ayellowcurtain

[ayellowcurtain]

Guys…I finished my first draft of my first book…

As I expected, rereading it to add filler scenes and whatnot, my confidence is running down the drain……

I’m not gonna drop this thing, but uuugh, I hate feeling like I suck at this!

(In the near future I would love to have some alpha and beta readers and I would LOVE for them to be some mutuals. It would mean a lot to hear thoughts from people that know me “enough” to help me with this project)

So if you are a mutual, and you are extra good with english, pleease please feel free to send me a message. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

#i need all the help that I can gather

[ayellowcurtain]

That ficlet 🤯🙉 if you ever feel like doing more parts to this story I will not complain

Thank you, anon! I had a lot of fun writing it even thought I never wrote anything similar, it was fun!

I have no idea where a second part could go, and while it was so fun and exciting to write a “longer” piece after many months not doing it, the lack of people reading does not help my lack of ideas 😅

I miss the old sobbe days and the excitement of writing new things constantly.

Anyway!! Let me know if you have any ideas and MAYBE I’ll give this second chapter a shot! 🙏🏻

#wtfock

[ayellowcurtain]

It has been a long night.

The guilt of what they had to do to save each other’s lives fills Senne’s car as they drive to his place.

They handle nights like this very differently.

Senne is tense, the guilt making him squeeze the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. His shoulders are falling forward, making him look smaller than he is, blinking slowly like he is struggling to not fall asleep while he drives them somewhere. While he feels and looks tired, Sander is sure deep down Senne wants to beat some sense back into Sander’s brain by punching his face endlessly.

Sander feels overwhelmingly tired. He pushes himself straight against the back of his seat, running his hands down his thighs, drying the sweat from his hands on his old, black jeans.

They cleaned themselves at the crime scene while watching the old building be photographed, analyzed, and measured in every possible way and angle, but Sander still feels filthy.

The guilt of pulling the trigger does not affect him as it does Senne, but of course, he feels guilty about it, it takes days for him to rationalize he did what he had to do. It does not happen instantly. Sander needs an hours-long bath, followed by ten minutes inside a bath with freezing water, then a whole-body massage, and a week-long nap.

For good or bad, he might end up having a few days off, since his case is...done with.

When Sander closes his eyes to try to get back to his normal self, his brain instantly paints quick scenes of what happened.

Sander is an undercover cop, and he’s been working as the head of security of a drug dealer they had been investigating for months before Sander stepped in. They had someone inside the group before, and that way he introduced Sander and Achille, the main man they needed to arrest and find solid enough proof to keep him in jail for a long time. Sander doesn’t know how or who snitched on him (he will find out, and they will find a similar ending), but suddenly it felt like he was in the enemies’ territory, with the closest backup a long mile or two away, hearing every word being record through a tiny camera on Sander’s dark blue wool vest.

Sander is not a flincher, and he was – still is – proud of his quick reflexes even under extreme situations. He did not doubt if Achille tried anything, he would be dead before he could reach the gun on his waist. The plan, clear order was to arrest him, and Sander had promised to keep that plan to the very last day of this case. Of course, Achille’s wary behavior made Sander, his head security guy, wear a bulletproof vest, an extra layer of confidence that ensured Sander was safe to do whatever he needed to get out. He managed to keep a conversation going until all hell broke loose.

It was clear something was off, Achille was not one to go to his clubs, especially not on a weekday. They drank a shot of whisky at the bar – Sander does not drink while working but he knew he was in deep trouble, so might as well – and Achille shook his head, a sign for Sander to follow him. They went through the door in the back and Sander created a distance of a few steps between Achille, his two massive bodyguards, Sacha and Yanis, and him.

He didn’t have much room to do anything, so his sign for I’m about to die if you don’t appear here right this second was to stare at his gun, on his belt and pull his belt up, like he was adjusting his pants.

He remembers the long, dark hallway, the old, abandoned office where they ended up, sitting on an old couch – a perfect place for a clean kill. They were deep enough inside the building to not be heard over the loud music, and right in the middle of a maze of halls, buying Achille and his big boys enough time to escape from anyone who might appear to try and save Sander’s dying ass. By the way that Achille sounded when mentioning some dirty cops plan, and by how many details he knew, Sander got to the conclusion before Achille could end his stupid speech.

By the time he was done talking, Sander would (probably) get tortured for hours and then (certainly) shot somewhere where it wouldn’t kill him instantly, just the right amount of time for him to be found dead by his peers a few minutes later.

Sander remembers his point of view, sitting almost close to the armrest. If he even let himself think about getting his gun, he would have lost the second of advantage the distance between them had given him to shoot Achille. So, it was going to be like this:

Shoot wherever he could reach Achille once he was on top of Sander.

Sander is a cocky man, and he was certain he could at least shoot Achille in the neck or face, good enough.

Use Achille’s body as leverage to get coverage, shoot Sacha or Yanis, whoever was a step away from the couch, Sander couldn’t remember.

And then his confidence was gone, and Sander knew someone would grab his gun, and he would still have to deal with a healthy, Sacha or Yanis, who was a rock-solid mass, double in weight and height compared to Sander. Senne had their car but still, he would also have to run through endless halls, and Sander would be beaten to death and shot just because.

The next flash of memory is of the door opening to the right in his peripheral vision. Senne was faster than he thought, he remembers thinking.

Senne shot one (Sacha or Yanis) right next to him as a reflex, and at the same time, Sander shot the other one standing next to the couch.

With the adrenaline buzzing in his ears, he still heard the order loud and clear in his brain.

We need Achille alive. Do you hear me, Driesen?

And the second he lost being a good cop, Achille was on top of him. They had a fight in between? Sander’s brain can’t replay that part.

Sander was then on his back on the couch, with a gun to his temple, the other hand squeezing his throat tight enough to hurt but not even close to making him pass out.

He hears Senne negotiating, dragging Sander out from under Achille, pulling him by the thick strap on his bulletproof vest. They were having a somewhat civil conversation given the edge of the situation and the fact that they were all pointing guns at each other. Achille clearly did not know he was talking to a good human being who would never accept any type of bribery. Senne tried to calm the nerves down even more, making a dumb decision to put his gun down, holding it in front of his body but pointing to the cement floor.

Senne increased the distance between them and Achille, stepping forward so he was some type of stupid shield between Sander and Achille. He was talking on and on, and Achille was talking like he wasn’t about to get arrested, so confident and cocky, still out of his mind mad for having a cop inside his system.

Someone else opens the same door Senne went through, and Sander knows before he can see that this is no rescue mission. They were about to be murdered in a long, painful way.

Sander shoots Achile’s hand, the first man that comes in, and then Senne shoots too, both moving forward enough to not let anyone get to Achille.

There was a lot of fighting and shooting until they ran out of bullets to get out of there, Achille’s blood was all over Sander as he was not so carefully dragging him out of the building.

A hand touches his chest, and Sander feels himself jump on his seat, hitting whoever’s arm just touched him.

Senne looks tired, frustrated, and now very irritated by the hard slap Sander gave his arm. He sighs, moving back in his seat.

“I swear, Sander, I’ll happily kill you myself tonight. We are here.”

Sander looks around, they are inside Senne’s garage. He fell asleep while thinking about his nightmare of a night. When he moves to get out of the car, he suddenly feels all the punches he doesn’t remember receiving. His face hurts, his hands, fingers, his ribs, it’s a never-ending list.

Senne is gone, and the garage door that connects to the house is still open. Sander turns his body, putting his legs out first, putting one hand on the car as he stands and closes the door beside him, walking around the car to follow Senne inside. The vest feels heavy on him now, and he is not even sure why he is still wearing it, but Senne was too so he is not too traumatized. Wearing a dirty vest at home is totally normal.

Every traumatizing memory, every muscle bruised and in pain washes away like a wave when he gets to the kitchen, and he is there.

The softest pair of the darkest eyes are worried, quickly looking at Sander when he enters the room, leaning against the wall right next to the door because he feels like an intruder in their family. Robbe comes close, as carefully as Sander feels because Senne is right there, watching their interaction. He offers Sander a bag of ice that he doesn’t even know where to put it first and he does not care.

“Your hand.” Robbe’s voice is still boyish and raspy around the edges.

Sander blinks a few times, connecting enough thoughts to realize he should be putting the ice on his hand. His knuckles are bruised, and some dry blood still sitting on his skin. Robbe goes back to the main area of the kitchen, taking a big container out of the microwave, and putting it on the island. They are having some pasta for dinner. Senne was playing with some paper plates, throwing three around him on the island.

“Come on, I’m fucking starving.” He collects three pairs of silverware, giving one to each of them.

Sander can sense Robbe stealing glances at him constantly, but Senne is staring at Sander like he is daring him to interact with his little brother in front of him.

Sander pulls a stool from under the island and carefully sits up, just then remembering the vest because it presses against his chest and his thighs. Senne got rid of his already. Sander carefully pulls it over his head and walks back to the entryway behind the kitchen, leaving it on the floor. Senne is on the other side of the island, right in front of him, and Robbe is next to his brother.

Nobody talks much during dinner.

Sander has a very big, mostly platonic crush on Robbe, Senne’s young brother. He tries to be a good friend, a good partner to Senne but...Robbe is his weakness. His messy, brown hair, his soft eyes, his perfect lips, how kind he is, innocent, thoughtful. The noises he can make...

Robbe is a breath of fresh air in a fucked-up world.

Sander tries to behave himself and keep a safe distance from Robbe, but it doesn’t work every time. It did not work one night, over six months ago.

Sander liked Robbe since the day they met, over a decade ago, but he knew how badly this would end up. He tries to live his life knowing he will never get the best version of it because Robbe is off-limits. Sander would not be able to live with the thought he is putting Robbe in any danger.

During their teenage years, it was even harder because, well, it did feel like his crush was reciprocated. But still, even when Sander wasn’t a cop yet, he was Senne’s best friend, and Senne is very protective of Robbe since their parents died. It is just the two of them and Senne was never willing to give that up, not even a small percentage of it.

Sander looks down at his plate filled with pasta, fighting the urge to smile with the little energy that is left on him when he remembers one special night, Robbe’s 18th birthday party.

They were in this very same kitchen. It was late at night, everyone had left, Senne was passed out on his bed, and Robbe was tipsy and hungry – he said that with a sound that was a lot like a whine, sending shivers down Sander’s spine, stopping in between his legs. He was making Robbe his specialty: croques and Robbe was sitting on the island, swinging his legs in the air.

Sander had drunk a few beers and was feeling like testing the limits of their already messy, filled with hormones relationship. Senne was out, with no chance of waking up any time soon, and Robbe was just so inviting, cute, and flirty.

Sander finished their croques, moving to stand in between Robbe’s lean legs, blowing on one before offering it straight to Robbe’s soft, wet lips. He opened his mouth slowly like he was still deciding if he should. Robbe took a bite and Sander took another of the same croque, waiting for Robbe’s decision if it was the best he had ever had or not.

“Hm!” He nodded his head, loosely wrapping his legs around Sander’s waist like that movement could ever not be noticed by Sander. His hand came to Sander’s chest, almost on his clavicle, drawing a line on his bone. “Really fucking good, Sander.”

“The best you ever had?” He tried, smiling softly, grabbing another croque, taking the first bite this time, making sure it wouldn’t burn Robbe’s perfect lips.

“Yes.” Robbe rolled his eyes, smiling, looking at Sander through his heavy lashes.

Sander watched Robbe eat, noticing his soft hands now on the sides of Sander’s neck, his thumbs teasing under his chin, carefully touching his adam's apple. He had no idea in mind and was just happy to touch Sander and feel where their limits were, but Sander was happy to tease. He lifted his head a little bit, maintaining Robbe’s soft stare, noticing it turn into something dangerous, and curious.

“Come on...choke me.”

The loud scrape on the stool against the floor brings Sander back to the present. Senne is up, dropping his empty plate in the trash.

“I’m done, gonna go take a shower and go to bed.” He sighs, stretching his body. They are almost alone, and then Senne turns back around, standing under the arch that divides the kitchen and the living room.

“Please...for the love of God, can you two not fuck tonight? I really don’t wanna hear it.”

Sander sees Robbe opening and closing his mouth, blushing all the way to his neck. Sander does not answer because Senne is just choosing to be an asshole.

They had sex one time and Senne was nowhere near them. Senne doesn’t even actually know about it. These few moments Sander has had with Robbe throughout the years were just that: small moments sprinkled here and there. They happened when they both decide to not give a fuck about anything else, or anyone else. But they are mostly friends. Sadly.

Sander is sure they are terrible at hiding these feelings living deep inside their brains and hearts, but they do try their best, especially when around Senne.

They both finish dinner, cleaning every corner of the container. Robbe grabs the silverware and the empty container to put inside the sink while Sander grabs the used plates, and throws them in the trash, making a pitstop at the fridge to grab a bottle of soda, drinking most of it in one go.

When he turns around, Robbe is there, not sure what to do with his hands, deciding to push his stool back underneath the island.

“I’ll take the couch...” Sander decides against his wishes.

Robbe looks around like Senne could pop down from the ceiling or something. They are still alone, so Robbe comes closer and holds Sander’s hand carefully.

“Come on, we can share a bed...It looks like you had a terrible night.”

Sander doesn’t argue...because he does not feel like it. He follows Robbe to his bedroom on the second floor of the house, on the complete opposite side of Senne’s. The noise of his shower fills their comfortable silence.

Robbe closes and locks the door behind Sander, and when he is about to let go of his hand, Sander turns around, his other hand on Robbe’s stomach, pressing him carefully against the door.

He is so tired that just the thought of sharing a bed with Robbe makes his body melt like butter on a hot pan.

“You are so handsome...” Sander exhales in a whisper, relaxing his shoulders, putting one hand on the side of Robbe’s neck, feeling his soft skin under his thumb, his tired eyes still managing to notice how Robbe chases his touch.

They would never, ever work out. Sander cannot have that type of distraction constantly in the back of his mind with a job like his.

He is sleeping here tonight because his apartment is compromised.

And that is only a place, four walls that don’t mean much for him except a roof over his head to sleep at night.

If something ever happened to Robbe he would not be able to rationalize as his work demands him to. Sander wouldn’t be able to live, and if he was, Senne would kill him on the spot, not second thought for the first time ever.

Robbe’s cold hands touch the sides of his waist underneath his dirty, probably stinky shirt, carefully lifting it up like he’s taking care of someone who is broken.

“You need a shower and a good night's sleep.”

Sander purrs, letting Robbe take his shirt off completely. He lets him even stare at his abs. He is bruised here and there, but he is still what most would call a hot guy.

Robbe doesn’t look for long, though, barely a second, until he is, just as carefully, unbuttoning Sander’s belt, slowly pulling it off from one side.

“I’ll take care of the rest.” Sander steps back before it becomes too hard to resist. He kisses Robbe’s neck before walking to the small bathroom inside his bedroom.

Every movement and muscle starts hurting again as soon as he is alone inside the bathroom. Sander leans against the wall as he takes his shower, making sure to erase any sign of blood from his body. He can barely keep his eyes open as he brushes his teeth with his index finger.

He leans against the doorframe once he is done. He ran out of energy while peeing before bed. Robbe is lying on his bed, clearly shirtless, and deep down, Sander wishes he was naked underneath the thick sheet covering him.

They are not having sex tonight, not even if Sander wants it badly, but he will not complain about seeing Robbe’s perfect body, it will be easier to sleep and have good dreams.

“You need help?” Robbe asks with a cute smile on his lips. The bedroom light is off, and the bathroom light behind Sander paints Robbe’s chest with a soft blue hue.

“No...” He looks over his shoulder, turning the light off as he drags himself to his side of the bed. “Just so you know that basket that is filled with your dirty clothes in your bathroom...I’m taking them home with me.”

Robbe laughs softly, turning on the bed to face Sander.

“Creepy.”

“In desperate need of your smell, in any way I can get it.”

“Senne said you have no home as of right now...”

“There is no way I’m spending another day here without kissing the shit out of you. And then your brother will hate me and then my job will get even harder. I’ll sleep in a hotel until I can get a new place, or the old one is safe.”

Robbe does the thing he often does licking his lips while thinking, making them shiny even in a mostly dark room.

“Senne said he has a meeting early tomorrow...”

“Hm...” Sander was not invited, which makes him literally painfully happy, any extra hour of sleep is welcome.

Robbe moves even closer, whispering in Sander’s ear.

“We will have slow sex in the morning...to help you heal faster.”

Sander grunts, hiding his face in the pillow beneath his head, wishing he had the energy to make Robbe swallow his words after a mind-blowing orgasm.

Robbe laughs, his raspy voice finding a place in every inch and corner of Sander’s brain. Sander turns Robbe around – he tries to ignore how willingly and obedient Robbe is turning to the other side – and Sander hugs him tight, quickly noticing that Robbe is, indeed, naked under the sheets. Sander was careful, keeping his underwear and a layer of the sheets in between them. He falls asleep almost instantly, his fingertips drawing circles under Robbe’s navel.

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe fic #skam belgium

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Oh nonono I like your idea better 🙉 I need this fic in my life

Hahahahaha

I’ll try to get to it soon, anon!! Can’t promise something amazing, but I’ll try my very, very best 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#wtfock

[ayellowcurtain]

Then together 🙉

👀👀👀

I was more thinking of bad cop x good cop where Senne is Robbe’s old brother and also the good cop and Sander is the bad one with a huge crush….

But yeah, “together” works too, anon 👀

#wtfock

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Now this………..

#wtfock

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I have controversial opinions about this season….same of the same issues I had during season 2.

And I get it, they are all young, teenage, naive and stubborn, but it feels like Simon and Willhelm are both still on the same mindset, stamping their feet, making dumb decisions just because they don’t want to give up any of their egos and admit they are just being…dumb.

Willhelm decided he wanted everything. Simon, the crown, having a private life.

Simon decided he wanted Willhelm, a Crown-Prince, to be a singer, and to have a private life.

I understand some choice were made for them, they have TERRIBLE people around, talking shit, attacking them, but at same point, both of them decided to go with it those main choices.

You cannot have everything you want in life, kids. Make up your damn minds about it, suck it up, make some difficult decisions and let’s move on. We’ve been through this for two season at this point.

At this point, August’s and Sarah’s arc in the show are faaaar more interesting. They can have the same problems if you really want to be walking in circles, sure, but at least change something! The point of view, the argument, what they are fighting for or against.

Sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

#young royals

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YOUNG ROYALS Season 3, Episode 2

#this scene right here #straight to my heart ❤️‍🩹

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Guuys!!!

GUYS!!!

I’m still writing my book. 15 days later!!!! I’m in shock, and after a week of struggling to write, I just wrote 2.500 words in ONE SITTING!!!!!!!

We are around 25k words! Still on track with the goals I set and almost at the mid-way mark!!!!!

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It’s now 4:24 AM here and I’m thinking

I should really write a fucking book.

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Will you write a part 2 for this https://ayellowcurtain.tumblr.com/post/621925653543075840/could-you-please-write-an-au-fic-where-sander-and tyyy

—————————————

They kissed last night.

Robbe wasn’t expecting it, but it happened.

Not that he wasn’t expecting it, the thought of kissing Sander was the only thing his brain seemed to imagine whenever Robbe was trying to think of anything else. But he knew it was bad, wrong.

But the line kept getting blurrier with each passing day he realized they were alone, with no sign or chance of getting out of here alive.

Civilization was an absurd conception at this point, but it was still in the back of Robbe’s mind constantly. What if they managed to be rescued? What would they do after years and years of living like animals? Would they be able to get married? Would Sander keep his mouth shut about the countless nights they slept tangled together? With little to no clothes during hot summer nights?

He was trying to fall asleep, with his eyes closed, trying to focus on the hard floor underneath him, the breeze slipping through the gaps between the wooden planks. Sander being that close should have become ordinary, but it never did.

His lips were pressed against Robbe’s for only a second, and Robbe felt that the right thing to do was push his head back, creating a minimum space between their mouths. He opened his eyes, and Sander was staring with a soft smile, no sign of regret or shame.

Sander knows how beautiful he is, there’s no way he isn’t aware of it, and Robbe feels like he lost his coolness since they were the last ones living here. Robbe is so self-aware he doubts Sander can’t tell. Being constantly alone with Sander sends shivers down Robbe’s spine and he doesn’t know how to pretend his body doesn’t go on short circuits every time Sander looks at him, talks to him, or exists around him.

His heart was beating out of his chest, trying to rewind so he could perfectly capture the softness, how sticky Sander’s lips felt, and how inviting…

Carefully, Robbe turns his back to Sander, trying to gain a few minutes of self-indulgence reliving every second that followed that quick good-night kiss.

Robbe was racing from one thought to the other, staring at Sander’s thoughtful, loving eyes.

If this was a sign, and he just ignored or acted offended, Sander would never try anything else again. Robbe would die of embarrassment before he could ever kiss Sander first.

So, he moved himself closer to Sander again and kissed him like Sander was a glass of the coldest water on a summer day. One thing quickly led to another.

Robbe closes his eyes, trying to hold back any reaction those memories might cause to his still naked body. He hears a hum behind him, a weight stumbling forward, Sander’s pointy shoulder against his, and a slow breath itching the nape of his neck.

Sander’s body is warm, always, and Robbe can’t stop thinking how much he wants to do everything all over again, even though they have done it…all night long.

He felt sleepy, tired, and happily spent when the sun was rising outside. The soft blue and yellowish light made Sander glow a little bit, with his skin forever burned because of the constant exposure to the sun, and his hair almost white, sticking to his forehead. He smiled at Robbe one last time before rolling them and carefully laying Robbe down on the floor.

“Wanna go for a quick swim before bed?” Robbe remembers him asking, Sander’s voice is so soothing and sexy and deep, but his brain was still foggy, in bliss.

“My legs won’t work to go down the stupid stairs.”

“I can carry you.” Sander kissed his shoulder, his fingers running through Robbe’s hair. Robbe remembers feeling like Sander was saving his face in his memories, he looked so focused and interested that it made Robbe feel Sander was actually attracted to him on some level.

“Or you can stay here, and we’ll go for a swim when we wake up.”

Sander looked tired too, like he was fighting to keep his eyes open, so he nodded his head, and let himself fall next to Robbe, resting his head on Robbe’s shoulder, moving slowly to bury his nose against Robbe’s neck.

Robbe presses his eyes even more closed, trying to gather more images from last night.

Sander sinking his head on his pillow, his lips partially open and wet, the corners slightly turned up, out of breath, his body moving, and Robbe remembers it was because he was moving on top of Sander.

He moves his head down, covering his face with both hands and that movement seems to finally pull Sander completely out of his sleep. Robbe freezes, feeling Sander stretch his body, their tiny sheet is pulled when Sander scratches his eyes and moves to lean against his elbow, looking at Robbe over his shoulder. It’s hard to pretend he’s asleep when he’s almost curled into a ball.

“Robbe…?” He whispers with a raspy voice, and Robbe remembers all the kissing, his throat is so dry he wonders how Sander manages to speak. So, he turns his head to look at Sander, and that seems to be enough to take the worry out of Sander’s voice.

“Everything ok?”

Robbe nods his head, licking his lips to see if it helps with the dryness, “Yes. You?”

Sander smiles shyly, staring so deep into Robbe’s eyes it makes him feel two times more naked. He does the little snort noise he always makes, resting his forehead on Robbe’s shoulder.

“Feels like a dream.”

“It does?” Robbe feels his chest burning with shame at how insecure he sounds.

“Yes.” Sander sounds so certain, as always, and he rolls his arm to wrap around Robbe’s belly, kissing his shoulder, “I wanted this for so long…”

Robbe moves to lie on his back, and Sander waits for him to get comfortable again, no sign of him wanting to give Robbe any space.

“I didn’t know that…”

Sander looks to their improvised door, some gaps are so big you can see the sun leaving the horizon, creating a distance from the ocean line and the bright, burning hot sun. A long moment goes by, and Robbe can almost see countless thoughts crossing Sander’s eyes. He’s not one to measure his words often, but when he does, Robbe knows something unexpected is coming.

Robbe is so in love he doubts Sander has any flaw in his body, soul, heart, and brain. But he knows there’s something that Sander doesn’t like in himself, that he tries to keep buried down, and Robbe wishes he could practice a way of expressing to Sander how he could be whoever he wanted, and Robbe would never love him any less.

“Sometimes, during all those years, I hoped it was just the two of us here.” Sander turns back to look at him under Sander’s warm, strong, and lean body.

Robbe runs his fingers carefully through Sander’s hair.

“It is now.” Robbe draws a straight line between Sander’s thick eyebrows and hairline, trying to get rid of the crease it forms when Sander is frowning, mad, and ashamed about the thoughts he shared out loud. “I thought I was going to watch you get married…”

Sander finally relaxes a little bit, smiling shyly.

“You can marry me if you want.”

#wtfock #sobbe #sobbe fic #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #I think this is the last sobbe prompt I have on my inbox 😢 #also pretty sure I already wrote more of this but if I did - let’s pretend I didn’t

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Wish we had a scene between them talking about this one

WE GOT HIM YOU GAYS WE GOT HIM

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😩😩😩

The all aesthetic of Sander's ig is just *chef's kiss*

#i miss them #wtfock #sobbe

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“Is everything okay between us?” Wilhelm asks.

It’s a rhetorical question but it feels wrong not to double-check with Simon about how he’s feeling. They’ve been getting on and off a roller coaster for the past few years, especially the last few months since they became a public domain situation.

Sure, they have much more support than Wilhelm’s pessimistic brain would ever dream of, but it comes with a price, of course.

And he must admit – Simon has said this a few times – how being the Crown Prince can bring out the worst in him to the surface more often. After the last few weeks, Wilhelm hopes Simon understands it has nothing to do with power, and everything to do with him having very strong boundaries he’s not willing to negotiate which makes two of them.

Wilhelm doesn’t think he is a bad person.

Eric was a better person and a perfect fit but he’s not here. And Wilhelm will have to learn to live with that, and with the fact that he’s what they got, and maybe he is a fighter with low patience and lots of anxiety that is constantly fucking everything up, making Eric and Simon think less of him.

He feels like he’s been paying high prices for everything. This stupid crown makes his life worse, but Wilhelm is ready to use every inch of privilege he has to make them have a good, calm, very private life.

Simon nods his head without thinking twice but his eyes are still full of doubt like he’s the one asking.

Is everything okay between us?

And Wilhelm moves closer to his boyfriend, the tip of their noses almost touching.

“With everything we’ve been through, you’re the one thing I’ve always been completely certain of and more than okay with.”

He tries to transpire with his soft words how much he really means it. How Simon makes his heart beat fast, but also makes Wille’s heart grow bigger, warmer, and brighter, more capable of love every time Simon looks at him for a split second.

Simon is a fast learner, and Wilhelm watched and felt how much being a “public figure” changed him. Not for the worse because Wilhelm can’t believe Simon will ever change, for anyone, or anything, but he’s living proof of how this type of life can…prune your edges to fit a mold.

The mold is made to make you feel comfortable in the uncomfortable life they have ahead, constantly being told what to do, how to act, what words to use, and what hands to shake.

They quickly became a strong unit, especially with going back to school and having some formal and small events to go to as Crown Prince.

Wilhelm became even more protective of Simon, and their relationship. He stood his ground that Simon would go to important meetings, would never give any interviews if he didn’t feel like it, and that Simon would be able to use as much of Wilhelm’s privileges as possible.

If his mom and her entire entourage wanted Wilhelm to proceed as her successor, he would do it under his terms, and Wilhelm doesn’t think his terms are unreasonable.

Simon, his family, their privacy, and their relationship were his priorities, he would make decisions with those things in mind.

August wasn't getting away with what he had done just because the Queen saw him as family still.

And Wilhelm thought about saying fuck it, stepping back just to have a good view when everything falls burning with August as Crown Prince. That’s a terrible reason to decide to be a king but yes, maybe he did decide to go forward as a Crown Prince because he’s too bitter to let August have anything good, ever.

He beat August as much as he could until his knuckles and wrists were sore, and he reminded him at every opportunity that not only was August not fit for the role, but he would never get it.

“I made that decision on my own, and everything good and bad that comes with it…and I will respect your decision if that’s too much for you.” He tells Simon one more time, pushing one curl back so the sunlight can brighten Simon’s eyes a bit.

He told Simon that he had made up his mind, and Simon wasn’t against it, didn’t argue nor looked disappointed in him. And they have lived with that decision for a couple of weeks, with Wilhelm trying to show Simon that they would manage a private, happy life.

For good and bad, living in a castle, and studying in a very closed environment helped him show Simon they were going to be alright in the “real” world too.

Simon smiles shyly at him, holding the front of his shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s been trying to make it a fairy tale for Simon, sleeping in the same bedroom, having a private bathroom, and asking for whatever food they feel like eating late at night.

Sure, there were vague and shallow threats against him that made those decisions easier to obtain but he would never complain about more privacy, moving Simon’s family to some fancy house in some fancy neighborhood that some old cousin from his great-grandmother lived a few centuries back or whatever.

It wasn’t an easy argument with Simon. He’s a very proud guy with very strong opinions but he’s also extremely impatient, and he does not like paparazzi.

Since he can’t fight the system, Wilhelm’s mindset is basically: fuck the monarchy while using every possible privilege it can provide to me, and Simon. If you can’t win, join what it can provide. And don’t let August have anything.

“Love shouldn’t be this difficult,” Simon whispers, and Wilhelm frowns.

“Is it difficult for you to love me?”

He teases, asking for a kiss, and Simon rolls his eyes, kissing him softly.

Wilhelm opens his eyes, still feeling their lips glued together, slowly breaking apart.

“It was never difficult to love you.” Wilhem reveals, and pretends to think for a second, “Unless when you were shoving your cute little, tiny hands inside someone else’s pants!”

“Shut up!” Simon pushes him, trying to cover Wille’s mouth with his hand. “You deserved that!”

“What?! No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did,” Simon answers in that sassy voice of his, resting his chest on Wille’s, running his fingers through his bright hair.

“You know, we’ll probably have a ton of castles to look at and choose to live if we want…”

“Is your mom’s too small for you, Crown Prince?”

Wille smiles at his boyfriend, “No! It’s just…well, hers.”

“You want something for you?”

“For us, yes. I’m a very selfish man, you should know that by now.”

“So, no open relationship for us…You know, in a castle, we can fit a thousand other people. Your mom would love that!” It’s Simon’s turn to tease, knowing it’s probably a trigger for Wilhelm. He’s indeed a very passionate, monogamous person.

“I will kill you.”

Simon smiles wide, laughing while kissing Wille’s face as it gets increasingly red with the thought.

#young royals #young royals netflix #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #simon x wilhelm

[ayellowcurtain]

They’re just….sooo fucking good!!

Can’t wait to watch this season and can’t believe it’s the last one! Looks so good and well done and acted *chef’s kiss*

#young royals #young royals netflix

[ayellowcurtain]

Simon looks around, there´s not a single soul around here. Must be nice owning so much land, having no neighbors.

But they are still outdoors, naked! It feels wrong in so many ways.

“Simon! Come on!” Willhelm is a few steps away from him, taking the last few steps as he reaches the lake. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He whispers in between his teeth, shivering a little too loudly. It’s the first hour of the morning, and the calm and silence are unsettling.

Simon takes another look around. It’s early, they’re in royal lands if that’s a thing and there’s nobody here, he triples checks. Wille is already waist-deep, breathing loudly through his mouth, forcing himself to get used to the cold temperatures.

Simon is in the same spot, covering his intimate parts with both his hands, knowing it won’t help much if any guard decides to walk around the palace for the first patrol of the day.

It’s still a long distance so they would have a few seconds to reach for the towels they brought and left under a tree a few meters back – Simon looks over his shoulder to check if they did in fact bring the stupid towels. He hears the water moving and then a few freezing drops get him more wet than he intended to be right now, the water slipping down his body, freezing his skin on the way back to the grass.

“Come on! You’ll be the one to get us in trouble at this point, with your cute little pale ass out in the wild like this.”

“Fuck you…” Simon takes careful steps forward, the grass turning muddy wet, and disgusting. God knows his ass is not pale, he makes sure to sunbathe naked, chilling in his bed during summer. He’s counting the days for the warmer days, he smiles thinking about sunbathing in a palace, in Wille’s bed, naked.

The line of thought warms him enough to take the last few steps in. Once you feel how freezing the water is, you have to rush until the water reaches your chest and takes your breath away because if you have second thoughts, you won’t get in the water at all.

“Fucking hell. Cold!” He can’t even think straight, moving his arms and legs, feeling if he doesn’t move, he’ll freeze.

His brain catches Wille’s bright eyes, tiny because of his big smile, his hair turning bright reddish-brown with the sunlight. His hair is already wet somehow, Simon was too busy overthinking everything to notice when he went completely underwater.

He feels Wille gently holding his hand, pulling him closer. Moving makes Simon lose his breath because fucking freezing cold water.

“Come here,” Willhelm whispers, and Simon floats closer, wrapping his legs around Wille’s waist and his arms around his neck like they’re magnets, already so in synch about how they fit together.

He leaves a soft kiss on Simon’s lips, it’s nothing, but it feels intimate by the situation, and it makes Simon think about some other time they can come here…Not now. Jesus, not now, but it’s just that he’s painfully attracted to Willhelm, which makes him wonder if this will ever fizzle down to something else, calmer, a tiny bit colder so that they can live without constantly thinking about sex.

Willhelm moves them carefully until the water is on their neck. He leaves another soft kiss on his lips and lets go of his waist, moving a bit back to run his wet hands through his hair, putting everything back.

Simon sighs, moving in circles so that he can take the whole imagery in again. The palace on the horizon, the green, perfectly cut grass, the bright white towels, probably getting dirty under the tree, and the lake, so big the water it’s completely still a few meters from where they are. The early mourning clouds, stretch through the sky so long they are almost disappearing.

He moves himself and starts to float, getting used to his ears being filled with the muffled sounds of the water. Willhelm returns to where he is, and he smiles at Wille, receiving a cute smile back, followed by a kiss on his naked chest before he can feel the water moving while Wille floats right next to him.

There’s barely any wind, but with the cold water, he feels his skin getting rough, goosebumps rushing down his exposed belly so he sinks a little, letting just his head above the water. He feels when Wille takes a deep breath and lets the air out slowly through his mouth.

“We’ll do this every morning until we’re old.”

Simons smiles and snorts, very sure that Willhelm means his words.

#young royals #young royals netflix #prince willhelm #simon eriksson #young royals fanfic

[ayellowcurtain]

I’m not following this season closely but it bothers me this easy fix they are making by using Sander as sort of “crutches” to connect Bobbie even more with the audience.

Both Anaïs and Bobbie seem to be good, rounded, likeable characters so why not give them what they deserve: a unique, original, strong storyline and personalities? I doubt Bobbie needs to be somehow linked to the affection the old audience of the show have for Sander.

She (and Anaïs’s love story/interest) deserved better.

#wtfock