𓋹 rules masterlist lastpst

all rights reserved. no part of this work and others with the tags, #rhodeme, & #leighbaye, may be translated, used, or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author. unauthorized use, distribution, or claiming ownership of this work is strictly prohibited.

© 𝐦𝐣

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

mike wheeler

lucas sinclair

dustin henderson

𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

the losers club

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

the gang

𝐞𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚

nate jacobs

cassie howard

and, and you don’t have to add this part, but I thought it’d be neat if reader finally asked Dustin out and Dustin, being the genius he is, thinks it’s just a prank so he rejects her and she’s just really sad for like, a month and mama Steve talks some sense into Dusty and they finally get together

thank you so much I love your writing and like, no one writes for Dustin

MOST POPULAR GIRL SYNDROME

written by ℳ, dustin henderson 𝔁 f!reader | words 1558

summary ⟢ everyone knows dustin henderson is a nerd. everyone knows you are the most popular girl in school. when you finally work up the courage to ask him out, dustin assumes the worst.

labels & warnings 𓍯 strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication, rejection (misunderstood), mild angst, teenage insecurity, nerd/popular girl trope, soft comfort, eventual happy ending

the first thing you notice about dustin henderson is that he laughs with his whole body.

it’s not quiet or polite or restrained. it’s loud, wheezy, shoulders-shaking laughter that makes people turn around in the cafeteria and groan. it’s the kind of laugh that doesn’t care who hears it, which is probably why people hear it so often.

the second thing you notice is that he always saves you a seat.

it starts small. a chair pulled out next to him in biology. a backpack shifted on the bleachers during pep rally. a half-second glance around the room like he’s checking for someone before relaxing when you sit down.

no one else notices. or maybe they do, but they don’t understand it the way you do.

because everyone at hawkins high has an opinion about you.

most popular girl. hawkins asb president. straight a’s. always smiling. untouchable.

and everyone has an opinion about dustin henderson too.

nerd. loser. loud. weird teeth. hellfire cult member. walks funny. talks too much.

no one understands why you sit next to him.

except maybe you.

you like dustin because he never pretends not to see you.

when you talk, he listens like every word matters. when you laugh, he looks like he personally won something. when you’re tired or quiet or not in the mood to be on, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. he just keeps you company.

he explains things to you. not in a condescending way, but in an excited, hands-moving, eyes-bright way that makes you feel like you’re being let in on a secret. d&d campaigns. radio frequencies. why science fiction is better than reality. why being normal is overrated.

you like dustin because he treats you like a person instead of a title.

and dustin likes you because you chose him.

he doesn’t say it out loud. he barely lets himself think it. but he notices everything. the way you sit next to him even when people stare. the way you defend him when someone makes a joke that isn’t funny. the way you lean in when he talks, like you want to hear more.

he likes you because you make space for him in a world that usually doesn’t.

and because you’re beautiful. devastatingly so.

he just figures that part is a cosmic joke.

the crush sneaks up on both of you.

for you, it’s the day dustin lends you his jacket when you’re cold and pretends it’s no big deal while his ears turn bright red.

for him, it’s the night you sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, listening to him ramble about campaigns and monsters, and you look at him like he’s the coolest person alive.

after that, it’s over.

except neither of you say anything.

because why would you? you have your whole life planned out by everyone else already. because why would he? you could have anyone.

so you orbit each other. close. careful. aching.

you decide to ask him out on a thursday.

you rehearse it in your head all day.

simple. casual. just the two of you. no pressure.

after school, you find him by his locker, arguing with mike about something that sounds intensely nerdy. he lights up when he sees you anyway.

❝hey! y/n, what’s up?❞

your heart tries to escape your ribcage.

you swallow. smile. ❝um. can i talk to you? like, alone?❞

mike raises his eyebrows. dustin freezes.

❝oh! yeah. yeah, sure.❞

you walk a few steps away, your hands shaking just a little.

❝i was wondering,❞ you say, staring at the floor, ❝if you maybe wanted to go out with me? like… on a date?❞

the silence is immediate. heavy. awful.

dustin’s brain short-circuits.

because this doesn’t happen. not to him. not ever. because people like you don’t ask people like him out. because this is exactly the kind of thing jerks would do to mess with him.

he laughs. sharp. nervous.

❝oh.❞ he rubs the back of his neck. ❝uh… wow. funny.❞

you look up. confused. ❝what?❞

❝i mean, nice try?❞ he says too quickly. ❝but i’m not really in the mood for jokes right now.❞

your chest caves in.

❝i’m not joking.❞

he doesn’t believe you. he can’t.

❝look,❞ he says, voice tight, ❝if this is some kind of dare or prank, you can just tell me.❞

your eyes sting.

❝wow.❞ you whisper. ❝okay.❞

you don’t cry. not there. you just nod and walk away like your heart didn’t just get stepped on.

dustin watches you go, stomach twisting, convinced he just survived public humiliation.

he doesn’t realize he just caused it.

you stop sitting next to him.

not dramatically. not angrily. just… quietly.

you take different routes. different seats. you smile less. laugh softer. you still say hi, but it doesn’t reach your eyes anymore.

people notice.

dustin notices most of all.

he tells himself it’s better this way. that he avoided something cruel. that he did the smart thing.

it doesn’t feel smart.

a week passes. then two. then four.

and he feels hollow.

steve harrington notices because steve harrington notices everything.

❝okay,❞ steve says one afternoon at the squawk, arms crossed, ❝why does she look like someone kicked her puppy every time you walk by?❞

dustin blinks. ❝what?❞

❝you heard me.❞ steve leans closer. ❝what did you do?❞

❝nothing!❞ dustin says defensively. ❝i didn’t do anything.❞

steve stares at him.

❝henderson.❞

he cracks. he sighs. spills everything.

steve listens. quietly. carefully.

then he groans.

❝holy shit,❞ steve says. ❝you are the dumbest genius i know.❞

❝hey!❞

❝she likes you.❞

❝no, she doesn’t.❞

❝yes, she does.❞

❝steve—❞

❝dustin,❞ steve cuts in gently, ❝that girl has been in love with you since before you could grow peach fuzz.❞

the world tilts.

❝i messed up, didn’t i?❞ dustin whispers.

steve softens. ❝yeah, buddy. you did.❞

you’re at the bleachers after school when dustin finds you.

you don’t expect him. you almost leave.

❝y/n, wait!❞

you turn. slowly.

he looks wrecked. nervous. hopeful. terrified.

❝i’m sorry,❞ he says immediately. ❝i was wrong. i was scared. and stupid. and i didn’t think..❞

❝i know,❞ you interrupt quietly. ❝it’s okay.❞

❝it’s not,❞ he says. ❝because i like you. i always have.❞

your breath catches.

❝you do?❞

❝yeah.❞ he smiles, shaky but real. ❝so if the offer still stands…❞

you laugh, tears in your eyes.

❝it does.❞

he beams like he just won the campaign of his life.

GOODNIGHT N GO

written by rhodeme , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | words 1057

summary ⟢ mike comes over to sleepover at his girlfriend’s, just for you to pay no mind and instead cuddle with your puppy?

labels & warnings 𓍯 established relationship, physical affection, ily’s, domestic, non canon (no supernatural focus)

mike has always liked staying over.

he likes the way your room smells like your perfume and clean laundry, the way your bed dips just right under his weight, the way you curl into him like it’s instinct instead of habit. after ten months together, it feels natural, like muscle memory.

what does not feel natural is the warm, furry obstruction currently wedged between you and him.

mike blinks awake slowly, disoriented at first, his arm reaching for your waist out of reflex. instead of finding you, his fingers sink into soft fur.

he freezes.

carefully, he lifts his head and looks down.

gigi. who he has barely met.

your six month old golden retriever puppy is sprawled across your chest like she owns you, head tucked under your chin, tiny paws resting against your collarbone. her body rises and falls with slow, content breaths.

mike stares.

then he looks at you.

you’re on your back, lips parted slightly, lashes resting against your cheeks. even in sleep, you look delicate, peaceful, one hand resting protectively on gigi’s back.

mike exhales through his nose.

❝you’ve gotta be kidding me❞ he whispers.

gigi’s tail thumps once.

mike squints at her. ❝don’t play dumb.❞

she shifts closer to you.

mike flops back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling in betrayal.

he waits. maybe she’ll move. maybe this is temporary. maybe he’ll get his girlfriend back in a second.

five minutes pass.

nothing.

another five minutes.

still nothing.

finally, mike rolls onto his side and nudges you gently.

❝hey❞ he murmurs. ❝y/n.❞

you hum softly, eyes fluttering open just a bit.

❝mmm?❞

❝your dog is stealing my spot.❞

you blink, then look down at gigi, who is very clearly living her best life.

you gently caress her little head. gigi sighing in contentment.

a sleepy smile curves your lips. ❝she likes to cuddle.❞

❝so do i.❞

you turn slightly toward him, instinctively reaching for his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. mike softens immediately, heart melting despite himself.

❝she’s little❞ you whisper. ❝she gets lonely at night.❞

❝puppies tend to get very clingy mike, my dad said to put her inside a crate at night.❞ you place a kiss on her snout.

❝but i don’t care what he thinks is right, gigi’s my daughter.❞

gigi lets out a tiny sigh, as if agreeing.

mike glares at the ceiling again. ❝ i’m being emotionally manipulated by a dog. ❞

you laugh quietly, the sound warm and soft, and mike would endure a thousand cuddle-less nights just to hear it.

❝you’re dramatic.❞

❝i just want my girlfriend.❞

you shift, careful not to wake gigi too much, and slide closer to mike. he perks up instantly, arm tightening around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

for exactly three seconds, everything is perfect.

then gigi crawls with determination, squeezing herself back between you, forcing mike’s arm outward.

you cover your mouth to avoid giggling out loud and waking your parents.

❝ no way ❞ mike whispers. ❝ absolutely not. ❞

he looks down at her, incredulous. ❝you were asleep.❞

gigi yawns.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

❝she’s stubborn❞ you admit.

❝i can tell.❞

❝oh wow you’re a feisty one aren’t you mike?❞

mike sighs, then carefully drapes his arm over both of you, pulling you in anyway. his chin rests on the top of your head, lips brushing your hair.

❝compromise❞ he mutters. ❝shared custody.❞

your hand slips under his shirt, resting against his stomach, familiar and comfortable. mike relaxes immediately, fingers tracing slow patterns along your arm.

❝you’re warm❞ you murmur.

❝you’re kinda cold❞ he replies softly. ❝ it’s my job to keep you warm.❞

to be fair you already had a living heating pad in between you and your boyfriend, the closer mike scoots in, you might have to open a window.

gigi snorts softly in her sleep.

❝she’s judging me❞ mike says.

❝she’s protective❞ you whisper. ❝she knows you’re important.❞

mike presses a kiss to your temple. ❝you’re my favorite person.❞

you tilt your head up, eyes half-lidded, and kiss his jaw, lingering.

❝i love you y/n.❞

❝i know.❞

❝say it back.❞

he didn’t have to say that twice

❝ i love you. ❞

his chest tightens in that familiar way, arms tightening around you instinctively.

❝yeah❞ he murmurs. ❝me too.❞

gigi shifts again, resting her head against mike’s forearm this time.

he pauses.

❝oh my god, mike!❞ you looked at him cooing.

slowly, cautiously, he looks down.

❝…did she just choose me?❞

you smile sleepily. ❝looks like it.❞

mike’s lips twitch. ❝okay. i take it back. she can stay.❞

within minutes, the three of you are tangled together, the bed warm and crowded and perfect. mike drifts off with you tucked against his chest and a puppy between you, finally at peace.

even if he’d never admit it out loud, he knows one thing for sure.

he doesn’t mind sharing, as long as he still gets you.

lucas & cheerleader girlfriend headcanons ♡

⟢ lucas absolutely fell first. like, saw you cheering at a game and forgot how to breathe first.

⟢ you noticed him staring before he ever talked to you. didn’t tease him about it until way later.

⟢ you sit in the bleachers during basketball practice sometimes, doing homework and stealing glances at him when he’s not looking.

⟢ matching school jackets. his is always a little too big on you, yours is way too small on him.

⟢ lucas helps you stretch before practices and pep rallies, counting softly under his breath so he doesn’t distract you.

⟢ you help him practice free throws after school, standing under the hoop and hyping him up like it’s a championship game.

⟢ he pretends he doesn’t get flustered when you cheer the loudest for him, but he absolutely does.

⟢ hand holding in the hallways. constant. if he’s not holding your hand, his arm is around your shoulders or waist. getting teasing grins from mike, dustin, and will.

⟢ mike once points out that lucas smiles differently around you. everyone agrees and lucas gets embarrassed.

⟢ pep rally kisses. quick, soft, always stolen when no one is looking, even though everyone definitely is.

⟢ when you’re nervous before a big performance, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers ❝you’ve got this❞

⟢ when he’s stressed about a game, you braid his fingers with yours and remind him that he’s already good enough.

⟢ he carries your bag after practice without being asked. every time.

⟢ he keeps your ribbon from one cheer competition tucked in his drawer like it’s a trophy.

⟢ he always saves you a seat on the bus for away games. always.

⟢ he loves when you fall asleep on his shoulder during long rides home. doesn’t move even when his arm goes numb.

⟢ you surprise him by learning basketball rules just so you can actually trash talk with him. he surprises you by memorizing your counts and chants.

⟢ post-game hugs where he lifts you off the ground without thinking.

⟢ the party secretly bets on when you’ll say ❝i love you❞ first. dustin loses.

© MINA LEIGH 2026 - 2027

written by ℳ, 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝔁 f! reader | word count 1000

🪻 synopsis giving mike extremely obvious hints of your crush on him but he’s stupidly oblivious.

labels & warnings 💘 𝐘/𝐍 & 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 dainty feminine reader cheerleader + loser boy troupe mutual pinning slight angst 𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻

❝wishing on you❞

if there was one thing mike wheeler was sure of, it was that he absolutely sucked at understanding girls. especially you.

you were … different. not in the cliché way he heard in those cheesy teenage rom-coms you forced him to watch with the rest of your mutual friends, but in a way that made his chest feel tight, like riding a bike down a hill too fast. thrilling. terrifying. impossible to control.

he’d liked you quietly for months, storing away every small moment you offered him like precious collectibles he was scared of ruining. he thought he was subtle about it, he thought no one knew. the problem was, apparently, you weren’t subtle at all at least that’s what everyone kept telling him.

and yet, mike still didn’t get it.

you were waiting for him by his locker, pom-poms peeking out of your cheer bag as you leaned against the metal door like something out of those dreamy coming of age movies. you wore that new black cardigan that hugged your frame perfectly. that also somehow made his brain stop working, and your hair was styled in a blowout, pinned with that tiny oval shaped floral patterned barrette he gave you once as a joke. you kept it.

❝mikey,❞ you greeted, voice like something he wished he could keep bottled up just for himself.

mikey.

he swore his knees almost buckled every time you called him that.

❝hey,❞ he replied, trying to sound casual, hoping his smile didn’t give away how much he replayed that nickname at night when he couldn’t sleep and every morning as he brushed his teeth.

you nudged a small, neatly wrapped cookie into his hand. heart shaped. piggy pink icing. edible glitter. of course it was adorable, super thoughtful, of course you made it.

❝i made you this.❞ he loved the way the tips of your lips turned upward and how voluminous your curled eyelashes looked when you blinked.

mike blinked. ❝um… thanks?❞

you giggled, a little breath leaving you like you expected something more than just a ❝thanks❞ from him.

later, dustin smacked mike on the back of the head for this.

but in the moment, mike just stared after you as you walked away, your hair that caught the shine of the fluorescent school light bouncing, waving like you didn’t just hand deliver him something that made his heart practically sprint.

he found the rest of the guys at their usual lunch table. they were watching him with knowing looks, annoyingly knowing looks.

❝dude,❞ lucas started, ❝she literally made you a cookie.❞

❝a heart shaped one at that.❞

❝so? she makes stuff for us too.❞

dustin scoffed. ❝she gave me a granola bar once because i was dizzy. that does not compare. that cookie had his name on it. in icing.❞

will, a smirk lightly forming on his lips, trying to be gentle, added, ❝mike… she likes you. like likes you.❞

mike shoved a fry into his mouth to avoid answering. ❝you guys are reading into it.❞

but the heat in his chest said otherwise.

the next hint (apparently) was even more obvious.

the school was hosting a small fair to raise funds for the cheer and AV clubs, which was a weird combo, but you insisted both groups worked so hard and deserved it. mike didn’t even try saying no because… well, saying no to you wasn’t something he was capable of.

you ended up at the wishing well, handmade and covered in pink glitter, which dustin complained about because it got in his hair.

you held out a coin to mike, eyes soft. ❝make a wish?❞

❝on what?❞ he asked.

you hesitated as if thinking about what to say next, but really it was more like if you should even say what you did.

❝on… something you really want.❞

he stared at the coin on your palm, then at you.

something he really wanted was standing right in front of him, smiling like he hung the stars in the gym ceiling above you both.

he tossed the coin, closing his eyes, wishing for courage. courage to tell you.

you bit your lip, cheeks flushed brighter than the icing on your homemade cookies. ❝can i tell you mine?❞

❝sure.❞

you leaned closer, voice just above a whisper. ❝i wished… for someone to finally see how i feel.❞

mike nodded. ❝oh. yeah. that’s a good wish.❞

dustin physically dragged him away before he ruined it further.

his wake up call came two days later in the gym.

your cheer practice had ended, and the boys had wandered inside, bored. you sat next to mike on the bleachers, still in your uniform, hair a little messy, face glowing from the all the tumbling and stunts. you looked unreal.

you had a small alien sticker in your palm.

❝mikey,❞ you said, placing it gently on his cheek, ❝i think this suits you.❞

mike froze.

you were inches away, your hand still on his face. his skin burned where you touched him. your eyes flicked to his lips for a second, just a second. mike’s brain short-circuited.

he swallowed. ❝th-thanks.❞

you looked at him like he hung the moon for real this time.

❝i wish you knew,❞ you whispered, almost too soft to hear.

and mike, still mike, still hopelessly oblivious, tried to respond, but you were called away by your coach.

he sat on his bike that night, staring up at the sky, replaying every moment with you. every smile, every gift, every touch.

she wished for someone to finally see how i feel.

i wish you knew.

you weren’t being subtle at all.

and suddenly, it crashed into him. the realization hit so hard he nearly fell off the bike.

you liked him. you liked him!

and he’d been stupid. he let a audible gasp.

he biked to your house without thinking. threw rocks at your window because his brain went into rom com autopilot. when your laced curtains shifted and you appeared, his heart leapt.

you rushed downstairs ignoring your parents as they questioned where you were going, the boy you yearned for was outside.

you came outside, wearing a cute sleep set, sweater thrown over, hair messy and adorable and perfect.

❝mike? hi what are you—❞

he didn’t let himself think this time.

❝y/n! i’m an idiot.❞

you blinked. ❝i mean… yeah, a little.❞

he huffed out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. ❝i didn’t get it. all the hints. everyone kept telling me, and i still didn’t get it. but i do now. and i… i wish i noticed sooner.❞

you stepped closer. ❝noticed what?❞ knowing damn well what he meant.

mike’s voice shook. ❝that you like me.❞

your breath hitched. ❝and…?❞ as you tested him

he gently took your hand, holding it with both of his like it might vanish. ❝and i like you too. so much it makes me feel crazy.❞

your shoulders relaxed, a smile blooming that could power every star in the sky.

mike placed a soft kiss on your forehead, nervous, tender, like a question wrapped in hope.

❝so… can i be your wish too?❞ wow that sounded a lot better in his head.

you whispered against his knitted sweater, ❝you already were.❞ tears of joy welling in your eyes.

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | wc 800

synopsis. mike’s mind on a saturday afternoon at his girlfriend’s house. he still gets nervous. he still gets shy. he’s still just a boy in love.

labels. y/n & she/her used, mike’s point of view. loser bf x cheerleader gf trope. feminine reader, delicate & dainty reader.

warning. fluff, insecure thoughts, soft romantic tension, a few suggestive moments, nothing explicit.

he’s never going to get used to this.

he tells himself that every time he walks up the stairs in your house, hands sweating, his brain short-circuiting at the scent of your perfume already drifting down the hallway. that sugary, sweet vanilla scent. like lip gloss and apricot shampoo. and he’s never going to get over the fact that someone like you chose someone like him.

his fingers twitch at his sides as he knocks on your door, already pushed halfway open. ❝hey, it’s—uh. it’s just me.❞

you’re lying across your bed in a pale pink tank top and matching shorts, bare legs kicked up and crossed at the ankles, flipping through a magazine with your hair all soft around your face. like some vision pulled straight from a perfume ad. or maybe a dream he had once.

you glance up at him, all smile and gloss,❝hi, baby.❞

baby.

he swears his brain malfunctions every time you say that.

he walks in like he’s trying not to crush the carpet under his sneakers, like your room is sacred. and maybe it kind of is. everything here is pink, gold, delicate. your little heart-shaped locket sits on your vanity beside your lip glosses and miss dior perfume. you’ve got lace ribbons tied around your perfume tray. you sleep with a stuffed bear. and sometimes when you get cold you wear frilly socks.

he’s never touched any of it. it feels too girly, but in the best way possible. like he doesn’t belong around it.

but then you sit up on your elbows and pout at him like he’s been ignoring you, and he melts instantly.

❝you gonna sit?❞ you ask, ❝or just stand there and look nervous?❞

❝i’m not nervous,❞ he lies, stepping closer.

he is. but not in the bad way. he’s nervous in the how-did-i-get-so-lucky way. in the i-hope-i-don’t-ruin-this way. you’re just so soft. so gentle. he’s never met anyone who makes him feel like this before—like his whole chest is a balloon floating toward the ceiling when you laugh.

he finally sits beside you, not too close at first, but you fix that. you curl up under his arm like you belong there, cheek resting on his chest.

he thinks he might stop breathing.

you hum softly, running your fingers along his arm. ❝you’re tense.❞

he lets out a nervous breath. ❝i’m not—❞

❝mike,❞ you interrupt with a giggle, ❝you’re literally vibrating.❞

❝okay. maybe a little.❞

you tilt your head and look up at him through your lashes, and god, his heart. you’re too pretty. it’s actually unfair. ❝why?❞

he shrugs, but the truth spills out anyway. ❝i still can’t believe you like me.❞

you blink at him. ❝i’ve been your girlfriend for six months.❞

❝i know,❞ he says, cheeks warm, ❝i just… you’re you. you’re like… pretty, nice, talkative and i’m just… me.❞

you frown, pushing yourself up so you’re kneeling beside him. ❝you’re mike. you’re the boy who leaves notes in my locker. who brings me cherry slushies. who walks me to practice even when it’s raining. you’re the sweetest, kindest, smartest boy i know.❞

he swallows hard. your words feel like honey dripping down his spine. ❝you think that?❞

you nod, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. ❝i know that.❞

he can’t help but smile. really smile. the kind that makes his ears go red and his hands fidget again. you notice, of course. you always notice.

you take his hand and guide it gently to your waist, then settle back beside him, resting your head on his shoulder again. ❝better?❞

❝yeah.❞

your fingers lace with his. you smell like strawberries and sugar. your skin is warm. soft. he thinks about how you cheer at games, how you wink at him from the field, how your lip gloss always tastes like gummy bears.

he also thinks about how lucky he is. he still doesn’t understand it. you could’ve had anyone.

but you chose him.

you choose him every time.

his hand tightens slightly on your waist. ❝i think about you all the time.❞

you smile again, voice a little quieter. ❝i think about you too, mikey.❞

mikey. god.

he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling, but it’s somewhere between floating and burning. soft and intense. like summer heat after dark. like riding a bike down a hill with your eyes closed. like holding the prettiest girl in the world and still not understanding how she wants to hold you back.

you sigh softly, thumb stroking his palm.

and he knows. he’s not just your boyfriend. he’s yours. he always will be.

the sun starts to set and the breeze blowing in from your window is getting colder. the rest of the time was spent making out with mike as you sat on his lap, smiling in a kiss and taking breathing breaks.

leaving kissy marks all over his face and taking candids of mike.

him brushing out your hair and sniffing your hair, chest and neck, really taking in your scent then rubbing his hands up and down your back.

he also gropes at your butt, with you playfully yelling out protests giggling under his touch, but that’s a story for another time.

another ps this is just a suggestion prompt because nobody writes for lucas, love ur writing!

SLIM PICKINS

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , lucas sinclair 𝔁 f! reader | wc 800

synopsis. after feeling conflicted when multiple boys have showed their undeniable interest in her, winning her affection but knowing deep down she doesn’t like them deep down. lucas goes above and beyond to prove he isn’t like the others.

labels. basketball bf + cheerleader gf, she/her & y/n used, soft feminine reader, delicate and dainty reader, shy reader, happy go lucky reader. lucas’s point of view!

warnings. mild second hand embarrassment

it’s honestly embarrassing how long i stand behind the water fountain pretending to refill my bottle when i’m just … waiting. waiting for her.

y/n.

she’s standing with the other girls near the bleachers, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger while she giggles at something one of them said. her skirt sways a little when she shifts her weight, and i swear — i’ve never seen someone look that … soft. like if you touched her, she’d disappear into flower petals or something.

i’ve seen her turn down three guys this week. three. and every time, she does it with this sweet, apologetic little smile that makes me think she probably went home and cried about hurting their feelings. i don’t know why anyone would want to hurt her in the first place.

she deserves someone who sees her. really sees her.

and i do. i see everything.

i see how she cuts her strawberries during lunch with this tiny plastic knife and offering them to her friends, even if they had their own food. i see the way she always carries two hair ties just in case a friend needs one. i see how she tries to be brave when coach yells during warmups, even though she’s shaking.

i know i sound down bad. maybe i am.

then again, who wouldn’t be? it’s y/n, cmon ..

but i’ve got an advantage. basketball practice happens at the same time as cheer. i get to see her stretch, warm up, laugh, tumble. i get to wave when we pass in the halls. i get to be … near.

i take another sip from my already - full bottle and start walking toward the bleachers. my heart’s thudding like i’ve just finished a game.

❝hey,❞ i say, casual as i can manage, slinging my towel over my shoulder. ❝that stunt you nailed earlier? insane. you, uh flew.❞

i tried shooting it nonchalantly but i wouldn’t know if it sounded like it.

she turns around and looks at me with those big, sparkly eyes, and for a second i forget how to breathe.

❝really?❞ she says, cheeks warming, lips glossy and pink. ❝i didn’t think anyone noticed.❞

i shrug like it’s no big deal, but my palms are sweating. ❝yeah. i mean, i notice. you’re always good. like — seriously. everyone thinks so.❞

she smiles shyly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. i see the little heart-shaped locket she always wears glint in the gym lights, and i wonder if there’s a picture of someone else in it. a friend. a brother. her pet, a boyfriend. god, please not a boyfriend.

❝thanks, lucas.❞

i hear my name in her voice and feel like the sun could burst out of my chest.

this is better than hitting a layup on my opponent on the court

then, silence. awkward silence.

i almost chicken out. almost say ❝see you❞ and walk away, but then i remember the other guys. the ones who only wanted her because she’s pretty. the ones she turned down because they didn’t get her.

i take a breath. it’s now or never.

❝y/n—❞

she blinks up at me.

❝can i ask you something?❞

❝sure.❞

❝i’m not like … those other guys, okay? the ones who ask you out just ‘cause you’re on the team or ‘cause you’re pretty. i mean, you are pretty — like really pretty — but i just mean, i see you. i like the way you always smell like peaches. and how your nails match your binder. and how you always clap for everyone on your team, even if they mess up. ❞

she laughs softly, looking down. her blush is deeper now.

deeper than the shade she applied on her face beforehand.

❝i guess what i’m saying is, i’d really like to take you out. just us. something simple. milkshakes after school or whatever you like.❞

her eyes meet mine again, wide and shiny, and she gives me this little nod.

❝i’d like that,❞ she says, voice almost a whisper.

❝especially with someone like you.❞

my whole chest exhales.

and right then, even with whistles blowing and guys yelling from across the court, everything goes quiet in my head.

just me. and her. and the promise of something real.

© MINA LEIGH 2025 - 2026

YOUR PRESENCE IS FELT

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | wc 800

synopsis. mike being in awe of his girlfriend’s space. mike’s point of view.

labels. loser bf + cheerleader gf troupe, she/her & y/n used, soft feminine reader, delicate & dainty reader, shy reader, happy go lucky reader.

warnings. n/a

i’d never been inside her room before.

i’d seen it from the hallway — the soft yellow light spilling out from the crack of the door, her muffled voice humming along to whatever record she had on. i always wondered what it looked like in there.

today, she finally let me in.

❝just gimme two minutes, i need to get out of this skirt or i’ll die,❞ she said in her usual sweet rush, cheeks flushed from walking home in the heat. she left the door open behind her, soft pats of her feet touching the ground as she walked into the bathroom.

and suddenly i was just … standing there.

alone in her room.

it felt like walking into nancy’s room? just except this time i wasn’t getting yelled at to get out.

every inch of it had her name written on it. it wasn’t just a bedroom — it was her. it smelled like vanilla hand crème and lip gloss and something light and fruity. the kind of scent that lingered on my hoodie after she borrowed it last week.

my eyes moved slowly, taking it all in. there was a shelf lined with tiny trinkets — a blonde bunny, a glittery snow globe, a heart-shaped dish overflowing with rings and earrings. above her bed, a record was spinning — one of the oldies she said reminded her of her mom’s car rides.

the oldie being coney island baby by the excellents.

but what got me the most were the little things.

the soft stuffed kitten in the corner that i won for her at the county fair last fall, still wearing the laced yellow ribbon she tied around its neck. the mixtape i made her, tucked next to her record player like it belonged there. the sketch i drew of her during a boring math class, pinned right above her mirror, with a tiny ❝i love you ♡❞ scribbled under my shaky linework. next to it a picture of us at my house, on home coming night.

i didn’t know my mom gave that photo to her, did she have to ask to keep it?

i hadn’t realized how much of me she kept around.

it made my chest feel warm. like i mattered. like somehow, in this space so full of lace and pink and soft things, i wasn’t out of place.

even her books — well-worn, highlighted, covered in post-it notes sticking out with little comments in her loopy handwriting. one of them said ❝this made me think of you❞ and i swear to god i almost melted right there.

i moved closer to her vanity. it was covered in lipsticks, sparkly palettes, delicate perfume bottles. i spotted the one she wore on our first date — the one i told her made her smell like peach sorbet and summer. i watched her pick it up in the drugstore, smile like it was no big deal, but now it sat here, front and center.

my eyes landed on a small polaroid taped to the mirror’s corner. it was of me — eyes closed, mid-laugh, her glittery nails holding the camera. she’d never shown me that one.

i heard the door creak and turned. there she was — in a butter yellow matching sleep set, cheeks pink from scrubbing off makeup, her hair down and impressively voluminous — after having it in a high pony all day. she looked so … her. softer than ever.

she looked around nervously. ❝sorry, it’s kinda messy,❞ she said.

i smiled. ❝it’s perfect.❞

she tucked herself under my arm, warm and smelling like shampoo. i held her close, eyes still scanning the room behind her — the way the sunlight hit the silky fabric on her curtains, the way her pillow had the tiniest lipstick stain, the way her slippers were tucked underneath her bed.

this was her place. and somehow, she’d let me be part of it.

i don’t know what i expected. something more typical, maybe. but y/n had never been typical. she was soft edges and loud laughter, a enthusiast of pink lace, ballet flats and tights, someone who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

and now i got to sit on her bed, in her world, and feel what it was like to be loved by her.

and god, it felt like home. it is now home.

© MINA LEIGH 2025 - 2026

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | wc 800

synopsis. you finally tells lucas about your crush on mike wheeler. lucas — shocked, thrilled, and determined to fix his best friend’s life, delivers the news to mike, who … panics. now mike’s dodging you like his life depends on it. confused and hurt, you try to let go. but lucas, max, and dustin have other plans

labels. hellfire mike x cheerleader reader, loser boy + popular girl troupe, soft feminine reader, shy reader, happy go lucky reader.

warnings. light angst, mutual pining, miscommunication, brief emotional hurt/comfort.

you weren’t supposed to like mike wheeler.

not because he wasn’t likable. god no, he was too likable. too kind. too smart. too thoughtful in the ways only someone as soft and awkward as him could be.

but you? you were the bubbly cheerleader who shared her water with her cheerleader friends who forgot theirs and had a locker full of pink gel pens and birthday cake lip balm. you weren’t supposed to fall for the tall, lanky boy who wore fingerless gloves in june and talked about dungeons & dragons like it was a religion.

and yet.

you did.

so one day, just after sixth period, still in your cheer uniform, hands clutching the strap of your backpack like it was keeping you alive, you told lucas.

❝you like mike?❞ he blinked, mouth full of peanut butter reese’s.

you nodded, cheeks burning. ❝i think i have for a while.❞

his reaction was a combination of a cough, a squeak, and a half-choked yell.

❝lucas, oh my god—❞

❝no, no, this is great! this is—this changes everything!❞

and you laughed, nervous and sweet, because lucas made it easy to say things you couldn’t say to anyone else.

mike stared at the floor like it had personally insulted him.

❝she—she said that?❞

lucas nodded. ❝y/n. the y/n you refuse to look at even though you clearly like her back.❞

❝i don’t—❞

lucas clicked his tongue.

❝okay maybe i do but it doesn’t matter because she’s like—she’s her. and i’m me. and she probably only said that to be nice or something.❞

❝that’s not how crushes work, dude.❞

❝but what if i mess it up?❞ mike groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. ❝what if i say something stupid and she realizes she made a mistake and regrets everything and never speaks to me again?❞

❝so your plan is to… not speak to her? ever?❞

mike didn’t answer.

lucas sighed.

you noticed.

how he turned corners when you walked toward him.

how he laughed with dustin until you entered the room and then suddenly went silent.

how he looked anywhere but at you, like your face was a solar eclipse, and he didn’t want to burn out.

and it hurt. not in the dramatic heartbreak way. more like a quiet ache in your chest that you kept trying to brush off.

maybe you’d read it wrong.

maybe it was just a nice conversation with lucas. a temporary rush of courage and hope.

maybe mike didn’t like you back after all.

you sat on the steps outside the gym after practice, your hair still tied in a half-hearted ponytail, your water bottle resting beside you. you watched the sky turn pink.

then max plopped down beside you.

❝he’s a dumbass.❞

❝…huh?❞

❝mike.❞ she glanced at you. ❝i overheard lucas and dustin talking. he thinks you’re too good for him, so he’s been avoiding you to protect his fragile ego or whatever.❞

you blinked. ❝so he does like me?❞

❝oh my god. yes. obviously. you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.❞

❝then why—❞

❝because he’s mike. and mike is, like, i don’t know he’s just mike.❞

later that night, you opened your locker to find a note folded into a triangle. written in messy blue pen:

meet me at the bleachers. please. - mike

you debated it.

for five seconds.

ultimately you obliged.

he was pacing when you got there.

his eyes went wide when he saw you. ❝hi.❞

you smiled, small but real. ❝hi.❞

then silence.

❝i’m sorry,❞ he blurted.

you knew why he was apologizing but you proceeded without thinking.

you tilted your head. ❝for what?❞

❝for being… a total idiot. and avoiding you. and not saying anything. and making you think i didn’t like you back—❞

❝mike—❞

❝—and not telling you sooner that i’ve liked you since, like, forever.❞

you blinked. ❝you have?❞

he nodded, hands flailing. ❝yes. i just—i didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way. and then lucas told me and i freaked out and then i just—❞

you stepped closer. ❝you hurt my feelings.❞

❝you are aware of that, right?❞

he froze. ❝i know. and i hate that. i didn’t mean to, i swear. i was just scared.❞

you smiled, sad and soft. ❝me too.❞

he looked at you.

❝do you forgive me?❞ he asked, quiet.

you reached out, your pinky brushing his. ❝if you promise to say hi next time.❞

he grinned, sheepish. ❝hi.❞

you laughed, and suddenly his hand was in yours.

and just like that, the ache in your chest faded.