hiii twinn!!! <33 what about a mike wheeler and a pen pal!reader?? hmo like wouldn't it be cute if they were constantly sending letters to each other and like one day the party sees some really cute stationary/letter sticking out of mike's backpack and theyre like "YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND??" and hes like no wdym so then he starts questioning what he and reader even ARE and eventually he js confesses or sumthing?
anyways sorry for the cringe 2020 au posting and ily have a great day ^^ 💗💗💗
Actually almost choked when I read this you are so inspirational babes
Okok lemme lock in.
Notes of Love
Summary- Mike gets assigned a Pen Pal for a school assignment, not expecting for them to fall in love.
Warnings- None, just fluff i guess, and Mike being so confused about his feelings. No use of Y/N!
It’s 1986, and Hawkins, Indiana is still trying to recover from everything that’s happened over the last few years. Most people pretend things are normal again, even when everyone knows they aren’t. You’ve never actually met Mike Wheeler face-to-face, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. For the past several months, the two of you have been writing letters almost nonstop.
It started because of a school pen-pal assignment, something neither of you thought much about at first, but somewhere along the way it became the best part of both your days.
Mike’s letters are always messy and crowded with crossed-out words, rushed thoughts, and random jokes he probably thinks are funnier than they are. Still, every time one arrives, you read it cover to cover at least twice. He tells you things he doesn’t really tell anyone else—about his friends, about feeling stuck in Hawkins, about the weird fear that life will suddenly fall apart again. And you write back just as honestly.
One Tuesday afternoon, Mike is sitting in the Hawkins High cafeteria barely touching his lunch while Dustin and Lucas argue loudly about Star Wars for what feels like the millionth time. Will is half-listening, sketching absentmindedly on a napkin. Mike’s backpack hangs off the back of his chair, slightly open, and tucked inside the front pocket is the letter you sent him yesterday.
The envelope stands out immediately.
You’d used pale blue stationery with tiny silver stars printed around the border because it reminded you of something out of an old movie. Mike thought it looked nice, even if he’d never admit that out loud to his friends.
Dustin notices first.
“Dude, what is that?” he asks, already reaching for the envelope before Mike can stop him.
“Nothing—give it back,” Mike says instantly, but Dustin’s already pulled it free. Lucas leans over Dustin’s shoulder and bursts out laughing. “No way. Mike Wheeler’s hiding love letters now?” “It’s not a love letter,” Mike mutters, grabbing for it. Will tilts his head a little. “The paper’s pretty,” he says quietly. That only makes Dustin grin wider. “Oh my God, you totally have a girlfriend.”
Mike feels his face heat up immediately. “I do not.” “Then why’s she sending you fancy stationery?” Lucas asks. “Nobody writes letters like this unless they like somebody.”
Mike opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
Because the worst part is… he’s not completely sure they’re wrong.
He thinks about you constantly. He checks the mailbox every afternoon like it’s some kind of ritual. Sometimes he rereads your older letters when he’s supposed to be sleeping. He likes hearing about your day, even when you’re just complaining about homework or your little brother driving you insane. Somehow, none of it feels boring when it’s coming from you.
But love? That word feels way too big.
“What’s her name?” Dustin asks. “Have you guys met yet?” Mike hesitates. “No.” Lucas nearly chokes on his drink. “You’ve never even met her?” “We’re just friends,” Mike says quickly, though even to him it sounds uncertain.
Later that night, Mike lies flat on his bed with your newest letter resting against his chest. Rain taps softly against the window while he rereads the last few paragraphs over and over again. You wrote about school, about a book you’re reading, about how lonely your town feels sometimes. Then, near the end, you added something different.
“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we actually met someday. Would it feel the same in person? Or are some things only meant to exist in letters?”
Mike stares at the sentence for a long time.
Because he’s wondered that too.
More times than he’d ever admit.
He’s imagined meeting you at the arcade, or at school, or maybe at the bus station somewhere halfway between your towns. He’s imagined your voice. Your laugh. Whether you’d recognize each other instantly or stand there awkwardly pretending not to be nervous.
And honestly? The idea scares him a little.
What if meeting changes everything?
The next day he can barely focus in class. At lunch, Dustin keeps nudging him and making stupid kissing noises while Lucas laughs. Mike ignores all of it. Even after school, standing in the arcade surrounded by flashing lights and noisy machines, his thoughts drift right back to you.
Would you like Dig Dug?
Would you destroy everyone at Pac-Man?
Would you laugh at how competitive he gets?
That night he sits at his desk with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for nearly twenty minutes before finally starting to write.
At first he sticks to safe things—school, the arcade, Dustin being annoying. But before folding the letter, he pauses and adds one more sentence at the bottom.
“I don’t think meeting you would ruin this. I think it might make it real.”
The second he drops the letter into the mailbox the next morning, he regrets writing it.
Then he waits.
Three days later, your reply finally arrives. Mike practically tears the envelope open standing in the kitchen. The letter is shorter than usual, but one line makes his chest tighten instantly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Mike reads it again.
And again.
Then, for the first time all week, he smiles without even realizing it. A real smile. The kind that sneaks up on you. He still doesn’t know exactly what this thing between you is yet.
But he knows it matters. And for now, that’s enough.
