#m/f fiction
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overlookedfile · 9 months ago
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Viggo Grimborn/Astrid Hofferson, Viggo Grimborn/ Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (implied), Viggo Grimborn/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson (implied) Characters: Viggo Grimborn, Astrid Hofferson, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Additional Tags: Alpha/Omega, Alpha!Astrid, Alpha!Hiccup, Omega!Viggo, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die Summary:
He dozed for a while after that, lethargic, almost comfortable, but still too warm for proper sleep. Somewhere in his mind he was aware that he should have been formulating a plan to turn the situation to his advantage, plotting how to convince them to join in his revenge against his former allies, but he couldn't hold onto such complex thoughts long enough to string any of them together. His only coherence lie firmly rooted in the needs of his body, centered on the growing ache to be stretched, filled, knotted. Bred.
~
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cervinae-canine · 3 months ago
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whatever you do, do NOT think about your normally stoic and temperamental F/O softening upon seeing you!!! do NOT imagine your normally grumpy and jaded F/O having a small smile when thinking of you!!! do NOT imagine warming your cold F/O's heart and being able to see a calmer, more peaceful side of them!! DO NOT-
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sipthegossip-if · 3 months ago
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THE TWO-HEADED CALF. A liar, a fiend, a two faced little bitch.
There are times when you can sense Shay's gaze on you, watching you intently like a hawk through the rims of their glass as they slowly take a sip. It travels down your figure, lingering at your collarbones, your hips, your throat when it bobs. It leaves you breathless. The intensity of their gaze. There is that itch to wrap your fingers around theirs when they stand beside you. You know they feel it too, judging from the way their fingers quiver by their sides.
But there are lines you shouldn't cross. Lines you both, badly, desperately, fiercely want to cross.
NON ESTABLISHED AFFAIR ROUTE : Shay has made a habit of lingering at the door longer than necessary, committing your features to memory as if they won't see you again. You notice it all. The subtle changes in their behaviour. The way their voice softens around the edges when your name rolls of their tongue, or how their breath hitches when they catch a waft of your scent, the way they bury their hands deep in their pockets— a slight tremor to their fingers after holding you for a little too long— because they don't want to be caught loving you. You think they notice the changes too. You think the intensity of it scares them horribly.
PRE-ESTABLISHED AFFAIR ROUTE : Most people would call them an angel. You know them too intimately to agree with that statement. The bitter taste of betrayal burns your tongue.
Shay had always been quick to pull on their clothes after the sex. They never stayed. You were not worth it. You shared haphazard kisses in dark alleys, one of you pressed against the wall, your hands sliding under their shirt, caressing their waist. A dirty, gritty, ugly, messy kind of hunger. There had never been anything soft to whatever you two did. Never a kiss to your forehead and a 'i will miss you, darling' as they stepped out of the door. No. Never. That's for lovers. You were anything but that. You wanted fun, shay wanted an escape from their miserably fucked up married life. You never expected anything more. So, this whole mess shouldn't bother you right?
Right?
PERSONALITY : Charming, out spoken and caring. Shiron has it all. One quick conversation with them is enough to make them anyone's beloved. A natural flirt. It's near impossible to be in the same room as them and not fall head over heels in love with them. They are popular for their unbridled sex appeal— something they pride themselves in and always use to their advantage.
APPEARANCE : Golden brown skin. 6'4. Amber gold eyes. A small scar on the left side of their upper lip. A mole at the corner of their right eye. Wears small, gold huggie earrings. m!toned build. A broad back. Shoulder length dark brown hair, dyed yellow at the tips. Slight stubble. f!curvy figure. Waist length brown hair, dyed yellow at the roots. Signature look : m!short nails painted yellow. Loose fitting, brown button down shirt with the top two buttons undone. High waisted, slightly loose, navy blue trousers. f!long nails painted blood red. Blood red bodycon with a thigh high slit. Red pencil heels.
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the-bi-library · 1 year ago
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Happy Disability Pride Month!
Here are some books with disabled bi MCs to celebrate the occasion 💖
Books listed
💕 The Faithless by C.L. Clark 💕 Icebreaker by A.L. Graziadei 💕 The Immeasurable Depth of You by Maria Ingrande Mora 💕 The Luis Ortega Survival Club by Sonora Reyes 💕 Forever Is Now by Mariama J. Lockington 💕 Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert 💕 Stars in Their Eyes: A Graphic Novel by Jessica Walton 💕 The Disasters by M.K. England 💕 The Secret Summer Promise by Keah Brown 💕 Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao 💕 Scoring a Spouse by Liz Lincoln 💕 Other bound by Corinne Duyvis 💕 Play It Again by Aidan Wayne 💕 Dark Pines by Will Dean 💕 Izzy at the End of the World by K.A. Reynolds 💕 In The Ring by Sierra Isley 💕 Dearly Departed by Heather Novak 💕 Monstersona by Chloe Spencer
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mandms-blog-of-silly · 10 months ago
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☆ F/O ask game collection!
{My favorite questions I've seen!}
⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️
🎨 - Do you journal about your F/O?
🌈 - Is your F/O queer {canon or headcanon}? What labels do they use, if any?
💐 - What flower do you associate with your oc F/O? Why?
🍓 - What are you and your F/O’s trope{s}?
🦋 - How did you and your F/O meet?
💭 - How would the fandom react to your S/I?
🫧 - Did you ever keep your relationship secret from anyone?
💗 - What are your pet names for your f/o’s? what are their pet names for you?
💛 - What’s the silliest nickname(s) you have for each other?
💖 - What's your favorite nickname/petname for your F/O? How about your favorite nickname/petname that they call you?
🩵- Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?
🪁 - Do you and your F/O live together? If not do you want to or plan on it?
🐱 - Do you and your have any pets? {Together or separate}
💤 - Who sleeps in and who’s an early riser?
🎀 - Do they wear the other’s clothes? {Sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.}
💌 - Do you and your f/o’s send each other love letters?
💝 - What kind of gifts does/do your f/o’s give you?
🎊 - Who makes a big deal out of every little anniversary?
🐞 - Who insists they’re luckier to have found the other person?
💟 - What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?
🥰 - Can they sit side by you without touching you or are they handsy? {lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.}
❤️ - Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?
💘 - Who fell first and who fell harder?
☔️ - Who carries an umbrella everywhere & who splashes in puddles?
👾 - Who asks ridiculous questions?
💋 - Who kisses the other and leave as many lipstick marks as possible and who gets all heart-eyed and melty like a lovestruck cartoon character?
🪩 - Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?
🧸 - Would they build a pillow fort together just because?
⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️
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vmppiz · 26 days ago
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⠀ ⠀
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(First post)
ᰔ ೄྀᯓ
✰ 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒂┆
⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⏤͟͟͞͞ Headcanons
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​𓆩 Saitama feels like the type that wouldn't know you'd be in love with him, or acknowledge it himself, hes oblivious, the only way he'd know is if you'd told him; we never see him ever have a crush but we have seen him get "jealous" at how Geno's has more fans than him but he usually dismisses it and says that's it's fine.
𓆩 maybe in the past, he was a bit more expressive about love not physically but definitely in his head he had a lot more thoughts rolling around in that head of his before becoming depressed/numb.
𓆩 I don't think him having a lover would exactly pull him out of the state he is in now, but some of his feelings would change maybe just not realize it at first, when with him sometimes youd think if he even cares.
𓆩 he DOES NOT spoil oh boy is he a broke boy 😭 I doubt hes one to pamper, maybe he tries but it's always something small probably picked those small flowers you see growing around grass.
𓆩 he definitely wants to go slow, he'd probably only like someone if he knew them well enough; he doesn't like to go head first he's not like that, he'd probably be nervous about it too.
𓆩 most affection that he receives from you despite being in a relationship would come to a surprises, it's not that he doesn't like it he's just not used to it.
𓆩 he wouldnt know how to comfort you not saying that he wouldnt try, maybe, just he's not good at it with the whole never being in a relationship thing.
𓆩 he loves going on walks with you, or going to the store to see what is on sale when he's out of the house he doesn't feel so bored and actually shows signs of happiness out with you.
𓆩 he's blunt asf anything that comes out of his mouth is exactly what he means but if it's something that hurts you he instantly says sorry not meaning to hurt you.
𓆩 loves to lay on your lap and loves to cuddle up with you under the covers, just hope he doesn't crush you ruh roh
𓆩 at first his affection is a little hard to show but through time he gradually starts to show it a bit more. (I'm delusional)
𓆩 loves to play with your hair unintentionally, your laying next to him next thing you know he's feeling your hair between his fingers.
NSFW:
𓆩 I feel like he wouldn't be the dominate one but I also don't think he'd go over board with being submissive just enough where he doesn't hurt you with how strong he is. (Maybi switch, can see him being a little Dom)
𓆩 he wants so much appreciation, once he's comfortable enough and gives you consent (definitely thinks consent is hot) his feelings would complicate since hes never felt love before he would feel himself melt in your arms with your praise.
𓆩 maybe is a bit out of character but I can see him aiming at your breast the most when you both decide to have s3x, loves nipple play and will suck on them, tell you how good your breast are how soft and squishy they are to touch.
𓆩 s3x would probably pull him out of his depression but it wouldn't make him s3x hungry he'd just feel that rush he'd been yearning for except it's not in the form of a fight.
𓆩 he'd be nervous to show you his junk, tell you to stop before you could spring it out, a little scared you'd judge him.
𓆩 when it comes to the sounds he produces it's probably a lot of groaning he definitely tries not to be too loud let's out a few whimpers and moans here and there.
𓆩 hes fine with trying new things as long as they aren't overboard.
𓆩 secretly loves bondage !! And just loves it when you sit on his face; definitely breaks out of the rope just to grab a hold of you and taste you so much more.
𓆩 loves spreading you open when he gets the chance to and loves your p̶u̶22y̶ endlessly.
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۵ .
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drspleenmeister · 6 months ago
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*Holding my smut!logistics head despairingly in my angry little hands*
Ugh.
Okay.
Girls, guys, whomever: I've said it before and I'm going to say it again now, because I've read more logistically implausible fics in the last few days than I dare to count on my grumpy little claws. The writing may be smoking, but if you can't get the logistics of sex right then you are just going to make your readers go, "Eh, what?!"
You cannot deepthroat someone while breathing through your nose. You can't. Unless you have gills. If you're writing smut for fish then by all means continue to have your characters comfortably taking in oxygen whilst choking on a cock. Otherwise, stop it.
Throat-fucking is hot, HOTTT, but again. Breathing is not possible simultaneously. Please. This type of breath-play is sexy. Use it.
Have you ever tried to hollow your cheeks with a cock jammed down between your tonsils? No? That's right: you can't. Your characters are either using their tongue and cheeks or they are using their throat; I guarantee they can't do both at the same time. Also, having a man able to feel the outline of his cock through the cheek of his partner while they are going down on him: only possible if he is JABBING his fingers into his partner's cheek and forcing the flesh between their teeth, or fucking the head of their cock into their partner's cheek-flesh. Either way is really not going to be comfortable for the partner who is doing the work.
Having your characters stop kissing because they can't breathe is fucking stupid. Have you ever kissed a human? You have a NOSE (which in this instance is NOT being blocked by a cock). It is perfectly possible for two humans to mack on one another for hours at a time without having to come up for air. Drawn-out snogging is hot; have you ever kissed someone so much that lube/prep is not even needed? Trust me, it's awesome.
Limbs. LIMBS. Block your smut scene out in your head, for the love of God. I can't count the number of times that a writer has led me to believe that a pairing are facing one another on a bed, only to find in the next sentence that one is actually behind the other up against a wall; or they're laying down; or one is seated and the other standing.
Get your names and pronouns straight (heh heh...), with m/m or f/f fiction it's so easy as the reader to lose track of who is doing what if you're only referring to the characters as him/her. Don't be afraid to use names, it's better to be too clear than not clear enough.
If you don't have the first-hand experience yourself to write about certain sexual experiences then LOOK. IT. UP. I am neither male nor queer, yet I adore m/m explicit fic and I've done my goddamn research; it drives me up the wall when a writer puts their men into a position that does not warrant easy access to the prostate, but then go ahead and try to write the act as if it's as natural as breathing. My dude, if you're making me - a straight female - shake my head at the logistical inaccuracies of one hot man fucking another hot man, then just imagine the fits of hilarity that you're sending an actually gay man into, who attempts to read your work!
I would say I'm sorry for ranting, but I'm not. I've been reading fanfic for a very very long time and it makes my cold, dead heart so happy when writers get it right, and so sad when they get it wrong.
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queerromancerecs · 11 days ago
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An update!
So Queer Romance Recs is almost exactly one year old, and was begun as an experiment/attempt to see if I could help build a queer romance community on Tumblr. .... And look, it's been a hell of year, and asking people to write and submit entries is asking a lot. (Though reblogging takes almost no effort jsyk. Easiest way to support authors (or any creator) you love is to just like and reblog. But anyway.)
I was going to shut this down, but I decided instead that I am going to keep it going, and just accept that it will be mostly be sporadic recs from me. But recs from you all are still encouraged/allowed. Especially if you like contemporary f/f, which I tend not to read. (It tends to be very twee??? idk. I don't read much contemporary m/m either unless magic is involved or something.)
The Guidelines for Submitting are still pinned to the top of the blog.
OH! And because I am dumb and thought Tumblr was attaching usernames to submissions (it isn't), now if you want your name/blog attached to your submission, please include it with all the other information. Let's send some love to Tumblr users too. lol
And if you submitted here before and you want your name attached to your review, please let me know. I can edit that back in. I would just do it now but I don't recall everyone's names or reviews.
But really, please, if you don't want to submit, like and reblog posts that interest you. That goes for any creator you want to support but especially for the queer creators right now. Reblog! Share with friends! Get the word out!
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overlookedfile · 1 year ago
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Blue Bloods (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Anthony Abetemarco/Erin Reagan-Boyle Characters: Anthony Abetemarco, Erin Reagan-Boyle Additional Tags: Alcohol, Consent Issues, Non-Graphic Smut, Insecurity, Short One Shot, Drabble Summary:
Anthony's words ("I'd never sleep with you, Erin.") echoed in her head every time she saw him. ~ Or ~ 3 times Erin stayed the night at Anthony's apartment.
~
It’s not my usual, but *shrug* it had been haunting me for weeks. Once I had finished watching the series (up to current), I figured I might as well give in and throw words on the page.
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lockwood-fic-recs · 16 days ago
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Blue Christmas
by human_dreamer_etcetera on ao3
Rating: G | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy
Lockwood used to dislike the color blue. Mysteriously, his opinion starts to change around the same time Lucy Carlyle moves into Portland Row. From grief to something new, as told over five Christmases.
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ruedesfillesducalvaire · 1 year ago
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[me entering the les misérables fandom]
victor hugo really said gay rights like...literally every gay ship goes so hard.
valvert? redemption....remaking oneself....the shifting hierarchy....punish me monsieur le maire....bondage chicken at the barricade....the decades-long pursuit....enemies to lovers...
rating: SLAPS.
enjoltaire? canon comparisons to achilles/patroclus....not to me not if it's you....be serious i am wild....anything for you....
rating: SLAPS.
éposette? we grew up together but never really knew each other....i was cruel to you but we were children...do you even recognise me now...you are kind to me even though....
rating: SLAPS.
courfius? well obviously when marius doesn't get with cosette, he absolutely hooks up with courfeyrac after he's done sulking. marius is the epitome of a useless bisexual.
rating: SLAPS.
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mirensiart · 2 months ago
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I think the main reason why ALL m/f ships I like fall under the "they don't like each other at first but are forced to work together" is because the two first ever ships I loved were inuyasha/kagome (inuyasha) and sakura/syaoran (card captor sakura) lmao
For m/m ships I either love the friends to lovers trope or rivals to friends to lovers lol
While for f/f ships I am...such a sucker for doomed yuri I love doomed yuri so much but also immortal × mortal ship oh an friends to lovers too and OH enemies to lovers and and and actually I love all tropes for f/f lmao
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robinewe · 7 months ago
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Two Soulmates
Prompt #22-- Doubles
My heart was pounding amid the quiet, the occasional creak of metal or far off shouting. The light was dim, I could tell even under my blindfold, but even though I couldn’t see I could sense that I was alone. My fingers worked at the knots at my wrists. I’d always been good at knots, I had a Girl Scouts badge to prove it. The rope was slick, synthetic fiber, so it came easily undone.
I yanked off the blindfold and blinked while I willed my eyes to adjust faster. The room was much as I’d expected. Cavernous, dim, no windows, light only from a flickering fluorescent bulb somewhere high above. Lots of entrances and exits to choose from. Rusting metal and clouds of dust everywhere.
I checked my wrist, still feeling the bite of the ropes, and saw that the number etched in white across the skin there read a clear 00:00:00:00:02:46. I yanked the sleeve of my jacket down over it, heat rising to my face. That was just so soon, and I couldn’t imagine the most momentous occasion of my life occurring in such a place as this, an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Just my luck.
Seeing as I was alone, I had some searching to do. I dashed out of the room, following those distant shouts with a growing apprehension in my stomach. What happened after I found them? How were we to escape?
00:00:00:00:01:25 read the counter on my wrist. A part of the infrastructure collapsed and sent a storm of dust and debris through the corridor. I coughed, hacking into my elbow and squeezing my eyes shut.
There was now a gaping hole in the wall, and artificial light streamed through. The sounds of fighting were much louder now. They were through there.
I took a deep breath and braced myself and climbed over the metallic shrapnel through the wall. I could hear nothing but shouting, weapons firing, metal hitting metal, objects raining to the floor. I caught sight of neither combatant, only finding the evidence of their battle.
The timer on my wrist ticked down as a blast of heated energy hit the platform above me, and the supports gave out from under one side. It came swinging down towards me, and I screamed, throwing my arms over my face. The thing exploded in the air above me, but a clear glowing shield of energy surrounded me then, the debris bouncing harmlessly away. I found myself on the ground regardless.
I opened my eyes to see two concerned faces as the timer struck zero. There were warm, dark brown eyes further away, amidst curly light hair and an orange scarf covering the bottom half of his face. He held a long, thin gun that radiated heat and distorted the air around it, recently used. Much closer to me were eyes that were icy blue, set in a face with gaunt cheekbones, under dark hair, hidden with no mask. Emanating from his hand was the energy shielding me from harm.
The moment stood still, frozen, while we watched each other with wide eyes.
The villain spoke first, recovering his calculated posture and withdrawing the energy. “So it’s you.”
The hero took a second to recover, but then he took a stilted step towards us. “I-”
A look of irritation passed across the villain’s face. “This is a private moment, if you wouldn’t mind.” He snapped his fingers and a flash of ice erupted from his palms, encasing the hero’s entire body in a jagged block of ice.
I was still on the ground, and I started pushing myself backwards, away from the villain. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I wasn’t sure if the hero was dead or not. I knew that I was afraid of the villain. I had seen what he’d done before.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly. “Look.” His sleeve slipped down to reveal a timer ticking up, only a minute or so in. I quickly looked down to my own wrist, and saw a duplicate of the same number: 00:00:00:00:03:11. They counted up in tandem. They had since the moment I had first locked eyes with the villain. The notion made me feel something in my stomach, a sort of nausea, though whether it was giddiness or dread I couldn’t say.
I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t say anything, and I was worried that my soulmate had just killed someone in front of me not moments after we had met. I was afraid that my soulmate was a murderer, and I didn’t know what that meant about me. I still found myself on the ground, unable to move away further.
“I would never hurt my own soulmate,” the villain said. “I’ve been waiting an awfully long time to meet you. Haven’t you?” Cautiously, he offered me a hand, stepping closer to do so. He was tall and slight, bending like a tree to lean over me and extending a hand tipped with long, graceful fingers. I placed my hand in his, and he easily pulled me to my feet and then close into his side, wrapping an arm around me. My head didn’t reach the height of his shoulders.
“Is this some kind of trick?” I asked, once I could force my lips to move again. His face fell.
“Of course not,” he said. “How does one trick fate itself?”
“Why would I fall in love with a supervillain?”
His lip twitched. “Now that’s stereotyping. It’s rude, you don’t even know me.”
“I’ve seen what you do,” I protested.
“We don’t have time for this. Hero’s already thawing himself out,” he jerked a thumb towards his ice sculpture. Those brown eyes were still frozen staring at me, looking almost frantic, as the ice around him dripped. The tip of his heat gun had already freed itself, sticking out of the ice and a little streak of fire coming out of the end. Soon the hero’s hands would be free, and then the rest of him.
I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He was alive. I took a step towards him, to go and make sure that he would stay that way, but the villain blocked my path.
“Please, we can talk more about this somewhere else where it’s safer. Look, you’ve already got me begging. That’s something I don’t do every day.” My eyes drifted back up to him.
“Fine.”
He replaced his arm around my shoulder and guided me swiftly out of the warehouse, to where a car awaited us. It hovered above the ground with a gentle hum of air, and the windows were tinted entirely black. The villain opened the rounded door, gesturing me inside with a bow and a quirk of his lips. I stepped inside, and found it well-kept and clean, a newer expensive model of the podcar that I would never have expected to see in my lifetime. My friends all had the first generation, with all their faults and peculiarities, most of them full of patched repair jobs and junk filling the space.
It had an automatic pilot, so the villain needed only to duck in behind me, and order, “Drive us home.”
The ice eventually thawed to the point where the hero’s wrist was out and visible. It counted upwards in perfect synchronicity with the villain’s and mine. But he was powerless to stop as his worst enemy stole away his true love.
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the-bi-library · 1 year ago
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HAPPY BI VISIBILITY MONTH!!! 🩷💜💙
I wish all bi folks a very pleasant bi month!
Here are bi books of September!
Books listed:
💕 This Spells Disaster by Tori Anne Martin 💕 In the Ring by Sierra Isley 💕 Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson 💕 The Darkest Stars (The Broken Stars #2) by Kristy Gardner 💕Daughter of Winter and Twilight (Queen of Coin and Whispers #2) by Helen Corcoran 💕 Time to Shine by Rachel Reid 💕 Herc by Phoenicia Rogerson 💕 Fly with Me by Andie Burke 💕 Everyone's Thinking It by Aleema Omotoni 💕 A Crown So Cursed (Nightmare-Verse, #3) by L.L. McKinney 💕 This Dark Descent (This Dark Descent, #1) by Kalyn Josephson 💕 Providence Girls by Morgan Dante 💕 Wolf, Willow, Witch (The Gideon Testaments #2) by Freydís Moon 💕 What Stalks Among Us by Sarah Hollowell 💕 Thank You for Sharing by Rachel Runya Katz 💕 Cities of Women by Kathleen B. Jones 💕You, Again by Kate Goldbeck 💕 Double Exposure: A F/NBi Enemies to Lovers Romantic Suspense by Rien Gray 💕 The Fractured Dark (The Devoured Worlds, #2) by Megan E. O'Keefe 💕 Cover Story by Valerie Gomez 💕 The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White 💕 The Death I Gave Him by Em X. Liu 💕 Better Left Unsaid by Tufayel Ahmed 💕 Dearborn by Ghassan Zeineddine 💕 A Green Equinox by Elizabeth Mavor 💕 Salt Kiss (Lyonesse, #1) by Sierra Simone 💕 The Amazing Alpha Tau Boyfriend Project (Alpha Tau, #1) by Lisa Henry
Make sure to check the TWs for all books if necessary 💕
Here is the goodreads list of these books
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surplus-of-sarcasm · 10 months ago
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#32
TW: Knives, references to violence, restraints, bruises/wounds, flirty? 
I am literally sauurrr sorry for being so inactive but college is destroying me. It's been so long since I've written too, so I do hope the quality of this piece isn't affected. Missed u guys 💙
"Do I scare you?" the hero asked, her voice devoid of any emotion, all while her eyes stared straight through the villain like he was transparent, searching for something in his expression. 
Except his face remained defiantly blank, looking up at her, fire in his honey brown eyes, surprisingly not sparing any effort to attempt escaping his restraints. 
When the hero stuck one of her nails into a small, open cut on his neck, the villain bit back a wince, an irritated frown tugging at the corner of his lip. "Yes," he supplied, his tone even and calm, not even hostile, trying to render himself as passive as possible. 
Except he'd licked his lip in that quick, almost imperceptible manner, something he only ever did when he lied, something the hero wasn't supposed to know. 
But she did. 
"Stop lying," she snarled, sticking her nail again in the cut.
"The hell do you want, Hero?" he snapped, hissing as her finger left his cut. 
The breaking point. The point where the villain was done placating and playing along and already back to his normal, wild state, where he could care less about whatever earned the hero's ire. 
She'd spent the last three hours mostly in silence, only ever talking to ask the villain a question she knew would irritate him. He held up surprisingly well, even though his self-preservation instincts were usually nowhere to be found. So she wondered why he'd act so placidly in the beginning.
The villain liked to talk. He did most of the talking during their fights. The quiet drove him insane, and now he had his teeth bared like an animal, murder in his eyes and tension in his jaw.
This was the part where the hero should've laughed or slapped him across the face, or done anything just as cruel.
The truth was that they'd both been nothing but cruel to each other, enemies by virtue. The villain had beat the hero black and blue, had called her a myriad of flithy names, had screamed at her because of how much he hated that she was quiet. In turn, the hero made sure that every nick with a knife and every punch against skin had left a mark on the villain. She fought to scar, not just to incapacitate. She knew the scars were more a wound to his ego than his body, proof she'd hurt him.
And yet, the villain had pulled her out of a ditch and bandaged up her nearly destroyed leg, effectively saving her life when he had no business being there. In turn, she'd pulled him up when he almost slipped off a roof during one of their fights. 
And situations like that would only keep happening more and more often, almost a staple of their atypical relationship. The villain would laugh, would crack a joke, would be so careful with her wounds, would be anything but his usual abrasive self. 
And the very next fight, they would be even more horrible to each other, as though whatever had happened the day before had never been, as though cruelty was the only language they could speak. 
The hero didn't have friends. They were another luxury she couldn't afford. Her teammates weren't actively cruel or anything of the like, but the agency left no room for any semblance of friendship or love or all the things the hero wanted but could never really have. And the villain wasn't her friend. He wasn't supposed to be anyone. But he was genuine, almost the only person in her life who didn't sound and act like a robot. He'd had actual conversations with the hero. And maybe she was not stupid enough to think that made him any good, but maybe she was stupid enough to think that made him mean something to her.
"Answer me, Hero," he snarled coldly, tearing her chain of thought in half. 
The hero didn't consider spending any time on thinking of an intelligible response. People weren't logical when they were desperate.  Desperate was the hero's hand cupping the villain's jaw so gently that the shiver up his spine was still awfully intense, even with his numb body. Desperate was staring into the villain's eyes, watching the way his lashes fluttered, as his eyes told a completely different story from the harsh frown on his lips. Desperate was the hero's lips on his cheekbone, warm against his skin, shy, terrified, staying there for a fleeting moment that still felt like too long and retracting away with shame written all over her features. 
"I'm sorry."
Villain's eyes had widened, even though it seemed impossible they could grow any bigger. "I- come closer again," he half-whispered, all the roughness from his voice gone. "Lean down a little." 
And the hero obliged, even though it went against every single thing she'd been taught, and in turn the villain's lips were pressed to her jaw, careful but in no way timid. They weren't supposed to be velvet-soft, and hints of the villain's spicy cologne shouldn't have still managed to be distinguishable through the blood and the sweat. But of course the seemingly impossible was happening. 
"Yes," he answered, "you do scare me, but not in the way that you asked, so I was lying," he continued against the hero's jaw.
And she hated how palpable the relief was when he hadn't licked his lips. 
"This is how you actually kiss someone." The smirk on the villain's face may have been merciless as he pulled away, but it was clear he was trying to break the tension that they could have sliced through with a blade. 
God, the hero could barely breathe. She never knew something that felt almost forbidden could feel so right. She was scared the villain's response had been a trick and more scared that it hadn't. She wanted to scream at him and slam her fists into his body, to split his rose-petal-like lips with a jagged streak of crimson. But more than anything, she wanted him close enough to her that they were breathing each other's air, she wanted to kiss his face again, properly this time, so that it truly felt like something, something that set the hero's nerves on fire.
The hero had pulled out her twin knives, cutting through his ropes with one, while the other remained pressed against his carotid artery, as he still remained sitting on the chair. 
Except the villain had pulled the knife out of her hand, slightly scratching himself, and he got up, twirling the knife with his hand and pressing its cold, flat edge to the hero's jaw, his breath warm on her face. "Don't fight it. That's all you've done, all I've done, and I'm sick of it." 
And in all honesty, so was she. Sick of having no one, sick of wanting someone who was right there and yet so far away, sick of pushing a knife into the skin of the same boy who had bandaged her bleeding knuckles and made fun of the stupid kids' designs etched on them, the only thing he had, the next day after it happened.
The hero nodded, slowly putting her knives away when the villain handed her the other blade back, slinging an arm around the villain's waist, surprisingly small for someone so athletically built, but not any less attractive. 
"Let's go home. I mean, my place," the villain suggested, utterly exhausted, but a hint of a smile was still there in his words as he wrapped his arm around the hero's shoulder, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of her suit a little playfully. 
And the hero simply nodded, mirroring the villain's own soft smile.
Emotions are hard to understand, no rules or logic existent that could ever explain the power they hold over a person; the power that the heart exercises so ruthlessly over the mind. And yet nearly nothing could ever leave one feeling so certain, so absolutely euphoric to the point that not even the entire world would seem to matter compared to the one person love tethers you to. 
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ottopilot-wrote-this · 6 days ago
Text
A New Year
Pete laid across his living room sofa, mindlessly scrolling his timeline. The dim ambient light and the cool glow of the television were all that illuminated his living room. Anderson Cooper, already tipsy, was telling viewers there were mere minutes before the ball would start its descent, ushering in the new year.
Yeah, except the ball dropped three hours ago, Pete thought. Live, my ass. Just hurry up so I can go to bed.
He was startled by a sudden knock at the door. Suspiciously, he rose from the couch. Who would be out in this shitty weather at this time of night?
"Pete? Pete, you there?" a woman's muffled voice called out. Pete turned on the outside light and looked out the peephole. It was tough to make out anything, but there was a young woman outside, alone, holding the handle of a hardsided suitcase, huddled in the rain.
Slowly, he opened the door and looked at his midnight visitor. His first impression was she looked like she went swimming in her clothes. Her jeans and her hoodie were saturated, and her dyed red hair was matted against her fair skin. She looked up, her sad brown eyes meeting his, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Hiya, Petey," she said, with a wan smile.
Pete hadn't seen Ronnie since the summer after graduation. He remembered that day vividly. It was a typical scorching summer day in the valley. They had gone out for burgers because he had said he needed to talk to her about something important. He was leaving for Irvine in thirteen days. She wore a tank top and short jean cutoffs, her soft curves barely contained by the threadbare fabric.
That was the day he told her he had been in love with her since the eighth grade.
The woman in front of him seemed to have aged two decades, even though it had only been six years. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her ebullient personality was replaced with a world-weary cynicism. She looked like she was a day removed from a good meal, and twice as long from restful sleep. It was like seeing the ghost of his former teenage crush.
"If you'd let me in, you can keep staring, but at least we'll both be dry," she said, sardonically.
Pete snapped out of his trance. "Oh, uh, my bad. Yeah, Ronnie, come on in." He gestured to the couch. "Have a seat." He thought to get her a clean towel, but sheepishly realized he didn't have one. "Uh, can I get you a drink? I have a couple of beers..."
Ronnie left the suitcase and her Vans at the entryway. "No, I don't drink... anymore," she said, a frown appearing on her face. "I'll take a water. Tea, if you have it?"
Pete handed her a clean dish towel, which she used to tousle her hair. "Sure. Hot tea. Makes sense. Coming up."
Pete filled up two coffee mugs with water and stuck them in the microwave. "Sorry, this is quite a surprise. What brings you here in this storm?"
Seated on the leather couch, Ronnie shivered in her damp clothes. "Flight got cancelled. Fucking podunk regional airport. My parents dropped me off at the airport, then left for Mexico. They didn't think to trust their adult daughter with a key to their house, I guess," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Anyway, I thought of you and I... I wanted to see what you were up to."
Pete handed Ronnie a red coffee mug and a Ziploc baggie of teabags. "I stole these from hotels, take your pick," he said with a nervous laugh. He sat across from her in an easy chair, a UC Irvine coffee mug in his hands.
Ronnie picked out a black tea and dunked it into her mug. "Where's the 'rents, Petey?" she asked, her cold lithe fingers curled around the warm ceramic.
Pete smirked. "Divorced. Dad took a new job in Chicago. Mom got the house, but... there were too many memories here for her. She lives in Sacramento, has a new boyfriend. I moved here after college, and I teaching algebra at the high school. On my own here, but you know me, I've always been happy in my own company."
Ronnie took a sip of tea. "You used to talk about leaving that shithole and never coming back, and now you teach there. Bang up job there, chief."
Pete shifted in his seat and changed the subject. "What are you up to, Ronnie? No one's heard from you. No socials or anything," he said, his tone slightly accusatory.
"I work retail, getting treated like shit for a meager wage, it's exciting stuff," she deadpanned. "I'm taking some classes at a community college. Guess things didn't turn out like either of us expected," Ronnie mused, her voice tinged with sadness. "As for socials, people curating their lives, showing you the good times and keeping the bad times in their drafts... nah, I wasn't interested in that."
Awkward silence filled the space. Ronnie looked down into her tea, while Pete looked at the television, the big moment approaching. On the wall, a large antique clock ticked crisply, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Finally, Pete spoke softly. "Listen, Ronnie... I'm sorry. About Marcus."
Ronnie flinched, lowering the mug from her face, which was drained of color. "Don't, Pete," her words came terse and halted. "Don't you fucking dare." Her words hung in the uncomfortable silence, the atmosphere rife with unsaid apologies. Ronnie glared across her mug, her eyes full of anger and hurt. Her eyes darted to the clock, relentlessly ticking away, and back to Pete. "I called you. I called you and you didn't pick up, didn't call back."
Pete sighed, leaning back in his chair, rolling his eyes and looking away. "I didn't know, Ronnie," he said defensively. "How was I supposed to know? You ghosted me, I had a broken heart..."
Ronnie slammed the mug on the coffee table, splashing hot water onto her hand and startling Pete. "Don't make excuses, Peter," she growled, her fiery eyes brimming with tears. "You felt the need to unburden yourself about your feelings because you were leaving. What did you think was going to happen, I was going to leave him for you? I was in love! You left me to deal with that.
"Then Marcus died, senselessly I might add, because he was reckless, and stupid. I was eighteen fucking years old, Peter! I lost my best friend and my boyfriend and I had nothing. I was getting drunk every night, I was broken, and I fucking needed you! I thought we were friends!"
On the television, New Yorkers were excitedly cheering in anticipation of the new year. On the wall, seconds ticked away on the clock. Outside, the wind howled and sheets of rain batted against the windows, as the intensity of the storm seemed to match the tension in the living room.
Pete sunk into the chair. She was right, after all. He had been so wrapped up in his own emotions he wasn't there for her in her time of need. Even after he knew the truth weeks later, he couldn't work up the nerve to call and apologize. He had been holding onto that guilt for years, and knowing Ronnie started drinking only made it worse. He wanted badly to apologize, to grovel for her forgiveness, but his throat was tight and he couldn't find the words. Any of them.
Ronnie fumed on the couch, tears streaming down her face. "You're not going to say anything?" she yelled incredulously. She shook her head, fighting the urge to lose her composure even more. Pete sat in silence, frozen, swallowing hard. Ronnie rose from the couch. "This was a mistake," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I'm sorry I spoiled your New Year's party of one."
Ronnie stormed to the door, fumbling with her soggy shoes, and grabbed her suitcase. "Goddammit Ronnie," Pete finally stammered, rising from the chair. "You can't go out there in that storm."
Ronnie turned to face Pete, her beautiful face a canvas of hurt and disappointment. "Watch me. Goodbye, Petey," she said softly. And with a slam of the door, she was gone.
Pete stood there stunned, his breaths shaky and uneven. His body felt cold, as if the blood had run out of his body. Different emotions - anger, at himself; guilt, sorrow, regret - flooded his mind, which screamed at his body to go after her even as he stood motionless. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Pete looked at a couple, two men, on his television. They were kissing, their first of the new year, as confetti fell around them. Surrounded by thousands, they shared an intimate moment as if they were the only ones in Times Square, their joy and love evident to an audience of millions.
The clock ticked on the wall, capturing Pete's attention. The ornate wall clock, a gift from his uncle to his parents for their wedding. The clock had outlived the marriage, its constant and unyielding ticking echoing through the silent room. A mocking testament to time lost, and the fragility of relationships.
Another couple on the television, this time a man and woman, but their body language was different than the gay couple. They were clearly old friends, platonic and familiar, hugging each other in the cold, jumping up and down excitedly. Content to be in each other's company, sharing a connectedness that Pete had not had in some time, as he stood alone, looking around his solitary home.
Outside, Ronnie cursed her stupidity, the downpour covering her tears, as she walked away from Pete's house. She had been so foolish, exposing herself to get hurt again. He had clearly learned nothing, and neither had she.
"Ronnie! Wait!" she heard Pete's voice in the night, over the wind. He's out of his goddamned mind if he thinks I'm stopping, she thought, continuing to walk away, her head down, with no destination in mind.
Pete ran after Ronnie in the downpour, which quickly soaked through his white t-shirt and pajama pants, as his flip-flops splashed on the sidewalk. Chilled to the bone, his breath coming in gasps, he yelled again, "Ronnie! Please...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Please come inside."
Hearing his apology, Ronnie stopped. She spun around, water dripping off her bangs into her eyes. "Why? You want to kick me when I'm down, Pete?" she said, raw and vulnerable. "Give me one good reason why I should open myself up to more pain tonight."
The rain ran down Pete's face in the streetlight, and Ronnie could not tell if he had also been crying. "Because it's a new year, Ronnie. Because I don't want to be alone tonight. I'm tired of being alone and isolated, and so are you, or you wouldn't have come here. Let's start over, you and I, and try to rediscover what we used to have before I fucked it all up."
Pete extended his hand, the palm shining in the light as Ronnie looked at it. "Let's get out of the rain, Ronnie. We've both been lonely for too long."
Ronnie looked at his hand, then into his eyes. No longer burning with rage and hurt, the look on her face was filled with uncertainty, as she took a step forward. "I didn't come here to sleep with you, Peter," she whispered, her eyes looking away.
"I'm not asking you to," Pete said warmly. "I'm asking you to come in from this storm and give me a chance to make everything up to you."
"What does that even mean, Pete?"
"Tonight, it just means I let you take a hot shower and sleep in my bed while I sleep on the couch. It means hitting the reset button on our friendship." Pete smiled again, tears forming in his blue eyes. "I miss my friend, Ronnie."
Bypassing the outstretched hand, Ronnie threw her arms around Pete, embracing him. For the first time in years, their bodies were in contact with each other, and Pete sighed as he tightly wrapped his forearms around Ronnie's torso, as she heaved with sobs. "I missed you too, you fucking idiot," she cried.
Gently, Pete kissed Ronnie on the cheek in the rain. "Happy New Year, Ronnie."
---
Pete stood in the doorway of his bedroom, dressed in a fresh, dry shirt and pajama bottoms. With the hum of the clothes dryer in the background, he watched Ronnie sleep in his bed. Relaxed and in peaceful slumber, her face no longer carried the weight and anxiety from earlier, and she reminded Pete of the young girl he fell for a decade prior.
Pete closed the bedroom door and made his way to the living room couch. He thought about the serendipitous events of the night, and reflected on the conversations they had before bed. God, how he had missed hearing her true laughter. As he laid he head on a couch cushion and pulled a throw blanket over himself, he considered that he didn't know what the future held for him and Ronnie. But maybe it was true that a new year meant a clean slate, and an opportunity to start anew.
As he drifted off to sleep, the wall clock ticked the seconds away, but he paid it no attention.
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