Also still not over how Ayub asked Simon in the first episode if he has to wear the uniform every day as if Simon hasn’t been going to Hillerska for a month now and they didn’t see or talk to each other in that time at all pffjjfkflglg
YAY @thepermanentrainpress you've done it again! 😁🎉 You do the BEST Young Royals interviews out there, hands down, nothing even compares. Looking forward to this one so much!!! 💜
The Permanent Rain Press Interview with Inti Zamora Sobrado. (Watch in HD)
We spoke with Inti Zamora Sobrado about his role as Ayub in Young Royals, character relationships, fan response, passion for music, and the release of his debut single.
For the missing scenes fic writing thing: Any cute additional moment from their first date (first football field scene). Could be before they arrive at the football field or after they've eaten the hotdogs or the moment when the game ends (did Bjärstad win?). Or maybe something from Rosh's perspective. Does she notice Simon's crush too like Ayub did?
Hey hey heyyyyyy, sorry this took longer than I wanted for it to be posted. I may have had an accident on my longboard causing me to be out of commission for a good chunk of that day. But I'm all good now, just bedridden and lots of time on my hands. Which is great for writing, but not so great since it's my birthday tomorrow. Happy birthday me lol. Anywho, I hope you guys like it.
Edit: This takes place right after the girls say “hello prince” when Simon and Wilhelm are standing in the parking lot.
Also thank you so much for your ask! This one was a lot of fun to work on!
I've always wanted to take down the monarchy.
Word count: 2604
Rated: General Audiences
Read on ao3
Wilhelm's face goes warm despite the chilled autumn air sinking into his skin, and Simon's teasing expression adds to Wilhelm's embarrassment. He'd only just tried to make his life sound, in some way, normal.
"Everyone definitely knows you," Simon smirks, tilting his head to the side like he's studying Wilhelms' features. "It must be exhausting," He adds, not with pity but concern, like he can see how tired Wilhelm is of the role he's been forced to play throughout his life.
Wilhelm is severely aware of the privilege he's been granted, and he's equally conscious of the pedestal he has been put on by his family and country. It might seem like a dream to others, but to Wilhelm, it's something that takes away freedoms he never really knew he wanted. Not until he became old enough to see what he's missing from other people his age. It can be hard to view being a member of the royal family as worth it, when the cost is so remarkably high.
Even now, as Simon waits for his answer, everything Wilhelm has been taught about protecting the monarchy floods through his mind, and he has to work hard to keep the gates closed. He doesn't want to waste Simon's time spewing the memorized bullshit that's been deeply ingrained into him, since he'd probably see straight through it.
Wilhelm holds a troubling breath, "It's–," he finally begins, looking up at the sky, flicking his bangs out of his eyes, like maybe he'll find the perfect answer up there. He doesn't. "My brother has always been better at it," Wilhelm settles on.
Simon's brows come together, confused by Wilhelm's reply, "Better at what?" He asks curiously.
"The whole," Wilhelm breathes out his nose, "people thing." He explains, ashamed of all the times his mother tried and failed to make him more comfortable around people. He always disappointed her.
Wilhelm's gaze shifts back to Simons, and he's instantly taken aback by the warm glow bouncing off the boy's features from the street light above them. For the first time, Wilhelm notices how soft his skin seems and how the bold colour of his eyes has become intriguingly dark as he gazes up at Wilhelm. He's the type of beautiful that people only describe in books.
Wilhelm clears his throat as both he and Simon fall in step with each other, once again headed for the football field. He can see Simon occasionally glancing in his direction like he's trying to determine something, which he must do, because he asks, "does that happen a lot?" There's no judgment in Simon's voice, just curiosity and maybe some concern.
"Mhm," Wilhelm nods, "more than you think." He somberly confesses with a half-smile. Wilhelm desperately yearns to say no, that he's a completely normal teenager. He wants to go to a football game or be in public without people's eyes following him. He wishes he could go on a date– hang out with Simon without feeling like a freak show.
Wilhelm's distracted by the tornado in his mind and doesn't notice a slight drop as they step off the curb. His foot falling further than anticipated, throwing him off balance. "Woah," Wilhelm wobbles and instinctively clings his hand to Simon's shoulder, who in return clutches a steadying hold of Wilhelm's elbow, keeping him from tumbling over.
Wilhelm's cheeks go flushed as their eyes meet, and he jerks his hand away like he's been bitten. Which only causes him more embarrassment. His withdrawal seeming overdramatic when Simon lets go gently, once he's sure Wilhelms has found his balance.
"Sorry–" Wilhelm blurts, probably a bit too harsh.
"Careful–" Simon remarks at the exact same time.
They smile at each other, and they begin to chuckle at themselves. Wilhelms is not exactly sure why, but hearing Simons laugh is enough of an excuse for him. When their shared humour dissipates, it hangs in uncertain silence, both hesitant on what to do next. Wilhelm finds himself unsure of where to put his hands, so he shoves one in his pocket and brushes the other through his hair. Simon's eyes follow the movement; he rolls his lips together like he's holding back another smile. Which only makes Wilhelm more flustered.
"We should–," Simon pulls his eyes away, pointed in the direction they'd been walking, and Wilhelm nods slightly, hair falling back into his eyes. He follows Simon, oblivious as to where exactly they're going, but at this point, he'd follow Simon anywhere.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Wilhelm cheers nearly as loud as both Simon and Ayub combined. He can't help the swell in his chest when he watches Simon dart onto the field the exact moment Rosh breaks from her team's celebratory huddle. Laughing as they collide into each other. Wilhelm faintly overhears Simon teasing Rosh about his doubts in her, and she shoves him hard enough that he nearly topples to the ground.
Wilhelm giggles to himself as he watches the scene unfold. Rosh snatches a football close to the sidelines and begins kicking it around with Simon.
"Have you ever played?" Ayub takes a friendly step forward to stand beside Wilhelm, which startles him. He'd completely forgotten that Ayub had been standing there. His attention had been entirely focused on watching Simon joke carelessly with his friend.
Wilhelm clears his throat, then bites his nail bed hard enough it nearly bleeds. "Mhm," He nods at the question, then rushes to elaborate, "not much, just with friends." He doesn't want Ayub to get the wrong impression and think he's some fantastic football player, because well, he's not.
Wilhelm doesn't notice Simon jogging closer. "You play?" he echoes, his voice slightly winded from fooling around with Rosh. She follows quickly behind him, the ball under her arm like it's where it belongs. "Oh, uhm–" Simon remembers, "Rosh, this is Wilhelm, Wilhelm, this is Rosh." He gestures between the two, with a little more confidence in his introductions this time.
Wilhelm extends his hand. Rosh shifts the ball under the other arm and gives it a solid shake. They smile shortly at each other as Wilhelm gives her a polite greeting. She seems friendly enough, more intimidating than Ayub, but still pleasant.
"We can play a two versus two game," Rosh suggests enthusiastically to the group, tossing the ball to Wilhelm. He fumbles, but manages to catch it, unsure how she has the energy with all the running she's just done. It's impressive.
Wilhelm apprehensively bites his lip, taking slow breathes through his nose. The last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself in front of Simon and his friends. It's been so long since Wilhelm has kicked around a football he's not sure he even remembers how. Clearing his throat and working up the courage to decline the offer, he opens his mouth and his gaze lands on Simon. His eyes light up like a city at night, and it's then that Wilhelm know's he's screwed.
"Rosh and I versus Wille and Ayub," Simon declares excitedly. Despite the anxiety tumbling in knots through Wilhelm's chest, the glowing smile on Simon's face makes something warm stir inside Wilhelm. He realizes he'll do anything to keep it there.
Wilhelm presses his palms into the football and turns to Ayub, who shrugs like he's okay with anything. He looks back at Simon, nervously nodding his head with a weak smile. Simon and Rosh start cheering, amping each other up as they step onto the field. Wilhelm discards his jacket and scarf on the sidelines, feeling entirely out of place with the ball still in his hands.
"Let's do this," Rosh hypes, turning around to walk backward to face Wilhelm. "I've always wanted to take down the Monarchy." Rosh taunts, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, her eyes fearfully widen, realizing what she's just said to the Prince of Sweden. Even Ayub pauses, his jaw slightly agape. Simon however, looks like he's trying to hold back an amused grin by holding the back of his hand to his mouth and turning away.
Wilhelm can see a shift in Rosh's eyes, going from fear to hopeful humour, like she wants to laugh but isn't sure how Wilhelm will react. He realizes that as long as he stays genuine and normal with Simon's friends –who seem to really not give a shit about what bloodline he comes from– they'll treat him like a regular person in return. Wilhelm has never felt more comfortable with a group of new people so quickly, until now.
"You do realize I'm gonna have to register you as the threat to the crown now," Wilhelm finally retorts, void of any actual threat due to the small chuckles that breakthrough his words. He tosses the ball back to Rosh, and she catches it with much more ease than Wilhelm ever could. Thankfully, this seems to break any tension that was momentarily built.
"Those are some fighting words." Rosh teases with raised eyebrows. Simon is still snickering between the two, probably finding Wilhelms' attempt to bond with his friends silly. Still, Simon observes them like he has a front-row ticket to his favourite bamd.
"Alright," Rosh says, suddenly stopping once they're at the centre of the field, grabbing the group's attention. Very seriously, she says, "We've got some ground rules to cover."
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wilhelm is offensively lousy at football, which Simon is finding utterly hilarious. He's successfully managed to fall twice, thankfully with no lasting damage. However, his heart did skip a beat when he attempted to block Rosh's shot and fell ungracefully onto his side. Simon had come speeding over to make sure he was okay. Wilhelm's face had gone completely red, not out of embarrassment, but because of the way Simon carefully helped him up from the ground and thoroughly looked him over, checking for injuries. Wilhelm can still feel the burn through his clothes where Simon held him steady.
Somehow though, despite Wilhelm's extreme lack of skill, he's gone completely unscathed. And Ayub has managed to easily carry their team, scores tied with Simon and Rosh near the end of their game. Rosh claims it's merely because she's exhausted, but Ayub calls bullshit on her. Which makes Simon and Wilhelm roar with laughter.
Wilhelm nearly tumbles over his own feet for a third time as he kicks the ball across the field. Ayub cheers him on in the distance, and when he's finally close enough to take a shot on Rosh, something solid plows into him, knocking the breath out of Wilhelm and flat on his back. Wilhelm groans as the weight pinning him down rolls off, and it bursts into laughter. A laugh that Wilhelm could recognize anywhere. Simon has sabotaged his winning shot, and Wilhelm can't find it in himself to be angry, not if it means hearing Simon laugh like he is.
Wilhelm rolls his head to the side, cheeks brushing harshly on the artificial grass. He admires the way Simon's chest rises and falls with his breathlessness. His profile glows clear against the dull world encompassing them. Wilhelm's gaze lowers, mesmerized by the way Simon licks his lips and presses them together. They tug back into a smile that lifts everything good in Wilhelm's life to his chest, and he's convinced he'll burst with how light he feels. It's as if Wilhelm can breathe again.
"There was no way I was gonna let you win," Simon chuckles, breaking Wilhelm's thoughts.
Simon slowly finds his breath again, though it still comes in short pants, still hyped from the running. He turns his head to face Wilhelm, and their eyes connect. They lay sprawled in the grass side by side for what seems forever, eyes glued to the other, not uttering a word. It's strange, but Wilhelm doesn't want it to end. He can't stop watching Simon's lips. They look soft, and for some reason, all Wilhelm craves is to reach out and see if they really are.
Simon's eyes flutter down to their hands, which are inches apart. For a brief moment, Wilhelm feels the tip of Simon's index finger brush against his pinky. It sends a longing wave up Wilhelm's arm and deep into every corner of his body.
It's terrifying.
Wilhelm clears his throat, coughing lightly as he bolts to sit upright. His elbows lean on his knees in a way he hopes seems casual, and he searches the field for Ayub and Rosh. Fortunately, they're occupied on the other side of the field, kicking the ball around some distance away. There's no way they could have seen anything, not that there really was anything to see.
Simon mirrors Wilhelm by sitting up slowly with a shy sideways glance. They remain silent for a while until Simon begins snickering quietly to himself. "What," Wilhelm asks, the corners of his own mouth turning up at Simon's infectious smile. He waves Wilhelm off, like it's not important, then starts to laugh harder the more Wilhelm's curiosity grows, so he pushes harder for answers. "What is it?"
"You're –," Simon breaks off, another burst of laughter bubbling to the surface. "You're– you're really bad at football," he teases smugly at Wilhelm, who can't be bothered to be truly mad at the boy's taunts. How could he be when Simon is staring at him so fondly.
Still, Wilhelms pretends to be offended, "oh shut up," he playfully shoves Simon over, but he manages to catch himself before he topples over. Wilhelm's eyes crinkle as he laughs along with Simon until it comfortably patterns out into an easy silence. They both watch Rosh and Ayub kick the ball between themselves, and Wilhelm wonders why they haven't come over to bother them yet. He's thankful though, for the time alone with Simon.
Wilhelm lifts his eyes to the hollow sky, polluted by the faint glow of Bjärstad. He takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, counts to three, then lets the air out his nose, relaxing his shoulders and enjoying everything about this moment. How easy this feels, how normal it feels. He can't even bring himself to be embarrassed when he opens his eyes and Simon is giving him a strange smile. It's not judgmental, more amused and fond than anything else. Which that can't be right. He's only looking at Wilhelm, after all. Suppose Simon was to strip away Wilhelm’s title and the monarchy he's built into. He’s not sure Simon would find anything resembling a personality left over. Or at least one worth knowing.
"We should get going," Simon finally says, but the words come out slow like he wants anything but that.
"What about the game?" Wilhelm asks. Not that he actually cares; he's only desperate to try and keep their night together from ending.
Suddenly Simon sits up straight, his voice becoming mechanically loud, "Rosh wouldn't be able to take the loss."
Wilhelm narrows his eyes, confused by Simon's shift in demeanour. When he follows his gaze, he lands on Rosh and Ayub, who have made their way toward them. Rosh throws up a middle finger, clearly having heard Simon, and directs it at him. They all burst into laughter.
Wilhelm admires them all, his gaze inevitably lingering on Simon. He revels in how happy the boy seems, his smile reaching his eyes as he jokes with his friends with an ease that Wilhelm hasn't seen before. It looks good on him.
There's a warmth that spreads through Wilhelm's chest as he watches. Comfort clouding anything that could possibly ruin this night. He wishes it could always be like this.
