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withacapitalp · 2 years

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this got so long i'm sorry lol. that post about jonathan hurting steve just reminds me of my number one issue w steve and jonathan/nancy becoming closer which is that the onus is almost always placed on steve to make amends and take that first step w/little to no emphasis on that effort being reciprocated. like, steve apologizes to jonathan for everything in s1 (as he should) and saves his life twice. whether or not you think jonathan should apologize for how intense the fight got is up for debate (i would just like acknowledgement of how seriously he did/almost did hurt steve) but steve def deserves an apology for 1)the photos (which he never got - obv he broke the camera but then he also bought jonathan a new one all w no actual apology to steve on jonathan's part, it wasn't only nancy's privacy he invaded) 2) the fact that he slept w nancy knowing she and steve were still together (which he literally verbally acknowledges when nancy says she waited for him or w/e). that second one obv also goes for nancy bc she also doesn't apologize to steve for leading him on for a year while having feelings for someone else then cheating on him. this isn't me saying jancy are terrible ppl and entirely unsympathetic (nancy is obv v traumatized and struggling w barb's death tho this does not excuse the way she treated steve) but they both did some fucked up shit to steve that ppl rarely make them acknowledge or even feel bad for, which creates a v unbalanced dynamic imo.

Oh boy this did get long!!

So this might just be curating different fandom experiences, but I don't personally see a ton of Steve being the one who has to make amends in fandom or Jonathan and Nancy not having introspection on their pasts. In canon I totally see that though, and it's a lot. Like I think they're all just really human, which I love. They fuck up, and they mistrust, and they have to learn and grow into being close. It isn't automatic.

I think like.......here's my thought process. Apologies are nice. Apologies are good. The right thing to do is always to apologize if you feel like you've wronged someone.

But I also think Steve wouldn't accept it.

Okay I'm putting the rest under a read more because I'm going on a little meta rant on Steve Jonathan Nancy and why apologies are a complicated thing for them and ultimately not what any of them really need.

First Steve because he's my blorbo. Steve is a really interesting character. He has this veneer of extreme self confidence that hides a really soft core of a person that ultimately experiences a significant amount of rejection. He has this brittle exterior that's bitchy and snarky and gives as good as it gets, but things touch him in a deeper way that I think is easy for a lot of people to ignore. I could totally see Jonathan awkwardly trying to bring things up to maybe try and apologize only for Steve to be like nah man we're fine! It didn't work out no biggie, I'm aok, you guys work together and we didn't.

Steve is constantly searching for validation and love (Implied because his parents are neglectful or at the very least have an extremely bad marriage that would be enough to add layers to anything) I think that the bullshit conversation really impacted Steve in a significant way, but if he shared that, then he's leaving himself vulnerable to getting hurt again, so he would do everything in his power to truly make everyone think he's okay, even potentially making himself think he's okay too, when deep down he isn't.

I alsoooo don't really think that Nancy or Jonathan necessarily feel bad. If Steve is pushing so hard to say he isn't hurt, then eventually I could see them not thinking too hard on it. Jonathan because in canon they aren't really friends obviously (Which is a goddamn travesty by the way I wrote an entire series of fics because I hated that they weren't friends) and Nancy because Nancy is an extremely self focused person.

Not selfish. I think it's important to make the distinction between selfish and self-focused. I don't think she's intentionally doing things to hurt the people around her for her own gain, but she thinks about how things effect her and how things impact her first and foremost. Not even just with Steve, but with everyone. A good example of this is in season three when she cost Jonathan his job too with her sleuthing. Her boyfriend who is in a very bad financial situation at home and could have really used a job that actually pertained to his interests and might have lead to future relationships in his industry. She didn't feel bad about that, she was too focused on the injustice to her. Even something as simple as never knocking when he's in the dark room and ruining his pictures over and over.

She just doesn't think about other people, which makes sense! She's a teenager, she's a privileged person, and she's smart as all hell. She gets extremely focused on doing the 'right' thing (according to her rules and her mind because she knows she's smart and thinks she's the smartest in the room always) and she misses doing the best thing a lot of the time.

For Steve, someone who is clearly extremely not self focused-which is also not a great way to be because extremes never are- and Jonathan- Someone who has been forced to put his family first his entire life- that is always going to be a point of conflict in her relationships with them.

But I don't know if we've ever seen Nancy give a genuine apology in the show, and I honestly doubt we ever would. It's not in her character really. But! Regardless of all of that, apology isn't really the end goal. Saying your sorry shouldn't be the end of something. I would much rather see Nancy Steve and Jonathan grow into people with more empathy and ability to own up to their shit/call people out on their stuff in the future rather than rehashing their past again. Unfortunately I have a feeling season five is gonna be a lot of rehashing lmaoooo

#I actually have a WIP #That I was writing a lonnnnng ass time ago #with Nancy trying to apologize to Steve #not realizing she's kind of forcing him to hear her apology because she wants his forgiveness #not because she genuinely has remorse and wants to voice that #and Steve makes her stop apologizing to him by just saying okay I forgive you is that what you need to hear #and then she has a little oh fuck okay I really need to think on myself a bit moment #Steve harrington #Nancy wheeler #Jonathan byers #stoncy love triangle #character meta #st #stranger things #stranger things meta #anon #anonymous #ask #Liam speaks up

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astarionbae · 1 year

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JKR is anti trans and is anti Semitic while we're discussing your dumb banner. I'd be more worried about that than anything else.

You're gross and dumb. Also it's been pointed out to me you whitewashed an OC because you couldn't find any content to your taste apparently.

Nancy is 15-16 when she sleeps with and dates Steve who is 17-18. I'm not sure why you are suddenly clutching your pearls about two teens dating. If it was a twenty year old dating Will, no that's straight up fucked up. I'm pretty sure you and your besties have age gaps that are more outrageous than two teens dating.

Changing sexualities is wrong. It's not one rule for the gays and one rule for the straights. It's one thing thinking something, another ramming it down a person throat like y'all tend to do

Literally why are you speaking for @endless-oc-creations anyways. They can tie their own shoelaces.

Also stop trying to stir trouble for Maddie all the time. Move on.

So you're saying I'm Anti Jewish and Anti Trans just because I like Wizarding World of Harry Potter?? Just because you like something that was made from an ass of a person doesn't mean you agree with their opinions.

It's a stupid, pathetic double standard just to make people feel shitty about themselves.

"whitewashed an oc" : Excuse me while I laugh. Also try new material sometime instead of repeating previous anons like a broken record, hunty.

It's cute you thought I shipped Stancy. I'm a Jancy shipper through and through. While we're on the subject, I also ship Jonathan x Steve. And not that I care, but Nancy was only one year younger than Steve, not four. Also if you knew anything about the Ben Hopper OC, you'd know that he watched Will grow up from a child. That's literally his little brother.

Would you date someone that you watched and helped to grow up from the age of three?? I bet you do. Probably all for that power dynamic. Must get your rocks off.

"Changing sexualities is wrong / ramming it down a person's throat" : WHOSE MAKING YOU READ A BI STEVE FIC? WHOSE MAKING YOU ACTIVELY ENGAGE IN A BI STEVE DISCOURSE? You are literally bringing this onto yourself by participating in the conversation. Just fuckin leave! You have the power of block. And you call me dumb, pft.

And yes, Mimi can tie her shoelaces, have been able to since she was five. Can you tie your shoelaces? Or do you still wear velcro?

Stop trying to stir trouble for Maddie? Ah, there it is. The real reason behind this debate. I haven't even stirred trouble, they do that themselves. When you fuck around, you find out.

#anon bullshit #the level of stupidity is strong with this one #go little anon go

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boydykedoctor · 3 years

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For the character ask: Max?

Why I like them

max was definitely a breath of fresh air in S2 because even with wonderful characters like joyce, nancy, and jane, ST can still feel like a boys’ club sometimes. she fulfills the tomboy archetype that is often done really poorly (i’m not like other girls) and she does it in such a satisfying way. it makes younger me’s heart full. narratively, she’s awesome because she’s this loner kid who, like, eventually persistently sticks with the weirdos bc they were nice to her one time and she even stands up to billy because he was threatening her new weird friends!!! i <3 her

Why I don’t

this actually isn’t her fault at all but at a writing level i didn’t vibe with the way lumax was fighting in season 3 (which anybody who’s read my fic Shrike might be surprised to hear; this is why I rationalize it in-story). i’m not a big fan of the bumbling bf/gf who’s always right trope (which also happened with! jancy! and mileven! why!!!) bc it honestly feels lowkey misogynistic in ways that i can’t explain without a 10 page essay. and lucas is smart! and he knows that being honest with max is what works best bc that’s what he eventually did in S2, so where did “boyfriends lie all the time” come from?? if there was anyone who got as shortchanged as much as will did in S3 it was lucas.

again, none of that is max’s fault. she’s wonderful.

Favorite episode

S2E9 “The Gate,” which is where she 1.) stands up to billy, stabs a needle in his neck, threatens him with The Bat and 2.) drives a fucking car. I can’t drive a fucking car. she’s like 2 years old here and she’s driving a fucking car. i can’t get over it. she’s so cool.

Favorite season

hahaaaaaa this is hard but I do think I prefer max in season 2 because she was so new and it was so exciting. she’s also just allowed to look less femme in the fall for some reason and I can’t wait to get back to that (even tho I love her summer look too).

Favorite line

when lucas tells her about the upside down in S2 she literally says "I just felt it was a little derivative in parts. I just wish it had a little more originality, that’s all." which is HILARIOUS metanarratively bc it’s like half of stranger things criticism and also just. the bitchiest line. I love when the kids are allowed to be bitchy.

Favorite outfit

her rainbow shirt + high-waisted belted denim shorts look from S3 is genuinely my favorite look of anyone in the entire show

OTP - torn between lumax and elmax. don’t think I’ll ever not be torn on that.

Brotp - elmax 100%

Headcanon - let me direct you to my max + rc cola conspiracy

Unpopular opinion

probably what I shared earlier in the “why I don’t” section applies here.

A wish

all I want for everyone in this show is for them to be queer

since she started out as a skeptic, and even keeps a few of those tendencies in S3 (specifically when she doesn’t want to believe that billy is flayed) I think it would be cool to see her leading the charge a little more. i liked watching max and jane put together the pieces about billy and heather in S3, so more of that—especially her striking up a platonic dynamic with dustin that we haven’t gotten to see yet, would be!!!! probably really cool!!!!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

i’m terrified they’re going to bring back her love triangle again. like genuinely terrified.

5 words to best describe them (this is my least favorite prompt. try thinking of 5 words for your favorite characters)

badass, adorable, sarcastic, confident, vibrant

My nickname for them

again who are these ppl that are giving fictional characters nicknames aside from canon nicknames??

#max mayfield #stranger things #my txt #ask

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leslie057 · 3 years

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Bonk. BUT, I'd love the do the same for you if it's ok. :)

my favorite fic of yours: i’ve decided on caution! (though cherry is a close second. god and @the-futures-not-ours. it was a hard choice.) i really like fics about jonathan/nancy that don’t necessarily have their pov. and you write joyce s o o o well. all the flashbacks with how she grew up. her perception of the wheelers. a wariness of nancy. i like how torn she is. like when jonathan leaves the note before sesser, and she doesn’t know whether or not she should wish he had stayed to help her. you know these characters, explore them, bring out facets of them i didn’t see (would have never seen) alone. i guess that’s what all fic does, since we all have a distinct perspective, but yours stands out. in this one there are also just some cute/memorable scenes throughout that i love. joyce accidentally (not accidentally) spying on jancy over the clothesline. the “t-shirt sporting a naked male torso that he most definitely didn’t purchase in Hawkins” that she tells him not to wear at school. it’s 12k words of inimitable byers goodness and feels like it shouldn’t be free. feels like i should have paid $12.99 for just a paperback copy of it or something.

my favorite thing about you as a writer: well there’s a lot of favorite things. you have a very unique style (good unique). your writing is...for lack of a more precise word, real. like it feels real. and (i said this before) your characterization is really good. you add to them, bring out new sides of them, but at the same time it doesn’t seem like “new” information at all—it’s perfectly true to that character, and somehow i already knew it about them. i’m not making sense, am i? honestly i can’t describe your writing without it sounding like a chocolate bar. but actually it’s rich and indulgent!! the feelings, the references, metaphors and dialogue. it’s also ambient, kind of feels like you’re in the scenes. well not in them but. ok i’m moving on now because i got through this without saying “nuanced.” (i think the reason this answer is so incoherent is because when i like things a lot my discussions of them can ironically fall flat. im so sorry lmao.)

my favorite scene you’ve written: ooh i know this one! from idiots in... “‘when i thought about it, it made sense. that what you were telling me with your actions if not with actual words made sense. you know i’m crazy about you, and i thought you deserved to be…courted.’ he said he’s crazy about me. ‘courted?’ she can’t help it, she laughs. ‘you’ve been watching too much little house on the prairie, jonathan. i want to have sex. with you.’” it’s just funnyyyy. not sure why it sticks in my brain but it does, and it’s cute.

*as for the second part of this ask, my answer is a quiet yes but don’t go too far back on my ao3 because some i wrote when i was like 18 or 19 and its baaad. i’m not in love with anything i’ve written now, but i definitely dislike the older ones. they’re unfinished and boring.

Leave a ✐ in my inbox, and i’ll tell you...

#jancy #nyctanthes-arbor-tristis #ask #jancy fic #*fic #*ask #stranger things

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share-the-damn-bed · 4 years

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hey!! do you know of any older!jancy fics and have any recommendations? thank you x

Yes, but there are unfortunately very few (especially if you don’t count college age as older, which I don’t). The world NEEDS more older!Jancy fic. Fic writers, I’m begging you.

Anyways, here’s a list of some wonderful post-college age older!Jancy fics. If I have missed any, please feel free to reblog and add them or message me so I can. I’m listing all the ones I can remember but I’m bound to miss a few gems because A03′s filtering system is not ideal.

So in no particular order:

Winter Violets in the Spring by Langolier

I’ve discussed this fic before, and even made a gif set based off of it, and it is my default Jancy fic recommendation. It’s also an older!Jancy fic (where they reconnect when they’re older) and it is just fabulous

Where We Go from Here by LeantheBean

This interesting and amazing two-part series of faux profiles on Nancy and Jonathan reflects back on their professional lives and future together.Saturday Profile: Nancy Wheeler, America’s Investigative JournalistDirector on the Rise Brings Hometown Horror to Sundance

Next Apocalypse by VerityR

Written between S1 and S2 but wonderfully explores Nancy and Jonathan connecting and reconnecting throughout the years (canon divergent)

Butterfly Song by VerityR

Graphic smut warning! But this is an wonderfully angsty older!Jancy AU where Nancy and Steve are married but Nancy and Jonathan still see each other.

Not that Girl by Arctic_comet

Smut warning! Very interesting future fic where Jonathan and Nancy reconnect in the 90′s.

don't dream it's over by fakelight

An older!Jancy fake dating AU. Need I say more?

It’s been a whirlwind by Jancys_Blue_Bayou

Vietnam War 1960s AU where Nancy and Jonathan reconnect as journalists during the war and do some badass stuff.

Serious Moonlight by JackEPeace

Jancy is not too old in this but I would still consider it older!Jancy. Regardless, this an excellent crime reporter AU.

Infinitive by stoprobbers

Okay, you could still consider this college-age Jancy but it’s so good and I highly recommend this fic and the larger Future Perfect series (which may eventually have a new installment when they’re older? Please, @stoprobbers?)

A Time To Come (Part I) by MsMrs

Granted, this is a Will Byers centric fic but it has a lot of older!Jancy in it and is just a wonderful future Hopper-Byers family fic that I highly recommend.

Unfinished fics but I would still recommend reading:

To Wish Impossible Things by VerityR

Future Fic that bounces back and forth between Jancy and college and Jancy reconnecting with a little bit of angst thrown in. Hasn’t been updated in over a year but I am hopeful that it will be continued one day. Regardless, still worth the read!

All These Things That We’ve Done by starsandboulevards

smut warning! Jonathan and Nancy reconnecting during the summer after Nancy graduates college (canon divergent). Though unfinished, this fic lays out an interesting mystery and is worth the ready (especially if you like angsty pining)

#jancy #fic recs #older jancy is the best and I would love to read more of it #also i know i'm missing some and it's bugging me #please share your favorites with me!#if the formatting is weird... I'm sorry #tumblr hates me right now aparently #thanks for the ask!!!! this made me rediscover a bunch of fic #edit: recommended the wrong fakelight fic #they both start with 'don't' and they're both amazing

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jancys-blue-bayou · 5 years

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Goin’ back some day (Jancy, ficlet)

I didn’t have anything planned for day 2 of Jancy fic week, struggled to come up with a take on ‘Mixtapes’ I hadn’t already done but then this came to me now. Wrote it all in one go so hope it’s okay.

Also on Ao3 and FFNet!

What is he doing? He’s insane to be driving all the way to Sesser for this. But this has to be done and he has no other way of doing it. But he is insane.

”Jonathan Byers, quite the surprise. Where’s your better half?” Murray greets him with his smug look after he’s finally opened the ridiculously reinforced door after forcing him through the whole charade of looking into the security camera.

”She’s at home. I… need your help.”

”Ah, more lovers quarrel? Granted I understand you coming to me since I solved it for you the last time, you’re welcome by the way, but I really have neither the time nor the interest to act as love guru to a couple of teens.”

”There’s no quarrel! I don’t need your help with that, it’s something else.”

”Ah, well come in then.”

Murray’s bunker looks just like it did the last time. He glances over to the couch where three months ago they sat and drank watered down vodka while smooth jazz played in the background and Murray brought up a lot of things to the surface. His gaze wanders towards where he then threw caution to the wind and made the best decision of his life and kissed Nancy Wheeler. And the door behind which an unforgettable night was spent.

”I haven’t noticed any new abnormal activities in Hawkins. I hear your family is doing well. So it’s not that, and if it’s not trouble in paradise either, what is it that brings you here?”

He knows this will be painful, but he’s prepared to deal with Murray for this, because he wants to do this for Nancy. He’s willing to endure a lot, even smug alcoholic conspiracy theorists who talks down to him, for Nancy. He would like to take care of this as quickly as possible though so he decides to just go straight to the point.

”When we were here, you played some music I didn’t know. I need to know the songs and record them, for Nancy. It is important.”

Murray is quiet, studying him for several long moments, thinking. Then his face breaks out in a smirk.

”Valentine’s Day is on Thursday,” Murray notes like he just cracked a mystery.

”Yes.”

It’s their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. He’s not quite sure what to do, if it’s important to Nancy or if she just disregards it as a stupid Hallmark funded holiday, like he had for a long time. Before he got a girlfriend. He’s not taking any chances now. Besides, even if it just is a stupid made up holiday he still likes to do something nice and hopefully romantic for Nancy. Naturally he’d gone towards making her a mixtape. It’s his bread and butter after all. He’s made countless of mixtapes through the years for himself and for Will, and he’s already made several for Nancy. But this one he feels like he has to put more into. It feels important. The mixtapes he’s already made for her have been more casual, stuff he likes that he thinks she might enjoy mixed with stuff he knows she likes. But for this one he has the idea for more of a theme. And that is, songs that are them, that are important to them.

And at the top of the list for that is two songs he doesn’t really know even though they’re stuck in his mind forever. Because they played right here during the evening before and the morning after the best night of his life. He needs to know what songs they are, and having no other way of finding out he eventually came to the conclusion that, regretfully, he had to go see Murray again.

”Jonathan Byers you’re a real romantic at heart aren’t you?” Murray teases and he can already tell this will be a long day.

”Can you help me or not? I just need to know the songs. I brought tapes, if you’re record player has a tape deck I can just record them and be out of your hair.”

”Ah, young love. Who am I to stand in the way of it? But I hope you remember something about these songs that hold such importance to you, because shocking as it may seem to you I don’t recall everything I played on one night three months ago while I was buzzed.”

”Okay. One was a slow song, like some old jazz song-”

”Good, you’ve narrowed it down to 92 % of my catalogue.”

”- with a woman singing-”

”Down to 83 %…”

He sighs heavily.

”I don’t remember all the words but it was like ’You better go now because I like you much too much’ and like ’There’s the moon above and it gives my heart a lot of swing’, um…”

”Billie Holiday — You Better Go Now,” Murray spits out after a second. ”And the fact that you don’t know that song encapsulates everything that is wrong with the youth of America today.”

”Okay.”

”For god’s sake if you don’t know Billie Holiday what even is the point of your life?”

”… I don’t know.”

”Okay, Billie Holiday, Lady Day…” Murray mumbles as he walks over to a shelf filled with records and browses through them until he comes to a halt. ”Ah, here we are,” he triumphantly pulls out a single and takes the record out and puts it on. Soon familiar tones fill the room.

”Yes, this is it.”

”Sublime, just sublime,” Murray comments and hums along to the tune.

”Yeah, it’s nice.”

”’Nice’? It’s much more than nice this is-”

”Look, I love it okay, otherwise I wouldn’t be here would I? Christ.”

”Hey don’t raise your voice when Billie is singing.”

He tries to speak again but Murray shushes him so he just has to wait until the track finishes.

”Marvelous,” Murray sighs wistfully. ”Now, the other song?”

”It was a bit more uptempo. Male singer. It had bass line that went like,” he starts to hum. Murray scrunches his face. He sighs. ”And it went like ’I feel so bad I’ve got a worried mind, I’m so lonesome all the time, since I left my baby behind on blue bayou’…?”

”It’s called Blue Bayou, you philistine. Roy Orbison. Hang on one moment.”

Murray goes back to browsing through his shelves until he finds the record he’s looking for and soon once again more familiar tones fill the room.

”Yes, this is it. Thanks. Can I record them now?”

”Hey why don’t you just take the records.”

”Really?”

”No! Of course not! Are you crazy? Why would I ever give away anything by Billie or The Big O?”

”Then why did you-”

”That was a test of character and you failed.”

”Can I still record them?”

”Oh sure.”

The look on Nancy’s face when she puts the mixtape in and hears the opening bass line makes it all worth it. It stuck on her mind just as it did on his. She leans in and kisses him.

”This is so romantic. How did you get this?”

”I have my ways,” he simply answers. Nancy raises a questioning eyebrow so he elaborates. ”I went to see Murray.”

”You drove all the way to Sesser to get this song for a mixtape?”

”And the next one… and yeah because it was for you so… it needed to be perfect.”

”I love it,” she smiles and pulls him in for another kiss. ”I love you.”

Nancy’s eyes light up when Blue Bayou leads into You Better Go Now.

”Dance with me,” she says and gets up and reaches a hand out, helping him up from her bed.

#jancyweek2019 #jancy fic #jancy fanfic #jancy fanfiction #st fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jancy #nancy x jonathan #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #murray bauman #stranger things

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arctic-comet · 5 years

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Fic: Full Moon Over Central Park (Jancy Week 2019 Day 5: AU)

Posted under the cut and here at AO3

Jonathan found himself lying on the moist soil of the cave he always locked himself into for his transformations. Groaning, he pulled himself up, the pain on his cheek telling him that something had cut into his skin sometime during the previous night. As usual, just about every bone, muscle and joint in his body was complaining. It always took him a while to recover enough to even dress himself and get home, so he grabbed the blanket he’d been smart enough to bring to the cave, wrapped himself into it and curled up into a fetal position. Just for a little while…

The cawing of a flock of crows woke him up again when the sun was already high in the fall sky. Hell. He’d totally overslept, not that he would be delivering any documents or packages today anyway. He wasn’t sure if he could even get on his bike to ride to the train station to go home. Eventually he forced himself off the ground and pulled a pair of jeans and a sweater on. The air was chilly, but that was just about the least of his problems anyway.

As he pedaled to the station, he remembered fall days like this that he’d been able to spend at home, with his younger brother and their mom. His mom would make the most delicious hot chocolate before they all burrowed under blankets on the couch, where either Jonathan himself or she would read a book aloud. His brother Will had always preferred adventure novels, but Jonathan liked horror and science fiction. Well, at least he had until horror had become a permanent fixture in his life.

A bite during a full moon in the woods close to his home. At first he thought it was a stray dog, then he’d determined it had to be a wolf. Fearful of rabies, his mom had taken him to the hospital. He hadn’t contracted rabies, but instead something much, much worse.

It took him a little over an hour to reach his dingy apartment building in Brooklyn, and when he did, the place was surrounded by police cars and ambulances, all their lights flashing and making his sensitive eyes hurt and his head throb. What had happened?

Approaching the nearest cop, he was determined to get inside. Shows. Food. Bed. “Excuse me? What’s going on? I live here,” he told the stern middle-aged man, who eyed him warily in response.

“Can I see some ID?” He asked, and Jonathan reached into his pocket, hoping to God he hadn’t lost it last night. To his immense relief, he managed to locate his driver’s license.

“Here you go.”

The cop scanned the license, his eyes darting between the photo and Jonathan. He smiled nervously, uncertain and tired.

“One of the apartments is a crime scene. It’s being sealed off as we speak , but you can go home. Someone will be there to talk to you later.”

“Why?” He asked, frowning. He had no desire to talk to anyone.

“We need to talk to all neighbors, to check if someone heard or saw anything suspicious last night.”

“I wasn’t at home last night,” he replied bluntly. Cops made him nervous due to his ‘condition’, as he’d been picked up by a squad car a few times after a transformation before he’d learned to stay away from people until he was truly lucid.

“Doesn’t matter, kid. We’re going to talk to everyone,” said the cop, handing Jonathan back his license.

With an acknowledging grunt, he left the officer behind. Lucky for him, the cop was approached by a woman mere seconds after he’d moved on.

There inside of the building was swarming with cops, too, and he had to dodge at least three of them on his way to his 4th floor apartment. On the landing there were even more cops and the door to his neighbor’s apartment was open. He’d barely seen the woman a handful of times during the time he’d lived there, but a chill still ran through him. Was she dead?

“Is this your apartment?” Asked a female cop standing guard at the crime scene, motioning to his door.

“Ummm, yeah, it is.”

“Can you please go inside for now? Someone will be in to talk to you soon.”

Yeah. That was exactly what he was afraid of. If his neighbor had been murdered, of course he’d do his best to help out the police, but the thing was… He knew nothing.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he realized how bad he smelled. Sweat and animal carcasses. Jesus. His sense of smell was still heightened, so the stench nearly made him hurl.

***

“Oh no, no, miss! This is an active crime scene,” growled the uniformed officer.

Nancy Wheeler nearly rolled her eyes, but managed to stop herself in time. Well, no shit Sherlock, that was why she was there in the first place.

“What happened?” She asked, testing her ballpoint pen on her notepad.

The cop snorted. “We’re not telling the press anything at this point, so I suggest you scamper.”

“This is a free country and I have every right to be here,” she argued. If she got a dime for every time she was dismissed both in and out of the office, she’d be a rich woman. Listening to police radio had become her biggest hobby since moving to New York, and she often hung around fresh crime scenes, hoping to get the scoop early and actually break something worthwhile. Maybe then Mr. Adrian would at least acknowledge her existence.

Her hunch told her that they could be dealing with a multiple homicide. This wasn’t a particularly good neighborhood, but not one of the worst ones either. No rich people, but supposedly no gangs either. The scene had gathered quite a crowd, with curious commuters and other people passing by sticking around to stare. Not that there was much to see at this point, nothing nearly enough for Nancy get front page material.

“Besides, you just let that guy in there!” She continued, pointing at the back of the young man who she’d seen talking to the cop minutes before.

“That guy? He lives there.”

If they were letting tenants in, it probably meant the crime scene was almost sealed off and that most of the police would be clearing out soon. Good. That meant she could go in soon herself, and talk to the neighbors. No doubt the police would be doing that, too, and she didn’t want them catching her doing it. If she got into real trouble with them, they’d end up calling the paper. Not to mention that she was currently supposed to be on her way to a Halloween fair in a small town in Long Island. Screw that.

Biting into her lip as she considered her options, she spied a donut shop across the street. Fantastic . The perfect place to survey the cops, particularly when they left the scene.

She ordered a cup of coffee and a chocolate-covered donut and chose a window table with a good view of the building on the other side of the street. It turned out that she didn’t have to wait long to get something worth writing about, as a pair of cops stepped in and stood in the queue.

“Man, have you ever seen anything like that before?” Asked the younger officer.

“Kind of, but that was years ago and when I was stationed in Harlem. Never seen anything this bad around here.”

“Sure makes you lose your appetite.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Finding the second body in the bedroom…”

“I know. Freaked the shit out of me too.”

So at least two people were dead. Nancy’s pen flew on the pad, writing down everything the cops said. She’d come to learn that eavesdropping was one of the most important skills a reporter could have.

***

Jonathan groaned in desperation when there was yet another knock at his door several hours after he’d shut the door in the last officer’s face and retreated into his bed. He didn’t even bother turning the lights back on to answer the door this time. Why couldn’t these cops leave him the hell alone?

Practically yanking the door open, he expected to come face-to-face with another uniform, but instead there was a girl. Well, she was as much of a girl as he was a boy. She was… Girls like her- or even girls in general- or people- didn’t usually end up on his doorstep. And when he said usually, he actually meant never. She didn’t look like a cop, but there was a determined set to her jaw, making it clear she wanted something from him. And yet she wasn’t saying anything, seeming just as flabbergasted at the sight of him as he was of her. She was lovely, her wavy hair the color of chocolate, her eyes the deepest blue.

“Hi,” she finally spoke, flashing him a smile that didn’t strike him as genuine.

“Hi,” he replied.

“I’m Nancy Wheeler, I work for the NY Daily Courier. I’m here to ask you about the murder-“

“I already told the police everything I know, which is basically nothing,” he said, interrupting her.

“Uh, right. I understand, but please, can I ask you a few questions?”

Although he wanted little more than to get back under the covers, he found himself unable to deny her simple request. It would be a short talk anyway for sure, as he had so little to contribute.

“Okay,” he sighed, allowing her inside, before realizing how messy his place was. His face probably flashed red as he watched her curious eyes scan his dirty dishes and discarded clothes. He wasn’t even that messy of a person, but when the change approached, it always made him uneasy and somehow that uneasiness manifested itself as him skipping housework. Why did it even matter, though? She was a reporter, here only to do her job.

“I’m Jonathan Byers, in case you want to put that in your notes,” he continued, realizing he hadn’t even introduced himself. His mom would smack him upside the head.

“Thank you. So, how long have you lived here?” She asked, obviously wanting to get straight into business.

“A couple of years.” The manners taught to him by his mom nagged at the back of his head, insisting that he offer her coffee and perhaps a sandwich. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee, and some sandwiches.”

“Coffee sounds great, actually. How long did your neighbor live in that apartment?”

“I think she moved in a few months after me, so maybe about a year and a half.”

“Did she live alone?”

“I think so, but I can’t be sure… I- I guess I don’t pay that much attention to my neighbors.” And most of the time he hoped they didn’t pay attention to him either. That was why he only spoke to people when he absolutely had to, like at work.

“Did you ever talk to her? What was she like?”

He shrugged. “I guess I ran into her on the stairs a few times. She seemed normal to me, nothing that would suggest-“ he began, struggling to find the right words.

“An impending violent death?” She suggested.

He nodded. “Yeah. She never caused trouble here, as far as I know.” He would’ve looked for another place to live if the police had started coming around regularly.

“Apparently there was a second body in the apartment.”

He raised a brow. “Really?” The police hadn’t told him that.

Nancy nodded.

“How do you even know that?” He wondered aloud, his brows rising in surprise.

“I can’t reveal my sources, but I heard it from law enforcement.”

Jonathan nodded. Impressive.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I wasn’t home last night, only got back this morning when the cops were already here,” he replied, almost apologetically.

“So you wouldn’t know who was with her last night?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

“Well, I’ll keep looking. Sorry to have bothered you,” she said, standing up to leave. He walked her to the door, hoping that despite his haggard appearance and the state of his apartment, she wouldn’t remember him in a bad way. That was new, since usually he settled on hoping people wouldn’t remember him at all. Reporters were at least as dangerous to him as cops were, so wanting her not to forget about him had to be a sign of him losing his mind.

“You- you didn’t bother me. Good luck with your story.”

“Thank you… Would you mind giving me your number, in case I think of another question you might be able to answer for me?” She asked.

That was a surprising request, but he recited his phone number to her automatically, although the only other people who even knew it were his current and potential employers.

He watched as she turned the corner and began her descent. Just before he closed the door, he heard her knock on a door on the floor below him and introduce herself once more. He bet she’d already forgotten his name. He’d just be the clueless nextdoor neighbor of a murder victim, who she never had to see again.

***

Even as Nancy listened to the old lady prattle on and on about how wonderful and polite the murdered woman had been, her thoughts were elsewhere. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jonathan Byers, nextdoor neighbor. He’d claimed to not have been home during the murders and she believed him, but something about him nagged at the back of her mind. The deep dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he seemed to be mostly skin and bones should’ve led to the conclusion that she’d just spoken to a drug addict. But this wasn’t that kind of a neighborhood, and he didn’t… He didn’t seem like an addict. Although how in the world could she know that?

Either way, he’d struck a chord within her, which was unusual. As much as she would’ve liked to think it was only her reporter’s instincts sensing that something was off about him, she had to admit her desire to know more about him wasn’t only about that. Nevertheless, she had to focus on finding out all she could about the murder case, and unfortunately Jonathan didn’t seem to be able to help her with that.

“What about Alaina Torres’s neighbor, Jonathan Byers? What do you know about him?” She asked in a whim before considering whether it was a good idea.

The old woman blinked at her, obviously confused as to why she’d want to know about Jonathan.

“Well, he’s a quiet boy, that one. Carried my groceries up the stairs once when I sprained my ankle, but I don’t believe he speaks much with anyone here.”

“Does he ever have guests?”

“I haven’t seen anyone. Why are you asking about him, do you think he may have had something to do with poor Alaina’s death?”

“Uh, not really, at this stage I’m trying to get a feel of the people who lived close to her,” she claimed, feeling embarrassed about lying.

“Surely he can’t be a bad guy.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Johnson,” she replied, flashing a smile.

Her phone rang, filling the apartment with its shrill sound. Shit. She should’ve muted it.

“Are you going to answer that?” Inquired Mrs. Johnson.

“Yeah. Uh, please excuse me for a minute.” Removing the phone from her purse as if it was a dangerous insect, she brought it to her ear.

As usual, her boss didn’t bother with the basic niceties. “Where are you?” He demanded.

Biting into her lip, Nancy rolled her eyes. “I’m in Long Island at the Halloween fair you sent me to. Should be ready to come back to the office within an hour.”

“Well, get back here as soon as you can. I’ve got another job for you.”

Really? Over the last few months, her naivety had dissipated little by little with every filler story she was asked to write. And yet she still held onto hope that one day she’d be given a chance to make her mark, to be the top journalist she aspired to be.

“What is it?”

“An adoption event for a local shelter in Queens.”

Nancy liked animals, she truly did, but this was yet another feel-good story gig. Nothing serious. Wat was even worse that this meant she’d be stuck in Queens until tonight, which meant having to give up on this case for now.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised Mr. Adrian.

“Oh, that sounded exciting!” Exclaimed Mrs. Johnson. If she only knew…

Responding with a tight smile, she explained to Mrs. Johnson that she had to leave.

As she exited the building, she couldn’t help but turn to direct one last glance at Jonathan’s window. She could swear she saw the curtains move.

#jancy fic #jancyweek2019 #jancy

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stoprobbersfic · 5 years

Text

besame mucho (jonathan x nancy, teen)

rated: teen(+?) a very silly, romantic, Christmas Time fic. my present to the fandom that’s given me a home this past year. read it on ao3

i didn’t sign up for jancy secret santa this year because i was concerned about being able to make deadline and clearly that would have been an issue - this was meant to be posted on Christmas Eve, then Christmas, then Boxing Day. So, uh, happy Few Days Before New Years?

It takes her a while to put it all together. At first she doesn't even notice.

That seems odd, because in every other way she notices him so much more in every way.

It’s that first flush of love, that weightless giddiness that blinds her in the beginning. The swoop of his hair and the way his neck smells where it meets his collar and the curve of his lips. She spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about his mouth, especially what it feels like pressed against hers. She makes those fantasies come true as often as possible.

So, in the moment, she thinks nothing of it when he kisses her dizzy on his mother’s sofa.

They’re sitting in his living room, perched on the edge of the couch with notes for their upcoming finals spread on the cushions between them. Their hands brush and he catches her fingertips so lightly it makes her arms break out in gooseflesh. Warmth suffuses her, as it is more often wont to do since their secret mission and the terrifying night in Hopper’s cabin.

“Nancy,” he says softly, oh so softly, and she looks up, surprised at the gentleness in his voice.

“Yeah?” she responds, but before she can say more he cuts her off with a kiss.

He uses his grip on her hand to hold her to him, pressing it against his stomach. She loses herself in sensation gasps when he pulls away far too soon, leaving her blinking at him, dazed.

“What was that for?” she wonders, bringing her other hand to her lips. She’s not sure if it’s to feel the lingering heat of his kiss or cover her smile.

He just shakes his head and gives her a fond grin before returning his attention to their notes. She grabs her chemistry book, but it’s just a cover to stare at him over the pages and let her mind drift away.

+++

He’s got eight photos to finish for his final so she meets him in the darkroom at lunch and watches him work while she eats.

She likes watching him in the red light, his easy command of the space and equipment. He looks younger in the dark room, too, the red smoothing out his features and erasing the bags under his eyes.

She perches on one of the tables, following his movements with her gaze. Sometimes they talk - about class, or classmates, or their brothers, or even Steve - but most of the time she just watches him in his element.

She’s eating an apple with one hand and swinging her legs when he motions her over.

“Okay,” he says, digging a flashlight out of his bag and handing it to her. She looks at it like it’s an alien creature, then back at him. “So when I say ‘go,’ I need you to turn that on and shine it at the ceiling then count to 30. Okay?”

“Uh, I guess?” she sets the apple down, turns the flashlight in her hand. “Isn’t this going to ruin your photo?”

“Only if you do it now. One of the pictures has to be solarized,” he says, peering through his focus finder and adjusting the enlarger. “It’s ridiculous, it’s really hard to do consistently. I’ve been reading up on it and even Man Ray couldn’t get it right all the time. But I think this’ll work enough not to fail this part of the final. I’m gonna try, at least.”

“Okay.” She blinks. “I have no idea what any of that means, but I will turn it on when you say.”

“And count to 30.”

“And count to 30,” she repeats obligingly.

“Alright,” he slides the photo paper into place. “Here we go.”

At the developing station she leans in at his shoulder, watching him slide the paper into the tray of chemicals. Their elbow bumps as he starts to jiggle the tray.

“So what’s it supposed to look like if you do it right?” she asks, tilting her head and watching him agitate the liquid, willing the image to appear. “Solarize. That means--”

He swallows the rest of her sentence, swooping in and kissing her hard, almost desperately. It’s quick, not enough time for her to even kiss him back properly, but there’s an emotional force behind it that nearly bowls her over. He pulls back only the space of a breath and when he kisses her again it’s slower and a lot wetter.

They wrestle for control until she slides her fingers into his hair and tugs; then he’s putty in her hands. She scrapes her teeth over his lower lip, and the groan it pulls is very, very gratifying.

“It’ll overdevelop,” he mumbles against her, not really doing anything about it. Eventually he backs away with shorter and shorter kisses until they’re apart again.

Nancy licks her lips and raises her eyebrows as he lifts the paper out of the developer and slides it into the stop bath.

“That how you say ‘thank you’ now?” She waits for him to meet her eyes and winks at him. He wrinkles his nose and ducks his head. “You’re blushing.”

Even in the red light she can see his cheeks are darker.

“Am not,” he grumbles.

“You are. Why are you blushing?” She bumps her shoulder against his.

“Shut up,” he laughs, moving the photo into the fixer.

“You liiiiiiike me," she teases. "You wanna kiiiiss me.” She leans in closer but he moves his head away.

“OK, that’s enough,” he bumps his hip into hers as he shakes the fixer tray. “You’ve served your purpose, you can go back to eating your lunch now.”

He keeps using his hip to push her back to her former perch, rinsing the photo and hanging on the line along the way, and steals a bite of her turkey sandwich before moving onto his next print.

+++

She starts to keep a tally of it - the times his eyes glaze over in a different way and he’s kissing her harder, deeper, more desperately than usual. It keeps happening; once when they're cutting through the woods on their walk home, another time at the mouth of the alley next to the movie theater after leaving Beverly Hills Cop.

She’s sure there must be a pattern, but every time she thinks she might be catching onto it she gets a piece that doesn't fit.

The picture refuses to focus, the pieces refuse to interlock properly, and Nancy keeps puzzling.

“We could see a movie?” she offers from his passenger seat on a Thursday afternoon they haven't planned out, leaning back and propping her loafers on the dashboard. His hand swipes at her shin.

“Hey, don’t scuff up my car,” he admonishes lightly. “Also, I’ve gotta pick up Will.”

“I thought it’s AV Club day.”

“It is.” He doesn’t seem to think anything of it as he takes the right turn towards the middle school.

“They won’t be done for like an hour.” She makes a face at him. “You want to just hang around the middle school for an hour?”

“Well it’s not enough time to see a movie.”

“Yeah but we could go do something else. Maybe somewhere more private,” she mumbles, sitting up and crosslegged. He reaches out again, squeezing her knee this time.

“Later,” he promises, and pokes her thigh. “And don’t mess up my leather seats either.”

“Please, as if this wasn’t ripped before. For years, probably.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he pulls into the middle school parking lot, eases into a spot by the gym.

“Jonathan, this is the gym,” she points out when he opens her door. He just takes her hand and pulls her out.

“I know,” he replies and starts to walk through the door.

“AV Club is in the AV room,” she reminds him, hanging back. He tugs on her hand to get her inside.

“Oh, uh, I think Will said something about needing more space for their project today? So they’re meeting in the gym.”

She frowns at him. His shoulders are tense and he’s looking past her, not at her, like he’s hiding something. The puzzle box in the back of her mind opens up but no pieces immediately fit into this one.

“So we’re just going to wait an hour for them in the lobby of the middle school gym.” It’s not a question, she delivers it deadpan, but the corners of his mouth quirk up anyway. Her eyes narrow further.

“Yeah, I guess?”

“What is up with you?” she steps closer until they’re almost touching.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answers loftily and pulls her over to the massive tiger mural that spent so many months haunting her dreams.

The truth is she’s not particularly keen to hang out in the middle school gym lobby ever, not just because it affords significantly less privacy than, say, parking in the back corner of the furthest staff parking lot. It brings queasy terror back to her. She can still smell the de-icing salt and slightly-rusty hose water, can still hear the echo of Eleven’s voice off the high ceilings. Can still feel the painted cinderblock at her back as she cried, propped up against the very mural they’ve stopped in front of.

Normally she’d try to charm him into changing his mind, but this calls for a little more honesty.

“I don’t like it here,” she admits, shaking off his grip and crossing her arms. “Can’t we please just come back when they’re done?”

His eyes soften as he leans in, resting forehead against hers and nuzzling the tip of her nose twice before tilting his head and pressing his lips to hers. He kisses her slowly and delicately, hands cradling her face as if he’s holding something precious and infinitely breakable.

Even though she knows it’s coming her eyebrows still raise in surprise and then, to her genuine shock, she feels her knees grow weak.

He’s kissed her so many ways in the last month, made her feel so many things, but this time alongside the desire and love that boil in the pit of her stomach, she feels a sense of safety that threatens to overwhelm her. To keep herself steady she fists her hands in his shirt and holds him close. She wants to burrow into him and stay there forever, and the only reason she doesn’t is because then she’d have to stop kissing him.

Soon the cinderblock is at her back again but instead of that sick feeling there's only a rush of heat from the pit of her stomach. She slides her hands around his waist and into his back pockets. His thigh slips between her legs.

She doesn’t even notice the clang of the door opening, but Jonathan does and breaks away from her. Nancy keeps her eyes closed, trying both not to be noticed and to stay in the bubble of the kiss a little longer.

“Jonathan?” Mrs. Byers’ voice shatters the spell and Nancy’s eyes fly open. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Has something happened?”

Her pitch rises with each question, panic creeping into her voice, and Jonathan is at her side in a flash, a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine, I, um, I thought I was picking Will up from AV Club.” That nervous note is back in his voice.

“AV doesn’t end for an hour and no, you’re not?” It comes out a question as Mrs. Byers looks back and forth between them. Nancy hopes to god she isn’t blushing. “Hello, Nancy, good to see you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Byers.” She offers a little wave.

“Well why are you here?” Jonathan interjects.

“Because Will left his rocket at home.” She holds up a cardboard contraption that Nancy thinks looks more paper airplane than functional rocket, and frowns curiously at her older son.

“Oh, well, then I guess we can go catch that movie,” He turns back to Nancy, grabbing her hand and pulling. She widens her eyes at Mrs. Byers, thinks hard at her, I have no idea what’s going on either, he’s been weird lately I swear, and finds the older woman trying to hide her laughter.

“Why are you being so weird,” she asks when he pulls her out into the parking lot, to the car.

“I’m not, I thought I had to pick up Will.”

“Yes, you are. What’s up? Come on, tell me.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“Something’s definitely up,” she buckles her seatbelt and leans in close, until her nose is almost against his cheek. “I can read you like a book, Byers. You can tell me, you know.”

“Nothing. Is. Up,” he repeats, putting the car in reverse. “Now, what did you want to see?”

“I’m gonna figure it out,” she warns him but he ignores her in favor of listing movie options until she picks one just to shut him up.

+++

The pieces of the puzzle keep piling up but they don't do much more than float in an amorphous cloud around her. It’s not until the Army Surplus Store that it all clicks into place.

They’re Christmas shopping, leaving the toy store where she’s spent an irritating amount of time determining which new Dungeons and Dragons books to buy Mike (it was much easier finding Holly a doll), when Jonathan pulls up short and grabs her elbow.

“Do you mind if we stop in there for a second?” he asks, nodding his head towards the surplus store across the street. She feels her face contort and whatever face she makes must be extreme because he looks wildly offended. “It’s not that weird of a request!”

“Jonathan ‘I Haven’t Shot A Gun Since I Was 10’ Byers wants to go into a hunting shop without a monster breathing down our necks, and you don’t think it’s weird?” Still, she follows him towards the entrance.

“It’s not weird, it’s for Will.” He grabs her hand tightly as he pushes the door open, drawing her to his side. “He needs some stuff for improvements to Castle Byers.”

She smiles at him and threads their fingers together as they walk down an aisle of waterproof fabrics and tents. She holds out the basket she grabbed so he can pile cloth and several rolls of reflective tape into it and lets her eyes wander over the shelves.

“Think we should restock anything?” she wonders aloud, considering several boxes of long, thick nails in front of her. “Steve’s got the bat now, we should probably make at least one more.”

He’s standing behind her so she can’t see his face but he does make an odd sort of sound at that, like he’s choked on nothing or his own spit.

“That's… not a bad idea,” he manages after a second. He’s much closer all of a sudden, and she can feel the heat of him through her jacket.

“What should we get,” she ponders aloud, grabbing a handful of the nails she remembers buying last time, trying to remember what’s still hidden in her closet. It’s so familiar, shopping for this with him, but distinct and different without the weight of an impending monster hunt on her shoulder.

“Whatever you want,” he answers, but the tenderness in his tone is entirely unexpected. It feels weighty and important, the kind of tone you'd expect during a proposal, not a shopping trip.

“Another bear trap?” she teases, trying to lighten this new mood, and steps through the narrow opening and into the trapping section. A very similar selection as they year before is laid out haphazardly on the shelves and she laughs. "Hey look, they still have our brand—"

She can't finish her joke, though, because suddenly Jonathan is pressing her up against the flimsy metal shelving and kissing her so hard she can feel his teeth behind his lips. She gasps in surprise and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The basket falls, forgotten, from her hand, as does the bag from the toy store. All she can do is cling to his shoulders and feel one of the bear traps start to dig into her back.

"What—" she manages as he breaks away to suck in a breath but he doesn't let her finish, hauls her against him with both hands on her ass. She's only mildly surprised to find she can feel his hardness against her hip.

"Hey!" a voice interrupts. "You two! Cut that out before I kick you out!"

They break apart, though his hold on her doesn't loosen, and turn to find the cashier standing at the top of the aisle, hands on hips and an angry frown on his face.

"Sorry," Jonathan stutters, releases her like she's burned him. "I—sorry."

He scoops up the basket and takes off towards the checkout, leaving Nancy behind to stare at his back. It takes her a moment to get her bearings back, to return enough to her body to move, to grab her shopping bag and follow him to the register where he's counting out cash, to stand by his side and study his profile.

He's still pink from embarrassment but the rest of him – his expression, his body language – is resolutely neutral.

She thanks the cashier absently when he does and follows him out of the store, keeps studying him as they walk back to his car.

"What?" he finally asks as he opens the trunk, plops his bag inside. Waits for her to do the same, but she doesn't move, keeps her bag in her hand. "What?"

"I think that's my question," she answers after a pause. Hones in on the slight flush that has started to reassert itself on his cheeks. "What's your game, Byers?"

"I'm not playing a game. Put your bag in the trunk."

"You're doing something," she insists.

He huffs, frustrated, and she knows he's about to roll his eyes at her when he suddenly freezes. Her focus narrows to a pinpoint. She can see each step of his thought process: first his eyes go hazy, like he's remembering something, then his whole posture softens. Finally, he reaches out and takes her chin gently between thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up and leaning in to brush a tender kiss across her lips.

"No game, Nance. Come on, let's go home." He gestures to the trunk again, a silly grin on his face. She sighs and puts her bag in.

But something about the moment feels familiar. Painfully familiar. As she climbs in the passenger side she retraces it, teasing each other at the trunk of his car after leaving the hunting shop. They've done that before, kind of, a year ago but with feelings just burgeoning and mountains of fear and nervousness weighting them down. And then of course there was the interruption – the graffiti on the marquee and Steve's jealousy and the fight—

"Wait a minute," she says aloud and his eyes snap over to her for a second before he finishes pulling out of his parking spot and back into traffic. "Hold on. Wait. Wait."

"Do you want me to stop the car?" he asks. She shakes her head, even as she reaches out and punches his shoulder, hard. "Ow!"

"Wait a goddamn minute," she repeats and he flinches like he's expecting another punch but she just jabs her finger into his shoulder instead. "I got it. I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

On another day she may have missed it, the nervousness in his voice, but now that everything has clicked into focus and it sounds like he's shouting Oh no, I've been caught, right in her face.

"It's been weeks. You've been doing this for weeks. The woods, and the darkroom, the alley by the movie theater and the gym, that day you lied about having to pick Will up from AV Club—"

"I didn't lie, it was just a misunderstanding—"

"And the sofa oh my god, was the sofa part of it too? It was! It was, your couch, that afternoon you kissed me on your couch—"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific there, Nance, I've kissed you on my couch lots of times." He's trying to be deadpan but she can hear those nerves, amplified with each word.

"You know exactly when I'm talking about," she waves him off.

"I don't—"

"Yes you do, ohhh, I know you do!" She's giddy now with understanding, adrenaline pumping through her veins from having figured it out. She's not sitting in the seat anymore, she's perched on her knees, turned entirely toward him, and he's got his eyes trained on the road like it's going to save him from… something.

"I know you know because you're keeping track, you must be keeping track. I mean even just now at the trunk – these are all places from last year." The final piece clicks into place and she sits down on her heels, stares at him wide-eyed. "Are you… are you kissing me everywhere we were last year?"

"Not everywhere," he sounds annoyed. "Just all the places I wanted to kiss you, back then."

The admission knocks the wind out of her. She slides off her knees and onto her butt in the seat with a thump, watches his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn red. He chances a glance out of the corner of his eye but it lasts only a second.

"That's—" she tries, falters, starts again. "You—That's so—"

"Corny?"

"Romantic," she breathes out. "Jonathan…"

"It's embarrassing," he mutters, turning onto her street. "You weren't supposed to notice."

"I mean I didn't, not for a while at least?" she offers. He lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh come on," she shakes her head at him as he parks by her curb, shuts off the car. "Jonathan, look at me. Come on, please?"

He doesn't and she can't read his expression so she throws her arms around him instead. He hugs her back, looser than she'd like.

"Don't pout," she murmurs into the crook of his neck, giving him a squeeze. "You're so sweet."

"Ugh," he pushes her away, opens his door. She has no choice but to follow him.

"When did you decide to do this?" she asks as she grabs her bags from the trunk, follows him up the walk to her house. "Did you decide? Or was it just, like, you'd remember and then kiss me?"

"Stop it, Nance."

"No I wanna know! Have you been thinking about it since last year?"

"I'm not answering any of these questions," he says as she reaches past him to open the door. Her mother calls out to them and she answers, and when her mother calls back that she'll fetch Will from the basement it almost drowns out his next grumbled admission. "I didn't even get to finish."

That pulls her up short in the foyer and she lets her bags drop by the coat rack.

“Finish? Finish wh… I’m sorry, did you make a list?” She’s grinning so hard it hurts, even as he groans and blushes even darker. Her eyes narrow and voice deepens as she takes a step closer to him. “Did you check it twice?”

“If your next sentence ends with ‘naughty or nice’ I’m going to have to break up with you,” he warns, but doesn’t back away or duck his head. He holds her gaze, steady. “And, I mean, I didn’t write anything down but… I… may have had some more places in mind.”

“You thought about it.” She pokes his chest lightly. “You thought about it a lot.”

“I thought about you a lot,” he shrugs and a wave of warmth floods her whole body.

“Well, what about me?”

“Hmm?” The way his brow furrows she can tell he doesn’t follow.

“Do I get to check any kisses off my list?”

He tilts his head, intrigued. “I didn’t know you had a list.”

“Of course I have a list,” she scoffs, and steps away from him. She's not about to tell him he's already covered roughly half of it, but she's pretty sure she has some moments he doesn't. Considers where they are standing, between the front door and the stairs and the garlands lining the doorways. She takes him by the shoulders and moves him a step backwards, then two, and a little to the right. She steps back again, looks him over. Jonathan stays obediently still, hands at is sides, an amused grin finally breaking over his lips.

After a moment she nods, steps forward again, places a hand on his chest. She’s just rising onto her toes when his hand comes up to cover hers, stops her.

“You did kiss me here,” he reminds her. She braces herself with her other hand on his shoulder, faces even now that she’s on tip toe.

“Not how I wanted to,” she says and presses her lips to his.

There is no hesitation before his arms wrap around her, one on her waist the other around her shoulders, drawing her tight against him. No hesitation as he parts her lips and deepens the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth. She lets her arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in the ends of his hair, as he takes control deftly from her and proceeds to kiss her silly.

She loses track of time and place, just presses herself more fully against him and moans softly to encourage him when his hands start to wander, until the most unwelcome voice intrudes.

“Nancy!”

Her mother sounds scandalized and exasperated all at once, and it’s like ice water poured down the back of her sweater. They break apart, breathing hard, and even as her face goes hot with embarrassment the look Jonathan gives her - not at all abashed and more than a little proud - sends a tingle down her spine.

“Sorry mom!” She carefully avoids looking her in the eye, but that means she ends up looking at Will instead, standing next to her mother and looking as unamused as a teenage boy can. She gives a tiny half-shrug and he rolls his eyes at her. “Jonathan and I were just saying goodbye.”

Whatever Will mutters as he passes her to stand beside his brother is lost on her, but Jonathan reaches out and shoves his shoulder lightly anyway.

But suddenly they’re in the same places as the year before, nearly down to the tile, only this time Steve isn’t in the next room and she’s catching her breath from Jonathan’s kiss instead of imagining what it would feel like while letting someone else put their arm around her shoulders.

Jonathan smiles at her - soft and warm and crooked, the smile she loves most - and pulls on the hem of his jacket to straighten it. His voice is soft and rough at the same time when he speaks, familiar and just as she remembers.

“Merry Christmas.”

#jancy fanfic #jancy #jonathan byers x nancy wheeler #kind of christmass fluff #but only in the loosest way #i've been toying with this idea for a while and it seemed a good time to get it down on paper #or the internet as such #enjoy!

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stillprettyeleven · 6 years

Text

After Darkness (Part 4)

Previous: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: What happened immediately after El closed the gate and the Mind Flayer left Will? A multi-chapter fic on my take of what I think happened following that fateful night in Hawkins, Indiana in November 1984. Mileven, Lumax, Jancy, Dustin/Steve, Jopper, all included.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates - I returned to university this week so I’ve been busy settling back in! Thank you so much for the feedback so far on this story, all of the likes and comments have been very motivational! As always, I’m open to suggestions regarding where you want me to take this story, and comments are always appreciated. Enjoy!

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

Joyce turned her head to find Hopper standing at the doorway to Will’s bedroom, watching her as she sat in a chair beside Will’s bed as he slept off his exhaustion.

Joyce sighed and stroked Will’s hair gently. “I gave Jonathan my room so that Steve could sleep in his. I can’t sleep, anyways. I can’t bring myself to leave him.”

Hopper walked over and knelt down in front of her. The bags under her eyes became much clearer now that he was face to face with her. “He’s fine, Joyce. That thing’s gone, you said so yourself.”

“But what if it isn’t, Hop?” Joyce argued, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. “I mean, when we brought him out of that place last year, we assumed that he would be okay, but he wasn’t. What if we’re wrong again? What if he never gets over this?”. She buried her face in her hands.

Hopper reached out and slowly prised Joyce’s hands away from her face. He then took them in his own, trying to give her some sense of comfort. “I don’t know if he will. None of us do. But what I do know is that he has you, and Jonathan, and I know those friends of his would do anything for him.” He nodded towards Dustin, Lucas and Mike, who filled up the rest of the floor space around Will’s bed as they slept. Hopper looked back at Joyce. “He’s not alone in this, and neither are you.”

Joyce nodded her head and tried to smile as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing his hands gently. She glanced at the clock beside her on Will’s bedside table - it read 3:42am. “Shouldn’t you be in bed too?” she asked Hopper with a slight hint of sarcasm.

Hopper rolled his eyes before answering. “Nah, I couldn’t sleep either. I keep going in there to check on El, to make sure she’s alright,” he said, pointing his head towards the living room to where El, Nancy and Max were also fast asleep.

Joyce smiled. “How are you handling it?” she asked.

“What?” Hopper asked in confusion.

Joyce rolled her eyes. “C’mon Hop. El. You’re looking after a teenage girl now - surely that can’t be easy. At least, it doesn’t sound like it is,” she added, referring to Hopper’s very public warning to El during their group meeting.

Hopper bowed his head and sighed. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, Joyce. Especially with this situation with the Wheeler kid-”

“Yeah, about that...” Joyce interrupted.

Hopper lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I just think that you shouldn’t be so hard on those two. El has been through a lot, and so has Mike, and they just... they deserve a little happiness, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think,” Hopper said with irritation. “Not that kind of happiness, anyways. They’re only thirteen.”

Joyce’s lips curved up slightly into a smile. “C’mon, you need to put yourself in their shoes. You remember what it’s like to be young and in love, right?”

Hopper scoffed, but in actual fact, yes, he did remember. He also remembered what it’s like to be middle-aged and in love with the same woman from all those years ago. The same woman who was currently sitting in front of him and poking fun at him. But of course, he didn’t say that.

“I guess,” he said reluctantly.

Joyce nodded with satisfaction. “Okay. So, you need to go easy on them. Stop giving them such a hard time, especially Mike.”

Hopper sighed. “It’s just... she’s really fragile, and I don’t want anything to happen to her. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Joyce smiled sympathetically, rubbing Hopper’s hands. “I know, and she won’t. Mike cares about her a lot, I can tell. You just need to find a balance with them. But shutting him out of her life isn’t going to help anything.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hopper nodded, accepting the advice with an air of unwillingness. “So,” he said, changing the conversation topic, “how are you holding up?”

Joyce looked up at him, her eyes weary and broken as a new wave of grief washed over her. “I’ve been better,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Her eyes quickly filled with tears, and Hopper immediately regretted bringing up the subject. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“No, no, it’s.. it’s fine,” Joyce reassured, breaking her hands away from his to wipe away her tears. She paused for a few moments. “I just keep wondering if I could’ve prevented it somehow, or... maybe I should’ve gone with him-”

“No,” Hopper said firmly, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Joyce, you can’t think like that. There was nothing any of us could’ve done to change his mind, alright? Bob... he was a fighter, he wanted to go alone. He wanted to help you and Will.”

“It’s just...” Joyce said, wiping her eyes, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. He sacrificed himself for my family, for me. He didn’t deserve it. And I...”

Joyce then broke down completely, giving in to the rolls of grief that continued to knock through her. Hopper immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back.

“It’s alright, Joyce,” he soothed, patting her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Everything is going to be alright.”

They stayed like that for several minutes, until Joyce’s tears eventually subsided. She leaned out of Hopper’s embrace and set her hands on his knees. “You should, uh... get some sleep.”

Hopper stayed put in his chair. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here?”

“I’m fine,” Joyce insisted, putting on a brave face. “Really, Hop. Get some rest.”

Hopper nodded. He got up from his chair and opened the bedroom door, but continued to linger. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen, okay?”

Joyce nodded. “Really, I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Hopper.”

“Goodnight, Joyce,” Hopper replied, before closing the door.

After double-checking that El was still asleep in the living room, he went into the kitchen and lit up a cigarette, sliding into the kitchen chair next to him. Once he’d finished smoking, he eventually closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep, but not before making a promise to himself:

Never let anything bad happen to Joyce Byers ever again.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 2 fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 2 fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things 2 fic #jim hopper #joyce byers #jopper #mileven #eleven #eleven x hopper #hopper x eleven #hopper x joyce #joyce x hopper #mike x eleven #eleven x mike

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planetsam · 7 years

Note

Hi! Do you you think you could do a angsty Jancy nightmare comfort fic, please? I feel like Nancy would still get nightmares about being in the Upside Down with the demogorgan and about Barb too. I really love your writing!

The nightmare sends her back to the waking world violently.

She chokes and gasps and shoves herself from the nightmare so violently that she falls out of bed. The jolt is unpleasant but the bruise makes her certain that she’s awake. The cold metal of her bed is a poor substitute for the steady pulse that she careened into the last time she was in the Upside Down. It’s pitch black in her room and she can’t figure out why. She had the lights on, she was studying. She fumbles to her knees and rips the pillows off the bed until she finds what she’s looking for. It only takes a moment for her finger to find the raised bump and for the beam of the thing to light up brilliantly.

She sweeps the beam around her room and under her bed, expecting any sort of monster to be there. When none show themselves, she pushes herself up. She pops the lid off the compass and braces it against the bed, watching as the line is pulled and stabilizes. She breathes deeply, pressing her forehead against her mattress. She’s in her bedroom. She’s not in the Upside Down. She has proof. Pushing herself up, she walks over to the light switch and tries it, not stunned to see it’s not working. The power is out. It doesn’t help that she’s alone in the house. Her mom and Holly are at the store, Mike is at the Byer’s house.

She fastens the flashlight and compass around her wrist, figuring that she might as well get the other flashlights out. The blackouts are another thing they can thank the lab for. Apparently kicking out the department of energy’s lab had the unintended side effect of rolling blackouts. There’s no one to actually regulate the power properly. Just another thing that’s her fault in this mess. She shakes her head, no, no it’s not her fault. It’s their fault. This is something else they can thank them for, because if they hadn’t been experimenting on children this wouldn’t be happening. She goes for the gun she knows her parents hide before she goes for anything else.

She’s only halfway down the stairs when there’s a knock on the door. She doesn’t really know how a knock can be gentle, but it is. The knot in her chest tightens and loosens in rapid succession. She still cocks the gun, she’s still ready to shoot with one hand. With the other she checks the peephole and immediately fumbles the locks open. Jonathan Byers is standing on the other side of the door, dressed in an open yellow rain slicker that’s almost comical. It would be if a full body tremor didn’t race up her spine at the sight of it. Before he can say anything she yanks him back into the house and shuts the door, locking it.

“Are you—“ he begins but she cuts him off, hugging him tightly, “it’s okay,” Jonathan says in a way that doesn’t leave room for argument.

Nancy didn’t realize she was holding her breath until air floods her lungs. She’s not crying, she could shoot someone still. She tenses when Jonathan’s hand closes around the gun. They don’t say anything but he waits for her to loosen her grip before he takes it, immediately thumbing the safety. He sets it on the table within easy reach. With their other hands free, she wraps both of them around him and he mirrors her, holding her tightly like he understands perfectly why she’s holding a gun before she’s getting another flashlight. She takes a couple of deep breaths before she’s steady again, the cinnamon smell of him signaling something in her head that makes her relax.

“I have to get the other flashlights,” she says, stepping back and shining the light around just to make sure. Another beam joins hers because of course Jonathan brought a light. Her hand trembles when she goes to pick up the gun, but she forces past that, “they’re in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Jonathan says simply, “everyone’s over at our house.”

“We’ll still need them,” she says, focusing on the steps it takes to get there and then shelf they’re on, “unless your mom has enough lights for all of us.”

“Well—kind of?” He says. She looks at him curiously, “she also has a backup thing for the Christmas lights.”

Nancy nods and pulls down the flashlights, checking all of them methodically before she’s ready to shut off the one on her wrist. For one nauseating moment everything is dark. She looks down at the glow in the dark compass. It’s stable. The needle is stable. It sometimes works instantly, it sometimes takes a bit, but that always brings her back. Always proves something to her, something honest. She flinches when Jonathan’s hands wrap around her forearm and steady her, but that doesn’t deter him. Instead he clicks the bezel a few marks and lines them up. Over the rushing in her ears, she realizes he’s talking.

“Sorry, what?” She asks, fumbling onto his voice. She can almost see the puzzled look she always gets during her night terrors. “I fell asleep,” she explains, “I dreamed about Barb again—don’t talk,” she interrupts, “I have to—to—“ she trails off as he guides her hand to the bezel of the compass. Rotating it helps. “Sorry,” she repeats, “I want to make sure I can come back without—“ she trails off.

“Without me,” Jonathan says simply and she bites her lip. Something infinite flashes across his face and she knows she hurt him. She doesn’t like that, but she has too many lies in her life and she can’t stomach him being one of them, “you’ve been having nightmares this whole year?”

It’s not a question but she nods anyway.

The news isn’t a surprise to him, not really. And whatever he feels that’s even remotely surprised is immediately kicked by the fact that he knew. Somewhere he knew. He looked at her enough to see the makeup getting heavier, the smile getting faker. But somehow all of that added up to another slap in the face, one he couldn’t handle anymore than he could handle when her hand started finding Steve’s again. He has as much right to those feelings as he did to taking her picture, he knows that. But knowing it doesn’t help the jealousy that churns in his gut when he thinks about it. He almost asks if Steve knew but bites the words back. His cowardice has done enough. He doesn’t want to give her more of a reason to slap him.

“How do you usually get through them?” He asks and, yeah, okay now he’s definitely getting slapped.

Except she just looks down at her wrist.

He looks down and has the most ridiculous urge to smile. In the dark he can almost see the color that burns at her cheeks. He’d put a lot of thought into the present–more than maybe anyone else’s. Jonathan’s gift list isn’t very long. He knows Will and his mom too well to struggle. But she is–was–in that grey area. He’d practically throw the thing at her and booked it before she could open it. He tortured himself with what was wrong with it, consoled himself that it was the thought that counted, told himself not to think about it every time he took out the camera.

“I sleep with it under my pillow.”

There’s nothing to choke on so it’s really odd but he manages. Nancy smiles, half heartedly tries not to let it be too wide and fails. She might be a little too enamored with pulling out the same honesty in him that he demands in others. He stares at her and she meets his eyes steadily. She doesn’t mind how exposed she feels under his gaze. She craves it sometimes–most of the time. Which is part of what’s made the past year so frustrating.

“Under your pillow?” He gets out and she nods.

“Wanna see?” She asks.

There’s never any bullshit of studying with him. Aside from the pull out jokes which she found hysterical and he later rolled his eyes at, there’s something almost mature about it. She doesn’t say anything else as she leads him up to her room, using the flashlight to guide their way. He follows her silently, keeping a hand in hers. He does close the door and a moment later, she clicks the light off and crashes her mouth into his. Nancy isn’t for comparison, she finds it unfair, but there’s something about the angles of kissing Jonathan that fit perfectly. She drags him over to the bed and practically puts him down on top of her. His knee presses between her legs and she whimpers at the friction.

“Wait—wait,” he says and she wants to cry in disappointment, “nightmare.”

“I’m not having one right now!” He stares down at her, “Jonathan,” she pleads around his name, tugging him down.

She doesn’t take the compass off.

His fingers trace the stitches and she can practically feel the surprise radiating off of him. Surprise at what, she isn’t sure. Jonathan has his share of mysterious. But the fact that his chest is rising and falling under her cheek, the fact that she can ask him, it actually makes a smile tug at her lips. His fingers pause as she looks up at him. Even in the dark she can see the smile that she brings to his lips.

“Why are you surprised I have it?” She asks him.

“I’m not—I’m surprised you have it and you didn’t call,” he says, thumbing the clasp. She looks up at him and he looks away, but his fingers keep moving and she tries to ground herself with that, “I don’t know how to do this,” he stumbles out, “but I want you to call.”

“I wanted to call,” she blurts out, “I did, I just—“ she trails off and he shakes his head, tipping her chin up to look at him, “I felt stupid. Wanting that,” she catches her lip between her teeth, “wanting you and being with Steve.”

“I was stupid too,” he says, actually surprising her, “I saw you with Steve and just thought—“ he shrugs.

Maybe it’s the fact that neither of them seems to know how to get a full sentence out. Or maybe it’s the fact that they picked now to talk about it. Or maybe it’s just the miscommunications they seem to wind up in general, but Nancy can’t stop the laughter. She buries her face in his chest, trying to contain it. Failing miserably at it too. His arms stay tight around her so she hasn’t pushed him away. But she’s sure he thinks she’s crazy. She lifts her head.

“Sorry, I just—“ she shakes her head, “we fought a monster, you pulled me out of another dimension. But neither of us could figure out how to say we liked each other.”

“It’s weird right?” He deadpans, his face remaining straight for far longer than it has any right to.

She finds herself on her back the next moment. She shifts her neck and gets comfortable. His fingertips skim over her face and she smiles, catching the edge of his thumb with her teeth playfully. He looks down at her in that way he does sometimes. Where he can’t believe what’s happening. That she’s there. That she wants to be with him. She doesn’t like it always, she doesn’t like it usually. She doesn’t like him looking at her like the other boys sometimes do. The look evaporates as their noses brush, but he pulls back far enough so she can’t kiss him like she wants to.

“I like you,” he says, his voice sending shivers up and down her spine, “I want to be with you. I have for a really long time.”

The admission from him, someone who she knows doesn’t make many of them, makes something warm curl in her chest. It’s the same thing that made her sleep with the survival compass he gave her all through the last year. Groping for comfort even when he wasn’t there. She tugs it off and reaches behind her, sliding it underneath the pillow for safekeeping once again. Jonathan presses his lips to the newly exposed skin of her arm wrist and Nancy thinks that she’s glad she still has the compass.

She’ll need it to find the phone.

#jancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jonathan x nancy #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #prompts

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