#implied joyren

Your mother has kicked you out, like last time. Making up some lousy excuse of how you’re not bringing enough money home, not contributing to house work, or coming back late. It makes zero sense.

Because you did almost all of the chores, payed almost all of the bills and you were grown up enough to come home a little bit later than 10 fucking P.M.

You had enough, this time you are not gonna go up to the woman's door the day after, begging for her forgiveness when she was the one clearly in the wrong.

So your footsteps thump against the asphalt ground. You can go stay over at Nancy’s but her father was not exactly hospitable or welcoming towards you the last time you had to stay over for a single night. Mrs. Wheeler was concerned for you but there was nothing you could have done.

Which made you settle with the Byers house. Didn’t Joyce tell you you were always welcome in her home, with or without a reason?

You have a surge of confidence in your steps mixed with the hurtful words of your mother whispering in your ears as you walk over to Jonathan’s house. You really hope that at least Jonathan is over there so you don’t have to personally ask Joyce Byers to stay over at her house, for a few days.

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Joyce opens the door, in her usual pants, brown jacket with a fitting long sleeved shirt underneath. It’s late in November, Hawkins is getting cold and you can almost see her breath form in the air.

Joyce smiles immediately when she realizes it’s you. She’s about to say something when she gets a closer look at your face and her smile drops, leaving a look of worry there instead.

Your hand fly up to your face, fingers wiping the wetness. You hadn’t realized you were crying, getting self conscious in mere seconds at the way you probably look right now, staring at her. Eyes red and swollen, breath coming in gasps from the way you paced over here.

“What happened to you sweetie?” she asks, her hands finding your arms and guiding you inside without further question.

You don’t want to cry. Not this time. That was a one time thing, you tell yourself. Only once and you couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t bare her to see you like that even though it had felt so good. The way she held you and comforted you and hugged you and-

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not again. You didn’t want her to think of you that way.

She sits you down at the couch and sudden memories of the two of you flood your mind. Your hands on her skin, massaging her shoulders. Joyce in her bra, kissing your knuckles. Fuck.

You’re instantly brought back to this moment with Joyce’s hand waving in front of you.

“Y/n? Do you hear me sweetheart? Did something happen?” she calls out to you, her voice concerned, warm.

“Ms. Byers I- it’s silly really. I fought with my mom today again.” you start explaining to her. She always manages to make you feel like you can tell her literally every single thing you know about the world, about yourself.

Her cheeks glow under the light of the room. You keep going.

“And she kinda threw me out the house and I- I really have nowhere else to go.”

She looks at you, alarmed yet still managing to be calming.

“It's okay dear. You can stay here for as long as you like." her words encapsulate you like fresh air, letting you breathe properly in what seems like forever.

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Joyce gives you new clothes, let's you take a shower before the boys get home. It feels very domestic. Like you already belong there.

All through the evening Joyce talks to you the same way she talks to the kids. It makes you feel more than welcome, like you've never felt at home in your life before now.

Will is so happy you're staying over. So is Jonathan, but he's worried.

“I swear I’m okay Jonathan." you try to convince him.

“Okay but promise me you'll let me and Nance take you out for some ice cream tomorrow." you laugh at him.

“In the middle of November?"

“I know you love it so I guess yeah- in the middle of November." he replies.

“Okay everyone! Dinner time! It's nothing compared to what Karen has gotten you used to but I tried my best.” Joyce calls from the kitchen.

“We know you do mom." Will says, joining all of you.

Dinner passes by. You laugh at the jokes Will and Joyce makes, eat, drink, talk to Jonathan about his latest projects.

And throughout the dinner you can't help but notice Joyce lingering on certain places of your body, a little too long. Her hand staying on top of yours a little too long as she laughs at some stupid thing you tell her about one of your co-workers. The heat of her palm on your thigh as the two of you watch Will and Jonathan fuss around. Your fingers brushing as you help her tidy around in the kitchen. Her hip bumping yours in the small area by the sink.

It all builds up and you can feel it. Like some string pulling on itself, tensing with every move, daring to snap and lead to something you are not sure what.

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You're sitting on the couch between Jonathan and Will, watching TV when you remember to check something from your work bag. It's in Joyce's bedroom.

So you get up, leaving the two babbling about one of the characters in the show. You walk slowly, with measured steps towards her bedroom.

You're about to knock on the door when your steps come to a halt in front of the room-

The door is open wide enough for you to see Joyce changing after a shower. Her back is turned to you. There is a towel hanging around her lower body, tugged lightly that you worry it will drop any second.

You can see the water drops on her shoulders from where you're standing. Her hair is down and water droplets are gliding down her naked back and disappearing into the the towel.

Your mind goes blank, you have no idea why you came here in the first place. It's like she's the world and you're simply her orbit. Thankfully Joyce puts on a white fitting tank top before turning around.

Your eyes follow her hands, reaching down to the towel and she's about to drop it down when her eyes meet you, standing on the doorway. Eyes blown out, face flushed, not uttering a single word.

She's startled, muttering your name with a question in her voice.

“Ugh- I- Ms. Byers-” you try to form the words.

Joyce simply laughs, shrugging shoulders.

“It's okay. Just next time let me know when you're going to come into my room." she says with a smirk.

Your face heats up further. Joyce is standing by the edge of the bed, face pink from the shower and she's smirking at you.

You back away towards the living room.

“I’ll be in the…" you mutter as you quickly leave.

That was a close call. You think to yourself. And that night you barely get any sleep on the couch.

Joyce kisses you goodnight too, just like her boys. Jonathan complains but the feeling of her lips against your cheek seems to be the only thing you dream about that night. Awake or asleep.

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The next day goes in a hurry. Waking up, breakfast before heading out, tiring day at work, ice cream date with Nancy and Jonathan.

Jonathan insists that you come over to Steve's to stay with them too.

“I’m tired guys!" you say for the millionth time probably. Yes you are tired but that's not the only reason you keep pressing that you want to go to the Byers’ house. You know Will is staying over at Mike's tonight. Which could mean nothing.

“I swear I would any other day. But please- let me go rest tonight. I’m staying with Jonathan anyway, we can do something tomorrow too." you say.

“Okay…” Nance says, smiling at you. "But know that we will hold you to your promise." she sings.

“See you tomorrow!" Jonathan shouts as they leave together.

You wave behind them and start walking to the house, with a huge smile on your face. You're going to have dinner with Joyce, alone.

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The door swings open to a Joyce calling out your name.

“I thought you were staying over at Steve's too." she says. " Don't get me wrong it's nice that you're here.”

There is a slurring to her voice, like she had been drinking. It's dark out already. You step inside, shredding your coat by the hall.

Joyce steps into the kitchen, there is an open wine bottle and a single pizza, three slices eaten, on the table.

You sit down in front of her. There is an unusual silence to her attire. You can't quite place it.

You take a slice from the pizza. You're not very much in the mood to eat anyway. Joyce's eyes are fixed on her glass, her fingers drawing patterns on the rim.

You can't look away. The bottle is almost empty. You want to have some too. You want to ask what's wrong, what's bothering her. She looks so troubled, so broken somehow. You want to hold her.

But you don't. You wait for her to say something instead. And she doesn't either. She doesn't look like she has cried.

“Ms. Byers…” you begin. " Is something wrong?”

She comes back from a trance, just now in the present moment.

“Oh- honey. I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you."

“No no- it's okay." your hand instinctively finds hers on top of the table. Her face lights up, looking over to you.

“Please talk- it's- it's okay." you keep going, the words sticking up in your throat. You just want her to talk to you.

She huffs out a long breath, dropping your hand, her fingers gliding through her hair, head in hands.

“It's Lonnie's birthday.” she whispers without lifting her head, her voice is so low, so hesitant.

Oh.

That Lonnie.

You heard a lot about the man, about the things he did to them, to Will, to Jonathan. But you've never seen him before and nobody mentioned his name in the household.

“It just brings back everything. I try to forget about the date, about him but-” she speaks, a sob like sound coming from her mouth.

You hold her arm this time. She looks at you again.

“I’m- I’m sorry- it’s just I’m not used to talking about him. I must be making you very troubled.” she mumbles. Your heart aches for her, how she must be feeling.

“No Ms. Byers please- I complain to you about my life every time I’m here. I think it’s a little more than fair that I return the favor.” you reply.

Her eyes light up. She opens her mouth to say something but the words don’t quite form.

“Please tell me anything, I’m here.” you press further, trying to make her comfortable about opening up because God knows you are certain of how hard it can be. To just talk.

“Okay.” she mouths. Huffs out a longer breath and begins to tell you about some of the times Lonnie fucking Byers made the their lives hell on earth. Her eyes rarely leave her glass. Not a single tear evident. It’s like she’s zoning out, unreal.

“Yeah- and then there was this time where I had to get between him and Will or else he was gonna kill my poor boy. And later that night I begged him not to leave because I was afraid of what he would have done when he came back. Or worse left. God. It’s just- I hate myself for not leaving him ages ago.” her words have long pauses between each other.

You get up now, crouching in front of her with shaky knees to hold her hands. Eyes trying to find hers but she doesn’t look at you.

“It’s not your fault you know that right? Everything he’s done to you- or your kids- He’s a monster. From what you’re telling and not telling me, that’s the only way to describe him.” you try to soothe her a little.

Joyce is still not looking at you as she keeps going.

“I’m just so fucking dumb and selfish for not taking my boys and leaving. I could have prevented it- I could’ve-” she’s throwing the words out so quickly and you just have to stop her.

One of your hands cup her cheek and turn her face to yours. She looks at you this time, really.

“Listen to me Joyce-” her name slips from your lips before you realize it. She doesn’t seem bothered, you keep going. “Listen to me. It’s not. your. fault. Your conscious is clean. You are clean. He is just a man who didn’t deserve you or your family and it’s all in the past now.”

She doesn’t seem to believe any word you’re saying.

“It still doesn’t make me a good mom.” she shrugs.

“You are the best mom both Jonathan and Will could ever wish for.” you tell her.

Her eyes glint at those last words. Like something within her shifts.

“And I bet they’re very grateful for you and the things you’ve done for them.” you add finally.

Joyce suddenly realizes your hand in her lap, she gives it a gentle squeeze and looks back at you.

“Thank you honey. Really, that felt a little more- settling.” giving you a sad smile.

Seeing her hurt like this makes you want to cry, really truly bawl.

Before you realize it your hands are making their way up her head, you raise on your tiptoes and kiss her forehead, holding her close. Her hair smells like a mixture of cigarettes and flowers. It’s a starking contrast. The floral tones clashing with the bitter taste.

Your lips part from her skin and you let her feel your breathing against her navel for a while. You can sense her face heating up just a tiny bit. Not from agony but from pure fatigue and confusion.

You keep holding onto her face as you take a step back to look into her eyes. She’s gazing up at you now. Something you can mistake for lust faintly gleaming in her dark brown eyes and you want to drown in the sensation. Want to pull her in and kiss her till she can’t breathe or think or remember, till she forgets herself, Lonnie and the kids, till only the two of you exist.

There is something so deep, so confusing in her gaze that makes you believe there is hope, hope that she will give in too, let you kiss her and love her and take her to bed till there isn’t a single thought left in her crowded mind.

One of her hands lift up to take your jaw between her fingers, she scrapes your skin gently and you’re out of breath, lips are parted.

You can just lean down and claim her lips. But you wait for her to give you something, anything. A nod, a sigh, a word, a signal of approval.

Her mouth opens. Your heart is drumming in your chest.

“I think it’s time you go to bed baby.” is all that escapes her pretty lips that you would give anything to get lost in, this very second.

But she gets up and walks over to her bedroom, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen. Wondering what you will do with this feeling that is killing you.

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You’re lying on the couch. Trying to get some sleep. But sleep will simply not come to you.

Suddenly not going over at Steve’s is pointless because you’re not getting any sleep here either. You’re lost in further thought, about everything Joyce told you when you startle to a sound coming from inside of the house.

It’s like a silent scream. A scream for help. Then a glass shattering, falling to the ground, turning to sand. You are on your feet that same second, rushing to Joyce’s room.

Your footsteps echo in the dark hall. When you finally reach the room you notice the ajar door, soft light flowing out.

You spot Joyce laying on her side with her head between her hands. She’s mumbling constantly to herself, things that you can’t really make out. You walk over to the bed, broken glass is at the other side of the bed, allowing you to sit on the mattress with ease.

Joyce doesn’t feel your presence yet, her words coming in short gasps, low, she’s crying. Your breathing skips a beat, putting a hand on Joyce’s back.

She jumps at your touch, finally noticing you. Her eyes are blank, you shush her softly, other hand stroking her hair.

“Everything is okay.” you whisper. “It’s okay… You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

She doesn’t look over to you, holding onto your loose shirt, pulling herself closer without a word. And you give it to her, her hands find each other behind your back, holding onto the cotton material with a dead grip. Her face is burried in your stomach, you rake your fingers through her soft brown hair.

None of it feels real. Her smell on you, her tears soaking your shirt, soft whimpers. Like some kind of bad dream.

After a while of your hands caressing various parts of her body her shivering stops, her tears subdue. And you hear her say something, not catching on the words.

“What?” you ask gently.

“I wish- maybe if he had just loved me-” she huffs out, a little louder this time. Your heart breaks into pieces and before you know it the words are leaving your mouth.

“I can love you.”

She stills. So do you. Shit.

You don’t say anything. Nothing to take it back or say that it was a mistake. You wait.

Joyce lifts her head, looking up at you. Her hands grab your waist now. There is a question in her face. Did you really mean it?

“I can- I really-” you try to say the words. Her eyes are glinting up at you, a silent plea. Her hair is a mess and she looks more beautiful than ever.

You want to say more, open your mouth when Joyce-

“Kiss me.”

Two words that leave her mouth. Everything you need to hear.

Your head lowers and your lips find hers. All of your nerve endings are electric in that moment, butterflies daring to spill out of your mouth. You kiss her and it’s everything. And she kisses you back. Like it’s everything she has ever wanted and in that moment you can’t find a single good reason why this might be wrong.

Her hands are still on your sides, yours tangling between her curls. You keep kissing, soft at first, gentle. Then it shifts, she parts her lips with demand, your tongue finds hers inside her mouth. She bites down on your lower lip and you moan into her. Her skin is soft under your fingertips and your bodies shift, you guide her so that her back is flush against the mattress with you on top of her.

You part from her momentarily, staring into her eyes.

“Please-” she whispers, so tender. And she doesn’t need to beg. Not to you.

So your hands find the hem of her top, slowly lifting it up. Her arms raise up and you throw the shirt away. You back away a little to look at her. Joyce is laying on the bed with only her white boxers, looking up at you with confidence.

You can’t wait any longer, leaning down you start kissing her neck, her jaw, moving down on her body. Her nipples are hard, you suck one into your mouth, pinching the other. Her hands find your head, nails scraping your scalp, keeping you against her breasts.

You travel down her body, leaving small kisses all through the way. Joyce is a whimpering mess by the time you hook your fingers in her boxers and slide them down.

The material glides down her legs and you put it away next to the shirt. Joyce spreads her legs and you see her heat glistening with wetness. You crawl up, your face level with her pussy as you lock eyes with her while diving in. Your tongue flattens against her clit, lapping up the wetness, spitting a little.

Joyce buckles against your tongue, you lick down her slit, parting her folds with two fingers and plunge your tongue into her. Joyce moans under you, head thrown back. You would do anything to hear the sound once more.

Your mouth keeps working on her as you push two fingers inside. She squirms, you keep her legs spread with one hand as you suck on her clit. Joyce’s moans raise in the small space, her face red.

With each moment your desire to make her feel good, come undone rises. You keep working your fingers with desperate intent, her walls flutter against your fingertips. She’s getting closer, you can feel it.

“Mhhm, yes angel- uh- just like that.” she pants. Just her voice is enough to soak your panties.

You add another finger in, sucking on her clit harder, circling the bud with your tongue. Joyce moans out your name, over and over.

It takes three more strokes to her g-spot and then she is coming. Hot and flushed.

You slow your actions, kiss her sensitive clit one last time and carefully pull out your fingers.

Joyce is quick to pull you up for a kiss. Her taste on your lips and she moans, so do you. The two of you part and you suck on your wet fingers, staring deep into her eyes all the while. You hollow out your cheeks and moan on purpose. She gasps in shock.

“This isn’t the time to be naughty now baby.” she chuckles.

“I think this is exactly the time to be.” you reply with a smirk. Joyce is literally naked and you’re in your sleep clothes, panties damp.

“Don’t you want me to give you what you want sweetheart? Or maybe… I should just go to sleep-” Joyce teases.

“No-” you gasp out, more desperate than you intended it to sound.

Joyce keeps smiling at you, pulling your top off and kissing at your neck. She doesn’t change the position. You settle on your side and she faces you. Joyce keeps kissing you as you help her take off your sleep shorts, sliding down your panties at the same time.

Joyce’s fingers find your wetness and she groans into your lips.

“So wet baby. That all for me?” she asks, spreading your folds and you spread your legs as best as you can, planting your foot on the sheets.

“Yes- all for you.” you utter, eyes closed.

She works on you, pushing in two fingers at once and circling your clit with her thumb. The pressure, the pace she’s setting is mind-numbing and you already feel your climax building.

Joyce nibbles at your collarbone, your chest, rolling a nipple into her mouth. You groan at the sensation.

“Joyce-” you breathe out, your orgasm threatening to release.

“Look at me while I make you cum.” she demands.

Your eyes fly open, gazing into her dark brown ones and your climax takes over. The nerves in your belly snapping and breaking in white heat.

Your vision blurs, eyes daring to close. Joyce’s hand slows down and she pulls you in tighter.

Your breathing comes back to normal as she pulls her fingers out and you hold onto her.

“Thank you.” you mumble against her skin. She pulls the duvet covers over the two of you.

“Thank you dear.” her voice soft, tender, soothing. You feel sleep tethering on the edge.

“Go to sleep angel.” Joyce affirms, turning off the night lamp.

And just like that, breathing into the crook of Joyce’s neck, in Joyce’s embrace you let sleep take over you. You really hope Joyce is able to get some sleep too.

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