If you have any more Mob AU Jonathan and Nancy thoughts I would love to hear them.

Oh? My GOD?! I am sooooo glad you asked, you have no idea. I'm SO SORRY this took so long. I caught the covid and have been fucked up for the past little while. But I'm doing much better so I thought I would celebrate by answering this BEAUTIFUL ask and dropping some of my Mob AU Jancy thoughts. So here ya go!

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- Jonathan Byers very quickly grew acustomed to being glossed over by most. A dead beat dad at home and a mother who worked a nine to five plus overtime most days, Jonathan was left to fend for himself at an early age. Didn’t mind it so much seeing as his parents couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without snarling at each other. Preferred it actually. Because Jonathan had always had a fascination with catching people totally unguarded. How they acted when they thought no one was watching. Gave him a sense of power he had never felt before, holding bits and pieces of a persons day to day in the palm of his hand, to keep or give out at his own discretion. It’s a collection that starts and stays in his head at first. Until shortly before Joyce kicks Lonny’s ass to the curb, Jonathan slips into his parents room and takes his dad’s old camera. He had been using it for some kind of con, another business adventure gone bust. But Jonathan had been in love since that first blinding flash when Lonny took a picture of Joyce scowling at him from the kitchen. Hid it under his bed behind blankets and toys in the hopes that even if his father went looking for it, it wouldn’t be found. The day Lonny peels out of the Byers driveway, shitty pickup kicking up dust while little Will cries into his mother’s arms, Jonathan felt something unclench in his chest for more than one reason.

- Bob was Jonathan's hero a long time before he ever died saving his whole family from a pack of demo dogs. It started when Joyce ushered him into the local radio shack, at her wits end with all the questions about film and photo development she could not answer. Bob smiles in that way he does when someone is truly trying to learn, when the passion they have is obvious but their knowledge is limited. Because Bob, until the day he bleeds out on the foyer of Hawkins Lab, loves to help. He gives Jonathan a crash course in everything he needs to know, assures Joyce that if her son has any questions he’s free to call the shop any time.

- The first picture Jonathan ever took of Nancy Wheeler was when they were nine. It was Easter Sunday, and while the Byers weren’t normal churchgoers, the whole town seemed to gather for this and the Christmas service. So they went. Joyce never asked Jonathan to keep his camera at home. Let him wear it everywhere, the strap worn and frayed. When the service ended and all of Hawkins could pretend that they were going home to pray instead of gorge themselves on ham and chocolate eggs, Jonathan missed a step on his way down the exit stairs, his foot landing hard on the concrete. The resulting jerk of motion was the final straw on the camels back. His camera strap broke, and so would have his heart if a small bony hand didn’t strike out like a viper, grabbing the camera out of thin air. Little Nancy wheeler, shoved and tied into a dress she absolutely loathed, handed a slack jawed Jonathan his favorite possession in the world. Jonathan wasn’t used to speaking with kids his age. They were always to bright, to loud. Most of the time it was to taunt, but even when it was friendly, Jonathan just didn’t like being anyone’s main focus. So he didn’t say anything. Not even a thank you. Nancy didn’t seem to mind, frizzy curls fighting against the restraints of the braid her mother had wrestled them into that morning. Her big brown eyes were focused on Jonathan now, taking everything in. And what was curious is Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to mind. She didn’t make small talk or ask for his name. Not even a quip about being more careful. She just smiled, teeth on full display. Jonathan unconsciously squeezed the camera in his hands, enraptured. Click- Flash! Temporarily blinding several people, Jonathan ran to his mother’s car in a panic, leaving behind a thoroughly charmed Nancy wheeler. The picture came out crooked and a little blurred, but the expression of amusement dancing in Nancy’s eyes is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He keeps the photo in the bottom of his sock drawer while Joyce pretends not to notice.

- The other kids talk about tits and ass. About bodies grinding together clumsily under rough sheets, skin sticky with desire and heat. As he does with many other things, Jonathan thinks about sex in a very detached way. He’s never met anyone who set his blood on fire the way he thinks they’re supposed to. Never coaxed him into a double take no matter how beautiful. And Jonathan notices beautiful. He lives behind a lense, poised always for the perfect moment. The right lighting. A snippet of time stolen and captured, coaxed back to life in the red glow of the photo development room. He thinks of soft hands tracing over his skin and frowns. Thinks of lips dragging down his neck and cringes. He wants to be held but doesn’t want to be touched. He wants to be alone but the loneliness is aching. The other kids call him a freak. He clenches his teeth against any argument. He knows they're right.

- Steve Harrington and his inner circle hold court behind the bleachers, a king and his council. Jonathan slinks up beside him, always wary of Tommy’s junk yard dog teeth. The royal body guard doesn’t like him. No one really does. But he’ll never cross Steve, and Steve likes what Jonathan provides. Power. Secrets. Leverage. All valuable things to the right person, and the King pays handsomely. He slides the large brown envelope into Steve’s waiting hand, head bowed down like he taught himself to. Blend in. Be just this side of invisible. It makes it so much easier to collect secrets when people don’t even notice you’re there. Steve plucks out the photos, eyebrows rising into his hairline. Without looking away from the picture he raises his hand and makes a vague come hither motion with his arm towards the top of the bleachers. “Hey Nance! Come see what Byers brought!”

- The sound of a put upon sigh sounds from above them before the rattle and clang of high heels hitting the metal stairs of the bleachers reverberates around them. In a huff, Nancy Wheeler makes her way over, passing by Tommy Hagan’s bared teeth with a humorless smile, challenge in her eyes. The drag of Tommy’s cigaret a growl in it’s own right. Princess Wheeler may not be the queen, but she’s closer to being Steve’s right hand than Tommy could ever hope to be. Jonathan can see that it rankles him. Steve passes her the envelope with a knowing smile. Her eyes light up as she looks at Jonathan, assessing. Johathan can feel the heat of her gaze prickle his skin. It’s not at all unpleasant. “You took these?” Her voice is impressed. The quirk of her lips is amused. “They’re really impressive Byers.” The praise feels like warm honey dripping down his spine. He wants to feel her manicured nails carve lines into his skin. It’s new. And not entirely unwelcome.

- Jonathan and Nancy see a lot of each other after that. She waves to him in the halls, calls him over to eat with her during lunch, seeks him out after school before he drives home. He doesn’t really know what she wants from someone like him, but the longer it goes on the more he wants to give it to her, whatever it is. Because Nancy Wheeler is fierce and fearless. A stiletto blade smile with warm brown eyes. She looks at Jonathan like she wants to eat him alive. He finds himself thinking more often then not, that he maybe wouldn’t mind.

- Cordial chats between classes turn to after school study sessions turn to Jonathan scanning crowds for chestnut brown curls and a tinkling laugh. He thinks about her more than he’s thought about anyone. Finds himself thinking ‘Nancy would think this is hilarious’ as he takes photos of Steve’s neighbor snooping through his garbage. Where he’s never thought of anyone in particular after the lights go out and his hand slips below the waist band of his sleep pants, he now thinks about a piercing sharp gaze and lips pink like rose petals. He digs his nails into the skin of his side as he cums and imagines them to be Nancy Wheeler’s teeth.

- Nancy is the one to ask Jonathan out. Corners him in the photo development room, the red light casting her eyes in sharp, dangerous shadow. “I want you to come over to my house tonight Johnny.”. Nancy’s the only one who calls him that. It sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. He nods, unable to articulate just how much he wants to please her. Wants to make her proud. Wants to worship the fucking ground she walks on. Nancy smiles, sharp enough to cut. And this is what it feels like, he thinks. Like his blood is gasoline and Nancy Wheeler is the only one to drop a match to it.

- After, when they’re cuddling in Nancy’s frilly pink bed, both sated and basking in the afterglow, Jonathan realizes that this is the longest he's every voluntarily let someone touch him. Wanted someone to touch him. It leaves him reeling. “I think-. I think I love you.” He whispers it almost accusatory. Nancy laughs quietly, the vibrations birdsong where Jonathan’s ear rests on her chest. Her voice is achingly fond. “I know. I love you too.”