#he feels like a friend i held by the hand and walked through adventures together🥹 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toffeelemon · 7 months

Text

I don’t feel like our love is brand new. There must have been lovers, soulmates, before us, experiencing what we get to have. And it’s giving me comfort to imagine there will be many more like us to come. Our kind of love is the kind of love that makes this rotten world worth living in.

prince simon in madrid

a pilgrimage along the world that @prince-simon created 🥹

Simon’s neighbourhood, Chueca

“It’s actually the Queer Neighbourhood of Madrid, and coincidentally also where I live.” He lowered his voice as if to tell a secret, “It’s actually not a coincidence at all.” (chapter 2)

Casa de Campo (view from the Royal Palace lol oop)

Wilhelm didn’t even recognise himself. He didn’t think he’d ever looked that happy. And Simon… his eyes were closed and his curls were a mess and Wilhelm had never seen anyone more beautiful. (chapter 3)

El Retiro

Simon looked at Wilhelm much too adoringly for a statement this goofy. “The ducks are gay!” He yelled at Santiago and Paula, “Just so you know!” (chapter 9)

Palacio de Cristal

“Here’s a funny thought - bear with me, okay? But just imagine. Flowers. Everywhere, like on the ceiling, up the walls. Fairy lights scattered all through it. It would be so gorgeous as a- uh, like. For a wedding…” Realising where his train of thought had gotten him, Wilhelm fell quiet, looking at Simon with wide eyes. (chapter 9)

El Palacio Real de Madrid (more specifically the Throne Room lmfao)

Simon traced his fingers over the bruises on Wilhelm’s neck and in the opening of his dress shirt, humming contentedly. Wilhelm followed the movement in the mirror, and marvelled at how good they looked together, how well they fit together and how much Simon belonged right here – on the throne, with Wilhelm. He deserved the world and so much more. (chapter 12)

Museo Nacional del Prado

Around them, the other visitors kept moving, admiring the art on the walls, and for the moment Wilhelm felt infinite, imagining himself a painting, looked at and analysed hundreds of years from now. El Abrazo de los Príncipes.

Lo Spasimo, Raphael, 1515-1517

“Are we allowed to kiss in front of Jesus on his way to crucifixion or is that tasteless? Because I really want to kiss you right now, Simon.”

Las Meninas, Diego Velázquez, 1656

“He made me look at Velázquez in the painting and how he was looking back at the viewer, at me. I still remember the exact tone of his voice, how he was so certain when he told me that I had every right to be where I am. That I am the subject of this painting, the king being painted. All those tyrants, King Felipe and Emmanuel and all those that came in between, they are trapped in that mirror forever while I am here, alive, we’re here. Velázquez is looking at two queer princes, ready to paint us.” (chapter 13)

Casa Alberto

“So, tell me more about this special part of Madrileñan history.” He was slightly teasing but mostly actually curious.

Simon seemed all too eager to answer that question, and it hit Wilhelm how genuine Simon’s care for his city — his country — and its people was. It made him a little sad to know that a lot of people didn’t get to see that because they only focused on Simon being too gay or too Latino, or even just too carefree and enjoying life because he was young, to be their future king.

bonus content:

Iglesia de San Antonio de los Alemanes (where Simon goes to church)

“I think I need to go somewhere.”

“Oh?” Wilhelm said softly, “Right now?”

Simon hesitated before he nodded. “I need to- get some clarity? Or - I hope that I’ll get it there?” He whispered, voice shaky.

“Do you want to tell me where you’re going?”

“To- uh, to pray? I mean- to church? I don’t know if I’ll pray…” Simon’s voice was shaky, uncertainty shining in his eyes when he dared to look up at Wilhelm. (chapter 11)

#god i don’t think i have immerse myself into a fictional world so deeply before #this story lives and breathes #and i love what it has given me god to imagine when i read the first chapter i have not moved countries or gotten a cursed degree yet #he feels like a friend i held by the hand and walked through adventures together🥹#i really went to a particular restaurant and ordered particular dishes because i read about it in a book #and it was as magical as i imagined heheh #(including the snails sksksk)#prince simon i love you forever #prince simon au #prescribing everyone a reread Right Now!#give me attention and i’ll come back with extra pics of the food sksk #simon’s depression church is not mentioned in Text but this is canon source hehe #i’m not the first person to visit pscu locations and i love everyone who’s done it what a great idea it was so fun!#yes i know you’re not supposed to take photos in the prado but then i remembered this was built by a colonial powerhouse then felt less bad

46 notes · View notes

askteikoku · 1 year

Note

hello!! for the valentine’s day ficlets requests, I’d like to ask for 3 ships if that’s okay 🥹🥹

- SakiHen, With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

Thank you for requesting, the ficlet is under the cut! I hope you'll like it! I'll try to add a little sketch for every ficlet too. I accept requests for this ficlets all the month! So you can continue requesting. English isn't my mother Language so if you (anyone) sees a grammar mistake or mispelling you can tell me to fix it! Reblogs and likes are appreciate, since fics didn't usually get a lot of love.

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets [SakiHen] Henmi always really liked going to his friend Sakiyama's house to spend the night, since he was little and as far back as his memory allowed, he remembered those moments as something very special. The two would get together after finishing school and go to the house of Sakiyama's grandmother who lived on the outskirts of the city in a large traditional house with a beautiful garden that Henmi enjoyed walking through even when he already knew every herb and every stone like the palm of his hand. The days when his family allowed him to go to his friend's house were days of fun, and with the time they became days of liberation. In that house he felt accepted and protected, the only place where he did not have to constantly prove his own worth because his worth was measured in his mere company. Perhaps it was partly because Sakiyama's grandmother loved him like another grandchild, or perhaps it was because Sakiyama's presence gave him a security he didn't feel anywhere else or with anyone else.

In his own home, Henmi was always required to uphold the name of his family, and although due to his upbringing it was something that had been deeply instilled within him, making him proud and sometimes vain, as he grew up he discovered that he was not one of those prodigies who were able to stay on top, could never be number one in academics and could never be number one in sports. But he never lowered his head for this reason and although he could not be the best, he made an effort so that his family could be proud of him.

So when he could get out of this environment of continuous judgment, Henmi could breathe. Visiting Sakiyama's home was one of the few liberties he was allowed since Henmi's family held the other family in high regard ever since Sakiyama's great-grandfather saved Henmi's great-grandfather. Those days that turned into nights were a blast of cold air on a hot and stifling summer day. Since they arrived and the old woman received them, the aura that enveloped Henmi changed completely.

In that place he felt protected, in that place he felt accepted, in that place he felt that he could enjoy being a child, a teenager... In that place he was together with Sakiyama eating cookies and drinking tea, watching television, playing, having a bath in a huge wooden tub and having dinner. In that place he felt at home.

And when the woman sent them to sleep and they obediently went to bed, the real fun began.

Henmi and Sakiyama made a bunker under the bed blankets, lit a flashlight and talked in low voices between breathy giggles and barely controlled excited screams. In addition, the blond always managed to steal some cookies that they ate, filling the sheets with crumbs. Under those sheets they read adventure books, under those blankets they planned their own adventures, talking about their trips around the world when they were older, about how many adventures they would find, how many imaginary worlds they would travel... Under those blankets they were both happy. Henmi didn’t need to prove anything to Sakiyama and Sakiyama didn’t need to prove anything to Henmi, they were the same, they were colleagues, they were accomplices, they were themselves.

That late-winter night of their second year of High School, they snuggled under the sheets and blankets on Sakiyama's bed as usual, even though by now they had grown so large that being in the same bed was uncomfortable. But they kept doing it, perhaps out of tradition, perhaps because of the secrets they kept.

Sakiyama had a small orange flashlight he'd gotten from a survival store lighted, and they were holding an aged-looking world map open as they ate chocolate chip cookies.

They were talking about all the places Henmi had visited throughout his life, since the boy traveled constantly with his family around the world and from those trips he brought back anecdotes for his friend who had only been overseas a couple of times to visit his parents who lived abroad.

It was a conversation monopolized by Henmi, but the blond had no problem with it because he liked to hear him talk with bright eyes about everything he discovered on those trips, his experiences, his meetings, the food, the culture... His golden eyes glowed with emotion when they related everything to his friend who was lost in his gaze trying to imagine what he was bringing for him: adventures. Henmi told him about true wonders, told him about gigantic open deserts and small alleys from centuries past, told him about dense tropical jungles and tall skyscrapers, told him about famous works of art and corners unknown to most tourists. And he tried to recreate in his imagination what those places would be like since he only saw through photos or television but that in Henmi's raspy voice had a different magic, as if they were taken from a fairy tale.

“Where would you like to travel if you could choose a place?” asked Henmi after they both laughed at an incident with a street hot dog vendor in New York.

Sakiyama was silent, thoughtful… He hated traveling to see his parents instead of going on adventures with Henmi.

"To your heart."

Henmi dropped the cookie he was eating with a pounding in his chest and turned slightly flushed to his friend who was staring at him. He raised his eyebrows in a mute question, and Sakiyama bit his lip and frowned doubtfully, but then looked back at him, his voice shaking as he answered. Opening his heart to the one person he allowed to get close to that part of him, showing how vulnerable he felt at that moment.

"I love you." His voice was barely a hoarse murmur under the blankets.

#inazuma eleven #sakiyama shuuji #henmi wataru #teikoku gakuen #sakihen #Valentine's Day at Teikoku #fic request #i am loving writing these #but they are so short sometimes i am like i want to write more #i loved that sakihen was the first request #i love them so mch

9 notes · View notes