Nerd Roleplayer

Pairing: Will Byers x Michael The Brave

Notes: This is a little story about Will and Michael the Brave. I’ve always liked the idea that the power left to Will is the ability to create through his art, and voilà! Michael is here, brought to life by the one who imagined him.

“Will, honey, dinner’s ready!”

Will looked up and blinked, his eyes drifting toward the sun sinking beyond his bedroom window.

He hadn’t even realized he’d spent the entire afternoon drawing … not that he minded. Once he disappeared into his own world, time became meaningless and that was probably for the best.

With everyone else busy hanging out with their girlfriends, Will had somehow become the weird one out, the loser in a friend group that had once proudly called itself a bunch of losers.

His eyes immediately drifted back to the sheet of paper lying on his desk, and he sighed.

Michael the Brave. Mike’s D&D paladin.

For almost a year now, he had drawn him over and over again. Different poses, different battles, different expressions.

He couldn’t stop.

Jonathan -the only one who knew about his growing collection of sketches- had a theory: Will wasn’t obsessed with the paladin, he was projecting.

Drawing Michael the Brave was easier than admitting he missed Mike. Easier than saying out loud that his best friend had slowly slipped away, leaving behind a space no one else seemed able to fill.

Once again, his eyes settled on the paladin, and a sad smile tugged at his lips.

He traced his fingertips across the drawing, feeling ridiculous.

“I wish you were real,” he whispered, then he pushed back his chair and made his way toward the noisy kitchen.

He needed to man up. He needed to try harder to like girls, like all his friends did.

Because if he couldn’t, then he’d have to accept something he wasn’t ready to face. Something terrifying. Something that felt less like the truth and more like a nightmare.

“Please, if anything happens, call me or Jonathan immediately.”

Ever since his disappearance, his mom had been terrified of leaving him alone at night. It had taken years for her to trust herself enough to do it again, but Will was seventeen now, and the Upside Down had been sealed ever since he was twelve.

Jane had done that. Jane had saved them all, and now she was finally living the life she deserved with Hopper.

“Mom, I think he knows the drill by now … come on.”

Jonathan stepped in, gently taking their mom by the arm and guiding her toward the door. With only one car, Joyce had to drop Jonathan off at work before starting her own shift.

“Love you, honey!” she called.

“Love you too,” Will replied with a smile, giving her a small wave before closing the door.

He glanced at the phone before walking over and dialing Lucas’s number.

Maybe he was home, maybe he’d want to come over and watch a movie.

Will leaned against the wall as the line rang, waiting until he heard Erica’s voice answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Erica. It’s Will. Is Lucas home?”

“Oh, hi, Will.”

She sounded unusually polite. As far as Will knew, he was the only person Erica never insulted, though he’d never figured out why.

“Nope. He’s out with Max …” she said, letting the silence hang for a beat. “You know, doing nasty.”

“Erica Sinclair!” her mother shouted from the living room.

“I’m sorry, mama, but what do you think they’re doing? Picking flowers?”

“ERICA SINCLAIR, YOU STOP IT!”

Will couldn’t help smiling.

“Uh … yeah. Thanks, Erica.”

“Bye-bye, Will.”

The line clicked dead.

And of course he was out with Max.

Will didn’t even bother calling Dustin or Mike. On Wednesday nights, Dustin was always busy talking to Suzie, and Mike was probably at Jane’s place or maybe on a double date with Lucas and Max.

All alone as usual, Byers, he thought.

Deciding there was nothing else to do, he picked up the novel he was reading: Queen of the Damned. He had loved Interview with the Vampire, especially the beautiful ambiguity of its characters. They blurred every line between monster and man, love and eros.

“If I were a vampire,” he muttered to himself, “I wouldn’t have a problem in the world.”

A cold blade suddenly grazed the side of his neck and Will froze; then, came the warmth of someone’s breath against his ear.

“If you were a vampire, my love …” the voice whispered, “… I’d gladly let you drink from me.”

Will gasped, every muscle in his body going rigid.

He knew that voice … or at least he thought he did.

It was familiar, yet unmistakably different. Deeper than he remembered. More masculine but softer, too. A voice worn smooth by time, with just the right amount of roughness to make it feel real, even if beneath it there was an unmistakable gentleness. A kindness that seemed strangely out of place with a blade pressed to his throat.

“We don’t have anything worth taking. Please, just take whatever you want and leave.”

Will had no idea what kind of twisted game the intruder was playing, but one thing was clear: whoever he was, he preferred a blade to a gun.

His mind raced through every horrible possibility.

A burglar.

A lunatic.

Or worse …

A knot tightened in his stomach.

Oh, God.

He prayed this wasn’t someone who had broken into the house looking for some … fun.

“I would never rob you, my love.”

The voice was calm, amused.

Will swallowed hard.

Right. Of course not.

There was hardly anything to steal from the Byers’ old house anyway. The place was practically falling apart, held together by peeling paint, worn floorboards, and memories no one else would have wanted.

“Do you know who I am?”

The voice was maddeningly familiar, but Will couldn’t place it.

His palms were covered in sweat.

He didn’t want to die at the hands of some unhinged stranger.

“I - please.” His voice trembled despite his best efforts to steady it. “Just let me go, and I won’t say a word. I’ll keep my eyes closed. You can leave, and I won’t be able to identify you.”

For a long moment, the room fell silent.

Will barely dared to breathe, every muscle in his body locked in place as he waited for the blade to bite into his skin or, somehow, to disappear.

“I would never hurt you, William.”

Will blinked.

William?

Not even his mom called him by his full name.

So who the hell …?

The blade slipped away from his throat.

Slowly, cautiously, Will turned to face the intruder and he stopped breathing for a moment.

It couldn’t be.

The man standing before him wasn’t supposed to exist.

Will’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open as his mind scrambled for an explanation.

Am I dead?

Did that lunatic kill me?

Am I hallucinating?

Or …. was I never really free?

For one impossible moment, he wondered if he was still lying unconscious somewhere in the Upside Down, trapped inside another nightmare his mind had invented.

“My love …” the stranger said softly, concern replacing the playful amusement in his voice. “You look pale. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only wanted to play, like we used to.”

A fond smile tugged at his lips.

“I remembered how much you loved it whenever I pretended to capture you.”

Why was Michael the Brave standing in his living room?

Why was Michael the Brave -the very paladin he had drawn a hundred times- real?

A leather armor clung to his broad frame. Long dark hair fell past his shoulders and there, carved into his left cheek, was the same scar Will had added to every sketch to make Mike’s character look tougher.

Every. Single. Time.

Will stumbled back, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.

This wasn’t possible.

“William …” the paladin said, lowering his blade completely. “I sincerely apologize if I frightened you.”

His expression softened with unmistakable affection.

“Please, my love, believe me when I say I would never lay a hand on you.”

A warm smile spread across his face.

“My beautiful sorcerer.”

Will was convinced he was about to pass out.

A sorcerer? He was nothing of the sort. Sure, his D&D character was Will the Wise, but that was make-believe. Dice, character sheets, and late-night campaigns with his friends, nothing more.

“Okay …” he breathed, taking another step back. “I’m dreaming. I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch, and now my brain is making all this up.”

Michael tilted his head, equal parts confused and amused.

God, he was beautiful. Too beautiful.

Will couldn’t even bring himself to meet his eyes for more than a second.

“I dream of you every night, my love,” Michael said softly. “I dream of your eyes, your face, your gentle smile and your pure heart.”

Heat flooded Will’s face and he was certain his cheeks had turned scarlet.

It sounded exactly like one of those hopelessly romantic movies his mom loved to watch on lazy afternoons, the kind of movies Jonathan always rolled his eyes at, and the kind of movies Will pretended not to pay attention to, even though he secretly remembered every line.

Except this wasn’t happening on a television screen, it was happening to him.

“I … thank you. I mean … you’re welcome?”

Michael laughed and the sound of it was amazing. Before Will realized what he was doing, his gaze drifted to the exposed column of the paladin’s neck.

An absurd impulse flashed through him.

To lean closer, to sink his teeth into that skin and leave a mark behind.

Oh, no.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat.

Get a grip, Byers.

He couldn’t let his ridiculous, sinful thoughts get the better of him.

“You are shy in this form,” Michael observed with a fond smile. “I like it.”

Will frowned.

“This … form?”

The words sent a fresh wave of confusion through him.

Was that why Michael wasn’t questioning the fact that he had somehow appeared in a world so completely different from his own?

Will had a thousand questions and not nearly enough answers.

“How do you …” He swallowed. “I’m not a sorcerer. I drew you, and … we’ve never met.”

There. He’d said it. He’d just confessed to the impossibly handsome man standing in his living room that he’d invented him.

Any second now, Will thought desperately. I’m going to wake up.

The paladin didn’t seem troubled by the question. Instead, he closed the distance between them until only a breath separated them. Gently, he lifted Will’s chin between his fingers.

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you drew me.”

A tender smile crossed his face.

“I watched you bring me to life with every stroke of your pencil. I watched and I waited.”

His thumb traced Will’s jaw.

“I lived within your thoughts, your dreams, even your darkest fantasies.”

His dark eyes never left Will’s.

“Never, in all that time, did I dare hope I would one day be able to touch you, my love.”

Will’s stomach dropped.

Michel knew. The paladin knew he wasn’t real … or rather, that he had been created.

Every sketch. Every erased line. Every impossible daydream. Michael knew all of it.

“I’m never leaving you again, my beautiful spouse,” Michael said. “From this moment on, our fates are bound together.”

The words were spoken with such unwavering conviction that they sent a shiver down Will’s spine.

Hi! First of all, thank you for your kind words. I want to emphasize that I love AO3 and everything the people behind it have created. Unfortunately, I only started feeling this way recently.

It really makes me sad that I don’t feel like posting there anymore, but hey, that’s just how I feel right now.

Dear anon, if you want to talk to me directly, please do so without hiding behind anonymity. I’m a civil person, and people who think differently from me aren’t banned, as long as they express their opinions respectfully.

However, I’m not the main character of anything. I’m only the main character of my own life.

If you want to stick with AO3, that’s completely fine. Just don’t bother me with your hate and your frustration.

That’s why I started working on my own project: creating a safe space for authors and readers again. I’ve been part of the fanfiction community since before Wattpad even existed, and I can say -with a little pride- that I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of many fanfiction platforms.

My goal is simple: to create a place for us weirdos once again. A place built not just for posting fanfiction, but for building a real community.

This is a zero-judgment zone. No hate if you use grammar tools. No hate if English isn’t your native language and your writing isn’t “flawless.” No hate for writing what you love. This is simply a safe place to create, share your work, and connect with people who love fanfiction as much as you do.

And you know what? It’s almost ready.

While scrolling through TikTok, I’ve been seeing more and more videos from creators hunting down fanfics they believe were written using AI. Before someone comments on this post with some bullshit, I want to make one thing clear: I’m against generating a story with AI and then posting it as if it were your own writing. If you use AI to generate a story, please tag it properly so people can either avoid it or read it knowing you simply gave the AI a prompt.

Now that that’s out of the way, I also want to say that this “witch hunt” is harmful and damaging. It’s making people afraid to post their work because they’re scared they’ll be accused of using AI just because they used an em dash or some other stylistic choice (guess what? I’ve been using em dashes since 2001).

The world of fanfiction was never perfect, but it was built by weirdos, and those weirdos created a safe space for one another. It’s genuinely saddening to see new writers who want to share something they created but are too afraid to post it because they’re worried about being accused of cheating. They might miss the chance to make someone’s day a little brighter with their story.

What’s so wrong with me wanting Will in a bunny costume and then in a leather jacket?