#I skipped calc for this

[mysicksecrets]

i think im getting sick rn and it’s stressing me tf out bc i DONT HAVE TIME TO BE SICK

[zaytoon-nabulsi]

me when i solve my brother's advanced calc homework for him (he is two years older than me)

[watery-melon-baller]

lads it's so fucking frustrating when you desperately want to learn and understand something but u just can't fucking get ir

[rubberbandballqueen]

i'm like if a person with a normal amount of math skill had a higher understanding of math concepts

[etchedstars]

love all queer ppl but specifically the person who ive had math classes with for years and to this day is the only person who i enjoy doing math with

[supernovaa-remnant]

skipped my beloved astronomy lecture to go through another practice calc exam </3 I am in shambles

[catcze]

just saw wriothesley's weapon and i'm...

sir what is this???

MAN SAME 😭😭 I'm not usually one to dislike weapon designs but;;;;;; ngl I'm not rlly super duper compelled to roll for his weapon 😭😭

[ninthhousesteel]

why do universities basically expect students to get a large portion of basics done in high school now

[starlooove]

Thinking about how I didn’t have to work hard at AP stats bc my teacher got arrested and then I got a teacher who was on the verge of quitting for AICE stats so I was just cruising 🫡

[wickedhawtwexler]

i'm doing some hardcore prep for my interview tomorrow and y'all. i just love math. it's just so satisfying to look at something that is taken for granted and prove WHY it's true

[lighthouselesbian]

in what is potentially the most irresponsible decision of the school year thus far i will be putting my gov presentation that is due in class tomorrow until. tomorrow

[watery-melon-baller]

what if you were a girl trying to change her major and you wanted to take a class but your schedule from hell said no. and you were also on the verge of a mental breakdown

[murdrdocs]

perv!wally clark bc now i can let these thoughts out and i know someone will listen

perv!wally who has sexual needs even while he’s dead. he used to struggle but the day he saw you walk into the school with your little short skirt and your thigh high stockings his struggles suddenly ended. the nights of having to pray that a horny high schooler would leave behind a playboy by accident turned into nights of imagining himself buried deep inside of you. perv!wally who sneaks into the girls locker room before and after your gym class to be able to catch even a peek of you undressing and changing into the shortest gym shorts known to man- not that he minds how short they are. wally clark the panty stealing ghost of the girls locker room because they’re not really gone, he just gets a copy to release into as much as we wants needs to

oh this is sick in all the right ways MDNI 18+

he's not even made aware of your existence on purpose. truthfully.

one day he's sitting outside since it's a beautiful day, watching the way the wind blows the leaves in the trees, hoping that someone drives by with their window down and plays a song he actually knows, and then he sees you. taking your time getting out of your car, slinging your bag over your back, walking into the school doors an entire period late. but that's not what interests him about you. many high schoolers have skipped first period.

what attracts wally is your outfit. it's halloween, the school has allowed costumes to an extent, and he'd been able to recognize some of the other ones. but yours seems familiar. it's on the tip of his tongue. and he decides thats what it's driving him crazy. not because he's insanely attracted to the tiny black pleated skirt, knee high sheer black socks, and the white button up you have tied to show your navel.

he follows you around school that day. only to jog his memory of what the costume is. and then he's in the cafeteria with charley, staring at your pigtails that bob as you excitedly talk with your friends, and charley offhandedly compliments you with a "britney spears. nice", and wally is far too excited about the reference. totally only about the reference and not because you happened to drop your phone right in front of him, bending down to get it without a second thought. besides, only the pillar would see your panties. right?

his obsession appreciation for you started then. and it never really stopped.

he followed you around that day, always pretending to simply be roaming around the halls he knows so well if one of the others caught him. he was just taking in what he could, maybe saving some images for the spank bank if he ran low on what he already had. but then, you happened to get dress coded during 4th period, and wally just happened to have followed you into the locker room to change, and he just happened catch a full look of the red lace panties he only caught a glimpse of earlier in the day.

and if he wasn't addicted before. he was then.

guilt starts to eat at him after the initial look of you stripped down to your intimates, so he sticks to watching you in the halls. just admiring the way the jeans of the 2020s hug your ass and the way your shirt hugs your tits. he promises himself that he won't be a complete weirdo anymore. but then you're scrolling through your hidden images through your phone, and wally has always had a problem with being nosy, so he just couldn't help staring over your shoulder. and if he hadn't seen the lewd images you had saved of yourself, then he wouldn't have started following you into the locker room again. honest!

but he ends up there anyway, sitting on one of the benches as you get naked and then redress, only to put on shorts that have only gotten smaller since his time at split river high.

it's like clockwork.

you have bio, you go to the locker room, you undress and redress, you participate, you come back to the locker room, you undress and redress, then you go to calc. and wally is there for it all. he ogles at your body. he watches you get just a little sweaty. then he follows you to calc where he stares at how pretty your face is when you're concentrating.

that's it. he's just visually appreciating. he's an appreciative person. but maybe a little bit too appreciative. because there's one day, just one lucky day, where you have to change panties. you're one of the only people left in the locker room, you and one of your friends who's lacing up her boots but wally has never cared about her. you pull out a pair of panties from your bag, you gnaw on your bottom lip, and wally is already salivating as he puts two and two together.

he gulps. he tries to avoid palming his cock already.

"turn around i have to change underwear," you tell your friend, who immediately does as told. and wally feels like maybe he actually has crossed over and this is his heaven.

because not only is he getting to see your bottom half completely bare, but you fling your panties onto the bench, right beside your backpack which is right beside wally. and he would be a complete idiot if he let this moment pass. the opportunity has practically landed in his lap.

so he reaches over, picks them up and stuffs them in his pocket, and enjoys the rest of the show. you tuck the used pair in your bag, slip your jeans back on along with your shoes, and then leave for calc.

but wally stays behind this time.

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ HASN’T EVERY LITTLE CHRISTMAS WISH BEEN SENT?

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° I hope the holiday

will find you well… ✧ ⁺

PART 2 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A blue Christmas in Monaco

(Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader (platonic), Sebastian Vettel x fem!driver!reader (platonic), 2017!f1 grid x fem!driver!reader)(SMAU + written work)

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: ANGST, family issues, mentions of death/ mourning, language maybe? fluff (a little), google translate french, sexism, slut shaming, complicated family relationships

fc: pinterest girls

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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yourusername just shared a story!

Caption: [skiing w my favs 🩶]

Replies:

yourbestfriend1: With the boys? yourusername: with the team!! 😜😜 yourbestfriend1: Oh right I forgot you’re a pro driver now and go on free ski trips with LEWIS HAMILTON yourusername: Lewis isn’t here ☹️ yourusername: i think he’s a little salty about merc replacing Bottas so soon yourbestfriend1: did he expect them to race a driver down? yourusername: 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc: Why no invite for me? yourusername: sorry i don’t associate with rookies charles_leclerc: you’re a rookie as well Chérie. yourusername: sorry i don’t associate with non race winners charles_leclerc: f1 changed you 😞 yourusername: i don’t mean it charlie 🫶 yourusername: next time me n u n artie can go 👍 charles_leclerc: liked a message

lewishamilton: Sorry I couldn’t make it. Hope you had fun! yourusername: I did! See you in Feb for preseason! 🩶

yourmominsta: A little jealous! yourusername: liked a message

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You cradle your phone in both hands and stare down at the little red heart. Double tapping your own mother’s message should not make you feel this gross and torn apart inside.

You stare at your instagram chat with her for a few more minutes than you’d like to admit, then shut off the phone altogether and lay it facedown on the bed next to you. 

You’re somewhere in the Swiss alps with your performance team, taking a few days to ski before the holidays. You, luckily, have your own room in the little hotel that is somehow associated with Mercedes as a whole. 

There’s a gnawing in your chest. Should you have responded to you mom with actual words? 

Things at home have been rocky lately. 

It started the week of Abu Dhabi. Since you were already F2 world champion, you had planned to pay the fine and skip the final race of the season, since it was thanksgiving.

In all honesty, you didn’t decide that. Your mother and father did, then held an hour long screaming match with you, which ended with your mother storming out and you in tears. 

“Don’t you love us? Don’t you want to be with your family?”

“No, of course not. To her, we’re nothing.”

They’re not nothing. You wish they were nothing, that what they thought didn’t mean anything to you.

But they aren’t nothing, and you still would move heaven and earth for your family’s approval, so you had decided to stay home for Thanksgiving, whether it jeopardized your career in motorsport or not. 

Until you got the call, they had won. You were going to miss the last race of the season, possibly the last race of your career for a family dinner. 

And then Toto called and you sprinted out of Calc, turned your car on and sped to the nearest airport, shooting a text to your mom on the way.

She had not been pleased.

A voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like Seb’s tells you that there shouldn’t be a world in which you make yourself sick worrying about what you mother is going to scream at you when you get home. 

You wish you could text him. Call him, tell him what’s wrong, but you can’t, or you won’t.

You don’t want to bother him, and you already have one set of parents that hate you, you don’t need him and Hanna to get fed up with you, too. 

You can’t, however, stomach yet another family dinner when your mother, father, aunt and uncle are all ragging on you for following you dream and being a little too busy. You know they all wish you were normal.

It’s not worth it, you decide. Going home is not worth it.

So you pick up your phone and tap on Charles’s contact, realizing only belatedly that your presence at their home would be an intrusion on their mourning.

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Christmas in Monaco is … everything you remember your childhood christmas to be. Unconditional love, laughter, light.

There are times, of course, that you all feel the lingering hole that is the absence of Herve, who was the patriarch of the family. 

Pascale, bless her soul, she does her best, and seems genuinely glad that you’ve come to celebrate with them. 

“Y/n, mon amor!” she exclaims as you walk through the door, Mercedes duffel bag thrown over your shoulder. “I was so happy when Charles told me that you were spending Christmas with us!”

She wraps you in a hug and you freeze up, willing the tears that are stinging your eyes away and easing into the embrace. There is t a time in your recent memory that your own mother hugged you like this.

Pascale snaps her fingers at Charles. 

“Charles, monte son sac dans la chambre.”

He sighs and takes your duffel over one shoulder, ascending the stairs to the bedroom you will be sharing with him.

“Come,” Pascale orders you in English. “You must be starving!”

it’s a flush of hugs and chatter and drinks flowing, sitting around this table with the Leclercs. Enzo and Arthur don’t question your presence. You assume that Charles has told them you are constantly having issues with your family. 

Charles sits to your right. Pascale heads the table and Lorenzo sits across from Charles with Arthur to his right. Lorenzo asks you and Charles about the upcoming season, congratulates you in your win. 

“Charles will not stop talking about it!”

“It’s impressive!” Charles defends, his ears pinking. “She’s the youngest to ever win!”

You pat Charles’s shoulder. 

“It’s ok, Charlie. I know I’m just so amazing.”

He mutters something in French that you don’t catch, but Pascale slaps his shoulder.

“Do not use those words at my table!”

The entire table erupts in laughter and you look around. This is the first time in a long time that a family dinner has actually felt like family.

There is a mattress in Charles’s closet that you’ve slept on for hundreds of nights throughout your lifetime. It’s a little lumpy, but the trick is to lay down a comforter under the bottom sheet and that smooths out all the bumps. 

You’ve showered and changed into your pajamas while Charles makes up the makeshift bed at the foot of his own. 

He casts a dirty look at your black Mercedes t-shirt. 

“This is a Ferrari-only household,” he scolds you with no actual bite. 

“I don’t see you driving for Ferrari.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes one of his pillows and sets it at the head of your bed. He’s pulled the sheets tight, just like he always used to.

“When was the last time you slept here?” He asks you, breaking the weird silence you’ve fallen into. 

“Um,” You set your clothes next to your duffel. “2015? I came and stayed to watch your first home F3 race?”

He was seventeen, you fifteen, and you’d been in the height of your awkwardness, and to make matter worse, he still hadn’t discovered deodorant. Altogether, not a fond experience.

He makes an affirming noise and lays down on his bed. 

You pull back your covers and he shuts off the light, and for a while it’s just the two of you breathing. He always tries to match your inhales and exhales.

“Your family,” he blurts into the dark. “Why aren’t you with them?”

Your heart squeezes. 

“I think they think I think I’m too good for them.”

He pauses.

“Repeat? slower?”

You laugh softly. Sometimes you forget his English isn’t the greatest. 

“They think that I think that I’m better than them. My mom, especially. When she was growing up I think she idolized her parents and I don’t idolize her in the same way. She’s really scared that she can’t control me like they controlled her.”

Charles mulls that over,

“And your father? “

You sigh into the darkness. 

“I don’t know. He’s always working and he doesn’t like that I have my own opinions and stuff, because he’s very … he needs to be right. 

“And then my brother, we get along when our parents are being crazy, but it’s not like we’re close. I was gone for most of our childhood and now he’s in school.”

There’s a shifting in Charles’s bed, the you hear his feet pattering on the floor. The mattress beside you dips, then he’s laying next to you, his shoulder touching yours.

“This is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff out a laugh.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is. My bed is much more comfortable.”

“Then go back and sleep there!” 

He shifts next to you, rolling on his side then back to his back. Lying here, next to him, it’s hot. You scoot over an inch so you can still feel him but you’re not touching. 

His breaths become slower and deeper.

“I’m sorry,” He tells you just as you’re drifting off to sleep. “That you feel like your family doesn’t want you, but… “

His hand pats yours three times. 

“I’m glad you’re here. Makes it more bearable.”

You fall asleep then, and wake up with you back to him. You sit up as the cold light streams through the blinds and look over at him. His face is smushed and a bead of drool pools on his pillow. 

“Charlie,” You whisper. “Charlie, wake up.”

He sits up like you just ran an electric shock through him. His hair is smashed to the side and he used the back of his hand to wipe the drool.

You giggle.

“C’mon, I smell breakfast.”

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twitter:

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charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: A bittersweet Christmas celebration. Will be missing you forever, Papa. x

tagged: arthur_leclerc, yourusername, lorenzotl

liked by max33verstappen and 56370 others 

view 72891 comments:

user1: Merry christmas, charles! 

user2: Repose en paix, Herve ❤️❤️

user3: The fact that Y/n spend Christmas with the Leclercs is 🤨🤨

↳ user4: fr i knew she and charles were close but … girl… he has a gf …

↳user5: Oh I bet his GF HATES her

↳user77: Yeah, AND it’s the Christmas right after they lost his father, like intruder who?

yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

♡ by creator

↳ user65: HOMEWRECKER

↳user66: She’s actually such a skank. I don’t know why people put up with her.

user6: I know it’s been debunked a bunch of times but CharY/n would be so 😍😍

↳user7: he has a girlfriend and she’s always said he’s like a brother to her

↳ user6: if my bf had a friend as close as her I would end it

↳user7: the thing is that she has been seen out and about with Giada. They’re good friends 😳

user8: Doesn’t Y/n have her own family to spend Xmas with?

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As soon as you say ‘It’s fine’ you know you’re done for. ‘Fine’ is never fine.

He calls you, you try to avoid the question, but then he hits you with -

“Y/n.” In his disappointed/worried voice. And it works like it always does. You tell him everything - from when it started when you were in F3 to now, how you’ve driven your family away. He listens. He’s a good listener when he wants to be.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks at the end. You take a shaking breath.

Because I didn’t want you to realize I’m no good. Because you would leave me, too. Because I can’t not love them and I don’t know why.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going home for the new year?”

You’ve been waiting on a text from your mom. That’s how it goes. Fight, spend a week in the silent treatment, one of you reaches out, you make up, then you fight again. You promised yourself that you’re not going to be the one to reach out this time.

“I don’t know.”

“If not, come to my house. We’re having a party.”

Your words catch in your throat.

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“You’re never intruding,” he assures you. “I’m your mentor, remember? I have to look out for you.”

My parents are supposed to look out for me.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Seb.”

“Merry Christmas, Spitfire.”

Your mom texts you. She grovels. You get on a plane an hour later and go back home.

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yourusername

yourusername: gettin ready 💪💪

F1 2018 and last semester of hs here i come

liked by mercedesamgf1, yourbestfriend1 and 817279 others 

view 5389 comments

yourbestfriend1: okay miss influencer 😍

♡ by creator

user10: Y/n on twt: 😃👹🤡😼🧌 Y/n on insta: 🩵🌃🎹🫧⭐️🪞

↳yourusername: it’s called duality babes 💋

↳user10: OMG

↳user16: her addiction to memes though 🤣 she can’t even do an aesthetic post without one

gg_giada_gianni: jolie fille

↳yourusername: c’est tout toi ❤️

↳user80: Y/n and giada saw the romance rumors and said hold my beer

user20: Why didn’t you spend Christmas with your family??

leclerc_pascale: Wonderful to spend Christmas with you, darling

↳yourusername: awwww thanks for letting me crash your xmas 🫶🫶

↳arthur_leclerc: Don’t worry, she likes you more than she likes any of her actual children

↳ charles_leclerc: Sadly true

user11: Still can’t get over the fact that she’s still in school

user12: U don’t deserve that seat

susie_wolff: Such an inspiring young woman, Y/n!

↳yourusername: Hi susie 😚

yourmominsta: So proud of you, ladybug!

↳ yourusername: ❤️

user13: why would they let a woman in the car?

↳ user14: she’s already driven it

↳ user15: and won her debut race ?

max33verstappen: Merry Christmas! I wouldn’t train too hard, since you’ll never beat me again! 😸

↳yourusername: 😺😺😾🔪

user17: I didn’t know she played piano?

↳user18: she plays off and on. Her youtube has a few videos of songs she’s covered and written

↳ user17: multitalented queen 👑

user19: Oh, to be eighteen and already signed to a top F1 team

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ oh, noel

oh, noel ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: a little short and bittersweet holiday special (in august 👻)

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

🏷️: @octavikravecell218

[upsidedownwithsteve]

could I request shy!reader with eddie where he is super protective over her during school? like he has NO problems telling people off if they make a comment to her/make her feel uncomfortable!

Eddie found you in the library, head bent, eyes a little unfocused as you scanned each line, pages fluttering in the quiet when you turned them. Mrs Scott was already frowning at him when he walked past the main desk, the librarian unused to seeing the boy between the stacks of books.

Eddie waved, smiling brightly as he tried to convince the woman he wasn’t here to cause trouble. He walked a little faster towards you, grinning when he realised you still hadn’t noticed him. So he laughed a little when you jumped at his touch, his face buried in your neck as he leaned over the back of your chair.

“Jesus, Eddie, you scared me,” you whispered, voice a hiss but you softened when you leaned back into him, his chest a solid warmth behind you.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, his hands squeezing at your shoulders. “Hi.”

You warmed under his gaze, those eyes shining at you, all fond and familiar. Putting your bookmark between the pages, you pushed the novel to the side, cheek to your shoulder so you could press a kiss to the top of Eddie’s hand, a surprising bout of affection from you considering you were in school, but Eddie took it without comment, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Why aren’t you at lunch, huh?” He sat down in the chair next to you, knees bumping and eyes concerned. “Been lookin’ for you.”

You shrugged, unwillingly to meet Eddie’s gaze cause he could read you like the story you’d just paused. “I’m not hungry,” you lied.

The boy frowned, picking up your hand to hold it in his, fingertips running over your knuckles, the dainty, gold rings on each finger, a pretty contrast to his own.

“You feelin’ okay? I can take you home, if you want.”

You melted into him at the sentiment, wanting nothing more than to skip the rest of your classes, wondering if you could convince Eddie to do the same and let you spend the day in his bed. You like the afternoons when it was quiet, the days that were lazy and long and you could stay against Eddie’s chest.

You shook your head, disappointed. “No, it’s okay! I’m fine,” you tried to convince yourself and him. “I have a calc test next period.”

Eddie didn’t seem to believe you. Well, he knew you had a calc test, he believed that part. Just not when you said you were fine. You looked small, tired, curled in on yourself as you thumbed the pages of your book. So the boy waited, one arm slung around the back of your chair now, his hand making trails up and down your spine and he kept going until you softened, shoulders coming down from where they sat at your ears, putty against him.

He was gentle when he asked, careful about it. “Sweetheart? Are those girls still bothering you? Jenny Deegan? And whatsherface, her friend— the one with the ponytail.”

You cringed, hating how Eddie knew. Bothering was an understatement, but at the age you were, the idea of being “bullied” seemed mortifying. Besides, you weren’t sure what these girls were doing could be classed as such. Girls were mean in a different way, vicious, nasty, unsatisfied until there were tears in your eyes.

There was no being pushed to the ground at lunchtime, no stupid signs pinned to your back or childish name calling. No, mean girls liked to give compliments to your face, superficial and mocking, hardly waiting to burst out laughing when you turned away, too embarrassed to respond properly.

They liked to spread rumours, write things on the bathroom wall and they liked to pout when you blinked back tears, scathing, patronising, cruel.

You sniffed, shoving your face back into your book. “What? No.”

A lie. It tasted bitter in your tongue.

Eddie frowned. “Babe, you gotta tell them to fuck off,” he said, voice kinder than his words. “Huh? I know you hate confrontation, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Your lip wobbled.

“Want me to scare them off?” Eddie pushed his nose to your cheek, whispering when Mrs Scott glared over in your direction. “I can get a bible or somethin’, come to school in black robes and start chanting at them, talk real loud about blood sacrifices, yeah?”

You snorted at the mental image your boyfriend painted, lips quirking upwards and Eddie beamed at the sight. “Like you have a bible,” you told him, your voice still soft, softer still when you turned to press your face to Eddie’s chest.

His arms came up around you, one hand curling into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I’d source one,” he shot back. “For you, I’d write out my own damn religion. Somethin’ scary enough that those bitches leave you alone.”

Normally you’d frown upon name calling, but there was something about Eddie’s sharp words that soothed the ache inside you. You kissed the skin above the collar of his T-shirt, eyes blinking back the tears Eddie made sure never fell.

“Yeah?” You asked weakly. God, you were tired.

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie agreed, a kiss pushed soft to your cheek in confirmation. “Ain’t no one making my girl cry.”

…

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 46

Part 1 Part 45

Hopper’s idling by the trailer when Steve and Eddie exit on the way to school the next morning. Eddie’s forehead immediately breaks out in anxiety-sweats. He stumbles back a step on instinct, arm up to waylay Steve. Nothing good ever came from the Chief of Police loitering in front of a drug dealer’s trailer. 

Hopper cranks his window down, leaning out enough to stick his head partially out, and shouts over at them, “you cleared to go to school already, Harrington?” 

Eddie drops his arm – threat categorized, acknowledged, and discarded. Steve steps over the threshold and down the front steps, each foot placed carefully, lest he stumble in front of Hopper. 

“It’s fine,” Steve says, like he always does.

“Your doctor say that?”

Steve shifts his eyes toward Eddie, like he’s begging for help. Eddie clears his throat, pointedly not curling his shoulders in when Hopper shifts his glare over to him. “He went yesterday,” he calls over, like a chump. Because what his majesty wants, Eddie will provide.

Hopper raises his eyebrows, letting them stew in the silence as he keeps his eyes trained on Eddie. Weakest link sighted. And just like every time he finds himself in this standoff with the bane of his existence, he folds. “He’s not supposed to go back until Monday!”

“Munson!” Steve grouses. Eddie’s guts churn at being last-named again.

“But” Eddie starts, waving his hand in Steve’s face like that’ll buy him a few more seconds of grace. “You gotta let him go, Hopper.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he grouses, still glaring into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie fidgets, hoping Steve won’t be too pissed off. “Harrington here’s a flight risk,” he says, patting his head lightly, like a dog who’s just performed a marvelous trick. “You don’t give him something to do? We might never see him again.”

Steve scoffs, but notably doesn’t pull away from Eddie’s hand or refute his point. 

Hopper continues glaring at both of them before sighing out like a beleaguered dog and rolls up his window. He doesn’t drive away. “Is that–” Steve starts, squinting at Hopper through his now-closed window. “Is that permission?”

“We don’t beg for permission, Stevie.” Eddie trails his hand through Steve’s peach-fuzz hair before skipping over to where his van’s parked, knowing without looking that Steve’s following him. He slides into the driver’s seat, waits for Steve to slide in as well before turning the key in the ignition. “We don’t even ask for forgiveness.”

He smiles over at Steve, cheeks hurting from the force of it. He feels like he’s just taken three shots of espresso, back to back to back. Steve smiles over at him, small but real, eyes shining in the morning sun. His hair glows golden in the sunlight, and his skin, still slightly sallow, is flushed pink in the cheeks. 

“We don’t?” Steve asks quietly. He sounds excited. Like a kid told he’d get to open his birthday presents early. 

Eddie’s endeared, any reluctance drained out of him around the second time Steve Harrington had saved his life. “Naw.” He reaches over, patting Steve’s knee, not letting his fingers linger like they want to. He cranks the engine, Black Sabbath booming from the speakers until Steve turns it down a few notches. “That’s for squares. And you, Steve Harrington, are a certified badass.”

Steve’s smiling out the window when Eddie glances over, watching trailers pass by. Electric Funeral turns over to War Pigs. Eddie sings along quietly as Steve bops his head along to a beat he doesn’t even know.

Hopper follows them all the way to school, his truck idling at the curb until Eddie pulls into a spot and takes out the key. Neither of them mention anything.

School passes in a mindless haze. Eddie listens to lectures on calculus and geography and the themes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, lets it all fly over his head. Not even in one ear and out the other – that implies it went into his brain at all.

Jeff gives him dirty looks throughout calc, like he can tell Eddie’s checked out past the point of return and is feeling a sense of paternal disappointment over his lack of work ethic. 

Eddie’d checked out long before Demogorgon’s and Demon Worlds made an appearance in his life. Now, class feels like biding time until he can get Steve back in his sights. Graduating feels like another step away from Harrington that he doesn’t want to take.

So he sits and stews and ignores Jeff’s disappointed eyes, and regrets that Steve’s a year below him and not smart enough to pass calc either.

Seeing him walk into lunch is a religious experience. Eddie sighs into his suspicious casserole, staring at Steve with reverence. He’s talking to Barb quietly, standing beside her in the lunch line. 

Steve laughs at something she says, and Eddie swears he can almost hear it across the cacophony of the lunchroom rush. 

“Dude,” Gareth says from beside him.

Eddie jumps, whipping his head over to where Gareth had snuck up on him. “When did you get here?” he hisses, narrowing his eyes.

Gareth stares back, deadpan. Eddie misses when his little sheep were at least a little bit afraid of him. Honestly, the gall. “I was here before you sat down.”

Ah, well. Eddie hunches, looking around the table that’s seemingly filled in around him. “So?”

Gareth leans closer, keeping his voice lowered. “Are you, like in love with Harrington?” Gareth asks, voice quiet enough for discretion even as it lentils up harshly at the end. 

“No, shut up!” Eddie hisses back, but something restless and wanting unfurls as the fishhook in his ribs slackens with Steve’s approach. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“—could help you,” Barb is saying, inexplicably sitting at the wrong freaks and geeks table again. Clearly, there’s still trouble in paradise. “I’m free Thursday’s after school.”

Steve slides in next to Eddie, matching suspect casserole to Eddie’s own. He doesn’t look away from his conversation from Barb, but he slides his knee into Eddie’s, easy like breathing. Even easier, with Steve’s track record of not doing that.

“Really?” Steve asks, leaning toward her over the table. 

Barb shrugs, nonchalantly, pulling that same bagged sandwich from her bag to munch on. “Sure, why not?”

She says it like it’s nothing, but Steve exhales like the world just stopped ending. “Thanks,” he sighs. “I’m just so behind, and my Dad–” he cuts off, shoves a forkful of slop in his mouth like that’s the reason for the pause. “I just don’t want to be held back.”

Jeff, the traitor, looks over to Barbara and unhelpfully contributes, “are you guys planning a study group?” he asks, continuing before she has a chance, “because this one could use a little of that.”

Eddie doesn’t let anyone else get in a word. “I can’t Jeffery,” Eddie sneers. “Thursday is Hellfire.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows like he’s thinking deeply, starts, “we could maybe do it on Wed—”

“That’s fine!” Eddie says. “I’m doing fine!”

He glares around at the table, daring anyone to say anything. Jeff scoffs, and Steve still looks worried, but no one says anything. Study group is born, and Eddie’s plans are finalized: his graduating class will be moving on without him.

He only hopes Wayne understands. 

Part 47

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