aerynwrites

[aerynwrites]

the criticism of sabrina carpenter is really just slut shaming repackaged to sound like feminism. purity culture has y’all in a chokehold

[aerynwrites]

I don't really care whatever tone-deaf Arcane viewer who watched the show with 0 critical thinking disagrees with me and this really shouldn't be a hot take, but the amount of "found family" or "happy AUs" I see where Silco is left out? The people who make those are exactly the problem and are exactly why Silco became who he did.

Vander admitted that both him and Silco were responsible for Felicia's death, but the start of the bridge fight happened because Silco tried to save Benzo from being arrested by Enforcers. The start of Silco's trauma was because he tried to save his family. Part two of Silco's trauma was accidentally killing his family. Part three was being physically harmed and betrayed by his last remaining family. Silco was ALONE after Vander's betrayal, he had NOBODY.

And still it's proven that (aside from emotionally) he didn't need Vander for Shimmer. He didn't need Vander to get people to respect him. He didn't need Vander to make Piltover afraid. He did not need Vander. He *wanted* his brother back, even after every thing Vander did to him.

That backfired and Silco took in a bomb-obsessed child who shared his trauma, Jinx became the only person he could relate to and he viewed Jinx as his DAUGHTER, not his employee, no matter how many times people say she works for him, literally IN THE SHOW he tries to steer her clear of continuing to do missions for him, he tries to put her on the most simple jobs, too, specifically so she didn't screw them up. Silco KNOWS that Jinx is overreactive, sensitive and hostile. Jinx had NEVER been helpful as an "employee", he lets her ruin his plans because he doesn't want to tell his DAUGHTER no.

All of his manipulation is also accidental (manipulation is still manipulation, before people come for me for defending manipulation. Try to listen)

- Silco genuinely believed Vi was dead

- Silco genuinely believes Vi is VANDER'S child and would behave like VANDER

- When Silco tried to reconnect with Vander, Vander tried to kill him again

- Silco finds out Vi is alive and looking for Jinx, he assumes that Vander's daughter is going to behave like Vander and try to kill Jinx

- Silco's intial act that caused all of his trauma was an accident, an accident while he was trying to do GOOD and trying to HELP and he lost EVERYBODY. He didn't do anything wrong that he didn't mean to, and everybody left. He genuinely believes that people will leave, no matter what you do or how you try to prevent it.

He isn't saying these things to purposefully manipulate her, he isn't thinking "This will keep her in line", he manipulates her on accident because this is his experience and he is thinking that this will SAVE her.

Silco was willing to imprison himself for Jinx. When Jayce asks for Jinx, the only crimes Jayce knows of regarding Jinx are crimes Jinx enacted towards Piltover. Killing enforcers and stealing the hexcore. Silco never told her to do any of this and actively berated her for it, but he does not hesitate to say all of Jinx's crimes were his and done under his orders. He throws himself under the bus to protect his DAUGHTER, not his employee.

All he would lose are problems. Jinx is a problem. You would fire an employee for being a problem, you don't give up family, and he never did. He would rather Jinx be free than Zaun.

Everytime Silco is genuine, every time he isn't putting on a facade to look more respectable, less weak, fancier, meaner, tougher, it is for his FAMILY. Silco on the surface wanted Zaun to be free, but his only real motivation was family. Defending Benzo, getting Vander back, keeping Jinx happy.

Zaun could burn as long as he had a family.

Making happy AUs where everyone is happy but Silco is fucking cruel and if you do it to him, surely you have to do it to Jinx too. Jinx and Silco were paralleled until the very end and and that is not a fact you can ignore without blatantly disrespecting every single person who worked on this show. Jinx even says that she understood how Silco felt about about her when she took in Isha. Ignoring Silco is ignoring Jinx.

[aerynwrites]

Hot take of the day I guess but Sabrina Carpenter is literally 26 years old. She's not a child star anymore. If she wants to have racy album covers and write songs about having sex with men she doesn't really like or respect, then that's her prerogative and people should shut the fuck up about it.

Nobody whines and cries and kicks up this much fuss when men show women in "compromising" positions or write songs about having sex with women they don't care about. They don't say anything at all. It's just another Thursday.

"It's not progressive"

"it's setting women back"

By doing what? Showing a woman in a sexual context? You can't have feminism or support the feminist movement without including female sexuality in that context. Picking and choosing which parts of feminism you're willing to stand up for and support is not feminism. It's moral policing, and there is absolutely no room for that behavior if you're actually fighting for equity.

Sabrina Carpenter is a woman who has sex with men, and she sings about it and makes album covers about it, and if you have a problem with that, I think you need to sit about and seriously consider why that is.

I see people arguing that it's subversive, and frankly I don't care whether it is or not. That's not the point. It shouldn't matter if it's subversive or not. I also see people saying that Sabrina Carpenter is the most heterosexual thing they've ever seen so they don't care, and again, yes you should! The branches of misogyny and homophobia grow from the exact same fucking roots. Feminist issues and queer issues can't be excluded from each other if they're to be fully understood.

Wishing all women and fems a very Horny On Main Is Fine And Good Even, and I for one look forward to dragging my aroace nonbinary brain through Sabrina's entire discography.

[aerynwrites]

reblog to remind prev they're not a bother and their presence is wanted <3

[aerynwrites]

This is currently the only fic I’m reading but DAMN it’s good 😭 it’s just so sweet and short and lovely ❤️

gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader | Previous Part

Soft kisses pressed to your bare shoulder roused you from your sleep. You were still in Simon’s arms, his chest pressed against your back, as he held you tight, and it should’ve been a blissful moment. You should’ve been able to turn around, smile at him, and kiss him, but before you even had a moment to enjoy it, dread filled you, and you remembered what was about to happen.

Before you could stop yourself, tears began to roll down your cheeks, and silent sobs shook you. “Love…” Without saying a word, you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest. “I don’t want you to go.” He sighed, his arms tightening around you. “I know…and I don’t want to go. But I’ll come back to you, I swear.” You glanced up, tearfully looking at him, before slowly nodding. You had no other choice but to believe him.

After a few more minutes of cuddles, Simon reluctantly pulled away, leaving you with a forehead kiss, before he went and took a shower. For a bit, you just listened to the water, trying your best to ban the images of an injured or even dead Simon from your mind. But soon, the images got the upper hand, and you decided that just staying in bed would only make it worse.

With a heavy sigh, as if all of this would only now really happen, you got out of bed, pulled on one of Simon’s shirts, and padded to the kitchen. There was little you could do, but you could at least send him off with a good breakfast. So, you got to work, cooking whatever you could think of, even if it was way too much. You’d just pack it up, so he could bring the others the leftovers.

But the routine of cooking just made you get lost in your mind again, and before you knew it, silent tears hit the counter, as you stared at it. You didn’t even hear him enter the room, instead getting startled when two strong arms wrapped around you. “I’ll be fine, luv. I’ve always been fine, that won’t change, yeah?”

Quickly, you wiped the tears away, trying to finally put a brave face on, before turning to look at him. “Yeah…I’m sorry.” Simon smiled, pressing his lips to yours for a quick peck. “Don’t apologize for worrying about me. ‘t’s been a long time since someone has. Well, aside from the boys.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the last time, although curiosity filled you at his words. Simon immediately noticed, his smile turning sad. “I’ll tell you when I’m back. For now, let’s eat. I have to leave soon.”

You spent breakfast sitting on Simon’s lap, barely touching your food, only eating whatever Simon fed you. Once done, you accompanied him to the bedroom, where you watched him get dressed for a bit, before you also reached for your clothes, but he stopped you. “What’re ya doin’?” You frowned, glancing from your clothes to him. “Getting dressed? I’m not taking the train in just your shirt.” He smirked for a moment before pulling you closer by your hip. “I…I wouldn’t mind if you want to stay here…wait for me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’ll wait for you. And take care of Riley.” Your eyes drifted over to the pup that had been following you around the entire morning. Simon chuckled, placing another peck on your lips. “Good.” Then, he continued to get dressed. Meanwhile, you went back to the kitchen and packed up the leftover breakfast and put everything in a bag.

Too soon, Simon was pulling on his boots while you stood beside him, not knowing what to do. So, you just watched. Watched as he tied the laces, as he stood back up, as he grabbed his mask and stuffed it into a pocket, as he turned to look at you. Before he could say something, you held out the bag. “For the guys…the leftovers from breakfast.” He nodded with a smile before gently placing the bag on the floor. Then you were in his arms.

“I’ll have Laswell keep you up to date.” You nodded against his chest, trying your hardest not to cry. “I also left my card on the kitchen table. Use it to buy whatever you need, yeah? And I mean whatever.” You nodded again, barely paying attention to his words, at least not until he started to pull away.

Immediately, panic filled your veins, and you dug your fingers into his shirt. “No! No, please, I…just a bit longer.” Without a word, he pulled you closer again, burying his nose in your hair. And you stayed like that until a honk startled you. Simon sighed, pulling away a bit. “Tha’s Johnny.” He looked down at you, gently cupping your cheek. “I love you.”

Three words. You’ve been so good at holding back, but those three words broke the dam. Tears filled your eyes. “I love you too, Si.” But when he leaned down to capture your lips with his, you stopped him. “N-No…it…it feels like a goodbye kiss. And…we’re not saying goodbye, just see you soon, right?” He smiled, almost grinned, and nodded. “Yeah…see you soon, love.”

With those words, he picked up the bag, pressed one last kiss to your forehead, and opened the door. After one last glance at you, he walked to the waiting car, and you watched him, awful scenarios filling your head. Before you knew it, you yelled his name and watched as he turned around to look at you, before sprinting to him.

The bag fell to the ground as he caught you, immediately capturing your lips with his. As your legs wrapped around his waist and you got lost in the feeling of him against you, you didn’t care that you were kissing him in public. In full sight of his neighbors and his teammate. All you cared about was that he was here and that he was kissing you.

When you pulled apart, he smirked as he brushed his nose against you. “I thought you didn’t want a goodbye kiss.” You smiled at him. “That wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a see you soon kiss.” Simon chuckled, connecting your lips again for a short moment, before he walked back to his front door. Only when he stood in the doorway did he set you down.

“I’ll be back soon, wait for me?” You smiled and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Next Part | Coming Monday the 23rd

A/N: Honestly...I completely forgot what was going to happen when I was writing the smut for the last parts. Hit myself with some surprise angst lmao.

Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

@dravenskye @herefor-tojis-tits @lucienofthelakes @tessakate @kakashipandadog @diseasedclitoris @terrormonster55 @solemnlyswearss @sleepisfortheweakpooh @little-mini-me-world @sakunawifey @cap-attheedgeoftheabyss @666spaghetti-ohno @jerru-chan @thegaywitchofwhimsy @tooloudarts @kentuckyhobbit @fruitymoonbeams-blog @crunchyholo @robinfeldt98 @aerynwrites @anonymouse1807 @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @akkahelenaa @rottensage @topsheepstudent @kibakitty @leclerc-stan @crypticlxrsh @robinfeldt98 @scaleniusrm @blush-haze @aikeia @echo9821 @weaniebeaniebaby @lostintransist @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @sodavrr @beyond-your-stars @astrxsee @avadakadabra93 @pinkgolbinnuts @lilynotdilly @marigold-morelli @sleep101 @lostfleurs @aldis-nuts @neverending-animelove @the-unkow1ng @pinkembodiment @iis-vessellette @daniidollie @mish-thi @thegreyjoyed @whos-fran @totally-not-niyah @xiisblogs @fluffyprettyboy @cutiecusp @stormy-stardust @ihavedesserts @loveybirdlt @tinythebunni @arty-story-writer1020 @lyyya369 @nyxnitavox @hypertail

I hope I have everyone on the taglist! If I forgot you or your tag isn't working, let me know, please! <3

[aerynwrites]

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

[aerynwrites]

ANONYMOUSLY (OR NOT) TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.

[aerynwrites]

Bruh school hasn’t even started yet and I’ve already pissed off the director of my program 🥲

The past few days have just been absolute shit and I’m so tired and stressed and I’ve already cried like 5 times today and I’m OVER IT.

[aerynwrites]

for some reason, "you can just do an art project" unlocked a realization that "you can just make art" wasn't able to access.

like yeah i know i can set aside an afternoon and sketch a still life.

but also i can, like. select a random marine creature from a hat and then research them and then spend a bit of time in the evenings and weekends over the course of a few weeks making a diorama.

or i can make an abstract sculpture out of scrap cardboard and masking tape, and then paper mache over it, and then paint it.

or i can draw something with markers and color it in with crayons.

i dunno why it took me so long to realize that, in the same way that i can revisit the games and hobbies that i enjoyed as a kid, and i can orchestrate "presentation parties" so my friends and i can flex our slideshow animation skills, i can also Make Art, Grade School Style (and not just Grownup Art/School Style)

[aerynwrites]

v.2

[aerynwrites]

Literally!! I remember seeing a post once that I think about often when it comes to people now a days saying “well [instert XYZ thing] wasn’t around when I was a kid! (Or wasn’t around 100 years ago, etc..”

Uhm…yes it was.

Autism has been around forever - it was just never recorded or talked about bc either A) waaaayy back when they left said child out in the forest for the wolves bc it was a changing or some shit or B) little johnny was odd and didn’t talk much so we send him out to the fields to tend sheep.

Autism, learning disabilities, physical disabilities, homosexuality, all of the things that society deems as “wrong” and only of this time have been around for centuries - we’re just finally forced to talk about it and see it instead of sweeping it under the rug or “fixing” it.

[aerynwrites]

you know a joke that never EVER gets old is when a character says smth like “I will NOT go to [place] and that is FINAL” and then it cuts to them in that place I eat that shit up every single time

[aerynwrites]

i humbly offer … Vopcat :3

[aerynwrites]

III bass solo during Aqua Regia

[aerynwrites]

you think i don’t notice?

part 2 to don’t tempt me

fuckboy!simon x nerdy!reader

wc: 6.7k

cw: slight mentions of sex, heavy swearing by simon, angst (only a little), angry!simon (not at reader), jealousy

Simon doesn’t leave your room.

Not after he kicks her out. Not after she slams the door like it’s you she’s mad at and not herself for getting caught.

He just… stays.

Sits on the edge of your bed like he has any business being there, like he hasn’t spent the last six months pretending you don’t exist. You, with your messy ponytail and hoodie sleeves stretched over your hands and tissues peeking from under your pillow like some kind of sick gremlin.

You don’t know what to do. What to say.

So you just sip the tea he brought you. Let the silence stretch.

“I thought you hated me,” you say finally, voice still raw.

Simon huffs a quiet sound. “Didn’t say I liked you.”

That makes you smile. Barely. But he sees it.

His gaze flicks to you — sharp, unreadable — and then just stays there. Watching.

You clear your throat and look away, suddenly too aware of how small your bed is. How close his knee is to yours. How he’s still here and hasn’t gone back to texting whatever girl he’d probably had lined up for tomorrow.

Your stomach flips.

You hate him a little. For making you feel like this. For confusing you. For being decent when he’s supposed to be a total ass.

“You can go, you know,” you whisper. “I’m not gonna, like… die or something.”

He doesn’t move. “Didn’t ask.”

“You’re not staying out of guilt, are you? ’Cause of what she said?”

Simon’s jaw ticks. That muscle again.

“I don’t feel guilty.”

“Then why are you—?”

“Because you’re sick,” he says. “And you looked like you were about to fucking cry, and I didn’t like that.”

You blink. Hard.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage.

Simon runs a hand through his hair and exhales like you’ve exhausted him, like you’re the problem, not the girl who stomped in and insulted you in your own goddamn room.

“You ever gonna tell me?” he says suddenly.

You frown. “Tell you what?”

“Who hurt you.”

Your blood freezes.

“What—?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he says, low. “You flinch every time someone raises their voice. Every time someone touches you. Even when it’s me.”

You look down at your tea.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

He doesn’t believe you. You can feel it.

But he lets it go.

For now.

You should feel relieved. But something in your chest twists, tight and aching.

You’re not sure when it started — the wanting.

Maybe it was when he wiped your nose without laughing. Maybe when he kicked out that girl without hesitating. Maybe it’s been building under your skin this whole time, slow and sharp like a splinter.

Whatever it is, it’s worse now. He’s too close. Too real.

You curl into yourself, trying to disappear.

Simon shifts. Leans back against your headboard like he lives there.

“You always this quiet?”

You shrug.

“Figured you’d be the type to never shut up.”

You glance at him. “Why?”

He smirks. “Glasses. Big words. You know. Nerd shit.”

“You think I’m a nerd?”

He grins wider. “Don’t play coy. You literally labeled your tea mugs.”

You flush. “I was sick. I didn’t want to—”

“You’re adorable when you’re defensive.”

You blink.

Did he just—?

Simon doesn’t look at you. Just casually tosses it out there like it’s not going to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You sink deeper into your blanket.

Then—

Your phone buzzes.

You grab it instinctively, thumb swiping across the screen before your fevered brain catches up.

Simon doesn’t move, but something shifts in the air.

“You texting someone?” he asks.

You glance up.

His voice is too light.

You hesitate. “It’s just— this guy from class. He was asking how I’m feeling.”

Simon’s eyes darken. Just slightly.

“This guy.”

You nod, oblivious. “Yeah. He brought me cough drops once. He’s nice.”

Simon doesn’t respond. Just stares at the wall like it insulted him.

You scroll. Smiling faintly.

Simon’s hand twitches.

“What’s so funny?” he mutters.

“Nothing,” you say, looking up. “He just said I sounded cute when I was all congested.”

You’re teasing. Sort of.

Simon isn’t laughing.

“He say that before or after he asked if you were alone?”

You pause.

“What?”

“Don’t trust guys like that.”

Your brow furrows. “You mean nice guys?”

“I mean guys who see a girl who’s sick and vulnerable and think ‘oh cool, now’s my chance.’”

Your stomach twists. “You don’t even know him.”

“And you do?” Simon snaps. “What, you think he actually gives a fuck how you’re feeling? You think he’s checking in because he cares? No. He wants something.”

You stare at him.

“Why do you care?” you ask quietly.

Simon’s mouth opens, then closes.

His jaw clenches again.

“Because I’m your fucking roommate,” he mutters.

You nod slowly. “Right.”

Silence.

Then—

“You like him?” Simon asks suddenly.

You blink. “What?”

“That guy. You like him?”

You hesitate.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Simon doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe.

Then he laughs. Bitter. Mean.

“He wouldn’t last a day with you.”

Your throat tightens. “What the hell does that mean?”

He turns to you. Finally looks at you.

“You think he’d take care of you like this?” he says. “You think he’d sit here while you look like hell and wipe your nose and make sure you’re breathing okay?”

You flinch. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“I did it anyway,” he says, low.

You don’t know what to say.

He exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he mutters. “Whatever this is.”

You stare at him.

“Then why are you here?”

He looks at you. Quiet. Serious.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I keep thinking about you. Even when I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches.

Simon leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clenched.

“I hear you through the walls,” he says. “When you cry. When you laugh. When you talk in your sleep.”

Your cheeks burn.

“I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“You do,” he says. “You said my name once.”

Your heart stops.

“What—?”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease.

Just looks at you like he’s watching something fall apart.

“I don’t hate you,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to not want you.”

The air leaves your lungs.

Simon leans in.

Not close enough to touch.

Just close enough to ruin you.

“If that guy texts you again,” he says, “you tell him not to bother.”

You swallow. “Why?”

He looks at your mouth.

Then your eyes.

“Because I’m the one who hears you through the walls.”

And then—

He kisses your forehead.

Just once.

Soft.

Barely there.

But it shatters you.

Simon pulls back.

Stands.

Doesn’t say a word as he moves to the door.

He pauses.

Glances over his shoulder.

“You need anything,” he says, “you call me. Not him.”

You nod, speechless.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving behind a mug of tea, a thousand questions, and a silence that sounds a whole lot like the start of something else.

You were feeling a little better.

Not good, not normal, but better. Enough to shower. Enough to pull on fresh sweats and eat half a bowl of soup without gagging. Your nose was still red, your eyes still glassy, but the fever was gone, and you could finally breathe without feeling like your ribs might crack.

Still, you hadn’t left your room.

Not since that night.

Not since Simon kicked the girl out, sat on your bed like he belonged there, and touched you like you mattered. Like he saw you for the first time.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

He’d been distant ever since — not cold, exactly, just… unreadable. No more girls. No more music shaking the walls. He hadn’t said anything, but you could feel him in the quiet. In the way he paused in the hall. In the untouched takeout that showed up outside your door, no note, no explanation.

He hadn’t checked on you again.

And you hadn’t dared knock on his door.

You were curled up in bed, watching some old documentary through one barely-open eye, when you heard it — the heavy thud of boots in the hallway. His door creaked open. Then closed again.

Then silence.

Then your door.

It didn’t open. Just a knock. Once.

Your heart jumped.

“Yeah?” you called, voice still scratchy.

The door cracked. And there he was.

Simon Riley.

Gray hoodie. Sweats slung low on his hips. One hand braced on the frame like he might change his mind.

You blinked. “Hi.”

He stared at you like he wasn’t sure why he came. Like he’d rehearsed something in his head and forgot all of it the second he saw you.

You tugged your blanket tighter. “What’s up?”

Simon didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned you — flushed cheeks, hair still damp from the shower, sleeves too long over your hands. You knew you looked fragile. You hated that he was the one seeing you like this again.

He finally spoke.

“You look like hell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Thanks.”

He stepped inside anyway.

Shut the door behind him.

Then leaned against it like he had nowhere else to be.

“Didn’t say it was a bad look,” he muttered.

You stared. “Are you flirting with me or trying to pick a fight?”

“Why would I flirt with you?”

“Ouch.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to yours, and something there made your breath hitch.

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice rough, “don’t get any ideas.”

You almost laughed. “Believe me, I wasn’t.”

He pushed off the door and crossed the room like it was nothing. Like this was normal. Like he hadn’t spent months pretending you barely existed.

He grabbed the empty mug off your nightstand. Frowned at it.

“No tea?”

“I drank it.”

“No shit.”

He turned like he might take it back to the kitchen, but you stopped him.

“Wait.”

He paused.

You shifted awkwardly under the blanket, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “Why are you… here?”

Simon didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just looked at you — really looked — and it made your stomach twist.

“You’re still sick,” he said finally.

“I’m getting better.”

“Didn’t ask.”

You huffed, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it to your chest. “You’re being weird.”

He snorted. “You’re the weird one. Sittin’ in here like a damn ghost.”

“I’ve been recovering.”

He looked at you over his shoulder. “From the flu or from getting screamed at by that silicone-sculpted banshee?”

You blinked. “Both?”

He turned back around. Set the mug down. His shoulders were tense.

“You shouldn’t’ve opened the door,” he muttered.

“I didn’t,” you said. “She did.”

He didn’t respond.

Just paced a few steps away, hands on his hips. Like he had too much energy and no clue what to do with it.

“What’s your deal?” you asked, quieter now.

He shot you a look.

You sat up a little. “You’ve been… off.”

“I haven’t.”

“You haven’t brought anyone home in three nights.”

“So?”

“So I’m not complaining, but it’s weird.”

Simon’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something darker. Frustrated.

“Maybe I don’t feel like listenin’ to some brat whine about thread count while I’m tryin’ to—”

He cut himself off.

You blinked. “While you’re trying to what?”

“Never mind.”

You tilted your head. “While you’re trying to pretend you don’t care about me?”

That stopped him cold.

His jaw flexed. His hands clenched. He turned to face you, slow and deliberate.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, low.

You smiled — tired, knowing. “You keep saying that, but you’re in my room.”

Simon stalked closer, eyes dark. “Because you’re sick.”

“You didn’t care before.”

“I didn’t know before.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Silence.

Thick enough to drown in.

Simon stood over your bed, jaw tight, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

You stared up at him, heart thudding. “Why do you care now?”

His gaze dropped to your lips. Then your knees pulled up to your chest. Then back to your eyes.

“You really wanna know?” he asked, voice like gravel.

You nodded.

He stepped closer.

And closer.

Until he was right in front of you, close enough that the heat from his body made your skin prickle.

Then he leaned down, braced his arms on either side of you, and looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that made him feel anything at all.

“I don’t,” he said.

You blinked. Breath caught.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, voice lower now. “You get sick, you get better — not my fuckin’ problem.”

Your chest ached. “Right.”

“But if I hear you cry because of someone I brought into this house again,” he said, tilting his head, “I will lose it.”

You swallowed. “Simon—”

“I’ll lose it,” he said again. “Because I’m not gonna watch someone tear you down when you’re already hanging on by a thread.”

You stared at him. “That… kinda sounds like caring.”

His mouth twitched. “It’s not.”

You smiled. Just a little. “Okay.”

He leaned in closer.

Close enough that his nose brushed yours. That his breath was warm on your cheek.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he whispered.

“You’re worse.”

He didn’t deny it.

And then — without thinking, without warning — his hand reached out. Fingers under your chin. Lifting your face to his.

Not kissing you. Not yet.

Just holding you there, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize the exact version of you that made him lose control.

“You still feel like shit?” he asked.

“Less like shit,” you whispered.

“Good.”

Then he let go.

Straightened up.

Walked to the door like nothing happened.

Paused there, hand on the knob.

You watched him, heart still racing.

He looked over his shoulder. Met your eyes.

“Don’t go thinking I care.”

Then he left.

And shut the door behind him.

Your room was still too quiet.

You hadn’t said anything since Simon walked out last night.

Not when he brought you soup. Not when he leaned against your doorway and asked, “Need anything?” like it didn’t feel like his voice dragged hot iron down your spine. And definitely not when he stayed longer than necessary, standing there like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start.

You didn’t answer because you didn’t trust your voice. Or your face. Or the way something was cracking open between you two and he didn’t even seem to notice.

But he did.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You were curled under the blanket now, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, glasses slipping down your nose as you flipped another page of the book you weren’t reading. It was easier than looking at the door.

Because you knew he’d come in eventually.

He always did now.

The shift had been slow — from silence to tension, from passing jabs to something warmer, if not softer. But the edge never dulled completely. Not with Simon. Especially not when he didn’t want it to.

You heard the door creak open behind you.

“Still alive, then.”

His voice was lazy. But there was a tightness beneath it. Like he’d been rehearsing sounding casual.

You didn’t turn. “Barely.”

Footsteps. Closer.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. “House’s been quiet. Almost peaceful.”

You scoffed into your blanket. “Guess your bimbos took the night off.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“I haven’t brought anyone home all week.”

You blinked.

That wasn’t like him. At all.

You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.

Leaning against the frame. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair messy. Eyes dark.

You said nothing.

He stepped inside.

Something about his energy was different tonight. Less cocky. Less put together. Like whatever was usually holding him upright had been worn thin and now you were seeing what was underneath.

You sat up slowly, pulling your sleeves over your hands again.

Simon’s gaze flicked down. Noticed. Something flickered across his face.

“You mad at me?” he asked bluntly.

You blinked. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He didn’t answer.

You swallowed. “You’ve been… weird.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’ve been weird.”

More silence.

Then he said your name.

Just that.

Soft. Like a question and a warning all at once.

“I don’t get it,” you said finally, because your chest was too full and your head was too hot and everything about him made you feel like you were drowning in something you weren’t supposed to want. “Why are you being nice to me now?”

“I’m not,” he muttered.

You blinked at him.

Simon looked away.

“You’re just…” He exhaled sharply, jaw ticking. “You’re too fuckin’ quiet all the time. And then when you do talk, it’s like you think I can’t hear you.”

You frowned. “What?”

He stepped closer.

You felt the shift in the air immediately. The pull. The way he always managed to fill a room, even without touching anything.

“You think I don’t notice you?”

His voice was low, dangerous in the way a storm is dangerous — not because it’s loud, but because you can feel it coming.

“Every fucking night I brought someone home, you think I didn’t hear you breathing through the wall? You think I didn’t feel it when you went quiet, like you were trying not to exist?”

He leaned closer. You could feel the heat coming off him now, smell the faint smoke of his cologne.

“I see everything, sweetheart. That’s the problem.”

Your heart stopped.

Literally stopped.

“Simon…”

“You think I was ignoring you?” His eyes pinned you in place. “I was. I fucking had to.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I’d come home, see your light on, know you were in here reading some stupid ass book in that dumb oversized hoodie like you weren’t the most distracting fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You flinched. His voice wasn’t angry. But it was so raw it hurt to hear.

“And then I’d go in my room and I’d hear you—just existing—and I’d get fucking mad.” His tongue ran over his teeth. “At you. At me. At the whole fucking situation.”

You sat there frozen.

Still too sick to fight, too overwhelmed to speak.

Simon stepped forward again. You were face to face now, your knees nearly brushing his thighs where he stood.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered. “You never got it.”

“Then tell me.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

“I didn’t bring those girls home because I wanted to,” he said. “I brought them home because it was easier than thinking about you. About the way you look at me when you think I don’t see.”

You swallowed. Your voice barely worked. “You’re always so mean.”

His mouth twitched. “Because I didn’t want you to look back.”

Silence.

He sat down on the edge of your bed like the first night, his knees brushing yours. But this time, he didn’t look away.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, almost to himself. “At—feelings. At being… kind.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffed a soft laugh. Ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He looked at you again. And this time, the weight of it was unbearable.

You shifted. “Why are you here, Simon?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then—

“I heard you crying last night.”

You stiffened.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said. “Just… stood outside the door like a fucking idiot.”

You stared at him. Eyes hot.

“I wanted to come in. But I knew if I did, I’d say something dumb. Or too much. Or not enough.” His voice dropped. “And I couldn’t handle you flinching from me again.”

You blinked fast. “You make it really hard not to flinch.”

“I know.” He leaned in, elbows on his knees. “That’s why I’m trying.”

You stared at him. Hard.

“Do you even like me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled.

Then he said your name again.

Soft.

Real.

“I think I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

You didn’t breathe.

Didn’t dare.

Simon looked away, jaw tight. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You shook your head. “That’s not a problem.”

He turned back toward you.

And for the first time in forever, he looked like he believed you.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to break him.

Or you.

You reached for him without thinking, fingers wrapping gently around his sleeve. He stilled. Let you.

He looked at your hand.

Then at your face.

“You’re still sick,” he muttered, but he didn’t move.

You smiled. “I’m always sick.”

Simon’s mouth twitched. His eyes softened.

He leaned in just enough to let his forehead touch yours.

No kiss.

Not yet.

Just heat and breath and a storm that didn’t want to pass.

“I’ll stay,” he said quietly.

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. “Okay.”

And for once, Simon didn’t run.

☆☆☆

part 3… will come with time. and my brain actually turning on

☆taglist☆

@little-mini-me-world @h0lydrag0ns @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @pixiellove @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jokerivory @arrowacer @4ri3n @yasmin-003 @charliehunnamsleftsock @strawberrymilk99 @queenoflaflames @xigua2kuai5yijin @arnnf @genea-myers @elixir-of-dreams @turtlegreentia @pinkembodiment @bbygirl9

[aerynwrites]

Man corporations really know what they’re doing in this fucking economy don’t they. They can get away with SO much when it comes to treating their employees like SHIT bc they know we can’t leave bc we won’t find any other job that offers benefits at part time or the pay they give us.

If I didn’t NEED bennies I’d be gone but - here we are.

Like FUCK dude.

[aerynwrites]

ao3 help

hello all!!

because of all the AI scrapping going on I am going to be limiting all my Ao3 posts to registered users only for the time being.

that being said - does anyone on here know how to do that en masse? lol. that way i don't have to go through and edit each individual one??

TIA!