the-colour-in-everything

[the-colour-in-everything]

Talk to Me All Night Long

These last two are just for us. I asked him to take them. Wille’s breath caught in his throat. More? There were more?! His thumb hovered over the image file, teasing himself a little before he opened it...

A oneshot sequel to Nothing Can Change How You Make Me Come Alive, inspired by Omar's Galore photoshoot.

Read it here on ao3

[the-colour-in-everything]

Hungry - Final Chapter

Simon scowls. This was such a dumb idea. Why is Wille so hard to say no to?

“He told me you’re worried. About certain aspects of our relationship.”

“Yes,” Linda straightens out the hem of her cardigan, crosses one leg over the other. 

“Specifically, Simon bi…” Wille changes his mind mid sentence, “me helping Simon out when he’s hungry.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re making him a sandwich, Wilhelm.”

Read the final chapter here

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[the-colour-in-everything]

Nothing Can Change How You Make Me Come Alive - Final Chapter!

Starting the new year with an ending, but it’s a very fluffy, very smutty ending. I hope you like it 💜

Wille shook his head, kissing Simon’s lower lip when it stuck out in a pout, “I want to wait.”

“Noooo.”

“Want to wait until we’re alone.”

“We’re alone now!”

“I mean alone and naked in your fancy hotel room,” he kissed Simon’s neck between words, making him squirm and giggle.

Simon pulled away, stroking Wille’s hair away from his face, “Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Wille kissed him softly, “you’re worth waiting for.”

Read chapter 10 here

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[the-colour-in-everything]

Hungry

Wille kisses him as he comes down from his high, nuzzles their noses together, “Fuck, that was,” he laughs softly, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Simon kisses back, feeling slightly shy now they’re past the heat of the moment, “it wasn’t too…?”

“No. No, I really liked it.”

Simon hums happily.

“Here, let me,” Wille helps him out of his boxers. He uses them to clean up, first Simon, then himself.

They snuggle under the covers, limbs liquid, sleepy and warm.

“Should probably talk about it, though,” Simon mumbles. He can feel Wille smiling.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Read chapter 3 here

Or start from the beginning

[the-colour-in-everything]

A different take on ‘I can’t leave a pretty boy alone,’ inspired by this post by @grapehyasynth :)

“I swear to god, Ayub. I’m gonna lose it,” Simon paced in front of his open laptop, one hand raking through his curls and sending them spiralling out in all directions, “I’m actually worried for my own safety. I mean, what the hell does he do when he’s in the kitchen alone, and I’m not standing right next to him?”

“Is he really that bad?” Ayub asked. His voice was slightly distorted by his old headset, “You mentioned the scrambled egg thing. What else has he done?”

Simon took a deep breath. There had been so many incidents with Wilhelm (‘call me Wille’) in the two short weeks since they’d moved into their new student flat, “Well, a couple of nights ago I found him leaning over the stove while he tried to light it, like full on, face over the burner. Then he tried to cook some chicken nugget things without putting them on a tray.”

“What?”

“He balanced them on the rungs in the oven,” Simon closed his eyes, “no. I’m not joking.”

“Oh dear,” Ayub laughed.

“And last night we were talking and he just let his potatoes boil over. There was starchy water everywhere. I had to help him clean up.”

“Hmm,” Ayub brought a fork full of instant noodles up to his face, chewing thoughtfully, “maybe he’s making all these mistakes on purpose, so you’ll stick around and help him.”

“Huh?” Simon made a face, “Why would he do that?”

Ayub shrugged, “You’re hot.”

Simon burst out laughing. He shook his head, his cheeks growing a little flushed at the compliment, “You’re ace, man.”

“I can still appreciate hot, Simme. You’re a very attractive man.”

“Um,” Simon fiddled with his t-shirt, “thanks.”

“So it’s either that or he really is a complete moron. Which would you prefer?”

Simon groaned.

“Do you think he’s cute, too?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Simon said, far too fast and far too defensively.

Ayub nodded, “I see.”

Simon padded into the kitchen in his pjs the next morning, slightly taken aback when he found Wille by the stove, broad shoulders draped in a fuzzy black dressing gown, hair all stuck up on one side.

“Hey.”

“Morning.”

Simon opened the fridge, rooting around for the orange juice he knew he’d hidden towards the back, “You’re up early.”

“I’m still getting used to my pillows,” Wille sighed, “I bought two of those memory foam ones because they were on sale, but they’re kinda weird. When I lay on my side I feel like they’re eating my face.”

Simon snorted into the juice carton. His conversation with Ayub came rushing back as he tried to cover it with a cough, “Oh, are you making porridge?”

“Yeah,” Wille smiled at him. He seemed pleased that he’d made Simon laugh, “I mean, I’m gonna try.”

“Do you want me to show you?” Simon offered, “I used to make it with my mom all the time.”

“Sure,” he stood to one side, gesturing for Simon to take over and

Oh, he was blushing. Had he blushed before when they were cooking together? Simon couldn’t remember.

He poured the oats into the pan, followed by the milk and a pinch of salt. Wille watched him attentively, standing kinda close despite all the worktop space.

“Thank you,” he said, when Simon handed over the wooden spoon so he could keep on stirring. Their fingers brushed softly, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

They sat together at the little table by the window, eating their porridge, chatting about their lives, food, their uni courses.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a grilled hot dog!” Simon gaped at him, “They’re so much better than the boiled ones.”

“Sorry,” Wille laughed, “that’s just not how I was raised.”

“My friend Rosh,” Simon remembered to swallow before he kept talking, “plays football for this local women’s team, and on match days they have a burger van that sells the best hot dogs.”

“So you say.”

“Fine. Come and try one if you don’t believe me.”

“OK,” Wille smiled shyly, “it’s a date.” There was the barest hint of a question in his voice, like he was waiting to see how Simon would respond.

Simon smiled back.

[the-colour-in-everything]

Nothing Can Change How You Make Me Come Alive

His unknown colleague’s comment had blown up overnight, attracting hundreds of likes and replies. Some of the replies were links to his private Instagram account, or photos of him from years ago screenshotted by people he was too slow to block. It was so weird. They knew that Simon could see everything they were posting, if he chose to look. Some of them even tagged him in their theories about how he and Wille got together. Amazingly though, nobody had recognised Wille from the video at the album signing. Yet.

Wille finally talks to his mother. Simon gets some exciting news.

Read chapter 9 here

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[the-colour-in-everything]

Close

Wille loves how soft and pliant Simon gets during a shared shower. He loves the way Simon looks at him as his hands travel all over his body, caressing as much as cleaning, how cuddly he gets when Wille massages shampoo through his curls, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp and making him purr.

It’s a freezing cold Sunday in February, both of them snowed in but not really caring about it. The fridge is stocked, their collection of pillows and knitted blankets is extensive, and they didn’t have plans to leave their apartment today anyway.

Simon sighs as Wille gently guides him back under the spray, making sure the suds don’t fall into his eyes. When his hair is fully rinsed, he turns around to pick up the soap - triple milled, lavender - and Wille takes the opportunity to hug him from behind, hand sliding down between his legs…

My little contribution to @youngroyals-events Kinktober 💜 The prompts I chose were ‘water,’ ‘first time,’ and the free space square, with which I have erm, taken some liberties.

Continue reading on ao3. Explicit. Please read the tags x

[the-colour-in-everything]

Hungry - Chapter Two

“Are you full now?” He murmurs, smiling lips grazing Simon’s earlobe as he rubs his tummy.

Vampire Simon AU 🖤

Read the new chapter here

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[the-colour-in-everything]

Nothing Can Change How You Make Me Come Alive

“Well, I haven’t been giffed yet, so that’s something.”

“I may have some of those saved,” Wille admitted, “gifs of you, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.”

“Can I see?”

Wille groaned.

“Come on! You can’t tell me that and then not show them to me!”

“Fine,” Wille unlocked his phone, tapping on the screen a few times before handing it over.

“You have a whole folder!” Simon giggled, “Oh my god, what?!”

Wille snatched his phone back, blushing furiously, “There aren’t that many.”

“I counted well over thirty.”

“Yes, well…”

Simon kissed him on the cheek, “You’re such a fanboy!”

Wille is in full supportive boyfriend mode. Unfortunately this gets them both more attention than they want.

Read chapter 8 here

Or start from the beginning

[the-colour-in-everything]

Hungry

“I’ll only take a little,” Simon kisses him once, twice, once more, “only a little, I promise.”

~

Vampire Simon, inspired by this beautiful gif 🖤 Read it here.

[the-colour-in-everything]

A drabble for day 1 of Simon's month :) Thank you @youngroyals-events. The prompt was 'pencil case.'

Wille can’t concentrate. He should be reading chapters one through eight and making notes on the industrial revolution, but it’s a million degrees outside, the library is full of third years stressing loudly about their exams, and Simon is sitting right next to him, emanating heat in a whole other way. His lips look incredibly kissable as he reads the same textbook Wille should be reading, muttering the words under his breath. 

Wille shifts in his seat, trying and failing to refocus his brain. His pen is out of ink. He scribbles a few times before giving up and reaching for a new one from Simon’s pencil case.

It’s sort of become their pencil case over the last few months, Simon’s half gnawed pencils and Bic biros alongside Wille’s blue metal Parker pen and a few sticks of his chewing gum, and two condoms hidden underneath all of that, just in case. The tin itself is very Simon, though. The Garfield joke on the lid is sarcastic like Simon, but it’s cute, too, and sometimes the latch sticks and it’s hard getting it to open up. 

Wille fiddles, accidentally snapping the lid closed. He holds the case out to Simon with a guilty expression.

“Again?” Simon sighs fondly. He takes the pencil case from Wille and pops it open, setting it down on the table between them.

“Thank you.”

“I know you can do that for yourself.”

Wille just smiles.

Simon huffs out a laugh, “Stop distracting me. I need to finish this.”

“But we haven’t hung out all week,” Wille pouts, gently stroking Simon’s wrist with his finger, “why don’t we go and work in my room instead? It’s much quieter.”

Simon shoots him a disbelieving look before going back to his textbook. Wille taps his fingers, bites his lip as he considers another angle. 

“You look so good today.” He really does. Wille has never seen Simon in a tank top before, but he hopes he’ll be seeing it a lot more in the near future. When Simon took his checked shirt off at lunch he nearly lost his mind. 

“It’s hot, Wille,” Simon doesn’t look up.

“Mmm.”

“I’m hot.”

“Yeah.”

Simon laughs, cheeks tinged with pink as he shakes his head, “Stop it.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

“Sorry,” Wille says quietly, “I just miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Simon reaches across the desk to hold his hand, squeezing his fingers before pulling away again.

Wille chases the touch with his pinky, “Can you sleep over tonight?”

“Perhaps,” Simon’s lips curl up in a smile, “if you let me finish my homework.”

[the-colour-in-everything]

Simon’s Month- Day 1: Pencil case

I’m hoping to be able to post a bit more for Simon’s month, hosted by @youngroyals-events (thanks for putting this together again 💜), than I did for Wille’s month. All my ficlets and drabbles will be posted here on AO3.

Don’t worry- I’ll still be writing and updating should’ve said no. It won’t be neglected!

For day 1 Simon packs his backpack to attend his first day at Hillerska… and is reminded of the origins of his Garfield pencil case. With complicated feelings he remembers a day long past.

Rated: G, 1.3k

Read it here!

[the-colour-in-everything]

Nothing Can Change How You Make Me Come Alive

“What, erm,” Wille swallowed, “what is our situation?”

Simon smiled wider.

“I mean, you said boyfriend before. But I don’t know if that was just an expression. Or if you said it without thinking, and like you said, things have moved really fast and I don’t want to pressure you or”

“Wille,” Simon squeezed his fingers, “relax. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ve already decided.”

“Good,” Wille snuggled closer, “I hate making decisions.”

Sleepovers, borrowed clothes, and a tiny bit of avoidance…

Read chapter 7 here

Or start from the beginning

[the-colour-in-everything]

Here is a little ficlet for the last day of Wille’s month :) There is no prompt for today, so this is just a scene from Wille’s summer living at the Eriksson house. Under a cut because it’s NSFW.

Thank you @youngroyals-events for organising this. It’s been fun 💜

Simon’s sofa is comfier than it looks. Wille sinks into the backrest as they kiss, their jeans and shirts and inhibitions long since discarded. His hands slide up and down the smooth curves of Simon’s body, underneath the waistband of his boxers, “Let’s go to your room.”

“Why?” Simon smiles, looking up at him through his lashes, “No one’s home.”

Wille moans softly. Linda, Sara and Felice have all gone out for the day, leaving them alone. He loves the safety of Simon’s house, but he also loves the freedom of it. It’s feeling more and more like home, especially since he’s been here for most of the summer.

He sprawls out on his back, unable to keep his hands off himself while Simon goes to fetch supplies. Simon laughs when he gets back, gives Wille shit about getting a head start.

They giggle, and tease, and Simon replaces Wille’s hand with his own, and Wille kisses him everywhere he can reach.

He ends up in Simon’s lap, hands moving from the back of the sofa to Simon’s shoulders as he works himself up and down, legs spread wide, thighs burning. Simon has one hand around his length, stroking in time with Wille’s rhythm. The other rests on his lower back, steadying, encouraging, guiding himself back inside the couple of times he accidentally slips out. They’re both so close. So fucking close. Simon is looking at him like he’s everything, and then he’s looking out of the window.

“Shit!”

Wille whines, inconsolable as Simon grabs his hips, forcing him to still his movements, “What?”

“Did you hear a car?”

“Huh? No,” Wille’s head whips around. The nose end of the white Volvo is just visible through the net curtains.

“They said they’d be gone all day!”

“Fuck.”

Wille scrambles to get off him, stands up too fast and it hurts, it feels weird. They grab their clothes and stumble to Simon’s bedroom, only just managing to slam the door before they hear keys in the lock. A quick inventory reveals that they’re missing Simon’s socks, and Wille’s t-shirt, and that the condom wrapper is still somewhere on the coffee table.

“Simon!” His mother. Loud. Irritated.

Wille covers his face with his hands.

“Just a second!” Simon yells back.

They haphazardly dress themselves. Simon waits outside the bathroom while Wille cleans most of the lube off. When he opens the door he takes his hand with a little squeeze and a soft smile. They’re in this together. Off to face the music.

Wille’s face burns as they sit on the same damn sofa they’d been fucking on ten minutes previously, Linda standing above them, arms folded, Felice and Sara behind her at the breakfast table.

“I am completely fine with you two sharing a room. I am completely fine with your sexual relationship, but you need to show more respect for the other members of this household.”

Simon looks down at his knees, suitably chastised. Wille starts apologising profusely, his face getting redder and redder until Linda shushes him out of both annoyance and pity. She bustles off to her own room to cool down, leaving the teens to stand in the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

“Did you and Wilhelm have anal sex on our sofa?” Sara looks horrified, “We eat there sometimes!”

Felice abandons all pretence of impartiality and snorts into her glass of lemonade. Wille’s eyes fill with tears. He pushes past them, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he hurries towards Simon’s room. He vaguely hears Simon say ‘Well done, Sara,’ before there are heavy footsteps behind him, jogging to catch up.

He curls up on Simon’s bed facing the wall, the tears coming freely now he has the privacy to let them.

“Wille?” Simon hovers in the doorway, “Can I come in?”

“Mmm,” Wille nods without turning to face him.

Simon spoons up behind him on the bed, one arm around his middle, nose nuzzling his neck, and he holds him. Lets him cry without asking questions, his thumb rubbing little circles on the bare strip of skin where Wille’s shirt has ridden up.

“I know it was really embarrassing,” he says quietly, once Wille has settled and his breathing is more even, “but no one actually saw us this time.”

“It’s not just that,” Wille sniffles, curling further in on himself even though he’s calm enough to talk, “your mom’s gonna kick me out.”

“No she’s not.”

“She was really mad.”

Simon sighs, cuddling him tighter, “She’s pissed, yeah, but she’s not gonna throw you out, I promise. It’s just gonna be awkward for a few days.”

Wille sniffs again. He plays with Simon’s fingers, voice low and mumbly, “It felt really good, like that.”

Simon hums in agreement.

“But it feels dirty, now.”

“Wille,” Simon’s lips brush his cheek, “nothing we ever do together is dirty, OK?” His hand splays out on Wille’s stomach, “We can do it again, if you want to. Just, not in my living room.”

Wille feels him smile. He turns his head so they can kiss, grateful for the humour, the comfort.

“I feel bad for not listening to you,” Simon admits.

“Don’t,” Wille nuzzles him.

“When we have our own place,” Simon’s lips hover over his own, waiting for a moment before he kisses back, “we’ll do it everywhere.”

Wille giggles, turning over to face him, “Even the kitchen?” He brushes a stray curl off Simon’s forehead, lingering to stroke his temple as well.

“Especially the kitchen. You can lift me up against the counter.”

“Mmm,” Wille hugs him, “sounds perfect.”

“It will be.”

[the-colour-in-everything]

Favours

“OK,” Wille put down his knife and fork and placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his folded hands, “something else is bothering you. Out with it.”

“I’m in pain, Wille,” Simon grumbled, “and I’m fed up of dropping stuff all the time and not being able to do the most simple things on my own.”

Wille nodded thoughtfully, “So you’re frustrated?”

In more ways than one, “Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Simon accidentally laughed at that. Wille frowned, confused.

“Sorry. No, you’re already doing more than enough for me.”

“But there is something?”

Simon sighed, shoulders slumping. Wille could be absolutely relentless sometimes, “No, honestly. I’m really grateful for all your help, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“OK,” Wille looked like he wanted to keep prying.

Simon rolled his eyes, “Alright. Fine. Do you want to wank me off after you’ve finished cutting up my food for me? Cos that’s something else I’m having trouble with at the moment!” 

His cheeks flushed with heat. He expected his outburst to shame Wille into leaving him alone, but instead Wille just stared at him. Studied his face in that intense, unblinking way of his.

“I mean, I can.”

New fic based on this ask, and also my contribution to @youngroyals-events Wille's Month day 25 - 'Hands' :)

Read it here

[the-colour-in-everything]

@youngroyals-events Here is my little contribution to kick off Wille’s month. The prompt was ‘sandwich.’

Wille always uses too much butter. He always uses too much butter and then has to scrape the crumb covered remnants back into the tub. He slices the cheese too thinly, too, and the cucumber slices too thick. ‘A bit messy,’ according to Simon. Some things never change.

And some things change more than you could ever imagine. Wille doubts he’d even recognise that boy now, the one who’d always hidden all of himself, slowly inching out into the light, slipping a sandwich under the desk to his secret lover. Prince Wilhelm feels forever ago, a character in a story he tells about other people.

He finishes up and wraps the sandwich in two napkins, as is their tradition. It’s not a long journey. The sun rose about an hour ago, bathing the hills in warm golden light. He’d laughed when Simon first mentioned retiring to the country. They’d looked at so many houses, bickering good naturedly the whole time, but now he has to admit, he does enjoy the quiet.

He parks the car by the gates and walks stiffly up the narrow path. One foot in front of the other. Things take him longer, now. He spreads the picnic blanket out and settles himself onto it. His knees can just about manage a few minutes.

The headstone is beautiful. Understated and elegant. A choice he wishes he’d never had to make, but a good choice, nonetheless. He reaches into his jacket pocket, smiling as he brings out the little parcel wrapped in purple.

“Hi Simon,” the grass is real, here. Lush and damp with dew between his fingers, “I brought you a sandwich.”

[the-colour-in-everything]

@youngroyals-events Here is another little drabble for Wille’s month :) The prompt was ‘cooking/baking.’ This is how I imagine they both ended up with flour on their noses in that pic from season 3.

“The cakes need to be checked in about twenty minutes, so if you could all come back then, please. And there’s the small matter of the washing up,” the teacher adds pointedly, somewhat annoyed that half the kids are already out of the door.

“We’ll do it,” Wille and Simon say in unison, exchanging little smiles with each other. Between the pressures of school and Wille’s family, they’re eager for any alone time they can get.

The girls are more than happy to leave them to it. Wille starts collecting the bowls and wooden spoons and piling them up by the sink. The windows have been wide open all afternoon, and his nose is getting itchy from the early spring pollen. He rubs it absentmindedly with the back of his hand.

Simon wets a cloth and starts wiping down the worktops, sleeves rolled up, humming as he works. Wille stops stacking pots and watches him fondly, imagining some far off future time where they will be doing this in their own home, cooking together, talking about their day, doing the dishes. He feels so overwhelmed with affection that he has to tell Simon about his plans, slowly backing him up and lifting him onto one of the tables, looping his arms around his waist.

“You’ve got flour on your nose,” Simon giggles, pulling Wille closer with his legs.

Wille doesn’t care. He nuzzles Simon’s nose with his like a cat marking its scent, tilting his head to capture his lips over and over.

When the girls return later, Wille is sheepishly running water onto the first bowl of dishes. There are floury handprints on Simon’s back, and his sides, and his hips, and Wille has flour in his hair and on his neck, and a single handprint on his chest, right over his heart.