#jim hopper au

[morganbritton132]

This little idea (or this one) hasn’t left me yet so suffer through more of my ramblings.

Look, Eddie was gonna stay away from Steve.

He watched Steve swipe Billy’s keys off a table at lunch and then chuck them into the woods behind the school last week, and decided that he wants no part of that.

If King Steve is testing out teen rebellion, that’s fine but Eddie is eighteen and he doesn’t have rich boy money to bail him out when shit hits the fan. So…

He keeps his distance. He goes to class. He misses three days of school because he’s got laryngitis again. Now he’s sitting in a booth at the diner, miserably eating ice cream and watching Steve Harrington stroll in.

Steve didn’t have to sit with him. The diner was practically empty because it was 10:30AM on a Tuesday when everybody else is at school. So, no. Steve didn’t have to slide in across from him.

“I’m not driving you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says like Eddie was weird for thinking he might. “Got my car back. You sound awful, by the way.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else because his throat is on fire, but Steve talks. He talks largely about nothing but in that way that you do when you haven’t talked to anybody in a long time which makes no sense. Steve is popular.

Eddie kinda spaces out because he doesn’t care about baseball, but his attention snaps back into focus ten minutes later when a hand clamps down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve is too casual, “Hey, Hop.”

“How’d the appointment go?” Hopper asks in a voice that sounds like it’s physically being restrained. “The MRI, right? Everything come back clear?”

“Clear as crystal, Chief,” Steve replies. “Got the uh, the A-Okay. Back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper nods and then yanks Steve up by his shirt. “Then why’d Owens say you were a no show?”

Steve sputters. This is the first time Eddie’s ever seen him lost for words, but it doesn’t last as Steve scoffs, “That’s like a health code violation!”

He doesn’t get to say much else because Hopper pulls him out of the building. Eddie watches them argue in the parking lot and then pays his bill.

He’s leaving when Hopper marches back into the building but is luckily spared a glance from the chief. He’s not sure if Hopper even noticed him sitting there and he is fine with that.

What Eddie should do is get in his van and go home, but instead, he finds himself walking towards where Steve is waiting next to Hopper’s truck. As he gets closer, he sees that Steve is less waiting and more handcuffed to the side mirror so he can’t leave.

Steve rolls his eyes about the whole thing when he notices Eddie and then offers him a cig from the pack he stole out of the truck’s open window. Eddie shakes his head so Steve pockets the pack before asking, “You can pick a lock, right? I’ve seen you do it before.”

Eddie almost asks ‘when?’ but just sighs instead because…yes. He can.

Hopper returns to his truck five minutes later with coffee to an open handcuff dangling from his mirror. No kid in sight.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)

[harringroveera]

The perk of having a Chief dad: ask him to shut down your (ex)boyfriend’s party

[plasticcrotches]

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

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

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

[writinginpinkpink]

a wish come true.

dad'sbestfriend!jim hopper x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and Hopper is in his 30s-40s), cheating, masturbation, low smut, just yearning for a big bearded man.

author's note: in my journey of trying to write smut, still don't like what i got so i just showed a snippet.

masterlist. | requests opened! | one shot!

You wanted him. You yearned for him. For the past three years, the chief of the police department had been your last thought before sleep and the first when you woke up. For three long years, he was the one you thought about when your hands slipped between your thighs.

But he would never want you. Maybe that was what made you want him even more. The forbidden nature of it—the fact that he was your dad's best friend. The secrecy, the dirtiness—it only fueled the fire.

But enough was enough. You couldn’t spend another summer pining after a man who probably still saw you as a little girl.

That’s why you decided to date Tommy Thompson. He was quiet, shy, and gentle. He probably loved you, and you might’ve loved him back—if your heart wasn’t already consumed by someone else.

Tommy was sweet, with his crooked glasses and nervous smile. He said he didn’t want to take your purity away. But right now, you couldn’t care less about that as you pushed him toward the outdoor bathroom, letting your towel fall to reveal a white bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination.

He froze like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth agape and his wide eyes fixed on you.

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered, standing up straighter and fumbling to adjust his glasses.

"What do you think I’m doing?" you teased, a sheepish smile curling your lips as your finger trailed down his chest, tracing his abdomen and stopping at the hem of his shorts.

"Wait," Tommy said, grabbing your hands, his breath already shaky. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, baby," you murmured, biting his earlobe, your hands moving downward with intent.

But then, he stopped you again, his grip firmer this time.

"I can’t," he said, gently pushing you away.

"What do you mean?" you asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror behind him. Doubt crept in. "Is it me?"

"No, no, no!" he blurted, shaking his head frantically. "It’s not you, I swear. I’m just...nervous. I can’t," he admitted, looking down. "Literally."

You followed his gaze. "Oh."

Wrapping your towel back around yourself, you turned away, a mix of frustration and pity swirling inside you. Maybe this was the reality of dating boys, you thought, stepping out of the bathroom and leaving Tommy behind.

As you walked past Hopper, deep in conversation with your dad, your mind wandered to him—how he would’ve reacted. You imagined him pushing you against the sink, his hands rough, his voice dark and teasing. "Dirty girl," he’d growl in your ear. "Dirty, dirty girl...moaning my name while your dad’s just outside the door."

The fantasy sent a shiver down your spine, snapping you back to reality just as Tommy emerged from the bathroom, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"I think I’m gonna go," he said quietly, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, standing up to walk him out. You didn’t blame him for wanting to leave.

"Don’t be too hard on yourself," you added softly, your tone gentle as you kissed him lightly on the lips. "It’s totally normal."

And with that, he left, leaving you alone with thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be having—but couldn’t seem to shake.

-

Those stupid blue jeans, so tight around his thick thighs. You couldn't help but notice how they clung to him, every curve visible.

I wish they'd squeeze my neck, you thought, taking a slow sip of your grape juice. Funny how, even at 21, your dad still refused to let you drink wine at dinner.

To him, you're still his precious little girl. And you might look the part—perfectly curled hair, a touch of light lip gloss, eyes wide and innocent as ever. With your appearance, Daddy would never suspect how his darling princess would cry herself to sleep, longing for just one moment with his best friend.

Just once. He'd be your first. How romantic, under the moonlight, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as his hands moved across your body—

"Isn't that right, Y/N?" your mother suddenly chimed in, laughing as she tossed her head back. Hopper grinned behind his glass, taking a slow sip of his wine.

"Oh, yes..." you murmured, offering a small smile, unsure of what you had just agreed to.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me," Hopper said, placing his napkin atop his empty plate after lightly dabbing it against his lips—his gorgeous lips. "It’s getting late, and a storm seems to be rolling in. Best I hit the road before it gets worse."

"Oh, please, no!" your mother protested, rising to her feet and motioning for him to sit back down. "We couldn’t possibly let you leave with a storm on the way—not when we have a perfectly good room to spare!"

"The woman’s got a point, man," your father added, standing as well and placing his hands on your mother’s waist. "Come on, it’s not like you’ve never stayed over before," he said with a warm smile.

You swallowed hard, clasping your thighs together as the thought crept in: How will I sleep tonight knowing he’s just a room away? You could already feel the heat spreading, imagining him so close. Would he hear you? Those little gasps as you touched yourself under the covers, whispering his name over and over again. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d even like it.

"I don’t know..." he muttered, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the room. Then, his gaze landed on you. "Maybe you’re right," he said with a soft smile. "Maybe I should stay over."

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, you were sure he’d changed his mind because of you. The thought sent a thrill through your chest, almost enough to propel you upstairs to dial Beth's number, ready to spend the night analyzing every possible meaning behind his decision.

But you didn’t. Instead, you rose from the table with a calmness you didn’t feel. "Good choice," you said with a quick smile, before turning toward your mother. "Mom, I think I’ll get ready for bed," you added, stifling a fake yawn. "I’m so, so tired."

Your parents practically tripped over themselves to send their little princess off to rest, showering you with affection as you headed toward the stairs. But Hopper didn’t move. His eyes stayed on you, different from the doting gaze of your parents. It was sharper, probing, as if he saw through your sweet, innocent act.

And you wondered: Would he like what he’d find underneath? The dirty, deprived version of you?

When you entered your room, it felt like stepping back in time. Not much had changed since you were a kid—the same plushies neatly arranged on the shelves, the same faded wallpaper, the same dresser with its slightly chipped paint.

Your eyes landed on a framed picture resting atop the dresser: you and Tommy at the county fair. He was grinning from ear to ear, a cotton candy stick in his hand, while you offered a polite smile, a lollipop clasped between your fingers.

You remembered that day vividly. You’d sucked on that lollipop with all the exaggerated intention you could muster, one of many futile attempts to push Tommy into breaking his shy shell. It hadn’t worked—of course it hadn’t.

But the thought made you wonder: Would it have worked with Hopper?

Would he have roughly told you to stop? Or maybe grabbed you, dragging you into some dirty, hidden spot to take you right then and there? Perhaps he’d wait until you were in his car, his large hands slowly unknotting the delicate strap at the back of your dress, unraveling you bit by bit.

You exhaled shakily, your hands moving almost instinctively, mimicking the imagined actions of Hopper. Your fingertips ghosted over your collarbone, tracing downward.

Maybe he’d have made you suck his thumb instead, you thought, biting your lip as your hands brushed over your chest, teasing yourself. Maybe he’d play with your nipples, his touch rough and claiming.

You stumbled backward, your knees hitting the edge of the bed before you fell onto the mattress, legs instinctively parting toward the door.

The door wasn’t locked. Anyone could walk in. He could walk in.

You closed your eyes, the fantasy consuming you. He’d slap your ass and your pussy, growling, "How dare you touch what’s mine?"

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost missed the soft knock at the door. But the sound of a forced cough snapped you out of it. Panicked, you scrambled to cover yourself, your hands darting to shield your exposed body.

“No need to stop what you’re doing, sweetie,” Hopper said with a sly smile, casually running a hand through his hair. “Just came to tell you your mother’s asking if you want dessert... but it looks like you’re already preoccupied with something else.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying your sudden, flustered reaction.

“It’s not what you think!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, quietly closing the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, sending a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head, his eyes roaming your body as he slowly moved closer. “Because I’m thinking someone’s little princess isn’t quite as innocent as she seems.”

“I was just... changing,” you stammered, frozen in place as he stepped nearer. His presence loomed over you, his knee pressing into the mattress beside you as he leaned down, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “I wasn’t doing... you know... that.”

He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you tell me?”

Your breath hitched as he licked his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. His hands slid behind your back, firm but deliberate, pulling you closer as he gently eased you down onto the bed.

Hopper hovered above you, his weight pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. His hand trailed along your side, deliberate and slow, making your breath hitch. You didn’t dare move, unsure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

“You’re shaking, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“I-I’m not,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but you knew he could feel the tremble in your body beneath his touch.

“Oh, I think you are.” His grin widened, his thumb brushing along your jawline as he tilted your face up to meet his. “And I think I know why.”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. His lips hovered near yours, just close enough for you to feel their warmth.

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? All those little thoughts you’ve been hiding, all those things you want me to do to you.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t deny it. The truth was written all over your face.

“I bet you think about it all the time,” he continued, his tone taunting as his hand slid lower, grazing your hip. “When you’re lying in bed, pretending to be so sweet and innocent. But we both know better, don’t we?”

His words made your head spin, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you.

“Hopper, I...” you started, but your voice faltered.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to say a word, sweetie. I already know everything.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Now, why don’t you show me just how innocent you really are?”

As Hopper leaned in closer, his eyes flickered to the bedside table. A picture of you and Tommy stared back at him—his arm around your shoulders, his awkward grin almost painfully sweet. Hopper’s expression darkened as he reached out, grabbing the frame and turning it facedown without a second thought.

“That kid?” he scoffed, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to you. “You think he’s a man?” His lips curled into a smirk, his voice low and dripping with disdain.

“Hopper, he’s—” you tried to defend, but he cut you off with a sharp laugh, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear about him,” he said firmly, leaning in so close that his nose brushed yours. “Because after tonight, you’re going to understand what it means to have a real man.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, their weight sending heat coursing through your body. Hopper’s hands, strong and rough, slid to your hips, gripping you firmly as he towered over you.

“That boy couldn’t even begin to handle you,” he continued, his tone taunting, but there was an edge of something darker—something possessive. “But me?” His thumb brushed the bare skin just above your waistband, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that followed. “I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

[oneforthemunny]

the badge |cop!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: how eddie became a cop, and how he met you. aka the lore lol.

contains: cop themes. drug dealing. cops. the justice system is fucked up. hopper is a good cop. small town shit lol. nothing heavy but does deal with the justice system/cops. language. angst at the beginning, but really just fluff and lore.

January 1989

Eddie’s knee bounced, chains on his jeans rattling against the metal of the bench, rusted with the rest of the holding cell. He wondered how often his dad had been in his same position, sat in this same spot, probably not as peacefully- definitely not sober. 

“Munson,” Officer Callahan groaned. Eddie knew him a little too well, countless warnings as a teengager for disturbing the peace, playing his ‘satanic panic’ music too loud. 

Eddie scoffed lightly, tongue rolling over the side of his mouth when Callahan turned his key. “No way. Wayne bailed me?” 

“Not exactly.” Callahan hummed around a slow exhale, the bars groaning when he opened the cell. 

“What?” Eddie frowned, boots dragging across the cracked cement. “Who? Gare- I know Gareth didn’t. Who was it? Was it- Did Jeff?” 

“No.” Callahan’s bored gaze met Eddie’s. “I didn’t say you were free to go. No one posted your bail.” 

Eddie’s spine tingled with an icy panic of fear. He tried not to show it, not to let his eyes widen and face pale, but still, his steps stuttered. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, that he was getting booked- that he was going to jail. He was an adult, afterall, selling weed to high schoolers and burnouts at The Hideout. How was he supposed to know it was a sting? That the guy he’d known from Geometry in tenth grade was really working for the DEA? They just let anyone be cops then, Eddie barked at Hopper before he was shoved under into the back of the cop car and taken here. 

“S-So what? I don’t- Man, I don’t get a fuckin’ trial?” Eddie spat, following Callahan down the long hallway, the lights ominously flickering with each step. Callahan ignored him, keeping his same, slow stride, keys jingling in his hand. 

“This is- This is illegal. Alright? I have the right to a fuckin’ trial. I know I have the right to a fuckin’ trial, o-or a judge, or whatever.” Eddie’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls. “Innocent until proven guilty, right? Is that not a thing anymore?” 

Callahan shoved his key in the windowless room, pushing it open. Eddie scoffed, stepping back with disgust. “You fuckin’ pigs, pigs, all the same. Think you’re above the law, huh? Well, I’m not goin’ in there without a fucking lawyer-” 

“-Eddie,” Wayne’s gruff bark came from inside the room. Eddie stilled, squinting into the dark room, a single lightbulb over a desk like something out of a cliched cop show. His uncle sat in one chair, Hopper in the other, a single manilla folder in front of them. 

“Take a seat, boy.” Wayne nodded, arms crossed over his short sleeve coveralls, the lines on his face harder than usual, more prominent. 

Eddie hesitated, looking back down the hall before stepping in, taking slow, calculated steps towards the empty chair next to Wayne. 

“Thanks, Phil. We got it from here.” Hopper nodded to the man at the door, the hinges squeaking before the door fell shut with a heavy thud. Eddie was furious at himself for flinching. 

There was a painful moment of silence, so quiet, Eddie’s thudding heartbeat rang in his ears. 

“So, Eddie, you’re looking at one to five right now.” Hopper’s fingers drummed against the manilla folder, lips pressed in a tight, intimidating line. Eddie steeled himself, meeting his eyes, but he didn’t dare look at Wayne. 

“First offense with a relatively clean record, the judge might only have you do a few months here with probation- might.” Hopper glared when Eddie perked. “That’s the best case scenario, and unfortunately for you, the judge has been around long enough to already see a Munson come through, a few times.” 

Eddie’s brows furrowed, head tilting in challenging question, arms folded in defensiveness. “He’s talkin’ ‘bout Al, boy.” Wayne grunted, glaring at his nephew with a hard stare that had Eddie uneasy. “He’s gonna throw the book at ya because of your Daddy. ‘S worried you’re gonna be like ‘im.” 

“What? They- He can’t do that-” 

“-He can.” Hopper shrugged. “You still broke the law, Eddie. The judge can give you the max, the minimum, whatever he wants- it’s in his hands when you break the law.” 

Eddie’s foot tapped, sulking back in his chair, arms wrapping around his torso tightly, scared his heart might burst right through his ribcage with the way it was beating, thumping rapidly with fear. He was convinced through the thick silence that they could hear it.

“But,” Hopper said around a slow breath, his eyes cutting to Wayne’s before they met Eddie’s. “You’re lucky he also knows another Munson, and happens to play cards with him on Saturday nights.” 

Eddie looked over at Wayne, his uncle’s face unmoving, glaring back at him with the same unimpressed, stoic expression. 

“And we’ve cut a little deal with Judge Dixon.” Hopper slid the manilla folder over towards Eddie. “There’s been a… lacking of officer’s lately in our department. Hawkins is growing, more people are coming in with all the new stuff, and we’re swamped and short handed. We need officers for the lower level things. Traffic conductors, petty crime reports- the small stuff.” 

Eddie didn’t move- he couldn’t. Frozen in fear, in shock, maybe, at Hopper’s words, more so, what he was insinuating with them. 

Hopper flipped open the manilla folder, a small, stapled form that read: Hawkins Law Enforcement Academy, in bold, threatening letters across the top. The form was already filled out, stamped with approval for acceptance by Judge Dixon and Hopper. Eddie felt light headed. 

“So, we came up with a compromise,” Hopper continued slowly. “Judge Dixon agreed that if you go to the academy, become an officer, he’ll wipe this completely. You’ll have a job- with benefits- and you’ll handle the lower level stuff. Help us help you kinda thing.” 

Eddie didn’t speak, he couldn’t, too shocked to even form a thought let alone a word. 

“Or,” Hopper sighed heavily, pulling another paper out from behind the form- Eddie’s booking papers and court appearance request. “You can go to jail.” 

“Send me to jail.” Eddie spat, gawking at the paper. 

“Boy,” Wayne grunted. 

“I’m serious. I-I’ll be alright, just send me to jail, because there’s not a chance in heaven or fuckin’ hell I am being a cop.” Eddie scoffed. 

Wayne only glared, looking at Hopper. “Give us a minute, will ya?” 

Hopper nodded slowly, standing from the table. “Take your time. Just knock on the door when you have a decision.” 

The door shut with a heavy snap again, the room falling still for a moment. 

“I-I’m not being a cop, Wayne, I don’t care. I’m not- There’s no way-”  

“-You’re goin’ to that Academy, son.” Wayne narrowed his gaze at Eddie, hardening with his tone. 

“The fuck I am.” Eddie laughed humorlessly, scoffing.

”I-I mean, a cop? A cop? I’m not- I hate cops! Cops hate me! They’re fuckin’ power hungry bastards who use it to fuck with people because they’re the law.” Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not me, alright? That will never fuckin’ be me, and I’m not-” 

“-There. You just said it.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “‘S never gonna be you, that’s exactly right, boy. You ain’t gotta act like all ‘em dirty assholes. ‘S not in the job description t’act like that, so don’t.” 

Eddie’s lips pursed, hands buzzing with rage, maybe fear, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not doin’ it. I don’t care. I’d rather go to jail, be a criminal-”

“-Be like your Daddy?” Wayne scoffed. “Because he wasn’t a pow’r hungry asshole, was he? He was a real winner, real nice guy. Don’t you remember?” 

Eddie’s heart fell, his face falling with it. Wayne rarely brought up Al, rarely brought up the situation that led Eddie to stay with Wayne permanently. 

“I ain’t lettin’ you be like him, boy.” Wayne shook his head. “I won’t have a second one of ‘im runnin’ around-” 

“-I’m not like him.” Eddie grit through a tight jaw, his throat burning with tears he was desperate to keep down. 

“You know, this is how it started for him?” Wayne narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “Started small, just sellin’- we all gotta make a livin’, Wayne, don’t tell me how to make mine.” 

Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “You should be thankin’ me for gettin’ you this, and not just tossin’ you out on your ass. Thankful that nice cop out there,” Wayne jammed a finger at the door. “Knows you’re not a bad kid, that you just make some stupid choices.” 

Eddie didn’t move, fist balled by his side, his gaze unmoving from his uncle’s. “That guy, he wants to help people. ‘S why he helped me, ‘cause he doesn’t want you endin’ up like your Daddy either.” 

“You should wanna end up like ‘im instead, not like Al.” Wayne’s glare narrowed at him. “‘Least he tries to help people, not just hurt ‘em… Hell, he’s tried to help you more than that sorry sack of shit ever did.” 

Eddie’s jaw tightened, so tight he was sure his teeth might snap, crack and break out under the pressure. Wayne stood with a small groan. “‘S your choice, boy. I ain’t gonna make it for ya. You’re grown ‘nough.” 

Wayne rapped on the door, slipping out, leaving Eddie alone, in the same deafening silence that seemed to follow him. The two forms in front of him, both missing his signature. Whichever he signed, whichever choice he made, sealed his fate- his future. 

Nearly an hour and a half later, a small knock came from the other side, leaving both Hopper and Wayne jumping. The two men shared a look, before Hopper pulled the door open. 

Eddie’s face was stoic, unreadably cold and expressionless when he passed the manilla envelope to Hopper, avoiding Wayne’s gaze entirely. Hopper opened the folder, eyes widening before they cut back to Eddie’s. Wayne’s chest tightened, fear filling and sinking in the pit of his stomach. 

“You sure? No changing it once I send it in.” Hopper lifted a brow. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, arms folding over his chest. 

Wayne’s shoulders fell, slumped with disappointment, a calloused hand running down his face. He was sure he’d gotten through to Eddie. Sure, the kid was stubborn, but he thought maybe, just maybe he’d got him pointed in the right direction. 

Hopper sighed slowly, tucking the manilla folder back under his arm, walking over to Eddie. His hand stuck out, and Wayne steeled himself, ready to watch the cuffs come on, hear his rights being read- he’d seen it a million times with his brother, he just thought his nephew would have a better fate. 

Instead, Eddie took Hopper’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Congratulations, Eddie.” Hopper said. Wayne’s head snapped up. “We look forward to you joining our crew.” 

“I have one condition,” Eddie paused. “I’m not cutting my hair. I won’t fuckin’ do it. If it’s just the low level shit, then I’m not doing it.” 

Hopper looked over at Wayne, back at Eddie with a shrug. “Fine by me. You just have to keep it back.” 

“Fine.” Eddie nodded, letting do of his grasp. He turned to his uncle, Wayne’s face bright with a grin he rarely saw, beaming with pride though he tried to downplay it. 

“Proud of ya, boy. You’ll do good.” Wayne clapped Eddie on the shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug. 

The uneasy feeling hadn’t left Eddie’s chest, he wasn’t sure it ever would, but he did know that Wayne was right- he wouldn’t be like those other cops. Disgusting and power hungry, abusing others for their own ego. He’d be someone who helped, who made Hawkins better- because it sure as hell needed it. 

June 1989

Eddie hardly recognized himself. Sitting in a cruiser, not his van; his curls pulled back in a ponytail; not a stitch of leather on his body, instead he wore a khaki uniform, and the only patches on it were regulation ones that said his name and Hawkins Police. Six months later, and he was still queasy when he saw himself- a cop. 

He would admit, it was less dramatic as he thought it would be. After he finished academy, Hopper stuck him on the truly low level duties. Crosswalk duty in the mornings for the elementary school, which was humiliating. Or writing tickets on cars that let their meters expire. Or his personal hell, speed control in the construction zones. Hot days filled with sitting, watching with his speed gun to make sure no one was barreling through. 

This week, Eddie was already dreading his shifts, the days longer and hotter. At least school was out, so he was freed from crosswalk duties. 

“Munson,” Hopper didn’t look up from his desk. “Need you to go speed patrol out on North Avenue. We’ve got a lot of complaints about speeding. You can do that today until it starts to slow down. I’ll radio you if we need anything else.”

Eddie decided there were worse things to do at seven in the morning. While he’d rather be sleeping, he did find it a little humorous hearing the panic screech of tires breaking when they’d round the corner and see his patrol car. 

He’d stopped a group of teenagers, new drivers, letting them off with a warning to drive slow and safe, before he’d gone back to his car. It was growing boring, Eddie’s fingers tapping with boredom, until a car zipped around the curve in the road, not slowing or even hesitating when it passed Eddie. 

Sighing heavily, Eddie pulled out of his spot, flicking on his lights, tailing the car until they pulled over on the shoulder. Out of town plates, Eddie noticed, walking slowly up to the car. 

The woman in the driver’s seat cranked down the window, hands gripping the wheel nervously when Eddie approached. She looked his age, but he didn’t recognize her- he’d definitely remember seeing her before.

“License and registration, please.” Eddie tried not to sound bored or annoyed, there had been a few complaints about that already and Hopper was getting pissed. 

“Here you go.” Your hands shook when you passed them to Eddie through the open window. He examined the license, taking in your full name and your out of town address. 

“You know why I stopped you?” Eddie leaned in lightly, scanning the floorboards and seats of the small car- no guns, no weapons, nothing criminally suspicious, though Eddie was curious as to why there was an excess of laundry baskets piled in your back seat, spilling over with clothes and towels and clutter. 

“I-I was going too fast,” You squeaked, lipstick painted lip tucking between your teeth, nails tapping against the cracked leather of your wheel. Your hands still trembled when Eddie passed your license and registration back to you.

“I know I was speeding, a-and I swear, I-I don’t usually speed- I’m a really safe driver, I promise. I just- I just moved here, an-and it’s my first day of work, and I couldn’t find my alarm in my stuff so I tried to set a timer on my over and it doesn’t work, of course.” You threw your hands up in exaggeration, Eddie flinching, drawing back for his holster. 

“I’m sorry!” You screeched, lifting your hands up, eyes wide with panic. 

“No, I-I wasn’t- I’m so sorry.” Your lip was beginning to wobble, eyes glassing with tears that filled your water lines. “I just- I’m late for my first day and… and I really need the job, and I’m just already having a really bad start to my day.” 

Eddie’s heart leapt when you sniffed, wet and dramatic, a tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. 

“No, it’s-it’s okay.” Eddie lifted a hand softly. “I mean, wait- speeding isn’t okay. You shouldn’t do that, but it’s not- They have me sit out here, y’know? Try to catch the teenagers on their way to school and stuff. It’s just- You’ll get used to it.” 

Your brows furrowed gently, sniffing again, but no tears fell this time. Eddie’s chest loosened. “It’s a small town, so ya know how it is- or maybe you don’t, but- sorry, I don’t. You’re late an-and I…” Eddie’s tongue felt thick and awkward in his mouth, flopping around words that jumbled. 

“Where’re you working at?” Eddie cleared his throat, trying to still the pubescent shake in his voice. 

“Delia’s- the jewelry store?” Your eyes cut to your watch, knuckles tightening around the wheel. “I’m the manager- well, just the store manager, for the one that opened in the mall, but my general manager will be there and I’m still on my probationary period, and-” 

“-No, I-I get that.” Eddie muttered around a breath. “Um, let me- hold on,” He paused, leaning back to look at you fully. You flustered when he stood at his full height, and sliver of a tattoo peeking out from the khaki of his cuffed sleeve. 

“Do you promise not to speed again?” 

“What?” 

“I mean, if I don’t give you a ticket, do you swear not to speed again?” Eddie kept his face stern, voice tight, though his lips twitched when you blinked at him, wide eyed, a little confused- Fuck, you were cute. 

“Y-Yes. Yes, of course, I-I won’t speed again.” You babbled around your shock. 

“Well, maybe one more time, alright?” Eddie’s crooked grin had your heart skipping with excitement. “But it’ll be legal-ish. I’ll give you an escort.” 

“What?” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Seriously? You-You don’t have to-” 

“-C’mon, there’s not shit to do here, sweetheart.” Eddie scoffed lightly. “Welcome to Hawkins.” 

Your cheeks burned with a tingling thrill. “It’ll take me five minutes, I promise.” Eddie craned his neck, looking down at your watch. “Get you there right before eight. If we go now.”

“O-Okay,” You nodded, shifting your gear into drive. “Thank you!” 

Eddie waved back, jogging to his cruiser, sliding into the driver’s seat. Hopper would kill him, maybe worse, for doing this. Put him back on meter maid and crosswalk duty for weeks, if he found out. But looking back at you, your small smile that brought a familiar rush of heat that Eddie hadn’t felt in so long, he decided it was worth the risk. 

Flying through the stop lights towards Starcourt, Eddie began to wonder if you’d lied to him about your speeding record. Judging by how fast you kept up with him, taking each turn barely pressing your brake, he was beginning to think otherwise. 

Seven-fifty-six on the dot, you and Eddie were parked near the south entrance.  

“Thank you so, so much again.” You scrambled out of your car, balancing a bag in one hand, barefoot in your pantyhose, slipping your pumps on. “I- I really needed that, thank you.” Your gaze lifted to his, shoulders falling for the first time since he saw you.

Eddie’s heart swelled at your sincerity, the lump in his throat growing more and more by the second. “Hey, it’s no problem.” He gave a soft smile. “I’m a civil servant. Here to serve.” 

You giggled, pulling at your skirt, smoothing your hand over the fabric. “Well, I appreciate it again. And I promise I won’t speed anymore.” 

“Good.” Eddie nodded, leaning against the hood of his car. You hesitated for a moment, looking down at your wrist watch before starting towards the doors. 

Eddie’s heart leapt, jumping to run before you. “Here, let me-” He pulled on the handle, boot propping the door open for you. 

“Thank you.” You muttered around a smile, chin ducking shyly when you passed him. 

“Hey, um,” Eddie called out, a white knuckled grip on the steel doors. Your heeled steps stopped, turning towards him. 

“Look I know you’re in a rush, but uh,” Eddie fumbled, patting his belt until he felt his notebook, pulling it out with shaky hands. He cursed when the pencil slide through the wired loops, dropping to the ground. “Shit, um, if-if you ever need someone to show you around or-or want someone to show you the not bad places around here, or whatever, y’know? I, um, I could-” 

Eddie’s hands shook, each number and letter and scratchy, jittery mess on the faded lined paper. “I’d be more than happy t-to show you around… if you want.” Eddie’s hands were sweaty when he handed you the paper. “Or if you ever want to get a drink or something.” 

Your lips curled in a bright smile, looking down at his wobbly handwriting. “Thank you… Eddie?” Your head tilted slightly, squinting at the name you tried to decipher. 

“Yeah, sorry, my handwriting’s…” Eddie took a breath, shaking his head gently. He was sure you could see his red cheeks now. “That’s me. If you ever need anything.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, tucking the paper carefully into your purse pocket. “Thank you for everything, seriously.” You turned with a wave, giving one last glance over your shoulder before scampering away. 

“Good luck!” Eddie’s voice cracked when he shouted after you, wincing. Maybe you hadn’t heard that- maybe it only sounded like it echoed off the empty walls of the mall. Why the hell weren’t they playing music? 

Eddie was sure he’d blown it. Sulking in the cruiser, forehead pressed to his steering wheel. You weren’t going to call. He was sure of it. Convinced himself of it. You’d throw his number away with a snicker, just like all the other girls did. 

After his shift, limbs heavy, filled with exhaustion from the day, Eddie was ready to smoke a bowl he’d confiscated from some high schoolers, and call it a night. His messaging machine flashing greeted him, finger jamming into the play button, plopping on his bed with a heavy groan. 

“You have one new message,” The robotic voice droned. Eddie rolled his eyes, tugging at his boots with a grunt. 

“Um, hello, hi,” Eddie nearly choked, head snapping towards the machine. 

“I think I got the number right- I’m sorry, I hope this is the right number, I couldn’t really read them, but, uh, if this is Eddie. I-I just wanted to say thank you again, and see if you could call me back? Whenever you get a chance, I know you’re probably busy, but, um… I’d like to take you up on getting that drink. Or showing me the not so bad places around here.” Your nervous giggle floated through the line, and Eddie thought he might kiss the machine. 

“But uh, if this isn’t Eddie… I guess don’t call me back an-and I’m sorry. Anyways, thank you again, and… yeah. Call me, please. Bye.” 

Eddie nearly broke the receiver punching the call back button, boot half off, cradling the phone to his ear with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” Your voice came through on the second ring. 

“Hey, uh, hi,” Eddie stammered, swallowing around his excitement, maybe nerves. “It’s Eddie. I just- I just got off and saw your message.” 

“Oh, good,” You giggled. “I was worried it wasn’t the right one. I thought I left some crazy rambling on some strangers' voicemail. I’ll get a looney reputation before people even meet me.” 

Eddie snorted lightly in laughter. “No, uh, it’s- it was the right one.” 

“Good,” You hummed, a pause filling the line. “Um, well, I wanted to say thank you again, an-and also see if you were serious about getting a drink? I want to buy you one for everything this morning, but I don’t know where to go.” You admitted with a small, shy laugh.

“I figured I’d ask you and see if you wanted to go out tonight? If you’re free.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that would be amazing.” Eddie winced, fist balling in embarrassment, pressing it to his forehead. “I mean, I’m free.” 

“Great. How about, um, eight? Would that work for you?” 

“Yeah, eight is great.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose at his own embarrassment. “How about Shirley’s? It’s- It’s close to the mall, actually. Right across from the flower shop. In that strip. Do you know where that is?” 

“By the main entrance?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Sure. I can meet you there.” 

“Perfect.” Eddie’s lips curled, heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll see you then,” 

“See you then. Bye.” You hoped you hung up before he heard you squeal, slamming the phone on the hook, jittery with excitement. 

Where your going out clothes were? You weren’t sure. Looking around the piles and piles of boxes, you flung through totes like a mad woman, ripping through the tape and cardboard until you found the neatly folded dresses you were looking for. 

“So,” Eddie’s fingers drummed on the glass of his beer, knee bouncing under the table, his chains on his jeans jingling. “How are you liking Hawkins?”

“It’s good so far.” You hummed, bringing your own beer to your lips. “Still trying to figure everything out. I just moved here. I haven’t even been here a week.” You gave a small, soft giggle that had Eddie’s head swimming. 

Your eyes rolled down his frame, taking in his attire. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you didn’t expect it to be that. Ripped jeans with chains, a torn leather vest decorated in various band patches, a Megadeath tee, and rings on each of his fingers- the only part of his outfit that gave a ‘cop’ effect, was the belt made of chains and handcuffs. 

“There’s not a lot to do here, honestly. Won’t take you long to figure it all out.” Eddie snorted lightly. “I mean, there’s more now than there was before. With the mall and the other things comin’, but still… Not a lot, I guess.”

You nodded for a moment, a shy, nervous giggle passing your lips that you hoped he didn’t notice. “Where’s your favorite place?” You asked, desperate to fill the silent tension that was looming around the two of you. “Like where do you like to go to have fun? This place?” 

“Yeah, its-I mean, Shirley’s is fun.” Eddie nodded, looking around. The barstools and high top tables with tiny candles on each table to create the ambiance. The bar tenders shaking cocktails in their white dress shirts and ties- too posh for anything in Hawkins, in Eddie’s opinion, the drink prices certainly were. 

 “I’m more of a fan of The Hideout. It’s more my crowd.” 

“Where’s that?” 

“Uh, it’s more on the outskirts, towards the quarry. On the other side of here, actually.” Eddie pointed, rings catching in the low candle light. “It’s a bar too, but more of a dive one..” 

“Oh, we should’ve gone there then.” You smiled at him gently. “If it’s more your taste.” 

“No, it’s- sorry, no, I like Shirley’s. This is… This is probably better for- It’s less rowdy here, y’know?” Eddie’s palms were beginning to sweat, rubbing them on his jeans under the table, hoping you didn’t notice, hoping you didn’t hear his chains jingle. “Plus they have live music, so it’s kinda loud, not as good for talking.” 

You watched him, the way his eyes darted back from your gaze to the green velvet walls, his leg bouncing under the table. “I see,” You nodded slowly, lips twitching in a grin. “Next time, then?” 

Eddie’s heart skipped, mind blanking for a moment. “Ye-Yeah, absolutely.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see his blush, creeping hot up his neck. 

A silence fell between the two of you, both of you trying to look nonchalant to the other, minds racing to fill the silence gap. “So,” Eddie swallowed around the bundle of nerves in his throat. “Do you, uh, do you like jewelry?” 

He didn’t expect you to laugh; nose scrunching and lips curling in a laugh, it was infectious, had Eddie nervously giggling with you. “Sorry, I- Yes and no.” You grinned at Eddie from across the table. “I mean, I don’t dislike it, but I don’t have a burning passion for it. I just needed a job.” 

“I get that.” Eddie muttered, shyly ducking his head, eyes trained on the ring of condensation left behind by his beer. “I’ve got a small collection, but, uh, not a lot anymore. I can’t really wear ‘em when I’m working.” Eddie twisted the skull ring around his middle finger. You leaned over the table lightly to get a better look. 

“You need to get it cleaned.” You hummed, fingers reaching out to twist the skull pattern towards you. Eddie’s heart nearly soared out of his throat when your fingertips met his skin. He was sure you could see him blushing now. 

“The silver’s starting to tarnish around the eyes, see?” You tapped your nail next to the eye, filled with a greenish tint. “It’s oxidizing. It’ll start getting everywhere. Turn your fingers and clothes.” 

Eddie grunted, forcing a sound of thought to come from his strangled throat, unmoving- scared that if he moved you might let go. “Bring it by tomorrow if you’re free. I work eight to five again. We have a big silver cleaning machine with all the solution and stuff. I’ll clean them for you.” 

“Yeah? That’ll fix them?” Eddie looked up at you, both of you suddenly aware at your closeness. Leaned in together across the table, your pointer and thumb wrapped around his middle finger ring. 

“Yeah,” You squeaked out a reply, chin ducking shyly, but you didn’t pull back. “I’ll do it for you. It won’t take me long, promise. But they’ll look brand new.” 

Eddie actually liked the tarnish look, thought it made them look more metal and sick, though he didn’t tell you that. He wouldn’t dare. He’d get them cleaned, shiny and new, if that meant he got to see you again. 

“Cool, yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” Eddie nodded, too eagerly to be cool, nose scrunching gently in a wince of embarassment. “Hopefully I don’t lose ‘em before then.” 

“Why would you lose them?” Your eyebrows pulled together, a giggle of confusion fell around your words. Eddie chest felt warm, heat spreading to his cheeks in an adrenaline rush of excitement. 

“I don’t- I’m not trying to.” Eddie grinned back- your smile was infectious, he decided, gleaming when he looked at you. “I just don’t have anywhere to put them, I guess. I’m on tomorrow, so I can’t wear them, and I’m really bad at forgetting where they’re at if I don’t have them on me-” 

“-I’m the same way.” You laughed, voice raising in enthusiasm, your own ring clad hand pressing into your chest. “I lost one of my favorite rings because I put it in my jean pocket, but I forgot to get it out, and I washed them and it’s gone.” 

“That’s the worst.” Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ve lost a few that way too. I had a bad habit of putting them in my pockets when I started working, because you can’t wear rings- ‘specially not like those. My boss would bitch at me, so I’d put them in my pocket and forget about them every time.” 

You squinted at him lightly, lips rolling, head tilting to the side- studying him, sizing him up. Whatever it was, it made Eddie’s hands sweaty, nerves rattling in his chest. 

“So, how long have you been a cop for?” You hummed. 

“Not long, actually.” Eddie laughed nervously, leg bouncing under the table. “Only a coupla months. That’s why they’ve got me on speed trap duty.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s better than crosswalk duty, believe me. Or being a meter maid. There’s not a lot that goes on around here besides speeding and drugs, so I’m not missing out on much.” 

You nodded, a silence falling between the two of you again. 

“Besides,” Eddie added quickly. “I’m glad I got put on speeding today.” 

“Yeah? Why?” You tilted your head gently, lips twisting in a smile you tried to fight back, like you knew what he was going to say- maybe you did. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you if I hadn’t.” Eddie grinned, a dazzling smile that left you swooning, cheeks tingling with heat. It was cheesy, so, so corny, yet it made you swoon. 

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged lightly, lashes batting towards him sweetly. “I’m pretty glad you did too. Even if you did pull me over.” 

“Hey, c’mon, I didn’t give ya a ticket.” Eddie grinned, throwing his hands out dramatically. “No ticket and a police escort? Can’t be that bad of a first impression.” 

“You’re right.” You giggled. “I wouldn’t be here if it was.” You winked at him playfully, a dark yet teasing glint in your eyes that left Eddie’s tummy flipping with an excited rush of heat. It was a look, a tone, a feeling that he hoped he’d get to explore more of- get to know better. 

Last call came before either of you were ready to go. Eddie paid for your drinks, waving off your insistence. “Next time is on me,” You pointed your finger playfully at him, slipping past him as he held the door. He didn’t fight you on that, heart bursting with excitement at the promise of next time. 

Standing by your car, you watched him fidget, rambling about seeing you tomorrow and things to do, hesitating to move in- should he go for a hug? A kiss? Just shut your door and wave goodbye? 

You didn’t give him a chance to dwell- pulling him in for a sweet, sloppy smooch against the driver’s side of your car. Eddie swore he was in love, even more so when you pulled apart, the same dark little grin that had him rushing with thrilling heat. 

“See you tomorrow, Officer.” You winked at him playfully, climbing into your car. 

“Drive safe.” Eddie waved, his voice cracking. He hoped you didn’t hear it, watching you drive away with a lovesick gaze.  

[ghostlynimbus]

Some of the pics im using as inspo for my werewolf au

[wheneverfeasible]

link to prompt

~

Jim rubbed at his eyes which were pained in exhaustion, a headache blooming behind them. He released a heavy sigh before dropping his hand to stare at the nervous and embarrassed adventurer before him. He’d been advised against using the disgraced knight for the job, but Jim hadn’t been able to look past the man’s success rate.

Or the fact that he’d been the only volunteer to go up against the infamous demon lord who had been snatching up their virginal young women for whatever nefarious hell he was submitting them to in his lair.

“I sent you to slay the demon, not—”

“I brought Miss Buckley back!” Steve protested, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the most recent victim who looked just as put out as Jim did. Though she snorted when Steve hastily covered the gold on his hand with his other palm, while Jim just let out an aggravated sigh.

“To be fair, dingus, he was getting ready to toss me out anyways,” the young Buckley maiden pointed out. “Apparently he was getting tired of my ‘prattling,’” she scoffed at Jim, lifting her fingers in air quotes.

Steve shot her a dirty look. “Well I did convince him to let Lady Chrissy go, but she didn’t want to leave,” he huffed, as though offended at having his talents besmirched. As though the ring on his finger wasn’t mocking enough.

Jim let out another heavy sigh.

Steve turned back towards the warden of the realm with a small grimace. “Turns out Miss Holloway was taken by someone else too, Eddie said he didn’t tou—”

“Eddie?!”

Steve’s smile turned dopily fond, and Jim’s annoyance turned sharper when he heard three sets of giggles come from behind a nearby grate. He’d had to have another talk with the triplets (they weren’t really triplets, one being biologically his, one being from his wife’s first marriage, and one being adopted, but they certainly acted like it enough times) about eavesdropping on important business matters again.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve sighed like the lovesick. “He said he didn’t touch Miss Holloway, but he said he’d find her for you if you call off any more manhunts against him.”

“And I’m supposed to trust the word of a demon?” Jim scoffed.

“Hey! That’s my husband you’re talking about! I mean…oops,” Steve said with another embarrassed little smile.

Right. Jim had too much of a headache to continue these talks. He needed a stiff drink. Hopefully Benny didn’t mind opening the tavern’s bar a little earlier than normal today. He waved a dismissive hand, causing the man before him to grin.

“So I can go back to my honeymoon now?”

Jesus Christ. “Return with Lady Chrissy to collaborate your story, and your whatever has a deal,” Jim grumbled.

“Chrissy isn’t going to be too happy about that,” Robin muttered, but she walked up to Steve and gave him a grin. “Let’s go.”

“Robin, you can’t come with me,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah? Well who’s gonna keep Chrissy company while you let that drowned rat of a demon lord ravish your body?”

Steve’s face pinked up as the giggles in the grating turned to full fledged snickers. Yup. Jim was done and needed that drink immediately.

“OUT!” he bellowed, which his somehow successful hired hero and the demon’s latest victim seemed happy to do.

He was going to make Benny make that drink a double.

~

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[imactuallyreallycool]

Hello every-pony lmao

Here’s some of my mlp x stranger things designs :)

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 9: Body Worship

DBF!Jim Hopper x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: Hopper becomes your muse.

Warnings: age gap (Hopper 40s, Reader 20s), unethical relationship, cheating, c*ck worship, cum eating, cumming untouched, facef*cking, body worship, hopper has a big one (i know it), dacryphilia

You’re sitting at your dining room table sketching away when you felt a heavy hand on your head, tussling your hair. You quickly place your arms over your work, looking back at the unexpected guest with an anxious smile.

Hopper gives you a warm genuine smile. He’d come over for dinner by your father’s invitation with his girlfriend, Joyce Byers. When you learned of his relationship status, you were quite disappointed to say the least. You want to be happy for him as he appears to be a lot healthier and happier but because he’s not with you, it doesn’t settle right. Because of this you ignored him the entire night.

“Hey, kid,” He says with a soft chuckle at your startled look. His eyes squint at the way you hid your sketchbook. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” You sigh, trying to feign indifference. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I’m really curious,” He insists, sitting in a chair to face you. “I always care for your art.”

You clutched the book to your chest before slowly releasing it for him to take. It’s erotica art. The male vampire lover similar-looking to Hopper feeding from the breast of a woman similar-looking to you.

“That’s pretty good stuff.” He says, much to your surprise.

“I-it is.”

“Yeah,” He laughs. “Is this why you were afraid to show me?”

Your eyes bug out of your head. Did he catch on that the drawing looks similar to him? It’s so obvious! Of course, he knows.

“Because of a little nudity?” He continues. So he didn’t catch on, after all.

“Well, yeah,” You follow through with his observation. “People tend to get a bit uncomfortable with nudity so I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“I don’t mind nudity especially when it comes to incredible art like yours. The human body’s a natural thing.”

“Exactly! That’s actually the concept I’m going for with my art. Natural bodies, sexualities, and kinks. It’s about what makes humans find beauty and attraction or lack thereof beyond the human flesh.”

“I think it’s brilliant. Maybe a little above my intelligence level but I know you’ve got it.”

“Actually, I think you might be the only one who understands around here,” You admit. “My parents…they just think this whole art thing’s unsustainable. But I think with this art installation project coming up, I can prove them wrong. Do you…do you think you can help me, Sheriff Hopper?”

“How could I help?” He asks.

“Be my muse, pretty please.”

And when he agreed he’d no clue what he’d signed himself up for. For you to be so bold to ask your father’s best friend to be your muse when it meant seeing him in the nude, he couldn’t fathom you asking such a thing. And yet now here he was in your small studio contemplating on whether he should go through with removing the remainder of his clothing.

You place your pencil down onto the canvas’s utensil holder, approaching his tall frame. “What’s wrong? Do you need help taking off your pants?”

He swallows convulsively. “When I said I’d be your muse, I thought you just needed me to hold a quick pose…fully clothed.”

“My art concept’s about natural bodies, Sheriff,” You grab unto the waist band of his jeans that had been slightly undone to reveal his white boxers. You drag his pants down a little to where his rather sizable member rests above the open fly. He’s growing hard. “You knew that though. It’s exactly why you agreed to becoming my muse—so I can worship you.”

You palm him through his underwear and he groans, taking your hand away to place them over his hairy chest.

“I knew you as a teenager.” He protests.

“I was 19.” You roll your eyes, using your free hand to hook into his underwear and pull him closer.

“Your father wouldn’t approve.” He argues, a moan bubbling in his throat when you begin to kiss on his chest and swirl a tongue around his nipple. He squeezes your hand a little, releasing as if it is an expression of his diminishing restraint.

You pull away with a wet pop, a line of saliva connecting as you stare up at him with doe eyes. “When have I ever cared what my father approves of?”

“I have a girlfriend.” He counters.

You move your lips to his ear, hotly whispering, “So do I.”

Your lips find each other’s in a sloppy make out session of tongues and clashing teeth. Your hands roam his body, caressing his belly then slipping down his underwear to jerk him off. Even though, you can’t see it, you can tell that it’s not only deathly thick and long but super veiny, too, with a wicked curve. No wonder Joyce had been limping all throughout dinner that day.

You break away from his lips, peppering wet kisses all over his stomach and dipping your tongue in his bellybutton. When you’re finally on your knees, you rub the base of him through the fabric. You bite your lip in anticipation as you finally take initiative and pull him out of his confines, mouth dropping open at the look of him. Just as veiny as you thought with heavy, sagging balls to match. You’re drooling, licking your lips and staring up at him one last time before focusing your eyes on the leaking tip and enclosing your mouth around him.

He cradles the back of your head with one hand while the other pounds a fist against your not-so-high ceilings, a loud growl escaping his clenched teeth.

You bob your head quickly, dramatically gagging on him and its loud and messy but neither of you care. Soon, he’s fucking your mouth both hands interlocked on the back of your head while you do a mix of massaging his clothed thick thighs or raking your sharp nails down his pudgy tummy. Tears prick your eyes as you struggle to take him but you’ll take whatever he gives you even if it kills you.

You don’t even need to touch yourself as the juices flow out of you, streaming down your inner thighs. You’re humping the air, core contracting around nothing as his whines are the only thing fueling you to near your end.

“Fuuuck, I’m cumming.” He hisses, rapid final thrusts of his wide cock into your mouth. He holds you down, your nose embedded in his pubic hair and you taste his hot spunk shoot down your throat. Just from that, you cum untouched, the act of being used so filthily making it possible.

You’re limited in breathing as you inhale through your nose and your jaw hurts but it’s all worth it as your eyes roll back and you quiver as much as your body could under his hold.

He finally releases your head, pulling his cock out of your wet mouth with webs of saliva to follow as you gasp for air.

“Was I inspiring enough for you?” He asks cockily.

Your throat itches as you let out a low giggle. “You’re perfect.”

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 5: Hot Chocolate or Tea

Jim Hopper x wife!reader

wc: 0.7k

warnings: literally just tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: Hopper has a special place in my heart and making him happy is the least I can do. Reblog if you enjoyed please, and I'll see you tomorrow for Day 6!

It’s no secret that Jim Hopper is not exactly a happy man. Sure he has his moments, usually when he is around his girls, but the majority of people you ask would say that the Chief of Police generally has the demeanor of a storm cloud. 

That ‘storm cloud’ is currently leaning against the sink in your shared kitchen, wearing a soft worn  New York Jets tee shirt, a pair of Levi's, and grey wool socks. He’s also sporting a comically large whipped cream mustache and pretending not to notice because it makes his daughters laugh. 

Jane’s giggles are hidden behind her own mug full to the top with hot chocolate, whipped cream, and coated with the leftover holiday sprinkles you found in the pantry from last year’s cookie-baking marathon. 

Your youngest, Emmie, though. Her laughter takes over her whole body. It comes straight from her tummy and spills out of her mouth as she throws her head back.

“Daddy!” She yells, “It’s right there!” She tries to point at his face but her shoulders are shaking far too much for her aim to be anywhere close to accurate,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about bug.” Jim takes another sip of his cocoa, making sure to really shove his face deep into the pillow of white floating on the top. 

She bursts out in new peels of laughter and he catches your gaze and winks.

Jane tries and fails to keep in a snort of her own and decides to join in on the fun. She takes a drink and comes up for air with her own, multicolored lip ornament. 

“Janie you have one too!” Emmie yells and her gaze quickly flashes between her father and her older sister. “Mommy look!” She turns to you.

“I don’t know lovebug, I don’t see anything different.” You tilt your head and look back at your little girl. 

“Mommy!” She shrieks and looks at you in disbelief. You have to use every ounce of willpower in your body to not burst out laughing at the look on her face. 

“Emmie, why don’t you show us what you mean?” Jim asks her, a faux look of innocence painting his features.

She looks down at her own Winnie the Pooh mug and steels herself, shoving her face into the whipped cream. She comes up for air a second later, with a whipped cream goatee instead of just a mustache and looks at the three of you before she starts to laugh again.

You quickly run to get the camera sitting on the entryway table next to the kitchen and hustle back. You make it just in time to snap a photo of your family, all sporting some pretty impressive cream facial hair. 

“Alright you three, maybe we drink our cocoa instead of shoving our faces into it.” You relent, grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink next to Jim. You cross the small space to wipe off Emmie’s face before turning to Jane.

The teenager grumbles but lets you clean her off, and you quickly kiss the crown of her head as a thank you. 

Jim grabs you by your waist and hauls your back into his chest, quickly spinning you so that the two of you are chest to chest. He still has some whipped cream in his actual mustache and you use your thumb to wipe it away. Licking your thumb clean quickly after. 

Jim pulls you closer and into a soft kiss that lingers for a moment or two longer than it really should with children present.

“Mommy ew!” Emmie yells from her seat at the table. 

“Yeah guys, ew.” Jane agrees nodding in agreement at her little sister’s sentiment. 

You turn out of Jim holds and pick up your own mug from where it rested on the counter. You playfully stick your tongue out at the girls. Before taking the first sip of your drink.

Your cocoa is more warm than hot at this point but it’s still delicious. And if you make sure to tilt the mug just right so you come out with a cream ‘stache of your own that’s your own business.

“Mommy!” Emmie yells and her little giggling fit starts all over again. 

[morganbritton132]

Hopper: *Just trying to make sure this kid doesn’t die before his brain is fully developed*

Steve, to everybody in the waiting room: Hopper wants to shoot me. He told me that in the car.

Waiting room: *sends Hopper dirty looks*

Hopper: That’s - I didn’t say that.

Steve: He said he wants me to get shot.

Hopper: To get a shot. A flu shot.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 10

part 1, prev part

The next day, the Chief is back looking like a man on a mission. Catching Wayne’s eye while he’s on his way in, but interrupted when the Harrington kid steps in his path. Talking to him in hushed whispers, but tense as hell.

The chief sighs, cocking his head to the side and bringing the kid to talk outside. Wayne isn’t the person to eavesdrop, but after yesterday, after the endless questions with no answers, he is desperate for an explanation.

An explanation why his kid is stuck on a hospital bed while Steve is walking around like he has every right to. Like he isn’t part of the reason his boy was halfway to dead for the past week.

What made his boy protect a person that he seemed to hate? A person who’s had everything handed to him, never had to experience real hardships. Stood on the sidelines while his boy was mocked and taunted. Ostracized for being who he was. Molded into this villain.

Kings look down on villains, seeing them as threats to their status. Their reputation. And the Harrington’s are part of the rulers of this town. Funding the high school extracurriculars, the hospital, the candidates on the ballots. Money that, in the grand scheme of reality, Wayne couldn’t give a shit where it goes.

Until it comes between him, his kid, and their lives. Eddie could’ve died, and for what? So the rich can keep being that? So they can keep coming out on top.

Wayne understands why Eddie would throw himself into danger for Dustin. Hell, he probably would have done the same thing. But Steve Harrington. Wayne’s not so sure that’s the path he would choose.

Taking the last cigarette from the pack, Wayne positions himself near the corner of the hospital. Hearing the Chief and Harrington talking right around the bend. Taking a long drag, he tilts his ear up to listen.

Living in a trailer park made everyone a secret gossip. Wayne just never thought he was going to do it like this.

“What about Owens?” Steve’s not so hushed voice carries around the corner. “He seems to be the one to fix all your problems.”

Wayne can hear the annoyance in the Chief’s voice. “Either still in hiding or avoiding my calls. I’ve had to go through his partner for all of this.��

“We need to fix this, Hop, and fast. Eddie can’t be pinned for this shit.”

“I know.” The Chief takes a deep breath. “But the town needs a fall guy. I can’t take the cuffs off just yet.”

Steve hisses a breath. “He’s been getting better. Doesn’t have the ventilator anymore, could wake up any day now. He doesn’t deserve to wake up thinking the town still hates him for something he was a victim of.”

“Kid, I know but I can’t-.”

Steve cuts him off. “I saw how effected his was by all this, Hop. I saw how upset he was thinking the town thought he could do that to her. To all of them. All of them willing to pick up their pitchforks to hunt the freak. He was terrified.”

Wayne feels the anger start to simmer up again. Hearing this kid put words in his boy’s mouth. Saying that he knows everything.

Maybe he does. Maybe Wayne’s blowing this all out of proportion. But he can’t help it. He’s tired, his hope is running dry. One wrong move and he’ll snap. Harrington’s just an easy target.

“I hear you,” the Chief’s voice raises. “But I really can’t-.”

Steve cuts his off again. “Yes, you can and that is the whole problem.”

“No, I can’t.” The hushed screams turn to louder reprimands. “Until the Feds get what they want, I’m powerless here.”

“But if it was El, that would be a completely different story, wouldn’t it?”

Even though Wayne can’t see them, the silence is so thick not even the sharpest blade could cut through it. Steve pushed the wrong button.

“Don’t go there, Steve.” The quiet anger in the Chief’s voice is enough to make anyone step down.

Steve doesn’t. “I am going there.” Steve’s voice has almost reached a yell. Full of anger of his own. “You do everything when it’s affecting you, and the people you care about. But as soon as it’s someone else that might get the fall, you step back and say you can’t do a damn thing.”

“I can’t do a damn thing,” the Chief booms.

“Yes. You. Can,” Steve yells right back. “If it were El, or Joyce, or Will, hell even Mike there strapped to that table right now, the cuffs would have been off the second you came back. No matter what. You would have taken the fall of that. You would have taken the Fed’s anger about it. You would have fucking done something about it. Why not now?”

Before the Chief can even answer the question, Steve is walking away with a huff. Not even noticing Wayne as he walks right back to the parking lot and slams the door of his fancy car. Driving away faster than he should.

Wayne might be directing the anger that sits in his chest at the wrong person.

But all of that doesn't seem to matter anymore. Almost immediately as his sits back in the hospital room, ready for nothing to happen. Eddie opens his eyes.

next part

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[harringroveera]

Hopper is strict on all of his kids’s boyfriends actually

[starrycloak]

st and byler doodle dump (mostly trolls au and static poses to figure out how to draw everyone)

hcs for the party's music tribes (if you can't read my handwriting: lucas, funk+rock; mike, full pop -part glitter; will, full rock; max, full pop (art pop); dustin, pop+classic; el, techno+rock -and pop via henry's blood ig?)

^ whenever mike kisses will's forehead, he makes sure to put his bangs back in place

the last doodle was based on @/mimibeingmimi's post

willow and s5!lesbyler my beloved (can you tell i have no idea how to draw noses :D top right doodle could be snowball!willow ig?)

darling ranger dustin is a classic+pop troll (wearing el's s1 wig + he has tiny classic troll wings that do not let him fly, but he does get teeth eventually)

el and family across the seasons <3 hcs: hop taught her to ride a bike, but only with training wheels, and she and joyce had a blast getting into new """feminine""" rituals between s3 and s4 (also yes, hop's a country+pop troll)

my two fav girlies, both full pop trolls but they make their own rules <3

^ first concepts be crappy, it is law, but since i always struggle with mike's hair and it doesn't look that terrible here you go (will's hair looks so baddd srry buddy)

[evilbookworm]