#the stranger series

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you please continue ‘The Stranger’ it’s my favourite series on this app

The Stranger (V)

Read part one here // Continued from here

OHHHHHH IT’S ANGSTY YOUR HONOUR?!!!! WOWUH!!! To whoever wanted the stranger continuation!!! sorry it is a day/two late!!!! I hope you enjoy!!!! dedicated to @ehobep

*~*~*~*~*

Vigilante was a ball of nerves. His ears ringing in his skull as Karma drove him into the city again to Hero who was waiting for him on the roof. Karma was singing along to the radio, in a better mood than he had seen the monster in… maybe ever. His finger drummed along the steering wheel, humming when he didn’t know the words, the perfect image of peace and ease.

Vigilante wanted nothing more than to pull the steering wheel and let the car spin out into a ditch. A branch going through the driver’s seat lancing Karma through the chest. Or the skull, it really didn’t make a difference. As long as he died.

At least Hero would be safe.

If Karma hadn’t compelled him to behave like a fucking dog Vigilante could do that! He could save Hero, he could stop Karma— he could— he c— he couldn’t do a thing to stop him, except glare from the corner of his eyes and worry about his great mood. Vigilante had to be smart. He had to be smart or who knows what Karma might do to Hero?

“Ah, here we are,” Karma said turning the key in the ignition and smiling at Vigilante. “Come along, Vigilante. We have a hero waiting for us.”

There was no compulsion in his words but Vigilante obeyed anyways. It unnerved him when Karma started walking towards his and Hero’s rooftop, something so sacred and safe for the two of them.

“How did you know I’d be up there?” Vigilante asked.

“Hmm?”

“On the rooftop, the first time we met. How did you know I’d be up there?”

Karma smiled. “I have eyes everywhere, Vigilante, or haven’t you realised that by now?”

Vigilante glared at him. “Besides, when I saw you save the Mayor’s kid you got on my radar and I followed you until I could intercept. When I saw you go up to that roof, well, I knew it was my chance to speak to you, and then, who comes up after me, but the number two Hero in the city? I could sell your scandalous story to the media if I wanted to.”

Vigilante felt his cheeks flush. “That’s not— we’re not— there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Who cares?” Karma said with a shrug. “It would be juicy gossip, a media circus, and, in the pandemonium I could probably kill the mayor and it would be page seven news.”

Karma beamed at the blushing Vigilante, holding the door to the roof access open. “After you,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his hand. Vigilante swallowed the lump in his throat as he passed, taking the stairs up to the roof where Hero was waiting for him. Unbeknownst of the threat that was waiting for them.

If he could scream, maybe warn Hero, he could— he could maybe save them. That’s what he’d do. Without warning, Vigilante started sprinting up the stairs not caring if Karma was following or on their tail or anything. They ran up the stairs to the roof access and climbed the ladder to get the roof in record time and there—

Across the roof he saw Hero and he screamed: “Hero! Run!”

Hero frowned, rushing towards Vigilante, but Vigilante shooed them away. “Run! Just go! It’s a trap! It’s not me. It’s a villain, Hero! The suicides you need to—”

A hand clamped over Vigilante’s mouth, a razor edge pressed into his throat and yanked him back into Karma’s hard chest. Karma’s chest rose and fell quickly, tired from the exertion, but he chuckled darkly in Vigilante’s ear, freezing their struggles.

“Naughty, naughty Vigilante, Hero’s going to have to pay for that.”

“No!” Vigilante yelled through Karma’s hand but it was muffled as Karma’s grip turned bruising, wrestling Vigilante’s head back and dampening any hope of Vigilante calling out to warn Hero.

“Oh yes,” Karma hummed. “Just be a good little hostage.”

Vigilante’s wide terrified eyes found Hero’s who was still here. Why were they still here?! Why were they being a hero right now? Of all the people Vigilante had to try to save, they had to save a fucking self-sacrificial idiot who got payed to be risk their lives for others?!

It was all some cosmic joke.

“Hey, we can talk about this,” Hero said, hands out placatingly, their eyes going between Vigilante’s and Karma’s. “Just… just let Vigilante go and we can talk, right?”

Karma dug the knife deeper into Vigilante’s neck, pricking it lightly and letting Hero see the bead of blood he drew just for funsies.

“I think we can talk perfectly fine like this, Hero. You, me, Vigilante. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

Vigilante grabbed Karma’s hand covering their mouth and tried to dislodge it but Karma didn’t budge, pressing his lips beside Vigilante’s ear he whispered: “stop struggling, Vigilante. Unless you want me to unmask you here and now in front of Hero.”

Vigilante froze. Karma chuckled. “Ohh�� they don’t know either, do they? Interesting. That was a stab in the dark, Vigilante, you need to stop being so readable. It could get you in trouble.”

“Hey! Look, I think you need to release Vigilante right now, or else—“”

“Or else what?” Karma asked. “You’ll fight me? What if you hit poor Vigilante here?”

Vigilante told Hero to do it, to take the risk, but Karma smothered the words until they were just spongey syllables that got lost on the wind. Karma chuckled.

“Tell you what, Hero,” Karma said. “You’re right. I want to chat. So if I let Vigilante go, we don’t have to come to blows?”

Vigilante’s struggles renewed as they tried to shake their head, visions of Karma telling Hero to jump off the roof returning tenfold and making them want to throw up.

“Nngh! Nngh!” Vigilante protested, wishing he could scratch Karma’s eyes out but that fucking command was still lodged in his stupid brain that he couldn’t hurt himself or Karma; his struggles in vain.

Hero swallowed, eyes going between the pair before they nodded. “Deal.”

“Good,” Karma said. “When I release you, you will fall to your knees and remain silent.”

“Nngh!” Vigilante protested, frustrated tears gathering behind his eyes as he pawed uselessly at Karma’s hand. Karma removed the knife first, making a show of taking it from Vigilante’s throat and lifting it away.

Now.

Vigilante had to move now.

Karma’s command was conditional. If Karma released Vigilante, Vigilante would have to obey, but if Vigilante broke free… then nothing.

Vigilante shot forward like a bullet. Karma’s attention focused on Hero allowed his brain to stutter as Vigilante barrelled forwards, throwing themselves ahead and fell to the ground, rolling on the rooftop until they came to a stop beside Hero. Hero’s hand was on him, helping him to his feet, but Vigilante didn’t take his eyes off of Karma the whole time.

Karma threw his head back and let out a booming laugh at the sky. It didn’t sound like a proper laugh, it was chilling, crazed, the kind of laugh anime villains do when they’ve captured the hero or revealed their master plan. It made the hairs on the back of Vigilante’s neck stand on end.

“Vigilante, you slippery little fucker,” Karma bellowed, his laughter dying down to manic little chuckles as he tilted his chin down to stare at Hero and Vigilante again.

“Vidge?”

“You need to get out of here, Hero,” Vigilante said, pushing them behind his back. “He’s a charmspeaker you need to run, he’s the cause of all the suicides and—“”

Vigilante ducked to the left, dodging the knife that was hurled straight for his head.

“Spoilers, Vigilante. Come on, at least play fair.”

“Play fair?!” Vigilante sputtered as he started backing up on the rooftop, Hero behind him. “Nothing’s fair with you, you fucking psycho!”

Vigilante kept pushing Hero back. “Vidge, I’m not leaving you here with him. We can go together!”

Vigilante’s heart hammered against his chest, his blood rushing fast in his ears like a waterfall. The pressure and sound of the spray deafening everything else around him. He wanted so badly to get away, to run from Karma, but if he got his hands on Hero, who knows what he’d make Hero do.

Vigilante shook his head, eyes narrowing as Karma advanced slowly towards them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge of the roof.

“Vigilante~,” Karma sang, tutting him for his defiance. “Didn’t I tell you to behave when we met with Hero?”

“Go fuck yourself!” Vigilante snapped.

Karma smiled at Hero, as if he was Karma’s bold child that just disturbed Hero. “Sorry about him, he’s so spirited, isn’t he?”

“Just who the hell are you?” Hero demanded, their voice hard after they realised that Vigilante wasn’t about to go running with them.

Karma sighed, running a theatrical hand down his face and grabbed his chin as if he were pondering something. Then his lips stretched across his face as he held a finger up in the air, pointing towards the sky. “Ahah! I have a good idea, Vigilante, you come back over here now, and your punishment won’t be severe.”

“Punishment?!” Hero yelled now, stepping protectively in front of Vigilante. Vigilante grabbed Hero’s wrist, feeling their power thrum under their skin and pulled slightly. Hero planted their feet and let out a soft grunt of discomfort as Vigilante pulled on their ability. “You’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Karma smiled, exposing every tooth in his mouth, his half-lidded eyes amused, smirking a little at the pair. “Vigilante, I’ll give you to the count of three to surrender. Three.

“Hero we have to run,” Vigilante told them quietly, pulling at their shirt. “Trust me, please. I’ll explain when we’re safe, just please.”

“If this is the maniac who’s ordering all the suicides Vidge, I can’t just leave him free.”

“Two!”

“If we don’t leave him free, then he’ll take me back and do god knows what to you, Hero. Please!” Vigilante hissed, yanking Hero back. Hero fell back the step, and Vigilante’s hand tightened on Hero’s arm as Hero turned and they started running to the end of the roof towards a shop roof over.

“One!” Karma sang as Vigilante jumped. The sound of Karma’s fingers snapping rang over the wind of the roof, carrying to Vigilante’s ears like the sounds of church bells, deafening and dread filled. The moment Vigilante landed he turned and saw Hero on the edge of the rooftop on their knees.

Vigilante’s eyes blew wide, tracking Karma who was walking slowly towards Hero. “No! No, hero! HERO! GET UP!”

Karma chuckled, reaching into his grey duffle coat and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He nodded at Vigilante as he walked towards the little step he sat on when he first took Vigilante.

“They can’t get up, Vidge,” Karma said, his words like a spear in Vigilante’s guts. “But I’ll grant you grace and give you five seconds to be by my side on your knees, grovelling, maybe with some tears, I don’t know yet, surprise me,” he continued conversationally, shrugging as he took a breath and light his cigarette between his teeth.

When he looked at Vigilante again it chilled him to the core. “Or this time, Hero walks off the roof and you won’t stop them. What’s another suicide in the city, hmm? Poor Hero, their heart couldn’t take that kid killing himself in front of them.”

Vigilante snarled at the air, his eyes on Hero’s bloodshot ones like the Mayor’s son, willing them to stand up. To get up! To laugh it off and say they were just fucking with Vigilante and that they were about to fight Karma with all the fury that Hero could muster, but Hero just stared blankly ahead at Vigilante, like a marionette with its strings cut, knees perched just before the ledge.

Oh god, if they had been faster when Karma did that Hero would have fallen to the pavement below.

“Five~” Karma sang and Vigilante ran across the roof to get a running jump onto the ledge. It was going to be harder than the initial jump because the usual rooftop was maybe a foot or two above the one Vigilante was on.

“Three!” Karma boomed. Vigilante wanted to scream at him and fight but he didn’t have time. If he wanted Hero to live he’d have to obey everything Karma said. Vigilante jumped and the minute he did a pit opened in his stomach. He realised after his feet left the ledge that he wasn’t going to make it cleanly.

His hands found ground on the rooftop’s ledge but his body slammed into the brickwork, robbing the wind from his chest. Vigilante gasped, fingers white knuckled, his feet doing tiny sprints on the bricks below as he tried to gain purchase on something to boost him up.

“Hero,” Vigilante said, his voice quivering with the effort. His foot found the ledge of a pipe and he wrapped his forearm around the ledge as he pushed himself up. Then his foot slipped and he was dangling. His bodyweight yanked him towards gravity and he cried out, his shoulders screaming at him to get up!

A sole pressed into his fingers and Vigilante cried out but he couldn’t even swing at Karma the bastard. He shifted his feet towards the pipe again and launched off it until he had two hands back on the ledge and—

His eyes widened. Hero stood with Vigilante’s fingers under their boot. “He… H-Hero?”

Karma stood beside them, eyes twinkling dangerously as he exhaled a plume of smoke from his lungs. “Mmm, what do you think, Hero? Should we let him up?”

Hero stomped on Vigilante’s hand. Vigilante lost their grip from the shock and the pain and now only one hand held them up on the ledge. With the momentum Vigilante swung, his eyes locking on the thirteen story drop to the street below. The world seemed to zoom in and out of focus as panic and his laboured breaths clogged every rational thought in him.

He glanced up again to see Hero’s foot hovering above Vigilante’s over fingers, Karma drinking in the chaos. “You’re right, Hero. I did give him a chance and he directly disobeyed me, what to do, what to do.”

Karma took another drag as Vigilante wrestled his hanging hand back up to the ledge, scrambling desperately. “Hero! Please!”

“Hero?” Karma echoed and Hero’s foot came down on Vigilante’s wrist. Vigilante screamed out a grunt of pain and he shook his head.

“Karma! Karma! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Fuck!” Hero ground their heel into Vigilante’s hand until he almost lost his grip again and screamed.

“Alright,” Karma said with a shrug. “Let him up.”

Vigilante barely registered the words before Hero bent over, foot still on Vigilante’s hands and yanked him by the back of his shirt over the ledge and onto the roof. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath before Hero yanked him up, marching him back towards Karma who had sat against the raised concrete where Vigilante first met Karma.

Hero shoved Vigilante to his knees in front of Karma who looked down on him as if he were a king on a throne and Vigilante a traitor to the realm. A peasant, nothing more than the dirt on his shoe.

“H-how?” Vigilante demanded. It was the only thing he could say. His mind racing back to the first night on the roof, Karma told Hero to forget him and forget meeting Vigilante. Karma had to use eye contact or at least… that’s what Vigilante thought.

Karma took another drag of his cigarette, Vigilante watching the white burn away down to the coffee coloured butt. “I called them,” Karma said.

Vigilante frowned. “But— don’t you need to do that weird shit with your eyes?!”

Karma let out a startled laugh, nodding, smoke stuttering out his nose into the cool air. “Yes,” he said, grinning. “I do.”

Vigilante’s frown bled away to a picture of confusion. “Then how—”

“Face time, idiot,” Karma said fondly, waving Vigilante’s phone in his face before their gaze went to Hero holding Vigilante down. “The wonders of the modern world, hmm? Poor dear thought you were in trouble, when they answered they were so concerned. I think they really like you, Vidge.”

“But— we had our backs turned,” Vigilante protested, desperate. Karma grinned leaning down until he was crouched in front of Vigilante. Vigilante could do it, he could use Hero’s power and leave a hole of light burned through Karma’s chest but then he would hurt Hero too, and he wasn’t prepared to do that. Hero was innocent.

“It’s like a magician’s command,” Karma told him, eyes glinting with cruelty. “When I snap my fingers, you’ll sleep and when I snap them again, you will believe you are a chicken. All premeditated commands, I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Vigilante swallowed.

“Yup,” Karma hummed, tapping out the ashes of his cigarette. “It was worth it. A little planning never killed anyone, did it? Maybe if you thought of that you wouldn’t have tried to run and Hero would be blissfully unaware of having to hold you down, against your will while we chat. Didn’t I say I was going to punish you for that, too?”

Vigilante squirmed in Hero’s grip, pushing back away from Karma who tipped forward and pinched Vigilante’s cheeks in a bruising grip, yanking his face towards Karma.

Karma raised his cigarette and pushed the burning red eyed tip towards Vigilante’s eye. Vigilante’s eye watered immediately and he widened it so his eyelashes wouldn’t catch on the smouldering ember. He stiffened, struggles ceasing, his breath coming out in sharp, stuttered pants.

“Karma… d-don’t—”

“Don’t?” Karma asked, inclining his head. “Didn’t I tell you to behave? Didn’t I give you a chance to repent? To avoid this nastiness? And what did you do? Oh yeah, that’s right. You didn’t.”

Vigilante threw his weight back but Hero kept him locked in place and Karma kept his face close to the butt. Karma smiled. “But hey, I’m a forgiving sort of guy, so for now, I won’t burn your corneas out of your skull.”

Vigilante released a sigh too soon after Karma retracted the burning butt from his eye. It got swallowed into a scream when Karma forced the burning ember instead to the tip of Vigilante’s cheekbone and Vigilante thrashed, the cylinder sizzling against his skin, the hear burning his eyes as he tried to move back but Hero wouldn’t let him so Vigilante didn’t think. He just let the power in him flow.

Only it wasn’t Hero’s power he had.

It was Karma’s.

Vigilante hissed, barrelling back, tippling feet over head with Hero across the roof until they got Hero under them and forced them to look into Vigilante’s eyes. Hero went to punch them but Vigilante caught it, their cheek burning from the wind pulling at the wound and he half-shouted: “HERO WAKE UP! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

Hero tried to punch them with their free hand and that one caught Vigilante in the jaw. Shit! It wasn’t working and they could hear Karma’s footsteps getting closer and closer. Fuck! What was it! What was it?! What did he say?!

His eyes widened as they locked on Hero’s again. “I release you!”

Hero blinked up at Vigilante, melting under them, resistance leaving their limbs as they stared up at Vigilante.

“Vigilante? What’re you… oh, shit, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t— I couldn’t control it, I—” Hero reached their hand up to Vigilante’s face, their thumb ghosting over the burn, but not touching it. Tears sprung to their eyes. “Vidge, I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

A loud, slow clap sounded from the other side of the roof drawing the pair’s attention. Vigilante looked up to see Karma standing at the door to the exit of the roof.

“How touching,” Karma said, hand on his heart. “But I didn’t even show you my command for you Vigilante.”

Vigilante’s blood ran cold, not moving from where they were straddling Hero to the ground. “What?” A whisper more than a word.

Karma’s eyes glimmered even from the distance with a malevolent delight at Vigilante’s plight.

“You know, the one that makes you do whatever I say. The one that turns you into my perfect little murder machine, all those special skills, Vigilante, you are a terror.”

Vigilante’s eyelids fluttered, trying to comprehend what Karma was saying behind his words, trying to make out the threat he was making because there was always a threat.

“Vidge?”

Vigilante looked down at Hero, his heart breaking with a small oh leaving his lips. If he didn’t go with Karma, Karma would make him kill Hero.

Hero who answered the call because of him.

Hero who was concerned when they saw Vigilante’s name flash across their phone.

Hero who was innocent in this, just another one of Karma’s victims.

Something hollow took root inside Vigilante’s chest as he stared down at Hero. Something protective and so unselfish that it threatened to swallow him whole. He placed his hands on Hero’s cheeks, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I… I’m doing this because I—” no, that was too much, too much for a time like this, so Vigilante swallowed and started again. “I’m doing this to protect you, Hero,” he whispered.

Hero stared, not quite comprehending yet. Not until Vigilante leaned down a little more, a stray tear hitting Hero’s cheek.

“Don’t, don’t do this, don’t go with him,” Hero pleaded, grabbing Vigilante’s wrists. “I won’t— I won’t give up. I won’t stop looking for you.”

“I know,” Vigilante whispered, his bottom lip trembling. “Which is why I have to do this. Hero, you’re going to forget me. You’re not going to—” his breath hitched, “look for me or worry about me anymore.”

“Vigilante please,” Hero cried.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” He said, leaning down further, keeping Hero’s eyes in view, keeping them ensnared in his swirling gaze. Then he whispered: “you don’t know where the idea came from but you know that there is a villain out there with charm speak who is behind the suicides, someone from the wealthy side of town and you will find him and bring him to justice.”

Hero was stupefied beneath him as he retreated slightly. “And you’ll forget this too,” and Vigilante finally, for the first and possible last time ever, pressed his lips to Hero’s and wept as he pulled back, strangling his emotions into submission he rose from Hero’s body and walked towards Karma whose glittering eyes never left Vigilante.

“You made the right choice,” Karma said, patting Vigilante on the back. His breath reeked of smoke and cold, and Vigilante wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but he just walked past him and down the ladder before making his way back down to Karma’s stupid van, leaving the only person who he ever loved on the rooftop without any memory of him.

[faramirsonofgondor]

Any queer man in fiction can’t have a healthy relationship. All they know is pining, divorce, cause the apocalypse, wear silly costume, fight they homo boyfriend, trauma, be disastrous, eat hot chip & lie.

[puppppppppy]

this place is so fruity

[northsonic]

If the ship doesn’t have high obsession & ‘ high codependency.. do I even want it?

[inklessletter]

Polaroid #1 May 28th, 1987

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - S.H

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's

AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma

“Moooooom,”

You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.

Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.

“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.

You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.

︵୨୧︵

When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.

Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.

“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!” 

You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”

You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything. 

“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.

Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,

“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”

“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.

“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.

“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.

You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.

You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,” 

“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.

︵୨୧︵

In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,

“When can I sit up front with you?”

“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.

She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”

“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.

“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door. 

The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you. 

The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.

As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.

A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington�� and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.

As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.

The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”

“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.

This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.”  He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.

You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”

You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”

“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.

“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.

“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”

“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.

“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”

She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?

A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.

︵୨୧︵

Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.

Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.

This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.

︵୨୧︵

The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.

“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.

“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school

Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.

“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.

“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”

Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”

“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”

Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”

You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?

“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.

“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”

And with that, it’s over.

“Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”

You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.

Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.

“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.

“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.

He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.

“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.

“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.

He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”

Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.

“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.

She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.

“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.

“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.

You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.

“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”

“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.

“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.

“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.

“See ya, “ he waves. 

“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall. 

︵୨୧︵

In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.

“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.

You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name. 

You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.

“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.

“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.

You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.

“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.

“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”

“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”

“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.

“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.

“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.

“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.

But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.

Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.

When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–

“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.

Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.

“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”

Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”

She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.

“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”

Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”

She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.

“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”

“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.

“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.

He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”

Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.

“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”

“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”

“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.

“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.

“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.

“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”

You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.

“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.

The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.

As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.

He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?

taglist - @soulxiez

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

[aledethanlast]

For the last time Neil is not oblivious he's just so busy playing 5d chess with everyone he meets that the concept of regular chess baffles and bores him. Matt what do you mean I should hook up with a cheerleader can't you see I'm busy waging psychological warfare on a Frenchman.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╰┈➤ a/n: 2022 me would skin me alive if she ever found out im being vocal abt liking eddie munson

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@lokis-army-77

⭒ Cozy

Waking up the day after Eddie has fucked your brains out you have a little more fun.

⭒ Private Viewing

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple

⭒ Next Caller

Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.

⭒ You Look Lonely

Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.

@ceriseheaven

⭒ Cockwarming with older!Eddie (blurb)

@natti-ice

⭒ “Let me taste you” (blurb)

⭒ "B-baby please, I'm gonna-" (blurb)

@msgexymunson

⭒ Shotgun

You're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek? 

⭒ Benefits

Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

⭒ Soft Touches

you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

⭒ The Ink Shop

Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.  

@eddiethefreakkmunson

⭒ Not So Accidental Invitations

Tired of ignoring your ever growing attraction to your roommate Eddie you "accidentally" send him a partial nude, his reaction is everything you had hoped it would be and more...

@bimbobaggins69

⭒ Love in the Locker Room

you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

@luveline

⭒ Topaz, Lime, Ruby Red

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect.

⭒ Is It Getting Too Much?

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can).

⭒ If It Barks

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating.

part one | part two | part three | part four |

⭒ Was That So Hard?

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want?

⭒ Dark Matter

You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you.

⭒ Something Extra

You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you.

@usedtobecooler

⭒ Desperate!Eddie (blurb)

⭒ eddie "monstercock" munson

eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.

@munson-blurbs

⭒ Dark and Stormy

A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

@eiightysixbaby

⭒ Take A Dip?

eddie wants to get you in the water with him while you're alone at the community pool. he ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

@galaxy-siren

⭒ Biggest Fan

@lonelysatellites

⭒ Safe Hands

Sex has never been a pleasant experience for you. Selfish partners, anxiety, and pain have all ruined something that you should enjoy. You’re convinced there’s something wrong with you, but Eddie is determined to prove otherwise.

@eddiernunson

⭒ I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

⭒ The Splash of Rain on the Roof

you're best friends with Eddie Munson after moving to Hawkins, the new girl who ditches the cheerleaders for the Freaks. A year later, you've fallen head over heels for him, and you're convinced there's no way he has any interest in you. It finally seems confirmed when you find out (more or less) that he's into a fucking cheerleader. Your heart breaks.

@bbyhellfire

⭒ missionary with eddie (drabble)

eddie didn't care for missionary until he meets you

@oneforthemunny

⭒ Soft!Eddie (blurb)

@kiwi-bitchez

⭒ The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around.

@/gaybybirth on ao3

⭒ Double Feature

When you're forced to go to a double feature showing of the Halloween movies with your brother and his friends, you find yourself, like usual, interacting with Eddie Munson. But it doesn't take long for the platonic line to be blurred and things to heat up.

⭒ Show Me

You ask Eddie to show you what you've been missing out on after he discovers your boyfriend never went down on you.

@eds6ngel

⭒ Romantic!Eddie blurb

@gxtitobxby

⭒ The Princess and the Freak | Part 2

“I can’t help but dream of his head between my thighs, how his hair would feel against my—”

@/mediocredreams on ao3

⭒ Extra Credit

Your professor offers you a very personal in-home tutoring session.

@/ghostproofbaby on ao3

⭒ Twenty Four Hours

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

(Y'ALL MUST READ IT ISTG ITS SO GOOD)

@/decembersfinest on ao3

⭒ Living After Midnight

Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

@littlexdeaths

⭒ Band Practice

when band practice doesn’t go as planned…

@eddiexmunsonlover

⭒ One Step Away From You

You move back to Hawkins after 3 years away to finish out your senior year. Can you salvage the friendship you once had with your ex best friend, Eddie? Will you be able to push down your deeper feelings for him, or will it all come bubbling out in disaster?

@/nerdsarehot on ao3

⭒ A Kiss to Remember

⭒ Flustered

@/GreyPetticoats on ao3

⭒ Wing Man

Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wingman for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

@eddiesghxst

⭒ Riding Eddie drabble

@eddiemunchem

⭒ that puppy dog typa love

eddie is fiercely loyal, doting, and affectionate — when he’s enamored, you’re everything; his whole world. so just don’t mind the fact that he clings to you like a sloth to a tree, yeah?

[finstanner]

[keeryhours]

Wildflower Masterlist

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Summary

Eddie left Hawkins, Indiana behind to chase after his dreams - forcing him to say goodbye to his first love and all their friends. But unbeknownst to Eddie, she kept a huge secret from him.

Now, 2 years later, Corroded Coffin is coming back to Hawkins for the first time.

Warnings

Rockstar!Eddie, dad!Eddie, ex!reader, mom!reader, best friend!Steve. Language, smut, pregnancy, secret baby, love triangle, alcohol use, drug use, angst, check chapter warnings for specifics!

A/N

Reader is Dustin’s sister, so I imagine her with brown curly hair. I’ve left most things to your imagination :)

Current total word count - 22.4k

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

Chapter One

Chapter Two ❤️‍🔥

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six ❤️‍🔥

Chapter Seven

[chaotic-orphan]

hello! i love "the stranger" so much and was wondering if you're planning to continue it?

The Stranger (4)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Hellooooo yes! Absolutely! The first half was in my drafts from febuwhump so this has been worked on in the last few months so wooooo! I forgot about this and the heretic series but now I’m like oh hon hon hon anyway, enjoy!!!!

*~*~*~*~*

“There,” said the Mayor to Hero as he walked into his office. “We did everything you asked, look, even the rug is gone to be dry cleaned. So do you wanna tell me why we had to go through this big song and dance for you, Princess?”

Hero blinked, staring out the Mayor’s window into the street below, back turned to the Mayor. “You didn’t do it for me,” they said, eyes fixing on the sky, blue cast in streaks of orange and reds.

“Then who did I do it for? Myself?” Mayor asked with a scoff. “Jesus fucking Christ. You heroes and your drama. I need a drink. You want one? Whiskey okay?”

“I’m still on the clock, sir.”

“Me too, which means we’re getting paid to drink. Isn’t that wonderful? I love politics.”

Hero rolled their eyes. “I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Mayor said as he crossed his office to a small table in the corner where his decanter of whiskey sat waiting beside two crystal clean glasses. Mayor lifted the stopper with a soft clink as he poured two fingers of the honey coloured liquid. “So how did you know that showing the kid his shadowed brains was going to work?”

Hero turned to face Mayor slowly, and shrugged. “I hoped.”

Mayor let out a bark of laughter, brown eyes meeting Hero’s. “You hoped? Come on. You gotta do better than that, Hero.”

Hero pinched their lips together looking for a better answer to give to Mayor, but honestly? Hero just hoped it would be enough to stop the compulsion or whatever was done to the boy.

Mayor nodded his head to the two leather arm chairs to the right of the window and Hero obliged his request, settling into the one opposite Mayor.

“I think because he said he had to blow his brains out in front of you,” Hero continued, brown furrowing as their thoughts processed. “It’s not a clear objective. How would they know if their brains were splattered all over your wall if they couldn’t see it for themselves?”

Mayor nodded, swirling the liquid in his glass as Hero spoke. He was far better than the last Mayor the city had, Hero thought, observing him then. He wasn’t an idiot, he was shrewd and smart. He saw things from a different perspective but you didn’t have to spell everything out for him. He could put two and two together just fine.

“So you acted on instinct, then?”

“Yes sir.”

Mayor chuckled to himself, bringing the glass to his lips. “I should give you a medal,” he said before taking a sip.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Hero lightly. “Besides, that kid’s death wasn’t what the intended murderer wanted.”

Mayor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, I was thinking the same thing.”

“If they wanted to send you a message, or me for that matter,” said Hero, eyes darkening. “Then they could be more organised than I initially imagined.”

It was Mayor’s turn to study Hero’s face as they fell into a silence. After a beat Mayor said: “you think it has something to do with your missing Vigilante?”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t,” Hero replied.

“You and your hope.”

Hero shook their head. “Honestly Mayor, sometimes it’s all I got.”

“Well that’s your job, ain’t it? Be the symbol of hope, be an inspiration. You leave the realistic side of things in the city to me, Hero, and I’ll make sure you won’t be impeded while you hunt this fucking Villain down and make him pay.”

Hero’s eyes met Mayor’s which burned like hot coals, simmering with a dark rage. Hero swallowed and nodded.

“Yes sir,” Hero said and got to their feet. They were at the door, a hand on the handle when Mayor stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh, and Hero? Don’t let the suicide kid out of custody until you find this new Villain. It’s best if we let them presume he’s dead.”

“Yes sir.”

Hero left the Mayor’s office and stepped outside city hall with a feeling of dread curling around their stomach. Vigilante should have told them about the Mayor’s kid. They should have contacted Hero, so why— there was something scratching lightly at the back of Hero’s mind, infuriating and annoying. As if every time they tried to look into the one place they couldn’t, their mind shifted their attention away from it, onto something else.

Hero should contact them. Hero did just that on the way out of city hall. They typed a quick message to Vigilante: meet me tonight? Then pocketed their phone. If Vigilante was okay they would see it, and if they weren’t… well. Hero didn’t really want to think about that.

*~*~*~*~*

Vigilante was stuck in the house when Karma was gone. They didn’t know where Karma went, but they do know that Karma had commanded them not to leave.

“Don’t try and hurt yourself. Don’t kill yourself. Don’t harm yourself or the house in anyway. You are not allowed to put your shoes on, socks are fine. The rest of your time, well,” Karma said with a horrible smile. “You can do what you please otherwise.”

When Karma left, the first thing Vigilante tried to do was leave the house. They swung open the front door and tried to step through but found they couldn’t, as if an invisible barrier was surrounding the doorframe. Vigilante threw themselves against it, over and over and over again, waiting for it to slip and crack, maybe even wear it down. Even after Vigilante had tired themselves out the barrier remained.

Vigilante turned away with a huff, cursing Karma. Their eyes strayed to the window and Vigilante crossed the distance in seconds, unlatching it and shoving the window open. Vigilante stuck their hand out, but the same invisible barrier was there, preventing Vigilante from leaving.

“Fuck!”

They couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave! Which meant that when Karma came home Vigilante would still be in his fucking house, with no fucking shoes on and no chance to run or flee, or get help.

They were powerless, completely and utterly powerless. Who the hell could even think to win against someone with Karma’s power? What couldn’t he do? The fire boy’s face crept its way into Vigilante’s mind and they wanted to scream.

They wished Hero was here, even if Vigilante had been avoiding them recently. Even Hero was powerless against Karma’s commands. That dead look in Hero’s eyes haunted them. If Vigilante hadn’t been interesting enough then Hero and Vigilante would be dead that night on the roof.

Wait… Hero.

Karma didn’t say Vigilante couldn’t contact anyone outside the house. They didn’t say anything about calling the Hero agency, or— or Hero. Vigilante ran to the door, more specifically the table beside the door and searched for post for Karma’s address.

Nothing.

Vigilante frowned. Okay. That was fine. They just needed to do a little exploring to find Karma’s secrets. Except Karma’s house was huge, like old money huge. More like an estate than a house, with expensive looking dark wooden floors and marble countertops. In front of Vigilante was exposed brickwork that was somehow still insulated to keep in the heat.

Vigilante remembered exposed brickwork from their childhood home, how cold it had been. The damp set in towards the end of Autumn in the rain and Vigilante would be wrapped in layers trying to keep warm as the draught chilled their blood. Yet here, in Karma’s fucking house of all places, exposed brickwork was nothing more than a decorative piece. A “rustic” display.

It made something jealous and violent flare Vigilante’s chest hot, and they turned away from it before they would try to damage the wall. They should take advantage of Karma being gone. Try and find out as much about the Villain as they could so that when they escaped they could tell Hero everything.

Vigilante’s stomach tied itself into a knot at the thought of Hero. Of all the Heroes that could have been in city hall why did it have to be Hero? Vigilante’s Hero. Vigilante should have stopped Karma before he ordered that fire boy to die… God, Vigilante didn’t even know his name and Hero had to see— witness that boy…

Vigilante swallowed and shook the thought from their head. No. They couldn’t think like that. They had to do what they could right now, which was search for any information on Karma. Everything else would have to wait.

The first order of business was to find an office of some sort, or a study, or a… something else that Karma would try and hide from Vigilante. Their best bet was working from top to bottom, and that was what found Vigilante in Karma’s attic. They stood at the top of the ladder, the musty scent of boxes and storage and insulation greeting them with an uncomfortable warmth.

Okay. Nothing there.

Room one complete.

Vigilante let the ladder up and searched the rooms on the top floor. Mostly bedrooms, except for the two bathrooms. Vigilante stood in the door of Karma’s room not really wanting to enter it. Karma… there was something wrong with him, something inhuman. Vigilante grew up in the dregs where the scum of society supposedly lived; crime rates? high. Poverty? high. Death rates? high. The place where monsters were made, or so the stories went.

For Vigilante, the dregs were home. The wrong side of the city is where they grew up, and they didn’t feel unsafe walking the streets because they’re the people Vigilante grew up with, went to school with, worked with.

But looking at Karma’s room in his big, fancy house and his many guest bedrooms and all his wealth— Vigilante couldn’t help but scoff.

The good people of the city were so afraid of the scruffy riff-raff of the dregs, that they didn’t even glance at their neighbours and see the malice that hid within their own neighbourhood.

Of course, the good part of town also made people like Hero, Vigilante had to remind themselves. They’re not all Karma’s… but the fact that he was from the good tracks, the nice part of the town versus the discrimination Vigilante faced when growing up.

The irony was laughable.

Something horrible curled in Vigilante’s gut that they tried and successfully in ignoring as they rifled through Karma’s chest of drawers. That maybe Hero and Karma knew each other once… maybe they went to the same school, walked by the same neighbourhood, knew someone who knew someone who knew each other.

Vigilante forced the thought to the back of their mind as they stormed out of Karma’s room, nothing of interest lying there and slamming his stupid door closed. They didn’t even stop to let themselves think, instead they kept moving. They just had to keep moving, keep moving forward.

It’s not like Vigilante knew everyone from the dregs anyways, so it was a ridiculous thought to begin with.

The only thing that pulled Vigilante from their thoughts was when they pressed down on a handle and found resistance. The handle didn’t budge. Vigilante’s eyes squared in on it. Jackpot.

Vigilante tried again to find the same result.

Okay. Great. They should check the other rooms before coming back to it, just to make sure.

Living room, dining room, kitchen, foyer, hall, pantry, toilet, utility room.

Back to the locked door. It was in the middle of the foyer, and the walls around it were thin, maybe a narrow room like a closet? Or a stairway… maybe a basement? If Vigilante put a hammer through the wall technically they would still be in the house. Or if they somehow broke the handle off the door?

That seemed like the better option. They needed something heavy. Vigilante found a trophy from some golf tournament because of course the bastard, or one of his fucking affluent family members, plays golf.

Vigilante slammed the trophy down on the handle but stopped an inch above. Their hand trembling like before as their arm locked and Vigilante cursed, and tried again.

“No! No! Come on! Just fucking—” they cried, bringing their hand up and slamming it down again and again. “You fucking— shit!”

Vigilante stepped back, panting as they glared down at the door and the statue in their hand. A sudden, angry impulse took over and they pivoted, throwing the statue down the hall and towards a window.

Or they would have.

If their hand wasn’t glued to the fucking thing— because Vigilante wasn’t allowed to harm themselves or the house in anyway.

Vigilante put the trophy back where it was and walked to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and letting out a sigh as they ran their hands through their hair. They needed a coffee and to calm down. They couldn’t do anything else. They could find out whatever was in that room was later.

While they had peace, Vigilante made a cup of coffee that smelled so good and sat down in Karma’s stupidly comfortable couch and turned on the TV. Hero’s face flashed on the screen, a picture of them as the news anchor spoke about the attack on city hall but it still broke Vigilante’s heart. The screen flashed to the Mayor’s address again and Vigilante switched the channel with a huff.

An episode of Big Bang theory later and Vigilante stiffened. They heard a car pulling into the driveway and then the sound of an engine switching off. Door closing. Vigilante could feel their pulse rising a little, but their breath was steady so they were thankful for that.

A key slide into the lock and clicked open, then footsteps and Karma was home. Vigilante didn’t turn to look at him, they just kept staring ahead, taking care not to flinch as Karma’s steps drew closer and closer until he was right behind them.

“You know, most dogs will greet their owner as they walk through the door,” Karma said with his stupid, smug drawl.

Vigilante scoffed. “I’m not a dog.”

“Oh yeah?” Karma asked, leaning down over the couch and placing his hand on Vigilante’s head. Vigilante to their credit didn’t flinch and they wanted to celebrate that fact, until Karma said: “bark.”

The noise escaped Vigilante’s mouth before they could comprehend the command and they felt the red blush crawl from their gut all the way up their neck and to their face, burning hot.

“See? Good doggie,” Karma mocked, petting Vigilante’s hair. Vigilante pushed his hand off of them with a huff, crossing their arms over their chest. “Oh relax, Vigilante. I’m just messing with you.”

Karma didn’t command them to relax, so Vigilante could remain as stressed as they liked. Karma walked around the couch and sat down on one of the seats, nodding at the TV. Vigilante didn’t dare take their eyes off Karma now.

“Big bang theory? Didn’t know you were a nerd, Achilles.”

“Nothing else on.”

“Hmm, and you didn’t wreck the house so that’s a plus,” Karma said looking around. His eyes stopped on Vigilante’s mug on the coffee table, and he leaned forward and picked it up. He slid a coaster underneath and put the mug back down. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Vigilante didn’t answer. They stubbornly stared at the TV, tracking Karma’s movements from the corner of their eye. “Did you kill anyone today?”

Karma laughed. “No,” he said, relaxing back into the couch cushions. “I told you I wouldn’t do that without you anymore, didn’t I?”

Vigilante’s head whipped to the side in anger, eyes blazing. “You can’t—”

Karma turned his head, a smirk on his face and his cold dead eyes froze Vigilante’s protest mid sentence. He tilted his head to the side, his smirk widening.

“What? I can’t do that? I can’t make you watch? I can’t do whatever I want?”

Vigilante’s lips curled back into a snarl. “You won’t get away with it, not after your stunt in city hall.”

“You forget that I wanted what happened in city hall, to happen, Vigilante, so it did. The only reason I don’t know your civilian identity is because I let you keep your mask. You think you’d be so brave without it, hmm?”

The threat struck a chord in Vigilante’s chest that wound up tight. They kept their glare on Karma though because they had nothing to retort.

“Oh, don’t believe me? Vigilante, take off—”

“Wait!” Vigilante cried, stretching a hand out as if that would stop Karma in his tracks. To their surprise it did. Karma stopped the command, but his eyes glittered with that knowing malice. Vigilante huffed out a breath and looked away.

“See? You really want to waste your breath with threats and insults and defiance, when you know you can’t win against me?”

I can’t win, Vigilante didn’t say, but Hero can.

“It’s cute, honestly. You have that can-do hero attitude. It’s why you’re sitting on my couch in the first place if you remember, for foiling my plans of putting the saving the mayor’s kid in the hospital—”

Vigilante’s eyes narrowed. “You were trying to kill him. Don’t give me that bullsh—!”

“— but,” Karma said pointedly, cutting off Vigilante and effectively shutting them up. His eyes glowered dangerously at them. Every place they roamed over Vigilante’s face felt as if there were maggots crawling beneath it. “It would serve you well to remember: not to piss me off.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?” Vigilante hissed. They were so sick of being afraid of this fucking bastard. They wanted so badly just once to wipe his stupid smirk off his face.

Karma reclined back further into the couch, pursing his lips. “You know, Vigilante, the thing about dogs is that if you give them too much freedom they forget their place. Dogs shouldn’t be allowed on the furniture.”

Vigilante stood. “Suits me better anyways.”

“Kneel.”

Vigilante blinked and their knees had already hit the floor. They raised their head and stared up into Karma’s eyes, moving to get to their feet again when Karma spoke.

“Ah-ah, stay.”

Vigilante swallowed the whine that wanted to crawl up their throat, settling all their energy into their glare instead.

“See? Much better, now you know your place.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, you don’t know nothing yet, Vigilante. In fact,” Karma said, eyes twinkling with cruelty as he leaned forward on the couch. “I have a little trip planned for us tonight.”

Vigilante’s heart pressed against their ribs, as if it had just turned to lead and threatened to break free from their chest.

An outing planned? That meant that… someone was going to die and Vigilante would have to sit by and watch again and not be able to do anything to stop Karma again.

“No—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Karma chided lightly, lifting his index finger and wagging it side to side as he tutted. “It’s a nice surprise. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t want—”

“Shut up,” Karma commanded as he reached his arm back to fiddle for something in his jacket pocket. Vigilante could only stare mutely as Karma pulled out Vigilante’s own phone. He tapped the screen and then turned it to face Vigilante but he didn’t even have to.

Vigilante already knew.

The realisation settling like stones in the sea the moment Vigilante saw their phone.

Hero.

Vigilante’s bottom lip trembled, but they fought it back, biting it to stop it from quivering as they read the short message.

Meet me tonight?

Just three words, three simple words. Meeting Hero was how Vigilante was here in the first place and now Karma was going to force them to do something awful, something… well, Vigilante didn’t even want to think about it.

“Aww, puppy? You’re not happy? Your friend wants a play date.”

Vigilante shook their head, it was the only thing they could do. Karma’s smile turned cruel as he forced his lips into a mocking pout. “No? Well, I guess I’ll just go see them alone then.”

Vigilante’s hand shot out grabbing Karma’s wrist before he could turn away and shooting him a look that Vigilante hoped meant business. Karma grinned down at Vigilante, a flash of his teeth sent shivers down Vigilante’s spine but they didn’t relent.

“No? I guess it’s a date then. I’ll let Hero know.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[steddielations]

Incorrect Steddie that’s actually correct

Insp

[supernovafics]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do 

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full ���lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness. 

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility. 

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement. 

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin. 

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.” 

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips. 

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?” 

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all. 

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.” 

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.” 

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized. 

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year. 

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she. 

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house. 

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.” 

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.” 

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.” 

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair. 

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.” 

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.” 

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.” 

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”  

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.” 

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was. 

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?” 

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him. 

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.” 

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment. 

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be. 

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.” 

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again. 

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.” 

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.  

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning. 

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed. 

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.” 

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head. 

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”  

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.” 

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.” 

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.  

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had. 

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room. 

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[starmanleo]

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

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