher named Shams who was his spiritual mentor. He would refer to him as his lover. It's why I came out here, to have some quiet time to write.

I'm probably boring you, sorry.'

Simon replies,

'Wait. How did you get here? You didn't, uh, just appear, did you? You're a real human man, aren't you?'

'Yes, I'm real. I was talking to Kurt and he said you were out here so we could, uh, reconnect. I wasn't sure what he meant. That song, Red Light, that's your song, isn't it? It's weird. That song reminded me of someone I lost, a long time ago, so maybe...'

He looks at Simon then,

'It probably doesn't make any sense, You can stop me at any time. Do you know me?'

'You're familiar but-I have a story to tell you, about Shams.'

He holds up his wrist so his tattoo is clearly visible.

'I guess we have a lot to talk about.'

'I guess we do.'

'Oh, there was a note on the door when I got here. It's on the table.'

Simon opens the note and finds this:

The Light-The Red Light

when you lie in the grass, my love

I am each blade

the tongues of the leaves

in the trees whisper Shams

the wind is my shawl

my breath

each wren

each insect swarm

each ripple of fish

my blood, my bones, my flesh

the sun shining off the mountains

are my shoulders

you are not forsaken

you are not alone

you never were

open your hands to love

open your life to heaven

closer than your own heartbeat

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day5 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 5 days ago

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Simon's Week is officially over and we'd like to thank everyone who participated, you're all fantastic!

As a reminder, the second check-in for the Young Royals Remix Exchange is in about two weeks. If you weren't able to sign-up, or if you're already done and want to do something extra, you can always write a treat with one of the works up for remixing.

Additionally, we'll be posting our calendar for the next events soon. We planned to have it out already, but all mods have been super busy, so we thank you for your patience and understanding and for embracing this blog.

See you soon,

Young Royals Events mods

#Young Royals #YR Events #simonweek2025 #YRRE2025 #Mod post

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youngroyals-events · 8 days ago

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Hey Y'all!!! This is my master post for @youngroyals-events Simon's Week!!!

(If there are no links to them, it means I haven't had a chance or the WiFi to put on the fic links, but this post has been scheduled to post a few days early. If there are links, and you're reading this, I forgot to delete this paragraph)

Day 5 - Luz Roja Inspired Fic - 'Ahora Me Haz Hecho Falta (Now I Miss You)' {Singer Simon, set just after S3, in a world where they didn't get back together. Simon writes and releases a music video for Luz Roja as a way to get his thoughts about the situation out, and as a hope it might get him spotted}

Day 7 - Free Day/Girlfriend Inspired Fic - 'You Got A Girlfriend' {Singer Simon, AU where they never got back together in S3. Set a few years later, Simon has written and is performing 'Girlfriend' as a way to get his feelings out/tell Willie how he feels. Wille is now engaged, as per the arrangement his family made when he was younger. Simon is jealous, which creates the song and the way he performs it while Wille is watching one of his shows}

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 8 days ago

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So here we go. The last ficlet for the week, day 7 for Simon's week. The free song I chose is Soda pop from the fabulous movie KPop Demon Hunters. NSFW. Thank you @youngroyals-events, once again for arranging this week. Fun fact, all ficlets this week have had a word count of 888 (there might come a drawing some tine in the future for day 5 and Red Light, we will see).

Soda Pop

He didn't know what he had done to be this lucky. The feeling was flowing through him like the warm drizzle of summer rain. Melted caramel that filled every crevice of his soul. Making its way through all the darkness he sometimes harbored and only letting sunlight shine through. Wille was hovering over him, holding him, sweeping his finger over the ridge of his hip bone. Scraping his nail, creating goosebumps in its wake, despite the heat surrounding them, the warm air coming in from the open window with its curtain hanging, almost, but not quite moving in the space between the inside and the world outside. A perimeter only created by a symbol for their seclusion, sheer, white and impermeable from eyes from the other side.

Simon was almost quivering under the ministrations, a simple but delicate touch going up on his right side, a thumb reaching his nipple and touched the outside with slow circulating movements, forcing the hardened nub to pop. Making everything inside him fizzle, his blood turning into that sweet sweet soda he used to drink as a kid. The sugar flowing through him as an extra sense, making the fingers that had just reached the coarse hair in his armpit almost tickle him. Making him squirm. “Ahh.. Sorry my sweet heart.” Wille mouthed at his navel, without leaving him alone, only making the touch firmer, holding his hipbone firm with the other hand. Slivering his tongue up, up upwards to the same nipple. To the armpit, almost taking a bite out of the delicate skin there. Making him thrust up in the air. Searching for something, a tension coiling through him as a carbonated bottle bursting after a vigorous shake. Not being able to pop the lid. Wille’s thighs enfolding him from the sides, warm sweat slick skin with that dusting of hair that brushes against him just right those times they slotted together. Pressing him down to the mattress, giving him some friction that only created a bigger craving for that popping, the release to come. He wanted to see Wille come undone, the feeling of his warm and heavy dick pressing down on his own pelvis creating a vibration of gold and white flowing through Simon and the room. Gasping, Simon tried to find his voice, a tremble coming through. “Wille, Wille–” His hands frantically reached to hold on to the narrow hips, the bottleneck close above after his muscular thighs and firm buttocks. Simon's hands tried to find an anchor point helping him to stay still with all the fizzy water under his skin, Wille’s skin meeting his like vibrating magnets forcing their electrons to share. Those vibrations that were so close to how it was afterwards. Wille met his hungry lips with a taste of his own sweat on the lips. His tongue greedily searches for more, the combination of their taste giving Simon hope and a light feeling. His own tongue found a sweat drop of Wille’s as his mouth reached Wille’s warm pulse point, moist and musky. Something so purely Wille that he whimpered and grinded upwards. He knew this smell, this taste. He knew how Wille would be shining afterwards. How he would be vibrating just before the eruption. The worst part was that Wille himself seemed to be absolutely unaware of the effect he had on Simon. “ –Wille now, please… I need more, it– it is getting too, too sweet. Please I need–” Wille left his ministrations of Simon’s neck. Firmly placing his flat hand, dragging his fingers through the curls close to the scalp. Pulling slightly as he went just to firmly grip and tilt Simon’s head up, meeting him. Eyes sparkling with something underlying the amber, a twinkle. “What if I taste you,” his other hand reached between them. Finding Simon’s cock desperate for release, a touch giving more shivers up from his groin. “Or maybe,” Wille’s hand reached further down between them. Slowly drawing circles around on the sensitive skin of Simon’s opening. “Maybe I should let a finger slip in here?” Simon bucked into the touch, trying for more. Wille’s hips being too far away now, his own precome seeping out, dripping over his stomach as the heat and golden ball that was growing inside him was longing to be released. His hands desperately trying to get a hold of something, sheets or Wille as long as something could keep him from floating away. “Or maybe I'll make you pop, do that hand motion thing you like so much. And then we can go for another round,” Simon gasped as Wille let a finger breach his hot core, leaning down over him and with a slow, pointy lick making circles over his glans, holding the shaft steady as the circles got wider and his mouth filled up with more of his length. Not giving him any respite from the sensations for long minutes. Finally sucking hard enough to give him something to ground him. Until he let go.

“You know, you taste so sweet. I could drink all of you up, having you give me all that is inside you. I wanna taste you, have you fill my mouth.”

The heat surrounded Simon from all sides. Wille’s words creating a crescendo with the movements of his hands. Watching him erupt.

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 8 days ago

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Simon's Week Day 7: Free day

For the event being hosted by @youngroyals-events

I chose the song Gold Rush by Taylor Swift for this one because of @aslongasitsblack reblog of this post by @sixbynine-da. I saw this and really wanted to write about it.

Simon flops back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling.

Well, fuck.

He takes a moment to think about it once more, but no, he's pretty confident about it, unfortunately.

He has a crush on the Prince. A big, fat, embarrassing crush on the Prince of Sweden.

He's not really the Prince, though. Not to Simon. He's just Wille, cute, dorky, and awkward Wille, who was brave enough to talk to the non-res. Against everyone's advice.

Simon hasn't told anyone yet. He's just come to terms with it himself. He wonders what Rosh and Ayub would say. What Sara would think.

Does this make him a class traitor? Disloyal to his morals? He literally insulted Wille's family to his face, and now he's thinking about holding his hand and playing with his hair.

Then there is also the fact that he's most definitely not alone in his feelings. Everyone is after Wille. It's a hopeless endeavor.

Yet he still feels.

Fuck.

He hates his heart. Why is it doing this to him? Because Simon's head understands that this is the most futile endeavor ever. His heart can't seem to get that.

Wille, the Prince, can't possibly want him. Monarchies run on being straight, first of all. Then, he's at Hillerska on a scholarship. He's not poor, but he sure as hell ain't rich. There is no way he's even on Wille's radar outside of a classmate and friend---maybe.

Simon turns over and groans into the mattress.

It's whatever. He's fine. He'll get through this. Everyone has that one unrequited crush. It's totally normal. He can be normal.

Then Wille basically holds his hand, and he decides to fuck it, because he has absolutley zero sense of self-preservation.

Then Wille is kissing him back.

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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For Simon's week, hosted by @youngroyals-events 💜

It's my first watercolor painting ever (and my model was a crappy gif), so I made a lot mistakes, but I still love my Angel Simon 😇

#simonweek2025 #Fanart #SWday7

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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Simon's Week Day 7: Free day

For the event being hosted by @youngroyals-events

I chose the song Gold Rush by Taylor Swift for this one because of @aslongasitsblack reblog of this post by @sixbynine-da. I saw this and really wanted to write about it.

Simon flops back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling.

Well, fuck.

He takes a moment to think about it once more, but no, he's pretty confident about it, unfortunately.

He has a crush on the Prince. A big, fat, embarrassing crush on the Prince of Sweden.

He's not really the Prince, though. Not to Simon. He's just Wille, cute, dorky, and awkward Wille, who was brave enough to talk to the non-res. Against everyone's advice.

Simon hasn't told anyone yet. He's just come to terms with it himself. He wonders what Rosh and Ayub would say. What Sara would think.

Does this make him a class traitor? Disloyal to his morals? He literally insulted Wille's family to his face, and now he's thinking about holding his hand and playing with his hair.

Then there is also the fact that he's most definitely not alone in his feelings. Everyone is after Wille. It's a hopeless endeavor.

Yet he still feels.

Fuck.

He hates his heart. Why is it doing this to him? Because Simon's head understands that this is the most futile endeavor ever. His heart can't seem to get that.

Simon turns over and groans into the mattress.

It's whatever. He's fine. He'll get through this. Everyone has that one unrequited crush. It's totally normal. He can be normal.

Then Wille basically holds his hand, and he decides to fuck it, because he has absolutley zero sense of self-preservation.

Then Wille is kissing him back.

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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Why Do You Look So Happy?

a S2 AU loosely inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's 'opposite' for the free day of Simon Week, hosted by @youngroyals-events! hope you enjoy! <3

“Hey,” Wille said, and at least he had the decency to look a little uncomfortable as he closed the door behind him. How dare he come in here after how he’d just behaved? After how happy he'd looked celebrating hooking up with someone else? Simon didn’t know what to say. He walked to the window and tried to ignore the burning feeling of Wille’s eyes on him, the way he felt blood rushing up to his cheeks. Maybe if Simon just pretended he wasn’t there, Wille would leave. Maybe if he did that enough times Wille would stop coming in at all. (Was that really what Simon wanted?)

or: a S2E4 au in which Wille follows Simon out of the Forest Ridge dining room

read it here! (5.2K, T-rated)

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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Your eyes are weapons, With a look I feel emotional 🧡

Sabotage @youngroyals-events

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day7 #Gif set

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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Day six of Simon's week 2025 I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make something for today, it is a good song, with many possibilities, many too close to what I already had written it felt like. Anyways, I hope it will make sense, with how it ended up being written. What I ended up with is probably very much inspired by the recent posts about how people would be flirting with Simon and how strange it is that no one else at Hillerska had fallen for him.

@youngroyals-events💜

Talk

That guy. Yes. That guy with the bronze skin and black curls. That was the one that he wanted. His wavy walk between the market stands reached inside and folded itself like a black cat in the sun. Finally he reached his stand. “Could I maybe offer you some honey drops? They are sweet and tasty.” Smooth. Not. The guy paused and gave him the sweetest smile, “Sure, I’ll try one. Thank you.”

Maybe it worked anyway, at least he stopped. There didn’t seem to be anyone else here with him. Brazing himself, he took the leap. Who knew when this chance would come again. “You have a beautiful voice, are you a singer? Then the honey drops are perfect, they are soothing for the throat. My name is Matteo by the way.” He could only watch how the pink lips moved as the candy rolled around in the mouth. Making Matteo's mind race all over the place. Forget black cats, this was something else. “Yes, really good,” the candy moved to the side of the cheek as he talked. Matteo tried to swallow. “I do sing, mostly in a choir, good catch.” Leap. There really wasn’t any idea wasting time. Finally he could swallow. “I know a great karaoke place downtown. Maybe you would like to go there? Tonight? With me? The skin got a redder hue as the curly headed man started sputtering out things like “No- I am– I’m not– I–” Anything living inside him turned into stones instead. Straight, he had been so wrong. He took a small step further back behind his stand and lifted his hands, palms forward. “Sorry I– I saw the pin and I assumed.”

“No I am. I mean, I am gay” Both of them looked at the quite dashing rainbow pin on the bag. The guy was almost caressing it. “This was a gift from my boyfriend.” With that smile just by the mention of said boyfriend, Matteo figured his best chance was to sell some candy, “Ok, honeydrops?”

Harry had seen the guy a few times earlier in the week, it had been ok the first couple of times at the breakfast buffé with what seemed to be his mom. The worst had been by the hotel pool. Pure torture. His aunt had been on him about the need for sunscreen to prevent him from burning himself, complaining that he was already red. He was just about to answer her back then he had gotten up from the pool, pressed his body in such a lithe way over the edge, his body all glistening with sparkling water drops, and then done that thing to rid of the water from those dark curls. He then left the pool, and his aunt, desperately needing to be somewhere else. He hadn’t been able to get the idea of him out of his head. Luckily they got seats next to one another on the bus back from the day excursion, but Harry just blanked. The guy, Simon he was told, tried with some small talk, and he just couldn’t get a word out as soon as Simon looked at him. Until they came back to the hotel, he rushed and tried to ask him out on a date, at a local bar later on. Harry couldn’t speak again then when Simon had looked at him, bashfully telling him that he had a boyfriend. “Hey baby,” Thankfully Wille picked up already at the second signal. Simon let himself glide down the wall, sitting with his legs out in front of him. “How has your day been?” Wille’s voice sounded so soft and gentle, sweet like the honeydrops from this morning.

“Weird. I miss you so much.”

There was a scuffle on the other side, “Weird? How so? Is everything okay?”

Letting out air Simon heard how he almost fell into a whine at the end, getting warmer as he confessed. “People have been flirting with me. I do not like it.”

Of all things Simon thought he would hear from his boyfriend of four years at this confession, it certainly wasn’t this. A shrill snicker almost reaching Wille’s top notes (Simon knew those, they were also something he had missed these weeks).

“Are you laughing at me right now Wille?”

“Oh I am sorry babe. I am not really laughing at you like that. Are you okay though, did anyone go too far, or make you uncomfortable?”

Simon groaned, “No. They didn’t.” He just felt so bad, it had been the guy at the market, the super shy bus guy. And the high girl at the beach, rambling about how his body talked to her.

“I wanna have you next to me so people can see that I am taken.”

“But you do know that people tend to check you out even when I am with you. I just scare them away with my gruff attitude, one look from me, and they whimper away.”

Simon could only laugh at that, the last tension disappearing.

“Dont laugh at me now Simon! I am not joking, they do.”

“Sure, sure…” Simon decided to change the subject. “Have I told you lately that I love to hear your voice?

“My voice?”

“Yeah,” Simon sighed. “Can you just stay on with me. And talk?”

“I’ll talk.”

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day6 #Fanfiction

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youngroyals-events · 9 days ago

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Simon's Week Day 6: Talk

For the event being hosted by @youngroyals-events

This is THE Omar Rudberg song. It is the song that is always stuck in my head. Such an earworm.

Simon Eriksson is an expert in the language of the body. He has mastered dance. He is fluent in communicating by this medium that lacks words. It is something that has come with his international stardom.

There are also many other things that have come with his fame, but he likes to focus on the positives. It's an art, his dancing, and a beautiful one at that. It has also proved useful in many ways. He is in tune with his body and others to a degree that many others are not.

There is a game he likes to play at these after-parties. When he is told that attending is mandatory by his PR manager, or he has just gotten bored. He sits at the bar with a Coke in hand and observes. He people-watches, but to a degree much deeper than the average person.

Just over there are his bandmates. Their bodies are loose, and they move easily. Although Owe's moves are a tad uncoordinated. He's drunk a bit too much tonight. They should definitely take him home soon lest he does something that ruins them all. It, unfortunately, wouldn't be the first time. Simon doesn't think they will be lucky enough to worm their way out of a second scandal.

Just a few paces to the right of his band is a couple. Simon vaguely recognizes them as the two lead actors in a film that recently premiered. He couldn't tell you what it's called or what it's about. What he can tell you, though, is that the two aren't the most talented at dancing. They both sway and bop to the beat, the man's hands on the woman's hips. What Simon can also see is that the actress' stilted movements do not come from a lack of skill as one might think at first glance. No, she is uncomfortable. Simon can only pray it all ends well. He has learned that stepping in is what no one wants.

In a desperate move to observe something less unfortunate, Simon casts his gaze all the way across the room to the booths. He usually keeps his observations to the dance floor. That is where his expertise lies. While he might have an above-average read on body language, his understanding is in the different ways on can sway their hips. That isn't usually happening in the booths.

What Simon's eyes catch on immediately, though, is the Crown Prince. He can recognize him through the dim light because Simon was acutely aware of his presence at the event before this. While Simon Eriksson and Crown Prince Wilhelm are both public figures, they don't usually end up at the same events.

Crown Prince Wilhelm, or Wille, as Simon recalls being introduced, is different than all the other celebrities in the room. Simon had never been able to figure him out, read him. Even on the rare occasion when the man is dancing, Simon has never quite been able to figure him out. All he can figure is that ballroom dancing is much different than club dancing.

As of present, the Crown Prince is, abnormally, alone in a booth. Usually, there is a collection of people, normally women, around him at all times. Simon wonders why exactly he's alone.

Maybe it's that exact curiosity, too, that lands Simon walking over and standing right in front of the booth.

Wilhelm appears lost in thought, nursing a half-empty drink, when Simon stops in front of him. He looks... worn out, in the few moments Simon allows himself to observe. It's a familiar feeling. Simon checks the time and wonders if it's still too early to leave. He clears his throat.

Wilhelm's head jerks up at the noise, his eyes wide and maybe a little desperate. Caught, Simon thinks. He looks caught. That, too, Simon understands.

"Do you mind?" he asks the Prince, gesturing with his drink to the booth across from him. Wilhelm shakes his head rapidly, maybe clearing his head and answering the question all in one.

"No, not at all."

Simon slips easily into the booth. Wilhelm takes a sip of his drink.

"I'm Simon, by the way. Although I'm sure you know that," he says once Wilhelm has swallowed. "Wilhelm--- or, Wille, please. Although I'm sure you know that," he returns.

Simon nods. Now that the unnecessary pleasantries are over, he doesn't know where to go. He's still not quite sure why he came over here.

He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and says, "You looked... lonely."

Much to Simon's surprise, Wille barks a laugh. It's singular and lacks any humor, but it's more than he ever expected. It's definitely not a regal noise.

"It's funny, isn't it," he says, "to be lonely in a room full of people." He gestures to the room around them with a twisted expression, humorous when his tone suggests anything but.

"I understand."

Wille shakes his head. "No, I don't think you do." Simon opens his mouth to object, but Wille holds up a finger. "You and I are different, Simon. You..." He laughs again, absurdly, at something that Simon isn't sure is funny. "You chose this, Simon. I... I didn't get that."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Simon concedes, "but I do still understand being alone in a room full of people. Everyone is fake."

"Two different kinds of fake." Wille now sounds defeated, as if all the imaginary humor in the situation has faded. Simon doesn't think it was actually ever there. "Why are you here, Simon?"

He wishes he could actually answer that question. "I already told you. You looked lonely." Wille hums and takes another sip. "Alright." A pause. "Why do you care?"

This conversation has been anything but what Simon expected. Maybe that's why he decides to be truthful.

"Because I don't get you."

Wille hums again and finishes his drink. He sets the empty cup down and says, "That's the point."

"Why?"

"You said it yourself, Simon." This guy sure likes to say his name. He vaguely recalls being told that people like to hear their name in conversation, so use that to get people on your side, to like you. "People are fake. I'm simply playing the game."

"But you don't have to."

"Don't I, Simon?" There is a glint in his soft brown eyes. Simon is hating how the name thing is kind of working, how he's starting to hang on Wille's every word. He wonders if he even knows that he's doing it or if it has been drilled into him so much that it's just second nature. I didn't choose this.

Simon has finished his drink at this point. He places the glass down with maybe too much vigor as he says, insistently, "You can just talk."

"Simon..."

"No, seriously---" Simon rises from the booth and holds his hand out to Wille. He's caught off guard when Wille takes it without hesitation. "---you can just talk." He emphasizes the final word by pulling Wille to his feet.

Wille opens his mouth, and Simon cuts him off before he can start. "I understand that you're worried about people, so don't talk with your words." With a sudden determination, Simon grabs Wille by the waist and pulls him towards the dancefloor.

"Simon, I don't---"

"Let me teach you." He pulls Wille close as they fall into the crowd. "Just let it talk."

#simonweek2025 #Fanfiction #SW2025day6

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youngroyals-events · 10 days ago

Text

Simon's Week Day 6: Talk

For the event being hosted by @youngroyals-events

This is THE Omar Rudberg song. It is the song that is always stuck in my head. Such an earworm.

As of present, the Crown Prince is, abnormally, alone in a booth. Usually, there is a collection of people, normally women, around him at all times. Simon wonders why exactly he's alone.

Maybe it's that exact curiosity, too, that lands Simon walking over and standing right in front of the booth.

Wilhelm's head jerks up at the noise, his eyes wide and maybe a little desperate. Caught, Simon thinks. He looks caught. That, too, Simon understands.

"Do you mind?" he asks the Prince, gesturing with his drink to the booth across from him. Wilhelm shakes his head rapidly, maybe clearing his head and answering the question all in one.

"No, not at all."

Simon slips easily into the booth. Wilhelm takes a sip of his drink.

"I'm Simon, by the way. Although I'm sure you know that," he says once Wilhelm has swallowed. "Wilhelm--- or, Wille, please. Although I'm sure you know that," he returns.

Simon nods. Now that the unnecessary pleasantries are over, he doesn't know where to go. He's still not quite sure why he came over here.

He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and says, "You looked... lonely."

Much to Simon's surprise, Wille barks a laugh. It's singular and lacks any humor, but it's more than he ever expected. It's definitely not a regal noise.

"It's funny, isn't it," he says, "to be lonely in a room full of people." He gestures to the room around them with a twisted expression, humorous when his tone suggests anything but.

"I understand."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Simon concedes, "but I do still understand being alone in a room full of people. Everyone is fake."

"Two different kinds of fake." Wille now sounds defeated, as if all the imaginary humor in the situation has faded. Simon doesn't think it was actually ever there. "Why are you here, Simon?"

He wishes he could actually answer that question. "I already told you. You looked lonely." Wille hums and takes another sip. "Alright." A pause. "Why do you care?"

This conversation has been anything but what Simon expected. Maybe that's why he decides to be truthful.

"Because I don't get you."

Wille hums again and finishes his drink. He sets the empty cup down and says, "That's the point."

"Why?"

"But you don't have to."

Simon has finished his drink at this point. He places the glass down with maybe too much vigor as he says, insistently, "You can just talk."

"Simon..."

"Simon, I don't---"

"Let me teach you." He pulls Wille close as they fall into the crowd. "Just let it talk."

#simonweek2025 #Fanfiction #SW2025day6

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youngroyals-events · 10 days ago

Text

Simon's Week Day 5: Luz Roja

For the event being hosted by @youngroyals-events

s2!Simon coded. That's all I've got to say.

He's supposed to be moving on. He's supposed to be having a rebound (as Rosh had put it). He's supposed to be with Marcus. Instead, Simon has pathetically stolen Wille's sweater. It's bad, he knows. It's so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so bad. This is actively going against the plan, but also... the plan isn't really working. If anything, it's making the whole thing worse, because he can't help but seek out Wille's every reaction to anything he does that is Marcus-related. He's trying, okay? He's really trying. It is not his fault that he is still horrifically hung up, and watching Wille be equally, if not even more, hung up and jealous is making it that much harder. It's fine, though, because he can easily just toss the sweater away and forget about it. He doubts Wille will even miss it. He probably has seven others just like it. Only it's not fine at all because he ended up stuffing it under his pillow in a rush to hide it from his mother, and his bed now smells like Wille. Simon loves Wille's smell. He puts his head to his pillow and can't help but reach under it for the orange fabric. The memories and warmth crash over him when he breathes it in. It's addictive. Being with Marcus sucks. Marcus asks about his fish. All he can think about is Wille. How he was hardly ever here. How Simon wishes he could have been here more. Sometimes he finds himself hoping, late at night, for a call similar to that first one after Erik's death. Logically, he knows it won't come. Wille has grown as an individual; he's letting Simon move on. He doesn't think that sentiment should hurt this much. He also thinks about that morning after way too much. He thinks, horrifically, that the one time he tried to get with Marcus could never have compared. He dreams of waking next to Wille again. Slowly, but like a riptide, the song comes together. In many ways, he's ashamed of it. The god damn song is audible proof that this whole Marcus-thing isn't working. It's also the best fucking thing he's ever made. God, this whole situation is so fucked up, that sweater only fuels his wildest fantasies, condoning his imagination that if he just gave Wille one more chance... Then Wille kissed him. He kissed Wille. They kissed. He can see the red light, knows that he should stop, but every part of him pushes to run it. He does.

#simonweek2025 #SW2025day5 #Fanfiction

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