omgggg finn’s birthday is coming up and i was wondering if maybe you’d write about y/n posting for his birthday + maybe a little fic of them spending the day together 🥹
highly requested!!!! happy birthday finn!!! 23 on the 23rd!
fic following the insta post below :) enjoy! i lowkkk don't like the ending again but it's okay bc i wanted to get this out!! thanks again for all the love on this series -- pls keep requesting (yes i will get to it eventually lol)
off the record au masterlist
yourusername i have to get sappy for a second online because my favorite person is 23 today!! we’ve lived a decade together and i’m always gonna thank the duffer brothers for casting us and bringing us together in such an incredible show ❤️ you mean the world to me and i’m so glad to spend today with you
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user1 THIS IS ADORABLE IM CRYING
user2 i love that we now get to see peaks inside their relationship that we've missed they're so cute aww
user3 i like how y/n is slowly revealing herself as a photographer the more she posts
user4 i'm neverrrr getting over this reveal they are my babies
gatenmatarazzo the baby is finally 23!!! welcome to the club
| yourusername HA literally only took him all year :p
wyattoleff BIG GUY TURNS 23!!! happy birthday finn!
| finnwolfhardofficial thanks man
jeremyraytaylor WOOO he's finally 23!!!
| yourusername YUP! he's not a baby anymore
user5 AH they're all so tiny in the first photo
user6 to think that they've celebrated ten years of birthdays together genuinely makes me so happy omg
user7 no bc no one understands how happy this makes me and how vol 2 is coming out in 2 days and here we have y/n and finn bringing us into their world that they've kept to themselves for six and a half years and it just makes so much sense because they make so much sense and i couldn't picture them with anyone else 🥹
calebmclaughlin wow seeing myself was a jump scare. happy birthday to the legend himself!
| yourusername HA i'm sorry i had to include a baby photo
noahschnapp y/n you never fail to bring out the craziest photos happy birthday finn!
| yourusername have to do everyone a service 🫡
sadiesink_ what a progression of photos i think this really captures your essences
| yourusername why thank you i think it does too
nattyiceofficial my little baby brother isn't so baby anymore!! happy birthday finlard 🩷
| finnwolfhardofficial thank you nat 🤓
charlie.r.heaton wow you guys are getting up there! happy birthday finn!
| yourusername i don't know how we got so old..
djotime the big man is old! enjoy the day
| finnwolfhardofficial thanks joe! i'll try 😉
user8 this is so beautiful happy birthday finn!!
user9 howww have they aged 10 years i can't believe we literally grew up with them
user10 oh i just know he loves her so much and she loves him so much
user11 this is gonna sound super parasocial of me but if they ever break up i genuinely won't believe in love anymore like i need them to be together forever
milliebobbybrown sooo lovely happy birthday finn!
| finnwolfhardofficial thanks millie :)
maya_hawke i actually can't believe you guys are this old now i'm so bittersweet
| yourusername i am too 😭
finnwolfhardofficial a decade of celebrating with you ❤️ i love you so much
| yourusername i love you more ❤️
_
you mentioned to gaten about throwing a small surprise birthday dinner for your boyfriend, and the curly-haired boy was all for it. he agreed to help book the reservation and get the whole cast there while you tried to make it was unsuspecting as possible as you and finn drove to the restaurant under the cover that "you just wanted to do something nice for him" even though he told you he didn't need to do anything for his birthday. he should've known by now that you took birthdays very seriously and always wanted to do something for them.
"is this some sort of surprise?" finn looked at you in the back of the uber, eyebrow raised and an inquisitive look on his features. you chuckled.
"what do you think the surprise would be if it was?" you mused.
"like i just walk in and there's confetti shot in my face," he said which made you laugh. "would you not like that if that happened?"
"i wouldn't mind it, but i'm not sure if i would want confetti like in my face."
"you're gonna like it, i promise. it's your birthday. your golden birthday to be more specific," you squeezed his hand that had been holding yours the entire ride from the hotel. finn flushed, always brushing the praise off.
he decided to stop pushing and trying to figure out if there was more happening than just a dinner together. he knew you loved surprises and he's grown to love them as well over the years and truthfully, if it was just a dinner with the two of you he'd be just as happy because he loved getting to spend time with you.
your phone buzzed in your pocket. it was a text from gaten telling you everyone made it to the restaurant and was ready for the surprise. you grinned, quickly texting him back with your one hand to tell him you guys were almost there. finn tried side eyeing your phone, but with the angle you were texting at he couldn't quite read who the name was.
"okay, but if there's like a snake or something i am walking out," he said. you looked at him. "why would there be a snake?"
"i don't know. you want to keep my on my toes?" he shrugged and you laughed again. "i wouldn't surprise you with a snake when i know you don't like them."
"i'm just saying. you never know," he said. your smile was infectious and the two of you laughed in the backseat.
the uber slowed outside of the restaurant. he opened the door for you two and you beelined to the entrance so you didn't get taken by the new york city wind or the fans who noticed you and finn getting out of the car. the hostess smiled at the two of you when you got inside. "hi, we have a reservation under matarazzo," you said.
"yes, right this way," she led you through the dining room. finn looked at you in confusion though. "matarazzo? like gaten?"
you didn't say anything. it was hard to keep the giggles in as the lady led you to a private door and gently pushed it open. you went in first with a still confused finn behind you. the entire cast smiled when they saw you and then jumped up when finn shuffled in a second later. gaten and caleb in the front popped confetti.
"surprise!" everyone yelled.
finn stood there in shock while his gaze swept over every single one of his cast mates. he looked between them and you like twenty times. "happy birthday," you tugged his jacket. his hand immediately found your waist, still at a loss for words.
"i think we killed him," caleb laughed.
"i'm so..wow. i had no idea this was even happening. you're all here. wow," finn finally found his words as he scanned the crowd and there wasn't a face missing in the room.
"happy birthday, man. how do you feel?" gaten went to greet the two of you. he hugged you while him and finn did their "bro" hug. "i feel so surprised. wow. did you..do you guys plan this?" your boyfriend looked at you and gate.
the two of you nodded, "she asked for my help. i coordinated this but she got you here."
"i don't know what i was expecting, but it was not this. it's so good to see all of you. how did you pull this off?" the taller dark-haired boy looked down at you.
"well, we're all here anyway for the tonight show tomorrow so..i was like we should plan something. it's your 23rd on the 23rd. i told you it wasn't a snake," you teased and the boy flushed. he pulled you into his side, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head while he just admired the sight of everyone in the same place just for him.
"i did predict the confetti in my face though," finn said and you laughed. "yes, you did."
he finally broke apart from you to properly greet everyone. you and gaten fist bumped for the successful surprise, "they should just book us for surprises now."
"yeah, it's our new side hustle. we're party planners," you giggled.
you also made your rounds and hugged everyone. millie was there with her little baby. you tickled the girl's sides and her little baby laugh was just so adorable. "liking new york so far?" you asked her.
"oh she loves new york. she likes the big buildings," millie smiled. you hugged the older girl as well. "it's good to see you again. i can't believe we're on our last leg."
"me neither. i'm getting sad about it. 10 years with all of these people. that's so hard to walk away from," the two of you looked at the group still greeting each other. finn was deep in conversation with natalia and charlie. your heart warmed seeing him look so happy. "you definitely scored good, y/n/n. he loves you a lot," millie smiled.
"oh, i know. i love him a lot too."
when everyone finally caught up and got to say happy birthday to finn, you took your seats at the table. finn tied one of the balloons to the back of his chair and smiled when you sat down next to him. "how are you doing?" you asked him.
"i'm so good. this is..really incredible. i'm probably gonna say it a hundred times tonight, but thank you. this is really sweet," he kissed your temple and you blushed.
"of course. i'm glad you were surprised," the boy grinned. "i was super surprised." he lovingly rubbed your leg and then started to scan the menu when the waiter came in to start with drink orders.
you admired how patient she was with taking over 15 orders and how she managed to remember all of it and fit it onto her notepad. the group fell into easy conversation with about 5 different side conversations happening. it was a bit chaotic but a good chaotic. having everyone at the table and talking at once reminded you of every time you did table reads for each episode.
when the drinks came back out and everyone took a few sips gaten was on his feet tapping the glass with his fork to catch everyone's attention. the group quieted and he smiled at all of you. "hi, sorry, sorry, not to interrupt the conversations but i would like to make a toast to the amazing birthday boy and also all of you."
everyone smiled and waited for him to go on. gaten turned his attention to finn, "finn. mike wheeler. finnlard. richie tozier. boris. ziggy. some other characters i'm forgetting the name of. you're 23 man. i can't believe i've known you for a decade. you're such an inspiring actor and i am always impressed of everything you do. it was really awesome getting to live with you while filming the last season. i feel like we really got to know each other and also hiding you and y/n's relationship was a highlight for sure. here's to you man."
everyone raised their glasses, cheering and patting finn on the back. the boy flushed some more. "and to the rest of this incredible cast, thank you. this might be the last time we're all together at one time in one place, so i'm really gonna cherish this and all the hard work we put into this show the last 10 years. it's been so great working with each of you and creating this family i hope we'll still go back to. to the original 5, finn, y/n, caleb, and noah—thank you. it's been amazing. you're all incredible. to sadie and millie, i love both of you. i'm so excited for your work coming up. i hope we'll always be in each other's corners and i'll probably see you all when finn and y/n get married in a few years."
you raised your glasses again, you and finn exchanging warm smiles while you all cheered again and took a good sip of your drinks. gaten bowed before sitting back down.
"i also want to make a toast, specifically to finn and y/n. honestly, i don't think we'd be here without the two of them. you guys are some of the best people i know. i'm really gonna miss having to dodge those relationship questions during press and acting like i know nothing when people bring up you guys. it really made the last few years of press really fun. i wish a lot of good things to both of you. i hope finn gets to direct me in a movie one day and i can star alongside y/n again. also, i hope we're all in the wedding party. happy 23 man!" caleb cheered.
"well if we're all making speeches, i want to make a quick one and say how thankful i am for everyone single one of you for being in this show and putting the work in. this truly couldn't have happened without any of you. it's been really awesome to see all of you grow up on set and i remember celebrating finn's 13th birthday, so this really is full circle. congrats to all of you and happy birthday to finn," matt smiled and everyone clapped.
maybe without intending it, this was also like a goodbye dinner to the show and spending an entire decade together.
when the toasts were over the group fell back into the easy banter. the waitress came back to take all of your orders while you and gaten schemed with her for finn's cake. she was all for it and you agreed to grab a group photo with her at the end because she was a huge fan of all of you too.
"okay, but can we talk about how i said finn and y/n would be together during season 1 filming. i feel like everyone owes me for that," caleb said.
"it doesn't count because it wasn't a real bet. we don't shake on it," gaten quickly pointed out making the other boy roll his eyes.
"i just can't believe no one really found out," maya spoke up.
"people definitely knew, we just never confirmed it until this year. they started knowing like between season 4 and season 5," you chuckled. finn squeezed your leg again, a soft smile on his lips as he shuffled you closer to his side.
"i remember seeing the fan theories and honestly, they were pretty good with that. people were detectives," sadie laughed.
"oh my god, yeah. people were insane about that. they were really stalking," noah laughed too.
"if you could go back would you do it differently?" millie wondered and you and finn exchanged a glance. "i don't think so. i liked how everything played out. it felt right for us," you said and finn nodded.
"yeah, i kind of liked the thrill of hiding it," he squeezed your leg and you squeezed his arm that you were holding onto.
the conversations continued into dinner and when it was time for finn's cake the waitress had you and gaten go out to look at it first. the two of you smiled seeing the 23 candles and the elegant frosting cursive. "this is really good. thank you," you told her.
"of course. i can bring it in?" she said and you nodded.
"hey finn, close your eyes," gaten called into the room. the boy looked at everyone who shrugged before slowly shutting his eyes.
you and gaten led the waitress inside and then cued for everyone to start singing happy birthday. finn opened his eyes and another look of surprised crossed his features seeing the cake being brought his way. you grabbed your phone to snap a few photos of your boyfriend in the process.
when the song finished finn took a second to smile at everyone before blowing the candles out. the group cheered and then finn got the honors of cutting the first piece. "this is insane," he mumbled.
"a birthday boy needs cake obviously," gaten chuckled.
the night didn't end until late and everyone was a little too tipsy as you said goodbye and told them you'd see them tomorrow for the tonight show. you and finn sat in the back of your uber hand in hand thinking about how nice the night was. he gazed over at you again and when you met his loving expression you blushed.
"thank you. again. i love you. you never fail to make birthdays a special," he said.
"i'm glad you had fun. gaten and i really went all out," you giggled. "i know. i was very impressed," he reached over to press a kiss to your lips.
when you got back to the hotel you both immediately got ready for bed. you needed good sleep with the long day ahead of press and then the tonight show. you crawled under the covers and finn wasn't far behind as he shut the lights off and you made room for him.
your smiled at him despite your sleepy state. he brushed some little strands of hair away from your face, your heart fluttering at the action. "goodnight. i love you sweet girl," he whispered.
"goodnight. i love you more. happy birthday," you squeezed his arm.
thesolanalangley Guys, Season 5 Vol. 1 of Stranger Things is out now! I can't believe this almost 10 year journey has come to end. Words cannot describe how much I've loved being a part of this amazing series and the family that has come with it! I will miss each and every person who was involved, this show has changed my life forever! Make sure to watch Vol. 1 on Netflix!
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strangerthingstv You've done an amazing job of bringing Danielle to life and we'll miss having her on our screens!
user1 I'm so hyped to have Danielle back, but I'm also hella nervous because our girl almost got got last season.
⤷ user2 im manifesting she and mike survive, mielle needs to live on 😭
sadiesink_ You were amazing this season! I'm so grateful for the chance to work with you and I'm gonna miss having you on set. Love you always!
⤷ thesolanalangley Sadieee, you're gonna make me cry! I was so happy when you got cast for season 2. Me and Millie couldn't wait to have another girl our age on set. I can't imagine my life now without you!
finnwolfhardofficial It's been amazing working with you all these years. You've been a constant in my life for so long, I can't imagine not knowing you. I can't wait to see what's next for us!
⤷ thesolanalangley Oh Finn, it's so bittersweet to see this end. Growing up and working with you has been one of the greatest pleasures I've ever gotten to have. I really can't imagine anyone else as the Mike to my Danielle!
⤷ User3 omg this is so cute, i love them!
⤷ User4 I swear the two of them have to be dating. They always seem to be right by each other.
⤷ User3 I noticed that too! I think it started more when they were doing press for season 3.
calebmclaughlin Solanaaaa, you've been like another sister to me all these years, I can't believe it's ending now. I'm going miss seeing you almost everyday. I hope you go far with your music!
⤷ thesolanalangley Caleb, you're definitely my brother, not by blood, but by love. You are the only person who could really capture Lucus' character and bring him to life. You're one of the best friends I could ever ask for.
⤷ user5 Definitely one of my favorite duos! Lucus and Danielle are probably the best platonic pairing!
I do not consent to any of my works being translated, plagiarized, posted anywhere else, used to train AI or used for AI chatbots. If you believe any of this has happened without my approval, please let me know. All work is my own, any similarity to others is purely a coincidence. If you believe I have plagiarized any of your work, please message me.
Pearl and blue bow divider credit goes to @ianrkives
→ finn wolfhard x actress!reader (she/her pronouns)
or childhood actor best friends to lovers
→ mood board & masterlist
★ ☆ au timeline + background ★ ☆
you audition for stranger things season 1 with noah who you knew from various acting camps + were already friends with
you genuinely didn’t think you were gonna get the role until you get a callback for a chemistry read + more screen tests with finn, gaten, caleb, and millie
when you all get casted, you immediately hit it off pretty fast
the earlier seasons are a lot of being normal, kind of obnoxious kids on and off set
lots and lots of nerves while filming and when the show starts taking off in 2016
you're very close with everyone and at first you only hang out with millie (and then sadie in season 2) because you know the whole boys had cooties thing
you don't really start hanging with the boys until the end of filming season 2 and going into s2 press + season 3 filming + press
season 3 is where you and finn really start getting closer (also your characters start getting a slow crush on each other so you're filming a lot of solo scenes with him)
there were rumors on set that finn may have liked you (and surprise! you liked him too!)
the guys definitely teased finn for it all of filming and kept urging him to say something to you
something clicks at the end of season 3 for you both and finn asks you on a date at the end of filming
you guys literally sneak out of set in disguises so no one recognizes you out in public (and it works!)
when you reveal it after announcing your dating years later, the fans go crazy saying how they knew it was you two
it's pretty obvious you guys like each other so you get together soon after, but you both agree to keep it more secretive not because you're ashamed or anything but you knew how the fans got + you and finn were way more private anyway when it came to stuff like that
when covid hit it was so easy to keep your relationship off the internet
lots and i mean LOTS of facetime calls + facetime dates + finn playing the guitar for you over facetime which you adore
he sometimes also serenaded you (and still does)
after that it gets pretty easy to keep your relationship out of the public eye and you kind of learn how to train yourselves during interviews too
although, the cast gets giggly sometimes when the interviewers ask questions about love lives and every time you and finn deny anything or leave it ambiguous and everyone else just giggles because they know something everyone else didn't
ALL of the time filming s4 none of the fans found out
the cast was very supportive and agreed to keep the secret
the break between s4 and s5 was also fairly easy to maintain, but you knew fans were kind of starting to pick up on things + notice the smaller details you thought were unnoticeable
you and finn would sit and just scroll through comments/videos of fans trying to figure out if you were dating or not and it's just the funniest thing and also impressive at how good they were at observing things
by the time season 5 wraps, you and finn finally agree to make your relationship a little more public which sends the fandom into a CRAZY frenzy of excitement + also for your characters since they got together too!
now you're both left with the little lighthearted teasing from your cast mates and answering interview questions about each other which you both admit is pretty fun :)
still private but not a secret anymore which you both liked (kind of gives natalia + charlie vibes)
how to shift whenever (from an experienced shifter)
i see so many people still talking about shifting like it’s this impossible thing, like you have to beg the universe for it or spend months trying every method out there. so here’s the truth, from someone who’s actually been shifting consistently for a while:
you can shift whenever you want.
and no, that’s not just motivational bs, that’s literally how it works when you understand what shifting actually is.
shifting isn’t something you try to do. it’s something you allow. the version of you that already lives in your desired reality? they already exist. your job isn’t to create them , it’s to align with them.
you don’t need to feel tingles or hear signs or vibrate at some perfect level. you don’t need the perfect sleep schedule or the perfect script. what you need is clarity.
clarity that says: “i know what i want. i know it already exists. and i trust myself enough to go there.”
when i shift, i don’t force it. i don’t chase it. i become it.
it’s just a decision:
a breath.
a moment.
a quiet “i’m already there.”
and then i fall into it.
not because i’m trying so hard, but because i finally stopped trying.
once you drop the resistance, once you stop doubting, you realize how easy it is. how natural. how familiar.
there’s no big secret. no magic formula.
just presence. trust. surrender.
and once you taste it? once you know you can do it?
synopsis: being on the same set and becoming love interests in the show happens even off camera
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i had no clue how to end it so lowkey a scrap!
Finn was not one to slide into dms or even try to post thirst traps of himself; hell he couldn't even see a fan edit of himself. so he thanked every god there was that he did not have to rip his hair out and try to make an awkward first impression to her. she was everything he looked for in a girl; cool, funny, doesn't try to change for others. she's just naturally herself and he was addicted. now that the new season was out and she played Nancy's friend he had his opening. they both shared scenes so they got increasingly close as the day passed. he successfully making her laugh with ease. cameras picking up on it in between takes that were sure to make it to bloopers.
"Finn when are you going to ask her out" Gaten nags everyday with the same question
"look, i don't know, i can't just bring it up whenever i want to" making eye contact with his long time friend who he shares secrets with "i try to drop hints at a solo hangout and she just doesn't seem to pick up on them"
"bite the bullet and ask" Caleb chimes resulting in a confused Finn
"hey what bullets are we biting" the one person who was not supposed to listen in on the conversation. even when she was in full costume her personal features pierced through, causing Finn to lose a train of thought. at the worst timing too, caleb and gaten slowly walking away, making finn fend for himself
"uh- nothing, just scared for this next scene" finn scratching the back of his neck, while she giggles. finn's stomach filling with butterflies, an affect she didn't know she had on him
"scared for a coffee scene" she questions furrowing her eyebrows
"look we're going to kiss is that not scary" finn tries to defend his stance, in reality he was just scared that Millie told her he was a lousy kisser
"no it's not wolfhard, you've kissed plenty of girls you'll be fine" she says lightly punching his shoulder
"how many times have i told you not to say my last name"
"not my fault your last name sounds like a pornstar name" she adds earning a chuckle out of Finn
"you two, come its your scene" directors grasp the attention of both the lovebirds is what they would call them behind their backs
as the scene played out, finn was getting increasingly nervous by the second, this is what he always wanted. to kiss her, touch her lips, but not like this. he feels the chemistry between the two, everyone does, but does she? he didn't want it to be superficial. he wanted it to be real, just mike wheeler and her character to be kissing. he wanted it to be finn and her.
to everyone else he was the cool kid, he always has been. when interviewed everyone thought he was the most underrated and fascinating kid of the group. not for him, he found her to be the coolest. everyone noticed how sweet he was to her. during interviews he was basically blushing, which when he was confronted by Joe, finn wrote it off as hair and makeup, which everyone knew was not true. he had the sweetest, delicate voice when talking to her, smooth like honey; captivating and endearing.
between takes they shared wire-headphones as they tried to pass the time. finn giving her music suggestions and she doing the same. during late night shoots and sharing headphones they bundled up together and sometimes on the rare occasion she would put her head on his shoulder and take a nap. she didn't admit it to anyone onset but it was by far the most comfortable place to nap, finn on the otherhand would tense up and not know what to do, hoping not to wake her or move her. he stayed in position until someone called for either of them
after cameras cut, and they finally got the clip. directors making you constantly kiss even though they had it perfect on the first shot. with constant excuses saying ran out of tape, oh! cameras weren't filming, camera wasn't focused, blah blah blah
"how many times do we have to kiss for them to get the clip" leaving a bitter taste in finn's mouth that his kissing sucked, but he truly did like kissed her
"do you have strawberry chapstick on" finn asked trying to repress the previous statement she said
"umm, yes- look try before you deny" she mocks the previous season
"i tried alright" finn playing it smooth without even trying, making her blush this time
she hasn't told any co-star that she liked finn, except sadie. sadie was the only person she could trust with that information, noah couldn't keep spoilers to save his life, so he was off the list, and millie would tell noah. so only other valid option was sadie, plus her and sadie were the closest of friends of the group.
"look he isn't bad, just go for it, he clearly wants to hangout with you" sadie pushed her with her feet as they laid on the floor of their shared apartment, which was conveniently across of finn's and gaten's.
"sadie, i cant. he's friendly to everyoneeeee" she faces the ceiling, this was a constant conversation between the two of them. it happened every week. she swore finn was just playing nice and wanted to be close friends, so she tried to decipher his actions, which sadie clearly knew he liked her. but she couldn't accept that
she didn't know that gaten and sadie already told each other, and the light was bright fucking green to date finn. fuck they shared everything in common; music, movies, sense of humor. sadie even heard finn same the same exact joke as her roomate without him ever hearing her say it
"i swear to god, i'll kill you just accept the stupid date" sadie grew to be fed up between the whole will they wont they act, she wanted them to bite the bullet already
"ok ok! i'll go knock on his door right now and ask to hangout" she says getting up and smoothing her hair out to ask her long time crush. sadie was in shock but kept her mouth shut in case she ended up chickening out
but she wasn't, she got up and right as she was going to pull it open she sees a finn in the midst of knocking, and a gaten encouraging him to do it. sadie has now sat up to see this interaction, with her blue eyes widening and her hands quick to cover her mouth, safe to say the two people were ecstatic that their roommates were about to hang out
"hey" she says with a bright smile, and her eyes brighter
"hi" finn says softer almost too scared to scare her off
"i was just about to knock on your door, and take you up on that hangout" she says tucking a piece of hair behind her hair, something finn has done countless times unconsciously which she brushed off as him being nice
"i was about to nag about a hang out" finn chuckles leaning his frame against the door
"guys go already" both sadie and gaten say at the same time fed up with the long interaction, making her and finn laugh
"let me get my wallet" she tries to go to her room quickly but stopped by a hand grabbing her before she could even try to leave
"you dont need it, my treat" finn interjects making her blush even more. in all honesty he had no clue what he was doing. he liked her a lotttt, so he didn't want to ruin anything
"where are we off to" she glances up to finn, a bit nervous and cold as she did not prepare for the wind to hit her. as for finn, it was like a romance movie where the wind blows perfectly at the girl and makes her hair flow
⏜︵ pairing 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 mike wheeler x cheerleader!reader
꒰ 🚲 ꒱ synopsis 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 mike is certain all cheerleaders are evil until one sticks around long enough to ruin his perfectly cynical worldview.
FUCK. SCHOOL IS HELL.
literally. hellfire is supposed to be the one thing that’s fun this week, and here he is, stuck at the table only trying to pay attention. the lunchroom is annoying, trays clattering, people yelling about sports, someone scraping a chair across the floor, the smell of mystery meat hanging in the air. he’s sitting at the hellfire club table, eddie animatedly waving his hands about some totally dumb idea for a campaign, dustin laughing way too loud, lucas trying to explain rules he’s already explained three times, and mike is just… done.
and you’re there. sitting across from him, leaning slightly back like you’re in charge of the cafeteria, hair tied up in that stupid perfect ponytail, laughing. of course laughing. at them. all of them. jason and his friends. the football idiots. you’re friends with them, probably likes them, probably laughs at them all the time. definitely rude. probably judging him too, because of course you would.
it’s annoying. of course it’s annoying. you’re popular, you’re liked, you’re beautiful. you’re probably rude. definitely rude. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t watching you though, but he’s not watching you. he’s just… noticing. totally innocent noticing, like a scientist observing a specimen. a particularly annoying, perfect, probably-spiteful specimen.
he hates how fast his stomach flips when you glance in his direction, like you actually looked at him for a split second and he’s panicking because obviously he can’t just look back, that would be insane. who does that. you’re way out of his league, socially speaking. plus your friends are all massive assholes, and you’re friends with them, therefore you’re a massive asshole.
he’s supposed to be listening to eddie, who’s describing his rogue’s perfect escape from a trap, but he’s not. can’t. every time you talk or laugh he’s stuck internally rolling his eyes. loud, obnoxious laugh. loud enough to make him want to throw his pencil at your head. okay, not really. but almost.
he keeps rationalizing. you’re probably fake nice. you probably rolls your eyes at people when they’re not looking. probably does. maybe you’re laughing at him. definitely laughing at him. and if you’re not laughing at him, you’re definitely laughing at someone worse than him. and if you’re not laughing at anyone, you’re probably bored and he’s boring, so it balances out. not that he cares. no. he’s focused. very focused. on strategies. and pencils. and why lucas is chewing his pen like that?
he’s noticing everything he shouldn’t notice but refusing to admit it: the way your shoulders tilt when you gesture, how you lean toward the jocks just slightly, like you’re giving them the attention they don’t deserve, how you laugh at their dumb jokes. it’s infuriating. you’re nice, sure. maybe nice. but that doesn’t cancel out rude, and you’re definitely rude. friends with jason. laughing at jason. laughing at all of them. fine. he doesn’t care.
but then you laugh at something jason says and your teeth are ridiculously white and now he’s imagining his face when he accidentally looks at you, and oh no, there it is again, stomach doing flips he didn’t think boys could actually feel, ears warming, heart maybe going a tiny bit faster—definitely normal, it’s probably just because hellfire club is stressful. yes. stressful. focus on eddie’s ridiculous ideas about campaign strategies. focus on the notebook that’s probably crumpled under his fist. you didn’t even notice him staring. no one did.
he refuses to admit that it’s been like this every week since school started. none of that matters. he is oblivious. he is strong. he is rational. except now eddie is talking and he can’t concentrate, pencil tapping slowing, stomach doing something stupid again and —-
“mike, you’re zoning.” eddie says, nudging him.
“uh huh.” mike doesn’t even look. you’re laughing again. maybe at jason, definitely at jason. asshole. and okay, maybe he notices how your uniform is slightly rumpled, like you just walked here and didn’t care, like you can afford to not care, and your sneakers are clean and the socks are just right, and your backpack is sitting perfectly beside your chair like it was placed there by someone who knows exactly how to make an impression, which is obviously annoying, and probably deliberate, and maybe you’re aware he’s noticing, because why else would anyone be that good-looking in the middle of a Tuesday? but he’s not looking. hes paying attention to eddie, duh.
“mike.” lucas hisses from the side, elbow jabbing him like that’s supposed to snap him out of it. “stop staring.”
“i’m not staring.” mike replies immediately, way too fast, like the word itself could be a crime.
eddie looks way too amused, tossing a grape from his tray into his mouth. “you’re staring like a creep, wheeler.”
“i’m not.” mike says, defensive in the way that gives him away immediately.
evil, he thinks. absolutely evil.
because if you weren’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that this has been happening every week. that he knows where you sit. that he tracks your laugh without meaning to. that his brain goes stupid and loud and defensive whenever you’re near, and that is not happening. he doesn’t like you. he’s rational. he’s in control.
he doesn’t look back for a while. long enough that he convinces himself it didn’t matter, long enough that the noise of the lunchroom starts to blur into something tolerable. long enough that eddie and dustin drift into another conversation. the bell rings. chairs scrape back. trays slide. the room shifts all at once. he looks up again without thinking.
you’re standing now, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, saying something to your friends. still smiling, still unaware. or maybe aware. he doesn’t know. he never knows with people like you. that’s part of why he hates it. you walk past the hellfire table without looking at him, close enough that he catches the scent of your shampoo again. clean. not overpowering. unfair. “come on,” lucas says, standing. “we’re gonna be late.”
he follows them out into the hallway, noise swallowing them immediately, lockers slamming, voices bouncing, sneakers squeaking against tile. the world keeps moving like nothing happened, like lunch wasn’t a whole thing.
cheerleaders have always been like this. always. he learned it early. elementary school early. the girls who got picked first for everything, the girls who were loud without getting in trouble, the girls who smiled at teachers and somehow got away with stuff he would’ve been sent to the principal for. then middle school, when everything split cleanly into groups, and the girls who would eventually become cheerleaders already knew it. already stood together. already laughed together. already looked through people instead of at them.
he doesn’t remember a specific moment where he decided cheerleaders were evil. it was more like a gradual understanding, safe in their little social bubble of doom. mike hates safe. safe people don’t lose their best friend to another dimension. safe people don’t watch monsters crawl out of walls. safe people don’t grow up too fast and then get told to calm down about it. safe people get to laugh in cafeterias and walk through hallways like the world has never once tried to eat them alive.
so yeah. cheerleaders are evil, and you fit. of course you do. popular, liked, friends with jason. laughing at lunch like it’s easy. sitting where you want, saying what you want, carrying yourself like nothing bad ever sticks. annoying. deeply annoying. he tells himself this as they walk: you’re not special. you’re a type. a category. eddie is talking again, voice carrying down the hallway, something sarcastic, something about school being a prison. dustin laughs too loud at it, like always. mike hums in response, noncommittal, present enough to pass.
he’s bored. so bored. bored of school. bored of pretending this is normal, bored of a world that keeps insisting on lockers and lunch bells and cheerleaders after everything that’s happened, like monsters didn’t exist.
he doesn’t like you. he knows exactly what kind of person you are. and if his brain keeps circling back to you anyway—well.
that’s just another thing wrong with the world.
which would be fine. manageable. survivable. if the world would just stay wrong in predictable ways. monsters, sure. portals, whatever. government cover-ups? annoying but at least consistent. but no, instead it does this, lets him get halfway down the hall toward the vending machines after school, brain already shifting gears toward campaign logistics, and then—
you.
of course you’re there. of course you’re alone for once. leaning against the lockers by the science wing, backpack on the floor, kneeling like you dropped something and decided the floor was your enemy now. productive, probably. cheerleaders are always productive. or sad. maybe sad. he can’t tell. your face is tilted down, hair falling forward, hands messing with something—papers, maybe. a clipboard. figures.
mike. don’t.
he slows anyway, not on purpose. momentum just… decreases. great. alone cheerleader. he pretends he’s just heading for the vending machine, which he is. definitely. that’s why he’s here. he puts his hand in his pocket and inserts money into the machine. he doesn’t look at you at first, just presses the button. the soda drops halfway and gets stuck, tilted, mocking him. “of course.” he mutters.
you glance up, just a little. surprise flickers across your face, then something else—recognition, probably. annoyance. or relief. hard to tell. you straighten, brush your hands on your shorts. “um,” you say, hesitant. not rude, which is irritating. “sorry—did i—are you waiting for that?”
“no,” mike says automatically. “i mean. yes. but not—whatever. it’s stuck.”
“oh, yeah. that one always does that.” you know the vending machine patterns. of course you do. “if you hit it on the side,” you add, “sometimes it drops.”
mhm. great. you’re also a vending machine expert.
mike exhales through his nose, like that might dislodge the soda by intimidation alone. it doesn’t work. obviously. nothing ever works the first time. he hits the side of the machine anyway, not where you said, because he’s not taking instructions from you.
nothing.
he hits it again, harder. the machine rattles. the soda wobbles. stays stuck. he feels you watching him. now that’s worse. “you have to hit it lower.” you say, still gentle, still polite, like you’re talking to a skittish animal.
“i know.” he says, too fast, even though he absolutely did not know.
he hits it where you pointed. the soda drops. he freezes for half a second, staring at it like it embarrassed him.
“see?”
“yeah,” he mutters, grabbing it immediately, like if he doesn’t you’ll claim credit. “lucky.”
lucky. sure. that’s what that was.
he twists the cap off, takes a sip he doesn’t want. carbonated regret. he should leave now. he should walk away, turn the corner, let eddie yell at him for being late, sit down at the table and pretend his brain hasn’t been doing this stupid static thing all afternoon.
but you don’t move. instead, you bend back down toward the floor, scooping up the papers you dropped earlier. he registers them without meaning to—flyers. bright colors. handwritten letters. something about a fundraiser. a pep rally? a food drive? some kind of school-sanctioned enthusiasm. “your friends ditch you?” the question slips out before he can stop it. immediately, he wants to shove it back in his mouth.
you pause, just for a second. then you shrug. “guess so.”
“thought cheerleaders did everything in packs.” he says, aiming for neutral, landing somewhere closer to rude.
you huff a laugh, small, tired. “we usually do.” you stack the papers, tap them against your knee to straighten them.
“so why aren’t they helping?” he asks, because apparently today is ask questions mike shouldn’t ask day.
you hesitate and look down at the flyers instead of at him. “we had a fight.”
“about…?”
“me.” you say, simple, like it’s not a big deal. that sets something off in his chest that he absolutely does not want to examine.
“right,” he says. “well. people suck.”
it comes out harsher than he means. or maybe exactly as harsh as he means. hard to tell.
you glance up at him then, really look at him, not judging, not amused, just… curious. “yeah,” you agree quietly. “they kind of do.” you stand, adjusting the strap of your bag. your uniform’s slightly wrinkled, like you’ve been sitting on the floor longer than necessary. he looks away immediately. don’t be weird. don’t be weird. “anyway,” you say, forcing a lighter tone that doesn’t quite stick. “enjoy your soda, mike.”
“mm.” he hums, already halfway turned away. automatic response. the same sound he makes when his mom asks if he’s done his homework and he is technically in the same room as it.
he takes one step.
wait. he stops so abruptly his sneaker squeaks against the floor. stupid. loud. announces him like an idiot. you said his name. just—casually, like it belongs in your mouth. like you didn’t just pull it out of thin air. he turns back, frowning before he can stop himself. “how do you—”
he cuts himself off, because asking questions is dangerous. questions lead to answers. answers lead to thinking. you’re still there, waiting, like you’re used to people freezing up around you and you’ve learned to give them a second. “what?”
“how do you know my name.” he says, sharper than necessary, because his brain has already decided this is suspicious.
“oh. uh.”
uh???
“we’re in the same grade,” you say. “and you sit like… three tables over at lunch. with dustin. and eddie. and lucas.” you gesture vaguely, as if that explains everything. it does not explain anything.
“right,” he says flatly. “so you’ve been… what. keeping tabs?”
your eyebrows knit together. “what? no.”
“because that’d be weird.” he adds, immediately, because apparently he’s committed to being unbearable today.
“i hear people say your name.” you admit. “a lot. eddie kind of shouts it.”
traitor.
“doesn’t mean you should remember it.” mike mumbles.
you blink at him, once, then again, like you’re deciding whether this is worth your energy. “okay,” you reply slowly. “sorry for having ears.”
he bristles immediately. “i’m just saying it’s weird.”
“it’s not,” you say. “it’s… school. people talk.”
“about me?” he asks, skeptical, defensive, already convinced this is some kind of setup.
“trust me mike, no one’s gossiping about you.”
“wow,” he adds dryly. “thanks.”
“you’re welcome.”
he can feel himself locking up, shoulders tight, brain flipping through its usual list of explanations. she’s messing with you. this is a joke. this is what popular people do. they poke and see what reacts. “so,” he continues, sharp, “you just go around memorizing everyone’s name?”
you fold your arms. “no. just the loud ones.” eddie. definitely eddie. “and you,” you add, almost as an afterthought, “sit with them.”
“unfortunately.”
you tilt your head. “you don’t like them?”
“that’s not what i said.”
you raise an eyebrow.
“okay,” he corrects. “i like them. i don’t like… this place.” he gestures vaguely at the hallway. the lockers. the banners taped up crookedly. the stupid school colors everywhere.
“same.”
same? “don’t pretend,” he sounds annoyed. “you’re literally part of it.”
“part of what?”
“the… school,” he says, like it’s a disease. “pep rallies. assemblies. chanting. forced enthusiasm.”
“pep rallies are the worst.”
he wasn’t expecting that.
“they’re loud,” you continue. “and sweaty. and they make us stand there forever smiling like idiots while the principal yells into the mic.”
“…yeah,” mike says, cautious. “and the sound system always squeals.”
“exactly.”
his brain scrambles to patch the hole this just punched in his worldview. “still,” he says, regrouping, “you chose to do it.”
you shrug. “yeah. doesn’t mean i have to like every part.”
actually, yes, yes it does, mike decided for you. you can’t do that. “you don’t get a choice,” he says. “once you’re in that crowd, that’s it. hive mind.”
“wow. dramatic.”
“i’m serious.”
“i know,” you say. “that’s the dramatic part.”
he glares at you. you don’t back down. which is annoying. deeply. “you think we’re all the same,” you add, observational. “don’t you.”
“yes,” he says immediately. “because you are.”
“okay,” you nod. “then you’re all the same too.”
“what does that mean.”
“hellfire club,” you say. “dungeon stuff. dice. arguing about rules. hating everyone else.”
he stiffens. “it’s not dungeon stuff. it’s—”
“dungeons & dragons,” you say, smiling slightly. “i know.”
stop knowing things!
“my cousin plays,” you add quickly, like you see the shutdown coming. “he made me watch once.”
his brain stalls. he clears his throat, deciding not to acknowledge that, because that’s too much for him to unpack right now. “still weird you know my name.”
you roll your eyes. “fine. i’ll call you ‘hey you.’”
“don’t.”
“okay, mike.”
don’t.
his name shouldn’t do that. it’s a name. it’s been his his whole life. teachers say it. his mom says it. eddie yells it, apparently. dustin says it when he wants something. it has never—never—made his chest do that weird skip. this is new. therefore bad. his heart does a stupid little lurch, like when you miss a step on the stairs but don’t fall. that. sickening. nope. don’t do that. you’re not allowed.
“you don’t have to keep saying it.” he says, defensive posture engaged.
you blink, then smile a little, like you’re trying not to laugh. “your name?”
“yeah. it’s excessive.”
it’s not excessive. it’s four letters. you’re just weak. pull it together.
you tilt your head, studying him, like you’re trying to figure out how something works by looking at it too closely. stop that. i’m not a puzzle. i’m a person. a normal person who does not react to cheerleaders saying his name. “you’re really committed to hating me.” you observe.
“i don’t hate you.” he lies immediately.
you raise an eyebrow.
“i just,” he corrects, scrambling, “don’t trust you.”
“why?”
because cheerleaders ruined middle school. because they laughed at kids like him. because popularity is a disease. because if you let one in, they eat you alive.
“because,” he says instead, “people like you don’t usually just… talk to me.”
“but i am talking to you.” you point out.
“yeah, and that’s suspicious.”
“what, you think i have an agenda?”
yes.
“maybe.” he says. you step closer without realizing it. or maybe you do. he doesn’t know. he only knows suddenly you’re right there, close enough that he has to look down at you, and he hates that too. hates the angle. hates that his stupid brain immediately catalogues things: your eyes, your mouth, the crease between your brows like you frown when you concentrate. the way you smell. cheerleader pheromones. definitely a thing. he shifts his grip on the soda. the can is cold. “cheerleaders are basically a cult.” he adds.
“we have jackets, not robes.”
“same difference.”
“and you guys don’t?”
he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “we have dice.”
“dangerous.” you say solemnly.
he almost smiles. almost. he catches himself and scowls instead. “dice are serious.”
“i can tell,” you say, nodding gravely. “very intimidating.”
“you’re doing that on purpose.”
“doing what?”
“being… normal,” he gestures vaguely at you. “about it.”
“why wouldn’t i be?”
because you’re a cheerleader. because cheerleaders are supposed to be loud and cruel and dismissive. because middle school taught him that lesson very clearly and he has never, ever revisited it. because if that rule stops working, then a lot of other stuff starts unraveling too. “most people aren’t.” he says instead.
“most people suck.” you counter.
he laughs. you light up just a little when you notice. not exaggerated, not smug, just—pleased. damn it. “see,” you say. “we agree again.”
“don’t get used to it.” he mumbles, frustrated with himself.
“relax,” you say. “i’m not trying to convert you or anything.”
“good.”
“though,” you add, thoughtful, “if i were evil, this would be a great strategy. gain trust. lower defenses.”
“you just admitted it.”
you grin. “or did i?”
oh my god.
he shifts his weight, suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. closer than earlier. close enough that he has to look down at you, which he hates because it makes him feel like he’s looming. or staring. or both. “why are you still here.” he asks, not unkindly, but not friendly either.
you glance at the hallway. empty now, lockers stretching on forever. “i guess i don’t really want to go home yet.”
that surprises him. it shouldn’t, but it does. “why.”
“long day.”
fair. he nods once. “yeah.”
“so,” you say, breaking the silence before it could settle. are all cheerleaders this talkative?? “what do you actually do in hellfire?”
“campaign planning,” he answers automatically. “and arguing.”
“about?”
“rules. strategy. morality.”
you smile. “morality?”
“yeah,” he says. “like… choices. consequences. who deserves what.”
“that’s kind of cool.”
his ears warm. god. really? that did it? “it’s not,” he says quickly. “it’s nerd stuff.”
“mike,” you smile gently, “i am wearing a uniform with my name stitched into it. we all have our things.”
fuck, you’re a little funny. just sometimes. only sometimes. he won’t admit any more than that. he looks at you again without the automatic defenses fully slamming shut. notices how relaxed you seem now, how your shoulders have dropped. she’s pretty, his brain supplies, unhelpfully. like, actually pretty. not just uniform pretty.
“aren’t you supposed to be at your club?” you add, like you’re checking a fact, not poking fun.
he braces. “yeah.”
you nod. “my brother thinks it’s satanic.”
“your brother’s an idiot.”
you blink, then laugh. actually laugh. quick and surprised. “yeah,” you say. “he is.” you pause. “i should go,” you say, lifting the flyers. “good luck with… your game.”
“campaign.” he corrects, because of course he does.
you smile, just a little. “right. campaign.”
you turn like that’s it, like this was a normal hallway interaction and not—whatever this was. the flyers bend a little in your hands. he watches you take one step, then another. okay. fine. good. solved. back to normal.
except his brain doesn’t move on. it stays right there, snagged on the way you said campaign like you were trying. on the laugh. on the fact that he’s still standing here instead of walking in the opposite direction like a sane person. why did i let this go on this long.
he thinks of middle school—of lockers slammed too hard, of jason-type smiles that meant we see you and we don’t like what we see. you’re almost out of reach when it happens. the thing he doesn’t pre-approve. the thing his mouth does before his brain files the paperwork. “you can—” he starts.
you stop. turn back.
oh no.
he clears his throat, already irritated with himself. “you can come. if you want.”
his heart does something idiotic, like it thinks this matters. “come where?” you ask.
“hellfire,” he says. then, defensive, “not—play. just watch. if you want. you don’t have to.”
abort abort abort.
“you’re inviting me?” you question carefully, rightfully suspicious of the boy who seemed convinced you were evil incarnate five minutes ago.
“i’m not inviting you,” he says immediately. “i’m just—informing you that it’s an option.”
“wow. generous.”
“you’ll hate it,” he adds, grasping for ground. “it’s boring. and eddie yells. and there’s arguing. like, a lot.”
“you already said that,” you point out. “it sounded kind of interesting.”
he scowls at the floor. “you won’t get it.”
“try me.”
that does something. he doesn’t like that it does something. “fine,” he says. “but if you laugh—”
“i won’t.”
“or ask stupid questions—”
“probably will.”
“—then i’m revoking the offer.”
“okay.” you fall into step beside him like this is settled. he’s aware of everything now. the sound of your sneakers. the way your arm brushes his for half a second and then doesn’t again.
he opens the door and steps inside first, awkwardly, like he’s not sure why he’s doing this. lucas is already rolling dice, dustin’s counting something, everyone’s focused on whatever they’re doing—but then you’re there, and it’s like someone hit pause. the air shifts, not because you’re here, because you shouldn’t be, and they don’t know why mike brought you. everyone’s eyes flick up, a pause, questions in the raised eyebrows, the leaning forward of heads. mike doesn’t look at them. he doesn’t answer. he’s too busy pretending this is normal, that having a cheerleader in the hellfire club is totally normal.
you, oblivious, set your bag down, smooth out your skirt, and settle into a chair near the back. the papers you were working on before now stacked neatly in front of you, clipboard balancing carefully on your knees. you start taking it all in, curious, not really judging, just watching. mike’s hands tap a pencil, notebook open, dice still scattered in front of him. he’s too aware of you; he’s too aware of the way you lean slightly, the hair brushing the side of your face, the way your eyes track what’s happening on the table without interrupting.
he hates that he notices. hates that his stomach churns when you scribble something down and hum, like the sound is small enough to be innocent but enough to catch his attention. he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, then pretends to focus on his dice, on his notebook, on the little notes he’s scribbled about character abilities, strategy, alignment. everything except you.
you lean a little forward as dustin explains a roll, and mike notices you nod, like you understand it, like you’re processing the rules in your head. cheerleaders don’t do this. they don’t sit and think about rules. they don’t watch dice. they don’t care about probability or alignment or morality in a dungeon. except somehow, you do. he hates it and doesn’t know why. he’s hyper-aware of every small gesture. somehow, you’re slipping into the group without breaking anything, without disrupting, just existing, watching, listening, and he’s watching you watch them, and he hates that he’s watching you watch them.
time stretches. mike rolls dice again but can’t completely concentrate. he reminds himself cheerleaders are evil. he reminds himself this was a mistake. he reminds himself you’re probably laughing at him. but somehow, the longer you sit, the longer you stay, the easier it gets to forget that he should hate this. not fully, not consciously, not admitting, but there’s something about the way you follow the dice, nod when someone explains a rule, that makes it almost… tolerable.
finally, eddie announces a break. mike exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. you get up first. “going?” he asks. too curt, defensive. too automatic. why do i even care?
“yeah,” you say, gathering your things. “see you at school?”
he nods. don’t say more. mike stands too, automatically, walks with you out of the club, and somehow it doesn’t feel quite as wrong as it did before. maybe it’s just that you exist, that you were polite and attentive, that you fit into his world in a way that makes sense even though it shouldn’t. “you’re… welcome to come by again.” he blurts suddenly. what are you doing? why did you say that?
he immediately regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. he’s never invited anyone to hellfire before. never. he’s never wanted anyone to see this side of him. he’s not allowed to like anyone enough to bring them here. definitely not a cheerleader. definitely not you.
“yeah, maybe.”
you glance at him, just a fraction, like you’re weighing something, not quite sure if you should ask, not quite sure if you should leave it. he notices the pause. long enough to make him uncomfortable, short enough to make him paranoid. “mike…” you finally say, quiet, careful, like you’re testing the waters. he stiffens automatically.
the “yeah?” he gave came out defensive.
you hesitate. “earlier, when you asked me how i knew your name… i lied.”
he blinks. stops walking for a split second, too stunned to notice. lied? she lied? why? evil. plotting. wrong. “what?” he asks, suspicious. dry. why would she lie? this is a trap. of course it’s a trap. she’s evil. she’s a cheerleader. shut down.
“i didn’t just know because of eddie,” you admit, like it’s dangerous to say it out loud. “i’ve .. always known.”
he stops. his brain sputters. always known? what does that even—why are you saying—wait—what? “what do you mean?” he says, voice sharper than intended, heart starting to hammer.
you glance down, cheeks coloring faintly. bashful. hesitant. “i mean i’ve —- kind of… liked you. for a while. i just… didn’t… say anything.”
he freezes, backpack straps digging into his shoulder, soda crinkling in his hand, mouth open like he’s going to explain something, defend himself, insist that this is a misunderstanding—but there’s nothing. he doesn’t have a defensive line ready for this. i—what—you—hello????
“you… what?” he says finally, incredulous, not believing. not sure if he wants to believe. part of him wants to tell you you’re wrong, that you’re lying, that cheerleaders are evil, that he hates this—but another part? another part is ridiculously, embarrassingly glad.
“yeah,” you admit, looking up just enough to meet his eyes. “i’ve always thought you were… cool, i guess.” your voice is soft, almost like you’re worried he’ll push you away.
he swallows. he wants to say something clever, dry, snarky, but none of it comes out. instead, he just stands there, balancing between panic and something else. why do i like that you like me?
he just stands there. too long. long enough that the silence starts to feel loud, like the hallway itself is waiting for him to say something smart or sharp or at least coherent. nothing comes. his brain is buffering. this was not in any possible outcome tree he’d bothered to map out. his heart is going way too fast, like he just ran laps. “i—” he starts, then stops. clears his throat. tries again. “you don’t—” also bad. abort.
you shift your weight, clearly bracing yourself. not dramatic about it, just steady, like you’re ready for him to say something awful and you’ve already decided you’ll survive it if he does. that’s somehow worse than if you were defensive. or sarcastic. or mean. he knows how to handle mean.
“i just wanted you to know,” you clarify. “that’s all. i know you hate me. i know you think i’m… whatever. i just figured i’d rather say it than keep pretending.”
he frowns automatically. “i don’t hate you.”
the words come out before he can stop them. immediate regret, followed by confusion about why he regrets them. he doesn’t hate you. when did that happen? when did that stop being true?
“you don’t?”
“i mean—” he stalls, because now he has to back it up. “i don’t… hate you. i thought i did. probably. i thought you were—” he gestures uselessly. “you know. like that.”
“evil?” you offer, dry but not offended.
he winces. “yeah.”
you giggle, a small little laugh that’s more relief than humor. “fair.”
that makes something in his chest loosen. he watches you while you talk, not in the way he was trying very hard not to earlier, but openly now, because apparently all his defenses are fried. you’re nervous, but not crumbling. you’re honest without apologizing for it. you don’t hedge every sentence. you just… say what you mean, like it’s allowed.
that’s wild to him.
mike wheeler does not say what he means. he deflects. he turns things into arguments so he doesn’t have to name what they actually are. feelings are messy. feelings get you hurt. feelings make you look stupid. feelings are stupid. he has spent years being very careful about that. you just walked up and handed yours over. “you’re brave.” he notices, and immediately cringes at himself for how stupid it sounds.
you tilt your head. “am i?”
“yeah,” he says, more firmly this time. “i wouldn’t do that.”
he doesn’t know why he’s admitting that. maybe because it’s true. maybe because you already admitted something worse. maybe because the world feels slightly off-kilter and honesty is leaking through the cracks. you shrug, a little shy now. “i’ve had practice.”
you’ve done this before. you know how to say things out loud. you know how to survive the answer either way. he admires that more than he wants to. he rubs the back of his neck and looks at the floor, then back at you. “i don’t really know what to say.”
“you don’t have to say anything,” you say quickly. “i’m not—this isn’t—” you stop yourself, take a breath. “i’m not asking for anything. i just didn’t want you thinking i only talked to you for some other reason. or because i was bored. or because i’m fake.”
“i did think that.” he admits.
you smile. “i know.”
that’s the thing. you always seem to know. and instead of using it against him, you just… accept it, like it’s part of the deal. “okay,” he says. “thanks. for… telling me.”
you relax a little, like that was the part you were holding your breath for. “yeah,” you say. “you’re welcome.” you start walking again, and he doesn’t hesitate before falling into step beside you. it feels different now, like something has shifted and neither of you knows what to call it yet. he’s still awkward, still stiff, still very much mike wheeler, incapable of a smooth emotional landing. but there’s something there now, an understanding. the knowledge that someone saw him, liked him, said it out loud, and the world didn’t end.
and he doesn’t hate you.
and now he’s thinking: wait. i don’t hate her. he actually doesn’t. like. at all. how long has it been since he’s felt this particular kind of not-hating? too long, really. and then, just like that, his brain decides to start justifying everything, retroactively rewriting history. maybe cheerleaders aren’t evil. maybe your friends aren’t all scheming idiots. maybe your laugh isn’t some weaponized sonic trap aimed at him specifically.
he glances at you enough to see you’re not looking at him, just staring forward, maybe thinking about something else. he likes that. your attention, or lack thereof, or… whatever. you watched him play D&D. you didn’t need to, but you did. more than anyone else. more than dustin explaining the same rule for the fourth time. more than eddie whining about dice. you actually watched mike, and now he’s thinking: okay. that’s… kind of nice. your attention. you. you’re kind of nice.
he notices your hands, how they swing a little when you walk, he notices the tilt of your head, like you’re quietly measuring the hallway, or counting tiles, or just… being you. maybe you’re kind of cool. maybe you’re not evil. maybe your friends are funny sometimes. maybe your hair just always looks better than it should for a tuesday.
and why does he feel good walking next to you? why does he like that you watched him play? do you notice him more than the others? and why the hell does that feel good? his chest feels lighter than it has in days. the panic has gone, replaced by a confusing, pleasant sort of… awareness.
why does it matter that you watched him? that you didn’t get bored, didn’t look around for someone better, didn’t laugh. you watched him, like what he was doing mattered. like he mattered.
the doors loom ahead, glass smeared with fingerprints, afternoon light bleeding through in dull yellow slabs, and suddenly the walk has an end. mike hates that. he hates endpoints. they force decisions. you slow first, of course you do. you’re better at this. at transitions. you stop just short of the doors and turn, half-smiling, like you’re already bracing for the moment to break.
he realizes, distantly, that he’s supposed to go back. hellfire. the campaign. the table. the dice. the version of himself that makes sense there. and you’re supposed to leave. walk out into the parking lot, back into your world. this is how it works.
his chest tightens at the idea.
he clears his throat, shifts his weight, looks anywhere but your face. the floor. the exit sign. why is this so hard? he’s faced demogorgons. literal monsters. this—this is just a person. a girl. a cheerleader. a girl who likes him. apparently.
“so,” he says, and immediately hates how thin it sounds. he coughs and tries again. “uh. i have to—” he gestures vaguely over his shoulder, toward the club room. hellfire. destiny or whatever.
“yeah.” you say, understanding. not disappointed.
he nods, swallows, then, before his brain can intervene—before logic can tackle him to the ground— “would you maybe want to… hang out sometime?” it comes out rushed, like he’s tripping over his own words. “not—like—i mean, not a big thing. just—” he grimaces.
you blink, surprised, and then your smile spreads, slow and genuine, like you’re trying not to spook him. “yeah,” you agree. “i’d like that.”
“okay,” he says too quickly. then softer, like he’s testing it out. “okay.”
there’s a pause. the kind that feels like it could stretch if neither of you moves. but the doors are still there. reality still exists. you adjust your bag strap. “good luck with your… campaign.” you say, teasing but kind.
he huffs. “thanks.”
you hesitate, then lift a hand in a small wave. “bye, mike.”
his name again. still hits. still makes his chest do that stupid fluttering thing. “bye,” he says. then, because apparently he’s braver now—or dumber—“you.”
you push the door open and step into the light, and mike stands there for a second longer than necessary, watching the door swing shut behind you. his chest still feels light. his head feels full. when he finally turns back toward hellfire, he knows one thing with absolute, terrifying clarity:
he’s going to think about this the entire campaign.
sim dump
this sim dump is a gift to all the people that follow my tumblr and the friends and community i have in @jaechyj 's server ! i love you all sm and have a great day
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