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eirian-houpe · 3 years ago

Text

Modern Wonders - Chapter 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), Alice (TV 2009)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Grumpy | Leroy, Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Dodo (Alice TV 2009), Queen of Hearts (Alice TV 2009), Carpenter (Alice TV 2009), Mad March (Alice TV 2009), The White Rabbit | Agent White (Alice TV 2009), Doormouse (Alice TV 2009), Widow Lucas | Granny, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Wonderland, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Pining, UST, Violence, Psychological Torture, Torture, Exploitation, Revenge, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Reconciliation

Summary: Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, and when Regina casts Rumple's Dark Curse, just a few words here and there creates Storybrooke in a very different place, with a very different atmosphere, and very different issues to deal with. Alliances and enmity permeate the lives of the citizens of Storybrooke, (and beyond), as they tiptoe around the various dangers they face every day. Who is awake? How can they break the curse within a curse? And what of the power struggles rife both within, and outside of Storybrooke itself.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 2 - Storybrooke

The gold handled cane did him little good in the surroundings outside, the broken terrain, but within the confines of the shanty town that was Storybrooke Gold’s stride was long, and confident, more like a lord measuring out his demesne than a poor crippled pawn broker living on the deals and heartbreak of others. He smiled wickedly to himself to think of the impression he gave to others, and the thrall he kept them under in spite of appearances.

Oh, if only they knew.

Storybrooke was not as ‘dead’ as they thought - or rather, as Regina thought - because Storybrooke was a tiny little bubble within the larger cesspit that was Wonderland, and he had the advantage. He had been here before… with Jefferson - and he frowned.

Since their arrival he couldn’t remember having seen Jefferson, not even lurking in the mansion that Regina had meant as his prison… his torment, to be shut away from his Grace. He made a mental note to pay the man a visit, determined to unlock the conundrum. Of course no one else cared. No one else was awake… and he wasn’t meant to be, he was sure of it - another conundrum for him to unravel.

“Um… Mi— Mister Gold, I ah… that is…”

Gold halted on the paved sidewalk, and turned his head to watch as Archie Hopper, umbrella in hand - in preparation for what rain, Gold wondered - cross the deserted street toward him.

“Doctor Hopper,” he greeted the man with false cheer. “A pleasure, but out with it, man, I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh, I… um…” Hopper pushed his glasses up along his nose, back into place, “I wondered if you’d had a chance to consider my… ah… proposition?”

“Ah, yes,” Gold purred. “Walk with me, won’t you?”

Gold turned without waiting for the good doctor’s agreement or otherwise, and set a slower pace toward Granny’s diner. With the library still closed, it was the one place left open for informal, communal gatherings. Of all of Storybrooke’s other, cursed, inhabitants, the proprietor was someone for whom he had a good deal of respect. Tough as nails, no nonsense, Widow Lucas was as upstanding a pillar of the community that Storybrooke possessed.

All the rest were crumbling; as crumbling as the buildings and the streets of Storybrooke itself. Gold wondered if anyone else had noticed.

It was subtle. The odd crack in a sidewalk here, the tendril of a vine there, a wall, beginning to crumble and weeds reclaiming a spot or two in the well manicured gardens. Subtle, but unmistakable. Wonderland was reclaiming its own.

“I’ve give it a good deal of thought, as a matter of fact,” Gold told Hopper before he allowed his observations to run away with him. “And while, obviously, as an upstanding member of our town council, I can’t condone what you’re suggesting…” he left a long pause as they reached the diner’s doorstep, whereupon, lowering his voice to a dangerous growl, he blocked Doctor Hoppers path with his arm, stretched across the doorway, and said, “I think it might be just what some people in this town need.”

Whale growled softly and turned away from the window. It wasn’t the paint, peeling, that was the cause of his frustration, but the fact that he couldn’t reconcile the feeling that was flowing through him, and the sky outside of the hospital. It was almost cloudless.

He was, he tried to tell Sheriff Humbert when the man called in to find out about his latest patient who had been found wandering - raving by all accounts - about some kind of ‘door,’ a doctor and not an investigator. The sheriff however, refused to help him get to the truth about his patient’s ramblings.

“This isn’t Narnia,” he said in a somewhat poor display of bedside manner, “there are no doors to other, magical kingdoms. No witches, no wizards, no—”

“Yeah?” the citizen interrupted. “How do you explain this then?” Whereupon he pulled back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal the strange, abstract shape standing out raw and painful looking on his arm.

“A uh… tattoo?” Doctor Whale suggested in an overly patient tone. “And a somewhat fresh one from what I can tell.”

“Uh-huh,” the patient argued, “And you get em just like that,” he snapped his fingers somewhat inexpertly, “do ya?” He jerked his head toward the window. “When the sun shines on ya?”

“Sheriff Humbert, please,” Whale turned his attention to the man hovering uncomfortably in the doorway, looking as guilty as sin and extremely distracted. “You see? You can at least tell me where you picked this man up, and if there were, indeed, a door there?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but… there’s nothing I can tell you,” Humbert answered. “I’d like to tell you I saw a door, but the truth is, I was far too worried about your patient here to pay too much attention. His safety was my priority.” He took a breath and added far too hurriedly in Whale’s opinion, “Anyway, I just called round to see how he was getting along. Can’t stay though,” he said. “I’ve a council meeting, that I have to get to in,” he glanced at his watch, “ten minutes. And the mayor doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Then he left, and Whale remained, alone and without explanation standing beside the hospital window staring at the wrongly colored sky.

Gold sighed softly as the bell over the shop door tinkled to announce an unwanted caller. He wasn’t sure why he expected that simply displaying a ‘closed’ sign would discourage random visitors, and mused to himself that perhaps locking the door might be a more effective deterrent.

Taking his time, he picked up the cloth from the workbench and carefully began wiping his fingers clean of the gear oil which he had been using on the innards of a delicate clock, even as he made his way out of the back room, and into the shop, limping as he went.

“Madam Mayor,” he said as he set eyes on Regina standing practically tapping her foot with annoyance at having to wait. He kept his tone light, appreciative, as if to imply he respected that someone so important was going out of their way to be in his presence. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Cut the crap, Gold,” Regina snapped, by way of a return to his greeting. “What did you do!”

So she has noticed.

“I’m… sorry,” he said slowly, “I don’t follow.”

“It’s a simple question,” she growled. “What. Did. You. Do? Everything’s coming unraveled.”

“Unraveled?” he echoed, deciding that he would continue to feign ignorance for as long as he were able; see what he could find out - what she would let slip. “I’m afraid I haven’t done anything, and I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” He put the slightest hint of pique into his voice at the end of his assertion, to make it convincing, then for good measure, added, “If it’s something woven, or a knitted blanket, I’d be happy to take a look at it. It wouldn’t be the first time that—”

Regina’s hand slammed down onto the top of one of the glass cased, rattling the contents within as she snarled, “Drop it, Gold. I know you’re awake. Not that you’re supposed to be. Jefferson was the only one I—”

So, my old friend is in Wonderland too. He’s not going to be happy with that.

“Awake?” Gold interrupted, then with a confused laugh in his voice he added, “Regina, you’re not making any sense. Of course I’m awake. I’m standing here, talking to you - was just fixing a clock out back, so unless I fell asleep while I was working and this is all a dream—”

He made a mental note to take another walk around Storybrooke some time very soon, to check on Grace, and hoped with all his heart that she was safe; almost that she wasn’t here - that whatever had diverted the curse to Wonderland had spared her.

Regina growled, cutting off his words, and his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow, undecided whether to reveal himself in that moment, or to play the game a little longer. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“The borders are failing,” she said harshly. “This wretched realm is encroaching on my town. So if you had anything to do with that, Gold, so help me…”

It was the threat that broke his resolve to pretend he was not awake. No one, least of all Regina threatened Gold on his own turf, and the shop was his turf in more ways than one.

“Well, well, well…” his voice was more of a low rumble in his chest, and he took his cane in hand and walked toward, and then around Regina until he was barely behind her, and purred in her ear, “…Dearie…” Even so, confessing he was awake was one thing, revealing he had magic, that was quite something else. “Things not going quite how you planned?”

“I know you have something to do with this,” she accused.

He circled around the rest of the way to come and lean against one of the display cases, looking far more casual than he felt as he looked her up and down, before he said, “Now, what makes you think,” he pointed at her, “that even if I had the power to - what was it you said - ‘unravel’ this little town of yours, that I’d even waste my time trying.” As he spoke of himself, he jabbed his thumb against his own chest, the grandeur of the gesture far more reminiscent of his Enchanted Forest form than the upright, uptight Mister Gold of Storybrooke.

“What you should be asking, dearie,” he rumbled, “is who would have the kind of magic necessary to mess with my Dark Curse?”

#rumbelle #au.#cursed storybrooke #wonderland #drug use #recreational drug use #pining #ust #psychological torture #violence #torture #exploitation #revenge #eventual romance #eventual smut #reconciliation #Modern Wonders #i will always write jefferson

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andcontemplation · 4 years ago

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The Last Snowball

~or~

Why Joyce Hates Jim Hopper’s Guts (a love story)

December, 1964

"Skipping class again, huh?"

Jim Hopper thought he’d been busted, until he turned to see his tiny brunette friend cross the hall toward him with a great big smile on her face. He chewed slowly on the last bite of his second sandwich of the day as he watched Joyce flutter up to him like a little bird.

"Did you run here to state the obvious?" he asked through a smirk and a mouthful of bologna.

"What? No!" Joyce’s nose scrunched up and she quickly shook her head before the big smile crept back. "You weren't by the steps after fifth, and I was looking for you. I wanna ask you something!"

"Why are your cheeks all red then?" he asked.

Joyce brought a hand up to her left cheek and stood on her tiptoes to look at her reflection in his locker mirror. Indeed, her cheeks were ten shades of crimson, and the blush only deepened when she saw it with her own eyes.

Hopper swallowed and raised an eyebrow slowly.

"What's up?"

Joyce sighed and fidgeted with the lock on his locker door. Then she repositioned the textbooks in her arms, looking anywhere but at him. She tried not to think about how hot her cheeks were getting under his gaze.

"Well -- I don't know if you noticed, but the winter dance on Friday is a Sadie Hawkins," she said holding her breath, before sneaking a peek at him with wide, worried eyes to gauge his reaction. But there was none.

He just kinda shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. Half the junior girls asked me already," he admitted, crumpling the empty paper bag that once held the rest of second-lunch and tossed it in the trash can over her head and behind her. Completely clueless, as usual.

Joyce deflated.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, keeping the smile plastered to her face, desperately trying to ignore the heaviness in her chest at his words. "Who?"

Hopper shrugged again and turned back to the mess in his locker, getting ready to head out.

"A bunch of chicks. I told 'em 'No.'"

"Oh." The heavy feeling disappeared just as quickly as it came. "A bunch, huh?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"Uh… well, I don't know," Joyce sighed and trailed off. "I just thought, maybe…"

"Yeah?"

"You and I..?"

She didn't want to say it -- she couldn't possibly say it. The words caught in the back of her throat, but Hopper was getting impatient.

"Well? Spit it out!"

Joyce took a deep breath.

"Well, it's just that... it's the Snowball. And I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to go. With me?"

She shifted her weight nervously as she waited on his response. It felt like forever as she watched his face change from clueless to amused, confused, and then back again.

"Hmm, no thanks," he said finally, coolly shrugging his hunter green plaid jacket over his broad shoulders. "I got plans."

Joyce's face fell for real this time, and she leaned back against the lockers, letting his locker door shield her disappointment. Hopper was rummaging around his locker again, banging books around on the shelves and dropping his winter gear at his feet -- hat, mitts, a pair of long johns, and big woolly socks.

"Why don't you ask your new boyfriend?" he asked rather bluntly from behind the locker door.

"Who? Lonnie?” Joyce leaned forward to glare at him. “Lonnie's not my--" She bit her tongue and steered the conversation back on track, knowing the topic of Lonnie Byers was not a welcome one with Hopper lately.

"I wanted to ask you, dummy!" she told Hopper, feeling her mood start to sour. "Since you're like... I don't know? My best friend?"

"Aw," Hopper said, clutching for his heart and rolling his eyes. "Be still my beating heart. You make it sound so special."

Joyce bounced on her heels in frustration. Sometimes she wished she was taller so she could properly smack him on the back of the head.

"I just mean-- We went to our first Snowball together. Shouldn't we go to the last one too?"

"Uh, no?" Hopper said and then ducked out of her reach when she aimed for his arm. "What? I'm struggling to see the big deal here. It's just a dance!"

Joyce raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. What a stick in the mud!

"It's the last Snowball, Jim."

"And this is the last week I can bag a doe with my tag, Joyce."

He bent down to gather up the small pile of clothes on the floor and shoved them into his backpack. Joyce set her jaw, grimacing.

"A deer?"

"A female deer," he grinned up at her.

Joyce clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You're telling me you'd rather kill some poor, innocent creature than dance with your best friend all night?" Her voice trailed off, hopefully conveying the intentions behind the words -- I like you, you big doofus.

But Hopper didn't catch on.

"Yes, absolutely."

He said it so abruptly, Joyce struggled not to look too offended.

"Well, I… I thought you could only hunt 'til Last Light anyway?"

Hah! She had him there -- according to Indiana fish and game regulations, he wasn't allowed to hunt after the sun went down. Honestly, she didn't know much else about hunting other than that small fact, but Joyce clung to it like a life raft.

"Why don't you just come to the dance afterwards, then? Meet me there?" Joyce persisted.

"No can do!" He pressed his lips together, unapologetically. "I plan to be elbow deep in blood n’ guts after Last Light."

Her jaw dropped, and it made him smirk again.

"That's disgusting!" Joyce said, horrified.

"So's a Sadie Hawkins!" he exclaimed. "Girls asking guys? What's next? Cats chasing dogs? C'mon, Joyce." Hopper snorted at his own joke and stood up.

Joyce tried to ignore the rude passing comment, even though it made her want to stab him with her women’s lib pin. Why was she asking him again? Oh right. Those pesky feelings... the same ones she'd been fighting for the last four years. Just when she thought she had them beat, making herself believe she only ever wanted to be just his friend, feelings would rear their ugly head again and make her act like a complete fool. Like right now, for example:

"But it's the last Snowball!" She tried with him one more time. “Come on, don’t be such a party pooper.”

Hopper slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the last of his junk shoving it back in the locker, anywhere it would fit. He heaved a sigh.

“So? We had Homecoming last month. Prom's in spring. How many dances do we really need?"

Never mind that Joyce was helping Karen plan each of those dances and leading the Pep Club in decorating the gym for all of them too. Or that this was their last year of school -- ever! He knew perfectly well how much it all meant to Joyce and she couldn't believe he wasn't a being bit more sentimental about all of it.

"It's our last Snowball."

That's when Hopper finally got it. And then he rolled his eyes.

"You realize that none of the guys are going, right?”

"Nuh-uh.” Joyce shook her head. “Not all the guys. Some of the seniors are going with the gals!"

She didn't know exactly how many, and she left out the part where it was mostly the steadies going together, hoping to convince him.

"Well, none of the single guys are going," Hopper assured her again. "Trust me. We all have plans. Besides, that dance is only for the freshmen and middle-schoolers, now. Last year was so lame."

"Plans?" she echoed.

"Yeah. I told you! My card's punched all week."

"Heya, Hop!" Benny called out, interrupting them from down the hallway, catching their attention over the top of the other student's heads. He raised his .22 in his hand to Hopper like a chalice. "Hunting?"

"Hunting!" Hopper hollered back and turned back to Joyce. "See? Hunting."

Joyce rolled her eyes and let out a grumble -- at least his plan wasn’t Chrissy Carpenter again.

"How many times can a man go hunting in a week?" she asked pointedly.

"Well, Beatles say there's 8 days…" Hopper started, slamming his locker shut.

"Let me rephrase that," Joyce interrupted. "How many times can a man go hunting in a week and bring home absolutely nothing?"

Hopper narrowed his eyes on Joyce and chewed his bottom lip, biting back what he really wanted to say. She knew full well he hadn't gotten anything yet this year, and he was quickly running out of time to prove his machismo to his pals. Now she was purposely rubbing salt in those wounds.

"Look at you, being funny," he said flatly, moving her aside to follow Benny out the double doors. "Don't let me spoil your little party, okay? Slow dance with Karen if you have to," he added with a wink.

"I hate you, Jim Hopper!" Joyce called out after him, meaning every word in that very moment. Just when she thought Hopper might change, here he was, being his same-old callous self.

"Feeling's mutual," he chuckled over his shoulder. "See ya later!"

"Yeah, whatever, Captain Funwrecker." Joyce grumbled back as she watched him walk away.

Her spirit was crushed.

Her crush? Crushed.

Was it too late to bottle all those feelings back up? Swallow what was left of her pride and ask one of the shy, senior guys instead? At least, she thought, Bob Newby’s always a sure thing.

Lonnie was her original back up choice, but she already knew he'd laugh in her face too, just the same as Hopper had done.

Lonnie wouldn't be hunting, though. Just drinking and partying at the quarry or whatever he and his miscreant friends liked to do for fun -- she still hadn't quite figured that out, though she was beginning to think maybe being a miscreant was more fun than it sounded. More fun than hunting poor innocent creatures anyway. Or playing lone wallflower at the dance again...

As the last bell rang, Joyce wondered why all the boys she liked had to be such jerks.

---

#jopper #young jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #teen!jopper #jopper advent #day 23 #ficlet #on this episode of who crushed on who first...#silly holiday fluffy angsty nonsense for all you lovebirds out there!

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hawkinshellfire · 4 years ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 2 - Forever and Always

Were you just kidding?

'Cause it seems to me, this thing is breaking down

We almost never speak

I don't feel welcome anymore

Hopper slips two cigarettes out of the package in his pocket and wordlessly passes one to Joyce. She accepts and leans towards him so he can light it with the lighter he has pressed in the palm of his hand. On her first inhale, she coughs and sputters which causes him to laugh.

“What the hell Hop, these are terrible.”

“I like them,” he grins, taking a long, coughless, drag of his own cigarette.

The two of them were sitting on a bench in the park near Joyce’s house, and had been sharing random stories about their respective days over cigarettes. Joyce used up the final cigarette in her pack as soon as they arrived, and was now stuck complaining about having to smoke Hopper’s cigarettes.

“You’re going to destroy your lungs,” she lectures. Leaning back against the wooden park bench, she pulls the zipper higher on her leather jacket and crosses one jean-clad leg over the other.

“I think we’re both doing that.”

“Keep smoking those and you’ll get there alot faster than I will.” Joyce takes another drag, scrunching her facial features as she braces herself for the sharp inhale, but she’s surprised to find it less harsh this time.

“You’ll never guess who was waiting near my locker after third period,” Hopper beams.

“Oh?” she remarks, she stares over at him and places the cigarette between her lips.

“Aren’t you going to guess?”

“You just said that I’d never guess. Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“You know that senior on the cheerleading squad? Tall, blonde…”

“Brainless,” Joyce finishes for him with a wide smirk.

“She’s not brainless. Her name is Chrissy.”

“And why was Chrissy waiting for you?” She doesn’t even attempt to hide the disinterest in her voice, instead she plays into it and uses it to make her remark sound sarcastic.

“She wanted to compliment me on the game the other night.”

“And she couldn’t do that after the actual game?”

Her comment bites, and it takes his visible excitement down a notch.

“What do you care what she thinks anyway?” Joyce shrugs.

“She’s a senior. A senior who’s a hot cheerleader. Of course I care what she thinks.”

She notices he’s sitting tall with his chest puffed out slightly more than usual and she realizes he’s trying to brag about Chrissy flirting with him. She isn’t sure what type of reaction he’s hoping for from her, but she does her best to be supportive and dryly states that she’s happy to “see him making friends” before asking if he can walk her home so she can get started on her homework.

It isn’t jealousy, she tells herself. She didn’t care if Chrissy flirted with Hopper. He was single and free to be excited by any girl that flirted with him. The only reason the mention of Chrissy irritated her was because she hated cheerleaders.

Nothing to do with Hopper. At all.

He walks her to the end of her street, where she insists that she’s fine the rest of the way. He tells her he’ll meet her at the library for their study session on Sunday and waves goodbye as she begins down the path to her house.

Part of her wishes she’d chosen to hang out with Hopper longer, but she felt she had to ask him to walk her home before she was forced to explain her non-existent jealousy over Chrissy. Since she didn’t really have homework to do and she had no plans, despite it being a Friday night, she decides she’ll spend the evening lost in the fictional realm of her latest novel. This way, she could avoid her father when he inevitably came home drunk and looking for a reason to yell at her.

Late Sunday afternoon, Joyce finds herself sprawled out at one of the tables in the far corner of the Hawkins Public Library. Sitting beneath the window, she scribbles down notes on a legal pad while basking in the early evening glow that was illuminating the table and providing the illusion of warmth.

With her hair pinned back and the glasses she hardly ever wears sitting on the bridge of her nose, she knows she looks completely different from how she does when she walks the halls of Hawkins High. At school, she liked to maintain her rebel attitude, but here within the stacks of books where she’s supposed to be meeting Hopper, she feels like a different person. She embodies a version of herself that adores reading, that would never cut class (though she actually cut class often) and that wouldn’t be caught dead walking around with the usual version of herself.

She liked that she got to play both parts. The girl who no one dared to mess with because they deemed her unpredictable, and the girl who enjoyed spending her Sunday afternoon reading in the library.

Hopper was supposed to meet her after his morning practice, and based on the way the sun drips behind the afternoon clouds, she begins to wonder if maybe practice ran late or he got a flat tire on his way to meet her. With no way to call him, she continues working while she waits, coming up with various jokes about his tardiness to use when he eventually arrives.

She realizes he probably isn’t coming when the sun begins to fade and she needs to turn on the desk lamp to continue working. She should pack up and head home for dinner, but it wasn’t like Hopper to forget about their plans, so she decides to wait a while longer in case something happened and he’s just running (really) late.

The librarian approaches her while she has her nose buried in her book and taps on her shoulder to let her know they’ll be closing shortly. With a heavy sigh she packs up her book bag and walks back home. It wasn’t like Hopper to not show up or find a way to tell her he had to cancel, and worry consumes her on her walk.

What if he got hurt at practice? Or worse, what if he got hurt driving home? She contemplates walking past his house to check on him, but convinces herself that a phone call will suffice and goes for the receiver the moment she steps foot in her kitchen. She turns the dial and rings him, but there's no answer. Joyce brings her book bag into her room and kicks it to the side before storming back into the kitchen and furiously dialing the number for the Hopper’s.

Jim’s father answers the phone on the third ring and Joyce releases a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hopper. I was just wondering if Jim was home?”

“He’s not, can I take a message?”

“Do you know if he’s alright?” she asks weakly.

“As far as I know?” his father responds, confused. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave a message?”

Before Joyce can answer, the front door swings open, announcing her fathers return from his weekly poker game. She hangs up the phone before responding to Mr. Hopper and scampers towards the sink where she gets to work scrubbing the plates that had been left over the past few days.

“Have you just been bumming around all day?” her father asks as he stumbles into the kitchen. She can smell the scotch on his breath from across the room, and remains still.

“I went to the library to study.”

“Such a smart girl,” he grins wickedly, continuing through the house towards his bedroom.

Once the dishes are clean, Joyce makes herself a sandwich and retreats to her room where she curls up beneath her covers and wonders why Hopper forgot about their plans.

The following morning, Joyce searches the halls for Hopper so she can confront him and demand he explain why he stood her up, but she doesn’t see him anywhere. He wasn’t exactly hard to spot in a crowd, being incredibly tall, and she wonders where he could be.

The warning bell rings and Joyce gives up on her search and heads to the locker room to prepare for gym class. She knows she’ll see him in science and she plans on cornering him after class and lecturing him for scaring the crap out of her.

In the locker room, she selects her usual spot in the corner, away from her fellow classmates and changes into the required sweatpants and grey cotton t-shirt. Placing her own clothes into her locker, she overhears two girls giggling on the other side of the lockers and the sound of Hopper’s name grabs her attention. She steps towards the blue metal cage and stills her breathing so she can focus on what’s being said.

From the other side of the locker room, she hears a girl laugh and say “C’mon Chrissy. You have to tell us more.”

Feeling daring, Joyce peers around the side of the lockers into the adjacent aisle and immediately recognizes the two seniors she can hear. Chrissy Carpenter and her best friends, Melina and Teresa. Chrissy is standing with her back to Joyce wearing nothing but a pale pink pair of panties and a matching bra, while her friends have already changed into their gym clothes. Before they have a chance to spot her, Joyce shrinks herself back into the corner where she’s invisible to them. She knows she shouldn’t be listening in on them, but she can’t help herself.

“Where did he take you?” she hears one of the girls ask.

“We went to one of those drive-in movies,” Chrissy replies. Both of her friends squeal.

“And? What happened?”

“Sorry ladies, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Though she can’t see, Joyce can hear the smirk in Chrissy’s voice and she cringes.

“But I’m also not one to get past first base and shut up. He’s a really good kisser,” Chrissy gushes. This time she’s met with even more squealing and giggling.

Joyce can feel her pulse racing and she doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know her cheeks are the colour of tomatoes. After the girls leave the locker room, she splashes her face with cold water and grips at the edges of the sink to steady herself. She stares at her own reflection and swallows hard. He stood her up for a date and she was livid.

Hopper had been on a handful of dates. He’d never had a serious relationship, but the news of him dating wasn’t a shock to Joyce. He dated frequently, he kissed girls in their class at parties and on occasion he admitted he went further. It never bothered her. He was entitled to live his life without her judgements, but what didn’t sit right with Joyce was the fact that he blew her off for a girl he just met.

Worse than that, he hadn’t even called her to apologize afterwards.

Joyce blows off first and second period and by time she gets to science class, she’s absolutely livid with Hopper. She claims her seat without glancing in his direction, and when he calls her name she looks the other way. Lucky for her, Mr. Benson begins the lesson and Hopper is forced to stop trying to attract her attention. She notices him staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but keeps her eyes glued on the blackboard.

When class is dismissed, he’s immediately in front of her desk, staring down at her with pleading eyes. “Joyce,” he says, demanding her attention, “is everything alright?”

Figures, she thinks to herself. He doesn’t even realize he’s done something wrong. With a huff, she balances her books on her arm, looks him dead in the eye and simply smiles, “I missed you at the library yesterday.”

Satisfied with the sarcastic way the remark falls off her tongue, she turns swiftly on her heel and walks towards the exit.

“Oh shit,” he blubbers. “Joyce. I am so so sorry!” He reaches for her arm and forces her to stop and face him.

Desperate to keep herself composed, Joyce rolls her shoulders back and tilts her head. “I assume you had something more important to do? And that all the phones died so you couldn’t call and apologize. I mean, that is the only logical explanation as to why you stood me up and then never called to explain why.”

He pales and fiddles with his thumbs. Though he towers over her, he feels much smaller than her and he stutters as he attempts to speak.

“I’m so sorry! I never meant to stand you up, it’s just… my dad,” he pauses and gulps before he continues speaking, “he needed a hand with some chores and I completely lost track of time.”

Joyce raises her eyebrow at him but he only nods, as if he’s convincing himself of his own story.

“That’s funny. I didn’t know your dad was a seventeen year old blonde cheerleader,” she deadpans.

She watches as his jaw falls open and then flops closed before opening again, a fish out of water.

“Who told you about Chrissy?”

“Does it really matter?” she exclaims. No longer able to contain her anger, Joyce storms out of the classroom and off to her locker. With shaky hands, she turns the dial and enters the combination, slams her textbook onto the metal shelf and reaches for her pack of cigarettes, which she stuffs into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Joyce!” Hopper's voice echoes through the hallway and a few people turn around to stare.

He reaches her locker and barks at the bystanders on-looking before reaching for her hand and cautiously covering it with his own palm.

“Joyce, please listen to me,” he pleads. His voice cracks and Joyce can see tears forming so she nods and let’s him continue.

“I didn’t mean to stand you up, I just forgot,” he admits in a quick breath.

“You just lied to me!”

“I know and I’m…”

“In all the time that we have known each other, you’ve never once lied to me,” she whispers. She sounds broken and defeated and it breaks something in Hopper, who reaches down and wraps his arms around her shoulders. He rests his chin on her head and waits until her breathing normalizes.

“I didn’t want to lie to you Joyce.” He tells her when he releases his hold on her.

“Then why did you?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to see her again and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he admits.

“Why wouldn’t you see her again? Sounds to me like she had a great time.”

“She told you?”

“I overheard,”Joyce shrugs sheepishly. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been listening. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to tell me not to go.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“Yes, you would have. You made the way you feel about her crystal clear the last time I brought her up and I didn’t want you to convince me that I shouldn’t go.”

“You don’t always have to listen to me you know,” she chuckles, a smile finally replacing her scowl.

“I care about what you think, Joyce.”

“And I want to see you happy, Hop.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear, I’ll never lie to you again.”

“You better not because next time I’ll have to kick your ass,” she laughs, playfully nudging into him.

They begin to walk towards the cafeteria, and just like any other time they’d fought, they’re quick to move on and it’s as if the entire dramatic scene in the hall never happened. Only, unlike their precious fights, this one still weighs on Joyce’s shoulders.

“Hey Joyce,” Hopper says. “I want you to know that even if I do see Chrissy again, I promise it won’t change anything between us.”

But it already had begun to change things and she had a feeling that the changes were only going to snowball in the weeks to come.

That afternoon at lunch, instead of losing herself in a world of fiction, she finds herself lost in a web of her own feelings. Was she angry with Hopper because he bailed on her for Chrissy, because he lied about it? Or was her anger rooted in the fact that he was becoming romantically involved and she feared that this one wouldn’t be as short lived as the others.

Just as Joyce feared, as Hopper began to spend more time with Chrissy, he spent less time with her. On two separate occasions, he cancelled plans with Joyce to spend time with his new “not” girlfriend (as he insisted when Joyce asked if they were an item yet). She was disappointed when he cancelled, but she figures it’s a passing phase and she would only have to share Hopper temporarily, so she decides to put on a brave face and act like it doesn’t bother her. The silver lining was that he was always honest about why he was bailing on their plans, and she truly believed that he would never lie to her again, which brought her some sense of comfort.

On Thursday, Joyce notices that Chrissy has secured herself a seat at Hopper’s usual lunch table and she rolls her eyes to herself. She’s sitting at her typical table with Eli and Josie, who are engaged in an animated discussion about string theory and its applications that Joyce tuned out of a long time ago.

She and Hopper never had lunch together. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t sit together, but she knew he enjoyed spending the lunch period with his friends and she preferred spending time with him when they were away from the prying eyes of their classmates. Joyce knew he enjoyed the mindless conversations and bonding that having lunch with his teammates offered, but there Chrissy was, seated right next to him, pretending to be interested in whatever story is being told.

Hopper must hate having her practically glued to his side. He was such an individual that loved independence, surely he would tell Chrissy he enjoyed eating lunch with his friends, but Chrissy is right back in the seat next to him the next day, stealing french fries off his plate and causing Joyce to scowl from across the cafeteria.

After school on Friday, Joyce finds Hopper waiting for her at her locker.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hey,” she replies. She busies herself by filling her book bag and preparing to head home so that she doesn’t have to look at him. He’d been avoiding her all week; cancelling plans, rushing out of science so he could meet Chrissy for lunch, skipping out on their conversations at her locker before class, so she’s surprised to find him waiting.

“Look, I’m sorry we haven’t seen much of each other this week. I was wondering if you wanted to come with us to the diner tonight?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, Benny, Chrissy, a few of the other guys…”

“Sorry. I have plans tonight,” she lies.

He doesn’t seem to buy it but he also doesn’t push.

“Well, if you change your mind, that’s where we’ll be.” He walks off without uttering another word and Joyce angrily stuffs her pencil case into her bag.

It’s not lost on her that he doesn’t take the blame for them not having seen each other, and her anger makes her cheeks hot. She didn’t have any plans. She knew it and she knew Hopper knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to sit at a table across from him and Chrissy and watch them moon over one another. It was bad enough she had to witness it at school, she didn’t need to go out of her way to feel uncomfortable as well.

She wanted to be happy for Hopper. But something about Chrissy rubbed her the wrong way and she hated seeing them together. The thought made her stomach curl into knots and she knows that things can’t keep going on like this because if they did, she risked losing her favourite person.

On her walk home, Joyce promises herself that she’ll try harder to be happy for him. She could muster up the courage to plaster a fake smile on her face and comment on what a cute couple they made, at least until Hopper got bored of her and things could go back to normal.

When Joyce arrives at home, she finds a note on the fridge explaining that both of her parents will be out for the evening. She prepares dinner for herself and takes the plate into her room. Once she’s finished eating, she wraps a blanket around her shoulders and slouches back against the wall with her sketchpad. Joyce flips to a fresh page and removes a charcoal pencil from her sack before beginning to draw on the blank sheet. She’s not sure what it is when she begins, but she channels her emotions and allows her hand to move with how she feels. Sketching was not something she did often, but when she did find time to sit down and work, her pieces reflected some of her innermost thoughts.

She continues to draw, black lines stretching across the sheet in various directions, until the sun fades in the window and the evening air chills her room. She could have gone to the diner instead of spending the night alone in her tiny room, but then she would have to face him, and facing him meant facing them, and facing them meant facing feelings she was afraid to confront.

Her pencil falls to the side, the drawing now complete and she finds herself face to face with an eye, only it’s not just any eye, it’s Hoppers. It was wise, yet fragile, and her fingers hover over the still piece of art as she processes what it all means.

She wishes she was at the diner with Hopper, that Chrissy never came into the picture. What surprises her the most is that she finds herself wishing she was in Chrissy’s position. She wants to be there with Hopper. It hits her like a freight train and she’s winded and drowning at the same time that she’s flying. With Hopper.

She repeats the realization over in her head and turns the drawing over in her hands. Of course she was jealous of him spending more time with someone else, that was something all friends experience, but what she feels, this gnawing feeling in her gut, was not the type of jealousy experienced by abandoned friends. This was the type that roared its ugly head at inconvenient times and reminded her that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to completely forget the way she felt about him.

Unlike every other time she had this thought and forced herself to dismiss it, she leans into the feeling and finds herself going down the rabbit hole of “what-ifs.” What if she told him that she might have feelings for him? Would he feel the same way, or would it ruin their friendship and leave her with nothing? What if she told him and he wanted nothing to do with her? Or worse, what if he felt the same way but then things inevitably fell apart and left them with nothing.

What if she admitted to herself that it wasn’t “might” have feelings for him but rather she did. That the question wasn’t; what if she told him she might have feelings for him, but was; what if she told him she had feelings for him?

Woah, she thinks to herself, sitting up and letting herself become consumed by the headrush.

She had feelings for Hopper.

Romantic feelings. The can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of feelings.

Joyce climbs out of bed and drags herself into the shower, where she remains lost in the confounds of her own mind. At one point, she wonders if she should tell Hopper about her feelings, since they told each other everything, but she decides that it would be pointless to tell him. He was with Chrissy now and there was no way he felt the same way. He saw her as a friend, and lately, she was questioning even that.

Saturday afternoon, Hopper shows up at Joyce’s house at quarter past twelve so they can head to the library. Joyce, who assumed Hopper would bail on her to spend the weekend with Chrissy, hadn’t thought about how awkward she would feel after her late night revelation. She climbs into the front of the car and squeaks an awkward hello, keeping her gaze directed out the passenger side window.

“So, what did you get up to last night?” he asks.

“I had some homework to catch up on,” she lies.

“When are you ever behind on homework?”

“It was a busy week,” she replies. She offers no further explanation, and they both suffer in silence for a few minutes.

“I missed you last night. At the diner.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” he grins, “who else will make fun of me for ordering extra fries but then still help me eat them?”

“I’ll come next time,” she says. It’s a lie.

She’s still waiting for him to address the elephant in the room when they arrive at the library, and she realizes he isn’t going to.

They claim their usual table in the back corner. It’s busier today than it was last weekend when Joyce studied alone, and a few of their classmates wave to Hopper as they wind through the book stacks and cubicles.

The pair fall into a comfortable routine in no time, Hopper teasing Joyce because she refuses to fold down the corner pages of her books, and Joyce claiming only mad men would ruin a perfectly good book. For a while, she forgets about the strain the past week had put on their friendship. Everything is simple, easy and them. Just Joyce and Hopper, teasing one another the way best friends do. It’s almost too easy to forget about all of the things plaguing her conscious when she’s with him. He made her feel at home, which made it even harder to face the fact that it felt like he was slipping away.

Joyce chooses to forget about that for the moment and to just enjoy spending time with Hopper. As pathetic as it sounded, she was willing to take what she could get.

“What do you think about driving up to the quarry this week?” she asks him.

He’s leaning with his elbows propped up on the table, his textbook still sealed shut and he’s staring at a table across the way. “Huh?” he mumbles, turning back towards Joyce.

She follows his prior gaze and can’t resist the urge to roll her eyes when her own eyes settle on a blonde, sitting with two of her friends, giggling.

“The quarry, this week?” she repeats. Irritation rings through her voice as she watches Hopper return his attention to the blonde while responding to the question she knows he wasn’t listening to. “Sure.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Joyce asks.

“Of course I am,” he replies. He gives her his undivided attention for the next few moments while she discusses their potential plans for the week ahead, but it’s tugged away the moment Chrissy saunters over and perches herself on the side of the table next to Hopper.

“Hi James,” she smirks, her hand lingering on his bicep.

Joyce cringes when she calls him James, but does her best to remain unphased by Chrissy’s presence.

“Chrissy, you know Joyce, right?” Hopper introduces them.

With an intimidating smile, Chrissy extends her palm to Joyce and limply shakes her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Joyce mutters beneath her breath.

“The girls and I were just talking about that thing you said at lunch the other day,” Chrissy laughs, her hand roaming up Hopper’s arm.

Joyce resists the urge to gag and roll her eyes, instead watching Hopper who clearly doesn’t know how to react to Chrissy’s display of PDA.

“We were also discussing our final project for home economics and I suggested we make that grilled cheese sandwich you made for me. Isn’t he just the best?” she turns to Joyce and gushes. “I swear, he makes the world's greatest grilled cheese. You should get him to make it for you sometime.”

Of course, Joyce had had Hopper’s grilled cheese plenty of times and she knew that Chrissy knew this. She and Hopper may enjoy their lunch period with separate crowds, but it was no secret to their classmates that they were long time friends and Joyce knew that Chrissy’s statement was meant to mark her territory. She was trying to tell Joyce that she and Hopper communicated in a way that he and Joyce didn’t, by demonstrating that she knew personal details about him.

Joyce considers making a snarky comment back, and is surprised when Hopper speaks up before she has a chance to.

“Oh, Joyce has had it before. Who do you think taught me how to make it?” he proudly brags while remaining completely oblivious to the stand-off that was occurring.

“How cute,” Chrissy remarks. “Anyways, I just came over here to see if I could steal Jim away for a bit. I’m struggling with an assignment and he promised he would help me. You don’t mind, do you Joyce?”

Hopper looks from Chrissy, to Joyce and back, unsure of whether he should speak.

Not wanting to give Chrissy any type of satisfaction, Joyce smiles up at her and replies, “Of course not. Some of us need a little more help than others.”

The comment goes over Chrissy’s head, but Hopper catches it and frowns.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be right over,” he tells Chrissy who hops down off the table and sashays back to her friends.

“Really Joyce?” he scolds.

“What?”

“That wasn’t very nice and you know it.”

She wants to scream at him and tell him that Chrissy was the one who insisted on coming over to their table to prove some type of point to her; that the entire conversation they just had was a backhanded way of warning Joyce to back off, but she can’t. She can tell that he’s infatuated with this girl, and that she makes him happy. As badly as she wants to say something, she cares too much about Hopper to hurt him purposefully, so she bottles up her anger and swallows her pride.

“Ya well, I guess I’m not very nice sometimes,” she snaps. She packs up her books and storms out of the library. Chrissy watches with a satisfied smirk while Hopper simply stares after her and sighs while he wonders; What the hell had gotten into her?

Frustrated, Joyce begins her long walk home where she curses at Chrissy beneath her breath for ruining the first afternoon she had all week alone with Hopper. Couldn’t Hopper see that being with Chrissy was driving a wedge between them?

Midway through the walk back to her house, it begins to pour rain. Rather than run the rest of the way, Joyce looks up at the sky, arms outstretched and closes her eyes, feeling each individual bead of rain that collides with her skin and rolls down her cheeks. How the hell did she get here? Walking home alone in the rain because Hopper abandoned her for someone else. Was she out of line when she insulted Chrissy, she doubted it. Was she jealous because she wanted to be the girl Hopper was interested in? Yes, but this was something else entirely. She was angry with Hopper for putting someone else before her when he promised he would always be there.

Looking up at the sky, she takes a moment to appreciate the sarcastic irony that was her life this past week, when everything came down to nothing. She pinches her eyes closed, enjoying the cold feel of the rain soaking through her clothes as her mind flashes back to the first time he promised her he would always be there.

…………..

Sitting on Hopper’s porch, watching as the storm rolled through the town, Joyce buried her face in Hopper’s shoulder and sobbed. She was aware of the stain she was leaving on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubs his hands over her back and tries to calm her, but she shakes like the wind from the storm and clings to his arm like her life depends on it. Hardly ten years old, she and Hopper had been friends for a few years, but today was the first time Joyce told him about her home life.

It started when he came over to ask if she wanted to go to the park with him and he interrupted one of her fathers fits. He was screaming at her mother about something in the kitchen, and Joyce meekly accepted Hopper’s offer, embarrassed that he heard her parents fighting and followed him back to his house. The two played in his yard as if nothing happened, but soon the storm clouds rolled in and Hopper’s mother insisted they either come inside or stay on the porch.

For the first time ever, she addressed what happened back at her house and admitted that she hated it at home. Unsure of what to do, Hopper hugged her while she cried and rubbed her back like his mother always did to him when he was upset. When she finally calmed down, he helped her wipe away her tears and he took her hand in his.

“Don’t worry Joyce. No matter what it’s going to be okay because you’ll always have me.”

“I will?”

“I promise,” he extends his pinky and wraps it around hers. “Always.”

…………..

And now she was walking home alone in the rain because apparently she and Hopper had different definitions of always.

“Hey,” Hopper beams as Joyce stumbles into the diner and towards their usual table.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You wanted to talk?”

When Hopper had called last night after she got home from the library, he caught her off guard. He asked if they could meet up for lunch at the diner, and against her better judgement, Joyce agreed. She assumed that maybe he wanted to apologize for everything that happened between them the past week, but she told herself not to get her hopes up as she made her way across town to the local hangout spot.

“Yeah, I have something to tell you,” he says. He’s nervously fidgeting with his fingers and Joyce notices that he refuses to look her in the eye, which does nothing to calm her nerves.

“What can I get you kids?” a waitress interrupts.

“Two chocolate milkshakes please,” Hopper orders, “do you want anything else?”

His question is directed at Joyce, who shakes her head and says she’s fine with the milkshake.

Once the waitress is out of ear shot, Joyce leans towards Hopper and urges him to tell her whatever it was he needed to.

“So, you um… have to tell me something?”

Things between them had never been this awkward. They shared everything with one another and there was hardly ever anything that was too difficult or personal to share. But this was different. Awkward silence fills the space between them as Hopper runs his thumb over his chin and stalls. He opens his mouth to speak twice, but promptly closes it and stutters instead of speaking.

“Hop? You’re scaring me a bit,” she chuckles, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

The waitress returns and slides two milkshakes between them. Joyce thanks her and immediately reaches for her so she can take a long sip; something to focus on.

“I- I asked Chrissy to go to prom with me,” he finally admits. The sentence tumbles out in a single breath, and he too reaches for his shake so that he doesn’t have to keep speaking.

“Oh,” she whispers.

She knows it’s ridiculous, but after their last conversation about the dance, part of her was hoping that he would ask her to prom, even if it meant going as friends. The other night at the lake he was insistent that she consider going, which manifested itself into the crazy notion that he may ask her so she would be forced to attend and have fun.

She wanted him to ask her, and not as strictly friends. But she couldn’t tell him that now without it coming off as jealous and some pathetic excuse as to why he shouldn’t take Chrissy Carpenter to prom, so Joyce smiles, takes a sip of her milkshake and pretends like her heart hasn’t just been shattered.

“I still want you to come, Joyce. It won’t be the same without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun without me.”

“Joyce,” he sighs.

“It’s fine, Hop. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

He closes his eyes and gulps. “I really hope I see you there.” With that, he rises from the booth and looks down at her, “do you want a ride home?”

“I think I’ll stick around for a while, thanks.”

Hopper nods and heads out to his car. It’s the first time he doesn’t correct Joyce when she refers to Chrissy as his girlfriend and it cuts like a knife.

Joyce excuses herself from the otherwise empty table and heads to the ladies room, where she splashes her face with warm water and succumbs to the tears that begin to form. She was a fool trice. First, because she thought he was going to apologize, secondly because she thought he’d realized how little effort he’d been putting into their relationship lately and finally, because a small part of her was hoping he’d ask her to the prom.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she realizes she looks pathetic. Joyce Horowitz didn’t cry over boys, and she certainly shouldn’t cry over one she believed would never hurt her. Before anyone can see her, Joyce wipes away her tears with the back of her hand and sniffles. He was just like the rest of them, selfish and capable of breaking her heart.

As Joyce is preparing to leave, the door swings open and Josie walks in.

“Joyce? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Joyce sniffles.

“You’re crying,” Joise points out.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” She dries her eyes and does her best to step back into her tough girl persona, but Josie’s worried eyes cause something in her to shatter and another tear slips down her cheek.

“Why don’t we go order something to eat?” the girl suggests. Silently, Joyce nods, cleans her face for the second time and follows Josie out to a new table near the window of the diner.

The pair orders a plate of fries and they eat in silence. Joyce appreciates what Josie is doing, but she isn’t sure she’s ready to open up to someone she hardly knows. Instead of asking about it, Josie begins to tell a story about a show she saw on television the night before, and before she knows it, Joyce finds herself smiling.

“Feeling better?”

“I am. Thank you.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Josie says, “but we can if you want to. Tomorrow at lunch we can pretend like this never happened.”

Intrigued by the offer to get all of her feelings out there but then resume their normal day-to-day routine, Joyce spends the next hour telling Josie everything. She begins with the first time Hopper blew her off to spend time with Chrissy and details their fight after he lied about it. She then goes on to explain that Hopper had started changing, and how she came to realize she “might” have feelings for him. She doesn’t dare admit that she does have them, because telling Josie made it real and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She finishes by talking about what happened in the library, how she came to meet Hopper assuming he was going to apologize only to discover he was taking Chrissy to prom.

She leaves out the part about wanting to go to prom with him, but she does tell Josie that Hopper asked her to consider attending.

“Screw him,” Josie remarks when Joyce finally finishes her rant. “You’re better off without him.”

Joyce knows that isn’t true, but she appreciates Josie’s spirited attempts to support her.

“You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“We should go to prom together and just have a total blast, really rub his nose in the fact that you can have fun without him.”

“I don’t know… I’m not a fan of dances.”

“Neither am I. I hate the entire idea.”

“Then why would you want to go?”

“Well you can’t go alone now, can you.”

“Josie, you don’t have to…”

Josie holds up her palm to stop Joyce, “I want to. It’ll be fun! What do you say?”

“What the hell, let’s do it.”

The week that passes between the afternoon at the diner and the date of Junior prom is the longest week of Joyce’s life. Between class work, finding a dress suitable for the dance and actively avoiding Hopper, she hardly has a moment to herself but the time passes extremely slow. It also marks the longest she’d ever gone without talking to Hopper.

Avoiding him began as a way to prevent having to have any awkward conversations, but when he made no effort to reach out, her anger towards him grew and she had a second reason to avoid him. She saw him every day in science class, but they avoided looking at one another and she always bolted out of the classroom the moment the dismissal bell rang.

The only positive thing that came out of the mess with Hopper, was her new found friendship with Josie. The girls discussed their plans for the dance during the lunch period on Monday and on Wednesday Joyce went over to Josie’s house after school to borrow a dress.

She selects a simple black dress with thin shoulder straps that hugs her hips in a flattering way, while Josie settles on a powder blue gown with a puffy skirt. The girls get ready together at Josie’s house on Friday afternoon. They sneak a few shots from Josie’s parents liquor cabinet, and Joyce let’s Josie pin her hair back using a fancy clip. She does a simple makeup look, smoky eyes and a red lip and she finishes the look with her everyday black Converse.

Josie tries to convince Joyce to wear heels, but she’s hard headed and insists that she feels better wearing the sneakers. Josie’s mom snaps a polaroid of the two girls and drops them off outside the gym, which has a hand-painted banner hanging out front that reads “Hawkins High, Junior Prom ‘59.”

The gymnasium is coloured in silver and blue streamers and balloons, and is the most horrific thing Joyce has ever laid eyes on. In the center, a band is set up and playing, while several of her classmates swarm the dance floor. She doesn’t see anyone she recognizes, and wraps her arms around herself while she follows Josie through the crowd and towards a vacant table.

“Well, what do you think?” Josie asks.

“I think this is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Joyce laughs.

“Isn’t it awful?!” Josie giggles, “C’mon, I hear that someone always spikes the punch, let’s make this evening more fun.”

While retrieving punch, a blonde boy Joyce doesn’t recognize approaches Josie.

“Want to dance?” he asks her before even introducing himself.

“I’m with my friend, but thanks,” Josie politely declines.

“C’mon,” he insists, his hand settling on her wrist, he tugs on it, “one dance.”

“She said no. Now beat it before I make you regret ever coming over here,” Joyce barks at him. Terrified, the kid backs off and vanishes into the crowd.

“Thanks,” Josie smiles.

“Anytime.”

Across the gym, Hopper arrives with Chrissy, who’s dressed in a bright pink dress, on his arm and hands two tickets to the kid sitting at the ticket table. He recognizes Bob, a nerdy AV kid who was usually setting up speakers at things like this. Hopper always felt bad, watching as he set things up at dances. As one of the only members of the Hawkins AV club, he probably never had a chance to enjoy things like dances. Then again, Bob was one of the nerdiest kids Hopper had ever met, he doubted he would want to attend dances,

Thanking Bob, Hopper leads Chrissy into the gym where they begin mingling with a group of guys from his football team. He was nervous to ask Chrissy to the junior prom. She was a popular senior and he wasn’t sure this was her scene, but she seemed to be fitting in just fine. After greeting some more friends, he asks if she wants to dance and leads her to the dance floor, which is where he first spots her. Standing near the punch bowl wearing a flattering black dress, her hair pinned back showing off her high cheekbones and red lips, was Joyce.

He does a double take and his hand slips from Chrissy’s shoulder.

Joyce notices Hopper the moment he enters. As if his height and powder blue suit weren’t enough, it was like the energy in the room shifted when he arrived. He was surrounded by a few of his teammates, and eventually he ended up on the dance floor holding Chrissy, that was where she first noticed him staring at her.

She realizes that she can let his presence bother her, linger on the way his date wraps herself around him and call it a night, but she doesn’t want to do that. She came out to have fun, and he didn’t get to take that away from her, not when she’d come this far.

After Josie excuses herself to say hello to a few friends, Joyce finds herself standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly tapping her foot. She looks out at her classmates, all having a blast jumping around to the music. Part of her envies them. They all seemed so care-free. She told herself that she would make an effort to relax more, and coming tonight was the first step.

She was proud of herself for actually putting on a dress and going through with it. It didn’t matter that Hopper was here with Chrissy, or that the blonde was all over him, she came to the dance for herself. That’s why, when a boy she recognizes from her english class approaches her and introduces himself as Lonnie Byers, she agrees to dance with him.

She shyly follows Lonnie onto the dance floor and laughs when their hands collide as they reach for one another. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she relaxes into his touch and allows him to sway them. They make small talk while they move and it’s pleasant and peaceful until she spots Hopper off to the side.

She shouldn’t be staring at him. She should focus on the nice boy who asked her to dance, the man whose arms are wrapped around her center. Instead, she’s focused on the man looming on the opposite side of the gym.

Joyce is aware he’s watching and maybe she doesn’t care but maybe she’s putting on a show that she wants him to watch. And judging by the way he’s grinding down on his molars, maybe it’s working. This childish game he's trapped her into playing. Because she wasn’t staring, until she noticed him staring, and now they’re stealing glances of one another from opposite sides of a school gym covered in pale blue balloons and pathetic streamers, and she can’t bring herself to look away.

When Lonnie leans in to tell her she looks beautiful, she realizes how ridiculous she’s being. Here she was in the arms of a perfectly nice boy and she was wasting time thinking about someone who she wasn’t romantically involved with, someone that was here with someone else.

She didn’t care that he was here with Chrissy. She didn’t care that they’d been spending less and less time together. She certainly didn’t care about the way he looked in his suit.

But, he looked handsome and she couldn’t help herself from staring. From wondering what it would feel like if she was in his arms and not Lonnie’s.

She catches him staring and lets Lonnie hold her closer.

If Hopper’s eyes could, they would be boring holes into the back of Lonnie Byers head from across the room. With Chrissy off fetching them some punch, Hopper has nothing to do besides watch as Lonnie, a scrawny kid who was in his gym class, held Joyce by the waist and whispered in her ear.

He has half a mind to storm across the gym and deck the kid, but Joyce appears to be enjoying it and that’s what eats away at him the most. He’s never experienced a feeling like this before; this cold, on edge feeling that has his hands balled into fists and his cheeks flushed. He doesn’t recognize that he’s jealous, because why would he be? He and Joyce were friends. He was here with Chrissy. Hot. Blonde. Cheerleading, Chrissy.

But why did the thought of Lonnie Byers palm pressed to the small of Joyce’s back drive him fucking mad.

He unclenches his fists and stretches out his fingers, staring down at them so he can avoid looking at them. He feels Chrissy’s perfectly manicured hand slide into his and she emerges at his side with a glass of punch.

Following his gaze across the room, she notices what he’s looking at; Joyce.

“I thought you said Joyce wasn’t coming,” Chrissy remarks, nestling into Hopper’s side, her arm possessively wrapped around his middle.

“I didn’t think she was. That’s the thing about Joyce, she’s unpredictable,” he smiles. Chrissy tugs on his hand and leads him towards the dance floor. As he takes her in his arms, he steals a glance of Joyce from over Chrissy’s head. The dance has ended and she’s standing with a girl he recognizes from her photography club and laughing. Her crimson red lips are curved into a real smile and she looks radiant. Her dress is simple, black; a very Joyce colour, and the sneakers she’s wearing force his own lips into a smile.

Joyce Horowitz was one hell of an unpredictable woman. It was one of the things he loved about her.

And it rains in your bedroom

Everything is wrong

#jopper #multichapter #stranger things #highschool AU

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somediyprojects · 5 years ago

Photo

Horror movie scenes stitched and designed by Mike Gerlach.

Behind the scenes with set-maker Mike Gerlach. Mike Gerlach, a new set carpenter at Syracuse Stage, cross stitches scenes from horror movies in his spare time. Unhappy with thread colors offered commercially, Gerlach began dyeing his own thread for scenes like this, which is from Dracula with Bela Lugosi.

Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's Monster

Bela Lugosi in Dracula

Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet

#cross stitch #inspo #x #self drafted #pop culture #dark

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lizmaximoff · 5 years ago

Text

Rebel, Rebel → 1. Under the Bleachers

Chapter: 1/8

Word Count: 2755

Chapter Rating: T for Language

Summary: (teen!Hopper x fem!Reader) After being on the Tigerettes for three years, you’re starting to become sick of the cheerleading team. Taking a break from the game, you join your next-door neighbor and resident bad boy under the bleachers.

PART TWO

A/N: Oh my gosh, look who finally posted that multi-chapter fic she’s been on about for months? I hope you guys like it. Please keep in mind that in this universe, I have to bend the rules a little bit, but, for all sakes and purposes, it takes place in the 60s. Also, Hopper and Reader are both 18+, and there is eventual smut planned for a future chapter. I hope you guys like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ~Robin

Rebel, Rebel Masterlist

MASTERLIST

The crowd roared loudly as you lost yourself in your thoughts, continuing to smack your blue and white pom poms together habitually. Your ears began to ring as you looked past the field of hulking teenagers in football uniforms running into each other. It was the second Friday of September, the very first football game of the season for Hawkins High School. While you would much rather be at home watching the latest episode of The Twilight Zone, you were forced to fulfill your duties here as the co-captain of the Tigerettes.

You rolled your eyes as the routine wrapped itself up, the concept of being here causing frustration to course through your veins. While you had been on the cheerleading team since freshman year, you couldn’t deny that your willingness to participate had drastically decreased now that you were a senior. If you were being completely honest with yourself, the only reason that you were still here was for the scholarship you were hoping to snag at Indiana State.

You huffed out an annoyed breath when you heard a familiar whistle blow, indicating that the Tigers fumbled yet another ball. With one quarter left in the game, you were pretty certain that you would be cheering for the losing team tonight, which didn’t come as a shock given the team’s track record. The Hawkins High Tigers were probably the worst team in the state, and you would be willing to bet any amount of money that they would continue to lose as the season progressed.

Despite the fact that the football team was an embarrassment state-wide, they still reigned as the leaders of the food chain within the tiny walls of Hawkins High. Your relationship with Larry, the quarterback, made you a part of one of the most powerful couples in school. Though you weren’t exactly in love with Larry, you knew that being with him was what was best for your social life. You enjoyed the security blanket that your status gave you, which is why you put up with cheering every week for a team that would always lose.

“Oi!” screeched your counterpart, Chrissy. “You need to get your head out of your ass and focus.”

You looked over at her with narrowed eyes, a stare that could probably cut glass if you tried hard enough, and crossed your arms defiantly, “Why does it matter? I’m doing the routine, aren’t I, Carpenter?”

Your co-captain rolled her eyes, her hands resting on her hips, “You’re setting a poor example for the underclassmen.”

You scoffed before mirroring her body language with a cynical glare, “We are forty points down in the last quarter of the game. Give. It. A. Rest.”

“If you have a problem, you can leave early and leave me in charge,” she seethed, tightening her bottle-blonde hair, which rested in a high ponytail at the crown of her head.

No matter how much you hated cheering, you hated the idea of leaving Queen Bitch Supreme in charge even more. You sighed, throwing your poms down at her feet, “Just give me like five minutes, okay? I’ll pull it together.”

“Fine,” she sighed, kicking your poms to the side as she pushed you out of the way.

Chrissy Carpenter was probably the most annoying person you had the displeasure of meeting. If there was ever a stereotypical definition of a bitchy cheerleader, Chrissy would meet the bill tenfold. She came from a relatively rich family at the end of the cul de sac, and she was about as perfect as cookie-cutter robots came. It made your skin boil.

You walked in between the two sets of bleachers to cool yourself off, dragging your white sneakers along the dirt as you attempted to regain your sanity. You only had one more year left of this, and it didn’t do you any good constantly complaining about it. It’s not like you would ever have the gall to quit, especially not after the three years you spent committed to the team.

You rested your hand behind your neck as you leaned against the nearest silver beam. You opened your eyes as the familiar scent of Lucky Strikes wafted past your nose, sending calming waves through your body. You would never usually smoke in your uniform, but desperate times, right? Surely whoever was smoking wouldn’t mind you bumming one off of them, right?

You followed the billowing smoke and orange light of the butt and smiled once you turned the corner, seeing a familiar figure crouched underneath the seats of the bleachers. There sat Jim Hopper, your next-door neighbor of ten years and resident bad boy of Hawkins High. He was also the love of your life.

His face perked up when you cleared your throat, chucking when you saw him fumble with the cigarette in between his fingers. You walked up to him coyly and motioned to the KLH portable that was currently playing the Aftermath vinyl lowly through its speakers.

“Nothing like a little Stones to get you through the big game, huh?” you teased, kicking his boot with a smile.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hopper whistled, exhaling a puff of smoke in your direction with a smirk. “Game over already?”

You bit your bottom lip before deciding to sit next to him, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and placing it between your lips, “Might as well be. What are you doing here?”

“Pops wanted me to get involved with ‘school spirit’,” he said in air quotations, looking over at you with a deadpan expression. “He doesn’t need to know that I spent it under here.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Hop,” you smirked, winking at him.

He raised his eyebrows at you with parted lips before reaching into his leather jacket pocket for his pack of cigs, replacing the one you had just stolen from him, “So, what brings Captain Cheerleader to my neck of the woods?”

“Chrissy is a bothersome little twat, that’s what,” you rolled your eyes, inhaling the smoke deeply before flicking the dangling butt into the dirt besides you. “Christ, I cannot wait until graduation.”

He looked over at you with a chuckle as he lit the stick between his fingers, “(Y/N), we go through this at least twice a week. Why do you keep putting yourself through this?”

You looked over at him with soft eyes, feeling guilty that this was probably the hundreth conversation that you had with him about this. Hopper was always there for you when you needed to rant about your predicament, though it usually happened in your childhood treehouse in your backyard.

“You know why,” you sighed, pulling your legs up into your chest.

And he did. He knew that your family wasn’t that well-off, and you going to college was dependent on whatever scholarships you could get. He narrowed a smile in your direction, inhaling smoke before you nudged his shoulder.

“Besides,” you grinned. “I enjoy not having to worry about getting my ass shoved in a locker.”

He chuckled, smoke coming out in spurts as his blue eyes bore into yours, “I would never let anyone shove you in a locker, dollface. I’d kick the shit out of them before they’d ever get the chance.”

You blushed lightly, thankful for the darkness that shrouded the both of you save for the orange lights at the end of your lit cigarettes. You and Hopper had been close friends since elementary school, but you always had a tiny crush on him, never missing an opportunity to flirt with him. After he went through puberty, you felt the attraction that you had towards him strengthen. He towered over you, muscles straining in whatever clothing he decided to wear under that damn tight leather jacket. He reeked of sex appeal, his bad-boy status only making you that much more like putty in his hands. There were many nights where you dreamed that he would climb up to your window, sneak inside, and have his way with you. But that would never happen.

He was Jim Hopper, resident bad-ass with a heart of gold and a secret penchant for history (though he concealed his intelligence through his frequent skipping of class). Though you wanted to be with him more than anything in the world, you knew that your relationship with Larry was what was best for you right now. It was a safe option. It kept you safe.

But Jim could keep you safe.

You shook your head free of the thoughts that clouded your mind before you coughed a tiny bit, Hopper chuckling as he tilted his head in your direction with a smile.

“Besides,” he continued, leaning back on his palms. “Social lives are pointless. I don’t have one, and I turned out just fine.”

Yeah, you thought. Damn fine.

“Well,” you blushed, the cigarette in your hand now burning down to its filter. “I should probably get back. We wouldn’t want Chrissy getting her granny panties in a twist, would we?”

“We can’t have that,” he laughed, his eyes raking over your face before landing on your pink lips.

You gasped at the intensity in his eyes before you stood up abruptly, tossing what was left of the nicotine on the ground and stomping it out with your sneaker. You smoothed down your pleated skirt and looked down at Hopper with a raised eyebrow, “How do I look?”

“Damn cute,” he teased, biting his lip as his eyes landed on the skin between your skirt’s hem and knee.

You rolled your eyes, stomach in knots, before leaning down and pushing his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Hop.”

“See ya, doll,” he waved, watching your fleeting figure as you walked away from him.

Hopper never failed to make you feel instantaneously better, but, as soon as you returned to the field, the happiness and comfort that flooded your head quickly turned to distaste and aggravation upon seeing Chrissy’s judgmental stare on you.

“You smell like a fucking bar,” she hissed at you.

“I have zero idea what you’re referring to, Carpenter,” you grinned fakely, picking up your poms before looking at the team. “Let’s go!”

Chrissy huffed at you before she returned to her position next to you, following your lead in the routine you began. After performing a pyramid stunt, you found Larry’s eyes locking with yours, him throwing a kiss in your direction before he hiked the ball.

Larry was a kind enough guy; he always treated you like royalty, he came from a caring family, and he wasn’t that bad of a kisser. You two had been together since losing your virginities to each other at Junior Prom, and he’s held you on his arm like a badge of honor ever since. He was truly a sweetheart, no matter how dense he could be. But you knew that you could never love him the way that he loved you, and it made you sick to know that you were stringing him along.

Of course Larry had thrown the ball and missed his target as the timer ran out, indicating that they were, in fact, losers. The Tigerettes performed a final cheer chanting that they were proud of the team, but you felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

Larry jogged over to you with a wide grin, his sweaty blonde hair falling in his face as he removed his helmet. He pulled your body against his and kissed you fiercely on the lips. You kissed him back, wincing slightly at the light sheen of sweat that covered his face.

“You look so good in this uniform,” he groaned against your mouth before you parted from him quickly.

“You did great, sweetheart,” you lied, pressing a quick peck to his cheek

“Thank you,” he smiled, hugging you tightly before swatting your bottom playfully. “You’re coming over tonight, right?”

You nodded curtly, knowing that Larry had the house to himself this weekend and was planning on throwing a party for the start of the school year, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, babe.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead with a grin before running off to his teammates as they returned to the locker rooms. You watched him as he jogged off, sighing in defeat when he turned around from you. You frowned, returning to the bleachers for your duffle bag. As you began to pack up your things, you felt another body sit down next to yours.

“You going to that party later?” asked Karen, filling her bag, as well.

“I kind of have to, don’t I?” you asked, laughing as you zipped your bag up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing that you were upset. She always knew.

“Nothing,” you said, looking down at your lap. “It’s just...do you think that any of this is going to matter in five years?”

“Of course not,” she said matter-of-factly. She put her hands on her hips as a knowing smile planted on her lips, “It’s Jim, isn’t it?”

You widened your eyes, looking around to make sure that no one heard her, “Jesus, Karen. Keep your voice down.”

She smirked at you, patting your back as you looked away from her, “Why don’t you invite him over?”

You chuckled, tightening your ponytail, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not going to matter in five years,” she repeated, looking at you smugly.

“He probably won’t even come,” you said, shaking your head.

“You never know,” she sang playfully. “Look, you and I both know that Larry is going to get a hold of that keg and be drunk off of his ass an hour into the party.”

She sighed and stood up, looking down at you as she put her bag over her shoulder, “I just think that if you’re going to be there the whole night, you might as well spend it talking with someone you don’t hate.”

You smirked, a sudden confidence building in your chest, “You’re right.”

“I know I am,” she said, turning away before looking over her shoulder. “I’m going home to change, but I’ll see you later.”

You waved at her as she headed to her car, leaving you alone to your thoughts. Without thinking too much into it, you grabbed your bag and returned under the bleachers, sighing in relief when you saw that Hopper was still there, now gathering his things to leave.

“Hey! Hop!” you shouted, jogging over to him with a smile.

He beamed at you upon seeing you, picking up his portable and tossing his cigarette on the ground, “What’s up, doll?”

“I was wondering...” you trailed off, looking at your feet as your nerves began to build. “W-Why don’t you come to Larry’s later?”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as you continued, “He’s having a party, you know something for the start of the new year and all that. I just wanted to see if you would want to come.”

He smiled at you, pursing his lips in thought, “Maybe.”

Your smile widened as you bounced on the balls of your feet, “Okay! Um...let me give you the address.”

You reached into your bag for a pen and walked up to Hopper before grabbing his hand, your body warming as your fingers touched his significantly larger ones. You began to scribble the address onto his palm before looking up into his eyes, your breath catching in your throat, “Y-You know Callahan’s place?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, “Larry lives a few houses over, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, your face only inches away from his. You bit your lip and put some space in between you. “I’ll be on the lookout for you. Don’t disappoint, Jim!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” he called out as he walked towards his motorbike which was parked near the field.

You sighed, watching him walk away with a dopey grin. You had it bad.

You looked around before walking to Larry’s car, waiting for him to return from the lockers so he could bring you to his house. You mind raced as thoughts of Hopper filled your head. The possibility of spending the night talking with him made your heart beat out of your chest. He had such a strong effect on you, and you weren’t even dating.

You knew it would just be a friendly hang-out between the both of you, but there was a tiny part of you that hoped that he would make a move.

__________________________________________

Tagged: @jiimhopper / @cant-shake-this-feeling-off / @the-undateable / @alumiinikuu / @eleanor-gillespie / @ottosuricato

Send me a message if you’d like to be tagged in any future works!

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lollercakesff · 7 years ago

Note

Angst #1 for Jopper

why don’t you just go

(tw: brief mentions of domestic violence)

1965

She was exhausted. Her body hurt and her feet were raw as she hiked further down the highway, desperate to get as far as she could from Lonnie’s car and the fight that had shattered the perfect world she’d tried to build for herself.

Joyce was 18 and hopeful, having graduated the month prior and angling to get out of this town and leave the mess of her home life behind. But that goal had just gone up in smoke, the fight between her and Lonnie having rattled the car windows until she’d opened the car door while it had still been rolling to a stop. She’d stumbled onto the ground, scraping her knees as her cheek burned from where he’d slapped her.

“Walk home, you stupid bitch,” he’d snarled, the words familiar, like they’d come from her step-father and not her boyfriend.

“I hope you crash into a tree,” she’d shouted in return as the dust curled up into the sky from his spinning tires. Watching him go, Joyce had almost started to cry, the chance for her to escape this life seemingly too close to let slip by. But she’d steeled her emotions and stood up tall, turning towards home with a newfound determination to do this on her own.

She realized somewhere between midnight and one in the morning that she was much farther from home than she’d expected, her scream into the open sky rousing nothing but birds from their nests. Though she kept walking, the pain crept through her system until it was at the forefront of her mind, clouding her judgement and bringing tears to her eyes.

So entrenched in her own misery Joyce didn’t recognize the car that pulled over across the road, her heart half in her throat expecting it to be Lonnie coming back to apologize. But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

“Horowitz?” Jim Hopper shouted from the rolled down window, his engine rumbling loud enough to almost drown him out. Ignoring him, she kept walking. There was no way she could explain this to one of her oldest friends, not without a pitying look that would mix with the rage that he always clamped down when she talked about her boyfriend. “Joyce, what are you doing out at this hour?” He called again, turning off the engine and leaving only the sound of the night between them.

“Out for a walk,” she returned, attempting to wave him off.

“What? Woah, slow down,” he groaned, jogging to catch up to her. She couldn’t look at him. Not now.

“It’s nothing Hop, I know you’re late for curfew.” The words were low and measured as she tried to hold back tears. Where had they come from? She was a strong woman. She didn’t cry over a small fight.

“You’re out here walking alone and you’re worried about my curfew? Jesus Horowitz, your priorities…” He sighed and grabbed for her arm, dropping his hand when she lashed back at him with a slap to his shoulder that pulled him up short. “What happened to you? Joyce - “

Refusing to back off, he stepped in closer and closed his hands around her shoulders, looking down at her until all the pieces clicked into place and his breathing froze.

“It’s nothing,” she hissed and shook off his grip, easing away and crossing her arms over her chest.

“It doesn’t fucking look like nothing! What happened?” His voice rose an octave until it cracked, the emotions passing across his features - fear, concern, sadness and finally rage - evident even in the low light of the moon.

“Please don’t - “ she moaned, shaking her head and looking around them for any way to escape from this hell she’d fallen into.

“Come on, I’m driving you back to mine. I’ve still got that sleeping bag from camp,” he added lowly, careful not to scare her off with his insistence. Halfway back to the car, Joyce a step behind him, the reason he was out so late popped her head out of the driver’s side window.

“James, my dad is going to kill me. Can we just go already?” Chrissy Carpenter complained, her voice giving away her annoyance at him having stopped to help his friend.

The recognition had pulled Joyce up short. Hopper was not the person she needed right now. She couldn’t go back to his place like a broken bird he wanted to take care of. She had to stand on her own two feet. Find her way in the world on her own.

“You know what, I’m almost home. You go on,” she said with renewed strength, stopping in the middle of the road and turning on her heel to head in the direction she’d been walking before he’d climbed out of his car.

“That’s ridiculous, Joyce. You’re clearly in no condition to make decisions tonight,” he grumbled, following her until she looked back at him and he froze mid-stride. Her face was a mask, the one she used to hide the horrible shit she dealt with every time she walked through her front door. It was her escape - the way she separated herself from what world she had to live in.

“I don’t need you Hopper. Why don’t you just go?” She whispered, cold and disengaged.

“James!” Chrissy groaned, honking the horn and shouting obscenities at him until he sighed and ran a hand across his jaw.

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine?” He pushed, like he didn’t want her to say yes. Like he wanted to do anything other than just walk away from her when she looked like this. Nodding, she turned and started walking once more, careful to keep her sobs to herself until the rumble of his engine disappeared in the opposite direction.

1979

His life had fallen apart in a matter of weeks. The anniversary of Sara’s death had collided with the finalization of a bitter divorce, his trip back home to handle his mother’s estate having been the cherry on top of a cruel pattern of events.

Sitting in the front row of chairs set up at his mother’s grave site, Hopper snuck a sip from his flask as the people dispersed with small whispers of condolences. The sun was bright overhead and he was sweating in his black suit, his tie strangling him until he jerked it loose from his neck.

Hopper said a small prayer of thanks that his father wasn’t here to see this, the burden of his sorrow would have been too much to bear. His parents had always been his cornerstone of happiness - their marriage having lasted nearly forty years until his father passed away the year before, his mother following soon after.

It had been a lifetime of hurt since Sara’s illness, the sadness having rolled over him until he couldn’t escape it. Like ice expanding through a crack in the sidewalk, the memories of Vietnam had worked their way into his subconscious until they too had expanded and blocked out everything that had once been good to him.

“Is anyone sitting here?” The familiar voice of Joyce Horowitz sounded from behind him, the hair on the back of his neck rising as she came around the rows of chairs. “Hunny, why don’t you go play for a minute,” she adds and Hopper catches sight of the small boy that pokes around her legs to glance at him.

She comes to sit next to him without a response, her small frame hiding in his shadow. Neither of them say a thing, the time between them spanning years and making the conversation dry up before it even starts. If he was being honest, he hadn’t heard from her since that night on the road, even despite his attempts when he was drafted to the jungle. For years it had stung, had rubbed him raw that he’d left her behind, but he’d convinced himself in the years since that the drifting apart between them was fate.

Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it’d all been in the plan.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Hop,” she whispered, hands clasped in her lap.

“Thanks,” he paused and tucked his flask away to watch the boy wandering between the headstones in the distance.

“His name is Will. I’ve got another one at home, his name is Jonathan,” Joyce added shifting anxiously in her seat. Hopper tried not to notice, ducking his head as he thought about the fact that his friend was happily married with two kids, a life so different from the one he’d imagined for her after seeing her last time all bruised and beaten along the side of a highway.

“I have a daughter,” he mumbled in return, fingers digging into his thighs. The adrenaline at the back of his throat bit from the lie, coursing through him hotly until the guilt felt overwhelming.

“Yes, your mother told me. I’m sorry.” He steeled himself at that, sitting up straighter and looking down at the hole before him. That dark hole that stole everything from him. “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I have a casserole ready, it just needs to heat up…” She asked and turned to him then, hand reaching out to cover his own and bring him back from the edge.

“Joyce,” he croaked, head hanging and shoulders around his ears.

“Lonnie doesn’t live with us anymore, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she replied quickly, glancing up at him from behind her lashes. She always did have the longest lashes he’d ever seen. He remembered that from those hot summer nights where they’d laid out on his roof and watched the stars move across the sky.

But he tried not to be distracted by that, Lonnie’s name causing a chill to run down his spine despite the heat of the day.

“You’re still with Lonnie?” It hurt to ask, but the memory of how she’d looked that night flashed angrily in his mind and it slipped out of him before he could pull it back. The words were like a slap, her eyes sinking to the ground as she withdrew her hand.

“I kicked him out. Five months ago,” she hissed, hands clenched in her lap.

“After I saw you on the road… He did that and you went back to him?” He couldn’t stop himself, the questions after all these years finally escaping from him. It wasn’t the time to ask. It wasn’t his place. But his worry for her hadn’t abated… It had just laid dormant.

“Jim.” Her voice rose, her head snapping up to look at him with angry eyes. The flash of it reminded him of who she used to be, the girl who fought against everything like a wild animal. “Please don’t.”

He got to his feet then, shucking off his jacket and stepping angrily away from his chair and the childhood friend who sat beside him. “I can’t do this today. I’m sorry Joyce. Why don’t you just go.”

It caught her off-guard and she recoiled from him, making herself smaller in the chair until abruptly she was standing at the foot of his mother’s grave, her hand resting on the woman’s fresh tombstone.

“You were right, he always was hard-headed,” she said quietly. Turning back to him she smiled softly and then looked towards Will. “Hop… If you need anything, you know where to find me. Come on Will, time to leave.”

He watched her go with a pain in his chest, a loss that cut as she walked once more away from him.

1984

“Joyce?” Hopper calls out, stepping through the front door and into the living room of the Byers’ residence. Inside he finds the place tidied, the small repairs he made after the events of two years ago still evident but well hidden.

“Hop? What are you doing here?” Joyce returns, poking her head out from the kitchen. Her hair is frazzled around her face, the colour high in her cheeks as she wipes her hands on her jeans.

“Well, I just dropped El off at the Wheeler’s and figured since Will and Jonathan were already there that maybe you would like some company. It is New Years Eve, after all…” He lets the sentence run out as he steps out of his boots, setting his hat down on the coffee table as she smiles and shakes her head.

“Sure, okay. I was making myself some dinner. You want any?” Hopper nods and joins her in the kitchen, settling into a place at the dining table as she putters around the room. “It’s nothing special, just some potatoes and rosemary chicken I cooked in the skillet.”

“I’m not one to complain, especially because beggars can’t be choosers. I brought some wine,” he adds and sets the bottle on the table. “I figured you could use a drink after the year we’ve had.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” she sighs before reaching into the oven and bringing the dish to the counter. “I will take a double on that though. The boys gave me a run around before they left and I’m just trying to relax and let Will out of my sight for the evening.”

Dinner passes easily between them, the time spent laughing and recounting all the fond memories of growing up. Neither of them mention the hard times, the trying times, from when they’d stuck daggers into each other or walked away without looking back. That was the past. This was now. And somehow they’d found their way back.

It’s later as they sit together on the living room couch, a second bottle having appeared from somewhere and the Time’s Square celebrations playing across the TV, that they dissolve into friendly laughter. Somehow in the move from the kitchen to the couch they found themselves creeping closer together, arms brushing and hands lingering in touches they wouldn’t fathom anytime else.

“It’s almost midnight. Do you have any wishes for the new year?” Hopper asks as he rests his arm across the back of the couch, his knee brushing hers and his hand itching to run through her hair.

“Just for Will and El to have a - a fair go. I want his nightmares to stop… And for El to have the chance to see the world,” she replies quietly, wistfully looking between him and the TV. Her words have him reaching out to grab her hand, the hope for not just Will but El too making him sentimental in that moment.

“They will. I promise you they will,” he adds, squeezing her hand. Behind them the countdown starts on the TV, the cacophony of voices ringing out as the crowd rouses itself.

It happens before they realize, Hopper slips his hand to the back of her head and leans forward, his lips connecting with hers as the countdown ends. Joyce is the first to pull away, her fingers dragging through his beard as she leans back, eyes closed. When she eventually opens them the frown that furrows her brow sends a chill down his spine, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“Joy…” He whispers hoarsely, eyes wide as she moves slowly to her feet and out of his grasp. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, the blood thick in his veins as he watches her purposely put space between them.

“I - Hopper… Why don’t you just go?” She says weakly, arms wrapped around her waist. He gets to his feet and grabs his hat from the table, stepping towards the door before turning back around to face her.

“No.” He states calmly instead, shaking his head and looking directly at her. “We’ve done this before and we always leave. I’m not leaving this time. There’s too much - I can’t let you go again.”

The silence drags out and Hopper is nearly convinced she’ll push him away again, his body preparing for the disappointment that will crawl through him at her words. But she doesn’t. Instead she steps towards him, her mouth moving with no words coming through. When still she doesn’t say anything and they’re standing toe to toe, he reaches out his arms and pulls her close until his chin is resting on the crown of her head.

“I know my timing is shit. It’s fine. You don’t have to commit to anything now. Just… Let’s not just go when it gets hard. Okay?” He mumbles as they rock together, the sound of the New Year’s Eve song playing in the foreground.

“I think I can agree to that,” she replies quietly, her head lifting once more to look him in the eyes. Smiling, she catches his lips with hers in a chaste kiss that promises the world. Neither of them pull away and neither of them let go.

#jopper #stranger things fanfiction #prompt #joyce and hopper

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lowkeyenvy · 7 years ago

Text

Just Like This - Prom ‘59

Synopsis: Inspired by David Harbour's tweets: "Hawkins class of '60. She and Lonnie went to Prom winter of '59 and Hopper sat outside in his steel blue GTO smoking' camels." And "Joyce and I never slow danced. Lucille by Little Richard. On the dance floor we tore it up. We'd go somewhere else to do things slow."

Over 8,000 words of my take on the events that led up to why Joyce went to prom with Lonnie, along with the after effects, including Joyce and Hopper taking things slow. Pre-series fic.

Author: Lowkeyenvy Characters: Joyce Byers x Jim Hopper Chapters: 1/1 Words: 8,128 Rating: Explicit Warnings: NSFW, Smut Tags: @strangerthingsfics Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. All rights and credits are to the Duffer Brothers and Netflix.

Author’s Note: This one shot is based loosely on David's tweets and does not follow exactly how he envisioned it, but I think it gets pretty close.

Hawkins 1959

“C’mon Hopper, if I’m late for Homeroom one more time, Cooper will write me a Saturday detention,” Benny complained from the passenger seat of Jim’s Oldsmobile.

“It’s Homeroom Benny,” Jim responded, “it’s not even considered a class. Cooper’s being a hardass and you know it.”

Benny glared at him, “I don’t care if he’s being a hardass or not, if I get Saturday detention because you want to spy on your girlfriend—“

Jim held up a hand and Benny instantly quieted. “There’s Karen’s car.” He tipped his head in the direction across the parking lot as a light blue Thunderbird pulled in.

Slowly, he slid his oversized aviators down his nose so he could peer overtop of them. He placed both of his hands on the steering wheel and leaned forward, squinting as he tried to get a better line of vision. As bad as it sounded, he wished he had a pair of binoculars in the car. He heaved a sigh, “Where are they?”

The car was parked, but no one had emerged just yet.

Jim blinked, internally speculating how this morning was about to go. He was either going to see Joyce emerge from the passenger side of that Thunderbird with Karen and all would be well. Or this morning was about to turn upside down if she didn’t. He reached in his pocket for his pack of Camels. Without averting his heavy gaze, he lit the tip of a cigarette and inhaled deeply. If this morning was going to go sour, he might as well prepare for it.

As if reading his mind, Benny asked, “Do you really think this is a good idea? Homeroom starts in six minutes Hopper. Six. Minutes.”

Jim ignored his question and simply inquired, “Do you really wanna miss witnessing me knock Byers’ teeth in if she doesn’t get out of that car?”

Benny chuckled. “Trust me, everyone would want to witness that. But aren’t you and Joyce over now? I thought you guys broke up last weekend.” He was treading lightly. “ Look Hop, it’s been almost a week now. She didn’t even show up to the drive-in last night and it was half off Wednesday!”

Jim shook his head obstinately, pressing his fingertips into the steering wheel. He was gripping it so tightly that it left his knuckles a shade of ghost white. If he pressed any harder he was sure he’d leave indentations. “We did not break up. It was just a fight.”

Benny frowned. “You haven’t spoken to her since. We’ve all heard the rumors Hop… sounds like Byers couldn’t wait to swoop in and snatch her up.”

Jim grimaced. He focused back in on Karen’s car, watching intently as he tried to keep his temper under control. Byers hadn’t shown yet either. If Joyce didn’t get out of Karen’s car, then there was a very likely chance that she would get out of Lonnie’s. If that happened… well he meant what he said. He’d knock Byers’ teeth in.

The driver’s side door to the blue Thunderbird finally opened. Jim watched as Karen stepped out into the parking lot. She threw her bag over one shoulder before pushing the door shut. Jim found himself holding his breath as his eyes narrowed in on the passenger’s side. “C’mon,” he whispered. Karen smoothed out her sweater dress before heading towards the high school. She was officially alone.

“Son of a bitch!” Jim hit the steering wheel with such force that Benny flinched.

“Hop, I know you’re pissed, but I have to be in Homeroom in two minutes.” Benny threw open the passenger door. Before getting out, he placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you after third period.” He got out of the car and leaned down, one hand on the car’s top while the other rested on the door. “Try not to kill him.” He said before shutting the door and heading towards the school.

Jim brushed Benny’s comment off. There would be no trying of anything. He was going to sit in that car until he got eyes on Byers. Then he was going to drag him out of his own car and beat the shit out of him. Something he’d wanted to do for months now. Ever since he entered the picture, he and Joyce fought often, which wasn’t out of the norm to begin with. But it was a lot more often so to speak, since Lonnie decided to act on the thing he had for Joyce.

He slumped back in his seat as the school bell rang signaling that Homeroom was starting. He reached in his jacket once more to pull out his pack of cigarettes. He figured he was going to be here a while. God only knows what Joyce and Lonnie were up to. He wondered if they skipped together. The thought made his blood boil with rage that was threatening to overflow. After flicking his lighter on and lighting the end of his cigarette, he tossed the lighter onto the dashboard.

Staring straight ahead, he kept his eyes on the entrance to the student parking lot.

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of heels click-clacking on the pavement behind his car that he peeled his eyes away. His gaze flickered up to the rear view mirror.

His view was blocked by a small petite figure. She was wearing an oversized grey sweater with a pair of light wash jeans. Her arms were crossed against her chest. Even though the mirror cut off the upper area of her body, Jim knew exactly who it was. Especially since he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of a black Buick speeding out of the back lot, which undoubtedly belonged to her father. He felt like a jackass.

Huffing out a deep breath, he pulled on his door handle and nudged the door open with his foot.

Before he could get out however, she had strode over and slammed the door shut once more. He was barely able to pull his foot away from being squashed, but it did still end up pinching his pinky toe. “OW! What the fuck, Joyce!”

He hurled the door open this time, swinging it with such force that she had to dodge out of the way to avoid being knocked over by it.

“Were you trying to spy on me?!”

“No,” he lied, through gritted teeth. “I just pulled up.”

Joyce crossed her arms across her chest once more and tilted her head to the side to glare at him. “Oh really? Then why isn’t Benny with you? I know you picked him up this morning. The bell rang three minutes ago and I also know he had to be in Homeroom this morning or he’d get Saturday detention.”

Jim cursed under his breath. He really wasn’t helping his case. “Yeah well, maybe I wasn’t spying on you at all, maybe I was waiting for Chrissy Carpenter so we could skip.” He didn’t mean it. He just wanted to hurt her and make her feel the way he had only minutes ago when he thought she’d show up with Lonnie.

“I’m sure you were,” she muttered.

He glanced down at her and looked at her, truly looked at her, for the first time that morning. She was really, really beautiful, he thought angrily. Her dark brown hair that reached her shoulders was messy, but not in a bad way. Her oversized sweater clung to her skin along with her light wash jeans. She had a pair of black leather combat boots on that laced up in the front, with just enough heel to allow her to reach his shoulders, rather than his chest on most days. Her cheeks were a light shade of pink and her forehead was covered by two wavy strands from where her bangs had fallen loosely.

The most beautiful woman in the world was standing before him and he hated her for it. He hated how beautiful she was to not just him, but everyone else. He was selfish. He didn’t want anyone else to relish in her beauty or realize how wonderful she was. He wanted her to himself. It was her fault Lonnie was coming between them. If she wasn’t so beautiful then maybe Lonnie wouldn’t have paid her any mind.

His mind flashed back to what she initially had muttered under her breath. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Joyce snorted. “Seriously Hop? Do you not remember why we broke up in the first place? Aside from your arrogance, your obsessiveness, and your ability to ruin everything!”

“It was a fight! Since when did we break up?!” He asked, incredulously.

She rolled her eyes, “Oh I don’t know, maybe when I said; I’M BREAKING UP WITH YOU!”

“For what?!” He yelled.

“You are unbelievable Jim Hopper!” She yelled, scowling at him. “You cheated on me with Chrissy Carpenter!”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“YES YOU DID! I SAW YOU!”

Jim’s blood was positively boiling at this point. He merely leaned back against the Oldsmobile and asked mockingly, “If that’s the case then who’s really spying on who Joyce?”

“I wasn’t,” she said, more calmly this time, however her voice had become grave, “I was invited to Earl’s party too so anything I saw there is not considered spying.”

He shrugged, “Fine, but this is school property so if I want to sit in my car and observe my surroundings then that’s not considered spying either.”

“Fine,” she said gently, her voice soft.

“Fine.” He retorted.

Joyce hugged her arms to her chest. She was so angry with him, but the energy to fight was draining her dry. Her eyes were rimmed with a deep purple shade from dark circles. She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since her and Hopper broke up. Nervously, she began switching her balance from one foot to the other as she stared down at the pavement. She could feel his gaze scrutinizing her. She sucked in a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say was going to send him flying off the handle once more. “I’m not going to prom with you.”

Jim tossed a cigarette butt off to the side.

“I’m going with Lonnie.”

“What?” he said disbelievingly. He resisted the urge snap at her, trying his absolute best to maintain a calm demeanor. Maybe he had heard her wrong.

“You heard me.” She replied, her tone was stern.

The silence that followed between them was deafening. He and Joyce fought all the time. All the time. They’d been together for two years now and they argued at least every other day but it had never come to this.

Jim’s voice was monotonous, “I’m going to kill him.” He pushed past her, nudging her shoulder and making her stumble sideways.

Joyce’s eyes widened and she hurried after him. “Hop, wait—no!” She matched his quick pace, breathing heavily next to him. “Stop!” She reached out for his arm, but he shook her off. “JIM! STOP!”

He rounded on her instantly, making her already tiny frame, shrink even further into herself. His usual crystal blue eyes were now clouded grey with rage. She’d never seen them this dark before. The grey admist the blue looked like rocks against the shore that destroyed ships. They were torturous and above all… dangerous.

“You did this, not me,” she said breathlessly, her annoyance with him sounding diluted.

He placed his hands on his chest, mimicking a ‘me’ motion. “I did this? You broke up with me Joyce! For no goddamn reason other than—”

“Because you kissed Chrissy!” She interjected defensively, not allowing him to finish.

“SHE KISSED ME!”

“I SAW HER ON YOUR LAP!”

Jim threw his arms over his head in frustration. He pointed a finger at her, nearly jabbing her shoulder. “I’m going to tell you one last time Joyce. I did not kiss Chrissy. We were at Earl’s party, there were some drinks involved--not on my part. Chrissy was drunk out of her mind. You know she’s always been sweet on me. I’m assuming she took you not being there and her newfound confidence through alcohol to climb on my lap and kiss me. I. DID. NOT. KISS. HER. BACK. I pushed her off of me! But I guess you didn’t stick around long enough to see that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? Because your new boyfriend told you a different story?” He paused, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “Yeah that mother-fucking asshole probably couldn’t wait to tell you that made up bullshit.”

Joyce cringed at his choice of word usage.

He slowly leaned forward invading her personal space. Their noses were merely inches apart when she felt his hot breath against her face, “Enjoy your prom Joyce.”

Pushing past her, he left her standing there with a frown on her face. She could feel her eyes watering, blurring her vision as she looked over her shoulder to watch him walk away. It wasn’t until he reached the school’s main doors and was out of sight that she allowed the tears to spill over.

(XxXxXxXxXxX)

Joyce sighed and buried her face into a pillow. “Oh my God, Karen. How am I going to get through tonight?”

“What?” Karen replied hoarsely, “Your voice is muffled.”

Joyce picked her head up and gazed bleakly at her. “What if Hopper shows up? What if he and Lonnie see each other? What if tonight is disastrous? I mean, this is my life we’re talking about.”

Karen shrugged. “That’s too many what ifs.”

Joyce rolled over so that her back was lying on Karen’s bed. She stared up at the ceiling as she waited for her best friend to finish getting ready. The Winter Prom was tonight and she was dreading it. It’d been two days since her latest fight with Hopper. She hadn’t heard from him and she made no attempt to contact him herself either, at first. However, yesterday she did go outside between fifth and sixth period to their usual spot for smoking, but he wasn’t there. The thought of how empty she felt when she went under the steps to find him not there was agonizing.

“Almost done,” Karen chirped from the corner of the room. She was curling the last few strands of her hair. She looked at Joyce in the mirror. “Are you sure that’s what you want to wear?”

Joyce lifted her head up so that she could glare at her. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Karen yawned. “I’m just asking, okay? This is our junior winter prom! Your dress isn’t exactly…”

“What’s wrong with my dress?!”

“Nothing! I thought you’d want to have a dress that’s more prom-like that’s all.”

Joyce looked down at her dress. She was wearing a short, long sleeved, skater black dress that was tight around her chest and waist area, but flowed out at her hips. She had on a pair of black tights to match along with black heels. She also had a black leather jacket that she planned to wear overtop. Sure it was simple, but it was her. She’d never been into the fancy outfits that Karen always wore. In fact, she got this dress on sale and used at the local community aid store.

“Do you at least want to put some make-up on before we leave? I have red lipstick.” Karen held up a black tube and dangled it between her fingers.

“No.”

Karen shrugged her shoulders, “Suit yourself.” She fluffed her curls up with her hands and stood from her vanity. Her pale pink dress was over the top. It had ruffles and flowed effortless as she did a few twirls in front of the mirror. She stopped suddenly and turned around slowly to face Joyce.

Joyce spotted her uneasiness right away. “Karen. What is it?”

Karen gave a nervous sort of laugh. “It’s nothing, really Joyce. I just… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Joyce arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t want me to get upset about what?”

“Promise that you won’t get mad at me!” She paused, waiting for Joyce to promise. When she stayed silent, staring at her intently, Karen continued, “I thought it’d be better to just let you see for yourself but now that I’m thinking about it, I think it’d be better if you could prepare yourself.”

Joyce sat up fully on the bed and was leaning so far forward that if she moved any further, even by just an inch, she would fall off the bed. “Prepare. Myself. For. What.”

“HopperaskedChrissyCarpentertopromandshesaidyes!” She blurted out suddenly.

Joyce’s eyes widened.

“They’ll be there tonight, together.” Karen finished softly.

Of course. That was just the icing on the cake to this week for Joyce. She wasn’t sure if she was hurt or angry. Or both. Hopper swore up and down that he didn’t cheat on her with Chrissy and that she was the one who kissed him. That it meant nothing to him and he had pushed her off of him. But here he was asking her to prom. She scowled. She knew he was only doing this to get back at her for going with Lonnie.

Seeing her change in demeanor, Karen eyed Joyce critically, “Look Joyce, like I said, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be upset. But I also didn’t know if I should tell you because I wasn’t sure you’d even care. You’re the one who broke up with Hop. I thought it was pretty clear that you chose Lonnie over him.”

Joyce shook her head obstinately, digging her fingernails into the bedsheets. “I didn’t choose Lonnie over Hopper! I was mad at him because I thought he cheated on me with Chrissy! So I started hanging out with Lonnie more to make him jealous.”

“But I thought you like Lonnie now?” Karen questioned.

“I do!”

“But you still love Hopper?”

“Yes,” Joyce responded, sounding faintly annoyed. She really did like Lonnie. He had a crush on her since middle school. He was sweet, nice, and funny. They got along so well and she actually grew to like him since they started spending more time together. But he wasn’t Hopper.

Karen flipped her hair over her shoulder. She moved to stand in front of Joyce and placed her hands firmly on her hips. She held one hand up so that it hovered just in front of Joyce’s face. She was holding the tube of red lipstick. Smirking, she raised her eyebrows and whispered, “Then let’s go get your man.”

(XxXxXxXxXxX)

Prom wasn’t as horrible or disastrous as Joyce imagined it would be. And although her dress and makeup wasn’t as extravagant as the other girls, she felt beautiful. The cruella red lipstick on her lips popped against her all black outfit and pale features. She would never admit it, but she was glad Karen talked her into wearing it.

Her and Lonnie had spent about forty minutes on the dance floor tearing it up with a group of friends. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, but the thought of Hopper in the back of her mind kept her on edge. She found herself looking towards the gymnasium doors every five minutes or so to see if he’d show with Chrissy.

“Joyce?” Lonnie’s loud voice rang in her ears as he tried to be heard over the music, and pull her from her thoughts.

She turned to face him, “Yeah?”

“What’s going on, are you okay? You keep looking at the doors like you’re going to make a run for it.”

Joyce laughed, “No, no, I’m fine! I’m going to go to the restroom, I’ll be right back!”

She hurried out of the gymnasium and slipped through a side door into one of the school hallways. She didn’t even really have to use the restroom, she just needed to get out of there. She was practically suffocating from everyone’s warm bodies surrounding her, and her mind wondering in different directions with more thoughts of ‘what if.’

Still, she found her way to the restroom and thankfully it was empty. She stared at herself in the mirror for a few moments, her eyes narrowing in on every blemish. Shaking her head, she sighed and moved to leave, but she heard voices on the other side of the door.

Quickly, she went into a stall and locked it just as a group of girls entered the room.

“Chrissy you’re forty-five minutes late! What took you so long to get here?!” A voice asked, echoing off the walls.

Joyce cursed under breath. Of course it was Chrissy and her friends.

“She was probably getting down to business in the back of Hopper’s car!” Another voice chimed in.

“Girls!” Chrissy’s voice interrupted, scolding them. “Jimmy and I were late because he was late picking me up. He said he stopped to get me flowers.”

Joyce rolled her eyes. She hated hearing her call him “Jimmy.” It made her want to gag.

“Awe! He got you flowers! How sweet!”

“How sweet,” Joyce mocked in a whisper.

“That’s not all he got me,” Chrissy beamed. “He said that after the dance we could get a room down the street.”

The girls all let out a resounding gasp. They immediately started giggling and whispering but Joyce was too stunned to hear what they were saying. Her vision was blurring and she had to put her hand on one of the walls of the stall to steady herself.

“What about Joyce?” Someone asked.

This brought Joyce back to reality. She held her breath as she waited for someone else to speak.

“What about her?” Chrissy’s tone was ice cold.

“Yeah what about her?” Another girl followed.

“Jimmy dumped her last weekend,” Chrissy said matter-of-factly. “Besides, after tonight, after I’m finished giving him the time of his life… he won’t even remember who Joyce is.”

The girls all giggled again. “Let’s go get some punch! I heard some of the boys saying they were going to spike it!” The group retreated out of the bathroom.

Joyce emerged from her hiding place.

Shock.

It was not a word powerful enough to describe quite how she was feeling in that moment. Her jaw hung open and she gazed absently around the room, looking for confirmation that she wasn’t dreaming. That simply could not have truly just happened.

Joyce had only been in there to find a moment to relax in peace and quiet and get away from everyone. Of course Chrissy and her band of mean girls had to enter at the exact same time.

He said that after the dance we could get a room down the street.

Joyce ran to the nearest sink and braced her hands on either side of it. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto her face. Her lipstick was still perfectly in place as she looked at herself in the mirror once more. She wasn’t going to let this ruin her night. She patted her face dry with a paper towel and then left the bathroom.

Keeping her head low, she headed in the direction that lead back towards the gymnasium.

“Joyce?”

She halted at the sound of his voice. Slowly, she spun around on her heels to face him. She swore she stopped breathing in that exact moment. He was wearing a black suit with a white button up under shirt and a black tie. His hair was trimmed and combed back. He looked very dashing and Joyce couldn’t remember the last time she saw him like this--if ever. The look he was giving back to her, told her that their thoughts weren’t very different.

“Hi…” she finally mustered before turning to walk away.

“Joyce, wait!” Jim called out to her.

But she did not slow her pace. She did not turn to look at him. Instead, she kept going in the direction of the gymnasium, but instead of going there, she cut down to the mathematics hallway.

Jim hurried after her, eventually closing the gap between them and when he did, he took hold of her arm. He froze in shock when Joyce wretched her arm out of his grasp and threw him an icy glare.

“Joyce, what’s wrong?” Jim asked, frankly taken aback by her behavior. It seemed like all his question did was worsen her mood.

“You better get out there Hop,” she spat back at him, “there’s a woman awaiting your attention.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Joyce flung her hands up in frustration, “Chrissy? Ringing any bells? You’re getting a room for the two of you!”

Jim stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her incredulously. He could not have heard the words that just came out of her mouth correctly. She was already walking away from him again, but he took hold of her hand. Joyce spun around and met his eye, though there was still anger in her gaze, there was also hurt. She did not pull away from him as resolutely as she had the first time. Instead, she averted her gaze, not at all wanting to look at him.

“Look Hopper, I’m sorry, okay?!” She blurted out. “I only agreed to come here with Lonnie to make you jealous. And I only broke up with you because I was mad at you!”

Jim watched her, his eyes softening. A horrible feeling churned in his stomach. He hated seeing her distressed, and he hated being the cause of it. But really, the idea of the past week’s events seemed almost laughable to him now. Joyce knew he loved her and he knew that she loved him. They spent the last week desperately trying to get back at each other over something so silly.

“I only brought Chrissy here to make you jealous too.” He admitted.

“And that’s the reason you’re getting a room?” She shot back with a scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous baby, I’m not getting a room with her. You know she means nothing to me.” He tried to speak gently.

“Then why is she telling everyone that you are?”

Jim moved towards her, ducking his head closer to hers as he tried to cup her cheek. He just wanted to calm her. “Joyce listen to me, I’m not getting a room with Chrissy. I’m sorry I brought her here tonight. I’m sorry that all of this started over something so stupid. I never wanted her. It’s always been you Joyce. And it always will be.”

Joyce closed her eyes and leaned into his touch as he held her face in his hands. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of fighting.” She whispered.

“So am I,” Jim took Joyce’s hand in his, caressing her open palm gently with his thumb. “Joyce…” he said softly and met her gaze, “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

The words rung out around them and then there was silence. The truth can be a heavy thing, and in that moment, both of them alike felt its weight. They knew if they kept fighting in this way that it would only lead them down a road of destruction and heartbreak. One where they would both lose each other. Neither one of them could bear to think of that.

“You won’t,” she promised.

Jim smiled at her response.

“Do you want to go back to the dance? They’re playing one of your favorite songs.” Joyce offered.

They both listened as the lyrics to Little Richard’s Lucille played off in the distance.

“Lucille , please, come back where you belong. I been good to you, baby, please, don’t leave me alone.”

“It’s a slow one,” Joyce teased.

Jim smiled at her and moved to wrap his arms around her waist. “I was actually thinking we could go somewhere else to take things slow,” He pulled her towards him so that her body was flush against his. He could feel Joyce’s heart beating at a rapid pace. “You know my favorite part about us fighting all the time?” He asked with a chuckle.

Joyce found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to answer his own question, although she was pretty certain she already knew the answer. “Hmm?” She hummed.

He gave her a sly smile. His face moved closer, his lips nearly touching hers as he whispered, “Making up.”

Joyce grinned and before she could respond, his lips were on hers. He was gentle at first, nibbling at her bottom lip before they got more demanding, firmly massaging hers. Moaning, Joyce curled her hands around his neck as she kissed him back, moving her lips against his, shivering as heat flushed through her body.

He lifted her easily off the ground and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Her arms were still hooked tightly around his neck and she pressed her body against his, as his lips continued to kiss hers. Jim ran his tongue along her bottom lip before biting it gently. She let out a small gasp at the gesture.

Hardly able to control himself any longer, Jim stumbled forward, pressing Joyce’s back against the nearest classroom door. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue continued to dance with hers. Unhooking her arms from his neck, she gripped his shoulder for support with one hand and used the other to reach around and turn the door’s knob.

Jim stepped inside the classroom and kicked the door shut with his foot. He pulled away from her suddenly, both of them out of breath. They looked around the dark classroom, both of them taking a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Oh my God, we’re in Cooper’s classroom.” Joyce said, throwing her head back as she laughed.

“Well I hope he doesn’t mind if we borrow it,” Jim said with a smile. He held her up with one arm and used the other to clear off a section of the desk at the front of the room.

“Hopper,” Joyce breathed against his lips as he pressed her down onto Cooper’s desk.

His mouth attacked her throat, his stubble scratching against her skin as his teeth scraped just above her collarbone. Exhaling a trembling breath, Joyce surrendered to his touch and let him pull her up into a sitting position so he could pull her dress over her head. Jim tossed it to the floor as he reached an arm around to unclasp her bra, pressing hot kisses along her shoulder blade as he did so. She shrugged out of her bra and he tossed that away alongside her dress.

The chilled air in the room had already hardened her nipples and Jim’s intense stare made them peek up, begging earnestly for attention.

Jim smiled as he pushed her back down onto the desk once more and Joyce smiled back, gasping as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. He sucked it between his lips, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive flesh.

“Hop…” Joyce moaned, her hands gripping his head when his mouth started to kiss dangerously slow down over her belly, resting right above the hem of her tights.

Jim peered up at her with a devious look in his eyes, “I told you we’re going to take things slow tonight.” With that, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of her tights and panties and slowly pulled them down. His fingers slid steadily down from her waist, to her hips, and then all the way down her legs to her toes.

From there, Jim started at her toes and worked his way back up her body, intent on giving her more pleasure than she had ever felt before. His teeth grazed against her smooth, silken skin as his tongue licked and sucked in various spots.

“Please,” Joyce tossed her head back, her body arched almost completely off the desk as she begged him to end the sweet torment he was performing on her body. “C’mon Hop! I want you.”

Jim scraped his teeth across her hip before he raised his head to look at her. His blue eyes met her brown ones, both of their gazes heavy with lust. “You have me, baby.”

A groaning sound was ripped from her throat, “You know what I mean.”

With a grin on his lips, Jim shook his head. “Slow, Joyce. We’re taking things slow.” After a week of not being able to touch her, to worship her and love her, he was intent on taking his sweet time in reacquainting himself with her body. He wanted to drive her absolutely insane with need.

A whimper escaped her mouth as he lowered his head once more to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along her inner thighs. She wanted him desperately. She didn’t know how much more she was going to be able to take and they only just started. She was all for taking things slow--but this was agonizingly slow.

He pushed her legs further apart and kneeled before her. He licked at his lips at the sight of her and with anticipation. Joyce shuddered as she felt his hot breath blow against her.

Slowly, she felt Jim’s fingers move her lower lips apart, exposing all of her to him. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as his tongue found her wet center. Slowly, his tongue traced circles on her clit, over and over. He began to flick his tongue against her wetness, touching her just enough to make her squirm. He grazed his teeth over her clit and Joyce’s fingers tangled into his hair.

Jim slid a single digit inside her all at once, making her moan aloud. He pumped it in and out at a steady pace, plunging deeper each time as he continued. He added his middle finger, now pumping both into her slow and steady. His eyes were on her the entire time, watching as Joyce turned her head to the side, closing her eyes tight, and moaning sweet music to his ears.

Joyce writhed in pleasure as he went deeper, and she wrapped her legs around him to push him even closer to her quivering sex. She could feel the start of her climax build up as his fingers curled inside her into a ‘come hither’ motion. His mouth was back on her center at once, sucking on her clit between his lips and his tongue swirling. This, added with his fingers still thrusting into her, and the feel of his stubble brushing against her thighs from time to time, made the warmth that was pooling in the pit of Joyce’s stomach grow deeper and deeper. She could feel herself getting so close to the edge.

She sat up using her elbows as support, her eyes barely open enough to see his features--to see his hair against her skin, this man that she loved, worshipping her between her legs, so focused on her pleasure--on fulfilling her desire, as well as his own. Her eyes fluttered closed once again and she squeezed them tighter. Her back arched and she dipped her head back, her fingers reaching out to clutch onto his hair tightly. Subconsciously she moved closer to him, pushing her desire into his face more.

“Fuck, Jim,” she moaned. Her breathing became short, and continued to grow shorter as it hitched in her throat. She could feel herself pushing past the edge of no control.

“Cum Joyce,” He says and it’s all she needs to bring her undone.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled in a barely audible voice. Her entire body shuddered all at once. She could feel her walls clench and tighten around his fingers that were still thrusting relentlessly into her. Her muscles of her inner thighs tightened as well. All of the burning warmth that was pooled into her belly spread itself slowly throughout her entire body. Her hands, which were holding onto his hair tightly, began to slowly loosen their grip as she came down from her high.

His fingers slipped out of her and he maneuvered himself so that he was now hovering over top of her.

Joyce smiled as she reached up to hook her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Their tongues swirled together and she could taste how sweet she was, with just a hint of bitterness. The product of her own want for him. The pleasure caused only by him.

As she continued to kiss him, her lips being bruised in the process, she gripped the collar of his suit jacket and stripped it off. Jim opened his arms to help her shrug it off. Her hands toyed with the buttons of his dress shirt, unbuttoning each as quickly as she could. Fuck going slow when she was in control. She stripped that off of him as well, tossing it to the side with the pile of clothes that was beginning to build up on the floor.

She pulled away from his kisses long enough for her eyes to drink in the sight of him. Ever since joining the football team, his usual lean frame had toned out. She raked her fingernails down his chest as he sucked and nipped at various spots on her neck, being sure to leave marks. He wanted everyone to know what they did here tonight, to know that she was still his.

Joyce’s lips mimicked his own, against his neck, planting kisses as her hands moved to unbuckle his belt. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants eagerly, pulling away from his neck so she could completely take his pants off. She pulled them down with both hands, Jim shifting to help her. He kicked them off in one swift motion. Joyce licked her lips, seeing him in his navy briefs, and slipped her fingers in the waistband. She pulled them down his legs, taking them off as well and tossing them aside. She watched as his cock sprung out, hard and throbbing for her, precum already oozing from the tip.

She took his cock in one hand, holding him at the base to guide him inside her.

Jim halted her movements suddenly, gently gripping her wrist to move her hand away.

“Joyce.” He warned.

She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and whimpered. She positioned herself below him and began to move beneath him, thrusting her hips up to meet his as she ground against him.

“Slow. Damn it, Joyce. Go slow.”

“I can’t.”

Jim wrapped an arm around her torso, pulling her impossibly further against him. Giving in, and not wanting to torture her any longer, he thrust his entire self into her, filling her up entirely.

Joyce cried out loudly, causing Jim to clasp a hand down on her mouth. “Shhhh, baby, don’t want anyone to hear us.”

She could feel him fill her all the way up to the hilt. She moaned loudly against his mouth, pleasure shooting through her as she tightened around him. He groaned in return, pulling out entirely from her.

She whimpered again in response, causing Jim to chuckle softly. He once again thrust himself into her.

Joyce moaned again, stretching her arms out around her in response, knocking various classroom instruments off of Cooper’s desk.

Seeing the effect he was having on her, Jim stopped playing his game of taking things slow entirely. Instead, he now thrust himself into her fast and hard. He didn’t even give her a chance to steadily adjust to his pace.

He replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing her with a fiery passion mixed with want, need, and possessiveness.

Joyce groaned and dug her fingernails into his back as he plunged in and out of her at an unforgiving and relentless pace. Once more the feeling of warmth pooling up in the pit of her belly. She knew that her inevitable release was beginning to build up.

Jim grunted as he gripped her hips tightly, leaving bruises. He groaned loudly, burying his face in her neck, allowing the pleasure that her tight cunt was giving him to course through him entirely.

“Jim,” Joyce moaned his name into his ear. In return, she felt Jim’s hands tighten on her hips, making her back arch for him. She let out another loud moan as he kept going--and going, and going. Her entire body felt hot.

Her breath hitched in her throat once more and she felt him let go of his tight grip on her hips. He moved his arms up to cup her face in his hands, pressing kisses all over her face. She reached out an arm, her hand clutching onto the edge of the desk as tight as possible, her knuckles white.

“Fuck, Hopper, please,” She begged.

Jim groaned loudly after she spoke. “I’m so fucking close baby.”

The room was filled entirely with the sound of their pleasures.

Then it finally came, where Joyce finally fell over the edge once more. She moaned his name loudly as the feel of the familiar warmth spread through her. Her toes tingled as she clenched around him, soaking his hard cock with her juices, dripping down her thighs and all over him.

And then Jim followed soon after her. She could feel his cock twitch inside of her, his hot cum filling her up, as he let out one last groan of satisfaction. He threw his head back in pleasure. His thrusts slowed, sighing heavily as he finally felt his own release. Once he finished, he pulled out of her slowly, his eyes looking at their intwined bodies.

He placed one last soft kiss against her lips. When he pulled away to look down at her, they were both smiling at each other. “I love you,” she whispered.

Jim closed his eyes, the words were like music to his ears. He pressed his lips to her forehead, “And I you,” he replied.

He climbed off of her so that he was now standing. Reaching his hands out, he took her own into his and gently helped her up from the desk.

Quickly, they hurried to put their clothes back on. Jim finished dressing first. He bent over to pick up the various objects that Joyce had knocked off the desk. He held up a plastic pencil sharpener that was cracked along with a broken tape dispenser.

Once she was fully clothed, Joyce looked up. She laughed with a shrug at the broken objects. “Oops.”

Jim laughed with her, “Fuck it.” He tossed the objects back on the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at one of the classroom windows. Looking in that direction, he breathed her name out, “Joyce.”

She looked up at him as she placed other various objects from the floor back onto the desk. She followed his gaze to the window to see flakes of snow shimmering under a street light. A cheerful demeanor lit up her face and she smiled a smile that reached her eyes. She held out an outstretched arm towards Jim, offering him her hand. He took it and allowed her to lead him out of the classroom. She hurried, nearly dragging him behind her through the high school’s halls. They finally reached the main doors and Joyce let go of Jim’s hand to push them open.

The cold, crisp air hit her skin instantly and she relished in it. Joyce ran to the middle of the parking lot and looked up at the sky as the snowflakes continued to fall. She spun around in a circles a few times, laughing. She held up a hand and caught a few snowflakes on her palm, watching as they melted away into tiny droplets. “Look at them Hopper! Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It sure is,” he admitted, but he wasn’t talking about the snow. He moved to stand next to her, staring down at her as she continued to stare at the sky.

Joyce averted her gaze to him. They were standing so close that Jim could see each crystal of snow that stuck to her eyelashes. She reached up and trailed her fingertips over his cheeks and down his jaw. She pulled him down towards her mouth.

The gentle touch of her lips to his made his heart stir. When she pulled away her eyes fluttered open to look into his blue ones. He reached an arm into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He held the pack up between them and Joyce smiled.

They found Jim’s car in the parking lot and leaned back against it. Jim took out his lighter and flicked the flame up, lighting a cigarette. He took one short inhale before passing it over to her. She was looking at him carefully. “What?” He asked.

“Hop…” She spoke softly and averted her eyes down to the ground. “What do you think we’ll be like twenty, twenty-five years from now?”

Jim raised an eyebrow at her question. He wasn’t expecting it and he could tell it was something she had been wanting to ask him for a while now. He let out a sigh and moved to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close against him. He held her close as she wrapped her arms around his waist, returning his embrace. He ran a hand through her hair and placed a kiss on top of her head before answering,“Just like this.”

(XxXxXxXxXxX)

Hawkins 1983

Joyce stood in the parking lot of Hawkin’s Middle School, leaning against her 76’ Ford Pinto. She looked at the ground, her mind plagued with thoughts of everything that had happened. It had been one month since Eleven closed the gate, but her nightmares never stopped. Even now, as she stood outside the gymnasium, listening to the music from the Snow Ball, she wondered if her life would ever go back to some sense of normalcy.

Her thoughts were interrupted and she felt his presence before he spoke, “Hey.”

Looking up, she smiled as Jim walked towards her, “Hey.”

“Thought I might find you out here.”

She shifted nervously the closer he got. “Will wanted me to give him some space,” she shrugged a shoulder, “so I’m giving him a few feet.”

Jim smiled and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He tapped on the box twice, “What do you say? I’m pretty sure that Mr. Cooper retired in the 70s so we might be okay.” He joined her against the car, their legs brushing against each other.

He took out his lighter and lit a cigarette between his fingers.

Joyce placed a trembling hand over her arm and gazed up at him. She couldn’t help but smile at how the two of them had come full circle. It seemed that only yesterday they were at their own winter dance, sharing a cigarette out in the parking lot. She watched as he inhaled a hit, before passing it over to her. “Gimme that,” she said as their fingers brushed together.

She took one hit and had to stifle a cough. He really was smoking the strong ones these days. But she supposed he needed them with how their lives had been in just the past year. She handed it back to him and her gaze fell back to the ground.

“How are you holding up?” His voice broke their silence.

Her hand came to her lips and she fought the urge to bite her nails—a nervous habit she had taken up recently. “You know.”

“Yeah, that feeling never goes away.” Jim took another hit, blowing the smoke out before continuing, “It is true what they say, you know. Every day it does get a little easier.” He passed her the cigarette once more.

She breathed in another hit, but didn’t meet his eye. She glanced up at him, wanting to believe him, that one day this she would wake up and this nightmare would be over forever.

Sensing her distress, Jim wrapped an arm around her, hugging her against his side. Holding his hand on her shoulder, he pulled her close. She placed her hand overtop of his, intertwining their fingers together as his thumb traced comforting circles on her arm.

Joyce closed her eyes and allowed herself to fully submit. She snuggled into his chest, wishing that she could freeze this moment in time. Where her and Jim could stay forever. Just like this.

#jopper #stranger things #joyce byers x jim hopper #jim hopper #joyce byers #stranger things fanfic

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allonsysilvertongue · 7 years ago

Note

Can you write something where maybe Bob catches Joyce and Hopper in a moment or something? No disrespect to Bob, I love him! :)

Merry Christmas, Jopper fandom! :)

In my house, we ship Jopper but we also respect Bob Newby, Superhero. He is the MVP. So this is Jopper throughout the years through Bob’s eyes.

Hawkins: The Upside - Third Wheeling

He remembered where they were all teenagers atHawkins High.

He remembered Jim Hopper, leaning against hisdad’s Oldsmobile with effortless nonchalance, and an arm looped around ChrissyCarpenter’s waist. He doubted he would ever forget how he often made sure tokeep his head low as he passed by the group of them after school, but someone,usually Benny Hammond in his towering height would spot him.

“Look at Bob the Brain go.”

The group of them would laugh especiallyChrissy who seemed to find that nickname especially hilarious. Jim would give ahalf smirk and even though he hardly laughed out loud at his best friend’sjoke, he had never told Benny off either.

Bob remembered Joyce Horowitz, too. She wasalways coming in late, always trying to slip to the back of the classroomunnoticed. She was small, tiny but she could also hold her own against ateacher or another student which was often the reason she was in detention.

He wished at times that he could be as brave asher or as indifferent as Jim, then perhaps the others would stop making fun ofhim, but it was just wishful thinking.

Sometimes, as he walked the back of the schoolto get to the AV room, he would spy her with Jim at the bleachers, just twosmall figures in the distance. Other times, he could smell the cigarette smokeoff her after sixth period.

He was aware that Joyce and Jim had beenfriends from middle school but when they entered high school and Joyce movedout of the neighbourhood to the outskirt of town, their social circle couldn’thave been more different.

Still, Bob thought, it was nice that they stillhave their moments even if that meant breaking the school rule by sneaking awayto share a cigarette.

Throughout his school life, Joyce had neveracknowledged his existence. He didn’t know if she even knew that they sharedsome classes together. Jim, at least, knew him. Well, knowing him as ‘Bob theBrain’ was still knowing and aside from the moniker, Jim had never actuallygiven him any trouble. He had never stood up for him as his friends laughedbehind his back, not that Bob expected him to, of course.

Once, when Lonnie Byers shoved him against thelockers, Jim had even pulled Lonnie by the back of his collar and punched himin the face.

“Don’t be an asshole, Byers,” Jim spat.

Frankly, Bob suspected it was not to help him,per se, but more of a chance to have a go at Lonnie. He never understood thelongstanding grudge between the pair but he wasn’t about to question it, notwhen Jim had saved him from more potentially embarrassing scenarios Lonniecould inflict on him in the middle of the school hallway.

“Th- thanks,” Bob stuttered, picking himself offthe floor.

“Yeah,” Jim nodded, barely glancing in hisdirection.

He was staring at Joyce standing in the hallwaylooking at the scene in front of her, her eyes darting from Lonnie to Jim, andthen to Bob gathering his materials for his AV club.

Bob wondered right at that second if she knewwho he was but he doubted that because she turned on her heels and walked away.Jim jerked, a foot moving in front of him and Bob thought for a moment that hewas going to go after her but Lonnie beat him to it, brushing past him with a malicioussneer.

Jim and Joyce… They had moments like thatscattered throughout high school, and curiously, sometimes Bob wondered whatthe deal was between them, the push and the pull between the pair was rather fascinating,to say the least.

Bob noticed it again not long after he starteddating Joyce in ’84. As he drove up the now familiar road leading towards herhouse, he noticed the Chief of Police’s Blazer. Thinking that something waswrong, he sped up.

When his knock went unanswered, Bob lefthimself in. He walked in into what was clearly an intense, charged momentbetween Joyce and Jim.

“Is – Is everything alright?”

That broke the staring match. Joyce bit her lip, arms crossedprotectively in front of her. Jim turned towards him.

“Maybe you can talk to her,” he muttered. “Tellher Chicago’s worth a try for Will’s sake. You know what happened last year.”

He knew. He had read the papers. Will had gonemissing, presumed dead and had a funeral held after a body was dredged up andthen, miraculously, he was found alive. It was a traumatic experience for Joyceand her family, and he had tried as best as he could to comfort her and seethem through it.

“What’s in Chicago?” he asked.

Jim pressed a brochure on his chest as hewalked past.

“What was that?” Bob turned to Joyce for ananswer.

She sighed but took the brochure from him andpressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry about it. How was work?”

He should feel offended that he was kept on theside line but he spent most of his teenager years that way that he had longaccepted it as normal. There was also clearly something Jim knew that he wasnot privy to since Jim had been on the case from the start. He didn’t want topry either and send Joyce scuttling away so he held his peace. She would tellhim in her own time, he decided.

She didn’t. She never came around to lettinghim in all the way. He suspected that she might be trying to put it all behindher and move on with her life, with him in it.

All he got from her were bits and pieces, andconversations he picked up whenever he dropped by and Jim happened to there orphone calls between them.

He kept giving. All the care and love that hehad, he gave it to her and he didn’t even mind. He just wanted to be there forher and her boys.

So when he came around to the sight of drawingpapers plastered all over her house and she told him ‘no questions ask’, hedecipher Will’s drawing of Hawkin’s without even blinking. If he could help,then why not?

“What’s Jim doing here?” he asked as Joycebrought the car to a screeching halt inches from Jim’s Blazer in the middle ofan empty field.

Then she was asking for his help to get downthe hole. It should occur to him then that there was something deeper sharedbetween those two, something neither had ever acknowledged. She was, after all,willing to jump down into something clearly dangerous and unknown just to findhim, and he wondered if she knew whatit meant because he knew what itmeant the moment he decided to go in after her into the hole. If you lovesomeone, you never let them go at it alone, not even in the face of danger.

Then the nagging feeling that perhaps, Joycehad never realised the feelings she had for Jim or that he, Bob the Brain, wassomeone she went to because she couldn’t admit her own feelings for the Chiefof Police, was pushed from his thoughts the moment he figured out that ‘We’re actually inside of Will’s map’. Hewas so focused on that discovery, it completely did not register to him thatJoyce was ignoring him as she continuously shouted for Jim.

He followed her and when they found him….

When they released him from the vines…. Whenthey helped him up….

Bob merely stood there and tried hard to lookaway the moment Joyce cradled Jim’s face in her hands, her eyes searching forany injuries. The fear and worry was palpable in her voice as she asked, “Hopper,are you okay? Oh my god, are you okay?”

It was not lost on Bob that the way Jim saidher name – ‘Joyce’ – had the instantaneouseffect of calming her. It was that simple.

Easy peasy, he thought.

He kept his gaze fixed on the vines, watchingin case it tried to tangle them all while trying hard to ignore the pair ofthem next to him. He felt very much like an outsider, like he was intruding ona special moment.

“Hey, Bob,” Jim breathed, finally noticing hispresence.

“Hey, Jim.”

He wondered what it was they shared in highschool. He wondered what it was that kept them apart. He wondered what wouldhappen if ‘Nam never happened or if Lonnie wasn’t there. He wondered what wouldhappen if he wasn’t here. Would theyhave done something?

It was a train of thought he didn’t really wantto entertain.

Joyce chose him, Bob the Brain, and that wasgood enough for him.

#jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #bob newby #stranger things fic #filed under: hawkins the upside #asks #anon

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ninaahelvar · 7 years ago

Text

You Make Me Feel Nervous (With That Look In Your Eyes) - A Jopper Fic

Summary: Hopper and Joyce always sneak off during fifth and sixth period, but something throws the spanner in the works. And right before prom too.

AO3

A/N: We all know this fic is David Harbour’s fault. It happened, it’s angsty and beautiful but it’s here! First Jopper fic done! Have fun! (ALSO, because I was asked to link these people, have fun! @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @theladyjanes)

Jim leaned against Hawkin’s High School, kids rushing inside for fifth period as he waited for someone else. The class of ‘60 was getting their prom soon, and everyone was buying into the joy of it - Hopper wasn’t. He was just ready to leave and go make something of himself. Anything of himself.

Down the hall, she raced against the crowd, cheeks in a heat. Books pinned to her chest, she ignored yells from her teachers, but she was ready to skip. Her face broken into a large grin, she wondered if he’d be there. Somehow, he always beat her to their favourite spot. Her short hair bobbing at her shoulders as she raced, she pushed against the door, the cool air hitting her with her eagerness in toe.

Hopper’s hand searching his person, he found the pack of camels that was running on empty. If his beat up car didn’t have any packets left in the glove compartment, he may have to sneak some past his Mom again. It took her less than two minutes to round the corner, her cheeks flushed but a smile spread on her face as though happiness was her only emotion.

“So, you wanna play hooky, short stack?” Hopper said in a muffled tone, the cigarette disrupting his speech. Lighting it and taking a short puff, Joyce skipped over, snatching it from his teeth and taking her own drag.

“If you’ve got anymore camels with you, I’d go anywhere,” she smiled as the smoke exhaled from her lips. As they both went to his car, Hopper looked in the backseat of his car, before perking up again.

“I don’t know if a camel could fit in my backseat,” he smirked and Joyce rolled her eyes, poked him in the side.

“Oh shut up, Hop,” Joyce laughed before jumping to the passenger side door. The door, as always, stuck to the car. Joyce tried wrenching it back, but the patched up volkswagen beetle that he was still borrowing from his mother was a great fighter. Joyce, the tiny little thing she was, always battled with Hopper’s cars, but hated the beetle more than the impala. If Jim hadn’t of crashed it down that embankment, she wouldn’t be almost swearing at the little car.

“Stop before you break something, Joyce,” he laughed, putting his foot onto the back of the car and pulling the door handle with all his might. It finally swung open and Hopper stumbled back, almost falling back.

“If you just kept your rebellious ass out of trouble, you won’t have to save up for the millionth time,” Joyce said, throwing her books and bag into the backseat of the beetle. Hopper glided over the bonnet before going into the driver’s seat.

“Convince my mom to let me repair the impala,” he closed the door, looking over to Joyce.

“I’m not arguing with your mom again,” she scoffed. Joyce slammed the door shut, cheering when she saw the door shut tight. Hopper laughed when Joyce had a look of realisation that she may never open the door again. Starting up the car, the engine pattered out the familiar beat and rumbled as they zoomed out of the school parking lot.

With Ray Charles singing on the radio with What’d I Say, Joyce hummed out the lyrics as she continued to puff out smoke out the window. She watched as the smoke billowed out the window and created a streak behind them as the car tried its hardest to roar down the road. Joyce did hate this car, the strange way it never responded to her, especially when she was behind the wheel; but whenever she saw Jim hunched over behind the wheel with the crunched up brow of his - she couldn’t help but love this car.

They had done this many times, skipping class and messing up around town. It wasn’t their fault, class boring them both and cigarettes too good to pass up. Hopper was rolling his shoulder as he tried to become more comfortable in the car. He ended up slouching in place, his legs spread wide and his shoulder lining up with the seat. Suddenly, he sees Joyce being stupid. She really couldn’t help it, she felt the wind taking the smoke and the way it filled the car with absolute freshness. She leaned out of the window at first, getting further and further.

“Hey! Hey!” Jim called out after her, grabbing onto the belt line of her jeans. She put her hands on the end of the window. Joyce’s hair blew past her face, whipping as the wind forced it back, yelling and howling to the town of Hawkins. Hopper laughed, watching her for brief moments, biting at his lip as he saw the glimpse of the radiant smile that captivated most of her face.

As they pulled up to red lights, Joyce suddenly panicked back into her seat. As Hopper searched for the answer for her mood, his head smacked against the roof of the car. The Chief of Police stood on the side of the road, his eyes on the pair, knowing full well they should be in school. Rubbing at his brow, he pointed at them.

“Joyce! Jim! Slow down before you kill someone!”

“Gotcha, Chief!” Hopper called out, saluting at the officer that rolled his eyes. As the Chief crossed the street and the light went green, the car rounded the corner in a slow crawl, dashing off as the Chief was out of sight. It only took them a few more minutes to get to the quarry. The abandoned body of land with the pit of murky water that lingered inside was their destination and had been for the past few years. If they couldn’t - or rather, didn’t want to - smoke at school, they would go to the quarry.

Joyce rolled down the window, hopping onto the frame of the door and her hands banging on the door of the car. Hopper jumped out, looking at Joyce as her chin rested on the roof. He chuckled silently, moving around the car and getting out another cigarette from his pocket.

“Give me a hand,” Joyce smiled, and Jim smirked, an idea flickering in his mind.

“If you insist,” he mumbled, taking hold of her waist and hoisting her up and out of the car. When she thought she was going to be let down, Hopper twirled her around, her legs kicking up in the air as he raced them down to the water’s edge.

“Put me down, Hopper!” she squealed, arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for her life.

“You look like you need to cool down,” he chuckled, the cigarette, unlit and hanging from his lips.

“No! Put me down!” she laughed, clinging tight to him. Chuckling, Hopper spun them back around to put Joyce back on her feet. She staggered backwards as she laughed, jumping on the hood of the car. Joyce joined, sitting back against the windshield and her feet not able to reach the end of the car’s hood. Hopper, on the other hand, had his legs hanging from the car.

They talked about nothing for a while, Joyce telling Jim about school and Hopper talking about his parents, as well as his part time job at the station with his dad - Flo said he was a natural. As Joyce took the cigarette from Hopper once again, she seemed nervous to Jim - she was. Was she going to bring it up at all? It wasn’t his business, or it could be. She was confused and just wanted a moment to explain.

“Spit it out already, short stack,” he chuckled.

��I got asked out by Lonnie today,” she said, the smoke slipping past her lips, breath shaking as she inhaled. Hopper looked away, his jaw set tight and the feeling in his chest that made his shoulder go tense.

“What did you say?” he said, clearing his throat.

“Yes,” Joyce said in a small voice. She handed him back the cigarette.

“That’s good,” he mumbled back, taking the cigarette. “You two going to prom then?” he asked, turning back to Joyce, combing back her hair.

“I guess,” she shrugged.

“That should be fun,” he breathed out the smoke.

“You’re going right?” Joyce said suddenly, noticing how withdrawn he had gotten.

“With who?”

“Chrissy?”

“Carpenter?” he exclaimed, then laughed. “She’s going with her boyfriend. Jackson. Remember?” he said taking the cigarette from his lips.

“So you’re not going to prom?” she asked. Jim shrugged and shook his head. “Oh, come on, Hop! It’s going to be fun!”

“When you have a date,” Hopper scoffed.

“It’ll be fun. Don’t think of it like you need a date, it’s our last one, Hop,” she pleaded, the crinkle in her brow almost impossible to resist. He put the cigarette back into his mouth, taking a long drag and hanging his head as the smoke exhaled.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled and Joyce gave over a hearty laugh, trying to reach for the cigarette from Hopper’s teeth. He avoided her hand, leaning further away from her, which forced Joyce onto her hands and knees and scrambling to get the cigarette which still remained in its place.

“Hey! Pass it here!” Hopper only smiled as Joyce tried to snatch the cigarette from his lips. Hopper felt that it was their last happy moment, of just being separate - to themselves - and utterly happy with one another. Joyce would later agree.

*~*~*

No matter how much they wanted to spend time with each other after that day, it became almost impossible. Lonnie wanted to spend more time with Joyce, his arm around her nearly every free moment of their days at school. Jim would pass her in the hall, and she’d want to reach out and take him with her, but Lonnie would guide them away. He said he wasn’t jealous of Joyce and Hopper’s friendship, but he acted far more possessive than Joyce knew him to be.

Hopper didn’t care about Lonnie - he was a bit of an asshole, but so was Hopper sometimes. The only thing he cared about was Joyce, their friendship exchanged in glances that made Jim skip class for the rest of the day - or worse, he’d go to class to focus on anything else. He knew why he was feeling this way, the irrational anger and pull towards his car - the urge to yell and scream when he was given a free moment - he was losing someone he couldn’t bear to be without. And he was angry she wasn’t smiling with him.

Only a few days before prom, people were excited, filling the air with joy and anticipation. Hopper, on the other hand, was dreading having to dress up for a night he didn’t want to go to. With his books in hand, ready to go to the fifth period, Jim walked down the hall. He was lab partners with Bob ‘the brain’ Newby in sixth, so he may as well go to his fifth period. When he rounded the corner, wading through students and teachers, people struggling with their lockers, Him was caught off guard. Lonnie was kissing Joyce before letting Joyce go get her books.

“Hey, Hopper. Better hurry before you fail English,” Lonnie mocked. Joyce spun quickly, her hair flipping onto her shoulder, Lonnie’s arms snaking around her waist. Hopper clenched tightly to his books and he immediately turned on his heels. He didn’t know why, he didn’t have the right to think with jealousy, but he wasn’t going to let himself get mad - especially in front of Joyce. He made his way to his car and started it up before he realised what he was doing and where he was going.

Joyce raced outside, seeing the colourful little beetle trying to speed out of the school parking lot as fast as it could. She sighed, fixing up her bag on her shoulder. “Babe, why’d you run off?” Lonnie asked, his hand on the small of her back. Joyce sighed, getting tucked underneath Lonnie’s arm and his kiss went to the crown of her head. The two went off for their fifth period class.

Jim didn’t go far, he rounded the corner, smacking his hands against the steering wheel and smoking until he felt like he could function normally. He wasn’t that guy - he was better than this. But when the girl he was pining for was happy with someone else, he couldn’t help but feel defeated. Smoking until it was barely able to fit in between his fingers, Hopper parked his car, walking back to school just in time for the switch to sixth period.

Joyce hated that entire day, how it dragged and the thought of his car dashing off lingering in her mind as she sat at the dinner table. Through her parents eyes she was just brooding over school or maybe she’d had a fight with Lonnie - but she couldn’t help but remember the look on Hop’s face as Lonnie teased him. The way his jaw set tight and the pained look in his eyes as he ignored everything else around him and left. How he didn’t even notice that she’d gone to see him in the parking lot. And she couldn’t help but think about how she thought of him.

As prom came in and Jim was forced into a black pair of suit trousers and a white slim jacket. His mother was taking photos of him in his suit, though he refused to take a proper photo for her at all. He wasn’t used to pictures, but this was a night he wasn’t looking forward to. Driving there, the hall was already alive with music and Hopper really contemplated not leaving his car, but if he wasn’t seen at least once, then Joyce may actually come after him. She may have been nearly a foot shorter than him, but god was she frightening.

When he walked in, Hopper scanned the crowds, seeing Bob Newby dancing up a storm with his friends, not a care amongst them. It almost made Jim want to join in. Glancing over to the punch bowl that was being spiked, Hopper noticed the small groups of couples cooped up on the bleachers. Among the couples, Hopper saw her and immediately inhaled; he had never seen her as beautiful as that moment.

With a smile pinned to her lips and hair done up in curls; she never did care for putting her hair up like others, she said she liked the feeling of it as it touched her shoulders. Hopper knew that her parents were saving up for a good dress for Joyce, even asking him what he thought she’d like to wear. He was a little oblivious to it, but he gave his suggestions; apparently his suggestion of blue and big skirt was taken to heart. She looked...like a dream. Joyce spotted Hopper after a while, immediately beaming as she took him in, crisp in a nice suit. When he suddenly turned around, heading out the doors of the gym, Joyce got to her feet.

“You wanna dance?” Lonnie asked. Joyce, pursing her lips, came up with a lie.

“I need some air. I’ll be right back. Promise,” she said, hurriedly kissing his cheek and rushing through the dance, trying not to make too much of a scene in front of Lonnie. Her dress, puffy skirt and all, touched against her shins as she walked, the thick waist that went from the bottom of her bust just finishing where her ribs ended barely gave her room to breathe - by the end of her crowded walk and dash, she really did need air.

Jim was leaning against the wall, their spot, smoking without her for the first time. His bow tie was already untied and hanging from his neck. Against the night air, the smoke created a cloud of guilt and shame; a naive boy thinking things could remain the same. So, he smoked alone, regretting his night and what he hadn’t done.

“Thought we’d agreed never to smoke here alone,” a voice startled him. Joyce smiled, watching as Hopper shook his head, flicking the edge of the cigarette to let the ash fall.

“Always gotta have a look out,” he recalled their promise. Joyce went to his side, taking the cigarette from his hand as he offered it, and the distance from before had not done Joyce justice - up close, she could have been an angel.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Not my thing Joyce,” he shrugged.

“I mean lately,” she asked, and Hopper swallowed hard, feeling the pang of jealousy wash through him, guilt taking over. “You’ve been avoiding me,”

“I haven’t,” he tried to defend but when Joyce scoffed, he knew he wasn’t getting away with it. “It’s just…hard,” he sighed. Joyce watched as he comb his hand through his hair, as though he was nervous.

“What is?” she asked. Hopper dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his shoe and turning to Joyce. He couldn’t help himself when he looked at her, the way the soft lights made the blue highlight her skin; radiant and gorgeous. He’d always known it, but in this light, in this moment, she was beyond what words could describe as transcendent. Joyce felt her breath shake as Hopper lifted his hand to her face, palm lightly hovering over her cheek and thumb resting on her chin. As his fingers moved below her chin, her face caught between his thumb and finger, she wondered what he was thinking and he was wanting what she did.

His thumb tracing over her chin, Hopper knew he was a goner. Leaning down, picking up her chin a little more, he kissed her with urgency. Of all the things Hopper knew, this was line he shouldn’t cross - but he did with eagerness and lack of restraint. When he thought she was going to push on his chest, he found that Joyce was raised on her toes, and her hands were bound in his lapel.

She couldn’t help herself; when his lips came to her in a crashing moment of want, it broke the dam that held back every ounce of feeling Joyce kept hidden away. Pulling down on his collar more, Hopper was forced to bend further as Joyce could rise. She giggled for a mere second at the absurdity of it, the difference between them staggering, but it didn’t happen.

Joyce felt Hopper’s hand grip into her waist, guiding her back to the wall and his hand left her to brace against the wall. There was a part of her that wanted it to stay, to remain in his hold; instead, Joyce had the control of him, pulling and breathing to her whims alone. For all of it, the kiss getting more intense, Joyce pulled her arm around his shoulder, forcing Hopper once more to hold her to him, their bodies against each other for the first time and it was everything she needed.

Hopper pulls away first. He left Joyce to stumble after him, a look of shock that had overtaken her brow. Both rubbing at their lips, realising what they had done, suddenly stepped apart from each other. It broke something inside of him to do so. Joyce felt the same angered torment of being parted, but both knew that this line was shattered and there was no going back to sneaking cigarette between fifth and sixth period.

“I’ve gotta go,” Hopper said suddenly, breaking the guilt in Joyce and only thing remaining was wanting him back.

“Hop, wait,” she said, trying to step closer but when he didn’t look back and merely gestured over his shoulder, Joyce was stunned into stillness.

“Have a good night, Joyce,” he called out, getting into his beetle, driving off like nothing mattered to him. Before heading back inside to Lonnie and a few friends, Joyce snuck off to the bathroom, checking that she didn’t look out of sorts. Fixing up what needed to, she took a beat and went back to the music and the dancing.

Hopper sat in his car, the streets empty that night, save for his stupid beetle that hummed at a green light. He couldn’t go yet, he needed just a second to breathe, to understand what his impulsive self did in that moment. But as the guilt of that small moment came, he couldn’t help but realise one simple thing; she had kissed him back.

“Well, shit,” he said, touching at his lips and chuckling softly to himself.

#jopper #joyce x hopper #hopper x joyce #stranger things #joyce byers #Jim Hopper #my fics #this has been a post #jopper fic

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