#yeah nerd shit whatever

[tapeworm-loser]

@itsme-imtherealone

It’s sad how much of what is taught in school is useless to over 99% of the population.

There are literally math concepts taught in high school and middle school that are only used in extremely specialized fields or that are even so outdated they aren’t used anymore!

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

good night and sweet dreams to the best, sexiest, sluttiest, smartest, realest, most based, valid, relatable, girlipop, sympathetic, cunt, fun, cool, feminist, aspirational girlboss character in dead boy detectives: doll spider <3

good night to her and no one else. i hope the rest of y’all have a bad night and terrible dreams.

[hotchipsauce]

psst pspspsps u should totally talk about grebbymints more ... i am enabling u......

AAAAAA bro….. my dude…. the thing is i always feel crazy talking about them together bc i think like they’ve only publicly interacted like 3 times? LOL (i have watched and documented every interview minty and grebby has appeared in for the leafs/marlies. it’s so bad. me being sick has actually helped me not be as weird about it since i had less screen time in general)

but even then me and @tufzy just constructed this whole separate reality in our heads for months about how like they prob got closer after getting called up and minty is the only familiar guy for grebby there due to being on the marlies together + no russian player on the leafs to fall back on for help so grebby is just sticking to minty’s side the whole time, and minty even tho he’s a lil popular with the leaf boys he still is looking out for his linemate. even when they get sent down they’re still drawn to each other out of habit. but i’m always like second guessing like wow this is pure delusion like maybe they don’t even fuck with each other like that it’s just coworker friendliness this rpf shit is truly a disease fr fr 🙏

and then the videos started dropping. they’re goofing off and pushing each other around during sewer ball. and then i see a single frame of minty next to grebs during the one rare tiktok that he shows up in. and the delusion starts anew

[lucabyte]

transfem loop + siffrin... you agree

i does agree.... i does in fact ... write a 7k word essay on the subject..... if you would like to perhaps click that link and read it if you were not already aware...... kisses u on the forehead......... sorry its that long but i had to cover all of my bases you know how it is with textual analysis when you're trying to draw a distinction between "headcanon" and "reading of the text" because those are different things.... to meeeeeeee.......

[jessicameleon]

i think it's a wonderful idea to play different ttrpgs that aren't d&d 5e and d&d in general you should be doing this

however just the name dungeons and dragons is so ubiquitous among tabletop games that it evokes such a strong image just by saying it and also it fucks

therefore, i think we need to do trademark erosion for dungeons and dragons. we should call all instances of playing a tabletop rpg 'playing dungeons and dragons' because also fuck hasbro.

[chiangyorange]

the absolute character assasination of mack and brady in teen beach movie 2 was so fucking crazy

[dilutedconfusion]

I made a fully realized self insert…

[thewingedwolf]

when i say “religion books” i DO also mean the books about wiccans, satanists, and various folk religions in addition to the ones everyone knows. they’re taking up a shitton of room on the shelf, which either means the patrons don’t know the books are there or they do not care about these books. so if they don’t go off my display then they go OFF MY SHELVES this isn’t a museum & we only have so much space!!

[huevobuevo]

Developing a stupid nerd special interest and just realizing it because of a stupid nerd hyperfixation can we get any lower than this

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[aceofwands]

1000% and it's especially egregious in the modern shows imo because like, in Sisko's case it was a symptom of their overall "oh no this is our first concurrent spin-off we HAVE to differentiate it from TNG!!" panic - which also led to them doing stupid shit like forcing Avery to grow his hair out even though he was far more comfortable with his later look because heaven forbid they have two bald leads!!! hence them quickly and unceremoniously promoting him at the end of the third season when Ira was like ffs why exactly is he a Commander?? cause he also thought it was dumb as fuck (and wasn't in charge until season 3 lol)

but what is the excuse for the new stuff??? Disco especially pissed me the fuck off when they not only killed off Captain Georgiou and robbed us of the incredible opportunity to have our first Trek show where the Captain and First Officer duo are both women - but then to pour salt into the wound there was season after season of white dude Captains!!

I'm not saying I dislike the "having to wait for and earn the captaincy" storyline. There's obviously a lot of really interesting stories there and great character beats that have resulted in some of my favorite Trek characters. But there is an extremely noticeable pattern in which show leads need character development to move up the ranks

And who is presented as inherently qualified from the beginning

And before anyone mentions her, yes, I know we have Captain Freeman, but she's not the lead of her show

[bigfemboyenergy]

fuck everything guys (i have this feeling once a month/nsrs..but it feels like it 😭😭😭)

rather than fuck it we ball its fuck it we bawl time we will get through it but them tears gonna be runnin as fast as my desperate hands will be typin my stupid assignment shit up

[gh0stsp1d3r]

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. this is the face nerd!Rafe makes when u give him head for the first time ever… yeah…

A heated make out session with his extremely hot tutee already felt like he was acting out some weird fantasy he’s seen in his favorite porno’s. But this? Oh, this was being saved in his memory for the rest of his life.

Your hands traveled down his body, giving him a small smirk as you kissed the skin of his stomach, pulling your tongue out and licking his happy trail, your hands moving to his belt, throwing it off of him. He watched eagerly, his eyes widening as you pulled off his pants and then his boxers, his hard cock springing against his stomach.

“You’re bigger than I thought you would be.” You mused, a shade of pink covering his cheeks now.

You went back up to kiss him again, his lips hungrily moving against your soft ones. You pulled away after a moment, and traveled back down to his cock.

“Wait, wait, are you sure?”

“More than sure.”

Oh fuck. That was hot.

His hips bucked when your mouth finally wrapped around his aching tip, letting out a low moan.

“Oh shit.” He murmured, his hands flying to your head. You put your hands at the base of his cock, while you let your mouth work around his girth. You swirled your tongue around it, and he felt like he was going to ascend into whatever heaven there was.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groaned out breathily when you looked up at him through your lashes, “you’re- you’re really fucking pretty.” He let out a noise that could only be compared to a whine, his hands tangling further in your hair, gently pulling at it without even realizing. His mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as he stared down at you, his eyebrows creasing together.

You set a faster pace, your mouth speedily moving up and down on his length, while he let out the most delicious sounds you think a person could make. You felt drool forming on the corner of your mouth.

His head fell back on the pillows behind him, despite his attempts to keep looking at you. He raised his head again, letting out a guttural groan when you swirled your tongue once again.

“Y/n-“ he spoke, you still looking up at him with those beautiful eyes that were slowly killing him. He couldn’t take it anymore. You felt his warm cum shoot into your mouth, him letting out a shocked groan, his head falling back against the pillow again.

You pulled away, kitten licking the tip of his cock, swallowing all of his seed.

“Oh god, oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He spoke rather embarrassed, covering his face with his hands. You smiled at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“You’re okay.” You said with a giggle, him looking at you now, moving his hands away from his face.

He gave you a sweet smile, “Uhm.. thank you. You’re- uhm- really, fucking good at that.”

“Really? Thank you…” you replied. He blushed under your gaze, and you smiled at his shyness. It was adorable.

He sat up on the bed, moving closer to you now. “Uhm… this might be a little… late, but, I- I really like you. And I was wondering if- uh- if maybe you’d wanna go on a date with me? Like- like a real one. With clothes, maybe.” He said with a nervous chuckle, you laughing along.

“I’d love to,” you replied, raising your hand so you could cradle his face, the both of your lips touching again, and the both of you falling back into his sheets.

[cod-bin]

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

☆☆☆

☆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

[ms-spkhd]

It's not like there's anything inherently wrong with Steve. Just...weird. Odd. A wealth of other various synonyms to describe his decidedly bizarre behavior.

Well, Bizarre's a strong word.

But Eddie's point still stands! Steve's a little to the left and it makes Eddie feel endlessly awkward for noticing. The fact that he's uncomfortable about it compounds his unease over it.

"Wanna talk about it, then?" Jeff asks, riffling idly through the record crate. Of course, the one day off they spend window-shopping in Indianapolis results in Eddie getting the fucking 'let's discuss our feelings about things' talk from Jeff. He wonders how the man isn't green with sickness from therapizing all the goddamn time.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'd look like an idiot."

"Would the idiot keep running or confront his problems head-on?"

"This feels like a trap."

"Oh yeah," Jeff says simply.

"Like the ones with the cardboard box and the stick."

"Pre-cisely."

Eddie's shoulders slump in defeat. Better the idiot who speaks, he supposes. "He's very smiley about me being gay."

"Smiley."

"Smiley. As in he's acting like I vomit flowers and shit rainbows." Eddie shakes his head in frustration. "I'm not opposed to the support and everything...it's just that. He's like an octave higher than usual about it."

Jeff purses his lips in thought. "Like, his voice?"

"No--like...like, he's very enthusiastic about my sexuality."

Eddie leans back against the shelf behind him. Steve's a nice guy, really, but the way he goes about his support of Eddie feels like he's trying to compensate for something. A lack of empathy when he was younger, perhaps.

"He always asks if I have a boyfriend, or if I've been hooking up with any guys lately--which, hello, does he not know that queer metalhead nerd isn't a very hot item here?"

Jeff pulls a face but nods in understanding.

"And when I tell him obviously no, he says he can hook me up with his, what? Fucking father's brother's cousin's former roommate? It's like he's begging for a double date with him and his new squeeze, it's goddamn ridiculous." "New squeeze?"

"I'm hyperbolizing." Eddie blows a raspberry and shrugs. "He says it's sad that I don't have someone for how good-looking I am. You're making the face again."'

Jeff snaps out of whatever trance he's in, his drawn eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. After his gawking mouth clacks shut, he cautiously gestures at Eddie to continue.

"It's stupid," Eddie concedes, "but I really don't understand what changed, y'know? He used to be this cool, confident guy with a dorky side, but now he's just so...I don't know."

Jeff smiles lightly and knocks Eddie's shoulder with his. "I have a theory."

"Go on."

"I think Steve isn't being supportive."

"Uh-huh."

"Far from it, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever you say, chief."

"He isn't smothering you," Jeff points out. "He wants to fuck you."

Eddie blinks. Takes a moment to access and really take in what Jeff just said. "What?"

"Or at least, he wants you in an entirely non-friendly and possibly even carnal way."

"Excuse me?"

"Biblically."

"Dude," Eddie insists. "What. The. Fuck."

Jeff raises his hands placatingly. "Steve clearly likes you. A lot. He probably sees you being gay as an in for him."

"Okay, well, I don't understand. He tries to set me up with randos he knows all the time."

"He called you good-looking."

"While he was trying to set me up with said rando!"

"Guys like him have a really backward way of doing things." Eddie crosses his arms sternly. "Or he's straight," he says.

"Again," Jeff asserts. "Good. Looking. Dude, he's fucking obsessed with you! You said he's an octave higher around you now, right?"

"Because he's a well-meaning friend?"

"Eddie, remember when he crashed band practice last week?"

Oh yeah, Eddie remembers that. The man of the hour randomly parked in Gareth's driveway, leaned against his Beemer with his arms crossed, and watched Eddie play like he fucking hung the moon. Afterward, he'd sung his praises for the band and gave Eddie a yellow guitar pick attached to a sparkling silver chain. "Found the pick a couple of towns south with Robin the other day. Reminded me of you," he said softly. "Since you lost your last one."

It went unspoken where Eddie lost 'the last one'.

Eddie remembers smiling back at Steve with the force of a thousand supernovas, and thinking later in the night that it felt like a scene from a romance movie. Steve's favorite color is yellow, isn't it? It was like he wanted a piece of himself with Eddie at all times, right next to his heart.

Eddie didn't want to give himself that stupid hope. That Steve Harrington wanted in on his heart.

It doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

He looks back at Jeff and says, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Part two

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or "holy shit. you're him. you're MalachiConstant."

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ i made a community for you’ve got mail! join it and share your thoughts on the chapters <3 i made this chapter two chapters long because i promised i’d post two chapters this week but couldn’t so hope this makes up for it!! <3

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

you'd been standing at the fountain for about ten minutes when the clock struck eleven, tapping your foot against the marble underneath your foot, looking around. for some reason, you couldn't help but get there early, to possibly catch a glimpse of your online penpal off guard.

but your eyes widened and your brows furrowed so harshly it hurt when you saw who was approaching you; surely it was an accident? surely he wasn't MalachiConstant.

"dodge?"

"hi."

"you're MalachiConstant?"

little did you know, the real MalachiConstant had frozen up in his spot only a few meters away, staring at the interaction between you and dodge.

"i think you've gotten me mistaken with someone else." dodge chuckled softly, "your scarf's coming undone." the boy mumbled, getting closer to you as he wrapped the soft red knitted scarf tighter around your neck, a small smile on his lips, "are you waiting for someone...?"

"no, no." you mumbled, clearing your throat, "i was just… i, uh, needed fresh air." you feigned a smile, looking around awkwardly, trying to see if there was anyone nearby. "well, i was heading towards the cafe. you wanna join me?" you looked around again, only to find that there was no one there.

"yeah, sure." you mumbled; you'd apologize to MalachiConstant once you got back to your dorm room, starting to walk towards the campus cafe; but as you were walking, you finally noticed something.

in the distance, a boy was walking away from your direction.

he was wearing a red shirt.

YOU: i'm sorry i didn't show up.

you stared down at your phone screen, the tip of your thumb caught between your teeth as angel snored away next to you, cuddled up to you.

MalachiConstant: it's cool

YOU: is everything okay between us?

MalachiConstant: yeah MalachiConstant: why didn't u show up tho?

you let out a small sigh, glancing between your phone screen and angel, "what do i tell him?" you mumbled, bringing your hand to stroke her soft, snow white fur. on one hand, you just happened to run into a friend. on the other hand, telling a guy that you ditched him for another guy could give him the wrong idea. You let out an irritated groan, turning back to your phone and mumbling softly, "whatever..."

YOU: i just got cold feet... YOU: i'm really sorry.

rafe looked down at his phone, letting out a scoff and shaking his head. cold feet? sure, like he hadn't seen you leaving with one of his friends. he couldn't believe it, that he'd actually, even for a moment thought that you might have feelings for him, meanwhile you were probably hooking up with dodge of all guys. if you weren't, why would you lie to him?

MalachiConstant: yeah it's whatever

YOU: it's whatever? YOU: is everything really okay between us?

MalachiConstant: yup

YOU: alright... goodnight, vonnegut boy.

MalachiConstant: night

rafe let out a humorless cough of a laugh, before switching from KildareUChats to regular texting.

RAFE: yo RAFE: lets do sumn huge tmrw

TOPPER: damn bro you not whipped anymore? TOPPER: king rafe is back TOPPER: what were u thinking

RAFE: stfu id never get whipped by some chick RAFE: im not a fucking loser simp like u RAFE: lets just fuck shit up idiot

YOU: hii, how's it going? sent 8:31am YOU: you have any plans today? sent 10:57 YOU: i'm going to a cafe with my friend :) sent 11:13 YOU: you here? sent 01:31pm

"hello, earth calling." vivian waved her hand in front of your eyes, brows raised. "what's up with you? you've been staring at your phone the entire time we've been here. is it mystery frat boy? MalachiAlways or whatever?" you pursed your lips, finally putting your phone down and letting out a sigh. you'd sent MalachiConstant messages all morning, but all of them had gone ignored, even though usually he'd message you good morning every morning.

"yeah, it's him. MalachiConstant" you sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek, "lord, what is he doing now? ignoring you again like the little bitch boy he is?" "viv!" you groaned, making the girl roll her eyes, "i don't know. i think so..." "you need to drop this guy, babes. he seems like a complete manwhore." "he's not. he has a reason to ignore me..." "yeah, and what reason would that be?"

you pursed your lips, "we were gonna meet yesterday..." you mumbled, vivian's eyes widening and a gasp leaving her lips, the girl slamming her palm against the wooden table separating you two, "what?! you met mystery frat boy and you didn't tell me?!" "i said we were going to meet yesterday. not that we met..."

"what?!" she slammed her fist against the table, "did he blow you off? was he a no-show? because if he was, i swear to god, i will find him no matter what and i am going to strangle him and cut his little-"

"i was the no-show."

"what?"

"well... i went to our meeting place, and i saw dodge. and i thought it was him, but he wasn't. but there wasn't anyone else around, so when dodge asked me to go to a cafe with him, i accepted, because i couldn't come up with a reason why i couldn't... but as we were leaving, i saw a guy wearing a red shirt walking away."

"a red shirt?"

"i told him to wear something red." you took in a deep breath, "and i think he might've seen me with dodge..." "it isn't that big of a deal! you have guy friends, so what? if you just explained it to him, i'm sure he understood."

you avoided vivian's gaze, the girl narrowing her eyes in suspicion, "you didn't." she cocked her head to the side, "don't tell me you lied-"

"i lied to him." you interrupted, a tight smile on your lips, "when he asked why i didn’t show, i told him that i got cold feet..."

"why would you do that?" vivian sighed, her brows furrowed in slight concern as she reached her hand out to place it over yours, "i'm worried about you."

"i thought... i thought that if i told him i ditched him for another guy he'd get the wrong idea. that something's going on between me and dodge."

"look, i know you're not a liar. i don't want you to become someone you're not for some guy."

"he's not just some guy, viv-" "you don't even know what he looks like!" "he gets me!" you let out a groan in exasperation, "do you know how rare that is for me? i don't get along with every guy i come across and go into bed with them when i don't even like them!"

your eyes widened at the words that you'd let out vivian letting out a shocked laugh, "wow." the pink-haired girl shook her head in exasperation, starting to get up from her seat, "viv, i'm sorry, i didn't mean-" "you know, i've done everything i could to help you with people. i've gone out of my way to look after you, to introduce you to people, and you want to shit on me for getting along with guys?" your best friend snorted, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, "it's not my fault that you can't function around people without popping pills. you're not the only person in the world who has anxiety. put on some big girl pants, find ways to cope with the fact that you're not the only person on earth, or stop whining so much."

vivian threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table, walking right past you, the bell above the entrance ringing as she slammed the door shut behind her, and you were left there hating yourself, once again wondering what the hell was wrong with you.

music was blaring, the fraternity filled with people, most of who rafe didn't even know, his head buzzing with all the alcohol he'd been drinking for the past few hours. his arm was strewn around some random girl whose name he couldn't care to remember, who kept babbling at him and the group of people surrounding them, but everything around him was just... background noise. no matter how many shots rafe threw back or how many girls clung to him, he couldn't get his mind off of her.

the stupid smile on your face as you'd texted, the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you bit down on your lower lip, the soft sound of your laughter, the way your eyes glimmered as you looked up at the sky...

"gonna get some air." mumbled to no one in particular, finishing his drink in one, ignoring the small whine the girl he'd been with let out as he made his way upstairs, slamming the door shut as he got into his room and made his way to the balcony.

"fuck!" rafe shouted, slamming his fist against the stone railing over and over, the booze numbing his senses so much he couldn't even feel it even when his hand started bleeding, drops of red staining the stone he'd beating his hand against, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

"what'd that railing ever do to your dramatic emo ass?"

rafe whipped his head around to see a pink-haired girl standing in the doorway with her head cocked to the side and brows raised as she took a chug from a bottle of vodka, the girl wearing a dress that just about reached her thighs, the color matching her hair. topper's perpetual situationship and the best friend of the girl he couldn't stop thinking about.

"the fuck you want?"

"don't worry, i'm not here to interrupt your brooding time." the girl rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the railing, rafe's eyes narrowing, "just needed air." "what, topper or some other guy obsessed with you not giving you attention?"

"god, you sound just like someone i know." the girl chuckled, starting to draw patterns on the railing, taking a chug of vodka before holding it out to rafe, the boy taking it without saying a word, taking a large swig before giving it back to the girl, "i fucking hate fighting with someone i love."

"i get the feeling." rafe shook his head slightly, "what'd you have a fight about?"

"one of my friends pretty much told me that i'm a slut." vivian chuckled humorlessly, "well if the shoe fits." rafe mumbled, the girl punching him on his arm. "i know i'm promiscuous. i know i'm a party girl and i fuck a lot of people. but the thing is, it feels like a confirmation that the person you care about the most in the world agrees with the worst thoughts you've ever had of yourself." vivian took another large swig from the glass bottle before passing it onto rafe, in turn taking his own swig, "i said some shitty things too and i regret it. i just fucking hate all of this. it tears me apart."

"well, if it makes you feel any better," rafe took a large swig of vodka again before passing it on to vivian and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "i'm also a huge slut."

"tell me something i don't know." vivian snorted, taking another drink.

"well, something you don't know is that i actually thought i found someone who got me." rafe shook his head with a quiet laugh and looked up at the sky, "we actually talked to each other for the first time right here. but it turns out she probably doesn't give a shit about me."

"what do you mean?" vivian looked up at him with furrowed brows.

"i was gonna go see her, but when i went to our meeting place, she was there with another guy, and left with him. then when i asked her about it, she lied. so i'm pretty sure he's hooking up with him and i'm the biggest fucking idiot on planet earth."

the gears in vivian's head turned, until the small smile on her lips slowly vanished when she finally realized why the story was so familiar. "holy shit." she mumbled, eyes as wide as saucers, "you're him."

"what?"

"you're MalachiConstant."

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