#jancy fic

[jonathanbyersphd]

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Characters: Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Background & Cameo Characters, Mike Wheeler Additional Tags: Between Seasons/Series, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Frogs, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Fluff and Humor, High School, Teenage Rebellion, POV Jonathan Byers, POV Nancy Wheeler, POV Jim "Chief" Hopper, Breaking and Entering, Heist, Debauchery, Dorks in Love, Romantic Comedy, two freaks against the WORLD, jonathan's gonna steal 100 frogs, nancy's gonna stand by him, hopper's gonna lose it, Title from a Taylor Swift Song

Summary: When faced with an impossible task, Jonathan decides that it's up to him to come up with a plan to save the day. What follows can only be described as teenage rebellion, an urban legend in the making, and quite possibly the strangest date Nancy's ever been on.

Or

'Jonathan Byers would release the frogs before they get dissected btw'

[leslie057]

to kiss away the fevers of girls;

pairings: jonathan/nancy, jonathan/original female character

rating: m

word count: 3.5k (chapter 1)

summary: after a near-death experience, nancy clips through dimensions and incidentally fuses with the body of pierson adams—jonathan's girlfriend in an alternate reality.

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 2: upside down

The name for it is paradoxical lucidity—clarity where there should be none. She knows this because of Titus Andronicus. How someone can be so sharp, so productive and driven, at the height of their madness…a dumb plot device, but realer than real. It happens. The biggest revelations, the most comprehensive strategies, they just come to her when she’s at rock bottom. This was her baby sister that was lost (still is lost), and what, everyone really thought she would wait an additional day for them to make their plan? When waiting might as well be surrendering?

She’s never cared any less about Elizabethan revenge tragedies than she does right now; Titus didn’t go through any of this bullshit.

All she can think about is being held. All she wants is to not be completely alone when she dies like this, paralyzed on a damp bed of failure.

The concept of terminal lucidity fits right in there with paradoxical lucidity. Premortem Nancy is currently experiencing a clarity more brilliant than the Cullinan Diamond. I shouldn’t have snuck into the radio station. I shouldn't have taken ammunition that belonged to Hopper. I shouldn’t have crawled onto my new ex-boyfriend in his camping cot just because I was sad, and I shouldn’t have told him we could try sleeping together as friends. I shouldn’t have snuck out of the radio station after. I should have never gone to the woods by myself. I should have never assumed that I would see signs of my sister. I shouldn’t have kept going when I noticed the layer of ash on the forest floor getting thicker. I shouldn’t have denied that I was already in the Upside Down, that it had come to me. I shouldn’t have made so much noise, and I shouldn’t have called out to Holly, and I shouldn’t have shot at the Inverwasps that Henry was somehow, somewhere, controlling. Nobody with a brain would shoot at giant, swarming wasp creatures. Nobody with a brain would try to shoot an ordinary wasp, for God’s sake.

How such insects thrive in a place as cold as this, she has no idea. How they developed fur and extendable teeth, she has no idea. There are more mutations than she could have ever imagined. It almost seems that the inactive sectors of the dimension were recently awakened (maybe when she tried to kill their puppeteer) and forced into a state of frenzy. If she had to guess, it won’t be long before they all pour out into Hawkins and beyond. The two worlds may very well coalesce within weeks.

It happened fast; she was weaving calmly and swiftly through the trees, pleading with a six-year-old to follow the sound of her voice, and then the nest fell suddenly, and then she was curled up on the ground and they were all over her. She wasn’t prepared for anything like that. She wasn’t prepared.

Her strategy had been courageous, not comprehensive.

Whimpering, she covers her head and face. They are not merely stinging, they’re also cutting with their conical incisors, over and over again. Her breath is quick, her pulse erratic as the territorial pests compete for her inside her clothing, each buzzing wingbeat sending tremors through her body. They have a weight to them, confusingly, a weight that bears down hard. She can feel fur that’s like crushed velvet as their teeth slice into her flesh, tiny cuts that should burn more but are becoming numb.

Years ago, at the front of a science classroom, she presented on the topic of snakes because Mike loved them so much. He was in the first grade, and his class often came to sit in for big kid presentations. Snake venom is a complex cocktail of proteins and enzymes designed to immobilize and subdue prey. In humans, certain types of venom, especially neurotoxic varieties, can interfere with nerve signals and lead to paralysis. By blocking the communication between nerve cells and muscles, the venom freezes victims and can rapidly incapacitate a person if untreated. He was itty bitty, and he was fascinated. Didn't scare him one bit.

She cannot say the same of herself.

A part of her had expected it to end this way. Not in these woods, not on an arbitrary Wednesday night, not under a colony of supernatural bugs, but in the collapse of everything she had tried to hold together. Holly is thoroughly missing and has been for days. Everyone else was pausing, resting, waiting to think of something while Nancy had rushed ahead, as always, unable to sit still when every moment felt like one wasted. She’d thought she could handle it. Now, as the unearthly creatures gnaw at her, she realizes she was treating her life a little bit like a game…

continue ↴

[twin-scars]

Jancy Week Day 02 - looks OR young adulthood

So much had changed in such a short amount of time. It was their first Christmas as a couple, living on their own. Though all holidays were spent together Nancy felt like this was their first stage into real adulthood. It was only them--no family, no friends tagging along, no interruptions from siblings--no one. Just them.

Read the rest at AO3 ---> Just Us

[jancy-central]

It's the first Saturday of the month, so welcome to another Smutty Saturday! This month's choice is:

The Beauty (2927 words) by reasoningrunningrampant Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Characters: Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: One Shot, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, show lore, Post-Season/Series 04, Shameless Smut, Story Lore, Jancy, fic request, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Jonathan/Nancy - Freeform

It's a really good post season 4 fic so be sure to check it out!

Don't forget the We Love Jancy Fanfic Event is coming up! If you need any help with ideas, feel free to let us know!

AND since it's March, the month of my and @gnarly-love's birthdays, our prompt this month is Nancy and Jonathan's birthdays. We can't wait to see what everyone comes up with for this month!

As always, feel free to message us with prompts, ideas, questions, etc. Have a great weekend!

[ashyblondwaves]

Jancy + “god, we’ve been together for ages! I didn’t think that borrowing a change of clothes would warrant this much attention.” Please!

Better Than Bacon Grease

Pairing: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Rating: T Words: 707

GIF by @share-the-damn-bed

"I can't go out like this."

Jonathan stood at the foot of Nancy's bed; arms spread wide as Nancy giggled at his misfortune.

"It's not funny!" Jonathan bellowed, throwing his head back in frustration. "All because I had to dump out the bacon grease."

"And missing the canister completely," Nancy reminded him with another laugh.

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan whined. "It looks like I pissed myself."

It would be the last time Jonathan tried to cook at the Wheeler's house. The cooking part went fine, perfectly even. He showed up at the Wheeler's house early and made breakfast for Nancy, Holly and Karen while Ted and Mike were off setting up for the block party that afternoon.

Conversation was light, breakfast was delicious and all that had to be done was clean up. But what is usually a coffee canister, at least at his house, the container the Wheeler's used to hold bacon grease had a lid far too small for pouring grease in it and as Jonathan tried to pour, he got it everywhere but the container, including his shirt and the front of his pants, right at the crotch.

"You were supposed to use the funnel!" Nancy said, shaking her head.

"Who uses a funnel to pour out bacon grease?!"

"We do!"

Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I have to go home a change," he said with finality.

"We don't have time for you to go home," Nancy reminded him. "We have to be at the block party in twenty minutes."

"We can be a little late," Jonathan said.

"Not when you're the photographer for the event, we can't!"

"What am I supposed to do?! Walk around smelling like a diner trash can all day?"

Nancy fell silent, chewing on her bottom lip. She looked down, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"You can wear some of my clothes," she offered.

"Nancy."

"What? I have some oversized clothes you can try on."

What else was he supposed to do? He was not going to walk around full of grease all day.

"Fine. What do you have?" Jonathan finally said with a groan.

It wasn't bad. It really wasn't. Maybe a little tight. Maybe a little short, but it was better than wearing bacon grease all day.

The lavender Emerson t-shirt clung to Jonathan's lanky frame. Every time he raised his arms to bring his camera to his eye the shirt would ride up to his belly button.

Better than bacon grease.

The shorts left little to the imagination, black track shorts with white striping around the edges. They hugged places that would be considered indecent exposure in most states. But everything stayed covered, and nothing moved out of place. He just had to be careful when he bent down to snap a photo.

Better than bacon grease.

But the looks. The looks he was getting were making him uncomfortable, the center of attention. Long gazes that lingered on parts of him people had no right staring at. He just wanted to walk around and take pictures of the event like he was asked. He did need all eyes on his outfit.

But still. Better than bacon grease.

"God, we’ve been together for ages! I didn’t think that borrowing a change of clothes would warrant this much attention," Nancy laughed as she gave a tentative wave to Mike and the rest of the kids.

"I just don't think they're used to seeing the man wear the woman's clothes," Jonathan grumbled, pulling at the tight t-shirt and releasing the fabric with a snap.

"Well, that's sexist!" Nancy barked. "You have every right to wear my clothes, just like I wear yours. Nobody ever gives me looks when I wear your shirts."

"Probably because they fit you."

"Not the point."

"I think that's exactly the point. I probably look like I escaped from the insane asylum."

"Wouldn't be too farfetched," Nancy quipped.

"Har har har," Jonathan deadpanned. "Let's go get some pictures of the kids in the bounce house."

They walked together hand in hand, as everyone's eyes immediately went to Jonathan's outfit. A few people snickered, some gasped, but despite all that. It was better than bacon grease.

[duns-writes]

*banging pots and pans together*

Hey Jancy nation! Jonathan Byers appreciation club! Come get y'alls fic!

Tagging @beef-a-ronie, @jonathanssweatercollection @jancys-blue-bayou in case you're interested. If anyone wants to be tagged or untagged, let me know!

----

Music and laughter, and we're young and alive

CW/TW: Very Temporary Character Death, blood, injury, pain, hospitals, mentions of child abuse in later chapters

In which Jonathan gets hurt, and the people who love him realise just how much he's taken on.

Chapter 1: Take Me Out Tonight

Jonathan dies on a Tuesday.

They're in the back of a van. Speeding towards the only clinical space that's still functioning, the FEMA field hospital just outside of town. (Argyle is doing a surprisingly good job of driving both double the speed limit and safely.)

She'd watched and waited in the final showdown, building the strategy so that all they had to do (ha!) was get to Vecna and strike him down. The demodogs and bats had been neutralised, radio communication turned off, and Jonathan (against everybody's wishes) had volunteered as the distraction. ("Will and El are going to need you two, and Mike and Holly need their big sister.")

Time had stretched and warped like taffy, but they could still recognise it was taking too long. Something wasn't right, but what? She and Joyce had stood close to one another, the chief peering out into the ash and smoke, until-

Will had stumbled through the gate bloodied under his nose, tripping on the rubble. "Vecna's gone, but Jonathan's hurt! I can't pick him up on my own, I tried, but El's too drained to help!"

All three had thrown caution to the wind (nothing new there). They'd gone carefully through the gate itself, but dashed after him toward the ruins of the Creel house. Jane was knelt over a prone body, and-

Her knees wobbled.

Jonathan. His shirt-front slick with blood, stretched out like a pieta. Gazing up at El, breathing something as she gripped him, her tears making trails in the grime on his cheek.

Of course. Of course he would try to comfort her.

"*Gasp*-you're gonna be al-*gasp*-right. 'S all gone. You an' Will are-*rasp*-be okay. Find-hnngh-find out what makes you hap-happy. M'kay?"

His breath gurgled in his throat.

El had managed to pull together a watery smile, then glanced up, seeing their rescue party. "Look! They will help us get you out. You will be okay too. You-you just have to stay awake a little longer!"

He'd visibly shaken himself awake, corners of his mouth turning up as his brother had laid his hand on his shoulder. Reassuring someone else again.

Moving him had broken the spell.

"We have to stop the bleeding from these cuts, we need bandages." (Joyce had pressed the shredded remains of her shirt into the chief's hands, a few knotted together into a skein. She'd had to do something with her hands while they waited.)

"This is gonna hurt, kid. And you don't hold it in. Making noise is a way of dealin' with pain.'

They'd met gazes briefly, before Will was lifting Jon's shoulders and Hopper was winding the bandage around his torso. A tiny nod, then the chief pulled it taut, and a wail of agony ripped itself from the boy's chest. Jonathan was insensible for a few seconds, fighting against their hands like a rabbit in a snare, only stilling when Will's fingers began to soothe through his hair. He whimpered, tears rolling into his hairline.

"Shh, it's okay Jon. You're gonna be okay, just let us help you..."

He'd made a guttural noise when they arranged him across their laps, El curled up and watching from one of the jumpseats. Hopper knelt beside him, keeping pressure on as many wounds as his hands could stretch to. Argyle was grim in the driver's seat, following Joyce's directions.

They were almost at the gates when Jonathan's hand had gone limp on top of Will's. The tips of his fingers, dipped, gracefully, to the floor.

A tiny gust of breath had escaped his lips, and those warm brown eyes fixed themselves on a spot far into the distance, and then-

There's a low moan of "God no, not again, please-" and the teary young-man's-voice of Will urging him to "Breathe, Jonathan. Come on-".

Jane is stone-silent and still.

Nancy shuts it out. She shuts it out, because she has to. Has to move, has to fight, has to win, has to survive. To compartmentalise means to live. Maybe it even means he gets to live.

(Her own talent for detachment scares her sometimes. Jonathan is the only one who can break her out of her Frozen-Charlotte state because Barb is-)

Don't think about it don't think about it don'tthinkaboutit-

She seals her mouth over Jonathan's between Hopper's rhythmic pounding on his chest. Watches while the open-and-shut of his ribcage flares and sinks. All the while, she consciously blurs the sound around her. His soft, slightly chapped lips are all she can feel.

The world comes back in a rush, like breaking a swimming pool surface. Her heart gets hauled out of her hands, whisked away on a gurney.

The running mass of people turns the corner, and he's gone.

[jaegerisim]

SEND ME FIC PROMPTS IN MY INBOX PLS!! I AVOID WRITING SMUT BUT I CAN WRITE INTENSE MAKE-OUTS!!!

[jancys-blue-bayou]

The Weirdest Part chapter 3

Preview:

THE BOY WHO CAME BACK TO LIFE

The former missing child Will Byers has been found after a week of searching. He’s presently in stable condition in Hawkins General Hospital. Byers’ mother, Joyce Byers, alleges that Will was the subject of a secret government program run by the Hawkins National Laboratory. The allegation comes amidst a massive investigation into the hidden organization and its elaborate experimentation in perusal of mind control. The abuse detailed in the first report includes prolonged physical duress and psychological interrogation. This government sanctioned torture has provoked outrage amongst the American people.

“Mind control? Government sanctioned torture? This is just outrageous,” her dad mutters from behind the paper.

“Just to think, all this going on right here in Hawkins, right on our doorstep! The things they hide from us,” her mom sighs.

“Here I thought the Church Committee was supposed to have weeded out this sort of thing,” dad grumbles.

“What’s the Church Committee?” She wonders.

“Hm? Some senate hearings during Nixon. When we found out about MKULTRA and other things they were up to back in the 50s and 60s. Stuff just like what they’re writing about now. They were supposed to have stopped long ago. This is just unbelievable.”

“Huh.”

In a way it almost tickles her that for once their father sounds almost upset and a bit angry. At the government no less. She’s so used to him being laconic to the point where he always seems to function in slow motion compared to the rest of the world. But even he is shaken up in his own way by what’s happened. She wonders how school will be today. She wonders how people in town will react. She wonders how the country and the world will react.

She wonders what Jonathan’s doing right now. She wonders what Barb’s parents are thinking right now. She wonders how long it will be before she stops getting chills, her stomach dropping and she has to blink away tears as soon as any fleeting thought of Barb pops into her head.

“How did you sleep honey?” Mom suddenly asks, changing the subject.

“Fine,” she lies.

Read on Ao3 or FFNet!

[bardace]

I love their dynamic they mean the world to me

[jonathanbyersphd]

Freaking Out the Neighborhood: A Spiderman AU

“Spiderman” Nancy exclaims “Excuse me?” he panics “Do you know him?" Jonathan Byers is just trying to protect the neighborhood, avoid the police, and finish his freshman year at NYU in good standing. But when a girl from his past shows up demanding answers. Jonathan finds himself thrown into a mystery that might force him to be more than just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Moodboard (& fic) For @jancyweekend Day 3!

[leslie057]

penbleed;

pairings: jonathan/nancy

rating: light teen (swearing + mild sex references)

word count: 2.4k (chapter 1)

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 1: history - her diary as a personal history + a bonus history test incident

𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 16, 1984

—

𝑀𝓎 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓌. Actually, how do you forget an exam? Actually. How did I forget? And it’s not even that I forgot, it’s that I never knew. I am still so mad but not as mad as I was. Genuinely have no clue why we were not given verbal reminders for that history test. That stupid little secret of a test, that fucking sub rosa fucking social experiment of a thing to see who looks at her minuscule writing under the date on the board every day! Just tell us. Need it. Out loud. This is crazy arrogant and borderline disgusting of me to say, but she doesn't have a better student than me and I deserved better. It was like a setup. Of course I was taking notes, of course I was listening, of course a lot of it was prior knowledge. It’s the history of America and I’m not an idiot. I just thought a test would be coming up after the break, not before.

I mean it’s all been worked out now, though. 

But it makes me upset, because where was my head? No, I know where it was, my head was here with me. I was simply using it for its escape function. Wild how my ears can be turned on, and my pen will be going and going and going in perfect time with the lesson, but mentally I’m reliving whatever I want to relive. Or don’t want to relive. I’ve been like this since last year. Stuck inside my skull and cannot climb out. Don’t wanna climb out because sometimes I need to be there, it’s nice in there. Sometimes not nice. I brought this up to Jonathan, he said yes he does understand. Shocker. The difference is he’s been in his head for the last sixteen years, and he doesn’t continually think all the awful things that I think. He’s good and decent and he’s sweet and he’s built a strange, adorable habitat up there for song lyrics and checklists and worries. He does so much in one day. I don’t love his work schedule. Working on Friday nights, God. Then at home he does, like, budgeting and reads their bills and shit? I wouldn’t have time to steep in hate for Mrs. Kincannon, either. (He doesn’t hate her. That’s me.) Not that he’s dealing with his trauma or whatever, our trauma, I don’t know, he isn’t. Still, because his many responsibilities burn up the majority of his mental energy, he doesn’t seem to follow the spirals I follow. At least not when the sun's out. He’s a dramatic pessimist, my dramatic pessimist, oh that was fun to write, but I would assume his internal voice has more of a filter mechanism than mine. Could be a self-preservation thing. 

Who knows. But, yeah, neurogymnastics. Neurogymnastics to get me through my day. Each week is a series of extreme highs and extreme lows, lows that I just administer my fantasies to until something new happens. It’s good in the moment. Later I realize that I’ve missed things, spaced out, fell short, and I get all guilty. I feel hypocritical. I’ve fought for my life, why am I not training myself to live it well again. I’m rushing through things because they’re hard. I want to be successful, and this is not the path to success. The pressure is off me and yet all over me. Maybe I shouldn’t care about school, knowing what I know about the flimsiness of this dimension’s edges. Sounds clinically insane. Not ever going to be sure what to do with the fact that I’ve seen a parallel plane, that I was really there. I wish I didn’t care about school. I do care less about it than I did freshman and sophomore year. My grades are forever important to me, but there’s currently a big disconnect between my habits and my academic goals. When I’m at school, I fantasize about it being over. When I’ve set aside time to work, I can’t get through it and I go to my boyfriend. Maybe I am a bad student. Right now. I am. Hard to care about history since I’ve got a lot I would rather focus on. So, right, there are a lot of coercive acts I could be learning about if my teacher calmed down and gave me free time to coerce him. Sorry. 

I cannot stop thinking about what I was able to 

How he knew about the test is beyond me. He’s missed more days, he’s had more distractions, he’s more susceptible to distractions, and to top everything off he’s on possession watch. You know, just making those frequent check-ins with Will. I don’t know what that would look like. I guess you just ask him how he’s feeling, try to gauge the honesty. I would never ever say this but it seems likely to me that Will is still being…communicated with. Accessed. Scary sounds in his ears or something. Sensations. It’s not like he’d say anything! He’s like this meek little mouse, he could actively be experiencing organ rupture and wouldn’t make a sound. This is terrible, but being at their house does scare me every now and then. In a ticking time bomb sort of way. Is their family not kind of cursed? Then I get kissed and forget where I am anyway, so nothing matters. No complaints overall, it is a very nice place for a slumber party. 

My reaction last night was the most embarrassing. How I went from zero to a hundred that fast, how we went from squeaky bed springs and my proposed hickey competition (hate that this is in writing now, but context needed—also I was in a competitive mood yesterday) (he was not) to me whining and crying and essentially hyperventilating because I didn’t understand why he would mention a test when we didn’t have a test. I hate my emotions being played with and all of that bullshit. For some reason I’ve always been on the receiving end of that haven’t I? With boys in our class. Middle school, junior high, that kind of timeframe. At one point I could have convinced myself I was being flirted with. It’s a no, because “all statements.” All pines are conifers, but not all conifers are pines. So all interested boys will tease, but not all the boys that tease are interested. They really were just that eager to let me know my body wasn’t up to par for our age bracket. Pal, are we not eleven and twelve. I cannot be Catwoman for you.

I’m told I’m pretty now, so I’ll count it as a win. 

Anyway, Jonathan was not playing with my emotions, and we did have a test. We did. When my panic set in, it was bad. The pressure was building up in my chest, I thought I was in danger of dry drowning. My GPA is literally the only thing I ever feel in control of. In my arms were two options, have an absolutely miserable fucking Thursday night or risk baby’s first F on her transcript. But then he just looked at me, calm as ever, and said, “Why can’t you ask for an extension? I want you to ask her for an extension, okay?” Which I should have come up with on my own. I don’t know why, but hearing him say that was like. Insane. Made everything feel lighter, light as a feather. He doesn’t do this for himself, but for me—he zooms out, he figures out a way to make things less daunting. He can be so positive when it's a problem of mine on the table instead of his, and I'm like who are you, I love you. I usually have no problem cheating systems, swinging things in a way that's better for me, but requesting an extension? My pride lies in academics, I'm aware of that, I don’t often ask for help there. Want to accomplish things without accommodations being made for me. Meanwhile, school stuff is some of the only stuff Jonathan is willing to seek out help with. He has to. He can't afford to not get help. Not like he can spend an entire evening on one little section of an assignment when he needs to be clocked in at work for five hours. In conclusion, he talks to our instructors more than our peers. I have to respect a teacher's pet.

So, I took his advice. However tricky extensions may be. Kincannon is also tricky. Her iron will and everything. You’re not gonna get one if you always ask. You’re not gonna get one if you haven’t already established yourself as a trustworthy kid. You’re not gonna get one for being an athlete. I wasn’t convinced of the plan at first since she dress coded my mid-thigh skirt last week and had to tell me, on a few occasions, to stop chatting with/distracting my boyfriend. Him being in the picture was so in my favor, though, because he seriously might be her favorite. Personally I wanna say it’s gross; it makes her feel good about herself to cosset sensitive, troubled teens that she wouldn’t give a shit about otherwise. Like, you’re not his mommy, but I’m way off topic. 

We got up incredibly early this morning. We made her a tiny consolation coffee with cream and cinnamon, pulled up at 6:25 I want to say it was? And the conversation was ace. He had messed up my hair a little to hint at a sleepless night, coached me on how to look pitiful when we were in the car. I really hope I didn’t mishear him mumble something about puppy eyes. He was very tired. I stayed as honest as possible, that’s what he wanted from me. I told her I was having a rough time, that grief keeps getting in my way of things. I talked to her about my selective hearing issue. I said I’m an oral learner, I needed verbal reminders, and I said school means so much to me. Hesitantly I pointed out that Jonathan and I are still getting used to our new relationship, and maybe if our assigned seats were adjacent I wouldn't have to get up to talk to him. She was slightly passive-aggressive, but she was understanding. Then I found out I would be testing Monday. New test, just for me. There was something so ridiculous and fun about sitting in class this morning, reading while everyone else suffered. After, I couldn’t stop apologizing to Jonathan for freaking out. He said I didn’t freak out, I reacted, and he suggested I go easier on myself. That distinction felt huge, really huge. 

Right now, I'm desperate to preserve that feeling of lightness, but I’m mad at myself and furious in general. In hindsight I should have savored being comforted a little more, but I was busy having half a meltdown. I’m sure I’ll get to hear one of those soft pep talks the next time something doesn’t go my way. I have so much studying to do, especially since my Special Nancy Test is all writing. I’ve got it, though. I’m fine. Angry but also happy and fine. This will never happen again. I won’t let it happen again.

—

“Uh oh,” Jonathan suddenly murmurs to himself on her bed. 

She swivels at her small desk, not fully ready to turn her attention away from her entry. “Hmm?”

“Sorry, no, you can keep writing.” 

“But why uh oh?”

There's his gentle huff, his eyes flicking upward in annoyance. He holds a necklace she'd tasked him with untangling using tweezers. Its old, delicate chain was in no less than six billion knots. Somehow he’s the only one in the world who has the patience for this. She sure as hell doesn't have the patience for it. "I'm scared I'm about to break it." 

“Break it? Please don’t Jonathan,” she begs on impulse.

“It’s just really far gone. I’m trying.”

And he is. He’s been sitting quietly for as long as she’s been writing. So—long time. She sort of forgot about him over there. “Sorry, I know, I know you are," she says.

He’s silent. 

“You’ve been cleaning up a lot of my messes lately, huh?”

She flips over her journal, nudges it away from the table’s edge, and approaches him. From her desk she couldn’t see the glow of afternoon sunlight streaming onto her quilt. Very pretty. Her personal jewelry surgeon sits there in the middle, equally pretty, possibly feeling neglected. He’s gone the full nine yards here. Pushed up his sweater sleeves, swiped her reading glasses, set out a few safety pins and needles as his supplementary tools. He looks sleepy, the brown of his eyes lighter in the path of the sun. 

Her arms are behind her back until they’re not, and she crawls on top of him. He absently places the necklace on her flattest throw pillow. 

“I said you’re fixing a lot of my messes.”

“I mean…not really.” He’s blushing already, hands awkwardly grasping for purchase at her hips so that he won't get pressed back too hard into the poles of her bed frame's headboard. “If I am, I don’t mind.”

Her lips cushion against this little spot on his jaw that’s so sensitive it kills him, sucking carefully. The action might have the same effect on her that it does him; her heart jumps, swings wide, threatens to capsize in the wet of her chest. It’s that familiar adrenaline response, the uncontrollable energy spike she always gets alongside the realization of oh, we’re touching! She sighs into his skin, and he shudders, a pathetic sound of bliss escaping his throat.

“Okay, well don't start drooling,” she quips. Kisses his pulse point, spittily.

He mumbles something unintelligible, so she keeps on keeping on, shifting her weight back and forth, trying to make the most of the time they have and get some good play in while she can. She’ll have to kick him out soon. She’ll have to study in complete isolation. She dips back, and he follows, she leans forward, and he pulls her closer. “Said I need an extension,” he manages, repeating what she didn’t catch.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna do all this, I need an extension on my necklace project.”

Well, that is definitely going in the diary. 

[twin-scars]

Jancy Week Day 05 - a perfect match OR college, coworkers, or coffee shop AU

A moodboard I made for my bestie's coffee shop AU, Bad Habits. I was going to make my own but realized it matched her story pretty well. She gave me permission so here we are :) Read her fic, Bad Habits, on AO3 Thanks, @gnarly-love ! <3

[jancy-central]

💜 Welcome to another Spotlight Saturday 💙

This week I've chosen one of my favorites! I hope you love it too. Check out fakelight's other fics as well--they're all amazing! don't dream it's over (16428 words) by fakelight Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler (past), Steve Harrington/Robin (Stranger Things) Characters: Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Carol (Stranger Things), Tommy H. (Stranger Things), Robin (Stranger Things), Joyce Byers, Will Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fake Dating, Jancy Fic Week, Oh No One Bed What Do?, Talking To Dead People, Scars Summary: “And what about you, how are you? Are you uh, seeing anyone?” Later, Nancy will blame many things for the words that come out of her mouth—the wine, Carol, her precarious emotional state—but even as she says them, she knows they will be impossible to take back. “Actually yeah, I am.” What has she done?

And don't forget!

✨ Jancy Holiday Weekend ‘23 is Dec 29th through Jan 1st! ✨

(( For all details and themes please check out jancy-holiday-weekend ))

There's also time to do December's prompts:

You can check the pinned post on our blog for details and prompts. And, as always, if you have any comments, suggestions, fics, etc. feel free to let us know! We love hearing from you!

✨Happy Holidays from Jancy Fanfic Central!

[ashyblondwaves]

19 & Jancy pls

Strangely Sentimental

Prompt: Talking late into the night Pairing: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Rating: T Word Count: 709

The room was dark, save for the two candles flickering on each bedside table and the bright red of Jonathan's digital alarm clock shining into the darkness. It read 11:47pm, almost the next day but neither Jonathan nor Nancy made any case to end their night. In fact, they seemed to get even more comfortable on Jonathan's bed, both of them sitting cross-legged on each end while The Clash banged low in the background.

"Have you ever thought about was used to be here?" Nancy said thoughtfully. "Hundreds, thousands, millions of years ago?"

"Like Native American burial grounds?" Jonathan asked.

Nancy tilted her head. "That's where your mind goes when I say that?"

"Well, you've been around for what's happened here. What would you think?" Jonathan countered.

"Fair," Nancy relented. "But I meant more like... dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs? Hundreds of years ago?"

"Not hundreds! That's why I also said millions!" Nancy said, exasperated.

"What about dinosaurs?" Jonathan didn't seem to be following her logic.

"What if they roamed this very spot, where we're sitting right now?"

"My bedroom?"

"Jonathan!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jonathan laughed. It was so easy to tease her. He loved the way her brow creased right in the middle of her forehead when she got irritated.

"What if they walked around on the same spot this house was built? What if there are dinosaur fossils underneath your house?!"

Jonathan thought about it, it was a pretty cool idea. To think, a T-Rex may have had his supper on the grounds his house was built on.

"It's probably a silly idea," Nancy backtracked. "There's probably nothing more than arrowheads under this house."

"You never know. What if an epic battle between predators happened right here?" Jonathan asked, trying to put the wind back in Nancy's sails.

"Or a mother nursed eggs here, " Nancy added.

"Or that, but I like the epic battle idea better."

"I think this place has seen enough in the way of epic battles."

It was midnight now, Sunday morning and Nancy had decisions to make. Did she leave the Byers' house and risk waking up her family or did she stay and risk Joyce finding her in Jonathan's room?

"You can stay, you know." It was as if Jonathan could read her mind.

"If you wouldn't mind?" Nancy asked. "I can sleep on the floor I just... if I go home now my parents might wake up and catch me and I don't want to--"

"Nancy, it's ok," Jonathan said soothingly. "And you'll sleep in the bed. If anyone is going to sleep on the floor it'll be me."

"You don't have to," Nancy said a little shyly. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

Jonathan shrugged. It sounded good to him. Right. He moved to blow out the candles, bathing the room in total darkness before he flicked his lamp on.

"You don't have to sleep in a dress," he said. "I have some shorts and t-shirts you can borrow. Or..."

"That would be nice, thank you." Nancy replied.

With a nod, Jonathan stood up and fished through his dresser, producing a t-shirt and shorts for Nancy. Suddenly, the room felt too small. Too intimate.

"You can use the bathroom," Jonathan said swallowing thickly. "Or I could, and you can stay in here and change."

"I'll go in the bathroom," Nancy said, eager to escape the sudden warmth in the room.

Jonathan sighed when Nancy left. What was he doing? Nancy had a boyfriend, and he was inviting her to stay at his house? It was a friendly gesture, that was it. He didn't want her to get in trouble on his account, but if Steve ever found out. He didn't want to think about it.

Nancy came back in, positively swimming in the loaned shirt and shorts. Jonathan couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked entirely too cute in his clothes.

They each took a side of the bed. Nancy slid in under the covers while Jonathan pulled a spare blanket over him and turned off his lamp.

"Goodnight," Jonathan said. "Need the alarm set?"

"Yes," Nancy replied, awkwardly. "Six AM, please. My parents get up at seven on Sundays."

"No problem."

"Thank you," Nancy whispered. "Goodnight."

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

“Freak's looking at you.”

There's a nudge to his shoulder that makes Steve jerk up, snapping out of the daze he'd been in.

“Huh?” he asks, looking at Aaron with his brow furrowed.

Aaron nods towards a spot halfway across the cafeteria, and Steve shifts his gaze over to see Munson standing on top of one of the tables, watching him expectantly.

Shit.

“Can you repeat that, if you're expecting a response?” Steve asks. “I drifted off somewhere around comparing the swimming pool to a goldfish bowl.”

He's being honest - it's still harder to concentrate, and he saves it for classes and practice and tends to zone out when he doesn't need to pay attention - but it makes the people who were clearly listening in laugh.

Steve catches Munson's gaze and rolls his eyes, giving him an apologetic little shrug.

He's not really sure how Munson takes it, because he just bemoans the attention span of the average jock and clomps down from the table, but no one's looking at either of them anymore, so he guesses it doesn't matter.

Steve's almost disappointed. Might be kind of nice to see what Munson's like when no one's watching them, he thinks.

—

Things are okay, with him and Nancy and Jonathan.

His gaze doesn't automatically seek Nancy out in a crowd or anything - mostly because he'd always been at her side, before, so it's not like it's even something he's used to - but he still catches her gaze sometimes, still smiles and nods and doesn't say anything.

They share study hall together.

He and Nancy shared it before, of course, and logically he knows that Jonathan had it at the same time they did, but now - now they all have it together.

After the first few times of him or Nancy awkwardly veering sharply away from their previously shared table when they'd seen the other one was already there - one day they just didn't.

They don't say much, but the three of them sit together, exchanging class notes and books. Sometimes Steve sees the pinch in Jonathan's eyes and gives him a bottle of water and some ibuprofen, and sometimes Jonathan sees him squinting too hard at something and copies the passage over in bigger handwriting, and Nancy checks over both of their notes, and it's -

The jagged black cut in his heart scabs, fades, scars. He'll always love her, he thinks, but sometimes he thinks if they can get over the hurt -

Sometimes he sits with the two of them and it's the closest he's ever felt to being understood. Sometimes he thinks it's what he wanted with Tommy and Carol, all those years ago.

It's a start.

—

He runs into Munson after school, sometimes.

They don't say anything either, but after practice gets out and after Munson is done with his theater club or whatever it is, they'll see each other.

Sometimes, if Munson's selling, Steve will linger.

He doesn't really think Billy's stupid enough to point fingers at Munson, and most people are too afraid of him to do anything, but it still makes him feel a little better to keep an eye on him.

It kind of feels like no one watches out for Eddie Munson, not the way he watches out for his fellow freaks.

“What?” Munson demands one day, sidling up to Steve and slamming his goodie box down on the bench. “What're you looking for here?”

Steve frowns at him. “I told you.”

Munson's brows furrow. “You were serious about that shit? You think you're protecting me?”

“Why not?” Steve challenges.

Munson's eyes go flat. “And what's this protection going to cost me?”

Steve thinks about being offended, for a moment, before he wonders if other people have tried to make deals before, keep the other assholes of Hawkins High away from him in exchange for free weed or something.

He softens. “I haven't asked you for anything.”

Munson scowls. “Yet,” he counters. “Whatever you're thinking, if you're trying to get me to owe you, it's not happening. Fuck off, man, I don't need protecting.”

His heart clenches as he hears an echo of Max saying the same thing, and before he knows it he's reached into his chest and pulled out his heart.

The scowl melts into confusion for a brief moment before it's back in full force. “I'm still not showing you mine,” Munson retorts.

“I still haven't asked,” Steve counters. “I don't want anything, man, all right? Just looking out in case Billy tries something.”

Or anyone else, now that Steve thinks of it, but even with his heart pumping in a steady truth, he's not sure Munson'll believe that.

“Just like that,” Munson says flatly, after a moment of watching Steve's heart. “And what do your knights of the round table think of this?”

Steve's nose scrunches. “What?”

“Your knights.” Munson waves his hand dismissively, but - his tone isn't mean, isn't condescending. “It's a King Arthur reference.”

It's nice, that he isn't being shitty about Steve not understanding something.

“Right. So that makes me King Arthur, and you're - what was it again, the court jester?” Steve asks, giving him a little smile to show he's teasing.

“If we're doing King Arthur, I'm going with Merlin,” Eddie says.

“The old guy with the beard and pointy hat?” Steve asks.

Eddie puts his hands on his hips, fluttering his eyelashes. “You think I couldn't pull it off?”

Steve plays along, making a show of looking him up and down. “You know what, sure, you've got the right look for gray haired old man.”

“Asshole,” Eddie tells him, but he doesn't sound pissed anymore. “You know you're cutting into my profits, right? People see you lingering and they're less likely to come buy.”

Steve's brows furrow. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. Only the desperate want to make illicit purchases under the watchful eye of Hawkins High's once and future king.”

Steve's quiet for a moment. “I'll stand farther away, make myself look busy.”

Eddie glowers. “Seriously? You're not giving this up?”

Honestly - Steve probably should. But he's stubborn, and Eddie throwing a fit about it kind of just makes him want to do it more.

“Who looks out for you?” he asks instead of answering.

Eddie looks thrown. “What?”

“That's why you do it, right? Why you started walking on tables and making yourself a target. It takes attention off of the guys younger than you.” Steve's trying to make a point, so he slides right over the fact that they both know everyone's younger than Eddie - this is his second senior year, after all. “So everyone watches you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, a little bit of an edge back in his voice. “You watch me, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve replies, blunt and honest. “Not really. Not before.”

“Not before Billy Hargrove tried to blame me for bashing your head in with his fists?” Eddie asks.

“He smashed a plate over it, actually,” Steve shoots back. “But yeah, something like that.”

Steve's heart gives an erratic beat. It wasn't a lie, but apparently it wasn't enough of the truth, either. Eddie gives him a pointed look.

“There's these kids I babysit,” Steve says, slow and careful. “They're into the same things you are. They're gonna be in high school next year, and I won't be here. Neither will you, but it just made me think - I'd want someone like you looking out for them.”

Eddie watches his heart for a moment.

“What are their names?” he asks. “Yeah, I won't be here, but Jeff will be. I can tell him to look out for them.”

Relief swoops through Steve, and he doesn't even care when Eddie gives him a funny look after he includes Mike and Will along with Dustin, Lucas, and Max.

He won't admit it, but it helps.

—

The next day, Eddie sits next to him at lunch.

He makes a big deal of it, hamming it up as he hops over the bench and plops down, pulling out a sandwich and some chips and flattening out his lunch bag to make a plate for them.

Steve's sitting with the swim team today, and he watches some of the guys side eye Eddie like they're not sure what the joke is and who the punchline is supposed to be. He watches some of them look at him with disgust, too, and those he carefully files away to keep an eye on later.

“My liege!” Eddie announces cheerfully. “How fair you and your knights of the round table on this fine afternoon?”

“Your king is doing just fine, as long as you keep your boots on the ground and away from the top of the lunch table,” Steve retorts.

“Is this like when Carol used to call her and Tommy Duke and Duchess?” Jacob asks.

“Are we doing that, are we knights now?” Dorian asks, his eyes lighting up a little.

Dorian gets straight A's, Steve remembers that. English is his best class.

“Sure, why not?” Steve says, shrugging carelessly, even as he shoots a smile at Dorian. “You can be Sir Galahad.”

Michael groans. “Don't encourage him, this is stupid.”

Tanner snorts. “From the guy who calls his girlfriend princess.”

Michael flushes. “Shut up! It's just so Ashley will stop whining.”

“Uh-huh.” Jacob elbows him. “We've all heard you at Tina's parties pledging to be her knight in shining armor.”

They have, apparently, completely forgotten Eddie's existence as they fall back to ribbing on each other.

Steve turns to him, finding him watching the table with a narrow, calculating gaze.

“Eat your lunch,” Steve says. “My knights don't give a shit.”

These ones, anyway, and as long as Steve's there, but he's not going to say that.

They both know it.

Still, Eddie keeps it up. It's not every day, or every other day, or in any kind of recognizable pattern, but he'll plop himself down next to Steve's side like he belongs there whenever he feels like it.

Steve largely treats it like he doesn't give a shit, and most of the people he tends to sit with follow suit, if a couple of them can't seem to resist making snide little comments.

It's always the ones who make snide comments to everyone, the kind of assholes that Steve can't wait to get away from, so he mostly ignores it.

The sixth or seventh time it happens, Steve drops his apple on Eddie's folded over lunch bag.

Eddie stares at him.

“What?” Steve asks. “You're going to get scurvy if you keep eating nothing but bologna and Doritos for lunch.”

Eddie snorts. “I look like an eighteenth century pirate captain?”

Steve makes a show of looking him up and down again. “You look like something,” he replies.

Completely unexpectedly, Eddie flushes a little, picking up the apple and taking a comically large bite out of it.

Steve grins.

—

Steve's at swimming practice after school when Nancy and Jonathan show up.

The second he sees them hovering near the back door, he hauls himself up out of the pool, barely pausing to grab a towel on the way.

“What's happened?” he asks immediately, low and quick.

Jonathan's expression is a mess of worry, like he's trying not to panic, as he says, “I can't find Will.”

“We're supposed to pick him and Mike up from the AV club,” Nancy cuts in. “But they're not there, and they're not at any of their usual places at school.”

“Or at home, or anyone else's place, or the arcade,” Jonathan adds.

Steve's chest tightens. It's stupid, kids go off to places they're not supposed to be all the time - especially these kids - but given their track record, that doesn't mean they're not in trouble. “Let me grab my stuff, I'll be right there.”

Practice is almost done, anyway.

He shrugs into his windbreaker and grabs his backpack, darting out the door to follow them. He's already digging around in the backpack to pull out the walkie talkie Dustin gave him by the time he gets to them.

“Little shit better answer,” Steve grumbles, thumbing it on. “Dustin, you there?”

There's a tense pause as they wait.

“Dustin?” Steve tries again.

Nothing.

Jonathan's face goes a little paler, and Nancy's jaw clenches.

“Hey asshole, you're the one who made me carry this around, the least you could do is respond,” Steve bitches.

This time, the walkie flares to life.

“You're supposed to say over when you're done talking, Steve!” Dustin bitches back. “Otherwise I won't know it's my turn! Over.”

“Are you serious right now? It wasn't obvious enough?” Steve asks - then, because he wouldn't put it past Dustin to be a little shit about it, and he knows Jonathan is beyond worried - “Is Will with you? Over.”

“Yeah, he's right here. Why?” Dustin asks. “Over.”

Jonathan sags with relief.

“Was he maybe supposed to meet his brother somewhere?” Steve prompts. “Over.”

Whatever Dustin had been going to say in response to that is drowned out by a chorus of “Oh shit!” and “You said you were keeping track of the time!” and “Don't tell Mom, we'll be right there!”

Nancy rolls her eyes, taking the walkie from him. “Five minutes,” she says into it. “Or we're leaving without you and you can bike home. Over and out.”

Steve's pretty sure he and Jonathan both know that she doesn't mean that, but the kids don't know it, so he's equally sure that'll light a fire under their asses.

“Hey, Dustin, do you and Lucas need a ride home?” he asks once he gets the walkie back.

“And Max?” Dustin asks. “Over.”

“And Max,” Steve agrees, assuming that's a yes. “I'll meet you out front of the high school. Over.”

He shoves the walkie back in his bag, looking up to exchange a relieved look with Nancy and Jonathan.

“See you tomorrow?” Nancy asks, though Steve gets the feeling it's more to fill the silence that's gone a little awkward, now that the potential danger's passed.

“Sure,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Jonathan tells him, eyes fixed somewhere at his left cheekbone like he's not entirely sure where to look.

“Any time.” It comes out too flippant, though, and Steve makes a face at himself as Jonathan turns to leave.

“Hey.” Steve reaches out, fingers curled loosely around Jonathan's wrist. “I mean it, okay? Any time.”

This time, Jonathan's eyes lock on his. After a moment, Jonathan's cheeks go a little pink, and then he nods before he follows Nancy down the hall.

Steve watches them for a moment or two, then drops his backpack down on a bench a little harder than he probably should, digging around for his sweatpants.

“I don't get it.”

Steve looks up as he's halfway through putting his pants on to see Eddie sidling up next to him in the hall.

“Don't get what?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods towards where Nancy and Jonathan just were. “The three of you.”

Steve shrugs. “We're friends, not a lot to get.”

He goes back to fighting with his sweatpants, wishing he'd dried off a little more before pulling them on over his speedo. They keep sticking to his thighs.

Eddie's gone quiet, though, and when Steve glances back up, he sees Eddie staring at him.

Steve cocks one eyebrow. “What?”

Eddie flushes, looking away. “Didn't figure you'd be so comfortable with the girl who broke your heart and the guy who stole her away, is all. Or hey, maybe she's putting out for both of you, maybe Byers is-”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in, tone sharp and firm in a way he hasn't had to do since he stopped hanging out with Tommy and didn't have to hold him back when he'd gone too far anymore.

But Eddie isn't like Tommy. Maybe he doesn't know Eddie all that well, but Steve gets the feeling he only lashes out when he's feeling cornered.

“Don't be a dick, man,” Steve says, voice softening a little. “They haven't done anything to you.”

Eddie looks back at him, a little surprised, before his expression goes contrite. “You're right,” he admits, easy as anything. “Sorry. It's good that you’re friends with your ex.”

Steve's sort of friends with most of his exes, but that's not the same. None of them were ever Nancy. “I do better as part of a trio,” he says instead of anything else, because it's kind of true.

Then, because he doesn't actually want to field any questions about that -

“Besides,” Steve adds. “If you've heard the rumors, you'd know that's not the kind of threesome I'm into.”

Eddie snorts inelegantly, like he's trying to cover up a laugh. “You telling me I should be putting stock in all the rumors I hear about you, Stevie?”

“Of course not. But the ones about my skills in the bedroom?” he shoots back. “Every word is truth.”

It's not, really. Or, well - not the one about the threesomes. Steve doesn't think sitting between two girls on the couch at a house party and going back and forth between kissing them counts as a threesome.

But it'd never been a hardship to combat that particular rumor, not when it meant he could take his time reassuring the girl he was with that no, he didn't want anyone else there, when he could spend a while making sure she felt important, felt good.

He thinks he'd kind of like spending some time making Eddie feel important.

Steve has no idea what the hell he's supposed to do with thoughts like that.

But he does know the way Eddie's eyes have lingered over his thighs and the line of his stomach and chest peeking out from his open windbreaker, and he-

“You want to find out which rumors are true, you just let me know,” he hears himself say.

Eddie doesn't bite, rolling his eyes and shoving him before he heads off, but Steve isn't deterred.

He hadn't missed the way Eddie's hand had lingered, either.

—

Steve and Eddie have free period together.

Well. Steve has a free period, at least. He's honestly not sure Eddie isn't just ditching, but it doesn't really matter.

They hang out together anyway.

They don't really say much, just - exist in the same space. Sometimes in the smoking area, sometimes at the track, sometimes at the picnic table, sometimes somewhere else in the woods.

They sit too close together when they're in the woods, shoulders or knees always touching.

A few times, Steve takes out his heart, lets himself breathe.

Eddie always glares at it, mutters, “I'm still not showing you mine, Harrington.”

Steve shrugs, tells him he still hasn't asked, and that's it.

Steve'll miss it once he graduates.

—

He graduates, and doesn't go to college, doesn't see Nancy or Jonathan or Eddie much anymore, and it's - it's fine.

He still hangs out with the kids, starts putting in job applications, and it's fine.

He's fine.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 5

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt

[blushweddinggowns]

Jonathan didn’t know how else to say it but…Steve Harrington was weird. Like really, really weird. And he wasn’t even talking about Steve and Eddie. He thought Harrington was plenty weird all on his own. 

Jonathan really didn’t understand why Eddie was always marked as the strange one in the duo. To him, Eddie made perfect sense. Poor background, unique interests, drug dealer, loud and obnoxious as a coping mechanism, but still managing to be a pretty good guy all around. It was normal for a guy like that to be a little out there. 

But Steve didn’t make any sense to him. Zero. Zilch. 

Because he was rich, handsome, athletic, a total jock in every sense of the word. Half the school wanted to get in his pants, while the other half desperately tried to figure out how he got so many girls. By all accounts, he should be an asshole. Someone who basked in his own popularity, not someone who literally shunned it. Steve was the only person he’d ever met who had it all, and didn’t care. 

All he seemed to care about was freaking Eddie Munson of all people. They had been attached at the hip since grade school and even with Eddie disappearing for two years, Steve was right back at his side nearly the moment he got back. 

He didn’t go to parties, never bragged about his conquests unless someone asked, and even then he was always incredibly vague, and from what he’d heard from Nancy, he didn’t even sleep at his own house 90 percent of the time. If you were looking for Steve Harrington, all you really had to do was track down Eddie Munson.

Jonathan had only purchased weed a handful of times in his young life, but every single time Steve had been there. Either in the van waiting when Eddie dropped something off, or sitting right next to him on the park bench, popping gum and reading a comic book while Eddie did his business. 

And he was…intensely protective over him. Which was weird considering how Munson was scary enough in his own right, at least on the outside. Like getting into multiple fights, protective. Making girls cry who had the audacity to say anything about Eddie’s antics, protective. Like cursing out an actual teacher, protective. 

Like comforting your best friend after a near death experience instead of your literal girlfriend protective. Who did that? And maybe it hadn’t been official back then, but still. You’d think you’d spend time cuddling your crush in your lap instead of your childhood buddy. And there was also the weird hair smelling thing they kept doing. He hadn’t looked too closely at the time, but Steve had turned to bury his face in Eddie’s hair every few minutes after the 83 showdown. He hadn’t seen a repeat of that since, though. Maybe…maybe Eddie had gotten demon guts in his hair? And Steve had been trying to find the source?

He didn’t fucking know. He just…didn’t get him. And now he got him even less. The guy pulled freaking Nancy Wheeler as his girlfriend, and he didn't spend every possible waking moment with her? 

But it wasn’t just him prioritizing Eddie over Nancy. It was the fact that he didn’t care that Nancy was with him more often than her actual boyfriend. Which was fantastic for Jonathan, even if it was a bit of a double edged sword. Because Nancy was gorgeous and so fucking smart and cool and…and Jonathan liked her so much he kind of wanted to die.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Even if he’d come close, way more than once. There were probably a dozen times where he’d almost kissed her. And the last one would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. They had been talking next to his car during lunch, Jonathan couldn’t even remember what it had been about. He just remembered that he had said something to make her laugh. And she looked so freaking beautiful when she laughed. She looked pretty all the time, but something about seeing her happy made her jump from a 10/10 to a 15. 

The sun was in her hair, and her eyes crinkled in that cute way that he loved, and Jonathan had been leaning in before he knew it was happening. And if Steve and Eddie hadn’t walked by right in that moment, it would have happened. He had jumped nearly ten feet in the air when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, fully expecting Steve to start tearing into him for being so close to his girlfriend. 

But he just smiled and waved when he saw them, and went right back to their conversation before walking off. 

See? Weird.

He didn’t know why it didn’t bother Nancy more, how little he cared about what the two of them were up to. Part of him was praying it was because she was falling out of love with him, and all of the romantic tension they had together wasn’t in his head. 

But he just couldn’t bring himself to make that final step. Mostly because he was busy trying to take care of Will most of the time. Even if he got his way he wasn’t exactly in a position to be a good boyfriend. His little brother came first, especially after everything he had been through. And he was struggling, Jonathan could see it. And he spent most of his spare moments trying his damndest to get Will to open up. It hadn’t worked. But he kept trying.

But there was another part to it too. He…he didn’t want to be that guy. The kind of guy to make moves on a taken girl. Especially Steve’s girl. Both him and Eddie had risked their lives last year helping them out, and what? He was going to thank them by breaking Steve’s heart? He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Even if Eddie wanted him to. Which was just one more thing he didn’t get, the weird encouragement Eddie would give him when it came to his best friend’s girlfriend. If Jonathan mentioned a movie he wanted to see, preferably with her, Eddie would always be sure to keep Steve busy on friday nights for her to be free. If Jonathan had his mom’s car for a week and really wanted to be the one to pick her up in the morning, Eddie would conveniently find a reason that Steve couldn’t. 

It was weird, and kind of fucked up, but Jonathan had at least a small idea on why he was doing it. It was pretty obvious, after you got a little closer to the two of them. Eddie was in love with Steve. But Steve wasn’t in love with Eddie, not when he had Nancy on his arm. It explained why he monopolized all of his time, why he hung around them on their dates, why he was so open to letting another guy swoop in on her. 

He never actually asked him about it. It felt like a fucked up thing to say, especially if he was wrong. But Jonathan couldn’t think of any other explanation. So he kind of just…went with it. At this point it felt like he was Eddie’s co-conspirator to break them up, even if it was never explicitly said.

Which was fucked up, on both their ends. Yeah Steve was weird, and kind of a bitch, but he was a good guy all in all. He was Eddie’s best friend for a reason. 

So Jonathan held back his feelings. Or at least he did for as long as he could. But then Nancy came to him for help to expose the Hawkins lab. And they ended up on this crazy fucking adventure together. And he just fell more and more in love with every wild stunt she did. 

And then they kissed at Murray’s and Jonathan didn’t have the strength to say no. How could he? It just…happened. And okay yes. He feels bad for Steve. But he doesn’t regret it. Not even slightly. And maybe that made him the biggest asshole in the world, but it was hard to care when Nancy freaking Wheeler wanted him of all people. 

It was pretty easy to shove the guilt right out of his mind. That was until they saw Steve and Eddie next, right in front of the Hawkins lab. Steve had instantly brightened at the sight of her, immediately sweeping her up into a big hug. 

And Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He just couldn’t. Because that was probably going to be the last time they hugged like that. He was already in too deep and there was no way in hell that he was going to let last night be a one night stand. He hadn’t exactly asked Nancy to break up with him yet, but he was going to. 

Because he was a dick like that, apparently. But maybe they could find a way to do it…kindly? If that was even possible. And if there was anyone who would be able to help soften the blow for Steve, it would be Eddie Munson. 

Jonathan walked up to him as the other two started talking. He jerked his head to the side, “Hey can I talk to you for a second?”

Eddie nodded, following him over to a safe distance from the car. He didn’t really think Eddie would be mad at him for what he did. But he was still a little nervous to say it out loud. 

He avoided saying what he truly wanted, deflecting with a question, “So um, Steve and Nancy, how uh, serious are they?”

Eddie stared at him like he’d magically grown a second head, “Huh?”

“They’ve almost been together for like a year now right?” Jonathan pressed, “Is he…y’know. In love with her?”

But Eddie was still looking at him like he’d asked something insane. He narrowed his eyes at him, “Are…are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” Jonathan asked, almost as equally confused as Eddie, “Why would I be kidding?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “You think Steve and Nancy are dating? For like, real? After all this time? After last year. That’s what you think?”

Jonathan really wished Eddie would just tell him what the hell he was talking about instead of emphasizing every other word. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling oddly defensive when he asked, “What else am I supposed to think?”

He hadn’t expected Eddie to bark out a laugh at the question. It took a second for him to compose himself to talk again while Jonathan looked on, more confused than ever. 

Eddie eventually straightened, holding a fist in front of his mouth while he struggled for the words, “Jonathan, dude, last year you saw me in his lap. With my arms around his neck. While he kissed me to make me feel better.”

Jonathan blinked at him, “Huh?”

He hadn’t remembered the kissing part. And in his defense he had been a bit distracted with the news that his brother was alive. But the hair smelling thing…had…had Steve been kissing the top of his head that whole time? Right in front of him? 

Eddie looked way too amused at Jonathan’s shock, “So what do you think that means bud? Is that something you do with your friends?”

“But Nancy! And all the other girls-”

“Fake, fake, fake and fake,” Eddie said with a grin, “That boy’s all mine. And has been for years. Him and Nance are just friends. Really good friends but that’s it.”

Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, voice softening a little but still a little too tickled for Jonathan’s liking, “We all kind of thought you knew man. I guess I underestimated our own acting skills there.”

Jonathan slowly nodded, even though his brain was still struggling to catch up with everything he’d said. But it made sense. It actually made perfect sense. That’s why Steve didn’t care that he was all over her, that’s why Eddie had been so encouraging, that’s why Steve was so fucking weird. The guy had been basically married since he was in third grade. 

“Holy shit,” Jonathan finally breathed out, “That makes so much sense.”

But then a realization hit him, “Wait, so all of this time Nancy has been single?”

“And ready to mingle,” Eddie added with a wink, “Though if it helps, you’re the only one she’s set her sights on. That and Tom Cruise but I think you still have good odds.”

As wonderful as that revelation was, it kind of also made him want to smash his head into a wall. How could he have been so blind? 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, like he could read his mind, “We do actually try to hide it most of the time. It’s not completely your fault for not seeing the hints.”

He only had one more question, a stupid one but he still wanted to be sure, “So um, hypothetically. If I, uh, slept with his fake girlfriend, he wouldn’t be mad about it?”

Eddie laughed, “He’d be ecstatic. Half the time those two talk is about you. He’s been waiting for you to make a move as long as Nancy has. And he will definitely get a kick out of this conversation when I tell him, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan nodded. That was…some pretty fantastic news. Besides the sting that he could have had her weeks or even months ago, it was a good fucking feeling to know that they hadn’t done anything wrong. It was kind of weird, knowing that Steve Harrington of all people was gay. But he didn’t care. That might have been how his dad tried to raise him, but his mom had stopped all the homophobic shit the second he ditched.

He was raised better than to judge two people for being happy together. And the fact that they trusted him with something so big made him feel…kind of special. Definitely not like an asshole. The two of them wandered back to Steve and Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms. 

Jonathan watched as he whispered something to him before kissing his cheek, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them it probably was. He saddled next to Nancy. He didn’t exactly have the confidence to be that affectionate in public like those two did, but he’d like to work his way up to it. He gently took her hand in his, blushing at the way it made her smile. 

She squeezed his hand back before shuffling a little closer to lean into him. He didn’t have much time to indulge in it, not when the lights all suddenly came back on. But as they all hurried inside, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

From the latest chapter of this fic