#jancy fanfic week

[we-love-jancy]

✨ One week! ✨

See our pinned post for all the info!

[jancy-central]

Jancy Fanfic Writers… how is writing going for Jancy Week? Need any help? Or to brag about your progress? Or maybe just want to vent? ✍🏼

Jancy Fanfic Readers… anything you are desperately hoping to see during Jancy Week? 👀

Writers and Readers… please share your thoughts with us in the comments or via tags!

[jonathanbyersphd]

I got out of doing the difficult thing at work which means I officially have nothing left to do for this job but I still work until tomorrow

[jaegerisim]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ ꧑ᥡ bᥣ᥆g꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

Hii! ੈ♡˳

El or Ellie ♡ she/they ♡ ♎︎ ♡ bisexual ♡ fanfic writer ♡ gif maker ♡ shitposter ♡ inbox open 24/7 ♡ THE annoying bitch ♡

Byler ♡ Elmax ♡ Lumax ♡ Elumax ♡ Stonathan ♡ Jancy ♡ Stoncy ♡ Ronance ♡ Buckingham ♡ Joyren ♡ Jopper ♡

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

・❥・ Fics here

・❥・ Ficlets here

・❥・ Memes here

・❥・Incorrect Quotes here

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・❥・ moots are welcome to dm anytime or ask for my discord! 💌

・❥・i block and unfollow to curate my dash! if u r unfollowed it's a me problem, okay? <3

・❥・if ur toxic i'm blocking u, no exceptions <3

・❥・ my tracking tag is #tuserels so if you guys want me to see anything tag me there

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・❥・ @elhasrandomstuff is my side blog and where I reblog non-Stranger Things stuff and randomly shit post

・❥・ @elmax-week2023 is my elmax week blog with @callmetheidiot, my beloved! Go check it out!

・❥・ @byler-recs is my byler blogs appreciation blog but it kind of flopped lol

・❥・@byerssource is a source blog of which I moderate

[londondziban]

London's Masterpost

About Me:

☆ Hi everyone! My name is London or Dziban. I’m a 19 year old fanfic writer who posts over on ao3 when I have time. I'm a gay trans man who uses He/They pronouns!

☆ Stranger Things is my special interest!

☆ Fandoms I'm (actively) in and may post about: Stranger Things, Six of Crows/Grishaverse, The Maze Runner, Ghostbusters, Marauders Era, Bridgerton, PJO, The Hunger Games, Arcane, Scream, and Shameless (US)

They are me, I am them:

☆ Mike Wheeler ☆ Wylan Van Eck ☆ Newt (tmr) ☆ Dipper Pines ☆ Eloise Bridgerton ☆ Wirt (otgw) ☆ Katniss Everdeen ☆ Jo March ☆ Suzuki Shou (mp100)

☆ PSA: I am currently taking two final courses for my A.A.-T in English and I am preparing to move six hours away for my remaining years of undergrad. I have some stuff in the works, but my time to write for fandom is pretty limited. Please bear with me

Dziban's Writing -

WIPs:

Apple Juice and Peach Oneshot. Elmax/Elumax, background Byler. Coffeeshop Au Sequel to And At Every Table, I'll Save You A Seat Wake Up Call Oneshot. Byler. Ghostface AU. Caller Will, Killer Mike

Stranger Things Fics:

Not Just Another Birthday M. 1/1, 6,245 words. Byler–Mike Wheeler is turning 18 and he has some thoughts about it. Trick or Treat! G. 1/1, 2,371 words. Byler–Bylerween day 6 You Reminded Me of Brighter Days G. 1/1, 3,565 words. Byler–Bylerween day 3. May be continued Why's the Music So Loud? (Take It To the Lawn Now) M. 1/1, 3,185 words. Byler–Bylerween day 2 The Only Time I Ever See Him (Is When He's Behind Me in the Mirror)  M. 1/1, 9,417 words. Byler–Bylerween day 1. May be continued When the Days Were Long and the World Was Small T. 1/1, 2,478 words. Byler & Jancy–the horrifying ordeal of being caught having snuck out...by your sibling who also snuck out I'm Fine With My Spite and My Tears, and My Beers and My Candles M. 1/1, 2,185 words. Platonic Madwheeler–Post UD/Vecna And At Every Table, I'll Save You A Seat T. 1/1, 10,982 words. Byler–coffeeshop AU Snap Out of It T. 1/1, 5,687 words. Byler–Mileven gets Murrayed You Take My Hand and Drag Me Head First M. 1/1, 7,362 words. Byler–Mike has always been protective of Will A Crooked Love in a Straight Line Down T. 1/1, 1,610 words. Byler–MikeWillEl can't kill a single spider Holding Me Closer 'Till Our Eyes Meet G. 1/1, 1,768 words. Byler–Mike band AU Why They Lost Their Minds and Fought the Wars G. 1/1, 2,544 words. Byler–established relationship, domestic fluff I heard that you fell in love or near enough M. 1/1, 8,301 words. Byler–Post UD/Vecna

Marauders Era/Harry Potter:

Kiss me! (Tonight?) M. 1/1, 9,773 words. Rosekiller ft. Jegulus –Every year during the last week before hols break, mistletoe gets conjured to hang above the heads of people with unspoken affection. What do you do when you look up and realize mistletoe has been conjured to hang between you and your best friend? Well, you can ask Evan Rosier. Shears Microfic. 1,058 words. Trans Regulus–Sirius helps Regulus with his first proper haircut, background Jegulus Peppermint Microfic. 1,103 words. Established Wolfstar–Sirius cares for a sick Remus, mentions of established Jegulus and Rosekiller

[heavencasteel420]

I probably won't finish the fifth chapter of Tonight, Tonight, the Highway's Bright until Tuesday or so, but in honor of the We Love Jancy Fanfic Event, I'm posting the first bit (Nancy's letter to Jonathan) right here:

Dear Jonathan,

Guess who’s grounded for a week because she disappeared for almost three hours on Thanksgiving Day? That’s right—it’s me! Mom was frantic when I came home, with Dad and all the relatives tiptoeing around her, nibbling on hors d’ouvres. Apparently she’d called Steve (even though he was in Virginia with his grandparents for Thanksgiving) and Tommy (as though I’d spend any time with Tommy on my own) and Carol (which at least makes sense—she was in town and we do hang out a lot, unfortunately). Plus half a dozen other people from school, so everybody’s whispering about how I’ve gone crazy again. I guess I’m lucky, because if I hadn’t broken my hand and screamed at my mom in front of everyone last winter, they’d be gossiping about how I must have been cheating on Steve, or doing drugs in the woods, or going to the Planned Parenthood in Bloomington for a VD test. I’m insane enough that nobody has a problem believing that I’d skip out on Thanksgiving just to smoke cigarettes and listen to The Lexicon of Love in my car by myself.

(Do you like ABC? I bet not. I bet they’re too goofy for you.)

That’s what I told everyone, by the way. I figured you wouldn’t want everyone in your business, even though you don’t live here anymore. I thought about telling Mom, because she always liked you and she’d be glad to hear you were doing all right. She’d probably say something to Dad, though, and he’d let it slip to people at his job. I thought about telling Steve, too, because he’s maybe the only person who seems to think I was acting weird (for me, I mean). He keeps asking why I didn’t just fake sick or go to Carol’s if I needed a break from my family. That’s what he does when things are tense at home, basically: pretend to be too tired from basketball practice and hole up in his bedroom, or visit me or Tommy. Sometimes I worry that he has the idea that I’m cheating, like maybe Billy Hargrove said something to him, but I don’t really think that’s it. He’d be mad at me and Billy, and he’d be hurt, and he’d have every right to feel that way, but he wouldn’t be too scared to ask me if it was true. Because that would be a shitty thing to do—it was shitty to let Billy feel me up that one time—but sometimes normal girls cheat on their boyfriends. He’d know what to do with that—dump me or forgive me or get back at me with some other girl. But I don’t think he even knows what he’s afraid I’m doing.

Speaking of being afraid to ask things, Mom hasn’t said one word about the cobbler. At first I assumed she’d forgotten—there were two pies and cookies and ice cream for the dessert already—but then Dad asked if there were any leftovers of the cobbler on Sunday, and she told him it’d all been eaten up. Maybe it was. It’d be a lot for one person, but probably your roommate ate some of it. What’s he like, anyway? I don’t think I even asked whether you met him through school or work or what. I guess I talk a lot about myself. Did you like the cobbler?

Well, I get out of prison on Saturday. I’m going shopping for winter formal dresses with Carol. I am not looking forward to it. All the girls have been bringing catalogs and magazines to school this week so they can show each other their favorites, but it just makes me sad. Barb and I used to look over Seventeen for hours and talk about what we’d wear to high school dances, when that was still years away. We used to wear matching outfits. Do you remember that? The same styles, but different colors, because I was a brunette and she was a redhead. Like Betsy-Tacy. But you’ve probably never heard of Betsy-Tacy.

Anyway, Carol’s a redhead, too, and she’s mad because pink dresses are so “in” this year. It’s hard to find one that’s any other color. She thinks it’s some kind of fashion law that you can’t wear pink if you’re a redhead, even though all the magazines say that you just need to pick a shade that complements your hair color. She told me that’s just a lie advertisers made up to sell lipsticks. (There’s no way you’re interested in this debate, but you’re going to hear all about it, anyway.) She’s been pissing off all the other girls by criticizing their dress choices. Chrissy Cunningham, one of the cheerleaders, almost cried because Carol said her carnation-pink Gunne Sax gown would made her complexion “look like ass.” And Nicole Evans isn’t speaking to her because she said Nicole could wear anything she wanted, because she “has a face like an angry hardboiled egg no matter what she does.”

(I feel bad for Nicole—her face doesn’t actually look like an egg—but I’d feel worse for her if she wasn’t always talking behind my back about how sad and boring and not-that-cute I am, and how she can’t believe Steve ever looked at me twice. She’s not totally off-base, but I don’t think she should blame me for Steve’s bad taste, ha ha.)

About the only girls who are still talking to Carol are me and Heather Holloway. Heather has black hair and looks gorgeous in pink, so Carol couldn’t really insult her. (She couldn’t insult me because I didn’t tell her my dress idea—I want one like Ariel wears in Footloose, pink and off the shoulder—but I’m sure she’ll do it on Saturday.) But Heather’s mother is taking her shopping in Indianapolis, so it’s just me and Carol at the downtown J.C. Penney’s…and Mike. I don’t know if Mom’s still punishing me by making me chauffeur him—he shot up a few inches over the summer and seriously needs new pants—or if she’s just desperate to get him out of the house. Honestly, though, he’s not going to make the trip worse. Carol will be annoying about it, but she’s always kind of annoying. Plus she’ll talk the whole time, so I won’t have to figure out what to say to Mike. He’s so quiet nowadays. I worry about him sometimes.

By the way, don’t think that you’re getting out of meeting me at the mall in Indianapolis. Your time is coming, because the selection at the J.C. Penney’s downtown is never good, and I still want my dish back.

Love,

Nancy

[monstrous-femme]

For the fanfic asks: ❤🧪🚦

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

There's really no way to avoid recency bias on this one so I'm not going to try to. Idk about absolute favorite, but for the past week leading up to posting the new chapter of In Her Hips I have not stopped thinking about "Sandpaper girl, scraping everything including herself into raw pieces."

I'm also a big fan of this line from my Jancy fic from several years ago: "The trees wavered around them, and by the time the second joint was done, they were different trees. They were indifferent trees."

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

I usually save research for my original writing just bc of the time suck, but I actually did do research for In Her Hips! I wanted to really capture the feel of the scene and the era, so I got ahold of some really cool library books, including one that's just archival stuff, like pages from real zines and flyers for real shows. I am trying to build my own adjacent zines and shows rather than write about real ones because the closer you write to reality the more the gaps show, but it's really helped me with things like the concept of basement shows and what real zine articles would have read like.

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

I am a sucker for a happy ending, but occasionally in my trauma-informed stories I end on an ambiguous (but hopeful!) note because that feels realer to me re: where the characters are at. Like, I'm not going to get a character from unhealed to healed in a 10k word story, but I can leave them with hope in the chaos rather than fear.

[shroomystar]

2022 FIC YEAR IN REVIEW

Total number of completed works: 180. 177 if you take the completed literally though oops i did that wrong last year lmao

Total word count: 475,191

Fandoms written in: number one for this was definitely stranger things, from the release of s4 on to even now still. then arcane for the beginning of this year, and marvel spread throughout the year, mostly 616. special mention to wednesday and warrior nun bcuz despite only getting into these at the end of the year, i’ve been really into them

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected?: about as much as i expected given last year tbh

What’s your own favorite story of the year?: okay uhhh we got a few bcuz i cannot decide. from newest to oldest: it’s just a question, Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, guess i ain’t the loving kind (explicit), darling, you’re so pretty it hurts (also explicit), Diluted, bonafide balcony scene, to be with you in hell, i just know you got to taste like candy, girl and Rose Garden Boy (was that one in last year’s?) to no one’s surprise, most of these are stranger things fic

Did you take any writing risks this year?: idk about risky always but for october this last year i had SO much stuff planned it was deranged & i got through it, so!

Do you have any fanfic goals for the new year?: just keep doing what i’m doing. femslash feb & whumptober (or another october writing thingy, we’ll see), again, but otherwise i’ll be chilling. finish my multichapter fics is also a goal, tho

Most popular story of the year?: Rainbow in the Dark, by far. which is fair, lol

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: ooo, again, a few. for piece by piece i wouldn’t exactly say “under-appreciated”, but it didn’t get as much attention as my other hellcheer stuff and it’s one of my faves i did for them. then Sunny Days bcuz the fandom is not only small, i also put a character into the universe who’s not in there canonically (well, she’s hinted at? she exists she just never appears? etc). from one to ten is i think one i put in here last year, too, but i finished it this year, and it’s my longest fic so far. Mare of Easttown is a small fandom, though

Most fun story to write: i remember having a lot of fun with nothing to see. other than that, just a lot of the hellcheer and gothbasket fics, really, especially these i mentioned under fave fics already

Most unintentionally telling story: idk how “unintentional” but and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die is pretty telling i think bcuz i am absolutely deranged over jason carver for no reason

Biggest disappointment: i cut like two fics i had planned from kinktober bcuz i very shortly discovered jancy week so i had to make room for that. not really that big of a disappointment but yknow something to lament a little

Biggest surprise: not specifically for my fics, but i was surprised by how popular hellcheer got. 2k fics on ao3 for a ship with two scenes lmao,,, was very very happy to be in that fandom, & will continue to be for a while longer :3

[wanderleave]

My contribution for @jancyficweek, which, in an extremely on brand move for me, is not finished, but! I wanted to get it up for AU day, of which this is most definitely. Parts two and three coming, hopefully, soon. I know my blog text is tiny, so if that isn’t your jam, you can also find this guy on AO3.

As always, this is @stoprobbers‘ fault.

Attending her ex-boyfriend’s wedding alone may not be the stupidest thing Nancy Wheeler has ever done, but it’s close.

It was meant to be a statement, attending the wedding at all, crossing out the plus one on the invite, traveling all the way back to Hawkins, where her parents don’t even live anymore. But as Nancy steps off the plane, she can feel the pit in her stomach, the one that says, this is the worst idea you have ever had.

She pushes the pit down, takes a deep breath, and goes to find her luggage.

For some inexplicable reason, she’s been invited to the rehearsal dinner, a tiny slip of a note in her invitation, perhaps by virtue of arriving early from out of town, or maybe Steve just wants to get the introduction out of the way before the actual wedding.

She’s never met his fiancée, but it’s a wedding. Nancy’s going to have to meet her eventually.

Might as well get it over with.

The first person she sees (of course) as she walks into the restaurant is Carol, who mutters something to Tommy before walking over with what Nancy knows to be a fake smile on her face.

“Nancy Wheeler, what brings you back to Hawkins? I thought you were too big for our little town?”

Nancy plasters a matching smile on her face, even as she remembers exactly why she left Hawkins in the first place. “I was invited, Carol. Although I didn’t realize you were close enough for the rehearsal dinner?”

Carol lets out a simpering laugh. “Tommy’s a groomsman, I’m just tagging along. Are you bringing anyone?” she asks, looking around, her tone implying she knows Nancy’s here by herself.

“Oh, um,” Nancy begins, but Carol cuts her off.

“I mean, it must be so hard finding someone who can live up to all of your demands, I mean, dreams.”

Nancy blinks, the smile on her face turning brittle. She knows Steve would have unburdened himself after the breakup, but she should have expected this, should have realized there would be an ambush. She shouldn’t have come alone.

“It was great to see you again, Carol,” she says, cutting off the conversation, only sort of trying to hide the sarcasm as she walks away.

It doesn’t end with Carol.

Steve’s mother, his grandmother, his cousins, everyone mingling, all incredibly interested in Nancy and how she’s doing, and if she brought anyone, Nancy stammering out vague responses.

She should have prepared for this. Made up a boyfriend sick with the flu back in New York, or in the Peace Corps, or Canadian, unable to cross the border for some reason. Anything would be better than having to admit that she came alone to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding, as a matter of principle, yes, but also because she hasn’t dated anyone since she broke up with Steve last year.

And then she sees Steve.

Their eyes meeting across the room, his arm wrapped around someone that has to be Robin.

It’s easier than she thought it would be.

And harder, all at the same time.

Nancy manages a weak smile, one that Steve returns. The hand resting on Robin’s waist lifts in a wave.

She needs some air.

It’s started raining.

Of course it has.

Nancy stands just under the awning to the restaurant, letting her hair frizz up, letting the raindrops splash onto her toes. Breathing in and out, wishing she hadn’t left her wine inside, or that she’d stopped after the fourth glass, she’s not sure which.

“Fuck,” she half-shouts, at life, at her choices.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come at all.

“Everything okay?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Nancy turns to find a stranger tucked into the shadows, smoking a cigarette, looking at her with concern.

She blinks, flustered. “Oh, no, yeah. Everything’s . . . ” She pauses, trying to find a way to describe her situation. “Fine.”

The stranger smiles wryly at the emotion she packs into the word. “Anything I can do to help?”

Nancy begins to turn him down, then reconsiders. Nodding at his cigarette, she says, “Can I get one of those?” She’s not normally a smoker, but if there was ever a time, it’s now.

He frowns, his nose wrinkling. “It’s, ah, my last one. But?” He holds it out to her.

Nancy looks at him, considering.

Finally she breathes, “Fuck it,” and takes a drag. Lets out a deep sigh of relief.

The stranger laughs.

“Thanks,” she says, handing it back to him, and as he leans back against the wall, gestures to herself. “Nancy.”

“Jonathan.”

She nods at him, looking back out at the parking lot. The rain starts to fall harder.

“Should I ask?”

Nancy huffs out a mirthless chuckle. “Probably not.” She puts her head in her hands. “Oh god, what am I doing here? I shouldn’t have come, I should have never come back, I can’t believe I have to deal with these people all weekend.”

“Bride or groom?” he asks, and the perfunctory curiosity of someone who doesn’t know her history with Steve—with this town—is so refreshing that Nancy laughs out loud.

“Groom,” she tells him. “About as groom as you can get. What about you?”

“Neither,” Jonathan shrugs. “Or, both. Kind of? I don’t actually know anyone in there, except for the bride, and I’ve only met her once. I’m just waiting until they need me.”

Nancy tilts her head in confusion at the statement, but before she can ask him to clarify, she hears from behind her, “Nance?”

Nancy swallows. Turns.

“Hi.”

Steve looks good, better than the last time she saw him in person, although that wouldn’t take much—almost anything is better than tears and screaming.

He pauses for a second, a vague smile on his face, almost rueful. “I didn’t think you were actually gonna come.”

Nancy shrugs. “Here I am.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

They stand in silence for a few moments, Nancy breaking it before it goes on too long. “Everyone’s told me you’re doing really great—she’s really great—I’m . . . I’m really happy for you.”

Steve smiles, a real smile this time, one that lights up his entire face. “Yeah, she’s . . . yeah. She’s amazing.”

Nancy smiles back. “That’s great,” she says, meaning it, and even though it’s awkward, so awkward, it’s manageable. She thinks maybe coming back was a good idea, that the closure provided was, in the end, worth it.

Until Steve asks the question, the one she’s been asked too many times to count.

“And what about you, how are you? Are you uh, seeing anyone?”

Later, Nancy will blame many things for the words that come out of her mouth—the wine, Carol, her precarious emotional state—but even as she says them, she knows they will be impossible to take back.

“Actually yeah, I am.”

What has she done?

“Oh.” Steve sounds surprised. “My mom—she was saying . . . ” He shakes his head. “That’s great, Nance. I’m . . . happy for you too. I’d love to meet him.”

Just kidding, Nancy wants to say. Just wanted to see your reaction.

Instead, what comes out of her mouth, even as she thinks stop, what are you doing, is, “Well, you won’t have to wait too long.”

She watches as her hand extends toward Jonathan, the man she met literally minutes ago, hears herself say, “Steve, this is Jonathan,” makes herself meet his eyes as Jonathan’s head cocks in confusion, pleading silently, please, just go with it.

To his credit, Jonathan barely skips a beat. He drops the cigarette on the ground, grinding it out as he leans forward, placing his arm around Nancy’s waist in the same movement as his other hand extends towards Steve. “Jonathan Byers.”

“Steve Harrington,” Steve replies automatically, before his eyes narrow and flick to Nancy and then back to Jonathan, shaking his head from side to side, once, twice.

His eyebrows knit together.

“Wait,” he says, slowly, and Nancy holds her breath, sure the ruse will end before it even begins.

“You’re dating my photographer?”

Nancy feels like she’s going to faint.

She feels Jonathan’s hand tighten around her waist, almost like he can tell, like he’s trying to hold her up.

Or he’s warning her that he’s about to walk away, she’s not really sure.

Steve is still looking at her expectantly, and after the silence drags on for far too long, Nancy says, lightly, hesitantly, “Yes,” her tone landing somewhere between statement and question.

“That’s so crazy.” Steve shakes his head. “How did you guys even meet?” But before Nancy can even try to come up with a plausible explanation, Steve answers his own question. “Oh, New York, of course.”

Nancy presses her lips together, turning her head to meet Jonathan’s gaze, and this time Jonathan’s the one to answer, his “Yes,” even less confident than Nancy’s, his eyes locked on hers.

“Great, that’s great,” Steve repeats. He seems to mean it, and Nancy feels a twinge of guilt at her subterfuge, but her sense of self-preservation keeps her tucked into Jonathan’s side.

“So I’d better, uh,” he nods toward the door, “get back, but, uh, good to meet you.”

Jonathan nods.

Nancy does the same, counting the seconds until Steve leaves, even as she knows that the conversation she’s about to have will be one for the ages.

“And,” Steve turns back, hanging onto the door frame, saying to Jonathan, “I think we’re gonna start the speeches soon, so . . . “

“Got it,” Jonathan confirms, waiting for the last glimpse of hair to disappear, before turning to Nancy, stepping back, his steadying presence at her side disappearing, Nancy strangely finding herself missing it, even as she knows she doesn’t deserve to feel that way.

“Okay—”

“I am, so, so sorry,” Nancy breathes.

“Yeah . . . ” he trails off, and she blanches, her anguish swallowing up the rest of her apology. “I mean . . . so that’s clearly your ex, right?” he says, offering her an opening.

“Yes.” Nancy swallows. “And you’re the wedding photographer.”

Jonathan nods at her, an expression on his face that could be apprehension or amusement. “So, what—”

Nancy cuts him off. “I’m so sorry,” she says again, because she can’t say it enough times. “I don’t know what I was thinking, it’s just that his mother, and everyone in this fucking town, it’s like they were all waiting for me to come back, tail between my legs for dumping him, and I just . . . with everyone else I could fake my way through it, but then he was right there . . . and you were right there, and I’m so sorry and if you give me five minutes I will march in there and pretend you dumped me because I didn’t tell you about Steve, just give it a second for it to spread around so people won’t get confused, because it will, I promise you, and then you can spend the rest of the evening taking truly awful pictures of me, which I absolutely deserve.”

Jonathan blinks as she catches her breath. His gaze is sympathetic, and Nancy hopes against hope it means the photographs taken of her won’t be too unflattering.

“I think you would have told me about Steve, though, right?” he muses. “If we’ve been dating for—how long have we been dating?”

Nancy’s mouth drops open. She stammers for a second, before finally choking out, “What?”

He shrugs. “I did offer to help.”

“Yeah, but this is—this is beyond . . . are you serious?”

Jonathan laughs at the expression on her face, shrugging again. “I’ve been there, trust me. And like I said, I don’t know anyone here, so it’s not like I’ve got anything to lose—and it seems like you do.”

Nancy feels tears prick at her eyes, perhaps from the wine, or perhaps because someone she just met is being kinder to her than all of the people inside the restaurant, people she’d grown up with, people who, before she left, she’d considered almost family.

“Plus,” he goes on, hurriedly, as Nancy blinks the tears away, “weddings are boring. I could use someone to talk to.”

She frowns at him. “Is there lots of time for conversation? Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be taking pictures or something?”

“My contract doesn’t officially start until 8, and it is,” he checks his watch, “7:55 on the dot. So, no.” His head tilts. “I’ve got nothing better to do for the next five minutes. Except talk to my girlfriend of . . . five months? Seven?”

Nancy eyes him warily, but his face is open, genuine, and she thinks he may actually want to help her, for no other reason than she needs it. For the second time that evening, Nancy says, “Fuck it,” but this time it’s accompanied by a grateful smile. “How about six?”

Jonathan grins. “Six months it is.”

They stand in silence for a few moments, Nancy letting the enormity of what she’s about to embark on wash over her. She’s going to lie to everyone she knows. And she’s going to have help doing it. She thinks about telling Jonathan forget it, I changed my mind, but the thought of having to walk back her lie to Steve, to his entire family is far too daunting.

Better to just have a fake boyfriend.

Nancy sees the door to the restaurant opening and moves toward Jonathan, almost instinctively. He frowns at her sudden movement, but picks up on her intentions quickly, wrapping his arm around her once more, solid, steady.

Tommy’s head appears around the door.

“Hey Nance, heard you’re banging the photographer.”

“Hello, Tommy,” she says dryly.

If Tommy knows, everyone knows.

“Anyway, best man duties mean I’m here to tell you to get your asses inside. Speeches, and all.”

Nancy frowns. “I thought you were just a groomsman?”

“Whatever. Just . . . get in here so he can take the pictures.”

“We’re on our way,” Jonathan says pleasantly, as Tommy rolls his eyes and disappears inside.

“Sorry about him,” Nancy apologizes, “he’s always been—”

“A dick?” Jonathan guesses.

Nancy shrugs, “I was going to say asshole, but, yeah.”

Jonathan laughs, and then walks away, back to the shadows. Nancy feels a sharp stab of alarm, but he’s only slinging a large bag she hadn’t noticed before onto his shoulder.

Photographer. Cameras. Of course. He’s not just here to prop up her ruse.

“Hey,” she says, waiting for him to turn to her, giving him one last chance to back out. “You’re really sure you want to do this? Because I can—”

“I’m sure.” He looks at her sideways. “Six months?”

She lets out a grateful laugh, and instead of answering, says, “Thank you.” Nancy tries to put everything she’s feeling into the words, the gratitude, the relief, and as he looks back at her, she thinks he understands.

He raises his eyebrows. “Don’t mention it. Literally. Or everyone will know.”

“Right,” she says, nodding solemnly. “Six months.”

He nods back at her. “Exactly. Shall we go in, honey?”

Nancy makes a face at him.

“No pet names. Got it,” Jonathan says with a grin, and offers her his hand.

Nancy takes it, and holds on for dear life.

[stoprobbersfic]

untitled document (jonathan x nancy, 1/2)

rating: teen jancy modern au (aka: monster teenz in the 20-teenz) read it on ao3 my contribution for @jancyficweek​ days 2 (alternate universe) and #4 (Modern Times). my hope is to have it one on day 4. and yeah, i know i’m squeaking this one in at exactly midnight central time, but i’ve been traveling all weekend. sorry!

He usually does his work in Word.

That's what he blames it on. That he usually writes his papers in Word, not GDocs.

Otherwise the whole thing is far too embarrassing.

+++

Nancy Wheeler is in four of his classes, and she sits next to him in three.

His preferred seat is in the third row of four, one row from the very back, closest to the window. Sometimes, when he can't keep his mind in one place, he'll stare out into whatever day is outside the cinderblock walls and try to project himself out there, into an unknown time and space, anywhere that is not here.

But Nancy likes that seat too, and she never drags her feet on the way to class. Never ducks behind crowds of giggling, gossiping girls to listen in on what rumor they might be spreading that day, to steel himself for the slew of notifications he'll inevitably get when a teacher's not paying enough attention, or when school lets out for the day. She bounces along the halls, curly hair swinging along her shoulders, and in those four classes she gets to that desk first.

And Jonathan sits next to her, one row in, close enough to the window that he can look out it if he wants. But he never does.

Neither does Nancy. She always pays careful attention, takes careful notes, ignores the buzz of her phone tucked into her backpack. And he traces her profile with his eyes, backlit by the sunlight outside, out of the corner of his eye.

They don’t really talk. "Hey" and "How are you" and "Oh my god that test was ridiculous" when he picks Will up from her house, or she picks Mike up from his. He wants to say more but the words get stuck in his throat. She smiles, nods at him, and leaves.

She'll grin at him the hallways, too, sometimes, but never says much more than that. Sometimes asks him what he thought about the reading when he settles in next to her at the beginning of English. But mostly he sees her flirting with Steve Harrington in the hall or talking to Ally Comers in the seat in front of her. She used to hold lengthy conferences with Barbara Holland, but Barbara moved away abruptly when her father lost his job and Nancy's eyes took on sadness around the edges.

He's not sure how many people noticed that change; it was subtle, in the duller sparkle of her blue irises and the barest wrinkle at the corner of her mouth from the tension in her jaw. He wishes he could take a picture of it. He wouldn't dare.

If she notices him looking at her, she never lets on. He wonders if she thinks he's just trying to copy her notes. Jonathan gets good grades, but almost no one's grades are as good as Nancy's. Especially not now, not at the end of junior year when they're all leaning into college applications and the chance to get out of their shitty, shitty town.

They have just four weeks left of school when their AP Lit teacher announces their final project. A paper, written in partners. Some research, mostly close reading.

He's sure the class's groan can be heard down the hall.

Mrs. Koch hands out a list of titles to choose from, pre-approved books they'll never have a chance to get to read in class, and tells them to partner up.

He knows he's easy prey in this scenario; he's banking on as many scholarships as he can win to get him to a prestigious school to study photography, and that means he's not going to let this paper slide. He tries to hold back his sigh as he waits to see who descends upon him first.

He doesn't expect it to be Nancy.

"Hey Jonathan," she says, whipping immediately around to him. "Be my partner?"

"W-What?"

He fights off a wince, tries to suppress a blush. He feels so stupid whenever she talks to him. She leans in closer and he instinctively does the same.

"You know everyone else just wants us to do the work for them," she says softly. He can't hold back his chuckle as he nods. "You and me, I bet we could knock this out in like a week right? I say we just do it and use the extra time for other finals, y'know?"

He's not sure which makes him giddier: the idea of partnering with Nancy, or the idea of screwing over their classmates.

(Oh, who is he kidding, it's the latter. He can't wait to get out of Hawkins and never speak to a single one of them again.)

"Sure, let's do it," he agrees with a grin. "It'd be nice to end the year without having to do all the work in a group project."

She sticks out her hand. He shakes it.

"Deal," she says.

The students around them curse as they turn away, start looking for other partners. Nancy winks at him.

"So what do you want to read?" he asks, shifting his desk a little closer and turning his attention to the list of books. He's read a lot of them – he reads a lot in his spare time, at his job at the movie theater, when he's home keeping an eye on his little brother. He secretly hopes she picks one he's already read, just to make this project even easier. It's not wrong, he thinks, to want the world to take it easy on him just this once.

(OK, so he hopes the world will take it easy on him more than just this once. But so far in his life it hasn't, and he figures this is as good of a place to start as any.)

"Honestly?" There's a crinkle between her eyebrows he thinks may mean she had an idea from the start. "I've been wanting to read 'Atonement' all year."

He has to bite his lip to hold back a full-blown smile; he read that one about a month ago, would only need to skim it to bring back all the vivid details.

"Works for me." He tries to keep his shrug casual. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Well, I need a night or two to read. But I'll start a GDoc and send you the link, and we can, like, take turns? Take turns adding to it and then next weekend we can get together and edit. Does that work for you?"

There's a pang of disappointment in him, a hope he hadn't given mental voice to that this would mean they'd actually get to spend some time together outside of their little brothers. But there's a rush of relief too, because he doesn't know what they'd do with that time. Doesn't know what he'd say to her, not really; he knows they'd probably just sit in silence instead.

Maybe, by the time they're in the same room to edit this final paper, he'll have come up with something to say.

"Sure, that works for me," he agrees, thinks that's the end of it. Is surprised when it’s not.

"Can you start it?" she blurts out, embarrassment evident in her voice. She looks down at her desk briefly, then back up at him with a sheepish expression. "I'm terrible at starting papers. I'll write the conclusion if you'll do the intro, promise."

Jonathan can't help it; he laughs. He wonders if she knows the tips of her ears have gone slightly pink with embarrassment.

"No problem," he answers with a shake of his head. "Conclusions are always hard for me, anyway."

Nancy smiles at him, bright as the sun, and it makes the blood just under his skin go warm. He smiles back, tentatively, and looks away before he can blush outright.

He shifts his desk back into its neat line and feels Nancy's eyes on him until the teacher pulls their attention back to the lesson.

+++

He's set his book aside, is letting the emotions process through him for a second time; the sadness, the betrayal, the anger, the helplessness, the regret. He's surprised, almost, to find he feels more strongly this second time around.

He wonders why. A small voice inside of him says it's because he recognizes himself not a little bit in Robbie; a poor kid in a lower station in love with a beautiful girl, so far above him on every level. Of course, it's not a perfect corollary; his mother isn't the Wheelers' housekeeper, they live outside the rigid class system of pre-WWII England, he's certainly never written Nancy love letters and then been ostracized from her life due to the meddling of her younger siblings. He's pretty sure she has absolutely no idea he's harbored a crush on her for the last few years. But in Robbie's passion and pain he finds bits of himself. His chest aches with the empathy.

His phone dings on the bed beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. When he glances down at the screen he sees it's after midnight and winces.

Maybe he's not really identifying with Robbie at all; maybe he's just tired.

Below the time is an email notification from Nancy, no subject line. He sets the phone on his nightstand, nearly falls off the bed reaching for his laptop and pulling it onto his lap. It's an old, refurbished MacBook, clunkier and heavier than his classmates', but it still works. It just takes a minute to turn on, is all.

In that minute he starts to feel the weight of the day behind his eyes; the classes, the after school job, the responsibilities at home, the scholarship research, the homework. He wonders if Nancy feels the same; if her jaw aches and eyelids droop from the pressures of her life as well.

He wonders if Nancy is done with the book yet; wonders if she sees herself in Cecelia at all. Does she recognize the pressures of the prized older daughter, the demands for beauty, grace, poise and intelligence, the insistence she follow society's prescriptions instead of her heart? Does that all confuse her, does it make her feel superfluous?

He wonders if she's ever talked to anyone about that. Barb, certainly, before she moved away, but anyone else?

He wonders if Nancy keeps her feelings tucked in close under her ribs, if she only lets them out in shadow. He wonders if she would let him slip into those shadows and let him see what she hides from everyone else. He thinks he'd like to see it; he thinks he'd like to show her his most hidden thoughts and feelings in return.

He shakes his head at his own idiocy and pushes those thought forcefully away. Clicks on Nancy's email instead.

It's simple; beyond simple, it's minimal. There's just a link and two words: "You start!!"

He chuckles and clicks the link. A document opens in a new tab - the file name simply says 'untitled document.' It is blank save for a centered line at the very top:

"Atonement, The Paper: Jonathan and Nancy edition"

The smile spreads over his face, unbidden. He covers his mouth to hide it, then to catch the yawn that bubbles up behind it. 

When he lowers his hand his fingers move across the keyboard faster than his brain can keep up.

Sorry, it's late. It's really late. It's late enough that I can't remember the 371 pages I just read, or anything else I did today. It's all a blur of color and exhaustion. Everything except you. I can see you clearly, one row over in class. You never look out the window; how do you never look out the window? I always want to, and so I turn but my eyes never make it past you. Do you ever feel me staring? You have to, I can't look away. Your profile in silhouette hypnotic, the angles and curves of your face giving way to the cloud of your hair. It is beautiful. You are beautiful. I hope someone tells you that you are beautiful.

Sometimes when I'm tired like this I'll close my eyes and trace your profile and wonder if our angles would fit together, and if your lips are as soft as they look

He stops abruptly, hands flying away from the keyboard like it's a hot stove. He stares, wide eyed, at the words on the page in front of him and then laughs again, an empty and angry sound.

"Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip," he says aloud to himself. Uses two fingers to hit cmd-w hard, two loud snaps like fingers snapping him out of his fantasy.

There is a churning, hot feeling in the pit of his stomach; his brain's not to cooperate with that directive. The least he can do is take it away from the computer, though, from their shared project. So he snaps the laptop shut, slides it onto the far end of his nightstand, and shuts off the light.

In the dark he sees Nancy in profile, backlit by daylight in the teachers' parking lot. She doesn't keep her attention forward now, though; she turns to him instead. Her lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and she turns towards him. There is no space between their desks somehow, and her hand slides across the polished wood surface until her fingers can brush his wrist.

She says something, low and seductive, but the words are lost to his sleep

+++

Jonathan rockets away at 5:32 a.m. with a gasp.

His fingers fumble first with his sheets, then the lamp. He reaches for his laptop and almost drops it as he yanks it onto his lap. Nearly breaks it when he opens it.

The tab is closed, it's gone, but his brain is screaming "GDoc! GDoc!" at him. He opens her email again, clicks the link with a shaking hand. And, like his nightmare, the two paragraphs he wrote are still there.

He highlights them without a second thought, is about to hit delete when he realizes that at the very bottom of the white space beneath his words he can see the tops of more letters.

His stomach rolls and he thinks he might throw up from mortification.

He steels himself and scrolls down.

You have no idea, do you? It says and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before forcing himself to read on. I sit in Mr. Clarke's physics class and try to understand the swoop of your hair. I watch you too, when you actually get to class early enough to get the window seat. I wonder about the corner of your jaw and the column of your neck and the scent of your shampoo and something else, too, I'm not sure what. I wonder if it's your dad's aftershave, if he left that behind and you have it, or maybe it's just you, just your skin. I think about getting close enough to find out.

He can't breathe. In the gray early morning light he is sure he is hallucinating. He has not woken up. He is still dreaming.

He closes the tab, closes Chrome altogether, restarts his computer. Instructs himself: breathe in, breathe out.

Nancy's email is still open when his Chrome reloads. He clicks the link, lets the GDoc load.

His words are still there. He scrolls down.

So are hers.

He stares at the screen until the light burns, then closes the laptop and sets it on the floor next to his bed. Stares at his ceiling until his alarm goes off.

When he gets to English class Nancy is already in her customary desk, her notebook open and pen ready to take notes. When he slides into the desk beside her, she turns to him and smiles. It's friendly and open and if there are secrets behind her eyes he can't see them.

"Hey," she says. "Did you finish re-reading? I sent you the GDoc link."

"Yeah," he tries to keep his voice steady, "I got it."

Her grin widens slightly, and something slips into her gaze that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Good."

[jancys-blue-bayou]

Good study session

Day 4 of Jancy Fanfic Week is Modern Setting themed. I bring you some smuff (smut + fluff) of Jancy sexting... Jonathan’s in class, Nancy’s bored. Then the tables turn...

NSFW and all that, ofc.

Read on Ao3!

[jancy-central]

Hello and WELCOME to Spotlight Saturday! 💜💙

So today, we are going to do things a little differently… instead of spotlighting a particular fic, we are going to spotlight the need for more Jancy fics and the current best excuse to write, write, write… JANCY WEEK!

🎉 Jancy Week is November 3rd - 9th! 🎉

Here are the daily themes:

We will continue to put out ideas/prompts for each day but if there is a day you’d like us to focus more on, please send us an ask or a direct message.

As stated in previous posts, we here at Jancy Fanfic Central are particularly excited about the Day 3 prompt ‘soulmates’ as that will be our theme for November too! It’s totally fitting because 1. Of course, Jancy are soulmates… but also 2. These two totally-in-love soulmates finally got together in November 1984 in Murray’s basement.

*Please see our previous post for some soulmate prompts*

(We also have done posts on classic tropes and AU.)

Now let’s look at the Day 6 theme, ‘ink’:

You could write a fic based around ink from a pen… maybe Jonathan and Nancy go to school/college together or work somewhere together… one gets ink on their clothes, face, and the other one notices and/or decides to tell them. Maybe one of them always carries a pen around and other endlessly borrows it from them… until one day they misplace it/lose it.

OR

Ink tends to bring out the idea of tattoos for me so… maybe Jonathan and Nancy get a tattoo together? Or maybe they both get one from the same tattoo artists who just so happens has special ink that gives those he/she tattoos special powers? Or maybe Jonathan and Nancy wake up one morning and suddenly now have tattoos (matching, complimentary or seemingly unrelated)? So many possibilities!

Reminder… there will be a giveaway during Jancy Week… please see their page @jancyweeks for more info!

Don’t forget about our October prompt, ‘All Things Spooky’! See our pinned post for more info…

And as always, feel free to message us with any questions, whether you are a fic reader or a fic writer. Both of us write fanfic so we are open to helping however we can. Need a beta? Message us and we’ll either help you or put out a call for beta help! Hit writer’s block? Maybe we can help? Or maybe you just want to recommend a fic? SEND US AN ASK OR A DM!

[jonathanbyersphd]

✨ & 🏅 for the fanfic ask game :)

Hi

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

This was so difficult I'm going with Sincere, Punchy & Cute

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

I'm really proud of my Jancy week fic for being so extensive? Like I've never written a one-shot that big

And then I'm also very proud of the fact that like the Spidey AU is completely plotted out

Thank you for asking

Send me a fanfic ask

[storybookwolf]

Day 2 of the Summer of Jancy Fanfic Week: Alternate Universe

Jancy on board the Titanic! Edwardian High Society Lady meets handsome working-class artist; romance ensues.

I’m picturing it looking a little like this:

(Photos sourced from https://www.instagram.com/thingscharlie/ and https://www.instagram.com/nataliaupdates/)

@jancyficweek

[thequeenofshebasays]

With the lag in jancy fics recently, figured it was time for one of these! So from Feb 7th thru Feb 14th will be Jancy Fic Week!

Each day will have a different theme! The fics can be short or chapters long! As long as it’s about Jancy then anything goes!

Feb 7th: Anything Goes: write what you want!

Feb 8th: Cliche Romance Trope: coffee shop AU? stuck in an elevator? neighbor who needs to borrow some sugar? what classic trope do you want to put Jancy in?

Feb 9th: Comedy: Jonathan and Nancy just have this magical comedic timing, don’t they?

Feb 10th: Smut: make it as explicit as you want! or as tame.

Feb 11th: AU Day: ever wanted to insert Jonathan and Nancy in modern times, wild west, regency, Star Trek? here’s your chance!

Feb 12th: Canon Compliant:  if the Duffers read it, they could include it in S3.

Feb 13th: Sickeningly Sweet: got a fic idea where they’re so sweet you need to see a dentist after?!

Feb 14th: Valentines Day: whether it be anti or pro, Jancy and a heart shaped box of chocolates is where it’s at.

All fanfics will be posted on the Jancy Fic Week (make sure to DM me when you post one and it’ll be reblogged on the blog and make sure to use the tag “Jancy Fanfic Week”)

Let’s see how many awesome fics we can get out there! Should be fun!

[nancyswhlr]

do you write smut? if so: frustrated nancy jumps on jonathan's bed in the hotel room because she needs him too bad and they finally consummate their love

so, i don’t write smut (because it would be terrible) but this is the closest i’ve ever gotten to it, so it’s definitely a solid pg 13! not smut, but here’s your warning anyways. maybe one day ill try to, but please don’t be mad i’m posting this for jancy fanfic week day 4: smut!

“Jonathan?” Nancy looked over, tracing the scar on her palm without thinking about it.

Jonathan, from his bed, looked up to face her. “Yeah?”

“Why’d you demand a double?” She was teasing him, letting the smile she was trying to hold back spread across her face as she looked up again. Secretly enjoying the look on his face as he was taken aback by her question. The right amount of shocked, having-no-idea-what-to-say deer in the headlights kind of look. It was adorable.

“Uh-” He stammered, Nancy’s eyes still wide on him.

She became more playful as she spoke. “Didn’t like sharing a bed that one time? Am I that repulsive?” She taunted, gently.

“No! No.” He answered, way too quickly. Nancy could see red forming on his cheeks, and she felt bad for how easy it was to tease him, and how cute of a blushing mess he was. “I just…you and I aren’t together, there’s Steve-”

“Steve and I broke up.” She supplied, as if he’d forgotten. “You know that, I told you at lunch.”

“Yeah, but…” He shrugged. Nancy raised an eyebrow at what he was implying.

She moved to sit up a bit, straightening herself. “But what?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He trailed off, only forced to go on when he saw the look on Nancy’s face. He didn’t know if it was more dangerous to answer or not, but he put his foot in his mouth anyways before he thought about it. “You guys will get back together, that’s all.”

“What?” Nancy demanded, sitting up. “What makes you say that? We broke up!”

“How did that work out for you guys last time?” He shot back, still speaking without really thinking. Nancy was stunned for a second.

“That’s different.” She defended herself. “I didn’t…I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get back together with him then.”

Jonathan shrugged, his words sounding suspiciously passive aggressive. “But you did.”

“Because I couldn’t keep waiting for you!” She argued, sitting up fully on the bed now.

Jonathan sat up fully as well, on his adjacent bed. “That’s not fair.” He spoke in a more even tone than her, but he seemed just as upset. “I was…” He struggled. “dealing with everything! My brother almost died!”

“I know that! But I waited.” She made sure to look him in the eyes as she spoke, gesturing with her hand as if it’d prove her point.

Shooting back something along the lines of her only waiting a month was on the tip of his tongue, but he ignored it. Instead, he was replying more honestly without being able to think it through. “It wasn’t just that Nancy. It was everything, everything we had went through! Yeah, we became friends because of it, but do you honestly think I knew you were waiting for me? Of all people? You acted like you wanted everything to go back to normal, and I was never apart of that.”

“So you thought from the beginning I’d get back together with Steve.” She huffed from her bed, giving him an accusatory look. “You didn’t even give us a chance!”

“Maybe I was right to.” He shrugged. “You ended up back with him anyways.” He sighed, his voice dangerously calm. Nancy always knew he wasn’t happy about her getting back together with Steve and abandoning whatever lingered between them, but she didn’t think he was this hurt. Without realizing it, or wanting to, she softened. “And you probably will again. You’ll run back to him because he’s changed now and a great guy and everything will go back to normal.” Despite how even tempered his voice was, she could feel the venom in it at how bitter he was sounding.

Nancy scoffed. “I’m not getting back together with him. Steve and I broke up.” She finally said, like she was explaining a fact. As if she were saying the sky is blue, or Mike is her little brother. “We broke up because I don’t love him, and I never have.” Daringly, she let her eyes look up to find him already staring at her. “One of the reasons for that is because of my feelings for you.” There was a slight pause, both of them absorbing what she just admitted.

And then, without consent from her brain, she was climbing out of her bed as quickly as Jonathan shot up. She met him in the middle as he crashed his lips to hers, Nancy noting in the back of her mind that was the most confident thing she’d ever seen him do. Then again, he was pretty sure he was in love with this girl and had been for a year now. Nancy confessing how she felt didn’t leave him time to think before he was kissing her.

It felt like the world stopped for a moment, as if she never had a clearer moment in her life. She thought back to how badly she’d been wanting to do this for a year now, and somehow it was so much better than she thought it would be. When the world finally came back to them, or her, she was pretty sure her knees were weak from how intensely he was kissing her, his hands in her hair now. All of her senses and thoughts became him as Nancy kissed him back just as feverishly. Electricity pulsed inside of her and the only thing that ravished through her mind was that he needed to be closer. She let the moment linger for another moment before, without much warning, she broke apart enough to push him back onto the bed. Once he sat, she was climbing into his lap just as quickly.

Jonathan responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist and back as she straddled him. She’d never been kissed senselessly before, it was dizzying as she looped her arms around his neck. She let a soft moan escape against his lips as she decided he still wasn’t close enough as she let a hand roam down his chest, grabbing at his nightshirt from his waist. Jonathan took the hint as she let a hand rest on his bare stomach, her other one tugging the shirt gently. In the most agonizing few seconds of her life, Jonathan broke apart to help her lift the shirt off him. She didn’t exactly get a chance to look as his lips were back on hers that instant, the shirt being thrown off somewhere, but she let her hands explore as Jonathan’s hands moved from her back to her thighs.

He gently began to move his hands upwards as Nancy was now kissing down his jaw and probably leaving a mark on his neck. She wanted this so badly, she never wanted anything else but for him to keep kissing her like that. She felt him pull away just enough to look at her though.

The same question was in her eyes, although she also looked breathless and just a little crazed. Her hair was messy and her hands found their way around his neck again. Idly, she ran her fingers through the hair there.

“Are you sure?” He breathed out, not trusting his own voice not to waver. He was just as out of breath and turned on as she was. God, he never wanted to stop. But the only thing that grounded him in this moment was needing to know she was sure about this.

Nancy nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yeah. Are you-”

“Yes.” He didn’t let her finish her question, not wanting to discuss this any further. Sure, he’d never done this before. But he was pretty sure he had a good enough sense of what he was doing, especially if Nancy’s heavy breathing and moans were any indication.

She didn’t seem to mind she’d been cut off as his lips hooked back onto hers. She gathered up as much of her nightgown as she could, Jonathan helping her distractedly. In the quickest moment of her life, she tossed it over her head and focused her attention back on the boy under her.

Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he used the opportunity to flip them on the bed. A surprised yelp escaped Nancy, before a breathless laugh did as well. That sound alone was intoxicating and something he decided he could never get enough of. She couldn’t stop the soft smile on her lips for a moment as she kissed him once more, and it certainly didn’t help that Jonathan was so focused.  

She directed her full attention to him again, although he moved from kissing her lips to down her neck and chest. Nancy savored this moment, and him, arching her back as she moved her hands to his hair again. Willing herself to breathe while she knew she’d wake up tomorrow with a few marks also from where his teeth hit her skin, but hopefully they’d be in mostly hideable places.

The thought that sex, hell anything, had never felt this good before hit her as his hands roamed now. Good was an extreme understatement. But she decided she could do this all night. Forever. It seemed like Jonathan could too as he kissed her everywhere, making her feel better than she had ever before.

They woke up the next morning entangled with each other, both of them rising before the sun came up. They had no idea where this guy lived after all and wanted to get on the road, but after last night the thought of getting breakfast and talking about them seemed more necessary than getting coffee on the way. Still, Nancy yawned as she woke up, smiling sleepily at Jonathan’s arm around her waist.

She kissed him good morning. “I could get used to this” she mumbled against his lips. Jonathan’s smile in that moment was enough to light up the entirety of Hawkins, all of Indianna even, and she decided she could definitely get used to that.

She kissed him again after breakfast, after they talked everything out. There was something so magical and freeing about finally being able to do it whenever they wanted to now, not having to worry about any trepidations from the other. And again right before they got out of the car at Murray’s, it said more than words. He was with her in this, no matter what. And again and again, more intensely than the chaste kisses they’d been sharing all day in comparison, in Murray’s guest bedroom. They agreed to sharing without having to think about it, no matter how much Murray teased them about what a cute couple they were. Nancy could tell that Jonathan could definitely get used to this too.