Mike looked at the clock from his bed expectantly. You were supposed to be in his room twenty minutes ago, and you were never late. Rolling off of his bed, he moves to the door and hears your beautiful laugh from downstairs. Furrowing his brows, he opens it and moves down to the first floor.

You don’t notice the tall boy’s eyes on you as he peers around the corner. He takes in your beautiful face, laughing as Holly gabs on with her intricate storyline. Mike stands in the doorway now, just observing with his arms crossed. He never realized how great with the kids you were since you were the Monk of the party, but it made sense. If anything, he was glad you had that motherly sense— and you could protect them? Something in his brain clicks, and he starts thinking about the future. His future, with you.

Mike and (Y/N) Wheeler. Would you have a son or daughter first? How many would you have? Names? Who of your friends would be the godparents of each? Where would you live?

Mike was already thinking it all.

As Mike lets his thoughts drift on about you, he unknowingly sports the stoniest face you’ve ever seen. You had sensed him coming down the stairs— via the creaky floorboard at the top. When the lack of his whine about you being late didn’t come, you were surprised and looked toward him. He looked intently, zoned out just above you.

“Alright Holly, time for me to spend some time with Mikey, have fun with Miss Louise!” You set her doll down and stand up, shaking Mike out of his little trance. “Hey there, Wheeler.” You grin, lightly holding his hand as you move upstairs. He hums a small greeting back, letting himself be pulled.

You relax on his bed, watching him look out his window. He almost looks like he’s brooding. His unusual behavior is beginning to go noticed by you.

“What’s up with you Mike? It’s not because I was late right? Holly just wanted me to play with her for a litt-“

“No, no, not at all!” He interrupts, spinning to face you. The complete 180 of his attitude makes you wonder, your face conveying confusion. Mikes face flushes red. “It’s just that…” he trails off, thinking about his words carefully. “I think you’d… I think we um…” Your breath starts to stall in your lungs.

“…should break up?” You spit out, making his head shoot up and shake vigorously.

“No (Y/N) absolutely not— why would you think that?”

“Well you’ve been acting weird ever since I got here, you weren’t exactly dragging me away from your family like usual…” You note, usually he wanted you all to himself. You could be in the middle of conversation with Karen and Nancy but Mike would tear you away without fail.

Mike realizes his behavior has been strange and sits by you on his bed, putting his head in his hands. He mumbles something into his palms you can’t quite get.

“What’s that Mikey?” You lean closer.

“I think you’d make a great mom.” He says more clearly, taking the breath out of your lungs this time around.

There was just something about that compliment that made you short circuit. Now, you were the red one.

“I was just watching you play with Holly and just thought that you would make a great mom, and then I thought about being the dad.” He confesses. You roll your eyes and move to wrap your arms around him.

“You’re adorable. Mike Wheeler, down with a case of baby fever.” Laughing, you kiss him on the cheek. He lightens up once he hears your lack of discomfort and hugs you back. “You’d make a great dad. And I come down with the fever sometimes too.” He nods and chuckles, relieved that you feel the same way.

“Wanna go to the roof and talk about it?” He suggests, you grin and jump to his window wasting no time unlocking it.

“Who’s first in line for godparent roles?” You laugh, laying next to Mike at your spot, watching the stars. He sits up, having asked himself that just hours before.

“I think we’re going to have to ‘Three Stooges’ it between the guys.” He sighs seeing no other fair way to choose. Not accepting this idea, you suggest another.

“Okay so Max and Lucas, and then Will and Dustin can share baby number two.” You decide, Mike agreeing immediately.

“Steve will be babysitting though.” Mike points out, reliving their times with the older friend.

“You’re not the pizza boy,” he says with a slow skepticism, breaking your engrossment.

You blink at him before speaking with a renewed enthusiasm. “Eddie, it’s me!”

He stares at you blankly for a second, eyes roving over your features and your attire as much as he can through the sliver of space afforded between the door and its stop. His lack of fervor causes your eyebrows to furrow and your mouth to curve into a worried frown.

“You don’t remember me?” You ask, voice desperate for the opposite.

His eyes squint before he says your name with an inquisitive inflection towards the end.

You immediately perk up, exhaling excitedly, “Yes!”

He pushes the door forward to slide the chain lock off and opens it so he can lean his frame against the threshold.

“Um, do you want to come in or…” his sentence trails off as he nudges the door the rest of the way open with his knee. You nod emphatically, holding your clutch close to your stomach as you silently step inside.

Your gaze immediately wanders over every expanse of his apartment thats available to you. There’s a modest audio system in one corner with records filling up multiple crates and cassettes stowed away in a rack hung upon the wall. Posters of bands you know well and some that you’ve never heard of take up the majority of the wall space, all except for one dedicated to his guitars. You’re well acquainted with his Warlock, having accompanied him to every gig he was lucky enough to lock down. She’s well-worn, the crackled body decorated with scattered nicks and scratches while the fretboard houses divots from what you assume is years worth of playing. Surrounding her are much newer guitars with glossy finishes and brightly shining strings ready to be plucked.

Your gaze trails down from the wall to where a simple acoustic guitar is propped up on a stand. The strings poke out from the headstock in every which direction and the white message along the body has been scratched away and made much less legible: “THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS.” You touch the headstock and smile, glad to see that Eddie is just as sentimental as when you left him.

He watches you waltz around his apartment, gazing at his belongings like that of a child totally enthralled by the bright colored fish housed in an aquarium. His brows furrow and he attempts to speak, his mouth forming the beginning shapes of a sentence two or three times before he manages to get something out.

“Do you want something to drink?” Is what he settles on. “I have some Budweiser or, uh, I think I have some orange juice left.”

“Water’s fine,” you say absentmindedly as you walk towards his recessed shelves, built-in under the line of his short staircase. You’re able to make out the debossed silver letters and the blue cotton-bound spine as you approach. You slip the book from in-between the others and begin to flip through it. You find your photo, small and all too easily swallowed by the sea of other faces on the spread but it’s you just the same. It’s odd to recognize a face that no longer belongs to you; yesterday, you looked in the mirror and saw the girl in the book but now it’s like that face is a lightyear away. Before you can drive yourself mad trying to decipher that feeling, you pinpoint Eddie’s photo. You smile and swipe your thumb over the image. He’s scowling and it’s made clear despite the shoddy printed resolution. It’s a wonder he even showed up for Picture Day in the first place but, as you map out the features of this Eddie, the one you’re familiar with, you’re more glad than ever that he did.

“Here you go.” 

He presents the glass of water to you and you take it with a quiet ‘thank you,’ walking over to his couch in the middle of the room and plopping yourself down just as you would have on the ratty old loveseat back at his trailer. You tuck your feet under yourself and take a sip of your drink as you continue to browse the clubs and extracurriculars.

“Uh,” he calls your name to grab your attention,”what are you doing here?”

You look up and are suddenly confronted with how to answer his question without sounding entirely ridiculous. You make the best attempt you can while his disbelieving stare bores down into you.

“Right,” you begin as you set the yearbook and the glass of water aside, straitening your posture and folding your hands in your lap. “So, yesterday was 1984 and I don’t mean that in like the metaphorical or sentimental or Orwellian sense, I mean yesterday was literally 1984, specifically my birthday. Jeanette McBride was there and she swore she’d get me in with her dad who worked at Haloed Magazine and then you and I, we got into this big fight and I ran into your closet and I wished to be older so I could get out of Hawkins! And now… now I’m here. It’s like I skipped everything else. Yesterday I was 18 and now I’m… well, I guess I’d be about 34 right now.”

Your speech slows as you consider your last point staring off to the side before looking up at Eddie. He’s eyeing you funnily, eye’s slightly squinted, head tilted, and mouth open as if he’s preparing to say something but can’t seem to decide what would be the most appropriate response. There’s a stretched out moment of silence between you before he speaks.

“Are you on something?” He questions, leaning in with his hands on his hips, his gaze now focused on trying to discern how dilated your pupils are.

“No!” You say, frustrated that he didn’t seem to grasp any of what you just said.

“Really? ‘Cause it kinda seems like you’re on drugs,” he pushes the possibility.

“Eddie!” You cry out, exasperated, “I’m being serious! My life is all— weird now!”

“Look,” he says as he rubs at his eyes with his finger and thumb, trying to muster as much patience as he can manage in this undoubtedly absurd scenario, “maybe you should see a psychiatrist or maybe check yourself into a hospital, but I don’t know why you’re telling me this. We haven’t spoken in well over a decade.” 

“Eddie,” you say softly, features taking on an inquisitive look as you stand and step towards him, “You’re my best friend.”

You reach a hand out to touch his upper arm, mostly in an attempt to anchor yourself. When you make contact, Eddie looks down at where your hand rests over his bicep. He rolls his lips in towards his teeth and grabs your hand, squeezing it once before setting it back down between the two of you. You watch as he does this, your mouth held helplessly agape.

“No,” he says with a clement tone, “I’m not.”

Deep hurt washes over your features and all of the air that occupied your lungs seems to have vaporized as you fight to take in a steady breath.

Noticing the slump of your shoulders and the weariness of your eyes, Eddie attempts to extend an amicable offer, “Let me walk you home, you seem… unwell.”

You nod, hardly processing what he’s said as you step towards the couch to grab your clutch, holding it, as a comfort, inwards. “Okay,” you respond, voice meek and broken towards the end.

He places his hand on your shoulder and helps to guide you towards the door, walking in time with your dragging steps. As you step past the threshold, he shrugs on a jacket from the coat hanger and closes the door with a quiet click.

it’s october of 1984. the anniversary was approaching. the time will byers, a small and timid child disappeared without a trace. for some time, things were… normal. the boy was able to readjust to everyday life, finding joy with his friends. sticking out just a little more, mike. will wasn’t sure what these feelings were, if it was just a phase. maybe it was his mind messing around with him and tricking him into believing he suddenly felt more warmth and attachment to the raven haired boy.

“i mean, it does make sense, doesn’t it?” will murmurs to the reflection in the mirror, hand trailing from his throat to stomach. he’s been hiding. keeping things to himself that shouldn’t be secret, like the weird, slimy, slug he’d occasionally cough up. almost like the familiar sensation of throwing up, where your chest starts to tighten and your throat closes up and you can’t breathe, and the inevitable gagging that follows as if you’ve eaten something bad your body wants to dispose of. except will hadn’t ate anything bad, he’d just been somewhere he shouldn’t have been in the first place. and yet, almost a year later- it hadn’t gone away. part of it still lingered within him, and somehow will knew this wasn’t the end of it. he knew things would get worse.

it’s coming.

the realization flashes in his brain, instantly connecting the dots about the disgusting nature that intertwined with him. the boy coughs, violently. he can feel the slimy being violate his throat, and eventually, his mouth. spitting it out with one last cough, will lets out a shaky sigh. watching whatever it was… leave his body. and he hopes, clasping his hands together that that’s the last. one. he washes his hands, still feeling uncomfortable in his own skin but what was there to do? no one knew, and he couldn’t tell anyone. he didn’t want doctors.

will pauses. a quiet but excited gasp leaving his lips. “mike. he’d know what to do. and he wouldn’t tell anyone, either.” he smiled, leaving the bathroom and walking into the direction of his room, until he sees something, in his peripheral vision. will’s breath catches in his throat, hesitant in turning his head to face it. flashes of blue and red lightning in the sky that almost looked threatening. no, they were threatening. but he finds his feet moving, step by step towards the door that slams open. it was like the boy was in a trance, reminding him of all those terrible things he’d seen a year ago.

will tilts his head up at the sky, hazel eyes growing wide as his mouth goes agape. his hands shake at his sides, and he swallows. is this not real life? with little time to make any possible sense of what he was seeing, his eyes grow half lidded. it’s too much for him. the small boy, who tried to brave this out collapses onto the ground. he loses consciousness, left in whatever this nightmare was. will knew he was back home, back in the real world. so why… why was it still tormenting him? was it laughing?

soon enough, hazel eyes flutter open drowsily and stare at the ceiling. the peace and quiet was short-lived, as it wasn’t long before his mom barged in with a worried expression. it was an expression will grown accustomed to, and he blinks away the tiredness before focusing on his mother. “mom?” he slurs, still a little tireder than usual.

“baby, are you okay?” joyce questioned, her brown eyes scanning him for any sign of injury as will stared back confused. “mom, i’m fine, what’s wrong?” will questioned back, trying to recall any memories of him getting hurt. “honey, you were passed out on the ground last night.” a frown was plastered on her lips, still not seeming content. especially with will being forgetful. he stays quiet for a moment, trying to recall, then his eyes widen. he starts to say something, “i just-“ but stops himself. “i’m sorry. i needed fresh air.” he lies uncomfortably, looking away. “i was probably just tired, it’s been hard sleeping…” which wasn’t entirely off from the truth, but he still didn’t dare open up about what he saw last night. or what he’s coughed up every now and then.

it was a friday,, and as joyce scanned will’s expression deeper, she sighs. “stay home today, alright? get some rest.” she brushes trough his bowl cut, leaving the room as he shifted more into his bed. he eyes the walkman on his bedside, before grabbing it and raising the antenna. tuning it to mike’s channel. “m-mike?” will talks into the walkman, waiting a few seconds before sighing. he should’ve known he wasn’t going to answer, he was probably already on his way to school. “will? is everything okay?”

and just like that, his eyes widen. with happiness, his face lights up. it wasn’t too late. “h-hey!” will exclaimed, probably a little too excitedly. “um, sorry but… do you think you can skip today? i can come to you,” and that’s where will is abruptly cut off by mike’s voice. “no! it’s fine! i’ll come to you as soon as my mom leaves, okay?” and with those words, his heart thumped in his chest. he had no problem biking to him, and yet he still…

no. those feelings of hope shut down right there. he knows they were wrong and it was probably just something wrong with him as he’s always felt since he returned from the upside down. nonetheless he waits in his room, his brother and mom already left for work. tapping his fingers and pulling up a comic book to get his mind off what he’s seen last night and, the weird sensation of butterflies brewing in his stomach. will groaned, albeit with a smile. he couldn’t help but be happy he was coming. he skipped for him, and chose to come to him instead?

it couldn’t make the boy happier. and with that, he hears a shout. “will! i’m here!” he gasps, legs springing up to get the door for him. “mike!” will exclaimed with a bright smile as he opens the door and is welcomed by his favorite familiar face. “will!” the boys stared at each other for a moment, both smiling before will stepped aside to let him in. making their way to his room, where will sits on his bed. it’s still not made, but it was fine. mike wouldn’t mind. “so…” the boy starts, already growing anxious. he begins to subconsciously shake his leg and play with his hands, glancing at mike and then at his surroundings repeatedly. mike takes a seat right beside him, smile still plastered on his lips until he realizes the nervousness of his best friend.

“hey, will, you okay?” he asked for probably what seemed like the millionth time since he came back, but it was hard to resist. so. damn. hard. he was never able to pretend like nothing happened. not only with will’s disappearance, but hers. the girl with a shaved head and telekinetic powers. he had told will about her, and it was too bad none of them would see her again.

“it’s just…” the shaky boy takes a deep breath, slowly turning his head to face his best friend. “ever since… i returned from the upside down,” will gulps. fear beginning to overtake his body as he closes his eyes for some kind of resilience. “i’ve been…” will hesitates, looking at mike for any sign of annoyance or anger. there never was. he radiated of empathy. care. he was the heart, after all, and that gives will the courage to push through. “something’s wrong. a-and i think it’s only going to get worse. i can’t tell anyone about it, and i don’t want to.” his voice quivers. he wants to cry. he wanted to be… comforted. by the boy next to him? watching him like this? “the only person i wanted to tell, was you, mike. i don’t know why, but you’re the only one who didn’t treat me like some sensitive kid who can’t fend for himself.” will’s face is wet now, tears streaming down as his face as he stares at the window. “the weird looks were always a thing, but they’ve just gotten so much worse. my mom, it’s like she can’t leave me alone. even with dustin and lucas, i-“ the boy inevitably breaks down, his cries turning into sobs. if anyone were to see him like this, he only wanted it to be him.

“and… and that isn’t even… the worst part?” his voice turns confused, as if he’s trying to make sense of everything. he shakes his leg even more violently, taking deep breathes to steady himself. “every now and then, i cough up this weird, wet creature.” will’s expression twists into one of disgust and discomfort, not noticing the hand on his. “they look like they’re from the upside down, mike. i don’t understand- why is it not over?” his voice breaks, but he continues. “l-last night, after i coughed one up. i was going back to bed, but then i saw something in the sky. there was…” will pauses, freezing up. he looks at mike for reassurance, who was intentivly listening. “a… big… spider? in the sky, with thunder. the sky was red and blue, i…”

“will, hey.” mike attempts at snapping will out of it, and it works. the frightened boy’s expression softened when he called for him, still unaware of the hand warming his. “you’re gonna be okay, alright?” mike straightened his posture and kept the same empathetic expression. “you’ll be okay. whatever this is, whatever thing is hurting you. we’re gonna get rid of it. what happened to you wasn’t your fault, okay?” and he meant that. mike wishes it was him, he always did. he remembers the days when no one cared about will’s disappearance. how he just vanished moments after they’d seen each other. he wonders how different things would been if they kept playing, if he just didn’t listen to his mom telling them that it was a school night.

“whatever this thing is, whatever it is that’s hurting you, we’ll kill it together,” mike’s lips twist into a small smile, trying to cheer up his best friend. “right?”

will’s lips move before his brain comprehends what mike even said, and into a small smile back. his face wasn’t as wet anymore and the tears had finally stopped. everything was okay if he had mike at his side. everything will be okay. whatever this is had nothing everything against them.

“right.”

MLTS - ‘Most Likely To’s aka a short description explaining which character of the group (or two, or three characters) would be ‘most likely’ to do something or enjoy something. This could be exploring their potential enjoyment of a kink or how they would behave on a date, how they would be as a romantic partner. It can be anything you want, get creative. 

Reactions - 'how would they react to…’ aka a short description explaining how the characters (two or three, you can choose) would react to a certain situation. (If you want this format done with the whole group at once, it will likely be much shorter.) 

Headcanons - a collection of bullet points that creates a shorter, quicker, more efficient style of fic by taking the reader through a tour of ideas, the character’s reactions and thoughts in a shorter format. (These are like full fics, but in bullet point form, less detailed, so they can usually be done faster.) 

Examples of MLTs:

Most likely to seek revenge if you were harmed by an enemy (or if you were killed by an enemy) 

Mostly likely to have a breeding kink 

Most likely to enjoy PDA 

Most likely to want kids in a relationship

Most likely to be dominant in the bedroom

Most likely to kiss you first

Examples of Reactions:

How would they react to an unexpected pregnancy? 

How would they react to seeing you naked for the first time? (Or seeing you naked by accident?)

How would they react to you being injured in front of them?

How would they react if someone insulted you in front of them? 

How would the group react to finding out that you have been hurt? (Note: you can mention who you want the love interest to be and who you want to be platonic in this case) 

How would they react to seeing you alive after believing you had died?