aurora ₊⊹

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙‧͙ boy obsessed in a cool girl way. 80s movies (but really all movies). sabrina carpenter. analogic pics. travelling. full time fic reader. ballerina. spotify wrapped said i'm 67 yo.

fandoms i'm writing for: stranger things, chronicles of narnia

masterlist <3

Honeybee Curtis!Reader x Dally Winston, in wich...

Dallas Winston doesn't like the Curtis' wanna be Soc sister, but he still follows her to the drive-in just to make sure she's safe. You know, for Darry and Soda. Not for himself at all.

wc: 1.8k

warnings: angsty ending? will have more parts tho. first dally fic. intentional lower case. no use of y/n. reader is called Honeybee cause i thought it was cute that she'd have an unusuall name like her younger brothers. reader has a hard time balancing her soc friendgroup and fashion with her family and homelife.

“and where’s baby Soc at?” Dally asks as he looks around the Curtis living room, settling down on the couch. “she finally got a pink house across town and left your greaser asses?”

“don’t start it, Dally.” Soda pleaded. “Honey’s not a soc. she’s just into fashion, that’s all. Pony has good grades, is he a soc for that?”

“don’t know, haven’t decided yet” Dally teased, earning a complaint from Pony from the kitchen dining table where he was studying.

“i mean, you can’t deny she looks like a soc” Two-Bite circled back, always ready to throw wood into the fire just for the simple pleasure of watching things burn.

“hangs out with them, too” Steve added slightly less jokily which prompted Soda’s elbow to meet his ribs.

Dally just grinned smugly at Soda, taking up his usual place like he owned it and everything around it. beer already magically in his hand. if there was something Dally liked was being right. especially when it pissed off other people.

“if i was a Soc none of you unemployed leaches would be welcomed in my house.” a higher pitched voice suddenly filled the room, as you walked in in a baby pink mod dress with more beer to pass around the guests.

it’s not like they weren’t more than used to getting up and helping themselves to whatever they fancied from the fridge, but you liked to keep things civilized. the less your brothers’ friends wandered around the house like they owned it the better. you liked them and had known most of them since you were a girl. they were your friends too in a way, but they were a lot to handle most of the time.

living with three brothers wasn’t easy, not even when your mom was alive. but living with three brothers who constantly had another four boys in the house was an even worst deal. you liked your house clean, smelling nice and quiet. which is exactly what you never got when they were around. so, you tried to control them as best you could and minimize the damage: give them the food and drinks so they don’t take more than they’re supposed to, hide anything they’ll probably break (or steal) and keep your bedroom door locked at all times.

“Honeybee, hey! you know we’re just teasing. c’mon kid, you’re my favorite Curtis!” Two-Bit pleaded playfully, basically begging for one of the cans you carried with you.

you tossed it to him sticking your tongue out, which prompted Johnny and Pony to giggle. making your way to the door, you spotted Dally shaking his head, amused, and lighting a cigarette. great, they could have a couch that smelled like smoke again. you sent a pointed look to Soda and then to the window, wordlessly saying something along the lines of “if I come back to a couch that smells like smoke i’ll kill Winston and then you”.

freshly showered, Darry came out of the bathroom just in time to catch you across the room with your hand already on the doorknob. “you goin’ somewhere?”

“out?” you replied like it was obvious, only to be met with Darry’s usual expression of someone who is not even slightly convinced.

“drive-in. won’t be home late.” you elaborated.

you knew your brother needed more. never mind he was only a year and some change older than you. for the longest time it felt like you were younger than Pony in his eyes. it had taken a lot of convincing over the years to get to where you were now, which wasn’t total freedom but was a lot better than before.

“date with a soc, Honeybee?” Dally teased dragging his words and blowing smoke your way just to spite you.

always pushing everyone’s buttons searching for a reaction. never just minding his own business. you almost figured he was allergic to keeping out of arguments.

“why? you jealous, Winston?” You spat almost instinctively.

“is it a date?” Darry doubled down, speaking over Dally and forcing him to stop mouthing off at you before he cussed and Darry had to kick him out for being disrespectful. it wouldn’t have been the first time. the boy really was sensitive for a new yorker.

the problem was you were trying not to lie to your older brother, so the more you said the worse. why couldn’t Dallas just be quiet for once.

“it’s just friday night, friends go out.” you explained “can i go now? you’re aware i have to walk there; i’m going to be late.”

“yeah, it’s fine. go, just… don’t be home late. and be careful.” your older brother conceded after a moment. awesome, didn’t even need Soda to intervene for you.

“thank you, bye!”

unfortunately for you, Dallas Winston was not a very busy guy. he didn’t have a curfew or a real job; he didn’t have anywhere to be. he wasn’t ruled by time like all the other mere mortals. Dallas was only ruled by Dallas. most of the time that meant wandering around, drifting.

people like to say that trouble followed Dallas Winston wherever he went, but really it was him who followed trouble. he looked for it. wandered around until he found it and then searched  for a way to insert himself in it. didn’t matter if it wasn’t anything to do with him, he’d make it about him. you don’t get known by name by all the towns police officers if you don’t spend your time actively trying to find trouble. and when Dally couldn’t find trouble, he went out of his way to find a place where it could grow and then he started it.

now, if anyone were to ask Dally, he’d say he was just doing Darry a favor. always the worried big brother. hell, Dally’s might’ve been a thug, but thugs can be good friends too. he’d claim that he knew his friend didn’t trust his kid sister with those socs she ran around with and that it was really no trouble at all. what difference would it make if he just went and checked on you, just to make sure everything was alright. help his friend out. Dally was at the drive-in a lot anyways, wouldn’t cost him a thing. he dragged Johnny along for good measure.

he was just going to sneak in, find you and keep an eye on you. no big deal, you weren’t even supposed to know they were there at all. except Dally didn’t find you with your ditsy hairspray smelling friends, you were with a guy. Some soc who was probably planning to make a living out of inheriting his dad’s business and not moving a finger until he dropped dead in his linen sheets. sure, there was another soc couple with you, but still. his hand was a bit too low on your back for his liking. for Darry’s liking.

“i thought she said it wasn’t a date” Johny said in tone of question as he too spotted you and your plaid jacket wearing boyfriend making their way to the snack-bar.

“stay here.” Dally instructed plainly, voice lower than before. Johnny didn’t fight it; ain’t safe to contradict Dally when he gets that look in his face.

“well, well, well. look at what we have here.” the greaser said once he reached the couple, immediately blocking your way with his body.

“ignore him” you mumble to your date as you pulled him to move around Dallas. this was the last thing you needed. which was probably exactly why Dallas would think it was funny.

“may i ask what’s going on here?” Dally questioned you as he fell nonchalantly into step beside your date who was already getting a bit done with the whole shticks.

“look, man, leave us alone.” he threatened, pulling you closer to his side.

“this a date?” Dally continued, still trying his best to treat the guy like he was invisible.

“what do you think, greaser? you have a problem with that?” the soc spat back, letting go of you and squaring up to Dallas. it was not well received, that much was clear in his eyes. especially to you who didn’t know Dallas well, but know him well enough to know he is making the effort of his life to keep ignoring Paul.

“i thought you said it wasn’t a date.” he spoke to you again.

“i thought you said you weren’t jealous” you argued with a shrug.

“uhm, you’re funny.” he responds humorlessly, reaching for a cigarette and a lighter clearly on edge now. you’d be damned if you let Dallas start a fight with Paul.

“yeah, well, you’re not. just leave us be. go start a fight somewhere else.” you said reaching for your date’s hand to pull him away from what could turn into a very painful black eye in a few seconds.

you were stopped in the same place for a while and probably speaking slightly louder than you hoped for, because the socs around were starting to look. a greaser picking a fight with a soc was just another day, but a soc girl speaking back so much wasn’t really something they saw every day. if it was up to you they wouldn’t be seeing it at all.

“who said anything about a fight, Honey. i don’t wanna fight. he don’t look like much of a fighter either. you got a blade, soc?” Dally instigated blowing smoke in your faces and moving closer to Paul again like personal space personally offended him.

you could hear people snickering now, whispering about you, looking, judging. Dallas chest met your open palm before it met Paul. having moved between the two, you spoke more quietly so only the three of you heard.

“you’re making a scene, Dally.” You said with a pleading look. You didn’t need a scene; you didn’t want a scene. “leave, please.”

something in the way you begged instead of screaming at him watered down some of the fire behind Dally’s eyes. or maybe it was because you finally looked deep into them maybe for the first time ever and he wasn’t sure he wanted you too. you’d never called him dally before.

“jezz, Hon, i’m playing.” he shrugged moving away from your touch “i’m playing. i’m leaving. i know when i’m not wanted. just though it was funny seeing you two here today, that’s all.”

“yeah, very funny. just hilarious, really. you know, you really made my night Winston, thank you so much.” you snarked before storming off, turning your back to a snickering Dallas putting out his cigarette under his boot.

Paul followed right in your tail. Dally could still catch the start of your conversation.

64.media.tumblr.com

Synopsis: Life as a rich, smart, popular kid in Hawkins, Indina is easy. As long as you do exatcly as you're supposed to do. When your strict parents forbid you to follow your dreams and interests, you have to find secret ways to get what you want. What happens when you're forced to go to Eddie "The Freak" Munson for help?

wc: 15k

Contents: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!reader, friends to lovers, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, fluff, nerdoutcast x populargirl trope, mike and dustin being mike and dustin

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,5, 6, 7, 8

completed work on Wattpad

CHAPTER 8

wc: 1.4k

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The study session continued and you both eventually found your way back to your homework, on which you promptly focused on for about half an hour before you inevitably grew bored to death. As you flicked through your brain looking for something to distract you, you came across a memory you had stored for later. Turning your attention back to Eddie you unceremoniously forced him out of his own focused state.

"So, Munson... I saw you speaking with Dana Prewitt outside the science lab today. A real person outside your little idolizing cult." You started, voice dripping with insinuation. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, head tilting to the side tauntingly.

Eddie only smirked.

"Are you part of my idolizing cult? Would you die for me?" Dramatically pretending to stab himself in the heart.

"Don't divert my question with a question." You pressed amused.

"You didn't ask a question." He teased back.

"You're right, I'll rephrase. Are you making friends, Eddie Munson?"

He gasped offended, clutching his pearls in mockery.

"How dare you? Me? Making friends with normies? Absolutely not, I'll let you know that I strictly hang out with freaks and nerds, thank you very much."

"You hang out with me all the time." You retorted, unable to keep from smiling at his exaggerated antics.

"I said what I said." He doubled-down.

"Oh, you think you're funny, don't you?"

"You laugh."

Touché, Munson. That you couldn't argue with.

"She's not a friend, but she's not that bad either. She just wanted help with an assignment really, nothing crazy" Eddie continued, giving a real answer after he saw you admit defeat.

"Look at you, the pupil becomes the tutor. Who knew I'd live to see the day Eddie Munson helps someone with their science project."

"What can I say, you're a terrible influence on me." He smirked again before going back to his reading.

If that boy smirked that damn smirk at you one more time you were going to hit him. Or melt but preferably hit him.

"And here I was thinking you'd scored a prom date."

Here it was. The elephant in the room, the subject you actually wanted to discuss. You knew he wasn't going with Dana, she'd been going out with Eric Richardson since Valentines Day. Rationally, it was impossible, but that didn't really suppress the panic that creeped up your spine when you glanced his way that afternoon only to find him speaking to her. Laughing with her.

"Excuse me? I thought you knew me better than that, sweetheart. The Freak doesn't do school dances."

"Oh, c'mon. Not even this year? It's your last year! Shouldn't you be getting the full high school experience?" You pressed.

The thought of him going with some girl had been upsetting, in sort of an eye-opening way. But him not going at all, not being there on what was supposed to be the best night of your teenage life? That was even worse. It had only been a few months, but you could no longer picture your high school life and not see Eddie in it.

You were faced with a skeptical look. He'd repeated high school three times, been relentlessly bullied and practically outcasted. If that wasn't the full experience, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was.

"Let me see... failed classes, skipped classes, got made fun off, got detention, made friends, made enemies, had a crush, got rejected, got suspended, finally graduated." He counted using his fingers. "Yeah, I think I got the full experience, thanks for caring tough."

It was your turn to give him a disapproving look.

"You're seriously going to tell me you got something better to do?"

"Uhm, yeah. Hellfire." He responded like it was obvious.

"You're setting a terrible example for the freshman! They're going to grow to hate all things school spirit and that'll be on you. Jesus, Munson, at least give them a fighting chance in this place. You're killing their chances at Senior Prom King, you know?"

You were playful, but you weren't lying. Just because Eddie hadn't had it easy didn't mean the kids couldn't give it a shot. They deserved a chance to be with their peers, to have fun. Stress over dates, clothes and slow dances. It wasn't healthy for them to stay couped up in their basement stuck in their fantasy world forever, and it would make them even bigger targets. You knew the drill by now.

"Geez, my bad, and Henderson was so close."

You laughed but didn't back down.

"I'm serious, just come. It'll be fun."

"Not happening, my lady."

You enjoyed "my lady", even more than "sweetheart"; "My lady" felt personal. He didn't know any more girls. Dana Prewitt certainly didn't count. It was reserved for you, his lady. It made the back of your neck feel warmer, and you were thankful it didn't spread to your cheeks.

"Fine. Then I'm not going either." You stated stubbornly.

"AH, that's funny. Your date is going to love that." Eddie retorted fake laughing.

"I don't have a date."

You could hear a hair pin drop three corridors down. That's how silent he went. Four seconds of utter bewilderment that felt like minutes.

"You don't have a date? Not possible. I know for a fact that more than one guy was going to ask you. What happened? Did they die?"

How did he know? You had in fact been asked three times. Eddie seemed to get the reason for your puzzlement, because he promptly filled in the blanks.

"Locker room talk. I hear things."

"Nice things I hope."

"Sure, let's go with that. So, what? You said no, to all of them?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

Why the hell did you bring this stupid topic up in the first place? You looked away, trying to find the right way to say what you wanted to say, what you needed to say.

"Truthfully, I almost said yes to Troy, but I was hopeful that someone else would ask." You offered softly, allowing your gaze to find him again.

"Geez, you're picky. Most people get asked once, or not asked at all, you know? Troy's doesn't even look half bad either."

Was it possible that he hadn't got it? You weren't incredibly direct and he was extremely socially awkward. This was going to be a lot harder than you thought. Like ripping a band-aid my ass. You picked your history book back up and pretended to read something, anything. You'd never get this over with if you had to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, well, this guy's special. If I'm not going with him, I'd rather not go at all."

"I wasn't aware there was a special guy. You've been holding out on me, my lady. And he hasn't asked?"

"No, but it's alright. It's my own fault he won't, really."

"Doubt it. There's nothing in the world that you could've done that is bad enough to make him invite somebody else over you, no way. A complete idiot is what he is."

He was so incredibly oblivious it was almost funny. Maybe this was a sign. Divine intervention telling you to shut the hell up before you made a mess of things.

"He's not that bad." You offered, just trying to see where this could go.

"I guess you've rejected other three perfectly adequate jocks for him. He better have some redeeming qualities."

"You're speaking like I have bad taste." You stated seriously.

"Sweetheart, you hang out with me. You can't have very good taste if you do that."

You poked your tongue out to him. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't got it. Maybe the universe had just saved you from mortifying embarrassment. Maybe it had just saved your friendship.

"You think very lowly of yourself, Munson."

"And you think too high of your jock. I mean, to not go just because you're not going with him? C'mon, I know for a fact you love these stupid dances. Just go, have fun."

"I do love these stupid dances. And it's my last one." You sighed.

"Then, just go. If he's got any brains he'll ditch his date for you, who knows?"

Yes, it was probably for the best. You gave it your best shot. If he had wanted it to be him, he would've got it, right? It was a sign. Enjoy your last school dance, your one and only prom. Let the world know you're not so perfect some other day. You had never gone to one of these things without a date, maybe it would be fun.