#mike wheeler scenarios

[qtssvnwoo]

Embrace- Mike Wheeler

warnings- Like one suggestive comment by Mike, rushed because I’m tired, otherwise fluff

word count: 787

a/n: The ending is rushed cause I started writing this days ago and now I’m tired and wanted to finish it for you guys.So, if there’s spelling mistakes just deal with me. Also, y/n/n means your nickname if you didn’t know 

   The pitter-patter of the rain kept you awake. Staring at the ceiling, you thought about…nothing. Nothing plagued your mind as you lay awake in the silence of the night. You didn’t know why, but the silence didn't comfort you as much as it had in the past.  

   You sighed as you turned over on your side, scanning your room for something to do. Your eyes landed on a picture of you and your boyfriend, happily holding hands and smiling while he kissed your cheek. Smiling to yourself, you turned back over onto your back. You thought for a few minutes before finally deciding to try and call your boyfriend, even if he was sleeping.    

   Reaching over to the phone that rested on your nightstand, you pressed the numbers that were attached to your boyfriend's phone. You waited while hearing the ringing, concluding that he probably wasn't going to answer. You defiantly almost put the phone back onto the nightstand before you heard a soft “Hello?” on the other side.   

   “Mike!” You said excitedly as you placed the phone back against your ear.  

   “Y/n? Why are you up so late?” Mike asked. There wasn’t one hint of weariness in his voice, he sounded fully awake, which puzzled you.   

  “Why are YOU awake Mike? Don’t you go to bed at nine?” You teased, hearing him chuckle from across the phone. 

   “Not tonight, I took a nap when I got home early so I’m wide awake.” You fiddled with the string of the sweatshirt you were wearing as you wracked your brain for something to say, or at least to talk about.    

  “Did you have a nightmare again love?” Mike asked, concern lacing his voice. You laughed to yourself at your boyfriend's concern for you, you found it quite cute.  

   “No, I just can’t sleep.” You heard your boyfriend shuffling on the other end of the phone.  

  “Hold on, I'm coming over.”  

   “Wait Mike do-” Before you could protest he hung up. Sighing you placed the phone back on the nightstand and continued your previous activities of listening to the rain dancing softly on your roof.   

   Before you knew it, you heard a soft tapping on your window, thinking it was just a tree branch, but you ignored it. The tapping becomes harder, making you angrily glare at the window. You saw your boyfriend's wet frame smiling softly outside your window while waving at you.  You got yourself out of bed and made your way over to your window unlocking it and lifting it to get a good look at your boyfriend.   

   “I was going to tell you not to come.” Mike laughed and climbed into your room, shaking his head as a way to dry his hair.  

   “Mike!”   

  “What? I’m wet!” You laughed, kissing his cheek and leading him over to your dresser.  

  “I should have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere around here…OH here!” You handed him a pair of gray sweatpants that you had convicted from his closet the last time you had been at his house. He looked at you while smirking.  

  “Did you steal my sweatpants?” Smacking his arm, you threw the sweatpants at him and pointed at your door.   

 “You know where the bathroom is.”     

  “I could just change in here though? The bathroom’s so far away.” He playfully winked at you, taking a step towards you so you were face to face. His lanky frame towered over you, you knew what he was doing but you just sighed and turned your back towards him, making your way over to the bed in the center of your room.  

  After a couple of seconds, you felt the bed weight dip as you looked over to the side and saw your boyfriend smiling at you. He reached out an arm, as a way to prompt you into his arms, which you gladly excepted, shifting yourself over so you were comfortably inside his embrace.   

  “You tired yet love?”  

  “I would be if you didn’t talk so much.” You joked, causing your boyfriend to act as if you had just shot him, pulling a hand to his heart,  

“Oh, my heart, you’ve wounded me.” You rolled your eyes and cuddled closer to Mike, basking in his natural body heat. 

  Mike smiled to himself while he rubbed your head, pulling you into a hug. He rested his head on top of yours and listened to the acceptance of the rain outside. Mike kissed your forehead as he felt himself grow tired, now resting his check on top of your head.   

 “Goodnight Mikey.”   

  “Goodnight Y/n/n.” And within a couple of minutes, you felt yourself drift off into sleep inside the warm and comfortable embrace of your boyfriend. 

[doriandrifting]

Mike: I’ve been paying too much attention to my girlfriend when I should’ve been focused on you, my homosexual childhood companion. There’s quite literally no one in my life who compares to you, and nothing has been the same since you left our hometown. I’ve been struggling in silence the last year, and I can’t help but to feel like I lost you and that it’s all my fault, but I don’t want to feel that way anymore. The future is so uncertain, but the one thing that is most clear to me is that everything is easier when we face it together. We need to be a team. Friends. Best friends. Boyfriends.

Will: cool 🥺

average reddit user: hahaha Will is soooo gay for Mike!! V sad, maybe he will get new love interest in time for Mileven’s shotgun wedding or maybe he will just DIE! bowlcut bowlcut bowlcut

[heartsgettingwiser62]

Do you think Mike and Will were the kinda kids that said i love you to each other all the time, and do you think they started saying it less and less until they stopped altogether, and do you think Will just looks at Mike and wonders about how i love you would sound when said by his current voice, and do you think he wasn't really fond of finding out by hearing Mike say it to El in the monologue scene, and-

[fizzseed]

i don’t think i can accurately describe how much i need everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears to be in s5 of stranger things. i will combust into flame if we get there’s a room where the light wont find you / holding hands while the walls come tumbling down / when they do i’ll be right right behind you

[apocalyptic-byler]

let mike wheeler throw a punch 2025

[messrsbyler]

okay changed my mind i don’t want byler’s kiss to be dramatic i want it to be soft as hell with them staring at each other, closer than they’ve ever been, mike hesitates a little before bringing a hand to will’s jaw and almost pulls away when he feels will tremble under his palm. their breaths are ragged and warm between them, skin hot and flushed. and mike stares at will as if he was the only person in the whole world he wanted to be in this moment with, as if a stare could stop time and the end of the world from coming, because this moment is theirs and not even the upside down can rip it from their hands.

but they are both still timid and shy, doubting if to cross the line that has shaped their friendship all these years. and then, in the dead silence of the night, mike asks “is… is this okay, will?”

and will’s heart shoots to his throat. it pounds in his ears and thrums in the fingertips that cling to mike’s shirt. he heaves a breath and nods. “yeah, it- it’s okay.”

mike offers a wobbly smile and his eyes fall to will’s lips. his own mouth parts and will swears the ground is spinning under their feet. “will,” mike whispers.

“yeah?”

“can i-“ mike bits his lip and looks up, cheeks bright red. “can i… kiss you?”

and will doesn’t have enough breath in his lungs to mutter a single word. all of it is knock right out of his system in a dizzying wave tingles and butterflies. all he can do is give a small nod and try to suck in a breath before mike is closing the gap between them, glancing one last time at will’s eyes, maybe looking for any sign of doubt. but will knows mike won’t find any.

a second later, mike’s lips are on his.

[astrobei]

for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others. 

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles  the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket. 

Will’s flashlight sputters again. 

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight. 

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him. 

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding. 

God. He’s so screwed.  “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this. 

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

[doriandrifting]

Mike the type of guy to walk in mid someone explaining what it’s like to finally be in love and say some snarky shit like, “Yeah, I think everyone over the age of five knows what it’s like to have a best friend, but thanks for the explanation,” with his full chest, only to have a silent oh shit oh shit I fucked up moment when a hush falls over the room. (Dustin, sweet oblivious hetero soul that he is, unknowingly saves him by putting on his overdramatic theater persona and saying “Jeez, I had no idea you felt that way, Mike. This is all so sudden…” Robin and Steve are side eying one another from opposite corners of the room. Will, red-faced, looks like he’s doing the worlds most complicated math equation. Murray scans the room and catalogues it for later.)

[heartsgettingwiser62]

Imagine Nancy and Robin going into Mike's room bc of whatever plot related reasons. Robin takes ONE look at Mike's posters, Will's paintings all over the walls, all the geek stuff everywhere, his wardrobe, a Bronksi Beat caset thrown on the bed, and then says "...I think I need to talk with your brother".

Bonus points if she's never met/talked to Mike before LMAO

[aemiron-main]

thinking about will “is that why you don’t have any friends?” byers and mike “bitchy stares” wheeler judging people together as boyfriends….. someone at a party says something stupid and will and Mike just give eachother a Look from across the room. they’re communicating telepathically. they’re jedi gossiping through the force. bitchy boyfriends for the win

[apocalyptic-byler]

when byler is gonna be screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain then what

[messrsbyler]

mike confronting will about the painting and will running away, not wanting to have that discussion now because he just can't with everything else that's going on. but mike won't relent. he even shouts "why won't you talk to me anymore!" at will just as will was leaving and something... something dark and twisted inside of will simply snapped. maybe it was the lack of sleep, the presence of one lingering in his skin, the upside down leaking into hawkins and bringing back memories of that one week he went missing. maybe is mike searching for answers he doesn't want to know. maybe it's all of the above. either way, all will knows is that his body spins around and his eyes snap to mike's, and before he can think this through, he is yelling back:

"you want to talk? fine! let's talk, mike! tell me, was it really? the day after i went missing. was it really the best day of your fucking ilfe?"

[froggywritesstuff]

Poly Yandere Will Byers & Mike Wheeler x male reader

Byler Ghostface au

ours | poly!ghostface!yandere!byler

ship/pairing: yandere!ghostface!Will Byers x male!reader x yandere!ghostface!Mike Wheeler

warnings: yandere themes, murder, character death, blood, stabbing, unhealthy relationships, possessiveness, implied period-typical homophobia (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of these)

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please understand that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life. fem readers dni, Byler Ghostface au, sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy :)

Mike and Will were best friends. Sometimes other things. They shared a simple interest with one another. An interest no one else would be able to properly understand. You. And when someone else tried to take an interest in you, they took it upon themselves to get rid of them. Of course you were always so sad when a friend you had become close with vanished out of nowhere, and when your dates never showed up, but that was just a bonus in Will and Mike’s plan. They'd always be there for you when you were lonely, sometimes making you feel like they were the only people there for you. Of course, you never knew they were intentionally making you feel that way, and intentionally driving away any other friends you might make. You just felt so loved having Mike and Will’s friendship, unaware of how they both wanted you in a different way. So much, they’d do anything for you. But apparently, you never got the memo.

You happily sped toward Mike and Will at the lunch table they were sitting at, greeting them both with a wide smile as you handed them a note.

"What's this?" Mike asked, taking it from your hands.

You sat down across from them, unable to contain your excitement, "Just read the note." you said, voice having a slight excited squeak to it.

Mike smiled at your excitement, before opening up the note and reading it.

'I got a date :)'

He felt his heart drop as he read your words. His brain went into overdrive, before he passed the note to Will, giving him a look. 

Will’s eyes widened as he read it, not wanting you to see his anger. Mike however, did not care about hiding his expression. The thought crossed his mind a few times, but he was too focused on this. What did you mean, you got a date?

Will was a way better actor than Mike, as he quickly plastered on an eager look as he spoke to you, “So what’s his name?”

You were beyond happy over Will’s ‘support’, completely naive to his real intentions.

”It’s Conner, from our science class.” You gushed, waving to a boy sitting at another table, not noticing the scowl etched on Mike’s face as he saw him. He and Will were familiar with Conner. Every odd science lesson, he would ask to be your lab partner. They agreed they wouldn’t do anything about Conner unless he tried becoming friends with you, so they could stop anything else happening between the two of you. Apparently they were too late. Will had a plan though. He usually did.

“Do you guys have anything planned? Where are you two going out?”

Mike began listening more intently, immediately understanding what Will was thinking.

You shrugged, “We were just gonna watch movies at my place, since we don’t really wanna go out in public.”

Will and Mike nodded, an unspoken plan being formed, “Nice.” Will smiled.

Mike plastered a smile on his face, almost speaking through gritted teeth, ”Sounds fun.”

____

You looked so beautiful. You were laughing, and smiling, and the light from the tv screen illuminated your face in the most ethereal way. Mike and Will loved your smile. However they hated when you smiled because of someone else. No one else should be able to see you happy, let alone make you happy. So to say they were angry as they saw you laughing because of something Conner said through your living room window would be an understatement. Conner didn't deserve you. No matter how much you liked him, no matter how much he liked you, you two would never be right for each other. Mike and Will just needed you to realise that.

You were unaware of Mike and Will's presence, your attention on the boy beside you, until the phone rang. You left the couch where you and Conner sat, sending him an apologetic smile as you went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Y/N speaking?" you said, into the phone.

"Hello?" a low, gravelly voice responded.

You paused, waiting for an answer before realising you weren't going to get one, "Who is this?" you asked.

"Who's this?" they asked, much to your confusion.

"Is there someone you're trying to reach?"

"Well, what number is this?"

"What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know."

You narrowed your eyes, before speaking, "Then I think you have the wrong number."

"Oh do I?"

"Uh-huh. I gotta go now, bye." you said, ending the call and hanging up the phone. "Sorry about that," you said, walking back to where Conner was sitting.

"Who was it?" he asked, to which you shrugged, about to answer, only to be interrupted by the phone ringing again.

You sighed, walking back to the phone, picking it up with a huff, "Hello?"

"Hi."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the familiar voice, "Did you need something?"

"I wanted to apologise."

"For?"

"Dialling the wrong number."

"You're forgiven. Bye now." before you can hang up, the voice calls out.

"Don't hang up, I just wanna talk."

"I'd love to talk, but I have a friend over, I don't wanna keep them waiting."

"He can wait. I just wanna talk." the voice responded, to which you sighed, holding the phone away from you and turning to where Conner was sitting.

"Who is it?" he asked.

You shrugged, "I dunno yet, but they seem very persistent in talking to me. I'll try and hang up soon." you said, receiving an understanding smile from Conner, before you brought the phone back to you, "What do you wanna-?"

"Who was that?" the voice snapped.

"Just my friend? Now what do you wanna talk about?"

"How much do you like your friend?" the voice asked, giving you a bad feeling.

"What do you mean?" you asked, growing more and more cautious of the stranger.

A mocking laugh came from the phone, "How loud are you gonna scream when I slice Conner to bits?"

You whipped your head around, heart dropping when Conner was nowhere to be found. Much to their disappointment, you hung up the phone, running through the walls of your house, screaming Conner's name. The phone rang again, making you jump with fear. You raced toward the phone, picking it up and answering it.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?!" you imagined yourself sounding tough, but your face was drenched with tears and your voice was cracking from the fear.

The voice laughed, "Like I said, I just wanna talk."

"I don't wanna talk to you." you cried, heart racing with fear.

"Oh?" you could almost hear the smirk over the phone, "So you'd rather I slit Conner's throat right now?"

"No, please don't hurt him!"

"There we go," a low laugh came from the phone, "Now if you don't wanna hear your boyfriend choking on his own blood, you'll talk to me."

You felt your heart drop with fear, "H-how did you know we were-?" you stopped yourself from continuing, taking a breath to calm yourself, the sound of low static on the line making you uneasy, "Is that why you're doing this?"

A hum came from the phone, "Maybe you should just be more careful about which boys you date."

"Fuck you," you hissed, breaths heavy as you felt tears roll down your cheeks, "I'm calling the police, you dick." you hung up the phone, about to dial 911, when you heard a loud scream, followed by a thud.

The phone dropped from your hands as you saw Conner's mutilated body on the floor. Blood pooled from slits around his neck, arms and legs, staining the floor bright red. A choked sob escaped your lips and you went to run to his body, when a man in a black cloak and white mask walked in front of his body, facing you. You shook in fear, beginning to back away when someone else came behind you, wrapping their strong arms around your body to keep you from running. The masked man in front of you stalked toward you, and you began thrashing in their arms, attempting to escape, when he brought his hand up to his mask.

You felt your heart drop as you stared at the familiar dark brown eyes of your best friend, "Mike? Wh-what the fuck are you doing?"

He stared at you looking genuinely confused, "Did you not see this coming? Y/N, we've been friends with you for years, did you never think we deserved something a little more than that?"

You felt your breath hitch, "Will?"

The man behind you took his mask off as well, and you felt his hand grip your jaw, turning your head to face him, "Oh, this wasn't a one person job Y/N."

Mike nodded at Will, "There were way too many people getting too close to you, and we couldn't let that happen."

"Apparently this was the only way to get you to realise it, but you're ours, Y/N."

You felt Mike grab your hand tightly, sending a chill down your spine, "And we don't intend to let anyone take you away from us."

[azuries]

tw: glitch effect, glitching, flashing images till death do us part

original images under readmore!