I JUST READ YOUR BEN'S BUNKER FIC AND IT WAS SO YUMMY! I'm Not Sure If It's Your Writing Style Or The

— CINNAMON GIRL ²

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , sodapop curtis 𝔁 f! reader | wc 1000

summary. soda reflects on y/n toizer’s impact on his life and how she’s been a source of joy and comfort for him, especially during tough times.

labels. sodapop’s point of view.

warnings. mentions of grief, brief reflections on parental loss, and family struggles.

when life gets tough, i try to keep smiling. i guess i learned that from mom. she always said, ❝don’t let the bad stuff take your shine, soda. the world’s got enough dark in it already.❞ i’ve held onto that, even when she wasn’t there anymore to remind me.

but sometimes, even the brightest smile can falter. and that’s when y/n steps in, like she always does, with her soft voice and kind eyes that seem to know exactly what i need to hear. she’s like a big sister to all of us, but to me, she’s more like sunshine on a cloudy day.

i remember the first time i met her. i couldn’t have been more than five, maybe six. darry had brought her over to play with us, and she had this laugh that made me want to laugh too, even if i didn’t know what was funny. she was already looking out for everyone back then — tying pony’s shoelaces so he wouldn’t trip, wiping dirt off my face, and making sure darry didn’t forget to take a break from whatever “important” thing he was doing.

❝you’re gonna be trouble,❞ she’d said to me, her hands on her hips and a grin tugging at her lips.

❝no, i’m not!❞ i’d shot back.

but she just laughed, ruffling my hair. ❝sure you’re not.❞

she’s been around ever since, like part of the family we didn’t know we needed.

that evening, i was leaning against the hood of steve’s car, trying to make sense of an engine that refused to cooperate. the heat of the day was finally starting to cool, but the frustration in my chest wasn’t.

❝you look like you’re about to punch something, soda,❞ y/n’s voice drifted over, light and teasing.

i looked up to see her walking toward me, a basket in her hands and a knowing smile on her face. she always seemed to know when i needed her.

❝just this stupid engine,❞ i muttered, stepping back as she came closer.

she set the basket down on the sidewalk and peered under the hood, not that she knew anything about cars. still, her curiosity made me smile despite myself.

❝what’s wrong with it?❞ she asked, leaning her elbows on the car as if she could will it to work through sheer kindness.

❝won’t start,❞ i said, shrugging. ❝been messing with it all day, and it’s driving me nuts.❞

❝that’s too bad, it’s a pretty color too. what a shame.❞ she huffed.

she then hummed thoughtfully, then reached into the basket, pulling out a bottle of coke and handing it to me. ❝maybe you just need a break.❞

i took the bottle, the cool glass a welcome relief in my hand. ❝thanks, y/n. you always know what to do.❞

❝that’s because i’ve had years of practice with you boys,❞ she said, her smile softening.

we sat on the curb after that, passing the bottle back and forth and talking about nothing in particular. it was easy with y/n. she never made me feel like i had to be anything other than myself.

❝you know,❞ i said after a while, ❝sometimes i feel like you’re the only one who really gets me.❞

she tilted her head, looking at me with those warm eyes of hers. ❝why’s that?❞

i shrugged, picking at the label on the coke bottle. ❝i don’t know. it’s just … darry’s always so serious, and pony’s got his books and his head in the clouds. but you … you’re always here, y/n. you make things better.❞

her cheeks turned pink, and she laughed softly. ❝soda, you’re going to make me cry if you keep talking like that.❞

❝i mean it,❞ i said, looking at her. ❝i don’t know what i- i mean .. we’d do without you.❞

she didn’t say anything for a moment, just reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

later that night, after the car was finally fixed and the sun had long since set, we all ended up at my house like we always did. the living room was a mess of bodies and noise — steve arguing with two - bit over a game of cards, pony curled up in the corner with a book, and johnny quietly watching it all with a small smile.

y/n was in the kitchen, helping darry clean up after dinner. i watched her from where i was sitting on the floor, the way she moved so easily around the space, like she belonged there.

❝you’re staring again, soda,❞ steve said, nudging me with his foot.

❝shut up, steve,❞ i muttered, throwing a pillow at him.

he just laughed, shaking his head. but he didn’t push it, and for that, i was grateful.

when the night finally wound down and everyone started heading home, y/n lingered by the door, her brothers already waiting outside.

❝you sure you don’t want to stay?❞ i asked, leaning against the doorframe.

she shook her head, her smile apologetic. ❝charlie’s still sick on top of already half-asleep on his feet, and matteo’s got school in the morning. but thanks, soda. maybe next time.❞

❝i promise love.❞

❝yeah,❞ i said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. ❝next time.❞

she reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes like she used to when i was a kid. ❝goodnight, soda.❞

❝goodnight, y/n,❞ i said softly, watching as she walked down the steps and into the night.

❝you guys too, charlie and matt.❞

matteo waved behind him.

as i lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, i couldn’t help but think about what i’d said earlier. about her being the only one who really gets me. it was true. y/n had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world wasn’t so heavy when she was around.

she was our sunshine, plain and simple.

and if there was one thing i knew for sure, it was that we’d be lost without her.

© MINA LEIGH 2024 - 2025

. . . prologue darry curtis you’re here! ponyboy curtis

dallas winston johnny cade steve randle two - bit matthew

🖤 ₊˚⊹ — draco & harry falling love with a prince would be like..

parring ➵ d.malfoy & h.potter x m!reader

summary ➵ both boys are undeniably in love with you, they are aware of your fondness for the both of them. which arose another rivalry between the boys.

age of parring ➵ 15 - 16

warnings ➵ n/a

extra ➵ credits to @cafekitsune for banners! this is lowkey self - indulgent. hope any of you recognize where the last name(s) is from :)) house neutral.

what a dashing young man you were, truly. that statement alone was what all students who have been attending hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry were thinking.

you were born into a royal family, many of whom happened to be absorbed into the remedy called magic.

a prince, if you will. y/n hanover - stuart fox.

you step off the gleaming hogwarts express, your arrival greeted with a mixture of curiosity and awe. as an american prince, your presence is already a subject of fascination, but being part of the most powerful magical family in the world adds an aura of mystique around you. your handsome features, kind demeanor, and humble nature quickly win over your peers, and soon, you become one of the most popular students at hogwarts.

from the moment you set foot in the castle, you catch the attention of two notable boys: draco malfoy and harry potter. both are drawn to your charisma and power, each wanting you on their side for different reasons. draco, with his aristocratic upbringing, sees in you a kindred spirit, someone who understands the burdens of legacy. harry, on the other hand, sees in you a beacon of hope and strength, someone who could be an ally in his fight against darkness.

despite their initial intentions, both boys find themselves genuinely drawn to you. draco’s haughty demeanor softens when he’s around you, revealing a vulnerable side he seldom shows. harry’s wariness fades, replaced by a deep admiration and affection. as you navigate the halls of hogwarts, you find yourself forming bonds with both of them, enjoying their company and the unique qualities each brings into your life.

draco invites you to the slytherin common room, where you sit by the fire, discussing pureblood traditions and magical theory. bis eyes often linger on you, a mixture of envy and desire clear in his gaze. he’s captivated by your strength and poise, finding himself falling deeper each day.

harry, meanwhile, introduces you to his world of adventure and camaraderie. you join him in gryffindor’s lively common room, surrounded by warmth and laughter. his friends, ron and hermione, quickly accept you into their circle. Harry’s eyes light up whenever you’re near, his admiration for you evident in every glance and smile.

as time passes, both boys become increasingly aware of their feelings for you and the fact that you hold them both in high regard. this realization sparks a new rivalry between them, each vying for your attention and affection. draco’s subtle gestures of care and protection become more pronounced, while harry’s moments of bravery and loyalty shine even brighter in your presence.

one evening, after a particularly intense quidditch match where both boys played spectacularly, they each confide in their closest friends. draco, in the slytherin common room, speaks quietly to pansy and blaise, his voice tinged with frustration and longing. harry, in the gryffindor dormitory, shares his feelings with ron and hermione, his expression a mixture of hope and anxiety.

finally, the day comes when they can no longer keep their emotions bottled up. you find yourself in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves and the faint scent of parchment. draco and harry approach you together, their faces set with determination yet softened by their undeniable affection for you.

“can we talk?” draco begins, his usual confidence faltering as he glances at harry, then back at you.

harry nods, his green eyes earnest and pleading. “we both need to tell you something,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

you listen intently as they each pour out their hearts, confessing their love for you with a vulnerability that touches you deeply. draco’s usual arrogance is replaced by a raw honesty, while harry’s bravery shines through his nervousness. Both boys look at you with pleading eyes, desperately seeking your attention, affection, and perhaps even a relationship.

standing between them, you feel the weight of their feelings and the intensity of their emotions. you know that your response will shape the path ahead, not only for you but for them as well. with a deep breath, you prepare to speak, your heart open to the possibilities that lie before you.

“i always liked - no, loved the both of you so much.”

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

💜 ₊˚⊹ — lay me down

parring : dallas winston x platonic older f!reader

summary : pampering a drunk dally.

warnings : intoxication

age of paring : 18 - 20

extra : this comes from a completed one - shot project from wattpad that i had removed. orginal charaters (f!reader’s siblings in book) mentioned!

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 was a guy who liked to party, no matter what day of the week it was.

he had been kicked out of a party hosted by tim shepard. not because he threw up all over his couch, also because he had enough alcohol.

you had never talked to tim like that but this one particular night he called your house phone letting you know dallas would stop by.

❝okay, uh huh, thanks tim have a good night.❞ you hung up the house phone and continued painting your nails.

❝y/n why were you talking to tim shepard?❞ your little brother charlie asked glancing between you and his book.

❝dallas is coming to stay the night, he isn't feeling very well.❞ you said shaking your freshly painted nails waiting for them to dry.

❝he iswnt gonnba slweep on ma bhed!❞ the eldest brother matteo yelled from the bathroom as he was brushing his teeth.

❝he won't teo..❞ you whispered as you waited worriedly for dally.

𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗌? you thought till you heard a click of the front door.

charlie let dally in and closed the door as soon as he stepped inside the toizer household to prevent cold air coming in.

❝dallas are you okay!?❞ you whispered yelled trying not to give him a headache.

❝mhm yea m' tired.❞ you looked up at his eyes forcing themselves open.

❝charlie go call matteo and help dallas get comfortable, im going to set the bed for him.❞

you said as charlie groaned as a protest but still complied.

you ran inside your bed room and removed your clothes and stuffed animals outta the way. you even fluffed the pillows for him and got a blanket for him.

you turned to the noises of your brothers grunting to push dallas into your room, clearly struggling.

❝finally!❞ matteo yelled as you shushed him not wanting dallas to get irritated.

they left and you sat on your vanity chair and took off dallas boots and his leather jacket and placed it on a place he can easily spot it.

you placed the blanket as dally shifted his position to get more comfortable, you felt giddy knowing dally was safe in the comfort of your home.

❝good night dallas..❞ you whispered thinking he didn't hear you.

❝i love you y/n.❞ dallas mumbled in response and you replied with ❝love you more dally, get some sleep.❞

you grabbed chocolate coins from your jewelry box and placed them on top of the nightstand so dally could have a sweet treat when he woke up the next morning.

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

thank you for 100 followers! ♡

— CINNAMON GIRL ⁷

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , keith matthews 𝔁 f! reader | wc 1000

summary. two - bit’s perspective on y/n, highlighting her ability to see through his jokester persona and remind him of his worth. through two-bit’s eyes, we see how y/n’s kindness and understanding make her an irreplaceable part of their makeshift family.

labels. two - bit’s point of view.

warnings. lighthearted tone with underlying mentions of insecurity, two - bit’s reflections on his role in the group, and his deep admiration for y/n.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. second to last chapter! thank you everyone for reading all the way to this point! reblogs are very much appreciated! lots of love ♡

most people think i’m all jokes and no depth. and hey, i get it. it’s easier that way — crack a joke, lighten the mood, and nobody asks too many questions. but y/n? she never fell for that act.

she sees right through me, every damn time.

i think the first time i realized how much y/n mattered to me was when we were all hanging out at the curtis house. soda and steve were arguing over some car part, pony was reading, and darry was working on god - knows - what in the kitchen. i was sitting there, flipping through a comic, when y/n came in with her brothers, charlie and matteo.

the second she walked through the door, the whole place felt … brighter. not in a cheesy, lovey-dovey way, ok maybe .. but like she just brought this energy with her that made everything a little better.

❝two-bit,❞ she said, smiling at me. ❝you’re not causing trouble, are you?❞

❝me? trouble?❞ i grinned, holding up my hands. ❝i’m an angel, y/n. pure as the driven snow.❞

she laughed, shaking her head. ❝sure you are.❞

that laugh, man. it’s the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’ve done something right, even if you’ve been screwing up all day.

y/n gets my humor in a way not many people do. most folks think i’m just trying to be funny for the sake of it, but she knows there’s more to it than that.

one time, i was sitting on the curb outside the dx, cracking jokes with soda while we waited for steve to get off work. y/n showed up, carrying a bag of snacks for her brothers, and sat down next to me.

❝what’s so funny?❞ she asked, tilting her head.

❝just telling soda about the time darry tried to fix that leaky faucet and flooded the kitchen,❞ i said, grinning.

she chuckled, but then her expression softened. ❝you always know how to make people laugh, two-bit. it’s a good thing.❞

i shrugged, leaning back on my hands. ❝somebody’s gotta do it. keeps things from getting too heavy, you know?❞

she didn’t say anything for a minute, just looked at me like she was trying to figure something out.

here she goes again.

❝you know it’s okay to let things be heavy sometimes, right?❞ she said finally, her voice quiet.

i didn’t know how to respond to that, so i just nodded, my throat feeling tighter than it should have.

y/n’s got this way of grounding me, even when i don’t realize i need it. it’s not like she tells me what to do or anything — she just … reminds me that i’m more than the jokes i make.

like the time i got into a fight with some socs. it wasn’t a big deal or anything, but i ended up with a busted lip and a bruise on my cheek. when i showed up at the curtis house, trying to laugh it off, y/n wasn’t having it.

❝two-bit, what happened?❞ she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer.

❝nothing,❞ i said, waving her off. ❝just had a little disagreement with some rich boys, that’s all.❞

she didn’t buy it for a second.

❝sit down,❞ she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

i sat, mostly because it was y/n and not darry telling me what to do. she grabbed a washcloth and started cleaning up the cut on my lip, her touch gentle but firm.

❝you don’t have to act like it doesn’t hurt, you know,❞ she said after a moment.

❝i’m fine,❞ i muttered, but the way she looked at me made me feel like maybe i wasn’t.

the thing about y/n is, she’s not just kind — she’s smart, too. she knows when to push and when to back off, and she always seems to know exactly what to say.

like the time i was feeling like i didn’t really belong in the group. everyone else had their thing — darry was the leader, soda was the charmer, pony was the brains, and even johnny had this quiet strength about him. me? i was just the guy who made everyone laugh.

i was sitting on the porch, nursing a beer and feeling sorry for myself, when y/n came out and sat down next to me.

❝what’s got you so quiet?❞ she asked, nudging me with her shoulder.

❝nothing,❞ i said, taking a sip of my drink.

❝doesn’t sound like nothing,❞ she replied, her tone light but probing.

i sighed, staring at the ground. ❝sometimes i feel like … i don’t know. like i’m just the clown of the group, you know? like i’m not really good for anything else.❞

she was quiet for a moment, and i braced myself for some kind of pitying response.

❝you know that’s not true, right?❞ she said finally. ❝you’re the heart of this group, two-bit. you keep us all together, even when things get rough.❞

her words hit me harder than i expected, and for once, i didn’t have a joke to make.

❝thanks, y/n,❞ i said quietly, my voice rough.

❝anytime,❞ she replied, her smile soft and genuine.

if you ask me, y/n’s the glue that holds us all together. she’s always there, always making sure we’re okay, even when she’s got her own stuff to deal with.

she’s not just a friend — she’s family. and i’d do anything to make sure she knows that.

© MINA LEIGH 2024 - 2025

. . . prologue darry curtis sodapop curtis ponyboy curtis

dallas winston johnny cade steve randle you’re here! final

— SHAMELESS

written by mina leigh ୨୧ , charlie mayhew 𝔁 gn! reader | wc 4K

summary. you stumble upon charlie playing with himself, moaning and whimpering your name. hearing him sound so pathetic and ridiculous gets you a little too excited. you enter and handle him.

labels. sub! charlie mayhew, dom gn! reader

warnings. religious themes, emotional manipulation, explicit physical tension, obvious power dynamic. suggestive language, anal penetration w/ fingers (character receiving). sexual themes. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. not enough sub charlie content, i was ravenous for it, seriously. he may be my new celebrity crush.

the church at night was always unnervingly quiet. the echoes of your footsteps on the cold stone floor seemed to bounce off the high ceilings, disappearing into the vast darkness above. the dim light of the candles scattered along the altar barely provided enough warmth to cut through the chill of the sanctuary. you weren’t entirely sure why you had come here tonight, but something had drawn you to this place, to him.

father charlie mayhew was always a figure of control — his rigid posture, his cold, watchful eyes, his unwavering adherence to the church’s rules. he carried himself like a man burdened with unseen weight, but no one ever seemed to notice the cracks beneath the surface. until tonight.

as you passed the confessional booth near the back of the sanctuary, a sound caught your attention. it was soft, barely audible at first — a low whimper then followed by a moan, a voice murmuring in the dark. instinctively, you stopped, listening.

❝ y/n …❞

the whisper of your name was unmistakable. it was desperate, broken, almost … pathetic. you smirked, stepping closer to the booth. there was a tension in the air now, something thick and heavy that made your skin prickle with anticipation. you pressed your ear to the wooden door, the grain of the wood cool against your cheek, and listened.

❝ y/n …❞

he said it again, your name spilling from his lips like a confession, filled with a kind of longing you had never heard from him before. the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, stirring something deep inside you — something dark, something you didn’t quite recognize but welcomed all the same.

without hesitation, you pushed open the door to the booth, stepping inside.

there he was — father charlie mayhew, on his knees, his face all scrunched up, his pants down to his ankles, hand on his dick, trembling. his usual composed, controlled demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and fragile. the sight of him like this, pent up, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t explain. he looked so small, so pathetic in this moment, whimpering your name like a woman.

the man looked completely blissed out, his head thrown back his eyes screwed shut, he was grunting in pure pleasure.

you shut the door behind you softly, the sound making him flinch. his head snapped up, and his wide, panicked eyes met yours. for a moment, you simply stared at each other, the weight of the situation settling between you like an invisible force. he looked terrified, ashamed, like he had been caught in some great sin.

you felt a flicker of satisfaction at his fear. you had never seen him like this before — so utterly powerless. the rigid, controlling priest who always held himself above others now sat at your feet, trembling like a sinner before judgment.

❝ charlie,❞ you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. ❝ what are you doing? ❞

he didn’t answer right away. his mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. he looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t know how to explain himself. he sat and shifted his legs to cover his hard - on, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

❝ i … i didn’t mean …❞ he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. ❝ i shouldn’t have —❞

❝ you were saying my name, ❞ you interrupted, stepping closer to him, your presence filling the small space. ❝ why? ❞

he flinched again at your question, his eyes darting away from yours. shame colored his pale features, and for a moment, he looked like he might try to deny it. but you didn’t let him. you knelt down beside him, so close now that you could feel the heat and his huffs of sexual frustration radiating off his trembling body.

❝ look at me, ❞ you commanded softly, your voice firm but not unkind. your hand reached out, fingers brushing against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. he hesitated for a moment, but then his gaze met yours. you just about crushed him when you leaned down putting your hands on his waist pinching them hard for support, as your forehead met his.

he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. ❝ i’ve… fallen. ❞

there was something almost pathetic about the way he said it, the words carrying the weight of his guilt. this was a man who had built his entire life on control, on denying himself the very things that made him human, and now here he was, confessing his failure to you.

❝ fallen? ❞ you echoed, your hand still gently holding his face. ❝ from what, charlie? ❞

his breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the desire to pull away, to regain control, warring with the need to surrender. he was so close to breaking, and the thought of it sent a thrill through you. he had spent so long standing above everyone else, holding himself apart, and now he was crumbling.

you moved your hands down his waist. one grabbing his cock and another gently caressing his entrance.

you rubbed the slit, already lubricated with pre - cum. you then coated your fingers in your own saliva and spit right on his hole, he looked dazed. completely aware on what was going on yes, but not entirely opposed by your actions.

you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. ❝ tell me, charlie. ❞

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible, a confession laced with shame. ❝ i’ve had thoughts… impure thoughts. ❞

you, with caution started pumping his tortured dick, gripping it tightly but with slow strokes. you started pushing your digits slowly into his ass, pushing in and out gradually. his body yearned for more as your fingers were coated in his juices and his hole kept sucking your fingers back in.

he grunted softly, his eyes furrowed slightly as you finger fucked him. perhaps from pain, besides this was his first time.

the admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. his face flushed with humiliation, and you could see the way his body tensed then relaxed, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. but you didn’t judge him. instead, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction at his confession, the knowledge that he had been thinking of you in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

❝ thoughts of me? ❞ you asked, your tone careful, measured.

he shuddered, his head dropping in shame, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. but then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. you could feel the power shift between you then, the control slipping from his grasp as he sat there, trembling before you.

you let the silence stretch out for a moment, watching him struggle with the weight of his own admission. it was a strange kind of thrill, knowing that you had this power over him — a man who had always held himself so far above you, now kneeling at your feet, begging for your forgiveness, for your understanding.

❝ you poor thing, ❞ you murmured, your hand moving from his jaw to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. ❝ you’ve been suffering all alone, haven’t you? ❞

❝ j-just like t-that! ❞

you twisted your fingers around hitting his sweet spot, adding another finger for the fun of it. digging in deeper.

❝ y-y/n! im getting cl-close! ❞ he stuttered out in a moan as he nodded again, his breath shaky, and you could feel the tension in his body as he leaned into your touch. it was a subtle surrender, but it was enough. he was giving in.

you smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, and leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. ❝ you don’t have to suffer anymore, ❞ you whispered. ❝ you can let go. you can give in. cum by my fingers charlie. ❞

he shuddered again, his breath catching in his throat, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away. but then, slowly, tentatively, he leaned into you, his body relaxing just enough for you to know he had surrendered. he was yours now, completely and utterly at your mercy.

you pumped his cock faster, faster and faster. feeling his hole tighten up from the pressure, his pretty face glistening with sweat. moaning progressively louder in your ear.

he cummed, landing on his chest and hitting his bottom lip. he opened his eyes and looked at you almost lovingly, catching his breathe he asked ..

❝ kiss me. ❞

and so you did, he accepted it like it was his last meal. you easily won him in dominance.

❝ t-thank you .. ❞

❝ you’re welcome, ❞ you whispered, your fingers tightening slightly in his hair, pulling him closer. ❝ now, let me help you.❞

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

— CINNAMON GIRL ᵖʳᵒˡᵒᵍᵘᵉ

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , greasers 𝔁 f! reader | wc 886

context. a glimpse into y/n toizer’s life and her connection to the curtis brothers and their group of friends. this multi - part fic explores the bond y/n shares with the boys and how they view her as their “second mother,” a central figure in their lives.

labels. mild language, mentions of familial struggles, and emotional themes of loss and responsibility.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. revamping my first ever work from wattpad, this was truly my best idea just executed very poorly & i was desperate to fix it to my fulfillment. i really hope this reaches my target audience. without further ado, i wish this project shows everyone potential in enjoying. thank you all so much ♡

there’s something about the early evening that seems to freeze time. golden light spills across the cracked pavement, turning everything softer, warmer, even if life in tulsa rarely ever is.

y/n toizer leaned against the rickety fence outside the curtis house, the hem of her sundress swaying lightly in the breeze. her eyes followed her youngest brother, charlie, as he chased after soda and ponyboy with a whoop of laughter. next to her, matteo, taller and already wearing the sharp edges of teenagehood, leaned with crossed arms, watching the chaos unfold.

❝why do i get the feeling they’re going to break something?❞ y/n let out, nudging matteo lightly with her elbow.

❝because they always do,❞ matteo replied dryly, though there was a hint of amusement on his face.

the screen door slammed open, and darry stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag. he looked older than his twenty years, the weight of responsibility written in the lines on his face and the strength in his shoulders. still, when he saw y/n, his expression softened in a way it rarely did for anyone else.

❝you’re too soft on those kids, y/n,❞ darry said, but there was no real heat in his voice.

y/n tilted her head with a smile, her eyes sparkling with affection. ❝they’re just having fun. besides, it’s not like you’re any better. i seem to remember you teaching soda how to climb that tree last summer.❞

darry chuckled, shaking his head. ❝you’ve got a good memory.❞

it was true. she always remembered the little things — like how soda hated peas but loved mashed potatoes, or how ponyboy preferred books over ball games, or how two - bit had a soft spot for anything with a joke attached to it. she remembered how johnny flinched at loud noises and how steve’s bravado hid the fact that he just wanted to be seen.

and then there was dally, the wild card. even he softened around her, though he’d never admit it outright.

when the curtis parents had passed, y/n had stepped in as naturally as breathing. she was there to help darry when he didn’t know how to balance keeping a roof over their heads and making sure soda and pony still had a childhood.

at the same time, y/n had her own family to care for. her brothers needed her just as much, if not more, and she often stretched herself thin trying to be everything for everyone. but she never complained. it wasn’t in her nature.

later that evening, the boys were sprawled out in the curtis living room, the air filled with lazy conversation and laughter.

y/n sat on the couch, her legs tucked neatly under her, a half-mended shirt in her lap. two - bit leaned against the armrest, grinning as he recounted some exaggerated story, while soda rested his head in her lap, contentedly half - asleep.

❝y/n,❞ ponyboy said suddenly, looking up from his book. ❝why don’t you ever get mad at us?❞

the room quieted at his question, all eyes turning to her. she paused, her fingers stilling on the needle and thread.

❝mad?❞ she echoed, tilting her head.

❝yeah,❞ pony continued, his brow furrowed. ❝you’re always so nice, even when we mess up.❞

y/n’s smile was soft, almost wistful. ❝it’s not that i don’t get upset, pony. it’s just … i know how hard life can be. for all of us. sometimes, kindness is the only thing that keeps us going.❞

johnny, who rarely spoke up, murmured, ❝you’re real good at that, y/n.❞

❝at what?❞ she asked gently.

❝at making things better,❞ he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

the room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that only existed between people who truly cared for one another.

as the night wore on, y/n gathered her brothers to head home. charlie was half - asleep, leaning against her side, while matteo walked ahead, his hands shoved into his pockets. darry walked them to the gate, his hand resting lightly on the small of y/n’s back.

❝you know, you don’t have to take care of everyone,❞ he said quietly.

y/n looked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment before she smiled. ❝i know, darry. but someone has to.❞

❝besides, i want to.❞ y/n let out in a whisper.

he didn’t argue, because he knew she was right. but as he watched her walk away, her silhouette fading into the dark, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry. she gave so much of herself to others, and he wondered if she ever kept anything for herself.

❝take care of her, matt,❞ darry called softly to her brother.

matteo glanced back, his expression serious. ❝always.❞

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

. . . you’re here! darry curtis sodapop curtis ponyboy curtis

dallas winston johnny cade steve randle two - bit matthews

— TASTE

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , nate jacobs𝔁 f! reader | wc 1800

summary. nate jacobs can't seem to let you go, even as he parades his relationship with cassie howard in front of everyone. behind closed doors, you're the one he runs to, the one he can't resist. every moment with cassie is tainted by your influence-your touch, your taste, your control over him. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

labels. ex reader, feminine reader, insecure cassie, manipulative nate, soft nate, etc

warnings. mature themes, infidelity, manipulation, explicit sexual content, toxic dynamics, emotional tension

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. based on sabrina’s first track off of her sixth studio album, short n’ sweet ♡

nate's presence was suffocating, the weight of his body pressing you into the plush carpet of your living room. his hands were everywhere at once-gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt, tugging you closer like he couldn't get enough.

you tilted your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his mouth trailed down your neck. his lips were warm, insistent, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

❝you shouldn't be here,❞ you murmured, though your hands betrayed you, clutching at his shoulders.

nate didn't bother to respond. instead, he pushed you down flat against the carpet, pinning you beneath him with a smirk that sent a shiver through you.

❝stop pretending you don't want this,❞ he said, his voice low and gravelly, sending vibrations through the air between you.

his mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin like he was creating art.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as a quiet laugh slipped from your lips.

❝where'd you learn to do that?❞ you teased, your voice dripping with mock curiosity.

nate looked up at you, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name.

❝you know exactly where,❞ he said, his smirk growing wider.

your stomach flipped at the implication, your mind flashing to cassie.

poor, oblivious cassie.

you hated how easily nate unraveled you.

or maybe you didn't.

because when he was like this - hungry, desperate, completely at your mercy - it was hard to care about the mess he made of everything else.

later, when the two of you lay tangled together on the floor, his head resting on your stomach, you ran your fingers through his hair, enjoying the quiet.

❝what do you even tell her?❞ you asked, your voice soft but cutting.

nate didn't answer right away, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh.

❝nothing she doesn't want to hear,❞ he said finally.

you laughed, a short, sharp sound.

❝and she believes you?❞

he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you.

❝she believes what she needs to,❞ he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

you shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips.

❝you're such a liar, nate.❞

meanwhile, cassie lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.

her phone sat untouched on the nightstand, the unanswered texts glaring back at her in the dark.

she told herself not to overthink it, to trust nate.

but the nagging feeling in her chest wouldn't go away.

you weren't sure when it had started — when nate became more yours than hers.

maybe it was the way he touched you, like he couldn't bear to let you go.

or maybe it was the way he talked about her, his voice filled with an odd mix of detachment and pity.

but most of all, it was the way he couldn't seem to stop coming back to you.

❝does she know?❞ you asked one night, your voice cutting through the quiet.

nate looked up from where he was tracing your collarbone with his lips.

❝know what?❞ he asked, his tone almost bored.

you smirked, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

❝that every time she kisses you, she's tasting me?❞

his lips twitched into a small smile, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw.

❝no,❞ he said. ❝but i think she suspects.❞

it wasn't just physical between you and nate.

it was the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

it was the way he talked to you, his voice softer, his words laced with a vulnerability he never showed anyone else.

and it was the way he let you see him — not the version of himself he showed the world, but the raw, unfiltered truth.

you didn't pity cassie.

she was a grown woman, making her own choices.

but there was a part of you — a small, quiet part - that wondered what it must be like to be her.

to be the one nate came home to.

to be the one he kissed in public, the one he called his.

but then you remembered the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he came to you in the dead of night when no one else could see.

and you knew you had something she never would.

cassie stood in the kitchen, staring at the clock on the wall.

it was almost 3 a.m, and nate still hadn't come home.

she wanted to call him, to demand answers, but something stopped her.

she didn't want to hear the excuses, didn't want to confront the truth she was already beginning to suspect.

because deep down, she knew.

she'd always known.

when nate finally pulled himself away from you, the sun was just beginning to rise.

he sat on the edge of your bed, his back to you as he pulled on his shirt.

❝you don't have to go,❞ you said, your voice softer than you intended.

he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable.

❝yes, i do,❞ he said.

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything else.

he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before straightening up.

❝i'll see you soon,❞ he said.

and just like that, he was gone.

as you watched him drive away, a strange mix of emotions settled in your chest.

you told yourself it was the last time, that you wouldn't let him back in.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

he'd always come back to you.

because no matter where he went, no matter who he was with, he couldn't escape you.

you were the taste on his lips, the whisper in his ear, the ghost that haunted his every move.

and that was something no one - not even cassie - could take away.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

im so mad

— 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