young royals oneshots :))

initiation

in which the initiation for wilhelm goes horribly wrong.

(THE COVER FOR THIS FIC>>> I LOVE IT SMMM!!! THAT IS MY FAVE PHOTO OF EDVIN IN LIKE THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING)

~

one second everything was fine.

until it wasn't.

wille had been laying in bed, feeling slightly shaky. 1, 2, 3 in... 3, 2, 1, out. he'd gotten into a horrible argument with erik. his eyes were red and puffy from fearing he'd messed it all up earlier. tear tracks stained his cheeks. so maybe everything wasn't 'fine', but it had been okay.

but this was definitely worse.

his legs kick in every direction, hoping he could latch his foot onto something, anything, that could rip him out of these people's grasp. his eyes wide, he sees a blur of clown masks, hillerska hoodies, shoes scratching against gravel. he tries to scream, to yell for somebody to help him. but all that come out of his tired vocal chords are muffled yelps and pleads.

the boys drag him over to some sort of statue, letting go of him for a second as somebody bends down to grab a rope. in the second he's let go, he kicks one of the masked people, and is immediately pushed back against the statue. a sharp pain travels through his skull, and his vision distorts severely for a second.

his legs give out upon the collision, and he's instantly tied to the statue with an uncomfortable rope. he pants. seeing all sorts of colours that aren't supposed to be there. a loud ringing plays in his ears, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

his legs give out once again, leaving his limp body held up merely by this thin colourful rope.

the boys around him pull out.. guns? no, no, just water guns. cold liquid runs through his hair and down his neck. he shivers, and yells louder. his clothes are now soaked in water, and on top of the squirt guns, they've began throwing some sort of white powder. he doesn't care what it is, all he cares about right now is getting out of here.

all at once, it becomes too much.

he kicks and scrambles where he is. he can't move much, but some of the boys look confused for a second. for a second. can't they see he's terrified?

he yells into the fabric that's pressed firmly into his mouth. they can't hear him. that must be it. who would continue if they truly saw the pain and discomfort he's in?

~ cw - emetophobia (in detail(?) (like pretty descriptive i guess) (just be careful), gross topics (in-depth description of saliva. you know this scene 🤢)

a thick paste drips from one of the boy's lips, into a red plastic cup. he finally spits into it, passing it to the person beside him. wille gags, tongue shooting out of his mouth automatically. nothing comes up, but his throat feels tugged at and tight watching. the next boy grips onto the cup, a pool of saliva released from his lips and dripped into the container.

wille looks away, he can't bare another minute watching them spit into the cup. he gags once more, and by then the rest of the boys had done their part with the cup.

if you thought that was the worst of it, oh boy are you in for a treat.

somebody comes up behind him and rips the cloth off of his mouth. he squirms in their grasp, his vision blurs. his head throbs. "nej! snälla," wille lets out a choked sob, and the boys stop in their tracks.

"-he's crying,"

"-what's wrong with him?"

wille had began yelling 'nej' even when nobody was near him.