Stranger Things Imagines

ROMANTIC: Mike [4] - fem!reader (she/her)

It was late afternoon on a Friday. This weekend's plans were staying over at Mike's house. You'd already packed everything you needed, including some extra stuff in case you planned to go play hide and seek in the dark like you usually did. You'd end up scaring each other shitless, but it was worth it in the end because he'd kiss your cheek and hold you close to him by the hips.

Currently, Mike was in the bathroom, and you were reading a book. Your hair fell in your eyes, and you pushed it out of the way, trapped in the life of the main character in your book. The book wasn't too different from your real life: The main character of the story had to slay dragons and overcome demons not only existing in the physical world but in the screwed up thing that was in her mind; the main character in real life, you, had to deal with the Upside Down and the Lab along with your personal life. Different situations yet you could relate in the same way.

Mike came out of the bathroom just after the flush of the toilet sounded. You tore your eyes away from your book, sighing that you had leave the wonderful world made on paper. The boy smiled at you while he stuck his hands in his khaki pants; you smiled back, but it was mostly trying to hold in a laugh at the crease in his cheeks caused from his smile.

You put your bookmark in the book and closed it. "Did you wash your hands?" you asked him.

"For the millionth time, Y/N," he replied in a tired, irritated voice, "boys don't need to wash their hands since we don't touch anything."

"And that's one of the million reasons boys are disgusting pigs. You touched the toilet. Wash. Your. Hands," you demanded.

"Okay, fine." He lifted his hands up in surrender, dropped them, made his way back to the bathroom, washed his hands with the door open, then came back to you with a bigger smile. You kept your book closed, waiting for him. You returned the look to him with a wide smile.

He took the book held loosely in your hands away from you, dropping it somewhere else on the couch. He sat on top of you, his knees making contact with the side of your hips. He took your face in his hands, examining you while rubbing a thumb over your cheek. He leaned down slowly, kissing you softly on the lips. You kissed him back, instinctively bringing your hands to his neck. Catching you by surprise, he gently pulls your wrists off his neck and pins them behind you with one hand with swift motions. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up with his pointer finger.

He kisses you slightly harder while making his way to your jawline, to your neck, to the top of your shirt... But he brings himself back up, leading back to your lips, kissing you even harder now, like he could never get enough. He takes his finger away from your chin, now trailing it down your right side. He finally lets go of your wrists, and your hands fly to his hair, gripping it. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and —

The door of the basement flew open. "Mike!" Nancy yelled from the top of the stairs. "How many times have I told you to learn how to lock the door? You're lucky it wasn't mom!"

Mike groaned. "What do you want?" he hollered, getting off of you. He sat beside you and pulled you into his lap.

"Take out the trash and wash the dishes?" she said like it was obvious. "It's your week!"

"Shit." Mike ran a hand through his hair, turning to you. "Okay. I'll go do those things and you just wait here, okay? I promise I'll be right back."

"Do you need help?"

"No, no, no, of course not. You'd rather read your book, right?"

You laughed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

He wasted no time grabbing your hand and dragging you up the stairs, rushing to get these chores done. When everything was done, he was closest to his room, so he dragged you there, locked the door, threw you on the bed, and laid on top of you, snuggling his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.