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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

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Workplace Gossip

Jim Hopper x fem!younger!reader (reader is 25!)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap relationship (legal ofc!!), jim being insecure in that, innuendos, billy flirting with the reader, mentions of his daughter and her cancer

Author’s Note: hello again!!! if you recognize this one, you probably red Hugs way back when. this is the revamped version as an attempt to return to the stranger things roots before i hit the old billy and steve ones!! lemme know what you guys think <;3

The original request; by anon, Hi! Loved your Hopper imagine! Can you do another one with him with the reader and him having a bit of an age gap? I don’t own these characters. They belong to the author/director

(not my gif)

You were rushing. You could feel the cold nipping at your sides, freezing the mobility in your hands but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You breathed through your mouth as you walked down the sidewalk. If you started to run you could get to your job interview in five minutes. You looked down at your wrist watch and cursed under your breath. Running in heels wasn’t your best idea but showing up late wasn’t exactly the best way to start a job.

When you looked back up it was too late. You ran directly into a large man, causing an intake of breath from yourself and ‘shit’ from him.

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed. You caught sight of the badge on his chest and the hat on his head. Police.

You couldn’t be detained for not paying attention, that was ridiculous. Right?

“Where are you going so fast at 7 in the morning?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“I have a job interview.” You bit your tongue. At the station. There was an opening for a secretary job. “I’m sorry again, I’m already running late.” He let you move aside and rush down the street, now running in heels that were too tall for you. He mumbled something about being morning people and kept walking.

“I am so sorry, I got off on the bus at the wrong stop. I’m still figuring out Hawkins, I just moved here last week,” you explained, out of breath, perspiration beating down your forehead. So much for the business casual blouse you had sweat through.

“It’s no worries honey,” a woman at the front said with a dismissive look. “You were the only one coming. As long as you’re not a criminal, you’re a shoo in.” You let out a breath of relief.

“I’m not a criminal,” you promised. You handed her your resume, sitting down at the desk across from her. “I’m just out of college, 25. I’ve had jobs before during school but I’m looking for something more long term since moving here,” you explained.

“Why did you move here?” she questioned. It sounded more like curiosity than an interview question.

“It’s a small town, I’ve always wanted to live in a small town. Also, I wanted some independence. I’ve only ever really lived in dorms and such.” You fixed your hair eagerly.

“You picked quite the place.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“People who land in Hawkins never leave it. I should know, I was born and raised,” she muttered. She was shuffling through some papers like this wasn't a big deal to her. You cleared your throat.

“I’ve always just wanted to be part of a community,” you explained. “I like the small town community. I want to get to know the people. Grow my communication skills,” you suggested, even though it was only half true. You liked that no one ever left Hawkins. It left plenty of jobs for people like yourself, fresh out of college.

The front door opened. You both turned and you saw a face you recognized. He was holding a small box of half a dozen donuts.

“Meet your new secretary Chief,” Flo said, standing up from her desk. “She gets started tomorrow.” She grabbed the box out of his hands, walking through the doorway to where all the officers desks were. You stood up as well, trying to put on a smile. He looked down at you, sizing you up it seemed.

“You weren’t too late.”

“No sir.”

“Don’t bother with the sir crap,” he said, a gentleness to his voice. A casualness you admired. “Jim. Or Hopper.”

“Jim Hopper.”

“Yeah.” You extended a hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N. It’s a pleasure to work with you,” you said, brightly smiling now.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around town,” he said, starting to walk through the doorway. You followed him, unsure if you were supposed to but also unsure how you could continue the conversation otherwise.

“I just moved here last week.”

“Picked a hell of a place,” he grumbled. You laughed gently.

“I’ve heard.” He started to pour himself a cup of coffee. He gestured the pot to you but you shook your head. You were still high on adrenaline from rushing here. “How is crime here?”

“Riveting,” he deadpanned. “You’ll do fine.” His voice was so soothing. You nodded, believing him deeply.

“Promise?”

He smiled slyly, leaning against the table. He took a sip of his black coffee. You looked at him through your lashes, knowing you were going to get into trouble with this one. If he looked at you like that everyday you would never want to leave Hawkins at all.

“I promise.”

Technically speaking, Flo never intended on counting down the days until Chief Hopper asked you out but then on day seven she realized she was. She watched as you came into the room and he adjusted himself in his seat, his eyes floated towards you with a gentle care, and your smile widened. You were good at the logistics. You were good at the job. That made everything else easier.

You got the paperwork done that you needed to and sometimes, you got the paperwork he needed done as well. Powell suggested putting up a countdown to make it more obvious but everyone shut up about it.

“Don’t you think she should go with someone closer to her age?” Callahan asked, leaning back in his chair. Flo gave him a hard look as she walked through the room. You and Jim were in his office, powering through paperwork.

“Who, like you?” Powell questioned.

“She’s cute!” he argued back. Powell, actually doing work, rolled his eyes.

“Her frontal lobe is fully developed,” Flo argued. “She can make her own decisions. I, for one, would like to see the Chief happy since Diane.”

“Only ancient people remember Diane.” Callahan was trying to balance a pencil on his nose. It fell. He made it look like he hadn’t been doing it to start with. “You think she likes him?”

“I think she loves him.”

“It’s been literally a week. She could not love anyone, let alone Jim Hopper, in that time.”

“What about Jim Hopper?” You turned the corner, holding a small stack of papers.

“He needs to do his own work. You’re babying the old man,” Callahan said, pointing his pencil at you.

“He’s not that old,” you suggested.

“She’s right,” Hopper responded. “Watch your mouth Phil.” Callahan put his hands up in defeat and turned back to his desk. You put the things onto your desk to be finalized. You were coming to enjoy the steady, familiar pace of this new life. “I’m grabbing lunch.” He grabbed the keys to the cruiser. He paused, momentarily. No one else would’ve been able to catch it. You were watching him for his words, accepting them before they even came. “You comin?” he asked. You tried to hide the flush on your face as you glanced upwards, like you were attempting to make sure your schedule was full.

“Only if you’re paying.”

“Student debt that much of a bitch?” You grabbed your coat and put it on.

“I just like guys to pay on dates.” You walked past him, trying to suppress a smile. His eyes went wide as they floated to those around him.

“You two take the day,” Flo said, pleasantly, like she had orchestrated this whole thing.

“Literally go, Chief. Before I do,” Powell said. He had a small smile on his face too. He nodded, grabbing the door knob.

“I’m gone.” -

By week three it was like you had only known this life. It was like it had been pre-made for you. Your body fit the mold of a life that had been waiting patiently for your arrival. Work, dates, drive-ins, socializing. Apparently Hopper knew everybody in this town and with a little work, you got him to introduce you to people.

Never as the girlfriend.

Just as the new secretary.

You both tried to allow that to happen quietly. People would get used to seeing you two together eventually. There was no need to rush anything that didn’t have an exact label yet. You were just two people who happened to know each other. Intimately.

You were eating french fries across from him at work, flipping through some papers. He narrowed his eyes at you. You tried to act like you didn’t notice. He wanted to tell you something. You glanced up at him, chewing slowly.

“Yes Jim?”

“I have a daughter,” he said.

“El. Yeah, I know.” You hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet but you had heard lots about her. He was silent for a moment.

“Sara. Her name was Sara,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “She died of cancer when she was 7. Everyone here knows.” He cleared his throat, sucking in air. “I thought it was unfair, if you didn’t know.” You knew he got divorced, Flo had told you that much. But you had no idea he had a daughter before El.

“Oh,” you whispered. You racked your brain in an attempt to figure out how to salvage this situation. How did he want you to react? How should you react? “I’m sorry.” It felt inappropriate to be looking at paperwork so you put it down. “Thank you for telling me.” He nodded once, picking it up from you and then stealing one of your fries.

“I have pictures of her at the house. I wanted you to know before you meet El.”

Eleven was wary but got used to you quickly. She liked that you acted a lot like Steve in some ways, even though you were eight years older than him. She liked that Max liked you. She liked that Mike liked you.

She liked that Jim liked you.

By week ten the cabin had become your second home. You laid on the couch while El watched a show. Jim had to work late tonight and you weren’t needed so you were always open to hanging out with her when you could.

The light television buzzing was comforting. You flipped through a magazine, feeling the night begin to cause your eyes to droop. El was happily eating some eggos, whipped cream to top it off. You suggested throwing some chocolate chips on top of it too.

“How’re you and Mike?” you asked, looking at the couple on TV. She had a dreamy look in her eyes. After hearing bits and pieces about how Jim came to have her, you were happy to see it. She deserved an easy life.

“Good,” she said, shrugging. “How are you and Hopper?” You smiled a bit.

“We’re good.”

“Good.” She pointed a finger at you. “The door stays open three inches.”

“El!” you teased, hitting her with the magazine. She erupted into giggles, whipped cream covering her smile. “You don’t even listen to that rule. There are like three rooms in this place!”

“More than one!” she argued, shrugging. You rolled your eyes. Headlights lit up the room. You had some of the blinds open but the sun had long set. It caused both you and El to wince.

“You’re glad he’s home little lady,” you said, pointing the rolled up magazine at her. You both laughed as you got off the couch. You peaked out the window, out of habit, and saw a car you didn’t recognize. You squinted, unable to see more than the outline in the dark. A man got out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

He walked in front of his headlights. You could see the outline of a mullet. He knocked on the door. Hopper, ever prepared, always left a baseball bat beside the door. You grabbed it nonchalantly, leaving it out of the eyesight of your guest.

El had turned around. Hopper wouldn’t have knocked.

Leaning against the door was the infamous Billy Hargrove. You had heard enough about him to be able to recognize him, not to mention you had seen him once or twice with Max. Jim’s words came back to you.

“He has more parking tickets than the rest of the town combined.”

“You’re being dramatic Jim.”

“Never get in that boy's car.”

“You jealous Jim?”

He had rolled his eyes then but you could see what he was talking about now. There wasn’t a scratch on the car but there was a bruise on his face.

“Hello. You are not who I was expecting to open the door.” El was hidden behind the couch, blocking his gaze from her. “Where’s the Chief?”

“Working,” you said, too meak for your liking. “Can I help you Billy?” He chewed on the toothpick between his teeth. He had a charming smile. You imagined lots of girls were the victims of that smile.

“I’m looking for my sister, Maxine. She around?”

“Nope,” you said quickly. “I haven’t seen Max since this afternoon. She was at the arcade with El and everyone.”

“You play taxi driver too?” he questioned, playing a bleeding heart.

“When Jim can’t.” His eyes went wide but you suspected it was fake.

“Wait, you aren’t El’s cousin from out of town or something? You’re sleeping with Hopper?” You flushed, immediately unable to stammer out a reasoning that benefited the situation. You hadn’t actually had an interaction like this.

“Max isn’t here Billy,” you finally offered.

He took the toothpick out of his mouth.

“Well you know where I live if you ever want a good time,” he suggested. He tossed it aside. Littering. How attractive. He was starting to back away when you heard the sound of another car approaching. At the sight of someone else Jim stepped on the gas, pulling in at breakneck speed. He knew that car, even by the outline. “I never caught your name.”

“Y/N,” you said.

“Thanks for the help Y/N.” He winked at you as he turned around. Jim hopped out of the car, shutting it aggressively.

“What are you doing here Hargrove?”

“Just looking for Max,” he said, hands in the air. “Your girl was mighty helpful.” Billy got into his car before anyone could punch him and backed out, rivaling Jim’s breakneck speed.

“That fucking kid,” he grumbled as he walked in. You put your hand on his back, following him in. You kicked the front door shut behind you. “What’d he want?”

“He just asked if Max was here.” You made the executive decision not to go further into that. “I said she wasn’t.” He took off his jacket. There was an aggression there you weren’t used to. He walked to the kitchen to get some food and probably a beer.

“Thanks for watching her.”

“I can watch myself,” El said, looking up at him. There was a slight tinge in her voice that made you think she was telling the truth.

“I know you can. But it makes me feel better if she’s here too.”

“I don’t mind.” You followed him to the kitchen. He offered you a beer but you declined. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. Better now,” he muttered, kissing you on the forehead. You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. He embraced you, eyes lingering on the door.

You didn’t think it ever really affected him. The age difference seemed like something you were used to from day one. But you knew Billy had affected him. The Hargrove boy was everything a young girl could want. He was bad as in bad boy.

He didn’t say anything about it the rest of the night.

You didn’t see Billy again for a couple more weeks. He became nothing more than a mindless thought in the back of your mind. You weren’t even that pre concerned with him the next day, though you could tell Jim seemed to be. You wanted to bring it up but felt like bringing it up would only make it worse. You waited until El was at Max’s, deciding that doing it alone would be the best route.

He strayed near the phone in case El needed him.

“Callahan said he would finish that,” Jim was saying.

“When has he finished anything? Since I have moved here I have seen him get out of the chair two times. Maybe three!” You were eating pizza, the boxes strewn across the coffee table. The TV was on but neither of you were watching it. You laid on his back, rested comfortable between his legs.

“That’s why we hired a new secretary.”

“I’m not an officer?” He laughed again. You turned around to him, giggling. “Could you imagine me with a gun? Jim, give me your gun, let’s see how that goes.” Your laughter melded, his arm resting around your chest.

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

You rested back down, snuggling into your spot.

“Flo said she’d figure it out so you could have a day off without being called in. But I’m sure Harrington will lose a fight or something and we’ll both be called in.”

“Damn job.”

“Damn job is right!” You grabbed his hands, messing with his knuckles. “Let’s turn on the radio.”

“Oh God.” You stood up.

“I’m done with my pizza, I wanna dance.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do. Try to keep up old man.” It just slipped out but you regretted saying it immediately. He didn’t show an outward reaction at first but he stood, eyebrows raised.

“I seem to be able to keep up with you pretty well.” You tried to ignore the sly smile on his face.

“Damn straight. Dance with me Hop.”

You offered your hand to him as you fumbled around the radio. He walked past you, turning it on. You scrambled away to turn off the TV when there was a knock on the door.

Both of you turned, surprised, caught off guard.

“You expecting someone?” you asked.

“No. You?”

“No sir.”

You approached the door because you were closer. He stepped in front of you, opening it up. Max was on the other side, laughing bubbling from her lips. El was standing there too.

“How did you get here?” he asked immediately. You saw Billy’s car before you saw Billy. You put your hand on Jim’s chest, pushing him back as gently as you could. It was like he could only see Billy at that moment, eyes red.

“You’re back Y/N,” Billy called, leaning against his car door. He rested his hand on the top of the vehicle.

“What the hell?” Hopper roared. He walked past the girls.

“Inside. Quickly,” you hissed to them. They listened wordlessly.

“You think it’s okay to drive my daughter around in that car? If I looked up the license of that car I would see so many tickets I could wallpaper my house!”

“You haven’t taken me up on my offer,” he said, directly to you. “Shame.”

Billy wasn’t helping his case. Not in the slightest.

“Hargrove get in your fucking car and go the fuck home,” you snarled. Billy watched your face and then finally paid Hopper a thought.

“Offer stands.” He got in his car before Hopper could beat the shit out of him. Part of you wanted to see it. When his car was gone there was a heavy silence.

“Fucking Hargrove,” he grumbled. You were both still standing out in the cold. You shivered. “Fucking Hargrove. He could’ve killed her.” He looked back at you. You were still watching where his car was. “Hey.” Your eyes snapped to him.

“Yeah. Fuck him.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“The look on your face.”

“I don’t have a look.” His face fell a bit. He put a hand over his mouth, rubbing his beard in annoyance.

“Do you like-”

“No.” You nipped that in the bud. This was the conversation you had been dying to have.

“He’s closer to you-”

“No,” you said again. “Don’t say it. Don’t even dignify that thought with the words.” His face eased. “I love you.”

His eyes went wide again. The words hung in the air like they were being let out to dry. You felt confident in them. Even your nerves wouldn’t let you take back such a true statement.

“I don’t care about all of that. I never have.” He looked like he was searching for something. You opened your mouth to tell him he didn’t have to say it back but he was already speaking.

“I love you too,” he breathed. The words came easy once he had said them.

“Good.”

“Good,” he repeated back to you. You walked up to him, throwing your arms around him. He hugged you tightly.

“Plus,” you muttered, “he’s not my type.” He chuckled into your hair. He wanted to kiss you. He never wanted to stop kissing you. He found, for a moment, a wordless moment, he had wished Billy would’ve taken El and Max back so he could have the house just for the two of you. He swept the thought away as quickly as it had come. But having you in his arms was too intoxicating.

“I wanna listen to the radio,” you whispered. The laughter from him came louder now.

“Alright. Alright c’mon.” You repressed claps. He had his hand on the small of your back as he led you back inside.

“She said she loves him. I can feel it in the air,” Callahan muttered. He was chewing on a donut. His eyes were small. He was concentrating.

“Entirely possible they fucked in the car,” Powell countered.

“Calvin!” Flo exclaimed.

“That could be what you’re feeling. All I’m saying!”

“He said it back,” Callahan mused, his voice far away.

“Now you’re stretching,” Powell promised. “Chief in love? Not in this lifetime.”

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x fem!reader #jim hopper imagines #jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #hopper x reader #hopper x fem!reader

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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Someone's Daughter (Deviance Series - Part 3)

Pairing: Jim Hopper x OFC

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: When Hopper gets the news that his ex-wife is pregnant, he goes completely off the rails. The only thing he can do to quell the violent anger inside him is pay an escort to let him exorcise his demons.

Warnings: Rough Sex, Violent Misogyny, Homophobic Slur, Gun Play. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: I wrote this a thousand years ago but I just rewatched Black Widow and my David Harbour/Hop Daddy problem has returned in full force. This one is just especially fucked up and violent and probably should not be read by anyone. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

The phone wakes Hopper from a dead sleep. His head is pounding and he’s sick to his stomach but it’s not just from the booze. He knows who’s on the other end of that phone. Nothing pressing ever happens in Hawkins and it’s far too early for it to be anyone other than her.

“It’s 6:30 in the goddamn morning, Diane.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I thought you’d be up for work.”

“Hopper lights a cigarette and says, “What do you want?”

He shouldn’t be short with her but he doesn’t much care at this hour when the light is hitting him like daggers and that spot behind his eye is throbbing: a constant thud thud thud, like it’s tallying last night’s drinks.

“It’s just… I have to tell you something.”

“Jesus, just say what you want to say, alright?”

“I’m pregnant.” She says it like it’s a bad thing. “I’m sorry, Jim. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

Hopper feels nothing and says nothing for what seems like ages.

“Jim?” she says. “Are you there?”

“Congratulations,” he says, curt and monotone, and hangs up with much more force than is necessary.

He doesn’t want to be angry with her anymore. He’s been through it more times than he can count—the divorce, when she started dating Bill, when she fucking married him—but this? This is a different kind of betrayal. She’s not betraying him; she’s betraying Sara, and that is something he can’t forgive and won’t forget.

You filthy fucking bitch. How dare you?

Hopper feels a new kind of rage, one that’s going to eat him alive if he doesn’t do something about it. He looks at the clock and laughs.

“Fuck it.”

He gets an ice-cold beer from the fridge and takes it down like medicine.

Sometimes Hopper hates women in a way he knows he shouldn’t. He never used to be this way—not entirely, anyway—but these days he can’t shake the thought that women are the root of all the evil in his world. He’d like to be the kind of guy that isn’t constantly angry at his ex-wife for moving on with her life but he just isn’t. No, in this moment, he truly hates her. He has one of those thoughts he’s been having more and more of lately—the scary ones he thinks but doesn’t really mean.

I hope she loses this one, too.

He instantly hates himself for the fact he could even form a thought like that and he grabs the pill bottle off the table. He examines the recommended dosage and doubles it, washing it down with Schlitz, and falls back onto the couch. The clock reads 7:00 now and it’s time to get up but he can’t move. His mind is racing with increasingly violent scenes playing out and by the time he drags himself to the shower he can feel the rage in his bones.

One Irish coffee and a half pack of smokes later and he’s at his desk, staring into space, praying nobody does anything stupid today so everybody will leave him the fuck alone. Flo knows better than to bother him right now—one look at his face when he’d walked into the station was enough to keep her off his back, at least for a little while. He leans back in his chair and puts his hat over his face. Nap time.

He’s half-conscious when the knocking starts.

“Go awaaaaay.”

“Chief.” It’s Flo’s voice, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard to him.

He yells, “I SAID-”

Flo interrupts him with her no-nonsense tone. “Go away. Yes. I heard you. Can we just skip to the part where you open the door and pretend to do your job?”

He puts his hat on and straightens it. “Come on in.”

She opens the door with that look of disapproval he’s become accustomed to.

“Someone better be dead,” he says.

She clicks her tongue at him and the sound crawls under his skin.

“There’s some graffiti over at the library—nasty stuff. You’d better get over there.”

“I think Frick and Frack can handle a little spray paint, don’t you?”

Her face is serious and a little bit sad. “It’s bad, Jim.”

“Bad how?”

Flo tells the Chief what she knows. He sighs and heaves himself out of his chair.

“Alright,” he says. “I’m on it.”

“Who would do such a thing? He’s a little kid, for heaven’s sake.”

“Exactly,” he says. “It’s just dumb kid stuff, Marissa, ok? We’ll get a guy over here with a pressure washer and that’ll be the end of it.”

“You’re really just going to let this go?” she asks. “What about Joyce? Are you even going to tell her?”

“No,” he says, and he looks at her with a little bit of menace in his eyes, “and neither are you.”

“It’s gonna get out, Jim. I’m sure it already has.”

Hopper lights a cigarette and stares at the back of the library. In big, white letters, “WILL BYERS IS A FAG” mars the red brick. The kid can’t be more than, what? Nine? Ten? It’s a little early for this kind of thing but Hopper knows that cruelty starts early in boys, and it doesn’t always go away with age.

“Look,” he says, “it’s not the first time some punk has given Joyce’s kid a hard time.”

“A hard time?” she says, incredulous. “This is what you consider ‘a hard time’? It’s not right, Jim. It’s hateful.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” he yells. “Drag every idiot kid in this town into the station?”

“Last time I checked that was your job,” she says. “Just take care of it, Jim. This is ugly and I don’t want it here one second longer than it needs to be.”

“I’ll have it cleaned up today, ok? A few hours, tops.”

She crosses her arms and looks at him like she just smelled shit.

“You should get back to work,” he says. “Those books aren’t going to stack themselves.”

He tips his hat to her and she calls him an asshole. He mutters “bitch” under his breath and he means it.

He could go to the hardware store and ask if any kids bought white spray paint recently. He could go to the middle school and ask Will’s teachers if they know who likes to fuck with him. He could do a lot of things, but instead he drives back to the station, gets Flo to call the sanitation department, and retires to his office. He thinks about hate-fucking the bitch librarian until he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

That night he drinks more than his usual too much. He doesn’t want to think about Diane so, of course, she is all he can think about—her and that… thing inside her. He wonders if she actually wants it or if she’s just having it for Bill’s sake. Somehow Hopper manages to stop himself from calling her in the middle of the night. Instead, he paces in his living room and talks to her like she’s there.

“Must be nice,” he says, “to be able to just pick up the pieces and move on and be happy. Must be nice to forget about us and get a do-over. Way to go on Bill, by the way. I mean, could you have picked a bigger pussy? Better for you, though. I’m sure he’ll let you boss his ass around and bitch and nag and you’ll win every argument until the day you put him in the ground. Oh, and the replacement kid is a nice finishing touch on this big fat FUCK YOU, JIM I’m getting. Your life is just fucking perfect, isn’t it? Good for you, you traitorous bitch. I hope it’s a girl and she hates you.”

He throws a half-full beer against the wall, grabs a couch cushion, and screams into it until his throat cracks under the strain. He can’t find his sleeping pills so he takes down some whiskey instead.

He’s in his old house, in his old bedroom, hiding in the closet and watching Diane through the slats. She’s standing in front of the mirror in her wedding dress. It’s the dress she wore when she married him, but this time he’s not the groom. Diane turns to the side, examining herself in profile and holding the swell of her belly. She looks content. It makes him angry.

He watches himself throw open the door of the closet and she screams when she sees him coming at her. He tackles her to the ground and gets on top of her, his thighs clamped around her so she can’t move her arms. He can feel his weight crushing her stomach and he watches himself wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. Bill is there but he’s frozen in place, powerless to stop what’s happening. He smiles at Bill and then watches as the life leaves Diane’s eyes. A small spot of red starts to bloom on her wedding gown and suddenly the room is awash in blood. It’s in his eyes and his nose and his mouth—dark blood, dead blood. He tries to scream and he chokes on it.

He wakes up covered in sweat and bleeding from the mouth. He’d taken a chunk out of the inside of his cheek and now his jizz-stained couch is bloodstained, too. He’s had nightmares before, but never one like this. Once he’s breathing regular again and gets his heart rate in check, he walks out into the cold night air and lights a smoke. He knows now that something inside him is broken and probably can’t be fixed. He can’t come back from a nightmare like that. He can’t unsee what he did. He can’t forget how good it felt to hurt her.

I don’t want to kill my wife. I don’t want to hurt her child.

He keeps telling himself that, over and over, and it’s true, but he needs to hit something or someone and very, very soon.

It’s easier than it should be to get a hooker in Hawkins at 2:00 in the morning. Exotic Temptations escort service is, apparently, a 24/7 establishment with an ample selection of ladies ready to service him at this ungodly hour. He’s asked for a blonde who’s up for a little good-natured roughhousing because he’s feeling mean and needs to take it out on a warm, willing body. He hates that he needs a woman in his bed tonight, that he can’t get the kind of release he needs without some cooze he has to pay for the pleasure. But he couldn’t come by his own hand right now if he tried. No, the only thing that will put him to sleep is a good, hard fuck.

She arrives relatively quickly, accompanied by a large man who makes his presence known and then goes to wait in the car. She isn’t inside for more than a minute before she sees his badge on the table and starts to panic. She starts to run for the door and he almost grabs her arm to stop her but thinks better of it at the last minute. He puts his hands up—a conciliatory gesture—and it pisses him off to have to do it but it’s a necessary evil if he’s going to convince this girl he’s not a complete psychopath.

“Relax,” he says. “This isn’t a bust. I’m just looking for a good time, that’s all. I’ll pay you double.”

She’s got her hand on the front doorknob, ready to bolt, but she doesn’t.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t,” he says, “but there’s a get out of jail free card in it for your discretion.” He gives her his most charming smile. “Cops need love too, you know.”

“Triple,” she says.

“Not on a cop’s salary, darlin’.”

She starts to walk toward him and she’s still wary but he knows he’ll be able to charm her.

“Look,” he says, “I can get pussy for free whenever I want it.”

“I’ll bet,” she says, giving him a quick up-and-down.

“It’s just that I’ve got certain… let’s call them needs that your average woman isn’t particularly helpful with.”

“And what is it that you need, Officer?”

“It’s Chief,” he says.

She smiles. “Ok, Chief. My name is-”

“I don’t give a shit what your name is, doll. I’m gonna call you Diane and you’re gonna call me Sir.”

She nods. She doesn’t seem fazed by this, which bodes well for what he’s about to ask for next.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “I’m going to get out my handcuffs and my gun—it isn’t loaded, you can check if you want to—and you’re going to get naked and spread ‘em against that wall over there. Then I’m going to handcuff you and slap you around a little and fuck you very hard and say a lot of not-so-nice things to you. You good with that?”

Her face is fearless but her body language is betraying her.

“How hard do you hit?” she asks.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, but that’s a lie. The real truth is that he doesn’t want her to care if he hurts her. “I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with, ok? That’s not what this is about. I asked for a girl who likes it rough so if that’s not you-”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Just don’t fucking bite me.”

“That’s not really my thing,” he replies. “But I’m pulling the fuck out of your hair whether you like it or not.”

She laughs a little and he doesn’t particularly care whether or not it’s an act because it’s convincing. This bitch is willing to take the punishment that Diane deserves and he’s almost grateful to her. It helps that she’s incredibly fuckable—blue eyes, big tits, tan and lean. She’s easily an 8 and could be bumped up to a 9 if that pussy’s tight and she fucks as good as he wants her to.

She runs her hands across his bare chest and down his arms to his hands. She examines the scars and cuts and scabs around his knuckles with some concern.

“No choking,” she adds. “Please.”

Hop hadn’t really thought about it until she brought it up, but now that he’s looking at her long, pale neck up close, it does have a certain allure. A part of him feels like maybe it would give him the closure he needs—some sort of twisted bookend to the nightmare that set this ball rolling. She said no, though, and he’s promised himself, and her, that he won’t cross whatever boundaries she sets. He’s also not nearly sure he wouldn’t kill her by accident. Sometimes, when he’s got the rage in his veins, he forgets just how strong he is. He could snap her neck fucking her and not even notice she’s dead.

“Alright,” he says, “no choking.”

Her safeword is applesauce, not that he remembers it more than a few minutes after she tells him. He’s far too busy playing bad cop with her naked body pressed against the wall of his doublewide. She’s got her hands up and her legs spread and he’s groping her everywhere, and after a cursory cavity search, he yanks her arms down off the wall.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, and he cuffs her tighter than he should. “Turn around.”

“Yes, Sir,” she says, and she does as he commands.

For the first time in what seems to him like ages he feels like he’s in control. He reaches for his service weapon.

“Open your mouth,” he says, and when she does he traces her mouth with the barrel’s edge.

“Stick out your tongue.”

He pushes the gun into her mouth slowly, until her teeth hit the trigger guard.

“Suck it like you suck Bill’s cock, Diane.”

She takes it like a consummate professional and all the while he’s letting his grief’s anger speak through him.

You fucking bitch you filthy whore you dirty goddamn deceitful cunt.

He feels alive. It’s time to fuck the pain away. He pulls the gun out of her mouth with a pop and grabs her face by the jaw.

“Time to get fucked, bitch.”

He motions to the couch with the gun and then tosses it aside, and when he’s got her on her knees with her hands gripping the back of the couch, he dispenses with his jeans and boxers and grabs a rubber off the table.

“Can’t be too careful with a dirty little slut like you.”

He rolls it on and he’s rock hard and ready.

“Admit it,” he says. “Say you’re a dirty little slut.”

“I’m a slut for your cock,” she says.

“No.” He pulls her toward him and slides the tip of his cock through her wetness. “You’re a slut for Bill’s cock, right? Can’t get enough of it. Made a god damn baby with it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you think, if I tried really hard, I could fuck it out of you?”

“Do it,” she says. “Please.”

He grabs her hips with bruising pressure, shoving himself inside of her until he runs out of room. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw and fucks her like he wants to tear her in half. She’s faking it like the worst kind of porn star and he grabs a handful of her hair.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He already wants to be finished but he’s got a bit to go and those unwelcome thoughts start to creep in.

Grab her by the throat. Stick it in her ass. Fuck her bloody.

He has to take a beat and shake his head to try to stop them but they just keep coming.

Choke her out choke her out choke her-

He lets out a half-scream half-grunt and punches the wall next to her head. It hurts like a motherfucker but it feels so good—one half of the release he needs to fall into a dreamless sleep. She doesn’t flinch, bless her, and within a minute he finishes with a few unceremonious thrusts. He doesn’t notice his knuckles are bleeding until he grabs his cock and pulls out of her.

It takes him a minute to remember where he left the handcuff keys but eventually he finds them and frees her.

“Can I use your bathroom?” she asks.

“Right through there,” he says, pulling his jeans on.

When she’s gone he grabs a smoke and is about to head outside when he sees something sticking out of her bag. It’s something that doesn’t belong in the purse of a woman he just fucked for money: it’s a keychain—a small plastic pony with a bright pink mane. He’s still standing there staring when she comes out of the bathroom, all put together again, like nothing even happened.

“So,” she says.

“Right.”

He pays her what she’s owed and when he hands her the cash he looks at her. For the first time since she walked in, he actually sees her: the heart-shaped face, the shallow cleft in her chin, the birthmark at her hairline that’s just a shade too dark.

This is someone’s daughter.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night and he’s late for work in the morning.

#chief jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper smut #stranger things fanfiction #david harbour #dark!jim hopper #deviance series #someone's daughter

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burning-the-write-oil · 4 years

Text

Wine Drunk

Summary: OC gets to spend an evening with her boyfriend, Hopper. Red wine helps make the evening a lot more interesting.

Characters: Jim Hopper x OFC (Grace)

Words: 1,260

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual actions, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N: I saw an ask sent to @chiefharbour and immediately had an idea for a one shot I could write, so here it is! I got this out in about two hours and doesn’t have an intense amount of editing that I usually do, but hopefully you guys enjoy! Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy!

Saturday evening couldn’t have come soon enough and Grace was more than ready to crack open a bottle of wine and spend some much needed time with her boyfriend. Hopper had been busy all week with the station getting a few more calls than usual due to the warmer weather and the increase in kids throwing parties and doing all kinds of stupid stuff. He finally had an evening off and was headed over to have dinner and watch a few movies. Grace set a timer for fifteen minutes, placing some garlic bread in the oven while she continued to finish making one of Hopper’s favorite meals that she would cook, baked spaghetti and meatballs. She sprinkled some Parmesan and Italian seasoning on top of the finished dish that was now sitting on top of the stove while she waited for the garlic bread.

A few minutes later, Grace hears a knock at the door before she hears it open. She hears heavy footsteps before Hopper appears around the corner.

“That smells amazing.” He grins, walking over to her and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Thank you.” She smiles, turning around and looking up at him. “I missed you.”

Hopper smiles warmly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her lips before stepping out of the kitchen to remove his shoes. He walks back in, leaning his back against the counter beside her while she adds some parsley to the top of the spaghetti. The timer for the garlic bread beeps and she turned it off before pulling it out of the oven.

They end up getting some food, cracking open a bottle of red wine, and eating in the dining room. They eat and talk about how their day went, Hopper telling Grace about some of the more stupid calls he had received during the week. Around an hour later, Grace is three glasses in and the bottle was a little over half-empty between the two of them. While Hopper was barely feeling anything after the few glasses he had, Grace was a lightweight and was already starting to feel the effects of the wine and after cleaning up the remainder of the food, she laid back on the couch.

“I feel so warm.” She giggled, reaching her arms back behind her head on the couch.

“Yeah?” Hopper laughed, walking into the living room and grinning at the sight of Grace on the couch.

“We were supposed to watch a movie, what’re we gonna do now?”

Grace looks over at Hopper, biting her lip as she looks him over. Since he got off work early today, he was dressed in jeans and a navy blue t-shirt that fit his form well. He was usually in his work uniform, which she loved, but she was loving how he looked now too. Tipsy or not. She smirked, propping herself up a bit more on the side of the couch.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Hopper’s lips slowly form into a smirk as he walks towards her. He leans over her, teasing her as he slowly brushes his lips against her. She grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him forward so she can press her lips to his. He places one of his hands on her cheek while the other braces himself on the couch above her. She runs her tongue across his bottom lip and after a few moments, Hopper picks her up off the couch, sitting back against it and placing her on his lap. She runs her fingers along the nape of his neck, pulling back slightly to brush her nose against his. Hopper moves his hands to her breast, gently squeezing them and causing her to let out a soft moan. He begins to kiss down her neck, the sensation causing shivers to run over her. Grace begins to grind her hips against his growing bulge, her breath becoming shaky. Hopper gently sucks at her skin before quickly pulling away and running his tongue over the spot.

“I wanna ride you…” Grace mumbles, tilting his head towards her and pressing her forehead to his. He pauses briefly, searching her eyes to make sure she was okay with what she said.

“God I fucking love you.” He growls, pressing a rough kiss to her lips before she climbs off him.

“Where do you want to be, baby?”

She pauses, almost in thought, before answering, “Your face.”

“Fuck…” Hopper groans, pulling his shirt over his head as Grace begins to remove her own revealing that she hadn’t worn a bra under her comfortable t-shirt. She giggles as he quickly removes his jeans before helping Grace remove the shorts and grey panties she had on. He then lays back on the carpet, allowing her to crawl onto him and straddle his lap.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” She asks, looking down at him and biting her lip.

“Sure that I want to taste that sweet, wet pussy? Hell yes.”

Grace blushes, carefully moving up towards his chest. He gently tugs at her thighs, pulling her forward so her center was right above his mouth. She exhales shakily before he tugs her down and she immediately feels his tongue begin to stroke at her clit and along the length of her. He groans and she lets out a moan at the vibration and the feel of his 2-day old scruff around his mouth. Hopper grips onto her hips, continuing to lick and suck at her clit, his eyes meeting hers ever so often as she glances down to watch him. He lifts her up for a brief moment to tell her “how fucking amazing she tastes” before holding her back down to his mouth and pulling moans and various other expletives from her lips. Grace begins slowly grinding her hips against his face and she was sure his mouth and lower face would be covered with her when she moved off him. He continued to suck and thrust his tongue into her as best he could, continuing to groan and growl at how wet she was.

Before she even realized it, Grace could feel her orgasm approaching, and her inner walls beginning to clench.

“I’m gonna come.” She moans, her breathing heavily as Hopper continues to please her, determined to get her to finish.

She feels herself continue to clench and as he begins to shake his head back and forth against her pussy, she comes with a loud moan, having to brace herself with her hands in front of her to not fall over. Hopper continues to gently lick at her, cleaning her up as best he could before she slowly climbed off his mouth with quick breaths.

“Holy fuck…” She breathes and pauses when she looks over at him as he leans up on his elbows. His mustache and scruff around his chin was covered in her sticky fluid, along with some near his nose and his cheeks. She blushes, tucking her messy hair away from her face as she looks at him.

“You are so fucking sexy.” He smiles, his breathing also heavy as he gently takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

“Are you alright?”

She nods and as he sits up and stands, he helps Grace get up and onto the couch.

“Give me a second, I’ll get a rag and help you clean up. We can watch a movie and cuddle if you want?”

She smiles and nods her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

#my writing #smut #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper #ofc #jim hopper fanfiction #chief jim hopper #jim hopper fic #chief jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x ofc

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irrelevantwriter · 5 years

Text

Hopper Can Have Nice Things Too

Pairing: Chief Jim Hopper x OFC

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected sex, public sex, bit of a power/title kink, self-realization and self-care on Hopper’s part (because he deserves)

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: A funhouse leads to some fun. Porn without much plot.

A/N: I warned you guys. Daddy Hopper was making a comeback and here he is. I’ve used an OFC from my previous Hopper one-shot, but this in no way ties into that story. Have a read of some dirty fun and appreciate our favorite thicc Chief of Police.

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

He was an idiot.

Jim Hopper was a lot of things. He was mostly known for being a badass around town. Carrying a gun like it was an extension of his arm. He was often spotted with a cigarette in one hand and a pastry of some sort in the other, a scowl firmly planted on his lips. He was a take no prisoners kind of guy. And people respected him for that.

But he did fumble sometimes and that seemed to happen with the fairer sex quite often. His past liaisons never let him forget that in this small town. He sometimes felt like he was back in high school, gossip clinging to the nearest person and onto the next like some sort of virus.

Along with being an overall badass motherfucker, he was also an experienced man, both in life and in the bedroom. He could maneuver women well when it came to sex; he’d been told and shown that sentiment on more than one occasion. But the emotional stuff was where shit got tricky. That was where he faltered and usually ended up sabotaging himself. And that was his current predicament.

Claudia was the station’s newest secretary. And she interested him in a more than working boss-employee relationship. At first it had been a basic primitive thing. He’d liked the way she looked…a lot. She was attractive and carried herself well. But then he got to know her.

He started to pay attention to her a little more every day. She was shy at times but proved that she could hold her own in a station full of brutes. She was funny, and often rivaled the dirty locker room humor of the male officers. She was kind. And she liked to show that kindness to anyone she could. Those who came into contact with her often left with a smile on their face. She was a great addition to the team. But she was stirring up some shit inside of Jim’s head that he was not prepared for.

He treaded carefully around her. He didn’t want her to think that he mistook her kindness for something more. Plus, there was the little detail of them working together. But the more time they spent together, the more he got the impression that she may feel a certain way about him as well.

He was a goddamn chicken though. And he’d decided that he wasn’t going to put himself out there. Then his failed date happened.

Being stood up was an eye opener and when he’d had a moment of vulnerability and opened up to her about it, she’d handled it in a way that made his pants feel tighter than they already were. She’d brushed it off with simple humor and a statement of the no-show date being a dumbass of huge proportions, careful not to make a big deal out of it for his benefit. He was more thankful for that than she’d realized. She was the only person he’d told and he’d regretted it the moment he did, but she’d handled him the way she knew Jim Hopper liked to be handled: with a little bit of attitude and inappropriate humor. And he was a goner because of it.

He quickly surmised that she might have an interest in him, and why she did he would never know. She was way out of his league and entirely too good to be hanging with the likes of him. But ever since El had come into his life, he realized he was allowed to have nice things…good things. He could have those things and not break them into pieces. He was worthy of having a life…a happy one.

But again, he was a goddamn chicken.

And that was why he currently felt like a creep as he stared at her from across the fair grounds.

It was Fourth of July and it seemed all of Hawkins was crammed into the grassy lot filled with questionable carnival rides and greasy, sugary foods. Jim had brought El to meet up with the rest of her friends, though he’d stipulated that he had to stay to keep an eye out. El had of course rolled her eyes at him, but she’d agreed.

Jim stuck to the shadows because he still understood that El was growing into a teenage girl and needed her space. It helped that Harrington and the girl he worked with at the mall were also with the kids, acting as pseudo-chaperones. Mike was damn near as protective as he was when it came to his daughter and he trusted her boyfriend and friends to keep her safe. He just had a hard time completely letting go. Which is what brought him here.

He was trying hard not to look suspicious as he looked on at a group of children alone at a fair. He was the Chief of Police so he had every right to stare anyone down, but he knew he was a little too intense for the atmosphere. He’d attempted to look casual by wearing a new printed shirt with pale pastels and light washed jeans. He felt odd in the outfit, but he found he blended better into the crowd.

He was just about to call it a night and let the kids have their fun when someone caught his eye.

Claudia was in line at the cotton candy stand, her laughter floating over the people and directly to him. She looked relaxed and carefree, a look he found appealed to him immensely. She wore a hot pink off-the-shoulder blouse, the material encasing her upper half amazingly well. The color emphasized the hue of her summer tan. High-waisted acid wash jeans hugged her lower half, giving him a bountiful look at the form she kept dressed in professional, smart clothes while at the station.

Most of the guys knew she was a looker, but Jim made it a point that she not be treated like an object. They all had to work together and be able to respect each other. Don’t get him wrong, he shared their sentiments when it came to having a younger female in the station, but working relationships were important and he didn’t want to jeopardize that. Plus, Claudia was amazing at her job and he’d be damned if she got chased off.

A cool breeze swept through the tents and disturbed the long, loose curls in her dark hair. She was talking animatedly with another woman. He recognized her as a friend of Claudia’s who’d sometimes come to the station on her lunch. They were good friends though her name escaped him.

Jim admired her from afar, still feeling creepy but not as much considering Claudia was an of-age woman. Her smile was contagious and he found himself smiling dumbly in her direction. He was bumped from behind by a heinously sized stuffed bear when he realized he should either shit or get off the pot. His mind was screaming at him to get off the pot, but something else was telling him to stay and shit…metaphorically of course.

His feet started towards her, suddenly anxious and afraid he’d made a mistake. Before he could back down though, she turned and made eye contact. And that was all it took.

She smiled brightly and waved. He did the same, though much more subdued. He observed her say something to her friend before his arrival and they both giggled. Insecurity made him hesitate in his next few steps, but Claudia stepped out of line and met him halfway, settling his nerves somewhat.

“Hey there, Chief.” She greeted, pink lips nearly a match to the shade of her shirt. Despite not having bought cotton candy, she carried the smell with her as it surrounded him in a cloud.

“Claudia. Didn’t expect to see you here.” He forced himself to relax and seem at ease. He was way out of his element while she was flourishing. He worked to keep his posture calm and the fidgeting and stuttering to a minimum.

“Came with a few friends. Rides aren’t really my thing but I can never turn down a corn dog and cotton candy.”

“Sounds like we’re on the same page about that.”

Her eyes searched the immediate area around him before she spoke again. “You bring your daughter?”

He nodded, “I did, but she’s with her friends. I didn’t want to suffocate the poor thing with my brooding presence.”

“Understandable. It can be a tad overbearing.” She teased.

“Hmmm, I’ve never been described that way before.” He rubbed at his chin, letting the sarcasm drip from his words. Her face broke into a smile at the shared joke.

They both laughed, clearly too caught up with each other to notice they were creating a road block for people trying to pass. He caught her as she got pushed into his chest, keeping her upright. Her doe eyes looked up at him with such emotion he swore he felt an actual fucking butterfly flutter in his stomach.

“Let me buy you that cotton candy you were in line for.” He offered, already pulling out his wallet. He anticipated her to brush him off and get back to her friend, but she surprised him again by smiling and nodding, her body leaning into his as they walked.

And then an hour flew by.

After they’d purchased a cotton candy for her and an ice cream cone for him, they walked aimlessly around the fair. They talked and laughed and indulged in their younger selves by playing a game or two. It was enjoyable and quickly feeling as if he was on an unexpected but welcomed date. Claudia showed no signs of trying to ditch him, making him believe this was truly where she wanted to be.

They had been rounding the corner of the funhouse when Jim had a thought.

“Hey, what happened to your friends?” He turned to face her, hands in his pockets. Her neck craned up to look at him. She was petite in stature and he almost felt bad that she had to damn near look up at the sky to meet his eyes.

“Oh, I sent them on without me. I was a third wheel anyways.” She said with a wave of her hand.

Jim couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his lips at her words. He felt like a dopey idiot. But the high was addictive and he found himself not wanting their night to end.

“Hey, let’s go in here.” Claudia grabbed his hand, the contact sending a spark through his body. She started leading them towards the entrance of the funhouse and he shook his head at the realization.

“In there?” He gestured with his free hand. “You serious?”

She stopped just short of the attendant, turning back to face him. “What’s the matter, Chief? You scared?” She teased.

Jim scoffed and laughed, unaffected by her words. “Of course not. But it’s a waste of tickets if you ask me.”

“Well, guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.” A devilish smile graced her still pink lips and he found himself staring at them for entirely too long.

He allowed her to pull him through the entrance after paying the ticket admission. There wasn’t a line. The damn thing was basically deserted. He understood why.

They started climbing a steep set of stairs and he tried not to follow too closely. Her denim clad ass was directly in his face and he had to fight against the urge to stare. He could hear her laugh as they made it to the first room, the lights and music attempting to make the space scarier than it was. It was a bust for him, but he could tell she was having fun and he didn’t want to put an end to that.

A room of mirrors made them pause, the sensation of being surrounded by reflective glass overwhelming. Jim moved slowly and methodically, careful to not walk into a solid surface. Claudia had reached for his hand again, allowing him to lead them through the maze. The lights flickered and the music changed. The soothing melody of Foreigner filled the speakers, the lead singer crooning about waiting for a girl. It was an odd song choice for the atmosphere, but it worked in their favor as the mood shifted from playful to intimate.

They took in the emptiness of the space around them as the lights glowed from an intense red to a soft purple. The lighting made it difficult to see, but he could feel. And he felt a heavy stare on him.

“Dance with me.” Claudia demanded softly. Her eyes were locked on him in a way he hadn’t seen before. It made a heat wash over his body.

Her request surprised him, but he found he couldn’t deny her. He didn’t give himself time to think about how bizarre they may seem if someone saw them. He didn’t think about what it would look like when people spotted the Chief of Police dancing in the dark with his secretary. He didn’t think about the scandal or the backlash it could cause. He didn’t think about anything other than her in that moment.

He held her against him as they began to sway to the music. Their images reflected in the mirrors, giving off the illusion that they were standing in a crowd and not alone.

“So, is this still a waste?” She smirked up at him, clearly feeling as if she’d won him over already.

Jim looked to the ceiling, pretending to ponder the question. “It’s a slight step up from a waste. I’m a more of a Styx fan myself.”

Her laughter set him off and he chuckled, the rumbling making his chest vibrate against her body. He noticed the delicate pink of her nails against the fabric of his shirt, the display of femininity reminding him of just how long it’d been since he’d been with a woman. So much had taken place in his life recently that finding a warm body for the night was the last thing on his mind. But now that he was pressed against an attractive woman, one he seemed to be captivated with, he found he was missing a certain something after all.

“I’m gonna have to make a move, aren’t I?”

Her voice caught him off guard and once he registered her question, he looked down at her in confusion.

“What?”

Claudia laughed, making him feel as if he’d missed something in the last few minutes. She laid her palms flat against his chest, forcing their movement to cease. She seemed nervous suddenly as she began to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. It was an innocent gesture, but it sent his mind into a lust-fueled tailspin.

“You’re being a complete gentleman. And that’s really sweet. But,” She paused and he waited for her to finish, afraid she’d turn him down before he’d even attempted a shot. “I really need you to kiss me.”

He sworn he heard her wrong, but when she pushed herself onto her tiptoes and leaned up into his body, he knew he’d heard right.

It took him only a millisecond to respond and meet her in a hungry kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted like sugar and her hands gripped at him like she was dangling off a cliff and he was her anchor. He wrapped her in is arms, fully embracing her and feeling all she had to offer. His hands went to her hips and then lingered just above her ass. She was soft and smooth, adjectives he hadn’t been familiar with in a while.

He felt his back come into contact with a hard surface and he used it to his advantage. He leaned against the mirror to shorten himself slightly. The action allowed Claudia to reach up and tangle her fingers in his hair. Her nails scraped against his scalp and then pulled at the roots in desperation. The dual sensations forced a growl to bubble from his lips. Their tongues met and clashed against one another, tasting the lingering sweetness on each other.

Jim could feel his erection growing by the second, eager to partake in the fun. He shifted his hips away, but Claudia followed and rubbed herself sensuously against him. The action made him pull back from her lips and groan.

“Shit…” He breathed, struggling to maintain control of the situation and himself. They were both breathing hard with limbs still entangled. “We need to slow down.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She agreed, though neither of them pulled away.

He stared at her, took in her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was rising in quick breaths. Her lips were red now, the pink having smeared into his facial hair he was sure. She looked hungry, like her appetite had been amplified and not at all satiated. He was sure he looked identical, the tension in the small space now palpable and unavoidable.

They both came to a conclusion at the same time.

They moved in unison. He swept her up and into his arms while she wrapped her legs around his middle. He moved them so that her back now rested against the mirror, the surface helping to keep her attached to him. They moved as one, tongues and hands back to exploring the other. They both acted as if it’d been years since the last time they’d indulged in the sin of the flesh. And perhaps it had been. Jim couldn’t remember the last woman he’d been with.

“Oh god,” Claudia moaned as he sucked and nipped at her neck. She threw her head back, allowing him all the access he wanted. He lavished her skin with wet kisses and sensuous bites. Desperate moans and whimpers left her lips, the noises like slot machine alarm bells signaling he’d won the jackpot.

He gripped and grasped at her body greedily, his large hands everywhere at once. Her own hands were pulling at him, wishing him to be closer but the action physically impossible.

“I need you, Jim.” Her plea was breathy and it fell onto his ears like the sweetest song. He cursed, his desire to fuck her into the mirror at her back at its peak.

He moved his mouth back to her lips, catching her rapid breaths with his own. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I want that.”

He watched her surrender herself to him. She held him tighter, an almost imperceptible whimper actually leaving her lips. She kissed him, her tongue dominating his own in a battle of unfiltered passion. It was her turn to assault his neck and he let her, groaning when she began to suck hard at the flesh.

“Now. I need you now.” She whispered against his throat, her breath hot and wet.

Jim slammed his hand onto the mirror as she rubbed her center against his very prominent bulge. He felt like he was floating, the reality of the situation barely a thought in his now foggy mind.

“We can’t. We shouldn’t.” He tried to keep hold of some semblance of rationale, but the way her body was forcing his own to respond was making it difficult. And more than that, he wanted her. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to take something good and make it his. And he wanted to feel that in return.

“Please…”

He threw what little caution he had left to throw to the wind and gave in to their scorching desires. Their movements became frenzied and hurried, uncaring of the possibility of being caught but instead desperate to quench their cravings. His hands pulled at her blouse, revealing a satin white bustier. Her breasts called to him, begging him to pull them free from their restraints. He obliged.

“Yes, Chief…”

Her fingers were back to pulling at his hair while his mouth tasted her. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the ferociousness of his movements making her release a moan. She worked between them to undo a few errant buttons on his shirt. He hissed when she tangled her fingers in his chest hair, the pain fueling him further.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, her hand now reaching for the button on his jeans. He followed her movements, realizing he was about to get his dick wet at a summer fair. The message was relayed beyond the barrier of denim and he felt himself swell and pulse in need.

“Put me down.”

He obeyed and set her on her feet, hulking over her like Bruce Banner before he made a full transformation into The Hulk. She showed no concerns about being partially nude or even being partially nude in public. She went back to her task of undoing his jeans, nails grazing and pawing at him impatiently. He watched, enraptured by her tiny hands pulling him free and teasing him without mercy. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, fully immersing himself in the rush of pleasure.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart…”

Her lips were on the exposed skin of his chest, tasting the sweat that had gathered there. Her bare chest was flush against him, the skin-on-skin contact making the experience all the more erotic. He felt her hand tug at him, a coolness settling over the hardened muscle. He looked down and realized she’d coated her hand in saliva. His eyes literally crossed at the sight.

“Stop.” He demanded roughly. She complied immediately. His tone had been harsher than he’d meant, but he wasn’t about to blow his load on her closed fist.

Jim stood to his full height and pushed her back into the mirror. His fingers undid the button on her own jeans and he pulled them down, allowing her to free a leg. He did the same with the matching white satin panties, exposing her without care. He licked his lips, a movement she caught. He jerked at his own flesh, squeezing himself to ward off releasing too soon. Her thighs, thick and luscious, squeezed together at this actions.

“You sure about this?” He eyed her closely, waiting for her dark gaze to speak to him. She only nodded, pulling him by his shirt into her willing and waiting body.

He hefted her into his arms again and slowly eased the tip inside. She was warm and wet, just like he’d imagined. He studied her face, looking for any signs of pain. Pleasure was all he saw as he inched forward. The pace was in stark contrast to the rushed air they’d been surrounded in minutes before.

“Fuck, you feel good. You okay?”

Sweat collected on his forehead as he held her to him. It was a struggle to move so cautiously when her body practically sucked him in.

“God, feels amazing.” She sighed. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he finally sheathed himself fully. Her walls clutched and released him, begging him to stay but urging him to move.

Jim pulled out and thrust back in, this time foregoing the slower prelude. She squealed as her whole body tightened and he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

“Shit, you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Claudia shook her head and used her feet at his back to persuade him closer. “No, no…do that again.”

He did as she requested and they both moaned lowly at the sensations. She felt heavenly wrapped around him, sleek and tight. The sound of her slick meeting his hard thrusts was the perfect soundtrack to their coupling. He moved deep and slow, a steady rhythm that hit every inch inside of her. Her lips were formed into a silent “O” and her breasts were jiggling with each plunge. Watching her was half the pleasure.

“Fuck, Chief…right there.”

“Say it again.” He ordered with a stab of his hips. She whimpered and clawed at his chest, indenting red marks into his skin.

“Chief…”

Her words had their desired effect. He accelerated his pace, forcing her further into the mirror. Heavy breathing and slaps of sweat-laden bodies accompanied the now faster melody of a new song. He dipped a thick digit into his mouth and saturated it with saliva. He massaged her clit with the now soaked finger, using the roughened calloused pads of his skin to his advantage.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Jim worked harder and faster, delivering her to salvation. He watched the beads of sweat run down her collarbone and between her breasts. He buried his face into her neck and teased her earlobe, trying to hit as many of her erogenous zones as he could. His fingers pinched her clit, feeling it swell and throb in unreleased pressure.

“Cum for me, baby…” Her body responded in kind to his words and he continued, his voice low as he flew her higher and higher into oblivion. “I wanna see you cum. I wanna think about you like this always. I want you to miss my dick being buried so deep that it feels like you’re missing a piece of you. You hear me?”

Claudia’s whole body tensed, her walls spasmed, and her moans strangled as she let the ecstasy take over. His name fell from her lips like a chant, the cadence sounding like a cry for help but Jim knew it for what it was. It was a call to not stop. It was a plea to hold tighter and push harder. It was a prayer.

Her release captured him and pulled him under. His breath caught and his body went rigid. The feeling of her against him, of her walls drowning him, was all he could focus on. Everything else around him was white noise. He felt the sting of her nails at his shoulders and the peaks of her nipples against his chest. He bit down on her shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. A stream of warmth passed from his body to hers, her legs widening and accepting in lustful appreciation. His hips stuttered as he flooded her with his essence, his eyes trying to focus against the ever-changing lights.

Breathing was the only noise left once both of them were drained. Jim held her for a few seconds before her laughter made him pull back. He joined her, unable to believe what they’d just taken part in. He helped her to her feet and adjust her clothes while she helped tame his hair. She used the many mirrors to right her hair and makeup, careful to conceal the wild state they’d been in moments before.

They exited the funhouse and gulped in the cool evening air. Jim felt bad for anyone who decided to visit the amusement after them. The place reeked of sex and sweat. The breeze carried the aroma of food, masking the scent they carried. They didn’t say much to each other, comfortable in the moment with the silence.

Jim quickly realized he had to check on his daughter. His trained gaze was scanning the crowd and what he saw put him at ease. The kids were at a booth filled with wooden milk bottles stacked on crates. The objective was to knock as many off as you could with a toss of a ball. Apparently, Mike had just won because he handed off a stuffed tiger to El, her face lighting up at the gift. It was pure and wholesome and it set Jim’s chest on fire with love.

“You want a corn dog? I’m famished.”

Claudia’s voice brought him out of his intense study of his child and her boyfriend. He found her eyes, smiling at the way she looked up at him. Her voice was somewhat hoarse and he beamed in silent male pride at his part in that.

“Come on…my treat, Chief.” She smirked knowingly, the throwback to their time together making him shiver and chuckle all at once.

“Sure. You owe me for wasting those tickets on that funhouse anyways.” He deadpanned, though the humor was awash on his face.

Without missing a beat she replied in a matching tone of uninterest. “Yeah, you were right. What a bust.”

Their laughter filled the space around them as they moved towards the corn dog stand, the space between their bodies nonexistent as they walked.

If there was one thing that damn funhouse was good for, it was showing him that things were never what they appeared to be from the outside.

#jim hopper x ofc #chief jim hopper #hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #chief jim hopper x ofc #stranger things 3

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likedovesinthewnd · 5 years

Text

The Killing Moon

Werewolf!Hopper AU- Hopper x Luna

A/N: So, I got this crazy ass idea to write a werewolf!hopper au and it has spiraled out of control in my mind. This will be a series, I don't know how many chapters yet, but I’m super excited about it. I won't really be using the a/b/o trope in this fic (forgive me, monster fuckers), it’s got more of a True Blood feel to it- at least I hope so, you'll see what I mean. I’ve also been on my Lana Del Rey bullshit HARD and her aesthetic has played a heavy roll both in the series as well as my ofc Luna. Each chapter will also be titled after one of her songs that best fits the vibe of said chapter. I really hope y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback is gold, so don't forget to drop me a line and a reblog!

Summary: Luna inherits her grandmother’s cottage after her death. The isolation, memories, and vivid dreams obscure her perception of what is fact and folklore. With no one to help navigate her through the process of grieving, Luna is left to her own devices and driven into the arms of a man filled with more mystery than the woods she lives in.

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: Mild smut, death in the family, isolation, drinking, seduction, witchcraft, mild gore, blood. Basically a tribute to Lana Del Rey, fight me.

Chapter 1- Ride

Luna remembered the stories her grandmother Agnes used to tell her as child, cautionary fables of the woods and the treacherous evils that lurked within them. The earthy scent of wormwood that always seemed to permeate her home, lingering on Luna’s clothes long after she’d gone home. Memories of soft blankets, worn in over time, being perched upon her grandmother’s lap as she spoke wildly of wolves and bloodshed— a far cry from the naïveté of the gentle fairytales other children heard before bed. Luna always felt there was an air of truth cloaked within her grandmothers words, a warning meant to be heeded and revered. To her it was all part of the mythos, an intriguing fantasy she indulged in only during her extended visits through the years.

The memories invaded her mind like rapid fire, tears streaming down her dampened cheeks as she wandered through the vacant home that once bursted with life. The herbal scent she used to love, slowly fading, as if her grandmother had taken it with her.

She’d left her modest cottage to Luna, her dying wish— for her to make a life for herself in Hawkins, a place steeped in more mystery than even the wildest of her stories. The humble abode was small and buried in the thick of the woods, as reclusive and estranged as her grandmother was to all but her.

The funeral had been dreary, only a few scattered figures, no family or friends, no gathering after in celebration of her life. In some ways it was better that way, the condolences of strangers always felt forced and insincere anyway.

The isolation of the woods was deafening, the distance maddening. The unforgiving phases of grief swept through Luna, unanswered questions and anger bubbling at the surface with no one to help guide her through the sobering process— no one to unleash her emotional fury upon.

The new moon casted an opaque darkness that filtered through the grime-caked windows, reminding Luna that they desperately needed dusting— and she desperately needed the distraction. She spent the night compulsively cleaning, rummaging through drawers and cabinets until she found something that made her dark green eyes well up with a fresh wave of tears.

Buried deep within the drawers of a vintage armoire, she found a long silver chain adorned with an amulet. A single delicate aconite flower suspended in glossy enamel, its vibrant purple petals immortalized and wrapped in silver wire. She clutched the jewelry in her palms, holding it close to her like it were her own grandmother’s spindly hand. Her most prized possession, found by her most cherished child. Luna draped the necklace over her head, the ornate pendant resting beneath her breasts, the weight of the chain comforting against her collar. The effect similar to the safety she felt as a child, swaddled in blankets— a metaphorical shield protecting her from any malevolence seeking to harm her. It gave Luna an inner strength she didn’t know she possessed, a power that was weaved into the very fiber of her genetics, dormant and undiscovered until the precious metal touched her skin.

That night as Luna slept, vivid images of her grandmother’s lore plagued her dreams, like admonition from deep within her subconscious. Splashes of bright viscous blood wetting the thick black coat of the wolf, his prey unrecognizable. She watched the horrific scene unfold, helpless yet unafraid. Her hand reaching out to make contact with the beast, a metaphysical magnetism pulling her toward it, her fingers painfully outstretched, so close she could feel the heat coming off it’s massive body. The curiosity was overwhelming, drawing her closer until it suddenly looked up at her, a snarl dripping blood making its threatening intention known. She was frozen in place by two eyes so icy and blue they pierced through her soul like knives. It was a loaded stare that spoke volumes without words, a telepathic fuse lit from both ends. At last, she was afraid, intrigue and curiosity replaced by sheer terror as the beast rose to stand on its hind legs, a breathy gasp leaving her lips in smokey plumes against the frigid air. When she woke she was drenched in sweat, her lungs gasping for air, both hands clasped tight around the amulet.

It had been an arduous week going through her grandmother’s belongings, those haunting glacial eyes manifesting themselves in her dreams every night without fail. Much like the dreams, her memories were a constant, though less rose-tinted through the eyes of a grown woman. The innocence and whimsy she remembered as a child was replaced by bright lucid versions, as if her mind had concealed reality in generic echoes of the truth.

The deeper Luna delved through her grandmother’s possessions the more layers were revealed to her, crisp and ripe with prophetic purpose. The cottage seemed insignificant compared to the knowledge that was bestowed to her in the margins of old books and journals. Words like potions and hexes, breathing new life to the countless glass apothecary jars filled with crushed herbs and roots. The unworldly things Luna had suspected as a child now presented as truth laid before her very eyes.

After the tenth day Luna sought respite from the confinement, feeling like she was bound to lose her mind to the woods and her unnerving dreams. The startling revelations, the grief, the knowledge that she wasn’t even sure what to do with. Was she meant to find out? Did Agnes want Luna to follow in her path? Had she always been without even realizing it?

She had to get out.

The drive into Hawkins had been scenic and the town itself picturesque, but it’s people were another story entirely. Her presence was met with whispers and belittling half smiles, the typical small town nuances Luna had anticipated. They stung slightly but her focus and priority laid elsewhere. Her eyes flickered to the neon sign across the way— the fluorescent yellow letters luring her in, her impulsive nature leading her strides, that familiar itch within scratching distance.

Luna stepped into Hideaway, curious to see what Hawkins’ watering hole had to offer. It wasn’t much— dive bars were a dime a dozen— but it would have to do. She ordered herself a Jack and Coke, a couple cherry’s floating at the top courtesy of the bartender who was more than willing to oblige the beautiful young face sitting across him. Every fizzy sip delivered her back to the girl who had started to fade away, the vibrant one that used to live for grimy dive bars like this one, a siren in a sea of sin.

She felt electric, alive, her steady buzz breaking through the scandal laden haze that had almost swallowed her whole. With no one to talk to, her mind began to wander. Tangents and memories replaying like old records, the sights and sounds of her past flashing before her with brilliant realism.

Luna danced on table tops to The Rolling Stones, the bar crowded and humid, her favorite drink sloshing in her belly with every sway of her hips. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, his breath heavy against her pulse, just how she liked it.

The sound of a breaking news report on the bar’s tv broke through Luna’s nostalgic reverie, reality proving itself to be more arid than the fantasy her brain had curated for her.

“Tonight, a Hawkins family is pleading for help in the search for their loved one who has been missing since Friday. Reports state that the man, known as Henry Miller, was last heard to have gone hunting...”

Luna watched tensely, gripping her glass with enough force to shatter it, the condensation slippery against her palm. Vanishings were more common in Hawkins than in most places, the layers of weathered “lost” signs plastered all over town a morbid reminder that people who entered the woods risked never being seen again— the fear was enough to keep most away.

Lost in the news coverage, she failed to notice the tall figure that walked into the bar, taking a seat right next to her. His eyes danced between the familiar woman and his drink, hoping for even the smallest opportunity to will her attention his way.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her was marred in dreary circumstance, the wrong place and time. Her quaking body dressed in black, standing alone at the foot of the grave, strong and vulnerable all at once. He had known Agnes well, or at least he thought he did— the mysterious granddaughter that appeared out of nowhere challenging his perception of the truth. He was inexplicably drawn to her— a broken soul like himself. It almost seemed fated he would find her here of all places, his place.

He studied her carefully, admiring the graceful slope of her nose, her full rosy pout, the buxom swells of her body leaving his mouth dry. The cutoff denim shorts she wore left little to the imagination, her long dark tresses teased and wild. She looked like trouble and he was just the man to give it to her. He could bet anything she smelled like heaven and tasted even better, the kind of woman to leave him desperate and insatiable.

He abruptly cleared his throat causing Luna to turn toward him, fully aware of the faux innocence in her surprised response. He steadied himself to speak as her lips wrapped around the straw of her drink, a devious look in her eyes.

“You’re Agnes’ granddaughter right?”

She arched her brow, suddenly recognizing the rugged man before her. He’d been present at the funeral, a dark figure stood at the very back, head bowed beneath his wide brimmed hat, gone before she got the chance to approach him.

“That would be correct, but you can just call me Luna,” a wry smile tugged at her lips, her hand reaching out to shake his, red polished nails reflecting against the neon glow of the room.

He smirked, relishing the silky feel of her hand in his, leaning in close enough to catch a whiff of her alluring scent— woodsy and sweet, purely feminine. Heavenly.

“You sticking around town for a while?”

“Define a while,” Luna simpered, slowly taking her hand back, his fingers dancing over her knuckles as they slipped from his grasp.

“Long enough for me to buy you another drink.”

He seemed like the kind of man she’d like to drown her sorrows in, the handsome kind with strong arms and a voice like velvet, with intentions darker than the liquor in his glass.

“Real smooth,” she teased with a breathy laugh, lifting a cherry to her lips and rolling the stem between her fingers. “And yes, I’m sticking around. Gran left me the house so I guess you’re looking at Hawkins newest transplant.”

“Good to know,” his thick fingers tapped on the worn surface of the bar to order another round, his eyes glued to her tongue as it seductively circled the round fruit into her mouth.

“So,” she spoke between chews, “you got a name?”

It all happened so fast, a blur of torn clothing and desperation, the sleazy motel serving as the perfect backdrop to the carnal scenes unfolding within their room.

Luna delighted in his roughness, the way he kissed her hard, hand possessively clasped around her throat, his massive body pining her against the wall. He was burying his pain with every drive of his hips, leaving the rawest parts of himself exposed as he lost himself to her. Her body welcomed every brutal thrust, her own catharsis dependent on it.

She tasted like sweet cherries and virtue, her promiscuous nature well masked behind her angelic face. It was all the same to him when they were chasing the same end, to feel anything but the cavernous void that plagued them both.

The way Luna’s curls cascaded down her face as she straddled him made her look like a goddess, he couldn’t help but thread his fingers through her mane, pulling her down to taste her lips again— unable to get enough. He swallowed her moans as she came undone in his arms, his own release following closely, the moment everlasting and surprising intimate.

Like a creature of habit, Luna sat at the edge of the bed, feeling the stretch in her achy limbs as she rose to stand.

“You leaving?” He groaned, trying his damndest to disguise how much the thought her going bothered him.

She looked over her shoulder with a soft smile, her Bambi eyes instantly placating him.

“I am not that kind of girl,” she feigned hurt, stepping into the bathroom.

He let out a sigh of relief, the insidious paranoia dissipating from his body.

Noting his chaotic surroundings and her impending return, he quickly fixed the sheets and pillows, running a hand through his untamed hair for good measure as the bathroom door opened.

“Plus,” she began, sauntering back to the bed, ethereal as ever. “I never did get your name.”

The normally distant man pulled her into his arms, needing her close, his hand idly stroking up and down the curve of her spine.

“Hopper, Jim Hopper.”

#chief hopper x oc #chief jim hopper x oc #werewolf!hopper #chief jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x oc #chief hopper fanfic #chief jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfic #werewolf au #chief jim hopper #chief hopper #jim hopper #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

Before & After Ch. 9

Ch. 9 - Figuring It Out

Characters: Jim Hopper x OFC Brandi

Summary: Becoming increasingly aware of your growing feelings, you find yourself reacting in the strangest possible way to feeling so connected to Hopper. Can you beat this if you fight it together?

Words: 3700+

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mental illness. Psychic Powers. Suggestive Dialog. Dealing with trauma.

All other chapters on my Masterlist.

You ask Hopper for some time to gather your thoughts, you just need to think this out. He gives you this without hesitation, but under one condition.

Yes, it's fast, but he already has a key. It's too soon but you've both played it safe before and it's ended in flames, so why wouldn't you try following your instincts for once? Your lives clearly weren't normal anymore, so why should you hold yourself to other peoples standards anymore? It was a real unifying moment of saying "Fuck it." together and letting the cards fall where they may. He can't stand to be away from you because he worries, feel's responsible for your problems. You can't stand to be away from him because he grounds you, his touch makes everything hurt less. It's a smidge co-dependent, sure, but for right now it's working. You move in together. There hasn't been a night yet where you'd crawled into bed that you'd regretted the decision.

Over the next few days, you read. You read so much your eyes cross and you fall asleep with a book open in your hands. You call old college friends for information, you go to the school's libraries that are close enough to drive to do research. The Hawkins librarian is weirdly rude to you but you get what you came for anyway. You even write letters to a few promising parapsychology researchers. You've been focused on yourself, your problems at hand. In the back of your mind, you felt bad for ignoring Jim, but he said he understood and continued taking care of you. You needed to remember how supportive he'd been through all this to thank him later.

You think you've come to some conclusions. The academic part of your brain was frustrated by your lack of solid conclusion. It all felt so flimsy and whimsical and just not...real. You decide to sit Hopper down and give him what little information you had. He liked to work in facts, just like you, but there wasn't any science you had access to, to explain what was happening between the two of you.

The only science-based evidence you could conjure up was how you physically started being able to do this. You checked out a book on brain anatomy and function, getting lost in huge volumes with a highlighter and your notebook for days on end. But it turns out for as much as we do know about the human brain, that there is that much and more we don't know. That didn't take into account the ideas of the human soul and consciousness. That was a whole other can of worms that you had held off on deep diving into because you didn't know if you could take on more questions and even fewer answers.

You have your notebook dedicated to your ailment. If that's what you wanted to call it. Some called it a power, a unique ability. You'd heard of psychics before sure. But you thought it was all bogus. It's all con artists who are good at reading body language and putting together environmental factors to fool people. But you weren't doing that. You didn't want to even do it, but you couldn't help it. You weren't draining people of their money to give them a chance to speak to their dead relatives, no, your particular set of skills was different.

Over the past week or so, while doing research your episodes stalled. You'd stayed calm and distracted. You'd not passed out again or thought you were going to die from pain and that was a nice change of pace. You had however started having the same dream. Every night. You knew what this meant. This time, it wasn't you climbing into a memory of Jims, you were in one of your memories again. One that you still couldn't remember fully. Each night you got farther and farther into your dream, closer to the goal you wanted to reach. You knew some night you'd finally get to the end of it. Your progress felt slow but you had other things to worry about besides your own repressed memories. How quickly your priorities had shifted. You had to figure this out for Jim, not just yourself. He'd carried that heavy weight of guilt around with him over the week he'd staying here with you. You didn't even know why. You'd catch him staring at you as you read, he kept bringing you sweets for no reason when he'd come home from work, but this wasn't the leftover baby love between the two of you. His eyes were sad behind his half-hearted smiles and it broke your heart everytime you noticed it. You knew you had to push through to understand what was going on, to help both of you.

One night you throw all your notes onto the coffee table. You stand over the books and papers, a pencil behind your ear, chewing your bottom lip. This was as far as you were getting on your own. Jim looks at you, his eyebrows raised from his sitting position o the couch.

"I'd like to present my evidence, Chief." you say with a nervous laugh.

"This what you've been working on?" he asks, leaning forward and picking up a paperclipped group of papers, scribbled and highlighted.

"Yeah." you say hesitantly, rubbing the back of your neck. "For what good it all did me." you sigh, your hand on your hip. "It's been so long since I've done research." you rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Forgot how crazy it'll make you feel." you let out a small laugh. "Not that I need help in that area." you roll your eyes at yourself and grab your legal pad and sit next to Jim.

"You've even got notes to talk to me?" his voice has a hint of teasing to it.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Why?"

"Nothin'." he says a small smile on his face at your expense.

"No nothin'. What?" you shake your hand at him for an answer.

"It's just, it's cute." he lets out a low laugh.

"Cute?" you act offended. "I'll have you know I'm a professional, Hop." you say sarcastically, hugging the papers to your chest.

"Alright, Professor, what's the prognosis on that pretty head of yours?" he says, his expression purely affectionate and supportive.

You take a deep breath and widen your eyes in preparation, your lips in a tight line as your hands hold the sides of your notepad in your lap as a way to focus.

"I want to preface this all with, it's...well, it's all fucking crazy. I don't know how else to put it. It just sounds so improbable to my sense of reason and logic." you bite your lip and let out another deep breath. "We aren't working with facts and proven science here. This is all theoretical so I'm afraid none of it is any more than a hunch as to what is happening to me."

"I had assumed as much. But you're smart, I'm sure it's the best theory anyone could come up with in your situation." he smiles softly at you, leaning in closer, you sit side by side and he looks at your notes as you look up at his face and start to attempt to explain behavior.

"Thanks." you mumble at him, caught off guard by his charm. You watch his eyes move over your handwriting. "Apparently what I have is a sort of extrasensory perception. Which just means I can sense or know things that should be out of my realm of understanding. Things I shouldn't be able to know or do." you watch his face follow the corresponding words on the pad he's taken into his own hand to hold between the two of you. "I've shown some potential with psychometry from your experience with Sarah's hair tie. That's picking up on energies, vibes, memories from objects." you move your hand while you speak, sometimes pointing to the paper. "Some readings say I'm Clairvoyant, or I can gain information on a person or thing through unnatural means." you say entirely too casually like this was getting to be boring at this point because you'd read so much about it. "I seem to be particularly skilled in retrocognition or seeing things that have already happened." you look back up to him and he moves his eyes from the sheet and looks at you.

"I've heard a few stories of police having psychics solve disappearances before. So it's within that category?" he asks, showing he's trying to understand and help.

"Exactly." you smile up at him. "But most importantly, it seems I'm connected to you and your memories." you pause and give a subtle shrug. "Which isn't specifically addressed in any peer-reviewed pieces I could find." you snort at the understatement. "I dabbled in some New Age readings that mentioned it but it's all very whimsical in nature. So I'm no help there." you chew the inside of your cheek in thought.

"New Age stuff?" he asks, his brow furrowing in question.

"Yeah, you know, uh, crystals and energy and soul mates, that sorta thing." you dismiss it with your hand as you speak, looking at the paper again.

"Soul mates?" he says, both teasing and with a hint of curiosity. You're taken off guard by him again, as you stop and smile up at him, indulging him.

"You know," you shrug and smile sheepishly, "Two people that are connected by some supernatural means." you say plainly explain.

"I'm familiar with the idea, sweetheart, I meant what about that has to do with this specifically?" he corrects you without sounding condescending, motioning to your head.

"It was the stories about how some are so connected that they gain telepathy and feel the others pain." he raises an eyebrow at you suppressed and you blush at the suggestion. "Or that's what I read that might apply to this situation anyway." you smirk, looking away from him, still feeling the heat in your face.

"That's all I really found as far as explaining what's happening by relating it to other things that have been previously recorded." you frown slightly.

"This is a ton of information, why are you frowning?" he asks, raising your chin up to him.

"It was a lot of work for nothing it feels like. There are no real answers just a pseudoscience that technically doesn't even exist." you explain, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair.

"Well, if you didn't learn anything new, I certainly did." he shrugs in defense of your work. You sigh up at him. He's so sweet. You kiss his cheek before you flip the page on the legal pad, showing another bulleted page of notes. "Oh there's more." he says surprised, chuckling and moving his arm around the back of the couch, over your shoulders as you instinctually shift closer into his chest, your temple so close to his jaw you can feel the tickle of his beard when he gets too close. He holds the paper in one hand as you rest your hand on his stomach.

"There's always more with me." you joke. He kisses the top of your head. "This is the physical aspect." you motion with a pointed finger the words you've written. "From what my doctors have told me, and from what I've learned on TBI's, I have a hunch as to how this could happen. Even though it sounds like a sci-fi movie pitch." you let out a huff of a laugh. "Since my frontal lobe was what was compromised in the accident, that's where I started." You tap the sheet and return to look up at him as you freestyle the rest of the information. "It controls...well, a lot, put it that way. Most importantly in my case, it affects memory, and that's something I've struggled with since the accident. We've been told my brain is healing exceptionally well..." you pause and wait for him to notice, for him to look at you. "The next bit of information is where my hunch comes in." you frown slightly, this is where you started to feel like you were losing it when you explained it. "What if my brain healed too well?" his brow furrows subtly, thinking. "What if somehow, while it's been healing, it made a new connection somewhere it didn't have before?" his face is still intent on listening, no surprise reactions so far, you decide to continue. It all flows out of you in a passionate sale pitch for your ability as you try to make sense. "Or what if this ability is existent, but under normal circumstances that we understand, you can't access it without some sort of, anomaly. In my case, that would be the injury and re-connecting of my brain. If during the healing process, something that couldn't show up on any test, any MRI happened, causing this. If extrasensory perception is a science we don't have the tools to understand, then something like this wouldn't show up on any test that we currently have the technology to interpret." You stop as you realize he hasn't said anything. His face is still indifferent. As you look back up at him, reeling yourself back in after your short presentation on your brain.

"I thought you said this would make you sound crazy?" a relieved smile falls across his face. Your mouth opens with surprise, your eyelashes flutter with shock. "Although under any other circumstances you talking smart like that would really do it for me." he lets out a low huff of a laugh, kissing your cheek. Finding your wide eyes filled with relief and surprise at his reaction, a bit stunned. You blush at his words and he moves his hand down to your shoulder to rub it comfortingly.

You let out a small girlish noise, grateful he's so graceful with his actions in dealing with this.

"Although it's not based in science exactly, like you said, I understand your ideas." he shrugs and looks down at you so casually. "I mean, all that was honestly the most sense things have made since this has happened. You've got a theory and that's something."

"Ugh." you can't help to let out the noise. You're looking at him, empathetic and tactful. So loving and giving, your heart thumped. You were frustrated in a strange way at his responses. You felt your pulse between your legs awaken after being suppressed for the entirety of your research.

His face is confused as he lets out a laugh at your reaction.

"You're so..." you sigh, your hand moves up to his chest. You look him over, thinking about the personality traits you want to list off, you find your mood switching over to something less innocent. You settle for the word, "Good." because you feel it encompasses enough to cover sincerity and innuendo. It comes out breathier than intended but you're pleased with the results as a smirk appears on his face as he watches you absentmindedly bite your lip.

"Good?" he asks for clarification, his eyebrows raised and voice low. He could see your half-lidded eyes switch from bright to dark. He was also suddenly very aware of how hard it'd been to not touch you during this whole project of yours.

"Yeah." you say with a nod of your head, you let the mischievous grin spread across your face. He doesn't respond and you sit with that electricity you feel between the two of you in the suspense. You toss the notepad onto the table and straddle his lap, much to his surprise and delight.

"Did I miss something?" he asks in a low laugh, his arms instinctually move to your hips and you rest yours on his chest.

"Apparently," you tilt your head to the side at him. "When you're deeply supportive and understanding it turns me on." you say with a soft laugh. His brow lowers immediately at your words.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with how long it's been since I've got to touch you, would it?" he asks, his voice has a hint of playfulness but mostly of a deeper motive, his face leaning into yours.

You let out a content hum of agreement. "It might." you bite your lower lip as you smile at him. You run your hands up his chest and to his shoulders. "I didn't realize how much I missed you until right now." you whisper, eye trailing over his face to his lips.

"Well I'm right here, you don't gotta miss me." he says smoothly, moving his hand to the back of your head. Reassuring you that your change in mood was a welcome one. You kiss him softly. He never pushes, he never rushes. Your rock in the turbulent stream, you hold him and move against him slowly, showing restraint.

"I've got another proposition for ya tonight, Hop." you grin at him, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

"Mmm?" he grunts out, eyes shut and lazy smirk as you pecked along his jaw.

"You've been workin' all day, and so have I in my own way..." you drag the last part of your sentence out in a soft tone.

"Your brain's been workin' harder than I have." he says in a deep rumble of a tone, chuckling at himself.

"It's been a rough week on both of us babe..." you drag out leaving a peck on his cheek. "But you've been takin' care of me so good, ain't ya?" you kiss his lips as his eyes lazily follow yours as you kiss his face, playing up your accent that makes the corners of his mouth pull back into that doofy looking smile of his you love.

"Mmm Hmm" he nods, planting a kiss in the corner of your mouth.

"So how about we go bed..." you tilt your head at him. "and actually get some sleep." you say with a lilt, he pouts but you laugh and kiss it away. "But we will be sleeping naked together if that makes you feel any better about it." you grin at him, fingers scratching in his beard.

"It does." he says in a muffled tone as he stretches his neck to let you scratch him.

"And in the morning, when you don't have to go to work we'll sleep in and fuck..." you whisper to him, nose to nose.

"Making me feel much better about it." he says with a groan, as he thrusts his hips up under you to bounce you, hands patting your thighs.

"Then we fall back asleep and wake up and fool around before we eat and after that who knows." you say with a feminine chuckle, hands rubbing up and down his chest, as he sighs and holds a face of contemplation.

"I've waited longer for less." he says in a charming grin, hands splayed across your thighs, thumbs rubbing lazily back and forth.

"Yeah...Well you've earned what's coming to you in the mornin' you big, "You kiss his cheek. "...sweet," you smooch his other check. "...handsome," you return to the other side of his face again, "tall drink of water you." your hands rest on his cheeks mushing them slightly.

"You must be tired you're being awfully nice." he says with a laugh, grabbing you under your thighs and pulling you towards him, lifting you off the couch. You arch your back to hold onto him by the neck.

"Always nice." you murmur against his hair.

"Uh huh. Sure." he snickers. You grin into the fluff of his hair. "Let's get this sleepin' started baby, got a big mornin' planned." he says as you push the bedroom door shut behind him, his face going between your breasts and noisily kissing and nibbling away as lightly tosses you onto the bed with a pleasant bounce.

"Let's not skip over the gettin' naked part, now." you say with a mischievous grin, nose wrinkled as your hands made their way to the waistband of your pants.

"Very important step." you say as you both shed the last layers between the two of you.

"Obviously." he lets out that rumbling chuckle that sends shudders down your spine when it hits your ears.

You crawl to the head of the bed and yank the covers back, he slides in from the side of the bed as you shimmy straight down into the comforter. It doesn't take long for his hands to find your bare body, pulling your chest to his. His face finds it's way to the bend of your neck as it always has when his fingertips started to trace back and forth over the curve of your ribs to your hips.

"Mmmph." you grunt, giving him a wiggle to deter his efforts. "In the mornin' baby."

"'kay." he grumbles, holding his arm up and you turn to place your back against his chest, the arm slowly weighs down on your hip. "Mornin'." he says, a kiss to your shoulder in acknowledgment of your words.

You get to do your new favorite thing. The best thing to come out of living together and this whole ordeal. You get to lace your fingers into his, holding him against your chest, you can hear the snoring thinking of creeping out of his throat already as you feel his muscles relax. "Love ya." you get to mumble into his fingers, giving them a kiss before you rub your face into your pillow.

"Love you." you get to hear back in response, a grunt of sleepy enthusiasm follows his words, a sign to expect a kiss somewhere in your hair and as always you feel his breath exhales across your scalp as he does just that. Such a simple thing you'd been missing before. And now that you had it, this feeling that could almost fill up the void in your heart, you didn't know if you could live without again. And that the electrical storm of desperation to find answers and the impending doom of his possible rejection had passed and left in it's wake a calm serene sea horizon line. You pull his hand closer to you, recognizing the importance of a solid anchor when you experienced rough seas as often as you did.

My Masterlist.

@whatmakesmebeme-tblr @sleepylunarwolf @elevenofmages @alahmorah @norcula @undiscl0sed-desir3s @atari-writes@jobean12-blog@missharleenquinzel-blog @kiwiphroot@ashphoenix105 @ambeazyyy @riotguuuurl @warriorqueen1991 @misbehaving-f0r-days @divadinag @wefracturedmotivation@flamehairedwritings @earinafae @beltzboys2015-blog@gettinjoyful @lucifer-in-leather @nerdysuperchick @kathrinebutterlover @dragongirl420 @fangirlinginspace@xxdragonagequeenxx @the-bitch-gotham-deserves @hopperholland @lil-tea-cup @darthnerd25@davidkharbours @mrslydiaholden @tit-punch02@thedaydreamerrrrr @yedi16 @jess2464 @scrunchinn@thatisthemagic @maddieisaboredable @bloom005-blog @mcxmarti

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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A Very Bad Thing (Deviance Series - Part 2)

Pairing: Jim Hopper x OFC

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: Chief Jim Hopper is a mess. He spends his days drowning his grief over his daughter’s death in alcohol and pussy. Having already fucked his way through the small town of Hawkins, he goes trolling for ass a few towns over and gets more than he bargained for in Sarah, a young girl who shares his daughter’s name.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Explicit Sex (O&V), Spanking, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Everyone’s Got Daddy Issues. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: I wrote this a thousand years ago but I just rewatched Black Widow and my David Harbour/Hop Daddy problem has returned in full force. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Hopper pulls into the parking lot of a fleabag motel and parks his Blazer out of sight. No one needs to know who he is here and it’s better for everyone if they don’t. He’s about two hours outside Hawkins, in a town that people don’t leave; there’s no reason for anyone to know his face or his name, but he’ll use a fake one anyway. He had to get out of town, if only for the night.

Hopper has been plowing his way through Hawkins for over a year now, and this series of mostly regrettable decisions has come with an unexpected consequence. Perhaps he would have expected it had he given half a shit but it is what it is: Hopper can barely walk out his door without coming face to face with a woman who he has known, carnally, in the not too distant past. These interactions have ranged from slightly uncomfortable to violent. He deserved worse than a slap across the face and he knows it, but it still stung like a bitch and he doesn’t care to repeat it.

Tonight he’s on the prowl for some strange. He checks into Motel Hellhole under the name John Baker, takes a quick shower and some pills, and he’s off to the gritty looking bar up the road. Any bar walking distance from a place this nasty is bound to contain a few women willing to make that ten minute walk for a good time with a stranger. He’s not above going home with a pro, either. He’ll take any pussy that comes willingly, and with no strings.

Sarah notices him the second he walks through the door—that tall, thick stranger with the beard and the thighs that she could already picture smothering her—and she decides she has to have him. She doesn’t know exactly how old he is but she’s willing to bet he’s got about fifteen years on her. It doesn’t matter; he’s exactly what she’s looking for and she’s old enough to make her own decisions. She’s a college graduate now—an adult, not a child. She has a steady job, she pays her bills, she can do what she wants, and nobody can tell her what to do anymore.

Especially not Him.

She hates the term “daddy issues”—it’s far too reductive—but it is what it is and she can’t help the things that she wants. She will always blame Him for the way that she is and her therapist says that’s normal. Of course, the doc doesn’t know about the things she craves in the dark, with other men—strangers who could be Him but aren’t. Maybe this is exactly the kind of thing she should be talking about in therapy instead of her usual lies and half-truths but she just can’t bring herself to admit it, even to another woman. Some things should only be discussed in the dark.

It’s rare for her to get this worked up so quickly but this one is truly special. By the time he’s at the bar she’s already thinking about what he might look like bending her over his knee and spanking her until her ass is a searing red. She wonders how far he would let her go—if he’d let her say the things she wants to say but can’t talk about. She wonders if he has things he can’t say either.

Hopper is savoring that first sip—the burn of the whiskey scratching the itch he’s had since 10am—when the jailbait sidles up next to him on a mission. She’s young—too young—but she asks anyway.

“Buy me a drink?”

He shakes his head and laughs. “No.”

“C’mon,” she says. “Just one little drink.”

He turns to her and gives her a quick up-and-down. Early twenties, he thinks, everything is still high and tight on this one. Still, it’s best to be certain.

“Lemme see some ID.”

She just laughs, but he’s dead serious and she eventually digs her driver’s license out of her purse. “Happy now?”

22. It’s questionable, but older men than he have done far, far worse and it’s not the kind of night for scruples. Then he sees her name.

Shit.

“Sarah,” he says. “Pretty name.”

He turns away from her, back to his whiskey, hoping she’ll go away.

“I always thought it was kind of boring,” she says, “but if you like it…”

She hops up on the barstool next to him and he’s praying that she’ll just leave him alone but she’s relentless—fiery and desperate. She crosses her legs and swivels to face him.

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke with lime,” she says.

Just one drink, he tells himself. He will buy her one drink, make polite conversation, and then leave.

The bartender pours Sarah’s cocktail and sets it down in front of her, and when she takes Hopper’s money she gives him a not-so-thinly-veiled look of disapproval. Deep down he knows this nice, old bartender lady is right, but it still pisses him off. Who the fuck is she to tell Chief Jim Hopper what he can and can’t do? Granted here he is not the Chief—he’s good ol’ John Baker from nowhere, just passing through.

It only took that one look from the bartender to make him want to do Very Bad Things to this eager young thing sitting next to him. Because now it was a challenge designed to disgust this old hag behind the bar who had the audacity to question him. Chief Jim Hopper does whatever the fuck he wants, for better or worse.

Sarah squeezes the lime in and stirs her drink with her finger, sucking it dry in a way designed to hold his attention. It works, because on nights like this one, he is more animal than man.

“So,” she says, “you know my name but I don’t know yours. That’s hardly fair.”

Hopper clears his throat. “It’s, uh, John,” he says.

She raises one eyebrow. “Is John really the best you could come up with?”

He meets her eyes and they are blue-green and bright with youth. “Do you really care what my name is?

“No,” she says. “I don’t.”

She finishes her drink far too quickly and Hopper orders her another one. He hears the bartender mutter “pig” under her breath and he smirks at her as she walks away.

The walk to the motel is a short one but it feels much longer in heels. Sarah is using Hopper’s wide body to steady herself but it’s still slow going.

“Why do women wear those things?” he asks.

“Because men like them.”

He chortles under his breath and pulls a pack of smokes from his pocket.

“Aren’t you gonna offer me one?”

“Don’t smoke,” he says, lighting one up. “It’s bad for you.”

She rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

She didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out. She hadn’t even meant it in that way in this particular circumstance but, well, it’s out there now. She waits, and the pause is excruciating.

“Good girl,” he says.

Even in the dark she can see his smile is wicked. He’s drunk—they both are, but she’s acting drunker than she really is. She doesn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it makes it easier to play the game she wants to play. Maybe she just wants him to want to take care of her. And he does, too. It’s in the way he hugs one arm tight around her waist to keep her steady, and the way he asks, “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m great,” she says. “Never better.”

The closer they get to the motel, the louder the voice gets: This is Wrong. This is Wrong. Do not do this. It’s a voice, ever so slightly maternal, that he hears often and never listens to. Tonight is no different; it’s worse, even, because his demons are getting louder and hungrier as they approach the door to his room—contrarians drowning out every last shred of reason.

Psst, they say. Do this horrible terrible Very Bad Thing with this pretty young daddy-less girl. Psst, they say. Don’t you miss being someone’s Daddy? Be her Daddy for the night. This one you can help. This one you can save.

Maybe, just maybe, this will help you.

Of course it won’t, and he knows that, but the whole concept holds a sick sort of allure and she is clearly desperate for a kind stranger to indulge her in whatever it is she needs to do. He assumes she’s got her reasons for wanting things this way and he knows that it’s none of his business. It’s easier not knowing. Everything’s easier in the dark.

“It’s cold out here, Daddy.”

It sounds different when she says it: none of the innocence and sweetness of a child, but still with that pleading tone, that need to be both seen and heard.

“We’re almost there, princess.”

He has no earthly idea why he calls her that but it feels like the right thing to do. Hopper turns the key in the door and she pushes past him inside, flopping down on the bed and shedding the troublesome heels.

“Feel better, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

This is a hell of a lot more than he bargained for tonight and he doesn’t really know what he’s meant to be doing, but one look at her sitting expectant on the bed and he realizes that he doesn’t care. He knows this is a Very Bad Thing but it doesn’t feel that way; it feels like blood humming under his skin, muscles tensing, and a throbbing down below. In this room with this girl, Hopper feels powerful, a protector. It feels fucking good, and isn’t that the point of all of this? To feel good for a little while before he inevitably feels bad again?

He crosses the room and sits, legs splayed, in a chair across from the bed, never once taking his eyes off her.

“Bring me a cigarette,” he says, and he waits.

Before tonight, in all her years of sexual activity Sarah had only found two guys willing to indulge her darkest urges. The first was some frat guy in college who would have done anything to get in her pants. She appreciated the effort but it just wasn’t right: he was too young, too short, too lean. He was a boy; she wanted a man. The second was a guy she met in a bar near her apartment in Indianapolis. She’d just graduated and moved as far away from home as she reasonably could, and she’d been in the mood to celebrate cutting that particular cord. The guy fit the basic qualifications but even with beer goggles he was borderline repulsive: bad breath, thinning hair, his body the wrong kind of thick. She felt sick afterward and swore she’d never do it again.

Neither of them compare to this John, or whatever the fuck his name is. He’s everything she’s ever wanted—a little bit more, actually, because he is thick everywhere. She’s trying her best not to choke on him but even with his hands clenched tight in her hair and his voice stern, he’s being almost delicate with her.

He sounds calm when he speaks, almost bored: “You sure know your way around a dick, don’t you? Got a lot of practice I bet, taking home random guys to suck and fuck when you don’t even know their fucking names. Didn’t Daddy raise you better than that?”

He didn’t, actually, but her cunt throbs anyway when he says it. She can barely breathe and he knows it and releases her, and when she pops off his cock she wipes the snot and spit off her face and says, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You will be,” he says. “Stand up.”

She gets up quick and stands stark naked in front of him. He’s leaning back in the chair, languid, with one hand stroking his cock and the other stroking his beard. He takes his time soaking in every inch of her. She’s buzzing with the need to be touched and whispers, “Please,” without thinking.

“Please what?”

“Please punish me.”

He smiles lazily at her and says, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you want,” she says, and she means it.

“You’ve been a bad girl, princess.”

“I know, Daddy.”

“And what happens to bad girls?”

“They get the belt.”

It just slips out. She doesn’t mean it or want it, and now she’s frozen in place, waiting, hoping she didn’t just ruin everything.

Please don’t.

He shakes his head slowly and she releases the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“No belt,” he says. “Not for my princess. No, you’ll just get a good old-fashioned spanking.” He pats his thighs. “Now get on Daddy’s lap and take your medicine.”

There is nothing in the world that feels better to Sarah than a good hard spanking. Something about that sharp, stinging, red-hot pain mixed with her inevitable arousal is sickly familiar and provides a kind of release she can’t get any other way. He has big, bruising hands and he’s not afraid to put a little muscle into it and leave his mark on her. She hopes she will see it there tomorrow, after her new Daddy is long gone, as she stands naked in the bedroom of the childhood home she’s still forced to visit. She can see it now: the over-the-shoulder examination, counting the bruises and tracing the handprints in the full-length mirror on the door while He sits quietly downstairs, waiting for mother to bring Him his dinner.

A series of three quick whacks gets her squealing and squirming like a pig in his lap but he holds her there with his forearm. She can feel his cock hard against her stomach. She can’t see his face but she can hear his gruff voice loud and clear.

“Spread your legs.”

She does as he asks and he runs a thick finger up and down and then, finally, pushes inside her. He grunts at her wetness and the ease with which she opens up for him. His other hand is kneading an ass cheek already swollen and raw and the combination of the two sensations—fire and water—brings her close to coming.

“Don’t stop, Daddy.”

He’s not speaking now, only grunting and growling his approval as she starts to push back against his fingers and take them deeper. He smacks her hard, once, and then leans over and licks a hot trail across the small of her back.

“Fuuuck,” she says, long and low, and he smacks her again, harder this time.

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

She can barely find the breath to say, “Yes, Daddy,” but she does and then she feels herself coming hard around his fingers. He sounds underwater when he says, “That’s a good girl.”

There is a moment—brief but horrifying—when Hopper is struck with a terrible clarity. In these few seconds, with his cock deep in this girl’s throat, he is clear-headed enough to acknowledge the absolute depravity of the situation. It is playing on a loop in his head—“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy”—but it’s Her voice he is hearing. He almost pushes her away, pulls up his pants, and walks out the door, but he doesn’t for one simple reason: it feels fucking fantastic. Hopper is deep in animal fuck mode and even though he already hates himself, when has that ever stopped him?

She’s whiny when she comes, which he usually finds irritating, but in this particular instance it seems fitting. He’s ready to fuck this girl through the mattress now so he stands her up, lifts her by the underarms, and tosses her onto the mattress like she weighs nothing. The demons are back now, loud as ever. Psst, they say, fuck her raw, fill her up with cum and make yourself a new baby girl. But even he knows that’s a bridge he can’t cross so he wordlessly digs a rubber out of his wallet and tosses it to her.

She gets it on him with practiced speed and she’s begging him to fuck her in some truly disturbing terms. He thinks about which way he wants to take her first and he decides he wants to see her work for it. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her in close.

“Hop on,” he says. “Ride Daddy’s dick for a while.”

She climbs on him, absolutely giddy, and within moments she’s got him lined up just right. She lowers herself onto him, nice and slow, and when her ass hits his thighs and he can’t get any deeper further she moans long and low.

“You’re so fucking thick, Daddy,” she says, and he digs his fingers into her hips.

She’s a bit too bony for his taste but she’s light as anything and when she starts to work his cock he practically snarls. She’s fucking him hard now, head thrown back and nails dug deep into his shoulders, sure to leave a mark. Hopper’s eyes wander up from her perky little tits bouncing to a small mole on her neck—so pale and exposed. The animal part of him wants to sink his teeth into it, break the skin, taste blood; instead, he grabs her under the ass and stands up, balls deep in her, and fucks her until his arms give out.

She’s on another plane now, yelling “Fuck me, Daddy,” over and over again at a volume that would make him paranoid were he anywhere else but this sleazebag motel. This room has seen worse—he’s almost sure of it. He tosses her on her back on the bed and mounts her, knowing he’s close but not wanting it to end. When it ends it will become something other than what it currently is, which is an almost indescribable feeling of Wrong and Right and Good and Bad, all jumbled up in a big bag of Who Gives A Fuck.

He hovers over her, just the tip in, and she whines, “I want it.”

He pulls out and slaps her clit with it. “Then ask for it nicely, you little brat.”

“Please, Daddy,” she begs. “Can I have it?”

“Say you’ll be a good girl if you get it.”

“I will,” she says. “I promise.”

He puts the tip in again and she bucks underneath him, trying to get more of him. He pushes her hips down on the bed.

“Wait for it,” he says.

She whines again, like a bitch in heat this time, and he knows it’s time to barrel toward the end of this thing he’s found himself doing. He enters her with one punishing thrust and she scratches his back raw as he fucks himself to completion.

“Come in me, Daddy,” she says. “Please.”

He ignores it because he really does want to, and instead he opts for something messier. He pulls out, tosses the rubber on the already jizz-stained carpet, and says, “Finish me, princess.”

And she does, with her hands and her mouth and those tiny tits that can’t wrap around his girth. All the while she’s telling him how she wants to taste Daddy’s cum, and before he can stop himself he’s got one hand on her jaw and the other in her hair and he’s grunting and huffing his way over the edge.

He hits her in the eye, the hair, the back of the throat, and before he’s blown the last drop he already feels dead inside. He is seized by a dark emptiness the likes of which he hasn’t felt in a long time. She says, “Thank you, Daddy,” and he can feel the whiskey rising, and when she tries to give him a kiss he jolts away from her, bolts to the bathroom, and vomits in the sink.

After a while he hears a timid knock on the door.

“Are you OK, John?”

It takes all the strength he can muster to put some power into his voice.

He barks, “Get the fuck out,” and he can hear her start to cry before the door slams behind her.

When she’s gone and there’s nothing left in his stomach but bile, he lays down on the filthy bathroom tile and weeps. He whispers to himself, “I’m sorry, Sara,” like a twisted lullaby, hoping somehow it will reach Her.

DEVIANCE PART 3

#chief jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper smut #stranger things fanfiction #david harbour #deviance series #a very bad thing

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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Pick Your Poison (Deviance Series - Part 1)

Pairing: Jim Hopper x OFC

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: Hop does a bunch of coke and bangs his bartender. That’s really all this is.

Warnings: Alcohol & Drug Abuse, Car Sex, Hop Is Riding The Hot Mess Express. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: I wrote this a thousand years ago but I just rewatched Black Widow and my David Harbour/Hop Daddy problem has returned in full force. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Hopper’s at the bar again. Not The Hideaway—the other one. The Hideaway is a cop bar. Not strictly a cop bar, mind you, but it’s where the Good Guys go to drown their sorrows. On the other side of this very small town sits Harley’s: the haunt of the Bad People who don’t want to be seen doing whatever it is that they’re doing. If there were train tracks in Hawkins, Harley’s would be on the wrong side of them.

The first time Hawkins’ new Chief of Police walked into the bar everyone in the place tensed up. The regulars were ready to fight or flee, but the Chief spoke to no one, got shitfaced by himself in the corner, and after a few hours worth of Schlitz and well whiskey, he made his way to the parking lot to vomit in a trashcan—unassumingly, and with dignity, like a Real Fucking Man. There is an unspoken code: what goes on at Harley’s stays at Harley’s. And so Jim Hopper was Bad Cop by night and Good Cop by day, and it suited everyone just fine.

Hopper has to count the days on his fingers but his original estimate was correct: today marks two weeks straight of drowning the end of his days in Harley’s liquor. He knows this is no longer a normal and reasonable response to his grief. He knows he’s spiraling out of control again and he should clean up and dry out. He has no delusions about the damage he is doing to himself but self-awareness isn’t nearly enough to make him stop—not anymore.

To put it plainly, it all just hurts too much.

Part of the reason Hop moved back to Hawkins was to get his shit together, but it’s been a few months now and things have gone from bad to worse. He’s on the verge of forgetting what it’s like to be a fully functional person—responsible, one of the Good Guys. And what’s worse is that it’s almost liberating to care about nothing and no one, including (and perhaps especially) himself.

His hand is shaking, hidden in his coat pocket. He needs a drink and soon. He takes a seat at the bar and nods at the bartender. She knows the drill: Schlitz and whiskey, and keep em comin.

Jill is working tonight. He’s always liked Jill, ever since she was a gangly kid sniffing around his crew back in the day—when they were the Gods of Hawkins High, untouchable, and nothing bad was ever going to happen to them. Hop was always nice to her then but she was far too young to be hanging around. He’d told her so on more than one occasion and she eventually she got the hint. After graduation he didn’t see her for years until a few months ago, when he walked into Harley’s for the first time and saw her slinging drinks for the town trash. She’d smiled at him, and poured him a whiskey with a beer back before he’d even reached the bar.

“Evenin, Chief,” she says. “Beer or whiskey or both?”

Hopper smiles back at her. “You know.”

Jill grabs a can of Schlitz from the icebox and slides it down the bar with a smile. While she’s pouring Hopper’s whiskey, she wonders if she can get him in the sack tonight. Hop’s been flirting with her for the past few days, which is a nice change from the silent, brooding drunky thing he was doing for a while. She can’t really blame him, though. She’d heard what happened back in Indianapolis. Everyone had. Something like that in a town this small? The poor guy brought all of it with him. He never really had a chance.

Tonight he’s acting different. Not as world-weary somehow. In the periphery she sees him pop a Dexedrine. It’s not the first time she’s caught him medicating himself on the sly but Jill doesn’t judge. She’s no stranger to that particular variety of self-help. At this very moment she’s got a vial of coke burning a hole in the back pocket of her jeans. It’s 9:30 and she’s already dying for a taste, but it’s not a problem yet—not really. She tells herself she only uses on worknights to make it through till close.

She almost believes it, too.

Jill hands Hopper his whiskey and leans over the bar. She adjusts herself just so to make sure her moneymakers are on display. She knows her angles. She knows what the people want. She also knows he’ll look, and he does.

“This round’s on me, Chief.”

“You don’t have to do that.” His voice is especially rough today, like he’s been yelling. Jill wonders what he looks like when he’s that kind of angry.

“A small thank you from the community,” she says, “for all the servin’ and protectin’ you do.”

“Just doing my job,” he says. “But thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“You wouldn’t by any chance be trying to butter me up, would you Jill? Maybe because that liquor license of yours expired three months ago?”

“It’s not my liquor license. I don’t own this dump.”

“Well how bout you tell the boss man to get on it, alright? I can put it off, but only for so long.”

“So,” she says, “you’re a cop tonight?”

“I’m always a cop, just not always a good one.”

She laughs and says, “give a holler when you’re empty,” and then she walks away.

Her hips are swaying probably more than they should be but Jill doesn’t care about putting on a show for the Chief. She’s already got a reputation—one she earned a long time ago—and even though she hasn’t been laid in months, in Hawkins that kind of thing never really goes away. Jill Lambert, Town Tramp. She accepts it because she doesn’t have the cash to move somewhere far away and reinvent herself, like Hopper did, or at least tried to do.

She wasn’t always a bad girl. She used to be awkward and too tall for her age and flat as a board on both sides. She looks down the bar at Hopper and remembers how it felt to watch him and his friends screwing around in the high school parking lot, the prettiest girls on their arms, on their way to some party or bonfire or other Cool Kid Thing that she would never be invited to. Back then it seemed like there was a lifetime between middle school and high school but now the five-year difference between them seems like nothing. They are both past their prime. Numbers are irrelevant.

He’s almost empty and that was quick even for him. She approaches with a refill. She doesn’t need to be asked.

She’s not unattractive, he thinks, just not in mint condition. Jill is worn and used—like an old leather couch—and she looks much older than she is. It’s not a nice thing to think about a woman and he’d never say it out loud but it’s true. The bad red dye-job, the overdone makeup, thin but in that drugged-out way—it’s not a look that anyone can pull off but she owns it in a way that’s attractive to him. At the very least, it’s honest. And no offense to her but right now just about any hole will do. During the course of his first round of drinks Hopper has decided that, in addition to flushing it out with booze, on this particular evening he wants to fuck his pain away. It’s Wednesday—the almost almost weekend—and he feels like tying one on and seeing what happens next.

He knows that Jill will most likely fuck him if he asks. At the very least, she’ll blow him. On the off chance that she’s not interested, Hopper is confident he can find someone to get him off. It certainly hasn’t been a problem for him so far. Every couple of weeks he gets that urge and finds a warm, wet place to stay a while. Then he moves on— sometimes after a couple of times, but it’s mostly one-night stands. Hopper knows that leaving a trail of angry women in a small town is probably not the brightest idea but it’s Hawkins and he’s the goddamn chief of police. If he wants to fuck the entire town, it’s his town to fuck.

He’s Jim Fucking Hopper and he’s the fucking man.

Jill says, “Here you go, Chief,” and puts a fresh beer and double whiskey on the bar in front of him.

“Thanks, doll.”

She smiles wide. He thinks to himself that she has distractingly great tits and tries to listen while she’s talking but it’s harder than it should be. He’s not that drunk. Not yet.

“So,” she says, “how is it being back in Hawkins? I thought you were smarter than to come back to this shit heap.”

“I wasn’t planning on it but, you know, life…” He trails off and takes a monster swig of his beer, then he lights a cigarette. “You’re lookin’ real good these days, Jill. You doing that Jazzercise shit or something?”

“More like ‘or something.’”

Hopper knows it’s the coke that keeps her trim but he wants her to know that he’s looking. He also wants her to know that he knows she keeps a stash at work. He’s not trying to bust her for it; he just wants a taste. The pills aren’t hitting him like they used to and he wants to feel alive tonight. He also can’t get the thought of snorting coke off her tits out of his head, so he may as well just go for it.

He blows a cloud of smoke into the air.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chief.”

She knows exactly what he’s talking about: he wants some. At the very least, he wants her drugs, but she thinks he might want something more.

“C’mon, Jill.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Can’t say that I do, Chief.”

Suddenly he’s all business.

“Don’t play fuckin coy with me. The coke in your pocket. Now.”

She has a moment of sheer panic, thinking that maybe she has completely misinterpreted this situation. Her whole body is tense and still and he just watches her, with no discernible emotion on his face. She shoves her hand in her back pocket and closes it around the vial and when she drops it in his open palm he smirks at her. It’s a look that screams authority—he is in control here and she’s ready to do whatever he tells her to do.

“What happens now?” she whispers.

“That is entirely dependent on you,” he says, and then he smiles so big it scrunches up his whole face. “You gonna share?”

She exhales the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “You’re an asshole, Hopper.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Give me a fuckin heart attack, why don’t you?”

He chuckles and it’s endearing even though she’s still kind of pissed. He’s wearing a full-face smirk. She has no idea how he does that but it’s really fucking hot.

“I’m just fucking with you, Jill.”

He makes his way down off the stool, half drunk and clumsy, and for a minute it seems he might lose his balance. He recovers with some grace before he downs the rest of his whiskey—a little too much for one glug, she thinks, but it doesn’t show on his face. Even drunk as shit, he’s a pretty smooth operator, and now that she can see his ass testing the limits of the fabric of his pants, Jill is feeling him everywhere. She’s ready to do whatever it is Chief Jim Hopper tells her to do.

“Bathroom,” he says. “Two minutes.” He taps the face of his watch twice. “Starting now.”

He walks away and she doesn’t even try not to stare. When the bathroom door closes behind him she whispers a quiet “fuck.” This whole thing seems like the kind of scenario she would think up in the early morning hours, in bed but too fucked up to sleep. The current situation isn’t far from some of the fantasies she’s had about Hopper: the kinky shit with the handcuffs and the roleplay, where she’s been a bad girl and she needs the Chief’s particular brand of punishment.

She scans the room and makes sure to top off everyone who needs it before she heads to the bathroom.

“You’re late,” he says, and then he grabs her hips and backs her into the wall.

He presses his wide body against hers. He’s like a wall of man and she couldn’t move if she wanted to. She doesn’t, though. Not at all, and when he tugs her shirt and bra down and buries his face between her tits she lets out a moan that’s just a bit too loud. He looks up at her and presses a finger to her lips.

“Quiet,” he whispers, and then he takes out the vial.

He examines her breasts and picks his favorite, holding it just hard enough in his hand as he taps out a small mountain of blow. His scruff is rough against her nipple as he dives in nose first and then licks her skin clean. He’s being careless with her stash but she doesn’t care that half of it ends up on the floor because Hopper looks good when he’s messy. He’s lightly powdered from the nose down and he’s sweating out liquor and he’s gone almost completely red in the face. Despite all of it, or maybe because of it, he’s the most attractive man that’s ever laid hands on her. He’s definitely the sloppiest, dirtiest, most unhinged piece of ass she has ever had, but fuck if she can deny him one bit of what he wants, which is, apparently, everything.

“Turn around,” he says, and when she does he starts to grind against her.

She watches him in the mirror as he taps a bump into his palm and presents it to her.

“Your turn,” he says. “Go on.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. She snorts hard and licks up the rest. They watch each other in the mirror, and when she starts sucking his fingers into her mouth he closes his eyes and curses. He’s half hard against her now and she reaches around to palm him through his pants. He’s as thick as one would expect him to be and she lets out a little giggle because of course he’s got a big one.

“Find something you like?” he asks.

She releases his fingers with a pop. “Yeah.”

“Meet me at my car in 5 minutes. I’m parked out back.”

“My break isn’t until 12.”

“Take it fucking early, Jill, Jesus.”

“Make it 10.” she says. She squeezes out from under him and pulls her shirt back up. “And wash your face. You’ve got about a kilo stuck in your beard.”

He laughs and smacks her on the ass. “Ten minutes, Jill.”

She leaves him to get cleaned up and as she walks back up to the bar she scans the room. If anyone noticed anything, they are minding their business. It’s the Harley’s way and she’s thankful for it.

Hopper leans against the Blazer and lights a second cigarette off his first one. He’d forgotten how much he fucking loves cocaine, which is something that should have stayed forgotten, but it’s too late now. That’s a problem for another time. The immediate problem is the small group of stoners smoking a joint in the woods behind the employee lot. He can hear them giggling like idiots and talking some hippie bullshit about the cosmos or whatever—kids, probably. He wants to run them off but he doesn’t exactly look his best and he’s still got half a chubby in his pants.

His problem-solving skills kick in, almost on autopilot. He opens the car door and turns on his red-and-blues. Within seconds he hears them cursing and scattering and he smiles wide. All in a day’s work, he thinks, and he grinds his cigarette out with his boot and lights another. Finally, some privacy.

Jill comes out right on time and Hopper doesn’t waste a moment getting her in the backseat. This is a quickie, after all. No need to complicate things by talking. She takes care of her top half while he peels her out of her jeans and thong and tosses them aside. She’s already got her hands and her mouth working his cock and it doesn’t take long before he’s more than ready.

“You got a rubber?” she asks.

He does, of course, because he’s an idiot but he’s not stupid, and he rolls it on quick as he can. He licks his fingers and tests her out and she’s more than good to go. She’s got her legs up to the ceiling and she’s begging him to fuck her quick and dirty but he enters her slowly because he’s a big boy and it’s just the kind thing to do. He may be an asshole but he’s not that kind of asshole. She reaches around and grabs two handfuls of his ass, pulling him into her, and when he’s all the way there she lets out a long, low moan.

It comes as a surprise to him that he wants to make her come, so instead of jackhammering into her until he blows, he slows down a bit and throws a little swerve into it. She’s been generous with him; he wants to return the favor. From the sound of her, it would appear to be working, and when she tells him “harder harder” he does what he’s told. She comes, furiously rubbing her clit and riding his cock from below and it’s loud enough to wake the dead but he doesn’t care. His animal brain has taken control and everything is tits and pussy and his thick cock sliding in and out of her. The Blazer is steamy and everything smells like sex and he’s grunting and humping like some sort of wild bear in the woods. He’s at the tipping point when he hears her say, “Fuck me, baby. Come on my face.”

He stops but stays inside her. “What?”

“I want you to come on me.”

“Jesus,” he says, but he pulls out and rips the condom off anyway.

She sits up and opens her mouth wide and he jerks himself the rest of the way with the tip of his cock on her tongue.

“Get ready,” he says, and she closes her eyes and sticks her tongue all the way out.

He pulls back an inch and aims at her tonsils and comes in three short spurts. The first one hits its mark and the other two stripe her face from cheek to chin. She swallows and licks her lips like she’s hungry for more. Hopper can’t hold himself up another second and he falls back on his heels, back resting against the door. He manages to find a napkin to give her to clean the rest of him off of her.

“Thanks,” she says. “That was… something.”

“It sure the hell was.”

Hopper can barely breathe or stand but he wants a fucking cigarette so he manages to get his pants back on. He spills out of the car before she’s even dressed. He apologizes for it, though, so it’s okay.

She crawls around the Blazer half-naked trying to find the bottom half of her clothing and once she gets herself together she joins him outside for a smoke. They puff away in silence but it’s not awkward. There’s simply nothing left to say. She takes one last drag and flicks her cigarette away.

“See you tomorrow, Chief,” she says, and she walks back inside.

Hopper knows before the door even closes behind her that he won’t be coming here tomorrow, or the next day, or any day after that. His days of drinking at Harley’s are over. It was fun while it lasted, but he’s ruined it like he ruins everything. He gets in the driver’s seat and he knows he’s too fucked up to drive but he turns the key in the ignition anyway, because who’s going to stop him? This is Hawkins. He’s Jim Fucking Hopper. No one in this town can touch him.

DEVIANCE PART 2 >>>

#chief jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper smut #stranger things fanfiction #david harbour #deviance series #pick your poison

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lizmaximoff · 4 years

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The first chapter of the professor!Hopper fic will be published this Thursday!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send me a message here. I’m really excited to share my work with you guys!

~Robin

#jim hopper #hopper #chief hopper #david harbour #jim hopper x ofc #jim hopper x reader #hopper x ofc #hopper x reader #jim hopper/ofc #hopper/ofc #mine

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likedovesinthewnd · 5 years

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Coffee & Infatuation- Part 2

Hopper x Charlie- Diner AU

Summary: Hawkins resident grump and messy Chief of police, Jim Hopper makes an unlikely friend on his quest for coffee. His tumultuous past keeps him from pursuing a relationship. But how long before his true feelings can no longer be ignored?

Word Count: 1,300

A/N: This is my favorite of the 3 parts. It’s a little fluffy, a little angsty, and beautifully sets up the last part for you guys. Please let me know if you’re liking this story in the comments, FEEDBACK is gold. My Hopper muse has been on a good one lately and I’m already starting a new angsty series. Your responses really fuel and inspire me to keep writing! Thanks for reading ;)

Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn romance, eventual smut by part 3, some angst for all you incorrigible lovers of pain like myself, bed sharing oooo, mentions of unresolved trauma and suffering, mutual pining, more fluff because why not, and lots and lots of coffee.

Part 1

Part 2

The next morning, Hopper woke up bright and early with the sun. He groomed and dressed, taking time to focus on his appearance. He wanted to look his best. Arriving at the station before everyone else, he got to work on the towering stacks of paperwork that had accumulated over weeks of neglect. Normally he found the documents repetitious and avoided them at all costs but today was different. He was motivated to finish and free up the later half of his morning. By the time 10 AM rolled around, the station was buzzing with activity. Hopper on the other hand, was on his way out, having eliminated the tedious work that stood in the way of his intended plan.

Charlie’s morning had been exceptionally busy. The cold weather always seemed to bring in more customers than the warmer months. The influx of diners was relentless and showed no signs of slowing. So, she decided to take her break outside of the stifling diner.

Standing outside of the shabby establishment, she took time to relish the crisp autumn air and rust-toned foliage surrounding her. The fall was always her favorite of the seasons. She was disrupted from her peaceful contemplation when a rumbling Blazer pulled into the parking lot. Charlie couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face upon seeing the marking on its side. It belonged to none other than the Chief of Hawkins Police Department. She had wondered when they would serendipitously cross paths again, hoping it would be sooner than later. The thought that he might even be there to see her was thrilling. The once dormant butterflies in her stomach coming alive, fluttering about in anticipation.

Hopper stepped out of the truck, leaving his hat on the dash, and slammed the door shut. She watched as he combed his thick fingers through his messy hair while checking his reflection in the side view mirror. Charlie found his fussing to be endearing. She immediately took notice of his impressive stature, not having been able to fully appreciate it in their previous encounter. He was well polished, more so than the day before. Though he still maintained a manly ruggedness about him, much to her appreciation.

Once content with his appearance, Hop turned to make his way toward to diner but stopped frozen in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of Charlie standing right outside. He didn’t have time to wonder how long she had been standing there or what she had seen when a simple smile melted away his insecurities. She waved at him, playfully wiggling her dainty fingers to summon him over to where she stood. His powerful gait was more than happy to oblige as he doubled his efforts to reach her.

“Hey there, Chief. What brings you back here today?” She greeted him, her voice sweet and melodic.

“I was actually hoping to catch you on your break again, darlin’,” he confidently answered, his deep bourbon voice sounding more charming than she recalled.

“That so?” A coquettish grin graced Charlie’s face, already having guessed his intention before he admitted it.

“Well, you sure have some good timing. I was just about to take a walk.”

“Mind if I join you?”

He hoped she would say yes, wanting nothing more than to be in her company, no matter how brief.

“Not in the slightest,” she warmly replied, boldly hooking her arm in his as they began their journey through town.

They leisurely strolled down the street, arm in arm, until Charlie had to return to the busy diner. Hopper walked her inside then turned around to go back to the station. He suddenly stood frozen, caught off guard by the feeling of her hand gently enveloping his as it held the door open.

“Don’t be a stranger now, Jim,” she told him, giving his hand a light squeeze.

Jim felt as though time stood still, standing there watching her walk away. Her simple display of affection had left him breathless, unsure of what to make of it. Unsure of his own feelings, for that matter. Was he deserving of such a kind and beautiful woman? His life felt like it was falling apart most of the time, but when he was with her it somehow all made sense. It excited and terrified him.

Over the course of the fall and winter months, their walks became a daily routine. They had become inseparable, spending even their days off together. They called each other nightly, speaking on the phone until one of them drifted off to sleep. On days Hopper wasn’t able to meet her, Charlie would walk over to the station delivering coffee and treats for everyone. Flo loved these days in particular. She delighted in the idea of Hopper finally settling down. In her eyes, Charlie was the perfect candidate to bring order into his life and tame his wild ways.

To all who knew him well, Hopper had seemingly changed for the better. Gone were the days when he’d go on benders, blacking out for days on end only to re-emerge mentally worse than before. He had Charlie to thank for that. She’d helped him work through his demons, never leaving his side, even when things got ugly. Her presence was always unconditional and without judgment.

Despite what Flo and the others assumed, they never moved things past a platonic friendship. It wasn’t from a lack of wanting. Hopper longed to ask her out on a proper date, to kiss her and claim her as his. He never acted on his desires, keeping them at bay with every ounce of self-control he possessed. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into the black hole that was his life. Sure, they flirted and teased each other tirelessly. But he was determined not to cross the line. Though, it was proving harder to ignore its obnoxious existence the more time they spent together.

There had been close calls, times when he’d almost let temptation get the best of him. Late nights spent together at his trailer, falling asleep next to each other on the couch. The way she nuzzled into him and sighed in his arms killed him. He’d wake her up, making up some poor excuse for why she couldn’t stay. Her disappointed expression always stung worse than the guilt of having to lie to her.

Charlie was beginning to think he just didn’t see her in that light. She couldn’t make sense of it. Sparks flew every time they were together. So why did Hopper always pull away whenever things got too close?

At first she enjoyed the innocence of the lingering touches after embraces and chaste kisses on the cheek. But their encounters quickly became torturous as her feelings quickly evolved far beyond friendship. Her body reacting to his every word and subtle touch. Even the sound of his truck pulling into the driveway made her body tense. She wasn’t sure how much longer her resolve would hold before it succumbed to her overwhelming need to be with him.

Never being one to back down, she decided to confront him about it the next time they were together. She knew it would be soul-crushing if he were to admit what she feared to be true- that he didn’t want her. At least then she could move forward with her life. She’d be broken but no longer living a fruitless fantasy where she and Hopper were together.

That night was the first that Charlie couldn’t bring herself to call Hopper. Hearing his voice would only complicate an already thorny situation. She needed to sleep on it, gather her thoughts and feelings before seeing him the following day.

Tag List: @217fanfic @boogiewrites @madkskillz @jobean12-blog @letsby @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @flamehairedwritings @blackleatherjacketz @krajcikmagic @writingkeepsmewhole @beltzboys2015-blog @happy-hopper @tellthemall-i-saidhi @hideloveaway

#chief jim hopper #chief hopper fanfic #hopper x charlie (ofc)#diner au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fanfiction #hopper au #hopper x ofc #hopper #hopper fanfic

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likedovesinthewnd · 5 years

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i just re-read parts 1+2 of Coffee & Infatuation, love it so much! 😍 so excited for 3!! ❤️❤️

THIS! ☝🏼

I can’t even begin to express to you how emotional this made me. It’s been a crazy day but it just got a million times better thanks to you and your kind words.

As a writer I’m happy when any one reads my work but, girl! You re-read it?!! Like, let me pick myself off the floor and get collected because that’s the highest honor in my book.

I’m so sooo glad you’re loving it as much as I do. I instantly fell in love with writing Charlie and Hopper. That’s part of the reason the update is taking so long actually. I changed the ending to maybe leave room for a fourth part. Maybe lol

Anywho, I hope you’re having a lovely night and again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH. This ask meant everything to me 🥰

🖤Coffee & Infatuation🖤 can be found on my mobile Masterlist if you’d like to catch up on Part 1 & 2! Part 3 is coming soon!

#asks #answered #feedback is everything #coffee & infatuation #hopper x charlie (ofc)#chief hopper fanfic #chief jim hopper fanfic #stranger things

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boogiewrites · 6 years

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Don’t Call Her Annie 12

Title: Music & Misunderstanding

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 2300+

Summary: Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. She hasn’t been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. After a failed attempt at sacrificing herself for her loved ones, will a near death experience be enough for her and Hopper to admit what’s really going on between them?

A/N: We’re getting close ya’ll.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 13 (NSFW)

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

JUNE

He sat on the couch at Joyce's house. He had your collection of tapes sitting on the coffee table, looking for something to trigger a thought, a memory, anything to recall to think of where you could be.

Jonathan sits next to him, his elbows on his knees as he leans forward with Hopper to look at the tapes. He can tell Jim is trying to think of something but seems to be falling short. "Trying to break the code that is Ann's tape labels?" he huffs out quietly, trying to lighten the tension and also be helpful.

"Yeah." he says slowly, his hand on his chin, bouncing on his knee in thought.

"Maybe I can help? I did help her make a lot of these." he offers, scooting the box closer to him slightly.

"I'm just..." he sighs. "I thought maybe there was something here to figure out where she went." he rubs his hand over his face, his hand moving to his temple, arm still shaking from his knee.

"If we knew why it'd help." he mumbles.

"Yeah, no kidding." he huffs out, his hands clasping together in front of him. Jonathan notices he keeps fidgeting. He sees more than just the worry about a friend behind Jim's eyes. He hesitates to tell him, he knew you'd be both mad and embarrassed if you ever knew that he, himself, knew about it, let alone telling Jim. It felt a bit like betrayal, but he was hurt and felt justified in his actions.

"You know there's a tape for you, right?" he says quietly, leaning in closer so his mom doesn't hear. Jim's leg stills. He turns his head just slightly to Jonathan, his face serious as he looms over him. Jonathan sighs when he doesn't say anything in response. "It's this one." he takes out the tape named 'Indiana.'

"She told you about this?" he asks, his voice low and serious, but his surprise still shows through.

"No." he shakes his head. "She'd be so mad if she knew I'd figured it out." he lets out a small laugh at the thought. "She'll be furious if she finds out I told you." his eyes go a little wide to ask discretion from the Chief. "But she shouldn't have left like this." he shakes his head, starting to feel another wave of anger towards you again.

"You said you, figured it out?" he asks, trying to hide the strain he felt in his throat.

"I figured out this was the tape she made for you." he moves the cassette in the air as he speaks, looking over your handwriting on the cover. "Ann likes her secrets, but she's a real chatty hopeless romantic when she drinks wine, so I knew there had to be one of these about you with the way you two look at each other." he side eyes the Chief, shaking his head in disappointment at your continued denial of your feelings. "It's the only tape with songs with the name Jim in the title. You know how she loves matching people's names to songs," he mumbles, trying to stay mad at you. A fond memory of you comes to both of them. "It's the sappiest mix in this whole box." he holds it out to him. "This is like looking into her head, or her heart, or whatever." he sighs, feeling like he's betraying you but thinking he has your best interests at heart. "So just..."He makes sure Hopper looks into his eyes when he speaks, to emphasize his words importance."...be aware of the power of what's on this, please? You can't go back once you listen to it." Jim hesitantly takes it from him. Feeling like he'd been handed the keys to your secret diary. "If there's something that might help you find her, it'll be in there." he nods at the box. He gives Hopper a tight smile and goes to his room, listening to one of the most recent tapes you'd made together.

You stick the handwritten note on the wall in Joyce's kitchen. You couldn't reach anyone and you'd made the last minute decision to take a trip you'd been putting off for too long. There was an anniversary coming up that you had tried to ignore for years now, and it was time to stop pretending.

You yawn as you open the door to your apartment. You'd been gone for just under two days, back with plenty of time to rest before work. You let your bags hit the floor, swatting on the light switch.

"HOLYFUCKHOPWHYAREYOUHERE?!" you shout quickly. Your hands balled into shaking fists as he almost literally scares the piss out of you. "HOLY SHIT DUDE!" you say loudly exasperated, putting your hand on your rapidly rising and falling chest. Your mouth was still open, your eyes still wide as he stomped over to you. He gives you very little room to exist between him and your door that he locks without looking away from you.

"Where the hell have you been?" his voice is desperate and low, on the verge of a growl. He glares down at you, his arms going up on either side of you. His eyes are dark and dangerous, his mouth almost in a snarl as he hisses the words at you. Your first thought is to panic. You did not like what he was doing, you were very aware he could hurt you if he wanted to. You were incredibly confused by his behavior. Your hands were up in defense as if he was going to hit you, you gritted your teeth, bracing for impact out of instinct. "I'm not going to hit you Annie, Jesus Christ." he wraps his arms around you tightly. You're even more confused. You managed to get out the most prominent thought in your head right.

"What the fuck?" you say shakily, pushing him away, dipping under his arms to move towards your bedroom, not turning your back to him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," he says quietly, trying not startle you again, he holds his hands up in surrender to you. "Shit, I'm sorry." he whispers out, sadness taking over his words as he holds his face in his hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. "You've been gone for two days and we've all gone fucking crazy thinking you'd ran again." he angrily whispers, walking towards you slowly.

"Don't EVER come at me like that again." you say, gasping, trying to push back the fight or flight response your system was trying to force upon you. You hold up one finger to him to stress it's importance.

He swallows loudly and nods, his body language softening. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have lost control like that. I'd never hurt you, sweetheart, believe me." he says, inching closer to you. You still glared at him. "What did you expect from me after disappearing like that? You know how I get." he says low, his voice turning to concern instead of anger.

"Not an excuse." you shake your head, looking at the floor. "Besides, I left a note." you say, still slowing your breathing.

"A note? There was no note." You nod, correcting him and your posture, trying to finish calming down.

"I left a note on the wall at Joyce's because I couldn't get up with anyone." you gulp and feel your heart start to slow.

"We looked everywhere, we didn't see one." he moves in close to you, his arms extended as he slowly brings his hands closer to your body.

"It was over the counter on the far wall. I put it there, I don't know what happened to it after that but I put it there." you say, talking with your hands. He gently holds your arms down and lets out the breath he's been holding in since Joyce had called him to say she couldn't find you.

"You weren't running?" he whispers, relief flooding his voice and face as he shuts his eyes.

"No." you say offended. "The opposite if anything," you mumble, your face drops, seeing the worry lines in his brows, his hair wasn't combed, you wonder if he'd slept. You felt your heart and stomach churn seeing his reaction to thinking you'd left. "I haven't felt the pull to leave in a while, Jim. Not now that I have people I can't live without here." you give him a half smile, feeling his body untense beneath your hands.

"Oh, Annie," he whispers weakly. His arms fall around you, be buries his face in the bend of your neck. You frown and hold his head, nuzzling into him, trying to comfort him. Your hand rubs his back, you feel his heart racing in his chest pressed against yours. "I thought you'd left," he says muffled into your hair, his words heavy with relief. " I thought you were gone, baby." he whispers desperately, his hands holding your face, his voice strained with emotion.

Baby? You thought to yourself. Your heart stutters. You feel like someones got a vice grip on your heart at the thought of the heavy weight of the word. This was different. This was a new development. You looked into his eyes and couldn't help but like being called baby if it meant he looked at you like this.

"I keep coming back to you, don't I?" you say, a smile on your lips at the relief on his face. "I didn't actually leave though. This time." you scrunch your nose at him and he laughs and kisses you. Not hard, not demanding, just purely affectionate.

"If you weren't running, where did you go?" he asks innocently, not knowing what he was asking you to reveal. His face is calmer, his eyes less frantic.

"Yeah, about that." you begin, taking a deep breath. "Uh, I need to tell you something." you gently pull away from him and start to take off your boots and jacket so you can try to relax. "It's not bad it's just... personal," you mumble the last word as he joins you on the couch. He sits close enough to hold you to his chest. You had a feeling he wasn't going to let go of you anytime soon. You saw how close he'd kept to El after she closed the gate. You imagined, and hopefully not narcissistically so, that he might be compelled to act in a similar way with you. "Only Joyce knows about this." you mumble, your fingers moving on his forearm. "The boys don't know so..." you shrug, you knew he understood.

He says nothing because he knows to just let you take your time. You loved that quality in him.

"I decided last minute to go and visit where my husband is buried," you say, your face unsure, your chest hurts again. He doesn't reject you, he doesn't move away, he rests his chin on your head as he continues you hold you. "He uh, went to Vietnam and he didn't come back home. We got married before he left because...I was young and in love, why not." you quickly add the last part, you still feel a slight shame for taking the chance and failing miserably at your first attempt at a healthy monogamous relationship. You know you shouldn't but you do.

"Is that who Jack is?" he asks quietly, referring to your tattoo.

"Yes, it is." you answer calmly. You turn to look at his face, and run your fingers over his beard. "Thank you for not asking me about it." you whisper, your face completely soft. You weren't sure when he'd seen it but your heart swelled at the thought that he'd let it go.

"I know you well enough to know better." he gives you a small sly smile. You nod, a small smile on your lips.

"It was our anniversary this weekend and I hadn't been up there in years. I felt like I needed to this time." you turn away from him, but rest your body fully against his. "Since things have changed," you add quietly. Your tone meant it in a casual, general sense. But you also meant it in a much more serious way, specific to you and Jim. "I had to say goodbye. Seemed like the right thing to do." you feel nervous, your stomach quivers.

"I think so too." he kisses the top of your head. "I'm proud of you." he kisses your ear after he whispers to you.

"So that's, uh, where I was." you clear your throat and hold his hand as you cross your arms over your body. Trying to ignore what his lips on your ear did.

"I'm really sorry I reacted like I did, sweetheart." his words muffled in your hair. "I just..." he groans, you feel his breath traveling over your scalp. "I lost control at the thought of losing you like that. It was way too soon after..." you squeeze his hand and he sighs again. "It wasn't just Joyce's reaction. I had to think about what to tell El. I didn't want to be the reason you left and have to deal with the void you'd create in everyone's life." his arms wrap tightly around you. "I really didn't mean to scare you, sweetheart. Then you tell me why you were gone and now I feel like a real asshole." you laugh at his words. He plants an affectionate kiss on your shoulder. As you freeze in his arms, he moves to look at your face, confused.

"JOYCE!" you yell, shooting from the couch to go for the phone.

"Shit." he mumbles, fumbling to get off the couch and standing by you as you called your sister who still didn't know you were back.

Pt. 13 Nostalgia & Now (NSFW)

@whatmakesmebeme-tblr @sleepylunarwolfh @elevenofmages@alahmorah @norcula @undiscl0sed-desir3s@atari-writes @jobean12-blog @missharleenquinzel-blog@kiwiphroot @ashphoenix105 @ambeazyyy @riotguuuurl@warriorqueen1991 @misbehaving-f0r-days @divadinag@wefracturedmotivation @flamehairedwritings @earinafae@beltzboys2015-blog @gettinjoyful @lucifer-in-leather@nerdysuperchick @kathrinebutterlover @dragongirl420@fangirlinginspace @xxdragonagequeenxx @the-bitch-gotham-deserves @hopperholland @lil-tea-cup@darthnerd25@davidkharbours@mrslydiaholden@titpunch02@thedaydreamerrrrr @yedi16@jess2464@scrunchinn@thatisthemagic @maddieisaboredable@bloom005-blog@mcxmarti@bitchinmouthbreather @cry5t4l-w4rri0r@lalalindsay25631888@essie-star03@madsch@cosettewinchester

Tags marked through won’t work! Sorry!

#Stranger things #jim hopper #chief jim hopper #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim hopper fan fic #jim hopper fan fiction #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x ofc #Don'tCallHerAnnie #boogiewrites #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper smut #jim hopper angst #jim hopper x reader fluff #jim hopper x reader angst #david harbour #chief hopper x reader

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

Masterlist

This is an older list that is no longer updated. Go to my page to see a link to my updated “Mobile Masterlist”.

Also on AO3 as JimJams83

Peaky Blinders - Alfie Solomons

Stranger Things - Jim Hopper

Frontier - Declan Harp

Lawless - Forrest Bondurant

Alfie Solomons x OFC

Choking on Sapphires

Genevieve Durand is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent, and brutal businesswoman. When she moves to London for a new chapter in her life, she finds herself very interested in the friends the father of her godson has found himself in business with. Surely these new business endeavors will be fruitful for all involved.

Part 1 Thieves & Kings, Pt. 2 Conquest , Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin, Pt. 4 60 Feet Tall, Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor, Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt. 7 Making A Fool Of You Pt. 8 l’amour et la violence, Pt 9 Play With Fire Pt 10 Black Treacle Pt 11 These Stones Will Shout Pt 12 Fireside Pt 13 Trouble Pt 14 Tighten Up Pt 15 Sympathy For The Devil Pt 16 Don’t Speak (Sorta NSFW) Pt 17 No. 1 Party Anthem Pt 18 She’s Thunderstorms Pt 19 Show Me Pt 20 No You Girls Pt 21 Stand By My Girl Pt 22 You Should Be Glad You’ve Got A Man Pt 23 Fever Pt 24 Every So Often Pt 25 Suck It And See Pt 26 Strange Desire (NSFW) Pt 27 Livin’ In Sin(NSFW) Pt 28 Damned If She Do Pt 29 I’m Shakin’ Pt 30 Teenage Kicks (NSFW) Pt 31 Hands Pt 32 Growing On Me Pt 33 Dance The Night Away (NSFW) Pt 34 What Are You Afraid Of? Pt 35 Up To No Good Pt 36 Beast of Burden (NSFW) Pt. 37 Filthy/Gorgeous (NSFW) Pt 38 Do I Have To Talk You Into It

**IF YOU ARE HAVING TROUBLE WITH ANY LINKS LET ME KNOW! AND IF YOU FIND YOURSELF STUCK, TRY SWITCHING MY OLD SCREENAME “JIMJAMS83″ IN THE URL WITH “BOOGIEWRITES” AND IT SHOULD REDIRECT YOU TO THE PROPER PAGE!**

Declan Harp

A Girl Walks Into A Bar Frontier Modern AU. Declan is a bar owner and local urban legend with a reputation he’d like to leave in the past. Bella is a rough around the edges, low key sweetheart that isn’t from his part of the woods. After meeting with the help of some bad luck and perhaps a touch of fate, how far will their undeniable chemistry take them until their histories catch up with them?

Chapter 1

Forrest Bondurant

Who We Were & Who We Are Now.Tonya Barrett, or Miss Tawny as Forrest likes to call her, moves back home at the news of her stepfather becoming ill. She left Franklin County almost a decade ago, it feels like everything within her has changed and nothing has changed back home. Will the actions following her stepfathers passing lead the Bondurants to once again take her in? And this time, no longer being on the verge of adulthood but fully grown…what will she and Forrest decide to do about the lethal combination of history and chemistry they have together?

Chapter 1 CH. 2 CH. 3 CH. 4 CH. 5 CH. 6

Jim Hopper

Don’t Call Her Annie (Cont.): Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. She hasn’t been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove she isn’t a bad person. She hasn’t been around much in the past 20 or so years, but when she comes back home she finds old friends, old habits and old feelings she’d thought she’d finally escaped. Can she really change or is she just kidding herself?

Part 1 Intro, Part 2 Advice & Arrests, Part 3 Bars, blankets & Bonfires, Part 4 Drunk & Discussions, Part 5 Preferences & Propositions, Part 6 Birthdays & Anniversaries, Part 7 Memories & Monologues, Part 8: Dusk & Dawn. Part 9: Valentine & Variation , Part 10 Reflection & Reassurance Part 11 Dancing & Domesticity Part 12 Music & Misunderstanding Part 13 Nostalgia & Now (NSFW) Part 14 Revelation & Revelry (NSFW)

Before & After (Cont.):Dealing with the 1 year anniversary of her almost life-ending accident coming up soon, our main character not only has to deal with how this makes her feel, but also how it’s making Jim feel.

Chapter 1 Before, Chapter 2 The Day Before, Chapter 3 Preparation, Chapter 4 Pt. 1 The Anniversary, Chapter 4 Pt. 2 The Sleepover (NSFW) Chapter 5 The Honeymoon Phase (NSFW), Chapter 6 Control (NSFW), Chapter 7 Losing It, Chapter 8 Finding It Chapter 9 Figuring It Out

Summer of Hopper (Cont.): Hopper is in pieces after coming back to Hawkins after Vietnam. How long will you be able to be the strong one if you are also on the edge from taking care of him? If you both break…then what happens?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Some Legs Are Meant To Be Broken (Complete):When Hopper breaks both of his legs, and you’re the newest employee at the station, it means you get recruited to be his babysitter. Would he be as frustratingly difficult to deal with as you imagine? (Originated from a request to write Hopper in a similar situation to Andy Dwyer from Parks and Rec when he had two broken legs. This was where that prompt took me.)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (NSFW)

One Shots - Jim Hopper (SMUT NSFW)

An Act of Nature:You move back to Hawkins, luckily you hit it off with a friend of your stepbrothers. When Chief Hopper finally gets around to asking you out, what is it going to take for the two of you to find time alone? An act of nature?

Not the fun kind of Daddy issues:Jim Hopper is your ex-husband. The fire burned bright but you just aren’t good for each other, you know it. You both try to deal with divorce and trying to raise Jane together despite your differences. Will she end up bringing you back together, or tearing you apart? Or maybe a little of both?

Long Day, Longer Night:A long day turns into an even longer night after you find yourself alone with the Chief…yet again. (My Valentine’s fic. Tried to make something romantic and wax poetic a bit.) <3

Don’t Mess With Jim:It’s been a long week without being able to see your favorite man, and you intend to make sure he remembers what he’s been missing. You’re reminded of just how powerful of an affect Jim’s words can have on you (and others).

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boogiewrites · 6 years

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Don’t Call Her Annie 11

Title: Dancing & Domesticity

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 2500+

Summary: Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. After she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. After a failed attempt at sacrificing herself for her loved ones, will a near death experience be enough for her and Hopper to admit what’s really going on between them?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Domestic vibes. Feelings (insert Crowley gif here). Slow burn.Tagged folks are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it!

Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

MAY

Jim started dropping off El instead of staying. You could feel him grow more anxious the longer he stayed, the closer you let your bodies get. The longer it went without you talking about your moment, the more the tension grew. You found yourself missing him.

But without Jim there you got to drink and dance more, which was what you wanted out of girls night originally anyway.

You build the knowledge base that Jim has given El of dancing. Which surprises you. You remember him dancing when he was younger, but that wasn't something you'd expect the big man to keep up with. You let her watch MTV, rated R movies and answered any questions she had that she couldn't ask Jim. You were always dancing when he would pull in to pick her up. She'd light up at the sight of him most nights. She grabs her bag and bounds out the door after her polite goodbyes. He had taught her good manners.

He watches the two of you dancing in the living room as he pulls up every time now. He knows you'll switch the music after you lock the door behind El and pour yourself another drink. If he was lucky you'd have an outer layer he'd get to watch you slink off to the beat of a song he couldn't hear. He gets to watch you dance as he pulls away. It was a small thing he was allowing himself to indulge in.

One night he finds himself stalling longer than usual. He'd had a particularly rough day, trying not to share that information with El on his face as she sits next to him in the car.

"I like watching her dance too." El interrupts his time-killing fidgeting.

"Wh-Huh?" he turns his face fast towards her, she's looking at him with big honest eyes.

"Ann." she nods, looking back to you through the window. "She's a good dancer. I like watching her too." she elaborates. He stutters, surprised at her words and the fact that she noticed.

"Yeah. She uh, she is." he says gruffly, trying to recover his indifferent expression.

"If you like watching her, why don't you come inside to dance with her?" she asks, her face indifferent.

"Well, kid, I don't know if she'd want me to do that." he lets out a small laugh as he moves to grab the gear shift.

"She would." she nods again at him. "She says she misses having someone tall and handsome to dance with." El continues, looking back to you again for a moment before moving back to the cabin of the car. "You are tall and handsome. So she would like that." she says flatly, making him laugh out loud, she jumps at his response.

"I'm handsome?" he laughs, it shakes his shoulders and he ruffles her hair. "Where on earth did you hear that one, kid?" he asks, turning in the driveway.

"Ann." she says looking out the window not realizing what she'd given away.

JUNE

You lazily reach over the side of the couch to pick up the ringing phone. You're deep in a book and don't even bother closing it to answer, your eyes finishing the last sentence before you speak.

"Horowitz." you answer flatly.

"Hey Ann." you hear his voice trial slightly on your name.

"Hey hun, what's going on?" you ask casually.

"A lot. Actually." your eyes go a bit wide in concern, but he soothes your nerves almost immediately. "No, not like that." he lets out a small breathy laugh because he could imagine your face on the other end of the line. "I'm going to be out of town with work and I need to call in a favor." he asks reluctantly.

"Uh huh. I see." you answer, "It'll cost you but I might be willing to help." you grin, finally shutting the book and concentrating fully on the conversation.

"Well, it's a big favor. So I will in fact, very much owe you after this." he chuckles.

"Stop making me worry and just tell me." you say with a soft laugh. Since when was he the dramatic one?

"Alright." he clears his throat. "I need you to watch El for me." he says, his voice confident but reserved.

"Jim, that's nothing! When do you need me? You wanna bring her to Joyce's or?" you ask, moving your hand in explanation to no one.

"No I mean at the cabin." he says lower.

"Oh." you say, your mouth remaining in the "O" shape as your eyes move around the room.

"Yeah I'll be gone for two days and I really don't want her alone that long." you hear the love for her in his voice. Your lips pout at the feeling it gives you.

"I think I'm starting to catch on to why this is a big favor." you say lower. So staying confined in his cabin, with his daughter, taking care of her, being very...domestic. You were not surprised he remembered your conversation that well from the night you agreed to stay, but it touched you in a way that made you want to do any favor he asked. You weren't used to people taking your feelings into account first when building relationships before. Until you'd come back home. Here people listened and cared. You get a funny pain in your chest when you dwell on it too long.

"Yeah." he draws out the word. "I don't want to push any weird unspoken boundaries or anything, but if you would stay with her I would really, really-" you cut him off.

"Save the sales pitch, Jim. I'll do it." you say as if it's nothing. There was a moment of silence on the line.

"That..." you hear him exhale. "Thank you so much, Ann you have no idea what this takes off my mind." you can practically hear his shoulders relax in his tone.

"You'll still owe me. Big time. But you know I'll never pass on an opportunity to have the upper hand on you." you give a soft laugh into the receiver. You suppose you were looking forward to the challenge. Time to play house for a few days.

Since El was still on the down low, for the time being, you have secluded to the cabin without Hopper around. Being alone taking care of a kid you were responsible for had been a living nightmare of yours. And look at you now. She was such a polite, quiet kid that you didn't have much trouble out of her. You asked her what she wanted to do and you did it. You played good cop while the bad cop was out of the house. You'd decided to indulge her with rom-coms, nail polish and answered all her questions along the way. You'd read to her and she to you. You'd start board games you didn't read the rules to, making up your own and ended up not finishing, losing many pieces over the span of three days, you'd deal with the consequences later, right now you just had to get her to bed one last time.

He see's your bike tucked away on the side of the house out of the elements. He quietly pads his way to the door, unlocking the door quietly as it was very late already. He was supposed to be back tomorrow but drove home tonight instead of waiting. He looks around and see's no one, but the lamp in the bedroom is on. He takes off his outer layers, getting comfortable. He sees no dirty dishes, laundry folded on the coffee table and he wonders who you must've paid to watch El instead of doing it yourself with the level of housework he notices is finished. Had you gotten her to do all her chores too? He was honestly a bit taken back by the level of thoroughness you'd approached this favor with. He walks to the kitchen, a poorly made cake sits on the counter top, two pieces cut out of it, a big sloppily draw green icing heart on the top. You must've tried teaching her to bake. He laughs as he pokes a finger into the icing, stealing a dollop. He goes to the fridge to find the grocery shopping finished and meal wrapped in foil in the center of the shelf. He shakes his head and smiles at the thought of you both cooking in the kitchen together.

He decides to check on you, he opens the door to find you curled up in a chair pulled up against her bed. She's deep asleep, you're awake, your nose buried in a book, your eyes are intently focused, your brow low. Your cheek rests on your hand, elbow on the arm of the chair. Your socks show from under the blanket you'd wrapped yourself up in. You don't notice him for a few long seconds. He sees you watching over El, having read her to sleep, still staying in the same room as her even though you didn't have to. He felt a deep shift in his chest and stomach at the sight.

As you yawn your eyes leave the book and you see his head between the door and the frame. You mouth 'hey' and take a big stretch as you quietly leave the room.

"You're back early." you whisper, shutting the door behind you after you give her one final glance.

"I just drove home instead of staying the night." he says, moving out of your way as you head to the kitchen, still stretching and yawning.

"Well, welcome back." you grin, opening the fridge and rubbing your eyes, grabbing a soda. "Food's in here for ya if you want it. " you say, moving the door with your hip and leaning against the counter.

He moves past you to get a beer, which you'd also bought. He looks you over, your hair not styled, no makeup and draws back one corner of his mouth in contemplation of the sight.

"You can stop staring. I know you've not seen me all natural and unkempt many times," you say with a small laugh, moving your hand to present yourself, your cotton shorts and a tank top. Your favorite threadbare flannel over it for modesty and to help cover the still dark scars from your encounters last year, the biggest scar across your upper thigh just peaking out beneath the hem of the mid-thigh hitting shorts. "But that doesn't mean you have to make me self-conscious about it." you smirk and shake your head at him.

"That wasn't my intention." he smiles softly at you, his eyes look like they're searching for something in the distance when he looks at you. "I actually was thinking you looked nice until you opened your mouth." you both choke back your laughter.

"That's usually how it goes." you shrug indifferently, keeping your laughter quiet to not wake El. You turn to go sit at the table.

"What did you girls get into while I was away?" he asks, sitting across from you with a grunt.

"You know, the usual. Drinking, drug trafficking, thefts under $500." you pause while he snorts at your words. "Picking up hitchhikers, introducing her to the idea of teenage rebellion against her father, taking candy from strangers," you shrug casually, "You know, the basics. All the things a young girl needs to know." you grin at him, resting your chin on your hand.

"I should've known better than to leave her with you." he narrows his eyes, a warm smile on his face at your comfortable demeanor.

"We watched movies, painted her nails, read a lot actually. She loves that. " you nod and run your finger over the table in thought, trying to recall if there was anything worth mentioning.

"And baked apparently?" he asks, motioning his head to the cake behind him. You let out a small chuckle.

"Well I made cookies, and those are fast. So she assumed baking a cake would be just as easy and she was so excited about the idea of surprising you with a cake I couldn't say no." your face goes soft at the thought.

"Yeah she gets like that sometimes." he smiles at a memory of her. "I guess I should thank you for also doing all the shopping and cleaning too." he says in a sarcastic tone, but he's really just impressed.

"I know how hot and bothered you get when I go all domestic." you get out before the low chuckle escapes you. He blushes and covers his mouth as he laughs, looking away from you. "Couldn't' pass up on the chance to exceed your expectations." you explain, a smile on your face at the red on his face.

"Well, you did. You even got her to do her chores?" he says impressed.

"Yeah, I just put on some music and danced around and helped her. Wasn't an issue at all." you speak with your hands, your face soft and unbothered. "I think we got everything." you chew your lip, looking around the cabin. "I did shopping and we swept, laundry, dishes, restocked the firewood...yeah. I think I held down the fort pretty well." you swing your head back over to him with a proud smile.

"You did exceed expectations yet again." he crosses his arms on the table leaning forward and looking you over again.

"Never get tired of hearing that." you shake your head proudly. "Thanks." you bat your eyelashes and press your chin to your shoulder sheepishly.

"No. Thank you." he points at you before reaching out and taking your hand. He slides his fingers against yours and rests them on the table top, as he looks intently into your eyes. The sudden intimate nature of the gesture catches you off guard as your mouth falls open for a second as you're obviously affected by the small touch. "Seriously." his voice drops and you lean in to match his posture. "Thank you." he says again, squeezing your hand.

"You're welcome." leaning forward and putting both your hands on his, you give him a quick peck for his sweet words. He's giving you that dumb little smile of his, his teeth just barely showing.

"I would've been a mess without you here this weekend." he almost whispers. His smooth tone makes it your turn to blush.

"You're a mess whether I'm here or not, Jim." you pick at him, your nose scrunching but your lips send a different sort of smile his way.

"Yeah, but I prefer to be a mess with you around." he squeezes your hands and pulls you closer, making you put your legs underneath you in the chair to lean on the table to be able to stretch over to him. You shake your head with a reluctance to your actions as his grin grows wider the closer you get. He closes the rest of the space between you and returns the kiss you'd given him, but thankfully this one goes on longer.

"When'd you get so sweet, Jim?" you coo at him, as he lets your hands go, as you slide back into your seat. You don't want El to wake up and see you crawling across the table to her protector. You fluff your hair and sigh at him, your defenses down.

"I could ask you the same question." he answers smugly. His words make you blush. Again.

Chapter 12 Music & Misunderstanding

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

Don’t Call Her Annie 8: Dusk & Dawn

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 2000

Summary: Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. She hasn’t been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. She’s been through the worst with her new mismatched family, so surely the best is around the corner?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

Warnings/Tags: Angst. Fluff. Intense Situations. Violence. Slight Gore. Language. Feelings (insert Crowley gif here). Slow burn.

Tagged folks are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it! Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

OCTOBER

The metaphorical smoke had cleared, everyone was settled down and safe. The sun was coming up, the roadway illuminated enough now for the street lamps to turn off in town.

Jim was driving back to the cabin alone, he needed to be for a little while after all of this. At least long enough to shower and eat something so his body could have a chance at functioning. He wasn't sure when the crying would try to sneak it's way out. He's rounding a curve on the way to the cabin. He thinks he sees someone walking on the side of the road, he assumes it's a jogger, it's dawn after all. The closer he gets, the more his heartbeat races. The thought crosses his mind that it was a hallucination. He remembered doing that after Sarah died, so he didn't trust himself after losing you too. Not after the hellish night he'd just survived. His heart drops when he sees dark hair, but he knows it's not a jogger when he sees the blood-soaked clothes.

His heart chokes him in his throat. The sun hits your hair, he sees it shine red. Your hair was so covered in blood it looked as dark as Joyce's. His eyes are wide as the gravel sprays and he pulls the Blazer up behind your bent form. He barrels out of the vehicle, screaming out your name.

You barely register the sound. You aren't sure if it's dawn or dusk or where you are. You had pieced together your brain enough to know you should find and follow a road for help. You need a hospital but you can't think about that, you're still in shock. You see the gash in your thigh and arm, puncture wounds in clusters across the rest of your body, you know there's blood soaked into your clothes, not all of it yours. If what those things even had in them would be considered blood. You use a branch to help you walk, you're worried you're cut too deeply on your leg. Your hair is damp to the touch from any number of wet mucus sources drying in the cool air. You hear the gravel crunch behind you and try to turn to whatever was waiting for you there.

"Annie?" your ears pick up. You watch as he gets slightly fuzzy as he shakes you in a panic by your arms, screaming your name. "Jesus, sweetheart, what'd they do to you?" he asks, his hands looking over your injuries, he winces at the sight of you and goes to pick you up and carry you to the vehicle.

Your tired body lashes out at him as you flashback to what you'd just been through as his big arms trap your body. You drop the crutch in the process and fall into his arms, not being able to support yourself. You try to focus on him, he's holding your face in his big, warm hand, not even registering your blows. "Annie, it's me." his voice is a welcome sound, even if it does come out scratchy and desperate. You lock eyes and he finally registers in your brain.

"Jim?" you choke out, tears starting to fall from your eyes. Your lips hurt very badly as you spoke. "Are you real?" you ask him, it was a genuine question. Your hand weakly reaches up to his face, you fall short and land on his collarbone. You wanted to touch him, make sure you weren't hallucinating from blood loss or already dead. You moan at the warmth radiating off his bare skin as you touched it. He seemed real.

He chokes back a sob of happiness and you know he is real by the sound. A dopey smile spreads across his face.

"Are you?" he laughs at you madly, not holding in the euphoric relief he felt at the sight of you. He readjusts you, holding you gently. "Come on I've got to get you to the hospital, baby." he says soothingly. "I'm going to pick you up, okay?" he asks, your eyes close and you nod, you go limp in his arms. You know he sits you in his car, you hear him start it. You flutter your eyes open and groan as the heat from the vents warms your cold, drained body.

"I didn't die." you muse weakly, your voice sounding amazed. You want to laugh but you cry out at the pain in your ribs.

"Somehow." You feel his warm hand touch you, you whimper at the feeling of warm again, you thought you'd never feel it again. You moan and lay against the door.

"Fuck. Everything hurts." you say in a breathy voice, using the arm that you can move best to across your ribs. It's hard for him to watch the road, he can't believe you're real.

"I've got you, Annie, I'll fix it, just a little while longer." he rushes out in a hushed tone, trying to keep you calm. He's wondering if he died too somehow, because how could you have survived? "How in the hell did you do it, kid?" he mumbles to himself, seeing you passed out, wrapped in his coat.

NOVEMBER

You wake up in the hospital. You're grateful the blindingly bright lights weren't the afterlife you thought they might have been an indication of at first. You see you're covered in bandages and a cast on one arm. You find you can wiggle your fingers and toes and you relax, the beeping on the monitors slowing. You're surprised you're not in worse shape and more pain than you were. You groan at the hum of the lights and machines in your ears. You look around the room, you see Joyce on a love seat on the opposite of the room. You wonder how long you'd both been here. "Joy." you croak out. Your voice is weak, your throat feels crushed. You close your eyes and lay your head back, you can try again later. You have that option again.

JANUARY

You'd been so overwhelmed with recovery and the amount of love you felt coming at you from all sides from your family and friends. It gave you another crash course in dealing with compliments and intimacy. You'd needed this honestly, you just wish it hadn't been happening in the middle of healing and the holidays. It made everything whirl by so quickly you felt like you were going to miss something. You hadn't been able to help much at Thanksgiving and Christmas. You and Will shared too many long, empathetic looks over the Holidays as you both were now the target of attention you didn't really want or felt like you needed. Everyone treated you like you were fragile and incapable of anything. You'd both stared death in the face and come back so you'd think people would act more impressed instead of more worried than ever before.

So here you were, now just one arm out of commission, for the time being, trying to make snacks for tonight. You'd worked in kitchens before, you were perfectly capable of cooking a decent meal, but with one arm down and being out of practice it was proving harder than you anticipated. Joyce was winding down her shift soon, Jonathan had taken out Will to give you the space you'd requested as you wanted to surprise them when they got home. ---------- You're sitting in the living room, everyone is full of food and chattering on about the past year, bad memories are passed over as you focus on the good ones. Lots of sighs and watery eyes from you and your sister. Jonathan as stoic as usual, sharing glances with his brother, they would nudge each other with their hands and elbows often as they sassed each other after embarrassing stories were shared. The phone rings, it's very close to midnight and it makes all of you jump at the unexpectedness of it. Jonathan puts a hand on Joyce's knee out of instinct to calm her anxieties over the sound.

"I got it." he says, narrowing his eyes at the second ring. You can't make out the words from his quiet voice as he was out of sight. You smile over at Joyce, her eyes darting from the tv to you, an uneasy smile on her face.

"Probably a drunken wrong number." you scrunch your nose at her to ease her worried eyes. You see Jonathan appear around the wall and shake the phone your way.

"It's for you Ann." you tilt your head, the confused expression on your face clear. You shrug to Joyce who has a similar look on her face.

You walk to the phone and take it in the kitchen. You hold your hand over the receiver and with your upturned lip, you ask Jonathan who it is.

"It's Hopper." he says quietly, his eyebrows raise slightly at the suggestion of the intention of the call before he turns back into the living room.

"Jim?" you almost whisper, not wanting to worry Joyce with what news must be coming next.

"Happy New Year, Ann." he says quietly. Your mouth opens and your voice stutters.

"H-Happy New Year, Jim." you say in a suspicious voice, taken back by the smooth tone of his voice. "It's not New Years yet, you're gonna make me miss it." you say sassily, leaning against the kitchen wall with your shoulder, peaking into the living room at the tv.

"I won't keep you long." he clears his throat. "I...I know I've not been around much since you've been out of the hospital." he sighs and trails off. "Well, I'm," A smile spreads across your face as you mindlessly wrap your finger in the long cord of the phone, your heart pumping faster as you hear the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there tonight." he says, his voice low and sweet.

You let out a small feminine sound of amusement. "No apology necessary." you smirk and look up at the ceiling, "But without you here, my options for who to kiss at midnight are absolutely awful." you say in a hushed laugh, wanting to ease his worry about you. You'd missed the half-assed flirting, the goofiness you'd been working so hard to bring back into your lives until the Upside Down tore it all away again. You hear his laugh, the smacking of his lips against the receiver.

"I give you one kiss and now you're getting greedy?" he teases, his voice blooms into a laugh.

"If I recall correctly it was more than one, Jim." you tease back, your hand over your mouth as you quietly laugh into it so the others can't hear.

"And there might be more." he says, his voice full of grit and tease. The vagueness would usually annoy you but you were too relieved to know he was thinking about you to be annoyed.

"More?" you ask intrigued. You felt so much lighter knowing he'd entertained the possibility.

"I'd like to think so." he smartly answers. You peek around the wall again to look at your family, their faces illuminated by the tv light, huddled together. Your heart warms, making your chest feels heavy with gratitude.

"Promise?" you whisper, rolling back into the kitchen, fingers turning red and purple from the tight twist you'd unintentionally created around them with the phone cord.

"Promise." he answers, his voice hitting you hard, making you swoon despite yourself.

Chapter 9: Valentine & Variation

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