#yr snippet

[caramelpenguin]

Sunday Snippet

I found something I was writing from a while back, and who knows when I'll finish it (hopefully next year). Here's a very small part of it:

It’s on a Monday in April that Simon almost trips over on his way to his lesson.  He has two minutes to get to his classroom. On the floor is a light purple notebook. Thinking it must be his, he dumps it in his backpack, and promptly forgets about it until he arrives home. Opening the front page of the notebook, it’s clear that it’s full of random doodles and irrelevant notes. There’s a few frog drawings that progressively become better and detailed, and Simon is about to close it and place it in his bag to find the owner tomorrow, when he flicks to the last page to see if it’ll reveal anything about who it belongs to. His mama is singing in the kitchen as she prepares dinner- the smell of spices wafting all over the house, Sara is on a call with a friend in her room, his fish are swimming calmly in their tank, and Simon’s jaw drops. The last page of the lilac notebook is adorned with multiple phrases that range from ‘Simon Eriksson’ in beautiful calligraphy, to ‘curls curls curls curls curlscurlscurls’ and ‘urghrsngn hiiiiiissss eeeeyyyyyyeeesssss’ and ‘his voice is magical, i could listen forever’ and ‘what do i dooooooo0o0o0o0o0?????’  with hearts and stars patterned across the margin.  It’s highly intrusive, but it’s also about him, so Simon gives himself a pass. 

[pagegirlintraining]

Sunday snippet 2.0

I need to be emo about them today so I guess here’s another snippet. Alright bye gonna go cry over some fic now 🫠

None of these developments had been fun to watch from the sidelines, but with every single one of them, Simon had ultimately figured that it wasn’t worth making Wille feel worse by adding his own expectations onto the pile. So, he’d been a supportive friend, and he’d missed some lectures a few times to fly to London on a Wednesday instead of a Friday, and he’d learned not to plan any spontaneous outings when he and Wille hung out at his place.

This, though? This felt like a much bigger, utterly irreversible infringement on Wille’s life and the few things he’d allowed himself to want and not want in between trying to fit everyone else’s mold for him. And as much as Simon wanted to believe Wille was gonna fight back on the whole wife and kids thing at some point in the near future, he had absolutely no idea what to do if he didn’t. There was only so much support he could muster for his best friend slowly giving away his freedom, his life, his identity.

And yet, despite all that, Simon also hadn’t talked to Wille in four days, and the way they’d left things after their gaming session had been more tense than usual despite Simon’s best efforts. Add to that the lingering awkwardness of trying to move past that night, and Simon was in dire need of a good Wille conversation. One that reminded him that there was always that small but steady light left in the darkness, instead of making him feel like everything good in his life was slowly but surely slipping through his fingers.

It was this craving for his best friend’s presence that made him grab the phone off the table and hit the ‘Accept’ button.

“Hej.”

“Hej”, came Wille’s voice through the speaker, warm and gentle and like he was speaking through that little private smile of his, and Simon knew he’d made the right choice.

[hehehereliesmysanity]

Sunday Snippet

Another snippet from Chapter 9 of Honey and Lemon

Linda comes back with a fresh pot of coffee and pours it into their mugs, while Simon watches carefully to see what Wille will do about it and, unsurprisingly, Wille doesn’t stop his mom.

“Don’t be an idiot." Simon chuckles lightly, taking his mug out of his hand and getting up to go to the kitchen. He turns the kettle on while rummaging through the different drawers. He finds the teabags, picks one, dips it in the mug and pours the boiling hot water on it. He puts it on the table next to Wille’s plate and feels the need to explain it to his mom. “Wille doesn’t drink coffee.”

“I will keep that in mind for the next time.” Linda smiles, taking a sip of her coffee.

“This is really not necessary,” Wille protests, but a warm color spreads across his face at the thought of next time, Simon knows. 

“Wille, darling, just make yourself at home. You are always welcome here. Right, Simon?”

“Yes, of course.” Simon makes eye contact with Wille and he hides a grin behind his tea mug.

“In that case, can I have some honey and lemon for my tea? It makes the taste a hundred times better.” he grins, making eye contact with Simon. He sometimes forgets how mischievous Wille can get out of nowhere.

Simon shakes his head in amusement but he is also annoyed. Wille has no right to get bold in front of his mom. “Just shut up and drink your tea,” he scolds him with a half smile. 

“Don’t be so hospitable, Simon. You are spoiling me so much.” Wille teases. Fuck, he can’t wait to kiss him again. Again and again.

[hergrandplan]

Just a little snippet of a WIP

(because I desperately wanted to get this out before tomorrow but as I have actual obligations that I can no longer hold off on, I'm not sure that will happen. So have a snippet instead! Warning: contains season 3 spoilers)

“Can you draw it?”

Wille looks up at Simon with puppy dog eyes, a black marker in his hand.

“Please?”

Simon eyes the millions of hearts Wille has already drawn on the paper for practice.

“You know the artist needs to have it on transferable paper right? Like, you don’t need to have the drawing on your skin beforehand. Actually, having sharpie on your hand right before going in isn’t going to be good for the tattoo.”

“I just want to know what it looks like, you know… to make sure it’s in the right place.”

The sound of Wille’s foot tapping against the floor fills the room, and Simon smoothens his hand over Wille’s leg to still it.

“And you think drawing it on with permanent marker an hour before you get the tattoo is going to help decide that?”

Wille laughs softly when he realizes the flaw in his plan. “Okay, maybe not.”

Simon skoots his chair closer to Wille’s, the legs scraping over the floor. He gently squeezes Wille’s thigh. Wille places his own hand over Simon’s, interlocking their fingers.

“Do you want me to explain the process to you again?” Simon knows Wille’s nervous, and he gets it. This is Wille’s first tattoo. Not only that, this is the first time he’s ever changing anything permanent about his body without the court having a say in it. To Simon, this is just another tattoo. For Wille, it’s another step in breaking free.

[mortallynerdybear]

[skibasyndrome]

sunday snippet

a canon-compliant post-s3 situation that has Wille so in love it hurts, coming to an Ao3 near you hopefully very soon. sadly I had a bit of a writing break this week, but I hope to get back into it properly soon 💜

Wille gets to taste the smile when he pulls Simon in by the waist. He gets to feel it on his lips as they stumble through the cabin, all the way along the tiny corridor, into the room at the end of it. When Wille sinks back and down against the white sheets - rumpled, tangled, deserted earlier in the morning - , when he pulls Simon down with him, he still basks in it. In the warmth that spreads throughout his body every time Simon presses his smile against Wille's lips, against the corner of his mouth, against his cheek. It’s only then, as he scoots up the bed, one hand tightly clasping Simon’s, that he opens his eyes again. Only as Simon is leaning over him, does Wille allow himself another look, a proper look. He’s never known beauty like this, never known what it’s like to see Simon’s naked golden skin bathed in the glow of summer sunshine. No other time he’s looked at him could’ve prepared Wille for the mesmerizing spectacle of tiny droplets making their way down from his hair, over the sides of his face, over his neck. Some drops catch in the light, as Wille’s breath catches in his throat. He's so pleasantly breathless when Simon covers his body with his, when Wille’s vision narrows down to Simon’s face, his halo of wet hair gorgeously backlit.

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

I have survived the last week and a half! (Somehow). And I come bearing a snippet from a now completed, slightly-longer-than-it-was-supposed-to-be 'experimental oneshot'. I just need to edit the mess offline mode made of my document, but hopefully I'll get to share it soon. (People following the progress of the childhood friends fic will also be pleased to know that I've been working on that too.)

-

With intent, Felice chucked the cardigan she was holding in her hands at Nils. He squawked and lifted his arms to protect himself, spilling water everywhere in the process. “What the fuck was that for?” he cried, shaking his wet hair out of his face and laying the glass down on the table. “Fuck’s sake, Felice. I’m all wet now.”

“You asked Simon?” she demanded, rounding the table and sitting down in the armchair opposite them.

Nils wiped his hands on his t-shirt and sent her a scathing look. Very used to Nils, Felice just glared back at him until he sighed. “Yes. I asked Simon. So what?”

“So what?” Felice’s voice went shrill and Wille felt like he might be missing something.

“Yeah,” Nils said. “So what.”

“So,” Felice said, slowly and deliberately. “Simon is off limits.”

Nils scoffed and leant back into the sofa again. “Not any more, he’s not. He got rid of the dead weight didn’t he? Free as a bird. And therefore back on the table.”

“Nils,” Felice said, her tone warning. And then, for some reason, her eyes very pointedly moved to Wille and back to Nils. “That wasn’t why he was off limits.”

[enjoythesilentworld]

sunday snippet <3

(a lil nsfw)

“Took your time, didn’t you?” Simon teased, trying to feign annoyance but it came out a little more desperate and breathless. Wille chuckled.

Simon had almost forgotten his wrists were still dutifully crossed behind his back, until he felt the smooth glide of fabric against them. The warmth of Wille’s body returned again, then his breath against Simon’s neck.

“You tell me if you want it off, okay?” Wille said softly, pressing soft kisses to Simon’s shoulder, all the while dragging the fabric of the sash against his wrists.

Simon nodded dazedly.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Simon fumbled to say, rolling his eyes, “Yes, fuck, okay. Wille, just—”

The gentle kisses stopped and there was a hand around his throat, Wilhelm pulling Simon’s back flush to his front.

“Don’t act all sassy now,” Wille whispered in his ear, fingers pressing deliciously into the sides of his neck. “Or I’ll leave you here.”

[piebingo]

Sunday snippet

This is from a new little something, which I hope I can get the first chapter out soon. Second chance love type of thing.

It’s the sweater that makes Simon move, walking closer to where Wilhelm is still frozen.

“Hey.”

His eyes roam over Wilhelm, taking everything in. He’s so different, his face sharper, more angular, and his eyes calmer even when they don’t seem to know where to settle on Simon. He has to tip his head back farther than before to look up at him and Simon’s eyes catch a hint of stubble on his chin.

But above all, he’s still the same. Underneath all of the differences and the years that have passed still stands Wille. Not Wilhelm, and certainly not the Crown Prince —though that person hasn’t existed for more than a year now— but Wille. The one that used to be his.

“Hey.” His voice is deeper but as gentle as Simon remembers. “You’ve— you got a haircut.”

It’s so familiar, yet so different. Simon wants to cry. He doesn’t, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth instead.

[bigalockwood]

Sunday Snippet 👻

From the final chapter, actually genuinely finally coming next week.

When Wille looked back up at Simon, his eyes were still empty and unseeing.

“I killed my own brother.” All the emotion that had been missing from it before made Wille’s voice tremble now.

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

Sunday Snippet

It's been over two months since the last chapter of One Word From You and probably no one remembers what it was even about anymore, but! I'm feeling pretty confident now that I can get the next chapter out before Christmas, so there's that.

“I’m glad you’re still doing music,” Wille said. “You’ve always been so talented.”

He was rewarded by a shy little smile and a flutter of dark eyelashes as Simon looked down at his knees with the ghost of a blush on his cheeks. He’d always been so cute whenever someone complimented his music. Wille should have done it more.

“I still listen to the song you wrote for me sometimes,” he said before he could think better of it.

Simon looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”

Wille nodded. “I didn’t, for a long time. But I guess it stopped hurting after a while. It’s beautiful.”

Simon made a face. “I haven’t listened to it since I sent it to you. God, it must be so cringey.”

“It’s beautiful,” Wille repeated emphatically, somewhat offended on past Simon’s behalf. “I’m sure you’ve become a better songwriter since then, but don’t diss it. It’s beautiful. It’s genuine.” He hesitated. “I don’t think I really got what you meant by it back then, but I get it now.”

[caramelpenguin]

Here's a snippet of something that I really hope I'll finish :)

Simon Eriksson is very pretty. This is an objective truth.

Wilhelm knows this with a certainty that is lodged deep in his chest, stubborn and undeniable,  like the pull of a tide, low and constant, dragging him out to a place he can’t quite reach whenever Simon brushes past him without so much as a glance, and Wilhelm has to gulp down how pathetic he is. Simon is prettier than the soft glow of candles on the tables, prettier than the string lights draped across the restaurant's terrace, prettier than the rich scent of wine that curls through the air whenever Wille steps into the bar.

He only works with him for a fleeting two hours every week, the end of his own shift and the start of Simon’s. He moves through the restaurant with ease, a touch of elegance, sliding from table to table to take orders while laughing with guests, warm in a way that makes everyone lean towards him. It’s barely enough time to have a conversation or even exchange words beyond the normal - “Table 5 needs a jug of water,” “Can you ask if they want dessert?”, “Remember to give them spoons”- but it’s enough for Wilhelm to contemplate melting into himself and hiding from the world.

Because Simon Eriksson does not like him. Not really.

Simon watches him with narrowed eyes. He mutters sharp comments under his breath that Wilhelm can’t always catch but knows can’t be kind. His tone is a little brittle, full of exasperated sighs whenever Wille is nearby. 

Today is no different.

[pagegirlintraining]

Tuesday tidbit

Writing is going a bit slow atm so I felt like sharing some of chapter 6 for some morale. (Yes I felt smug when I came up with the title. No I will not be taking complaints for being cringy.)

“You seem awfully distracted today”, Emilia assessed, straightforward as ever. “Is it me or the superheroes?”

“It’s, uh, it’s neither, actually”, Wille replied, noticing only belatedly that that would still leave him with the task of explaining just why he was less mentally present than usual today. Well aware of his (lack of) talent for improvisation, he made the quick decision of going with something close to the truth.

“A friend told me some pretty big news today. I guess I’m still a bit hung up on that. I’m sorry.”

“Would that friend happen to be called Simon?”

Wille didn’t know what he was more surprised about, her mentioning Simon or the barely noticeable note of frustration he didn’t think he’d heard from her before.

“How-”, he spluttered, then collected himself a little to ask, “Why would you think it’s Simon?”

“Oh come on, Wille. It’s not like any of your other friends have come up at least twice every time we’ve seen each other.”

[hergrandplan]

Sunday snippet!

Hiiii everyone! I'm back (somewhat) with a new snippet of a new story that I'm kind of scared to post (not the snippet, the fic in general), but I'm also already growing too attached to this particular version of Wille. Soooo here's a little teaser I guess?? and a big thank you to @skibasyndrome who encouraged me to write this story in the first place, ily 💜

He was just fishing out his handkerchief from his pocket to wrap around his thumb when the door opened.

Wille didn't know what he had expected Simon to look like — there had been no pictures of the author online as far as he could find, and Simon Eriksson was too common a name to match a singular profile to.

Anytime Wille had thought about the man, he had pictured someone old and stuffy, gray hair and an ever upturned nose.

He hadn't expected someone of his age, with unruly curls, hovering in the doorway and fidgeting with his hands as if waiting on something.

He probably was waiting on him, Wille realized with a shock, quickly followed by the realization that Wille had been staring at him for the last few seconds, probably longer than what was proper. He was just so young.

"Uh, hi," Wille said, fumbling to get out of his seat while keeping his hand out of view. It probably wouldn't be a great start to the interview if Simon realized Wille was actively bleeding.

"Hi. I'm —"

"Simon, right? You're here to write my biography and all that, I'm Wilhelm," Wille quickly added. Which of course Simon would know, Wille didn't need to tell him that, but Simon was still hovering in the doorway. "But you can call me Wille. There's um, coffee and tea in the corner there, with some cookies and — I mean, you can ask one of the attendants to get it for you actually, but I think you might —"

A soft smile appeared on Simon's face, and Wille could almost see the tension disappear from his body. Well, if his awkward stumbling was good for at least something, he was glad that it was for sucking the tension out of the room.

"Thank you, but I can get my own coffee," Simon said, heading straight for the table the palace staff had set out for them earlier. Wille watched as he poured himself a cup and tucked a stray curl behind his ear.

Simon looked up at Wille then, eyebrows raised in a question. Wille was still just standing there, not having moved a single muscle the entire time.

He quickly sat down in his chair again, and pushed his hair out of his face. He really was due for a haircut.

Wille took a deep breath, "So," at the same time that Simon said, "Shall we —"

Simon's sentence broke off, and they looked at each other for a second before Simon started laughing again, and Wille couldn't help but join him.

"Great start to the interview," Simon joked, his eyes crinkling at the corners, shining in the sunlight. Kind eyes, Wille thought. He has kind eyes.

[oneofthosebells]

Sunday snippet

From untitled tattoo artist!Simon x drunk!Wilhelm fic (nearly finished, but I've put it on hold to try and get the next chapter of Incognito Mode out a bit sooner.)

-

“If I wait until I’m sober they’ll talk me out of it.”

“Yes,” says Simon pointedly, even as he wonders who ‘they’ might be. “That’s why we don’t do it.  Tattoos are kind of permanent, we do like people to be sure.”  It’s not the only reason, but somehow he doesn’t think Wilhelm is going to take in a lecture about how alcohol thins the blood and makes tattooing more difficult right now.

“I just want…”  He leans on the front desk, resting his weight on his forearms, his eyes pleading where they’re fixed on Simon.  Simon swallows, his mouth suddenly dry for some reason.  “I just want something they can’t cover up or hide away, you know?  Something that’s mine.”

There’s a strange atmosphere that’s settled over them, the air thick as they look at each other across the desk, the shop so quiet they can hear the roar of traffic on the main road.

Simon swallows again and tries to lighten the mood.  “Okay, but they can cover it up though.”

Wilhelm frowns at him in confusion, head on one side.

“I mean, if you - they - needed to, they could cover a tattoo up with clothes or make-up, or they could airbrush it out of pictures.  Or they could get you to remove it altogether by laser.  It’s—” he nearly says ‘very expensive’ out of habit, remembers who he’s talking to and changes it to “—really painful, but it can be done.”

A pang of regret flashes through him at the way Wilhelm’s shoulders slump in defeat, the light going out of his eyes.

“What tattoo were you thinking of anyway?” Simon asks, partly out of guilt but mainly because actually some inner imp of curiosity does really want to know.

“Okay, right, so…”  Wilhelm gathers himself back up, pulling himself back into the conversation.  He blinks a couple of times as though trying to concentrate.  “Right. So this was my first thought, in big letters all down this arm: ‘Fuck The Monarchy’.”

Simon bursts out laughing.

[skibasyndrome]

sunday snippet (slightly nsfw)

writing has been kind of challenging again recently, but I've been trying to make some progress with my beloved requested spa wilmon. sooo for self-motivational purposes: have a little sneak peek of Wille struggling

Wille’s gotten massages before, plenty of them. So this shouldn’t be a problem.

It should be the opposite of a problem, he should be relaxing, should feel the tension drain out of him, should feel relief at the hands working on the tightness of his muscles. But he’s failing, he’s failing so hard. Nothing about this feels relaxing at all. Every slide of Simon’s slick hands over his back reminds him that he’s currently very naked. With a very, very pretty man touching him. And that that is a creepy thought to be having when you’re just getting a fucking massage. But surely he can make it out of this alive and without being a weirdo about it. He can think about other things, about something else, anything else that isn’t the fact that Simon’s pressing into Wille’s skin right where it makes Wille clench his teeth in order not to let out a noise he knows is going to sound embarrassing. Simon really, really knows what he’s doing.  Which he has to, goddammit, Wille reminds himself. He has to, because this is his job, he’s a professional and that is all there is to this. Wille presses his eyelids shut so hard, he feels a little sting in his head. Not very relaxed of him.

When Simon digs both thumbs into his traps, right where they run up his neck, Wille fails to bite back a whimper. When he feels the hands slide off his back again, he’s more than glad to be face down with his burning cheeks hidden from view. How has he never thought about the sounds he lets out during a massage before? Simon clears his throat and Wille’s ears perk up. “Uhh," he sounds a little unsure, a little strained. Wille wants to sink into the floor. "You should try to keep breathing, otherwise you’re just gonna tense up more.” He runs an oiled up palm over Wille’s shoulder blade, maybe in a comforting, soothing way, but Wille thinks the soft touch might be even worse than Simon digging the heel of his hand into his muscles. He hums in agreement, not trusting his voice to come out in any way that is helpful. Of course Simon would notice that Wille is clenching his teeth through this fucking massage. There’s only hoping that he’ll never find out that Wille is embarrassingly, horrifyingly half-hard under that flimsy towel that’s wrapped around his hips.