gulliblelemon

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 9: Broken Glass

Finally, Wilhelm caught Jasper’s eye. His face was tight. He mouthed something. Wilhelm furrowed his brows. “What?” he mouthed back. Slowly, Jasper’s hand drifted to his side, under his unbuttoned suit jacket, and his lips moved again: “Down.”

♦ Read Chapter 9 ♦

[gulliblelemon]

Eye To Eye - Chapter 3

“My mum’s a nurse”, Simon said. “She’s on morning shift today, so that’s why she wasn’t home. Good thing, too. She probably wouldn’t have appreciated being dragged out of bed at six in the freaking morning on her day off.” “Hey”, Wille protested, spurred on by the barely hidden undertone of amusement in Simon’s voice. “You realize I had to get up even earlier to do that, right?” “I don’t remember asking you to show up at my house at the asscrack of dawn.” It was obvious now that Simon was teasing him, the smirk on his lips filling Wille’s chest with a sense of reward almost as much as it made his heart stutter on its next few beats. “It’s June, Simon”, he countered, feeling a rush of giddiness as his lips wrapped around the syllables. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t really addressed Simon by name that often, but somehow using it now felt easy, almost like it would with a proper friend. “The sun’s been up since, like, two. And besides, aren’t you glad we have more of a time buffer now?” The eye roll Simon gave him in response looked fond enough to send Wille’s heart rate spiking yet again. Which wasn’t good at all. He really needed to stop letting all these small things affect him so much.

The boys are finally hitting the road 🥳 You can read chapter 3 now to follow along as they bond further over music, games and shared embarrassment, among other things.

[gulliblelemon]

All prompts have now been claimed! Thank you to everyone taking part. We'll be in touch again at the first check in on 19 July.

If you didn't get your first choice of prompt or if you didn't sign up for the exchange, remember you can still make Treats! These are extra gifts that can be created by anyone, whether you've offered up your own works or not. To make a Treat, choose a prompt from the original list only and create a new remix fanwork for it, then let us know about it by the end of August so we can give you a posting slot. As these are extras, they don't have to fill the same minimum requirements as the main works, but please do follow any restrictions set by the creator.

Please note that if you are signed up for the exchange, making a Treat doesn't replace your assigned prompt - you must still complete that or let us know if you can't.

We may also need to put out a call for pinch hitters - this is someone who steps in as a replacement when the original assigned creator has to drop out or can't fulfil the prompt. If you think you might be interested in this, please keep an eye on this account over the summer.

Have fun!

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 9

“Your mum’s nice,” Wille said after a while.

With a surprised laugh, Simon propped his chin on Wille’s chest. “What?”

“Your mum,” Wille said, looking down at him. “She seems nice.”

Simon waited for a moment to see if Wille was joking, but he looked disarmingly sincere. “She is,” he said. 

Wille just hummed and tipped his head back again. Enough time passed that Simon thought Wille might have fallen asleep, but then Wille said, “Who’s Marcus?”

Read now on AO3 (M, 64/76k). Or start from the beginning.

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 4 of When Two Worlds Collide!

"Is that really necessary?" Simon questions. Unease prickling in his neck at the way that the guards handle Wille with so little caution.

The tall, dark, and buff man that stands on the other side of Wille dismisses him almost immediately.  "Alvina gave us direct orders to make sure Mr. Bernadotte here did not cause any trouble, sir." 

The woman drives Wille's wrists higher up, pins them between his shoulder blades so that she can unclip a smooth cord from her hip. The bright white material turns into a sticky liquid and loops Wille's wrists the second it touches his skin, almost like roots growing around dirt.

Wille's jaw tenses up in obvious discomfort, he presses himself more into the wall. Tries to wiggle away from the handcuffs strain. 

Simon flairs a hand through the air, "Stop it! Can't you see that it's hurting him?"

The female guard, apparently named Malin from Simon's quick peek at her nametag, unfolds Wille's arms and plants them against his lower back. "Simon, you understand how important this is." She eyes him down for a second. "We can't risk him causing any sort of uproar." 

Agitation burns under Simon's skin, he can feel the eyes from the people still standing around them burn into his back, watching, questioning.  

Simon lets out a huff, "It's not like he's going anywhere, he's injured."  

A slight sheen of sweat coats Wille's face, either from the stress or the remnants of the fever he's been battling the past few weeks. His breathing is loud and uneven, the flaring anger in his face slowly fading into panic.  

Malin seems to mull it over in her head for a beat, and Simon can sense the moment that she decides it's not worth the hassle. He rubs his hand over his mouth, digs the top of his fingers in his cheek. Maybe because he unconsciously knows that he's grappling at straws here, has no idea how far his alliance with them can carry him.  

"Let me hold him until we get there, he will stop objecting. Right Wille?"  

Read on Ao3.

(The syndicate's jackets that get mentioned)

[gulliblelemon]

Hey!! If you’re still taking them, I think 9 or 15 could be really cute for sleeping prompts please!! 💜

Hi! Thank you so much for sending a prompt 💜 I've already done 15, so I went for number 9. I'm sorry it's taken me a whole month to get to this one, but! It is significantly longer than my other prompt fills. It's also very much nsfw. I hope that's OK.

9. A talks in their sleep. B can’t get enough of it.

~

The first time he hears it, Wille is convinced that the universe is playing yet another cruel joke at his expense. The same way making him share a hotel room with Simon was August’s cruel joke. Simon, who is the worst rower on the team bar none. Simon, who’s only at this tournament so they didn’t have to forfeit after Nils broke his ankle. Simon, who hates Wille’s guts and is in no way subtle about it. It’s the only explanation for the fact that Simon, the same Simon, is currently laying in a bed not six feet away from his own, having the most incredible sex dream ever, if his noises are anything to go by. 

Wille rolls onto his side, aggressively pulling his pillow over his head to muffle the moans. 

“Mmmm, oh! … Fuck, please!” Simon whimpers. Actually fucking whimpers.

Wille grits his teeth. 

“There! Yeah. Please. Ooohhh!”

Wille doesn’t know what to do. He’s angry, embarrassed, but also… Not. He tries to close his eyes, tries to block out Simon’s vulnerable, sexy sounding noises, but it’s too much. He coughs loudly, flopping onto his stomach more forcefully than necessary so the bedsprings squeak and complain. It kinda hurts, given the reaction he’s currently having, but, mercifully, it makes the noises stop.

Simon is a bit subdued the next morning, avoiding eye contact, brushing Wille off even more than usual when he tries to talk to him. Wille almost wants to offer reassurance. Comfort, even. He feels guilty, for fuck’s sake. Guilty for interrupting the sex dream of a guy from school who doesn’t like him. Yeah. That’s normal. 

He sneaks little glances at Simon across the breakfast table, his eyes inevitably dropping to his plush, kissable lower lip, and his mind inevitably wandering to all the things he might’ve been dreaming about. 

They suffer through another day of competitions, finally dragging themselves back to the hotel, achey and sunburnt. He and Simon barely speak as they get ready for bed, only asking each other cursory questions about who’s going to use the bathroom first, and ‘can I turn this light off?’ Wille stares up at the dark ceiling, alert to any noises coming from the next bed. He doesn’t really know what he’s hoping for. It’s unlikely that Simon will have a sex dream two nights in a row. He doesn’t want him to, obviously, but he still feels bad about last night.

Predictably, though, Simon just falls asleep, and Wille nearly does, too, until

“Fuck! Oh… Baby! Oh fuck yeah, please. Like that.”

Wille bites his lip.

“Needed this.”

He grips the sheets, pulling them tight across his body. Fuck it, he needs it, too. He’s so hard already.

“Don’t stop!”

The mattress creaks under Simon’s weight. He must be rubbing himself against it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is torturous. Maybe he should wake him up again. 

“Wille!”

Oh. Oh! Wille clamps his hand over his mouth, stopping the noise he’s about to make just in time. Simon must’ve finished, because his strangled moans have turned into breathy little pants. Wille’s cock throbs. He reaches down between his legs, squeezing himself through his pyjama pants. Jesus, he needs to… He slips his hand underneath the waistband. Could he just… If he’s really quiet, maybe…

“Oh fuck.” 

He hears Simon mumble as he sits up. Wille shuts his eyes tight, feigning sleep as Simon climbs out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom. He’s in there for several minutes. Wille can hear the water running in the sink. He groans, rolling onto his side and pressing his legs together. The thought of Simon cleaning himself up after a messy wet dream is so hot he wants to scream into the pillow. He said your name, too his brain helpfully supplies. He was dreaming about fucking you.

Wille manages maybe an hour of sleep. He’s first in the shower the next morning, hand braced against the tiles as he fucks his own fist, desperately trying to keep quiet as he finishes in record time.

Simon, however, is in a much better mood when they head down to breakfast. Wille finds himself being especially attentive towards him, making him a coffee, reaching over the tall display to find him the best looking croissant, etc. Simon actually smiles at him. Smiles and blushes, and Wille has to look away before he makes an idiot out of himself. 

“Listen up, fuckers,” Vincent announces, unconcerned for the family with small children at the next table, “there’s rain forecast all day, so we’re moving the competition to the gym. They have plenty of machines we can use.”

The whole group grumbles in protest.

“This is not up for discussion! We leave in twenty.”

“He’s such a dick,” Simon scowls.

Wille picks at his scrambled eggs, stifling a yawn, “Yep.”

“Are you OK?” Simon studies his face, “You look kinda tired.”

“Oh, er,” Wille looks down at his plate, “I didn’t sleep very well. Strange bed, you know?”

Simon nods. His blush is back, “Well, erm… We’d better get going, I guess.”

The whole day is one long distraction, from watching Simon change in the locker room to the way his shorts ride up when he sits on the rowing machine. Wille’s always found him attractive. He stopped lying to himself about that a long time ago, but he’s different around Wille, now. Nicer. Cheering him on instead of ignoring him or making not so subtle barbs, and that dream, Jesus. He said Wille’s name. Wille’s name. Does he want something to happen between them? How would that even go? 

Vincent claps loudly in his face, yelling that he’s the next in line. Wille flips him off when he isn’t looking.

They reach the last heat of the day, Wille their final rower, and as his arms are burning and his legs aching with the strain he feels Simon’s hand on his lower back, warm and sure and encouraging him forwards. He rows harder than he ever has, his blood ringing in his ears with the exertion, pushing his virtual rower to the end of the screen just ahead of the opposing team. 

The victory party in August’s room is fun, really, but Wille still finds himself checking his watch, eager for bedtime. He knows it’s stupid, hoping Simon has another dream about him. They’ve been laughing and chatting all night, on and off, but it’s nothing that could be considered flirting. Simon is actually slumped against the headrest with him right now, sticking his tongue out at August every time he complains about ‘off brand trainers on the bed.’

“What is this?” Wille asks, poking him in the side. He’s kinda tipsy, tongue loosened by a couple of light beers and something fruity with vodka in it.

“Huh?”

“This,” he gestures to the space between them, “I thought you hated me.”

Simon just shrugs, taking a sip of his own drink and smirking at him in a way that makes Wille’s throat feel dry. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they say their goodnights and head back to the room, still joking around, shoulders bumping playfully as they walk along. Simon doesn’t bother with pyjamas tonight, just stripping down to his underwear before crawling under the covers. Wille does the same. He’s going to get himself off after Simon falls asleep anyway, dream or no dream. He’s been thinking about those gentle fingers on his back all afternoon. 

“Night, Wille,” Simon smiles at him before he turns over.

Wille smiles back, “Night.”

Less than an hour later, the noises start. Soft, quiet moans at first, then

“Please, baby.”

Wille swallows, “Yeah, I’m here,” he whispers back, tugging his boxers down at the front. 

“Want you to,” Simon moans again, “can we?”

“Anything,” Wille wraps his hand around his cock, teasing the tip with his thumb before stroking himself firmly. He knows Simon can’t hear him, but he’s too horny to care. He imagines them in bed together, kissing, hands wandering all over, whispering to each other in the dark.

Simon makes some more gorgeous, unintelligible sounds.

“That’s it,” Wille encourages, “tell me.”

Simon whines helplessly, “Need you.”

“I’m here.”

“Need… Your mouth, need…”

Wille groans, hand working frantically on his cock, hips lifting off the bed with the effort. He’s so close already, so engrossed in the fantasy.

“Wille?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Wille!”

Shit. That one is louder. Too close. Wille opens his eyes to find Simon standing over him. When did he get out of bed? How long has he been standing there?

And then all logical thought is gone because Simon is hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly, “Let’s stop pretending we’re both asleep, hmm?”

[gulliblelemon]

The time has come to grab your prompt! You can find the list of prompts, including original creator + any specifications for the remix here (crossed out lines have already been claimed).

Please choose THREE people you'd like to remix, then open the prompt choosing form and let us know who they are, in order of preference. We will try to match everyone with their top choice, but that's probably not going to be possible, so this ensures everyone gets at least one of their choices. Hopefully (we'll try to accommodate everyone and communicate with you if needed).

We'll be sending everyone confirmation through their private chats, Discord, email, or ask box (in this order) so keep your eyes on them.

Let's get choosing!

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

From chapter 4 of The Long Way Home:

Simon lets out a string of curses, then starts gently talking his car through a few more kilometers until they’ve reached the next village. He pulls into the parking lot of a bakery where he opens the glove compartment and gets out the manual. After flicking through it, he curses again, then sighs and drops his head against the headrest.

“I’m sorry, but this says to immediately turn off the engine and have it checked,” he says.

“Is it the generator?” Katrin asks from the backseat. She’s been surprisingly chipper this morning considering last night’s events. But Wille remembers that he didn’t really start getting hangovers until a few years into his twenties, either.

“How the fuck would I know,” Simon grumbles.

Wille feels for him, he does. But he’s also never seen anyone being grumpy in a more adorable way. It really brings out the shape of Simon’s lips. Realizing that he’s being talked to, Wille shakes himself out of it. “I’m sorry?”

[gulliblelemon]

a whole new chapter AND a bilberries sunday snippet??? happy sunday to me this morning is a GIFT 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹💜

I almost delayed the chapter so that I could do a snippet and not be bombarding everyone, but then I decided to just go for it anyway 😅

Happy Sunday! I hope you enjoy it

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

Since I posted chapter 9 of Where the Bilberries Grow this morning, this is a snippet from chapter 10.

There was a loud sniff over the phone and it took Wille aback. “Sorry!” came Simon’s muffled voice. “I— sorry. Just… give me a sec.”

With dawning horror Wille realised— “Simon… Are you crying?”

“Yes!” Simon called out, then gave another loud sniff. “Yes. I’m fucking crying, okay?” Another wet sniff. “Fuck. I need a tissue. I—” There was some fumbling and a crash and the unmistakable sound of a nose being blown. “I’m sorry. I just—” Simon took a huge breath before speaking again. His voice was soft, and a little wet, and made goosebumps break out all over Wille’s skin. “I’m so proud of you, Wille. I— You’re really, really brave.”

So many emotions that Wille couldn’t name welled up in his chest. With tears prickling at the backs of his eyes again, he said, “Thank you, Simon. That— That means a lot.”

There was another big inhale, and then Wille heard the rush of Simon letting it out slowly. Simon chuckled, wetly and happily. “Fucking hell, Wille.”

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 9

“Your mum’s nice,” Wille said after a while.

With a surprised laugh, Simon propped his chin on Wille’s chest. “What?”

“Your mum,” Wille said, looking down at him. “She seems nice.”

Simon waited for a moment to see if Wille was joking, but he looked disarmingly sincere. “She is,” he said. 

Wille just hummed and tipped his head back again. Enough time passed that Simon thought Wille might have fallen asleep, but then Wille said, “Who’s Marcus?”

Read now on AO3 (M, 64/76k). Or start from the beginning.

[gulliblelemon]

Young Royals 2.05 🧡

[gulliblelemon]

🌸💜💜💜🌺

Flower power Midsommar edition

Since I couldn't see Omar at pink pop today I chose to do something else...

🌸 Glad Midsommar everyone 🌺

... and especially to the best concert crew anyone could wish for @hergrandplan @iwouldnevergetintofanfic @gulliblelemon @pagegirlintraining @skibasyndrome @bigalockwood @omaremio @sillylittleflower @justfriendsbestthings @impossibleknots @grapehyasynth @themarsbar @dreamyelectronicmusic @alkalinetrios @prince-simon

Missed all of you even more today 💜

[gulliblelemon]

Young Royals 3.01 ❤️

[gulliblelemon]

Page 247

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Chapter 1/1 (oneshot)

Having just graduated from university with a law degree he never wanted, Wille chooses to follow his own path against his family’s wishes and opens up a quiet, cozy bookstore in the city. The store is doing well, tourists wander in during the weekends, and locals have started calling him by name. There’s even a little book club that meets in the back on Thursdays. On paper, he should feel proud. He is proud. He’s finally doing what he loves and he’s genuinely happy.

But some nights, especially the rainy ones like this one, he feels the hollowness anyway. The missing thing. The question with no answer. He doesn’t know what it is exactly that’s missing, just that something is. He can feel it.

Then, as if straight out of the many romance novels that stock his shelves, a beautiful boy with dark eyes and dark curls, and soaking wet from the storm, bursts into his quiet shop looking for a vinyl, and everything changes.

Read it here on ao3!

[gulliblelemon]

Thinking about your bodice ripper space viking au... Life is good...

omg me too.... always thinking about Them.

here have some!

cn: The Implications (fear of assault, memory of physical attack)

Wilhelm walks over to the counter and pulls out a tray that Simon hadn’t seen. There’s a deep rectangular basin there. Wilhelm reaches for something Simon can’t quite see and then water starts to fill it. That’s obvious. Simon is being so stupid. That’s a bath. He keeps expecting everything to be more alien than it is and it’s tripping him up. “It’s not voice activated?” He doesn’t know where that came from.

Wilhelm looks up sharply and Simon takes a step back. Wilhelm turns back to the bath, pulling out small baskets from other trays, Simon sees petals and salts. “Is that what you have at home?” he asks and that bowls Simon over. They’ve been stealing people and things for generations and they have literally no idea about what the world is like, do they? Why would they, the scavengers. 

“No,” Simon says, but they do in stories, he doesn’t add. That’s the future that is promised, AI solving problems.

Wilhelm casts petals and salt into the bath, rubbing his hands together to get them all off. “We had that, once, centuries ago, but there was a—” he fiddles with the tap, lips pursed like he’s searching for the word, “—AI uprising,” he settles for, “and then it was banned. Mechanical things work just as well. The pipes that bring this water don’t need a mind attached to them.”

Simon thinks that could be nice, to be those pipes, to not have a mind attached, because then he wouldn’t have to hear Wilhelm’s next sentence. “You take a bath here.” Simon locks up. “Do you have baths, down there? You take off your clothes and get in the water.” Yeah, Simon got the implication. This is it, it’s happening. Wilhelm looks at him expectantly. Simon has a choice in this moment. He remembers Wilhelm’s grip, he remembers that there was no warning before he put August on the floor. He can shake his head and have Wilhelm strip him, bruise him, or he can do it himself. Which is better? There’s an appeal to making Wilhelm do it, so he can comfort himself that he didn’t go easy, didn’t roll over. Every hurt could be a badge of honour, a sign he protected his dignity. Wilhelm keeps watching him, silent, steady, waiting, and Simon knows the calm is deceptive. It could be any second before Wilhelm lunges at him.

“What if I don’t?” Simon whispers.

Wilhelm cocks his head. “There’s a shower outside.” Outside. There seems to be a fair amount of space around Wilhelm’s house, but Simon saw other structures dotted around, close enough to be shouting distance, and definitely visible. So that’s the choice. He can undress here, inside the walls, or he can do it out there. In front of anyone who walks by. 

Simon caves. He reaches behind his head and pulls off his t-shirt. The room isn’t as cold as he expected, but Simon feels his skin pebble up regardless, nipples drawing tight when they’re exposed. 

He takes a breath, shaky exhale, before he opens the button on his trousers and pushes them down, taking off his underwear and trying to get his socks off in one go. He tries to get into the water as quickly as he can, sloshing a little over the edge as he slips a bit on the way down.

“Good,” Wilhelm says and Simon wants to throw up, the way it makes him feel relieved. “There’s soap in the alcove. Uh, soap is—”

“I know what soap is,” Simon snaps. Then he cringes.

Wilhelm smiles, which Simon doesn’t get at all. “I’ll use the shower outside,” he says, and then takes Simon’s clothes with him when he goes. 

Simon sits in the bath for a while. It’s a good temperature and the petals smell soft and nice and the longer he sits there the more tense he gets. He eyes the soap, a yellow bar sitting there, flecked with what look like the same petals that are in the bath. Wilhelm wants him clean. The dilemma strikes him again and so do the tears, running hot and salty down his face, hotter than the water, mingling with the steam when they drip off his chin. 

His hand wraps around the bruises on his arm from where he was grabbed. They’re turning dark already, four thin, finger shaped bands, and the round button of a thumb.

And then he picks up the soap and starts to scrub. He doesn’t want to hurt.

[gulliblelemon]

Young Royals 1.03/3.01 - making plans 💜❤️🩷🧡