#hopper pov
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Part 3 (One of Us) of 'Never Took The Time (To Forget)' previously known as 'Hopper Adopts Steve But Make It Sad'
Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)
Here's a bit more for you filthy animals 😘
Much like he's come to expect from the small soldiers these children have fashioned themselves into he's not surprised when they come pouring out of whichever of the twins' rooms they shoved themselves in like codependent sardines. He's not surprised by the looks of anger and disappointment and confusion. Claudia Henderson's kid -Dustin- looks on the edge of tears with a grim set to his mouth that reminds him of when the kid's mom is beyond words in her slow-burning fury. El and Will have matching looks of disappointed confusion.
What he's not expecting is the way Mike and the younger (usually more volatile) Sinclair are holding onto an incensed looking Lucas. Lucas who has always been the polite one when it came to addressing adults and the one to preach caution and thinking plans through. Lucas who has been quiet and withdrawn since Hop came back, spending his days at the edge of Party affairs when not helping in the rebuilding efforts around town or sitting at Max's bedside.
"What the fuck, Hopper?" The kid spits out and that seems to snap the rest of The Party into action. Will goes to join the two holding Sinclair back but Dustin starts near incoherently yelling in that screechy pitch only that kid seemed to be able to hit about bullshit cops and useless adults and to let Lucas go. "He idolized you, man! Would tell us all the time that you were 'one of the good ones' that if we ever needed anyone and he wasn't there, to find you. That you would take care of us because that's just what you did for people. Because you were good!"
"Lucas, chill out man." Mike pants though he's also glaring daggers at Hop.
This is where Joyce (god bless her) decides to step in. "Lucas, honey-" She says with her soft voice and big wet eyes and that warmth she seems to infuse into everything she touched. "It's complicated. There's some things you just don't understand and-"
"No! You two don't understand! Steve is GOOD. He's good and he cares and he takes care of everyone else and he always kept us safe." The kid seems to be losing some of his steam, pulling at his friends less and resigned to shaking in barely contained fury. "He gets hurt and he gets back up and he apologizes for taking a fall in the first place! He's just Good."
"I know he's been good to you kids and I appreciate that, I really do Lucas." Joyce says, her voice a little stronger, that steadiness returning. "Sometimes people in our lives can do bad things to others and we don't see it because we care about them and that's not always a bad thing. But we have to remember that the people who were wronged are allowed to be upset and that's normal to feel and-"
"You mean like Jonathan?" The room goes quiet. Will looks resigned but not surprised by Lucas' question but the rest of the kids look just as confused as him and Joyce. "Did you really think Steve broke his camera -in the school parking lot of all places- for the hell of it? Did you seriously never question it?"
Hop feels something twist in his gut. He had been so caught up in the search for Will and wrangling a frantic Joyce that he hadn't paid any attention to small-town squabbles like two teenagers having it out in the school parking lot, the destruction of personal property or what might have triggered it. He looks over the kids' heads to see Jonathan and his stoner buddy standing just outside his door. The friend looks confused but Jon is looking at his mom who hasn't noticed him yet like a man preparing himself for the gallows.
"Mom." Joyce's eyes snap from where they were locked on Lucas up to her oldest son. "Mom, I-"
"What are they talking about Jon?" It's quiet. Quiet and scared because everyone in the room knows that whatever secret reason Lucas (and maybe Will?) seems to be the only one to know Steve had for picking a fight isn't going to be good. Jonathan's mouth opens like he's going to say something but no words come out. "Honey, what did you do?"
"He took pictures of Steve and his friends the night Barbara Holland disappeared."
"Will?" all eyes except Lucas' (who is still glaring daggers at Hop) are on the two brothers. One scared and almost pleading the other disappointed and resolved.
"He hid in the bushes and took pictures of Steve and his friends with Nancy and Barbara. There were pictures of Barbara at the Harrington place before she died and he never told anyone. But there were also-" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes like he can't look at his older brother who has hung his shaggy head under everyone's heavy gaze. "There were pictures of just Steve and Nancy. Alone together. In Steve's room."
There's a sharp gasp that he thinks came from Joyce but he's too busy watching the young man he's come to consider a son. His head is still lowered and his shoulders are curving in on themselves as he shakes off the hand his long-haired friend tries to place on his shoulder.
"Oh baby," Joyce's voice is wet again. A tone of horrified disappointment to it that Hop has only heard her use when talking to or about one other person. "Tell me you didn't."
"Then he-" Will clears his throat like this one is what gives him pause. "He was caught developing the pictures in the school's darkroom. All of the pictures. And he had zoomed in on Steve's window. Nancy was the center of the shot." The kid's eyes flit over to Mike (who is now turning an interesting shade of red as he glares at Jonathan) before he blushes and looks at the ground, "She uh-"
Lucas does not seem to share Will's newfound hesitance in the face of an enraged Mike Wheeler. "Most of the upperclassmen argue if she had a bra or not but they all seem to agree she didn't have a top."
"Oh my god." Everyone was frozen as Joyce began to crumble. "Oh my god." He reached out to catch her, her nails digging into his arm through his shirt sleeve as she stared unseeing at her oldest son.
Jonathan started forward. "Mom, I-" a hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. "Will, please, I need to-"
"Just stop, man." Lucas sighs. "You started this shit, you gotta deal with it before you hurt someone else besides Steve."
"I didn't mean to hurt Steve."
Hops feels himself frozen to the spot in a way he's not used to anymore these days. His mind is working overtime picking out all of the charges that could have been pressed even against a boy of 15/16 if any of the kids in Harrington's inner circle had told an actual adult about the situation. The veritable legal hell that would have been brought down on Joyce while searching for a son legally assumed dead.
"Is that what you told yourself when you helped Nancy cheat?" And it just kept getting worse.
Joyce gives off a whimper and the kids gathered make varied sounds of shock and disgust.
"They were broken up."
"Were they? Cause everybody at school and half the town seems to all know about you and Nancy disappearing together when Steve was still calling her his girlfriend and then you all showed back up to school, Steve beat to hell again and Nancy hanging all over you. The basketball team STILL talk about it."
He's heard enough. "Alright, that's it!" He yells out over the children yelling and Joyce demanding answers and Jonathan's friend trying to say something about there being some sort of explanation. "This doesn't help us help Steve."
Lucas shakes off the loose hold Erica and Mike still had on him and crosses his arms as he rolls back his shoulders and tilts his jaw up to fix him with a glare. The kid's stance is almost arrogant but Hop can't help but notice the way he rests his weight on his off side, his shoulders back and his posture straight without his chest puffing out ridiculously like Hop is used to from teenage boys gearing for a fight.
"I think you've helped enough, Hopper." It's quiet and biting and he lets himself have a moment of grief for the childhood these kids lost, and the fact that he's almost positive Lucas didn't pick up this easy confidence from anyone else in their monster fighting club but Steve. "You and Mrs. Byers want to play nice now cause you feel guilty and that's all well and good but what happens when Steve does something else you don't agree with without explanation? Or he and Jonathan or Nancy get in another fight? When we finally get rid of Vecna and the Upside Down for good? What happens when you don't feel guilty anymore?"
"I can't make any sort of promise you lot will believe. And lord knows I'm pretty shit at keeping them anyways. I just want to be able to try."
"He mourned you, you know. When we were told you didn't make it." That weight is back in his chest. "He held himself together around us but there were- there were moments we could tell. He and El really bonded over that. Over you. Over losing you."
"I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't. You didn't want to know."
"There's no way I can make you believe me. That I want to fix this."
"We want to, Hopper." Dustin butts in, placing a hand on Lucas' shoulder and limping up next to the other boy. "But from what you and Mrs. Byers were talking about... There's just a lot that makes a lot more sense and it doesn't inspire a lot of faith in either of you."
"We need to discuss this as a Party."
"Okay."
"That means letting us take care of it. Steve's one of us and you hurt him."
"I understand."
"So you and Mrs. Byers have got to wait till we say you can talk to Steve. That he's ready for it."
"Now, kids-"
"No they're right, Joyce. We fucked it up on our own and- and he trusts these little shits more than he trusts us right now. We've gotta do the same."
Joyce sighs, "Fine."
She's not happy about it and honestly neither is he. But if the last few years and his stint in a Russian gulag and the subsequent escape taught him anything it's maybe he needs to trust his people to do what they need to do.
The kids scurry back to whichever of the Twins' room they came from, led by a newly determined and involved Lucas and a furiously muttering Dustin. Jonathan and Joyce make their way to the kitchen and Hopper decides he's going to let them have that conversation in as much privacy as they can with a house as full as theirs.
Hopper sits in the living room, runs his hands through his hair that's finally growing out and pulls them down his face before resting his chin on steepled fingers. He hates sitting and waiting and relying on someone else for the next steps. But all he can think about is the sound Steve made. The look in his eyes. The pride in his voice the last time he heard him say, "My Hop."
That's it!
He stands up so fast his bad ankle protests and his knees pop. He limps to the front door, yelling out to the house that he has to go, has something to do. Calls out he has his walkie and that El needs to be ready on time. Then he's out the door.
More coming soon! Hopefully! Work went from an active team of about 12 to 5, not including the managers we lost ssssooo... Yeah fun times. 🙃
So here's a tag-list, hope I didn't miss anyone. Feel free to yell at/with me in the comments or ask box. If you see your old tag in my list tell me your new one so I can fix it.
@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @katdeerly @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @rocochen20 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus
#Never Took The Time (To Forget)#nttttf verse#hopper adopts steve#but make it sad#rambler writes#stranger things fic#hopper pov#lucas sinclair#The Party loves Steve
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Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three
A03
Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition.
Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place.
Black eye, bruised chin, split lip.
More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck.
The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.
Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital.
Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten.
He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled.
(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but.
He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.)
"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen.
Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.
Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair.
Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."
"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.
"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants."
Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him.
Would Harrington pitch a fit?
Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did?
Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper.
Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life?
Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it.
Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.
"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--"
Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out."
"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.
"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.
The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying.
"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.
He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness.
"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone."
A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box.
How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…
He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home.
"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope.
He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet.
There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand.
Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list.
Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."
Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that."
The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."
'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'
Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."
"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face.
He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him.
He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.
"You'll check up on Robin too, right?" He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?"
"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."
Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.
Another act that was far beyond the kid's years.
A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.
(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)
A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.
"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.
No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.
Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here.
He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder.
Several somethings, in fact.
"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck.
"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick.
Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie.
An unfair advantage, really.
‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly.
Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.
"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie.
Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.
Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting.
"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie."
Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.
"What do you mean Si--Wayne."
"Nice catch.” Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.”
It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.
Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much.
Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither.
Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.
"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat."
"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"
Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked.
He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?"
"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret.
"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt."
Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle.
"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end."
Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink.
"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?"
"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.
Judged.
Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be.
Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless.
"Anybody else?" He asked.
"Nobody human." Steve replied.
"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that.
He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.
"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?"
Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency, I'd be happy to."
He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through.
The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation.
With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus. "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER."
All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it.
Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair."
The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound.
Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble.
"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.
Steve blinked. "Uh…"
"You take any today son?"
Steve his head.
"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack.
Course he hadn't.
"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.
Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in.
He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once.
#hands on knees#this is gonna have more than three parts fffffff#FAIR WARNING I do jump between Wayne and Eddie’s pov in this.#Everything Ive written so far while in parts for tumblr would basically be chapter 1 on A03#Eddies POV change would be chapter two#Ugh Im gonna have to put this on A03. Dammit brain.#also I updated this very fast for me#no one get excited Idk the brain is doing#steddie#beat to shit Steve Harrington#wayne pov#outsider pov#wayne as a BAMF#I tried to get to the part where Eddie shows up but it just got too long for a tumblr post#pre steddie#wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve#tw injuries#0o0 fanfics#stranger things
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Hopper has always been fine with El hanging out with what she calls “the whole party” because that means that Max will be there. And if she’s with Max, that means less time with Mike. And less time with Mike, is one of Hopper’s favorite things.
Unfortunately, Hopper comes to find out that “the whole party” also includes Eddie Munson. But unlike most of the idiots in Hawkins, Hopper knows that Eddie’s a good kid who wouldn’t (or more likely couldn’t) harm a fly. On the other hand, he’s also the kid who used to deal Hopper his weed for super cheap in exchange for some fatherly advice and maybe a get out of jail free card every now and then. (Really, the kid just had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Hopper would just happen to turn a blind eye and forget to file the paperwork which was really just unnecessary extra work).
But this all makes it hard to answer El’s question of why she’s not allowed to hang out with the whole party this time. Fortunately, she’s quick to ask more questions such as, “Is it because Eddie is an older boy? Because you were fine with us hanging out with Steve.”
“And Steve would keep you guys in line and safe.”
El crossed her arms. “And what if I guaranteed that every time Eddie was there, Steve would be too?”
And Hopper thought that maybe that was actually a good solution. Harrington was known to babysit a multitude of kids at once, so adding on Eddie to the group wouldn’t be too much of an ask.
Cue Steve and Eddie being practically attached at the hip a few weeks later, and Hopper realizing he accidentally played matchmaker.
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Joyce being immensely confused because this is how she sees Mike:
she's probably like are we talking about the same mike??? the mike that befriended my son and told him it was the best decision he'd ever made??? that cute lil boy that was constantly worried about will???
#byler#byler tumblr#mike wheeler#look at that face#from her pov hes like the sweetest kid ever#and then to hopper hes just a smug soab#lmao#stranger things
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just saying that s3e1 focused more on milkvan seen by hopper and others' eyes than milkvan itself
#rewatched it and like- they had a few seconds just themselves in the beginning when mike sang and el laughed#and that was it#everything else was hopper or the party pov#highlighting they were bad for each other#how can you get any more obvious than this#anti mileven#anti milkvan#byler#me posts! ✰
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Father Figures
pt. 2 here, and full version on ao3 here
The first time James Edward Hopper meets Steve Harrington is when Steve is thirteen years old. It is back when he is still pushing everyone to call him Chief Hopper, or at the very least James to sound more professional. It is mostly a lost cause, as he has just returned to Hawkins after his daughter Sarah's death and most people can't help but call him Jim and Hop in familiarity, in sympathy.
It didn't mean they didn't take him any less seriously though. In fact, his cold, grieving demeanor gave him quite the reputation around town. Made assholes like Lenny Byers and troublemakers like the little twerp Munson turn in the other direction when they see him. So Jim doesn't try to push the professional name too much. He knows people around here respect him.
They respect him enough to follow his word, they respect him enough to turn a blind eye when he takes an extra pill or two.
Jim doesn't think too deeply about his reputation until he meets Steve Harrington for the first time.
He gets a call from Benny. It's directly to his line at the station, instead of a general 911 call. He doesn't think much of it when he answers, most likely it was a non emergency from an old friend from high school. That's the only reason people call him most days.
"Chief Hopper. Make it quick."
"Jimmy." A deep, worried breath comes from the phone.
Jim immediately straightens. "Benny, what's wrong?"
Benny usually only calls for a laugh, or to invite him out for a drink. The guy doesn't care about too much, or ask too many questions. Hearing concern in his voice was alarming, to say the least. "Listen, Hop, there is a kid here. And normally I don't care, cause business is business, but it's two in the morning, Jimmy. And despite the kid wearing the most expensive pair of sneakers I have ever seen, he only has two dollars on him for a meal. He got all skittish when the plate landed too loudly. And I don't know..." Benny takes a deep breath before he continues. "...I just don't want to be at fault if this kid's trouble and some fancy parents come looking for him."
Jim can tell Benny wants to say something else, he doesn't push though. Jim Hopper tries to never ask too many questions.
"Alright Ben, I'll be there in ten."
———
When Jim arrives at the diner, Benny notices him and nods in the direction of the corner booth. And there, sitting with his head low and scarfing down a plate of fries is Steve Harrington.
Jim has never met the kid personally, but he knows his parents. Cold, calculating, and pretty much owns half of Hawkins. Jim is starting to understand why Benny has called him.
Jim slides into the booth across from the young boy. He's prepared to take the kid by the back of his shirt and drag him out of there. He doesn't need these kids to be causing hard-working people any trouble. But when Jim makes a thump in the booth, the Harrington kid's face snaps up in fear, and Jim's plan for an angry monologue just drops.
Because there, on Steve Harrington's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana itself. Jim's face remains gruff, but his body language softens. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here so late?"
Steve's posture remains stiff and small. "Sorry sir, I was just hungry and it was the only place open. I wasn't—I wasn't trying to cause trouble."
It's then, for the first time, Jim thinks that his reputation isn't one of respect. Instead, his reputation might something worse. Fear.
"Didn't think you were. Just wondering what a rich kid like you, is doing on this side of town, at this time of night." Jim doesn't say it like a question, just fact. He tries not to take it too personally when Harrington turns his bruised side in on himself.
"Would have uh—gotten something from home but we—I didn't have any food left. And by the time I was able to eat, everything else was closed."
"Able to eat—kid what are you rambling about. Let me call your parents to pick you up." Jim makes his way to stand but Steve grabs his wrist to pull him back.
"No! I mean—" he clears his throat "—not necessary sir. My parents left for a work trip tonight. I uh—don't have a number for you to call them anyway. They call me instead, they never have a solid line to contact. Nothing bad happens in Hawkins anyway, so it isn't something to worry about." The last line sounds practiced, like it is something repeated to Steve religiously enough it's become his own mantra.
Jim is starting to put it together. The waiting all day to eat. The bruise on his jaw. The lack of money for food. God, the kid probably walked six miles to get here.
Jim isn't stupid, he can connect the dots. But Jim also knows when not to push things. When not to rock the boat. When sometimes, even if it pains him, helping someone would be a lost cause. He thinks of Sarah briefly.
It's even worse when that lost cause is just a kid.
Jim decides maybe the best thing he can do for Steve at that moment is to ignore the obvious problem and offer him a bit of kindness. "Well, I can't have ya here this late. Could look bad for Benny. And we don't want to get Benny in trouble do we?"
Steve shakes his head immediately. "No Sir."
"Didn't think so. Why don't I drive you to the station? Don't worry I'm not arresting you. But we got a nice cot there, and you can get some rest. Then I'll drive you back in the morning when I clock out. Cause I'm still on duty and all. Can't be driving you back Loch Nora quite yet." Jim doesn't mention how he can see bags under Steve's eyes. He doesn't mention how it would be quicker to his house than to the station either. Jim maybe, just a little bit, wants to keep an eye on him. Even if it's only for a short time.
"It's okay I can walk—" Jim levels Steve with a look "—actually that sounds great. Thank you, Sir."
Jim nods with finality and starts to stand. "Oh and kid? Enough with that sir crap. I ain't Mr. Harrington." He almost says I'm not your dad. But that felt wrong somehow, giving Harrington senior that title.
"Okay, sir—I mean Hopper. Okay, Hopper."
---
As the years go by, James Edward Hopper keeps an eye out for Steven James Harrington (Yes he looks at his file for his full name. Yes, it makes him feel some sort of way he has his name as his middle name and not his father's. Richard would make a horrible middle name anyway). At first, it's drive-bys to see if anyone's home. Giving the kid a ride if he sees him walking. Swinging by a basketball game or two, to see how he's playing.
Then it turns into busting his ragers. Hauling him in for the night not to arrest him but to sober the kid up. Pulling him over for driving while intoxicated with that dumb Hagan boy.
Jim wants to be mad, he does. He even yells at Steve sometimes. But he can't find in him to be mean to him, not really. Not when he's pretty sure the only thing Steve has consumed in days is alcohol. Not when even though he has gotten much bigger, and the bruises are less visible, Steve never ceases to flinch when Jim grabs him.
So mostly, Jim either just drives him home or brings him in, giving him a sandwich and bed for the night.
Around when Steve is sixteen though, things get worse for Jim. He becomes more frustrated, with Steve, with his job, and with this town. He takes more pills. He neglects his job. He forgets Steve.
Then the Upside Down happens for the first time. Jim tries to better himself for Joyce and the kids. He mainly though does it for El. His second chance, his new reason for trying, his daughter.
Jim knows it's okay to get a little lost in taking care of her. That it's a good thing, and she deserves his full attention.
He does feel a bit of guilt though, after round two of the Upside Down. When Steve Harrington sits in Joyce Byer's living room, looking like he went ten rounds with a semi.
The kids are all over him (including Mike which shocks the hell out of him). Dustin is trying to stop the bleeding on his face, Lucas is holding ice against his head and even El, who Steve met for all of five minutes, is sitting beside him on the couch, holding his shoulder up. There is a look in El's eyes as she stares up at Steve. Like she can see through him, like she knows him. Like she understands him.
Jim feels his heart break a little.
He approaches Steve in a crouched position. "Hey kid, I think we better take you to a hospital. You look like shit." He is sure there is a better way to say it, but Jim Hopper is a blunt man and that was never going to change.
The redhead, Max, snorts. "That's honestly the nicest way to put it."
Steve glares, Jim can't decide if it's at him or the kids. "No. I'm okay."
Dustin shouts, "Steve you are most definitely not okay. Hop's right you look like shit—"
"Language."
Dustin ignores Steve, "—and that's just externally. Who knows what's going on internally."
"C'mon kid, I can drive ya." Jim moves to help him stand.
Steve bursts with anger and pushes Jim away. "I said no. And you're not my dad."
Jim's jaw tightens and he resists the urge to scream back: and thank god for that.
El speaks before he can yell back. "You're hurt." It's soft, it's demanding and it's so very El. Jim watches Steve crumble back into the couch.
His voice is rougher than before, but much more gentle, "No hospitals."
"Okay. At least let Joyce look at ya. She used to be a nurse." Jim puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to jostle him.
"Okay, Hopper. Okay, Hop."
———
After that, for a little while, Jim tries to look out for Steve again. It's harder this time though. He's more independent and harder to catch sight of. When he does see him, one of the gremlins is around him, and he can't check-in. And Hop has El, and he can't neglect her in favor of Steve. He tries to balance it out, but in the end, Steve isn't his kid.
Jim finds a small loophole though, which is El herself.
He worries about her every she since she ran away and he didn't even notice. And he knows Steve, like him, has a soft spot for the kids. So under the guise of babysitting, Jim gets Steve in his cabin once a week. So someone other than Joyce or Jonathan (or horribly, mike) is spending time with her. Sure, he's not there to keep an eye out for Steve himself, but it's the closest he's going to get.
Besides, biological daughter or not, El is just like Jim. She has a habit of collecting strays. If it's not going to be him looking out for Steve, he can't think of anyone better for the job than his little girl.
———
After Starcourt, somewhere in a Russian prison, Jim thinks of Steve.
Every day, Jim thinks of El. Misses her. Longs to hear her laugh even longs to hear her yell back at him. Every day, Jim thinks of his daughter and mourns what could have been. But Jim knows she's being taken care of. Knows Joyce and the boys will love her, and take care of her. Make sure she knows nothing else but kindness.
He worries though, between those moments, about how there is no one there for Steve.
———
Months later, in Hawkins Memorial, Jim Hopper finds Steve Harrington in a hospital chair next to Eddie Munson's comatose body.
Jim has a lot of questions but doesn't get any of them out because suddenly Steve Harrington is right in front of him, sucking in a harsh "Hop," and then collapsing in Jim’s arms.
Jim holds him close, says nothing, and cries silently with him.
———
During the summer that follows, James Edward Hopper notices a change within Steven James Harrington. Despite the obvious PTSD the boy suffers, and the scars that litter his body, Steve is visibly happier than Jim has ever seen him. He laughs more, he openly cries more, and he loves more.
Steve's now living with Robin in a tiny two-bedroom downtown. He comes to family dinner with the entire party every Sunday. He shares a cup of tea (no more beer for either of them) and a cigarette every Thursday evening on the Byers-Hoppers front porch.
Most noticeably, the biggest difference Jim sees in Steve is Eddie Munson.
Jim once again isn't stupid. And despite being an ex-cop isn't a bigot (he couldn't find himself back at the force, the corruption is too much for him. And he himself, was never very good at his job). So he can easily come to the conclusion that Steve has a massive crush on Eddie Munson.
Dear. God.
It's not that he has a problem with Eddie being a boy, but it's the fact that out of all people he can choose from, Steve had to go and fall for the twerp who used to trip over his laces when running away from Jim for the third time.
Jim feels, after all the years of neglect that Steve faced, he could do so much better.
Steve is happy though for once, and Jim doesn't say anything at first. But it becomes so painful to watch. The lingering touches. The longing gazes. The nicknames (sweetheart, honey, dear god did he just say big boy—).
Nothing ever comes of it though, it's August and neither of them has done anything but pine. And Jim seems to be the only one who notices.
At first, he thinks it's cause everyone is being kind, and giving them room to explore themselves. But with everyone making jokes about Robin and Steve (from the kids) or Steve and Nancy (from Eddie), it seems like no one notices the excruciating flirting between the two.
(Except for maybe Robin, but Jim isn't quite sure Steve and she aren't one organism. He doesn't count her)
Still, Jim ignores it though. He has learned his listen from Mike and El. Getting involved makes everything worse.
That is until, the second week in August right before family dinner, when he finds Steve and Eddie early, sitting on the couch, with Eddie dabbing the blood off of Steve's face.
"What happened?" Jim is over on Steve's other side in an instant.
"Nothing Hop, it's stupid." Steve tries to shrug off, and he looks towards Eddie briefly.
Jim's vision, for a brief brief moment, is filled with unclear rage. It's enough to consume him and makes him impulsive. Jim can't help but think he got it wrong. Maybe the two are together, and Steve had fallen into a bad relationship. He knew that Eddie was trouble, but he didn't think about it being that kind.
And though he is being irrational, and being for once a little stupid, no one can really blame him when he hauls Eddie up by the collar and into his line of vision.
"Munson, did you put your goddamn hands on my kid?"
Jim can hear Joyce, El, and Will (the only other people in the house) all run out into the living room at the sheer volume of Jim's voice.
Steve sits frozen, Joyce and El yell at him to "put him down, oh my god."
And Munson? He starts to ramble.
"No. No! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Haven't we learned this by now? I can barely kill a spider. I have to put them in a cup and put them outside." Eddie chuckles nervously, waving his hands around frantically.
Jim's grip tightens and pulls him closer. He's pretty sure his vibrating at this point.
Suddenly though, Eddie becomes deathly serious. As if he just realizes what Hopper has said.
"Hop, I would lay down my life before I ever hurt Steve. There is no one in this world that deserves kindness more than him. And if I ever do hurt him, whether it be emotionally or physically, I give you full permission to beat me up. Hell, I'll probably throw myself at your fist."
Jim doesn't let go but stays silent as he listens.
"You see, Steve here decided to pull a you when some jerks wouldn't leave me alone at Family Video today. They were throwing around a bunch of slurs. Nothing I haven't heard before. And even though I could handle myself—“ Eddie gives Steve a look “Steve here always has to be the hero and decided to defend my honor. And of course, it just had to turn physical. And Steve decided to take on three guys on his own. Got to say though, he held his own. It was kinda hot honestly—"
Jim hears Steve choke a little beside them, startling him out of his frozen state.
"—And he only got a cut on his forehead from one of the dickwads class rings. I'm a little worried he has another concussion though. Believe me, Hop when I say, I am just as pissed at those guys as you."
At the end of his speech, Eddie calms down and even holds eye contact with Jim. He still doesn't let go of the twerp, despite being considerably less angry. Well, at least at Eddie.
It's Steve though that finally gets him to let go. "Dad, please put Eddie down."
Steve says it like it's nothing. Steve says it likes its the easiest thing in the world. But to Jim, to Jim it's the best thing he's gotten since El.
Instantaneously, Jim drops Eddie back on the ground and scoops Steve into a bone-crushing hug. "You got to stop scaring me like this kid. Can't lose you again."
Steve's almost his height now, so he tucks Steve's head into his shoulder and lays his head on top of his hair. He hears a muffled, wet "I'm sorry" against him.
Jim chokes back tears as he says, "No, no you got nothing to apologize for. Just be more careful. Okay?"
Steve releases himself from his hold and looks at him. "Okay, Hop. Okay, Dad."
Jim ruffles his hair without jostling his head too much. He thinks he would do anything for his kids. Including pushing along this nightmare of a pining contest.
"And if you like him I like him too."
"Huh?" Steve says confused.
"Eddie here. If you like him, then he's okay by me."
Steve goes to stop Jim, but he's already one step ahead. "But if he hurts you even in the slightest, you're watching me dig the grave I'm going to bury him in. Understand?"
Steve blushes from head to toe and nods frantically, knowing if he protests it will only make the conversation longer. The room is silent until Eddie speaks.
"Don't worry Hop, I'll dig the grave for you." Eddie's voice, despite the threat, is filled with delight, wonder, and hope.
My work here is done Jim thinks as he gives the boys one last nod and leaves the room.
And if later, if Jim sees Steve and Eddie holding hands at the dinner table he doesn't comment on it. And if he sees Eddie give Steve's knuckles a light kiss, and whisper something that almost looks like "I love you", he only smiles at the two boys. Because if one more person loves his boy, it's a win for him.
Because James Edward Hopper, thinks his son Steve deserves that and so much more.
———
okay I spent waaaay too much time on this (as per usual) but I wanted to dive in a little more on Steve and Hoppers relationship (and how it impacts Steve and Eddie). I feel like a lot of fics makes them distant friends (which is canonically correct I guess) or surrogate family with no explanation. And I like the idea of them slowing building a father son relationship. Really leaning into you choose your family. I know people have mixed feelings about Steve calling him Dad (honestly sometimes I too think it’s cringey) but sometimes I love it and that boy deserves a good father figure. Even though steddie doesn’t come in until the end, I think it all really blends together nicely. Also in my head either the boys are both out to each other, is at least it’s heavily implied or is a known safe space they are in. We do not support outing people in the house. It’s probably a one-shot, but maybe I’ll add more snippets later on. For now it felt like a good place to stop.
As always I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just zoned out for like two hours as I wrote it. It kinda made me emotional I’m not going to lie.
part 2 here and the full version on ao3 here
#steddie#jim hopper#there is steddie I promise#cw: implied abuse/child neglect#Jim hopper is Steve’s dad#steve harrington needs a hug#Steve Harrington#POV Jim Hopper#stranger things#el hopper#the party#eddie munson#father son bonding with the two most emotionally repressed people#father figure#ficlet#my writing#steddie fic#ao3#steve harrington centric#jim hopper centric#pre steddie#pre relationship#angst with a happy ending#angst#happy ending
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anonymous prompt: “this isn’t byler but do you think you could write some hopper trying to achieve some step-son stepfather bonding time with a reluctant Will?”
As it turns out, in some weird subversion of all of Jim Hopper’s expectations, teenage girls are a hundred times easier to figure out than teenage boys.
El had been a bit of a blank slate at first. She liked Eggo waffles and daytime TV and when Jim put his records on, she didn’t complain. Maybe she just didn’t know that there were other types of music out there, but as far he was concerned, there wasn’t much worth knowing about that wasn’t Jimi Hendrix anyway.
And then things started falling into place a little. El liked Eggo waffles, but she liked them most with the kinds of toppings on top that he wasn’t supposed to technically be eating anymore– whipped cream and candy and enough sugar to induce a heart attack twenty years early.
She liked the daytime TV just fine, but she liked it better when he watched it with her, telling her what all the unfamiliar words meant. Word of the day, he’d said as a joke, when she’d asked what infatuated meant. The irony of that wouldn’t hit him for another year or so.
She liked Jimi Hendrix okay, but he suspects that she actually just liked watching him dance around to the records more than she did any guitar riff, no matter how captivating they might have been. He doesn’t blame her. He’d never claimed to be a good dancer, but he sure could be an entertaining one.
So this is where he stands, currently. Teenage girls are fine. Teenage boys are, actually, a mystery beyond comprehension.
Or maybe it’s just Joyce Byers’ teenage boys that are hard to figure out.
Yeah. That’s probably it.
Jim’s sure he hasn’t been like this when he was younger. He’d been very straightforward about his interests: his dad’s vinyl collection of 50’s rock ‘n roll, the chocolate milkshakes at the local diner, and cutting class to smoke with Joyce Byers under the east wing stairs.
Some of these more so than others, maybe, but they’d been very simple interests all the same. Nicking Marlboros from his dad’s jacket pocket when he wasn’t looking, then slipping them into Joyce’s waiting fingers as she slid into the stairwell next to him. He’s pretty sure his dad knew where the cigarettes had been going, and he’s also pretty sure he didn’t care.
“What are you smiling about?”
Seventeen-year-old Joyce vanishes in a puff of stale smoke, and suddenly, she’s here in front of him again. The real thing this time, not a hazy, memory-worn apparition– faded cotton shirt, plaid flannel pajama pants. Smiling down at him, holding a pan of scrambled eggs in one hand and a spatula in the other.
Jim raises his eyebrows. “Nothing.” He shakes his head as she spoons eggs onto his plate. “I just– I haven’t seen you smoke in a while.”
Joyce huffs out a small laugh as she slides into the chair next to him. It’s early, barely seven in the morning. The kids don’t usually get up until well into the midmorning on summer days like this, so early mornings are for them and them alone. “I’m trying not to. El doesn’t like the smell.”
“Oh. She told you?”
“Will did.”
“Ah.” He takes a careful sip of his coffee. “What about Will? He doesn’t mind it?”
He can’t see Joyce’s mouth behind her mug, but her eyes are definitely smiling. “He doesn’t like it either. He just stopped saying so after a while.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him.”
Joyce laughs again, this time as she squirts a generous dollop of ketchup on her plate. “What, you didn’t kick the habit when you were locked up?”
“Oh, no,” Jim chuckles. “No way. I thought I would, for a while, but– it’s true, you know, what they say about cigarettes being worth as much as gold in there.”
“Really?”
They don’t talk about Russia much– at least not out here. Not in the morning, not after a good night’s sleep, not in the kitchen, where things are supposed to be happy and warm and filled with light. This isn’t the place for it– for things that are dark and cold and desolate, for monsters or funerals or death.
He clears his throat. “Hey,” he says instead, “listen, I was thinking.”
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“I was thinking, maybe,” he starts, speaking more into the inside of his mug than to Joyce, now. “Maybe I’ll take Will out for the day. Do something together.”
If Joyce is surprised at all, it doesn’t show. “Yeah? To where?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admits, and she gives him an amused look. “I wanted to ask you first.”
Now she looks surprised. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jim shrugs, “he’s your kid! I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, or–” He trails off at the look on her face. “What?”
Joyce ducks her head, smiling softly. “No, that– that’s sweet, Hop. If he’s okay with it, then I’d love for you two to do something together.”
“Really? You think he would?”
“I–” Joyce starts, and then gets a contemplative look on her face. “You know he adores you, right?”
“Please,” Jim snorts, “he’s a sixteen year old boy. He doesn’t adore anybody.”
“Except–”
“We don’t talk about Wheeler before noon, Joyce,” Jim interrupts, and then Joyce is throwing her head back in another laugh. It’s a nice look, Jim thinks, maybe not as privately as he’d like. He’s sure she can tell exactly what’s on his mind.
“Okay! Sorry! But yes, of course. Go have a day out, just the two of you.”
“Okay,” he agrees, then takes a sip of coffee. “Okay. Sounds good.”
—-
The issue here is that given Joyce Byers’ infamous overprotectiveness, he’d thought acquiring her blessing to have a bit of adoptive father-adoptive son bonding would have been the hard part. And now he’s standing in front of Will’s room, hand raised to knock, feeling just about as jittery as he had when he had to give the Wheeler kid the shovel talk.
Both times.
Now or never, Jim, he thinks, because for all of his bravery fighting monsters and Russians and that time he broke his own ankle and ran through miles of snow on foot, this doesn’t compare. This is Will. This is Joyce’s kid. And he doesn’t know why that makes him so nervous, but it does.
You can do it. It’s just a teenage boy.
He sighs, and raises his fist.
“Yeah?” Will’s voice is faint from behind the door. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Jim says, and then steels himself, gathering every remaining bit of courage in his body to say, “you got a minute to talk?”
Will raises his eyebrows. “Sure,” he says. It’s wary, cautious. He sits up further, from where he’d been reclining back on his pillows. “What’s up?”
It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s on edge. Jim supposes maybe this is a bit out of the blue, so he tries to relax, tries to make sure his body language reads I come in peace. “What are you reading?” he tries, nodding towards the book in Will’s hands.
“Um.” Will turns it over, looks at the cover like he has to remind himself. “It’s Slaughterhouse Five. Jonathan gave it to me,” he says slowly.
Jim lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s impressive, kid. Is it any good?”
Will shrugs. “It’s okay so far. I just started though.”
Jim doesn’t know enough about Slaughterhouse Five to keep this conversation going with any merit, so he figures maybe he should just cut to the chase. “Hey, listen,” he starts, and Will’s eyebrows creep a little farther up his forehead. “I was thinking of spending a day out. Go for a drive, grab some lunch. You want to tag along?”
“Oh,” Will says. “Um.” He holds up his book. “I was thinking of getting ahead on this, actually.”
Jim Hopper has braved Russian prisons, secret labs, an underground dimension, his own faked death, and being stood up by Joyce Byers. This is fine.
“Okay,” he says, “that’s fine. No worries.”
“Sorry,” Will adds for good measure, still half-upright on his bed and looking very much like he does not want to be having this conversation.
“Seriously,” Jim says, already backing out into the hallway. “It’s okay. Have fun with the book, kid.”
—-
“He hates me, Joyce.”
Joyce shoots him a look as she climbs into the passenger seat of the car. “He does not hate you, Hop. Maybe you just caught him off guard.”
Jim groans, putting the car in reverse. “I knocked before I went in!”
“Jim.”
“What?”
Joyce pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and drops it into the ashtray. “Please don’t smoke in the car,” she chides. And then, “Well, what did you say to him?”
“I asked him about his book, and then if he wanted to tag along with me while I–”
“Okay, I’d say that caught him off guard a little.”
“How?” Jim exclaims, and then Joyce laughs.
“I don’t know! Will’s just– he needs a second, okay, Hop? Don’t take it personally. I promise he does not hate you.”
“Okay,” he grumbles, as they turn the corner past the high school. “One more shot, and then I’m accepting the fact that both your kids hate me.”
“Jonathan doesn’t hate you either,” Joyce says, but she looks like she’s fighting back a smile. “He just– he doesn’t show affection like that.”
“They hate me,” he repeats, accelerating down the backroad. “They both hate me.”
—-
Attempt #2 goes better. Somewhat.
“Hey,” Jim says as he walks through the door the next evening. Will is curled up on the couch, sketchbook open on his lap. He looks up as the door opens, startling slightly, then relaxes.
“Oh. Hey, Hop.”
Hey, Hop, he thinks. That’s better than Hello, Chief.
“Is your mom home?”
Will shakes his head and looks back down. “She’s at the Wheelers’. She’s having, um. Wine night. With Mike’s mom.”
“Oh, okay.” Jim pauses. “Hey,” he starts, and Will looks back up. “Listen, I don’t suppose you want to watch a movie or something tonight?”
Will blinks. “A movie?”
You’ve come back from the dead, Jim, he thinks. This is just a sixteen year old boy. He shrugs. “Yeah, you know, everyone’s out for the evening. Thought we could make a night of it, just us two.”
“Um.”
“You can pick,” Jim offers, tossing his hat on the kitchen table. “I won’t judge your taste, I promise.”
Will’s lips twitch upwards at the corners, ever so slightly. “I have good taste,” he protests, and Jim shrugs, like sure! Okay! “But I can’t today. Um. Sorry.”
“Oh. Big plans tonight?”
“Actually,” Will starts, pursing his lips. “Mike and I are grabbing dinner soon.”
Oh. Oh. Okay. It’s a bit of a low blow, getting passed over for the Wheeler kid, but it’s fine. Jim can roll with the punches. “Huh. Anywhere good?”
Will shrugs, but he looks like he’s on the verge of a smile. “Just the diner on Main Street.”
“Oh, the diner,” Jim laughs, pulling out a chair. “I used to go there every day when I was your age, actually. Best milkshakes on this side of Indiana.”
“Yeah?” Will puts his pencil down. “What was your order?”
“Ham and cheese. And a chocolate milkshake,” he answers immediately. He dreamt about those milkshakes, thought about them during long, cold nights behind bars, nothing but prison-grade gruel to fill his stomach. Comfort food. The kind of memory you hold on to longer than you’d expect.
“I get ham and cheese too,” Will says, and then he looks a bit surprised at himself, like this was something he didn’t mean to say. “Except I get, um. I get strawberry instead.”
Jim pretends to think it over. “Strawberry’s good,” he admits, “but not good enough.”
“Hey!” Will says, laughing. “Come on. Chocolate is so boring.”
That feels like a win, even if it’s a small one. He’s smiling before he realizes it. Making light banter over milkshake flavors shouldn’t be this exciting, not for someone like him, not for someone who’s been through what he has, but–
“You need a ride?” Jim holds up his car keys, still clutched in one hand. “I can drop you off.”
The smile fades slightly from Will’s face. “Oh, um. Mike’s picking me up, actually. In, like, ten minutes?”
“Wheeler can drive?”
“He got his license last month,” Will says, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. Jim’s first instinct is to protest– something about that’s not safe, and I don’t know if that’s the best idea, but he bites his tongue.
If Mike Wheeler can kill monsters, he can drive a car just fine. Probably.
“Okay,” he says at last, standing up and grabbing his hat. “Have fun, kid. Tell Wheeler to drive safe. Five under the speed limit. It’s my buddies on patrol tonight, remember.”
Will looks like he simultaneously wants to laugh and groan. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Hop. I’ll tell him.”
“Have a milkshake for me,” Jim says, then slinks off to his room.
Okay. That could’ve gone worse.
—-
“Okay, I don’t think he hates me.”
Joyce gives him a look like see? “I told you he doesn’t hate you,” she says, reaching across him for the olive oil. “What did you say this time?”
“Something about watching a movie,” Jim says. “I was– God, okay, Joyce, can you take over the onions for me?”
Joyce laughs, and says, teasing, “Broke your way out of a prison but chopping onions is too much?”
“This is why I don’t cook,” he says, then makes his way over to the record player in the corner of the living room. “I’ll take over music duty.”
“Sure,” Joyce calls. “You don’t cook because of onions.”
Steely Dan crackles to life as he turns around. “Oh, yeah,” he grins, “this is it. This is the good stuff.”
“Jim,” Joyce laughs. “What– are you supposed to be dancing?”
Hey, he’s said it before. He’s not the best dancer, but he’s definitely an entertaining one. “Times are hard,” Jim croons along, and Joyce’s laughter grows. “You’re afraid to pay the fee–”
“You’re awful,” Joyce shakes her head, even as Jim grabs a hold of her hands. “And– Hop, my hands are all onion-y.”
He ignores her. “When you need a little bit of lovin’–”
“Ew,” comes a voice from the hallway, and Jim turns around.
“Hey, hon,” Joyce says absentmindedly, dropping his hands and wiping hers on the towel. Onion, she mouths at him. “What’s going on?”
Will shoots him a bit of a strange look. “Sorry. I was just wondering when dinner was going to be.”
“Twenty minutes?” Jim offers, then grins. “Thirty if your mom tries to put me back on onion duty.”
Will crinkles up his nose and turns in the direction of the living room. “What are you playing?”
“I don’t wanna do your dirty work,” Jim belts out in response. Joyce and Will stare, identical dumbfounded expressions on their faces. “Steely Dan?” Jim offers.
Nothing. Apparently he’s dating into a family with zero taste.
“Sorry,” Joyce shrugs. “It’s cute, though!”
Cute! He squints in Will’s direction. “You too?”
Will mirrors Joyce’s shrug. “Sorry. It’s not really my thing.”
“Oh? What’s your thing, then?”
Will stands up a bit straighter. “I don’t know,” he says. “Um. I like The Cure. Stuff like that.”
“The Cure,” Jim muses. “That band, you got the, uh. You’ve got records of theirs, right?”
“Yeah,” Will smiles, then moves forward to sit down at the table. “Jonathan gave me some of his older ones when he left for college so I started, uh. I started collecting them.”
Okay. Okay, he can work with this.
Over Will’s shoulder, Joyce shoots him an impressed look and a thumbs up. You got this, she mouths, and then, aloud: “Hey, I just remembered, guys, I’ve got to go deal with the laundry. Just a second.”
Will frowns. “The laundry isn’t going right now.”
“Okay, then I’ve got to run a load. Be right back,” Joyce says, and then she flashes him another thumbs up and she’s gone, off down the hall.
There’s a moment of silence. Will looks around the kitchen– at the pasta boiling on the stove, the dishes in the sink, the wooden grain of the table. “Okay,” he says after a moment, “I think I should–”
“Hey,” Jim blurts out, “why don’t you, uh. Why don’t you bring one of your records out? You can have a turn.”
Will stops, halfway out of his seat. When he speaks, it’s quiet, a little pleased. “Yeah?”
Jim nods, spreads his hands out. “Show me what you got.”
Will comes back a couple minutes later with a record in his hands. “Um,” he starts, “so this is their newest one, they released it a couple months ago.”
The red of the cover looks vaguely familiar. Jim’s sure he’s seen this one around in the record shops, something like that. “Very interesting,” he says, as Will drops the needle carefully onto it. “This is, uh–”
He knows the band, of course. He’s not that out of touch. But Will’s mouth twitches as he says, “The Cure,” and then, “um. This is one of my favorites so far.”
Jim doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the guitar. Drums, coming in steady and insistent. He lets out a low whistle. “Alright, wow. Didn’t take you for a rock fan, kid.”
To his surprise, Will smiles. A real smile. “Yeah,” he says, standing awkwardly by the record player. “Jonathan got me into them when I was younger. Um. I guess he liked stuff that had loud guitar and drums and stuff so, you know, I also– I like that stuff too.”
“Loud guitar,” Jim snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like your brother.”
“My dad– um,” Will says, hesitantly. “Lonnie. He hated loud music. The drums and the– I think that’s why Jonathan listened to it so much.”
Right, Jim thinks. Lonnie Byers, an infamously giant piece of work. That checks out. And then, another smaller voice pipes up with You’re the chief of police, Jim. You can get away with–
“Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,” the song croons, “your tongue’s like poison–“
Will’s eyes widen. “Um,” he says, fiddling with the player. “Um, actually, let’s– I like this other song too, so–”
Jim bites back a laugh. “I like it,” he says, which isn’t a lie. It could grow on him. “The guitar. It’s nice.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Jim nods, and then, as the second song starts to pick up– “Will.”
“Hm?”
“Is this a love song?” he grins. “Your second favorite is also a love song?”
“I– no,” Will splutters, immediately turning a brilliant scarlet. “‘Just Like Heaven’ is not a–”
“–I kissed her face and kissed her–”
“Lots of kissing in these songs,” he points out, and Will groans.
“Oh my God, it’s not–! The album is literally called Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me–”
Jim grins. Teenage boys are complicated, maybe, but you can count on them all getting flustered the same way. “I’m just teasing, kid. Could you go get your mom, please, because this sauce is about to burn and I don’t trust myself with it.”
“I wouldn’t trust her with it either,” Will mutters, even as he peers around the corner into the hall. “Mom?”
If Joyce hears him laughing, then– whatever. Jim gets a pass. It was for a good cause.
#hope u guys like this one#!#i've never written hop pov before this was really fun#a fun little challenge#so hopefully i did him justice!#fun sized fics#jim hopper#joyce byers#jopper#byler#crumbs but i feel weird not tagging it#um#will byers#fic#ficlet#?#this got so long help me
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The Bizarre Love Triangle playlist is finally here!
📝 ☎️ 🎨 🛼 🌈⏮️ 🫀 💡
I've been working on this playlist for almost a year now, sharing piece by piece slowly with gifs accompanied by lyrics, which are meant to encapsulate what I think each of these characters were feeling at the time. This playlist goes in order narratively, so if you want the full experience, be sure to click start below to see where it all begins!
START ▶️
Tracklist
You're the Inspiration
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow
This Is the Day
The Great Pretender
You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'
Who Can It Be Now?
I Need You
Bizarre Love Triangle
You've Really Got a Hold of Me
I'm Not In Love
Words
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Dust in the Wind
I've Been Losing You
I Want to Break Free
Enjoy the Silence
Secret
Always on My Mind
The Chain
It's Too Late
How Can I Be Sure?
Alone Again (Naturally)
Alone
Just the Two of Us
The Promise
Never My Love
At Your Best (You Are Love)
Landslide
Wouldn't It Be Nice
The Flame
Is This Love
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?) - BONUS TRACK
I Know There's Something Going On
Slippin' Through My Fingers
More Than Words
If I Can't Have You
What You Won't Do for Love
Total Eclipse of the Heart
Time For Me To Fly
I Will Survive
Blue Moon
If You Leave
Somebody to Love
Don't Dream It's Over
#bizarre love triangle playlist#stranger things#happy stranger things day#a present from me to you!#byler#platonic elmike#willel twins#mike wheeler#will byers#el hopper#music#things to know:#-- you have to be familiar with the color theory to understand why I chose: red for el / blue for mike / yellow for will#-- some songs fit perfectly for the moment while others only have like one or two lines that fit so keep this in mind#-- there are a few songs that have titles that match the title/context of the songs that follow them and that was merely a coincidence#-- it would've been cool if el getting track 11 / will getting track 12 was a coincidence but that was entirely intentional <3#-- will and el both have 13 songs while mike has 17 songs#that's bc this playlist actually started out as a mike playlist with the same title bc bizarre love triangle is just literally his pov#but then i came across songs that fit really well with both will and el's pov and so i switched it to a trilogy of sorts#there also just happen to be a lot more songs that match with mike's pov more than the other two#el's pov is a lot of questioning whether your s/o loves you back and the shift from that to letting go and being happy/moving on#so there's only so many songs that fit into that#will's pov is sort of loving wholeheartedly in the most pure way while also feeling like that person will never return those feelings#there are a lot of love songs from that pov but more often than not they have lyrics that fit more with mike's pov than will's#there's definitely songs on here that fit with both will and mike's pov but it just turned out it fit mike's more in the moment#mike's pov is sort of a mixture of both will and el's where he assumes his love is unrequited / has fears about letting go of what he knows#mike's pov is also not in the forefront in s4 as much as we're used to it being previously so this offers a nice glimpse into his thoughts#-- the bonus track contains the pov of the entire bizarre love triangle and it's epic#-- also keep an eye out for some special features!#Spotify
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Serve & Protect
Summary: You moved to the small quiet town of Hawkins after transferring from the NYPD and reunite with your old partner, Jim Hopper. However, Hawkins isn't as quiet as it seems, and your past follows you there.
Pairing: Jim Hopper x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warnings: Language, violence, past abuse
Chapter 1- paperwork, coffee & rotten pumpkins
Transferring from the NYPD to Hawkins PD had been drastic. You went from getting paid as a detective working homicide in the big city to working in a small country town as a Deputy on half the wage.
Your co-workers at Hawkins thought you were crazy for it, but they didn't know why you moved. They didn't know the reason behind the sudden shift across the country and you sure as hell weren't going to tell them.
It wasn't all bad though.
You and Hopper used to be partners back in New York in the homicide unit, until he moved away after his daughter died. It sucked when he left town, but you understood why he left, especially after him and his wife got divorced.
However, that understanding didn't make it any easier without him, especially when the boss introduced you to your new work partner a week later and he was a total dick.
"Have I ever told you guys about how much I hate paperwork?" Callahan asked, looking over at you and Powell across the room.
"I think you've said it nearly every day since I started working here." You answered, rubbing your face with your hands trying to wake yourself up as you stared down at the stack of files on your desk.
He was right though, paperwork did suck.
"Try every day for the last three years. It gets annoying, trust me." Powell mumbled, his head down busy working.
Callahan rolled his eyes, and you covered up your laugh with a cough while looking between the two men in amusement.
It had been a couple of weeks since you first stepped foot in Hawkins after leaving the busy city streets of New York behind. You had expected to feel like an outcast at the station. The other officers had all grown up together in this small town. Some had even been in the same courses at the Police Academy. They all had chemistry and strong connections to one another, and they were all men.
From experience, male Police Officers tended to dislike female colleagues, however, your new fellow Deputies had welcomed you with open arms. They were all friendly and treated you like an equal which was more than what any of your old work colleagues had done back in New York.
It shouldn't have been a surprise though because Jim Hopper wouldn't let any discrimination or hate slide when it came to you.
He had your back in New York and stood up for you when no one else would. Even after all these years, nothing had changed.
The Chief had put you on the same shift rotation as Powell and Callahan since your first day. The two Deputies had taken you under their wing without hesitation.
Calvin Powell was an older yet brilliant deputy. He was stern and tough when it came to the law, and was serious about his job, but was always up for a good laugh. He had taught you a lot in your short time with Hawkins PD and was always happy to answer any questions you had.
Phil Callahan was the exact opposite.
He was the jokester of the station and although he was always cracking jokes and acting some would say, childish, he was a damn good deputy. He was constantly the first one out the door whenever a job came up and was always ready to help with anything.
"This isn't a laughing matter, Jim. This is serious."
You looked up from your paperwork at the unfamiliar voice to find Hopper walking into the station followed by a balding guy with a beard who you had never seen before.
Hopper groaned dramatically at the stranger's words and hung his coat up on the rack by the front door.
Well, whoever that guy was, the Chief did not like him.
"I really got something here. I'm telling you." The guy insisted.
"Morning, Chief." Powell greeted, actually looking up from his desk as he spoke before he spotted the other guy and grinned, "morning, Murray."
"Got any proof on your butt probin' aliens yet, Murray?" Callahan asked causing your head to snap towards him.
"What? Who the hell is this guy?" You asked.
"Murray Bauman. Used to be an Investigative Journalist in Hawkins, now he's some kind of Private Investigator, but he believes all these weird conspiracy theories and stuff." Callahan whispered, leaning over your joined desks towards you as he spoke.
"That sounds... interesting." You answered, choosing your words carefully.
You looked back over at Murray just as Hopper grabbed one of the donuts from the bench, but Flo was hot on his tail and snatched the glazed donut from his hand and replaced it with an apple.
Hopper glared at her, and you tried not to laugh at the annoyed look on his face, but he accepted the fruit anyway and took a bite out of it.
"I believe there was, and may still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins." Murray continued to say.
"Russian spies?" Hopper asked, amusement clear in his voice as he began pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Are the spies in cahoots with the aliens? Or how do they fit in here? I'm confused." Callahan commented causing you to snort softly.
Hopper just smirked and filled up another mug of coffee before grabbing both and walking over to your desk, placing the second mug down in front of you.
You smiled, "thank you. I needed this."
"I could tell. You look tired."
"Just what every girl wants to hear." You mumbled into the coffee cup as you took a sip and sighed at the warm taste of caffeine.
"I'm talking multiple reports now." Murray continued to say, his voice raised a little louder. "Multiple reports, okay? Of a Russian child in Hawkins."
"A child? What are you talking about?" Hopper questioned, now suddenly interested in what this man had to say.
"A girl who may have psionic abilities."
"'Psionic'?" Powell asked in confusion.
"Psychic." Murray corrected.
"Hey Chief. What about that girl that made that kid pee himself?" Callahan asked and okay, what? Now you had questions.
"It was just a prank." Hopper answered, dismissing his Deputy quickly before turning to Murray. "You got five minutes. Not a second more."
You watched as Hopper led Murray across the room into his own private office, closing the door behind him. You glanced over at Callahan and Powell who both shrugged their shoulders and went back to work, like it was normal for a man to walk in and start talking about Russian spies and kids with powers. Maybe it was normal for Hawkins.
Within 60 seconds, the Chief's door opened and a rather pissed off looking Murray stepped out. He spared one glance at the rest of you before he turned and walked out the station before Hopper emerged from his office.
"Who wants to get out the office for a bit? We got a job."
"Me!" You and Callahan both quickly said at the same time.
Hopper looked between the two of you, "Y/N, let's go."
"Oh, come on!" Callahan whined. "You always choose her."
"Maybe I like her better than you. Ya ever think about that?" Hopper asked, grabbing his jacket from the rack, and slipping it on.
"We all know why you like her." Callahan mumbled under his breath causing Powell to kick his feet under the desk.
You looked between the two of them suspiciously, Hopper just bluntly ignoring them before you chugged the last of your coffee and followed the Chief out the station.
You jumped into the passenger seat of his Chevy Blazer, instantly reaching for the dial of the heater and cranking it up as Hopper reversed out the parking lot.
"So, what's the job?"
"Pumpkins that have been contaminated by a vengeful neighbour." He answered causing you to look over at him in disbelief.
"You're shitting me, right? Pumpkins?"
He chuckled softly, "I shit you not."
"How'd I go from investigating murders to investigating pumpkins?" You asked aloud causing him to laugh.
"You're the one who put in your transfer to Hawkins. This is on you." He reminded.
Yeah, that was true.
You nodded, knowing he was right, and you glanced out the window as Hopper drove, the faint music from the radio filling the silence.
"Why did you transfer here? Not that I'm complaining, I just... I thought you loved it in New York."
This wasn't the first time he had asked. Hell, it wasn't even the second, but you kept dodging the question.
"Just needed a fresh start. A change of scenery I guess." You answered, which wasn't a total lie.
You could feel Hopper staring at you out the corner of your eye, but you kept your head forward, knowing if you looked at him, he would be able to see straight through you. After all those years working together, you had gotten to know each other really well, to the point where you knew when the other was lying.
Hopper just hummed in response, despite knowing there was more to the story, but to your relief, he didn't try to pry, and you were grateful for that.
It didn't take long to reach the small pumpkin farm on the outskirts of Hawkins. If you were being honest, you forgot these kinds of farms existed. But of course, they did, you just never really thought about it until now.
The farmer was adamant that his neighbour had poisoned his crops. Stating that the pumpkins were perfectly fine yesterday, but when he woke up this morning, they were rotten.
After inspecting the large fields of pumpkins, every single vegetable was in fact rotten and Hopper told him that he was going to look into it before you both climbed back into the car.
"There is no way these pumpkins turned rotten like that overnight." You said, the second your car door was shut. "What do you think happened?"
"I honestly have no idea. It's been cold, maybe frost got to them."
"Good theory. Try telling that to him though." You said, nodding at the farmer who was still standing by his ruined crop.
Hopper grunted, "he can accept whatever I tell him."
He turned the key in the ignition, bringing the old Chevy to life with a roar before tapping it into gear and driving back down the dirt road to Hawkins.
Instead of going back to the station like you assumed he would have, Hopper instead pulled up to the diner on main street and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting inside and eating breakfast.
"I missed this." You found yourself saying before thinking better of it.
Hopper looked up at you from across the booth, his fork halfway to his mouth, "missed pancakes?" he asked in confusion.
"No." You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, I missed this. Us. Working together. It feels like old times."
Back in New York, you were the first woman to join the homicide unit. All the guys hated it. They didn't believe a girl could do the job as well as men and they despised you for it. They all treated you like garbage despite the fact that you were better than half the team, but they still hated you, except for Hopper.
He was the only one who treated you like a normal person. At first, he was a little apprehensive, but that was because he had been used to working solo and wasn't expecting the Superintendent to suddenly give him a partner, especially not some random chick he had never met before.
The two of you had hit it off straight away though. You didn't take any of his crap and he respected that, and you made quite a team.
"Ah, yes. Because we used to deal with crime scenes of rotten pumpkins and eat in diners all the time back in New York." He said sarcastically, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"Well, if you replace pumpkins with dead bodies. The farmer with a serial killer and these pancakes in this diner for a packet of candy in the stakeout van, then yes."
Hopper snorted, taking another bite of his pancakes as he shook his head with a smile.
"I missed working with you too." He admitted once he finished his mouthful. "I still can't believe you transferred here though."
"I'm starting to regret it after that thrilling morning on the farm." You joked, but Hopper shook his head.
"Nah, you don't. You'd miss me too much if you left Hawkins."
Yeah, you would.
"In your dreams." You said instead because like hell you were going to admit that.
You liked Hopper. You even had a crush on him back in New York when you first joined, but after finding out that he was married with a kid, you quickly pushed your feelings aside and the two of you became best friends.
"You seeing anyone?" He randomly asked causing you to nearly choke on your coffee.
"What?" You asked, covering your mouth as you coughed.
"Are you seeing anyone? You got a boyfriend or anything?" He clarified.
"Oh, no, no. I'm single." You answered, shrugging your shoulders hoping it looked casual. "What about you? Have you found someone in this town to settle down with?"
Hopper opened his mouth to answer before his eyes widened like he just realised something, and he quickly rolled up his sleeve to look at his watch.
"Shit. Shit. I was meant to meet Joyce at the lab ten minutes ago."
Joyce? Who was Joyce?
"I need to go. I'll drop you off on my way." He said, throwing down some money on the table and eating his last pancake before the two of you left the diner and climbed back into the car.
"Hawkins lab?" You asked, looking over at him as he pulled out the parking lot and sped in the direction of the station. "What's at Hawkins lab that's so important?"
"Nothing. It's nothing important. Just promised Joyce I'd help her out with something." He dismissed, not going into any detail.
You wanted to push for an answer but decided against it. He would tell you if he wanted to and frankly, it wasn't any of your business, but you couldn't help but feel a little sad hearing about Joyce.
Was she his girlfriend? He never did answer your question earlier.
Hopper dropped you off back at the station and the rest of your shift was mainly just sitting behind the desk doing paperwork, until an old lady called about a noise complained, so you went out with Powell and Callahan to deal with that.
The day went by surprisingly quickly and before you knew it, you were standing back in that pumpkin crop the following day with Hopper because now it wasn't just one person's crop that had turned rotten. It was several.
"Now, you try telling me with a straight face that cold did this." The farmer said, pointing at his destroyed crop.
Yeah, he had a point.
Frost might have gotten some of the pumpkins, but not this many and this quickly. Plus, for October, it hadn't been super cold yet, so it didn't make any sense.
"How far does it go?" You asked curiously, wondering if whatever was destroying the pumpkins was hurting other plant life in the area.
The farmer just motioned for the two of you to follow him as he walked towards the woods by the boundary line of his crop and your jaw dropped when you realised that the trees and bushes on the edge of the woods had turned rotten too.
Okay, this was definitely not the cold. What the hell did all this?
"What the fuck?" You whispered to yourself, lifting your hand, and touching the rotten tree trunk to find this gooey slimy substance all over it.
Hopper appeared beside you and quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from the slime.
"Hey, Chief, you copy?" Powell's voice called over the radio.
Hopper grabbed his radio from his belt and held it to his mouth. "How's it looking over there?"
"Like a giant pissed all over Jack's bean field. Smells, too. It smell over there?"
"Where doesn't it smell?" You questioned, grimacing at the gross rotten stench that covered the entire farm.
You'd nearly rather the stench from old dead bodies than this... okay, no, that's a lie. There was nothing that smelt worse than that, but this was a close second.
"Yeah, little bit. Listen. I want you guys to track the rot, see how far it goes. Just, uh, mark anything that's dead." Hopper instructed through the radio.
"That's gonna take some time." Powell pointed out.
"So take it. And look, we don't know what caused this. Could be poison. So don't touch anything without gloves." He ordered, pointily staring at you with the last sentence and you gave him a guilty look.
"Copy that, Chief."
He slipped the radio back into the pouch on his belt before turning towards you with a questioning look, "you good to work some overtime?"
"I got no plans tonight. Let's get started." You said and Hopper nodded his appreciation before the two of you got to work.
The farmer had supplied marker flags, so you and Hopper spent the next few hours walking through the woods and placing a flag by everything rotten while Powell and Callahan did the same at the other farm.
By nightfall, it was finally finished, and Hopper gave you all permission to start late tomorrow morning so you could actually get a decent night's sleep.
"I have to basically drive past your house to get home, want a lift?" He asked, climbing into the Chevy.
"My truck is at the station. I won't be able to-"
"I can pick you up in the morning."
You nodded, "that would work. Thank you."
You climbed into the passenger side of his car before Hopper started the Chevy and began to drive away. He barely got a few metres down the dirt driveway before he suddenly slammed on the brakes and put the car into reverse.
"What are you doing?" You asked, figuring he must have forgotten something.
He didn't answer though, instead he rolled down his window and stuck his head out and called out to the little kid walking towards the farmhouse, his Halloween outfit on and bucket full of candy in his hand.
"Hey, kid. Give me some of that candy, would you?"
"No way." The boy answered and you saw that coming from a mile away.
Kids cherished their Halloween candy. But why did Hopper want some?
"Alright, how about now?" He asked, pulling out a couple dollar bills from his wallet.
The kid hesitated a little before nodding in agreement and jogging up to the car, taking the money and handing over his bucket of candy. You just watched, assuming Hopper would explain why he needed the candy, but he didn't say a single word before he tapped the car into gear and continued to drive.
"Umm, is there a reason you bribed the kid for his candy?" You asked curiously.
"Forgot it was Halloween, I don't have any at home. Wanted to be prepared in case any kids came trick or treating to my front door."
You glanced over at the clock on the dash which indicated that it was nearly midnight, and you raised your eyebrows, "how many kids do you think will be trick or treating at this time of night?"
Hopper glanced over at the clock and seemed surprised by how late it was but shrugged his shoulders.
"Can never be too prepared."
Guess he had a fair point. But you didn't plan on getting any candy. You planned on going straight to bed and if anyone knocked on your door for trick or treating at this time of night, you were not answering it.
"What's your address?" Hopper asked a few seconds later, turning out onto the main road.
"Thought you said my house was on the way to yours. Don't you know it?"
Hopper didn't say anything for a moment, "I lied. I have no idea where you live."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't told me your address."
"No, I meant why did you lie? I could have driven home myself, you know?"
He sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand, "maybe I wanted to spend more time with you."
Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.
"Aww, you really did miss me all these years, didn't you? That's sweet." You responded in a teasing tone as you leant over and nudged his arm with your elbow.
"I hate you." He muttered, but the small smile on his face told you how untrue those words really were.
"You love me."
"Love is a real strong word. More like tolerate."
"Ouch." You said, resting your hand over your heart dramatically causing Hopper to stifle a laugh as he shook his head at you.
"But, seriously, where do you live because I have no idea where I'm driving."
"Oh, take the next two lefts and I'm number 32." You answered.
Within a couple of minutes, he was pulling up in front of your house and you climbed out the car, pausing as you held the door open.
"What time will you pick me up in the morning? Just so I'm awake and ready."
"I'll swing by around nine." He answered and you nodded, about to close the door before he continued talking. "Oh, and Y/N? Stay out of the woods, okay?"
You frowned a little but nodded, "wasn't planning on going for a stroll through the woods, but alright."
He nodded and you gave him a friendly wave before closing the door and watching him drive off.
You made your way inside the house kicking off your muddy boots by the door and making a mental note to clean them in the morning. You dumped your duty belt on the back of the couch before noticing there was a little red light flashing on your answering machine.
Who had tried to call you?
You didn't keep in touch with anyone from New York and the only people you knew in Hawkins were the ones you were with today. So, who was it?
Pressing the play button, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water but froze in the doorway when the voice spoke through the machine.
A sickening wave of terror welled in your stomach. Your body grew tense to the point of shaking as you grabbed hold of the wall listening to the voice you had hoped to never hear again.
"You think moving to Hawkins will save you? It won't. I'll be seeing you again real soon, sugar."
Blood drained from your skin and breath caught in your throat as you slowly slid down against the wall and sat on the carpet. You buried your face into your hands trying to remember how to breathe as you thought back to the last time you heard that voice... the voice who was the reason for your transfer to Hawkins.
-
Next Chapter
A/N: Why did I write this? Well, I wanted to read a Hopper x Reader fanfic that consisted of more than 1 chapter and wasn't just pure smut with no plot… however, upon scrolling through AO3 I discovered that is hard to find.
So, I wrote my own.
I know this chapter was a little heavy in dialogue which I'm not happy with but bear with me for the first few chapters because I promise it gets better.
Thank you for those that are reading this new story. I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below! The next chapter will be posted within the next few days but until then, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx
MASTERLIST pinned to profile
If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know
#jim hopper#jim hopper x y/n#jim hopper x reader#jim hopper fanfic#jim hopper imagine#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#david harbour#pov
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So... I lied about getting a full fix-it to This → Part 1. Y'all get parts focusing on different characters for now as Hop traverses his guilt trip. I won't say it gets worse before it gets better but... kinda in places? I promise it's a happy ending though!!
What do you want from me I'm stressed and depressed and I like making my blorbos suffer (a.k.a projecting my trauma instead of doing the healthy shit my shrink tells me to)
You've been warned... But I do hope you like it.
So here we have Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)
He goes to Joyce about it first. Thinks about her gentle herding of the trio that has become the Hopper-Byers brood. Thinks about how she put everything he was feeling about Mike and El and their giggling and the fucking door into words that kept him from looking like an imbecile (if he'd have ever used them instead of fucking it up 'winging it'). Thinks about the way her voice stays soft and kind of quiet even when she's spitting in his face about listening to her (and every time she's been right) and how that's translated to talking down government goons and wrangling the army of children that seems to get bigger each time they have to fight interdimensional terrors. So he goes to Joyce about what Murray said, the noise Steve made with That Look in his eyes and his bandages peeking out from under a shirt that looks like one of the Henleys he's been missing since coming 'back from the dead' and they dug out his clothes from storage. (El wouldn't let her throw anything out, not until she was ready to say goodbye. Thank whatever god[s] there may be she never needed to)
He doesn't expect Joyce to make a face like he suggested inviting Owens to family dinner. He doesn't expect the scoff and eye roll as her shoulders tense and her hands flex at her sides like she's about to let loose her (honestly really attractive) righteous fury. About the Harrington kid.
Maybe he should have asked when the kids weren't home. Before El quietly told them the bullying wasn't as bad as it was in California but some people still made fun of how she spoke and how all of her friends were boys (and just as quietly asked they not do anything. Asked that they let her and The Party handle it until they couldn't). Before Will came home sulking about something idiotic Mike said or did or something the kid missed (though lately the latest Wheeler mistake is followed by bashful mention of the Emerson kid doing something specifically to make Will feel better in the moment). Before Jonathan came home from 'job hunting' or 'volunteering at the school's relief center' reeking of weed and his long-haired friend in tow (less than usual but still enough to make Joyce feel guilty for missing it for so long, for making the boy grow up so fast that he spends his days out of his mind instead of the weekend bender like when they were kids). Before The Party had come by with what homework the school was still giving out and talking over each other about all the latest small-town gossip a teenager can get their hands on (Eddie's name has been cleared but he's still laid up at the hospital. Susan Mayfield has been noticeably absent according to every nosy housewife in Hawkins considering her daughter is in a coma. The Hagans, Carvers, Perkins and a handful of other 'well to do' families have skipped town taking most of the sports population with them. Steve has been letting people displaced by the damage crash at the Harrington mansion. Steve has kept up hours at Family Video somehow and is a regular volunteer at the various relief centers in town. Steve has been giving all of them rides and may have told Dustin he's thinking of trading in the Beemer for a bigger vehicle for all the kids and people he chauffeurs about. Steve keeps a room empty and waiting for when Max wakes up before her mother makes an appearance. Steve. Steve. Steve.)
He doesn't expect the way she spits his name like she's talking about Dick and Margaret under the bleachers over a smoke before the yard teacher catches them. The rant about bullies and broken cameras and trashed kitchens and dead monsters in her fridge. The crack in her voice when she crosses her arms to stop their shaking as she lays sin upon sin at this boy's feet.
And maybe before that would have been enough.
He doesn't expect the stone in his stomach or the burning in his chest as he looks the woman he loves in the eye and says "So I guess we should tell Nancy to break up with Jonathan before he pulls a Lonnie, huh?" It's a low blow. He knows from the hurt anger on her face and on the purse of her lips. He knows that's why he said it. "That kid is lucky to be alive let alone walking and have we ever even thanked him for keeping the fucking kids alive each time they pull their dumb shit when the world goes to hell? Does that sound like anything his folks would have ever done for us? Hell for their own fucking kid they practically signed over to ME of all people?"
He's shaking now too and Joyce has her hands fluttering between them like she wants to reach out. To touch, comfort. Pull him close and tell him to take a breath.
"He called me 'His Hop', Joyce" He barely has enough breath on him to squeeze the words past his tight throat. "Called me His Hop and watched Ellie and the kids when I just couldn't and you were at work. I don't think I've seen his folks in town since the mall was opened and all the donors had that big party. Don't think I've spoken to them since '83 and they made me the kid's guardian when they aren't around cause they didn't want to fly down for a government sized concussion."
By now he knows El and Will are peeking around the corner, their eyes wide and worried. Jonathan has his door cracked and Angus (is that the hippie's name? He can't remember) is whispering something about heavy auras. Joyce is staring somewhere off in the distance, wringing her hands and biting her lips like she's facing an interdimensional portal shaped problem.
"The kids are planning to have one of their games in a few days." Her voice is brittle in a way he's not used to anymore. Not since she pulled her youngest out of hell and faced down a demon clawing through her walls. "He always drives them over and- and disappears until they need to head home. I can make sure he stays for dinner. Like the rest of the kids. I know Claudia has been having him over so I- I can get some recipes from her that he likes."
Something in his shoulders shakes loose and he reaches out to pull her practically shaking from into his chest.
"I don't know what to say to him Hop. He's not Mike and he's not like either of my boys. In my head he's just always been..."
"Dick and Margaret's brat." He sighs out and rests his cheek on the top of her head as she nods and presses herself in closer.
He's aware of eyes on them. Confused and worried and judgemental and he'll pay that piper next. These kids taught him how to be a dad again once, they can do it again, right?
Part 3
@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth
If I missed you in the tag list I'm sorry I tried 🙃🫡 Tell me what you think? 🫣🥲
#nttttf verse#Never Took The Time (To Forget)#yeah the ramblings of a madperson#rambler writes#hopper adopts steve#but make it sad#not fic#i need sleep#stranger things thoughts#hopper pov#hopper byers family#I swear I love Joyce#I just need her to realize she canonically dislikes Steve for VERY stupid reasons#jopper#fic writing#fic wip#stranger things wip
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Part Two / Part Three
Ao3
It's 8:45 am.
The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.
It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?
No one was complaining.
They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves.
It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.
He doesn't mind it.
Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.
This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.
Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.
(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise.
The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)
As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.
It was a nice little system that worked for them.
A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.
This was not unusual.
Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face.
What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand.
The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.
Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him.
(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.)
"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it.
"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.
Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.
'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'
Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him.
"Mind if I have a word outside?"
Dammit Eddie.
"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely.
There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once.
"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. "
"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy.
Wayne stared up at him.
"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.
"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in."
If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.
It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.
They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass.
Hopper really did let the kid off easy.
Wayne really did owe him.
So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them.
"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context.
Wayne hummed to show he’d heard.
“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.”
A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn.
“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.”
A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut.
"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?"
The Chief chewed on his split lip.
"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town."
Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble.
The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction.
How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird.
Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have.
Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab.
The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters.
This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around.
The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion.
(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)
"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it."
"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed.
"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.”
This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going.
Hopper took a breath. Than another.
A third.
It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life.
"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.
Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions.
“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.”
Wayne sucked in a breath.
"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.
It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy.
Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t.
Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.
He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there.
(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.)
“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.”
His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest.
“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.
“A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.”
Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie.
“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.”
“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished.
“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.”
'Ain’t that the damn truth.'
“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind.
This one, he figured, was the most important.
“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.”
Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one.
It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.
Except, apparently, Steve Harrington.
“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.
If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.
No point in it.
“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn.
“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say.
Once again, Wayne waited him out.
“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.”
A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.
How they almost hadn’t.
“Alright.” Wayne agreed.
Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.
He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy.
He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross.
Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer?
Wayne had a feeling it was needed.
#this has like t wo more parts#pre steddie#wayne as a BAMF#wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve#ya'll are gonna have to put up with my weird ass jumping all over the place warm ups sorry lol#Gary's fourth piece is coming no worries#and then this will either take its place or the other one I have will#you CANNOT look me in the eye and tell me all the blue color workers arent aware shits going down#like 100% local crews took one look at starcourt and went what the fuck#nevermind you know the local power plant lol#and with demo critters running around its not like they were tearing through brushes and shit#your local hunters are gonna know somethings up#anyway#beat to shit Steve Harrington#my beloved#hes gonna show up busted to shit with a major grade concussion and Eddie is gonna shit himself#steve harrington#steddie#I spelled collar color and im not changing it#outsider pov#wayne pov#I will write the first person who knows where I pulled John from a prompt of their choice#catholic wayne munson#jim hopper
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Will saying "remember, you're the heart" right before Mike says I love you is wild because like- if she heard that, the best case scenario is it paints her a full picture of the fact that he and Will solved this issue together.
He said earlier that he had been thinking about it the past few days, but that is omitting a key detail: Will. The problem there isn't their conversation, it isn't the reference, it isn't anything revealing, really, but the fact that Will is involved in this for him. Even if it is genuine and even without the painting, the fact remains that Will resolved Mike's insecurities for him to tell her he loved her and it WORKED.
The word "remember" on its own might be more hurtful than "you're the heart", honestly. "Remember what we talked about". Even just any encouragement at all, a "you got this", tells us that he didn't contemplate this alone like she thought. Honestly, at that point, there's a part of me that's hoping you still can't say it. Because one way or another, you needed him for this. One way or another, I couldn't do it when I begged but after a couple days with him, you're good as new.
[That tiktok sound but instead of "3.5 years" and "white man", it's "I waited for eight months, gay man did it in one week. I waited for eight months, gay man did it in one week. I said I waited for EIGHT MONTHS. The gay man did it in one week.]
Even if everything is true, he couldn't figure it out without Will. And that hurts. If I'm her and I'm thinking through all this, I'm thinking "so that worked? He's what did it? You're so confused and too scared to talk to me about it for 8 months, you avoid the word "love" like the plague and can't tell me why, you lied about being able to during the conversation, but one week alone with him and you've reflected on your actions, felt remorse, and can apologize in bullet points and say "I love you" freely eight times, all of a sudden." I'd also be thinking, though, that he might not know. Give him the benefit of the doubt. I'm mad at him but I forgive him - because he might not know he's lying.
I just rewatched the scene and I think this fits. My break down of each of her reaction shots below the cut (but I encourage you to watch with it in mind yourself if you don't want my analysis to influence you too much first):
This is her when he first starts talking
This is her after hearing Will. She knows what's about to happen. She knows what he's about to say and part of her is hoping he doesn't because of what that would mean for his relationship with Will.
This is her right after he first says it.
This is her as he continues into a more in depth apology, showing the amount of progress he's been able to make so rapidly the past few days. From this angle, she look she's recoiling and I've said before that it almost looks like it's shot from the POV of the vines shackling her.
He says he can't live without her and she seems to look up again and listen more actively than she was but she also looks in thought and then squeezes her eyes shut again. This situation is oh so complicated.
"It was so big it almost swallowed you whole." This is such a Mike joke to make. And there's something comforting about that delivery. She makes the third face above as he's saying his life started the day they met, but she laughs when he makes the joke. Because that phrasing is the most earnest thing in this speech. Everything else, however true to him, is tied to Will. But she loves him. And it was so very him to say it that way.
But she immediately falls to this next face. Because it was the most earnest thing he's said, and though she's relieved to feel him in this speech, it still isn't for her. And the fact that it's the most earnest thing is also a bad thing. She knows he's going right back to how he was talking before.
He says he's loved her every day with or without her powers and she recoils and squeezes her eyes shut again.
"You're my superhero". She hardens - whether it's anger or determination/choosing to harness this as her motive, I fluctuate. But she hardens.
He says he can't lose her. And that feels like another complicated, harder to read moment. But she does soften back to more expressive like she was before, even if what she's expressing is pain. I think she believes him. Her feelings around the context are more hard for me to read on each watch of the end of this, though.
And I think Max is what finally gave her the most actionable motivation, because this is her the second before she notices Max again. She does not look determined, or even angry, just sad like she's looked this whole time. This does not read to me as the face of a girl about to take action like we see in a moment.
And all of this is also consistent to me with why she wouldn't talk to him much in those two days or address but still rest her head on his shoulder in the hospital. She still loves him. And this hurts, but it isn't his fault.
And finally, to go back for a comparison shot:
This is her when she thinks he's about to say it because he worked it out alone versus when she thinks he's about to say it, knowing that would mean it's because of Will. And that's everything I need to know. Whatever she's feeling the first time, hopeful or apprehensive, it isn't what she's feeling the second. She perked up the first time. She resigned and deadened the second.
#el knows#elmike povs#stranger things#the ily speech#for that tiktok sound it was kind of a joke but i honestly put it there because i feel like it represents her mindset best if this is it#byler#subtext#el hopper#el hopper pov#elmike contrasts#elmike analysis#elmike details
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Argyle and Jonathan talk on the phone almost every day after the Byers move back to Hawkins
They talk more often than Jonathan talked to Nancy and are better at keeping in touch long-distance, but that’s really more a testament to Argyle’s dedication than anything else
Jonathan expects their friendship to drift away the longer he’s gone, but Argyle’s calling him all the time… Slow shift at work? Better call Jonathan and catch him up on what’s been going on in his life (and get the second hand scoop about people in Hawkins from Jonathan when he runs out of new things to tell him about because it’s only been 20 hours since their last phone call)… Argyle has very important high thoughts that are as deep as they are urgent to share? Better call Jonathan and share every last one of them that exact moment… Someone insults pineapple on pizza? You can bet Jonathan’s going to hear about it
The only problem is Argyle keeps forgetting about the time difference between California and Indiana so he regularly calls when it’s not that late in California, but it’s 3 hours later for the Byers
When Joyce is the one to answer the phone, she tries to politely tell him that it’s nice that he and Jonathan are still so close but maybe he could call back in the morning and try to keep his calls to earlier in the day from now on and Argyle always promises will do, Mrs. B only to forget all over again within a few days so she tries to work on getting Jonathan to convince him to call at more reasonable hours instead
When Will answers the phone, he rolls his eyes at how often he’s calling (while he’s also a little jealous that Jonathan is getting way more calls from Argyle now than he got from all his friends combined while they were in California) but he listens for a little bit as Argyle excitedly jabbers away at him and asks him questions until Will decides it’s getting annoying and either hands the phone over to Jonathan (or if it’s too late, he doesn’t listen to him at all and just says to call back tomorrow and hangs up before Argyle had a chance to respond)
El doesn’t answer the phone, but she’s not so bothered. She thinks it’s nice that Argyle calls so much and doesn’t see why Will rolls his eyes about it so often
When Jonathan answers, he stretches the phone cord as far away from the bedrooms as he can and stays up talking with Argyle with his voice low to try not to wake anyone else up
But Hopper? Hopper cannot stand losing sleep because some idiot from California can’t remember that it’s 2 in the morning for them (and honestly why is he trying to call to talk for an hour and a half at 11 pm his time anyway???) Every time, he forces his exhausted ass out of bed, whether he’s the first to the phone or not because it could be official police business and there could be a crime scene he’s needed at or some other kind of emergency putting them all in danger, but nope it’s just Argyle calling to catch up again
Hopper grumbles about it to Joyce when he gets back to bed and ends up unintentionally making sure that she’s just as awake now as he is with his tired bitching and Joyce is getting a bit fed up with it too, but she plays devil’s advocate and says I know the times he calls aren’t always great, but I don’t know. I think it’s kind of sweet he wants to keep in touch so much. It’s nice that they catch up on everything going on, even while they’re living so far away and Hopper gets back in bed as he grumbles how much could they possibly have to catch up on? They talked for hours two days ago
Argyle unintentionally and unknowingly becomes near Mike Wheeler levels of annoying to Hopper and Hopper grumbles nearly daily about how the phone line is always busy and he can’t get any consistent kind of sleep to save his life and could Jonathan please tell his friend to stop calling so late at night
From the moment it becomes clear that the long (and often late night) phone calls are going to be such a regular thing, Hopper is a little passive aggressive and huffy whenever he’s the one who answers the phone, but Argyle doesn’t mind and just brushes it off
It takes until one night when Hopper’s particularly sleep-deprived and grumpy and he gets to the phone first and full on yells into it that the time zones aren’t that hard to remember and that if he’s going to call, he can’t do it after 8 pm his time for Argyle to finally stop calling so late (but that doesn’t stop him from calling at a reasonable hour and him and Jonathan staying up talking until an unreasonable hour)
#This is going to be a plot point in the multi-chapter Hopper-Byers centric fic I haven’t started posting yet#The one related to my Steddie fic (which also btw that’s not just going to be El and Will‘s POVs anymore it’s going to be Jonathan’s too#Nancy’s a busy woman with things to do and she doesn’t have the time to sit around and talk on the phone that Argyle carves out for himself#Jargyle#Argyle#Jonathan Byers#Stranger Things#ST4#ST#Jim Hopper#Joyce Byers#Will Byers#Eleven#Hopper-Byers family#Stranger Things headcanon#Jargyle headcanon#Spicy Six#Mine
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Screaming And Crying (and kissing in the rain).
*enters your dashboard visibly disheveled* heeeeyyyy y'all, it's me ya girl w a new AU!!! haha dw all of my fics will be finished, um, eventually. Someday.... Anyways this is for my moodboard that got waaaayy too much attention than anticipated. Enjoy! 💕🌈
TW: smoking
Tagging the lovelies interested: @foodiewithdahoodie @mikeslawyer @will--byers @aidyaiden @big-sad-for-byler @booksandpaperss @over-rated-cheese @embarrassing-nerd @maru-chu @callmetheidiot @moviebyers @chic-ultimate @conanssummerchild @rotessaboggs @willthecleric @sageyshideaway @melaniesmpo if anyone wants to be tagged too just tell me in the comments!
Link to AO3
One of these days Will was going to fire his manager. The manager in question being his beloved stepsister, El Hopper.
"So I'm supposed to believe you forgot Mike fucking Wheeler is gonna play my love interest? You just conveniently forgot, right? Fucking great!" Will paced his living room back and forth. He was on the verge of hysteria. It didn't help his mood that Dan, his boyfriend, had cheated on him. That fucking asshole.
"Just calm down, Will. I know you and Mike have a complicated history between the two but you need to do this" reasoned El, calmly sipping from her mug of coffee.
"Do what? A gay rom-com with Mike Wheeler playing my boyfriend? How is that gonna help? How is that gonna change the fact that him and I detest each other. How?" demanded Will, throwing himself on top of his couch, like the dramatic person he is.
"Oh, the tragedy! You and Mike have to make-out! Oh, the horrors!" interrupted Max Mayfield, Will's best friend, eating a baguette.
Will plucked the baguette from her hand and took a bite from it.
"Oh, shut up. Besides I doubt you guys want to see Lucas anymore than I want to see Mike!" snapped Will, knowing he'd hit a sore subject for both girls.
Max pressed her lips in a fine line. "Lucas will probably ignore me, which is what you should do with Mike! Ignore his antiques and live your life."
"Besides why do I need to do this?" spoke Will while chewing.
"Ew, gross. Swallow before talking, for fucks sake!" Max gagged.
"Will, I need you to get this through your thick skull, m'kay? You are an actor, right? Well your job is acting then. Not living off the press and media like a leech." scolded El, and she did have a point. Will had been living off the press for the last 2 years with romantic scandals and modelling jobs.
"Fine, I'll do it. Whatever. I don't care, but if this movie flops it's your fault!" Will wags his finger between Max and El, for emphasis.
"If you'd even bothered to read the script you would know this movie isn't going to flop." The red haired huffed
"I don't need to read to know it's gonna flop 'cause Mike and I are gonna play boyfriends and we are rivals! He is my nemesis, even! I can't stand his smug, freckled face!" Will let out a frustrated groan. "I need a smoke. Max, you coming?"
Max gave El a small kiss on the lips and followed Will to the garden.
"How can I play Mike's boyfriend without gagging. We have 0 chemistry! Who the fuck casted this shit?" said Will lighting his cigarette and passing the lighter over to Max
"First of all, the casting was done by Robin Buckley and the director is Murray Batman, so you keep your mouth shut." snapped Max, she was Mr. Bauman's greatest admirer. "Second of all, you guys used to have loads of chemistry. Remember when the 6 of us used to interviews together?"
Will turned over to look at Max, whose eyes glinted with nostalgia in the moonlight.
He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, Max mimicked him.
"That was when we were 15, Max. Nine fucking years ago. We haven't talked since then. How are we supposed to show chemistry? Anyways, it's not like I have much of a choice, do I?" Will sighed, softly. He remembered his teenage years with Mike. The both of them were wild and free. Not worrying about scandals and reputations.
"Do you want to be my friend?"
"Yes."
"Nope." she answered.
"Ok. Well, I'm guessing the both of you are characters too, right?"
Will threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. The red-haired woman did the same.
"Yeah, El plays your childhood best friend and I play the antagonist. I'm Mike's stepsister and in love with you." Max rolled her eyes.
"Ew."
"I know, thankfully you only kiss Mike. Lucas plays your coworker and El's love interest. Dustin is your kind neighbour who happens to be Mike's best friend." explained Max, entering their house.
"These are gonna some complicated years of filming, it better be worth it" Will thought.
#AND THAT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER WOOOO#ok we'll get to know what the movie is about next chapter#we'll also get Mikes pov soon which is also great 👍#i wonder what could have caused teh rift in the party? 🤭#also i am super nervous cuz this got soo much attention and many of these blogs are so important ans ajgagagq#i don't wanna let anybody down 😔#byler#will byers#max mayfield#el hopper#byler brainrot#byler endgame#stranger things#byler au#byler fic#byler fanfic#byler fanfiction#byler tumblr#byler nation#byler ao3#mike x will#will x mike#byler angst
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pov: spring break 1986 with the california squad
#stranger things#stranger things 4#mike wheeler#will byers#eleven#eleven hopper#jane hopper#joyce byers#argyle#argyle stranger things#jonathan byers#stranger things pov#stranger things 4 vol 2#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#finn wolfhard#millie bobby brown#noah schnapp#charlie heaton#eduardo franco#1986
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#bruce pov#the black phone#vance hopper#brance#bruce yamada#tbf#vance x bruce#bruce yamada x vance hopper
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