STRANGER THINGS IMAGINES

-First Photograph

You felt foolish, stupid even for disrupting him. You didn't have anything useful to say, didn't have a good reason for calling in the middle of the night for him, like a girl who needed her problems solved. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts out of your mind, but they only came back, stronger and stronger as you laid there. Eyes hovering over the phone, you tossed and turned to try and force your self to sleep, but it was no use.

Until you heard the tapping.

The little thump, the light sounding rattle of something against glass had you rushing out of bed and towards the window. You pulled back the flimsy curtains, eyes meeting with soft brown ones that could only belong to one boy.

"Jonathan!" You pushed the window open, looking at him with wide eyes. " What are you doing here?" He chuckled a little, shrugging off his bag and passing it through the first story window to you.

"I wanted to see you, I had to make sure you were alright." You grabbed his hand, squeezing it and pulling him through the window quickly.

"I am alright Jonathan, I promise you that." He stood in front of you, eyes glancing over your face and the plaid pyjamas that covered your body.

"Then why couldn't you sleep? Something must be bothering you, what is it?" You let out a sigh at his questions, looking down at your feet and pushing the hair away from your eyes. He stepped closer, in case he was to miss anything you were to say, and he placed a warm hand on your hip, comforting and gentle.

"It really doesn't matter, Jonathan." You pulled away slowly, pressing your lips to his in a reassuring kiss, before turning towards his bag that you placed on the bed.

You opened the leather flap of the bag, hand reaching inside to grab a particular object. The large camera felt heavy in your hands, the metal cold. Jonathan walked closer to you, glancing at you with a confused look on his face.

"What do you need the camera for, babe?" You looked down at the object in your hands, looking back up at Jonathan with a shy expression. He place his hands on the camera, fingers brushing against yours as his thumb brushed over the covered lens. His eyes flickered down, then back up to your face, a small smile appearing. "Do you want me to take a photo of you? Is that what's wrong?" You gulped, nodding your head slowly, and with a soft chuckle, he pulled the camera out of your hands and pulled the leather strap around his neck. 

"I wanted to know what you meant by me being your muse, your model, your "addiction" as you put it." As the words left your mouth, Jonathan was raising the camera up to his face, bulky lens pointed at you. 

With a quick click and a bright flash that made you jump, the first photograph was taken, one of many more to come.

"You're my muse because you're you, Y/N." He fiddled with some switches as the words sunk into your brain, but they only made you more confused.

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I mean that I want to take photos of you, because you are the most beautiful creature to walk this earth. It's like you walk around not even knowing how beautiful or graceful you are, not realising how different you are to everyone else. That's why I want to take photographs of you, to capture that, capture every single move you make, every smile, every laugh and every wandering thought." He pulled the camera away from his face then, looking you straight in the eye. The camera hung from his neck as he stepped closer to you, hands reaching for your's. Soon he stood right in front of you, the only thing separating the two of you, was the camera pressed against his chest. Your hands left his to rest on his shoulders, eyes wide and cheeks slightly crimson, his fingers finding purchase on your waist. "You're my muse because I am utterly in love with you, Y/N. And I need a way of remembering that, I need a way of seeing that, instead of just having the memory in my heart." He took your hand, placing it over his heart as he smiled down at you, lips coming within millimetres of yours. 

"Well, I wasn't expecting that answer." Your voice was quiet, breath hot against his lips and cheek, before his thumb moved underneath your shirt, softly stroking the skin of your waist, cool shivers being sent down your spine.

"It's the only answer I have for you, everything else would have been a lie." And with that last word, you leaned up into him, him quickly pulling the camera away as you pressed your lips to his, hands coming up to lock around his neck. He pressed his mouth into yours, but pulled short for a moment afterwards, yanking the camera from around his neck and placing it on the bed. He pulled you back to him then, hands coming around your waist, finger pads sliding up under your shirt as your hand moved up to his hair, lips against his. 

And soon the two were holding onto each other, fingers under clothing, tongues tangled together and hair all over the place, your bodies collapsing into each other on the bed.

Those photographs were the first of many more to come, as he kept his promise, that you were his muse, his model, his addiction, his love.

________________________

Finally, after a month hiatus from writing, I publish something.

Hope this is okay, because I basically did it in two hours and haven't edited it.