#wilmon drabble

[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.”

[pagegirlintraining]

wilmon + "Simon, wait!"

Had a bit of a stressful end of the week so this took a while, but thanks for the awesome prompt 💜

“Simon, wait!”

There was no way to fight the same idiotic smile he’d felt take over his face again and again for the past hour as Simon spun back around, even if his skin was prickling with nerves at the sight of sweaty blonde strands grazing pale, freckled skin where they’d fallen loose from the messy bun their owner had attempted with every step of the half-jog that Wille was currently doing towards him; he hadn’t expected him to notice, much less respond this soon.

“You forgot your drawing,” Wille told him through a puff of breath once he’d made it all the way to Simon’s car, holding out the sticky note to him with a slightly sheepish expression, and oh, okay, that’s what this was. Looking from Wille’s flushed face to the piece of paper in his hand containing - at most - a somewhat decent doodle of a frog he’d been working on for the past ten minutes before leaving the restaurant, Simon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry out in frustration; Wille really was making this whole thing much harder than he’d hoped it would be.

“I didn’t,” he said after steeling himself for a second, feeling the adrenaline in his body making his heart pound way above its regular speed, all because Wille seemed set on making him spell it all out, “I left it for you, because you said the other day that frogs were your favorite animal, remember? And, uh, I was hoping you’d think it was cute, or whatever, and that that would make you say yes.”

“Say- Say yes to what?” Wille asked, sounding genuinely baffled, and it was not at all fair how cute he was when he got like this.

“The, uh, the question”, Simon replied, heartbeat thumping in his ears as he pointed to where a little speech bubble over the frog’s head said, “Dinner on Friday, just you and me?” with Simon’s number in tidy little figures right beneath it. “So maybe we can talk while you’re not waiting tables and I’m not technically supposed to be studying?”

Simon knew Wille’s answer before he gave it, his heart giving an exceptionally joyful pump before it stuttered for a moment at the sight of the brilliant smile lighting up Wille’s face, all glowing cheeks and crooked front teeth.

“Yes.”

Cheating you say? What even counts as cheating anymore these days 😇

Send me wilmon + a sentence and I’ll give you 5 some more :)

[saynomorefic]

"But the loneliness never left me I always took it with me, but I can put it down in the pleasure of your company"

"No Choir" by Florence + The Machine 💜🫂

"Do you still feel that way?" Simon asked, blowing smoke through parted lips, a sticky habit he'd picked up in California.

"What? Lonely?" Wille asked, gesturing for the joint. Simon nodded, and Wille shrugged. "It's more of a condition than a feeling," Wille exhaled, smoke curling in the air.

"I know something about conditions," Simon replied, his fingers tracing Wille's kneecap. "And distractions."

"You're not a distraction, you know that, right?" Simon's smile twitched with the weight of a frown.

"Then what am I?"

"You're - I love you," Wille breathed.

"That's not an answer, Wille." They sat together in silence.

--

I'm sorry that I made this so angsty, this is actually such a sweet lyric and song

Ty @youngroyals-events <3

Send me a song lyric and I'll write a drabble!!

[novkovsky]

here me out okay: headcanon where YR and RWRB exist in the same universe

[hehehereliesmysanity]

Simon is having a good time. He didn't think he would but he is. The party is in full swing and he is holding out his drink and dancing to the music blaring up the apartment floor.

It is New Year's Eve and he is dragged to a party by Sara much to his disdain. He couldn't say no even though the only thing he would have wanted was to be alone in his apartment. He recently broke up with his shitty boyfriend and he was moping at his apartment for a couple of weeks. Don't get him wrong. He is glad that it is over. His shitty, manipulative, inconsiderate ex is out of his life now and he is more than glad. The only thing he regrets is that he didn't do it sooner.

His sister keeps saying that he should put himself out there and try again. Well because you never know what life offers and has for you but Simon is hopeless. He is not sure he will ever find the one as people say.

A blond boy caught his attention as soon as he arrived but he didn't find it in himself to make a move. Never mention the fact that he doesn't know if he is interested in guys so he doesn't do anything. He just tries to have fun and maybe it's not meant to be now. Maybe he will be single forever. Some people aren't meant to find love at all.

However, he can't help but keep noticing the blonde stranger all night. The way he smiles and the way he looks so good in an all black outfit. He looks gorgeous and Simon is mesmerized.

He sees from the corner of his eye that the stranger is approaching him. Simon didn't know how much it is affecting him already and how hopeful he is but the guy is walking his way toward him slowly, but with an intent like he is on a mission.

"Hey," the stranger says with a small smile.

"Hey," Simon replies back with a matching grin.

"My friend over there thinks you are cute," he says with the same smile, unaware of how much he disappoints Simon with what he's just said.

"Oh," Simon says, surprised but trying to sound casual and not so heartbroken.

"Where?" he can't help but ask. He doesn't want to sound dismissive just because the guy turned out not interested in him. He doesn't even know if this friend is a boy or not. Not that he would be interested anyway. Simon is almost sure nobody would be as beautiful as this guy over here.

"Over there," he points out with his hand and then his smile turns a little mischievous so to speak and he just leaves without giving an answer, which takes Simon by surprise. Maybe this is some sort of a prank or a stupid dare. Just when he was about to forget the whole thing because this was very weird, the cute stranger stops where he just pointed out earlier and makes eye contact with Simon, his whole face starts to rival the sun with his smile taking up his whole face.

The blonde boy pretends to have seen Simon just yet and he waves a hand awkwardly with a slight blush and Simon is already gone. The blonde stranger is too dorky.

Simon slowly makes his way over him with a small smile and rosy cheeks. He is already chasing the guy. For fuck's sake but the guy is too pretty, sue him.

"That was either too lame or too cute?" he asks with twinkling eyes, biting the corner of his lower lip anxiously.

"The latter," Simon answers honestly.

"Oh," the boy answers, surprised. His cheeks flush and he even looks more adorable. "I am glad," he continues after a long pause, too flustered to speak, Simon presumes. "Wilhelm," he introduces himself finally. "But you can just call me Wille."

"Simon," he says back in a low voice.

"Nice to meet you, Simon," Wille says with a huge smile taking over his face again, with a honey dripping voice when he says Simon's name.

Simon is glad that he was dragged to the party and he wasn't stubborn about staying at home just because he wouldn't have anyone to kiss at midnight after all.

[skibasyndrome]

Oooh could you try "This was a bad idea." "Then why are you still kissing me?" 👀

Thank you :)

Hi Helen! Thank you so so so much for sending me one of these!!! 💜💜💜 This was a lot of fun <3

Whatever song is playing right now, Simon couldn’t possibly muster the brain capacity to recognize it. He’s gone, nothing else matters, he’s 50% butterflies and 50% wobbly knees. Simon doesn’t know how they ended up like this. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Wille crowding him against the wall in the most closed off corner of Felice’s living room they could find. How he ended up with his fingers threaded through Wille’s hair, with his lips moving against Wille’s. But, god, Wille’s kissing him. Wille’s lips are so soft, feel even softer than they look, and whatever Simon has spent the past months imagining doesn’t even compare to the real thing, to having Wille close like this. Closer than they’ve ever been before.

When Simon feels Wille’s tongue gentle nudging against his bottom lip, his breath hitches. No day-dreaming about his best friend could’ve prepared him for the feeling of them deepening their kiss. It’s- everything about it is so very Wille, that Simon feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He’s gentle, he’s soft, but there’s an underlying urgency there, there’s Wille leaning into Simon, Wille cradling the side of Simon’s neck. Wille is kissing him like Wille does all things, with care and attention to detail, but with a determination that Simon has always found unfairly attractive. When Wille pulls away, Simon wants to whine. Thankfully, he seems to muster a last shred of self-respect, keeps his eyes shut firmly to stay in the moment for longer and oh, oh. Wille isn’t leaving. He nuzzles his nose against Simon’s, his breath tickles Simon’s lip and. Well. How is Simon supposed to resist. He tugs Wille closer, blindly finds his lips again, feels his pulse hammering loudly in his ears when he gets another taste of Wille. Just… Wille. And some mint from his chewing gum, and- sweet and fruity like the shots Maddie was handing out earlier. A knot of dread lodges itself between Simon’s ribs. This isn’t- this isn’t how any of this was supposed to go. Fuck. Right. He’s an idiot. He’s an idiot who got impatient and who might’ve just blown his one chance at doing this the right way. He’s fighting his every instinct when he pulls back, immediately misses Wille’s mouth on his. “This was a bad idea." His voice wavers, shaky, unsure. God, he can’t even convince himself. Wille’s hand on his neck stills, and Simon immediately thinks he’s made a mistake.

And because he’s an idiot, because he can’t help himself, because it’s been too long and because now he might never have the real thing, he lurches forward again. Desperate and needy and acting like he’s gonna find the air that’s suddenly gone from his lungs on Wille’s lips. But this time it’s Wille who stops him, who gently pushes Simon away after a brief touch of their lips. Just far enough for Wille to rest his forehead against Simon’s. "Then why are you still kissing me?" Wille sounds more sober than he’s done all evening, sounds… Simon can’t place the tone, and he suddenly feels like he’s going to cry.  He’s kissed his best friend. His drunk best friend. His drunk best friend who does this. Casually, from time to time. Who he’s seen kissing Maddie and Felice and Nils and who always ends up a giggly, beautiful mess afterwards, only to never kiss them again. Only to go back to being their friend. And now Simon is going to be another friend he’s kissed while drunk at a party and will never kiss again. It takes everything inside of him not to let out a pathetic little noise of frustration. “You’re drunk,” he forces out instead, saying nothing at all. He shakes his head.  “We’re drunk,” he corrects himself and suddenly curses every decision that’s lead him here and curses his earlier self for ever thinking those shots would be a good idea. Maybe without them, he wouldn’t have- All thoughts desert Simon’s brain at once when Wille lifts a hand up to his cheek. Every fingertip is warm and comforting, and yet Simon feels like he’s breaking apart under the touch. But Wille is still close, so close, his breath is everything Simon hears, his cologne everything he smells, and a silly, silly part of him is still clinging to the illusion. “Did you not want to kiss me?”

Something about the way he asks it, nothing but earnestness, is so very Wille that it cracks Simon’s chest right open. He doesn’t think he could lie to Wille, ever, but especially not now. So he nods, accidentally brushing the tip of his nose against Wille’s. “I did,” he breathes. But, because that’s not quite right, he tries again, with his heart beating so fast he thinks he might have to sit down.  “I do. Do wanna kiss you.” For a beat, there’s nothing. Just Simon, suspended in a vacuum, one second from falling to his death. But then he’s back, Wille is back, is somehow closer, is pressing small kisses against Simon’s lips, his nose, his cheek, and Simon can breathe again, sucks in the air that smells like Wille. “Then kiss me again,” Wille says, lips somewhere near Simon’s ear, then on his cheek. “Please.” Simon thinks he can taste the single syllable on his tongue when he pulls Wille in again.

[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.

[yrficslists]

Ah, goose bumps 😊

Hi! If you are still taking prompts for the 5 (or more) sentence game:

Wilmon + “I’ve been thinking about you.”

In which Wille and Simon didn't get back together in S3E5.

"I've been thinking about you," Wilhelm says, looking at Simon with wide, intense brown eyes.

Blues, purples, and reds flash over his face, and Simon watches him closely from where they're pressed together on the dingy, old couch at the back of the apartment where all his friends have gathered to celebrate his university graduation. He waits, watches. In some ways, this feels the same as it was between them long ago.

"Do you think..." Wilhelm finally looks away and scrubs his hand through his hair, much longer and more rumpled now. "Do you think... we could try again?"

Simon scans him--his filled out shoulders, and cleared skin, and the lighter way he holds himself, and his clearly thrifted clothes.

A slow smile grows across Simon's cheeks.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I think we can try again."

Send me Wilmon + a sentence, and I'll write the next 5 (or more)!

[caramelpenguin]

simons pov is linked here.

Wille's POV

Wilhelm finds him in a café this time.

Simon is bent over a chipped porcelain cup, humming softly, eyes focused on his laptop screen as he aggressively types. His hair- a little shorter than last time- is still a halo of curls, voice a little deeper. Wille would know him anywhere. The soul never changes.

Simon looks up. Their eyes meet.

For a terrifying second, something flickers behind Simon’s gaze. Confusion. A ripple of recognition, as if a spark of their shared history just trembled through him. Then it’s gone.

“Do I… know you?” Simon asks, brow furrowed.

Wille smiles, painfully gentle. “No."

Simon tilts his head, curious. The same look he had when he was a stable boy in Tudor England, brushing down horses in the cold light of dawn and spotted Wille watching him from afar. When he was a baker’s apprentice in 18th-century Paris and Wille had been distracted by the dusting of flour on his cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes. When he was a barefoot shepherd Wille once stumbled across in the hills of Anatolia, singing to the wind. When they were best friends in the trenches of World War Two and Simon had hesitated before pushing forward to press their lips together.

Simon laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look kind of familiar.”

Wille almost screams. Yes. I've held you almost every time you've died, with my name in your mouth. I've kissed you under stars that don’t exist anymore. You are always always the most beautiful person in all these lifetimes.

Instead, he says, “I get that a lot.”

Simon nods and smiles, polite, warm. "Maybe we were friends in a past life."

Wilhelm wants to vomit.

french revolution reincarnation au

[pagegirlintraining]

If you are still feeling like doing the 5 sentences, may I request Wilmon with "It's a little bit funny"

Just for reasons.

First of all, thank you for this awesome prompt, I got so excited because I love this song so much😍 (I mean who doesn’t but anyway). I really hope you’ll like what I turned it into, even if it took me ages to get around to it 🙈

“It’s a little bit funny”, Simon states upon pulling back from their kiss.

“What?” Wille wiggles his eyebrows at the boy in his arms, feeling a rush of giddiness as he watches Simon’s face move into fond exasperation when he adds, “This feeling inside?”

“Shut up,” Simon tells him, and judging from his tone, he’s trying hard to contain a giggle. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“So this isn’t you writing another song about me?” Wille asks, sticking out his lower lip in a pronounced pout. “And I thought you loved me.”

There’s a playful shove to his chest from one of Simon’s hands, the other still remaining in its resting spot at the crook of Wille’s neck, pointer and middle finger playing with one of the short strands of hair behind his ear.

“I’m trying to tell you something here”, Simon protests, though this time the giggle does break through into his voice. “But maybe now I don’t want to anymore.”

“No, please tell me. I’ll shut up,” Wille hurries to say, quickly miming locking his mouth with an invisible key, which pulls another one of those fond little giggles out of Simon that are never not gonna make Wille’s entire chest light up.

“I was gonna say,” Simon concedes, drawing out the last syllable, “that it’s kinda funny how if we ever get married, there won’t even be any discussion of who takes whose last name. Because I’m literally the only one of us to even have a last name.”

And maybe, just maybe, Simon talking about marriage like it’s a thing that’s totally in the cards for them is even better than a new song.

Send me ‘Wilmon’ and a sentence and I’ll give you some more (eventually).

[saynomorefic]

Hello! A song lyric for the Drabble challenge 😊

We were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was

Thank you 💜💜

"We were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was," Wille crooned off key into Simon's ear, pulling him closer. He'd staved off the tears all day, Christ, even as he watched the love of his life walk down the isle towards him. Wille swung him around the room; by now the other guests had joined in, and maybe it was because Simon finally felt disguised in the sway that he let go.

"Darling you look perfect tonight," Simon sang back, knowing that it wouldn't disguise the tears in his eyes, not giving a damn.

--

This was such a sweet lyric! When I think of Ed Sheeran I think of weddings, so here you go <3 hope you enjoyed my interpretation! (It's one of the few I used the actual lyrics in)

Send me song lyrics and I'll write a drabble!

Ty @youngroyals-events 💜

[novkovsky]

need someone to love me the way simon loves wille

[hehehereliesmysanity]

The Bus

"Is he on the bus?" Sara asks as soon as the call connects.

"Yes," Simon answers, trying to keep calm and steady, but he doesn't know if he is succeeding. "It is more than that, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I will tell you when I get off the bus. This is really not a good time," he says. He can almost feel the heat coming from the next seat.

"Is he sitting next to you?" Sara exclaims, and Simon curses under his breath.

"Yes," Simon mumbles, turning a subtle glance to the man next to him. His long-term crush, who happens to be on the same bus every morning. He gets on the bus after Simon, and this time he chooses to sit next to him. There were a lot of other vacant seats, but that doesn't mean the cute stranger is in love with him. Simon is halfway there, though.

"Oh my god, that is why you have been giving one-sentence replies. How come you didn't melt into a puddle right now?"

"Shut up, Sara. I am already---"

"Freaking out?" she snickers, having to much fun with her brother's predicament.

"Kind of."

"Ask him out."

"No."

"Ask. Him. Out."

"I can't." Simon sighs. "I want to, but you know I can't."

"Then don't come to me to gush about how pretty he is again. I am tired. What is the worst thing that could happen anyway?"

"He could hear me." Simon says, turning to his side to find the cute stranger scrolling aimlessly on his phone with a very pretty smile on his face. What could be the reason to make him smile like that?

"Ask for his number, invite him for a cup of coffee. Please, make a move today. You have never been this close."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Oh my god, Simon. You are so infuriating. I am hanging up. You are a lost cause."

And she does. Simon can only notice now that the stranger didn't get off at his usual stop. Maybe he needs to be somewhere else.

"The volume of your phone is so high. It might damage your ears," the cute guy interrupts his mixed thoughts all of a sudden.

"Huh?"

"The volume," he says flatly. "Even I could hear your whole conversation." he gives him a small smile, and Simon is almost blinded by it, and then it hits him.

"The whole conversation?" Simon is appalled. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Mhm hmm."

"Oh my god!" Simon yells, "Did you hear everything?"

"Yes, every word. Was that your sister? Only a sibling can bully someone like that." he chuckles.

Simon tries to think of something, anything, to get rid of this embarrassment. The cute stranger only looks at him with a huge grin. He must be very entertained thanks to Simon being a complete idiot.

"So..." he asks.

"So?" Simon repeats the question in confusion. What is he expecting anyway?

"You want to grab a coffee?"

[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.”

[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 💜