willesworld

[willesworld]

The main flaw of the Wille/August fight scene in S3 is that it distracts from what really matters, which is Wille bringing Simon coffee. He puts a hand on his thigh and asks him if he wants anything and then he goes and gets it and I know that he was so happy about it until August ruined it. Wille loves getting Simon things. He loves being a boyfriend and going on little quests for the love of his life.

[willesworld]

YOUNG ROYALS 3.03

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simon not being mad at sara for living at their dads apartment after she chewed him out relentlessly for speaking to him in s1 is unfortunately such an in character thing for him to be patient and forgiving about but oh my god you know he’s gonna have an insane therapy session where he processes that in like five years

[willesworld]

YOUNG ROYALS 2.05

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a character who isn't used to being cared for or treated kindly being gently and tenderly cared for for the first time in years or maybe ever. save me

[willesworld]

writing isn’t hard it’s just emotionally devastating and time-consuming and requires full body possession by an idea

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in case anyone's been wondering where i've been the past two years, i've been writing a rebel!wille x nerd!simon fic. and yes, in case anyone's wondering, i've only finished 15/23 chapters. big sigh.

[willesworld]

Happy pride month 💜

Even though it's technically not the anniversary of my fic yet, I just wanted to share this beautiful commission by @loren91 for my fic Running Back To You. Thank you for bringing my vision to life, I'm so happy with it and I hope it can bring some joy for this month of celebration 🥺

You can read the story here 🫶🏽

[willesworld]

Young Royals - S03E02

[willesworld]

Simon. I am begging. On my knees

"I want to feel you inside"

Nina!!! Hi!!! No this has not been sitting for over a month nope dkgshdf anyways, thank you so much for sending me a prompt (and also for helping me decide what to write today hehe), I hope you will like this one 💜💜💜

camping redemption; friends to lovers; my god, they are sweating

cw: nsfw

Read below or over on ao3

Once they settle down inside the tent, it doesn't take long for them to discard the sleeping bags after all. They rustle traitorously in the stuffy silence as Wille kicks them away, off to the other side of the tent, where they won't bother them for the night.

Simon lets out a pleased sigh, finding it a lot easier to breathe without unruly nylon and polyester pooling around him. Not even the proximity to the lake is making the uncharacteristic heaviness of this May night any better. Maybe it's worse. He feels like his shirt is still damp, as is his hair, their late evening swim seeming like not as much of a good idea anymore. Besides him, over on the other iso mat, Wille lets out a groan. "This was a bad idea," he mumbles. When Simon turns back around, facing him, he sees that he's tugging on the collar of his t-shirt, attempting to fan some coolness down his body. Simon doubts he's going to find any cool air, though. Not even the fact that they've only closed up the fly sheet is allowing any semblance of a breeze to enter into their tent. Simon can't quite bite back his amusement. There's something adorably hilarious about Wille when he's whiny. There's a reason why Simon's always enjoyed teasing his best friend. Even if he's been doing it less and less as they grew older, and with them, Wille's aversion to being laughed at, even in good humor. But it seems fine now, seems like they're just relaxed enough. So Simon stretches his leg, pokes Wille's shin with his toe. "Your fault," he says, and follows suit when Wille moves his leg out of the way. "Let's go camping for my birthday," Simon mocks, dropping his voice in exaggeration. "Like in the old days." At that, Wille kicks back lightly.

"I don't sound like that," he protests. But Simon can see the smile on his face, even in the dim light of their camping lantern. He's not ready to give up, not until he sees Wille squirm again. It's been too long. "Let's get out of the city," Simon quips, voice still comically low. Their legs are a tangled mess now, each of them trying to keep the other one from poking, tickling, kicking. Wille lets out another whine, but at least this one rings familiar of amusement and lighthearted frustration. "You make me sound like I'm old," he groans, raising his shirt up and over his face, covering what Simon hopes is a bright blush, as if that will make it disappear. Unfortunately, the opposite is true. Simon's retort gets momentarily stuck in his throat when his eyes drop to Wille's naked skin. Most days, Simon has no problem forgetting about the fact that Wille looks the way he does. That, under his baggy shirts, there are firm lines of muscle, and skin so charmingly pale and freckled that Simon has thought about counting the little marks in weak moments. Most days, Simon's attraction to Wille can be neatly tucked away, sitting somewhere in the back of his mind. Their friendship is too comfortable, too lived in, has always been closer than most people around them understood. Whenever Simon found the words to put to the feelings, it had already been too long, too settled for anything to change. Most days Simon feels a spark, a sting, a flare of something, and can manage to get right back to business. So he can do that, now, as well. When he averts his eyes, finding Wille's cotton-covered face again, he forces out a laugh. It sounds a little too strained to his own ears, but maybe Wille won't notice. "You make yourself sound old," Simon says, trying to wiggle his leg free from where it's trapped between Wille's. His skin feels extra warm where it's rubbing against Wille's leg hair. Another whine and Wille releases Simon's leg. The air has gotten even stuffier. Maybe it's mostly Simon's head, maybe it's mostly him being reckless and weird tonight and his focus slipping, as his eyes are slipping down again. Wille's belly rises and falls with his breathing, and, deep inside of Simon, there's the stirring of that familiar urge to... feel it, to reach out a hand and experience it up close. Wille's body, his breathing, his skin. It's an instinct he's so used to, somewhere between loving his friend and wanting to have him as close as possible and a different kind of want, sharper around the edges and more searing. Sometimes it keeps him awake at night, when he trails his hand over his own body instead, wondering, with ever dip and every crevice, what the topology of Wille would feel like under his fingertips. He doesn't usually have to face the feeling so up front anymore these days. The times of shared school locker rooms are over, most moments of nakedness defused by other friends with them. Maybe it's not just Simon's head. With a noise of discontent, Wille tugs the shirt further up, over his head. It lands where the pile of sleeping bags is resting. Simon lets out a quiet breath. He's been quiet for a moment too long, Simon realizes, when Wille clears his throat suddenly.

"Sorry," Wille says, "it's just way too hot." He still sounds lighthearted, but Simon thinks there's an edge there, hard to place. But he can't have that, can't let this get weird. Can't let what he's able to deal with perfectly fine get between them now. "No, I know," Simon says and rolls onto his back again. Thinking is easier when he's only looking a green canvas. But it still isn't helping the heat in any way. Simon decides to bite the bullet. With a sigh, he pulls his own shirt over his head and blindly throws it into the general direction of the other fabric.

Read the rest over on ao3 because otherwise the tags on this post don't work apparently :')

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[willesworld]

HAPPY PRIDE!!

[willesworld]

This is a message of appreciation for all your favourite blogs and mutuals ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡ ➰💜

love love love you💜

[willesworld]

[willesworld]

❤️‍🩹"that good ache" fic recs!❤️‍🩹

i'm still reading through the wilmon tag on ao3, but i'd like to start sharing some recs in very arbitrary categories. i'm not going to re-rec anything i've recced before, so this is really only from within my last six months of reading. more lists to come!

this one focuses on fics that give you that delicious achey feeling in your chest as you read them!

i've tagged writers where i knew their handle. feel free to let me know if there's someone else on tumblr i can tag!

maybe now maybe here tonight by @dreamyelectronicmusic

Only for Coffee by @enjoythesilentworld

(kan inte ens gå) Utan din luft i mina lungor by Meinthesky

now we're knee-deep in this mess by aqua_rius

Did you give yourself away again? by @saynomorefic

Worth The Wait by @gulliblelemon

your breath lives in mine, even if it's been a while by allforyoumylove

sliding doors goodbye by @phneltwrites

Nothing Under The Tree by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

[willesworld]

hey simon! what is your wilmon doing today (wille´s birthday)?

HI ANON!!! thank you for giving me the chance to write a small little birthday ficlet for our beloved Wille after all, ily for sending me this ask <3 Hopefully this can spark some birthday joy for you and anyone else reading along <3

Happy birthday Wille, we love youuuu!!! 💜💜💜

On the morning of his 21st birthday, Wille wakes up to the sound of heavy rain hitting the bedroom window. His arm is stretched out across a cool, empty space of the mattress, and for a few long, sleep-addled seconds, he doesn’t quite know how to process that information. Once he’s blinked a few times, yawned once, feels sufficiently settled into his awakeness, he slides over onto Simon’s side of the bed. In lieu of a good-morning-nuzzle, he buries his face in the indent Simon left on the pillow and takes a deep breath.

Not even half as good, as nudging his nose into Simon’s sleep-mused curls, but it’ll have to do. With his face still comfortably sunken into fluff and orange-patchouli and Simon, Wille tries to listen. The rush of the downpour is drowning out most other apartment noise he’s gotten used to over these past three years, but he tries to make out if there’s a shower running down the hall from the bedroom, or anything else. To no avail. Simon didn’t say he’d skip his classes today, Wille just sort of assumed, and he groans into the pillow when he realizes that, maybe, he should’ve asked after all. Just to clarify that maybe he does want Simon to wake him up when he leaves. For a birthday kiss, maybe. So Wille doesn’t have to wait until the afternoon and send a few too many clingy text posts. Rolling back over and stretching to reach his phone, Wille is already imagining Simon rolling his eyes at him later, just a touch of truth in his teasing remarks about co-dependency. A sudden clatter, loud even above the pelting of raindrops against glass, makes Wille jump, phone in hand. With the initial startle over, the noise vaguely identified as coming from the kitchen, he lets out a pleased little noise. Oh. He quickly kicks off the blanket, reaches under the edge of the bed with his foot to retrieve and slide into his slippers. As he pads his way out through the door and along the hallway, towards the closed off door of their kitchen, he desperately tries to school his features into something less intense than a wide grin. The attempt is quickly abandoned when he carefully lets the door swing open and finds Simon standing at the counter, bowl and whisk in hand, his back turned towards the doorway. A pair of shorts is slung low on his hips, his foot tapping away to a rhythm that, yeah, okay, must be coming from the earphones that Wille only sees once he’s able to avert his eyes from Simon’s back. Just as he’s about to take a step back, deciding that the chances of startling Simon are too big, it’s already too late. Simon turns his way and jumps.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Simon raises a batter-splattered hand to his chest, letting out an aggravated breath. “Don’t do that,” he warns, raising the whisk in accusation, and Wille finds it in him to apologetically raise his arms. “Sorry,” he repeats when Simon deposits the earphones on the counter. Wille tries very hard not to let his slow brain settle on Simon’s body again. Not now. Not when Simon is making breakfast that looks suspiciously like- “Nuh uh,” Simon takes a step forward, spreading his arms to cover the part of the counter where Wille thinks he’s just seen their waffle iron. “You shouldn’t even be up right now,” he continues. Even while he’s still trying to sound stern, the corners of his mouth are turning upwards. “You should be sleeping peacefully, for, like, another half an hour.” Wille only shrugs. His eyes dart over toward the sink, where he can see another dirty bowl. There’s a forgotten line of batter slowly drying on the door of their kitchen cabinet.  Wille doesn’t need to say anything for Simon to let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine,” he says. “You win, my fault.” He steps to the side, holds out his hand for Wille to grab and come closer. Wille doesn’t waste a single second to wrap an arm around Simon’s middle, all warm and soft and firm where Wille rubs his fingers over his protruding hip bone. Wille’s stealing back that moment of pulling Simon closer that he didn’t get to have after waking up today. And Simon melts right into it. Possibly smearing waffle batter against the skin of Wille’s back. In Wille’s book, that’s a win. Another reason to argue for a joint shower later. Before Wille has a chance to get a whiff full of his boyfriend’s neck, Simon is moving them towards the counter, motioning for Wille to let his eyes roam over an assortment of haphazardly closed flour and sugar and baking powder containers, blueberries, chocolate chips, two candles, a bright blue one and a two. “Look, you’re turning twelve,” Simon says with a nudge of his nose against Wille’s cheek. He lets out a sharp loud yelp when Wille digs his fingertips into his ribs in retaliation. “Makes you eleven,” Wille grumbles. Simon’s giggle, bright and nasal and face all scrunched up, makes Wille want to drag him down the hallway and back into the bedroom. The waffles can wait, Wille can’t, plus it’s his birthday. But before he’s got a chance to make a move, Simon is sliding a hand up the side of his neck, then back into his hair. “Happy birthday, Wille,” he says, earnest suddenly, and so quiet that the rainstorm almost drowns it out. But Wille doesn’t really need to hear him when he leans down for his birthday kiss.

[willesworld]

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