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strangererotica · 1 month

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x reader • Hopper has been your dad’s best friend for years. He always thought you were a nice, if not slightly awkward, kid. But when you return home to Hawkins during a break from college, Hopper is immediately smitten with the young woman you’ve become. He indulges his infatuation with you in the only way he can. Hopper lets his mind run wild with a fantasy that’s become familiar to him, even though his feelings for you leave him racked with guilt. And maybe that’s where the story would end for Hopper, alone and burning up in a desire he would never be set free from… But when you came home to Hawkins, you brought with you a knowledge, a craft, that a practical man like Hopper would never give credence to, until it captures him wholly, body-mind-and spirit…

Quiet moments like this were the most difficult for Hopper. When he wasn’t physically kept busy with his job, he was mentally kept busy by his conscience. Guilt tended to creep up on him most acutely in the moments he should have been able to rest, especially the early hours of morning. While Hopper believed mornings should be spent with warm coffee and personal introspection, he found it impossible to practice what he preached.

In fact, Hopper’s hypocrisy extended to more than one area in his life. While the town of Hawkins assumed their Chief of Police was, for the most part, an upstanding and honorable man, he harbored an uncomfortable secret that burned in the back of his heart: Jim Hopper was in love with his best friend’s daughter…

If only you’d never come back to Hawkins, Hopper told himself, he wouldn’t be caught in this moral storm. If you’d stayed away at college, Hopper never would have given you a second thought, except for when your dad mentioned you. His only memory of you would have remained the one Hopper had always had, of you as a skinny, polite-but-awkward kid.

The current image of you in Hopper’s mind was vastly different. You were all grown up now, the clumsiness of your youth replaced with a woman’s elegance. A gentle, refined softness had replaced all your rough edges, the gangly limbs of your teen years now shaped into the graceful form of a young woman. A beautiful woman, Hopper realized, who had him completely wrapped around your finger…

The day began as a regular Monday morning for Hopper, complete with the weight of guilt on his conscience. He stared up at the ceiling from bed and had a cigarette, his free hand moving beneath the blanket covering him, lazily massaging his cock. Hopper had always taken care of his morning wood, usually as his first activity of every day. But what now darkened his behavior and made it feel wrong, was the fact that Hopper couldn’t touch himself without thinking of you…

He tried to imagine someone else…anyone else. Hopper’s usual mental reference for masturbation was Bo Derek, an actress he’d had a crush on for years. The recurring fantasy Hopper had entertained for so long now felt stale in comparison to his thoughts of you…You, with your pretty, bright eyes flashing wide up at Hopper, a blush blooming on your cheeks as you realize he’s standing in the doorway of your room…as you realize he’s been standing there, watching you undress, for minutes now. And you’re covering yourself with the first item of clothing you could grab, a thin t-shirt, clutching it over your breasts in an attempt to hide your nakedness...

…But the shirt’s fabric is too sheer to provide any true coverage, any real protection from Hopper’s penetrating, wolfish stare. He steps inside your room, closing the door behind him, and presses in the lock with his thumb…

In the privacy of his bed, Hopper’s hand moved with more direction beneath the sheet, his grip around his cock tensing. As usual, he’d give in to the temptation that plagued him daily: he was going to come to the fantasy of you.

In Hopper’s mind, there were no moral obstacles in his way, no societal expectations from anyone preventing him from having you. He could fuck your face, your tits, your cunt, your ass, and come anywhere on and in you that he pleased. No one was there to stop him in the safe enclosure of his fantasy. And Hopper allowed himself to indulge.

“…Chief?” your wide eyes darted over his face. “W-what are you doing here?”

Hopper’s hand left the doorknob, moving to his shirt collar. “I think you and I already know the answer to that question, (y/n),” he said, his voice low, husky. You took a step back as you watched Hopper loosen the first few buttons of his shirt, your grip on the fabric covering you faltering slightly.

“How long were you standing there?” you asked tentatively. “Watching me?”

Hopper smirked as he undid the last button on his shirt. “Long enough to know that everything I’ve imagined about your body is right,” he replied, moving closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, (y/n)…Has anyone ever told you that?”

Your eyes drifted over Hopper’s exposed chest and down his stomach, watching as he unbuckled his belt. You nodded confidently, feeling less embarrassed. “Plenty of guys have told me I’m beautiful,” you replied, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You allowed the t-shirt over your chest to slip a little further down, revealing your nipples. “I’m twenty-one years old, Chief Hopper. Of course I date.” You smirked back at him now. “Lots of guys have fucked me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hopper chuckled to himself, pulling his belt from his jeans. “I’m sure they have. And all these guys-,” He emphasized the word. “-any of them actually make you come?”

Your cheeks heated again, going pink. “I…uh-,” you stammered, as Hopper tossed his belt to your bedroom floor. “Any of these boys...” His hand moved to his cock, palming the bulge tenting his jeans. “…Make you feel like a man could make you feel…?”

Your chest dipped, your breath quickening as Hopper closed the space between your bodies. “…Like I could make you feel?” he continued, his dark blue eyes probing yours. Hopper was standing right in front of you now, mere inches separating your bodies. His hands moved to cover yours, gently removing them (and the t-shirt) from your breasts.

Your lips parted in an expression of both surprise and desire. Hopper cupped your cheek warmly in his palm, gliding his fingertips lightly along your chin. Your eyes fell closed in blissful surrender as Hopper touched you, the last of your defenses evaporating…

Hopper groaned as he fisted his cock, the muscles in his stomach tense. He knew he needed to hurry his fantasy along, or risk arriving even later at the station than he usually did Monday mornings. Hopper had already overslept and still had to shower, shave, and grab something quick to eat before heading into the station. So in his mind, Hopper fast-forwarded a bit to the part of his fantasy he liked best…the part where you begged…

…Hopper’s cock punched deep, sloppy thrusts inside you, rocking your bed frame, knocking off several plushies as he split you in half. One of his hands was wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back, your lips parted in a moan of ecstasy as he fucked places inside you no other man had reached.

“Come on, honey,” Hopper murmured down at you, his voice thick with exertion. “Go ahead and let go; I’ve got you sweetheart, just let it go…”

You whimpered beneath him, bucking under the weight of Hopper’s body. “Chief-,” you started, but Hopper cut you off, his words punctuated by each thrust of his hips. “That’s not my name, honey,” he gently insisted. “Go on-say my name-I know you know it-.”

“-Jim,” you panted against his shoulder. “Jim please, please Jim, please come inside me-.”

Hopper’s cock twitched at your request, at hearing you whimper his name. His balls were tight, aching for relief. Hopper’s eyebrows met, his forehead creased as he strained to withhold his climax just a little longer…

“Say it again,” he growled beside your ear, but your reply was lost in a groan. “Hey!” Hopper said forcefully, taking hold of your chin and holding it firmly. Your lips parted, and he spat between them. “Say my name if you want my cum,” Hopper ordered. “Say-,” *thrust* “My-,” *thrust* “Name...”

You came undone beneath Hopper, his name spilling out from between your lips like a prayer as he spilled his release inside you…

Hopper’s cock pulsed in his fist, his stomach clenching as a thick, creamy load of cum gushed from his tip. He cursed as his semen made a mess all over the bed; Hopper would have to wash the sheets later, or else sleep in his own cum that night. He reached for a fresh cigarette and stared up at the ceiling while exhaling thin clouds of smoke in its direction.

Hopper wondered how much longer he could go on like this? His ability to resist fantasizing about you was virtually non existent. Eventually, he’d have to either figure out a way to let go of his lust for you, or tell you how he felt. And Hopper knew the second option really wasn’t an option at all. There’s no way in hell you’d actually be attracted to him, Hopper thought. He was the same age as your dad, and that alone had to be a major turn-off for you. The likelihood of you ever viewing him as anything besides a contemporary of your dad’s was slim to none. And the last thing Hopper wanted to be, for you, was a father figure…

He swung his legs over the bed, and forced himself to the shower. Hopper knew that revealing his sick secret would destroy his friendship with your dad. He didn’t want that. And maybe more than anything, Hopper didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He chuckled darkly to himself as he stood in the shower, letting the water run over him. A sweet, pretty young woman like you would never guess she was the subject of a perverted cop’s fantasies. Not with all the men who probably pursued you at college, men twenty years younger than Hopper. At best, you likely viewed him as a nice older man, someone you could trust just like you could trust your dad.

Hopper shook his head, gazing down at the shower drain. How wrong you were, he thought to himself. Because there was nothing about Hopper that was trustworthy, when it came to his true feelings for you. He was a hypocrite, a liar, and a convincing one. For now, he would go on spending time with your dad, at your home, pretending like everything was okay. And one day, when you returned to college, maybe Hopper would be free of your spell…

✨ one week earlier ✨

It was a peaceful Monday morning for you. Home from college on Summer break, waking up in your childhood bedroom filled you with a rush of nostalgia you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sunlight feathered through your curtains and across your bed. You stretched your legs and arms, and let your thoughts drift to the evening before.

Jim Hopper had stopped by to visit your dad last night and watch a football game together. You hadn’t seen Hopper in over two years. To be honest, you’d forgotten about your old crush on the town’s chief of police, letting it fade to the back of your mind as college life became your main focus. Traveling away from home to the big city of Indianapolis, Indiana, was a life-changing experience. You’d never been that far from Hawkins before, and while a few familiar faces from home were there as well, it still felt like the small town you loved was a whole world away.

Over time, you’d forgotten about Chief Hopper and the silly little crush you’d had on him when you were younger. But when he showed up at your house last night, your feelings for him were…brand new. Now, you were an adult, and nothing about your previous crush was present in the feelings you had watching your dad’s friend enter your home. Viewing Hopper through the eyes of a woman, your perception of him was completely different.

You’d been with a man before, a man your age. It had only happened once, and it was terrible. You regretted losing your virginity to someone who obviously had no idea what he was doing, let alone what he was supposed to be doing to you. Part of you wondered what a man like Jim Hopper, a man with decades of experience fucking women, could do to you? The Chief’s love life had always been a popular topic of gossip around town. Rumor had it that Hopper was quite promiscuous, and had developed a reputation as a womanizer in his younger days. A man like that, who you just so happened to be insanely attracted to, could probably show you what sex was supposed to be like. What a real, rough fuck was like, the kind of fucking you fantasized about, the kind of thoughts you touched yourself to…

You sifted through the pages of a well-worn notebook. In its contents were various notes on divination, the phases of the moon, a record and analysis of your dreams, the magickal correspondences of crystals, colors, and more. But by far, the most important content in your notebook were the spells you’d written. Some had worked, some had failed, and there were some you had written but not yet used. One of these un-cast spells was the love spell you’d written. Admittedly, it was less of a love spell and more of a lust spell, but…regardless, you hadn’t yet found the right person to use as inspiration when the spell was cast. You’d never desired anyone enough to make an attempt at bending the Universe’s will to influence your love life, but…seeing Jim Hopper again had stirred something powerful inside you.

Gathering your supplies, you prepared yourself mentally and physically to carry out the spell. You opened your bedroom window and let the sun sink its fingers beneath your skin, absorbing its masculine energy. Performing the spell by moonlight would have been useful in securing a lover whose energy was feminine. But the object of your desire was absolutely dripping with a masculinity so potent, you didn’t think you’d ever been near a man who exuded such powerful masculine energy.

After completing the spell, you trusted that the only thing left to do was wait. You climbed back into the familiar warmth of your bed, feeling a bit sleepy, but with a thrumming ache between your thighs that just couldn’t be ignored. Slipping a hand beneath your panties, you imagined it was Jim Hopper’s hand instead. Believing in your personal power, you trusted that the Universe was working with you. It may take a week, or ten days, or fourteen; but you would have Jim Hopper. If he didn’t want you already, he would, and badly. He would soon be craving you, not just desiring you, but burning alive inside with the need to possess you. Closing your eyes, you began to rub soft circles over your clit, building the pressure until it broke in waves, and Jim Hopper’s name was spilling from your lips in panted, grateful whispers… ✨

PART TWO

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huntingingoodwill · 2 years

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noise complaint

masterlist

pairing: hopper x reader

desc: hopper finding you drunk at a party, throwing you over his shoulder, driving you home and helping you sober up by holding your head up and holding the glass to your lips while you drink water and ramble about the ginormous crush you have on him is simply something so special to me

a/n: first hopper fic!! i do hope you enjoy. there’s hints of crybaby reader and an implied age gap. p.s. while searching for a gif for this fic i saw a fic description that had some similar elements to this one. i haven’t read the fic itself but i wanted to just apologise if my fic seems too similar! that was completely not my intention and i hope i don’t come across as offensive as i hadn’t known about the fic before writing this one.

A warm, happy buzz thrummed through your body as you smiled up at the ceiling blissfully. You had been drinking, the edges of the world becoming soft and blurry, a sweet warmth blooming in your chest. The music blaring through the speakers and the chatter of the party around you sent gentle vibrations through the plush couch you were lying on. Your smile grew wider. You felt good.

“Oh, shiiit!” You giggled, watching as a couple of party-goers raced past you, laughing at the way they tripped over themselves as they ran.

“Oh, shit.” Your voice lost all its tipsy amusement, becoming deadly serious as Hopper’s face appeared above yours.

There was no use in running now. He had caught you red-handed, a little drunk and spacing out on the couch at a house party that was probably a little too loud for the host’s neighbours’ liking. Still, you turned over, sliding off the couch in defeat, shielding yourself from his condescending expression. Maybe if you tried, you’d be able to roll under the couch and hide from him forever.

You heard him click his tongue above you in annoyance.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” His gravelly voice held a flat tone, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“I’d ask you the same question, but I assume you aren’t here to party-arty-arty.” You mumbled into the rug.

You rolled over onto your back, now looking up at him. Of all the house parties, in all of Hawkins, in all the world, he had to walk into the one you were at.

It was bad enough that the chief of police caught you less than sober, rolling around on the rug at a house party, but it was even worse that he lived right next door to you. You’d get the mail in shame for the rest of your life.

“I’m not here to party-arty-arty.” He grumbled, words sardonic as he rolled his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at his distaste for your phrase. “We got a noise complaint.”

“Bummer.” You mumbled. Your hand crept up to his heavy boot, tugging on one of his laces absent-mindedly. He scowled, pulling his foot away. You dissolved into giggles, abruptly stopping as you saw the glare he gave you. “Lighten up, Hop.”

“I’ll lighten up once you get the hell outta here.”

You smiled up at him sheepishly. “I… don’t have a ride home.”

He blinked at you incredulously before letting out a low groan, digging his palms into his tired eyes. “Shit.”

“That’s one for the swear jar!” You sang, holding out your hand as if expecting him to drop a dollar in it. He lightly smacked it away and you pouted defensively. “Government wage that bad, huh?”

He shushed you irritatedly, prompting you to let out another laugh. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if deep in thought.

He couldn’t just leave you there. You were his neighbour’s daughter, for God’s sake.

“You’re cute when you’re thinking.” You whispered.

He opened his eyes, ignoring your comment and the heat creeping up his neck.

He exhaled sharply, crouching down next to you as he slid his jacket off, wrapping it around your waist. Then, in one movement, he hauled you up onto his shoulder.

You exploded with laughter, your dizziness worsening as you hung upside down, thrown over his shoulder.

He paused, taking care to pull his jacket down over your butt as your skirt rode up. He locked his arm around your thighs and made his way out of the house, boots clomping on hardwood and then gravel as he approached his truck.

He took a second to breathe in the night air. His free hand snaked into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it nonchalantly, as if you weren’t slumped over his shoulder, ribcage shaking as you struggled to stifle your laughter.

You raised your arm behind you, toward his face, index and middle finger extended, asking for a drag. He pushed your arm away.

“Nice try.” He scoffed, opening the door and helping you into the passenger seat.

“Worth a shot!” You grinned. He shook his head, letting out a low chuckle.

He leaned over you, pulling your seatbelt over your chest and buckling you in with a satisfying “click”. His eyes flickered to your face as you smiled dreamily up at him.

He felt his lips turn up in response, unable to control himself.

“What’s got you smiling, huh?” He asked, curious.

“You look rather handsome tonight, Chief.” You whispered, your voice lilting, sing-songy in your inebriation. You tugged his hat off his head, twirling it between your fingers.

He looked at you, your shy gaze avoiding his as you clumsily handled his hat.

His heart thumped. He turned away, clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered expression.

“You look rather drunk.” He replied, giving your reddened cheeks a tap.

He rounded the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat, watching as you kicked your legs up on the dash with a loud thump, placing his hat over your face as you settled into your seat.

His eyes travelled over your leg propped up so close to him, bent upward onto the dash. He grabbed your knee and shoved it back down, and he could tell you were giving him that mischievous smile, even through the hat that obscured it. His lips quirked upward.

As he drove you back to your house, the bump and sway of the truck on the poorly paved roads lulled you to sleep. Slowly, the hat slid off your face as your temple dropped against the window. You held the hat in your arms, keeping it close to your lap as you dozed, the drinks you had earlier sending you to sleep quick enough.

He turned to look at you, taking a drag of his cigarette as the other hand gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the roads. He slowed down, attempting to steer past the potholes so you could sleep in peace. Still, your head would knock against the glass every once in a while, causing you to frown in your sleep. He chuckled, watching your sleepy pout lit up by the streetlights that flashed by overhead. It was cute.

He faltered for a moment, hesitating, before reaching over to hold your shoulders, trying to push you back onto your seat.

Gonna give herself a damn concussion.

Instead, you slumped toward him, your head, heavy with sleep, falling upon his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, glancing at you. You nuzzled into his side, lips parted gently.

He swallowed thickly, trying to stay as still as possible, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel though. Slowly, he relaxed, getting used to the weight of your body pressing into his shoulder.

Eventually, he pulled into his driveway. He hated having to wake you up, pausing to gaze at your peaceful, sleeping face before gently shaking you awake. He held back the urge to smile as you rubbed your bleary eyes, glancing around you as you realised where you were.

“Alright, run on home, now.” He said, nodding toward your door.

Your eyes widened, and you swivelled back toward your seat, yanking down the passenger side mirror.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You mumbled, panic tinging your voice.

You smoothed down your dishevelled hair inelegantly, pressing the backs of your hands to your still inflamed cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down.

You huffed hopelessly, setting your forehead against the dash, letting out a little whine of despair.

“Okay, cut the dramatics…” His heart softened as you let out another pitiful whine, but he pressed on. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door-”

“Hop, please don’t make me go home yet.” You pleaded with him, holding onto his arm. “I’m still buzzed, my parents are gonna be able to tell-”

He opened his mouth to refuse once more, but began to panic when he spotted the glimmer of tears welling up in your eyes, your lip wobbling.

“Hey, hey, don’t cr-”

You gave one last convincing sniffle.

He sighed, caving in. “Okay, okay-”

You gave him a toothy grin before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a grateful hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squealed.

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, patting your back awkwardly, feeling reluctant when it was time to break away from you. “Just until you sober up.”

He opened the door for you, letting you hold onto his shoulder for balance as you hopped down from his truck, making sure you were walking steady as he led you to his porch. You plopped down ungracefully, and he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

The wood of the porch was cold and uneven beneath your thighs as you sat on the ledge, fiddling with Hopper’s hat in your hands. He returned from inside with a glass of water, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he sat down next to you.

You looked at your feet as you sat in silence, the night breeze ghosting your face gently, crickets chirping in the distance. You heard the click of his lighter and turned to watch as Hopper’s face was illuminated by the fire as he lit another cigarette, his features bathed in the golden light.

You put on his hat, adjusting it so you wore it just like he did. He peered over and chuckled, flicking the brim.

“Cute.” He muttered, before clearing his throat and turning away, awkwardly drumming his fingers on his thighs.

“You think I’m cute?” You asked, looking up at him through your wide eyes.

A blush crept up his cheeks.

“Drink.” He said gruffly, holding out the glass to you.

You ignored his gesture. You felt your cheeks warm even further, the effects of the liquid courage you’d had earlier taking hold now, stronger than ever. Your lips became loose, and you could tell you were about to be a little too truthful and that you’d regret all the words that were about to leave your mouth. Still, you spoke.

“Because, I think you're cute.” You blurted out.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before regaining his feigned unfazed expression.

“You’re drunk. Drink.” He spoke.

“Like, really cute.” You swayed toward him. “Like, really, really-”

His hand splayed on the back of your head as he held your head up towards him, holding the glass to your lips, making you pause and take a sip.

“Cute.” You finished.

“I think I like you.” He made you take another drink of the water, the smooth, refreshing liquid sliding down your throat, a little slipping down your chin as he held the glass to your mouth. He used his thumb to wick the droplets away. “Like, really like you.” Another drink. “Whenever I see you-” Another sip. “I get all these butterflies in my stomach and I-” Sip. “Just can’t describe it. Like, I-” Sip. “I think-” Sip. “I think I like everything about you.”

You went on like this for ages, Hopper holding the glass to your lips and interrupting you with sips of the water, as you rambled on and on about the huge crush on him that you’d been nursing for ages now, completely oblivious to the smug smile that was now gracing his face as he held you.

After a good while of pouring your heart out, you seemed to run out of steam, panting a little at the rapid speed you had been talking at.

“Feeling better?” He asked, you nodding in response. You were sobering up, but the burn in your cheeks still hadn’t subsided. You were blushing for an entirely different reason, now.

He nudged the small of your back, urging you to stand up.

“Walk in a straight line.” He called out, prompting you to laugh as you did what you were told.

“You gonna ask me to recite the alphabet backwards now?” You turned to him, smiling cheekily as he approached you.

He hummed, as if in deep contemplation. “I think that won’t be necessary.”

He threw his arm around you as he walked you to your door, pulling his jacket tighter around you.

You stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath of anticipation as you both stared at it.

“Hop?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll wave at me from your window if I end up getting grounded, right?”

“Of course, kid.”

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empresskylo · 2 years

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𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 [j.h. series]

「 completed 」・❥・jim hopper x afab!reader ・❥・series summary: you had always thought chief jim hopper was hot. and you knew he thought the same about you, he just tried to hide it because it was wrong--he knew your dad for fuck's sake... (oh, and you were still in high school.) however, after hopper crashes a house party, you ask him for a ride home. hopper briefly loses his self-control promising to never do it again... ・❥・18+ minors dni — smut, age gap, size kink (reader described as small), reader in hs but is 18, unprotected sex, uh power dynamic sorta not really? no use of y/n. every chap has smut. ・❥・wc: 15.9k

⇢ ˗ˏˋ chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 「moodboard 」

*•.¸♡main masterlist *•.¸♡nav*•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt

֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper smut #ride masterlist #smut #stranger things #st4 #stranger things fic #jim hopper fic #hopper #hopper smut #hopper fic

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inklore · 2 years

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still of the night

premise: hopper was many things, but a man of resistance when it came to you was not one of them.

pairing: jim hopper x (f)reader

word count: 653

warnings: eighteen+ content, consensual somnophilia, unprotected p in v, unmentioned age gap, pet names, wrote this with season one hopper in mind but imagine whichever look you wish, establish relationship, smallest amount of dirty talk.

etc: this is my first time writing for daddy hop which is very shocking to me and my whore self, but i hope the hopper babes enjoy it!

kinktober 03 | kinktober masterlist

It’s quiet when he walks in. A calm settled inside the small trailer, a stark contrast to all the noise and chaos of his day. The quiet almost weird to him, doing the opposite of what one should feel when they come home to it. He should be basking in the calm after the storm, but his body is still compressed. Nerves still making his fingertips itch for a cigarette.

The calm doesn’t hit him until he’s bypassed the living room. Leaving his hat and belt to occupy the rest of the scattered items on the coffee table. His figure moving down the hall to the master bedroom, when he steps in the doorway that’s when the calm comes.

When he sees you laid out on your stomach, blankets kicked off, cotton underwear on display as the old t-shirt you’re sporting has ridden up your stomach in your sleep. The slow rise and fall of your chest; that’s when he feels at ease. When the troubles of the day have completely deflated his body into something more than autopilot and caffeine.

Jim Hopper was many things, but a man of resistance when it came to you was not one of them.

Your relationship had taken the both of you by storm with how easy and quick it had formed. The attraction coming simply and the love following in abundance. As did the desire, the want, a need he forget could feel better than just a quick fuck with someone random he met at the corner bar.

You had become that calm that settled not only in his home but inside of his bones—and his cock.

Hopper loved taking you anyway you’d let him. He loved putting you in new positions, pushing your knees to your chest so he could watch you squirm and try to take all of him without fight.

He loved fucking you in his car, or on his desk when you’d bring him lunch.

He was a lucky man. A man whose cup never ran empty when it came to that throb in his cock.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like you most like this.

Ass in the air as if you knew he’d come home and find you like this. Like you knew his cock would grow hard and the strain from a hard day would not allow him to hesitate. To stop himself from taking what you’ve given him permission to have when he needed it, wanted it.

It’s why he doesn’t think twice in stripping from his clothes. From pulling your legs straight so he can climb on top of you, pull your panties off and easily slip inside of you.

A “fuck” whispered into your shoudler blade as he fills you. As he begins to move in the slowest of thrusts, pushing deeper and deeper as he does, letting your walls relinquish his tension of the day.

Give him what he so desperately needed from you right now.

When he finally fills you to the hilt, when you’re finally completely full of him and there’s a light smacking of his hips against your ass as he fucks you—that’s when you finally start to make noise.

Your noises of sleep turning into soft whimpers as he fucks you. As he softly grunts and breathes against your cheek, his weight at your back.

It takes a little longer than usual for you to come to. To finally open your eyes and your ass squirm up into him.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes. Pressing a line of kisses along your jaw. “I couldn’t help myself, you looked so pretty.”

Your pussy has already grown wet, is already taken him so well. It only takes a few seconds of comprehension for your body to alight with pleasure and join him in searching for that release.

“Had a long day,” he grunts. “I need to come, baby—need you.”

#hopper smut #jim hopper x you #jim hopper smut #hopper x reader #stranger things smut #jim hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper x y/n #jim hopper x fem!reader #hopper x f!reader #jim hopper x y/n #stranger things fic #hopper imagine #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper fic #hopper fic #jim hopper #kinktober #kinktober 2022

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velvetcloxds · 2 years

Text

BABY, I KNOW PLACES

pairing: jim hopper x college!fem!reader

word count: 0.9k

warnings: age gap (reader in twenties), one little suggestive comment at the end

summary: you and hopper agreed not to act on your feelings for each other, but there was no way he was going to let you go on a date with some college kid when he was right there

a/n: part of my taylor swift song fic series <33

You were trying hard to focus, harder than you should need to while being sat across the man the whole campus was after, but you could not quite keep your attention from drifting to the real object of your affection, Jim Hopper. You'd convinced yourself that your little crush would fade if you tried to see someone else, tried to keep some distance between the two of you, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

Of course, it didn’t help knowing he returned whatever feelings you had for him, made it much, much worse, because how were you supposed to force yourself to stay away from him when he was intent on doing the opposite, intent on making your task all but impossible? Which was exactly what he was doing right now, sat there staring at you like it wasn’t painfully obvious, like it wouldn’t leave the whole town whispering in the days to come- which it was, and it most definitely would. That was why you decided to go over there, scorn him for his behaviour, demand he go home- at least, that’s what you told yourself

"Would you excuse me for a second?" you breathed politely, interrupting whatever thoughtless rant Brad was in the middle of, his shock clear yet he rid his face of it instantly, probably grateful for a moment to savour his brilliance without being interrupted by your opinion.

You didn't give the man much more of an excuse before standing up, walking over to the other side of the diner where Jim was very obviously still watching your whole date take place, lucky to be staring at the back of the man's head, less he would've been caught out already- he was smug, of course he was, ever grateful to see you walking towards him in the middle of a date with someone else.

"What are doing here?" you sighed as you stilled in front of him, stealing one last look behind you before sitting down across from him, plopping your clutch onto the table with a little pout.

"Having a nice dinner and a show," he mused nonchalantly, making no attempt to hide his smirk as he took in the sight of you, not quite happy that you were dressed like that for another man, but very grateful for getting the opportunity to appreciate the view.

He knew he was being unfair, as much as he talked himself into this and as much as he convinced himself this was what you wanted as well, he knew it was unfair to ambush you like this- but he could not be blamed, the thought of you wasting your time with someone who was nowhere near good enough for you, it was maddening. He was under no impression that he was at all more deserving of the position, but hell he was not going to pass up the chance to try to be.

"Jim, we agreed," you reminded him, rolling your eyes as he adjusted his position, throwing his foot up onto the chair beside him, no doubt furthering his torture for the sake of his case, which was, as he’d have it, completely making you lose your mind. "You're distracting me."

"I am?" he shrugged, hand supporting his chin as he leaned forward onto the table. "Pretty boy will be heartbroken to hear that you're immune to his charm."

"He'd actually have to pay attention to me to notice," you scoffed, Jim looking past you to see your date fixing his hair while looking into his spoon, not at all concerned with your absence and that was proof enough that him showing up here wasn’t a mistake. He’d half hoped you’d stay a little longer, take the out and give him a right piece of your mind as he knew you could, but you couldn’t do that, not even if your date was acting the way he was. "Listen,” you sighed, hesitantly picking up your clutch from the table, not at all wanting to leave when Jim was literally right there, perfectly in reach, but one of you had to be strong or at least try to be. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, but I should get back to him."

"You don't have to," he suggested without missing a beat, shamelessly reaching over the table for your hand, finger moving unnervingly slowly as he brushed over your palm, remaining devilishly charming while allowing that soft side, that addicting gentleman side to slip through. "You could ditch the kid and come home with me, though, I must confess, talking is not on the cards for tonight- not with you dressed like that," he shrugged when your eyes flew up to meet his.

"That's very forward of you, sheriff,” you breathed, melting into his touch when it became clear to the both of you that you had no intentions of going back to your table.

"I'm a man who knows what he wants, sweetheart."

tagging: @saintlike78 @mirclealignr @chaoticgirl04 @foralwaysandforever @scarlet-prey

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alloftheimagines · 2 years

Text

jim hopper | hold on

MASTERLIST | TAG LIST | KO-FI

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+

ON-PAGE DEATH. blood. violence by demodog. set at the end of s2 where reader dies in place of bob. grief. poor, poor hopper and his poor, poor curse. lots and lots of angst. not a happy ending lads.

prompts: "I pull you in to fell your heartbeat can you hear me screaming please don't leave me" Eddie Munson or Hopper please

Desperate, raw fear like you’ve never known before pumps through you as you run through the corridors of Hawkins Lab, a Demodog following not far behind. You pray Hopper, Joyce, and Bob already got out, pray that if nothing else, you’ve drawn the attention from them and they have a shot at escape. At least then it will be worth it. Your death will mean something. You were split up from them on the way down, not by any choice of your own. But Joyce was desperate to get Will out, and you when you saw one of the monsters round the corner behind you, you froze for a moment. By the time you could move, Owens was yelling at you to hide in a closet and Hopper and Joyce were gone.

Doctor Owens still talks in your earpiece now, screaming at you to go faster, but you’ve been running up flights of stairs and through a thousand different corridors to avoid the Demodogs, and you don’t know how much longer your lungs can manage. Sharing Hopper’s cigarettes probably hasn’t helped any, but… god, you wouldn’t change a thing about what you shared with him. You hope he knows that if he gets out and you don’t. There are so many things you wanted to tell him. You might not even get a goodbye.

“Next left, Y/N. You’re almost at the doors!”

So you sprint faster, your legs burning as you catch the murky shadow whipping around the corner behind you. And Owens is right: the doors appear in front of you. The doors, and Hopper. He’s screaming your name as you finally get closer, but the snarls behind you are louder. As you open your mouth to tell him to go on without you, a gaping maw plunges into your shoulder and you’re knocked to the floor. The smell of tangy, metallic blood fills your nostrils as sharp, burning pain moves through you. It’s devouring you, and no amount of wrestling and writhing and kicking throws the Demodog off the scent of your blood. Hopper calls your name again before a melee of gunshots ricochets through the entrance of the lab. The Demodog stumbles away just slightly, and your vision blurs as Hopper’s face comes into view.

“Don’t you dare. Stay with me, sweetheart, you hear?” He lifts you with ease, his soft chest pressing into your side as you gasp for breath. All you can taste is blood, and a part of you knows without having to look at the injury that this is it. You feel wide open like a patient on an operation table.

Hopper sprints just fast enough to get out before the doors lock. Fresh air hits your sweat-slick face, making you shiver. The movement only brings you more pain.

“I’ve got you,” Hopper says over and over, a new force in his voice, like he’s angry with you. You want to ask why, but your mouth can’t form the words, so you stare up at the night sky instead. Pick a star and focus on it, because his face is too out of focus and everything hurts, and oh god, you want it to be over — but you don’t. You don’t want to die tonight. You want to stay with Hop forever.

“I’m not… I’m not ready, Hop,” you rasp out.

Hopper looks down at you, confusion flickering in his shiny eyes. “Not ready for what, baby?”

But you’re too scared to say it aloud, and too weak even if you wanted to. You’re aware now of the burbling in your throat. Aware of the coldness spreading through you in place of the pain. It’s happening, whether you’re ready or not.

You don’t know where you are when the juddering movements stop; when Hopper stills and lowers you to the ground. You're busy trying to suck enough air into your lungs.

With you propped on his knees, he brushes matted, bloody hair from your cheeks, his own face pale and eclipsing the full moon. “Listen to me.” He’s breathless. He can’t carry you any further and he knows it. “Listen. Are you listening?”

You do the best you can: a faint nod.

“Good girl. You have to stay with me a little while longer. We’ll get you to the hospital. We’ll get you help. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on for me, okay? Don’t go now. Not yet.” His voice is thick with tears and turns to a whisper as he says: “Don’t give up on me yet.” The kiss he presses to your forehead is both rough and soft: stubble and silk. A plea and a prayer.

“How bad is it, Hop?” You have to know if it’s as bad as it feels. Worse.

“It’s not bad, baby. It’s fine.” But you notice his hands are covered in your blood, and so are his scrubs, and he looks down your body like it’s a grenade.

“For a war veteran and a cop, you’re a damn shitty liar,” you rasp out.

A mangled noise halfway between a laugh and a sob falls from his throat. “You just have to wait. Just stay while we wait, okay? An ambulance is coming. Bob called the ambulance.”

You haven’t even seen Bob. You’ve seen nothing but black, velvet sky and him. Hopper. “And Joyce?”

“Joyce got out with Will. Everyone’s okay.”

Everyone but you. Your lids droop at the comfort, and you let yourself take a full breath; perhaps your last. “Kay.”

“Hey.” Hopper’s voice is firm again, demanding. The chief of police rather than the man you make love to. “Look at me. Look at me, baby.”

You try, but everything is so distant now. You can barely make out his features, your vision too dark, too blurred. Like you’re looking at an old photograph that's been sat in the sun too long.

“That’s it. That’s my girl,” Hopper whispers, rocking slightly.

“Hop…” It’s hard to talk, like coppery cotton fills your mouth. Still, you have to say it. It’s your last chance. “I love you.”

“Tell me that when you’re not bleeding out on me. Tell me later,” he says. But you shake your head, and dread contorts his features. Finally, a tear falls onto his cheek. “Please,” he begs through wobbling lips and gritted teeth. “Please. Not now. Not like this. I need you.” And then, yelling out into the night, “Where’s the damn ambulance?”

If anybody replies, you don’t hear them. Your body seems to deflate in his lap as your breaths become more laboured. You want to reach for him, wipe away his tears, but you don’t feel anything. Like you’ve already left your body.

“I’m scared,” you whimper. A truth you’ve never admitted before today. But he always knew that your bravery was always a pretence. You think sometimes so was his.

He doesn’t bother to pretend now, his shoulders wracking with sobs as he clutches you tighter. He presses his forehead to yours and you breathe him in, grateful for the proximity. Cigarettes and sweat. The smell helps you forget what comes next.

“Nothing to be scared of, sweetheart,” he promises. You know he’s only saying it for your benefit. He’s giving up, too. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Not…” You can’t breathe. Can’t see. “Your…” You’re sinking, holding onto Hopper’s warmth for dear life, but it isn’t enough. “Fault.”

“Please,” he whispers, defeat colouring every bit of it. “Please. I love you. I love you so much.” He pulls you closer still, brushing your hair from your face. You blink, forcing a watery smile. It was all you needed to hear.

"Hop..."

***

Your shudders stop after you exhale his name. Your breaths with them. You die looking at him, his nickname still on your tongue, eyes still filled with tears, and Hopper feels like his world has been snatched away. He wants to scream, yell, sob, punch, fight, but he can’t bring himself to move at all. So he just holds you, mumbling your name, telling you he loves you, begging you to come back.

You don’t. The sirens start shrieking in the distance. “Too late,” he breathes. “Too damn fucking late!” he bellows into the night.

“Jim…” Bob whispers, sympathy dripping from his tone. Hopper looks up at him with a pleading gaze as though he might bring you back. But he only shakes his head, lost for words. Joyce stands with Will, tears streaking her face. And there is nothing Hopper can do. Nothing.

He whimpers as he looks back down at your lifeless body, thinking about the curse, about Sara, about everything he saw in Vietnam. He did this. He should have gone back for you. He had to choose between a boy and the woman he loves, and he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. One minute you were there, and the next, he couldn’t see you. You weren’t following him.

He knows if you had been, you’d all be dead now. You bought them time. He thinks you knew that too, damn martyr you are.

Gently, he closes your eyes, knowing it’s the last time he’ll ever see them open. He doesn’t understand how you can be gone. You were supposed to watch Halloween movies with El tonight. You were supposed to be here.

He kisses your cold forehead, lingering as the ambulance pulls up a mile down from the lab, the place he had to stop because you were losing too much blood too fast and he couldn’t run with you any longer. Now, you look like you’re sleeping, and it makes it slightly easier in that particular second. It won’t later, when the grief hits. When it all sinks in.

You left him, and Hopper… he’s just empty.

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bfictioncorner · 2 years

Text

Pink Sweater (Hopper x OC/Reader)

(Omg I’ve forgotten how to write fic summaries.)

Pairing: Chief Hopper x OC (or reader if you wanna change the name and pretend)

Rating: PG-13/R

Warnings/content: erotic dancing, daddy kink (mild), grinding, over-the-clothes stuff...

Summary: Hopper meets a new dancer at a local joint but can’t place where he knows her from.

Author Note:

Okay finally posting this after sitting on it for like a year for a few different reasons... Sort of a self-insert/OC type of situation, inspired by boredom and downtime while actually working on set of the actual show (yes... I’m cringe like that; I did background work on Stranger Things and wrote this up.)

Enjoy?

Long nights on duty were disorienting, and definitely lonely. Despite knowing the next morning he would see the guys at the station, and the same waitresses at the diners and coffee shops, and, eventually, Joyce and one of the many children in her kids’ friend group, the late night patrols put Jim in a weird headspace. A very liminal headspace that reminded him a little too much of some of the weirder ongoings in the town.

It probably wasn’t a good look, but after nights like those, he would allow himself to sneak off to Gallyan’s. At least the name was somewhat discreet, and not something like “Peaches” or “Twin Spires”. Not that it mattered. He was the Chief of Police, and could get away with it. Or, the truth, he knew, was that people were aware of his less-than-professional behavior, and just let it slide. Who else was going to do his job? The law enforcement presence in Hawkins was small and bumbling, and hardly ever needed. The most he ever needed to do was break up fights outside bars, and even then he didn’t care to do that.

It was a Tuesday night at Gallyan’s (more like Wednesday morning at 2am). Jim hadn’t been there in a few months. He sat in his vehicle, just outside the cheap neon signage, debating on if he was even really feeling it. He needed something to get him out of his funk. Not coffee, not pills, not something that would make it worse. He wasn’t particularly in the mood, but it was worth a try.

“Okay…” he breathed out. He finished his cigarette hurriedly, and slammed the door behind him.

Walking into the place, he kept his hat tipped low, and his blue jacket on, just covering his badge. The doormen were still well aware it was him, mumbling a greeting and not even asking for an entry fee.

The further in he got, Jim finally, slowly, removed his hat, brow staying low with his glance cast down. He shouldn’t have felt weird or bad about being there, but he recognized a lot of sleazy faces he’d detained in the past, and it was just uncomfortable.

“Hi handsome, how are you tonight?” a gentle voice asked him, right as he sat at a far away table.

“Fine…” Jim trailed off as he looked the woman up and down. She was all of five feet tall (maybe some change with the heels, but still tiny), and dressed in a very subtle, pink lingerie set.

Something about her short stature and black bangs seemed familiar. Those features weren’t super defining, but they stood out enough and he couldn’t tell why…

“I’m Goldie,” the dancer said, closing the space between her and the chief’s lap.

“Oh, like Goldilocks. Is that because of your long, blonde locks?” Jim smiled sarcastically, eyes trailing over her black hair.

“Mmmhmm. Don’t have three bears, though… Just looking at one big one.” She bit her tongue in a cheeky smile, sliding down onto his lap fully.

Jim started fishing around for his wallet. As much as being called a “bear” surprisingly turned him on, he knew she was just trying to initiate a transaction. Fair enough.

“How much? $50? $100? I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve noticed you here before, but you’re probably one of the more expensive dancers, right?”

“I’ll take that, even though $50 is still a bit low…” She had to chuckle at him. “This one’s on me.”

“Nothing’s ever free, Goldie. What do you want? I had a long shift. Let me pay whatever you want upfront.”

Jim couldn’t understand why she was laughing again, or being sweet on him. Like genuinely sweet, and laughing as if she was shy about something.

“Listen, if you’re trying to offer some other services, maybe it’s best you don’t.” He clinked at his badge with his index finger.

“I’m not offering that,” Goldie sighed pointedly. “Let me give you this one on the house, and just join me out back for a drink after. My shifts get long and stressful too, you know. Sometimes I just want company.” There was that sweet little smirk again.

Goldie was talking to him like she knew him. He still couldn’t think if he’d known her from somewhere. But why him?

Most girls around the club had been dancing to a soundtrack of fast paced hair metal. It wasn’t terrible, but the energy was a bit much for that hour of the night/morning. However (maybe by Goldie’s subtle request), the next track eased into “Dance the Night Away”, a little more soft and mellow.

Goldie’s moves were refreshingly gentle and loving. In fact, she had a hard time not looking back at Jim with heavy lids and a flirtatious glance.

She sank against his broad, warm body, leaning against his chest and feeling his breath against her ear. He smelled smokey and like beer (even though he hadn’t had a drink yet). It was a fitting and weirdly endearing scent.

She placed his big hands firmly around her waist, allowing him to pull her over his crotch. The uniform fabric, from his thick thighs to the tightness below his belt, was so taut and inviting. Goldie couldn’t help but run her hands over those legs, lingering over the plush outer sides of his ass.

Jim used his firm grip to turn her to face him.

“Ah, ah,” she chastised, gleefully, “I’m giving the dance here.”

He replied with a small, shot down glance. She loved being so tiny compared to him and telling him what to do.

After a moment of some sways here and there, Goldie settled back onto the officer’s lap, squeezing her thighs around the width of his. She smoothed her little hands over his chest--his pecs straining slightly under his shirt. He was just so big all around.

“Don’t mind me…” She plucked open the top shirt button, and then the one after that. Seeing his chest hair peek out the top, she raked her pink fingernails through it.

Her hands continued roaming around, gripping his soft waist, then his shoulders, then giving in to the urge to smooth her fingers over his rugged beard. She just about purred at the feel of it. Jim took notice, and discreetly slid his hands over her backside, all while offering a playful grin.

“Keep it over the panties, Chief,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She liked that a lot.

The song kept going as she continued to grind rhythmically against his crotch. His tight pants had only gotten tighter, and his hardness started to rub friction in the right spot for her. But she couldn’t let that happen. Not tonight, or at least not at work.

She pressed his head to her chest, trying to ease off of the grinding slowly. Even his stubble felt delicious against her bosom. He breathed in how much she smelled like cherry candy and whiskey--an interesting combo, but one that fit her small, friendly demeanor.

The song faded out, and just like that, Poison was playing over the speakers, and Goldie was off his lap.

Jim was afraid that was it. Not only would he be left halfway pitching a tent, but he still didn’t know where he knew Goldie from.

Disappointed, he sank against his chair and lit a smoke.

“Come on…” A tiny touch accompanied the voice. Goldie now stood beside him with a bottle of Evan Williams. “I’m off duty and so are you, so let’s have that drink.”

The big chief followed the petite dancer down the back halls and out an emergency exit. The bouncers wouldn’t have usually allowed anyone clearance, but they recognized Jim all too well, and could see that Goldie was leading him around, like a puppy.

They emerged into the brisk early morning air. Goldie, now draped in a big leather jacket, looked so small and so much younger than she first looked in the dim lights.

She teasingly swiped the cigarette from Jim’s lips, smoking on it herself. “I gotta say, I’ve been hoping I’d get to see you here. It’s kinda weird.” She bundled herself against him for extra warmth, and he absent-mindedly wrapped an arm around her.

“Where have I seen you?” he smiled. In most other cities, if someone seemed familiar, it was just a coincidence or something. But Hawkins was small. People only had so many places to go, and so many people to run into.

“Do you remember doing Career Day a year and a half ago? At Hawkins High, for the seniors?”

He sort of did. Most days were hazy due to weird hours, liquor, and boredom.

“Guess you could say I didn’t take you up on the summer job… Or any of those jobs, haha.” She handed the stubby cigarette back to Jim.

That petite frame, the fluffy dark hair, the pink… It reminded Jim of a student who, after the Career Day presentations, awkwardly approached him. Super shy, and dressed very modestly in a pink sweater, pink tights, and a long blue church skirt.

The student, in question, bashfully asked if the station was hiring anyone to help with filing, or even cleaning and errand running. Jim told them to go speak to Flo if she wanted any help. But it didn’t seem to really matter. The girl kind of lingered, eyes looking him up and down while blushing.

“Sorry, had a crush on you,” Goldie blurted, a bit more bluntly than she meant.

The corner of Jim’s lip curled up. He leaned his hip and shoulder against the wall, while slightly craning down to look into her eyes. “I’m probably old enough to be your dad.”

A giddy chill ran down Goldie’s spine. “I’m still a grown woman. I know my tastes. My tastes are pretty mature.” She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m into the dad-type.”

She glanced at him with a touch more lust in her words.

“So you had a crush on me. Huh.”

“Didn’t say it went away…”

Jim’s eyes darted around for a moment, masking the fact that he was a bit flattered and flustered.

Goldie could see through, though, and handed him the bottle of bourbon.

“So… if you want… I can give you my number, and maybe—“

“You come see me here again,” Goldie responded with a wink. “For now.”

“Fair enough.” Jim smiled, and offered back the bottle.

#chief hopper fic #jim hopper fic #hopper fic #hopper x reader #hopper x oc #chief hopper smut #jim hopper x oc #chief hopper x oc

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lizmaximoff · 1 year

Note

Hello my dear. I was wondering if you or any of your followers could help me. I was trying to find some headcanons about the starnger things characters. All I can remember about them (it's literally ages since i read those) is that most of them were nsfw and the author's username was something with "bimbo". "Modern bimbo", "medium bimbo", I really can't remember. I'm sorry I can't give you more details, also sorry for my poor grammar. Thank you in advance!

Is anyone able to help Anon out? The only account that rings any bells for me is @trailerparkgrl, but I still do not think this is the exact same account Anon might be looking for.

I do remember seeing an account with “bimbo” in the name, but I can’t seem to find it now. I think they may have also written some Eddie fics.

#jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #stranger things #hopper fic #Jim hopper fic #question

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plasticcrotches · 13 days

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Wayne Munson helping a wolf out of a bear trap, only for said wolf to start bringing him deer and rabbits and sometimes weirdly cash? And none of the raccoons have been digging round his trash like they usually do…

He gets a knock on the door one day and it’s his old buddy Jim Hopper with that Harrington kid standing sheepishly behind him, with his arm wrapped up in bandages and a long cut running through his brow. Hop cuffs the kid on the back of the head and then the boy is stepping forward and apologizing, then saying “thanks again, sir.”

It takes Wayne a few days to piece together that the boy is his wolf.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #wayne munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #werewolf!steve #stranger things au

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kennahjune · 2 months

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Thinking of Steddie Soulmates where you feel every pain your soulmate feels.

Thinking of little Steve feeling every backhand and punch from Eddie’s dad.

Thinking of little Eddie feeling Steve break his arm and the pain being so much worse because his parents refuse to take him to the hospital until the school gets involved.

Thinking of Eddie finally moving in with Wayne and sure, the paternal beating are done, but now he’s just a small town Freak that’s constantly targeted.

Thinking of Eddie and Steve in their Sophomore/Freshman years respectively, not knowing who the other is outside of rumors and (unknowingly) their shared pain.

Thinking of Eddie finally escaping pain, the bullying turning to mainly verbal shit.

Only to be thrust right back into pain because his soulmates a walking hazard.

Thinking of Eddie having no idea what’s going on when he suddenly feels like one giant bruise after Steve’s beat up by Jonathan. Eddie watching Steve fall from grace in his Junior year and not connecting the dots.

Billy coming along and smashing a fucking plate over Steve’s head while Eddie’s peacefully sleeping. Eddie jolting awake with a shout because /holy fucking shit ow—/

Neither of them connecting the dots.

Then Steve graduates, and Eddie’s held back. And the pain subsides for a bit.

And then fuck all happens in Starcourt and Eddie literally feels like he’s dying and Jesus H. Christ is his soulmate /ok/??? Like they are getting seriously fucked up.

And then that recedes and it ok for a while— Eddie will still get killer pains that seem to circulate in his chest and head, but that’s to be expected with whatever tf his poor soulmate is going through year after year.

And then the fuckery of March 1986 happens and Chrissy Cunningham is dead in his trailer— his home— and he’s wanted for fucking murder and hiding in Rick’s dingy ass boat house—

And then he’s shoving none other than Steve Harrington up against a wall with a broken bottle helps to his throat. Eddie’s so piped on adrenaline he barely feels the sting in his back, but he does feel the zing of pressure on his throat and ok /ow—/

And he’s staring at Steve Harrington, who looks kinda terrified and so pretty and Eddie’s holding a bottle to his throat and is that Dustin?—

And—

And holy shit.

Eddie’s eyes widen at the same time as Steve’s and the realization hits them both at once.

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amariram · 5 months

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Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival and Sir Lancelot when at the banquet they see another foreign Lord hitting on Merlin in front of a very pissed Arthur.

#merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin fandom #arthur pendragon #bradley james #merlin season 6 #the once and future fandom #colin morgan #sir percival #sir lancelot #sir gwaine #eoin macken #santiago cabrera #tom hopper #i wrote a fic about this #it’s on ao3 #search for my nickname

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angeldreamsoffanfic · 1 year

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“What’s the deal with you and Harrington?”

Robin Buckley glanced up toward the question asker, her brows slightly furrowed as she cast an inquisitive look toward Eddie Munson. He’s leant up on one of his elbows, chin cradled in the palm of his hand. His eyes are on her, large and curious, instead of the usual half-lidded expression he wears during the “adult” hangouts.

They’d all started hanging out ever since Vecna was destroyed, taking time away from the younger members of The Party to spend time all together. Herself, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. Sometimes, every once in a while, it led them all to feel normal. As if they hadn’t all been dealing with more Upside Down crap just a few months prior.

“What do you mean?” Robin instead asked, her eyes moving from Eddie’s to dart out toward the Harrington’s pool. Steve is sitting on the edge of it with Jonathan, the two boys heads bent together as Argyle watched on- a dopey almost lovesick expression curled on his mouth. A spliff dangled from Jonathan’s fingertips, rolled by Eddie but the weed supplied by Jonathan.

“You’re… not together.” Eddie’s voice is soft, and barely spoken above a murmur. Robin nodded slowly, and turned her head towards him to try and indicate him to continue. “Nancy and the kids all repeat platonic with a capital P, but I just… how did you and Harrington even happen?”

“Scoops A’hoy,” Robin grinned wide, barely able to stifle the laugh that’s on the backend of her words. She was able to catch the widened look that Eddie threw her way, before his eyes darted out to look towards Steve, before his eyes moved back to her own. “He and I worked there back when the mall was open.”

“And… what? You instantly became best friends?”

“No, actually.” Robin shook her head with another soft laugh, before she paused so she could rub her palms together. She allowed herself to twist one of her rings around her finger, brows pinched for a moment. “I actually thought he was like the worst, y’know?” Robin scoffed to herself, before she sent Eddie a look. She knew what she must look like, her eyes wet with tears and her gaze all permanently soft.

“You know how he was in school, King Steve and all that.” Robin continued on, and she flicked her tongue out of her mouth to wet the corner of her lips for a second. “And when my manager told me that I’d be working with a Steve, well… there was only one Steve in Hawkins I could think of.”

“So how did your opinion of him change then, Buckley?” Eddie cocked his head again, one of his hands coming up to twirl a strand of hair around his pointer finger. His brows were furrowed taut, creating a worry line in between them. “The kids told me about the Russians-”

“It was sort of before then,” Robin admitted with a small shrug, and she twisted the corner of her lip into a shy smile. “He raved to me, y’know? About uh, these kids. These five kids he’d babysit and shit, and it was so… soft?” Robin watched as Eddie mouthed out names to himself as he ticked his fingers, before he cast a look to her. “But he always talked about this one, Ellie, who he’d call his little sister.”

Eddie drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide as Robin let out a soft hum.

“Yeah, and I don’t know if you submitted yourself to Harrington family lore-” Robin gestured behind her toward the Harrington house with a flick of her hand, before she continued. “But I knew that Dick and Helen Harrington didn’t have more than one kid.”

“Supergirl?” Eddie asked softly, and Robin let out a soft confirming hum as she watched Eddie’s eyes dart toward Steve. Steve was still talking to Jonathan, though Argyle had shifted forward so he was able to join in the conversation.

“And then imagine my surprise when one day our stupid sailor ice cream shop is visited by none other than the Chief.” Robin shook her head with a small laugh, before she continued on. “And he was so excited to see Steve, Eddie. Like genuinely excited to see him, ordered a couple tubs of ice cream togo and then said he’d see him at home.”

“Fuck.” Eddie breathed out, and Robin let out another sigh of a laugh.

“And I asked Steve why the Chief of the Hawkins police force was visiting him at work, and Steve just…” Robin shrugged slowly, shaking her head to clear her thoughts before she continued. “He just gave me this look, like… like he didn’t actually know either.”

“Then later, he told me why he watched all of the kids. He told me that he would’ve given anything for someone to just… to just care about him when he was their age. That all he wanted was for just a person to give a shit about his wellbeing.” Robin shook her head again, before she carded a hand through her still chlorine sticky hair. “And after that my opinion just… it just changed about him.”

“Then the Russians?” Eddie asked softly, and Robin hummed as she dipped her chin in a curt nod.

“Then the Russians, and he didn’t… he didn’t even hesitate to take the attention onto himself when they started questioning us.” Robin shook her head again, sniffling. “And after I asked him why he would do that, and he told me it was because he knew I had a family waiting on me to come back home.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, and then afterwards when we were getting seen by the EMTs? He didn’t have anyone to call Eddie. Because Hopper? Hopper was just… just presumed dead.” Robin let out a soft bitter laugh, and she twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. “My parents decided to take us both home after, and he stayed with us for a couple of days- until his concussion was okay enough for him to sleep through the night.”

“And that’s when you became best friends?”

“That’s when I decided that, Steve? He deserved way more from people than he seemed to ever fucking get.” Robin shrugged, before she cast a soft smile toward Eddie. Eddie’s eyes were glassy, wet with tears and Robin just patted her hand soft against his forearm. “That’s when I decided that he was my best friend.”

“Platonic with a capital P?”

Robin cast a look toward Steve, where the older teen already had his eyes on her. He had a hand extended, fingers wiggling toward her in a small way to beckon her toward his side. Robin stood without responding to Eddie, and she left her towel on the lounge chair she’d commandeered as her own. She took a moment though, cast a softer look toward Eddie- even as the corner of her lip twitched into a nervous smile.

“He’s not exactly my type, y’know?” Robin kept her admission soft, even when Eddie’s eyes were quick to flood with confusion. She instead cast a look toward the sunbathing Nancy Wheeler, who had one of her arms strewn over her face across the backyard where she laid in the grass.

When Robin let her eyes move to meet Eddie’s again, he has a look of pure understanding on his face.

“I think I get what you mean.” Eddie murmured and Robin simply flashed Eddie Munson a shy smile.

Eddie Munson watched as Robin Buckley walked away from him, quick to tuck herself into Steve’s side once she reached him. Steve threw his arm around Robin’s shoulders, tucking her further into his grasp- though the flow of conversation that he was having with Argyle and Jonathan didn’t even pause.

It’s in that moment when Eddie Munson realizes something extraordinarily fucking crucial.

He’s in love with Steve fucking Harrington.

---

this is gonna become a multipart fic i think btw! it will probably be on here / ao3, haven’t fully decided yet but hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

now with a part two! click here

#angeldreamsoffanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #platonic stobin #background jargyle #background ronance #but it’s pre every relationship #steve harrington and robin buckley are bffs #robin would die for steve #steve harrington has bad parents #but jim hopper adopts him because i said so #steve and eleven have a sibling bond #he’s the only one allowed to call her ellie by the way #this is gonna become an ao3 fic i think

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ikarakie · 1 year

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eddies's first impression of steve harrington post-high school comes when hes loitering in family video one day. chief hopper comes in, much to his and his friends' chagrin, carrying a fucking... nail bat?

robin buckley, upon seeing him, darts around the corner and comes back with a dishevelled steve in tow. he looks jittery and worried. he reaches for the bat, but hopper moves it slightly out of reach and says something rather pointed. eddie moves closer, watching as steve takes and cradles the bat before disappearing into the back room of family video.

he hears buckley say: "thank you. he's been insufferable all day."

hopper replies: "im worried about him, using that thing as a crutch. he shouldn't- you're all too young. shouldn't have to do that shit." buckley smiles a little grimly and agrees. thanks the man again before he leaves.

eddie is left with so many burning questions. mainly: why is the chief of police hand delivering a probably illegal weapon to harrington at 11am in the morning?

#hopper said: you need to learn to live without this thing kid #steve agreed but only to get it back #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #jim hopper #stranger things #steddie #steddie hc #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #steddie prompt #imagine #prompt #steve and eddie #steve and robin

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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this is so hopper giving his speech at the steddie wedding. making endless dad jokes and embarrassing the hell out of both of them. i’m just imaging him saying something like:

hopper: you never think your future son-in-law is going to turn out to be the same kid you arrested upwards of twenty times when he was in high school but here i am to tell the tale—

eddie: i was also wanted for murder

hopper: don’t bring that up here please. for the love of god. you have no idea how much paper work it took for me to get your name cleared.

steve: i’m pretty sure he was arrested at least thirty times

hopper: like i said folks, you don’t get to choose family and sometimes family is your adopted gay son and his metalhead husband who spent a solid three years living on your couch—

steve: well at least now when i bail him out of jail it’ll be as my husband. i can even sign the paperwork as “mr. steve munson”

eddie: aw babe that’s so sweet

hopper: don’t push it you two

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alloftheimagines · 1 year

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Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers

eeeee i love this, thank you for including me!

no light | eddie munson for purely self-indulgent reasons. in which drunk reader locks herself in the bathroom at a party and eddie sits with her as depression and fear sets in.

ours | jim hopper. in which reader and hopper reunite at the russian prison, and reader breaks the news that she had his baby when she believed him to be dead.

first kill | joel miller. reader makes their very first kill in order to protect joel, leading to hurt/comfort.

remember me | bucky barnes. reader is still under hydra's control and is sent to kill bucky. bucky must remind them who they are.

gone | billy hargrove. reader takes billy's place at starcourt, and he watches you sacrifice yourself.

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libraryofgage · 9 months

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Addams Family Steddie AU Part 2

Part two of the Addams Family Steddie AU from this post! Anyway, here are five times Eddie gave Steve a gift plus one particularly special gift Steve gave him in return

I'll be honest, this one really got away from me LMAO

Also, @xjessicafaithx asked to be tagged if there was a part two so here ya go! I have a few more ideas for this AU so there might be more parts later too lol

One~

Steve is idly flipping through the mail he just pulled out of the mailbox, delaying his return to the house where Dustin is currently screaming about dice rolls over a Discord call, when he feels someone staring at him. His shoulders tense, and his grip on a junk letter creases the envelope as he looks up.

Crouching on the walkway leading up to a pitch-black house, elbows resting on his knees and a covered plate in his hands, is Eddie Munson. He's staring straight at Steve, eyes practically boring through him. When he realizes Steve has noticed him, Eddie perks up and balances the plate in one hand so he can wave with the other.

Steve hesitates before flashing an unsure smile and waving back. He thinks of the recently-washed plate that held the arsenic and chocolate chip cookies currently in his kitchen, waiting to be returned. Maybe he can return it now?

While he's thinking, Eddie has apparently taken the wave as permission to pop to his feet and walk over. And, well, he isn't wrong. It's not like Steve immediately started walking away after waving; he just kept standing there, locked in place by neighborly social conventions and Eddie's intense gaze.

"Good morning, Stevie," Eddie says, flashing that too-sharp grin at Steve as he leans on the mailbox. "You're looking particularly ravishing today."

"Ravishing?"

Eddie slowly looks him up and down, his eyes dragging along Steve's figure before finally letting their gazes meet once more. "Good enough to eat, really," Eddie replies, leaning in a little closer and making Steve's heart race with something that could be fear but is more likely embarrassment. Not that he wants to admit that. So, fear it is.

Steve laughs awkwardly and leans back, looking away and blaming the heat in his cheeks on the sun. "Uh, thanks. You, uh, look nice too," he says, glancing back at Eddie to take in the ripped jeans and short-sleeved black button-down (is that silk? It looks like silk) and chunky rings shaped like bats and skulls and coffins and wow, Eddie's fingers are kind of long.

Thankfully, Steve is saved from his mind wandering too far by Eddie shoving the covered plate into his hands. It's a familiar motion, and Steve almost laughs at it. "Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, letting his fingers brush across the back of Steve's hands before pulling away. "Anyway, Wayne baked more last night before communing with some spirits. He made too many eye of newt brownies, and I thought you'd enjoy them."

Steve blinks, looking down at the plate in his hands. "Eye of newt?" he asks, curiously lifting the tin foil to see perfectly normal-looking brownies inside.

"Yeah, they're to die for," Eddie says, his grin widening as he pushes off the mailbox and leaves Steve with a plate of brownies and a confusing feeling in his chest.

Two~

"She likes meatballs."

Steve blinks, staring at the concerningly large Venus Fly Trap in El's hands. Behind her, Eddie is smirking at him, holding his sister's shoulders and giving Steve an expectant look as El holds the flower pot out to him. The pot itself is also concerningly large for how she's holding it, and Steve can't stop himself from quickly taking the pot so she doesn't strain her back any more than she already has.

He grunts at the sudden weight when she lets go but doesn't drop the pot. Instead, he carefully and gently places it on the ground, silently letting out a breath of relief as the plant sways slightly in the pot, brushing against his hip.

The two had caught Steve when he was getting out of his car, his entire body already feeling heavy from work. His plan had been to go inside, do his best to not fall asleep standing in the shower, make Dustin dinner, and then pass out in bed until his alarm woke him again in the morning.

But instead, El had run over to him the moment he got out of his car, cheeks slightly flushed with excitement as she offered him the plant. Eddie had leisurely followed her over, amusement clear on his face as he watched Steve's brain struggle to catch up.

"Doesn't she eat flies?" Steve asks, looking down at the plant. For some reason, he feels like it's staring back at him.

El shakes her head. "Flies are not big enough. You should feed her one pound of meatballs on Wednesday and Sunday."

Cool. Great. Perfectly normal. It's not like Steve has had a Venus Fly Trap before, so he can't contest that. "Why are you giving her to me?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from the plant to look at El.

"Aunt Morticia took cuttings of her Cleopatra and sent us a few," El says, her tone implying that should be more than enough explanation.

Steve's expression, however, surely says differently. Thankfully, Eddie picks up on it and leans forward over El. "She'll make a great guard plant for you and Dustin, Stevie. Plus, she's almost as good a listener as I am," he explains, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, pointedly ignoring the second part of that explanation. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Nix," El tells him.

"Nix?"

"Yeah. Stevie," Eddie says, pointing at him before pointing to the plant and saying, "Nix. Because you said you like Fleetwood Mac."

Yeah, Steve did say that, but it was in passing, and he didn't think Eddie had actually heard him say it or paid any attention. It was said to Dustin while they were walking to the car, and Eddie had just happened to be sitting on his porch at the time.

But he did pay attention. And now he and El have given Steve and Dustin a plant whose name is a reference to Fleetwood Mac. Steve can't help a smile, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than just ten minutes ago. "Thanks, I know Dustin will love her, too," he says, feeling blinded by the tiny smile from El and the full-on grin from Eddie.

Three~

Nix likes to get sun, but she doesn't like being in the sun for too long. She also doesn't like staying still in the sun; she prefers to be moved around constantly, never staying in one spot for more than a minute if she's particularly patient. She also prefers to go on a sun walk right after eating her pound of meatballs.

These are things Steve learns over the course of three weeks through trial and error that often resulted in Nix snapping shut around his arm whenever he didn't immediately do as she liked. Steve had never heard of a plant having a personality before (especially not such a temperamental one), but he's come to find it endearing. Plus, carrying Nix around the yard does make for an effective workout.

So, on a very hot Sunday at the very end of June, Steve is carrying Nix around his backyard. Her pot is in his arms, sweat is dripping down his back, and Nix is helpfully trying to shade his head from the sun using her...head? Steve actually isn't sure what to call the top part of her. Is it a mouth?

"It's called a lobe."

Steve jumps, his grip on Nix's pot tightening as he whips his head around and sees Eddie crouching on the fence dividing their yards. He isn't even sure how Eddie manages it, considering how narrow the fence is, but he's also stopped trying to figure it out.

"What is?" he asks.

Eddie hops down, walking over to Steve and carefully taking Nix out of his hands. He continues walking around the backyard, and Steve doesn't even question following him. "This," Eddie says, pointing to the top of Nix's head. "This is called a lobe."

"How'd you..."

"You had a curious expression and were looking at Nix."

"You know my curious expression?"

Eddie looks over at Steve, a smile pulling at his lips and his eyes softening some, and Steve suddenly feels like he's drowning in the ocean and floating among the clouds. "I know all your expressions, Stevie," Eddie tells him.

Steve feels seen and terrified and...and utterly under whatever spell Eddie has spent the past few months carefully casting. He doesn't say anything about it, though. Instead, he rather dumbly says, "Oh."

The smile widens, and Steve finds himself wondering not for the first time what it would feel like to run his tongue over Eddie's too-sharp canines. "By the way, I got something for you, Stevie."

Steve blinks, watching as Eddie easily cradles Nix's pot in one arm and reaches into his back pocket. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's going to pull out his dagger again. Last time, he'd placed it in Steve's hand and very seriously told him, "If you ever see me on the verge of death, take this dagger and stab it through my heart. I'd rather die by your hand than whatever else got to me first." He'd then showed Steve where he kept it, his smile bright despite his words leaving Steve speechless.

Eddie does not, in fact, pull out a dagger. He pulls out a tiny, leatherbound journal. The journal is black like everything else the Munson family owns, and a heart is carefully painted onto the cover with two skulls looking outwards and meeting at the jaws to create the heart's point.

Steve slowly takes the journal, the cover feeling soft under his thumb, and he looks up at Eddie. His confusion is made even stronger when he sees his bashful expression. Eddie uses his free hand to tug on a lock of his hair, habitually hiding his mouth behind it. "I, uh, write music, you know," he says, waiting for Steve to nod once before rushing out in one breath, "I wrote songs for you."

When the words actually register, Steve's eyes widen, and he cracks the journal open to a random page. Eddie's familiar scratchy handwriting crosses the paper. Steve can only just see a line about the arrows of fate and burning stars before Eddie's hand covers the page. "Maybe, uh, maybe read them later."

Steve easily agrees, and Eddie quickly changes the subject. After finishing Nix's walk around the garden, Eddie helps Steve return her to her room and returns himself to his own home. Steve watches Eddie through the window, waiting for him to go inside before opening the journal once more and finding the page Eddie had covered.

i'll throw myself before the arrows of your fate// take all your misfortune as the gift it is// piercing my ribs as you burn brighter than stars// unhindered by the despair i have stolen for myself

Four~

Eddie's hand is warm in Steve's as he leads him up the stairs of the Munson home. The halls are dimly lit by old lanterns whose flames make shadows dance across the walls, and Steve finds them more romantic than creepy. When they reach the attic, Eddie stops at the door. "Okay, some of them don't look like normal bats," he says, turning to look at Steve.

"Are you giving me one of the normal ones?"

Eddie nods once. "Yeah, the demobats are too unpredictable, and the hivemind doesn't help. You wanted one bat, not a swarm."

Steve hums softly, leaning closer and placing his free hand on Eddie's chest, right over his heart. "I would accept a swarm if you gave it to me, babe," he says, smiling reassuringly at Eddie.

His words are rewarded with an arm around his waist, holding him closer like Eddie wants to pull Steve under his skin and hold him in the spaces between his bones. "But I wouldn't get nearly as much attention then, Stevie," he replies, punctuating each word with tiny pecks that begin at his forehead, follow the bridge of his nose, and end on his lips in a lingering kiss.

Steve almost loses himself in it, but he'd rather not get carried away where Wayne or El could catch them. So he begrudgingly pulls away, playfully reaching up and tugging one of Eddie's locks when he pouts. "You know you're dearer to me than all the bats in the world, Eddie. Now, which bat is mine?"

Eddie's pout immediately becomes a grin, and he opens the attic door. It's dark as night in the room, the only lights coming from red eyes staring at them from the ceiling. Eddie keeps his arm around Steve's waist, keeping him close as he shortly whistles three times. A screech sounds from the ceiling, followed by the flapping of wings and a bat flying out to land on Eddie's outstretched arm.

With his foot, Eddie shuts the door as he holds the bat in front of Steve so he can get a better look. The bat is small, no more than three inches, and its nose looks vaguely like an upside-down heart. It tilts its head, studying Steve in return as it shifts on Eddie's hand. "Isn't she cute?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles and holds his hand out to the bat, a few seconds passing before she moves from Eddie to him. "Yeah, she's really cute," he says as she surveys her new spot. She shifts a few times before pushing off Steve's hand and flying to his shoulder. She settles close to his neck, a warm softness against his skin partially hidden by his hair. And then she chirps, sounding like the squeaking of sneakers on a gym floor.

"She's an African heart-nosed bat," Eddie explains, starting to pull Steve down the stairs again. "They're very territorial, and they mark their territory by singing."

"Is that what she's doing?" Steve asks, raising his free hand to gently brush a finger against her head. She humors the touch for a few seconds before gently nipping his finger, not breaking the skin but clearly getting across that he shouldn't touch her anymore.

"Yep," Eddie says, grinning at Steve. "So, what are you gonna name her?"

Five ~

Hulyet buries herself in Steve's hair as he stares at the floor-length black dress Eddie holds up. She apparently picks up on Steve's confusion and slight concern, decides something is invading their territory, and begins singing aggressively in Eddie's direction.

The sudden squeaks and chirps break Steve out of his confusion, and he can't help a laugh. He reaches up, gently stroking her back to reassure her that everything is fine, and asks Eddie, "What's with the dress?"

"All Hallow's Eve is approaching," Eddie says, "I thought we could go as Dracula and his bride."

"Am I the bride?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the dress for a moment before looking back at Steve. "I haven't figured that out yet," he admits. "If you don't want to be the bride, I don't mind it."

Steve blinks, suddenly realizing this is Eddie trying to plan a couple's costume for Halloween. A familiar warmth floods through him, and he can't help smiling. He studies the dress, coming to the conclusion that he doesn't mind wearing it. For Eddie, of course.

Well, actually, he also thinks it looks hot.

"Okay. Let me try it on," he says, holding out his hands. Eddie lights up, handing over the dress and looking at Steve expectantly.

Well, there goes changing in the bathroom. Steve sighs, feels relieved he wore briefs, and strips down. Hulyet grips tighter to his hair as he moves, chirping once in indignation before settling once more as Steve wiggles his way into the dress.

It's tight, but not overly so. The material hugs curves Steve didn't even know he had, and the neckline plunges between his pecs and stretches into off-shoulder sleeves. The very bottom of the dress flares outward in a spiderweb pattern formed by lace. He takes a few experimental steps, relieved to find his movement isn't too restricted by the dress and fascinated to discover the spiderweb at the bottom stays perfectly spread out.

"How's it look?" Steve asks, turning to Eddie only to find that he'd moved right behind him at some point. He startles, taking a step back and getting his foot caught on the back of the dress. Before he can hit the floor, though, Eddie catches him, arms around his waist and holding him in a dip.

Steve's heart is pounding against his ribs, his breath short as he tightly grips Eddie's jacket collar and tries to ignore Hulyet painfully yanking on his hair. Eddie grins at him and says, "You look enchanting, Stevie. I would have fallen on my knees to worship you if you didn't beat me to the falling part."

Steve snorts and relaxes his grip, sliding his arms around Eddie's neck instead. "How long are you planning to hold me like this?" he asks.

"I could hold you as the world burns to ash around us. Even after we die and have decomposed, our skeletons will still be wrapped around each other, forever locked together."

From anyone else, Steve thinks he would worry about being murdered. But from Eddie, Steve just thinks it's one of the most romantic things he's ever heard, right alongside everything else Eddie has ever said to him. "That sounds perfect," he says, happily smiling into the kiss Eddie gives him.

Plus One~

"Fucking hell, Steve, stop bothering me about this!"

Steve frowns at Dustin, slouching on the couch as he anxiously turns a velvet box over in his hands. Dustin is laid out on the floor with a bowl of cheese puffs, his head resting on Dart's back as the demodog naps. "You're such a supportive brother," Steve says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dustin scoffs and throws a cheese puff at Steve's head. "I was plenty supportive the first fifteen times! Just fucking give him the ring already," Dustin says, returning the stuck-out tongue that Steve sends him before looking down at his phone and typing something. "Dude, it's Eddie. You could give him a used soda can and he'd give it a fucking pedestal in his room."

Okay, yeah, Dustin has a point. That doesn't make Steve any less nervous, though. He forces himself to take a deep breath, pushing down his anxiety long enough to say, "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Literally, when have I ever been wrong, Steve?"

"Shut up."

Dustin flashes a grin just as Eddie's familiar rhythmic knock sounds against the door right before he opens the door. "By the way, I told Eddie to come over so you'd stop bothering me," Dustin tells him, his grin widening as Eddie saunters into the room.

"All right, gremlin," Eddie says, nudging Dustin with his foot, "get out."

As Dustin practically bolts from the room, Dart right on his heels, Steve decides he's going to make zucchini spaghetti for dinner so Dustin is forced to suffer through vegetables.

"So, whatcha got there, Stevie?" Eddie asks, perching on the couch next to Steve and looking pointedly at the box in his hands.

Well, there's no escaping it now.

Steve takes one more deep breath and opens the box. He pulls out the ring inside and presents it to Eddie. It's smaller than the rings he normally wears, but the sterling silver band is engraved with bat wings and an anatomical heart is carved into the garnet on top. A small, almost imperceptible clasp can be found just under the garnet. "I found it at an antique store with El and Max," Steve explains. He hesitates before carefully pushing the clasp to reveal a compartment just beneath the garnet. "It's one of those poison rings."

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent as he takes the ring, carefully shutting the compartment so he can turn it over in his hands. Once he's fully inspected the band and garnet, he pushes on the clasp and studies the size of the compartment. Finally, he slips the ring onto his left ring finger, his sharp canines coming into full view as he grins. "Yes, of course."

"Uh, yes what?"

"You're proposing, and I'm saying yes," Eddie explains, taking Steve's hand and bringing it to his lips. He kisses Steve's palm before lightly dragging his teeth over it, and Steve thinks he shows incredible character growth by not jerking his hand away.

His brain catches up a few seconds later. "Wait, proposing? This wasn't...I just...we've only been dating for three months?"

Eddie hums softly in agreement, sliding Steve's hand to his cheek and leaning into the touch. "I know," he says, "We've shown incredible restraint so far. Most Munsons get married within weeks of meeting their loves."

Honestly, that doesn't surprise Steve at all. Who could resist the Munson charm? Who could say no to the all-consuming devotion that shows no sign of ever fading? Steve's mouth suddenly feels dry. "Right," he mumbles, gently brushing his thumb over Eddie's cheek, "That, um, that's just a little fast, I think."

Eddie's smile doesn't fade one bit. He just nods, his eyes glowing with understanding and love and Steve's weakening resolve practically crumbles when Eddie says, "That's okay, Stevie. As long as I can see you and be near you, I don't care about anything else. You could put a knife through my heart, and I'd thank you for the chance to get a closer look at your eyes."

Steve...Steve is fucking weak. He abandons any idea of maintaining a distance between them, climbing into Eddie's lap and kissing the cheek he isn't holding. "It's not an engagement ring, but...but consider it an engaged-to-be-engaged ring," he says, the words feeling ridiculous as he speaks them.

But that doesn't matter because Eddie practically lights up. "Is that a promise? That we're engaged to be engaged?" he asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, his voice soft, "Just wait at least three more months before you propose, okay?"

Eddie's grin gets even wider, and he presses a searing kiss to Steve's lips, leaving him breathless and light-headed and absolutely sure Eddie is already planning his proposal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #addams family au #addams! Eddie Munson #dustin henderson #el hopper #hulyet is yiddish for howl btw #addams family steddie #addams family romance my beloved #my writing

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