please write something with a pink hair reader x mike wheeler ^_^
❝ 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 ❞ M.W (Stranger things)
paring - Mike Wheeler x pink haired ! gender neutral ! reader … 🩰
synopsis 𝄢 when Mike Wheeler accidentally makes you fall off his bike he wants to try his best to make it up to you .𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋
content 𝄢 honestly just a bunch of fluff. he calls reader baby a lot. + Mike Wheeler being down bad for reader ♬⋆.˚
💬 𝄢 omgg baby’s first fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy it i know it’s pretty short but i hope that’s okay <3
“shit baby, are you alright?” Mike asks, panicking about the situation. He crouches down to your level and strokes your light pink hair carefully as if it’s some fragile piece of art. He’s always been incredibly fond of your boxed-dyed pink hair. It’s one of the first things he noticed about you. Which makes sense because not many people at Hawkins High School has the same hair color. In fact not many people at Hawkins in general has the same hair color. So you stood out a lot. Which he loved, a lot.
“I’m fine, I’m fine don’t worry.. It’s just a little fall.” you easily laughed it off. Huge contrast from his concerned face. “Here let me help you up.” He held both of your hands and pulled you back up to your feet. “Thank you!” You said giving him a sweet reassuring smile. You can tell he’s extremely embarrassed and you wanted him to know it’s okay. “I’m so sorry. What kind of boyfriend am I? I should’ve gave you more support to keep you steady on my bike..” Mike said, mostly to himself than you. You held his shoulder comfortingly, forcing him to look down at you. “It’s okay, Mike. I’m fine, I promise! See? No scratches, no bruises, no nothing. Just a handsome boy who’s worrying about nothing.” You start squeezing his cheek teasingly when you say the last sentence. “Okay i get it, i’m overdramatic. I still want to make it up to you. Theres a Denny’s nearby, we should go there! I’ll pay for everything. Just for you, baby.” Usually you feel bad for spending Mike’s money. Anyone’s money actually but especially Mike. You would say no and tell him it’s fine, but unfortunately he’s giving you those sad puppy eyes that make you fold immediately. “Ughh fine!”
You guys were sitting across from each other at the leather-peeling-off booth seat near the window. You were focused on the menu and all the delicious choices of delights. While Mike was only focused on you. And how the bright sun hit your pink hair giving it this beautiful highlight. How the sun glows over your eyes and makes them practically shimmer. Gosh he’s whipped over you. “Do you know what you’re gonna get?” You ask finally looking up at him. It takes him a moment ti quickly snap out of it. “Oh right! I’ll have the… Hash browns looks nice.” He replied, trying to hide his embarrassment. The waitress came up to you guys and asked for your order. “We would like the Hash Brown and the umm..” Mike replied with fake confidence. “Stack of Pancakes! With sausage and strawberries on the side.” You finish his sentence off for him. The waitress just gave you guys a exhausted nod before taking your guy’s menu and walking away.
“Hash Browns and Stack of Pancakes..” The waitress came up to the both of you and set your plates down. You started pouring syrup onto your food before digging in. “Is it good?” Mike asked you. You don’t answer with words. You just give him a satisfied hum sound and a even more satisfied smile. “Your so pretty..” Mike said as he rest his head on his hand. Just straight up admiration in his big eyes. “Hey, you’re barely even touching your food! Don’t let it go cold.” You pointed out as you tapped his eggs with your plastic fork. He quickly released his head from his hand and started pouring some ketchup onto his food. “Right, that would be terrible!” Mike said as he starts eating pretty sloppily. You just laugh at him and his odd behaviors.
“Soo do you forgive me?” Mike asked as you guys walk out the restaurant. It got much darker and colder so he let you wear his jacket to warm yourself up. “For what?” You asked slightly confused. “For accidentally making you fall off the back of my bike.” He simply reminded you. You laughed again a little bit louder this time. “Oh baby..” You say before giving him a soft kiss on his lip and then tiny comforting strokes on his cheeks. “I was never mad at you in the first place.” With that he wrapped his arm over your shoulder and started walking you back to his bike. Before sitting you down on his bike behind him Mike placed a gentle kiss on his favorite part of you. Your beautiful pink hair.
‘golden slumbers fill your eyes’// the beatles. 🌙 masterlist. 1.5k words. post hollys kidnapping, best friends to ?, (platonic) physical contact, sharing a bed. mix of fluff and angst. this can be viewed as either romantic or platonic, you decide 🥹 :)) requests are open! please send some in 🫶
the hospital light is an off-putting grey. there’s two people, slumped shoulder to shoulder, heads bowed. you can see the crust of blood under their fingernails, wrists rubbed raw from washing their hands.
robin pushes past you, straight to nancy. you’re both breathless, but you inhale slowly as the wheelers look up.
mikes eyes are drained, near soulless. you’ve never seen them without that golden spark before.
‘hi, mike.’ you say gently, pulling him into a desperately tight embrace.
‘we got here as soon as we heard. are you okay? is holly-‘
‘she’s gone.’ he says bitterly, his tone wavering.
he buries his head into your neck, arms going a little limp.
‘she’s gone, and we let it happen, and she’s alone in there.’ he whispers, mumbling into your skin. you shake your head.
‘you said- you said el is in there too, right? she’s not alone. we’re going to get her back, okay?’
he doesn’t nod. he doesn’t quite have the strength.
‘let’s go home, yeah?’
he almost expects for you to take him back to his house. he’d nearly forgotten it was now a crime scene, wrapped in yellow tape and something more sinister.
no, instead he’s at your house. which is practically a second home to him anyway, considering his height is marked on the door frame next to yours, and pictures of him are littered around the house.
he takes a long time in the shower. you don’t rush him, and instead just leave a warm towel and a change of clothes by the door.
when he surfaces, you’re sitting on the couch, two plates balancing on the arm.
‘are you okay?’
it’s a stupid question to ask. he nearly laughs.
‘yeah. i’m fine. i’m not lying half-mauled in a hospital bed, if that’s what fine means.’ he shrugs, but his tone is bitter.
‘michael, don’t be an idiot. do you want to talk about it, or do you want to just chew this grilled cheese loud enough to annoy me?’ you ask, passing him the plate with a careful smile. he takes it gratefully.
‘i want to talk. but not- not about it. about anything else.’
you nod.
‘okay, that’s fine. let’s talk about the queen is dead, then.’ you decide, and he rolls his eyes.
‘god, you’ve finally discovered ‘the album’, and you’re suddenly a music geek?’
you punch his shoulder.
‘oi. what can i say? i know it’s over might be the greatest song of all time.’ you shrug, and he scoffs.
‘it’s good, but that statement is ridiculous.’
you spend hours like that, talking, laughing. you descend to shrieking, to wrestling, a desperate battle to fight the way sleep bites at your eyes.
it’s for his benefit. you can tell that laughing is keeping him awake, that he never wants to sleep, never wants to close his eyes again.
but your eyelids are growing heavy, you’re slowing, and you think you might pass out.
he asks you something, eyebrows folded, but you frown.
‘sorry, what? i missed it.’ you yawn, and he shakes his head.
‘it, uh, doesn’t matter. we should probably go to bed.’
you nod, getting up off the couch carefully.
you gesture to the assortment of blankets and pillows, giving him an awkward grin.
‘is that enough, or do you want me to grab you anything else?’
he shakes his head, wishing you a quiet goodnight as you slink away into your room.
about fifteen minutes later, the exhaustion has really seeped in. you’re not really paying attention, throwing on some mismatched socks and pyjamas, and you trip over while hopping on one tired foot. the side of your arm catches your lamp, sending it crashing to the ground with a dramatic thud.
you groan, bending over to pick it up.
you hear the rushed sound of your door being thrown open, and a rather disheveled mike stands, halfway between glorious and delirious.
‘are you okay?’ he nearly yells, eyes wide with concern, and you nod.
‘yeah, yeah. just clumsy, i’m totally fine.’ you assure him, but you can see the way his breaths are still shallow.
‘mike, i’m serious. i’m fine.’ you repeat, stepping towards him.
you push your arms forward, as proof.
he still doesn’t quite relax, but his face softens.
‘i’m sorry, i just- i just thought-‘
you shake your head, bringing a hand to his cheek.
‘don’t apologise. i get it. i’m sorry, i should’ve been more careful. or yelled that i was fine.’ you reply, and he just lets his eyes close, imperceptibly leaning into your touch.
the silence is soft, and comforting, and you almost wonder if you could sleep standing up. and then you yawn again, and he takes that as his cue to leave.
‘i’ll, uh, see you tomorrow morning.’ he mutters, making his way back towards the door.
‘uh, mike?’ you ask, as his fingers brush the wooden frame. he turns.
‘yeah?’
‘why don’t you stay?’
he shifts his gaze from you to your bed, the stretch of the dotted bedsheets and the messily strewn blankets.
‘no, it’s okay. i don’t need to-‘ he swallows, inching back towards the door.
‘you’re not going to sleep out there, are you? i bet you didn’t even close your eyes.’
he exhales, like you’ve caught him. he gives you an innocent, signature smile. one that’s always surprised at how well you know him.
‘yeah, you’re right. i can’t, y’know? just worried. but i don’t want to-‘ he murmurs, his words wandering off again, and you nod.
‘if you don’t want to, that’s fine. m’not trying to be weird, or anything. but you know my beds dramatically large, and i think we’d both appreciate the certainty.’ you explain, shrugging casually, like the suggestion doesn’t embarrass you at all.
maybe that’s because it doesn’t- when you’ve grown up with someone long enough to know you’re under each other's skin, it really doesn’t matter at all.
still, the way his ears turn a little pink almost makes you laugh.
‘yeah.’ he exhales. you nod, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the door, nudging it closed.
‘you know, it’s going to be okay.’ you whisper, as you shuffle along the mattress. he sighs, rolling onto his back and looking up at your ceiling. at the remains of scraped star stickers, a constellation he’s had memorised for years.
‘we say that, every time. and yet-‘
‘-and yet, we’re all still here.’
he swallows. you turn on your side, looking at him.
‘she’s going to be okay, mike. and so are your parents. c’mon, they raised you and nancy. they’re tough as hell.’
he turns too, to meet your gaze, and your noses nearly touch.
‘thanks.’ he chuckles, and you just scoff.
‘i was being generous, adding you. nancy by herself is enough.’
he rolls his eyes.
‘sometimes i think you like my sister more than me.’
‘i do. she’s just so cool.’ you declare, and he pushes your face away from his with a lazy smile. you make a quiet yelp, getting ready to smother him with your pillow, but you hear the way his breathing sounds more forced, like he’s almost hiccuping.
‘mike?’
he’s turned away from you now, and you recognise the shake of his shoulders.
‘hey- look at me.’ you whisper, gently pulling the side of his shoulder.
he’s covering his face with his hands, fingers pressed firmly into his eyes.
‘i should’ve been there.’ he mutters, voice breaking as he sniffles, and you sit up, shaking your head.
‘what, and be lying in a hospital bed too? i’m glad you weren’t there, mike.’
he glares at you. ‘don’t say that.’
you shrug hopelessly.
‘i’m being honest. i’m glad you’re here, and you’re okay. it could’ve been so much worse. you could’ve been-‘ you begin, but you just swallow the rest of the sentence.
‘i know. but if i was, and that meant i’d managed to save them, then i think that would’ve been better.’
you shoot him an angry look.
‘don’t you dare talk like that, wheeler. genuinely, shut the fuck up.’ you spit, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your own eyes.
he nods, closing his eyes. ‘m’sorry, i didn’t mean that. i’m just tired.’
you lie next to him, lacing your fingers together under the duvet.
‘yeah, so am i.’
after a second of silence, he inhales.
‘thanks.’ he whispers, using his free hand to wipe his cheeks. you pause, pressing your lips there after.
‘it’s okay. g’night, mike.’
it feels like the morning comes viciously early the next day. light streams into the room through your curtains, bathing you both in gold.
mike’s always been a deep sleeper, when he’s tired enough. so the glow simply filters through his eyelashes, and his eyes stay closed.
you’re not quite the same. you shift slowly, sitting up. the covers half thrown up, leaving his right leg bare, the left intertwined both with yours and the fabric.
you’re still holding his hand, and your fingers feel a little stiff as you slip them free.
he mumbles something-you think it might be your name- but his head stays firmly pressed into your pillow.
you run your hands gently through his hair, hoping the morning takes away some of the weight of the night before. you sneak out of bed, carefully avoiding knocking your lamp over again, and match his hidden smile.
I just found your blog and i really love your writing :>
I read your rules and i hope my request is fine to you! And i saw you write for stranger things too and i am so happy!
Could you do with Mike Wheeler that he thinks the reader forgot his birthday. And avoiding him since they are planning to surprise him and just everything is in a chaos (including their head and they rush one place to another). And Mike thinks he did something wrong or just the reader forgot his birthday. Because the reader talks to everyone else (like Will and Lucas and the others) and she doesn’t tell anything from their conversations to Mike and she lowers her voice when Mike’s around. It turns out the reader planned a surprise party for him. Angst to fluff
Thank you if you do it! Have a nice day/night! :>
ah omg thank you!!! I appreciate you reading the rules as well, I heavily appreciate it 🙏🙏 ; but this is so super duper cute omg im gonna have fun with this ehehehe ; thank you sm for requesting, hope you enjoy!! ; post writing me, im so sorry this feels SO LOMG omg this was rlly fun but I feel like I flopped a bit... aughhh idk 💔
MIKE WHEELER ; birthday surprise
summary ; mike thinks he did something wrong since you seem to be ignoring him, but youre just planning a surprise party for his birthday
warnings ; language
disclaimers ; set post vecna defeat and after the upside down is destroyed but el is still around & max is disabled & will just went through his first gay breakup but its teen girl drama tbh, theyre mentioned to be seniors but i set this somewhere in the 90s cause hot take st wouldve been better in the 90s ngl, henderhop & lumax endgame <3
word count ; 3.1k
masterlist
You woke up on the couch, cuddling with Mike, the dim light of the basement lamps illuminating the area. Dustin and El seem to be cuddled up under some blankets on the floor, where they fell asleep watching Dazed and Confused. Beside them, half falling off the loveseat, are Max and Lucas. Lucas is clinging to Max's waist, knees and below flat on the floor. Max holds her hands over his shoulders, hanging lazily over his spine, her legs practically cuddled under her boyfriend. Will lies across the opposite loveseat, sprawled out horizontally, arms and legs out like a plastic bag drifting through the wind. A yellow blanket lazily hangs over him, minus his feet, bringing him warmth.
Everything about last night was perfect.
After Will broke up with his first-ever boyfriend, the party came together to help support him. You'd all gotten pretty close with his first partner, but after learning some sketchy shit was going down behind the scenes, that got cut off quick. But, it's a part of life, and Will shall prevail. His first boyfriend wasn't his Vickie, and that's okay.
So, you all decided to come together and play some Dungeons and Dragons and watch some movies until you all passed out on the floor. With the aid of sandwiches, popcorn, candy, and a hell of a lot of snacks from the nearest gas station, you spent an entire day in Mike's basement, relishing in glory, happiness, and joy. To have all of your friends together like this, close, alive, even after everything that's happened, it's something you're grateful for, so much so that words can't describe it.
You roll off the couch, narrowly avoiding Dustin and El in the process, to make your way upstairs. Mike grumbles, reaching his arm out for you, noticing a missing prescense in the dream world. Your eyes widen, silently hoping he wont accidentally wake yhe others or yhat you woke him up.
"Morning," he mumbles, unable to open his tired eyes.
"G'morning, Mike," you whisper from the stairs, "I need food, go back to sleep,"
Before he can utter a 'd'you remember what today is?', he realizes you've already crept your way upstairs. He mumbles again and covers his eyes with his arm, falling asleep in an instant.
You notice Karen is already making breakfast for you all, setting up a line of bowls for cereal at the kitchen island. She smiles upon noticing you emerge from the basement.
"Good morning, sweetie," she grins, "Have a fun night?"
You nod, struggling to keep your eyes open after having stayed up so late. "Yeah. Where's Nance and Holly?" you wonder, knowing they'd be at breakfast at the asscrack of dawn.
She chuckles, "Holly went to the library, and Nancy went to the Squawk by herself. House is quiet, it's so nice." she comments, pouring milk over the bowls of Froot Loops.
Wow, you forgot you hadn't checked the time. It was surprisingly quiet, peaceful, to tell the truth. Karen and Ted got a divorce, and since all the kids still lived in the house and Holly and Mike were still minors, their custody was a battle for the history books. Ted settled for child support, seeing as he clearly couldn't care less about his kids, he couldn't remember Mike's birthday or even remember how old Holly was. So, with a new job, child support, and help from Nancy, she was managing well as a newly single mom.
Speaking of birthdays, it was Mike's today.
You'd been planning a surprise party with the help of the party and Karen, and had invited all of your close allies in the fight against the Upside Down, the ones who cared to remember his birthday. So, you needed to find a way to get the house decorated around your nosey boyfriend, and be sneaky about it so he wouldn't find out. Karen ordered a cake, customized just for him, so all you had to do was pick it up, and she promised to try and keep him out of the house as much as she could this rainy April weekend.
You lean against the island as you munch on some brain food, needing it to try and silently plan your act of attack for the day. Mike's going to want to spend the day with you, and he's going to hate you for even throwing a party, but he's turning eighteen, and you want it to be special for him. Not long after, Dustin, Max, and El join you upstairs. Max still seems to be asleep, either way, she'd need Lucas' help getting back upstairs, along with Will and Mike.
Dustin and El stand on your right while Lucas fixes himself on your left.
You turn to Lucas first, "So, today. I'm gonna get the cake first and bring it back, since the bakery and everything else are on two other ends of town. Would you be okay distracting him downstairs for an hour or two?"
He nods, "Aye aye, captain."
You smile and turn to the couple next to you. "I'm gonna get party decorations next. I spotted some D&D-themed stuff while out and about, and Robin and Jonathan are gonna hook me up with some custom stuff they'd been working on, with Will's help. So that means I'm going to Party City and then Hopper's cabin. While I'm gone, do whatever, but I'll radio when I get close to back. When I approach, I need you to get him as far away from here as you can for maybe three hours."
Dustin nods with a little salute while El smiles in response.
"So... I'll get done maybe around four? And everyone's gonna be here by five. So I'll try to give him some time for us, you guys come back here and make sure everything is alright, and radio when you're all set for us to come back. I'll radio when we turn the corner so you have ample time to hide and light the candles when we walk in." you nod, gulping down a spoonful of sweet milk.
The three nod in response, finding your idea rather clever even though they're too tired to find the words to voice their opinions.
"So, all I really need you guys to do is keep contact with me, and make sure he doesn't catch onto anyth-" before you can finish, the basement door behind you opens up, and you quickly zip your lips shut.
Karen rounds the corner, returning from her room as she was changing her bedding. "Oh, good morning, Mike."
"Morning, Mom."
"Good morning Will,"
"Morning, Ms. Byers."
"Max alright?"
"Yeah, she just woke up."
"Oh, good. Bring her up so she can eat, alright? I'm heading to the store, you need anything?"
Mike shakes his head and joins you at the island, pulling a bowl of soft, kinda soggy cereal, towards himself. He's wearing the Star Trek pajama pants you got him for Christmas. Your heart is about to melt. Will stands beside Lucas before he moves back downstairs to bring Max up so she can eat as well. Her wheelchair usually stays upstairs, given the basement isn't very accessible for her, also given the stairs.
"What were you talking about?" Mike asks, covering his mouth as he talks with his mouth full of food.
"Nothing," you answer nonchalantly, trying to keep him off your tail.
"So..." he trails, expecting you to at least wish him a happy birthday. "What are we doing today?"
You shrug. "I need to run some errands."
His little smile falters. "Oh, okay."
You notice him glancing at the others, hoping they'd say what he was looking for. Maybe you'd accidentally forgotten, like it slipped your mind after the sleepover. Still, Will, Dustin, and El are dead silent.
Seeing him like that on his birthday is making you rethink your life choices. You cannot stand it. You aren't sure if you can pull this off without ruining the surprise.
You quickly finish your cereal, unable to see your boyfriend puppy pout over breakfast like this. You rush downstairs and change in the bathroom, then make your way outside without even saying goodbye.
Mike turns to Lucas and Dustin when he hears the front door lock shut. He's unable to say anything. He isn't sure what he even wants to say.
Max and El only smirk at each other, eyeing the walkie-talkie resting between the redhead's legs.
Luckily for you, Mike is someone who can very easily be distracted, especially when he's a little upset or sad. The rest of the party managed to distract him with a new game of D&D that Max had been working on. Her story worked without your presence, and if they ever picked it up again, you could slide right in and they could catch you up rather quickly.
You sneak into the Wheeler household with a white box in your hands, on the top, labeled with a black marker, reads 'WHEELER BIRTHDAY CHOCOLATE'. You almost wanted to snort every time you read it, such a blunt, but effective, description.
As you turn into the kitchen, you learn Karen had returned from the store.
"Oh, you got it?" she smiles
You smile and nod, "He's gonna love it. You nailed it, Ms. Wheeler."
She chuckles, opening her hands to take the cake, "I'll hide it in the back of the fridge for you,"
"Thank you, thank you," you graciously smile, "I told the others that I'm gonna go get decorations, and I'll radio or call when I'm close, so I'll need Mike out of the house by then. Will you be home in maybe, like, two-ish hours?"
Karen takes a moment to think, "Yeah, I think so. I'll send the kids on a grocery mission, or ask them to get Holly from her friend's house."
"Thank you so much, Ms. Wheeler, you're a godsend,"
"Hey," Mike interrupts, emerging from the basement, "You're back."
You nod, trying to hide the panic lying within you. Karen returns to sorting the groceries away. Mike raises an eyebrow.
"What were you talking about?"
"Nothing,"
You seem to be talking about a whole lot of nothing to him today. Will emerges from behind him.
"Hey, did you get it?" he asks.
"Hm?" you hum, "Oh, yeah. I got it."
Will nods and throws a thumbs-up, trying to give you the notion that he heard what you and Karen had said, but Mike hadn't.
Mike furrows his brows, looking between you two, utterly confused and bumfuzzled. "What is 'it'?"
"Nothing," you answer in unison.
Mike stares at you, trying to find answers within your eyes. He feels like you're hiding something from him, and on his birthday, which you didn't even acknowledge. You'd been talking about how special you wanted to make his birthday for him, and now you're here, and he feels totally ignored.
You turn back to Will, unbothered. "I'll radio later,"
He nods before returning to the basement, leaving you to make a beeline to the door once more. Before you can escape Mike's suspicious glare, he grabs your wrist.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Why are you being so secretive today?" he asks, voice cracking a bit as he speaks so quietly.
"It's nothing, Mike."
You managed to get the decorations up in the house, thanks to Karen amongst Will and El staying back while Lucas, Dustin, and Max went out to grab some groceries under Ms. Wheeler's instructions. Now was the time for them to come back and prepare with Mrs. Wheeler and wait for everyone to show up while you spent time with Mike.
When they were leaving and you were hiding around the side of the house, you heard Mike complaining a bit. He seemed to be upset about you leaving him high and dry today, but he never mentioned it being his birthday. He probably gave up on it, just wanting you to spend time with him.
You felt pretty bad, noticing his slumped posture and puppy dog frown. The aura of sadness radiated off of him.
Your walkie buzzes before the familiar sound of Lucas' voice emits.
"Hey, we're almost back at the cul-de-sac."
You grab the hand radio and click on the side button to respond, "Copy that."
You move to the porch with your backpack, awaiting their arrival. Upon doing so, Lucas and Dustin empty Mike's hands, as he was the one holding the bags, and rush inside, making sure not to let him get a peek inside from the door. He lags behind, seeming a little miserable, allowing you to have a hushed conversation with Max.
"Just let me know when everyone's here and settled. I'll radio again when we're close." you mutter to the girl.
She gives you a thumbs up, "He's clueless. Have fun."
As she moves inside, you block Mike's line of sight of the door. "Hi."
He doesn't answer. You can tell he's upset with all this hushed conversation, and how all his friends, and significant other, had seemed to entirely forget his birthday. Even his mom and sisters had, and he apparently couldn't get away, he just had to pretend his special day was just another ordinary day.
You raise an eyebrow, a little concerned. "Hey?"
He blinks before muttering. "Hi."
"So..." you trail, pulling his hands into yours, "Whatcha wanna do, pretty boy?"
He's rather quiet. The pet name doesn't even phase him, which usually does. He doesn't try to hide his dorky little smile and red cheeks, it's not even there.
"Mike?"
You've seemed to have snapped him back to reality, even though he seemed present in the moment beforehand.
"Uhm..." he shrugs, refusing to make eye contact with you, which is beyond odd, but given the circumstances, you understand. "We could watch a movie downstairs?"
"Uhm..." you nervously trail, "Anything outside the house?"
He bites the inside of his cheek, "We could go on a bike ride to no where?"
You agree with this and swiftly grab your bike. He moves to the door, but you grab his wrist before he can touch the door handle.
"Hey, uh, I thought we were gonna go ride?" you nervously smile, standing in front of the door.
"I was gonna get snacks-"
"Oh, no, I have plenty! C'mon, let's go."
As you walk your bikes down the cul-de-sac, you notice that Mike stops as you reach view of his house. You stop beside him, curious.
"You okay?" you ask cautiously.
He bites his tongue before speaking. "Not really."
"Oh?" you turn your complete attention to him once kicking your bike stand down, "What's wrong?"
He mutters under his breath before kicking his bike stand down and properly facing you. "Everyone forgot my birthday. My mom did, my sisters did, the party did, and you did too! And you've been acting all secretive and weird today, everyone has! I feel like all of you have been making me try to ignore the fact you've been running around doing 'errands' all day, and you get all hushed talking to the others, and you're telling me it's nothing!"
You frown. You were hoping this wouldn't happen, but Mike isn't the type of person to pick up on a potential surprise, or one who can stand being treated so oddly on his own birthday. He's been ignored all day by everyone he loves, distracted by it all because of your demands. He thinks you're a little selfish, really. All he wanted to do was watch a movie with you in his basement, and you shrugged it off to go do something out of the house, the only place he wanted to be right now.
"You're acting so weird, and kind of mean, and..." he groans, fingers tied in his raven hair, "I-I don't..."
You quickly wrap him in a hug, mumbling into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mike. I promise, what I have to show you isn't an excuse, but a reason. It doesn't excuse my behavior, but I hope it explains it."
He's stiff as you hug him. He doesn't want to. He's tough when it comes to things like this, especially when it comes to taking back words and him feeling ignored and slightly belittled.
You pull away, slowly and softly pulling his hands from his hair, "Please, just come back to the house with me. It'll make sense."
Thankfully, he isn't a tight ass, he never has been. He follows you, even if his head hangs low and he seems miserable as all hell. You lean your bike against the porch and set your backpack down on the ground, Mike stares at you as you pull your walkie out.
"Landing inbound," you mutter into the radio before tossing it back in your backpack.
He stands over you crouched on the ground, jaw clenched and fists balled. He isn't going to hurt you, he'd never fathom the thought, ever, but he's frustrated and tired. He's walked and biked miles all day long to places he doesn't want to be at, and now you're attempting to reason with him by... bringing him home and radioing the others?
You lead him to the door and knock three times. He stands behind you, patiently waiting for your reason to magically appear before his eyes as Karen opens the door. She smiles and allows you entrance. You move behind him and usher him to the kitchen with your hand over his eyes, as he seems to be less than entertained.
Karen rushes in front of him, shooting you a silent thumbs up as she makes her way back to the kitchen. You eye balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling around the corner, biting back the world's biggest smile as you do.
You stop Mike by pressing on his waist with your free hand. He exhales like a moody teen boy. You mouth to Karen, who illuminates the candles on his blue chocolate cake. You slowly release the hand you have pressed on his eyes, and smile as the party, amongst the group of older teens, Joyce, and Hop, reveal themselves from behind the kitchen island.
"Happy birthday, Mike!"
His face literally goes from moody teenage boy to your happy little prince in a matter of seconds. It's precious to watch.
He giggles, the tips of his ears growing red. "I?"
You laugh, "Sorry for being an asshole today, I truly apologize from the bottom of my heart. I was busy setting all this up for you, I just wanted today to be special, and I didn't consider what you may want instead of what I want for you. That was wrong. I love you. Happy birthday, Mike."
He wraps you in a tight hug, "I love you too, thank you."
The rest of the party moves to topple you both into a hug. Lucas literally holds Max by the waist with one arm, allowing her to join comfortably. Mike cackles, crushed by his friends' embrace.
can i request a mike x harrington!reader where steve catches mike in reader’s room??? i love ur writing sm btw!!
mike wheeler. keep it under covers.
A loud thud echoed through your house, you sat upright quickly, terrified of what was out side, considering everything happening with Vecna.
You turned to see Mike Wheeler’s stupid grin, amused by how scared you were. He knocked on the window, waiting for you to let him in.
Once you finally unlocked your window, and pulled the cover to the side, he got in. Mike stumbled before sitting on your floor. He closed the window and looked at you with half-lidded eyes.
He grabbed your arm and yanked you onto his lap. His head rested on your shoulder, sighing softly. “It was hell in school, do you know how much food was chucked at me today?” You giggled softly, kissing his head.
“All i want is you today, is that possible?” He tilted his head towards you and rubbed your knee. You nodded in response, of course it was okay. It was Mike Wheeler after all. The nerdiest boy of all time.
His hand moved to your ass, tapping twice, a weird signal he had for telling you to get up. Mike moved to your pink covers, patting the place next to him, “Come..”
Getting up to listen, you remember Steve is still here, your annoying protective brother. Mike’s head would be on a stick if Steve caught you two.
“Mike.. jus’ remember to be quiet.. Steve would kill you.” He nodded and kissed you almost immediately after you finished speaking, pushing you back gently.
He got ontop of you and started kissing your neck, leaving love bites everywhere. “Mike.. I’m gonna have you cover that up.” He mumbled against your neck, rubbing the spots he just bit, hoping they wouldn’t bruise.
“Sorry. I’ll give you a scarf, okay?” You smiled at his dedication to make you happy and comfortable. You nodded and sat up, grabbing his face and getting ontop of him. You sat on his lap, grinding back and forth.
He moaned loudly, you grabbed his face and covered his mouth, “Shut up! My brother is still home.” He nodded and whined, falling back.
He thrusted his hips up, trying to get even more friction. His hands gripped the sheets, in an attempt to keep himself steady. He got so worked up over nothing.
His mouth opened, his eyes shut and his eyebrows knitter together, he gripped your hand, his eyes chased yours, trying to make eye contact.
“Look at me.. please..” He begged, he was so desperate for you. He didn’t have to say it, you could see it.
You looked down at him, seeing his mouth wide open, you saw an opportunity and you took it. You pushed your fingers into his mouth. Rubbing his tongue with your thumb.
He let out a muffled moan. He thrusted his hips faster, trying to get his release.
As he finally came, you kissed him to muffled the noises, you wiped your fingers on his shirt and stared at the beauty he was. He was panting like crazy, biting his lip.
“Me next?” You asked, he grinned at you and put up his thumb. He gripped your thighs, opening your legs and pulling your pretty striped panties to the side.
He pushed a finger in, and you nearly came. His fingers were thin, but long. Just like his dick.
You knocked your head back, squirming already. He pushed another finger in, and increased the pace. You humped his fingers, almost cumming. “Mike.. i’m gonna..” He tilted his head, his hand pressing on your v-line.
“Let it out for me..” He kissed your neck, as you came, you heard foot steps downstairs. Steve had woken up.
Mike pulled your pants up, tried buttoning your shirt and failed to even get his own clothes on. He hid under your covers, a obvious Mike Wheeler shaped lump.
Steve burst through the door. “Are you moaning in here?” Your face flushed. “Ew. What the fuck is wrong with you. Go to sleep.” His eyes scanned the room. He pointed to Mike on your bed.
“You think i’m an idiot?” He asked, his hands on his hips.
“Well you didn’t get into college so is it really such a stretch?” He scoffed, and pulled the blanket down.
꒰ 🚲 ꒱ synopsis 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 trapped with your catastrophically dramatic, fever-warm boyfriend who insists he’s dying. AKA man experiences the common cold and loses all resolve.
MIKE WHEELER IS FAIRLY CERTAIN THIS IS HOW ITS GONNA END.
not in a cool way. not in a saving-the-world way. not even in a tragically noble way. no—this is worse. it involves tissues.
a lot of tissues.
it involves his nose being blocked on one side for reasons current medicine has yet to explain, his throat feeling like it’s been sandpapered every time he swallows, and a headache that pulses like it’s offended by light, sound, and the concept of consciousness.
he’s been sick for three days. three days is not nothing. three days is long enough for something to escalate. three days is long enough for a cold to turn into something else. something that requires bed rest and soup and concerned looks and, potentially, hospitalization. he doesn’t know. he’s not a doctor. that’s kind of the problem.
being sick is the worst thing that has ever happened to him. ever. and yes, he is including everything else. he’s thought it through. extensively. this is worse. he clears his throat experimentally and immediately regrets it when hot pain blooms trailing after the spit. bad idea. noted.
fuck this. he hates being sick. there’s nothing to do. just waiting it out, which feels suspiciously like doing nothing, which mike has never been good at.
waiting implies patience. patience implies acceptance. mike has neither.
he shifts, tangled in blankets that feel simultaneously too heavy and not heavy enough, and sniffles hard enough that his head throbs in retaliation. his nose is completely useless now. fully decorative. he breathes through his mouth and immediately regrets that too because his throat feels swollen and traitorous, like it’s trying to sabotage him from the inside. this is how people die. in their childhood bedrooms. drowning in their own congestion.
there’s a knock at the door before it opens anyway. “michael,” his mom acknowledges him, in that voice. the one that’s soft and worried and hovering already. she’s holding a bowl. steam curls up from it. “i brought soup.”
of course she did.
he makes a noise that is meant to be a protest but comes out more like a congested whine. “i’m fine.” he says automatically, even though nothing about this situation supports that statement. he does not need to eat something. swallowing hurts. also, soup is a scam. soup is what people give you when they want to feel like they’re helping without actually fixing anything. “i had soup earlier.”
she gives him a look, the look that says she knows that’s a lie and is choosing to let it go for now. “you had three spoonfuls. and then you fell asleep.”
he opens his mouth to argue and coughs instead. it starts small and then snowballs, his chest tightening, his throat burning, his eyes watering. by the time it stops he’s lightheaded and furious and very aware of how closely his mom is watching him. she reaches out, reflexive, and he flinches away on instinct. “i’m fine.”
she smooths his hair back anyway, cool hand against his forehead. hovering. he endures it, because pulling away feels like more effort than he has in him right now. “you’re warm.”
“i’m always warm.”
she hums, unconvinced, and presses her lips together like she’s deciding whether to argue or let him have this one. mike can tell which way it’s going immediately. she pulls the thermometer out of her pocket anyway. of course she has one.
“mommmm.”
“open your mouth.”
he considers refusing, how much effort that would take, then opens his mouth. she waits about a minute. his nose drips traitorously and he sniffles, shoulders hunching. his head feels too heavy for his neck.
the thermometer beeps.
“one hundred point four.”
“that’s bad.”
“it’s a low-grade fever.”
“mom, that’s still a fever.”
“you’re sick. you have a cold. possibly the flu. drink some water.”
his throat tightens—he swallows and hisses when the pain flares again, drinking some water out of the bottle his mom hands to him before giving it back. “i don’t feel good.” he says, which feels like the understatement of the century.
“i know.” she says, softening despite herself. she smooths his hair back again, cool fingers against his overheated skin. he hates it and leans into it at the same time.
she gives him a look. the you are being ridiculous look. he hates that look. it feels dismissive, like she’s not taking this seriously enough. “i feel hot,” he insists. “my head is burning.”
“you feel congested,” she corrects. “and tired.”
“and like i’m dying.”
she sighs and sets the thermometer down. “you’re not dying.”
she reaches for the soup again and he scowls at it. “i don’t want soup.”
“you need fluids.”
“i had water.”
“when?”
shit. he draws a blank. three hours ago? yesterday? time has stopped meaning anything.
“…earlier.”
she does not look convinced.
“can my girlfriend come over?” he asks suddenly, because the thought has been circling his brain like a vulture and he’s too tired to keep swatting it away.
“michael—”
“i feel worse. i feel really bad. she could help.”
“she could get sick.”
“i wouldn’t let her,” he argues. “i’d stay over here. she could stay over there. we wouldn’t—” he gestures and starts coughing again. it takes a few seconds longer to stop this time. his mom waits it out, hand hovering uselessly in the air like she’s trying not to smother him with care. when it finally passes, he slumps back, breathing through his mouth, furious and exhausted and dizzy. “see,” he says hoarsely. “that’s bad.”
“that’s why you’re not having visitors.”
“she’s not a visitor, she’s my girlfriend.”
“no, michael.”
his heart breaks.
if he survives this, he deserves some kind of award. at the very least, visitation rights. “i have a fever,” he adds, helpfully. “my head hurts. my throat feels like it’s on fire. i can’t breathe through my nose. i keep coughing like i’m—” he breaks off to cough again, shorter this time but still miserable. “—like that.”
she waits. lets the silence do some of the work. “and you’re telling me,” she says, “that seeing your girlfriend will fix this.”
“not fix,” he corrects. “help.”
“how.”
he frowns. thinking feels like wading through molasses. “she just… does. she knows what to do.”
“what to do about a cold.”
“yeah.”
she arches an eyebrow.
“she’d sit there,” he continues, gesturing toward the empty space beside his bed. “and she wouldn’t keep trying to make me eat soup every five minutes.”
“you need to eat.” she says, done, and folds her arms.
“this is cruel,” he barrels on, voice wavering just a little, and he hates that it does but also notes it as useful. “i could literally be dying and you won’t even let me see my girlfriend.”
“you are not dying.”
“you don’t know that,” he mutters. “people die from the flu.”
“you don’t have the flu.”
“you said possibly.”
she closes her eyes for a second. “i said possibly to get you to drink water.”
betrayal. he shifts in bed, restless, blankets tangling around his legs. he feels hot and cold at the same time, skin prickly, head pounding harder now that he’s been talking so much. his throat hurts worse. his nose drips again. he sniffs and wipes it with the back of his hand, then looks offended by the result. “i just want to see her. for a little bit.”
his mom looks at him. the flushed cheeks, the glassy eyes, the way he’s slumped. the way he’s still fighting anyway, but only once you were mentioned. “michael—”
“i’ll wear a blanket,” he blurts. “like a barrier.”
she blinks. “a blanket.”
“yes. like quarantine.”
“that’s not how that works.”
“i’ll wear two.”
she rubs her temples.
there’s a long pause. his mom studies him like she’s weighing something. he can practically see the internal debate. responsibility versus peace. germs versus sanity. his sanity. her sanity. he waits, breathing shallowly, nose clogged, throat aching, heart pounding with the effort of having made his case. finally, she sighs. deep. defeated.
he perks up a little. “so that’s a yes?”
“i’m not happy about this.”
“that’s fine.”
“she’s not staying long.”
“that’s fine.”
“she’s not getting sick.”
“i won’t let her.”
she points at him. “you are staying in bed.”
“yeah. obviously.” he assures her.
she stares at him for one last moment, then turns toward the door. “i’ll go call her.”
the relief hits him so hard it almost makes him emotional. almost. instead, he slumps back into his pillows with a dramatic exhale. “thank you,” he says weakly, “if i survive this, i’ll remember this.”
she pauses in the doorway. “drink your soup.”
he groans, already exhausted again, but this time it’s different. this time, at least, he’s not dying alone.
you knock softly, because his mom told you to, and because you’re vaguely afraid of waking the dead, or making things worse. or both. when you step into mike’s room he looks up like he’s been waiting the entire time, which he has. obviously. “you’re here..” he says, hoarse and dramatic and very much alive.
he sounds like this is the last thing he’ll ever say. actually, it was almost cinematic. like the final line of a beloved character in a franchise before they die tragically.
you barely have time to put your bag down before he starts talking again. “i’m dying,” he informs you, solemn. “she won’t say it, but i know. i have a fever, my throat is wrecked, and i can’t breathe.”
his mom, standing behind you with a bowl of soup, clears her throat pointedly.
“and,” mike adds, glaring past you at her, “i’m being force-fed.”
“you’re being given soup.” she corrects.
“against my will.”
you glance at the bowl. it’s still steaming. “hi, mike.”
his eyes soften, just a fraction. “hi.” he says back, quieter now. still miserable. “you took forever.”
“i got here as fast as i could.”
“it felt longer,” he mumbles. “i missed you.”
this, apparently, is enough to convince his mom to set the soup down on the nightstand and step back. “he needs to eat,” she tells you, already tired. “and drink water. and rest.”
mike scoffs weakly. “she’s lying to you.”
“i am not.”
“she keeps hovering. and she keeps touching my forehead.”
“because you have a fever.”
“i don’t like it!”
you move closer to the bed, and mike immediately shifts, making room without thinking about it. his hand twitches like it wants to reach for you, then stops halfway, like he’s suddenly remembered he’s supposed to have some dignity. “she made me eat soup already.” he tells you.
she gives you a look. the look of a woman who has been dealing with this for three days straight. “i’ll be downstairs. yell if his fever spikes. or if he collapses. or if he starts being dramatic.”
“i’m not dramatic.”
the door closes.
mike exhales, then he looks at you again, and his face crumples a little. “i feel really bad,” he admits. “everything hurts. my head feels weird. and my throat hurts. and my nose is useless. and every time i cough it feels like my chest is trying to turn itself inside out.”
his eyes flick down to the empty space next to him on the bed, then back up to you. then down again. pointed. “…you don’t have to stand,” he says, carefully casual. “you can— sit. if you want.”
you hesitate. his brows knit together, offended. “i’m not contagious from looking at me.”
“i know that.” you roll your eyes.
“i’m already dying, you can’t make it worse.” he shifts again, clearly uncomfortable, clearly warm, clearly annoyed that you’re still standing.
“i just don’t want to get sick,” you say, reasonable. calm. unfair, apparently.
mike makes a face like that’s the most hurtful thing anyone’s ever said to him. his mouth twists. “so you think i’m gross.”
“i think you have a fever.”
“same thing.” he mutters bitterly.
you sigh, already resigned, and reach for the glass of water on his nightstand. “drink.”
he eyes it suspiciously. “why do you get to boss me around.”
“because i’m the only one you’re not actively arguing with.”
he opens his mouth to protest, then stops. considers this. his shoulders slump. “…fine.” he takes the glass from you with both hands, like it’s heavier than it should be, and takes a careful sip. his throat works as he swallows, face pinching briefly with discomfort. “see?” he whines. “it hurts.”
“drink anyway.”
it seems he got what he wanted. you to be there and validate his misery, and so he does. another sip. then another. slower this time. he’s still frowning, but noticeably less combative. when you take the glass back he doesn’t complain, just watches you set it down. “i don’t know, i guess you’re nicer about it.” he admits.
“about what?”
“everything. she tells me what to do like i’m five.”
“you are acting like you’re five.”
he glares weakly. you step closer without thinking this time and sit down on the edge of the bed. not fully next to him, but close enough that your knee brushes the blanket. you lift a hand and run your fingers gently through his hair, damp with sweat and sticking up in every direction. it’s softer than usual, curls loose and messy. he makes a small sound before he can stop himself and his eyes flutter shut. when he opens his eyes, they’re huge and glossy and absolutely unfair. big, miserable, hopeful. the famous mike wheeler puppy eyes.
“how bad is it?” you ask, gently, already regretting phrasing it like that because mike immediately seizes it as an opportunity to give a full medical report.
“terrible,” he says flatly. “…i mean—obviously.” he coughs once, then groans. “my head is pounding and my throat is like fire.”
“okay, but your fever isn’t that high?”
“it’s high enough! high enough to be concerning! listen, i know my body. i’ve been alive long enough to know that—if i live through this, which i might not—i will be telling stories about this for the rest of my life.”
you roll your eyes. “you’re fine. you’re sick, but you’re fine.”
his shoulders slump a fraction. “…but… you shouldn’t have to deal with this... i’m inconvenient…. i’m warm... i’m a burden…. i cough and sneeze and produce gross fluids….”
“i can handle it.” you say.
he sighs, head falling back into the pillows, eyes half-lidded. “you’re right. you should.”
“okay.” you murmur, hand brushing through his damp, moppy hair again, which earns a tiny, helpless noise somewhere between a whine and a sigh, basking in the fact that you’re here. that you’re not his mom. that you’re not forcing him to eat soup. that someone is giving him this much attention without complaint.
“…how much longer do i have? …before i die?”
you bite back a laugh. “a while. you’re fine.”
he blinks at you slowly, like he’s weighing something important, like the answer to life itself, then his mouth twists. “…a while,” he repeats, skeptical. “you say that now.”
you snort, shifting closer on the bed anyway, because for all his theatrics he looks genuinely wrecked—cheeks flushed, lashes clumped just a little from watery eyes, hair sticking up in damp, defeated angles. he tracks the movement immediately. always does. even half-dead, apparently.
mike wheeler does not like being taken care of. this is a known fact. he hates feeling helpless, hates the implication that he can’t handle himself, hates soup being pushed at him and adults hovering and the whole humiliating production of being sick. you? you’re different. it’s like the perfect excuse to have all of your attention falls right into the palms of his hand.
and he knows it.
“i just feel like if i fall asleep i might not wake up.”
“mike.”
“i’m serious,” he insists weakly. “that’s how it happens. people underestimate these things.”
“you have a cold.”
“a bad cold.”
you reach out, press the back of your fingers to his forehead again, mostly to shut him up. his eyes close like his body just gives up the fight entirely. he leans into the touch without even thinking about it, you can practically see the relief wash through him at being allowed to be miserable out loud.
he stays like that for a second too long for it to be accidental. mike hates this. he hates being seen like this. helpless, sniffling, visibly not okay. he hates the idea of being handled. hates the implication that he needs someone hovering over him, checking his temperature, reminding him to drink water like he’s five years old again. but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he presses closer, forehead nudging into your fingers. his lashes flutter, and when his eyes open they’re glassy and unfocused and very deliberately fixed on you. “see? i told you.”
you don’t even ask what he means. you just sigh softly, fingers sliding into his hair, and that’s when he really melts. mike wheeler is a sucker for pity. he’d never admit it—not in a million years—but sympathy hits him somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t have good defenses for. it makes him feel seen without having to ask. cared for without having to explain himself.
right now? he’s absolutely clocked that you’re giving it freely. it starts subtle. a scoot closer. then another. then suddenly he’s tugging gently at your wrist, like he’s not even sure he’s allowed to ask, but hoping you’ll understand anyway. “can you— .. can you lay down? just— for a minute.”
you hesitate, enough for him to clock it, and his face immediately folds into that look. the one that should be illegal. the one that says i’m sick and i’m fragile and why would you deny a dying man his last wish all at once. “…please.” he adds, quieter.
so you give in. of course you do. the second you settle beside him he moves like he’s been waiting for the cue. he turns onto his side and hooks an arm around your waist, pulls you in with surprising strength for someone who’s supposedly on death’s door. his head tucks against your chest, cheek pressing into you, nose warm through the fabric.
it’s funny how selective mike is about being taken care of. on paper, he’s terrible at it. always has been. he flinches at fussing. bristles when his mom hovers in the doorway with that worried crease between her eyebrows, asking if he needs soup, needs a blanket, needs to lie down. he snaps, insists he’s fine when he’s clearly not, pulls himself upright just to prove a point. he’s spent most of his life being the one who watches, who plans, who stays awake longer than he should just in case something goes wrong. letting himself be the weak one feels wrong. embarrassing. but then there’s this. this very specific exception he never questions.
when he’s sick—really sick, feverish and miserable and stripped of the energy it takes to be defensive—something in him softens. not all the way, but enough. “just for a minute,” like minutes haven’t always turned into hours with him, like he doesn’t already know exactly what he wants. the moment you give in, he takes it.
mike doesn’t think he likes attention. he’d say he doesn’t need it. he’d roll his eyes, scoff, make a joke about being babied. the truth is that he’s a sucker for it. not praise or fuss or a whole room focused on him. he likes this kind. singular. undivided. the kind where someone chooses him and stays. the kind where all the noise drops away and there’s just one person paying attention to the way he breathes, the way he shifts, the way his fingers curl weakly into fabric.
he is, objectively, the most dramatic sick person alive. a sore throat becomes a sign. a fever becomes a warning. his head pounds and suddenly he’s thinking about mortality, about how people don’t take him seriously when he says something’s wrong, about how the last time he ignored a bad feeling the world almost ended. of course he thinks he’s dying. his body feels wrong and his brain has never been great at not spiraling. so he sighs like it costs him something. he closes his eyes longer than necessary. he mutters things like “i think i’m getting worse,” in that quiet, rasped voice that’s just this side of pathetic, like he’s reporting facts instead of fishing. he doesn’t ask for reassurance, but he listens very carefully when it’s given.
his arm tightens around your waist, and then his leg slides forward too, tangling with yours in a way that makes it clear he’s not going anywhere. he’s warm—too warm—heat bleeding through layers, through the thin space between you, all fever and proximity and zero regard for personal space. he noses closer, face pressing fully into your chest now, like if he can’t see you then you definitely can’t tell him to move. his breath is hot and a little uneven where it hits your skin.
he clings. that’s the only word for it. fingers gripping fabric at your side, arm locked around you, legs hooked over yours. every few seconds he shifts, minutely, like he’s trying to get even closer, even though there’s no space left. “mike,” you murmur. “you’re really hot.”
he hums, lazy, muffled. doesn’t lift his head. “i know.”
“no, i mean—” you laugh softly, already doomed. “you’re making me hot.”
“oh. sorry.” he says, dutiful. apologetic in theory.
he does not move.
if anything, he settles more, cheek rubbing against you, arm tightening again, stubborn now. you sigh and let it happen. you could tell him to move. you could point out—again—that he’s basically a walking space heater, that he’s sweating through your shirt, that this is the least hygienic decision either of you could be making right now. you could remind him that he hates being coddled and that if he were lucid and healthy he’d already be apologizing himself into a spiral. but you don’t.
he’s content. genuinely, visibly content in a way you don’t get to see very often. even when he’s relaxed sometimes it’s like he’s waiting for the next thing to go wrong. right now, though, there’s none of that. you card your fingers through his hair once more and he reacts instantly. a quiet noise slips out of him before he can stop it, low and pleased, and his forehead presses more firmly into you like he’s trying to disappear there.
there’s something almost funny about it. this is the same guy who gets embarrassed when people fuss over him, who bristles when anyone implies he can’t handle something on his own. the same guy who insists he’s fine right up until he’s very clearly not. with you, he doesn’t bother pretending. maybe because he doesn’t have to explain himself. maybe because he knows you won’t make a big deal out of it. maybe because pity, when it’s gentle, feels less like a weakness and more like permission to be soft. “you okay?” you ask, mostly rhetorical.
he nods against you, the movement small and sleepy. “mhm.” another pause. “don’t stop.”
you don’t. you trace patterns along his scalp, and he relaxes more with every pass, weight sinking into you. his leg stays hooked over yours, anchoring you there just as much as his arm around your waist does. you think about how you’re definitely going to regret this later. about germs and fevers and the fact that he’s been coughing directly into your personal space for the better part of an hour. you think about how you absolutely do not care.
this is rare. mike letting himself be held without making it weird or pulling away at the last second. mike choosing comfort over pride. eventually, his breathing evens out completely. not asleep—he’s not that lucky—but hovering somewhere close, eyes closed, face slack, body heavy with exhaustion and relief. he shifts once, nose nudging into you, and mumbles something unintelligible that sounds suspiciously like your name.
you smile and stay like that for a long time. long enough that your arm starts to ache a little. long enough that you’re pretty sure he’s stealing your body heat and replacing it with whatever plague he’s carrying. worth it.
a few days later, when your throat is scratchy and your head feels suspiciously warm and mike—fully recovered and unbearably smug—hands you a glass of water and goes, “wow. that’s crazy. wonder how that happened.”
you glare at him over the rim.
he grins, unapologetic.
you’d do it again.
based off the first request !
A/N: HI MY LOVELIES. quick little soft!mike blurb i hope this wasn’t too ooc… i got this ask yesterday but i actually had this exact plot in the drafts already so this was perfect.. sorry for the small disappearance !! i missed u all mwa mwas . ALSO??? the amount of love im getting for my mike fics guys THANK YOU!!!! i’m literally him you don’t get it 😭✌️. i’m so happy you’re enjoying my characterization he’s my evil son and i hate him (he deserves the world)
Can I request a fic where Mike had a really bad day and then reader says something that’s obviously meant to be a joke, or idk buys him the wrong order of food etc but he gets really upset and takes it to heart and starts crying and reader realizes something is definitely wrong because he’s never that sensitive and she gets him to open up to her about how stressed he’s been etc and she just helps him get through the day and feel better.
i love that one! thanks for your request :)
I don't think I exactly wrote what you wanted, but i hope you enjoy it! and I can write another one if you don't!
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KIND LOVE
Mike Wheeler x reader
summary: you always knew that Mike had the habit of keeping everything to himself, but, you didn't knew that he would pour everything onto you in one night.
WARNINGS! a little bit of angst, fluff, Mike not knowing how to talk
You and Mike have been through hell and back, together, but tonight was different.
You watched silently the boy on your couch, he was quiet, only staring at the floor since you brought him inside.
Karen and Ted were attacked, Holly was taken, Eleven went to Upside Down and Will was having his visions again, Mike probably was trying to get everything together, you knew that it was too much, that's why you brought him to your house after leaving the hospital, Nancy had Jonathan to talk, but Mike only had you.
You and Mike were dating for 5 years by now, but your relationship started way back, being there with him since you were little kids, so the thought of Mike keeping everything to himself was cruel, because you cared about him deeply, knowing how to read his emotions and knowing when to be there, it didn't mattered if he talked to you or not, you only wanted him to feel seem.
Finishing the hot chocolate you were making, you immediately walked to your boyfriend and placed the mugs on the table.
Mike stared at the drinks, the thought of drinking it made him sick, feeling nauseous. The marshmallows floating over the brown liquid, was not something he wanted to see right now, but then, you laid a sandwich, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
He felt so pathetic, so weak, as he stared at the jelly on the plate, his mind going to the image of Nancy with blood on her clothes, to his mother bleeding on a hospital bed. You didn't tried to upset him, you had all the good intentions, but the sight of the red jelly splattered around the plate, made him stress over the happenings.
It was such a stupid reason to cry, he never cried in front of you, not even once! Because you were always the one crying, he had to be there for you, not the other way round, he had to be the leader or the knight that saved you. Not you that needed to lead or save him.
But before he could even think more of it, his eyes started to sting, his vision started to get blurry, the tears he held back all those years, seemed to jump out of his eyes, out of his heart.
— Mike? - you called him softly, when noticed the puff cheeks he had from trying to hold back - Mike, love - you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, he never felt so exposed on his life.
— I didn't want that sandwich - he said faintly, you looked at the food and back to him.
— It's ok, baby, I can make you something else, but you need to eat something, ok? - you said so softly that he felt the tears come even harder than before, his breath starting to shake - I think, I have some leftovers from my lunch, would it make you better, Mikey? - you asked ready to go back to the kitchen, but he held your hand tightly, pulling on your sweater slightly.
You didn't wanted to push Mike, he was already fragile from all the events from today, but when you turned and saw his lips trembling, his eyes getting lost trying to hold back every single tear that threatened to fall, your heart tightened.
— Please, please, just stay - he pleaded, his voice failing, you sighed and scooted closer to him.
— Of course, love - you whispered, waiting for him to reach out or any slight movement that would show an opening for you to hold him.
But Mike stayed frozen on his spot, you watched him swallowing dry, trying to breath, trying to do anything.
— Mike, come here - you finally said something, pulling him to your embrace, he was stiff, but when his head encountered the fabric of your sweater, he started to break.
Mike's silent sobs made you shiver, you could only see the 3-years-old boy, the one you ran around with.
— It's ok, baby, it's ok to cry, I'm right here with you - you caressed his hair - I'm not going anywhere - the small promise, was the final straw.
His cries started to get louder, he gripped on your sweater, pulling you even closer to himself, it was like you would disappear if he didn't, but you were right there, holding him.
Mike felt like he just vomited over you, he felt vulnerable, but you didn't judged him, not even once, only staying there, listening to his crying, whispering sweet nothings to him.
Your love was so kind to him, like he was bruised from all the punching, he gave to himself and you were there to make them disappear, take care of his wounds.
His eyes were red and itchy from all the tears he poured, but you waited, you waited until he felt that he took everything off his chest.
When he pulled away to look at you, your eyes softened, your gaze over him didn't felt like pressure, just reassurance.
— Do you want to talk? - you asked and caressed his cheek, wiping poorly some os his tears.
— I'm sorry, I'm just... so... - he stuttered, trying to find words.
— There is no need to be sorry, love, I'm here with you and for you, if you want to cry, you're allowed to cry, if you want to complain, please do complain and if you ever want to talk, about anything, just know that I'm always all ears for you - you said and brushed his hair with your fingers - It's ok, to feel things, we all do, I just... I don't like to see you suffocating on them, you're 17, Mike... no teenager deserves to suffocate with his own feelings - your voice melted on his brain, he held your arm in comfort.
— It's too much, everything that happened today, was too much - he said and you nodded - If I... if I... - his voice broke - I don't know, I just feel like, that I could've prevented all of this, from Holly to my parents, I could've stopped them of getting hurt! Now, they are in the hospital and I don't know where Holly is, if she is hurt or even worse! I'm supposed to take care of this! I had to protect them and I failed! And I keep failing every time, Holly is missing, my parents were attacked, El went to Upside Down, alone! And.. and... Will's visions are getting worse and I can't do anything to stop this! And they are all hurt while I'm here, I need to do something, but I can't even think, I need to think and I can't! What if something worse happens? What if it happens and I'm not there, I'm here drinking hot chocolate while I was supposed to save them! - he started to ramble, his grip on your arm getting tighter to every worry on his mind - What if something happens to you? - he asked and you sighed - I can't let this continue! - he exclaimed.
— Mike - you called him and he looked into your eyes - We couldn't prevent everything that is happening, we did everything we could, love, sometimes you forget that we are kids, we are still kids - you said and took his hand on yours, intertwining your fingers - Maybe in a different time, we could've prevented this things from happening, but right now? Baby, we are not super heroes, we can't save everyone and I know, I know that you tried, we all did, but no one could've seen this coming - you said.
— I should've seen, after Max... - he stopped, Max was still a weak spot on you.
— I know, love - you whispered - But Mike, what happened to Max... we tried, we tried everything and it happened, unfortunately some things don't go the way we want to, I'm still recovering from this and.. it's hard, to believe in my own lies, like... sometimes I lay in bed and I think, that if I blocked the door, Jason wouldn't have walked in, he wouldn't have broken the walkman, that if I stayed with Erica, maybe Lucas could've saved Max, if I was strong enough, I would've saved her... - you caressed his arm - But if we live a life full of "what if's", there is no space to the "oh well's", we can't stop everything from happening, we can't prevent everything and if we think too much - you chuckled bitterly - We will end up buried alive with our own thoughts and that's bad, that's really bad, so... listen, you tried everything Mike, everything that you could, ok? It's not your fault, you need to understand, that you are not supposed to save everyone, you can't save everyone, it would be great if you did, but life is not like this, Mike... and it's ok, don't pressure yourself to do everything, you are not made of steel baby, you are all flesh and bones, you are human and may I remind you, that you're still a child, we can't do much, we can't even take care of ourselves, imagine taking care of others... - his eyes were full of regrets and sadness - You may be my hero, Mike, but you are not a hero of the world, we are trying and we will fail and we will fall, but we always find a way out, we always figure something out, don't beat yourself for this - you kissed his hand.
It was a simple act that made his worries vanish for some seconds.
— I'm really sorry about your family, but we will find Holly, I can promise you this, I cannot promise about your parents though because I'm no doctor, but I feel it, I feel that everything will be just fine... and I'll be here for you, so you don't get to go through this alone and... well, El knows how to take care of herself, she is tough and I made her promise to come back in one piece or I would delete all of her Miami Vice episodes - you muttered the last part and he chuckled - And Will has us, we can't stop his hive mind of working, but he will always has us to protect him in any case, you're not alone in this, we are all here for you, I'm here for you - Mike leaned on your shoulder - And nothing is gonna happen to me, I'm really boring for Vecna and I'm really tough with the Demogorgons, so don't worry about it - you joked and he gave you a small smile - And you, my brave soldier - your free hand went back to his hair - I'm pretty sure that everyone would be fine if you are drinking hot chocolate right now, all super heroes need a break too and yours is well deserved - you smiled - And a shower, you deserve a really warm shower with all my fancy products right now - you said.
— Are you saying that I stink? - he asked chuckling.
— This words never left my mouth - you laughed - But... it would be great - you kissed his cheek - That's the cue for you to go take a shower - you whispered and he laughed - That's what I like to hear, go, there is some clothes on my wardrobe, you know your way around pretty boy - you smiled and he nodded.
When you both took a very deserved shower, you made another type of sandwich, despise Mike's complaints, and warmed your hot chocolates again.
Now, after you ate, you were lying on the couch, watching a weird, funny TV show, Mike had his head on your chest, lying between your legs, one of his arms were curled around you and the other was hanging from the couch, with your hands intertwined.
You messed with his curls, enjoying the peaceful moment from the chaotic day.
— Thank you - Mike muttered.
— For what? - you asked.
— For being here and listening to me - he said.
— I would do that in any other life, I had with you, baby - you smiled softly, Mike looked up and kissed your lips.
— I love you - he said.
— I love you too - you answered and went back to your comfy position.
I just found your blog and i really love your writing :>
I read your rules and i hope my request is fine to you! And i saw you write for stranger things too and i am so happy!
Could you do with Mike Wheeler that he thinks the reader forgot his birthday. And avoiding him since they are planning to surprise him and just everything is in a chaos (including their head and they rush one place to another). And Mike thinks he did something wrong or just the reader forgot his birthday. Because the reader talks to everyone else (like Will and Lucas and the others) and she doesn’t tell anything from their conversations to Mike and she lowers her voice when Mike’s around. It turns out the reader planned a surprise party for him. Angst to fluff
Thank you if you do it! Have a nice day/night! :>
ah omg thank you!!! I appreciate you reading the rules as well, I heavily appreciate it 🙏🙏 ; but this is so super duper cute omg im gonna have fun with this ehehehe ; thank you sm for requesting, hope you enjoy!! ; post writing me, im so sorry this feels SO LOMG omg this was rlly fun but I feel like I flopped a bit... aughhh idk 💔
MIKE WHEELER ; birthday surprise
summary ; mike thinks he did something wrong since you seem to be ignoring him, but youre just planning a surprise party for his birthday
warnings ; language
disclaimers ; set post vecna defeat and after the upside down is destroyed but el is still around & max is disabled & will just went through his first gay breakup but its teen girl drama tbh, theyre mentioned to be seniors but i set this somewhere in the 90s cause hot take st wouldve been better in the 90s ngl, henderhop & lumax endgame <3
word count ; 3.1k
masterlist
You woke up on the couch, cuddling with Mike, the dim light of the basement lamps illuminating the area. Dustin and El seem to be cuddled up under some blankets on the floor, where they fell asleep watching Dazed and Confused. Beside them, half falling off the loveseat, are Max and Lucas. Lucas is clinging to Max's waist, knees and below flat on the floor. Max holds her hands over his shoulders, hanging lazily over his spine, her legs practically cuddled under her boyfriend. Will lies across the opposite loveseat, sprawled out horizontally, arms and legs out like a plastic bag drifting through the wind. A yellow blanket lazily hangs over him, minus his feet, bringing him warmth.
Everything about last night was perfect.
After Will broke up with his first-ever boyfriend, the party came together to help support him. You'd all gotten pretty close with his first partner, but after learning some sketchy shit was going down behind the scenes, that got cut off quick. But, it's a part of life, and Will shall prevail. His first boyfriend wasn't his Vickie, and that's okay.
So, you all decided to come together and play some Dungeons and Dragons and watch some movies until you all passed out on the floor. With the aid of sandwiches, popcorn, candy, and a hell of a lot of snacks from the nearest gas station, you spent an entire day in Mike's basement, relishing in glory, happiness, and joy. To have all of your friends together like this, close, alive, even after everything that's happened, it's something you're grateful for, so much so that words can't describe it.
You roll off the couch, narrowly avoiding Dustin and El in the process, to make your way upstairs. Mike grumbles, reaching his arm out for you, noticing a missing prescense in the dream world. Your eyes widen, silently hoping he wont accidentally wake yhe others or yhat you woke him up.
"Morning," he mumbles, unable to open his tired eyes.
"G'morning, Mike," you whisper from the stairs, "I need food, go back to sleep,"
Before he can utter a 'd'you remember what today is?', he realizes you've already crept your way upstairs. He mumbles again and covers his eyes with his arm, falling asleep in an instant.
You notice Karen is already making breakfast for you all, setting up a line of bowls for cereal at the kitchen island. She smiles upon noticing you emerge from the basement.
"Good morning, sweetie," she grins, "Have a fun night?"
You nod, struggling to keep your eyes open after having stayed up so late. "Yeah. Where's Nance and Holly?" you wonder, knowing they'd be at breakfast at the asscrack of dawn.
She chuckles, "Holly went to the library, and Nancy went to the Squawk by herself. House is quiet, it's so nice." she comments, pouring milk over the bowls of Froot Loops.
Wow, you forgot you hadn't checked the time. It was surprisingly quiet, peaceful, to tell the truth. Karen and Ted got a divorce, and since all the kids still lived in the house and Holly and Mike were still minors, their custody was a battle for the history books. Ted settled for child support, seeing as he clearly couldn't care less about his kids, he couldn't remember Mike's birthday or even remember how old Holly was. So, with a new job, child support, and help from Nancy, she was managing well as a newly single mom.
Speaking of birthdays, it was Mike's today.
You'd been planning a surprise party with the help of the party and Karen, and had invited all of your close allies in the fight against the Upside Down, the ones who cared to remember his birthday. So, you needed to find a way to get the house decorated around your nosey boyfriend, and be sneaky about it so he wouldn't find out. Karen ordered a cake, customized just for him, so all you had to do was pick it up, and she promised to try and keep him out of the house as much as she could this rainy April weekend.
You lean against the island as you munch on some brain food, needing it to try and silently plan your act of attack for the day. Mike's going to want to spend the day with you, and he's going to hate you for even throwing a party, but he's turning eighteen, and you want it to be special for him. Not long after, Dustin, Max, and El join you upstairs. Max still seems to be asleep, either way, she'd need Lucas' help getting back upstairs, along with Will and Mike.
Dustin and El stand on your right while Lucas fixes himself on your left.
You turn to Lucas first, "So, today. I'm gonna get the cake first and bring it back, since the bakery and everything else are on two other ends of town. Would you be okay distracting him downstairs for an hour or two?"
He nods, "Aye aye, captain."
You smile and turn to the couple next to you. "I'm gonna get party decorations next. I spotted some D&D-themed stuff while out and about, and Robin and Jonathan are gonna hook me up with some custom stuff they'd been working on, with Will's help. So that means I'm going to Party City and then Hopper's cabin. While I'm gone, do whatever, but I'll radio when I get close to back. When I approach, I need you to get him as far away from here as you can for maybe three hours."
Dustin nods with a little salute while El smiles in response.
"So... I'll get done maybe around four? And everyone's gonna be here by five. So I'll try to give him some time for us, you guys come back here and make sure everything is alright, and radio when you're all set for us to come back. I'll radio when we turn the corner so you have ample time to hide and light the candles when we walk in." you nod, gulping down a spoonful of sweet milk.
The three nod in response, finding your idea rather clever even though they're too tired to find the words to voice their opinions.
"So, all I really need you guys to do is keep contact with me, and make sure he doesn't catch onto anyth-" before you can finish, the basement door behind you opens up, and you quickly zip your lips shut.
Karen rounds the corner, returning from her room as she was changing her bedding. "Oh, good morning, Mike."
"Morning, Mom."
"Good morning Will,"
"Morning, Ms. Byers."
"Max alright?"
"Yeah, she just woke up."
"Oh, good. Bring her up so she can eat, alright? I'm heading to the store, you need anything?"
Mike shakes his head and joins you at the island, pulling a bowl of soft, kinda soggy cereal, towards himself. He's wearing the Star Trek pajama pants you got him for Christmas. Your heart is about to melt. Will stands beside Lucas before he moves back downstairs to bring Max up so she can eat as well. Her wheelchair usually stays upstairs, given the basement isn't very accessible for her, also given the stairs.
"What were you talking about?" Mike asks, covering his mouth as he talks with his mouth full of food.
"Nothing," you answer nonchalantly, trying to keep him off your tail.
"So..." he trails, expecting you to at least wish him a happy birthday. "What are we doing today?"
You shrug. "I need to run some errands."
His little smile falters. "Oh, okay."
You notice him glancing at the others, hoping they'd say what he was looking for. Maybe you'd accidentally forgotten, like it slipped your mind after the sleepover. Still, Will, Dustin, and El are dead silent.
Seeing him like that on his birthday is making you rethink your life choices. You cannot stand it. You aren't sure if you can pull this off without ruining the surprise.
You quickly finish your cereal, unable to see your boyfriend puppy pout over breakfast like this. You rush downstairs and change in the bathroom, then make your way outside without even saying goodbye.
Mike turns to Lucas and Dustin when he hears the front door lock shut. He's unable to say anything. He isn't sure what he even wants to say.
Max and El only smirk at each other, eyeing the walkie-talkie resting between the redhead's legs.
Luckily for you, Mike is someone who can very easily be distracted, especially when he's a little upset or sad. The rest of the party managed to distract him with a new game of D&D that Max had been working on. Her story worked without your presence, and if they ever picked it up again, you could slide right in and they could catch you up rather quickly.
You sneak into the Wheeler household with a white box in your hands, on the top, labeled with a black marker, reads 'WHEELER BIRTHDAY CHOCOLATE'. You almost wanted to snort every time you read it, such a blunt, but effective, description.
As you turn into the kitchen, you learn Karen had returned from the store.
"Oh, you got it?" she smiles
You smile and nod, "He's gonna love it. You nailed it, Ms. Wheeler."
She chuckles, opening her hands to take the cake, "I'll hide it in the back of the fridge for you,"
"Thank you, thank you," you graciously smile, "I told the others that I'm gonna go get decorations, and I'll radio or call when I'm close, so I'll need Mike out of the house by then. Will you be home in maybe, like, two-ish hours?"
Karen takes a moment to think, "Yeah, I think so. I'll send the kids on a grocery mission, or ask them to get Holly from her friend's house."
"Thank you so much, Ms. Wheeler, you're a godsend,"
"Hey," Mike interrupts, emerging from the basement, "You're back."
You nod, trying to hide the panic lying within you. Karen returns to sorting the groceries away. Mike raises an eyebrow.
"What were you talking about?"
"Nothing,"
You seem to be talking about a whole lot of nothing to him today. Will emerges from behind him.
"Hey, did you get it?" he asks.
"Hm?" you hum, "Oh, yeah. I got it."
Will nods and throws a thumbs-up, trying to give you the notion that he heard what you and Karen had said, but Mike hadn't.
Mike furrows his brows, looking between you two, utterly confused and bumfuzzled. "What is 'it'?"
"Nothing," you answer in unison.
Mike stares at you, trying to find answers within your eyes. He feels like you're hiding something from him, and on his birthday, which you didn't even acknowledge. You'd been talking about how special you wanted to make his birthday for him, and now you're here, and he feels totally ignored.
You turn back to Will, unbothered. "I'll radio later,"
He nods before returning to the basement, leaving you to make a beeline to the door once more. Before you can escape Mike's suspicious glare, he grabs your wrist.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Why are you being so secretive today?" he asks, voice cracking a bit as he speaks so quietly.
"It's nothing, Mike."
You managed to get the decorations up in the house, thanks to Karen amongst Will and El staying back while Lucas, Dustin, and Max went out to grab some groceries under Ms. Wheeler's instructions. Now was the time for them to come back and prepare with Mrs. Wheeler and wait for everyone to show up while you spent time with Mike.
When they were leaving and you were hiding around the side of the house, you heard Mike complaining a bit. He seemed to be upset about you leaving him high and dry today, but he never mentioned it being his birthday. He probably gave up on it, just wanting you to spend time with him.
You felt pretty bad, noticing his slumped posture and puppy dog frown. The aura of sadness radiated off of him.
Your walkie buzzes before the familiar sound of Lucas' voice emits.
"Hey, we're almost back at the cul-de-sac."
You grab the hand radio and click on the side button to respond, "Copy that."
You move to the porch with your backpack, awaiting their arrival. Upon doing so, Lucas and Dustin empty Mike's hands, as he was the one holding the bags, and rush inside, making sure not to let him get a peek inside from the door. He lags behind, seeming a little miserable, allowing you to have a hushed conversation with Max.
"Just let me know when everyone's here and settled. I'll radio again when we're close." you mutter to the girl.
She gives you a thumbs up, "He's clueless. Have fun."
As she moves inside, you block Mike's line of sight of the door. "Hi."
He doesn't answer. You can tell he's upset with all this hushed conversation, and how all his friends, and significant other, had seemed to entirely forget his birthday. Even his mom and sisters had, and he apparently couldn't get away, he just had to pretend his special day was just another ordinary day.
You raise an eyebrow, a little concerned. "Hey?"
He blinks before muttering. "Hi."
"So..." you trail, pulling his hands into yours, "Whatcha wanna do, pretty boy?"
He's rather quiet. The pet name doesn't even phase him, which usually does. He doesn't try to hide his dorky little smile and red cheeks, it's not even there.
"Mike?"
You've seemed to have snapped him back to reality, even though he seemed present in the moment beforehand.
"Uhm..." he shrugs, refusing to make eye contact with you, which is beyond odd, but given the circumstances, you understand. "We could watch a movie downstairs?"
"Uhm..." you nervously trail, "Anything outside the house?"
He bites the inside of his cheek, "We could go on a bike ride to no where?"
You agree with this and swiftly grab your bike. He moves to the door, but you grab his wrist before he can touch the door handle.
"Hey, uh, I thought we were gonna go ride?" you nervously smile, standing in front of the door.
"I was gonna get snacks-"
"Oh, no, I have plenty! C'mon, let's go."
As you walk your bikes down the cul-de-sac, you notice that Mike stops as you reach view of his house. You stop beside him, curious.
"You okay?" you ask cautiously.
He bites his tongue before speaking. "Not really."
"Oh?" you turn your complete attention to him once kicking your bike stand down, "What's wrong?"
He mutters under his breath before kicking his bike stand down and properly facing you. "Everyone forgot my birthday. My mom did, my sisters did, the party did, and you did too! And you've been acting all secretive and weird today, everyone has! I feel like all of you have been making me try to ignore the fact you've been running around doing 'errands' all day, and you get all hushed talking to the others, and you're telling me it's nothing!"
You frown. You were hoping this wouldn't happen, but Mike isn't the type of person to pick up on a potential surprise, or one who can stand being treated so oddly on his own birthday. He's been ignored all day by everyone he loves, distracted by it all because of your demands. He thinks you're a little selfish, really. All he wanted to do was watch a movie with you in his basement, and you shrugged it off to go do something out of the house, the only place he wanted to be right now.
"You're acting so weird, and kind of mean, and..." he groans, fingers tied in his raven hair, "I-I don't..."
You quickly wrap him in a hug, mumbling into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mike. I promise, what I have to show you isn't an excuse, but a reason. It doesn't excuse my behavior, but I hope it explains it."
He's stiff as you hug him. He doesn't want to. He's tough when it comes to things like this, especially when it comes to taking back words and him feeling ignored and slightly belittled.
You pull away, slowly and softly pulling his hands from his hair, "Please, just come back to the house with me. It'll make sense."
Thankfully, he isn't a tight ass, he never has been. He follows you, even if his head hangs low and he seems miserable as all hell. You lean your bike against the porch and set your backpack down on the ground, Mike stares at you as you pull your walkie out.
"Landing inbound," you mutter into the radio before tossing it back in your backpack.
He stands over you crouched on the ground, jaw clenched and fists balled. He isn't going to hurt you, he'd never fathom the thought, ever, but he's frustrated and tired. He's walked and biked miles all day long to places he doesn't want to be at, and now you're attempting to reason with him by... bringing him home and radioing the others?
You lead him to the door and knock three times. He stands behind you, patiently waiting for your reason to magically appear before his eyes as Karen opens the door. She smiles and allows you entrance. You move behind him and usher him to the kitchen with your hand over his eyes, as he seems to be less than entertained.
Karen rushes in front of him, shooting you a silent thumbs up as she makes her way back to the kitchen. You eye balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling around the corner, biting back the world's biggest smile as you do.
You stop Mike by pressing on his waist with your free hand. He exhales like a moody teen boy. You mouth to Karen, who illuminates the candles on his blue chocolate cake. You slowly release the hand you have pressed on his eyes, and smile as the party, amongst the group of older teens, Joyce, and Hop, reveal themselves from behind the kitchen island.
"Happy birthday, Mike!"
His face literally goes from moody teenage boy to your happy little prince in a matter of seconds. It's precious to watch.
He giggles, the tips of his ears growing red. "I?"
You laugh, "Sorry for being an asshole today, I truly apologize from the bottom of my heart. I was busy setting all this up for you, I just wanted today to be special, and I didn't consider what you may want instead of what I want for you. That was wrong. I love you. Happy birthday, Mike."
He wraps you in a tight hug, "I love you too, thank you."
The rest of the party moves to topple you both into a hug. Lucas literally holds Max by the waist with one arm, allowing her to join comfortably. Mike cackles, crushed by his friends' embrace.
Happy to see someone taking requests for Mike since there is SERIOUSLY a lack of fanfics for him. I was hoping perhaps a little angst hurt/comfort fic... like Mike being insecure about the fact he's been bullied his whole life and reader reassuring him there's nothing wrong with the way he is Idk something like that just let him suffer a little I trust you'll write something good ^_^
Anyone Else But You
Mike Wheeler x reader
"I'll see you at lunch okay? Mrs. Click will have my ass if I'm late again." you say before quickly kissing Mike.
"I'll see you then." he says with a lovesick smile on his face.
The bell rings as he locks both of your bikes onto the bike-rack when he hears someone behind him.
"I'll see you an lunch okay," says Andy, a dumb jock, in a mocking tone "you know that y/n's only with you out of pity right?"
"It really is sad" says another jock "no one will ever like a nerd like you frog face."
Mike doesn't give them a reaction so they walk away laughing, saying more insults in between laughs.
lunch at the cafeteria
As Mike, Lucas and Dustin sit down at their usual table, the basketball jocks called them names. Nothing that they hadn't heard before, they just got better at ignoring it.
"Could you guys not tell y/n about this? I don't want her to worry."
"Sure, but you know that she probably already knows?" says Dustin.
"Yeah, but still. I-" he gets cut off by you.
"Hey guys! You would not believe the morning that I've had. I mean, my math class is a total joke but, whatever. What were you guys talking about?"
"Nothing," Mike quickly says, rising some suspicion "just talking about..." He trails off, not thinking of a lie so he turns to Dustin and Lucas for help.
"We were talking about that new movie Hellraiser, or at least me and Lucas were talking about it. Mike was just off daydreaming of you, not even listening to us."
You turn and look at Mike who's looking at the table, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing. "Well I think that is very sweet" you say, giving Mike a kiss on the cheek "but also we should totally have a movie night and watch Hellraiser."
The rest of lunch went by rather smoothly, but Mike couldn't help but think about what people have said to him today, this year, let alone since he was in elementary school. As the bell rang, signalling that lunch was over, Dustin and Lucas went off to their history class while you and Mike went to the library for your spare. You go to your usual table by a window that lets the sun shine through, casting a warm glow on you that makes you look like an angel (at least that's what Mike thinks).
While doing schoolwork like you would normally do, you began to hear faint whispering began to get louder and louder. "frog face...frog face..."
You look over at Mike, and see that he's starring blankly at his textbook. You're about to ask him what's wrong before getting interrupted by Andy and his group of asshole friends.
"Hey frog face, we're talking to you! What are you doing, is your so called girlfriend hanging out with you cause you paid her to? You know, cause your a freak."
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" you say, feeling utterly enraged at the way they're speaking to your boyfriend.
"Y/n, just ignore them. It's not worth it."
As the jocks keep on saying things, you quickly pack up yours and Mikes things before grabbing Mikes hand and dragging him out of the library to the woods behind the football field.
"Y/n where are we going" says Mike, his voice sounding tired "y/n" you don't answer him, but rather keep on leading him to the picnic table that was just a bit farther in the woods "y/n what are you doing!" he says, his voice getting louder, his patience getting thin
"I just wanted to get you away from those idiots. I mean, did you hear what they were saying about you. They jus-" you get cut off by Mike.
"I don't care about what they said! If anything you just made it worse by dragging me out of the library because now they'll really think that your with me out of pity, treating me like I'm some sad fucking person who has to force people to be around them! And I know that what they said was bad but it's nothing that I haven't heard before. Assholes like those guys have tormented me and bullied me for my entire fucking life..."
You look at him, trying to hold back tears as you watch the person you love and care the most out of anyone you know break down. His breathing began coming in short bursts, a tell-tale sign that he was having a panic attack.
"They...they have bullied me for as long as i can remember and ive learned to just get used to it, but then they started talkig about you and I just shut down."
You pull him into a tight hug, and he buries his face into your neck. You know that he's started to cry.
"I didn't even say anything to defend you. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not worthy of you"
"Mike Wheeler, don't you dare for a moment say or think that you arent good enough for me. Those assholes don't know a single thing. You are one of the most amazing people that I have ever met, and you care so much about everyone that you love. You don't have to show them anything to prove that it's real."
His breathing starts to slow down as you hold him tight. One of your hands makes its way into his hair, massaging it and making him relax.
"I love you so incredibly much, and nothing that those douchebags say is going to change that. You have me forever and always" you kiss him on the space between his eyebrows "and I am so sorry that you've gone through this for so long, but now this isn't something that you have to hide from me. I want to be with you through good and bad, because you do not deserve to go through this alone."
You stand in silence for a while, until eventually Mike says something.
"So I assume that you noticed during lunch?" he asks, his voice quiet.
"Yeah, I overheard you telling Dustin and Lucas not to tell me so I assumed that you'd tell me sooner or later. Plus you and Dustin can't lie for shit. I mean, how many times have we heard him say that he hates Hellraiser."
Mike lets out a watery laugh as he unburies his face from your neck, looking at you instead.
"I'm sorry that I got mad at you."
"You don't have to apologize for anything Mike. I know that you weren't mad at me, you just needed to let out whatever pent up emotions that you had."
He leans in and kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck.
"I love you."
"I love you too Mike Wheeler. Always and forever."
Lowkey feel like this was a bit rushed, but it seems to have good enough bones, so I'm going with it.
Thanks for the request, and I can't wait to get some more! :)
max gains a minor instagram following for posting videos of her skating but her mild popularity is not bc she's like That good at it it's bc whoever's behind the camera is always like WOOOOOOOO MAXXXXXX HOLY SHIT THAT RIPPED‼️‼️‼️ and it isn't even the same person every time. there's like four different people who film her little videos and All of them hype her up like fucking crazy. one time she posts a video where she lands a trick and the guy behind the camera very flatly says woo 😐 and then max has to be like guys as funny as it is pls stop telling mike to kill himself it's not his fault my other friends cheer like weirdos.
nancy is still straight but she wishes she were bisexual so fucking bad.
steve is actually bisexual but people accuse him of faking it for clout because he's only ever dated girls.
robin was tumblr famous at like thirteen years old and it haunts her. one time steve was like lol rob look at this 😁 and held up his phone and showed her a screenshot of her own post from five years ago and she panicked and snatched his phone and flung it across the room and then tried to convince him that there was a spider on it.
speaking of stobin and cell phones they put each other's face id/fingerprint in their phones and swap passwords so they can always unlock each other's phones.
somebody definitely takes a picture of jonathan with his camera around his neck reading a book in public and posts it on twitter and captions it like "on his way to the performative male meetup" and jonathan never knows because he thinks social media is vapid and only has an instagram for Official Photography Purposes.
hopper finds out the kids have been posting pics with el in them on their private instas and he loses his mind like WE ARE HIDING FROM THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT and they're all like yeah that's why it's set to private... 🙄 duh.
joyce is always taking will and jonathan's phones and holding them at arm's length and squinting when they try to show her something.
erica is constantly getting her accounts suspended and banned on various social media platforms for cyberbullying so she has like eight different emails to get around it. her parents do not know that she is on any social media at all.
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