Nerd Goth Novels & Stories

Nathan: I listened attentively as Nicki told me about the goth movement. Everyone was soon wrapped up in our little conversation and every now and then, I caught Enora looking at me. I would throw her a wink and she would blush. I wasn’t that detached from the world. I had seen my fair share of it and it wasn’t hard to listen and read people. “Well, your hair style and movement do give you a unique personality. You should be proud of it.”

The feel of his body against mine, the sound of his groan as my tongue slides against his and the taste of nicotine. Nero feels like everything I’ve been missing. When we separate, he leans his forehead against mine and sighs. “Gods, I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” he says before kissing my forehead. My cheeks are aflame as I look up at him and notice how his slate-gray eyes have shimmered to crimson. My eyes widen at the realization that Nero is an Alpha. “Your… your eyes,” I stammer, wanting to touch his face but then stopping myself. “You’re an Alpha?”

"Jas-" "Shut up!" He yells back, pushing his silver locks back from his face out of frustration. "First of all, what you just did was completely idiotic and dumb. What if something had happened to you? You have your brain to think, right, Ms. Gracie Nerd Rose? How about you USE it?!"

he replied, motioning to the chair across from him. I sat down, the seat feeling suddenly too small for my body. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir. I promise I won’t let you down.” He offered his hand. I took it without hesitation. And then… I saw it. A crescent-shaped birthmark. Just under the knuckle. And the world… paused. Something thundered in my memory, something bitter and cracked and wrapped in adolescent cruelty. ~~~~~ “Yo, y’all check out Nerd of the Year. Got a tattoo to feel better about yourself?”

“There’s a letter here from Elizabeth Giordano.” “She’s my … mother. Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose our parents.” Shiloh replied as she finished stocking the baby section. Several of her friends had babies and complained about the pastel baby crap, their words, not hers. When she came across a small business that specialized in goth baby items she reached out. Along with black onesies that declared “Not smiling, it’s just gas.” there were also bottles with the poison label and Deadly Nightshade. Spider and skull rattles and teethers.

Glueing her palms together, she gives me her famous puppy dog eyes. Flip. That always folds me. “Ugh, fine. You’re buying my iced matcha lattes and pastries from Buns & Hots for the next two weeks. Deal?” “Deal! Double deal! A million times deal!” Satisfied, I pull out my notebook and try to actually focus on whatever Prof. Adams’ droning on about regarding personality disorders. But I can’t focus, because now I can feel Jade drilling holes straight into the side of my face.

Damn, I must be really out of it or trashed drunk. Present... Two Weeks Later... I have been in a bad mood all morning. Since I ran into that beau- I mean, the ugliest girl. To top it off, she is a fucking nerd. I never go for nerds. I need a sexy, big-breasted blonde beauty on my arm. Not a small chest with big glasses nerd. “Yeah, but she's a sexy nerd,” my mind told me.

"Why?" "I don't know," he scratched the back of his neck. "I think nerds are the only people that can make others feel pretty stupid." He smiled. I knew I should not return his smile, considering he had a lot of tattoos on his arms, not to mention he had his bottom lip pierced. Yet I shoved those thoughts away and smiled back at him. "I guess you're right." ⚯͛ ϟ △⃒⃘ 1DNarry4ever [jess]: does anyone see Autumn? I couldn't find her.

Always had—rebellion swarm in his blood. He was tall, a wolf-like Sabin, but that was where the similarities ended. While Sabin had brown hair, brown eyes, and a roughly hewn face, Gideon was pure punk, embracing the modern Goth look, throwing in a bit of grunge and mixing it all with movie-stars flair. The man even coloured his pale hair bright, metallic blue. Said he'd done it because it made his eyes pop. Of course, that was a lie. He'd probably crafted the look as a warning to humans—approach at your peril.

I added. He didn’t even pack a bag. Now here we are beneath an abandoned warehouse I bought off some desperate meth-head last year, and Nero’s in his element. The guy gets off on pain. Not in a metaphorical tortured-poet way. No, he collects human agony like trophies. If pain had a fan club, Nero would be president, CEO, and the lunatic mascot. He’s circling Barry and Drew, the two cowardly little shits who thought ra.ping my wife and Sierra made them powerful. Now they’re gagged, shaking, and duct-taped to metal chairs, what a bunch of lousy cockroaches.