m00sika



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    Mike grabs Will’s hands and tangles them with his own, blinking up at him through his long, dark lashes. His eyes are endless. Solid black, like the night above them. So shiny that Will can see himself, tipsy and happy, in the reflection. “I want to be stuck with you,” Mike whispers, like it’s a secret. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

    Will sucks in a sharp breath, squeezing his hands. “Then don’t,” he whispers back, punched-out and honest. “Stay.”

    Senior year in Hawkins. Will and Mike figure some things out.

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    24 Jan 2026

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    It’s been seven years since Will Byers vanished from Hawkins for the second time; seven years since he picked up his life, moved across the globe, and finally settled. He had found himself in a small town outside of Dublin with no desire to be anyplace else. He was happy. Ireland was great — beautiful sights, decent weather, and it was far. So, so far.

    But when past feelings bubble from under the surface and start to poison his creative endeavors, he doesn’t think things could get any worse.

    Seeing Mike Wheeler at his local grocery store quickly proves him wrong.

    OR: Running away and the reunion of a lifetime.

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    23 Jan 2026

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    IAN! @poppytuft: someone write fic where they all go to the party that night after their campaign and mike and will make out in the bathroom bc Will says I hate your hair like this. please let me fix it. and he’s running his hands through mikes hair and he goes oh. OH. don’t give a fuuuuck

     

    IAN! @poppytuft: Dustin henderson kat stratford ten things i hate about you dancing on the kitchen table moment while mike and will are dry humping in the bathroom. Who cares anymore

     

    IAN! @poppytuft: I'm doing it myself

    (or: the party DOES go to Stacy’s party, and mike and will get so gay off that vodka)

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    23 Jan 2026

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    college au byler!!!

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    23 Jan 2026

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    “You’re thinking,” Will says, skating a finger down the line of Mike’s nose, under his eye, over his cheekbone, then resting, finally, just at the corner of his lips– “about me.”

    Oh, Jesus. Mike’s throat is very, very dry. “What?”

    Will opens his eyes – slow, a little hesitant – and smiles. “You are,” he says, way, way too smug for Mike’s liking. “You’re turning red!”

    “Shut up,” Mike mutters, and Will’s smile grows. “You– I’m just nervous!”

    It should be illegal for someone to look this pleased with themselves. “Yeah?” Will says quietly, index finger still hovering at the corner of Mike’s mouth, thumb pressed gently under his chin. “I make you nervous?”

    Mike thinks Will might be psychic. (Kind of.) Will is being very irritatingly vague about the whole thing.

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    23 Jan 2026