STRANGER THINGS IMAGINES

-First Photograph

"Okay Y/N, smile." You looked up to see Jonathan's camera pointed in your face, his finger about to press down on the button when you ducked away from the frame. You walked away from him, watching as he frowned at you.

"C'mon Y/N? I just want one nice photo, please?" You shook your head, shrugging on your coat and wrapping your scarf around your neck, tassels tickling your skin. He walked towards you, placing the camera down on the empty table. He moved to fix a piece of your hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your cheek and earning a small pink hue.

"Why are you so adamant on taking photos of me, Jonathan?" You picked up your bag from where it sat on the couch, swinging the strap over your shoulder and turning to him again. He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Because you're my model, my muse, my addiction." The words came out quiet, like he was scared of saying them, but they only left you confused, searching for an answer that seemed not to be there. With a sigh you pressed a quick kiss to his frowning lips and ran out the door to your brother's car.

The words kept dancing around in your head later that night. You were tucked under the covers, blankets pulled up to your shoulders and hair fanning over the pillow, but still you could not sleep, no matter how much you tosser and turned.

With a sigh, you sat up with a frown on your face and pushing the pillows up behind your back. You looked around the dark room, curtains moving slightly in the breeze. Beside you was your phone, long yellow cord hanging from the device. You looked at it, a thought swirling around your head, and you quickly pushed in the number for the Byers household, knowing Jonathan was the only one home.

You tapped your finger against your covers, waiting for him to pick up the phone, the loud ringing in your ear becoming annoying. But there he was, husky voice at the end of the line.

"Jonathan Byers here?" His words were quiet, strained as if he had just rolled out of bed.

"It's me, Jonathan."

"Y/N, is everything all right? Why are you calling so late?" His voice crackled through the phone line softly, and you could only imagine him running a hand through his tousled hair, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"I'm okay Jonathan, everything's fine. I just couldn't sleep, that's all." You heard nothing on the end of the line except for a muffled yawn. "Look, sorry, I shouldn't of woken you. Go back to sleep Jonathan." You moved to put down the phone and end the conversation, but the crackle of his voice filled your ears.

"No, don't hang up the phone, love. Something's on your mind, what is it?" You didn't respond, instead you twisted the plastic cord around your fingers as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. "Y/N, you're worrying me. Are you sure everything is alright?"

"Hm? Yeah, sorry, I should let you go. Just something stupid, that's all. Night, Jonathan." You dropped the hand piece onto the base, before flopping back onto the pillow.