#jonathan byers drabble

[moonydoodlez]

jonathan likes to hold ur hand while he eats you out there i said it

Thats Right

Pairing: Jonathan x F!reader

Warnings: eating kitty

Wordcount: 281

You squirmed under his tight grip. His hands piercing your hips as he continued pushing them down against the pillow. You couldn't stop the whimpers that escaped your lips.

He chuckled against your clit, the action sending vibrations through your whole body. You moved against his hands and mouth not being able to stay still. His hands snaked up from your hips to your stomach before reaching out for your breast.

You could feel the familiar knot in your stomach as you bucked your hips against his mouth. His hands caressed your body as he explored every inch of you he could reach.

"That's right baby, your doing so good" He murmured against you as he took your hand into his. He rubbed circles on your hand as your moans got louder. His other hand went back to your hips as he pushed your body down so he could get deeper. The knot got tighter and tighter as your body spasmed. Your moans filled the room as you let go.

"You did so good baby" He murmured as he licked you through your orgasm. Your moans got quieter as you came down from your high. He kitten licked your clit a few times making you yelp as you close your legs around his head. He tightened his grip around your hand as he pulled his face away.

You laid there with your eyes closed as his body hovered over yours. He softly planted a kiss to your temple before laying down next to you. He wrapped his arm around you slowly and pulled you flush against his body.

"I love you" He murmured against your skin. Sending tingles down your body.

Masterlist Jonathan Masterlist

[ddejavvu]

jonathan anon again lol!!! I love him so much. how about him introducing shy!you to his mom <3 ur super nervous she won’t like you but she totally adores you

Jonathan's stepped up to slot his keys in the door, and you consider using the time he's not paying attention to you to make your escape. You could do it, beeline back to his car, hotwire it, drive off into the distance with no planned return. But then he might have to walk to school, and you don't want him to have to do that. Before you can decide to sprint anywhere, the lock clicks, and the door swings open at his push.

"Mom," He calls into the house, rather unceremoniously, which makes you nervous, "I'm home, and I brought Y/N!"

"Oh!" A voice comes from the kitchen, honey-sweet but slightly flustered, "Oh, I'll- I'll be right there!"

"Jon-!" You swat at Jonathan's shoulder, hissing at him in a panic, "You said she knew I was coming!"

"No, I said she said you could come over anytime," He corrects you, dropping his backpack on the couch, "So I brought you over today."

This is a disaster. You're now an unexpected, barely-invited guest in the Byers household, and only your boyfriend really wants you there. You've met Will a handful of times, during pick-up or drop-off or just out and about, and he seems to like you, but you're sure he doesn't want you popping up in his living room unannounced. You'd been invited for dinner by your boyfriend, but you're not sure his mother has made enough, so you're not only intruding on their life, but you're putting the extra stress of another mouth to feed on her plate, and she's going to hate you for the burden you're causing, and-

"Will you stop burning holes in the wall? That's a picture of me, you know," Jonathan scoffs, tramping over to where you'd been zoning out to panic and pulling the frame off of the wall, "You're supposed to think I'm cute."

"That's- That is cute," You wanted to respond with a lot more fire than that, due to the nature of your boyfriend's planning abilities, but admittedly, the baby photo of him in nothing but a diaper is adorable. You can see the chubby rolls of his arms and legs, and his stomach pudges out in a round shape you're sure his mother kissed a thousand times.

"-but this is not fair to your mom! She probably didn't make enough, and now I look rude for showing up unannounced, and-"

"She always makes more than enough," He assures you, setting the picture frame down on the table and taking your hands in his. He has a way of looking at you while he speaks that calms the frantic beating of your panicked heart, and you let yourself get lost in his comforting aura for a moment. "She makes one giant meal on Monday nights, then we eat the leftovers until Sunday. Your one portion will not destroy the fabric of the household, Y/N."

"But it'll be one less portion for someone else," You fret, and you know his resulting glare is meant kindly.

"Will has a bad habit of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight meals. You'll just be preventing me from waking up to hear the microwave at one in the morning, babe. You're doing everyone a favor, here. Plus, my mom really wants to meet you. She bugs me every day about bringing you here, just because you're unexpected doesn't mean you're unwanted. Okay?"

You hear frantic footsteps from the kitchen, and nod before she has a chance to catch you in a freak-out, "Okay, Jon, okay."

"Okay." He grins at you, turning in sync with you just in time to see Joyce round the corner out from the kitchen, stuffing an apron onto the counter that she's clearly just taken off.

Her face lights up when she sees you, especially when she notices that Jonathan still has one of your hands in his own. She rushes for a hug, gushing "Hello!", and you're happy to let her engulf you in her embrace.

"Hi," You return just as enthusiastically, if not a little nervous, "Hi, I- I hope I'm not intruding."

You ignore the way Jonathan huffs out a sigh at your near-apology.

"No! No," Joyce pulls back from the hug, keeping her hands on your shoulders and shaking her head, a deep frown over her features, "No honey, not at all! I mean," She brightens, eyes wide, "I was really starting to think he'd made you up, or something! I mean I've been asking for ages, I- I was starting to worry." She concludes, a little drearily. Jonathan had admitted that he was nervous to bring you over in case you were expecting something better, something nicer, something newer, but a newer house with newer contents wouldn't hold the memories you see so plainly here, and you look around to admire the photos displayed.

"It's wonderful here," You promise, feeling Joyce's hands drop to your own and squeeze, "I've never seen baby pictures of Jonathan."

"Oh, I have a bunch." She grins, and Jonathan pales beside you.

"She's seen one!" He attempts to diffuse her excitement, "The- the one on the wall, mom. She's seen me in a diaper, isn't that enough?"

"No, she needs to see you in your Donald Duck Halloween costume," She insists, "After dinner- we're having spaghetti, honey, I hope that's okay." She cuts herself off to peer worriedly at you, and you nod vigorously.

"Oh, great! Okay, after dinner, I'll get the photo albums down, alright? And we can make fun of him," She looks far too eager to tease her son, "Does that sound good?"

"That sounds great," You laugh, at the same time Jonathan groans the opposite.

"Oh, stop," She swats at his chest, "You get to see her all the time, now let me take over."

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me!" Jonathan gripes, turning to you, "Y/N, don't hold my preschool drawings against me. I've gotten better with time, I swear."

"He hasn't," Joyce stage-whispers to you, then gushes to Jonathan, "Of course you have, sweetheart."

She's tugging you off to the dinner table without another word, and you glance back with a grin at Jonathan who looks half-mortified and half-fond.

"Now, sit," She pulls a chair out at the table for you, "And talk, I wanna know everything about you!"

[luveline]

I always see people writing for a very shy/subby Jonathan, but I’d love to see shy!reader staying over at his for the first time (doesn’t have to be sexual!) & our girl being reassured by him & all of the cuddles

thank you for your request! jonathan x shy!fem!reader arriving for your first sleepover ♡

You think you might have lucked out. Your first boyfriend being Jonathan feels like a storybook tenderness you don't deserve, he's just… so lovely. It terrifies you even though he never could, because you're desperate not to fuck it up. You call him your sweetheart, internally, and not solely for pet names sake — he has a sweet heart. He's unbelievably kind, adorable, funny and smart and level-headed. It doesn't hurt that he's your favourite kind of handsome. 

He's waiting for you as you park your car, standing in front of the closed door with a smile already in place. You know he'd made sure he was the first person you saw to alleviate your nerves. If you knocked the door and his mom answered, you probably would've tripped over every word, giving a terrible first impression in the process. 

"Hey," he says happily. How lovely is that? He's happy to see you the second you're in view. "Is that all your stuff?" 

"Is this not enough?" you ask, looking down at your jansport, suddenly worried. 

He finds this super funny and starts laughing his awful golden laugh. He reaches for your bag, fingers brushing yours as he takes it, and leans down to close the small gap for a kiss. You're not used to kisses, and you don't turn your head up right away. He uses his free hand to encourage you. He doesn't make you feel stupid for it. Just murmurs, "There," and kisses you again. 

He smiles against your lips and pulls back. "It's only two days, so you'll be fine. And I'm not holding you hostage. You can leave if you need something." His hand rubs down your arm. He squeezes your fingers. "But you won't need anything." 

He opens the door and you follow him inside, stiff as a board expecting his mom and his brother, Will. 

It's totally silent. Your lips part in confusion. 

"They went to the store. My mom wanted to make sure there were 'ladies things' in the bathroom." 

"She didn't have to do that." 

"I know. She doesn't mind, she wants you to feel welcome. That's what I want, too." His knuckle bumps yours. "Can't murder you if you never let your guard down." 

He starts down the hall toward what you assume to be his room. Your laugh comes out in a gross little snort that he adores, you can see it in the way his shoulders roll and the smile he shoots you confirms it. 

"Jon, you can't joke about stuff like that," you chide, catching up. 

He pushes open his bedroom door. "I'm not gonna murder you," he assures you. "You know how long it took to clean in here?" 

He puts your jansport on the bottom of the bed and looks at you in the doorway. His cheeky smile turns genuine, and his eyes go soft. 

You're expecting it but still squeal in shock as he rushes you and hugs you so hard your feet lift off the ground. He bends under your weight, digging his nose in your neck. 

"You look so pretty today," he says, like he's mad about it. 

"Jon," you laugh, glad when your feet touch the ground again. "Don't, please, I don't wanna be all sweaty when your mom comes home, she'll think we were doing gross stuff." 

"You don't wanna do gross stuff?" he jokes, before amending, "She won't think that. I've already told her you get flustered at everything." 

"You… talk about me to your mom?" 

His turn to clam up. Jonathan widens the gap between you and avoids your eyes, a nervous, endearing smile on his lips as he says, "Whaaat?" 

He's not very convincing. 

You watch him until he meets your eyes again, your smile soft as warm toffee. 

"I talk about you all the time," he says finally. He breathes out, his shoulders rising and falling. "C'mere." 

He raises his arms. You take the half step required to be back in his embrace, hugging him automatically. He settles his arms over your shoulders, a more casual embrace, and looks down at you. He's quiet. 

"What?" you ask. 

"Sorry. Just… like seeing you here. And I have something to say to you, because I know you'll worry about it, but– it's–" His arm curves up and hooks you in. He fights off his own shyness to accommodate your own, and you hope he knows how valuable that is to you. "Okay, my mom, I'll spare you a rehash of most awkward conversation of my life, but she doesn't expect us to, uh, sleep with the door open." 

You go rigid. "Oh, my god," you say, lips barely moving. 

"I'm sorry, but I just wanted you to know now, I don't expect anything from you, okay? And we could leave the door open if that was what you wanted–" 

"What?" you ask, shocked. 

"Not like that!" He looks like he's midway between laughing and crying, his face a fuzzy shade of pink. "I want you here because I want you close, not because I want– well, I do want– I want what you want," he says, promptly shutting his mouth. 

You take a nice, deep breath, squeezing your arms from between your touching chests to cup his face carefully. You thumb his jaw. 

"You're worse than me, sometimes," you sympathise.

"Yeah," he says. "I am." 

You wrap your arms around his neck with a pleased smile, forcing him to grasp at your shoulders. You aren't expecting to do anything you aren't ready for tonight, but the fact that he'd know you were worried about it, that he would brave such an awkward stepping stone so you didn't have to, means the world. He squeezes you. 

"Shit," he mumbles. "I'm sweating. She's definitely gonna think we were doing gross stuff." 

It's funny until you hear the front door open.

[wroteclassicaly]

Could you write some fluffy summer fun with Jonathan? 👀

Jonathan taking you to a flower field to photograph you on a summers’ day.

~*~

You wore the dress for him specifically. And it seems to be a hit everywhere that you go today (the grocery to get picnic supplies, a bouquet for your apartment, Nancy and Robin’s home, and Joyce when she answered the cabin door). It was a simple yellow sundress with straps, frills around the hemming and bodice, and it pulled you in at all of the right places. You wore light makeup, a cute pair of thrifted sandals, and the pendant Jonathan got for you on your last birthday — the charm, engraved with your favorite flower. Feeling like a million bucks, Joyce informed you he was still getting ready, but that you could finally enter the newly separate entrance to the add-on (beside the cabin) that they built for him to have his privacy. He’d been watching out the window, distracted by his delicious excitement that never fails to happen when he knows he’s getting to see you.

Before you could rasp your knuckles to the door, it was open and he was engulfing you into his arms, taking your hand to spin you around in a twirl — yellow fabric swirling past your vision as your dress spread out. You’re both laughing by the time he’s got you close, hands joined together.

“Someone’s excited.”

“Can’t help it if I missed you, can I?”

You smile softly, your pinkies linking, his other hand sliding to cup your cheek as you lean in for a soft kiss. He smells like fresh laundry, Irish Spring, and that musky cologne he bought last summer in Indianapolis at the mall. It’s a simple baby blue t-shirt that he wears, black converse, and blue jeans. He breaks away reluctantly, a few more simple pecks. “Let me go grab my camera bag, baby.”

He’s in and out before you can even finish getting the picnic basket from your car. You know that you’ll be in his room by nightfall, so you don’t follow this time. He takes your hand and begins to walk with you through the lush, re-grown greenery. You both remember, wilted flowers and ashy death not so long ago. But everything is right, it’s green, and as you come into sight of the flower field and its various colors - you squeeze his hand extra tight.

He snaps the peaceful overlook of a now normal Hawkins. You kick off your sandals and let the sun warmed grass caress your toes. Briefly breaking from him, he watches you take it all in, fingertips tickling across overgrown blades of grass, petting wildflowers as you pass them by. He starts snapping immediately, a mist filtering across his sclera. You turn back to him the moment the wind catches your dress and a baby blue sky flickers behind as a backdrop.

Jonathan swallows harshly, nostrils flaring, exhaling languidly. He flips the lid on his bag to find another lens, eyes mulling over the small, olive green box stashed in the corner pocket. He runs his fingers across it, popping the lid to check in on the ring, before closing his bag and standing to approach you.

[spider-stark]

RITE OF PASSAGE

JONATHAN BYERS X READER

Summary - Your best friend, Jonathan, likes you. You like Steve.

Warnings - mentions of sex

JONATHAN HAD never been a fan of Steve Harrington. He had a lot of reasons for his distaste, given that the infamous King Steve was a royal dick. Steve had called Jonathan almost every name in the book, labeling him a pervert and a creep. On top of this, he was never shy about attacking the Byers name as a whole, regularly taking hits at Jonathan’s family. 

Truthfully, his list of reasons to hate Steve was quite literally never-ending. There was only one reason, however, that had the power to make his blood boil; serving as both a reason to hate Steve and a reason to envy him. 

You. 

He wasn’t surprised by your fascination with Steve, especially given the fact that every girl in Hawkins would die for a chance to so much as touch his hair. He just didn’t find it to be very fair, though. 

Steve Harrington already had everything he wanted; money, popularity, a swarm of girls all dying to get on their knees for him, and all Jonathan wanted was you. But, all you could seem to think about was Steve, and that little fact was almost enough to drive him insane. 

“They say it’s like a rite of passage, ya know.” 

Jonathan’s eyes flicked over to you, perched atop his bed while mindlessly tossing an old issue of Teen Beat to the floor. The two of you always spent your weekends like this, cooped up in his bedroom listening to whatever record held his attention at the moment, just passing time together. 

“What is?” He asked, sitting cross-legged towards the end of the mattress. Your legs were laid across his lap as you leaned against the wall behind his bed, your gaze glued to the ceiling while his remained fixed on you, watching as you chewed at a piece of loose skin on your lip. 

You hesitated, ceasing your assault on your chapped lips as they pulled into a coy grin. The sight made his heart flutter in his chest, unintentionally mimicking your expression. “Having sex with Steve.” 

A strangled sort of sound escaped Jonathan’s throat as he threw his head back, the fluttering in his chest now replaced with a familiar sinking feeling. You mistook his frustration as teasing, never having considered that Jonathan thought of you as anything but. 

“I’m being serious!”  You squealed at him, cheeks now flushed as laughter spilled out alongside the words. “I heard Tammy talking to some other girls at lunch, and they all agreed that you just can’t go off to college without the King Steve experience.” 

Jonathan straightened himself back out in time to see you playfully wiggling your eyebrows, clearly more into this conversation than he was. 

He was used to hearing you talk about Steve, and most of the time he did his best to play along so you wouldn’t get suspicious of his feelings towards you. He always listened to you drone on and on about Steve’s car, Steve’s hair, Steve’s clothes, and, once, even Steve’s ass. But conversations like these were the ones he struggled with the most, the ones where he couldn’t quite force himself to play along anymore. 

It made him sick to think about it, the idea of you being just another girl for Steve Harrington to stick his dick in. 

You deserved better than that. 

You deserved him. 

When he didn’t reply, you continued. “And I was thinkinggg-” you drug the word out, scooting down the mattress to get closer to him, “that maybe you and I should go to his party tonight!” 

Jonathan’s face dropped. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“C’mon!” You immediately whined, placing your hand against his knee as you prepared to beg him, looking at him through your lashes. Jonathan was always a sucker for your puppy-dog eyes, but right now he couldn’t focus on anything other than the knot forming in his stomach. “I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t wanna go alone. You know that going to one of his parties is my best chance to get his attention, plus Tammy already said she’d introduce us and everything! And you don’t even have to stay the whole time! You can leave as soon as Tammy brings Steve over—”

“No!” 

You jumped a bit at the sudden shout, stunned as Jonathan shoved your legs from his lap before rising to his feet. Jonathan rarely ever yelled, especially not at you. 

A frown settled on your lips. “Look, I get you don’t like parties, but you don’t have to freak out-” 

“It’s not about the party, y/n!”  Jonathan interjected again, his hands running through his hair as he began to pace across his room, his mind moving at a hundred miles a minute. “Like, seriously, do you even hear what you’re asking me?” He didn’t give you enough time to respond, already continuing his frantic rant. “You’re literally wanting me to drive you to Steve’s house just so I can keep you company until he decides he wants to fuck you!” 

“Okay,” you raised your hands like a white flag, keeping your voice steady as you followed him with your eyes, still moving from one end of the room to another, “if it’s gonna piss you off this much then you don’t have to take me, alright? I think Nancy’s gonna go, so I can just see if I can hitch a ride with her or something-”

Jonathan’s fingers tightened around his sandy hair, pulling it roughly as another groan escaped him. “I’m not pissed cause you want me to take you!” Your brows furrowed together at his words. “I’m pissed because all you care about is getting with Steve!” He paused his movement, feet coming to a halt as he pointed an accusing finger in your direction, “You’re better than that! You’re better than a fucking easy lay for Steve Harrington!” 

“You’re acting dramatic.” You told him plainly, arms moving to cross over your chest. 

“And you’re acting stupid.” He quickly countered. 

Your eyes only narrowed at him, still trying to keep your cool, not wanting the whole Byer’s household to hear the two of you fighting. “It’s not a big deal, Jonathan! Everyone has flings in high school. And if you had someone you were interested in I would happily help you get with them! So why are you acting like such an ass about this?” 

Jonathan shook his head at your statement, huffing as he spoke. “It’s different.” 

“No, it’s not!” You retorted. “You're just being a dick about this because you don’t like Steve!” 

“It’s not about Steve! I mean, yeah, sure, I don’t fucking like him—but that’s not the point!” Warmth crept up his neck, frustration reaching a boiling point as he struggled with picking his words. “It’s different because you don’t like me!” 

He spoke with such a harshness, his words carrying an unfamiliar edge. It took you by surprise, and left you sinking further into the mattress as you watched his hands fall from his hair to his face, covering his reddened cheeks. The atmosphere had changed now, anger having morphed into discomfort. 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was low, just a few notches above a whisper. “Of course I like you, Jonathan.” 

His head shook again, rubbing his face as he let his hands fall back to his side. “No.” He told you as if it were a fact. “You don’t. Not the same way, at least. Not how I like you.” He hesitated, looking somewhere over your shoulder, too embarrassed to meet your gaze. “Not how you like Steve.” 

Something cracked in your chest as he spoke, the words lingering in the air between the two of you. Instantly you found yourself filled with a sickening sense of guilt, thinking of all the times you had gushed over Steve to Jonathan, having been so oblivious to his feelings the whole time. Beneath that guilt, though, was something else; perhaps best described as a streak of curiosity as you considered the idea of being with your best friend. 

It was uncharted territory in your mind, a forbidden topic that you had never dared to consider previously, and now that thoughts of it bloomed in your mind, you were a bit shocked to find that you weren’t put-off by it. 

Jonathan, on the other hand, had gone into a full blown panic as he realized what he had admitted. He had bitten his tongue for years now, too afraid to ruin what he did have with you, and now in a single moment he had risked blowing all of it. He took a deep breath and readied himself to find some excuse to leave, maybe lie about needing to pick Will up from Mike’s house, but you spoke before he had a chance. 

“I don’t not like you how I like Steve.” You clarified, sounding vaguely unsure of yourself and awkward. “I just—I don’t know—never knew that you were…” you paused, sighing as you tried to find a way to phrase your thought, “an option.” 

Neither of you had ever done this before, never thought to cross the simple boundary of friendship and venture into something else. Because of this, Jonathan matched you in awkwardness as he replied, “I am.” He cleared his throat, still diligently avoiding eye contact with you. “I mean—if you want me to be, then I am.” 

For a moment you both stayed quiet. You remained planted on the bed, Jonathan still standing across from you, nervously fidgeting with the fabric of his jeans. 

“Okay.” You spoke, breaking through the fairly new silence, sliding yourself back up to the top of his bed. You reached for the floor, your fingers grabbing hold of the Teen Beat you had tossed aside earlier. 

Jonathan finally looked at you, staring as you began to flip through the pages again. “Are you not gonna call Nancy?” 

Your shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug, stopping you incessant flipping as you landed on an article about Molly Ringwald. “The album isn’t over.” You told him, referencing The Clash record he had put on before the two of you had gotten into it. “Besides,” you added on, glancing over the thin pages of the magazine with a playful glint in your eye, “I’m better than an easy lay, right?” 

All he could manage to do was look at you, even after you shifted your attention back to the magazine. Without another word, you patted the comforter beside you with your palm, silently urging him to rejoin you on his bed. 

Maybe he didn’t have to be jealous of Steve after all.

a/n - decided i wanted to start writing for stranger things, so ofc i had to start with my boy jonathan&lt;3 obviously very new to writing for stranger things so bear with me i'll improve ok i promise

steve totally wouldve fallen in love w/ the reader if she went to the party but whatever we will let jonathan have this win ok

[darklcy]

𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

━━━━━━━━━━

‣ a late night outing with jonathan

‣ jonathan byers x reader | stranger things mastelist | 446 words | short drabble, lots of rotten fluff

‣ brought to you by flash - cigarettes after sex

The ray of the street lamp bounced off the top of his ford and onto the tops of your shoes, your cheeks, your tousled hair that’d just been torn away from pillowcases. It was a bit embarrassing to be greeting him in an oversized abba t-shirt and leggings, shoelaces untied due to the rush the adrenaline of sneaking out enveloped you with.

His grin was cheeky and eager, excited to be encouraging you to commit such a sinful act that was escaping your bedroom to meet him in the early hours of the morning. You yanked open the passenger door and slid into the seat, returning his smile with a bashful one of your own. 

"Hi." “Hi.”

His hand squeezes the top of your seat as he takes in your appearance.

“You look pretty.”

You swatted his arm. “You’re being nice.”

“Just being honest.”

Jonathan was as sweet as fruit. It warmed the skin on your face and suffocated your pulse underneath your rib cage. The rhythm of your heartbeat lost its balance when you were around him. You hoped he didn’t notice.

His hand returned back to the wheel as he switched from park to drive, swerving away from your house and into the empty, lonely streets of Hawkins, lowly lit from spread apart street lamps and covered in trees. It was times like this, when the moon watched over the world from her highest peak, where it felt like it was just you and him. You and Jonathan. 

No one else could enter this world of yours. The Hawkins outside couldn’t compare to the Hawkins you experienced with him.

His stereo hummed a low tune of a song from the Clash, and somehow you didn’t feel the need to talk. It was fine being quiet with him, sharing this space was more than enough. His right palm found your hand this time, his thumb rubbing the tops of your knuckles ever so gently.

Shuffling closer to him, your cheek met his shoulder, keeping aware of the gear shift to not interfere with the car’s operation. 

“Don’t fall asleep now, we’re not there yet.”

His voice was breathy and soft, careful to not break the tender atmosphere of your world. You hummed as you fought to keep your eyelids open.

“Mm. How much longer?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

You hummed again. His grip on your hand tightened.

"Ok fine, you can sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Where are we even going?"

You feel him shrug underneath your cheek.

"Not sure yet."

He plants a kiss to the top of your head, his smile embedding itself into your skin. 

"We'll find out when we get there."

You never want the journey to end.

[spicysix]

wrote a lil spicy six polycule for today's prompt of the STWG daily drabble 🥰 couldn't help myself! so. don't like don't read, all that, no warnings cause it's pure fluff!

"Jonathan!" Five voices in unison yelled at him.

He knew that would be the reaction, and he hid his smirk behind the camera.

"You know I gotta be warned, dude!" Steve complained, running his fingers through his hair, sitting on Argyle's lap.

"Don't call me 'dude' when yesterday I had my mouth on your-"

"HEY! No D word in front of me, please and thank you." Robin said without looking up from Nancy's nails that she was painting.

"Hate when you take pictures of me without warning, though," Steve whined again, and Argyle chuckled before nuzzling his nose through Steve's jaw.

"You don't hate it," he said.

Steve rolled his eyes, fighting the smile that wanted to take over his lips. "No, I don't."

Jonathan's own smile was getting harder to contain as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Eddie was reading a book, and he didn't look up from it once during the whole conversation. But his own soft smile made it clear that he was paying attention.

"What, I can't take pictures of the people I love the most anymore?" Jonathan asked, pretending to adjust something on the camera's settings.

"You can't use that excuse anymore, it's the same every time." Nancy had her head on Eddie's lap, and her eyes found Jonathan's as she spoke. They were filled with tenderness.

"It's not an excuse, it's the truth," Jonathan answered, and all eyes were on him then.

He let the smile take over his face, eyes wrinkling with all the happiness. It was the truth. And the people in front of him, all looking at him with mirrored smiles, also knew that.

They loved him back just as much.

[cosmal]

spacey jane — send me a lyric and a character and i’ll write a blurb.

lyric: ‘bedsheets, no clothes. touch me like nobody else does’ — ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

character: jonathan byers!! something like waking up next to each other would be so cute I feel. or even like, the morning after their first time or something <3

nobody else does

jonathan byers x reader

summary the morning, after you're first time with jon, doesn't go how you'd expected. it's better.

warnings/tags fem!afab!reader, she/her, references to smut, 18+

There’s something really calming about watching Jon sleep. The part in his lips where his face is smooshed into his pillow, the tousled hair that covers it. The sun that shatters through the blinds and lights up the expanse of his back. The freckles that litter it. How you can see his breathing stutter when his moving back jumps every once in a while.

It’s so calming you almost fall back asleep again. You don’t have enough time when you watch Jonathan wake up. Blinking into consciousness. He’s frowning and then smiling when he remembers where he is.

“Hey,” he says. So quiet you almost miss it. You would’ve if you weren’t tracing the pattern of his soft lips like they might disappear one day. Like you’ll never get to kiss him again.

The past week that’s all it’s felt like. Like you’ll never get to kiss him how you want to. Then last night happened. He’d kissed you because he wanted. Kissed you until he couldn’t breathe — you’re sure you weren’t at one point. And the things he’d said, how he touched you like you were glass.

Y/N, stop. Look at me. Need to see you’re face — yeah there we are, gorgeous.

You smile into your pillow at the thought of it. Giddiness with a mixture of bewilderment. Had you dreamt the entire thing?

“Morning,” he says again because you’re in your head.

You shake back your thoughts before they consume you. If he keeps looking at you like that you might cry.

“Morning, Jon,” you say, hand coming up to his face.

He lets you brush his hair from his face before he says, “How you feeling?”

You remember you’re naked. How your legs ache in a good way. How heavy your stomach feels. “M’okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks. Jon is usually very soft. Though to see him like this is something different. Gentle and delicate in the early morning hours.

“I’m a little sore,” you say shyly, face heating more than the sun has allowed you to. “But I’m okay.”

Jonathan lets the arm between you both come down to sit on your belly, over the thin sheet that covers you, rubbing and massaging the flesh there hard enough to soothe you. It does. Though the thought of him wanting to touch you outside of last night's happenings makes you feel warm. And the almost overwhelming need to cry.

After last night, after all the encouragements and praises he had doted you with, he’d made sure you were comfortable. Made sure you had water and enough pillows. Opened the window so you weren’t hot. He’d stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep.

You don’t think you've ever spent the night after sleeping with someone, let alone being treated the way Jon had been with you. You almost expected to be kicked out afterwards, despite how lovely he'd been, it’d be nothing different.

Boys can have a way of making you feel like you’re special, deserving of everything they give you just to earn something from you in return. Then throwing you out once they get it. You feel guilty for ever thinking he was like that in the first place.

You don’t even know you’re crying until Jonathan does. He lets his hand roam up to your face to catch your first tear with his thumb, wiping it from the bridge of your nose.

“Hey,” he coos, “you okay?”

You know what’s wrong but you also don’t. Well, you do really know, though the reaction you’ve given startles you. You blink back your tears, smiling.

“Yeah,” you mumble wetly, letting your hand fall on top of his where it’s pressed firmly into your cheek.

“I don’t wanna be annoying,” he almost laughs. It’s more of a animated huff, “but you are crying, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart sits in your chest and has your eyes welling up again. “Sweetheart,” you echo kindly.

“Yeah.” He sounds like he agrees. Like it’s second nature to him. You’ve called him worse. Like baby or lovely.

“M’sorry,” you giggle into his hand, kissing the curve of his palm gently. “Just really happy.”

“Happy?”

You nod and bring a hand up around his shoulder to tug him closer. You bring him in until your chest is touching his, a rumple of sheets between you. Your face in his neck, your shoulder under his arm when he hugs you back.

“You’re really nice, Jon.” It’s not what you want to say. You mean it but the words aren’t right. “Just, um,” You feel silly. “thank you for being so lovely.”

Jonathan has a suspicion he knows what you mean. He feels the exact same way. You’d treated him how he hadn’t expected and he hopes he’d shown how grateful he was for it. Still, he thinks he might continue his appreciation.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing into your hair. It smells like the conditioner that you use when you're here. His conditioner. He smiles when he remembers when you’d spent the night. You’d used his shower and slept in his bed with him.

He rubs your back. Your shoulders and the space between them. Lines and patterns that have you both shivering.

You’re still crying. Because he’s touching you and it’s different. It’s soft and kind and he’s not doing it because he wants something else. You think he wants to stay here and do nothing but this as much as you do. Maybe even more.

You press your stuffy nose into his neck and sniffle. Jon holds you closer on instinct. You kiss his bare skin and feel his heavy pulse over your lips. “Thanks, Jon.”

“It’s okay, pretty,” he says.

You spend the rest of the day in bed because he wants to. He wants to hold you and he wants to kiss you just as much as you do. Maybe more. You don’t complain.

[alwaysteveswife]

Hello can you do the prompt "you know we need to talk." "about?" "i don't know...last night, maybe?" With Jonathan Byers x Fem! Reader, in which Jonathan goes to Reader's house and asks her why she run away when they were kissing passionately at Steve's party and she just answers him that she doesn't want to make the same mistake because boys always use her and they don't want to have a relationship, so she quitted to falling in love and find a boyfriend.

a/n: Hi! Thanks for placing the request, I had a lot of fun doing it 😊. I made some modifications with the age (as the order indicated a past with couples, I thought it would be better to make the characters between 23-25) I hope that detail doesn't bother you 😣.

Ps.: I had some difficulties making it, the power went out and my computer was not available, anyway I tried to do the best I could, I hope you like it 🥲.

You knew that playing this stupid game was idiotic, but you never thought it would get to this level. You told yourself it would have been best to quit the game after Eddie almost knocked the wind out of his girlfriend, or when you had to watch Steve almost touch the crotch of your best friend -and his current girlfriend- in his turn.

Yeah, you definitely should have gone home after that, but here you were, taking that empty beer bottle and spinning it around, praying that you'd get anyone but Jonathan, you appreciated him too much to lose him over a stupid teenage game.

You crossed your fingers behind your back, watching the speed of its spinning slow down more and more, until it stopped completely, and shit, you could almost feel the bile coming back up your throat, would it be weird if you got up and ran away? Because you wanted to, no, you needed to get out of this one.

"Oh, this is going to get interesting" Eddie joked, clapping his hands animatedly.

"Shut the fuck up" snorted Jonathan. The alcohol had stained his cheeks pale pink, his hair was slightly messy and his shirt had the top buttons undone for a few minutes. He looked good, too good for your taste.

"Y/N, you don't need to if you don't want to" said your best friend, smiling suggestively at you. She knew very well your past and, much more importantly, how you were feeling lately together with Jonathan.

"She's right" You looked at Jonathan, who had softened his tone and his look after he had scolded Eddie.

An overly stupid idea struck you like a bolt of lightning, short but shocking. You rose from your post, ignoring the cheers of your old friends and settling into Jonathan's lap.

You preferred to ignore the fact that his hands rested shakily on your hips, that his cheeks-formerly pink-now glowed red. You pushed those nonsensical ideas out of your head, repeating to yourself that it would only be a kiss, one just like all the ones you've given before.

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him close to you, barely brushing his lips with yours. The kiss was sweet, at least it would seem so to someone who didn't know it was just a teenage game.

The rule - imposed, of course, by Eddie - was that the kiss had to last at least thirty seconds, to make the moment more fun, according to him. So, when you felt Jonathan relax a little under you, you gently rested the tip of your tongue on his lips, taking advantage of the moment when he gasped so you could go all the way in.

You weren't new at this, for God's sake, you were already 24, a kiss like this you'd had hundreds of times, but, for some reason, you felt it was different from the others. It didn't feel like those other times.

Even though it was a game, he took the trouble to caress your waist, to cup your face between his big hands and give you warmth and security and.... something more.

A pang in your chest accompanied by hundreds of memories of your past love made you pull away as fast as you could. The fear you hadn't felt for so long began to bloom, and he had noticed.

"Alright, who's next?" Robin said cheerfully, her words barely coming out of her mouth with coherence.

With your mind still fuzzy, you got up from the floor and shook out your hair, ignoring the trembling in your legs and hands. That kiss had left you feeling bad, too bad.

"Uhm, I... I think I'll go home, I don't feel so good" you said quietly, quickly stopping your friend when she tried to come after you. "Don't worry, I live nearby, I'll let you know when I get there."

You grabbed your bag and left the house as fast as your feet would allow, trying to stop the incessant pounding of your racing heart. You felt so silly.

When you opened your eyes the next day and realized the mess you had made the night before, you almost fell out of bed, almost. You ran to the bathroom and took the longest shower of your life. You needed to clear your mind and this was the best way for you.

You put on comfortable clothes and sat on the couch in your living room, you stared at a blank spot, hoping you could make an excuse for yesterday's kiss. Sticking your tongue in his mouth was not part of the game.

As you made your coffee - too much of it - a knock sounded at the door. You got up, grunting under your breath, and walked over to it. You peered through the peephole, almost screaming as you saw Jonathan's face on the other side.

"Shit, shit, shit" you groaned under your breath, rushing to close the curtains as quietly as possible. You spun around in circles, looking every 10 seconds at that door you had opened and closed so many times, the same door that, if you touched it now, would ruin your life next to one of your best friends.

"Y/N, I know you're in there, can you open it for me?" Jonathan said, raising his voice so you could hear him perfectly.

"God, shit" you growled, pulling open the curtains again and opening the door, "Jonathan, what are you doing here?" you said with an uncomfortable smile.

"May I come in? I don't think it's appropriate to talk in the middle of the hallway" he said quietly, trying to get you to look him in the face. You did everything you could to stop him from getting his point across.

"Okay, go ahead" you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. You closed your eyes as you smelled the scent of wet earth thanks to being surrounded by forest most of the time. It smelled really good. "Well, would you like something to eat? Or maybe something to drink? I recently bought some really good drinks and-".

"you know we need to talk." Jonathan said, looking at you seriously.

The urge to vomit immediately returned. You pressed your lips together tightly and tried to think of a topic, any topic, but your head was so fuzzy that you just couldn't think of anything.

"About?" you said in a low voice. You felt so miserable and stupid, this had been your fault, you accepted the challenge, you sat on it, you made that brush of lips something far beyond what it should be between two friends.

"i don't know...last night, maybe?" Jonathan moved closer to you, resting his hands on your arms and squeezing them gently, "you can't, no, we can't avoid the subject, it's useless to pretend nothing happened."

You tried to keep your tears from falling by blinking as fast as you could. The flashbacks were coming back, the times when all those idiots rejected you in the worst way, all those friends you lost for doing something similar; you were so scared of losing him now.

"Why not?" You said with a broken voice, looking at the wall next to you, you didn't want to see the disappointment and hate in his eyes, "I know it was wrong, that I went too far, but I don't want to talk about this, I don't want to lose you, you're my best friend and I-".

Jonathan's lips interrupted your spew of words. You gasped in surprise, having to grab his shoulders to keep your balance. It was short compared to yesterday, but the butterflies in your stomach, the nerves, the anxiety, the affection, it was all still there, even a little stronger.

"Y/N" he whispered against your lips, breathing shakily. His eyes, which you could barely make out because of his dilated pupils, looked into your eyes for the first time since yesterday. You felt so small next to him. "Believe me when I tell you I won't walk away from you because of that." He licked his lips, pressing his forehead to yours, "I know you felt the same way I did, I know it was the same reason you wanted to avoid me, but you should know that I would be unable to leave you."

"It scares me" you whispered, pulling away from him a little so you could think better, "I don't... I never had a normal relationship, you know that, all those guys always treated me badly, they cheated on me, I don't feel capable of being able to be in a relationship with someone, I don't want to lose you, not you".

His gaze softened, this time he let his hand fall on your head, leaving a soft caress on it.

"In that case, let me prove to you that I can be the first to be serious with you, to treat you the way you truly deserve" he smiled sweetly, making your cheeks warm and your heart race, "give me a chance to make you happy."

Masterlist.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I don't even have a clear storyline in mind for this, but I just really, really want to see a modern AU with Eddie as a detective who investigates the Harrington Pharma company. The company is huge and looks clean on paper, but Eddie has a nose for these things, he knows something is wrong. He knows that Richard Harrington ran some sketchy trials and some of Wayne's friends have lifelong health issues, Chief Jim Hopper included.

The company looks almost impenetrable, but Eddie digs. No detail is too small for him. He crosses paths with the owner's son and a board member, Steve Harrington. Eddie despises him. A fucking rich kid, making millions out of other people's misery. His public appearances are well rehearsed, but Eddie knows his type. A shallow, pretty partying douchebag who hasn't had to work a single day in his life. His PR manager Robin Buckley seems way too decent to work with such a bunch of assholes, but Eddie's seen what money can do to people. Either way she's corrupt too.

He meets the younger Harrington several times. The handsome young man is not openly hostile, but he's condescending, bitchy and he looks at Eddie as if he were dirt. "Good luck with your efforts," he sneers when he sees Eddie digging through the public records of Harrington Pharma. "But maybe get a real hobby instead? I hear golf is nice." Eddie wants to murder him.

Eddie cooperates with an investigative journalist, Nancy Wheeler, who keeps all her cards close to her chest, but she still points him in the right direction several times. He collects evidence, partners up with the public prosecutor Joyce Byers. He even meets her son, Jonathan, who is able to get the most damning photographic evidence. No one fully trusts each other, but that's okay. Harrington Pharma is their shared enemy and that's enough.

One day, Eddie makes a mistake. He sneaks into the Harrington Pharma archives and miscalculates the guard shifts. He's stuck hiding under an old desk for hours, he's slowly losing hope, he has no way to contact anyone, his legs are cramping and he's exhausted, but then he hears a familiar voice talking with the guard.

"Hi, Tommy. All good? How's Carol and the kids? That's wonderful to hear. I just need to verify some records for dad, it's not a big deal. Have you had your smoke break yet? You can go, stretch your legs. I'll be here for at least half an hour."

Shit. It's Steve fucking Harrington. Eddie tries to stay still and will his muscles to cooperate, and he thinks he's doing a great job, but then-

"You can come out now. He's gone."

Eddie freezes. How the fuck does he know?

Harrington's voice is quiet, urgent. "Damn it, Munson! You have ten minutes tops before he comes back, so stop playing hide and seek with me!"

He manages to get back on his feet, uncertain and wobbly, and when he sees Harrington leaning over the desk, he's half ready for a fight. But the other man doesn't make a move, doesn't call out to anyone. He just hands Eddie a folder, some of them are the files he selected, but some are new. "I added a few that you missed," hisses Harrington and leans into the corridor. "I'll go first, get Tommy to focus somewhere else. You run to the right and pray to anyone willing to listen. And most importantly," he says, and shit, Steve Harrington can sound serious if he wants to!, "I never saw you here. You heard me come in, used the opportunity and bolted. Clear?"

Eddie just nods. He watches as Steve extends his arm, probably grabbing Tommy by the shoulders and leading him to the other end of the building, he sneaks as far as he can and then he madly dashes for the hole in the fence he made earlier.

The files are it. With all the evidence Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie collected, Joyce can finally take that dark empire down. Eddie is there every day, watches the trial, but then he hears that there are two witnesses for the prosecution from inside the company itself.

It's Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley.

He sees Steve give him a wink from the stand and he wants to kiss the man. Eddie hears all of it in the following days - how Steve used to date Nancy Wheeler, but then her best friend Barb Holland died due to a mishandled drug trial for her condition by Harrington Pharma. How Nancy broke up with Steve, but even with no chance of rekindling their relationship, he vowed to stop his father for good. How he worked in the company for years, climbed the ladder, managed to make enough connections to get his friend Robin Buckley the position of a PR manager. How she helped him to keep up the charade until the very end.

When the Harrington empire finally falls, Eddie watches quietly as Steve embraces Nancy, whispering to her that she did so well, that Barb would be proud. "We finally did it, Nance. We're finally free."

And then, before Eddie can disappear, Harrington is walking towards him, the mask finally off. He looks younger now, his smile is genuine and Eddie can't help it, his traitorous heart is telling him that this is the single part of the Harrington case he'll never leave behind.

"Hi," says Steve. "I...uh. I just wanted to say sorry for all the nasty things I said before. I had to for my cover, but...I just want you to know, I really appreciate what you did."

Eddie just stares at him, blush forming on his cheeks and a crush blooming in his heart. "I'm pretty sure I just butchered your career," he mutters. "And you're thanking me?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean. I'm out of job, I'm a known whistleblower now and my dad's lawyers will probably try to sue me. So that's not great. But if you want to ease your conscience...take me out for a coffee?" Another wink, another squeeze around Eddie's heart.

Eddie fakes a deep sigh and takes Steve by the elbow. "I don't think a single coffee is going to get rid of all my guilt, but it's a start. Maybe a lunch tomorrow would help my healing process?"

Laughing, Steve nudges his side. "Anything for your peace of mind, Eddie."

[ddejavvu]

m.list - jonathan byers

blurbs:

you meet jonathan's mom

[luveline]

omg i was in such a sad mood last night and I cried myself sick for no reason and I was wondering if I could make a request for some comfort from maybe Jonathan. Please only write this if you want to or have time ❤️ love you Jadey <33

I hope you're feeling better my love ♥ thank you for ur request, I hope this is OK!

"It's alright," Jonathan insists, looking at you with a mixture of surety and worry. Steadying you, but worried at the same time. "Take a breather."

You try to do what he asks but nothing feels right, lately, or maybe it does but the breathlessness taking up all the space in your chest wants you to think otherwise. He can see it on your face, the thought process, the dawning panic. 

"Hey," he says gently, your joined hands between you, standing in the middle of his room. 

Of all the places you could've broken down, neither of you were expecting it to be in amongst his socks and books. 

"Hey, hey," he says, softer each time. "It's okay. I'm right here." 

"I think it all might be really bad," you say. You laugh but the laugh doesn't last, it cracks down the middle. 

"It's not all bad," he reassures you.

You hang your head. You hate crying in front of him, especially this sort of sobbing, the helpless kind like a little kid poking at their scraped knees. You can't stop thinking about the things that are upsetting you. 

Luckily, Jonathan isn't easily dissuaded. He had to grow up fast, you know that. He's looked after everyone who needed it for years, and he's adept at calming people down. 

"It's okay," he says. 

Jonathan ducks his head, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He's handsome in an understated way, what with his dark eyes, his pert nose. Hair you'd convinced him to let you trim in the name of keeping cool in California curls sweetly under his ears. "Tell me what's wrong?" 

"I just don't feel very well." It's a white lie. You're crying is making you feel sick. It's starting to feel worse than what upset you in the first place. 

"You're not gonna throw up. I know you won't. Here," he walks you backward into his desk chair, "sit down." 

You sit and Jonathan pushes the chair toward his window. He opens it as wide as the hinges will allow to let the breeze kiss your warm cheeks, cooling tears in tacky trails down the slopes of your face and the ridge of your jaw. Jonathan strokes your hair so gently it barely feels like he's touching you at all.

"Sorry," you say. 

Jonathan wipes your cheeks with the side of his hand. He doesn't lift it from your face: careful, he rests the back of it flat to your skin, the short nail of his index finger smoothing against your puffy undereye. You focus on that small sensation, eyes scrunched closed and a pounding misery at your temple. 

"There," he says, taking your face into his palm. "Good job, honey. You really wound yourself up. You scared me." He abandons your damp cheeks in favour of your shoulders, thumbs rubbing the sides of your neck. 

"Jon, you have to stop touching me for a second," you say regretfully. 

He holds up his hands. 

You suck in a big breath and hold it, wiping your face and your snotty nose with your sleeves, brushing baby hairs displaced by sweat back into place. For a few seconds, you sit and try to look less like you're one strong gust of wind from falling over. Jonathan watches anxiously.

You rub your eyes. "Will you hug me now?" you ask.

He kneels at your feet. "I would have hugged you before."

"Didn't want to get snot in your hair," you say, groaning as he wraps his arms behind your back. 

"Ew," he murmurs, the cadence of his voice lilting, like he might sing under his breath. His lips brush the shell of your ear. "I'd let you."

You shiver in his arms, completely collapsed, face digging deeper and deeper into his neck. He doesn't complain, only readjusts his hold to make you more comfortable. 

"It's okay if something's getting to you. You can tell me." 

"What if… I'm upset for no reason?" you ask tentatively. 

Jonathan gives your shoulders a little squeeze and a bigger shake. "That's okay too, duh. Just tell me what to do to make you feel better instead." 

"This is fine," you say, lips pressed greedily to the slip of skin just above his collar. "This is good." 

Jonathan stays there for ages, so long his knees must burn from the position, but he doesn't say a word. He hugs you for as long as you need him to, and then a little bit after that.

[miraculousmultifan]

The months following Steve's fight with Billy and the excursion through the Mind Flayer’s tunnels found Steve at a bit of a loss. The animosity between him and Hargrove had only grown exponentially, but it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Sure, Hargrove sucked ass, and he had definitely taken over as the newest reigning douchebag, but that kind of stuff just didn’t matter to Steve anymore.

So at school, he found himself sitting with Nancy and Jonathan during lunch. It was a bit awkward considering Nancy and Jon were dating, but he didn’t exactly have any other friends, and he really didn't want to sit alone.

It was early February, and Steve was picking at his cafeteria food, barely listening to the conversation Nancy and Jonathan were having. He was lost in his own thoughts, staring into space blankly.

Across the cafeteria, Eddie Munson was jumping onto a table and taunting several different cliques as he went on a long monologue about society and social norms that most students tended to tune out. Steve watched him with a small smile, pushing his food around his tray. Then, Eddie was throwing barbs at Hargrove, Tommy H, and Carol. Steve winced slightly, knowing the words probably applied to him too, but he couldn't help feeling that Eddie wasn’t exactly saying anything untrue about them.

Before he could tear his attention away, Eddie was turning to face him. Steve's eyes widened. He hadn't even said anything! He’d been laying low ever since their last run-in with the Upside Down, just trying to graduate. So why was Eddie putting his attention on him now?

Eddie jumped down from the table and sauntered over to where Steve was sitting, throwing a leg over the bench to straddle the spot next to him. “Harrington.”

Now that Eddie was so close, Steve could see a slight red tint to his eyes, and he relaxed a little. He was just high.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve replied, giving him a weak smile in response.

Most of the attention on Eddie had dispersed, but Steve could still feel the piercing gaze of Hargrove on the side of his face. That jackass just would not leave him alone, even if he was trying to avoid altercations for Max's sake.

Eddie leaned an elbow on the table to hold his head up with his hand. “How's the fall from grace treating you, my liege?”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

Jonathan leaned over from where he was chatting with Nancy. “He’s calling you a king. Asking about how you're doing after everyone dropped you for Billy.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smirked. “With more dramatic flair than that, but yeah, essentially.”

“Oh.” Steve floundered, looking between Nancy and Jon as he tried to think of an answer. “Well, it’s been nice not having as much attention, I guess. Nothing all that interesting has happened to me.”

Nancy hid a snort behind her hand, turning to bury her face into Jonathan’s shoulder. Eddie raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t comment on her reaction.

“Surely the life of a king has to have some frivolities. Raging parties, swooning ladies, the like…”

Steve scrunched his nose. “Nah, man. My parents cut off my allowance after my last concussion, so I don’t exactly have the funds for that kind of thing anymore.” He didn’t know why he was confiding that kind of information in Eddie, but it wasn’t like he cared that much about what people thought of him anymore. Eddie could spread it around if he really wanted to. “I just babysit Nancy and Jon’s little brothers and their friends. I promise it’s nothing interesting.”

Smirking, Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I'm sure you could make anything interesting, Harrington. Especially looking like that.”

Steve blushed bright red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. Oh god. Was Eddie flirting with him? “Oh. Um, thank you! I'm sure you're pretty interesting too.”

That seemed to snap Eddie out of whatever weird flirty persona he had let settle over him. “Right. Good talk. I'm gonna go now. Have a good lunch, Steve.”

And then Eddie was gone, back to his table as he ranted at his friends with increasingly frantic gestures. Steve stared after him for a bit, biting his lip and trying to make sense of the feelings stirring in his chest. On the other side of the table, Nancy let out a pointed cough with a smug smirk.

“So…” She started. “Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “You witnessed the exact same thing that I did, Nance. I don't have any insider information.”

Nancy giggled. “No, not that. I’m talking about how you blushed like a little schoolgirl when Eddie called you interesting. You wanna tell us about it?”

Shooting another look at Eddie’s table, Steve started to reply before he noticed that some of Eddie’s friends were looking at him. His eyes widened and he whipped back around. “I have no clue what you're talking about. Jon, back me up here.”

“Sorry, dude.” Jonathan winced with a sheepish shrug. “You were pretty red. I mean he did call you hot, so I guess I get it…”

Steve sighed and let his head drop to the table. “I really don’t appreciate the psychoanalysis, Nance. He came over here, talked to us, called the way I look interesting, and left. Sure, I may have gotten a little red, but he was leaning really close.”

Smirking, Nancy leaned over the table to flick the back of Steve’s head. “You’re wrong about one thing. He didn’t come over to talk to us. He only talked to you. I think he finds you more than just interesting.”

Standing up from the table abruptly, Steve shook his head. “We’re not talking about this. It’s not like it matters that much anyway. He was probably just trying to mess with me. I’ll see you guys later.” Steve grabbed his tray and walked off, trying and failing to stop himself from sneaking a glance at Eddie’s table.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie was looking right back at him. When their eyes met, he smirked and waggled his fingers at Steve in a wave. Steve blushed, his eyes wide, and he stumbled, almost bumping into another student in the process.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Yet another average day in Family Video:

"Hey. Remember when you said that you'd totally fuck Jonathan."

"When...? Oh, yeah. What the fuck that was literally a month ago why are you mentioning that now?"

"Because that was the same conversation we decided to get the matching tramp stamps. And trying to hide those from my parents is a literal pain in the ass. Pun fully intended. I can't even sit straight and-"

"I'd say you can't do anything straight"

"Not like I can do anything str- fuck you"

Steve swaggers to the back and takes out the whiteboard they purchased together - on ROBIN'S SUGGESTION may he add.

"Can't believe you're losing in your own game. About bad jokes. And being gay. Which are basically your two only personality traits."

Robin's side is embarrassingly empty. He sees it as cosmic karma for her you-suck-game during their scoops ahoy era.

"Alright mister little bitch"

"And yet, this little bitch is beating you in your own game"

Robin shows him the finger. Steve bites the finger because he is a little shit and things like boundaries and personal space have already lost all meaning between the two of them.

In this moment the front doors open. The elderly man takes one look at the scene before him and leaves without a word.

"Where did the Jonathan thing come from?"

"Dunno. I was bored. Thought it'd be funny to see you go through a gay crisis."

"Not much of a crisis if I already admitted to it."

"You're no fun."

"Really? That was not what my dad said three months ago. According to him I am a fucking joke."

"Coming from Harrington Senior that's honestly a compliment"

"Please remind me of that the next time I radio you at 3 am. Who is on tape duty?"

"I did it last time."

"Alright" Steve nods towards the small pile of romcoms they have pointedly not been reshelving for the last half an hour. "Enjoy your alone time in the romance section."

"Do you think it would be an invasion of privacy if we checked who returned all that? It was either an epic girls night of an awful breakup." Her voice gets fainter as she moves to the back of the store.

"Nah. We're in the land of the free or whatever. Wait, let me do it"

"You're only saying that so you can procrastinate asshole"

"Does that mean you don't want to know who took them? Because I promise you, you really really do."

"Don't ask if you already know the answer dingus"

"Guess"

"Ummm....power bottom."

"What?"

"Like with Jonathan. Would you rather he call the shots or the other way around?"

She makes a series of incomprehensible movements that are probably supposed to represent intercourse between two men.

"This is the reason god made you a lesbian"

"And thank him for that. Amen."

"Why are you so obsessed with Jonathan anyway."

"You're deflecting"

"Yeah sure, I am deflecting. C'mon, Buckley. Resume or later?"

"Who was the one who took all the romcoms?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me what's really going on?"

"Depends on your answer."

"I thought you weren't interested in my sex life? Every time-"

In this moment the door opens again. Two girls come in, arm in arm. One is wearing a look that can only be described as disgust, the other is clearly trying to hold in laughter with moderate success.

Over the course of many painful months of customer service (plus surviving an interrogation by the actual Russian secret service) Steve and Robin have developed the ability to hold entire conversations without speaking a single word. It is a very neat talent to have when they want to make fun of someone right in front of them. It is less neat when he is the target.

Robin raises her brows. C'mon dingus, tell these random ass girls about your sex life since you're so proud of it.

Steve frowns in response. Yeah, sure Mrs. Never Even Had A First Kiss.

Robin narrows her eyes. I did have a first kiss. Even if it was absolutely horrible.

Steve puts on his most insufferable expression. You yourself said that it doesn't count. No need to be so jealous Buckley.

Robin rolls her eyes. Alright, I want to see you trying to find a-

"Do you have ET?", Robin doesn't say because, oh yeah, they've got actual customers.

Steve solemnly informs them that ET is current out of stock, but that it should be returned in two days. Robin somehow manages to force her last two movies upon them. They leave with a dazed look on their face that Steve can relate to. Sometimes Robin will start talking and the next thing you know you have a tramp stamp.

"Tommy Hagan"

Robin looks absolutely disgusted. "Tommy Hagan?! You would kiss Tommy Hagan? And then you have the audacity to make fun of my taste in women?!"

"First of all: me and Hagan? Been there done that." Robin looks as if her entire worldview was just flipped upside down. "Second: probably not, he uses a bit too much tongue for my liking. I mean that Tommy Hagan was the one who rented all the romcoms"

Robin takes a moment to process this information. Then she dramatically falls to the floor and squirms around in laughter like a bug on its back trying to get up again. Truly a drama kid through and through.

"And thirdly: for your information, I super could make out with Jonathan Byers. Unlike you, I've got game"

"You don't mean gay-me?"

Steve rolls his eyes and takes out the whiteboard again. He is still in the lead.

"And also, excuse you, I totally could make out with Nancy if I wanted to, okay?! I'm just not a homewrecker unlike some other people"

"Excuse me? I was the one who was cheated on?!"

"I'm insulting your taste, dingus"

"Rich coming from you, since we apparently share the same one"

For a moment she looks confused. Then she thinks back to what she said. Steve can pinpoint the exact moment she realizes it.

"Is this the reason you want me to be into Jonathan so bad? Because you're into Nancy?" Steve feels like a smug cat when her entire upper body grows red.

"Shut up she's just pretty okay?!"

"And badass. Don't forget badass."

"Oh my god I know. Ever since I saw her shooting I haven't been able to get her out of my mind."

"Right?! And as if that isn't enough, she has to go and be smart too! Like, c'mon, she has to have some faults. Some downsides. Nobody is that prefect!"

"Oh my god I know! And-"

They continue like that for a while. Time runs away from them and suddenly Hellfire Club is over and Steve's kids (minus Max, he notes with a heavy heart) are barging into the place as if they own it, for no reason other than to be absolute menaces.

"And like. Robin. She was so hot in that moment. I swear to-"

"Who are you talking about?". Steve is used to Dustin being a rude little shit and automatically answers without even thinking about it. "Nancy."

He realizes his mistake too late. He looks up. Mike's eyes are wide in horror. "I hate you so fucking much" he says before turning around and leaving.

Robin sighs. "I guess that is the downside."

-> the tramp stamp conversation

-> gatekeeping 101

-> breaking out of a heteronormative mindset

[honeysuckleharringtons]

"In Your Dreams" ~ J. Byers

Summary: When Reader is having a hard time with her Halloween makeup, she uses Jonathan as her canvas to practice.

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 634

Content Warning: mild sexual humor, mild horror movie talk (Freddy Krueger is mentioned a couple times), lmk if i misses anything!

Extra Notes: this reads a lil bit like they're in high school but i promise that wasn't my intention lol! no established ages so Reader and Jonathan can be 18+ if you so wish, or not if you'd rather they be younger than 18 lol

Originally Written: 10/26/2023 through 10/27/2023

honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

"Hold still," you complained, eyeliner pencil in hand.

Jonathan grumbled, though a smile never ceased from his lips. "I am holding still!" he rebutted. "I'm just scared you're gonna take out my eye with that thing."

This started about twenty minutes prior, when you were telling him how nervous you were about your Halloween costume. The two of you had settled that you would go as Freddy Krueger and he'd go as Glen, but the prospect of all that makeup seemed a bit daunting to you after you'd agreed.

Thus, you found yourselves lying on the floor of your bedroom, eyeshadow palettes and lipstick tubes spread about as you practiced the makeup on Jonathan. He'd been ever the sweetheart about the ordeal, simply letting you paint his face however you'd like.

"You'd never make it as a woman," you argued, going back in with the eyeliner.

Jonathan ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't know why you're so stressed about this. I mean, isn't Halloween supposed to be fun? Isn't this stress taking the fun out of it for you?"

You countered his statement with a look of exasperation. "Of course you get to say that. All you do is have to throw on some sweatpants and an old tee shirt and call it a night. I have the hard job."

He sensed your frustration, a loving hand meeting your knee as he flashed you a sideways smile. "Sweetheart, it's just a Halloween costume. You don't have to freak out about the whole thing. I just want you to have fun."

Your heart swelled with adoration for the boy in front of you, a million butterflies fluttering around in your belly at his kind words. "I know, and I appreciate that. But it's our first Halloween as a couple, Jon. And I really want to see the look on Carol's face when we beat her and Tommy at the couples costume contest."

A light snicker tumbled out of him as he pulled you closer, his hands settling on either side of your face. "And you will. Because you have one thing that Carol doesn't."

"A brain?" you laughed. Your eyes met his, a thousand hidden emotions swirling around in those chocolate brown eyes you loved so much.

"Okay, two things," Jonathan chuckled. "A brain, and the fact that you're already gonna be the prettiest girl at the party, with or without makeup."

The butterflies somehow increased tenfold as your lips met his, chapped skin against chapped skin that was somehow your favorite feeling in the world. The bergamot scent of his cologne filled your senses as he pulled you close, tugging your body down with his as he fell back on the carpet. The action elicited a giggle from you, tumbling out of your mouth and into his.

Finally, you pulled away, looking down at him with slight confusion. "What are you up to, Byers?"

"Nothing. Can't a guy compliment his girl?" he asked, faking innocence.

Your eyes narrowed in on him. "You keep acting like this, and you'll be doing a lot more than complimenting me."

"Maybe," Jonathan pulled you down for a short peck, "that's the point."

Your bubble of bliss was popped by a knock on your door, followed by your mother insisting that it was time for bed. You scrambled up from the floor, pulling Jonathan with you and rushing him toward the window where he'd climbed in earlier.

"Good night, Freddy," he joked, leaning in for one last kiss.

"Oh, it will be. I'll see you later… in your dreams," you joked, wiggling your fingers at him to emphasize the spookiness of your words.

The boy simply snickered as he began to make his way out of your bedroom window. "I look forward to it, then."

taking this time to make a formal apology for posting so late in the day lol! it was never my intention to not post today (since it's now after midnight here lol) but the day got away from me and i never found time to edit and post until now lol! hope you guys are well and enjoying all the fics so far! 🫶🏻

-> taglist: @ducky-died-inside @aftermidnightwriting @esoltis280

[spicysix]

play | jonathan fluff (implied jargyle) | masterlist

Jonathan looks around.

There’s a ray of sunlight creeping in through the drapes, making the dust dance in the air. It doesn’t bother him, it reminds him of his childhood bedroom. The carpet has a stain — looks like wine — in the very corner, but he thinks it’s charming, it reminds him of his college dorm. The kitchen has the same tiles as the apartment he lived in with Nancy. The bathtub faucet is the same as the house he shared with Steve, Eddie and Robin.

Every little piece of his new apartment reminds him of somewhere else that he lived before, and he likes it. Even though none of those people are there with him anymore, he still likes it.

He takes a few steps forward, puts the box he’s been holding down before opening it. He sorts through the vinyls in there, pulls out Disintegration and is happy to find the record player already plugged to an outlet, little red light signing that it’s turned on. He can’t help the smile on his lips.

It takes almost three minutes until Smith’s voice is heard in Plainsong, and before that, Jonathan keeps tidying up what he can around the apartment. The melody is almost ethereally melancholic, and it hits him deep as he listens.

Jonathan looks around.

He’s hung up one or two of Will’s paintings, a stitch embroidery Robin made him, a framed nail from the nail bat that Steve gave back to him five Christmas’ ago, the autographed poster of The Clash that Eddie got him, a picture of the whole Byers-Hopper family that Nancy took for him.

It’s year 2000, a new millennium, and Jonathan listens to his decade-old sad songs.

The door opens, and he hears Argyle coming in. Jonathan’s smile grows.

He’s not sad anymore, despite the sad songs. He won’t ever have to be.