#jonathan byers x y/n
Note
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.
#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers x fem!reader#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers fanfiction#jonathan byers fanfic#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers scenario#jonathan byers drabble#jonathan byers oneshot#jonathan byers blurb#jonathan byers x shy!reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#shy friday
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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!"
#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers scenario#jonathan byers oneshot#jonathan byers fanfiction#jonathan byers fanfic#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers blurb#jonathan byers drabble#jonathan byers dialogue#jonathan byers one-shot#jonathan byers one shot#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers headcanons#jonathan byers hcs#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n
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TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.
pairing : jonathan byers x gn!reader
summary : after traveling all the way to california to suprise your boyfriend, jonathan, he finds a way to show you how thankful he is to finally have you in his arms again.
warning : SMUT, afab!reader, unprotected sex, praise kink, heavy makeout, mentions of bodily fluids, extreme pussy drunk!jonathan system overload, innocence and humiliation kink if you squint, suggestive language, cockwarming, usage of weed, two idiots in love, established relationship, no season 4 spoilers !!
authors note : what better way to make my writing return than with a fic dedicated to my most criminally underrated boyfriend ?? seriously, the lack of jonathan appreciation on this app is entirely unexceptable, but … never fear !! i have arrived to provide the content we are being deprived of !! ( which may be my first smut writing and heavily inspired by the love making scene in the 1986 top gun, whoops! )
| stranger things masterlist | jonathan byers masterlist | gif credit |
JONATHAN’S LEGS intertwined with your own beneath the heavy comforter furnishing his unkept bed, the riveting fragrance of marijuana and his intense; earthy cologne invading your nebulous senses—your fingers ghosting over the skin along the back of his neck in a reposeful matter while your face remained burrowed against the cotton shirt concealing his broad chest.
Vibrations dispersing through your body from Jonathan’s soft; pleasant hum following “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin, which played faintly through his immense cassette player displayed by the foot of his window.
His musical drone dwindled away while the song continued, conducting you to lift your head to take in his current state. His heavy eyes already observing you tenderly as if you hung the moon in the sky, his gaze devouring your entire presence in a way that made your bodyheat rise exponentially and heartbeat sputter.
His arm enveloped around your torso, fingers drawing vague patterns along the bare skin of your lower back that became exposed when Jonathan’s shirt your figure was decorated in continued to gradually ride up. His other hand holding the blunt his delicate lips were wrapped around moments prior.
Your throat released a questioning murmur, wondering what had created the yearning warmth suddenly radiating from his aura and entire being.
“M’just missed you so much.” He sighed fondly, drinking in the way your pearly white teeth captured your bottom lip in attempt to cloak the wide grin threatening to reveal itself.
Jonathan’s body weight shifted to hover over your own that was positioned in a indescribably flawless way; head settled within his disorderly mound of pillows and your features embellished by the intricate rays of sunshine gleaming through the crevices of his curtains. Angelic. That’s what you were to him and everything you displayed—body, mind, and soul.
“Missed your lips.” He mumbled, immersing his face closer and capturing your bottom lip with a technique that made your head spin; adjoining yourselves in all the most magnificent ways possible. Captivated by the feeling you had been deprived of for a year, your fingers found comfort entangled in Jonathan’s jumbled hair, endeavoring to guide him closer into you than humanly possible.
“Missed your nose,” His now swollen; reddened lips parted from yours to leave a delicate peck at the tip of your scrunched nose, generating crinkles in the corner of your eyes to become prominent and a soft giggle to leave your throat when he plants a kiss on said skin by the edge of your left eye, “and your pretty eyes.”
Your own lips forming into a playful frown, “What about the other one?”
Jonathan grinned prior to placing a sloppy linger of kisses encircling the crinkles of your right one while your arms encompassed his body to yours; your chest rumbling with an array of gleeful squeals. “Especially missed that one.”
The frisky countenance inclosed in your irises dimmed away marginally to make room for a ravenous twinkle which hadn’t been present moments before.
Instantly, Jonathan caught the imperceptible change in your manners; his already blown out pupils expanding in size as they followed the movements of your freshly manicured nails leisurely skimming down the canvas of your legs, proceeding until reaching the hem of your his shirt. Tugging at the fabric while your bare thighs closed around your hand obscurely, already glazed over; doe eyes blinking up at him in a pure and innocent like way that caused his boxers to strain. “And what about here?”
Jonathan’s calloused thumbs traveled to your knees, gently sketching circles along the skin while his pleading expression grew; silently begging to pull your thighs apart and drink in the very sight of what was beneath the item of clothing.
With a coaxing nod, Jonathan didn’t bother wasting any more time. His breathing patterns stuttering and mouth watering at the image displayed in front of him: delicate white lace shrouding your most intimate anatomy; apparent arousal staining the material.
His fingers disappeared beneath the fabric of the teeshirt, ghosting over the sensitive skin of your pelvis to curl around the flimsy laced undergarment; dragging the material down the extent of your body until discarding it somewhere along the carpet flooring surrounding Jonathan’s bed that neither of you had any desire leaving soon.
Your muscles twitched and throat released an abrupt; swift gasp when the foreign notion of Jonathan placing an open-mouthed kiss against your now exposed sex traveled entirely through your veins like a shot of electricity, leaving your brain hazy and imploring for more.
With Jonathan steadily lifting the clothing further, trails of open-mouthed kisses continued up the span of your stomach in an enticing manner that made your desires swirl with craving.
“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, his index and middle finger swiping down your slit gently; collecting your arousal prior to stuffing his drenched fingers in your awaiting mouth. “Barley touched you and you’re already dripping all over my sheets.”
Tongue traveling the surface of his digits, your whimpers becoming muffled. “Got something on your mind, baby? What’s got you all fuzzy?”
With Jonathan removing his—now clean—fingers, making sure to caress the pad of his thumb over your slick; pouty bottom lip, all he was met with was a meek: “Please.”
“Don’t worry,” He uttered softly, lifting his body weight off yours moderately to lower his now compressed boxers to his knees; freeing his aching erection. “I’ll give you what you want.”
The moment his cock aligned with your entrance and sensed your spongy walls welcome him when he inserted himself, his thigh trembled and buried himself further into your cunt.
“Fuck, fuck. Missed you so much. Taking me so well, always so good to me. S’like this pretty hole was made for my cock, hm?” Jonathan’s syllables and breathing began to stumble as he lost himself in you like he always did when you gripped him the way you currently were; his jaw falling open and eyes squeezing shut as his forehead fell to lean on yours.
“Johnny.” You sniffled, his eyes fluttering open once more to watch how you writhed in complete pleasure from the way he was rocking sensually inside of you; your hands reaching for his much larger one and drawing it to where you both were connected.
Jonathan’s raspy chuckle echoed through your ear as he began to draw tight circles on your clit; immediately feeling your walls flutter around him. “I got you, honey. Let go for me, yeah?”
His cooing tone and way he knew your body so marvelously allured you closer and closer to your high until you ultimately reached it; Jonathan following shortly behind you.
Once the constellations from your climax began to fade and you drifted back to Earth once more, you were greeted with Jonathan’s head tucked away and nuzzled into your neck, leaving passionate; lazy kisses down the sensitive skin and a trail of goosebumps and sweet praises in their wake.
His hips beginning to lift up and away from yours made you mewl disappointingly, your legs tightening around his waist to keep him and his seeping seed tucked in your warmth.
Jonathan hummed with approval, observing your fucked out state through heavy eyelids; marveling at how insanely lucky he is to fall asleep with your limbs wrapped around his and devour the sight of your bodies still connected when he awoke.
♥︎ — taglist. @jonathanbyersgf @jonathanbyerslover @nottluvr @moonlane @jae-the-menace @garfieldsladybird @claireunoia @daryldixonstorm @bear-bone-berries @gwenpter @sandy-the-glader @planetflos @timmytime-hufflepuff09
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#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers smut#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers fanfic#jonathan byers oneshot#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things one shot#stranger things imagine#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things fluff#milkiangl writes#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader
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♡ㅤׄㅤִㅤ ୨୧ jonathan byers would actually be the most perfect, loving boyfriend there ever was. he’s such an amazingly caring, kind guy. there’s no other way to describe it. from the way he treats the people he loves shows exactly that, his protective gentle nature always made your soul smile, if that was even possible.
you don’t care though because it was true. jonathan was the little firefly that came into your life. he spread his wings, and instantly brightened up your world. you never thought you would ever fall in love with such a soft, nurturing human. but you were so incredibly grateful.
he’d be just the cutest and most domestic.
-ˏˋ ❀ ❀ ❀ ˊˎ-
it was one early morning at the byers trailer. after a study session going on for too long last night, you decided to stay over his and made sure to let tell your parents know. they absolutely adored your lover and trusted him so it didn’t take too much convincing to do. and joyce? oh man did she love you so. she practically treats you like her own.
you had woken up from your slumber, your fatigue body dragging itself into the kitchen and living area as best as you could. your eyes were met with the sight of your shirtless boyfriend *due to the fact he gave you his shirt for you to sleep in* at the stove, a spatula in his hand as he cooked. will was sitting at the little table coloring while joyce was pacing around looking for her purse.
the byers mother caught your sluggish figure first, a beautiful smile illuminating her face when she sees you.
“morning, sweetheart. how are you feeling?”
“good morning, ms. byers. i’m great, thank you! how about you?”the older woman scoffs lightly, grabbing her purse she finally finds on the couch. “oh love, it’s joyce! it’s some coffee left in the pot, help yourself out sweetheart” the words were a bit rushed as she grabbed everything she needed for work. making sure to peck both of her boys on their cheeks, giving you a hug before announcing her departure.
jonathan turns his head from the sizzling skillet to face you. giving you that warm smile you just love so so much.
“hey honey” he softly greets, a content hum emitting from him at the way you wrapped your arms around his waist. your face pressed against the relaxed muscles of his bare back.
“hi baby” you reply with the same sincereness, giving his body one last tight squeeze before breaking away from him. backing away to go up to ruffle will’s hair, giggling when he groans and shakes your hands off him. a smile plastering his face regardless at your antics.
“i’m making some eggs, babe. would you like some?” you immediately nod your head, coincidentally feeling your stomach vibrating with raging hunger in that moment. the older byers boy chuckles at your frantic motions, moving away from the stove momentarily to place a sweet kiss at your forehead.
“go grab a plate, i’m almost done. i’ll make you the special”suddenly will perks up, a confused expression on his face.
“what’s the special?”
“well, will. it’s called the special for a reason, buddy. it’s only reserved for y/n”
-
*follow my library account @rileybinaalibrary & turn on notifications to know whenever i post a fic
#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers x fem!reader#jonathan byers fluff#stranger things jonathan#jonathan stranger things#stranger things fluff#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things
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Jonathan is so frantic and needy while he eats you out, seeing you in pleasure is his pleasure. So when you came the first time on his face he couldn't help himself from grinding his hips into thin air, literally cumming into his pants untouched. "F-fuck" he whimpers into your soaking cunt, lapping up all of the juices, keeping it a secret how sensitive he was for you.
My request are now open
-ˏˋ𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˊˎ
#-ˏˋ𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚜#stranger things#stranger things x reader#jonathan byers smut#stranger things x you#stranger things smut#stranger things x reader smut#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#Smut#x reader#Jonathan x reader
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Kinktober '22
Please check individual posts for specific warnings.
Day 1 : Fall out in the cold starlight { stalker!eddie sneaks into your house and touches you }
Day 2 : Osculum obscenum { priest!steve purges you of your demons }
Day 3 : Sanguine addiction { You find out about eddie's blood kink }
Day 4 : You let me desecrate you { jonathan carves his initials into you }
Day 5 : Heaven is a place on earth with you {worshiping stepdad james cock}
Day 6 : Caligula would have blushed { you make steve use a fleshlight instead of fucking him }
Day 7 : Crawl behind my eyes { jonathan wants to show you how fun candles can be }
Day 8 : Started talking about sin { hopper decides to smack some sense into you }
Day 9 : Every now and then the stars aline { eddie and steve secretly breed you while nancy and robin help }
Day 10 : I'm your national anthem { eddie worships his deity, you }
Day 11 : He tells me he's gentle when he wants to be { sirius introduces you to cockwarming }
Day 12 : Running in the shadows { hopper decides your punishment should be to watch him jerk off }
Day 13 : The innocent can never last { stepdad remus lets "uncle" james watch }
Day 14 : Will you bite the hand that feeds? { needy steve turns your halloween baking into kitchen sex }
Day 15 : Will nature make a man out of me yet? {Werewolf steve chasing after your little cottontail }
Day 16 : The devils in the next room { your sweet boyfriend eddie reveals himself as the towns deranged killer }
#kinktober 22#dark eddie#dark eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#dark!eddie munson#steve harrington hc#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#priest steve harrington#priest steve#jim hopper blurb#jim hopper x y/n#jim hopper x reader#jim hopper imagine#daddy hopper#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers blurb#stepdad!remus#stepdad!remus x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin imagine#stepdad!james#sirius black x reader#stepdad!james x reader
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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.
#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers fanfic#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers fluff#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#lui writes#it was so hard not to turn this into a throuple fic#nancy wheeler the woman that you are#ilyyyy nance
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all i want to do is spend a rainy day at home with jonathan byers like is that so hard. just cuddling and making out all tired and soft. like srs.
ohmygosh aerial. you don’t understand I need him
gn!reader 0.7k words
You’re feeling quite dizzy.
You don’t know if it’s because you’re tired, or because you’ve been giggling so much, or because Jonathan’s kissing you stupid. Probably all of the above.
You’re straddling him on the Byers’ couch and he’s got you all pushed up against his chest like he wants you to melt into him. You wouldn’t mind, honestly.
Jonathan pulls away from your mouth only to duck his head to your neck, lips attaching to your skin. He presses hot, wet kisses from your neck all the way down your shoulder and then back up again.
You giggle, lips swollen and your heart twice as much. “Jon.”
He makes a sound like a grunt slash moan and it vibrates on your neck. You laugh some more.
“That tickles,” you say breathlessly, face hot.
Jonathan makes another noise like a hum and mumbles, “Sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.
He pulls away, presses his forehead to yours. His eyelids are heavy and his lips kiss-bitten, his chest heaving against yours. He looks so pretty like this.
A rumble of thunder echoes overhead. You gasp, only a little shocked as the storm has been on and off all day. But the loudness of it is enough to get you shivering.
“You cold?” Jonathan asks, frowning.
“No,” you say. Actually, you’re burning up. All Jonathan’s doing.
He rubs your arms with both hands anyway, then pushes his arms under yours, hands locking on your lower back.
“How’d I get so lucky, hm?” he mumbles, all sweet and raspy, like he‘s not convinced you’re real.
His hand slips beneath your t-shirt and up the bare skin of your back, a burning trail of stars left in his wake. Your t-shirt bunches up around his wrist, cool air washing over your back.
You melt. He tends to have that effect on you.
“Don’t, Jonathan,” you say shyly, your fingers toying with the fabric of his sky blue t-shirt. Your cheeks are burning.
Jonathan frowns. “Don’t what? Tell the truth?” He hooks his free hand under your chin, thumb pushing upwards so you’re forced to look him in the eye. “You’re perfect.”
You’re a blushing mess. You smile so wide your cheeks ache with it. Then you’re giggling, because a smile isn’t enough, not with someone as lovely as him. Jonathan looks alarmed.
“What’s funny?” He asks, quirking a brow.
You shrug and make an ‘I don’t know’ sound. Nothing’s funny, you’re just sick as a dog in love with him.
Rain buckets down overhead as you lift your hand to Jonathan’s hair. You push it away from where it’s falling over his forehead, finding it silky smooth under your fingers. You wonder if he’s been using the conditioner you’d left in his shower.
Your hand slides around to the back of his head and comes to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers buried in the soft, short hair. Jonathan’s melting under your touch, eyelids heavy and head heavier.
He sighs with content and you can’t help it — you lean in to kiss him. You get in one short kiss before you’re giggling again, smiling all wide and dopey and Jonathan’s trying to kiss you but your staggering smile makes it tough.
He chuckles, a sweet, raspy sound, his mouth a millimeter from yours. “You’re laughing again,” he accuses softly, totally deadpan.
“Sorry,” you say guiltily, giggles rolling out of you and showing no signs of stopping.
“Stop smiling,” he groans, long-suffering. His own cheesy grin gives him away. Hypocrite. “It’s really hard to kiss you when you’re like this.”
“You’re smiling too,” you whine.
“No I’m not,” he says quickly. “See, look.” He drops the smile abruptly and forces his lips into a straight line. You can’t help but laugh he looks so soulless. The act doesn’t hold up for long. He’s soon laughing almost as much as you are.
“This is all your fault,” he grumbles. Without warning he grips your waist and manhandles you off his lap. Before you have time to protest he’s pushing you gently so you fall back against the couch cushions.
All the breath is stolen from your lungs as Jonathan moves to hover over you. His knee slots between your thighs and you stop laughing abruptly. The room goes quiet, but for the rain on the roof.
“All—” He leans down to kiss you, “your—” a second kiss, “fault.” One more kiss, messy and clumsy but sweet as sugar.
If this is consequence, you don’t mind admitting it’s your fault at all. Not one bit.
#★ mal writes!#ღ jon#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers blurb#jonathan byers drabble#jonathan byers imagine#✉️#𖦹 aerial!
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HIIIII soooo good morning/evening/night idk at wich time you'll see this bUt i kinda remembered this scenes in wich jonathan is high as hell and i tought it was funny- THE POINT IS can i request a jonathan byers x male reader in wich they are both smoking and the reader accidentaly confesses his feelings towards jonathan and they end up kissing but like in a cute way- idk just them both laughing and loving each other it would be very adorable
thank uuu <3
Love you so much, it makes me sick.
Jonathan Byers x Male reader
CW: drug use (duh), brief mentions of sex, cheesy ass ‘i love you more’ banter.
A/N: I wrote down a real conversation I had with my friend when we both were drunk for the first part.
"Dude, open the window, or I'm going to fucking choke"
Jonathan got out of bed, coughing up the marijuana smoke enveloping his lungs, and reached for the window, carefully opening it. He peeked out the window and sucked in the lilac-scented air, which in the same second mingled with the sweet smell that was coming from his room. After standing at the window a little longer, he looked around. Opening the curtains, Byers shivered and sighed.
"Is that better?", he asked and, without waiting for an answer, settled back on the bed. Y/N nodded in agreement, peering into the darkness surrounding their room. On the other side of the street, sparse lights came on. The wind picked up.
"Shit, Jonny. Have you ever wondered how our existence and our existence of our world relate to each other? Well, take our motorcycles, for example. They, too, appear to give our consciousness some sort of place to retire to. To sit on a motorcycle that means nothing and means nothing about you-and to exist."
Y/N turned toward his friend, trying to focus his gaze on his face. Byers stared at him in silence for a while, then let out a weak chuckle.
"What? I don't get it. Why your motorcycle is... Like, our existence?"
"Not my motorcycle, idiot, and I don't even have one. Life.", L/N held his finger up meaningfully. Jonathan made a pensive face.
"So, does everything in the world have something to do with motorcycles?"
L/N shook his head and shrugged.
"What motorcycles, you uneducated dummy, it's a metaphor. An elementary metaphor. Elementary, though very profound."
Jonathan shook his head, "Nah, I don't get it. When did you buy a motorcycle?"
"I never bought one. A motorcycle, it's like... Speed, and in life, everybody's got... And aspiration, and it's like... Ah, fuck it, forget it."
Jonathan threw up his hands in defeat. "All right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You seem kind of weird today."
Y/N waved his hand and turned away. "It'll be all right. I'm just tired. Gotta get some sleep."
His friend looked away. "I know what you mean. I've thought about it myself sometimes. And then, all of a sudden, you realize you can't live like that. You don't even have to fuck somebody."
"What's up with the fucking thing? Haven’t gotten lucky in a while?"
"No, it's kind of a... Metaphor... Or whatever it is you said."
Y/N laughed, leaning back on the bed. "You're such a dumbass, it's funny. I love you even more for that. Not that I didn’t love you in the first place"
Byers turned to him and made a face as serious as he could under the influence of weed. L/N furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what it was he was saying.
"Wait... What?" Jonathan leaned toward him and looked into his eyes. "What did you say?"
"What did I say...?" L/N lowered his gaze to Jonathan’s lips.
Byers blinked slowly, waving his head. His gray-brown eyes glowed and it was as if he was looking right into Y/N’s soul.
"Are you... Are you serious right now?"
There was an unease in his voice that sounded serious. Y/N suddenly relaxed and sat up on the bed.
"What did I say?" - he asked again, confused, and laughed without waiting for an answer. "I don’t understand. Maybe I said something wrong, huh? Am I going to get in trouble?"
He laughed again. An uncertain smile appeared on Jonathan's face and he laughed softly, too.
"Geez, Y/N, you're such a sweetheart..."
Byers raised his hand and ran his fingers down his friends cheek. L/N stared breathlessly at his fingers, a fire burning beneath them. And, submitting to that warmth, Y/N felt the world change. It was as if he wasn't inhaling oxygen from his lungs, but a stream of bright, fresh waves that grew stronger and stronger and suddenly carried him far from his bedroom. Him and Jonathan. The two of them together. And at that moment, Jonathan pressed their lips together, and L/N realized that what he had just felt was, in fact, the most important thing in his life. Then Jonathan embraced him and Y/N felt his body come alive, filling with new life.
"It's time. I don't want to live without you, Y/N," he whispered.
"It's the marijuana talking in you now, Johnny, or the alcohol, I don't know..."
"Maybe," Byers replied, and, wrapping his arms around his neck, drawing himself closer, “But what I do know is that today, here and now, that's all I need. Y/N, I love you. I love no one more than I love you. And I love you more than I love myself. Tell me, do you love me?"
L/N laughed and kissed him on the nose. "I said it first, of course I love you. I love you very much, Johnny. I love you so much I'm afraid I can't hold it in...I love you so much, I could just eat you."
"Don't eat me... I'm not tasty..." Jonathan smiled as he nestled in Y/N’s lap and buried his face in the others shoulder, inhaling the scent of his hair.
"You know, you're so funny when you smile, N/N..."
"And you're very funny when you laugh. I always laugh with you. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced in my life."
"You don't understand, Y/N... You don't understand how good I feel with you..."
"I'm sure I'm better off with you than you are with me."
"That's not true, I love you so much more. When I look at you, my heart melts."
"Liar, I love you so much more. I really do..."
"I mean it. You're the best." Jonathan kissed Y/N’s shoulder, then his neck, then went up to his ear, and finally reached his face, attacking it with messy butterfly kisses.
“Oh, stop it!” L/N laughed trying to get Byers back with an attack of his own, before grabbing Jonathan’s head to stabilize it in one place, capturing his lips in a long, sensual french kiss. After a while, they separated for air, Jonathan placing his forehead upon Y/N’s, staring into his lovers eyes.
“I still think I love you more though.”
#x male reader#x reader#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x male reader#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x male reader#jonathan byers x you#male reader#gay#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers x y/n#🍷 mlmmetalhead
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬
requested by @milfvibesonlybaby
A/N: subby needy Jonathan?? yes please! I hope you enjoy, thank you for the request!!
“Fuck, please,” Jonathan whines, his head tossing back desperately, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
But his eyes never leave your body as he watches you. You’re sat on the other end of the sofa from him. Both of you are twisted to face each other, leaning against the arms of the couch. You’re naked in front of him, your legs open, knees fallen to the side. But what gripped Jonathan’s attention the most was your hand between your thighs, your fingers lost between your folds as you buried them inside you. You other hand was rubbing circles on your clit.
“Uh-uh,” you tut at Jonathan. “No touching me, babyboy. Only yourself,” you purr.
You have to bite back your own moan, put all your effort into not reaching out to touch him as you watch him. He was also naked on the couch, his hand moving with a desperate fervour as he stroked his aching and swollen cock.
“P-please,” he mewls again. “I wanna touch you so bad. Wanna make you feel good,” he pleads pathetically.
“But I do feel good,” you hum, moaning and arching your back emphasis. “I’m enjoying watching you like this,” you sigh in content.
Jonathan groans, his hips bucking involuntarily into his palm. His hand was becoming sloppy in it’s rhythm, his hips grinding desperately to meet his fist. You knew he was close already. All he needed was that permission from you. That was what he was waiting for.
“Come on babyboy, I wanna see you cum all over that pretty hand of yours,” you pout. “And then I’ll let you touch me,” you promise.
And that’s all it takes for him to loose his resolve, a deep grunt leaving him as he arches forward with pleasure. His release spurts over him, coating his thighs, his lower stomach, and his hand that you admired so much.
“Yes,” you sigh, “that’s a good boy,” you purr with a smirk. “Now you can come touch me.”
Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist
#stranger nightmare#kinktober 2022#jonathan byers#jonathan byers smut#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#stranger things smut
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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.
#jonathan byers fanfiction#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers x fem!reader#jonathan byers drabble#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers hurt/comfort
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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?”
#yellowroseswrites#comfort fics#jonathan byers x reader#adhd!reader#anxious!reader#jonathan byers loml#executive dysfunction#stranger things x reader#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#jonathan byers x reader hurt/comfort#jonathan byers x reader fluff
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take your pic | jonathan byers x fem!reader
summary: you find an old box of photos under jonathan's bed OR he always noticed
wc: 1.4k
warnings: fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, best friends to lovers (ish), not proofed, lmk if i missed anything!
⤜♡→
“This photograph makes me severely uncomfortable.” You hum from where you lay splayed on Jonathan’s floor, pulling loose contents from the underside of his bed. The rug is scratchy against your cheek, but you’re far too invested in things lost to Jonathan long since.
So far you’ve procured an array of thread bracelets, scoffing when you realized they were the ones you’d gifted him a few summers ago when he was hard pressed to find you without the thick imprint of tight string clinging to your sore fingers. Some old mixtapes were shoved to the base of the wall just below his headboard and you just pulled free an old shoebox filled with polaroids.
The snap of interest is one you weren’t even aware he took, very candid and unflattering in your opinion. You’re laying beneath a large oak that swallows your front yard, nose scrunched and eyes squeezed like you’ve just swallowed your mother’s extra sour lemonade. You can tell it predates your relationship, back when you were nothing more than his closest friend, pining down the collar of his old Ramones t-shirt much to his obliviousness.
Jonathan leans over the edge of his bed, his attention previously occupied with photos he’d taken with his newest camera. You don’t have time to roll away before the frame is between his fingers and he makes a funny face.
“You look beautiful.” Less of a thought and more of a sure statement, one that sets your cheeks aflame despite his insistence to tell you as much everytime he sees your face.
Your relationship is easy in that way, reassurances such a constant that it confuses you when anyone comments on the unbridled affection. It existed before you were rewarded with goodnight kisses and the shy scrapbooks Jonathan took to haphazardly putting together when he realized how much you loved to mark the pages with your own recollections in the way of construction paper and gel pens. He spoils you and somehow you’re still greedy for his tenderness, unsure how he hasn’t gotten sick of you by now.
“Ugh!” You’re so sudden, Jonathan throws himself backwards to avoid your foreheads colliding beside his navy bedspread. He watches you pull to your feet slightly pacing before turning to his taken expression. “You know, you can’t say that right?”
“That my girlfriend is beautiful? I think I’ve earned that right actually.”
“No.” You drag the word out, sing-song and matter of fact. You snatch the photo back, scrutinizing the lick of pink protruding from the strap of your tank top, memory resurfacing. “I remember this day! I wore this cute top and a pretty white skirt for you and you didn’t even notice.”
“I’m sure I noticed, I noticed everything you did!” He argues, nonchalantly lifting his camera and taking a shot of you now, like this is a moment he wants to remember.
If someone were to penetrate the recesses of his brain they would find seventy five percent of it is you, the rest reserved for the things he finds less important but still a necessity for survival. If it weren’t for the way your arms have a habit of shielding your face or your neck finding space in his chest he would have more photos of you than he already does. He’s nearly positive that’s the reason you find the photo in question so unflattering.
He’s horrified to admit that rather than the ignorance you claim he held to you that day he remembers it and you with as much brilliance as a film projector. The way you were twirling around the yard in your new skirt when he rolled up on his bike, ears covered with headphones spinning your newest cassette.
Your hands were covered in bracelets and your finger glistened with the ring your parents gifted you for your birthday. It's a family heirloom, I think that means it’s important but it’s just so pretty I have to wear it forever. He glances now and finds it still wrapping your skin, albeit fitting much better than it did back then.
He remembers your outfit because it struck him in that moment what it meant to love someone. He found it in the way your hand shot out to the protrusion of his nose, gently tapping the buttoned edge before your headphones dipped to your shoulders and richhoched against your collarbones amidst your laughter.
It followed everything you did that day, looming like the luscious branches of that thick oak that stopped you from burning in the sun. He recalls the chanting in his head that stopped the words that pushed at his cheeks, inquiring about the lump in his throat as a side effect for the sudden cadence thumping in his chest.
He didn’t notice because he couldn’t notice and the remembrance of your pout when you insisted he go home early brings him back to where you’re currently crawling into his lap, straddling his legs.
“Where’s your head at?” You hush, hands settling on either side of his face to push at the corner of his lips. You soothe the tightness of his muscles with your own lips pushing at each edge, tasting the cherry of his chapstick at the tip of your tongue. “It’s not a big deal, I know you didn’t like me when we were younger. But you love me now so it’s okay.”
His hands settle at your waist, tracing circles where your shirt rides up to expose bare skin.
It simply won’t do. The thought that you believe him to have been a young boy too interested in everything but the one thing in his life that he believes to complete the whole.
“You were mad at me that day, that’s why you made up that excuse about your parents wanting to have a family dinner?”
“Of course I was. But it doesn’t matter, alls well that—”
“But I did notice.”
“I believe you.”
“You don’t, but I can prove it.” Jonathan discards you gently to the mattress, pulling the box you abandoned onto the bed. He pushes it forward, imploring you to have a look at the memorabilia stocking the inside. You reach for another photo, this one nearly the same as the last, unflattering, but this time because your back was turned and you were seemingly in the middle of dancing to whatever song was humming in your ears.You pull a few more before the outfit changes to a pretty spring dress you wore to one of Will’s birthday parties.
“Are all of these…”
“Of you? Yeah.” He realizes how weird it sounds, the implication of a box filled with photos you never knew he’d taken so he backtracks sheepish, cheeks burning with a flame somewhere between passion and mortification. “It’s not anything weird, I promise. Just photos I took when you weren’t looking.”
“I don’t think you’re helping your case, but I don’t think it’s weird.” You manage a nervous chuckle, shuffling through all the times you thought Jonathan didn’t notice. Like the first time you tried makeup or when you bought a t-shirt with The Clash on it because you knew he was into them.
It’s a timeline of your worst moments because in your mind they were all fruitless, just another failed attempt to get your best friend to see you as anything more. But to Jonathan they were your best, unawares of the way you were trying to catch his attention, far too taken with the girl who had somehow taken hold of his heart without his knowledge or intention.
“I always noticed.” He mumbles, sliding the box aside, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I just never knew how to tell my best friend I was wildly in love with her. It always seemed wrong, like I could only have one and I didn’t wanna lose my best friend.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing someone knocked some sense into you.” You rest your forehead against his own, lips ghosting where you both smile like absolute idiots. “I’m burning all of these photos though because I look ridiculous.”
“You’re not touching my photos.” He chimes, swiftly tackling you to the bed, knocking the box from your reach. He buries his nose into your neck, planting kisses against the sensitive skin, reveling in your childish laughter beneath him.
“Jonathan, they’re so bad!”
“But they’re just so good!”
#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x fem!reader#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers scenario#jonathan byers drabble#jonathan byers x y/n#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things drabble
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Dating jonathan byers headcannons
Loves to take pictures of you
loves when you model for him
cooks with you
when you stress bake he helps you give them to your friends
pulls you into his lap when your hanging out with your friends
holds your hand a lot
forehead kisses!!! for both him and you
Sings to you and only you
brings you around joyce and will, they love you too
keeps a photo of you in his wallet and his car and by his bed, basically just everywhere
invites you over for christmas
let’s you borrow his sweaters
you tell him he looks cute in sweaters so he buys more
takes you to the lovers lake to walk but ends up taking photos of you
Loves movie nights with you
definitely big spoon but does love being held
gives you massages when you’re upset
if you’re scared of thunderstorms he’ll have you stay at his house
Joyce doesn’t mind at all cause she loves you
loves that you and his family get along
brings you to pick up will
you talk to will about anything he wants to talk about as jonathan watches fondly
#stranger things fluff#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x you#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers x y/n
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can i request a jonathan byers x reader where the reader is having a bad anxiety day and jonathan just helps to calm her down-so like supper fluffy type sh!t lmaoo🫶😭
just in luck as im also feeling pretty shitty rn but writing this fic made it better, hopefully it makes you feel better too!
One Of Those Days
Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem! Reader
WC: 1.1k
Warning/s: anxiety, sadness, hurt/comfort
GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!
It suddenly felt like the whole weight of the world was dropped on your shoulders, with your thoughts almost running a mile per hour. Your chest ached. You wanted to stop feeling like this, but you couldn’t. Then that’s where the overthinking began.
There it was, it was like an empty void in your stomach, slowly getting bigger as it consumed your thoughts, like a dark cloud looming before the storm.
You felt so alone. It felt like everyone in your life was moving forward, doing something new, meeting new people and making friends and memories, meanwhile, you were here moping in your bed.
You thought about how they were doing so well in their life that they couldn’t even give you a small call to say ‘Hello’ to you or even just ask how you were doing. You just felt like a small blip in their life they’ll eventually forget. It sucked.
Chest heaving as you breathe, you cursed at the tightness in your throat and the tears that threatened to come out.
There was a knock on your bedroom door. You certainly weren’t expecting any guests.
Thinking you just hallucinated it, you closed your eyes, delving deep into your blankets. There was it again.
“(Y/N)? Are you there? It’s me, Jonathan. Y-you probably didn’t hear me knocking on your front door, so I let myself in with the key you gave me…” The voice belonging to Jonathan became muffled through the door.
You let out a breath of relief as you felt your chest swell with emotions again. “In here… Door’s open…” You managed to speak out even though you weren’t in the mood to talk. The handle clicks, Jonathan slowly walks in, once he saw you huddled up on the bed, his smile faded, slowly approaching you.
“Hey, baby… what’s wrong? Something happened?” He asked, you shake your head, making some space for Jonathan to lay beside you on the bed. He sits down, before leaning his back against the headboard while looking at you worriedly, wanting to do what he can to make you feel better.
“…Another one of those bad days?” He whispered enough for you to hear. You hesitated before nodding. Jonathan already knew what he had to do.
Jonathan adjusts himself, so he was laying down but his back was slightly propped up. “Come here, come on.” He talked to you in a soft voice as you moved towards him, resting your head on his chest. You felt yourself wanting to cry again, God, why were you such a baby?
His hand made its way on your back, slowly starting to rub small circles to it. Your eyes closed as you focused on Jonathan’s breathing and heartbeat. It had the best effect of calming you down instantly.
“You want to talk about it?” He asks. You didn’t want to, often times you did, and Jonathan listened very well and talked you through it which you heavily loved and appreciated about him. He always took his time with you, making sure that bit by bit you felt better than before.
No matter how much you didn’t want to talk, it felt like your mouth had a mind of its own.
“Do you still like me?”
You feel Jonathan’s hand stop, simply taken aback by your question. “What?”
“Do you still like me? Do you still like hanging out with me? Why do you hang out with me when you can do so many more things that are much cooler than here? I’m just a burden, my friends won’t even take a second to talk to me and now- you- you should hang out with someone better than me… I’m only holding you down.” Total word vomit.
Jonathan blinks back, not knowing how to answer those things at once. He looks up at your ceiling in thought. He absolutely hated when you would feel like this, you sounded so upset.
“Look at me.” Jonathan says. You pause, not following him.
“Please? Hey...” Jonathan calls to you again, his other hand reaching up to touch your face, to turn your head towards him. You look up at him, adjusting your position so you were sat closely next to him, faces inches apart.
You look down, feeling heavy. Jonathan sighs, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, stroking with his thumb as his other hand held yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as he gave it a soft squeeze.
“(Y/N), I don’t like you; I love you, with all my heart. I love every second I get to hang out with you, even now, I love to remind you how much you mean to me, to us. Trust me, I’d choose you over anything- and anyone for that matter,” Jonathan started, you could feel the warmth of your cheeks as you tried to prevent yourself from crying.
Jonathan could see through it anyways. “Come on, let it out, you’ll feel better. I promise.” He continued; your lip quivered as your tears finally rolled down your cheeks. Letting out a choked sob, you shake your head, nuzzling your face on Jonathan’s chest as he embraces you in a tight hug, rubbing your back.
“That’s it… I’m here, you’re going to be okay.”
Sobs racked your body as you cried out, wrapping your arms around Jonathan.
He rubs your back even more.
“Let it out… and y’know… maybe those you call friends aren’t worthy of your friendship- or they could just be busy, sure- but you, don’t you ever doubt yourself because you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.” Jonathan said, he smiles a bit at how your breathing started to calm down, he keeps rubbing circles on your back.
“I’m sorry…” You sobbed out.
“Don’t be sorry, you have nothing to apologize for feeling that way, okay?” He says, softly pulling away and taking your face in his hands, making you look at him with puffy eyes.
He leaves a kiss on your forehead, making you close your eyes. He also kisses your closed eyes before moving onto leave a peck on your lips. “Do you want to go somewhere or stay here, hmm?”
“Stay here…” You mumbled, suddenly feeling tired from crying your heart out. Jonathan nods “Okay, hold on.” You open your eyes to see him positioning himself to lay down, patting the space beside him.
You notice the wet patch on his shirt. “I ruined your shirt…” You say, Jonathan looks down at it before letting out a chuckle.
“You didn’t ruin anything, babe. Come here, let me hold you.”
Laying down beside him, you offer him a share of the blanket which he gladly takes. His arm automatically move to wrap around you, pulling you close, rubbing on your clothed skin.
“You need to rest, okay?” You nod at his words, nuzzling closer to him. Soon you felt your eyelids start fo feel heavy as you slowly drifted to sleep.
Jonathan looks at you, softly smiling and kissing the side of your head. “I love you so much.” He says before trying to catch some sleep as well.
#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers fic#jonathan byers imagine#jonathan byers fluff#jonathan byers one shot#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things one shot#stranger things imagines#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y/n#x reader#fanfiction#imagines#refiwrites
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Jealousy, Jealousy
Jonathan Byers X Reader
Request: please a Jonathan x fem!reader, friends to lovers, with a lot of jealousy.
Requested by: Anon
Summary: You love looking at Jonathan's photographs but when you stumble on all his photos of Nancy you can't help but feel jealous.
Words: 2,690
Don’t forget my follower celebration is still happening. Check it out here!
A/N: I really loved this request and I know I didn't really do the whole jealousy part of it justice but I hope you still enjoy it. Also, I know that the request asked for a female reader, but I believe I made it gender-neutral. Please correct me if I'm wrong on that.
When the Byers family had moved in across the street you weren’t sure what to expect. The morning that the moving truck pulled up you canceled your plans for the day and spent the morning sitting on your front porch watching. You wanted to go over and introduce yourself but it never seemed like the right time. They all seemed in a rush to unload the truck and you didn’t want to interrupt. From where you sat you could tell that there was a heavy air around them, an unspoken sadness clinging to each of them. It didn’t take long for the daughter to disappear into the house and not return. The mother soon following, leaving who you assumed to be her two sons to finish unloading. By the time the truck was empty only the older of the two sons was left unpacking.
After that first morning, you didn’t see them outside anymore. You spent most of your days sitting near the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the new neighbors. A week into trying to see the neighbors your mom finally stopped you. She found you in your usual spot near the front window and placed a plate of cookies on your lap.
“Take those to them and go introduce yourself,” she told you before heading back into her office.
So you did, you made the short walk across the street, cookies in hand. Ringing the doorbell was more nerve-wracking than you had imagined. You were finally about to meet the people you had been trying to see for a week now. When the door finally creaked open you nearly dropped the plate in surprise.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the door asked. Her brown hair was messily pulled back and you couldn’t help but notice the intense dark circles under her eyes.
“Hi, I um live across the street and I just wanted to drop some cookies off to say welcome to the neighborhood,” you tell her as you start to feel like you are interrupting something.
Her eyes light up a bit and she opens the door wider. Her lips pull into a soft smile putting all of your anxieties at bay.
“Would you like to come in? I’m Joyce by the way.” Nodding you make your way into the home, handing her the cookies as you do.
You follow her into the living room noticing the piles of boxes that had yet to be unpacked. Joyce places the cookies on the coffee table before making her way to the bottom of the stairs.
“Will, Jane, Jonathan, come down here please,” she calls. The sounds of three sets of footsteps come rushing down the stairs. The younger two say a quick hi before heading towards the cookies. The older brother stops at the bottom of the stairs and takes a moment to look at you.
“I’m Jonathan,” he introduces before scratching the back of his neck. The second his eyes landed on you he knew he had to make a good first impression and he was already blowing it.
While he saw it as the worst introduction ever you had found it endearing. His shy demeanor left you smiling and wanting to get him to open up to you.
From that day on you had become best friends. Often spending most of your free time together. Joyce often joked that you must have been another one of her kids with how much time you spent at their house.
She loved having you come over, she said it reminded her of their last home which was often full of the kids' friends.
The way they often talked of their old home in Indiana made you wonder why they moved here in the first place. They never said much about their life before the move and you knew better than to try to ask. All you really knew was that Jane had a boyfriend she left back there and that Jonathan too had a girlfriend back in Indiana.
When he first mentioned her his eyes lit up like he was a child on Christmas morning. It made your heart swell to see him so happy. With that happiness had come a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach which you chose to ignore. Why dwell on that when you could bask in the happiness of your best friend.
Over the months that light in his eyes began to dim with each conversation about her. It was as if the fire he held for her was slowly being smothered. Deep down you were thrilled by this development, hoping that one day they would break up and then maybe you would have a chance. The feelings you had for Jonathan had built slowly over time. If you really thought about it you would have realized that they had begun the first moment you saw him unloading the moving truck.
It was as if something drew you to him, something that you couldn’t even begin to understand. It felt like wherever you went there was something always pulling you back. The tug in your chest reminded you that he made you feel at home. When you were with him the world felt quiet, like nothing else mattered but him. His presence calmed you and yet still seemed to set your skin ablaze at the smallest touch.
When he had finally confessed to you that he and Nancy had broken up you didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted to feel happy that you finally had a chance to be with him but when you looked into his eyes and saw the heartbreak it crushed you. Being with him the first few days after his breakup was like going through one yourself.
You had laid together on the floor of his room listening to whatever album was within reach. It didn’t matter what it was as long as it filled the void. It was still too new to talk about and you understood, so you laid next to him not bothering to say anything. Between songs you would squeeze his hand, silently telling him you were there for him.
In the days after his split with Nancy, he had never been so happy to see your face. You knew him better than anyone else and you always seemed to know how to make him feel better. He was beyond grateful for you every second of the day back when he wasn’t sure if he would love again.
Now almost a year and a half after the Byers had moved in across the street you were rummaging through Jonathan’s closet. He was sprawled on his bed rambling about how he wasn’t sure what to do after graduation.
“I mean I used to have these plans but now it just doesn’t feel right to leave my mom. She needs me here, not to mention Will and Jane. I just don’t think I can go that far for college anymore. By the way, I don’t know if college is the right path for me anymore. I mean I could do another internship for the newspaper like I did back in Hawkins.”
You turned to listen, forgetting about your search for a minute. The sadness in his eyes flared u when he mentioned Hawkins, it always came back when he brought it up. Over the last few months, he had opened up more about his hometown but had left out many details claiming that you wouldn’t believe him if he told you. It left you wondering just what kind of secrets he was hiding but for now, you were looking for a different secret.
Turning back to his closet you began sifting through boxes on the top shelf. Finally, you pulled down a box full of pictures. Holding the box close to your chest you moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to hide them from me,” you told him before ripping the lid off like a greedy child. Your fingers skimmed the edge of the photographs taking in the beauty of each image.
“You have an obsession, it’s not healthy.” He lets out a laugh that has your stomach twisting and your ears yearning to hear it more. It was the only noise in the world that filled you with happiness until you felt like you could burst.
Grabbing a handful of photos you began to admire each. Each new image you looked at had you claiming that it was your favorite. They each seemed to tell their own story and you sat hungrily taking each and everyone in. There was something beautiful about looking at Jonathan’s work, it was like getting to see the world through his eyes. It made you feel close to him in a way that you didn’t think was possible.
Behind you, Jonathan had propped himself up against his pillows watching as you whispered your praises. When you had first found his work he was hesitant to share, it made him feel vulnerable. Over time he had started to open up and with each new photo, he showed you had a compliment ready. He struggled to take your compliments but he was learning to be appreciative and not embarrassed by your onslaught of adoration.
As he watched you light up at his work he let a smile rest on his lips. Nothing brought him as much joy as seeing you happy and he made a promise to himself long ago that he would do what it took to make you smile. Even if that meant letting you look at every single picture he had ever taken. So when he saw your shoulders tense he felt himself mirroring your actions.
Slowly you turned to face him, pulling both legs onto the bed. In your hand were some of the pictures he had taken of Nancy when they first started dating. Under those, he saw the picture that still haunted him to this day. The one that he had taken of Nancy undressing in Steve’s bedroom.
“Are these Nancy?” you ask praying that he can’t hear the tremble in your voice.
“Ugh yeah.” He avoids looking in your eyes instead finding the comforter on his bed more appealing. He rubs the back of his neck ashamed that you found the one thing he never wanted you to see. The one part of himself that he wanted to bury and never let see the light of day again. He had struggled for the last few years about it. While Nancy had forgiven him for being a pervert he hadn’t. He felt that he wasn’t deserving of forgiveness and now worried that you would hate him for it as well.
“She’s beautiful, I can see why you loved her so much.” Your heart was breaking. It was becoming hard to breathe and the tears that stung your eyes were becoming more powerful. He had kept all his photographs of her neatly tucked into a box in his closet. Mentally you screamed at yourself for being naive enough to think that he had moved on. This right here in your hands was proof enough that he was still in love with her.
“It’s not what it looks like.” Finally, he meets your gaze, wide-eyed as he searches for the right words. Whatever he can say to stop you from hating him. He felt like he was drowning and there was nothing he could do but let the water take hold. He could see it in your eyes, the way that you looked at him differently. Earlier you had looked at him like he was your best friend and now it was like you were looking at a stranger and he hated himself for it.
“No it’s fine I get it.” You run the back of your hand over your eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears that are itching to escape. “I’m getting tired I should go.”
Standing up you place everything back in the box and move to put it back where you found it.
“Wait, I think we should talk about this.” He gently grabs your wrist pulling you back to the bed. The space where his skin meets yours feels like it's on fire. His skin igniting yours as a reminder that he would never feel the same.
“There’s nothing to talk about, you still love her and there’s nothing wrong with that. She was your first love and you never really get over that.” His worried brows shoot up leaving you confused by his sudden change.
Letting go of your wrist he slides his hand down to cover yours. “You thought I was still in love with Nancy?” The scoff he lets out has your crossing your arms swearing it isn’t as absurd as he is making it seem.
“Why else would you keep all of her pictures?” You quirk a brow as if to say ‘your move’.
He lets out a laugh, and it bounces off the walls filling the small room. “You were jealous weren’t you?”
“You never answered my question.” Biting your lip you wait for his response.
“When we broke up it hurt too much to look at them so I shoved the box to the back of the closet. I figured when it wasn’t so new I would go back and get rid of them but I ended up forgetting they were in there.”
“Then why’d you start acting weird when I found them?”
“Seriously?”
You clench your jaw and nod at him. There was no way that you were going to let him get out of answer this.
“Did you not see those pictures on the bottom? I thought you saw those and realized I was a pervert and wanted nothing to do with me. Those pictures are one of the biggest regrets of my life and I wish I had burnt them.”
The guilt is written all over his face. It filled the air as if it was radiating off of him.
“So you aren’t still in love with her?” you ask. You needed to be sure.
“How could I when you’re here?” His hand comes up to cup your cheek. When he sees no signs of doubt in your eyes he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your lips.
You move closer to him, angling your body so you can kiss him better. When you break apart to catch your breath you’re both smiling from ear to ear. You had waited for this day for over a year and now it had finally happened.
“So when’d you become such a smooth talker?” you tease earning one of his heartwarming laughs.
“All those years of tripping over my words have led me here.”
“Oh is that so?”
“No, it was just dumb luck, so how about we stop talking before I say the wrong thing.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. This time your hands bunch in his shirt pulling him down onto the bed with you. He hovers over you as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. It was the feeling of all of your dreams being fulfilled at once. The world around you had faded away leaving just the two of you tangled together in a frenzy of lingering touches.
You pull away just enough to whisper to him, “You know you could always replace those pictures with new ones of me. All of those pictures.” You punctuate your sentence with a wink which drawls a deep groan from him. In an instant, his lips are back on yours before they travel their way down your neck causing a giggle to escape.
Laying there in Jonathan’s arms as he litters your skin with kisses was all you had ever wanted. There was nothing more you could ask for than for your best friend to also be the love of your life. With your emotions finally fully in sync, you felt bliss, pure bliss.
#stranger things imagine#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x you#jonathan byers x y#jonathan byers imagine#reader insert#reader#x reader#jonathan byers x y/n#Nancy Wheeler#jonathan byers fic#stranger things#stranger things season 4#st 4#friends to lovers#jealousy
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