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#nancy x jonathan
schrijverr · 1 year
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Honestly, I'm a bit in tears, thinking about Jonathan going on to be a famous photographer, bringing out a book of his early work (late 80s/early 90s) in, like, the 2010s or something and it's just full of queer joy and the queerplatonic family they all made together with the Upside Down gang.
Like it starts with Steve giving Robin a piggy back ride, both laughing their asses off. It's 1989, they had just moved to the big city bc most of the kids had graduated. It's late at night and they went to a Rocky Horror screening. Robin is dressed as Brad, Steve as Janet.
There's a full spread of Eddie on stage, he's shirtless save for a leather harness, sweaty and alive, hankerchief hanging out of his pocket. The next page is him with Steve is his normal clothes in his lap, the rest of the band and Robin around them, all stuffed in a booth in a diner. Nancy and Argyle hadn't been able to make it, but that's okay. It was Coroded Coffin's first big gig.
Argyle has a page dedicaded to him, most of them in the early mornings, sharing the bed with Nancy, the place where Jonathan is supposed to be obvious.
One is Jonathan's favorite, Eddie and Argyle are sharing a joint. They're on the roof, Eddie is gesturing with one hand, holding the joint Argyle is taking a hit from in his other hand. They often had these late nights on the roof, before their lives took off, when insomnia got too band and company was needed.
Nancy and Robin are pictured, they're kissing. They had a short fling in 1987, before Nancy got back with Jonathan and Argyle, and Robin found her current wife.
The wife, back then a girlfriend, is more femme than Robin and there are pictures of their 'wedding'. It wasn't legal, but they didn't care. Robin wore a suit, her wife a dress. There is one page dedicated to the most traditional wedding pictures they took as a joke.
Then the following pictures are more like them, posing with their collection of garden gnomes and taking goofy pictures with everyone, as well as more serious ones.
Jonathan's favorites are the one where Steve is dancing with Robin, her second dance, both having been disowned by their parents. It's obvious they're both crying. The other one is Robin covered in lipstickstains, both her and her wife grinning like madmen, clearly a little tipsy.
There are also pictures from that first summer after Hawkins split open. Nancy on Argyle's shoulders, Steve's on Eddie's, the four of them fighting in the quarry. Robin floating nearby on a floaty along with Max. In the background the boys are jumping down, only held in posed in the air like that by El, who had taken an interest in photography after she realized how easy it was to forget.
There is also thanksgiving at the Hopper-Byers, 1986. Murray is there as well and they're all pushed together on the table, far more people than they thought would survive. Everyone is laughing, because Jonathan is sprawled over Agryle, having tripped in his haste to get seated for the timer.
It's the intimate domesticity that Jonathan has gotten good at capturing that makes the book pop.
Steve, dead asleep, head resting on Eddie's chest, legs thrown over Robin's lap. Eddie is pressing a kiss onto his forehead, Robin is holding his hand. The photo is called: Nightmares
A picture taken by El is in there as well, properly credited. It was taken when visiting Nancy, Argyle and Jonathan in 1991, the three of them are all half asleep, sitting at the table, all wrapped up together, but doing their own thing. Nancy is making notes on a notepad, Jonathan is rolling film and Argyle is doing the crossword in the paper.
There is also one of Coroded Coffin sitting around, crammed into the tiny apartment Eddie, Robin and Steve shared when they first moved out to the big city. They're writing lyrics, obviously mid argument about something. What is noteble is Steve in the background, leaning against the doorframe, looking very fond, dishtowel slung over his shoulders.
Naturally there is also one with all the kids around the table, dice scattered about, Eddie in the midst of a dramatic narration, seemingly oblivious to Steve, smiling dopily and nearly sleep, from where he is draped over Eddie's lap.
There are also pictures of Robin painting Steve's nails, because while Steve knew he'd had to take it off before work, he likes the way it looks.
As well as Steve doing Eddie's eyeliner, because Eddie used to be baby about it, before he got used to doing it before shows.
Will is also in there, alseep in the backseat with Mike, draped over the other guy. They're both in the remnants of cosplay, on the way back from a convention.
All the kids are, though they feature less, having been younger and in different phases of life.
There is a picture of Max and El asleep in Max's dorm when she went to college. Her skateboard is leaning against the wall along with her crutches. Max's hands are in El's hair, it's half braided like they fell asleep before finishing it.
Lucas is pictured with Steve, sweating on a basketball court, what is more obvious is Eddie and Max in the foreground. They're both leaning on their knees, oggling the two players. Max's eyes peer out through thick lenses, but that doesn't hide the moon eyed expression that matches Eddie's.
Another intimate moment that Jonathan captured was Steve, Eddie and Dustin, the three of them in front of a mirror, shaving. Eddie is just dry shaving, but Steve and Dustin both have foam beards, by the looks of it, Steve is teaching Dustin how to shave.
There are also just a few pages dedicated to cheek kisses, both platonic and romatic. They have big grins, soft looks, tears and blood in them. All of them look meant.
One double page is Argyle, Eddie, Nancy, Robin and Steve painting protest signs. There is laughter, but a somber atmosphere too. A heartbreaking point in history to be alive.
The next page is Eddie, Steve and Nancy, the three of them black eyes, Steve even missing a tooth. They're on the steps of a police station, Eddie is giving it the finger, his other arm slung around Steve. Nancy is getting checked over by Agryle, looking determined. Robin is running towards Steve.
Furthermore, it's filled to the brim with pictures of them doing dishes, playing games, backstage with Eddie, Nancy interviewing leather daddies at pride, hands twined together on the dashboard.
Nancy has provided the writing, telling their stories of those times. They might not be able to say it all, but they can say more than back then and their stories deserve a space too. Their interlinked dynamics, their ups, their downs. The family they built together.
Just Jonathan's queer photography of the late 80s/early 90s y'all.
On AO3
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musicalchaos07 · 8 months
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Twin Flames
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multi-fandomfuckboy · 3 months
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Stranger Than Fiction
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Part 25: Merry Christmas
Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)
Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 25, Part 26 (Coming Soon)...
AN: I'm alive. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,362 Warnings: alcohol, vomit
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It takes you more than 5 minutes to collect yourself enough to leave the bathroom. When you do finally leave, it feels like you're still in a fog of dream, nothing really feels real. It isn't until you’re seated in the library with Nancy, reading the same line in your textbook for the 10th time, that her question finally snaps you out of it. 
“What is that?” She asks, her eyes narrowed on the skin peaking out around the collar of your neck. She extends a hand, moving to pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck. 
“What?” you ask, instinctively pulling away, your hand moving to cover the sensitive bit of skin you know Billy had in his mouth earlier. Nancy’s eyes stay on you, her investigative brain working through something.
“Did you bump into something or…” Her eyes widen in realization. “Oh my god is that a-” Your eyes bulge in panic.
“Hush! Lower your voice!” you hiss, pressing your palm harder to your neck as if that will make the blemish disappear. You glance around the library that is mostly empty except for one or two students minding their own business. 
“Is that really a…” Nancy glances around as well, leaning in closely and mouthing the word. “Hickey?” You don’t know what to say. Is it? You didn’t think to look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. It’s not like you’ve ever been in this situation before. You don’t think they make a handbook for this type of thing that would give you tips like ‘always check for hickeys’. Nancy must take your silence as confirmation, her surprised expression shifting into a wide grin.
“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything! I didn’t even know you were talking to anyone!” She gushes, closing the book in front of her and leaning in. You wish you could just disappear. “Who is it? It must have happened recently. Is that why your face was all red when you got here?” Your heart skips a beat, why did she have to be so observant? 
“I- uh-” you stammer, struggling to think of anything to say that isn’t the truth. You can’t tell her what happened, or who it happened with. “I can’t say.” you blurt out, lowering your eyes from her bright smile. 
“Come on!” she pleads. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, I’m just surprised you are actually talking to someone.” She explains. You feel a stab of indignation at that. Why is it so surprising? Are you so undesirable that it seems impossible someone would want to press you against a bathroom stall and-
“It’s really nothing Nance, just drop it.” You bite back, some of your frustration leaking into your voice. You keep your eyes on your textbook, buttoning your shirt up to ensure the skin is covered. She seems to take the hint, sighing but leaning back in her chair.
“Okay, you don’t have to tell me.” You’re relieved that she’s stopped pushing. “But at least let me cover it up for you. Your mom will have a cow if she sees that on your neck.” She tells you, reaching into her purse to pull out her compact.
You let her cover the mark. When she’s done she offers you her mirror to admire her handiwork. You can barely see the purple mark under the light sheen of makeup, to anyone else it would just look like a shadow. 
“Thank you Nancy.” You tell her genuinely, handing back the mirror. You try to ignore the pang of guilt you feel having to keep things from her. But it really is for the best. 
“It’s no problem.” She smiles, packing away her things. “I got a lot of practice when I was with St-” She catches herself, her smile falters and she keeps her head down. You clear your throat, not wanting her to dwell on the memory.
“Are you going to Tina’s tonight?” you ask, moving to pack up your own things. Her eyes dart to you, once again surprised.
“Yea. Are YOU going to Tina’s tonight?” she asks, her brows drawing together. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant. 
“I was thinking about it.” you tell her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
“Alright, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she asks, grabbing you by the shoulder and giving you a playful shake. You can’t help but chuckle. “I thought I was going to have to kidnap you to get you to go. I basically had to bribe Jonathan to get him to agree.” she explains, linking her arm with yours as you both head towards the exit. “Do you need a ride? I can get Jonathan to-”
“No, I have a ride.” you tell her, purposely leaving out the fact that it’s Steve. You don't want to make things more awkward. She glances at you out of the corner of her eye. 
“Would your ride happen to be the mystery man who was sucking on your neck earlier?” She asks, causing you to let out an embarrassing sound while shoving her away.
“Oh my god, Nancy!” you exclaim, the heat returning to your face. “It’s not like that.” you insist, giving her a glare. Nancy only smiles to herself, continuing down the hall. 
“I’m just a naturally inquisitive person, you should know this by now.” She chides you, a slight skip in her step. You have to roll your eyes. She truly was too nosy for her own good. 
“I swear that curiosity is going to get you in trouble one day.” you tell her, pulling your jacket closer around you as she opens the doors, a gust of winter air bursting in. 
“But today is not that day.” She says with a smile, offering you a wave as she rushes to Jonathan’s waiting car. “I’ll see you tonight!” She calls, climbing into the car. You wave to both of them as they pull away from the school. 
You hesitate for a moment, but it's long enough for thoughts of Billy to fill your mind. You shiver at the memory as well as the chill in the air. 
“Fuck.” you grumble, slinging your bag from your shoulder to pull out a slip of paper. You quickly scribble a note for Steve explaining that you are going to walk home and that you would see him at 8 to head to Tina’s, wedging it in the door on the driver side. 
You walk home in record time. Your stride hurried, moving quickly, your sneakers eating up the pavement. It’s still not enough to chase the thoughts of Billy from your mind. 
When you get home you busy yourself with cooking and starting on the laundry, anything to keep yourself busy. You tell your mom that you’ll be going out to a party with Steve tonight, earning a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. You don’t have the energy to scold her for her obvious thoughts about you and Steve. It’s really only gotten worse since Nancy and Jonathan officially started dating. Your mom is convinced that the two of you are just waiting a respectable amount of time before making it official. You really can't blame her for thinking that, he’s quickly become one of your closest friends and most of your time is spent together. To anyone else, it makes perfect sense. 
8 o’clock rolls around and you’ve come to the conclusion that hiding a pistol under your christmas sweater won’t work. You settle on strapping a knife to your ankle, the little voice in your head not allowing you to leave unarmed… just in case. 
Steve is in high spirits when he pulls into your driveway. He leaps out of the car to show you his obnoxiously decorated Christmas sweater. You pretend to shield your eyes from the gratuitous amounts of glittering tinsel adorning him, the light from his headlights reflecting off the multiple ornaments dangling from him. He chatters the whole way to the party. You’re thankful for the distraction, it’s harder to worry with Steve explaining how he made his sweater with the old Christmas decorations he found. 
But, it’s impossible for you not to think about the last party Steve dragged you to. It’s crazy to think that was only a few weeks ago. Your chest tightens at the memory of Nancy drunkenly accusing you of killing Barb. The pain and guilt stab at the wound in your heart, reminding you of its permanence. 
“We don’t have to go, you know?” Steve's voice jolts you from your memories. The car is parked on the street across from the already bustling party. Steve watches you, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. He offers you a small smile. “We can always rent Rudolf or something and-” 
“I’m good Steve.” You cut him off, placing your hand over his and giving it a light squeeze. He immediately turns his palm into yours, interlocking your fingers. “And I desperately need a drink.” You smile, only half joking about that. Steve returns your smile, bringing your hand to his mouth placing a quick kiss on your knuckles. Your heart leaps.
“Now that’s the Christmas spirit!” He lets go of your hand before your blush can spread. He’s always doing things like this. You know it’s just how he is, always touching, playful, flirty. You sometimes can’t help your immediate reaction though. 
The two of you climb out of the car, crossing the street. The house is filled with what seems to be the majority of the upperclassmen, upbeat Christmas music pouring from every window. Steve slings an arm across your shoulders as soon as you step inside, keeping you close to his side as he navigates to the kitchen. 
“Merry Christmas!” He yells over the noise, pressing a cold beer into your hand. He taps his can against yours before popping the top and chugging. He finishes his drink before you’ve even taken a sip immediately reaching for another. 
The two of you talk and drink, Steve finishing his drinks far faster than you. It’s impressive, he finishes three in the time it takes you to work through one. By the time he tosses away his 7th empty can it’s stopped being impressive and started being concerning. He’s still smiling and laughing, giving a lively (but tone deaf) rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’. 
Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive. Steve pretends not to notice but between drinks you notice his eyes flickering to them. His drinks start coming faster, his laughter louder, his eyes glazed with a distant look. At one point he stops completely, he’s hazy eyes drifting over the crowd until they find what they are looking for. Nancy and Jonathan stand against the far wall, tucked away from the jostling crowd, whispering to each other like they are the only two in the room. 
All the joy leeches from Steve’s face, his eyes falling to the half finished drink in his hands. You see the muscle in his jaw tick before he brings the drink to his lips, draining the remainder. 
“Hey, do you want some water or something?” You ask, setting down your own drink. His gaze turns to you, struggling to focus. 
“I’m fine.” He slurs, tossing away another empty can. He sways slightly with the motion, you quickly grasp his shoulders to steady him. 
“You don’t look fine, Steve. I think you should take a break.” You tell him firmly, keeping your hands on his shoulders. He drunkenly smiles down at you. 
“You’re so nice. Such a good friend.” he coos, swaying closer to you. “You’re the best.” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you off the floor. 
“Whoa!” You exclaim, your fists gripping his shirt tightly. He beams up at you, still smiling stupidly. 
“You should come to Colorado with me. We can both go! My parents won’t even care, they never do.” He says excitedly. You know he’s talking about his family’s annual ski trip. He told you that they go every year for ‘Family time’, joking that it only lasts about a day. He’s been dreading it for the past week.
“Steve come on, you’re drunk.” you say, pushing on his shoulders slightly to see if he will set you down. His arms stay firmly locked around you. Glancing around you notice a few pairs of eyes on the two of you, causing your cheeks to burn.
“I can teach you how to ski! We can build snowmen and drink hot chocolate!” He continues, spinning you around a few times causing your heart to leap in your chest. 
“Steve! Put me down!” you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you as he spins you again. He loosens his arms slightly, allowing you to slide down him until your face is level with his. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, his nose only an inch from yours. 
“I-” Steve opens his mouth again but quickly closes it, a shudder running through him violently enough you feel it. He finally lowers you all the way back to the floor, his complexion suddenly looking pale. “I think I’m gunna-” he’s cut off by a heave, his body doubling over. You jump away, grabbing his arm and hauling him to the bathroom. You get him to the toilet just in time for him to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl.
Kneeling next to him you place a comforting hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine. When it feels like he’s gotten it all up, his body sags one arm on the toilet seat, his head pressed into the bend of his elbow. 
“I’m going to get you some water and then I’m going to take you home, okay?” you tell him. You only receive a grumble in response. Slipping out the door, you close it behind you. The party continues outside, chattering, dancing, drinking. 
You move through the crowd, retrieving a red plastic cup from the kitchen and filling it at the sink. You pause for a moment, you're not sure why, but when you glance around the room of gyrating teenagers that's when you see him. Billy. 
He’s across the room, his normal crowd of acolytes surrounding him. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t be here, a small part of you is stung that he didn’t say something earlier. He smiles, flashing his perfect teeth as he talks to Tommy and Carol. You see the people around him laughing at whatever he’s saying. 
Like he can feel your eyes on him, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, sending a jolt through you. What happened this afternoon in the bathroom flashes through your mind with vivid clarity. You can almost feel it, his body pressed against you, his hands in your hair, his mouth… Your hand drifts to the spot on your neck where you know his mark still resides, hidden under the high neck of your sweater. His eyes track your movement, something like hunger flickering across his face. 
A girl standing next to Billy slings her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his as she grins up at him. Billy’s gaze breaks from you, his focus turning to the girl hanging on him. He smiles at her, his hand going to her waist.
Right.
You hate the sting you feel at the sight, immediately turning back to the bathroom. You silently curse yourself for even entertaining the idea that you and Billy… You stop that thought before it can even form. 
“Is he okay?” Nancy’s voice startles you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to Jonathan in the hallway until she had spoken. Glancing towards the closed bathroom door you know she’s worried. Jonathan places a comforting hand on her shoulder. For some reason it irritates you. 
Steve is sick, drinking himself into numbness because of them. He manages to hide it so well normally but you know it hurts him. Is hurting him. 
“He’s fine.” you say with your best approximation of a smile. “I’m just going to take him home.” you tell them. 
Nancy nods, glancing to the bathroom again then up at Jonathan.
“We could help you get him home.” she offers, Jonathan nods to confirm. 
“No, no, that’s okay.” You say. “I haven’t really been drinking so I’ll drive him in his car.” you explain. You don’t think Steve is ready to accept help from the two of them, yet. You smile sadly at Nancy. You know she wishes things were different, you do too. Maybe one day it will be, when Steve’s heart has time to heal. 
“I’ll see you around Nance.” You say, offering her a reassuring smile. She nods in understanding. “Enjoy the party. Merry Christmas guys.” You tell them, Nancy pulls you into a quick hug that you carefully return trying not to spill the water. The two of them return to the party as you break away. 
When you get back into the bathroom Steve has slumped back to sit against the wall, his head hanging between his knees. He’s pulled off his Christmas sweater and thrown it into the bathtub, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. 
“Hey champ, you feeling alright?” You ask, walking to stand over him.
“I feel like shit.” He grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes pinched closed. “I got vomit on my sweater.” He tells you. You can't help but chuckle at his childish tone. 
“I got you some water.” You tell him, offering him the cup. His eyes squint up at you as he takes the water, closing them again as he drinks. 
“Thanks babysitter.” He mumbles, setting the empty cup down next to him. 
“You’re welcome. Now come on, I’m taking you home.” you tell him. He doesn't protest as you grab his arm, helping him to his feet. He tells you to leave the handmade sweater despite your attempts to pick it up. Eventually you agree to abandon the monstrosity because it would be too hard to clean vomit from the tinsel. He sways, leaning heavily on you as you lead him out of the bathroom. You manage to get him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat. You swipe his keys from his pocket before buckling the seatbelt across his lap.
“At least buy me dinner first.” He manages to slur, a crooked smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes at his drunken attempt at flirtation. 
“Alright lover boy, settle down.” You tell him, earning what you assume was supposed to be a wink but looks like a facial spasm. You laugh lightly, closing the door. 
Looking back to the house you notice a lone figure standing in the shadows along the side of the house. You can see the glow of a cigarette burning in the darkness. You know it’s Billy. It’s alway him. It's like your gut has a 6th sense when it comes to knowing when he's around. Gripping the keys tightly you turn on your heel walking around the car to climb into the driver seat. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes following you.
The drive to Steves’ is uneventful. Christmas music playing softly on the radio, Steve humming drunkenly along with them. It gives you time to think. Unfortunately, you immediately think of Billy. You grit your teeth, your hands tighten around the wheel causing the leather to creek. You force yourself to take deep steadying breaths. For some reason the hole in your heart feels especially big. 
Pulling into Steves’ driveway you put the car in park, hopping out and heading to the passenger side to help Steve. He groans when you open the door, letting the cold air in. 
“Come on buddy.” you say, unbuckling him and trying to pull him from the car. Stve pulls back, resisting.
“I don wanna.” he slurs, curling away from the frozen air. You pull him harder, finally getting his legs out of the car.
“Steve, if you get out of the car, I’ll make hot chocolate.” you try to bribe him. He perks up slightly at that.
“With marshmallows?” he asks, looking up at you with the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes you have ever seen. You note to yourself that alcohol makes his big brown eyes even more pitiful. 
“Of course with marshmallows.” you promise him. He smiles happily, finally allowing you to pull him from his seat, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders to guide him to the house. You practically drag him up the front steps, unlocking the door with his keys. There is no way you are getting him up the stairs to his room like this, You settle for the living room, helping him settle on the couch as gently as you can. His head flops to one side, mumbling something under his breath.
You head for the kitchen, filling the kettle on the stove with water and turning on the heat. You gather your hot chocolate materials and grab two mugs from the cabinet scooping nesquik powder into both. You stand at the counter, bracing your hands in front of you as you wait for the water to boil. 
You hear Steve’s shuffled footsteps coming from the living room, into the kitchen,
“I’m just working on the hot chocolate.” you say, keeping your back to him grabbing the bag of marshmallows. 
You jump slightly when you feel him at your back. His chest is nearly touching you, his arms braced on either side of your hips. Most likely to keep him from falling over but effectively trapping you against the counter. His breath tickles the back of your neck as he lowers his head to rest on your shoulder. You wonder briefly if he can see your scars sticking out from the neck of your sweater. 
Your heart leaps into your throat and you swallow past it, focusing on the bag of marshmallows clutched in your hands. You wait, unsure of how to move with him this close. If you push back even an inch your back will be pressed flush against his chest. Finally he speaks, barely a whisper.
“What did I do wrong?” His voice is thick, heavy with emotion. You see his hands shaking as they clutch at the counter. Your heart constricts. “I loved her so much. What’s wrong with me?” He asks, his voice cracking. He presses his forehead harder against your shoulder, you feel his tears soaking through your sweater, his shoulders beginning to shake.
“Oh Steve.” You say quietly, finally turning to face him. Your hip brushes against his, your lower back pressing against the counter as you look up at him, taking his face in your hands. He keeps his head bowed, his chin quivering as fresh tears well up in his eyes. You lean forward, holding his gaze, wiping away the tears racing down his cheeks. “Hey, listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you Steve.” you tell him firmly, willing him to believe you. He leans into your touch, his breathing shallow as it ghosts along the inside of your wrist. He sniffles gently, both of his hands moving to your hips gripping you tightly like you might slip away if he doesn't keep hold of you. 
“I think you’re my best friend.” He mumbles, turning his face slightly into your hand pressing a light kiss to your palm. Your heart breaks for him. You once thought Steve Harrington had a million friends and you couldn’t possibly be one of them. But here you both are, broken, damaged, scared, and together. 
“You're my best friend too.” You reply quietly, gently brushing his hair from his forehead. He holds your gaze, his brown eyes warm and kind as they watch you. You hate seeing him like this. He hides it so well but you know that this part of him is always there, in the back of his mind, whispering, doubting, telling him there is something wrong with him. Never good enough. 
One of his hands comes up to take yours, pulling it from his face down to his chest. He holds your hand there, flat against his chest where you can feel his heart beating. He watches you, like if he holds your hand there you will be able to feel the cracks in his heart. The beat is strong and steady, despite how broken it is. He leans in slightly, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours. You both stand there for a moment, in the silent kitchen, just holding each other.  
The sound of the kettle whistling breaks the two of you apart. You quickly pour the water into the mugs, mixing them, before adding the marshmallows. You ignore the slight shake in your hands. Steve doesn't seem to notice when you hand him his mug, slowly shuffling back to the living room. The two of you settle onto the couch, Steve pulls your legs over his lap, slouching down into the cushions as he blows on his coco. The two of you sit in comfortable silence sipping on the warm drinks. After a few minutes, Steve sets his drink down and lays down horizontally on the couch, his head resting on your lap. 
Without thinking you gently brush your fingers through his hair. He sighs, leaning into your touch. His breathing evens out and he’s soon asleep. You are the furthest thing from sleep. When you finish your hot chocolate, and Steve is quietly snoring into the couch cushions, you stand from the couch and put on your shoes. 
As quietly as you can, you fill a glass of water and leave it on the coffee table next to some tylenol for Steve. Then, borrowing one of Steve's large winter jackets, you bundle yourself up and step outside, making sure the door is locked using the spare key hidden under the mat. 
Taking a deep breath of the cold night air, you exhale into the darkness before heading towards the street.
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AN: Hope you guys enjoyed that! Another party ending in tears, these idiots just don't know how to have a good time.
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@alexa4040 @blackholegladiator @strangerthings1983fan
@curlszx88 @bdudette @eddiessweetheart86 @haleybarnesx @decadentwastelandtrash @all-for-kpop
@sophiaj650 @dystopianhellscape @punchyprincess23 @luvrsbian
@myrcellavonswartzschild @awk-sauced
@laceypdf
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hawkinslibrary · 6 months
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Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers Stranger Things 3 Chapter Seven: The Bite | 3.07
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mfshipbracket · 1 year
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nancywheelercentral · 5 months
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What’d he look like? What? This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?
STRANGER THINGS 1 (2016) 1.04, “Chapter Four: The Body”
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will80sbyers · 1 year
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No, Nance, what it actually means is that he's always right like his mom.
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laz-kay · 11 months
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Steve: You know, Johnathan gives Nancy flowers all the time, I wish you'd do that too.
Eddie: Okay.
-later-
Eddie: -Gives Johnathan flowers-
Johnathan: ?? Thank? You??
Eddie: I am just as confused as you are.
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jancysmixtape · 4 months
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Look at my babies!! Holding hands <3
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bunni3thebard · 5 months
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Through the Walls
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A/N: I always lean towards Eddie’s POV, I dunno why. I’m trying this out, so hopefully it’s not too bad. Enjoy my take at second-person POV. This story started out as just being a oneshot, but then it kinda became my baby, so I hope you like it!
Vampire!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader
Summary: You’ve been in Hawkins for almost a year now. It was nice, an escape from painful memories and a way to start fresh. After so long isolating yourself, you decide that it’s time to make friends, get to know someone so you’re not so alone. One of those friends happened to be your Cryptid Neighbor.
Warning: swearing (I'm a sailor), weed usage (smoking) (I think that's it?? lol)
Chapters:
[ 1 ] [ Next]
Chapter 1: Silent Scream
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Your neighbor was a cryptid. 
At least, you were convinced they were. 
You knew someone lived there because of the lights that would come on and off, and the shadow figures moving behind the curtains. Not to mention that the walls were thin as fuck, so you heard them watch TV and play guitar and listen to metal music obscenely loud during the midnight hours.
But even though they kept the same crazy hours you did, you've never seen hide nor hair of them.
You started to make theories about what kind of person they were. Like that they were a burn out whose parents paid for everything for them so they didn't work, just farted around all day–hence the 4am jam sessions. 
Another theory that had struck you one night while working a double at the Hawkins ER was that they were a drug lord and had to keep odd hours to evade the police. 
But you wrote off that theory since you'd thought it up while sleep deprived after an 18 hour shift.
You entertained the idea of a squatter, but then why would they have electricity?
You had finally come to the conclusion that you were lonely as fuck and you obsessed over the identity of your mysterious neighbor because you were long deprived of human companionship and thus you hyperfixated on a superficial meaningless thing to distract yourself from being alone.
Or maybe they were Mothman…
Thankfully the grocery store kept late hours on the weekend, and that's where you found yourself on your free Saturday night. You'd woken up naturally around seven pm, even though your alarm was set for nine, and decided to putter around your house until your alarm went off so you could feel like you were properly lazy. 
You sat contemplating cereals for a few meandering seconds, sure your eyes were blinking at an astronomically slow pace. You'd smoked a bowl to help you sleep and felt like it hadn't completely left you. You just hoped your eyes weren't red.
Grunting, you shoved both boxes into your cart and turned to move on to the next aisle when you crashed into someone else's cart. "Shit." You hissed below your breath, rubbing your stomach where the handle of the cart had roughly jabbed into you. 
"Damn, sorry about that!" 
Looking up you met the soft face of a brunette woman who looked about your age with her hair pulled back into a messy bun and long-sleeve black shirt falling off one of her thin shoulders exposing her bra strap. She gave you a sheepish smile and you shrugged.
"No harm no foul, although if you do it again I'll take it personally and make no bones about it: I will cry." She snorted, making you grin in triumph.
"Don't worry. I don't make it a habit of accosting people in the grocery store." She pulled her cart back from yours.
You hummed, "Good to know I'll be a one-and-done hit-and-run."
Her smile was cute. She had a strong jaw with a petite nose that scrunched up adorably as she grinned. 
"I'm Nancy." She'd offered her hand. 
You hesitated.
It had been a while since you'd earnestly interacted with someone outside of transactional exchanges, like for work or buying things or paying bills. People were messy. Maybe it was the paranoia from your past–trauma you couldn't shake that clung to you like a second skin–but you'd been wary of making friends on the off chance your name gets around and spreads to corners of places you didn't want it to go.
It was ridiculous. Narcissistic in a way.
So you ground your teeth and mustered a smile hoping it looked genuine and shook her hand.
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You stood outside staring at the moon for a while dressed in nothing but a size 8XL shirt you snagged from Wal-Mart cause it was soft. You knew you should smoke inside, no telling when someone might rat you out to the cops, but the moon was full and the stars were bright. You weren't used to how clear the sky was in comparison to the city, even after a year.
Your eyelids fluttered, vision hazy as the weed worked its magic. 
Nancy had invited you to some neighborhood get-together next week that was popular in Hawkins. Said she hadn't seen you around before and was surprised you'd survived a year without becoming the talk of the town. You blew out a heavy stream of smoke, humming to yourself thoughtfully. 
But that had been the point, right?
Keep a low profile, stay hidden.
Sighing, you took another deep drag of your joint, holding the burning breath as tight as you could. You watched the stars dance in your vision before you finally exhaled.
God you were fucking lonely, though.
You scrubbed at your head, mussing up your hair. Curiosity was easy to take hold in your high state, so you peered towards your neighbors apartment and saw a shadow in front of the curtains. You squinted, eyeing the light blue fabric for a while since your vision was blurry. You could've sworn you saw a sliver of it be pulled aside with tentative fingers. You blinked slowly, sighing heavy through your nose and mumbled to yourself, "Fucking bigfoot in there for sure." 
Turning back around to your apartment door you sucked in the last bit of the joint and dropped the roach to the ground, bending over to squish it with a rock to make sure it was out. Standing with a groan, you walked barefoot back to your front door. You were like, 90% sure the complex was just repurposed from an old Motel 6, but it was cheap and they sprayed for bugs every Tuesday, so you didn't complain.
It was small, enough space for your bed with a loveseat to watch your shitty TV that sat on top of your dresser and a micro kitchen they built in the corner next to the door for the bathroom. There was no kitchen sink and the fridge was half-size, but you were one person so you didn't quite care enough to complain. You did wish the fridge drawers were a bit bigger so they didn't catch on all the food packages you shoved in there.
Maybe it was because you were high, or lonely–or maybe a combination of the two–but you slid your hand across the wall that connected your apartment to your cryptid neighbor's. Then you tapped the starting notes for "Shave and a Haircut". You waited a breath, not sure if they had even heard it.
But then there it was: "Two Bits".
You grinned, giggling like Scooby Doo as you danced over to your bed, throwing yourself down with a bounce on the cheap twin.
Since you had smoked, sleep came easy. You were lulled into dream after weird dream courtesy of Miss Mary Jane. There was one where you went grocery shopping with Bigfoot and another where you went on Jerry Springer because you were pregnant with Mothman's baby.
You were curious what kind of cryptid your neighbor was.
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The neighborhood block party was, for all intents and purposes, a Hawkins bash. 
Apparently it was a pretty regular affair every few months: a potluck with a few dad's who wheeled their grills to the end of a large cul-de-sac to cook up some burgers and dogs, some artsy fartsy mom's who made crafts for the younger kids to do, and sparklers and poppers for the older kids to get into mischief with.
There were maybe fifteen to twenty adults and a smattering of an equal number of kids. 
You had brought a shitty box of cookies from a bakery a few blocks away from the hospital since you couldn't cook anything on your extra small stove. You also had switched shifts with Beverly–fucking ray of sunshine she was, grunting and groaning about working on a Saturday night, but you had taken her Sunday so she could get bent–so that you could be here, at this lovely affair. 
You were starting to have regrets.
You watched a few pre-teens wave sparklers around in glee, making to poke and prod one another with the burning end. You wondered if you should step in, knowing that there were some second degree burns waiting to happen, but a random mom came over and grabbed each kid's wrists in warning. You slunk away to the food table.
You set your meager contribution down and turned to eye all the adult women, trying to find your potential petite new friend.
They all had their hair done up in that style where their bangs spiraled out in delicate feathering with the ends curled towards their shoulders. Some had simple ponytails decorated with hair bands and colorful scrunchies. You ran your fingers through your hair self-consciously; you hadn't done anything, merely brushed it and hoped for the best as you donned your nicest pair of jeans and a thrifted Van Halen '79 tour shirt. You figured since it would be outside the party would be a casual thing, but the dresses and blouses these housewives wore made you think you were a little unprepared for the mandatory 'Sunday Best' dress code. 
You fiddled with the ends of your shirt. 
You contributed to the sacrificial neighborhood potluck, maybe the Gods will be pleased enough to let you leave without seeing Nancy.
You turned to make a break for it and nearly bowled over the brunette in question.
Cookies were not a good enough sacrifice.
Her smile was bright and her blue eyes lit up at seeing you. "Hey, you made it!" She went in to hug you and you tensed, locking your arms to your side in the world's most awkward exchange of physical affection.
She gave a nervous smile and pulled away, "Sorry, too soon for hugs?" Her chuckle was used to try and break the tension and you were grateful as you laughed along.
"No, it's just–I uh… haven't really hung out with anyone for a while, so I guess I'm just getting back into the swing of how friendship works." You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.
Her eyes sparkled at your admission of seeing her as a potential friend. She grabbed your hand and pulled you over to a small group that hung around the edges of the block party.
The first one you noticed was a taller Hispanic man with the most beautiful hair you had ever seen in your life. It was lustrous and hung past his hips, swaying gently with his movements. He smiled, eyes half-lidded but sweet, giving you a gentle nod as Nancy motioned to the group, giving your name.
"This is Argyle," she pointed at the man with the incredible hair.
"Robin," next was a thin, lanky woman with messy dirty blonde hair that hung a little past her chin. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and a charming crooked smile. She wiggled her fingers in a sweet hello.
"Steve," the man next to Robin was broad-shouldered with a just as square jaw line. His eyes were slightly turned down at the ends, giving him this sweet puppy-dog stare matched with a megawatt smile. He had some random freckles and moles that decorated across his face and the visible areas of his arms that made him look a lot younger. He nodded to you, giving a weird wink that you were sure was supposed to come off as charming, but was mildly unsettling.
"And my husband, Jonathan!" The last guy had a small upturned nose with a low brow that was covered by messy strands of mousy brown hair. He gave a shy smile, nodding to you while bouncing lightly. Over his shoulders he had a baby vest strapped to him and a very crabby looking baby facing outwards. Their face was scrunched up, looking more like a potato than a child, and they had wispy brown hair that was stuck up wildly like their head had been rubbed with a balloon. 
Nancy smiled proudly, tickling the cheek of the child that gave a low, annoyed hum for an impressively long amount of time. "And this is Eliza, my daughter."
You gave a pinched smile, waving awkwardly. "Hey." 
"'Sup Brosephina," Argyle smiled, offering you his fist. You chuckled, tapping yours against it lightly. "A pleasure to aquaint with you." He stuck his hand back in his pocket, the other holding the neck of a Pabst. 
"An enjoyable aquaint with you as well." You rocked awkwardly onto your heels.
Argyle's smile grew and he nodded, "Right on." He laughed.
"Hi," you looked over to Steve who held out his large hand in greeting. You shook it, noting that he was gentle when shaking yours, but gave a squeeze before he released you. His smile was adorable, but he was definitely trying to flirt. You were curious if it was just an unconscious thing, or if he was actually putting in effort. "Nice to meet you." 
You gave a soft nod in reply, but before you could fully pull your hand away, Robin shot forward and grabbed it giving you a few firm shakes, "It's really good to meet you, I think I actually saw you a while ago–my girlfriend's daughter broke her arm and I remember you gave us all strawberry Jell-O before we left."
Your eyes widened and you pointed at her with your other hand, "Oh yeah! Dotty! She was freaking adorable. How's her arm?" 
Robin's smile was glowing and she squeezed your hand tightly, "She's good, her whole class signed her cast and when she got it off she begged to keep it even though it smelled like old shoes."
You barked out a laugh, unknowingly squeezing Robin's hand back, "Hell yes, that's awesome. A trophy of her triumphs! I recommend a pantyhose sock full of cat litter, it helps a ton with the shoe stink."
Robin's eyes widened and she gave a dramatic gasp, "That's freaking brilliant, oh my god, thank you!"
Jonathan snickered, "You got chronic stinky feet?" He teased, eyes glimmering as he bounced his daughter.
You smirked, dropping Robin's hand and leaning into your hip, "Maybe, or maybe I've learned a thing or two from working with older nurses. But I could also have insanely stinky feet, and now you know my shame." 
Everyone laughed and you felt your smile grow, your shoulders relax, and you let yourself feel like you belonged. 
You didn't feel so alone anymore.
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The block party ended up not being bad. Although, a guy named Andy Barker had tried to hit on you when you went to grab a hot dog ("You like 'em long and juicy, huh"–barf) even though his wife was within eyesight. Nancy had warned you that they often did that: flirt with other people in front of each other to get their partner jealous.
It was absolutely insane, small towners were bonkers.
You had snagged a bag full of cookies for the road, not including those from the bakery you had gone to as they were a little rubbery and sad. Argyle gave you a high five.
"Choice snack Brochacha, need a muchie master to inspire your partaking in said chocolate chunks?" You blinked a few times, unsure of what in the hell he was trying to say. 
Jonathan snickered, leaning over to translate, "Do you want some weed with that?"
Needless to say: Argyle was your favorite.
Pocket a little heavier with two freshly rolled "Blunts of Friendship", as Argyle called them, and a couple of sandwich bags full of pilfered cookies, you walked up to your door with a smile. 
You had made friends. 
It was nice, this feeling. You hadn't been able to know companionship, even platonic ones, in such a long time it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Maybe not all the weight, but it was lighter and it felt good to breathe with a little less paranoia pushing you down.
You jiggled the keys into your lock but stopped, turning ever so slightly to look at your neighbor's door. It was a gawdy yellow with a plaquard of gold painted numbers reading "2D" decorating it. The paint on the numbers and the door was chipped in places and faded from natural weathering. You didn't see any shadows in the window and the light wasn't on. It wasn't surprising since the sun was still, technically, out. 
It was sunset, the sky lit up by a golden-amber glow that slowly sunk into the royal purple of the evening as it met the horizon. Night would fall soon.
You weren't sure what compelled you, maybe the giddy feeling that came from making new friends, or from having a really good day, but you strolled over to the door and stared at it, feet placed only a few inches away. Looking down at the bags in your hand, you placed one of them against the wall next to the door and sighed.
Nerves were starting to eat at you and you looked at your apartment door that was about ten feet away, then back to 2D's. Sucking in a deep breath for strength, you gathered your bravery and knocked on the door three times before booking it to your door: 2C. 
Slamming your door behind you, you kept the lights off and took deep gulping breaths. That was the fastest you'd ever run in your life, you're sure of it.
You slunk to the floor, splaying your legs out in front of you as you caught your breath, thumping your head back against the wood of your own gawdy yellow door. You shut your eyes.
You don't know why in the fuck you decided to dong-dong-ditch some cookies for your cryptid neighbor. 
Maybe it was because you had developed a weird relationship with them in your head: mysterious being that occupies the shitty motel-esque apartment next to you that may know your struggles because they keep the same weird hours you do. You had put too much thought into them and they became a being you considered a friend in the fantasy of your mind. 
You wanted to include them in the block party.
You had sat there for a good ten minutes, breath caught, and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself now. You didn't want to go to sleep–no matter how fucking tired you were from staying awake during the day–but you were at an impasse of not knowing where to go or what to do. 
And that's when you heard it.
"Shave And A Hair Cut".
The smile that spread across your face pushed the apples of your cheeks up so high you could see the tops of them in your vision. You laughed softly, bringing your hand up to the wall and replying.
"Two Bits".
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soph1111a · 2 years
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winnie-the-monster · 4 months
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musicalchaos07 · 2 months
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when you know you know
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3x9 | 4x9
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kitsunebattleboxer · 2 years
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Bisexual in a straight way
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Bisexual in a gay way
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Basic Bi
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I’ll take no further criticism, thanks
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padmesbox · 2 years
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Some of my favorite jancy moments through the seasons 💘
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