Lucas Sinclair X Reader - Blog Posts

strawberry mentos

lucas sinclair x gn!reader

type: literally tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 0.2k

warnings: poorly written smooches, reader’s fav candy is strawberry mentos

summary: kisses with lucas are already sweet enough. even sweeter when you can taste the sugar on his tongue.

inspo: “strawberry kisses” by leanna firestone

a/n: wrote this bc i couldn’t sleep and we need more lucas fics !!!

i pulled away from him, my eyes scanning his face.

“what- what is it?” lucas asks, eyes a little terrified.

i dive back in for another kiss. it’s a press of lips and a swipe of the tongue before i pull away again.

“you taste sweet, sinclair,” i state plainly.

the boy chuckles nervously. “umm… thank you?”

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/ᐠ-˕-マ~ master list for...

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 !

《 ♡ 》 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫

nothing here yet :(

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《 ♡ 》 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

nothing here yet :(

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《 ♡ 》 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫

nothing here yet :(

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《 ♡ 》 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

nothing here yet :(

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《 ♡ 》 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦

nothing here yet :(

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《 ♡ 》 𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

nothing here yet :(

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : [active] [hiatus] [offline]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 : [open] [closed]

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 :

I'm a firm believer of two things. a) eleven is not ready to be in any romantic relationships. b) billy hargrove, yes, even before possession by vecna, was a racist, abusive, asshole, and no, trauma is not an and does not excuse that behavior.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞

— SIGN YOUR NAME ACROSS MY HEART

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , mike wheeler 𝔁 f! reader | wc 1325

summary. mike wheeler , member of the notorious hellfire club, has a hopelessly hopeful crush on you. it takes the simplest thing, a yearbook signature, for him to realize the feeling is indeed mutual.

labels. no definite description of reader, cheerleader reader, friendly & extroverted reader, introvert ­ mike, basically loser boy + popular girl trope.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. hope you guys enjoy some mike wheeler! i just really miss stranger things right now.

should i just leave right here, right now? mike asked himself, clearly internally monologuing.

his frail legs shaking slightly under his black skinny jeans, wiping his sweaty palms on them, switching one hand to wipe while the other holds his yearbook.

i should just turn the balls of my feet the other direction and walk off, i mean y/n wouldn’t notice, right?

his thoughts of escaping running through his poor head were abruptly interrupted as another body jostled against him, laughing unapologetically as they, too, headed towards the object of mike’s affection.

It was whoever they were, along with at least three of y/n’s cheerleading teammates, and no less than eight screaming boys and girls (consisting of at least two teammates from lucas’s basketball team, if mike’s memory served him correctly) all holding their yearbooks out as if y/n were some hollywood star in california.

she could be one, mike mused. she certainly has the looks for it. and maybe mike might even feel better if it were just that. if it was just that y/n was practically aphrodite’s incarnate and people couldn’t take their eyes off her.

but, she’s just so good. she’s beautiful and athletic, yes, but she’s also caring and whip-smart and bright in every sense of the word. she constantly does volunteer work and has a ridiculously high gpa and smiles at everyone she sees, including himself, just because.

everyone loves her, and of course they do. how could mike blame them for seeing exactly what he sees?

a pang of something courses through him. it’s probably a bit of jealousy, a bit of uncharacteristic obstinacy, and a bit of (characteristic, dreadful) hope. if mike were less of a romantic, he might be able to see this for what it is: a fantasy.

he’s standing here, waiting his turn, as if the living, breathing portrait of goodness would choose him out of everyone. and, even worse, he can’t even muster fear within himself, because it’s y/n.

it takes mike a moment to register that everyone else has cleared out, and it’s just him and the person who plays the role of the sun in his universe standing face to face. mike just hopes that the blush he can feel starting at his pale neck reaching to the tips of his ears don’t show up where y/n can see it.

❝ hi ❞ y/n says. her voice is soft, much softer than mike is used to, only ever hearing it up close when she’s yelling out supporting words to the basketball team, and he wonders if that’s how y/n always talks to people one-on-one.

he also wonders if that’s how y/n ever talked to lucas, a memory of him feeling the most uncomfortable he’s ever felt after seeing her talk to him making each other laugh and acting casually with each other seeing y/n playfully smack his shoulder clouded his thoughts. its not everyday you see your crush talking to one of you best friends like, since forever. well not that i’d know, he internally chastises himself.

y/n is smiling and her eyes crinkle at the corners and mike doesn’t have it within himself to look away, even as he abruptly pushes his yearbook out in front of him and holds it there. mike’s heart skips a beat as y/n grasps it carefully, as her gorgeous eyes skip over his face again, as she uncaps a pen to start writing.

without a yearbook to hold on to, mike is left waiting with shaky hands and trembling legs, trying to grab on to just a fragment of a thought so he doesn’t float away. unsurprisingly, the first one he can seize is still distantly about y/n. it’s dustin’s voice, echoing once again in his head, just as it recurrently had since they last talked. about life, about love, about y/n.

❝ you need to go for it mike ❞ dustin had urged, his face unusually grim and serious. ❝ you need to let yourself have things, at least once. ❞

mike takes a breath, remembering all of his years - long longing and misery and idealism, and tries. he opens his mouth to say something, anything. if he can stomach it, he’ll ask for y/n’s number or, at least, say something that y/n could respond to.

he can give himself one conversation. he can give himself one syllable so he can at least say that he gave it an honest shot, so the flavor of regret he’s bound to taste will wash away faster.

but y/n closes the yearbook, and mike closes his mouth.

y/n holds the book out away from her, the same way mike had. like there was something burning inside it that she needed to let go of.

❝ here you go ❞ y/n says, closer to a whisper than anything mike’s ever heard.

something seems off. and mike can’t tell if it’s just that he feels caught out, with y/n looking at him as he was thinking about his irrepressible crush, or if it’s really right there in front of him. y/n is still smiling, but it’s small and a bit strained. her lips are pressed together and she looks… red? there’s a tinge of pink across her cheeks, coating her perfect features. She looks exerted.

of course she does, she just finished her cheer practice, you lovesick idiot. mike barely stops himself from covering his face in embarrassment. this is what he gets for trying, for thinking too hard and making himself look like a total and utter imbecile.

so, he overcompensates.

❝ wow uh thank you, so much, y/n really, ❞ mike replies, rushed and vaguely fearful. the adrenaline has worn off and he’s starting to feel the comedown of this prolonged period of stress.

he can’t tell if he wants to say more or if he merely, momentarily, considers it, but it doesn’t end up mattering. his traitorous legs betray him and spin him around, pushing him onward in the opposite direction.

now mike can feel the flush of deep, burrowing shame rising to the surface. he cringes and keeps walking.

once he’s far enough away, mike decides to open his yearbook and take a look at y/n’s signature before he inevitably throws up on it and renders it illegible.

mike doesn’t have to look long. he knows y/n’s handwriting, just like everything else even tangentially related to her, by heart. and he’s relatively certain that he’ll see what y/n has left behind in seemingly every other yearbook: a simple ❝ y/n ^_^ ❞ that evokes the image of her toothy, genuine grin without fail.

what he finds, though, leaves him frozen in the middle of the hallway. he is so taken aback that his limbs don’t even shake. It’s just his heart—his foolish, faithful heart—that does a little dance.

he gets stuck on his own name, ❝ mike ❞ in y/n’s charming scrawl. he never told y/n his name. he didn’t even dare to dream that y/n remembered his face.

mike reads on and lets a little gasp of laughter escape. he can’t tamp down his uncontrollable smile as his eyes trek across the words over and over and over again, as he quickly closes the book and opens it again to make sure the words haven’t somehow flown away.

he grins, wider than he can ever remember, before closing the yearbook again with finality and hugging it tightly to his chest. y/n’s words cycle through his mind, becoming new fragments for mike to grab on to. he doesn’t need to open his yearbook to be able to re - read the words that traveled straight to his heart. to be honest, he could probably recite the message word for word, letter for letter, with his eyes closed:

mike,

i think you’re cute

if you also think i’m cute

maybe we can do something about it ^_^

xxx xxx xxxx

have a summer as beautiful as you

y/n ♡

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024