#Jonathan Byers x y/n

[keeryhours]

girls on film - jonathan byers

Jonathan Byers x shy! female! reader

Main Masterlist

ST Characters Masterlist

Summary:

When you get assigned a photography project with Jonathan, you end up trying something…experimental.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N:

So excited for my first Jonathan fic! I’ve been working on this for weeks so I’m so happy it’s finally done 😅

You adjusted the settings on your Nikon F3. Attaching the 55mm lens, you held the camera up to your eye, focusing on your subject - your dog. You were grateful for the fast shutter speed on your new camera, because the Border Collie did not sit still.

“Lucy, stay!” You commanded, hoping you could just get this shot for your photography class. The long haired black and white dog looked at you with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She listened, but you knew you had only moments before she took off, ready to run the 5 acres of land your family lived on, chasing after the livestock.

You snapped the photo just in time before she stood and ran. You hoped you got a good one, but there was no way to tell until you developed the film. You did not want to get an F on this project just because your dog wouldn’t cooperate.

You sighed as you removed the lens from the camera body, storing both back in their bag. You loved photography - it had become a passion of yours your freshman year of high school. It was your favorite form of art. And you could do it completely solo - you honestly hated interacting with your classmates. Not that there was anything wrong with them (well, not most of them, at least), you just preferred your own company.

You slung the camera bag over your shoulder and walked through the yard and back to your house. The smell of dinner wafted from the kitchen, but you headed up to your room instead. You carefully sat your camera bag on your desk and fell back onto your full size bed.

Your room felt childish. Nothing had changed since middle school. There weren’t photos with friends decorating your mirror, no gifts from your nonexistent relationships. Your bed was still covered with stuffed animals (though you’d never admit you still liked sleeping with them). The walls were painted a pale pink. The only recent decorations were the prints you made of your photography.

Lucy, the farm animals, your family, school events you were asked to photograph for the yearbook. Flowers, photos from finally trips, anything interesting you’d found with your camera on you - which it usually was.

You hoped these photos of Lucy turned out so you could add them to the collection. The left side of your room needed something new. Hell, your life needed something new. Something fresh. Something exciting.

The next day at school, you snuck into the dark room during lunch. You had the space to yourself, which you were grateful for.

Firstly, you mixed together your chemicals so they would be ready, pouring them into their respective trays. You then unloaded the roll of film from your camera. You looked over the negatives, finding some photos of Lucy that turned out great - thank god. You turned the negative around, placing it in the carrier before carefully removing any dust. You placed the carrier in the enlarger. You adjusted the size, using the focusing wheel to make sure it was completely in focus. You adjusted the lens aperture to F8, sliding a filter into the enlarger.

Next, you took a sheet of the photo paper and placed it into the easel. You exposed the photo onto the sheet of paper for about 5 seconds. You moved the sheet to your tray of developer, sliding it in quickly and carefully, then moved the tray gently, watching as the chemicals moved and your photo of Lucy developed in front of your eyes. After 60 seconds, you used the tongs to remove the photo and place it in the stop bath. You slid this tray around, too, using a separate pair of tongs to remove the print and place it into the fixer. After 30 seconds, you checked the thermometer in your tray of water, finding it perfectly at 68 degrees Fahrenheit. You removed the photo and placed it in the tray of water for 2 minutes, emptying and refilling the water a few times to make sure to wash away all the chemicals. When you were done, you hung the black and white photo to dry and continued with the others you wanted to print.

When you were done, you flipped the lights back on, gathering your prints. You checked the clock on the wall and were relieved to see there was still a decent chunk of lunch left - hopefully there would be some pizza left to grab. You pulled the door open and immediately smashed into something - or someone. You stumbled back, your photos falling from your hands.

“I’m so sorry! Here, let me help,” the guy said, crouching down to gather your stuff for you before you had the chance to. He stood, handing your stuff back, and you found yourself looking into the brown eyes of Jonathan Byers. He looked down at your photos as he handed them over. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “I just finished up in here.” You brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling shy now that you were no longer in the safety of the darkroom alone.

Jonathan gave you a small kind smile, one that had your heart beating a little harder in your chest. “Your photos look great, by the way,” he added, gesturing to the prints clutched safely in your grasp.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. You cursed yourself for the way you always got shy around other people. It was Jonathan, he was probably the nicest guy in your senior class.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d had a crush on him for forever, watching him in photography class, noticing the beautiful photographs he produced every single time. He was quiet, kind, kept to himself just like you. You had to admit you wanted to get to know him better, but you were scared.

“I’ll, uh, see you in class,” Jonathan said, that same friendly smile on his face. You nodded and slipped by him out of the door. You heard it close behind you as you quickly walked to the cafeteria, hoping there would be something left for you to eat.

You walked into 7th period Photography, taking your seat at your usual desk in the back. Mr. Howard was at the front of the room, talking with another student from last period as the rest of the class filed in. Jonathan gave you a small nod when he walked in, and you returned it before turning your head to hide the blush on your cheeks, again.

You turned in your work as class began, pleased with how the photographs of Lucy had turned out. About halfway through class, Mr. Howard clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of every student.

“Alright, class.” He drummed his hands on the desk like a drumroll, a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s time for your portrait partner project assignments!”

The whole class let out a chorus of groans. Mr. Howard only laughed. “Your partner assignments are posted on the bulletin board. Please check after class.”

Class went on as usual, but you couldn’t focus, too worried about who you would be paired with. You hated working with others, honestly. You preferred being alone whenever possible.

When class was over and most of your classmates had already left, you tentatively made your way over to the board. You scanned the list with your finger tracing down the list of names until you found your own, and the name beside it - Jonathan Byers.

It could definitely have been worse. Jonathan was nice, and he was talented. But he was also…really cute.

“Looks like we’re working together,” a voice came from behind you, and you turned to see Jonathan smiling politely with his bag over his shoulder.

“Looks like it,” you agreed, unable to make eye contact with him. “Do you…want to work at my place or yours?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment. “My mom has work until late and my brother has his D&D campaign, if you want to come over?”

“Sounds good,” you said. You hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of Jonathan in your middle school style bedroom.

“I can give you a ride, if you want?”

The thought of riding in Jonathan Byers’ car alone with him terrified and excited you. You’d never been alone with a boy before.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking down to hide the blush on your face. You were pretty sure he saw right through you, though - you weren’t exactly being subtle.

He nodded towards the hallway, indicating for you to follow him out of the classroom. You did, and the two of you walked out to the school parking lot together. No one paid you any mind.

He led the way to his rusted Ford LTD. After unlocking the doors for you both, you slid into your respective seats. It took him a few times to get the car started, but eventually it did.

The Byers lived a bit out of the way, a good distance from the main part of Hawkins. So did you, but you had never been out this way. He drove up the dirt driveway of the small house, parking off to the side to leave room for his mother’s car.

You had never been to any of your classmate’s houses before - not since middle school when you were best friends with Chrissy Cunningham, before you drifted apart. It was strange being here alone with him, and the fact that you liked it was even stranger.

Jonathan unlocked the front door and led you inside, walking down the hall towards what you assumed was his bedroom. His room was tidy, his bed made and no clothes strewn across the floor. He had a turntable with stereo on his dresser with a large collection of records and an Evil Dead poster on the wall, which you noticed immediately.

“That’s my favorite movie!” You said, suddenly excited. “I love Ash.”

Jonathan smiled, gently setting his bags on the bed. “It’s a great movie. One of my favorites, too. You like horror?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “My favorite genre.”

You started browsing through his records. He had a lot of great music. You picked out The Smiths’ debut album. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He began pulling his camera out of its bag and getting it set up while you lifted the cover of the turntable and placed the record down gently. You turned it on and lowered the arm to the record, the music beginning to fill the room, quiet enough to just fill the background while you talked.

Jonathan turned to you with his camera in hand - a Pentax MX, you recognized. He fiddled with his settings a little, then smiled at you. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy again. “Where do you want me?”

“Um…” He thought for a second, looking around the space. “How about just against the wall here? Just a plain background. I’ll open the curtain.”

You moved to the wall, adjusting your hair as you walked. Jonathan held his camera up to his eye, making sure he was ready to shoot.

He directed you in a series of poses as he took photo after photo. It was extremely awkward - you were always the one behind the camera. You didn’t like being in front of it. But Jonathan was a complete professional, making you feel as comfortable as possible. You started having fun about the time the song switched to Pretty Girls Make Graves.

“Let’s take a little break, then we can switch,” he said after a good 30 minute session, lowering his camera. “You did great.”

As Jonathan put his equipment away, you wandered around his room. You spotted several books on photography on a shelf, and you reached for one, opening it up and flipping through it.

It was filled with black and white photographs, all of them beautiful portraits. You slowly looked through the book, admiring the stunning work, until you reached a section that made you stop, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how people have the confidence to do this,” you said, looking down at the tasteful nude photos. Women posing with their breasts fully exposed to the camera, each looking absolutely beautiful.

Jonathan looked over your shoulder. “It’s just art,” he said, a small smile on his face. “If you’re working with a photographer you’re comfortable with…I imagine it’s easy.”

You shook your head. “I can’t imagine.”

It was silent for a moment as you both gazed down at the photos. “Would you…ever want to try?”

Your head snapped around in his direction, your eyes wide. “What?”

“You- you could try it,” he said, suddenly very nervous. “We could try it. If you want to.”

You felt yourself blushing all over your entire body. You slowly closed the book, turning around to look at Jonathan. “You…want to take these kinds of photos…of me?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jonathan said with a shrug and that shy smile. “I’m a photographer. You’re modeling. And…you’re beautiful. You’d do amazing.”

You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Jonathan wanted to take nude photos, of you?? But you had to admit to yourself…you were intrigued. You hadn’t had any exciting experiences in your life. It was about time for something to happen.

And did he just call you beautiful?

“O…okay,” you said, trying to find your confidence. “How…do we do this?”

“Well,” Jonathan started. “You can, uh…undress, and I’ll get my camera ready?”

Your hands were shaking as you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you said. “Let’s do this.”

Jonathan turned around, giving you privacy as he fiddled with his camera. You lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it to the ground. Next you undid your jeans, pushing them down your legs and dropping them into a pile with your shirt. You took a deep breath before you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, dropping it and then sliding your panties down your legs.

Completely naked, you finally fully realized what you had gotten yourself into. You were currently standing naked in Jonathan Byers’ bedroom. You felt your nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cold air. You held a hand across your breasts, as if you weren’t completely naked from the waist down too and about to have nude photos taken. “Okay…I’m ready.”

Jonathan turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw you. His gaze raked over your body before meeting your eyes again. “You- uh- you look- you look great,” he said, pink blush rising on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile. It made you feel better that he was nervous, too. “Thanks,” you said shyly. “Um…I guess we should get started?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Jonathan said quickly, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Um, you can stand over there?” He pointed to the blank space on his wall.

You moved over there, dropping your hands from your breasts. Jonathan locked eyes with them for just a moment before he was looking at your face again. “Want me to put on some music?”

“Please,” you said, feeling like it would help you get in the zone and be more comfortable.

Jonathan walked to the record player, flipping through his records before pulling one out and placing it on the turntable. David Bowie’s voice carried through the room, and you smiled. “I love Bowie.”

“Me too,” Jonathan said, returning your smile. He moved back in front of you and lifted the camera to his eye. “Okay, just pose like…this?” He said, miming the placement of your arms.

You held your arms behind your head the way he showed you, kneeling down on the carpet. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, snapping a bunch of photos. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed deeply. Having your naked body on full display was a new, terrifying experience, but it was also…exhilarating. You were kind of loving it.

Jonathan hadn’t felt so inspired in ages. Something about your body was perfect for photography, he thought you looked beautiful and you photographed like a real model. He could tell you were shy, but you were doing an amazing job. These photos were going to be some of the best he’d ever taken.

He instructed you through different poses, encouraging you the entire time. The longer the session lasted, the more comfortable you felt. By the time a few songs had passed, you were honestly having a great time.

“How about you sit on the bed for this one?” Jonathan said, gesturing to his bed. You sat down on the edge of it, looking to Jonathan for more instructions. “Just hold your arms like…this.”

You did your best to copy what Jonathan was trying to show you. “Like this?”

“No, kind of like…” He lowered his camera to hang around his neck and moved over towards you. “This.” He reached for your arms and began to pose you, but his fingers accidentally brushed over your hardened nipple. You gasped, jumping slightly at the sensation, and Jonathan looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” you said, giggling lightly. “I…didn’t mind.”

Jonathan looked into your eyes, like he was searching for something. His gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your eyes. The next thing you knew, he was leaning in, and you felt his lips press against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you kissed him back. His hand came up to cup the side of your head, his thumb caressing your cheek. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth completely, dancing with your own.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were finally having your first kiss - at 18, but whatever - and it was with Jonathan Byers. While also naked.

Your hand slid beneath his shirt, feeling the skin of his stomach and chest. He pulled back and pulled it over his head before moving back to your lips, kissing you hungrily as his hands roamed your bare skin.

You pulled away, suddenly nervous. Jonathan looked as if you’d just yelled at him, like he felt bad for overstepping your boundaries, which he hadn’t done at all. “Have you…ever done this before?” You asked.

Jonathan looked back at you, this time a slight blush on his cheeks. “Uh, no. Never.”

“Me either,” you admitted, which made Jonathan smile a bit.

“I thought you’d think less of me,” he said. He reached for your hand and held it in his own. “Like I’m the Freak no one wants to go out with.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you assured him. It was your turn to place your hand on his cheek and turn him to look at you. “I think you’re really handsome. And the girls at school are missing out if they overlook you.”

Jonathan smiled again, his cheeks tinged red. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in school.”

You blushed as well, your whole body heating. “That’s definitely not true.”

“Well, I think it is.” Jonathan caressed your face with the back of his hand, looking into your eyes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.”

“You noticed me?” You were surprised, because no one noticed you. You were grateful you weren’t exactly picked on, but it would be nice for your classmates to know you’re there.

“Of course I did,” Jonathan said, like it was obvious. “You’re the best photographer in school. Your photos are always beautiful. You have so much talent, and you’re so pretty and kind.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He had noticed you? And not only noticed you, but felt those things about you like you had about him?

“I think you’re the best photographer in school,” you said shyly, unable to meet his gaze now. “And you’re always kind, even when people are dicks to you. And you’re so handsome it makes my heart beat faster when I see you.”

Jonathan smiled, looking down at his hands. “I can’t believe you feel the same way about me.”

You thought for a moment. You could keep sitting here being all shy, or you could take what you wanted. You could stop sitting on the sidelines of life and do something you want for once. Something he wants, too.

You turned to him, and he turned to you. You moved in, and he did the same. Your lips pressed together again, and you kissed him eagerly this time, your hand resting on his face as he placed his hand on your hip. You gently pushed him down on the bed, and he obeyed. He watched wide eyed as you climbed onto his lap, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hips.

“God, you…you look so beautiful,” he said breathless, eyes roaming your body hungrily. You grabbed his hands and slowly trailed them up your body, rubbing over your ass and up your sides until you placed them over your tits. His eyes somehow went even wider, a rush of air leaving his lips. “J-Jesus Christ.”

“You can touch me,” you said, bolder than you felt. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Jonathan let out a shuddering breath and you removed your hands, leaving him there to do as he pleased. He slowly began massaging your tits, thumbs running over your peaked nipples, making you shiver. You rotate your hips as you grinded against his lap, feeling him growing harder and harder beneath you. His expression looked totally fucked out already and you’d barely even touched him.

Your hands slid under his t-shirt again. “Why don’t you take this off?”

He sat up quickly, pulling his shirt off and over his head. You took in the sight of his bare chest, hands roaming the now exposed skin. Then you surprised him by moving farther down his body. He breathed in a gasp of air as your hands began undoing his jeans.

He watched with rapt attention as you got them undone, lifting his hips to help you pull them and his boxers off his body. His cock sprung free, long and hard and leaking precum already. He was bigger than you expected.

“H-oh shit,” he breathed out as you wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand. You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, running your tongue around it experimentally. His hips bucked up- “Sorry! Shit, sorry-“ but you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so weak for you, so desperate for more of your touch.

You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, taking more of him every time you lowered your head. His hands were gripped in tight fists in his bed sheets, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them but needed to hold onto something.

You pulled off of him. “You can touch me,” you reminded him, a little giggle in your voice. “I want you to touch me.”

Jonathan just nodded, but when you went back to sucking his cock, he grabbed the back of your hair with one of his hands. He wasn’t shy about his moans - either that or he couldn’t help it - but you were loving it. You had never done this before, but the noises he was making let you know you were doing a good job. An amazing job, apparently.

“Baby,” he moaned, high and desperate. “Feels so good. Oh my god- it’s so good.”

You almost laughed, he was so cute, but you kept it together as you took him deeper and deeper with every pass, running your tongue around his tip every time you reached it.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his breaths coming in shorter bursts. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop right now. And I really…really wanna do more with you.”

You wouldn’t have minded making him cum with your mouth, but doing more sounded way too enticing. You pulled off of him and he watched as a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock, dropping his head back on the pillows with a groan.

Crawling up his body slowly, you placed kisses as you went, making him shudder. When you reached his lips you kissed him again, his hands sliding up your sides.

“God, you are…so hot,” he groaned, hands squeezing the plush skin of your ass before sliding back up your body, enjoying every inch of you.

“So are you,” you hummed, kissing his neck, biting and sucking when you found the spot that made him moan. Then, to your surprise, he grabbed you and flipped you both so he was on top.

He started kissing your neck, making you moan beneath him as he left purple hickies on your skin. You felt his hard cock pressed up against your core, and he pulled back, looking at you with pleading eyes that contradicted his next words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice raspy. It was obvious he very much did. “We don’t have to. If you want to stop now, we can.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you said quickly. “I…want to keep going. Do you have a condom?”

“Shit,” he hissed. “No. This isn’t, uh, something I do often.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. We can still do it. Just, uh…pull out?”

Jonathan nodded vigorously. “I can do that.”

He reached down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around his cock as he dragged the head between your folds, gathering your slick on him. Then he was pressing at your entrance, gaze darting back up to look into your eyes.

“Let me know if you don’t like it, okay?” He said. “I can stop any time. We don’t have to do this.”

“Jonathan,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s okay. Just do it.”

He nodded, then looked back down to where you were connected as he slowly began pushing inside. It stung at first, the intrusion unfamiliar and painful the farther he filled you, but it eased into a kind of pleasure before long. You held onto his shoulders tightly.

Jonathan groaned when he bottomed out inside of you, body shuddering from the sheer pleasure of being buried inside your tight, wet walls. It felt amazing for him, better than his hand, better than what he dreamed sex would be like. You were perfect, like your body was made for him, made to take him.

“Oh my god, Jonathan,” you moaned. “Feels so good. You’re so big. Please move, need you to fuck me.”

He moaned, hand gripping tightly in the bed sheets again. “Fuck, if you say things like that I’m gonna cum faster than I want to.”

He pulled back out slowly before rolling his hips back into you. It felt even better that time, a high whine coming from your lips. Reassured seeing that you were enjoying it, he set a steady pace, thrusting into you quickly. He buried his face in your neck, moaning as he truly began to fuck you.

“God, this is…fuck, feels so good. You feel so fucking good. Shit, I can’t-“ He cut himself off with another moan, high and whiney and so fucking hot.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling lightly at his dark brown locks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, guiding him to fuck you faster, which had him moaning your name over and over again.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. “Please, I-“

Jonathan reached between your bodies, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. He had the idea, but didn’t exactly know what he was doing.

“Rub in circles,” you told him, although what he was doing didn’t feel bad. He did as you instructed, rubbing quick tight circles on the sensitive bud. “Fuck, yeah, just like that. Just like that.”

The combined feeling of his cock deep inside you and his fingers working against your clit had a coil tightening in your belly, your peak coming faster and faster. “Jon, I’m-“

Your orgasm crashed into you, having you seeing stars as your back arched off the bed, pussy clenching around him as you called his name again and again. “Jonathan! Oh my god, Jonathan-“

It sent Jon over the edge too, crying out loudly as he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock a couple times as he shot his load all over your chest, stomach and thighs. It was so much, and you had never seen a guy cum before. You watched him with wide eyes, the sight turning you on all over again.

You both caught your breath, trying to calm down after all that. Jonathan reached for a dirty shirt on the floor and cleaned you off, then laid down on his bed next to you.

“That was absolutely incredible,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around you. “You were incredible.”

“That was amazing,” you agreed. He leaned over and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he laughed. “Haven’t you realized how into you I am? Especially after all this?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. “Yes. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The two of you cuddled in bed for a while longer, until you looked over at his alarm clock and saw the time. “Oh god. I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

Jonathan looked over at the time, too. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. Do you want me to give you a ride home?” He asked. “We can, uh, do your part of the project tomorrow,” he added, cheeks tinged red.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling and giving him a kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

You both got dressed, trying to look as if you hadn’t done what you had just done. You left his room and headed down the hall - seeing Jonathan’s mom, Joyce, sitting in the living room.

She smiled at you awkwardly. “Hi, so nice to meet you.”

You took her hand in yours, blushing furiously as Jonathan avoided eye contact with his mother. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said, giving her your name.

As you and Jonathan walked out hand in hand, he turned to you. “She definitely knew what we did.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

tag list

@shes-an-odd-bird @cassandracorvo

[wroteclassicaly]

Don’t know why I just had a random visual of being fucked hard on top of a counter by Jonathan Byers.

You two are closing down Surfer Boy Pizza. Fingers wrapped around shelves for leverage, supplies falling all over the floor. His jeans are around his ass, face in your neck, grunting and focussed. One of your hands hold onto the empty rack behind you, the other wound in his hair, legs locked around his waist.

[ddejavvu]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[luveline]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She didn't have to do that." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You… talk about me to your mom?" 

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

He's not very convincing. 

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

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

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

"What?" you ask. 

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

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

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

"What?" you ask, shocked. 

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

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

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

"Yeah," he says. "I am." 

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

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

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

[lizzie-boo]

Mistletoe Mania

Jonathan Byers x Reader

Ficmas Day 7

Summary: When you and your best friend Jonathan get trapped under the mistletoe tensions run high. But what happens when the mistletoe keeps popping up blurring the lines between friendship and more?

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Divider by @saradika-graphics This is posted like three days late but I will have day 8 posted today as well.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you tell your best friend Jonathan as you climb into the passenger seat of his car. 

“No problem, we were gonna drive past your house anyway,” he tells you while checking the rearview mirror to back the car out of your driveway. 

“So are you guys excited for the party?” You ask, making sure to turn around so Will would know he was included in the conversation. 

He begins to ramble on about all the things he and his friends have planned for tonight. You listen carefully chiming in at various points. From the driver’s seat Jonathan steals glances at you wondering how he got so lucky to have a best friend that treats his little brother with so much love. He feels his heartbeat speed up as he listens to you trade corny jokes with Will and your laughter fills the car. 

As you finally pull into the Wheeler’s driveway you lean over the center console and squeeze Jonathan’s arm. “Seriously, thank you so much for picking me up. I don’t know what I would do without you.” The smile you send his way has him wanting to melt into his seat. He wanted to do whatever it took to keep that smile there all the time. 

Your moment is broken as Will slams the car door and runs up to the house. Hopping out of the car the two of you follow him up the driveway to the front door where Nancy is waiting with a smirk. You shoot her a look but she ignores it instead stepping back into the house to let the two of you in. 

The second you make it through the door you’re overwhelmed with the sound of shouting. It takes a second for you to process that the shouting is being directed at the two of you. Only once you look up do you realize that you and your best friend have found yourself in a more than friendly situation. 

The green mistletoe dangles just about the front door where you’re both currently standing. Pointing at the small plant Jonathan finally gets the hint and looks up to see what all the noise is about. His cheeks turn red at the sight and you can’t help but laugh at his sheepish expression. 

“Kiss already,” Robin yells from the other room. Finally you take charge and slowly lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

You pull away almost instantly as butterflies overtake your stomach. You had just kissed your best friend and it was the best kiss you ever had. And that was saying a lot because it was barely even a kiss. Just your lips ghosting against his. He clears his throat as he runs a hand through his hair and all you can imagine is running your fingers through it yourself as you explore his mouth with your own. 

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you announce to no one in particular as you make your way towards the Wheeler’s kitchen. Hoping that some space from the scene of the crime will calm your nerves enough to pretend that the kiss hadn’t confirmed what you had been repressing for so long. You were irrevocably in love with your best friend and there was no denying it anymore. 

Grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator you let the cool air wash over your face. Closing the door you take one final deep breath to steady your nerves. You pick at the label on the bottle as you make your way out of the kitchen not watching where you’re walking. Which is exactly why you walk straight into Jonathan. 

He grabs your shoulders in an attempt to steady you. You give him a shy smile unsure of how to act around him anymore. “Sorry,” is all you manage to say before you’re being interrupted. 

“Looks like you’re caught under the mistletoe,” Max points out before pushing past the two of you. At the mere mention of mistletoe the rest of your group of friends come rushing in ready to witness another embarrassing moment between the two of you. 

“Come on guys kiss for real this time,” Eddie urges as he leans an arm on the top of Dustin’s head. 

This time there is no awkward staring wondering who will make the first move. Instead Jonathan leans in and presses a solid kiss to your lips. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second but it sent you spiraling. As if the world had fallen out from beneath your feet. You blink at him a few times unsure of what to do. Before you figure it out he makes his way into the kitchen leaving you standing there speechless. 

Little did you know that he was also freaking out. His best friend who he’d had a crush on for years has finally kissed him. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just ask you out and assume you felt the same since it was only a mistletoe kiss. For all he knew you were just going along with it because it was a tradition. He didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize you walking out of his life. Especially because he knew it would affect more than just him in the grand scheme of things. 

Lost in his thoughts he makes his way back to the living room. He takes the last open spot which happens to be on the couch next to you. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize that both Eddie and Steve are sitting on the floor instead of the perfectly good spot next to you. It’s only once he hears the cheers that he snaps his attention to the room around him. Next to him your head is buried in your hands. He glances around the room confused about why you seem so embarrassed. 

Finally Will fills him in on what he’s missing, “Part three?” Will then points to the small bundle of mistletoe hanging over the section of the couch the two of you are sharing. 

Turning red again Jonathan looks around the room. “What’s with all the mistletoe?” 

“Holly really wanted to put it up everywhere, must be some weird kid thing,” Mike shrugs as he explains. 

When you finally lift your head from your hands you turn to meet his gaze. As you lean in to kiss him for the third time tonight you flip off your friends. Pressing your lips to his you can barely enjoy it knowing this had to have been a scheme by your friends since they knew about your crush. 

Before you get the chance to fully pull away Jonathan whispers, “Can we talk for a minute?” His warm breath across your face makes your stomach flip before it plummets at the sound of his question. 

You nod before standing to follow him into the dining room away from all your prying friends. He paces the length of the room running his hands through his hair. There is some quiet mumbling that you can’t quite make out. Eventually you reach out and grab his arm, stopping him from continuing his trek across the room. 

Standing directly in front of him you ask, “What did you need to talk about?” You hold his gaze willing yourself to come off as casual and not a bundle of nerves. 

He takes a deep breath before reaching out to cup your cheek. “I’ve had a crush on you for a long time and I never wanted to ruin our friendship,” he begins, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes. “I thought that if I ever said anything and you didn’t like me back then I’d lose you and  I didn’t want that. But I figure after how everything has gone tonight I should tell you and either you feel the same or you walk away from me. Which you would probably do even if I didn’t confess since I probably made it painfully obvious all night that I’m head over heels in love with you.” 

Your eyes well with tears as he finishes up his confession. The warmth of his palm against your cheek grounding you in the moment. You try to blink the tears away hoping to share your own heartfelt confession without being a sobbing mess. Instead a tear rolls down your cheek and he gently wipes it away. 

“I’ve had a crush on you forever and it wasn’t until all of this mistletoe mania tonight that I realized it wasn’t some silly high school crush I never grew out of but that I had fallen in love with you.” You hiccup as the tears fall freely now. Jonathan’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you to his chest. “It’s just I never realized that all the little things that I thought I liked about you as a friend were actually the things that were making me fall in love with you.” 

His fingers skim across your cheek once more before he cups your chin and leans in for another kiss. This time you both lean in and your mouths move together. Your hands finally find their home in his hair, giving it a light tug. 

“This is how I should’ve kissed you from the start,” he mumbles against your lips. He nips at your bottom lip and you pull his hair harder. 

“Don’t worry about the past,” you pant, “let’s just focus on right now.” You slot your lips against his again never wanting the feeling to end. 

“Save that for your own house,” Mr. Wheeler chides as he shuffles toward the kitchen. 

The two of you spring apart mumbling apologies. He waves you off and you both go rushing back to the rest of your friends. Eager to get away from the awkward tension settling in the dining room. Jonathan’s hand finds yours and as your fingers intertwine your heart swells. Taking your seats on the couch again you bury your head in his shirt to avoid the teasing of your friends. 

Only looking up when you hear Robin say, “See Nance, I told you all the mistletoe would work.” You look at both of your friends before flipping them off once more. When you hear Jonathan’s laughter next to you and remember just how well it worked out you can’t help but also blow a kiss to each of your meddling friends. 

[strangerthings-80s]

Kindness Over Cruel: Part 2

---

Weeks had passed since that first conversation, and things between Y/N and Jonathan had changed in ways she never expected. What started as a simple “hello” had turned into something more—a quiet friendship built on shared moments between classes, late-night phone calls about movies and music, and even a few secret photography sessions after school. Jonathan had opened up to her in a way that made her feel special, like she was one of the few who truly understood him.

And what Y/N didn’t know was that, during those moments, Jonathan had developed feelings for her—feelings he wasn’t quite sure how to express. So he did what he knew best: he wrote. Quietly, over the course of several days, he penned notes to her, pouring out his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if she would feel the same way, but he hoped she’d understand.

One afternoon, he slipped a note into her locker:

“I know we’re just friends, but I can’t help feeling like you’re more than that to me. I don’t know if you feel the same, but I had to tell you... you mean a lot to me.”

Jonathan had hoped it would stay between the two of them, but unfortunately, someone else found out—someone who wasn’t too happy about it.

Dan, Y/N ex-boyfriend, had noticed Jonathan lingering around her more often. He’d seen the way she smiled at Jonathan, and it bothered him. He and Y/N had broken up months ago, but in his mind, no one else should be close to her. So when he discovered one of Jonathan’s love notes, anger flared up inside him.

One day after school, Dan cornered Jonathan by his locker. “So, you think you can send Y/N notes, huh?” Dan’s voice was low, mocking. Jonathan stiffened, already sensing the confrontation coming.

“Leave it alone, Dan,” Jonathan muttered, trying to brush past him.

But Dan wasn’t done. He shoved the note into Jonathan’s chest. “You think Y/N gonna fall for this? For you? You’re out of your mind, Byers. She’s way out of your league. She’s popular. You’re... well, you’re nobody.”

Jonathan clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the strap of his backpack. He wasn’t the type to fight, but Dan’s words stung. He had always felt like an outsider, and now his insecurities were being thrown back in his face.

“She’s not like that,” Jonathan finally said, though his voice wavered slightly.

“Oh, trust me,” Dan smirked, leaning closer. “She’ll never go out with you. You’re just a phase. Someone for her to pass the time with. She’ll come back to someone like me eventually.”

Jonathan’s heart sank, but he kept his expression stoic. He wouldn’t give Dan the satisfaction of knowing how much those words hurt. As Dan walked away, Jonathan stood there for a moment, the crumpled note still clutched in his hand. Doubt gnawed at him, and for the first time, he wondered if Dan might be right.

But deep down, Jonathan knew he had to trust what he and Y/N had built. It wasn’t about popularity or being in the same league. It was about how they understood each other.

[spicysix]

fake it 'till you make it | jonathan byers X reader

“It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault. I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.” or: you and Jonathan create a plan to make Nancy jealous

warnings: fake relationship, in between S1 and S2, gn! reader (no pronouns, no gendered terms, no y/n used). mostly fluff, a pinch of crack taken seriously at the beginning just because i love it, right before all the fucking feels hit in. and my already known absurd use of italics.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: based on this request, thank you so much anon. your request drove me completely insane, i had a few out of body experiences and ended up with 9k words of love and devotion to Jonathan Byers. don't worry, no Nancy hate in here, it's almost as much of a love letter to her as it is to Jonathan tbh, Reader just doesn't know better in the first paragraphs. hope y'all like it! don't forget to reblog if you do, and comments are always treasured and kept in a little golden box in my nightstand for me to delight in them on lonely nights ♡

↳ ao3

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, let’s start from the top.

Jonathan has always kind of been there. He didn't say much, he didn't present himself much, he didn't get quite noticed. But he has always been there. And you had a thing for those who weren't actually seen, but that had always been there anyway.

Your interest was purely out of curiosity, though, of course. Because you wanted to understand the whole thing. Sure, you had the bigger picture — abusive, absent father, overprotective mom, young brother, and the whole heavy weight of teen parentalization on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

Multiply that for, like, a billion, and we get what we got after November 6th: missing young brother, over-overprotective mom, asshole opportunistic father, and the whole heavy weight of guilt on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

And, in the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, wait, from the top again.

It was mid-May, and Jonathan was just there, as usual. Revealing some photos, the bigger and the smaller pictures you were so deeply curious to see. A precisely requested assignment for a History project — you really loved History, you'd put all your effort into it — and, oh wow! You were also there!

Both of you revealing your pictures, Johnathan had used that shiny new camera he showed up with after Christmas break — after Nancy Wheeler's boyfriend, Steve Harrington, broke the previous one (I mean, if the rumors were true, Johnny-boy was being kind of a creep. But apparently he apologized or whatever, because after Steve's purple eye and Will Byers' death and resuscitation thing, you've seen Johnathan, Steve, and Nancy Wheeler having lunch all together. As crazy as it all sounded).

That’s a digression, back from the top again.

You and Jonathan were sharing the silence only a red room and its buzzing little red lamp lights could provide, minding your own business. Well, he was minding his own business, you were kind of curious about the bigger and the smaller pictures. Minding his business as well.

Shoulder to shoulder as you worked on your photos, you hanging your own as Jonathan took his down from where they've been drying.

It was literally a bigger and a smaller picture, okay, I kid you not.

Jonathan seemed to get lost in his thoughts as he analyzed the bigger one, the one you've seen already — what seemed to be a reunion of sorts between the Byers and the Wheelers, parents and children, and those other two little gremlins that Will and Mike (was it Mike? Nancy’s younger brother, Will’s best friend) were inseparable friends with.

The younger ones were sitting on the floor, those huge smiles on their baby faces, happiness exhaling from, well, probably finding out that their friend that had gone missing for a week wasn't actually dead.

The parents, Joyce Byers, and Karen and What's-His-Face Wheeler were sitting on the couch behind the kids, pride and joy in the mothers' faces and boredom on the father's face — it was his permanent state, you were aware of it by now from seeing him from time to time on the streets.

Pretty, preppy, prissy Nancy was standing behind the couch, just behind her daddy, younger baby sister in her arms as she smiled that tiny little pouty smile of hers. No pretty, preppy, poshy Steve in sight, you wondered where he was, as Jonathan was standing beside Nancy and the baby, hands in his pants pockets, that perpetual blank stare in his eyes of someone being constantly haunted.

You found it cute, somehow.

Cute in, like, a curious kind of way. Wanted to find out what was haunting him so badly.

And then. In the present, real, out-of-picture time or whatever, Jonathan snapped out of his thoughts as he went to get the other picture — the smaller one — from where it was hanging. His hand stopped a single inch before touching it, and you saw from the corner of your eye that he was looking at you from the corner of his eye. Combine the peripheral vision situation with his hesitancy to grab the smaller picture, your life-long curiosity and an impulsive strike, and before you even thought about what you were doing, you were suddenly grabbing the fucking picture before Jonathan could.

You grabbed it, and he let out what sounded like a gasp and a whimper at the same time, and you walked backward until your back met the wall behind you. And Jonathan was all over you in a second, trying to grab your arms as you put them behind your back, hiding the picture — you didn't even get to see it, had no idea what he was so mortified about. He was saying, or screaming maybe, something at you that you couldn’t distinguish because his head was too close to yours. Distress all over his cute scrawny face, and you barely had the time to register the guilt bubbling in your stomach — because, fuck, why did you do that? It was a personal thing, you weren't even friends, you had talked to him like five times tops if you didn't count the whole trimester where you were basically best friends because of that Science project in freshman year.

You missed freshman year.

Anyway, there was no time to think about freshman year.

Over from the top, for real this time!

In the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Literally, physically enters the red room while you and Jonathan are pressed together against the wall, your arms behind your back, his arms on your arms and waist or maybe hips — you were unfocused, to be honest, by the fact that he was basically manhandling you with all his scrawny kid strength.

Well, Jonathan did win a fight over Steve Harrington, handed the School King's ass to him on a golden plate, so you shouldn't be that much surprised.

Alas, Nancy stopped at the door, her huge doe eyes getting even huger, sharp jaw going slack, long pointy fingers wrapped so tightly around the door handle that her knuckles were white.

"Oh! I- Jesus, I'm sorry! Jonathan, I-" Jonathan hadn't said a word since she entered, his whole body had gone frozen, and you were afraid he had stopped breathing altogether. "I'll come back later? I- Or, you'll come find me? I- Oh, god, I'm sorry!"

She ran off after her eloquent speech, not waiting for an answer and slamming the door behind her. Jonathan walked away from you and started murmuring something under his breath while walking in circles within the tiny space in the red room, forgetting about you and your stupid kidnapping of his picture, and finding out a new something to stress about.

You brought your arm to your front, finally looking at it and seeing what he really didn’t want you to see in the picture.

Guess who?

Nancy Fucking Wheeler.

It was on the same day as the other photo if Nancy’s clothes were to say, and she was away from the camera, her profile showing. Holding a single flower — you had no idea which one, you didn’t understand much about flowers. You knew it wasn’t a rose — in between her thin fingers, nose close to the petals, a delicate smile on her lips. She was in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing her in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust around her, and yet she was the main focus of the whole frame.

As far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Something stirred in your belly, something raw and annoying and mean, but you ignored it and approached Jonathan carefully — as he was still kind of shaking, palms pressed tightly against his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already stretching your arm to give him back his Nancy Wheeler love portrait. “Curiosity killed the cat and whatnot,” you muttered as he looked at you with anger and snatched the photo from your fingers.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna get you killed too.” His voice was restrained, his whole strength going into not yelling at you again even if his words were threatening enough. “You should go,” he commanded before remembering that his pictures were ready and yours weren’t. “I should go.”

He gathered his photos, his tools and his backpack, and you couldn’t will yourself to tear your eyes from every single movement he made, even if it was painful to watch because he was so clearly pissed at you — and rightfully so.

“If it’s any worth, she looked jealous,” you said, right before he left the red room.

Jonathan paused, door half open, his hand gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were going white — a perfect mirror image of what Nancy looked like just a few minutes before. He didn’t turn to look at you or to answer your remark, just huffed, shook his head, and left, slamming the door behind him.

You rubbed your face, felt like tearing your hair off your head, took a few long, deep breaths before resuming your task of revealing the photos for your History Project. Buried every single feeling into your head and heart, they weren’t worthy to feel or talk about, and you had more pressing urges.

The History Project. Something about your local community, how a small town revolved around its few citizens, and you thanked every god you could come up with that Jonathan left before you revealed your last picture. Or, that you distracted Jonathan enough by prodding onto his secrets before the revealing liquid did its job and revealed the secrets you were hiding yourself.

You took the picture from the container with the revealing liquid and hung it alongside the other ones you had already put up to dry. You looked at your secret smaller picture.

Out of frame, you knew that Joyce Byers was at the cashier counter of Melvald’s, handing little Will some random candy as he looked excited at the gift. In the frame, in the picture, focused on, behind Will, was Jonathan. Also on his profile, almost the same angle as his own picture of Nancy. He was smiling softly at the sight of his family once again reunited in such an uneventful task such as grocery shopping. The natural daylight from outside the store made his skin glow, and the little crisp texture and reflexes of the not-so-clean window between you and him made the picture look somehow cozy — the opposite effect of distancing that you’d think it would give it. He was at the very center of the frame, soft brown jacket over his shoulders, hands holding plastic bags as he waited for his brother, his pink cheeks making your own face heat up — you remembered. You were infatuated with how relaxed he looked, some of that whole heavy weight finally off his scrawny shoulders; so relaxed that he didn’t even notice you from across the street, taking the picture like a fucking weirdo stalker.

And as far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Thankfully, your own ears were the only ones at range. And accustomed to the noise already.

-✧-

“I fucked up.”

Those were the first words you heard from Jonathan after the whole Nancy Wheeler love portrait fiasco in the red room. It was Friday already, and three whole days had passed - not that you were waiting for him to come talk to you sooner, because you never even talked before that, but something about the way you’d cross eyes in the hallways of the school made the air between you two weighted with something other than your crippling guilt.

“Come again?” you asked, setting down the Bukowski book you were pretending to read for your English class - ugh, Bukowski annoyed you.

Jonathan, for some reason, seemed annoyed at you.

‘Some reason’, okay, other than the obvious reason.

“I avoided Nancy after that day for as long as I could, but then she cornered me earlier today and I got too nervous and might have made the whole situation worst than it already was,” he answered, looking around him as if someone in the school parking lot was about to come out from behind a car and punch him in the face.

Hm, maybe Steve Harrington would.

“How did you manage that?” you asked again, crossing a leg under the other where you were sitting on the bench.

“I might have told her we, you and me, I mean, are… in a relationship.”

There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Jonathan in front of you, staring at you, waiting for your answer, but he was kind of blurry and the people walking behind him seemed to move in slow motion all of a sudden. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer him.

“You. What.”

He groaned, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before he rubbed his eyes with the tip of his fingers.

“She came at me, asked who you were and if everything was okay that day, and all I could think of was you saying she had been jealous and, I don’t know, it felt like I blacked out or was possessed or something and then, out of nowhere, I was saying we were dating.”

“To make her more jealous?” you confirmed, and he shrugged violently.

“I guess!” he almost yelled, and then curled over himself in embarrassment. He hid his whole face behind the palms of his hands and you wanted to push them away, hold his cheeks yourself and-

Nope, block that thought out.

“Okay,” you said instead.

“Okay? ‘Okay’, what? Jesus, are you even more insane than I thought?”

You shrugged and pretended his words didn’t sting. “I’m saying we should go for it.” You saw his mouth opening, and spoke before whatever words were going to come out of him could hurt you further: “I can be your fake lover, you make Nancy jealous, she finds out she wants you and not Steve, dumps his ass and you and her will live happily ever after.”

Why were your impulsive thoughts making you so willingly throw yourself into a scenery that was only going to hurt you badly? You had no answer for that.

Jonathan frowned and actually seemed to consider, which was probably worse because you were pretty sure he was going to immediately deny your offer. It was a crazy fucking offer after all, who did you think you were? Molly Ringwald in a rom-com?

Well, apparently Jonathan thought he was Anthony Michael Hall, because the next thing he said was: “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Dude. You’re kidding me?” you asked, twisting your entire body to fully face him and he seemed confused. “I was being sarcastic!” You weren’t, not really, but he didn’t know that. “We can’t do that, it won’t work! Just grow out some balls and ask her out, or whatever.”

You got up and started gathering your stuff since your free period was coming to an end, but Jonathan held your wrist before you could leave, a wave of shock starting where your skins connected all the way up to your brain. You ignored it.

“I already embarrassed myself too much in front of her. Please?” he begged, those sweet eyes of his staring deeply into your soul, and you huffed.

Closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him, pulled your arm away so he wouldn’t touch you. He had too much power over you — and he had no idea.

“You owe me one, boyfriend,” you said just in time for the bell to ring, and then you were on your way to your English class, Bukowski ignored and forgotten, Jonathan’s pleading eyes the only thing on your mind.

“So, boyfriend, how did our love story begin?” Your question startled Jonathan, who hadn’t seen your approach.

He was sitting on the bench furthest from the entry of the park, looking at every direction around him just as he was in the school parking lot earlier that day. Still scared Steve Harrington would pop out of nowhere to beat his ass in revenge a few weeks late.

Jonathan had the luck of not sharing a single class with you over the rest of the school day, so he slipped a little note into your locker at some point, like a middle schooler trying to flirt. His note, however, did not read “WANNA GO GET MILKSHAKES WITH ME? [ ] YES [ ] NO - MARK WITH AN X”, but a simple “meet me @ train station park after school, gotta plan this right” instead.

Underwhelming.

You, however, were a pro at nothing else except committing to a bit, and it had been your stupid idea after all. So you went to the damn train station park to meet him and plan your damn love story, just so the two of you could make damned Nancy Wheeler jealous.

Jonathan was jumpy and kept as much distance in between you on the bench as he could, as if he was afraid you were going to attack him and devour his flesh like a monster coming from a sci-fi horror. You buried all your thoughts and feelings for him in the deepest of corners inside your mind (you’ve been doing that a lot, lately) and tried not to take any of his skittish reactions personally.

The two of you worked nicely, considering all the circumstances, and came up with some ideas that weren’t half bad. If you stopped to think why you were even doing all that in the first place, you’d have a hysterical laughing fit, so you just pretended like you were rehearsing a school play or something.

“You… need a ride?” Jonathan asked and you thought for half a minute before denying.

Surely it would be better if the two of you spent more time together since you were supposed to be dating. But Jonathan was still acting weird — more than usual — and you really didn’t want to impose or to feel worse than you already did from all his mistreatment.

“Uh, no, house’s not that far,” you lied, it was a good walk to your home, but Jonathan seemed relieved at your answer so you felt like you picked the right one.

You suppressed the need to huff, roll your eyes and push him in annoyance or do something else a middle schooler would do.

You also suppressed the will to smile politely at him as you said your goodbyes because, frankly, he wasn’t so deserving of it.

Phone numbers were exchanged in case of emergencies or needs to plan further, and you left before he could come up with something else. You were tired, drained really, from suppressing so much the whole day, and you couldn’t wait to sleep throughout the whole weekend if you could. Hoping no ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ emergencies would come up. Building up the courage to continue your own ‘You love Jonathan Byers and would do anything for him’ stupid plan.

-✧-

From all the worldviews you had to deconstruct as you grew older — you know, like, Santa isn't real, Reagan’s not a good president no matter what your grandpa said, vegetables are good for your health, and no, U2 wasn't actually that great of a band-

Well, the hardest and also easiest mental worldview deconstruction to be made was that Nancy Wheeler was actually a nice gal.

It was easy because it happened only after your first lunch with your brand new boyfriend Jonathan, and his great best friends Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler herself.  Because it took Nancy one single lunch to win you over with all that wit, brains, charm of hers. And it was hard because, let's be honest, you've been holding a grudge over her for absolutely nothing (let’s call it nothing, okay?) for… a couple of years, now.

It happened Monday, and Jonathan was waiting for you outside your classroom right before lunch break, ready to take you to meet his friends or whatever they were. You were caught by surprise, but you were also a great improviser, and so you tucked his hands into yours (ignored his astounded demeanor and the blush in his cheeks, and that electric wave that hit you again) and let him lead you down the hallways.

You tried not to pay attention to all the looks you received. If all that had happened before November, you wouldn’t even be noticed — neither you nor Jonathan noticeable enough to gather attention from your peers. After his… well, after everything that happened to him and around him after November 6th, though, Jonathan was a little more perceived around school grounds.

Your face burned and your palms sweat with all the eyes turned on you, but you mastered the art of looking blasé all the way to the cafeteria. All the way to the table where Steve and Nancy were sitting side by side, his arm over her shoulder as they talked quietly.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted as you reached the table, and the couple looked up at you. Steve raised an eyebrow and Nancy’s face contorted in some way before settling into a smile. Jonathan introduced you by name. “we’re dating,” he said, mostly to Steve who didn’t seem to know the news.

“Oh, wow. Cool, man. And nice to meet you,” Steve nodded at you with his million-dollar smile.

“Same,” you answered before letting go of Jonathan’s hand, sitting down and getting your sandwich from your backpack.

Jonathan sat down beside you and you could feel how stiff he was moving. You’d normally reach out and try and reassure him through physical contact if he was a friend of yours. But even though you were dating, you didn’t know if he would react nicely to that. So you kept to yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you properly,” Nancy called out, reaching across the table to rest her hand against your arm. Her skin was warm. “I’m sorry about… the other day.”

Steve turned to her clearly confused, and you answered before he could ask questions.

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, we have Math together, don’t we?” you asked instead, and Nancy nodded before going on a rampage about the Math teacher who was an absolute asshole.

She didn’t seem like a huge talker, but that was just one of your misconceptions about her that she went off on proving you wrong about. She seemed cold and distant, but she was actually really attentive and asked questions about you all lunch. She seemed uptight and annoying, but she was actually really funny and amusing. She seemed arrogant and presumptuous, but she was actually really down to earth and offered to help you with some English assignments in exchange for you to help her with some Math assignments.

She talked quietly and smoothly, and had witty remarks to every single comment her boyfriend made — not all of them were dumb, and not all of Nancy’s answers bordered on mean, but some of them certainly did. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though. He looked at her as if she hung the Sun all the way up in the sky. It was funny to see them side by side. They had a lot in common, physically. Top line, casual-chic clothing, elegant fabric softener smell, ironed to no faults. Sharp-edged jaws and expressive eyes, silk-smooth tongues and winning smiles, charisma all over.

That’s as far as it went, though.

Her nerdy comments went in through Steve’s left ear and out through his right. Jonathan laughed at them. Her journalistic eye caught onto little details that went unnoticed by her boyfriend. Jonathan noticed them with her. Steve smiled politely at Jonathan’s dry jokes, not always understanding them, but Nancy hid her laughs behind her wrist.

As if god was trying to show you that opposites attract, and if the devil was trying to give him a counterpoint of: no, actually, similars attract. All happening right in front of your skeptical eyes in the middle of school lunch, in between Science and PE.

Jonathan walked you to your next class after it was all over, and you were overwhelmed with how much you enjoyed Nancy Wheeler’s company. Which made it all extra difficult, since now you understood Jonathan’s infatuation with her.

“See you later,” he said his goodbye at the gym entrance.

A group of people walked past the two of you and Jonathan thought it was a good idea to land a kiss on your cheek. Your breath hitched and you didn’t have the time to say goodbye back before Jonathan was walking to the main building, to his own class.

Your cheek burned the whole day, and so did the hand you used to hold his through the hallways, and your heart ached with the thoughts on your mind of how much Jonathan and Nancy seemed meant to be, and how much you wish they weren’t.

-✧-

It was two whole weeks of that. Two whole weeks walking hand-in-hand with Jonathan and sitting with him, Nancy, and Steve at lunch. And sitting beside Nancy at the Math classes you shared, because she invited you to and you couldn’t say no.

And there was something about the three of them, something weird that they seemed to have in common. When they’d reminisce over something that happened around the time Will went missing, and they would stop and look at you mid-sentence sometimes, and one of them would suddenly change the subject.

You were curious, of course, it was part of your nature to be exceedingly curious at all times.

But they all seemed to hate to talk about it, even if they brought it up from time to time, and you seemed to recognize that constantly haunted look of Jonathan in his friends’ faces as well, and the look wasn’t as cute anymore.

So you didn’t pry.

Somewhere between the end of May and the beginning of June, Nancy and Steve asked you and Jonathan to go out with them on a double date, as if reading your mind for what could possibly be your worst nightmare, but again you couldn’t say no.

You might have picked your best outfit, and you might have done your hair more carefully than you usually did, and you might have put on an extra ring or necklace. And your parents might have noticed, and you might have lied and said you were going to a colleague’s birthday party and not on a double date to the movies and a restaurant with your weird fake boyfriend and his weird preppy friends.

Jonathan picked you up at seven sharp in his old Ford and he didn’t seem much different than usual outfit-wise, but he was definitely using cologne.

“You look nice,” he said as you entered the car and you tried not to swoon at the crumbs of his attention.

“You smell nice,” you answered, and it pleased you enough to see that blush of his creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Steve and Nancy were already there waiting under the marquee. Jonathan parked and the two of you left the car and went on your way to meet the other couple. Nancy greeted you with a tight hug. You wanted to throw yourself into oncoming traffic just as much as you wanted to stay in the unusual embrace for a long time.

“This is where your boyfriend gave me a taste of his amazing right hook,” Steve said to you, pointing at the little alley by the theater.

“Steve!” Nancy reprimanded, but it seemed like she was holding back a smile.

“What was all that about, anyway?” you asked, giving into your curiosity, eager for the whole story now that you could finally have it.

You forgot that dating Jonathan should probably mean that you’d know what it was all about already. He would’ve told the person he was dating, right? Thankfully no one seemed to notice your little slip.

“Jonathan was a bit of a creep, I was a huge of an asshole and Nancy sadly got caught in between us,” Steve answered honestly. “We’re all good now, though, aren’t we? All in the past.” He smiled at the other two, who nodded along and smiled back.

Jonathan and Nancy’s smiles didn’t seem as sincere as Steve’s. And that didn’t feel like the actual whole story, but again you didn’t pry because they were getting that weird haunted look.

Steve threw his arm over Nancy’s shoulder. “Let’s get some popcorn, my treat,” he said and started walking into the theater. Jonathan touched your lower back, guiding you, and you held back a sigh.

You were in for a long evening.

Indiana Jones conquered the Temple Of Doom, or whatever. You didn’t pay much attention, it was hard to with Jonathan’s arm draped over your shoulder the whole time and the whispered little comments he would make with Nancy — instead of you — through the film.

You went to a restaurant after, Nancy’s choice, not too far from the theater so you all walked there. Hand in hand again. Nancy and Steve behind you, talking about the movie. Jonathan tried to rile up a conversation about it with you — finally — but, as you hadn’t paid much attention, you didn’t have a lot to say.

Food was good and thankfully the topic of conversation wasn’t the movie, because you couldn’t pretend to have paid attention to it in front of the three of them at the same time. Instead, you talked about your summer plans. Well, mostly Steve’s summer plans, he was going on vacation with his parents, somewhere on the East Coast, maybe Hawaii? Nancy was just going to see her grandma for a couple of weeks up in Chicago. Your parents weren’t fans of travels, and Jonathan was… well, the guy was poor. So Steve’s plans were the most thrilling ones.

“Too bad your parents won’t wanna travel, you could have the house to yourselves,” Steve said with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You laughed loudly — mostly nervously — and Jonathan blushed. It was your usual responses at this point.

“Sure, yeah,” you said, if only not to leave a weird silence up, before looking at your wristwatch. “They’re very strict anyway, and look at that! I gotta be home soon,” you continued, and Jonathan coughed to hide a laugh.

“We should ask for the check,” he said and raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention.

That weird conversation was over, finally, and you paid for the dinner individually. By the grace of gods Steve didn’t comment on Jonathan not paying for you, since he paid for his own girlfriend, but he sure eyed you curiously as you handed your money.

“This was so nice, we should do it more often!” Nancy commented on your way back to the cars, her arm intertwined with yours as Steve and Jonathan steered behind. “It feels nice to have a normal friend after-” she stopped herself and her eyes widened, and she gulped loudly and didn’t finish her sentence.

You remembered Barb Holland, and her great English essays and her amazing grades in History, and her suspicious disappearance near Will’s back in November. How she supposedly ran away from home. How she didn’t seem at all like the type to do that.

Nancy was looking guilty and haunted, that look the three of them shared, and your curiosity was turning into apprehension of knowing what had happened. She let go of your arm, and she never finished her sentence. The boys also went quiet behind you. There was a weighted tension on top of the four of you.

You reached Steve’s bimmer and he touched Nancy’s arm to lead her to the passenger side, and she was still in a kind of haze as she waved goodbye from the window. Steve seemed worried, and so did Jonathan, but none of them said anything. And neither did you.

Jonathan took you home, one of his hipster band’s tape on the sound system, the stars out brightly and the most awkward of silences between the two of you.

There was no one out in your street to see you as he parked in your driveway, but he kissed your cheek goodbye all the same. And you held him tightly in a hug, wanting to comfort him even though you had no idea what haunted him. Crippling curiosity equal to a crippling fear, wishing for the truth and wishing to never having to find out the truth.

-✧-

You had two final weeks of school before Summer and the great excuse of having to finish your essays and projects to hide in the library and not have to talk to the trio that confused you more and more every day.

But still, sometimes Nancy would stop by and study with you. Always helpful, and kind, and nice. You never talked about that night. Sometimes she’d bring Steve with her, and she’d tutor him and they didn’t bother you, and it felt good to have the company.

Sometimes Jonathan would stop by. He’d bring you lunch, he’d bring you books, he’d bring you comfort. The warmth of his presence was addictive, reminding you of late freshman year and the Science project you built together. And you dreaded the day this would all end, he’d forget about you with Nancy Wheeler in his arms, and you’d be nothing but an embarrassing and funny story to maybe tell their grandkids.

You were able to escape them one single day, to retake your final picture for that History collage, the one you used to replace Jonathan’s love portrait. As the class to present the projects came up, you shared a knowing look with him when you noticed he also replaced Nancy’s love portrait on his own collage. A secret between you, him, and little red lamp lights. A secret neither of you talked about. Those were starting to grow.

“How cute that you two have so much in common, you even chose the same format for your projects! I love collages,” one of your colleagues said to you after class was over.

Jonathan was waiting beside your table for you to gather your stuff, and you felt your knees weaken at the way he smiled from the compliment, none of that blush anymore, a pinch of almost confidence. You couldn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

“Mine doesn’t look as good, though,” he answered, pointing at your pictures as if he wasn’t the professional photographer, and you weren’t just someone with a hobby.

“You’re both adorable,” the colleague said before leaving, Jonathan thanked her all nonchalant as if used to it by now.

And you couldn’t come up with any words throughout the whole conversation, your throat constricted with the need to tell her to shut up and tell Jonathan how you felt for him, beg him to let you go. It wasn’t fun anymore.

He didn’t let you scurry away to the library, no more excuses to do so since the History project was the last one, and he held your hand through the hallways, and he held your bag for you, and he sat so close to you at the table bench, while Nancy ranted on about her Spanish essay, that you could feel the heat of his thigh pressed against yours, but his eyes never left Nancy’s as she spoke.

It felt as if there was an elephant at each of your shoulders, and you couldn’t stop staring at him, and he didn’t spare a single glance your way even as his arm was almost glued to yours with the heat and the sweat and the stickiness of early Summer. Your heart tight in your chest, beating fast and loud and strong against your ribcage, as if begging to be let out, to go rest on Jonathan’s hands where it belonged.

-✧-

Summer came, and you stayed home. Not many friends to go out with, not many party invitations in your mailbox, no one else to see on a day-to-day basis except your parents. They asked about Jonathan once, because they saw him picking you up and bringing you back on that double date you had with Nancy and Steve. You said he was probably traveling, that you weren’t so close, you didn’t know, and they knew better not to ask again.

It was August already, a whole long month of Summer break where you’d missed him every day, missed his sweet smile, the way his blush would start by his neck and go up until it reached his cheeks, missed his calm and soothing tone of voice, missed the way he’d smell of pancakes and mint shampoo in the mornings.

Didn’t miss the way he would look at her.

But you missed her too, though. You missed Nancy’s company, and her sweet smile and her calm and soothing tone of voice. You even missed Steve and the way he’d compare everything to a basketball game, and how he high-fived you when Nancy quizzed him on the library and he’d get an answer right. In the weirdest turn of events, they became your friends. And you missed your friends.

Your body seemed to know how your brain thought and your heart ached, because when your father asked you to get groceries, your feet automatically walked further than needed and took you to Melvald’s on Main instead of the market near your house.

And of course he was there.

You knew he’d be there. He told you (and Nancy, and Steve, during that double date) he’d be taking a summer job with his mom, was dreading the tasks already but he could use the money.

He was stocking, standing in the cereal aisle seeming a little confused about where to put the Honeycomb and the Fruit Loops. And that same natural daylight from the outside reached him and made his skin glow, and there were no dirty windows between you two as you reached him without even noticing you had been walking towards him.

“Hey,” you called out, and he turned to you and smiled weirdly wide.

“Hi. Long time no see. How’s your summer?” he asked, putting down the cereal boxes.

You shrugged. “Nothing exciting. How’s Melvald’s treating you?”

“It’s not so hard. Not a big place,” he shrugged as well, and he was still smiling and he was taller than you so the sunlight behind you was hitting his eyes just right and your heart thumped.

“You’ve seen Nancy?” you asked because you liked to suffer, you’ve come to know. “She’s back from Chicago already?”

“Oh, I think she is. Will went to Mike’s yesterday, but I haven’t seen her, no.”

“Don’t you want to?” you pressed, because you weren’t suffering enough, apparently. He shot you a comically puzzled look before shrugging and smiling again.

“I guess? No more than I wanted to see you, though. Or, like, Steve, for that matter,” he answered and you huffed.

“Sure. Anyway, where’s the pasta sauce in here?” you changed the subject and he pointed towards a specific place.

You started walking without saying anything further and, to your surprise, he followed you.

“What, you didn’t miss me back?” he was teasing you, and it would’ve thrilled you just a few months ago how close you got to each other, and you would’ve reveled in any kind of attention he’d paid to you, but you just wanted to scream because it wasn’t fun anymore. It was painful.

You didn’t answer, because you wanted to tell him the truth, and tell him that yeah, you’ve missed him so much it ached, you’ve missed him so much you cried yourself to sleep once, you missed him so much and you couldn’t have him, he wasn’t yours, but you were his even if he didn’t know. Even if his eyes were never focused on you as yours were focused on him.

“C’mon, don’t go breaking my heart,” he teased again and you stopped abruptly right in front of the tomato sauce stand.

“Jonathan, please don’t do this,” you asked, voice wavering, and his smile dropped instantly at the sound of it.

“I’m sorry. What is it?” he asked earnestly, really had no idea, and you didn’t have it in you to be patient enough to spell it out for him.

“How long do we have to keep this up for?” you pleaded, turning to look at him. Your heart ached, your eyes burned, how could he not see it? How could he not see you? “We can just call it off now, yeah? We haven’t seen them yet, don’t even know if Steve’s back already, we can just say it happened over summer when they weren’t here.”

“What are you talking about?” he pushed the knife in deeper, your hands were shaking, you were almost begging for him to look at you, to see right through you so you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

“Really, dude?” you asked loudly, saw his mom looking up from a magazine at the cashier counter to look at the two of you. “Our fake relationship thing? That amazing fucking plan of ours? It’s clearly not heading anywhere, Nancy and Steve are still together and she’s actually become my friend so it sucks to be in this position.” You gestured around you as if your mentioned friends would pop out of nowhere to your surprise. You were still loud, and you didn’t care. “Just do as I said that day, grow out some balls, and tell her the truth.”

Rich advice, coming from you.

Do as you say, don’t do as you do, or whatever.

You didn’t wait for an answer and forgot about the fucking sauce, and just started walking towards the store entrance so you could let all of this go and never have to deal with the ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ fiasco.

Joyce — Jonathan’s fucking mom, for Christ’s sake — called out to you as you stormed out of Melvald’s, you didn’t even know she knew your name, but you didn’t stop anyway. Not until there was a warm hand holding your arm, and you knew that hand by now, all its softness and its calluses, bends and curves and dents, and your heart was already broken but it somehow hurt and bled even more.

“Dude, please!” you begged again, and he was looking at you, searching for something in your eyes and yet he still couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see you.

“I’m sorry, what did I do? What can I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, I think, just leave me alone,” you answered, and he let go of you and he seemed hurt by your words.

You walked back to your house and apologized to your dad for not bringing back his groceries, and he didn’t ask why when he saw your wet eyes. He made you tea, patted you on the head and you cried yourself to sleep again.

-✧-

“A friend of yours is here,” your mom said as you left the shower, three whole days after your (fight? Was it a fight?) encounter with Jonathan. “Waiting in your room,” she said.

It should have confused you, made you wonder. But it didn’t. You knew it was him. Who else would it be?

It was Nancy Wheeler.

Sitting on your bed, and her hair was shorter and her cheeks were a darker shade of pink than they were when you last saw her on the last day of school before Summer break.

“Hi?” you said or asked, and she smiled when she saw you were there.

Got up and walked towards you and hugged you tightly, you missed that hug, and her freshly cut hair smelled of something floral.

She pulled you by your hand until you two were sitting in your bed, side by side.

“I broke up with Steve. Jonathan told me everything,” she said, and your tiny broken heart still had some strength in it to break even further, shockingly.

“Uh, good for you, I guess?” You shrugged, not sure what she wanted you to say. “When’s the wedding?” you clouded your pain with humor because, when didn’t you?

“I just said I broke up with Steve, what wedding?”

“Yours and Jonathan’s?” Why were they so difficult? Oblivious. Why did they enjoy torturing you?

“No, listen,” she called your name as if you weren’t paying attention. “Jonathan told me everything. The whole deal, the whole plan, the whole picture, everything.”

It was a funny déjà-vu. There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Nancy in front of you, staring at you with a weird misplaced smile, waiting for your answer — what did she want you to answer, honestly? — but she was kind of blurry. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer her.

“He. What.”

She giggled, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before she rolled her eyes with amusement.

“You two are so dense,” she said, still smiling. “I had to spell it out for him, and I kinda saw it coming, but not from you.”

“Nancy, for the love of all things holy, what are you talking about?” You held her hands in yours, and she looked at your hands held together for a second before looking into your eyes again to talk.

“You’re in love with him,” she answered, and you weren’t surprised that she knew.

“Fucking duh, he’s the only one who can’t see it.” She laughed, and her eyes twinkled.

“And he’s in love with you,” she completed, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“No, he’s not.”

“You’re the only one who can’t see it,” she threw back at you and you rolled your eyes at her wit — you loved it so much.

“Nancy, he likes you. Literally how we got here in the first place.” You gestured around you as if she could see how miserable you’ve been lately without him, and without your study sessions and your lunches together as a group. “If not to get with him, why did you break up with Steve?” you asked.

“There is… a lot that held us together. Not just Steve and me, but us and Jonathan as well. And I was just using Steve as a crutch, trying to pretend everything was fine and normal, but it isn’t, and it isn’t fair to either of us. And I noticed all that thanks to you being my friend.”

You remembered the date — again — and the way Nancy recoiled to herself at the end of it, and your friends’ collective haunted guilty look, and Will Byers and how he came back, and Barb Holland and how she did not.

“Jonathan came to my house to talk, we got a little lost in the middle of it all but he knocked some sense into me, and I like to think I’ve knocked some sense into him back,” she said, and she was still so calm and collected, but she felt lighter somehow, and she never stopped smiling sweetly at you. “You should go check.”

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

She convinced you to go talk to Jonathan, and at this point you trusted her so freely that you did just that. She convinced you to give him a chance, and you convinced yourself you were doing it because she asked you to, you were doing it for her and not for yourself or Jonathan. She was a very persuasive little lady, you’ve come to find out.

The street where the Byers lived was weird as fuck, and the forest surrounding it gave you the worst chills ever, but you kept your calm as you rode your bike all the way to the Byers’ front yard.

You knocked, and Jonathan answered. He seemed surprised to see you, and that blush of his creeped up from his neck to his cheeks and you fell for him again just then.

“Hi,” he said, still staring.

“Hi. Can we talk?” He shook his head, came back to himself, and opened the door to let you in. “Where’s your family?”

“Mom’s still at Melvald’s, Will’s at Mike’s,” he answered, and started going down the hallway, so you followed him.

His room looked, felt and smelled like him and it was both comforting and distressing to be surrounded by Jonathan in all senses. You were still scared of how this conversation would go.

He went digging through some stuff in his desk, and when he found it he walked closer to you where you were still standing awkwardly by the door. He handed you something, a picture.

“You called it ‘Nancy Wheeler love portrait’, that day at the train station park,” he said while you observed again Nancy’s profile in the photo. You had it memorized at this point, burned to the back of your eyelids. “It really was,” he continued and you shot him a puzzled look. “It was a love portrait, it was love I guess.”

He shrugged, and only then you noticed he was holding something behind his back. He moved his hand, brought it forward and you saw that it was another picture but you couldn’t see what it was about. He smiled down adoringly at it before handing it to you.

It was you.

A photo taken of your profile. You were sitting at a desk at the school library, in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing you in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust flying around you and a big smile on your lips as you looked down at your hands resting on top of the table.

It was so similar. It was the same angle, the same lightning, the same pose. And yet it was so different from the Nancy Wheeler love portrait.

“Your own love portrait,” Jonathan said, voice almost a whisper, and you wanted to look at him and check if he was blushing the way his voice made it seem like he was, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the photo. “Steve and Nancy are out of frame, you were laughing at something he just said, so relaxed and happy around our friends you didn’t even notice me taking the picture like a weirdo.”

He softly touched your hand that was holding the picture, just the tips of his fingers, and they were enough to ignite a spark that made your whole body burn. You stared at that contact of your skins for the very few seconds they lasted before Jonathan pulled his arm back and continued talking.

“I got a little lost in the middle of it all, I think. Forgot there was a plan. Forgot why it all began. Forgot about Nancy, and all I could think about was you. How I wanted to see you again day after day, and hold your hand through the hallways on our way to lunch, and sit beside you at the cafeteria table. And take you on dates without Steve’s stupid comments, just you and me, and you’d laugh at my jokes ‘cause you always do. And to take more pictures of you. Take pictures with you. Just, do stuff together. All the time.

And I was so scared that you’d notice that change in me, notice how far gone for you I was. I didn’t want to spend time apart but I also couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you so bad. I’d be glued to you at all times, hurt from wanting you so much, and yet I couldn’t let you go. Didn’t want to ask you to let me go.”

You finally looked at him and, yes, he was blushing. But he was so determined, so confident. You decided you loved it.

“Me and Nancy, we… got a past. Not even romantic, but, we’ve been through a lot and I’ll tell you all about it, but. I think you’ve always been there, ever since that Science project freshman year, you’ve been there on the sidelines, and when we started talking again because of our stupid plan, I realized how much I’ve missed you. And I didn’t care about the plan anymore, and I didn’t want it to end because I just wanted it to be real.”

It was unbelievable how much you recognized those words, as if you were saying them yourself. You couldn’t help but smile, and Jonathan smiled back at you, and you wanted to kiss his smile senseless.

So you did just that.

You held the pictures far from your bodies, because you didn’t want to damage them, and you threw your other arm around his neck. He hugged your waist close to him and you kissed his smile, and he kissed your smile back. He tasted of pancakes and maple syrup and coffee with cream no sugar, and you feasted on that meal as if it was your last. You let your fingers wander through his hair, and it was soft and it smelled of mint shampoo, and your senses were overwhelmed, surrounded by Jonathan in all senses and it felt like dying and going to heaven.

You kissed for a long time before your lungs ran out of air, and your lips separated but your foreheads were still touching. You handed the pictures back to Jonathan, and he took them with a confused expression. You fished something out of your back pocket, your wallet, and you fished something out of your wallet, a picture. You handed that to him too.

“Jonathan Byers love portrait,” you both said at the same time and laughed together.

You kept your picture of him and he kept your picture of you, and you held onto his face that was still blushing and warm and soft, and he kissed you for a long time. And the plan didn’t work out, not really, but it kinda did, and it was all Nancy Wheeler’s fault.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬

(jonathan byers x fem!reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend seeks you out in his time of need. You hold onto him for as long as you can.

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of fluff and comfort, implied Jancy.

a/n: My dumbass lost the ask about this request. I had an original character x steve harrington plot, once upon a time, my first ever OC for a fandom and it started off a lot like this, so writing this was very nostalgic. Hurt like hell, though. Anyways, hope the jonathan lovers (other than me) and anyone else who gives this a read likes it. I know he's not one of the more popular ST romantic interests, but he should be.

You hummed along to the song crooning low from your battered radio—the poor thing having taken one too many tumbles from its resting place on your dresser.

  Sometimes you got a little too into it, and lacked special awareness, dance moves too much for your secondhand furniture. 

  The main ceiling light was off, your safe space only lit by a few candles and the lamp on your desk, providing you enough light to complete the essay you were working on. 

  It was peaceful, almost. Ideally, you’d rather be in bed reading a book or watching some movie, maybe catching up on Dynasty but you needed to clear your head—or rather, distract yourself.

  You’d been plagued with a sense of foreboding for the last couple of weeks, and anxiety. It had only intensified in the last couple of days, still, you were determined to push through it. You were being stupid, silly.

  You let out a sigh, dropping your pencil in favor of running a hand over your face. You’d gone right back to thinking about the cause of your silent anguish. Danggit.

  You let yourself stew in silence for a few moments before you forced yourself to pick up your pencil again, ready to move onto your next paragraph when you heard the unmistakable sound of knuckles rapping against the glass of your window.

  Glancing up and over, you found your boyfriend’s face peering down at you. He smiled, sheepish, as he waved.

  You abandoned your homework (it wasn’t due until Friday anyways), hurrying over to the wall to unlock it for him. Your bedroom was in the basement, the house was only a two bedroom, so you’d shared a room with your younger sister until just a few months ago, when your father had finally cleaned it out and done it up for you just before his sudden passing. 

  Jonathan had no problem climbing down through the small, rectangular window, he’d done it a couple of times already—though your mother had no problem allowing him in, not when he made you so happy after the loss.

  “You could just use the front door, you know.” You reminded him, lips pulling into a smile as his nose scrunched up in distaste.

  “Didn’t want to ring the doorbell, I know your mom’s probably exhausted from all the flying.” He shrugged off his jacket, resting it over the washer (hey—it might have been a spacious room but it was still the basement).

  Your heart warmed, pleased with the fact he’d remembered your brief mentioning of her return home that morning while he’d walked you to your algebra class. She was a flight attendant, taking on more flights to support you and your sister now that your dad was gone. You rarely saw her anymore.

  “She’s got her earplugs in.” 

  “Did she have to pay twenty dollars for those or does she get them for free?”

  You laughed, shoving at his shoulder. Jonathan chuckled, giving you a playful push before he dragged you back to him, holding you against him as he swayed you and pressed his lips to your crown.

  Your eyes fluttered shut, soaking up his affection like a peace lily deprived of the sun.

  Then he let himself fall back onto your bed, taking him with you as you squealed. 

  “Jonathan!”

  He shushed you, hand on the back of your head to press your face into his chest, “Your mom is asleep, Moody!”

  You groaned at the use of the nickname you’d never be able to escape. You’d swallowed a mood ring on a dare in elementary school and threw it up, along with your breakfast, during recess when you’d grown anxious, believing a doctor would have to cut your stomach open to fish it out. 

  The mean kids had used the name to taunt you, but when a shy little boy with shaggy hair used it to call you over and ask if you wanted to take turns pushing each other on the swing, you’d decided it wasn’t all that bad. Not even a little. He also never took a turn on the swings, pushing you the entire time.

  That hadn’t been the beginning of your love story, while you’d play with Jonathan—always running to him whenever he called and even when he didn’t—your crush on him prevented you from developing a real friendship with him, too shy whenever he’d acknowledge your existence. It was a Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown kind of thing until high school.

  You’d always been pretty, always been likable and nice—to those who deserved it—and your popularity in high school was a result of those traits. You’d been pursued by boys since middle school, but you were too focused on your pursuit of one boy in particular to pay them any mind.

  Your love story finally started just after freshman year had ended. Jonathan was going around, taking photos of the messy hallways filled with celebration. You’d clocked the moment his camera was on you and gave the lens, and the boy behind it, a brilliant grin.

  The picture was clipped to the visor in his car with a copy resting, framed, on his bedside table

  You let out a small puff of breath, eyes closing once more as the anxiety faded from you. Jonathan was your flame, always driving away the cold.

  The two of you laid there on your bed in comfortable silence, his hand stroking over your hair. You’d almost been lulled to sleep until you registered the change in the silence. It was anxious again, but it wasn’t you.

  You moved your head to stare up at him, chin resting on his chest.

  He wasn’t looking at you, gaze focused on your ceiling with an emotionless expression. You knew what he was thinking about.

  “We should hang up more flyers,” You commented, mind filling with thoughts and memories of the little boy who often accompanied you on dates with your boyfriend and for whom you often babysat before you were even able to call Jonathan yours. Despite his young age, you considered Will a friend (felt a little wrong to call him your little brother seeing as how you were sleeping with his older brother). You loved him and you missed him, having been plagued with worry since his disappearance. 

  You’d searched the woods with Joyce, Jonathan and your sister day after day until your group finally had to admit Will wasn’t in the woods. You’d also helped plaster his missing posters all over town, putting them back up when some asshole tore them down (you hadn’t told Jonathan about that).

  Jonathan hummed, unblinking and you wiggled further up his body, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as you pressed a few gentle kisses there. You could feel the tension leaving him.

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” He finally asked, voice a whisper even for your soft spoken boyfriend and laced with fear.

  You moved onto your forearm, shifting your weight to your side as you used your free hand to grasp his chin, turning his head to look at you. 

  There was a wet shine to his pretty brown eyes, one you knew he rarely allowed himself to show.

  You thought of your sister upstairs, older than Will but still  younger than you. If anything happened to her, you wouldn’t know how to go on with that missing space in your life. You could barely do it with the space your dad had previously occupied being empty.

  You knew Will, though. Maybe not as well as his brother, but you had a special bond with him, your friendship pure and full of trust. He’d comforted you on the nights you were babysitting him and your feelings for Jonathan became too much for you, always reassuring you that his brother was the greatest but severely stupid if he couldn’t see how much you cared about him and ask you out. You’d laugh, make him popcorn and let him watch a scary movie to apologize for being a teenage girl around him.

  He told you his secrets, too.

  Yeah, your bond with Will Byers was strong, unbreakable even. And you knew he was alive. You didn’t know how, you just knew.

  “Without a doubt. Will is gonna come home. He is, and we’ll all cry and hug and never let him out of our sights again, but he’s coming home.”

  You watched his face give in, crumbling as the tears finally trailed down the sides of his face, disappearing into his sideburns.

  It was your turn to hold him. You pulled him to you and he went willingly, burying his face in your chest as he quietly sobbed, shoulders shaking. 

  You carded your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead, willing away your own hurt so you could help him through his.

  “He might not be here right now, but Will isn’t gone. You haven’t lost him, Shutterbug.” You promised, squeezing him so he didn’t feel like he was falling apart.

  All your previous worries were gone, fear of Jonathan’s seemingly growing friendship and secret rendezvous—he hasn’t told you about but you know of—with Nancy Wheeler forgotten, trivial compared to the matter at hand. He’s in your bed, came to you for comfort and you got to hold him. She’s got a boyfriend, one who isn’t yours. The foreboding can take a seat in the back of your mind because you wouldn’t pay it anymore attention.

  You were right, Will did come home. You didn’t know the whole story, not buying the one fed to you but you didn’t push it, happy and relieved your little friend was back home safe.

  And you were right about the other thing, the foreboding. By the next fall, you weren’t able to hold Jonathan anymore. 

  And he stopped being yours.

[clawsmiic]

>Rules of Requesting<

Eddie Munson 🎸

Season 4

Showing love in unconventional means

Older

Jonathan Byers 📸

Season 1

Season 2

Season 3

Season 4

Older

Robin Buckley 🎺

Season 3

Season 4

Older

Steve Harrington ✨

Season 1

Season 2

Fake dating your enemies enemy (Billy mention)

Season 3

Trying to ask out the smoothie girl

Season 4

Sneaking into your room 🔥

Giving you a ride home

Older

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

[yellowroseswrites]

i almost cried from happiness when I found you

Jonathan Byers with a reader with ADHD and anxiety

But not the crying kind

Nerves are always fried, just stressed

knee bounces

Hands are always doing something, tracing patterns, playing with rings,

Doesn't mind crowds but some people give her random anxiety

Isn't to worried about school, but is worried about Jonathan, anxiety for loved ones

I need him not trying to fix her. Trying to appreciate her for who she is

Here you go :)

"Your string of lights is still bright to me"

Jonathan Byers x Adhd!Anxious!Fem Reader [she/her pronouns used]

{TW/CW}- Talks of adhd, fidgeting, food is mentioned, reader doesn’t eat breakfast bc of executive dysfunction, but jon does have her eat, but the actual action of eating isnt discussed, sweet jonathan byers, I love him your honor, mentions him trying to ‘help’ her but it's not fixing her, reader has issues with body temperature, like she gets hot flashes bc of overthinking and stuff, jon calls reader honey once

{Authors note}- Tbh, i kinda hate this fic, but I love jon and this reader. so please, if you have any specific scenarios or prompts you want to see with them, send me an ask with it. i want to write for them more! GIF creds to the owner, title creds to taylor swift

{Word count}- 1,101. It's a short one today babes

There was no one in this world that you loved more than Jonathan Byers. He meant everything to you. He accepted you for who you were, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

You can remember clearly how it felt when he realized there was something off about you. You can remember how you were certain he would leave you. You remember telling him about your ADHD and being scared that he would think differently of you. You remember describing what it was like to live the way you live, with feeling nervous and fidgety for no apparent reason. You thought you were too much for him, you had too many things wrong with you.

And you can remember the indescribable peace you felt when he held your hands and told you he loved you. Even with your faults, though he would never see them as such. It was all you. He promised himself that he would never let you think less of yourself for things you couldn’t control. 

That’s not to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. But Jonathan’s effort to help will always have you falling for him all over again. He spends his time watching and noticing, picking up on ways he can help you.

Sometimes it’s small things, one’s that you don’t even pick up on. He’ll buy you new rings and bracelets, ones with beads and charms that you can fidget with. He’ll place rubber pieces to the ends of your pencils for you to chew on to keep your pretty little nails intact. He rubs his hand along your back when bouncing your knee, keeping you calm but never making you stay still. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when you need to do something with your hands. He keeps the temperature cooler when he knows you’re coming over, afraid you’ll overthink and overheat. 

Sometimes it’s bigger things, things that make you feel like a burden. He’ll stay over at your place when you can’t fall asleep, or drive you around until your eyes flutter closed. He’ll leave with you if you get overwhelmed, anytime and anywhere. He always asks you before inviting someone else to hang out with yall, you’re always his first priority. He would shut someone up immediately if they said anything bad about you or the way you were acting.

You had only told a few of your friends. You tended to avoid the subject, you didn’t like the way people would view you differently or the way they would treat you. You didn’t want to hear about how you should ‘take a deep breath’ or ‘just sit still’. Many people just didn’t understand, but Jonathan did.

Today was a particularly bad day. You woke up and the temperature was too hot in your room. When you wake up warm, your day is wrong, that’s how it works. You don’t know why and you always try to get past it, but your bad day usually continues to persist.

You didn’t want to brush your teeth. You weren’t too tired, or too lazy, you just felt like you couldn’t. You saw the toothbrush, and you saw the toothpaste, and you couldn’t. So, you went to your kitchen to grab something for breakfast, maybe something to kickstart your day, but nothing seemed appealing.

Finally, you simply settled in your bed. You laid down and stared at your ceiling while you let your thoughts run freely. You heard the phone ring but you couldn’t get up to get it. You couldn’t do anything but stare and think and run your hands along your blankets. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed before you heard a small knock at your door.

“Come in”

The door creaked slightly and you heard a familiar set of footsteps approach you.

“Bad day sweetheart?” Jonathan asked as he sat down on your bed, weighing down the left side and causing you to roll a little bit.

You laughed as you sat up and motioned for Jonathan to lie down. He laid back against your lap, your hands soon finding their way to his hair. 

“I’m fine.”

Even with his face being upside down for you, you could tell he didn’t believe you. He hummed before he responded,

“You sure? You didn’t answer my call and you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“How do you even know that?”

“When you eat breakfast, you have a snack right after, or chew gum. You have to keep chewing.” He replied casually, as though he didn’t just call out a specific detail a normal person would never take notice of.

It scared you a bit, and yet it didn’t surprise you at all. He always noticed things that you thought people would try to ignore. He never once judged you or tried to ‘save’ you, he only asked how he could help, and sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You were quiet while you thought, though your hands were still brushing through the boy's hair. You sighed before you spoke, “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

Jonathan sat up at that and turned to face you, “Why would you think that?” His hands found yours before you could bring your nails to your mouth.

“I just, I don’t know, I’m a very tiring person I guess. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you ever thought I was too much.” It most certainly would hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t say that.

He took in a breath, you could see in his eyes he was a little hurt.

Of course, you thought, he is tired of me. I gave him an out and he’s going to take it.

“Oh honey,” here it is, “I could never get tired of you.”

Oh

“Nothing you do is ‘too much’. You mean everything to me, I could never think of you like that.”

It’s moments like this that make you wonder how you were so lucky as to have Jonathan in your life. You don’t say anything back, you just allow his words to fill your mind. You take a moment to believe them. Even if you don’t feel that way about yourself, you know he wouldn’t lie to you. 

Jonathan seems to know that that’s all you needed to hear. He also knows he’ll have to tell you again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll tell you forever if you needed him to.

He stands up and holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s go get something to eat mkay?”

[littlesadsailor]

Valentine’s day with Jonathan Byers <3

[sweet-villain]

Dancing On My Own~ J.B

Anonymous asked:

Can I request a Jonathan fic thingy where the reader best friends with Argyle but doesn't really like Jonathan and can't put her finger on why she just doesn't. Argyle is sick of the bickering between the two because it's messing with his high so decides to do some investigating and finds out the reader secretly has a crush on Jonathan. Going to confront the reader with this information the reader confirms it by screaming "Well of course I do but I can't because he has a girlfriend" not realizing Jonathan was behind her

@woahlifehitsyahuh @cinemaquinn @pleasantlycrazyworld. @moonchildquinn @haileighboi @ceriseheaven @harringtons-cupid

His presence irked you as he sat across from you chewing on his food scraping the spoon against the bowl. He wasn't doing just for the giggles on his own but he was doing it to make you snap. The two of you despised each other, but you two had no reason to hate each other. You both never found one. It was just fun seeing each other reactions.

But it did bother, Argyle. He had to watch the two of you go back and forth acting children.

" Could you pass me that orange thing?" Jonathan says pointing across the table not bothering to even look at what he's pointing at.

" Orange thing? Man, that's not even orange or is it?" Argyle lifted it up with his hands as he squinted his eyes inspecting the thing he was holding. You on the other hand snickered watching him confuse himself with orange juice in his hands.

Jonathan wiggled his fingers around in hopes that Argyle would hand him what he wanted but instead Argyle tried to read what was on it. His eyes were wide while Jonathan dropped his spoon as he reached for something else from across the table, his hand brushed against yours since you were reaching for the same thing.

" Relax, would you?" Jonathan says. " I don't have any cooties" he rolls his eyes. " You look like you seen a ghost or something" he mumbles.

Your face was scrunched up but in reality your heart was beating against your rib cage feeling the goosebumps, hiding your hands underneath the table from both of them before they notice.

" Just eat your food, Byers" you grumbled standing up to take your plate to the sink. You turned on the water to wash the dishes, closing your eyes for a moment letting it heat up.

Jonathan Byers. He irked underneath your skin. He was loud around you and do everything he could to bother you. He knew what to say to get under your skin but yet you looked at him as if he could give you the world. He was the only guy that gave you the attention you wanted, except it was hate. You hated him.

Everything coming out of his mouth was only filing you up with anger. But you saw him in a different light, you wanted to grab his face and plant one on him to shut him up. But there was two problems, you hated him and he had a girlfriend.

Nancy Wheeler.

She was back in Hawkins, Indiana while he was here in California spending his time with Argyle and making sure to make your life miserable at the same time.

" Are you going to let the sink fill up or do you want to flood the kitchen?" a voice brought you out of your thoughts as you turn to reach to turn off the water when another hand stopped it. Your breath hitched knowing who's hand that was.

" You should pay more attention on what your doing instead of being distracted. God knows what might happen, you might burn the house down" Jonathan mumbles as he turns off the water. His breath fanned against your ear causing a shiver to go down your arms. He hadn't notched the way you froze in your spot.

He doesn't know how you feel and you wanted to keep it that way.

" You both have me stressed out, you two are something else I tell you, man" Argyle brings both of your attention to him as he rubs his forehead.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You just came from a long day of work settling on the couch and kicking your feet on top of the table not really caring if Argyle was going to come in and smack your feet away any minute. Another body plopped down besides you as you flipped through the channels, not really bothering to look who it was.

You didn't even blink when the remote from your hands was snatched.

" Hey!" you turned your body to yell at the person, rolling your eyes as Jonathan was the one who took the remote. Figures. Who else could it be?

" I was using the remote" you gritted your teeth reaching over to take the remote away from him when he pulled it out of your reach. He had the biggest smirk on his face seeing you fail to reach for it.

" Not trying hard enough little girl" he teased wiggling in front of your face but pulled it away as soon as your hands reached for it. " Too slow" he chuckled, flipping through channels.

You huffed putting your arms across your chest.

" I hate you" you mumbled underneath your breathe. Jonathan turned his head with an eyebrow raised, " is that suppose to hurt me or something? I hate you too, little girl"

" I am not little!" you snatched the remote from him with ease, standing up dancing around with it that you won. You hadn't noticed the look on his face as he watched you, there was a small smile on his face but it was gone as he heard the door open.

He snatched the remote back from your hands as he plopped back down on the couch.

" Byers! Give me the damn remote" this time Jonathan stood up making his way around the couch. " You want it? Come get it" he says running off with it down the hall. You huffed chasing him, passing by Argyle as he watched in amusement.

He was getting tired of you and Jonathan doing this, it annoyed him. Why couldn't the two of just be civil for once? He just wants a moment for himself without hearing you call Jonathan's name or something else coming from Jonathan.

" Give it to me now!" he hears you yell, he pinches the bridge of his nose sighing, almost losing his balance as Jonathan runs past him this time almost knocking into him.

" My dudes, you almost knocked into me"

You and Jonathan apologized at the same time.

" Oh shut up!" you pointed at him.

" No, you shut up!" he pointed at you.

This was never going to end. Argyle opened the fridge only to be pushed against it.

" My dudes!"

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You passed by Jonathan's room hearing music behind the door, it happened to be one of your favorites playing. You leaned your ear against the door listening to the words when the door suddenly opens revealing Jonathan.

He gives you a look passing by you without saying anything to you. The room was messy with clothes on the floor and the bed unmade, the blinds were shut and there was only little light coming from the room.

You can smell the weed coming from the room. Argyle always gave the best stuff to his friends.

" Are you going to oogle about my room or are you going to help with dinner?" Jonathan shouted from the kitchen. He had been smoking more weed than usual, missing Nancy talking to Argyle about her and how much he wanted to see her.

Every time he talked about her, it was like a knife dug into your heart. Why would Jonathan think anything else of you? He hated you as much as you hated him. But you were confused. You watched how he was with Will, embracing him in his arms telling he was there for Will.

You had met Will too, talking to him about his friends in Hawkins while El was here with him. You knew of his feelings for his friend Mike, and how much he was hurting.

Jonathan saw you talk to Will and Will mention to him how you made him feel safe and wanted. Jonathan took that to heart as he watched you interact with his brother. Something in his stuck when he catches you hanging out with his brother.

He knows you care but he doesn't understand why out of everyone, you hated him and argued with him.

" No, I'm coming. Hold onto your-" you were cut off with Argyle finishing the sentence for you" Hold on your butts, Brocachos" he was trying to light then mood between you and Jonathan but it didn't seem to work as you quietly worked around the kitchen.

One thing that Argyle made you both promised that in the kitchen you both helped out to make dinner. You did most of the cooking when Jonathan was too baked to help as he giggled and mispronounced the wrong items throwing them into the pans and on the table.

It was the only time you would giggle around him. The sound always made Jonathan stop and watch you for a moment. It's not something he is used to hearing from a girl.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

" This spaghetti and meatballs are shamakin’, my dude" Argyle pointed with his fork to the food you cooked up with the help of Jonathan.

" Thank you" you sent him a small smile as Jonathan continued to eat like you weren't there. Things were being less and less talkative around the two of you, things were off to Argyle liking. He had heard less of you two argue and it worried him.

After dinner was done, Argyle was helping you clean up when he decided to ask.

" Why do you hate him so much, my dude?" he pointed to the door where Jonathan was in. You shrugged putting the plates into the sink to wash.

" Come on, you're my friend, Y/N. I'm not going to tell him" you simply didn't answer him. You wouldn't date to tell Argyle how you felt about Jonathan.

You were scared that if you told Argyle that he would rush to tell Jonathan and you would have no where to go.

Argyle gave up after he helped you clean up watching you shut down in front of him and it worried him somewhere. He stepped back a couple steps to see if you would question where he was going. He eyed Jonathan's closed door and down the hall where your room was.

He was. going to figure it out through the things in your room. He knows it's not nice to snoop around in your room but this had to end. He ended to know why you were like this with Jonathan. What caused you to hate him?

Argyle tipped into your room, closing the door that if he knocked into anything you wouldn't come rushing to catch him. It didn't take long for him to find out what he needed, it was right there with the words " Dear Diary" on it.

He sat on the edge of your bed as he opened it, his fingers brushing over the pages until his eyes spotted his friends name. His eye grew wide as he came to realization why you were like that with Jonathan.

You didn't hate Jonathan. You liked Jonathan, more than a friend. But he frowned knowing you wouldn't be able to be with him because he was with Nancy.

He set the diary back into his place and headed out the door before you caught him. You were just rounding the corner wiping your hands on your jeans when you noticed him closing your door.

" Why were you in my room?" Argyle's eyes grew wide as he turned to face you, panic shown in his eyes.

" My dude, I was looking if you had that mix tape that I let you have" he scratched the top of his head, slapping himself in the head mentally for not thinking of a better excuse.

" Oh!" you fished it out of your pocket and handing it to him. " Next time don't go snooping, just ask. Okay?" he nods as he hurries to his room closing the door with his back to it.

That was a close one, he thinks.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Argyle was having trouble how to approach on this matter about Jonathan. He had been too quiet all day and it bothered you and Jonathan. Jonathan had already asked him if something was going on or something was wrong. Argyle brushed him off saying he needed to smoke some good weed and he was out of it.

He wasn't really out of it, he needed some sort of excuse to brush off Jonathan as much as he didn't want to. It was really hard for him to keep himself quiet from finding out the information he knows.

He cleared his throat once you walked through the door over looking the mail in your hands, lifting your head up with your eyebrows knitted.

" What is it?" you asked him seeing the way he bounced on his foot, the way his eyebrows crinkled together and the way he kept opening and closing his mouth.

" Argyle? Spit it out" he swallowed the lump in his throat.

" When were you gong to tell me you liked him, my dude?" all the color flushed from your face as you blinked. How did he know this?

" Argyle.." you started to say as warning on how he knows. He threw his hands up in the air, " You wouldn't tell me what's been going on with you and I got worried, so I went to your room to find out.."

A frown appears on your lips eyeing him, sighing dropping the mail on the table and one hand rubbed your forehead.

" I was never going to tell anyone, I can't. He has a girlfriend, and he hates me. My feelings don't ever matter"

" What feelings?" you heard a familiar voice as he stepped out from the hall. Jonathan stood there with his hands in his pockets as he eyed you and then Argyle. " What's going on?"

Argyle sent you a look seeing if you were going to tell Jonathan, if this secret of your was ready to be out in the open. You sighed to yourself.

" Look you weren't suppose to find out this way or ever.." Jonathan nodded as you continued. " I like you, Jonathan" his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. " You hate me.." is all he says.

" I don't, you jus annoy me sometimes. I do know that I feel something for you, and it's not hate. But I can't because you have a girlfriend while I am some dumb girl living with you two" you motion towards him and Argyle.

" I am not special or anything" you felt the tears brim. your eyes. " I-I can't do this.." you brushed past Jonathan to your room, slamming the door shut as you slide down the door with your knees to your chest as you sobbed.

He was never suppose to find out.

Jonathan stood on his spot, it hadn't not fully register that you have feelings for him. You like him. You like him. You really like him. His mind raced thinking the possibilities would be if he ended things with Nancy and gave you a chance.

No, he couldn't do that to Nancy.

" What are you going to do, man?" Argyle asked him. He shrugged, " I don't know. I really don't know" he felt his own heart crack thinking about it.

What was he going to do? He looks at your closed door and to the front door of the house.

He had two options, to see Nancy or go to your door to talk to you. He couldn't decided feeling his heart in two. He enjoyed the moments he has with you, teasing you, poking at you causing all the reactions out of you. Your giggle and your laugher isn't like Nancy's.

It's new, he likes it a lot. But he loves Nancy.

What was he suppose to do?

[wroteclassicaly]

Could you write some fluffy summer fun with Jonathan? 👀

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

~*~

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

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

“Someone’s excited.”

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

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

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

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

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

[ddejavvu]

m.list - jonathan byers

blurbs:

you meet jonathan's mom

[luveline]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says. 

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

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

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

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

"Sorry," you say. 

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

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

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

He holds up his hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lizzie-boo]

Naughty or Nice?

Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Ficmas Day 4

Summary: You finally decide to make the first move by leaving scandalous pictures for Jonathan to find when he develops the roll.

Words: 1.5K

A/N: Hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Amazing Christmas divider is from @saradika-graphics

You had been best friends with Jonathan since high school. You stuck by his side through thick and thin, never once wavering even in the face of danger. You had been to hell and back but never did your friendship falter. Yet, here you were ready to potentially implode it all with one risky move. 

Normally you would have just told him that after all the years your friendship had morphed into more than just friendly affection towards him. However, every time you tried to casually mention that you had feelings towards him it seemed to go right over his head. He never fully got the gist of what you were trying to confess. So this time you wanted to make sure he got the message loud and clear. 

The only problem was that you were laying it all on the line this time and if he didn’t feel the same way there would be no going back. No more movie nights where you would tuck yourself into his couch and pile on all the blankets until he had to fight for even a corner of one. No more early morning nature walks where you would quietly chat about your week or your dreams for the future as he snapped endless photos of everything he could see. No more quiet moments laying on the floor in his living room as you listened to his newest mixtape. There would be no more of anything that involved Jonathan but you had to take the risk.

You had watched him over the last few weeks and had seen enough to convince yourself that he maybe felt the same way. And that maybe was enough to fuel you and the crazy scheme you had concocted to confess that he was more than just a friend to you. 

Now as you sat on his bed with his camera in hand you knew there would be no going back. Tugging at the top of the lingerie, you adjusted it to make sure that your boobs were positioned just right to make it look like they were spilling out of the top. Looking down at the sheer red fabric you realized it covered even less than you had thought. The outline of your nipples were visible through the mesh and it gave you an idea. Reaching into the cups you pinched your nipples before rolling them between your fingers. Your eyes falling shut as you imagined it was Jonathan’s hands on your body. 

Finally removing a hand you reached for his camera before holding it up to snap a shot of you touching yourself. Letting your eyes fall shut again you let yourself get lost in the feeling as you snapped another picture. When your hand is finally freed from the top of the lingerie you bring the camera towards you. Turning the aperture you position yourself for another picture. This time you lean forward in hopes of getting a decent shot of your cleavage. Once again you spin the aperture praying that at least a few of the photos will come out with a decent exposure so Jonathan can see exactly what you have to offer. 

Sitting up on your knees you pull the material up just enough to show the curve of your ass and the lacy black string of your thong. Bending just enough to reach behind you, you click the shutter, the sound echoing off the bedroom walls. As your knees fall open you slide your hand down the front of your panties. WIth another click you capture the moment. 

Your fingers circle your clit before gently running over your slick folds. The moan that slips out has you thankful that you’re here alone. You take a moment to quickly slip out of the lacy underwear before spreading your legs once more. You rub quick circles against your clit as you snap a few more photos. Slipping one finger into your wet heat you take a second to bask in the feeling of just how wet you are from the thought of his alone. You click the shutter one last time before the camera slips out of your hand and you lose yourself in the feeling of your fingers and the thoughts of what it would be like if it were your best friend’s hands on you instead. 

Eventually, your orgasm washes over you and you make quick work of changing out of the lingerie and back into your movie night attire. Tucking the red garment back in your bag you turn to make your way into the living room. Just before you flick the lights off you notice the wet patch near the bottom of the bed. Tugging the blankets to cover it you send out a silent prayer that he doesn’t move the blanket until the spot is dry. 

It’s just over a week later and you sit anxiously on the edge of Jonathan’s couch waiting for him to get home. You had your weekly movie night scheduled so you being here wouldn’t seem strange if he hadn’t developed the film. However, if he did then this would be the night that would either make or break your friendship. Your leg bounces as you eye the door, ears tuned into the door listening for any sounds of his arrival. Finally you hear the scrape of keys and his mumbled curses as he struggles to unlock the door. 

When the door swings open and he steps in, his eyes immediately lock onto yours. His hair is mused as if he’s been running his hands through it all day and his cheeks are flushed. He drops his camera bag by the door and his keys clink as they hit the table. He stands there mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the right words. 

Eventually he settles on, “What was with all those pictures?” 

“I guess Santa came early this year,” you joke in an attempt to figure out how Jonathan feels about the situation. 

“He’s clearly not the only one who came.” His tone is sharp but his eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room. You blink up at him before slowly standing up to close the gap between you. 

You bite your lip and his eyes dart down to watch. “I just wanted you to see what you do to me,” you mumble with a shrug that you hope came off as casual as you wanted it to. 

“Well next time baby, I better be the one taking the pictures.” The term of endearment rolls off his tongue so naturally that it has your head spinning and thighs clenching. 

“I think we can arrange that, if you let me check I can see if I’m free for another session tonight,” you tease. 

He lets out a quiet almost impossible to hear growl before his hand grips your waist and he pulls you to his chest. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he leans in to whisper, “The only one touching you tonight is me, got it? Besides I think you might need to be punished for the naughty little stunt you pulled. Do you know how embarrassing it was to find those pictures? There were other people in the dark room with me who probably saw me trying not to get hard over the sight of you.” 

The gasp you let out warms his face before he slams his lips into yours. It’s a frenzy of lips, tongues, and teeth as you both pour every ounce of pent up emotion into it. 

“I think it was pretty nice of me to let you in on such a private moment,” you pant as you finally part for air. 

“Whatever you say.” His hand finds yours and you follow behind him as he leads you back to the scene of the crime. 

His bed stands before you looking just as inviting as the last time you were in it. Jonathan’s lips trail kisses along your neck as you move towards the bed. Falling onto the bed you take in the sight of him towering above you. Reaching out you grab his shirt and pull him down to you, capturing his mouth in another searing kiss. 

“As devastatingly beautiful as you looked in all that lace, I can’t wait to see everything underneath.” The words tickle against your warming skin. 

“So you don’t want me to go put it on? I have it in my bag.” You smirk at him as he bites his lower lip to hold in a groan. 

“Baby, are you trying to kill me?” His hands slip under your shirt, circling your waist, before pushing it up to reveal more skin. “Save it for later, right now I don’t want anything in my way.” 

Reclaiming his lips you let the feeling of his touch wash over you. It was everything you had ever dreamt of and more. You let yourself get lost in the feeling trying to savor every moment together so you can remember the night everything changed between the two of you.