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whhhhaaaaaaaaat · 3 months

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short/fictional story

[Location: Boston, 1774. Samuel Adams, a fervent patriot, and Henry Lewis, a hardcore Loyalist, meet in a dimly lit tavern named The Harpoon, and their discussion is charged with the growing tension of the day and age. The strain between the Colonies and Great Britain is high. ]

Samuel Adams sits, drinking alone in the back of The Harpoon, his mind elsewhere. He is on his third drink, and in the mood for a fight..or something else of that nature. Looking around the dark and relatively dank tavern, he is bored, bored of the repetitive music, the stifulingly heavy chatter, the lighting that is so poor he can barely read over his own notes from the towns people’s meeting the afternoon prior.

Sam Adams is bored. At least he is until he sees Henry Lewis, a man around the same age as him. He knew Henry was a loyalist from the tabloids spread about, and this was in hard contrast to Sam’s patriotic beliefs. However, something about Henry deeply intrigued Samuel, but he could not seem to put his finger on what it might be. He had seen him all around, at the parliament, the local college, bookstore, market, but never at the Tavern.

Well, Sam thought to himself, (although, it might have been the several drinks talking) now might be the time to try something new.

Sam waved him over.

“ Henry, it's been some time! I trust you're well?”

“As well as one can be in these troubled times, Samuel.”

He did not seem friendly in the slightest, yet not completely hostile, so next, Sam said

“Sit good sir! Let me buy you a drink…it's been a long time. After all”.

To his (pleasant) surprise, Henry smirked at him and said

“Well, I don’t see why not” and slid into the booth across from Sam.

For a moment, Samuel just stared in the eyes of the man across from him, at a loss of words. It seems he had suddenly forgotten everything he planned to say. It stayed like that until Henry broke the silence.

“The situation in the colonies grows dire.”

Samuel nods and takes a sip of his drink.

“Aye, the heavy hand of Parliament and the King grows heavier still. The Coercive Acts, or as we call them, the Intolerable Acts, they suffocate us.”

Henry leans forward, gets closer to Samuel’s face.

“ But these measures were necessary to assert authority. The Tea Act, the Stamp Act, were attempts to regulate trade and maintain the necessary order we need.”

Samuel pulls back from the other, shaking his head.

“Order? What they impose is tyranny! *he bangs his fist on the table* The Stamp Act, taxing our every document, the Tea Act forcing their goods upon us without representation!”

Henry chuckles, but his laugh is humorless.

“Representation? The colonies are part of the British Empire. Parliament represents the entire empire, including the colonies' best interests.”

He leans back in his chair before speaking again, a wry smile on his lips.

“Can one fault the Crown for maintaining order?”

Sam is almost ready to jump up to his feet now,

“ How can it represent us, how can you say it is in our best interest when we have no voice, no say in its decisions? The Boston Massacre, the bloody conflict that took innocent lives, all because of the heavy presence of British soldiers enforcing unjust laws!”

“Sit back down Samuel. You are making a scene. Passionate as always, I see”

For a moment, Henry smirked again, but his face fell as he continued, “That incident was regrettable, but it was not the intent of the Crown. The soldiers were here to maintain peace.”

Sam jumps right back up again. “Peace? Peace? By oppressing us? And now, the closing of the port, the Quartering Act, stripping us of our basic rights!

Sipping his own drink, Henry responds flatly;

“These measures are to restore order and ensure loyalty to the Crown. You are quite a smart man, Samuel.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I thought you would understand that independence will only lead to chaos and ruin.”

“Independence is our path to freedom from tyranny. Henry, we have to fight for our rights, for the principles of liberty and self-governance!”

Sam was getting more and more flustered, his face reddening, partly from the intensity of the discussion, and partly from the alcohol.

Henry just shook his head,

“You risk everything you have, everything you are, for a dream of independence. The path you're on will lead to war, Samuel. Is that truly what you desire?”

“If it means securing the rights of our people, then so be it.” There was determination in his eyes.

“We'll face whatever comes our way.”

[The conversation grows more intense, each man defending his beliefs passionately, rooted in their opposing perspectives on governance and liberty. The tavern echoes with the clash of ideas, mirroring the brewing conflict between the Patriots and Loyalists in the colonies.]

----------------------------------------------

Samuel Adams was not having a good morning. He had woken up entirely too late for his lecture at the town college, with a raging headache and no time for breakfast. In his hazy state, he was unsure of what books to grab, so he simply shoved them all into his folding bag and ran down the streets feverishly, despite the cold and harsh wind of the foggy January morning.

Upon arrival, Sam stared up at the large clock looming over the courtyard of the college.

Only…13 minutes late. He could live with that. What Samuel could not live with however, was the first face he sawn walking into the lecture hall, was that of Henry Lewis.

He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Sam knew they were in the same lecture hall, yet for some reason it had never registered to him before. Henry looked up at Samuel, and smirked the same way he had four nights prior. Sam scowled. He was suddenly aware of his disheveled hair and mismatched clothes, a stark contrast to Henry’s neat and rather put together look, his brown hair held back to show more of his face and almost amber eyes–

Sam had never noticed the color of his eyes. He shook it off and aimed to walk right past the man, but stopped when

“You look rough. Tough night, I suppose?”

Even though Henry had whispered the words, the others around him laughed, and then started coughing to cover it up. Samuel’s scowl deepend, and he decided the best course of action was to sit directly behind Henry, and throw tiny paper balls at the back of his head the whole lecture. As he was nearly 21 years old, it was surely the mature thing to do.

This went on until the lecture was split into groups for a more targeted discussion. Surprisingly to no one but them, Samuel and Henry were grouped together.

Sam wasted no time with formalities.

“ Henry, you cannot possibly defend the Crown's tyranny any longer. Townshend Acts, the Intolerable Acts, the unforgiving violence, how can you turn a blind eye to the oppression we face?”

“You fail to see the bigger picture. The King's measures aim to maintain order, to keep the colonies within the rightful fold of the Crown.”

“Nothing about this is rightful!”

Henry frowned.

“While your presentation is magnetic, can we not find common ground between the loyalties and liberty?”

Samuel narrowed his eyes and leaned in slightly.

“How can there be common ground when the Crown's edicts crush our livelihoods? The Quartering Act thrusting soldiers upon us without consent, and again, the Boston Massacre where drops upon drops of innocent blood were spilled…”

Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, but those were acts of defiance, Samuel. Should rebellion be the answer to disagreements? Can't we find a way to reconcile without resorting to barbaric unrest?”

“Do you think I am a joke, Henry? Reconciliation is not possible when our liberties are at stake. The Continental Congress has spoken—we must declare independence!”

“Independence? How bold” Henry practically sneered. “But think of the consequences, Samuel. Chaos, uncertainty... And what of the Quebec Act? The Crown seeks stability, not chaos…unlike yourself.”

He said the last bit with particular nastiness.

It was at that moment the lecture was released. People streamed out the door like ants, yet as soon as they were back in the courtyard, Henry and Samuel continued to squabble.

“I insist that Stability at the cost of our freedom is no stability at all! The intolerable yoke of British rule must be cast off for us to flourish as a free nation–”

–Henry snorted at that.

What we need is a revolution! Fueled by the refusal to pay unjust taxes, the rejection of tyranny!”

“You speak of tyranny so often Samuel. But what you mean to say is misunderstood governance–”

“Governance devoid of our voice is tyranny, Henry! The Declaration looms, as our call for independence echoing the cries of a burgeoning nation!”

“But can you truly not be swayed by the allure of a compromise, a path less turbulent?”

“Compromise tainted by continued subjugation is no compromise at all.”

They continued their walk in silence for a moment.

“You know Samuel, that refusing of yours to even consider another perspective is un-American in and of itself, as you yourself might say”.

Sam hated the tone of voice Henry used. He sounded aloof, like he was so much better and so superior, and so above anyone else. He muttered something under his breath, something that clearly bothered the other man.

“What was that?” Henry inquired.

“Nothing.”

“What. was-”

“I said, sir, you are a coward, and are obviously deeply deeply afraid that–”

And Sam did not get to finish that sentence because Henry shoved him backwards, hands grabbing his shoulder and wrist tightly.

“You do not get to call me that., “ He hissed into Sam’s ear, “What are you? A petty child, resorting to name calling?”

Yet that also did not matter because Samuel was a much better fighter than Henry, evident in the way that half a second later, he flipped the situation so Henry was roughly shoved against the red brick wall behind them.

“You disgust me. So full of yourself, Henry, all the bloody time! Thinking that eventually it will pay off, when it won’t because no one in this damn city likes you!”

“Like I said” Henry was breathing hard “you are nothing but a petty child. Run along and play now.”

Samuel was seething, yet he did not miss the way for less than a fourth of a second, but he was sure that Henry’s eyes flicked

Right

Down

His

Lips.

His grip on the other went slack, and unsure of what to do, he muttered a simple

“I hate you.”

He pushed away from the wall, releasing Henry.

“Trust me,” Henry spat. “ it’s mutual”.

if u want more to the story lmk

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zu-zup · 4 months

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Gay wedding

#a comic for class #just a short little story xD #my art #comics #comic #long post #lgbtq #the song linked is what i used for inspo xd

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iblameashley · 1 month

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Ghost Falls Silent, Simon Stands

Civilian | Male | Gay

3,800~ words

Content: Hospitalization, recovery, cohabitation, use of 'lad' (gendered language?), nightmares, gay stuff, fluff, happy ending.

Follow up to Something to look forward to

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | Male

!!!SFW!!!

When Simon "Ghost" Riley is injured protecting you, his recovery means a month confined to home - that is, after two weeks of sedation in the base medical wing. Captain Price requests you stay and assist. Through highs and lows, you stand steadfast by Ghost's side. As feelings begin to emerge, Ghost must confront what it means to open his heart some more and whether a future beyond warfare could truly be possible or if he'll continue fighting alone.

Tag List: @a-sleepy-dissapointment

(Thanks to @loneghostwolf for permission to use this image)

You had been sitting outside of Simon's room in the medical wing as Price came along to have a 'talk' with him. You weren't too far from the door, but were close enough to hear Price's deep, commanding voice as he scolded Simon like a father would to a child.

Simon had been protesting his medical leave recommended by the staff. There was rarely an opportunity for them to get the Ghost in for any type of examination, and now that he had been there for a little over two weeks, they were recommending a month of medical leave, and this did not go over well with Simon.

So Price had made a request of you first, asking if you'd be willing to continue to watch over Simon when Price sent him home for recovery. You of course agreed, you'd become rather fond of that lumbering, stoic idiot.

And now here you were, unintentionally eavesdropping on Price and Simon.

“Simon Riley, I swear to God if you fuck this friendship up, I will put a bullet in you myself, you damn muppet!” Price fired back.

“I'm good to go, Price. The wound is healed, I just need a little training to get back into proper form... it shouldn't take more than a couple days at most, sir.” Simon replied, clearly trying to charm his way back into work with his confident tone.

Price was having none of it.

“Absolutely not.” Price shot him down without question. “I can't spare this room much longer, I can't spare Soap or Gaz to watch over your ass for a whole month, and I can't trust you to sit down and relax on base for the next month.” He grumbled with annoyance. “My best option is that wonderful lad out there who, for some reason, has been here for you since you were brought in. No complaints and no problems. He wants to be here, he wants to be your friend, and he wants to watch over you for the next month!”

Price stopped his tongue-lashing long enough to catch his breath, and Simon sat silently for a moment as his brain processed everything.

You of course were sitting in the corridor with a shit-eating grin on your face. Price was likely the only person on Earth who could talk to Simon this way and live, and it tickled you to know that Simon would bend to Price's will if enough pressure was applied.

“Fine.” Simon finally huffed. He surrendered to Price's demand. “But...”

“No 'buts', Simon. He will be accompanying you back to your flat and staying with you for the next month.”

You didn't need to be in the room to know the look Simon had on his face.

“Fine.” He said again in a tempestuous tone.

An image of Simon sitting in the bed with his arms crossed came to mind and you let out a breathy chuckle.

“When will I be discharged into his care?” Simon asked, pulling you from you daydream.

“Seventeen hundred hours, when he's technically finished his work for the day. You'll be loaded into a vehicle together and driven home.” Price explained. “I've already gone ahead and had Soap and Gaz prepare your flat for the two of you, since they had a few hours to spare today. You'll have groceries stocked and beds turned down. Soap may have ate the chocolates meant for the pillows, though.” Price joked.

With nothing more to say, Simon was resigned to his fate.

“Good lad.” Price said before leaving Simon's room. He flashed you a look and smile, “He'll be your problem in a few hours.”

“He always was.” You joked, giving Price a nod as he continued on his way down the corridor.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Day 4

Its been four days. Four.

You woke up to the smell of something burning and a voice cursing form the kitchen in a Manchester accent. Simon. You threw the blankets back and begrudgingly sat up from the small cot Gaz and Soap had placed in the den of Simon's flat for you. It took a moment to gather your thoughts and boot your brain up enough to wander out into the kitchen to see some charcoal – apparently eggs – in the frying pan on the stove. There were some sausages cooking in another pan as well. Simon was limping around the kitchen looking for a solution.

“Little early in the morning to be trying to kill us both, don't ya' think?” You yawn as you walked over to the stove and pulled the pan off, tossing the chunks of eggs into the sink.

“I didn't ask for a babysitter.” Simon grunted. You notice him wince as he reached for something on the top cupboard, and you shake your head.

You drop the burnt pan into the sink and grab a new one, not quite hiding your frustration.

“Then stop acting like a fucking baby.” You shot back with a bit more vitriol than intended. “Think you can manage a cup of coffee for me and some tea for yourself?” You shot a second time, flashing him a tired and irritable look.

“Think so.” He grunted before moving to grab a couple of mugs.

You grabbed a fresh pan and placed it on the burner, turning the heat down and waiting a few minutes before cracking some fresh eggs. This man could dismantle bombs and take on multiple men in hand-to-hand, but was seemingly lost in his own kitchen.

“How do you like your eggs?” You asked, already cooking some sunny-side up eggs for yourself.

“D'innit matter.” Simon said as he worked away to prepare some drinks.

You shrugged and cracked some more eggs into the pan. Sunny-side up all around.

“Why are you so damn stubborn, Si?” You asked, tying to mask the sadness in your voice. You knew why, it was easy to figure out with a man like Simon Riley, but a part of you wanted to hear it from him.

“Don't need anyone to take care of me. Been takin' care of myself long enough.” His voice betrayed his words and you were, of course, unconvinced of his statement.

“Well... I'm here to help while you recover. I already agreed to do the cooking and cleaning while you caught up on paperwork – which was generous of Price to allow – and getting yourself back in shape for deployment.” You remind him, aiming the spatula at him.

Simon took a seat at the kitchen table as the water boiled in the kettle and simply stared at you. You were right, but it would be a cold day in hell before he said it out loud.

By the time the food was ready, Simon had a steaming mug of coffee for you and a tea for himself. You plated the eggs and sausages, as well as some toast you had made.

“Eggs... without a kitchen fire or the fire department. Enjoy.” You winked at him while buttering some toast.

“Thanks.” He mumbled into his tea.

Despite the attitude Simon had been giving you, you knew his gratitude ran deeper than he let on. He did eventually give you a small smile while he ate, which helped lighten your own mood, though you still had twenty-six days to go.

Day 10

You were sitting in the living room with Simon, tapping away at your laptop as you worked well into the evening. You'd fallen behind in your work and decided to spend some time today catching up – and you were almost done as the storm outside really began to rage.

There was a crash of thunder that startled you; Simon looked over and his chest heaved as he silently laughed at you.

“Control... S” You murmured to yourself as you saved your work. Lessons had been learned years ago about this very situation.

“Power's bound to go out soon.” Simon sighed as he closed his book – one you had bought him at the market.

No sooner had those words escaped his lips than the lights flickered.

Then again.

And then died, plunging you both into almost complete darkness, your face illuminated by the dimmed screen of your laptop. Without the sounds of appliances or the TV, you could hear the roar of wind and pattering of the rain on the windows.

“I'll get the candles.” Simon advised as he got up off the couch.

You closed the lid of your laptop and got out your phone, turning on the flashlight and following close behind him. “I'll help.” You volunteered, tossing your laptop aside and jumping from the chair.

Soon his living room was flickering with the warm light from the candles. You sat on the couch next to him silently as the storm continued outside; you'd kill for wi-fi right now.

You pulled the skull throw you had gifted Simon from the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. It wasn't particularly cold, but it was comforting. You didn't have the courage to tell Simon you had a minor, teeny fear of the dark.

“Y'know... this storm reminds me of a camping trip I took when I was a bit younger.” You said, breaking the silence.

Simon simply stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Well, I stupidly dropped my compass and broke it... that should have been the first sign of things to come.” You chuckled as you recalled the memory. “Then of course the storm moved in and drenched me. I ran to cover, totally forgetting that you aren't supposed to take shelter under trees. A bolt of lightening reminded me as it struck several trees nearby.” You exhaled loudly, a smile playing on your face as you remembered just how close a call that experience was. “But because I also happen to have an overactive imagination, and was full of adrenaline and fear already, I could have sworn I saw a pale figure staring at me from the trees. It shrieked like a banshee and I damn near pissed myself. I was a Goddamn mess when I finally made my way back to my friends.” You let out an awkward laugh and looked over to Simon.

“Sounds terrifying.” Simon replied in his usual flat tone, though his eyes did dance with interest as he stared you down. “You're a brave lad to have emerged from that and carried on.”

There was no undertone of sarcasm of teasing in his tone, catching you off guard.

“You have any 'scary' stories?” You asked him, making yourself more comfortable under the throw.

“Aye..." MacTavish's influence seeped through. "...got a real spine tingling one for ya.” Simon nodded.

He leaned in close and lowered his voice. His eyes narrowed and he stared intently at you. “I was once a child.” He deadpanned.

You desperately wanted to keep your composure, but you felt the twitching of your lips as you started to crack. You let out a shaky chuckle before breaking into a full on laughing.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, you could see Simon sitting back slightly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips in the dim light of the candlelit room.

“You're such a cunt.” You tittered.

Shifting his tone, Simon cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He rumbled alongside the thunder. “...its not so terrible, having you around.” He confessed.

The earnestness of the words surprised you; an admission you could never have predicted Simon to make.

“...and no one will ever believe you if you tell them I said that.”

There is was. You rolled your eyes.

“You're tolerable.” You shurg.

Simon chuckled, enjoying the playful banter between you two in the darkness of his flat. Even if parts of him were screaming to stop opening up to you.

Day 21

You woke up groggy and confused as something slammed hard against the floor. It was coming from Simon's room and you moved as quickly as your heavy body would allow to get out of bed.

Walking down the hallway, you could hear the terrified sounds of Simon's distress. Standing at the doorway, you hesitated; your hand hovering over the door knob. Should you really go in? Simon's room was a bit off-limits since you agreed to watch over him. You had wanted to ensure he had one space to himself.

CRASH!

Something else hit the floor. You sigh and grip the door knob, turning it slowly and pushing the door open cautiously.

“Simon?” You murmured through the crack in the door.

You could see Simon thrashing around in the darkness of his room, unable to wake up from the nightmare that was consuming him. He was murmuring someone's name and pleading. Pleading! Simon!

“Fuck it.” You declared, resigning yourself to whatever fate awaited you.

“Simon.” You say, giving him a firm shake. “Simon!” You say louder.

You opened the door a bit further – enough to walk through – and strode over to his bed. You leaned down close to him, and once again hesitated. You looked around to see his lamp and phone on the floor and a spilled glass of water.

Turning your attention back to Simon, you placed a hand over his damp shoulder.

Simon doesn't wake up, stuck in the depths of his terror.

You muster up the courage to do something you never thought you'd do; yell at Simon Riley.

“SIMON, WAKE THE FUCK UP!” You howl at him.

His eyes snap open and he shoots up in bed; his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, it take him a moment to orient himself.

As his eyes fall on you, and shame creeps into his eyes. You were never supposed to see this. You shouldn't be in here and he shouldn't be this weak in front of you.

You reach out and place your hand on his bicep, giving it a squeeze.

“Are you okay, Simon?” You ask in a soft, concerned voice.

He turns away from you, his chest still heaving but doesn't answer. A bit of ego, but mostly humiliation.

He shrugs your hand off of him and all you do is smile.

“Okay, okay... be that way.” You tease him as you turn to his end table. You pick up the lamp and place it back on the tabletop, then place his phone beside it. “You're safe now.” You speak tenderly to him.

You stand and give him a stare for a moment before leaving his room.

Returning a couple minutes later with a small towel, you kneel down and clean up the spilled water as Simon just sits on his bed.

“You seem calmer now.” You remark as you wad up the towel and toss it to his laundry basket.

“'M fine.” He grumbles.

Liar.

“Alright.” You nod, though he's still not looking at you.

You stand up and sit on his bed, your back to him. You take a deep breath before swivelling yourself around and laying down on the bed beside him.

“...and what are you doing?” Simon rumbles as he feels the weight of your body moving on the mattress.

“What I was asked to do. Take care of you for a month.” You reply bluntly.

You make yourself comfortable beside him, choosing a particularly plump and soft pillow to rest your head on.

“Don't need your help.” Simon protests.

“Sounds like a you problem, Si.” You fire back, pulling your phone from your PJ pocket and unlocking it. “I'm staying, as per Prices request.” You didn't explain that you'd text Price when you left and he'd given you 'orders'.

Simon sits there through seven rounds of solitaire, two crosswords, and a good twenty minutes of scrolling through socials before he finally concedes and lays down beside you. He drapes his arms over his stomach as he stretches out and relaxes; as much as Simon Riley relaxes.

“Don't wanna talk about it.”

You don't look away from your phone.

“Don't have to.” You reply.

“You don't need to know what goes on in my fucked up head because of my fucked up life and job.” He continues.

You like a particularly cute video of a puppy.

“Fair enough. We're all entitled to our secrets.” You nod.

“Did I... say anything?” Simon prods, curious and anxious.

You lower your phone a bit and look over at him. You purse your lips and think about how to respond. So far, you've never lied to Simon, and you don't exactly want to start now.

“Well?” He asks after you hesitate a little too long.

“Yes.” You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“What did I say?” Simon inquires, a bit of horror framing his face.

“I thought you didn't want to talk about it?” The words come out a bit harsher than you intended, and you're already cursing yourself.

“What did I say?” He repeats with annoyance.

You let out a sigh and rest your phone on your chest.

“You were begging.” You reply. You roll your head to the side to look at him. “You were begging for forgiveness and to 'switch places' or something to that extent.” You confess to him, barely managing to choke out the words.

“Fuckin' hell...” Simon grumbles. He stares up at his ceiling. “I....”

“You have terrible taste in people.” He says in an almost teasing tone.

You don't let him finish, “You don't have to say any more, Simon. Not if you don't want to.” You explain. You reach over and tap his abdomen with the back of your hand. “I just want you to know that I don't think any less of you. Never could.”

That elicits a deep laugh from Simon as he shakes his head.

“So I'm told.” You reply, going back to your phone.

“You're really not going to leave, are you?” He asks suddenly.

“What do you mean? Here and now, or before the month is over? Or... ever?” You question him, resting the back of one hand on his body.

“All of the above, 'spose.” He shrugs.

“I'm not leaving. All of the above.” You reply earnestly.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as Simon considers what you've said.

After a half hour or more, Simon hears a thud. Turning to look at you, he notices you've dropped your phone on the floor and are fast asleep on his bed.

You roll over on your side and Simon lets out a low grunt, feigning annoyance – though he's not sure why – before he sighs and grabs the blanket and pulls it over you.

He rolls over so his back is to you and closes his eyes. Somehow your presence here relaxes him enough to let him get a couple hours of sleep.

Day 30

Maybe domestic life was for you after all. It had been a full month since Price had made his request and here you were; In Simon's kitchen and cooking him one last breakfast before you packed up and returned to your own flat.

Simon had spent most of the early morning in his room just laying on his bed before eventually rolling out and jumping in the shower.

As you finished preparing the large, artery-clogging breakfast of sausages, eggs, hash browns, pancakes and bacon, Simon finally emerged in gym shorts and a tank top.

“Ready to kick my arse out?” You asked, suppressing the tinge of sadness that welled inside you. You really did like being here this last month, though it was difficult to tell if he felt the same way.

Simon huffed and made his way to the table where a tea – just the way he likes it – and took a seat, staring at the back of your head.

He took a sip and thought it over for a moment. “Y've been a goddamn nag.” He finally said, a smile on his face.

“All a part of the job!” You fired back, turning to give him a wide grin.

“Still no idea how Price talked you into it.” Simon mused, looking away.

You pate the mountain of food for the both of you and join Simon at the table. You lean back in your chair and pick up a piece of bacon, eyeing it before taking a bite.

“Didn't take much, to be honest.” You shrug.

Simon defaulted to his usual gruff grunt, “Guess if hasn't been entirely unpleasant to have you around.” He confessed. He couldn't help but fight his own happiness.

“Someone had to make sure you didn't burn the place down.” You tease. "And we nipped that in the bud on day four."

Simon digs into the breakfast you've made for him, silently chewing away and ignoring your joke.

You sipped at your coffee and ate your breakfast as well.

This was a moment that seemed to stretch on for a while, neither of you wanting to admit how the last month truly affected you.

“Y'know...” You say, breaking the silence. “We never did see that movie.” You remind him. Through everything that's happened since Simon was injured, neither of you actually ended up dragging the other to that stupid movie.

You give a shrug. There will be plenty of time for movies.

Simon simply looked up at you and continued to eat.

“It's good.” He said, holding up a forkful of food.

You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you couldn't figure out why. It couldn't have been about the movie.

Maybe it reminded him of being stabbed? Unlikely.

Or maybe he felt... disappointed? Like he let you down?

You could just ask, but that was too easy, and you were both too stubborn to talk about it outright.

“I'll be heading out just after noon, if that's fine with you? I just need to do some work before I leave.” You practically murmur.

“'S fine.” Simon nodded.

As you finished your breakfast and placed your plate in the sink, Simon surprised you with what he said.

“How about tonight?” He asked.

You turned to look at him with a confused look on your face.

He was still sitting at the table with his phone in hand.

“The movie. Its still playing... how about tonight?” He asked again.

You nodded. “Y-yeah. Tonight works for me. What time?”

“Eleven-hundred hours. You... can stay the night again. My flat is closer to the theatre than yours.”

You were too shocked to say anything, so you just nodded again.

Staying another night.

With Simon.

You were brimming with stupid amounts of joy.

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akashababy · 5 months

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Peter Parker x Top male reader - A Steamy Encounter

Note: The content of this article is intended for mature audiences only.

Peter Parker, the amiable local Spider-Man, was drawn to the appearance of an enigmatic stranger in the busy metropolis of New York. This best-selling male reader had a magnetic quality that pulled Peter in like a moth to a flame. One fateful night, their paths intersected, and the sparks between them sparked an intense bond. Peter and the top male reader took comfort in one another's arms as the moonlit night enveloped the city in a gentle radiance.

As their bodies entwined, they danced with hunger and passion. Waves of ecstasy shot through their veins with each touch and kiss. They ventured into the depths of their mutual passions, and the air crackled with electricity. In the solitude of their private meeting, Peter found a previously unknown aspect of himself. When the M/N touched him, a long-dormant sensuality sprang to the surface, and he gave in to the seductive feelings that surrounded them.

They were both left speechless and wanting more as their bodies moved in perfect unison, creating a symphony of pleasure. Peter and the top male reader said their goodbyes as the evening came to an end, their hearts heaving from their newfound bond. Their meeting was a covert event that would live on in their memory for all eternity. The passion they shared would endure forever, serving as a constant reminder of the exciting possibilities that lie beyond the boundaries of desire, even though their paths may never meet again.

#peter parker x dom male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #dom male reader #top male reader #lgbtq #marvel x male reader #marvel #male reader #spiderman #short story #short stories #short fiction

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queerism1969 · 4 months

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jessica-leatherman · 7 months

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Surreal short stories from the Fore Square book series. A sampling of stories told from different times and settings.

5th book to be published January 29,2024-Kansas Day. All books available on Amazon.

What happened to Rose Manleather and her sons?

Some things belong and others do not. Can you decide which or can you come to your own Double Cola Talk epiphany and get the answers?

A curious life’s journey of the character Rose Manleather, sorted and collected together in fragmented framed form. All for a reader to enjoy piecing back together through the Fore Square series of short stories, riddles, metaphors, language, codes, innuendos, humor and interpretation.

Our main character is dyslexic and her stories and journal are unedited. Are you smart enough to figure out wha shes telling you and solve the mystery?

More FREE surreal stories HIDDEN in writers Instagram ProFile jessica_leatherman

#spooky #evil #creepy art #short stories #mystery #crimes against humanity #lgbtq #bookish #suspense #journal #frightened rabbit #book series #surreal #dyslexic #riddles #puzzle #lgbtq community #lgbt pride #the smartarts library

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

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Hello! I’ve recently fell in love with your blog again after not being on tumblr a while. Your writing scratches my brain in just the right way and reading your posts is all I’ve been doing to pass the time at my cubicle recently. One of my favorite niche tropes is when the two romantic rivals in a love triangle fall for each other instead of the person they were originally pining for. I was wondering if you would write a snippet based off of that prompt? super excited to see what you come up with if you do!!

"I said you can have her, if she wants you."

It was raining. A pathetic fallacy of rain. A spitting, upchuck of misery. Langston dragged a hand over his face, glancing up at the lack of retreating footsteps. Back out the rain. Back to the party. Back to her.

Nate stood awkwardly in the downpour, resembling nothing so much as a drowned cat - feline elegance turned into something sad and soggy.

"It's okay," Nate said. "I mean, if you really love her...I wouldn't want to get in the way."

Langston had thought he did. He'd been sure of it three months ago. But now...he studied Nate, heart thumping something stupid in his chest. He hadn't expected that.

"Seriously?"

Nate shrugged, wrapping his arms tight around himself to ward off the chill. He had nice arms. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don't want to be the consolation prize she has because you left."

"I don't think you're anyone's consolation prize," Langston scoffed, before he could stop himself. "I mean, look at you."

"...What?"

Langston coloured. "She'd be stupid not to pick you!"

Nate blinked.

"I mean - you always show up for her," Langston said, his throat feeling tight. "For anyone who needs you, actually. And your art is amazing, man. So, you're like ridiculously talented and handsome and actually a good guy." He shrugged, colour creeping up his face despite the chill as Nate stared at him. "I just mean - I get it."

He thought maybe he should start walking. Start running. Hadn't he left to get some air? To get away? To maybe not picture the two of them kissing?

He hadn't expected Nate to be the one chasing after him. Not that he'd expected her to, but...

Well. After all the chasing he'd done, maybe it would have been nice. Maybe it could have meant something. Instead, it hurt to even think about her name.

"Do you want to go grab a drink?" Nate asked.

"...what?"

"Bloody tragic out here," Nate said. He swept over, patting Langston's shoulder as he passed. "C'mon."

Dumbly, Langston followed.

They ended up at the local a few streets away, ensconced in a cosy booth with two beers and the central heating on full blast.

"Honestly," Nate said. "She's kind of pissing me off in how she's treating you. Us."

It wasn't the opener that Langston expected. He raised his brows.

"I mean, it's not really fair, is it?" Nate pressed. "The way she's been jerking us around? Pitting us against each other?"

"It didn't feel...great," Langston allowed.

He'd thought, two months ago, when he first felt things beginning to shift beneath him, that if she really loved either of them that she would have made a choice. Better to let down one of them, right? But every time he thought she'd chosen, suddenly it felt like she was in the middle again. It was driving him bananas.

Then, the more he'd seen of Nate, of how hard he'd tried to be good enough for her, the more he'd realised that actually Nate was fantastic.

"We deserve to feel great about ourselves, right?" Nate exclaimed. His conviction was a little infectious, so Langston nodded. "Because, you know, you're a great guy too." Nate nudged his foot under the table. "You're so smart. Funny. And, you know, you show up too."

"It's what you do when you care about someone," Langston mumbled.

"Right!" Nate said.

It struck Langston, suddenly, that Nate really was there. He'd left the party for him without a second glance.

"Thanks," he said.

"I wasn't going to leave you out in the rain like a kicked puppy, mate." Nate held his beer up to clink. Langston did and took a swig. "Cute as you are," Nate added.

Langston promptly choked on his beer, coughing.

Nate grinned. "Cheers."

"Bastard."

Nate laughed. His eyes shone. He continued to study Langston for a beat after his laugh faded, his head tilted to the side.

"So, just putting this out there," Nate said. "But you know I'm bi, right?"

"I..." Langston felt a little lightheaded. "I did know that, actually, yeah."

She had come to him about it when she found out. He'd already started noticing Nate at that point, but figured it was only because the other man was his rival or some such. Then she'd told him that and it was like his whole world tipped sideways into crisis mode. He'd catch himself watching Nate wrap an arm around her shoulders, and feel something burn in his chest, and have the slowly dawning realisation that he wasn't sure which of them he was jealous of.

"Cool," Nate said.

They talked, for a while, as they drank their beers. About her, but about other things too. Langston slowly felt the crushing weight of the party ease, felt himself relax into Nate's company in a way he'd never fully done into hers by the end. He'd always felt like he had to prove something.

"You really would be a very good boyfriend," Langston said. "I've been thinking about that a lot, this last month or so."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm."

"I was very impressed by the time you fixed her car. I'm useless at that." Nate's gaze roamed over him. His voice lowered, soft. "You as good with anything else as you are with your hands? I've been wondering."

Langston swallowed. "You've been wondering?"

Their eyes locked across the table.

Nate was at full force, now, without the rain. Smirk. Teasing eyes to make you want to die. His hair had dried with the most adorable damn curl. Langston wanted to touch it. He couldn't even blame the beer. He wasn't entirely sure he could blame heartache either, because his insides were fizzing.

He wasn't sure which of them leaned in. It was not the most romantic of first kisses. It felt good though.

He dragged his thumb along the curve of Nate's face and watched the other man shiver.

"I've definitely been wondering about that," Nate said, low.

"We're not going back to the party, are we?"

They were not going back to her, were they?

"No," Nate said. "I definitely shouldn't think so."

Langston leaned in to kiss him again.

#m/m #writing #story #love triangle #fic #fiction #creative writing #lgbtq #romance #short story #writing snippet #story snippet

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sapicloveyou · 28 days

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Based on a true story

#lgbtq #sapic #lesbian #gay girls #wlw #sapphic #relationship #short story #romance #wlw romance

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earthmoonz · 1 month

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WIFEY. | EPISODE SEVEN (7.3)

start / previous / next

Two hours into the 3.5 hour drive, the atmosphere in Lena’s car had shifted. The rain had finally stopped and awkward silences soon fell into easy conversation. Interests were shared, jokes were traded, and for the first time Lena could see who Max might have been under the ever-present cloud of their grief. Beyond their dry wit, there was passion, revealing itself as they talked about work and how much they loved running a queer bar. They also knew about art and fashion and so many things that the Max Lena meets in the dark is forced to hide. An unfamiliar feeling bloomed in Lena’s chest. She wished things were different. She wondered if Max did too.

(transcript below)

(MAX): Hear me out-

(LENA): No! I’m not letting you convince me that the fast and furious movies are fucking ‘high camp’. Hear yourself!

(MAX): You're thinking about them too literally! It’s about family! Fast cars! Jumping a fuck off truck off a cliffside and for some reason not immediately dying!

(LENA): Max, they drove a car into space. Space!

(MAX): Exactly! Peak cinema!

(LENA): You’re dead serious too.

(MAX): It’s called being real. (LENA): [Lena kisses her teeth]

#short post today but a longer one tomorrow ❤️#I had to change lena's car because it was a nightmare to film in it and I found and updated version with a nicer texture ☺️#em: stories #em: wifey #*wifey #*part 1 #*ep 7 #ts4 storytelling #ts4 stories #sims story #sims 4 story #ts4 maxis mix #sims of color #lgbtq simblr #black simblr #sims community #*max kyle #*lena scott

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roselandsrl · 2 months

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Long story short, It was bad time

Pushed from the precipice

Climbed right back up the cliff

Long story short I survived

#lgbtq #romance #heartstopper #alice oseman #nick and charlie #charlie and nick #lovers #charlie spring #charlie x nick #nick x charlie #taylor swift #long story short

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uncanny-tranny · 9 months

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I decided to go through my old warm-up notebooks from my honours english class and in one of the warm-up prompts, I said I wanted my superpower to be "controlling the effects of [my] puberty," and I'm glad to say that I've gotten that superpower. It took a very long time, but that's a superpower I can check off my list

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #ngl though i felt my very soul wince while reading some of them (including that)#in my old self's defense: i was incredibly dysphoric and had Many Unresolved Issues #i also wasn't really masking in that class and didn't know i should probably not be honest with my notebook #my teacher said that she'd only grade warm-ups we wanted graded and she'd only *potentially* read others 'for fun'#also i always didn't like the 'what superpower would YOU want?' question because. it just annoyed me to know it's impossible to have #(besides the puberty superpower lmao)#as much as i believe in being kind to your past self/selves that doesn't mean i'm not cringing about it 😭#just so long as you don't turn the cringe into self-hatred i suppose #you cannot hate yourself into being better♡♡#WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED THAT IN ONE OF THE WARM-UPS I WROTE ABOUT A LESBIAN ROBOT #NEVER MIND I'M DONE CRINGING #man i should make that into a proper short story like. what a concept

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clovermaniacs · 16 days

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Enid: Can you come here, little one?

*Wednesday looks up from her typewriter and if looks could kill Enid would be 6ft under the school*

Wednesday: LITTLE one, you say?

Enid: Weds you're shorter than me that's for sure.

Wednesday: It will be easier for me to kick you in a shin, that's for sure.

*Wednesday did not pout, she didn't and if Enid says to anyone that she saw it Wednesday will go back on her threat. No witnesses no proof after all*

Enid: Aww babe, don't sulk.

*Enid knew the tease would result in some kind of reaction so in that moment she was grateful that Wednesday knew how to handle knifes otherwise -she fears- she would be dead when Wednesday flicked her wrist -without looking at her- and a knife was stuck besides Enid's head*

My first time writing... I hope it's alright and to someone's taste. First and foremost English isn't my first language so excuse me if there was a mistake yall can correct me in the comments, respectfully of course. I won't be doing those often only when an idea strucks me.

#lgbtq #lesbian #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #Enid being a menace #wednesday netflix #wednesday fic #Wednesday short #fyp #for you #fypage #fypシ #wednesday is soft for enid #my first story #did i do good

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iblameashley · 5 months

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Ghosts Shadows

Civilian | Male | Gay

1,300 words Content: Nightmares, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | Male/GN Reader

!!!SFW!!!

Simon was used to facing his nightmares alone, but when he finally began spending the night at your place, the ghosts of his past pulled him into a nightmare. Waking in a panic, Simon was embarrassed to have his trauma witnessed.

You were laying in bed in a half-asleep state, your back was turned to Simon and the cool breeze of the spring night was washing over you. This was the third night Simon had slept over at your place after weeks of prodding and pleading with him. You were a couple after all; you wanted to sleep with your boyfriend!

For the most part it was going well. What you hadn't anticipated the first night was how hot he was, and you were already a walking furnace too, so you had found yourself throwing the bed sheets off and letting him hog them.

You felt Simon stir, bringing you closer to consciousness. Your eyes strained to open as sleep still gripped at you, but finally they opened as you heard Simon's breathing increase.

He was panicking.

That was enough for you to wake, roll over, and look at him.

Simon's once steady – and soothing – breathing was quickening, and you could make out his silhouette rising and falling quickly in the darkness of your room.

You felt the sheets move as he gripped at them and began to mutter.

It was too low to make out at first, but as you leaned in close to him you could hear it.

“No...get down!”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting in the room, you could see the sheen of cold sweat that covered his face. His eyes darted back and forth behind his closed lids.

Whatever demons were haunting him right now held a tight grip on him, and kept him deep in the torment of sleep.

You reached out timidly at first, placing your hand on his shoulder, “Si, wake up. You're having a nightmare.” You muttered with a raspy voice.

But he didn't stir, too lost in a memory of some violent encounter.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips, followed by a gravelly cry. “Look out!”

Seeing Simon like this felt like being stabbed in the heart. You wrapped your arm around Simon and pulled him into an embrace.

You took a deep breath.

“You're safe, Si. Its not real...I promise.” You whispered to him in a shaky voice.

He squirmed against you, trying to free himself from your grasp and the nightmare.

You fought back and pulled him back into you. You bare chest pressing against his bare back. “You're okay, Si. Its me.”

Finally, after several minutes you managed to roll him over until he was facing you. You leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips as he mumbled away.

“I love you, Si.”

And something must have triggered in him; his breathing began to gradually slow as your words and touch anchored him.

The darkness of his dreams were slowly replaced by the darkness of the bedroom as his eyes fluttered open. As his vision focused on your blue eyes, recognition of what happened had dawned on him; something he warned you about. His stomach felt like it dropped and he felt the well of shame consume him.

You weren't supposed to see him like this; weak. Pathetic.

He withdrew his gaze from you and instead stared at the crumpled sheets between you two.

“Are you okay?” You asked him sweetly, your hand tracing the contour of his jawline.

Simon was already closing himself off from you, and he lay there in silence until his racing heart calmed.

When he finally spoke, the words felt hallow, impersonal.

“Sorry, you... should never have seen me like this.”

You smiled and ran your thumb over his cheek. “Why are you apologizing?” You asked, scooting a little closer to him. “You told me you had nightmares. I'm here for you, Si.” You explained.

You weren't sure if it was instinct or a deeply rooted need within Simon, but you felt him lean into your touch, even as the look on his face was still painted with shame and fear.

“Want to talk about it?” You asked in a hushed tone. You moved your face in close to his until you were nearly touching.

After several breaths, Simon found the words he was looking for, “Bodies...and blood. I was too late to save them. I'm always too late.” He said in a raw whisper.

His hand found your waist and gave it a squeeze.

“I didn't want you to know how weak and pitiful I am.” His cheek twitched with annoyance. “That I'm not the strong and capable man you love.”

It took everything in you to not laugh in his face. Not once had you ever thought Simon was weak, not even in this moment.

You shook your head against the pillow. “You aren't weak, Si. You're suffering from PTSD... and ever day that you face that trauma, and try to work your way past it, tells me how strong you are.” You insisted before leaning in to give him another kiss.

Simon shifted on the bed, still unconvinced. He began to sit up and pull the sheets off his body. “Maybe I should go. I don't want to scare you if - when - the nightmares come back.” His self-loathing tone evident.

You sit up in bed beside him and press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his chest and massaging his abdomen. Your fingers ran over his scars and burns; other things he wanted to hide from you.

“You aren't scaring me.” You whisper into his ear.

You tighten you grip on him. “I told you when we started dating that I was here for you – nightmares included.” You said with sincerity. You ran your nose over his shoulder, taking in his intoxicating scent. “You don't need to face this alone anymore, Si. Don't shut me out. Don't leave.”

Simon swallowed the lump in his throat. There was still a knot in his stomach as he considered your plea. He fought against his own instincts to run away as he turned slightly to face you.

Your face was resolute, and he could see it. You meant it.

“But I could hurt you...” He cautioned.

“I don't believe that.” You shook your head at him. “I trust you, Si.”

Those three words meant more to him than the other three words you had said to him.

His gaze softened, despite the knot in his stomach telling him he didn't deserve your love, kindness or care.

Simon couldn't help but slowly begin to relax into your embrace as the cool air pricked at his skin. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he was still feeling the weight of exhaustion, and going back to his flat probably would be a struggle in itself.

You pulled him back down into the bed and stretched yourself out behind him.

It wasn't until you had thrown the sheets back over your bodies that Simon spoke again.

“Why?” he asked, low and unsure. “Why would you even risk it for me? Especially after seeing my demons.”

You caressed his arm in a steady and fluid motion as you listened to him. “Because I know there is more to you than demons, Si.” You nuzzled your face into the back of his neck, letting the soft, short hairs tickle at your nose. “Because I hope to make you feel as safe as you make me feel.”

You let out a warm breath over his neck that makes his hairs stand on end.

“Face reality, Simon Riley, you're stuck with me.” You chuckled as your hand fond its way to his chest.

“I don't deserve you.” Simon lamented, despite pressing himself more firmly against your body.

With a heavy sigh, he accepted that this was not a conversation he was going to win. He let your warm body provide him the comfort he didn't believe he deserved, but comfort he now welcomed. Though still feeling the echoes of guilt and shame, Simon let himself close his eyes and fall back asleep.

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