→KILL THE STEREO! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Mike W. x Weird girl! Reader
CONTENTS: Weird girl reader, romantical feelings, hcs, fem pronouns, socially awkward reader who loves expression and art, This was originally going to be a social media au for the stranger things cast but I decided against it because I felt a little nervous writing about real people and actors, sooo we're sticking to make believe! bullying, sweetness, young lurv, teasing, lemme know if there should be a part two of some sort??
YA'LL VOTED FOR IT SO IT'S HERE FIRST!
HCS BELOW THE MOODBOARD LOVLIESSS!!!°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
It all started when you got paired with the infamous Michael Wheeler for a creative project on a chemistry topic of your choice.
Unfortunately, for Mike: He was unable to choose his partner. Realistically, he would have chosen Dustin--alas, the day had been against him. It wasn't that he had an issue with you: no, no. You were also known around Hawkins High to be a freak, just like him and his friends. You typically stuck around the theatre kids, art geeks: You were one of the people who worked on the school's newspaper... even if it wasn't as popular as you would have liked...
The point is, you were just like any other nerdy-freakazoid out there. You liked what you liked, owned it, became friends with others who had similar interests... and now, it was time to loop Michael Wheeler into your madness.
However... there was no true madness--or, if there was, it would quickly be unmatched due to eventually finding out about interdimensional monsters and scary wormhole physics. No, you may have loved expression and uniqueness, but you were actually just as anxious and any teen out there. For now, though: it was just the two of you.
The two of you, working on a artistic (mandatory via rubric) posterboard on Nano chemistry of all things... In all honesty, you weren't quite sure what the hell that even was, but it was per Mike's request when you actually got together to talk about it.
The class was shuffled up and moved to sit next to their respective partners-- y'know, the ones that Mr. Clarke had pulled out of a hat.
You sat your books down as everyone moved the desks together into pods of two, shimmying your new desk in the class next to Mikes. The young man swallowed, eyes gazing at you as a familiar social anxiety began to creep up his neck.
As your eyes met, he gave you an awkward, pursed smile as he quickly looked back ahead at the chalk board, fingers playing with his beat up number two pencil. The two of you sat next to one another stiffly, listening while Clark went over the rules and rubric for the project once more: saying something about how even though you guys were older and almost out of high school, that you needed to have moments where you needed to be 'creative' and express yourself.... apparently, you were doing this by doing chemistry.
you cringed out a meek smile as he chuckled, pointing at you as he was using your uniqueness and love for art as a way to back up his point. "Isn't that right, Y/n?" He smiled wide. Mr. Clarke was one of your favorites. You may not have been the best at Chemistry class, but that didn't mean he didn't see your potential. In all honesty, you were pretty sure the teacher actually shed mercy on you while grading your work...
So, due to his obvious kindness, you nodded and replied. "Yep...!"
Mike looks to you with everyone else, practically able to feel how uncomfortable you were with all the eyes on you. It was simply not something you were expecting: but he could see it in the way you wiped your sweaty palms away on your jeans, taking a deep and shaky breath. He recognized it because he had done the same thing so many times before--just to put on a brave and calm facade at the worse of times.
Michael made a note to himself.
He had seen your work in art class from a distance... He had read small excerpts from the school paper that you wrote, where you went into detail and came off as so passionate about whatever small world issue you were allowed to actually cover in the schools moderated paper. And with said knowledge, he was a little surprised that you were so anxious. You wore brighter clothes, unique accessories some days when you felt more bold. He had noticed-- shit, it was hard not to.
"Psst.." You whispered as Clark rambled, trying to get his attention. You had seen how dead he looked staring up at the front of the classroom, assuming he was lost in whatever the teacher was saying. In reality, he was profiling you. Sizing you up, almost. Thinking about whether or not you two would clash.
He turned to you, your hushed efforts pulling him out of his own head as the teachers rambling faded into the background.
"Just to give you a heads up... I'm really bad at chem... We should probably do a topic that you're good at." you warned, giving him a small smile. You may have been scared shitless, nervous to talk to a new person... But you also weren't dense. You knew about Mike just like he knew about you: Simple things, stuff you observe from a distance. You knew he was a total dork, so you felt a little more reassured when talking to him.
It took him a second to process, but he eventually smiled and waved you off. "Oh- don't uh.. Don't worry about it... Clarke likes me, so I'm sure we'll get a good grade even if we bomb.." He whispered back, coming off more cheekily than he meant to. The two of you shared a small, huffed out laugh as you smiled at him, looking back to your notebook... Though, you stole one last glance at him when he focused back on Mr. Clarke.
Your mind wasn't focused on Mr. Clarke or what he was saying... No.
It was focused on your hallway crush: the one you just got paired up with. Gosh... the day was on your side!
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ You had been left with a few minutes to talk to your new seating neighbors and project partners. It was awkward, yes: but the two of you had politely discussed some brainstorming ideas.
"Uh-- Obviously I'm gonna try really hard on this, lord knows I need the grade..." You joked lightly. "But, I was kind of hoping that I could focus on most of the looks of things? Y'know.. Of the actual project?"
Mike looked at you like he didn't speak English, eyes searching yours as he tried to process what you were saying. He wasn't sure why, but the reality of talking to you was making him more nervous than he'd like to admit. You played with the end of your sweater sleeves, searching his eyes for some sort of answer. You tilted your head, ready to ramble on as a fear that you came off as lazy entered your wacky little brain.
"I-I mean, not that I won't put effort into the actual sourcing and information, I just... I don't wanna mess this up for either of us, so I was hoping we could kind of work together and uh... and what not---" You blurted out, gesturing timidly with your hands. In a way, it reminded him of Robin.
He quickly snapped out of it upon realizing you were getting a little scared at how he didn't reply right away. He cursed himself for being dumb, why did he do that??
"No--! Yeah, no of course. I've uh, seen some of your stuff. It's cool, real cool.." he trailed off, the compliment naturally coming off as unusual on his tongue. "Yeah, no, I think we can make something really nice, get a good grade n'stuff." He nodded, concluding what he was saying.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ So, you exchanged home phone numbers and agreed to call at around five o'clock after school to do some further planning. You wouldn't have time to do it today, seeing as by the time he finished replying to you, the bell had rung and you had to go to English while he needed to go to lunch.
You took out a pen with a pom pom on the end from your patched up back, scribbling down your phone number and handing it to him on a small pink sticky note. He did the same, but instead of a cutie peace of paper, it was with his pencil and a piece of torn notebook paper.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ With that, you two separated. Not before doing an awkward exchange of 'goodbyes'.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ At lunch, he was quick to shut everyone up.
"Alright alright... you guys will not believe this.." He sighed, bracing everyone with his elbows resting against the table and his palms open for his palms to see. Will looked a little concerned, tilting his head as he took a bite of a French fry. One colder than he'd like to admit.
Mike opened his mouth to continue, but Dustin cut him off as he sat in the spot Eddie used to. "Wheeler over here got paired with the newspaper girl." He spoiled. "Dude! I was gonna tell the story!" Mike whined, looking to the permed boy. Dustin shrugged in defense, taking a swig of his milk. "What story?? You two got randomly paired together and have to work together for the next four days to make up a shitty project for an easy grade."
"wait, wait-- Newspaper girl..?" Will cut in, completely lost. Lucas was in the same boat, nodding at his friends confusion. "yeah, we don't follow.."
Michael rolled his eyes, Dustin did too. "You know her-- She's the girl that wore all the colorful plaid that one day in Sophomore year and got made fun of by Stacy Holloway?" Mike explained loosely, trying to jog their memory while also wanted to get it over with so that he could talk about what he was going to say before Dustin interrupted him.
Will and Lucas looked at each other. "ohhhh.." They clocked, wiggling their fingers at one another. "Y/n L/n? The plaid puke girl?" Lucas asked to double check.
"Aw c'mon man, don't call her that." Mike scoffed. He knew that Lucas didn't mean anything by it-- the sad reality was that was what people knew you as thanks to that Stacy girl. After that fateful day... you laid off the plaid.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ "You are never going to believe this." You immediately say as you sit next to your best friend. They raise a brow, getting their notebook out for class. "believe what, exactly..?"
You look around to ensure that no one is looking before sitting down and instantly leaning towards them. They look at you surprised, brows raised at your intensity.
"I got paired with Mike Wheeler for a chem project..!" You whispered, his name coming out much quieter just to make sure the odds of someone overhearing were slim to none. your friends expression changed as they leaned back in interest, a smirk on their face. "No shit? The hellfire kid?"
"No shit! and yes!" You ensured. "Gosh, my heart dropped to my fucking stomach when Clark said his name after mine after pulling from the hat.." You whine out, flopping your head down on the desk. You were still processing, and with that came your dramatic tone and actions. "what hat...?" They asked. You shot back up, grabbing their wrists.
"Not the point!" You whispered loudly. They laughed, shaking their head. "Okay okay, relax, N/n..." They chuckled as you sighed and released them from your grip. You lean back in your squeaky chair, face palming. "God, he is so cute..." the way it comes out, it almost sounds like you're complaining. "And, and-- he's awkward, and nice, and so cute--did I say that already?"
"Y'know, I think you did?" Your friend nodded with a small smile. You groan. Your friend loved watching you freak out over this stupid crush. One time, you wouldn't shut up about how cute he looked on some random ass Wednesday in your junior year. "So... What are you guys gonna do?" they questioned.
"I don't really know yet... We exchanged numbers, so--"
"You exchanged numbers!?!"
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Indeed, you did. And for the entirety of your English period you and your best friend were going back and forth about the whole thing, even though realistically you only found out you were partners, sat by each other, and spoke in the last fifteen minutes of class.
To sum the beginning up, you were on edge all day and it only got worse when you arrived home. Starting at four, you waited anxiously by the phone you had in your room while biting your freshly painted nails you did an hour ago... So much for that.
You waited there an hour early because: What if he called early? What if he called exactly at five on the dot and you missed it because you got distracted? Would not happen. You refused. You would rather die than miss the first ever phone call you were going to share with Mike Wheeler from chemistry class. Then, when the clock ticked closer to the time you two had agreed on to call, you realized something.
What if he was waiting for you to call?
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ You're currently sitting in Mike Wheelers basement, looking around as your palms begin to sweat. You're sitting on the love seat, stiff and unfamiliar with the rather cozy yet new area.
You take in the space: The cluttered board games and Dungeon and Dragons memorabilia, the mixes of patterns and knitted blankets scattered about on seating areas. Your eyes drifted to a shelf with a plethora of books and photo albums... Four large binders with names written on the spines in colors seemingly assigned to each person that caught your eye. You debated getting up--snooping to see what they were for.
"--Sorry I took so long, my mom was interrogating me on what snacks you like.." Mike's voice came from the stairs as he walks downstairs, a big bowl of popcorn and freshly cut strawberries in hand... Maybe an odd combo, but honestly? Both sounded good.
"Oh! It's no problem, really.. I appreciate it." You smile kindly, taking the strawberries as he handed them to you. He returned the smile, setting the popcorn down nearby as your eyes followed him. "Your mom--She seems really nice."
"Oh, thanks..." He nodded, not used to small talk with new people in the slightest.
There was a beat. An unfortunately awkward one. Mike sat the farthest away from you that he could on the couch, his backpack by his feet just like your bag was beside yours. You were both stiff, rigid even. You picked at your nails, looking down at them as if they were the most interesting thing in the world--while Mike smoothed his hands up and down his knee's like he had some sort of joint pain. "Uhm.. So, our project.." He spoke a little earnestly, hoping for some conversation to start. He wanted nothing more than this to go smoothly.. For some kind of flow to ensue as you two worked together.
"Yeah, yeah our project... Uhm, do you have any ideas? For our topic, I mean?" You perked up, turning towards him on the couch. Your voice was sweet, patient. Honestly, it was a relief to Michael that you at least pretended to have interest in sharing a project with him of all people. He nodded, a small bit of him excited that you had asked him. He loved science--maybe not as much as Dustin, but it was still a subject he enjoyed.
"Yeah! So, I was trying to think of something that others wouldn't gravitate towards--cuz, y'know.. I thought you would like to make something a little different than what other people are doing... Well, obviously a lot of us are doing poster boards but I mean topic wise--" Mike ensued in a ramble, gesturing with his hands as he explained his plan for Nano Chemistry and possible things you could specifically do the project about.
Your brows raised as you listened to him talk about how he took you into consideration when thinking up ideas. Truly, he was right: You did prefer to work on something different from what the others would be doing. You wanted something intricate, something you could really work with looks wise. You didn't know much about nano-whatever, but you trusted that Mike chose something good.
You didn't know why your brain was doing this to you, but you just couldn't get over his eyes right now. Big and brown, full of energy as he ranted on and on about the topic and how passionate he was about it. The way his dark hair fell in loose curls over his forehead--and god, you just adored that stupid grandpa sweater he was wearing. The colors really complimented his complexion...
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ So, the two of you began to write out steps and processes you'd be going over in your project. He took the time to calmly and patiently explain to you what exactly it was he was talking about. You couldn't get over how sweet he was... Your crush growing the more he spoke to you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ When it came time for you to take the reigns and brainstorm the poster board, the roles reverse. You're in your element, coloring loosely on a blank sheet of notebook paper with colored pencils that Mike snatched from Holly's room and working with him on what the project itself would look like. You were talking about how using brighter colors to label correlating parts of diagrams would appeal better to the eye and help people understand better, give them something easier to follow.
Mike couldn't entirely focus on what you were saying and doing, though. He tried--god, he really did. But every once in a while his eyes would drift from what you were doodling and going to your hair, the way it framed your face... your lashes, your lip gloss. He was taking in your features, mind flooding with thoughts on how pretty you were.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ The truth was, you weren't the only one with a little hallway crush. Mike had never vocalized it, but he had a small crush on you ever since the seventh grade. The two of you had shared an art foundations class at the time, and when he saw the dragon you had painted with bursts of colors and fantasy elements he thought you were the coolest person in the world.
Flash forward to high school, he was enamored by how much you leaned into your creative side, not paying any of the rude assholes that would pick on you or your friends any mind as you walked down the halls with your head high, wearing whatever you wanted. Whether it be clothes, makeup, hair, whatever: You thrived in it.
Even his friends thought that you were a little strange, but he couldn't see it. What was strange about being confident in yourself and not conforming to high school standards? When his friend group met Eddie, that's when they began to lay off and understand a little better. Even then, this was the first time you and him had ever spent any real time together.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ The rest of the night was spent bonding over colors and nano chemistry of all things. You talked mostly about the work at first, but drifted onto other things. Things like theatre, DnD, movies, school drama that surrounded the popular people, classic things that teens talk about.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ By the end of the night, he didn't want you to leave. To be fair, you didn't want to either. But as his mother peaked her head through the basement door to let your know that your ride was there, you had no choice but to pack up and leave.
"So, when do you wanna hang next? For the project." You ask as you slide the backpack on. Mike puts the empty bowl that had the strawberries in the empty bowl of popcorn as he looked to you. "Uhh, same time tomorrow?" He asked, sounding a little excited at the thought. You nod, backing up towards the stairs.
𐔌 . ⋮ OVERALL HCS .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Needless to say, you got an A+ on that project. And afterwards? You still talked. You still hung out.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ The boys would catch him spacing out, staring in your direction as you laughed with your friends on the other side of the cafeteria. The would repeatedly say his name until he snapped out of it. "what?" He would finally reply, and all they could do was roll their eyes.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ I think Mike would love to come to the plays the theatre club hosts because he knows you helped work on the set pieces and costume designs.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Also, he would love it if you came over to help sketch DnD stuff with him. He isn't the best artist out there, but he puts a lot of effort into the maps and character designs he makes for his binder.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Maybe one day you come up to him to show a concept you did for a character of your own in DnD, he's head over heels, he's ecstatic. He won't shut up about how creative you are to the guys and they will get sick of it.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ That is until they meet you. One day, he invites you to go see a movie with him and his friends, which you of course agree to. The both of you are at the hip, sitting side by side in the theatre, sharing popcorn, whispering quietly about the movie in a non-distracting way.
The others had to admit, you were cooler than they'd thought you would be.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Now you're around more. And it's actually enjoyable. You're all discussing a campaign idea as you eat lunch at a diner on a Sunday. Mike was right, you were insanely creative. The boys marveled at sketches, collages or whatever it is you brought to the table to show them. They'd all talk about your design skills.
"I told you guys she was a genius!" Mike laughed proudly, and your face heated in response.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ His mom loves you! She thinks you're awfully sweet, and loves how expressive you are: She thinks you're a cutie pie.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ Holly also thinks you're really cool!! She likes to play dress up with you and steal you away from Mike when you come over.
⊹ ࣪ ˖⤷ If you ever get bummed out because someone said something about your looks, your clothes, or whatever it may be: He will give you a thirty minute pep talk on why you shouldn't give a flying fuck about what those brain eating amoebas think and to stay true to yourself.
He'll tell you that he loves your originality, admires it even.
"I think you're the coolest... I mean it."
Your first kiss happened during a movie night at your house.
You had insisted—no, begged—to watch Pretty in Pink, and after enough groaning and half-hearted complaints before the final bell rang, Mike had finally agreed. Now the credits rolled, the glow of the TV washing over the living room as you launched into your post-movie rant like it was a personal mission.
“I’m just saying,” you continued, sitting cross-legged on the couch, “she so should’ve ended up with Ducky. He was there the whole time, he cared, he was dorky but in a good way—”
Mike nodded along, pretending to focus on your words instead of how close you were sitting. Every time you gestured, your arm brushed his, and every time it did, his heart jumped.
“And honestly,” you went on, passion building, “if I had to choose between someone who actually cared about me and some boring, rich guy who was literally embarrassed to be seen with me? Yeah, no. Not happening. Ever.”
You laughed, pointing toward the TV for emphasis, completely unaware of how your next words sounded.
“I mean— in a way, you’re kind of like my Ducky. And, and— if it were me, I’d choose him. Every time.”
Silence fell over the room.
Mike swallowed hard. “I’m your… what?” he asked quietly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.
“I— I didn’t mean— I mean, not because—” The words tangled together, your confidence vanishing as fast as it had appeared.
Mike lifted a hand, gently, and you stopped talking instantly.
He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you, eyes soft and uncertain but hopeful all the same. “You know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think Ducky would’ve been mad about hearing that.”
Your breath caught. “Yeah?”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah.”
Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly. Giving you time to pull away—though you didn’t. When his lips met yours, it was brief and shy and a little awkward, but warm in a way that made your chest feel light.
When he pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you smiling like you’d just discovered something important.
“Movie night,” he murmured, “was a good idea.”
You laughed softly. “Told you.”
