#chocolatephone

No Flowers On My Bones Masterlist

Stephanie Lauter loved her dad. But that didn't mean she had to like him.

Steph and Pete went through the depths of hell and back, and they managed to survive. But they lost so many of their loved ones on the way. After things have settled, grief hits Steph harder than ever before.

I post to AO3 first! If you want earlier access, go here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56460559/chapters/143473618

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Fic Content Warnings: death of family, death of friends, character death, grief, tragedy, PTSD, flashbacks, anxiety, body image, self image, violence, toxic relationships, toxic family, mental abuse, family dynamics.

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

MASTERLIST

Content Warning: character death mention, grief, poor self image, poorly translated Polish, Ted being Ted

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Steph hadn’t been able to sleep. Believe her, she wanted to. She tried. Really, she did. But tomorrow came, and left sleep behind. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, having been awake the whole night. She sat on the Spankoffski’s couch, knees curled into her chest. They’d let her stay over more often than not after everything. She didn’t want to be alone in fhe manor more than necessary. Being the gentleman he was, Peter had opted to sleep on the couch, but Stephanie refused. She knew that she wanted some time to process, and she wanted Pete to be comfortable.

Her hair was disheveled, and she wore no makeup for once. She wore a pair of pajama shorts and one of Pete’s old t-shirts from a summer camp he got sent to. It was a hideous thing, bright blue with black lettering reading “Virginity Rocks.”

In her mind’s eye, Steph thought she looked like a dumpster fire.

She sure as hell felt like one.

Her mind had plagued her with unending memories of her dad. Both when he was alive, and memories from that night. She wondered, could things have gone differently? Could he have still been here if she hadn’t ran?

Was this her fault?

Who was she kidding, it had to be her fault. Her fault for going along with Chastity’s plan, her fault for asking Pete to go to Pasqualli’s, her fault to ask him to cheat on that test…

But she didn’t regret Peter. No, in her eyes he was the one good thing to come out of this.

But Steph didn’t deserve Pete. That’s what she genuinely believed. She’d cost him a normal life, she’d cost him his two best friends. Even now, she couldn’t imagine how he could love her after everything. But he did.

•••

The words had been quietly exchanged after Richie’s funeral. Pete had broken before they got to the car, crying. It had broken Steph’s heart. She held him close, comforting him, letting him let out his emotions. His eyes had been puffy and red, and his face was caked with salty tears. Steph did her best to soothe him and dry his eyes, cooing soft reassurances at him. She took his glasses off so they wouldn’t get smushed, and placed them on her head, pushed up so she could still see.

After hesitating for a bit, Steph had pulled Peter down so she could kiss his forehead, and gently held him. Pete had pressed his face into Steph’s shoulder, his hands on her waist.

That was when he’d uttered the words, “….I love you…”

“I love you too, Petey….” she had whispered back.

And she had meant it.

•••

Steph stared off, eyes practically burrowing holes into the coffee table. Yeah, Pete loved her, but he shouldn’t. Not after everything.

Peter stumbled downstairs with a yawn, his hair a mess. He wore a goofy pair of Star Wars pajama bottoms, and an old navy blue tanktop. If it were any other time, Steph would have quietly admired the fact that he was kind of jacked, but she barely even registered his presence.

And Peter took no offense to this. One glance at her showed him that she wasn’t in great shape. And he didn’t blame her. No, Pete had been an itter trainwreck after Ruth and Richie’s funerals. If he was being honest, he still wasn’t okay. He got a pot of coffee started for his family and Steph. His blood sugar was okay for now, so he’d wait to make his hot chocolate.

Instead, as the coffee pot started going, he moved to the couch, settling beside Steph. She started slightly, snapped out of her thoughts. Pete gave her that awkward, sweet smile of his and held out his arm to offer her a hug.

The corner of Steph’s lips quirked up slightly.

She slowly nestled herself into Pete’s side, letting him wrap his arms around her. Steph draped her legs over Pete’s lap, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. His thumbs rubbed small circles into her skin, and he sighed as he placed his chin on the top of her head.

“…You didn’t sleep, did you.”

“Nope.”

“I didn’t either, after Ruth and Richie’s funerals.”

Steph pressed a small kiss to Pete’s shoulder.

“I feel gross, Pete.”

“You look beautiful though.”

“Sure don’t feel like it.”

Peter pulled back a smidge, moving to cup Steph’s cheek in his palm. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, and looked her in the eyes.

“Maybe you don’t feel like it, but I’m looking at the prettiest girl in all of Hatchetfield,” he murmured, softly.

Steph’s heart melted a little bit, his words filling her head with cotton.

Peter pressed a kiss to her cheek before moving her to snuggle into him once more. She relaxed a bit, enjoying the moment.

That is, until Ted came down the stairs with a big yawn, shirtless and hairy as ever.

“Mornin’ lovebirds,” he greeted, scratching his chest as he headed into the kitchen to get himself some coffee.

Pete cringed. “Dude. Put on a shirt, nobody wants to see that,” he said, moving a hand to dramatically cover Steph’s eyes.

Steph giggled as she heard Ted scoff and pour himself some coffee.

“I think several of the fine ladies of Hatchetfield would have to disagree with you there, kiddo,” Ted shot back. “Jesteś po prostu zazdrosny, że nie masz tak seksownego ciała.”

“Theodore jesteś odpychający.”

“Guys, I don’t speak Polish stop it,” Steph said, lightheartedly as she removed Peter’s hand from her eyes.

Pete stifled a laugh.

“Stephanie, if we’re switchin’ languages like that, it means you don’t need to know,” Ted said, shooting a cryptic smirk at Pete.

Soon, Pete’s mom and dad came downstairs, and the house was bustling with life as the two went about making breakfast. Peter never let go of her, encouraging her to be a part of the conversation.

MASTERLIST

Content Warning: implied character death, beginnings of daddy issues, emotionally neglected child

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It was a silent car ride, on the way home.

Stephanie Lauter was 8 years old, and she didn’t know where her mama had gone.

The day had been a big one: Steph’s mom was to compete in the Honey Queen pageant. Steph had been cheering her mom on during rehearsals, watching adoringly as her mom did her makeup in the morning. Steph had always been closer to her mother than her father, although she still loved her daddy, too.

She didn’t know if her daddy loved her, though.

And this became more evident with every passing moment of silence in the car.

Just Solomon and Stephanie Lauter. It was the first of many sullen car rides together, sitting in the back of her father’s limosene.

“…Daddy, where did Mama go…?” Stephanie asked, her voice small.

Solomon gave her a cold look, and little 8 year old Steph cringed back, withdrawing into herself. She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her pretty yellow sundress. She’d been so proud of it; she picked it out all by herself for the Honey Festival. The last Honey Festival she’d ever willingly attend.

The Honey Festival where her mom was crowned Honey Queen.

Stephanie learned the hard way not to ever talk about Mama.

So she didn’t, ever.

MASTERLIST

Content Warnings: daddy issues, dead mom, childhood neglect, ptsd, lautski being sweet lil nerds

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“Tell me about your mom.”

Steph blinked, and looked up at Peter. He stared down at her, partially curled up on his chest. The two of them were curled up on the couch, a Star Wars marathon playing in the background. One that neither of them were really paying attention to, evidently. Peter had his arms wrapped around Steph, holding her close to his chest as they lay together.

“I mean, she’s gone, has been since I was a kid, what is there to know?” Steph deflected.

It’s not that she didn’t trust Peter. She did, really, with every part of herself. But it was like there was this barrier in her brain that stopped her from saying a word. Even now, even though Solomon Lauter was now two months dead, she could practically feel his disapproving glare on her at the very thought of it.

Steph’s heart broke a little when she saw Peter’s small frown.

“Steph, there’s a lot to know,” he softly rebuttaled. “I know it’s a hard topic, and if you really don’t want to talk about her, I won’t push. But I’d love to hear about her.”

Steph worried her lip between her teeth, before giving a soft sigh. She began softly fidgeting with the neckline of Peter’s t-shirt as she began to talk.

“…She was beautiful,” she began, quietly. “I always thought she was the prettiest lady in the world. Still do. I used to sit and watch her do her makeup, and she would always smile at me and offer to teach me how to use it if I wanted. But she always would remind me that I didn’t need it…”

Peter listened intently, rubbing Steph’s lower back as she spoke. He was proud of her for beginning to step out of her comfort zone.

“I was always closer with her than with Dad. Sometimes when he was busy working we’d have little girls’ days just the two of us. We’d go to the mall and shop for pretty dresses, and she’d take me to go get ice cream after. She always said it was ‘our little secret’, even though I knew Dad knew about ohr little shopping dates,” Steph rambled, her face softening as she kept talking about her mother.

It was like the dam broke.

Steph felt so free, being able to talk about her mom. It had been 10 years.

10 years of silence. 10 years of a quiet, empty house. 10 years of her father’s cold, hard insistence on what “proper” living looked like for a politician and his wayward daughter.

Steph couldn’t stop now.

She recalled the time she and her mom had prank called her dad on his work phone. The fact that whenever her dad was at work late, her mom would always blare music through the house, singing along and pulling Steph to dance with her. She remembered homemade meals, baking goodies from scratch, and being taught to pick her own outfits.

Stephanie shared it all with Peter. Baring him her battered, bruised soul as she tried to recall some of the only joy she had from her childhood.

And when she remembered that last Honey Festival…she clammed up once more.

Solomon really wouldn’t want her talking about that.

Peter was worried about Steph’s sudden silence, and chose to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He pressed a small kiss to her forehead, and mumbled, “…She sounds amazing, Steph. Just like you.”

This made Steph’s heart melt a bit as she looked up at Peter. He looked panicked for a second, which confused her.

“Oh, shit, Steph, a-are you okay?” he asked, his hand moving to cup her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

Steph hadn’t realized that she was crying.

She rubbed the heel of her palm over her tear-streaked cheeks, and nestled her head into the crook of Pete’s neck.

MASTERLIST

SPOILERS FOR NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE AND NIGHTMARE TIME.

Lautski my beloved 🫶🏻📱🍫

Content Warnings: Character death, death of family, death of friends, grief, unhealthy family dynamic

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It's almost funny, how he never seemed to care.

It's almost funny, how his eyes always seemed to look through her. Never really seeing her.

Stephanie Lauter loved her dad. But that didn't mean she had to like him. His political tactics, his schemes. How he carefully measured every aspect of Steph's life, molding her into the perfect little political tool.

Days, weeks, months, and years had gone by where Steph wished that she could just get rid of all her issues. That she could step out of the limelight. Be her own person. She remembered once, in a pissy state of teenage angst, telling her dad that she wished he was dead.

But then he actually was.

Stephanie Lauter stood above the grave of Mayor Solomon Lauter, and she didn't know what to feel. How to feel. If she was supposed to feel.

There were no tears in her eyes.

She knew that her dad would hate that sort of weakness.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Steph turned her head to look at Peter, who stood beside her. Peter Spankoffski, who had lost his best friends. Peter Spankoffski, who managed to survive.

Peter Spankoffski. The one boy that Steph cherished most.

Just a few weeks ago, Steph had stood by his side as he buried Ruth and Richie. She'd held him as be cried, she'd ran her hands through his hair, kept his glasses propped on her head as she held him, let him cry out his pain.

She knew that he was there to do the same thing. But she wouldn't cry.

Not for Solomon Lauter.

But Steph didn't protest as Peter wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side.

"Steph...are you okay?" he asked, quietly.

Steph took a shaky breath, and murmured, "Yeah, Pete...I'm okay."

Was she? She didn't know.

What she did know is that Peter's side was warm, as was his arm wrapped around her. She felt safe in his arms. She really did. She felt safe with him. Even if he was a dork. Even if he wasn't this big burly jock. He was more than enough for her.

"Hey, Pete...?"

"Yeah, Steph?"

"Can we go home?"