#abc kais the alpha btch

[purplehoodiesimon]

WIP search tag game

The lovely @sflow-er tagged me to do this, so here we are! My words are hand, sun, gentle, and frantic. This is mostly not YR wips because most of my YR wips have been abandoned for like 6+ months but the last one is YR 😌💜

hand; from a Stranger Things fic where Eddie survives the Upside Down

"How are you doing, son?" Uncle Wayne asks, and Eddie gets a better look at him as he sets the newspaper aside. His eyebags are dark, posture drooping, the years old shake in his hands more intense than usual. He looks tired, and old.

sun(day); from a Stranger Things stoncy fic where I got really caught up in the religion feels

As such, she stops going (perhaps good, in the long term). 

Steve never attended much, his parents too caught up in their business and their affairs to care about it every Sunday. Jonathan is Jewish, as is his whole family. Neither one takes an affront to her change of heart. 

Her mother and father however, do (and as everyone knows, one must honor thy father and mother).

gentle; from a Narnia fic where I get into my feels about their return to England, then back to Narnia

Lucy stands at the bridge, the Great Lion by her side, and Peter can almost see the faint mirage of the woman she once was, standing behind her. Her blade glints in the sun, her cold smile visible across a river. It was Susan who was Gentle, and Valiance is not always shown by mercy.

frantic; I went ahead and found one in a YR wip, mainly because I don't actually have many recent other wips with the word frantic in them so here's a bit of some future part of iridescent rainbow where Wille is having an absolute breakdown

And suddenly the lead weights in their body are gone, and the freezing droplets of rain aren’t so cold anymore, and there’s a burning sort of frantic <em>fear</em> under their skin. It rises through their chest and desperation prickles in their gut, and they’re moving without realizing it, standing up to go inside. 

They stand in the middle of the living room for a moment, one hand cupped over the other, staring blankly at the lamp. Something about the light is fascinating, but Wille can’t say what as they stand there. They’re not even aware of it, really, just a looping thought of <em>’I need…’</em> playing in their head amid the panicked silence of their mind.

I am going to tag uhhhhhhhhhh @little---versailles to do this, no pressure whatsoever, and anyone else who wants to do it! Words are solid, soft, pink, and shining. Have fun!

[purplehoodiesimon]

hello 👀 touch 45: feeling their temperature and also hands 13: linking hands together during sex :) :) :) :) :) you’re welcome 😌😏😘

You absolute fucking menace, ily💜, and you only get this for inventing the funniest name I have ever heard someone call me in my life, though honestly as someone who's been subjected people teasing me with Jupiter since my peers could talk, the bar isn't very high.

Touching 45. feeling their temperature

Wille pulls the covers over his head as soon as he wakes up. Being a functional person today sounds like a terrible idea. His head aches and his throat is sore like he's swallowed glass. Evidently, Madison's cold has gotten to him. Wille gets out of bed exactly once to use the bathroom, grabbing a granola bar out of his schoolbag on the way back for a mid morning brunch. It hurts so much to eat right now, but his stomach feels like it's literally shaking and choking down the dry bar feels like the lesser of two evils here. The door bangs open around noon, when Wille's in the middle of rearranging the blanket he's wearing like a robe. Simon stands in the doorway, with a tupperware of soup and a concerned expression. "Good morning," Wille says, hating how hoarse his voice sounds. Simon enters, setting the soup on Wille's desk and climbing onto the bed to sit next to Wille. "Nej, nej. You'll get sick too." "Please," Simon snorts. "Have you seen the group chat? Half our friends also woke up with it, I've already been exposed." "I haven't seen it." Wille sighs, feeling miserable. "Light hurts." "Well that explains why you aren't answering texts." Simon studies him for a second before leaning in, placing his hand on Wille's forehead. "Well that's good, you're not hot." "Ouch," Wille deadpans, snuggling down into his blankets and laying his head on Simon's thigh. "Breaking news, this just in: my boyfriend doesn't think I'm hot. What a—" He breaks off, coughing as a sudden tickle in his throat appears. Simon's concerned frown deeps and he checks Wille's head again. "Well you might be a little warm..." he says, and prods Wille in the shoulder. "Move over, I'll keep you warm." "Oh? And how are you—ow." Wille clutches his forehead, grimacing as a hammer bangs on the inside of his skull. He shifts, letting Simon slide under the covers next to him. "Okay, no flirting, it hurts. No talking either."

"You should get some rest," Simon says, already sounding halfway to sleep himself as he curls around Wille, tangling their legs together. He slides his hand over Wille's waist and slightly up under his shirt to softly stroke Wille's side. Wille snuggles back against him, falling asleep wrapped in Simon's warm arms.

The next day, it's his turn to check Simon's temperature, his boyfriend's teeth chattering even as he vehemently insists he's not feeling that bad.

Hand holding 13. linking hands together during sex (because you waited so patiently for this, I gave you married wilmon with it😌💜)

Warning: NSFW

There's not much Wille likes more in the world that taking Simon apart with his fingers. Simon's laugh, maybe, and the way he smiles at Wille each morning they wake up together. Even after years of loving Simon, he's never tired of the soft gasps and moans he can draw from his husband's lips.

Simon writhes under his hands, fingers clenching in Wille's hair as he strokes a finger over the firm little spot deep inside Simon. He presses down, massaging gently and pulling a long, drawn-out moan from Simon. "Wille, please."

"Patience." Wille hums, placing a soft kiss at the base of Simon's cock. You can't rush perfection. And Simon coming apart underneath him is the dictionary definition of it. He presses down with his fingers again, as his tongue darts out and licks a stripe up Simon, collecting the hot, salty taste of him before pressing another soft kiss at the tip. Simon cries out, yanking hard on Wille's hair as his hips buck up, sending a streak of precome across Wille's cheek.

"Please, älskling, fuck cariño, please," Simon whines, trying to push his body further down on Wille's fingers. Wille reaches up with his free hand, untangling one of Simon's hands from his hair. He brings it down to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the metal band that glints on Simon's fourth finger.

"Patience," he repeats, and twines their fingers together, pinning Simon's hand down to the bed as he does. "Other one, please."

Simon makes no protest as he releases his grip on Wille's hair, crossing it over his body so Wille can have both at once, holding them tightly against the sheets. Wille grins and licks up Simon again before swallowing him down, scraping a featherlight finger over the area that can make him scream for Wille. Simon half-sobs, his entire body tensing as he so lovingly makes an effort to not choke Wille by shoving himself down his throat. Wille taps a finger twice on that sweet spot inside him, their non-verbal signal for 'good boy' and Simon lets out another string of curses and endearments in various languages.

Wille keeps his hand there as he starts to bob his head, linked with Simon's hands and keeping them under his control. He starts stroking rhythmically inside Simon's body, fingers curling into him as his tongue twists around Simon, the ache in his own body unimportant as Simon squirms, his heels digging into Wille's back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, cariño por favor, te necesito..."

Wille loves reducing Simon to a babbling mess, loves it even more when he makes Simon revert fully back to his first language. It's him making Simon feel this good, it's him seeing Simon fall apart. And if anyone asks, Wille would gladly tell the entire world that he's the one who gets to touch Simon like this. No one else.

But luckily, he doesn't have to. It's just them in this room, intertwined on the bed, a mess of limbs and love. The rings on their fingers touch as Wille holds Simon's hands down, proof to everyone that Simon is the man he loves. Simon is the man he's loving.

Because that's what he's doing as he picks each piece of Simon apart and covers it with kisses before putting him back together with sweet words and a warm bath. He's loving Simon, with everything he is. And honestly, loving Simon like this—loving him with kisses and fingers and breakfast in bed, moments shared over dinner and walks in the park and laughter, the times when things are harder and there's anger or sadness but there's also hugs and promises to change, to make things better—that's what he loves most in the world.

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

Sometime in the future they're back together. And it's not easy, it's never been easy, but things are better. Simon gets to kiss Wilhelm when he wants, without having to check the area first or pull him into an empty classroom. Wilhelm can hold Simon's hand without making his bodyguards walk in front first, he can hold him and just exist, without fear that they'll be caught.

And maybe it's a bit far into their future. They're in university, and they've got a small apartment that's only a fraction of the palace Wilhelm grew up in but feels so much more like home than the palace ever did. Simon's studying music theory and working on putting his music out there without using his fame as the Crown Prince's boyfriend to get himself known. Wilhelm's studying history, but not the boring stuff they learnt in school like wars and monarchs and the like. He's studying the more hidden sides, the lives of the people who fought in Stonewall and the men and women whose identities were erased when their autopsies revealed they were born different from how they lived. He wants to know everything he missed growing up, all the details he never knew.

And things are good. They have their small apartment, and a couple little cats that Wilhelm's rescued off the street, and Linda visits on Sundays for dinner. They dance in the living room, when the evening is dark and the glow of the TV lights the room for them, and they're so close that Simon can count every freckle on Wilhelm's face even when it's cast in shadow. Wilhelm wakes up to Simon's face every morning, their arms wrapped around each other. It rains and Simon pulls Wilhelm onto the balcony to kiss in it like a cheesy rom com, and it snows and Wilhelm drags Simon down the to park to watch the sunset through the glittering trees and shoves ice down his shirt that sets off an hour long snowball fight in the twilight. There are rings that glint on their fingers in the candlelight.

And there's moments where it's hard, of course. There's arguments, when Simon's frustrated by the press and Wilhelm's been stuck in meetings all day that make him want to scream. There's times they go to bed angry, but it's always fixed with whispers in the dark. They make a rule to always talk when they fight, to not just get by on promises that one of them will do something about the situation. They talk and figure out what the problem is and they fix it. They know what happens when you let a problem go unsaid and hope things will just work out on their own.

It's a time when they're in love, when they can be in love. It's been a long and difficult road to get here, there's been so much pain and hurt. But neither of them would ever give it up for anything, because all the trouble was worth it, because it means for both of them that they finally get to have him.

[purplehoodiesimon]

I think Wilhelm likes thunderstorms

And I think Simon likes sunshine

And I think that moments of rainshine are the best, when Wilhelm's been leaning out an open window listening to the rain and remembering how he and Erik used to play in puddles when they were kids and how it rained the day he died and how he loves how the spring rains bring flowers and maybe it's a little ridiculous to believe this when he's in his 20s and should know better but the moment lightning lights up sky and arcs through the clouds it feels a little Erik saying hello, that the thunder is his voice again. And then the clouds split and the sun comes through and Simon's standing next to him, eyes closed and basking in the light, and maybe the little droplets from the rain have come in through the window and they're sparkling on his hands and face and Wilhelm wants to kiss them away and see Simon in the sunlight, the same as he was in bed that morning those years ago, and he feels warm and content under the sun's light next to his love and he can still see the rain falling, can still see the lighting in the distance, and it's okay because Simon's hand is warm in his under the sun.

And Simon loves to be in the sun, loves to remember what it felt like to run around fields in the summertime and fall asleep on the grass and wake up feeling like he'd slept in a furnace, and go in vacations with his family to walk on the beach under the sun and feel the warm sand beneath his feet and pick out shells from it, crouched there under the burning sun bouncing them between his palms until they were cool enough to stuff in his pocket, and maybe it's a bit ridiculous because of everything that happened next but the best the sun ever felt was the morning he woke up beside Wille in sun-warmed sheets next to a golden boy who kissed him like there was no tomorrow and he's had a thousand tomorrows since then with him where he's woken up in sun-warmed sheets to kiss his golden boy with the promise of tomorrow. And maybe he glances over at Wilhelm, who has a slight smile on his face as he stares at Simon, and his hair is damp and hanging down around his face and his eyes are a bit watery like the rain-soaked grass stretching out from their house, and Simon just knows that as soft and as sunshiney as they are now, their relationship started like a clap of thunder and strike of lighting, all at once and so intense, then gone and back again, wave after wave of uncertainty, how many miles do the seconds count again? (how many miles is he from me and how many seconds can I count until I see him again?), and it's taken time but he's come to appreciate the downpour of love their relationship started with because they were teenagers and teenagers are a tempest of their own trying to figure out how to weather the larger hurricane of the world, and he's glad that he and Wille have made it to the eye and settled down in their little rainstorm where they can be and they can feel and they can work through it together.

And maybe, just maybe, they reach for each other's hands at the same time and laugh a little at themselves and tangle their fingers together, and a soft sunlight warmed band of metal meets a freezing little rain soaked band of metal (where it was held out the window to catch droplets on his palm), and they stand there watching the storm change together.

[purplehoodiesimon]

I can’t remember the number omg…. but I know that it was nose kisses!!!! Please and thank you. - ungaroyals 💜💜

@ungaroyals Kisses 16. nose kisses (listen you wouldn't think this prompt would be the one that got the NSFW brain rolling but here we are ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Warning: NSFW

Sex is honestly amazing. Simon has no idea how he went so long before Wille without it. Every nerve is on fire, every sensation heightened on the tip of Wille's tongue. It traces over his neck, down his clavicle, leaving a damp, trailing heat behind.

"Ready?" Wille murmurs, his lips bruising the skin on Simon's chest as his fingers work in and out of Simon.

"Please," Simon breathes. His breath hitches as Wille's fingers disappear, leaving him feeling so empty for a moment, before they're replaced. It's like there's ache inside him being soothed by the feeling of Wille inside him—sweet, and whole, and so fucking good.

"Hey." Wille's lips trail over Simon's cheek, a soft burning love behind them. "I want to see you."

"What do you mean?" Simon asks, opening his eyes to stare up at Wille through the low lighting as they start to move together, tension building in the air between them. Wille's eyes follow the trail of his lips, roving over Simon's face to drink in every inch.

"You're beautiful," Wille whispers, and leans down, lightly rubbing their noses together. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Wille I—" Simon cuts off with a low moan as Wille strikes the spot deep inside him that opens up that ache again. It's the need to have him closer and closer until it's impossible to separate one from the other. It's desperation, heat, pleasure, love rolled into one little ball of emotions as Wille brushes a curl off Simon's face and rubs their noses together again, giggling a little as he does. "Fuck, you're beautiful too."

It doesn't take long for either of them to finish, tipping over the edge with pillow muffled cries and fingers digging into skin. Wille collapses on the bedcovers next to Simon, panting as he runs his fingers over Simon's chest, the light touch almost too much in the aftershock of it all. Simon rolls over, grabbing tissues off his nightstand to clean them up, tossing them into the trashcan by the door before turning onto his side to face Wille.

His eyes are glowing in the soft light of Simon's room, golden brown sunshine joy to match the smile playing on his lips. Simon lifts a finger, tracing softly over Wille's features, and starts to smile himself when he reaches Wille's nose.

"Nose kisses during sex? Really?" He teases. Wille rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose up as Simon taps it.

"You weren't objecting," Wille says. Simon scoffs. As if he would ever object to kissing Wille, whatever form it may come in.

"No, I wasn't," he says honestly, leaning in to rub their noses together once more.

Send me a number with the list type and I’ll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

can we have more simon working through his micke trauma pleaseeee

i feel like very few people touch on his problems with his dad, everyone focuses more on wille and his mom <33

Absolutely, I love working through trauma fics. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while now, hope you like it! 💜

Simon working through Micke trauma

It's lunchtime, one of the only breaks in their school day when they can just get away from it all. When they can avoid the stares and the whispers about the gay Crown Prince and his boyfriend. Of course they can't even get their gossip right—Wilhelm isn't even sure he is gay, isn't sure if there's a reason to think about it that deeply and weigh exactly how much he likes girls against how much he likes Simon (or other guys).

And in Wille's dorm room, they're safe from it all. They're safe and free and Simon is his safety and freedom but it's so much easier to exist with him when they're not constantly watched. (When the curtains are closed and the door is locked and they know for sure August is halfway across campus).

Here they can exist and bask in each other's presence, and sometimes even explore.

Wille has Simon on his lap, back against the wall, tongues lazily intertwined as fingers wander. There's no urgency in their movements, just a slow build up of warmth and love between them as they learn what makes each other tick. There wasn't much time for that in the Before—before the video, before the break up, before Wilhelm came out, before they got back together. And it's so exciting for Wille, getting his hands on Simon and taking notes on how to bring a flush to Simon's face and make him gasp like that.

His hands are on Simon's waist, and Wille starts to slide them up, up up up, over his chest and up to dance along his collarbones, intent on locking them behind Simon's neck to pull him closer. As his fingers reach the soft hollow of Simon's throat though, there's an almost instantaneous reaction from the boy in his lap.

Simon pulls away, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, fumbling to grab Wille's wrists and yank his hands away. "Nej, nej, nej, nej," he says, an instinctual franticness in the mumbled words. "Don't go near my throat."

"I—" Wille pulls his hands away from Simon's tight grip, holding them up and safely away from Simon's body. "Okay no throat."

Simon freezes for a second, seeming to process his actions after the fact, and pitches forward, mumbling sorry's against Wille's lips.

"It's okay, Simon." Wille grabs Simon's hands, tangling their fingers together. Whatever this is, it's okay. Wile gets it—sometimes there's things that don't feel good and there's nothing wrong with that. Simon sits back, a nervous energy humming around him. "Hey, it's okay. I won't touch your throat ever again if you don't want, okay?"

"Tack." Simon looks down, messing with Wille's fingers. He starts to speak, halting before the first word is out, huffing a frustrated sigh into the space between them. He tries again, "It's—I—"

"You don't have to tell me," Wille gently says, rubbing his thumb across Simon's hand. Soft, soothing, a reminder that they're safe. Simon's safe, it's okay. "I don't need to know why."

"I want to tell you though," Simon mutters, and Wille's heart clenches at the look of open trust in his eyes. "It's just hard to explain. It sounds ridiculous."

"Whatever it is, I'm listening. And Simon, I promise it's not ridiculous."

Simon stares at him for a second longer before nodding, refocusing his gaze on Wille's hands as he starts to speak again. "When—fuck, okay. When I was like 6? Or 7? There was this one time when, um, when Micke was drunk. Like really drunk. And he and Sara got into an argument and I was really scared watching them yell at each other and he didn't actually touch her but he started to grab at her throat. And um, Mamá says I didn't let anyone touch me for a week after. And I think it's just subconsciously stuck with me because I don't even remember it now. But yea I'm—I'm not okay with any sort of pressure on my throat. I tried to wear a choker once when I was 12 and threw up."

"Hey." Wille reaches up, brushing a curl back from Simon's eyes and leaning in to press a small kiss to his cheek. "It's okay. Shit happens, you end up with boundaries about stuff that other people might not have, I get it. It's not ridiculous at all."

"I—" Simon hesitates. Wille presses another kiss to his cheek and he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of Simon's lips. "Okay. Tack, Wille."

"Can I try something?" Wille asks, an idea flickering through his mind. "I want to move my hands around and find where I can touch, is that okay?" Simon nods, taking a deep breath as Wille untangles their fingers and settles his palms on Simon's chest again. "Here is okay?"

"Yea," Simon says, his smile growing as Wille nods and studiously moves his fingers up an inch. "There is okay too."

"Here?" He asks, his fingers brushing Simon's collarbones. Simon nods, switching to shaking his head as Wille's fingers move in closer. Wille repositions them, capturing Simon's lips in a small kiss—an 'I hear you' kiss—before continuing.

Wille works his way up, running his fingers along the lines of Simon's boundaries, learning exactly where it's not okay to touch and committing it to memory. He ends with his fingers linked behind Simon's neck, wrists resting carefully on the juncture where the soft skin meets the hard line of Simon's shoulders.

"This okay?" he asks, and Simon nods, a giggle on his lips as Wille grins and finally pulls him in.

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

“kissing the top of their head” for the drabble game. i challenge you to turn this into an nsfw one 😉😂

I said challenge accepted and I accepted the fucking challenge💜😌😘

Kisses 20. Kisses on head.

Warning: NSFW

"Shhh, quiet." Wille presses a hand over Simon's mouth, muffling the moans falling from his boyfriend's lips. They're in a room at the palace, some kind of old sitting room that's out of the way and barely used. Wille swears he had just been giving Simon a tour of Drottningholm, but one locked door, all the curtains shut, shaking hands stripping items of clothing away, and a comfy armchair later, here they are. He listens for a second, swearing he could hear footsteps outside, and determines it must have been just his imagination. "Okay, we're good."

Simon grins at him as Wille starts to move again, his knees carefully braced on either side of Simon as he rides him in the chair. It's some stuffy piece that Wille's certain was made in the 1800s when they gilded everything and used the worst patterns to be 'exciting.' At least it's comfortable. And what they're doing on it is far more exciting than the chair itself.

"You are so fucking hot like this," Simon mutters, his thumb stroking Wille's hip as he guides him. "Fuck, Wille. I love you."

"Yea?" Wille drapes his arms around Simon's neck, pressing a soft kiss to Simon's cheek as he rolls his hips, panting a little from the exertion. "Tell me how much."

"What?" Simon stares up at him, his cheeks flushed and steadily going redder and redder. Wille smiles, dipping his head and kissing him properly, all teeth and tongues before he pulls back to repeat himself.

"Tell me how much you love me. How hot I am like this. Tell me."

"Fuck." Simon gasps, his hips bucking up into Wille as he nods frantically. "Yea, okay. You...fuck, you're so hot when you're all pink and sweaty like this, because of me. You're hot when you....when you're stretched around me and I can feel how—how tight you are. And I love that it's me you're doing this with, that you said fuck it, he's the one I love. And....fuck, I just love you so much."

"I love you too," Wille says, moaning as he trails his lips over Simon's face, ending at the top of his head. He presses kisses to the curls there, seeing them shake slightly as he rides Simon. His thighs are aching, matching the desperate need coiling low in his stomach, and he tips Simon's chin up, returning to his lips and mumbling quiet words against them. "Fuck, I love you so much too. I—you're mine, and I want people to know that, I want people to know that I'm in love with you."

Simon's hips stutter, a low whine in his throat as pleasure tips over, wrapping his arms around Wille's waist and resting his forehead on Wille's chest as he fills him up. Wille follows him as second later, white streaks painted across his fingers and Simon's torso. He presses another shaky kiss to the top of Simon's head, his thighs trembling as he lets Simon slip out of him and finally relaxes them, sinking down to rest in Simon's lap.

"Fuck, I love you," Simon mumbles into Wille's chest, quiet and loving.

"I love you too," Wille says, placing a final kiss on the messy curls before pulling back, looking around the room. "Do you think there are any tissues we can clean up with in here?"

"....Fuck."

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

Hey! Can you do 35 under touches? (Personally, I find it so intimate and an extremely beautiful gesture of loving everything about the person)

Also, I have to tell you this, I'm a huge fan of your work and read the posts on your blog pretty much everyday haha. So thank you!💜

I started crying when I first saw this ask in my inbox and I'm crying again, thank you so much. All of you guys following me mean so much to me, and it's a bit wild to me that like, someone is reading my posts every day and stuff cause I'm just this queer kid from rural America talking about a show I love on tumblr, but yea thank you anon. It means a lot 🥰💜🥰💜🥰💜

Touching 35. kissing their bruises and scars (you're right, this is a very intimate one and I hope I've done it justice for you)

Warnings: Simon in a physically unsafe environment as a kid because of Micke's addictions

It's late in the afternoon, the low sunbeams lazily dancing through the curtains in Simon's room to lilt golden upon his curls. Wille presses a kiss to his hipbone, soft and chaste, a simple brush of lips over skin.

"That tickles," Simon says, shifting a little as he looks down at Wille, amusement bright in his eyes.

"Really?" Wille grins, ducking to press a few more in a line just above his waistband. Simon giggles, twisting his hips away from Wille as he does. Wille chases him across the bed, grabbing at his thighs and trying to pull him back.

"Shit!" Simon yelps, throwing his head back in full blown laughter, rolling over on his stomach. "That really tickles!"

"I can't—" The words die on Wille's lips. There's a shining silvery scar across Simon's lower back, dipping down under the waistband of his jeans. Wille reaches out. Simon's laughter stops in an instant as Wille's finger presses to it, following the slightly raised line. "You have a scar here."

"Yea." Simon twists his head, looking over his shoulder down at Wille's finger tracing the mark. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Wille glances up at him, worry brewing in his chest. "Simon, this is like 15 centimeters long."

"Wille it's nothing." Simon covers Wille's hand with his own, fingernails catching slightly on the scar tissue as he does. "Just some injury from when I was a kid. Broken glass can be a bitch to deal with, you know?"

"Broken glass...?" Wille frowns. He knows bits and pieces of Simon's childhood. They haven't talked much about it since they got back together, but he's picked up things. It's hard not to. "Your, um, your father...?"

Simon's expression is guarded, but not closed off. It's a bit different from the few other times his father's come up—he's not immediately diverting the conversation to something else. He shifts, the scar disappearing from view as he turns to face Wille. Hidden, but not gone.

"Yea," he sighs. "Micke left a broken bottle on the couch. I laid down without looking and that happened. I have a few more from stuff like that, it's no big deal."

"Can...um...can I see them?" Wille bites his lip, waiting for an answer. There's a hesitancy in the air, Simon's face blank as he considers the question. This is new territory for both of them, and Wille's curious but scared to push it. The last thing he wants to do is drive Simon back behind his walls.

Simon nods, silent as he sits up. Wille follows, watching as the sunlight shifts across him, illuminating these new details about the boy he loves. Simon yanks his pant leg up, showing Wille a small line up his calf. Another broken bottle, he says. Wille hesitates, his fingers brushing over over Simon's skin, an idea forming in his mind. It could be too weird, too much for the early, healing stage they're at. But that was how they started. So much so fast, throwing their entire hearts and souls into stolen moments and stolen kisses. Loving each other for everything they were from the first words spoken between them.

Wille dips his head, replacing fingertips with lips and noting the way Simon's breath hitches at the action. He glances up, Simon's face showing an internal war of emotion. He thinks he has taken it too far, starting to move back and apologize, when Simon's hand shoots out to cup Wille's face. They stare at each other for a second, Simon's thumb stroking over his lips, and then he pulls his pant leg over his knee, showing Wille a small circle of scar tissue just above it.

"This is where he dropped a lit cigar once, on accident. We were on the couch watching TV and he was falling asleep..."

Simon shows him each one. There aren't many, just a few cuts and scrapes and burns littering his body. Wille lingers over each one though, pressing soft kisses to the places where skin is marred on Simon, but no less beautiful and whole.

"Tack," Simon says, when they're laying in bed later, and presses his face to Wille's chest, hiding it away as he speaks. "I just—tack."

"Hey." Wille presses a soft kiss against his curls, his lips lingering. "I love you, okay? Everything about you. Your laugh, your smile, how excited you get when you get a math problem right, the way you're so strong and sure of yourself. Your lips, your eyes, your ridiculously adorable Looney Tunes shirt. And yes, I hate that you went through all that, but they're part of you, and I love you."

Simon doesn't say it back—hasn't returned that first one from before Christmas yet—but his fingers tighten on Wille's shirt and he nods, the silent acknowledgement anything but in the space between them.

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

Are you still doing the drabbles? If so I would LOVE 45 for hand holding and 24 for kisses

Hand holding 45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

Simon's bed is so comfortable. Wille wishes he could live in it, surrounded by the soft glow of his fishtank and warm blankets that smell like Simon. It's so much nicer than his dorm room, the walls bare and gray even after a few years of living in it, and his room at the palace doesn't even begin to compare to Simon's room. Simon's bed feels more like home than anywhere Wille's ever known.

The boy in question is also on the bed, though he's sitting up next to Wille. The covers are pooled in his lap, his bare chest glistening in the low light as he ties his curls back. Wille's captivated by it, the sight of Simon flushed and glowing in this bed just as beautiful as the first time he saw it, if not more so. There's time between them now, long months of kisses and hand holding. There's strength, overcoming the pressures of the Crown to be together. And there's love, there's so much love between them.

"Hi," Simon says softly, smiling down as Wille moves his head into Simon's lap, drawing little circles on the blanket covering Simon's thigh. "I love you."

I love you. The words are spoken so easily between them now. Wille doesn't think he'll ever tire of hearing them.

"Do you remember our first time in here?" Wille asks, quiet and confident as he tips his head to look up at Simon. "I was so scared I was going to mess up and make things weird."

"You sure didn't act like it," Simon says with a laugh, brushing a few locks of hair off Wille's forehead. His hand lingers on Wille's face, following the lines of his cheekbones and lips, before slipping down to link their fingers together. "We've both grown up so much since then."

"Well..." Wille scrunches his nose up and untangles their hands, pressing their palms flat together. "I've grown up since then."

"Oh, fuck off," Simon says lovingly, laughing as he looks at their hands. "My hand is not that small, you overgrown giant. I'm 5'7", thank you very much."

"Tiny," Wille says, slipping his fingers between Simon's and pulling his hand closer to drop a kiss to his knuckles. "Absolutely miniscule."

"You love my hands though," Simon mutters, leaning down to kiss him as Wille laughs.

"I do," Wille confirms, dropping their linked hands to his chest, pressed over his heart.

Kisses 24. kisses for a cover (had to get a bit creative with this one, AU where they didn't meet at Hillerska)

Every Friday night since the first week of university, Simon's gone out clubbing with Rosh and Ayub. University is hard, and it's often the only thing that gets him through the long week of lectures and stuck up classmates. They come up from Bjärstad and he locks his dorm room, and they spend the entire night having fun and not thinking about socioeconomics.

Simon never drinks, sticking to his water and juice, but Rosh and Ayub don't have the same reservations as him. This particular Friday night at their favorite queer club, they've knocked back an entire row of shots and it's only midnight. He loves his friends, really, but after Ayub spills a second drink on him, Simon decides to leave them to their drinking contest in their booth. The line for the bathroom is a mile long, and Simon heads to the bar instead, seeing if he can get some towels to dry his shirt off. It's not his favorite shirt, but he'd like it with minimal alcohol stains if possible.

He's mostly dry again when a man slides up next to him, an uneasy feeling settling in Simon's gut as the guy leers at him.

"A pretty boy like you without a drink just isn't right," he says, stepping way too close for comfort. Simon shifts back, giving the man his harshest glare. "What do you want, on me?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Simon says coolly, tossing the rag the bartender had given him back on the bar and trying to step away. The man's arm shoots out, catching on his sleeve as he tries to convince Simon to stay. "No, really, I can't sorry, no I have a boyfriend."

"Really?" The guy looks him over again. "Maybe he could join us, I don't care."

"Nope, uhhh," Simon glances around frantically, and grabs the nearest stranger's arm, pulling him in. "This is my boyfriend, tell this guy you don't like threesomes, honey."

The man he's grabbed stares at him for a second and Simon stares back, trying to telepathically convey his frantic need to get out of this situation and hoping the stranger won't just shake him off. He's oddly familiar looking and Simon wonders if he's someone he's run into at this club before.

"Right uh," the stranger turns to the creepy guy, giving him a charming smile. "Sorry sir, my boyfriend's right, we're mutually exclusive. Leave or I'll have my bodyguards remove you."

Wait. Bodyguards?

Simon stares at the guy with a horrified expression, suddenly placing where he's seen him before. This is Prince Wilhelm, younger brother to the heir of the entire country, and the second young European royal to come out a few years ago after his cousin Henry in England. And Simon's just grabbed him and forced him to pretend they're dating. Oh god.

"You're dating the prince? No way, I just heard you talking shit with your friends about the monarchy." The guy stares skeptically at him and Wilhelm. Simon's not sure what's scarier—the way this guy's clearly been following him around or the way Wilhelm wraps an arm around Simon's waist, pulling him closer. Simon squeaks at the feeling, his face burning.

"As if I haven't shittalked my family on live TV before," Wilhelm says, laughing a little. "We're a bit of a recent development, there hasn't been an official announcement yet. I just can't get enough of him though, so there will be one soon, right honey?" Wilhelm says smirking as he says the endearment, and Simon thinks he might die when Wilhelm's fingers stroke his jawline, tipping Simon's chin towards him. The anti-monarchist half of him is screaming about how wrong this is, how much he hates the royal family. The queer half of him is melting into a puddle of goo at the way Wilhelm's eyes sparkle in the club lights, the soft smile on his face as he hesitates, silently asking for consent.

"Yea," Simon breathes, and he's not sure what he's agreeing too (if it's just the kiss or the promise of something else), but the panicked screaming in his mind falls silent when Wilhelm's lips cover his. It takes a second for him to jolt into action, but when his brain finally catches up with reality, he kisses back enthusiastically, flinging his arms around Wilhelm's neck.

When they finally separate (soon, far too soon) the annoying man has left. Simon laughs a little as he leans back against the bar, his hand reaching up to trace his lips in shock.

"You had no idea who I was when you grabbed me, did you?" Wilhelm says, smirking as he looks at Simon, who shakes his head. "Well, I'm Wilhelm, and I feel like I should know your name if I'm going to ask you out on a proper date."

"A date? Really?" Simon asks, finally getting his head screwed on straight enough to come down from cloud 9, and he shoots a flirty look at Wilhelm. "Who's to say I'll say yes, Wille? The royal thing doesn't do it for me, you know, you'll have to make a pretty good case."

"Good, because I hate people who are fans of me," Wilhelm says with a wink, and Simon thinks maybe dating a prince wouldn't be the craziest thing he's ever done.

"It's Simon. My name is Simon. And about that yes..."

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

I saw you had the list of touch prompts but I have two if that's okay(three kind of seperate though.37 hand holding(the one where they don't know they're holding hands till someone pints it out.)I kinda want I to be a no one else knows they're together thing.Same with 22 kissing(in the rain) and everyone's like wait they're together.We need this for Wilmon in s2 lol

Multiple prompts is fine!💜

Hand holding 37. not realizing they're holding hands until someone points it out (I received another ask with a similar request of it set in ep 2 or 3 so no one knows yet, please let me know if you're the same anon, thank you)

It's early in the evening. Simon will be going home soon since there's no practice today (August would like to make everyone train 7 days a week 52 weeks a year but the headmistress insists that they take at least one night off a week). Right now though, he's in the library, studying with Wille before dinnertime. There aren't many people around, just Sara and a few of her new friends hanging out.

Studying isn't exactly the right word though. They're supposed to be studying, and Simon would like to be studying, but in all honestly, he abandoned his textbooks a while ago to tease Wille.

His...Simon's not sure what to call them yet, they've only kissed a couple times. Is Wille his friend? His boyfriend? Something in between? It doesn't matter, not at the moment. There's more important things to think about, like the way Wille's abandoned his schoolwork to play along with Simon's antics. Simon's trying to flip his history book closed, Wille trying to wrestle him off, laughing about how he can't read when Simon's doing that.

"That's the point," he says, trying to push Wille's hands off the pages as Wille scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out.

"You—" Wille grabs his hands, pulling them off his book. Simon squirms, nearly falling over into Wille's chair as he tries to get them back. The sudden realization of how close they are hits him like a sack of bricks, his entire body tensing as his eyes dart down to Wille's lips. Wille must realize it too, because he stills as well, his breathing growing heavier as he watches Simon. Simon's fingers twitch, wanting to reach up and cup Wille's face, but Sara clearing her throat across the table startles him out of it.

He jerks back, his face burning at her amused look and Felice's curious stare. Wille shifts as well, returning to his textbook and smoothing out the pages. Sara raises her eyebrows at Simon, who frowns at her, trying to figure out what the look on her face is about. Her eyes flicker down and—

Ah. Simon quickly drops Wille's hand, knowing Sara is going to tease him so badly about this later. He can't believe he was holding Wille's hand without even noticing.

"Are you excited for Parent's Day this weekend?" Felice asks, turning to Wille. It's a bit of an obvious topic change, and Simon can still see her eyes lit with curiosity (and maybe jealousy? What's that about?), but he's so grateful for it. The last thing he wants right now is for Wille to back out again because this thing between them was discovered.

Sara doesn't let it go though, as they walk down to the front gate, teasing him for having a crush on "Wilhelm of all people, honestly Simon", and how it's so obvious he wants a kiss from the Prince Charming. Simon smiles to himself, thinking about Wille and kisses and holding hands, and conveniently neglects to tell her he's already gotten his.

Kisses 22. kisses in the rain (here is the first drabble I wrote for this prompt, and I hope I've capture what you asked for in this one💜)

It's raining a lot this January. Wille doesn't like it. Rain is nice, but it reminds him of Erik, and how they used to huddle under blankets in the big rooms of the palace when they were kids and it was thundering outside.

It's raining when the car pulls into the parking lot at Hillerska. Christmas break is over, and Wilhelm is a bit terrified to start school again. He came out last week, through an Instagram post. His mother hadn't approved but he didn't care, and besides, their public approval ratings have gone up a little since he did. She was a bit happier about that.

Regardless though, going back to Hillerska means going back to Simon and all their classmates who know. People here know it was him in the video, and they know he fucked over Simon by denying it. Facing that is a bit daunting.

Wilhelm gets out of the car, Malin just behind him, and starts up towards Forest Ridge. Maybe if he just ignores the whispers, they'll go away. People are staring though, more than usual, and when he gets up to the building, he realizes why. Simon's waiting for him on the steps. Simon's waiting for him on the steps. Wille halts, staring up at him.

"Hallå." Simon toes the ground, a nervous tension in his shoulders. His curls are soaked, raindrops rolling off the plasticky windbreaker he's wearing over his usual jacket. Wille wonders how long he's been standing here waiting. "I wanted to talk to you?"

"Okay." Wille carefully walks up the steps, keeping his distance as he does. He spent all of break staring at his phone, the string of numbers that would bring Simon's voice to him glowing on the screen. "Why didn't you text me?"

"It...didn't feel right." Simon runs a hand through his hair, sighing. It sounds heavy. "You came out."

"Yea." Wilhelm studies his fingernails, the urge to bite at them growing stronger with every second that passes. He's trying to break the habit though, if only to keep his mother happy. "I came out."

"But you didn't take the denial back."

The words strike deep in Wille's chest. He didn't—he couldn't. He could care less about his mother's reputation, he could care less about public opinion, but people would trust the Crown less—trust him less—if he took it back. And with his plans for changing the monarchy, he needs people to trust the moves he makes.

He tells Simon as much, who nods slowly, taking in his words.

"So, you love me."

Wille blinks, startled at the subject change. He nods, studying Simon. He's guarded, and Wille feels his heart pound as Simon takes a step closer. A million scenarios range through his head—everything from a soap opera slap to just a simple "goodbye" before leaving.

"I love you too."

The words take a second to sink in. I love you too. Jag älskar dig också.

Wille steps forward, pulling Simon into a kiss. Who the fuck cares if people are watching? He cups Simon's face, stroking a thumb over his cheeks, feeling like this might be the most cliché moment of his life. Kissing Simon in the rain after hearing him return the 'I love you' from before break.

It's even better when Simon's mouth falls open. He's kissing Wille back. And fuck, it's like the clouds have broken open in his mind, sunlight shining through as Simon's lips move against his.

Wille pulls back, resting their foreheads together and simply breathing him in for a second, loving that he can do that again. Loving that Simon isn't pushing him away, loving that Simon's going to accept Wille at his side after everything Wille put him through. It's not going to be easy, he knows. Simon's not going to let things happen the way they did before, and Wille's okay with that. They're moving forward together.

"Come on, let's go inside," he says, tangling their fingers together and smiling at Simon. Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all. "I brought a few more things for my dorm, want to help me set them up?"

"Absolutely," Simon says, and sure, there's whispering when they walk inside, rain-soaked and holding hands. But it doesn't matter. People whispering, people wondering if they're really together—it doesn't matter. He's with Simon and Simon's with him. And Wille will tell that to anyone, proudly.

Send me a number with the list type and I’ll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

i made the new york model simon x plant boy wille post that edvin liked on twitter the other day and fyi i made it hoping someone (you especially because you’re such a great writer) would write something about it 👀

1. Ahkdfjdsklfjdsfkljdslk thank you💜💜💜 oh my god thank you.

2. Here's the link to the post y'all

3. This took me a few days to do and it's not much but I hope you like it! I assume you're familiar with my various Wille hcs if you know my writing, so I decided to write one of the loves of my life into this—nonverbal Wille. 💜

Dialogue: Swedish, Spanish, Swedish sign language

-

Wille steps into the New York apartment, dropping his keys in the bowl by the front door. He's had a long day at work and he wants nothing more than to crawl in bed with Simon and hold his boyfriend in his arms as he falls asleep.

Unfortunately, Simon is still at a shoot. He said it would go late this morning, and that was fine then. In the hours since though, Wille has had no less than four bitchy customers, eight emergency please-forgive-me extravagant rose bouquets, six dropped pots, and the counter orchard is being temperamental again. Wille spent all afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong with the little guy. It's not too much sunlight, it's not too little sunlight, it's got the right amount of fertilizer and water. It's just decided to wilt all of the sudden. Maybe it didn't like the first bitchy customer he had today and that's what's making it act up.

Wille sighs as he drops down on the bed, grabbing Simon's pillow and curling around it, inhaling deeply. The scent of sandalwood and lavender surrounds him as he hugs it tightly, trying to replace it with Simon in his mind.

If Simon were here at the moment, his arm around Wille would feel like that. And his lips would feel like this. And he'd feel warm and comforting, as he always does. Maybe he'd talk to Wille, softly whispering about his day and asking Wille about the temperamental orchard. Their hands would be intertwined, legs slotted together as Simon holds him. His fingers stroking Wille's hair and Wille's head tucked under his chin, where it belongs. Simon's arms are always so safe, and Wille's day has been so shitty that he longs for them, like he was as a teen pining over Simon from afar.

Wille is so caught up in trying to picture Simon in bed with him that he completely misses the sound of the front door opening.

And then the bed dips and it's real. Simon wraps himself around Wille from behind and Wille rolls over, burying his face against Simon's chest and clinging to him like Simon is the last plank of wood on a sinking ship. To his horror, he feels his throat choke up, eyes stinging as Simon gently strokes his hair in the exact same way Wille was just imagining.

"Hur mår du?" Simon asks, quiet and comforting, and Wille shakes his head, wrapping his arms tighter around Simon's waist. "Okay. That's okay cariño. Do you want me to sing?"

Wille nods, and Simon starts up a small tune, some Spanish lullaby that Wille knows he's heard Simon sing before. He's too tired to process the words though, to figure out their meaning from the minimal Spanish he knows. When they decided to move to New York a few years ago, after Simon's modeling career really took off, he had no idea running a florist shop would be this much work. It's nice that he could take his hobby and turn it into a lifestyle, and he knows Simon secretly loves all the plants in their apartment despite how much he complains about it. But god, it's so much work dealing with New Yorkers.

Simon trails off for a second, pressing a quick kiss to Wille's forehead, before starting up again with a new song. Wille can feel the tension starting to bleed out of him as Simon's voice soothes the quiet upset clenched around his heart. Simon's arms are his home, they always have been. It doesn't matter how far they are from Sweden, how frustrating his day has been. Wille knows he'll always find his home in Simon's arms.

He shifts back at the end of the second lullaby, just enough to put a small gap between their bodies, and brings his hands up in front of Simon's face so he can see them as Wille signs, "I'm doing better, thank you."

"Good." Simon smiles, leaning in to drop a light kiss on the tip of Wille's nose. He giggles, covering his face with his hands for a second before pulling Simon into a proper kiss. Simon tastes like cherry chapstick and buttercream frosting and it's such a strange mix but Wille is addicted to it—addicted to the taste of Simon underneath his tongue.

It takes so much effort for Wille to break the kiss, pulling back to ask, "Why are you home early?" Simon said it would go until 7PM at the earliest and it's barely after 4PM.

"The man directing the shoot had..." Simon pauses, his nose adorably scrunching as his hands waver, looking for the right words. He sighs, dropping his hands and switching back to Swedish. "He had a family emergency. We got let go early."

Wille hums, a small acknowledgment, and wraps his arms around Simon again. He want to stay here for a while, wrapped up in his boyfriend and letting the day's anxiety and stress melt away. He hitches a leg over Simon's waist, molding their bodies together, love dripping through his chest like a honeystick over his heart as he feels Simon relax against him.

He's starting to grow a little sleepy, the edges of his reality fuzzing as the burnt-out fear response he's been under all afternoon makes way for a deep seated exhaustion. His limbs feel like lead and he has no idea how he's going to get up to make dinner in a while, but it doesn't matter. Simon knows to let him sleep when he needs it.

Wille folds his fingers into the ILY sign from ASL—not the same as Swedish sign, but pretty universally known at this point—and presses it against Simon's back as his eyes slide shut. Simon's nose bumps Wille's head as he drops light kisses on Wille's forehead, whispering a quiet, "I love you too," in return between each one.

And safe in Simon's arms, Wille finally falls asleep.

-

Note: I am ASL student, I do not know Swedish sign. This features my hc of Wille being autistic and nonverbal. You can read my other story about him here.

[purplehoodiesimon]

It's dark out, the moonbeams dancing through the curtains to crisscross the floor.

Simon's arm is slung low around their waist.

Their waist.

It's something Wille's been thinking about a lot lately. Ever since Madison had mentioned it during workies a month ago—"I'm agender Vincent, fuck off or you'll find out exactly what these tits can do."—it's been sitting in the back of his mind, an ever present question.

It's not like he never knew what nonbinary meant. He heard quite a bit about it and gender neutral language back in 2015 when the gender neutral pronoun 'hen' was added to the Swedish Academy Glossary. He hadn't given it much thought then though, and in the years since, it's never really come up as something personal.

It's always been news headlines, comments from his mother about various activists, random people on social media. But something about Madison saying it that day was different, it seems to have flipped a switch in his brain. He can't stop thinking.

They roll over. Simon's sleeping next to them, his face soft and serene through the dark. He's so close, and Wille reaches out, tracing their finger over his lips.

They're scared to talk about it. They're scared to make it real. It's something they know, it's something they've known since the second Madison said it and that switch flipped, maybe it's even something they've known for longer, without ever really acknowledging it.

Simon's eyes blink at him in the moonlight, sleepy and tired, and a little confused.

"What time is it?" He mumbles, voice thick and deep with sleep, shifting a little to hold Wille closer.

Their heart is beating a frantic song in their chest, their fingers pressing against Simon's face with more urgency. They bury their face against his neck, inhaling the scent of Simon all around them.

Simon is warm and safe and love.

"I don't think I'm a boy," Wille whispers into the night, his voice quiet as he speaks the words against Simon's skin. He doesn't know what he is, he doesn't know if he wants to put a tighter label on it than just 'nonbinary', but he's sure about it.

Simon's hands tangle in his hair, stroking softly as he presses a kiss to the top of Wille's head.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it?" Simon asks, without a single note of hesitation in his voice. Wille's eyes tear up and he shakes his head, wrapping his arms tighter around Simon.

Simon lets them cry against his neck, his voice and fingers soft and sure as he comforts them, muttering little reassurances that Wille's ears barely process.

It's real.

He's said the words, put them out there. It's who he is, and no one can take it away now. It's theirs now, it's their identity. No one else's.

And for Wille, there's nothing more important than that acknowledgement.

[purplehoodiesimon]

hug 31 and kiss 50 if you're still doing it?

Wow you really said emotional whiplash with these ones anon, took me a while to get them done lmao

Hugs 31. hugging while straddling the partner (ft. he/they Wille as an apology for the angst in the other prompt here)

"Hey, look at me."

Simon looks up from his book, raising an eyebrow at Wille. His boyfriend has climbed into his lap, hands braced on Simon's thighs as he eagerly looks at Simon.

"What's up?" He asks, setting his book aside. Wille inches closer, leaning in to peck Simon's lips.

"I'm bored."

"Well..." Simon runs his hands along Wille's arms, tilting his head as he considers what to do. "We could game for a bit?"

"Nej." Wille shakes their head, a smile playing on their lips. "I want to cuddle."

"You want to cuddle?" Simon looks him over, sliding his hands around Wille's back and pulling him closer. Wille giggles slightly, their breath hot against Simon's lips as they lean in again. "Are you sure you just want to cuddle?" He mumbles into the kiss, as Wille tries to open his mouth on their tongue.

"Mhmm," Wille says, their hands curling into Simon's hair. He shifts on Simon's lap, pushing him down against the pillows and landing with another giggle, his hands braced on either side of Simon's head. "Hold me?"

"I was reading you know," Simon says, as Wille lowers himself onto Simon's chest, legs still straddling Simon's waist as they curl together. He wraps his arms around Wille, fingers carding through their hair as Wille presses their face against Simon's neck.

"That's so boring, Simon," Wille says, his voice muffled. "This is much better."

And although Simon was pretty invested in his book and wants to find out what happens next, he can't agree more. This is much better.

Kisses 50. Kisses with their last dying breath (blame the discord server for this one, they got the idea of a hunger games AU started. It's kinda a Frankenstein of a lot of different plots and what I remember from the books, hope you like it!)

Warnings: Death, slight gore

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

No.

This isn't happening.

Simon is back, he's held Simon in his arms again, and he's working through the hijacking programming, he's getting better, and this is not happening.

The explosion still rings in his ears as he scrambles forward, the image of Simon on the edge of the crowd safe safe safe until he wasn't. Until shrapnel hit him and there was so much blood and Wilhelm couldn't breathe as he saw Simon collapse where he stood.

"Please, please, please," he mutters as he pitches forward into the dust, hands reaching to touch Simon, to hold him. "Please, Simon, please."

He's not sure what he's even begging for. There's a slice across Simon's chest, the sheet of metal that it came from on the ground. It's pouring blood and he can't stop it, he can't fix it, there's too much.

"Hey." Simon's hands cover his, that slick red staining their fingers and mingling with the salty tears falling from Wilhelm's face as he tries. "Wille, it's not—"

"Nej, nej, nej, fucking shut up, medic! Please! Anyone!"

"Wille," Simon tries again, and Wilhelm finally looks up at him, his heart constricting at the soft smile on Simon's face. "It doesn't even hurt."

And that's a lie, that's a lie because he can see the pain furrowed in Simon's eyebrows and the short gasps of air as his chest heaves and it's a lie because it does hurt. It hurts that he's just gotten Simon back, they've just started to recover together, and now Simon's in the dust bleeding out and there's nothing he can do. They survived their games, they fought the odds with every tooth nail and scream they had. Separate winners from different districts and more star crossed than any lovers throughout history and they're here, and it hurts.

"Nej, you're not, you're not—" Wilhelm's fingers lace with Simon's as he collapses forward, pressing their foreheads together. "You're not—"

"Wille, real or not real?"

And fuck, Wilhelm is sobbing now, as he desperately presses their lips together and nods his head. "Real, it's real, it's—fuck."

"Okay." Simon's hand comes up, combing through Wilhelm's hair, and it doesn't even matter that they're both covered in blood, because it's real. It's real and Simon is going to die here, too young and after everything they've been through and it hurts.

"I love you," Wilhelm says, the words catching as he tries to heave them out through the sobs wracking his body. "I love you and that's not fake okay? That's not fake and it's real, I love you Simme."

"I love you too," Simon says, and his voice is getting fainter and his breaths are shallower and Wilhelm wants to just freeze this moment. Get no further than this, them lying on the ground and existing, alive and together. "You're going to get up and finish this fight and it'll be okay because I love you too, okay?"

And he will. He'll get up soon, he will, but for now he lays down next to Simon, resting his head on his shoulder and placing their linked fingers on Simon's stomach, reminiscent of the long nights spent in that cave during the first game. And Simon presses a final kiss to his forehead as Wilhelm's tears soak his shirt, a soft exhale against skin. And his chest is still and it's not real, but it is.

And Wilhelm wonders how the fuck he's supposed to go on now.

[purplehoodiesimon]

hey so i'm currently a mess of emotions because my dad just left my mom after she found out he was cheating for months behind her back and ANYWAY

is there any possible way you could write a little hurt/comfort or anything? i would really appreciate it but no pressure 🤍

That is a terrible situation, I'm so sorry, and I'm not always the best at writing hurt/comfort but I hope this can bring you some comfort 💜💜💜

Hurt/Comfort, no specific prompt (took this time to write some he/they Wille thoughts I've been having)

Wille tosses their phone down on the bed. They don't care. They don't care. Headlines, the paparazzi, gossip mags. It doesn't matter.

He sits up, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, and looks over at the closet. It's just clothes. He tells himself that over and over as he stands and walks over to it. It's just clothes.

His hands skim over the fabric inside. They pause, the silky smooth chiffon of their favorite skirt slipping through their fingers. They hesitate, gripping the fabric tightly. It's just clothes.

Wille skips over it to grab Simon's hoodie out, pulling it on as he walks over to the dresser for a pair of jeans.

Simon is in the kitchen making breakfast. There's pancakes and eggs sitting on the stove, his boyfriend carefully slicing fruit on the counter.

"God morgon," Wille says, winding his hands around Simon's waist and resting his chin on Simon's shoulder. Simon sets the knife down, turning to cup Wille's cheeks with slightly sticky fingers as he pulls him down into a kiss.

"Good morning to you too," Simon mumbles against Wille's lips, smiling a little. "Breakfast?"

"Um, maybe in a minute." Wille steps back, leaning against the cabinets. "I'm not really hungry."

Simon's smile drops. He grabs a towel, wiping his hands off and giving Wille a concerned look. "Everything okay?"

"Yea just," Wille swallows hard. "Stupid press stuff, it's nothing."

"Hey." Simon steps forward, leaning in to press a quick kiss to their lips. "Nothing is stupid. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nej." Wille crosses his arms. Simon nods, starting to step away, and they shake their head, grabbing his shirt and leaning forward to rest their forehead on his chest. Simon's hands come up, stroking through their hair. "Ja."

"Okay." Simon holds him, pressing a light kiss to the top of Wille's head. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know." Wille sighs and leans into Simon's embrace. He really doesn't know. It's sort of like he knows what's bothering him—it's everyone having an opinion on the way they dress and act—but they have no idea how to say that. "I'm just tired."

"Tired of what, älskling?" Simon strokes his hair. Wille shudders a little, loving the soft touch but hating the way it calls his attention to his hair. Their mother has been pushing for him to get it cut lately, and they don't want to, they like it long enough to braid and pull back with butterfly clips, but fuck the reminder that they're different hurts right now.

"I don't—I guess—ugh." Wille slides his hands up under Simon's shirt, feeling the soft, warm skin of his torso, and reminding himself that Simon loves him. That Simon makes an effort to understand and respects Wille's feelings even when he doesn't quite get it. That it's okay to tell Simon about these issues. "I guess it's that, I don't like how I have to be the queer prince. People just have to write headlines when I wear a skirt like it's not just a piece of fabric on my body that I like. And I like how it makes me feel, I like that people don't see me as a man when I do stuff like that, I like being...I like being they, but god I just—I wish I could just do it without it being a big deal because it hurts. I don't like people paying that much attention to me. Does that make sense?"

"Of course it does." Simon tips Wille's chin up, looking them directly in the eyes as he speaks. "You are so much more than just the queer prince. You're Wille, and I love you just the way you are. People shouldn't care. You're just Wille and if you want to wear a skirt, you should."

"I know." It's not perfect. Simon's words can only do so much but just hearing it helps, even from one person. It'll still happen, people will still have opinions on how they should present themself. Simon doesn't care though, and the other people in Wille's life that matter don't. They just compliment his outfits and appearance and move on. "I just—" Wille's hands scrunch the fabric of Simon's shirt, their eyes starting to sting. "It's just so hard."

"I know nene, I know." Simon leans in, pressing a kiss to Wille's lips as the tears start to slip down their face. "Do you want to stay home today? We don't have to go to lunch with Maddie and Felice."

"I—" Wille doesn't want to back out, he feels bad about how little he and Simon have seen their friends lately with university and Crown Prince stuff. But god, they're not sure they can face the outside world today. "Yea. If that's okay."

"Of course it is." Simon smiles at them, wiping their cheeks with his fingers. "Do you want to go change?" Wille hesitates, looking down at the jeans they selected this morning. They want to but... "Wille? Älskling? It's okay if you do."

"Yea." Wille sniffles, releasing Simon and stepping back. "Yea I think I will." Simon smiles, lifting their hand to his lips to leave a lingering kiss before turning back to the fruit. Wille steps out of the kitchen, returning to the bedroom.

It's just clothes. They can do this. He walks over to the closet, pulling down the skirt he was looking at earlier. Simon's the only person who's going to see him in it today. Simon is the only one who is going to have an opinion on it, and Wille is okay with that. Simon loves him. Simon loves them, just the way they are.

The tears come back as Wille slips it on, twirling a little as he looks in the mirror on the closet door. It's anxiety inducing—he doesn't think it'll ever not be with how public his life is, how scrutinized by the press his appearance always is. But the anxiety is just a small part of it. On top of it is such an overwhelming feeling of happiness, seeing the soft ivory fabric swish around their legs. They giggle a little, sticking their hands in the pocket of Simon's hoodie and admiring the way the purple of it looks with the not-quite-white of the skirt.

Some heaviness in their chest that they hadn't quite noticed yet starts to lift, as they fold the jeans up and put them away. They slip into the bathroom, sliding a few barrettes into their hair and applying just a little bit of a sparkly lip gloss, and head back out to the kitchen. Simon turns as they enter, breaking into a grin and grabbing them by the waist to pull into a deep kiss.

"There's my Wille," he murmurs, and Wille's heart glows.

[purplehoodiesimon]

hand holding 19

touch 17

🤍🤍🤍

(I loved writing for these prompts thank you💜💜💜)

Hand holding 19. playing with each other's fingers. Touching 17. holding the other's chin up

(I was crying so hard writing the first one that I couldn't write another drabble so I just went back and worked in holding the other's chin)

Watching his fiancé (soon to be husband) approach their wedding alter might be the single happiest moment of Wille's life. They insisted on the alter being centered in the room, he and Simon approaching from opposite sides to meet in the middle. It's a small arch, decorated with flowers and ribbons, framing Simon as he walks in time with the music. He's beautiful, sending little butterflies and drips of honey through Wille's chest, warm love radiating from every atom of his being. As Wilhelm steps up onto the slightly raised platform, he can see the same immense joy and love he's feeling reflected in Simon's eyes.

And a second later, he decides watching Simon approach actually wasn't the single happiest moment of his life. It's every moment he spends with Simon—the idea that he could choose just one seems insane when Simon makes him feel like this.

"Hi," Simon breathes as they meet on the alter, staring at him with such awe and love that it has Wille's eyes stinging. "Hur mår du?"

"Fuck, I love you," Wille chokes out in response, wiping away the tears falling down his face. It's a small ceremony, one they're holding with just their friends at Felice's house the day before their big royal wedding. She has the most living room space. Speaking of her—Wille can see in the corner of his eye Felice and Ayub exchanging money, Felice whispering a quiet 'Hah! I told you he'd cry first.' He loves the little family they've built over the years.

"Alright." Madison shakes her robes out, the thousand little bells and beads on them jingling as she does. "You may not be legally married until tomorrow but I did get ordained online just for this so let's get this shit rolling. You may take each other's hands."

Wille's not sure which of them reached first, but it doesn't really matter. Simon's hands are in his and it feels like coming home. He can't take his eyes off Simon as they stand there, fingers linked.

"Thank you to everyone in attendance for getting out of bed and coming my girlfriend's lovely house today," Madison starts, clapping her hands together. "Now tomorrow you're going to have to sit through half an hour of Bible shit, but today is a fun celebration. These two are finally tying the knot. Marriage is..."

Wille tunes her out as she talks about commitment and partnership, and the journey they've taken to get here. Simon is stunning in the lavender suit he picked out, contrasting Wille's own navy blue one. He squeezes Simon's hands, trying to convey through touch every little flutter of his heart that Wille feels looking at him. Simon sniffs, squeezing back and nodding slightly, as if to silently say, I know. I feel it too.

Simon stretches up on his toes, untangling their fingers for a second to grab Wille's chin and pull him into a quick, chaste kiss. A new wave of joyful tears starts to roll down Wille's cheeks as he leans into it, Simon's fingers strong and firm but soft and sweet as they hold his jaw. He can't believe they're here, getting married.

"Hey!" Madison's voice interrupts them, Simon pulling back as Wille chases Simon's lips. "You're not supposed to do that yet." Wille gives her an apologetic smile, Simon blushing slightly as their friends laugh at them. Madison sighs fondly and throws her hands up, saying, "Alright fine, we'll move on to vows before you jump each other in front of us. Wilhelm, you go first."

Wille takes a deep breath, hating public speaking enough that just this has him nervous, and lifts their joined hands, unlacing their fingers to draw lazy patterns on Simon's palm as he talks. "You are the love of my life Simon. And when we were looking at vows, I hated all of them because they kept saying that I promise from now to do this and I promise from now to do that. We don't start today. We started years ago. I don't promise from this day forward to regard you as my partner and my friend, I don't promise from this day forward to comfort you in sickness and in health. You have always been both my partner and my closest friend. And we had some fuck ups in the beginning but since I worked my shit out, I have always comforted you and looked after you. I have always loved you and I always will. This isn't a new beginning for us. This is simply the next chapter. And as I have since the beginning of our story, and will to the last page, I love you, so much."

"I can't follow that." Simon half laughs half sobs, fruitlessly attempting to wipe away the stream of tears on his cheeks. Wille chuckles, reaching up to wipe away some of Simon's tears too, hating the sight of him crying even for the happiest reason. "Fuck Wille, I love you too." He plays with Wille's fingers for a second before shaking his head. "Yea, fuck. I just love you so much. Maddie can I kiss him now?"

"Well we are supposed to do—and okay I guess we're doing kissing now. By the power vested in me by getordained.org I pronounce you husband and husband, you may keep kissing. Everyone, you may applaud now, I present to you His Royal Highness Prince Wilhelm he-doesn't-have-a-legal-last-name-so-we'll-just-say-Eriksson and Mr. Simon Eriksson. Who are still kissing......With a lot of tongue now. Hey guys we're still here, you know."

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!

[purplehoodiesimon]

Hi, can you do touching 8 and 49? I love your work I've been having a hard time and your posts are a nice escape ❤️

Awww I'm glad you like my posts and I hope things get better for you soon anon! 💜💜💜

Touching 8. shielding the other one with their body

Simon's a little panicked. He doesn't usually get this anxious, that's Wille's thing, but right now he's pretty sure he's having a panic attack. That's what this frantic feeling is, right? His heartbeat is pounding in his chest, his throat feels thick and he's not really sure his lungs are actually working. He's still alive though, so they must be taking air in.

"Hey, Simon, hey, look at me."

Simon glances up, focusing on Wille's concerned face, watching his eyes flicker over Simon. When did Wille get here?

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Simon swallows, coughing reflexively at the dryness in his throat, and tries to center his thoughts. What's wrong? Everything.

"I-I don't know," he stutters, and feels Wille's hands slip into his, squeezing tightly and grounding him. He holds onto Wille's hands like they're a lifeline, certain that he's nearly breaking them and feeling bad. He can't let go though. "Everyone's looking."

Wille glances over his shoulder at the crowd of people outside the entrance to the school building. Simon had tried, he really had. It's just school, they're just his classmates, it shouldn't matter that they've all seen him in that video. It's like he told Wille earlier—they did nothing wrong. So why does Simon feels so scared about it?

He'd made it through almost half the day, shrugging the whispers and staring off, and telling himself that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that the entire school's seen him in bed with Wille, it doesn't matter that the entire world is speculating on his love life. It doesn't matter.

It does matter though, because just after leaving for lunch, he'd caught sight of his face on someone's phone and suddenly there was a panic rising in his throat and a sick anxious feeling stirring in his stomach. And then he was on the floor, pressed into a corner like he's 8 again and Micke's screaming in the living room, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Do you want to go back to my dorm room?" Wille asks quietly. No. Simon wants to go back in time, he wants to go back to that morning and shut the curtains and change all this. He wants to go back to a time where his face isn't plastered across the Internet, his name in headlines questioning the Crown Prince's sexuality and ability to run the country.

"Yea," he answers, as Wille strokes his hands, feeling almost robotic in his movements as they stand up together. "Please."

Wille doesn't let go of his hand as they leave the classroom building, walking just in front of Simon and telling people to get out of their way, Malin just behind them. Simon keeps his eyes fixed on the soft fabric of Wille's coat covering his shoulder, pressed tightly behind him as they walk across the grounds. Wille snaps at someone once, something about 'put that fucking phone away' as he shields Simon a little more, but Simon barely hears it.

"Hey, we're here," Wille finally says, and Simon's eyes refocus, realizing they're already back at Wille's dorm. The panic doesn't fade instantly. It gets worse, actually, for a second as he stares at the open curtains before Wille's slamming them shut and turning Simon around, facing him away from them. Only then does Simon start to relax, feeling the weight lifting from his chest. "You're okay now, it's okay. Breathe with me, in and out, okay?"

And Simon does.

Touching 49. holding on to the other's shoulders for support (this one took so long and it's still so short and basic, sorry, but here)

Wille walks out through the Forest Ridge front doors and immediately falls on his ass. He sits up, wincing as he rubs the spot on his arm that hit the staircase railing on his way down. Apparently, it rain-snowed last night. And apparently, the water froze. All over the ground.

Wille carefully gets up, clinging to the railing as he walks/slips his way down the short steps to the path. There's a huge puddle of ice at the base of the steps and he curses his decision to wear his sneakers as he carefully slides across it. Ahead of him, he can see Nils and Vincent clinging to each other as they try to get over one of the largest puddles Wille has ever seen in his life. It looks almost like a second lake, and Wille glances around, wondering if he can get down to the lower path without breaking a leg.

He makes it down with only a few icicles off the trees in his hair. There's more puddles down here, but they're smaller ones, and he's able to step across the spaces between them without too many problems.

"Wille wait up!"

Wille turns to see Simon running up the path, his eyes widening as he watches Simon's foot hit a patch of ice. There's a flurry of shouted cuss words and hands reaching out for balance as he skids into Wille, slamming them both backwards.

"Are you okay?" Wille asks, bracing his hands on Simon's shoulders as he steadies them.

"I hate ice," Simon whispers, looking down as he carefully adjusts his feet, stepping onto the gravel. "I broke my arm once because of ice."

"Here," Wille says, linking their arms together and pressing a quick kiss to Simon's cheek. "I'll catch you if you start to fall again."

"Sap," Simon mutters, smiling as he blushes and leans into Wille. They set off towards class, arm in arm, making sure to carefully avoid the patches of ice as they walk.

Send me a number with the list type and I'll write a little drabble for it!