quinny. 19. they/them. non-agere tumblr , ao3 , instagram , pinterest & spotify. inbox always open for chit chat, writing requests are ... open ! leehan ult bias, multi stan, i may be an agere acc but i'll cuss you out if you're mean.
🪄・₊✧ ... anons
🪄・₊✧ ... taglists
🪄・₊✧ ... nursery rules
🪄・₊✧ ... masterlists
🪄・₊✧ ... nursery navigation
age regression is a coping mechanism, not a kink! everything on this blog is SFW.
[don't copy my works, credit me if you take inspiration. not that hard people.]
anh im so sorry to have to send this through asks as we,l as to seem like im demanding things , but I noticed that when i was “anonymous” i sent these 3
and they sent with my old username/account attached and my friends found my old user and I kinda don’t want them to find those. Would you be able to delete the posts? If not that’s totally fine no bother! :)))
omg no trouble at all >.< they should all be deleted now !!
lowkenuinely wanna make a post abt things that happened to me while i was popular on sturnblr/things i hated but agreed with bc i wanted sturnblr not to attack me
and am i the villian if i write an agere fic abt these two guys i met on roblox who are so agere coded?? they’re also yaoi coded but thats not the point
pairing : little!will byers x caregiver!mike wheeler
summary : mike tries not to get in his head about being a bad caregiver, but he can't help but worry. luckily, he remembers the four a's that steve taught him.
warning/extra tid-bits : tantrums, caregiver-doubt, i think that's all [modern, college au] [classification au]
word count : 1,546
divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 and divider from @strangergraphics
a/n : y'all thought you could get rid of me?! [cross posted on ao3 !!]
Mike’s fingers practically blended with the keyboard of his laptop as his fingers moved across the letters, typing up what was possibly the worst essay his creative writing professor would ever read.
Nancy told him time and time again, “If you procrastinate, it’s only going to get worse.”, and as much as he hated to admit it, his older sister was painfully correct, as usual.
A little over a year into college, and Mike’s habit of completing important projects 24 hours before the due date was still in full effect.
“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey!” Will giggled, rushing down the hallway of their humble apartment. Mike instantly broke focus on his essay, caregiver instincts in full effect. He had no clue Will had regressed; hell, he barely remembered Will didn’t have any classes today.
“Hey, bud,” Mike smiled tiredly, pushing his laptop onto their scuffed-up coffee table and letting out a small “umph!” as Will crawled into his lap without warning.
He was hyper today, happy.
That made Mike genuinely smile, nodding along to Will’s barely sensible babbling as he took in just how lively Will looked today. He was talking with his hands, swaying without realizing, and giggling throughout almost all his words.
It’d been months– maybe even years- since Will had been this gleeful during fall.
“Miiikeeey!” Will whined, tugging on his caregiver's navy blue sweatshirt with a pout. “You aren’t ‘istenin’!” Will frowned, creasing his brow in a way that made Mike want to pinch his cheeks.
Still, Mike blinked, “Sorry, sorry– tell me one more time, I’m listening this time.” He promised, his brain finally catching up to the conversation.
“Wan’ do arts ‘n ‘rafts!” His little one exclaimed, “Go ahead, bud, Mikey’s still doing homework.” Mike explained. Being a caregiver in college wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but Mike wouldn’t trade it for the world. Especially when his little was Will.
The little squealed excitedly, standing up from his seat on his caregiver’s lap before rushing back down the hall. Mike watched for a moment before grabbing his laptop and continuing his work. He only had a few more paragraphs.
He could totally manage.
…Totally.
Will came back with his arts ‘n crafts container in tow, eagerly opening up the box of various art supplies and rummaging around before pulling out his desired medium of the day.
Paint.
As a caregiver, especially as a caregiver to a little as sensitive as Will, Mike did his best to avoid fussing over small things.
Not tired at bedtime? Mike didn’t have a problem reading multiple stories, sometimes making some up off the top of his head.
Picky eating phase? Mike would remake as many grilled cheese sandwiches as Will desired.
Hell, nearly 100% of the time, Will didn’t give Mike a reason to fuss. Sure, PTSD kicked both their asses, but that wasn’t anything to fuss over– just something to adapt to.
All this to say, Mike was not the type of caregiver to deny his little of anything… without reason.
Today, Mike had a reason for not wanting Will to use paint. Mike estimated that he would still be working on the essay in front of him for hours, meaning he wouldn’t have time to clean up the excess paint before it dried onto the carpet and couch.
Add in the fact that Will almost always required a bath after painting, and the caregiver knew that there was just no way he had time for that today.
“Will, maybe no paint today– yeah?” Mike asked, his voice wavering slightly. Call him a pushover, but he hated telling Will ‘no’.
Will looked up, smile fading from his face, giggles were a thing of the past. “But,” His brow furrowed with disappointment. “But y-you said,” Will’s eyes glossed over, and Mike felt his heart break for his little, “You said I could make art…” He mumbled, his lip quivering as his sad eyes pierced through to Mike’s heart.
“I know, baby, but-” Mike was cut off by Will letting out an angry huff before slamming his paint brushes on the floor, kicking out angrily, and hitting the coffee table with his foot. “Will!” Mike exclaimed, not even out of anger– more so just shocked by his little’s actions.
“You can’t do that, Will. You could get hurt.” The caregiver scolded, standing up and crouching down on the floor next to his best friend. Mike racked his brain for what to do in this scenario. Will was not the type of little to throw tantrums– hell, Mike could count the number of tantrums he had on one hand.
“Just remember the four A’s.” Steve had told him the first time it happened, “What?” Mike asked, helpless frustration building in his tone. “The four A’s. Assess what’s happening, acknowledge the little’s feelings… then get an apology.”
Assess.
Mike’s eyes took in the sight before him. Will’s tears were thick as they trailed down his face– he was murmuring something about just wanting to paint, but it only made the caregiver feel worse.
“Baby, c’mere,” Mike reached out for his little, making sure to keep his tone steady. Will swatted his hand away, continuing to sob and back away. The black-haired man bit his lip, peering at Will with soft eyes before continuing to the next step.
Acknowledge.
“Will, I know you’re upset– I understand,” Mike’s voice was soft, stuck in a tone that was purely reserved for Will. “N-No ‘ou don’t!” The little sniffled, shaking his head as he wiped away his tears with his sleeve.
“I do, bud. I understand you’re probably sad–” He was obviously sad, but Mike continued.
“-- And that’s okay, you’re allowed to be sad,” Mike promised, his heart breaking as Will hiccuped against his own sob. His sniffles grew more frequent as he glared tear-filled eyes at his caregiver.
“But you can’t throw your brushes like that, or kick things.” Mike always felt bad scolding Will, even when a scolding was necessary. “Or shove,” Mike added, making the little let out a pitiful whimper that hit him right in the heart.
Will’s gaze softened slowly, hiccuping and sniffling as he reached out for his caregiver. The raven-haired man pulled him into a hug, cooing and murmuring quiet reassurance as he rubbed his little’s back.
Will buried his face into the crook of Mike’s neck, dampening the collar of his sweater– the caregiver didn’t mind, though.
“Can you say sorry?” Mike asked gently, leaning back and examining his little’s dirtied face. Tear stains and drying snot gave the brunette a disheveled appearance. Will whined, pouting in his carer’s lap before murmuring something intelligible.
“Hm?” Mike asked, leaning in closer. Will whimpered, “Said m’ sorry…” He murmured, “F-for kickin’ and…bein’ a brat.”
Mike furrowed his brow, dipping his head down slightly to meet his little’s gaze. “You are not a brat.” Mike’s tone was serious, but nowhere near scary. “You got frustrated, and that’s more than okay.” He explained gently, “Just…next time, no kicking the coffee table– kay?”
Will nodded sheepishly, snuggling against his caregiver’s chest.
The two stayed like that for a comfortable amount of time before Will eventually asked if he could use his paint set tomorrow.
“Of course you can,” Mike smiled, ruffling his hair before continuing, “Just promise to make me something to put on the fridge.”
Will giggled, his nose wrinkling up with a smile. It only took a few more minutes of back rubs before Will got lost in a forgotten coloring book that Nancy bought him during her journalism travels.
Mike watched for a moment, making sure Will didn’t secretly hate him.
“And the fourth?” Mike asked, looking towards Steve with watery eyes. He hated crying, but he especially hated crying in front of regressed Will– and yet, here he was. Eyes watering in fear, his little would hate him for the rest of his life if he scolded him.
“Accept,” Steve said, placing a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder. The raven-haired furrowed his brow, prompting Steve to continue his speech. “Accept the fact that tantrums happen, and he won’t hate you.”
“But Steve, the way he looked at me when I-”
“When you scolded him for snatching Ed’s crayon? Would you rather let him get into the habit of not sharing?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall, awaiting a response. “What? No, I-”
“It’s a part of being a caregiver. It took me a long time to get used to, but it’s just like picking up messes… or finishing half-eaten sandwiches.” Steve explained, “Will won’t hate you, and he’s definitely not gonna be scarred for life.”
That day, Mike had to admit, Steve was probably the best caregiver he knew.
“Mikey, look!” Will snapped his carer back to reality, excitedly showing him a page on his New York City-themed coloring book. Mike smiled at the sight of his little’s work, neat lines that no other little but Will could replicate.
“It’s awesome, bud, can you draw me another?”
Will nodded enthusiastically, getting back to work quickly. Tantrum now a thing of the past.
Mike blinked slowly, standing up and reaching for his laptop. Today, he’d finish his essay and compliment Will’s coloring.
Back from the dead to say I’m so fixated on stranger things it’s not funnyyyy but also I bombed my college interview guys lowkey curious to see if I get in on Friday I will come back and report
oh quinny how we’ve missed you hope you’re okay honey
this is so nice :(( i’m okay you guys i promise :))
lots has been going on but to make a long story short:
- became self employed
- might be moving in with my gf next year
- might be getting a full time/part time job on top of being self employed
- i have high confidence that i’ll be bringing home my service dog prospect in 2026
so… yeah! i rlly do appreciate you guys being here and hoping i’m alright— i’m not quitting, just updating as i can!! y’all will probably be seeing quite a bit of stranger things hcs from me hehehe 🤭🤭
