#jim hopper fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 7 months

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jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you.

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic.

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out."

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close.

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly.

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks.

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand.

"You look sick," you say tearily.

"Nice. You look worse."

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?"

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?"

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus.

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much."

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry."

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again.

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly.

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died."

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back."

You breathe out.

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over.

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb.

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes."

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?"

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment.

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently.

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something."

"Me?"

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you."

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly.

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets."

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened."

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes."

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want."

#hopper x reader #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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strangererotica · 2 months

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader • Jealousy, angst, posessive Hopper • Hopper has a corruption kink and some dark fantasies about reader

PART TWO

Chief Jim Hopper knew he had a problem; several, in fact. There was his moderate abuse of alcohol which bordered on severe, especially under times of heightened stress (which to be fair, seemed like most of the time these days). Then there was his pill addiction, the ones he found himself leaning on throughout the day when the effects of the previous night’s alcohol had worn off. But the problem Hopper had that bothered him the most, perhaps, was the one that involved YOU…

He was absolutely, unequivocally in lust with you. Every time Hopper saw you, the limited bit of feminism he’d learned over the years flew right out the window. He wanted you, and not in a pretty way, or any way that implied romance, flowers, dating, none of that. He wanted you carnally, in a way that almost frightened him because of the strength behind it.

Hopper knew he could control himself, at least physically. He wasn’t worried about that, wasn’t concerned that he’d hurt you. But mentally…he was out of control. The fantasies that filled his mind involving you were beyond pornographic; they were sinful. Everything sweet about you, everything pure, Hopper wanted to corrupt.

As the station’s new secretary, he saw you daily, heard your voice chatting on the phone and with your co-workers. And fuck, how he wanted you. He wanted to know if your pretty face would still look so sweet, so innocent, with his cum running down it? How distorted would your sweet voice sound with his cock rammed down your throat? Would you still be smiling if his hands were in your hair, yanking it backwards as he stretched your asshole beyond its capacity to take him?

Hopper knew he was sick. And sometimes, when he was alone and drunk, or high, he didn’t fucking care that he was sick. He didn’t mind being a monster, in those moments with his hand around his cock, lying on his back with his eyes closed, imagining your mouth around him instead. Servicing him, seducing him, your pretty eyes on his and only him.

He was your boss, after all. Your superior in every way. How Hopper wished he could take advantage of that superiority, to abuse his position of power as thoroughly as he longed to abuse your throat. It was all fantasy, of course, and therefore safe. A secret indulgence that Hopper took little pride in during sobriety, but that he found himself a slave to when intoxicated. Even at the station, he’d have no choice but to relieve himself in the privacy of his office.

Hearing your voice just outside his door, knowing what you were wearing as he’d seen you when he entered the station that morning, Hopper would lock his door and have his pants undone before he got back to his chair. He’d loosen the top buttons of his shirt, sit back and stroke himself to the sound of your voice beyond the door, hanging on your words, the gentle trill of your laughter. He’d imagine how pretty your moans would sound as he took you from behind, how sweetly you’d whimper as he pumped his cum inside you, then licked you clean.

Hopper would reach for whatever was nearby, usually his emptied coffee cup from that morning, and ejaculate into it. And what a poor substitute for your mouth it was, he’d think, breathless and leaning fully back in his chair, cock still leaking and twitching in his hand. He’d always toss the cup into the trash can and clean himself up, so no one suspected a thing. No one else at the station was aware of his perversions, and that’s how Hopper wanted it to be. He knew that if his secret got out, it would ruin his already faltering reputation within the community. Hawkins was his hometown, and had generally been sympathetic considering his past trauma and choice to return home after the death of his daughter. But this? Combined with the rumors of Hopper’s substance abuse, the fact that he was lusting after the new secretary at least ten years his junior would likely solidify his reputation as a degenerate and render him unfit for duty.

Hopper was lonely, very lonely. It had been months since he’d last had a woman, and even then, it was so casual and boring that it meant nothing to him. He hadn’t even wanted her, truthfully; she was just a wet, willing mouth to suck him off, parked behind The Hideaway bar downtown after they’d both indulged in far too many beers. She’d swallowed his cum, he’d fingered her in the front seat to climax, and that was the end of it. She’d left his car for her own, parked a few feet away, and they’d never seen each other since. She’d tried to get his attention in the weeks after, but Hopper wasn’t interested.

Because a week later, you’d come to work at the station, and Hopper’s world (at least, his internal world) had been flipped upside down. He’d never been more attracted to anyone in his life, never felt such an instinctive, primal yearning for a woman who he literally knew almost nothing about. But really, Hopper would ask himself, did he need to know more? He could see everything he wanted to take from you, from just one look in your direction. That body…those soft pink lips that would look even softer with his cum dripping out of them…Your eyes, beautiful eyes that he needed to see rolled back while gagging on his cock…

Hopper was reaching a breaking point, he feared. Although he knew he’d never hurt you, he needed to. He needed to know what you felt like around his dick, what sounds you’d make taking him. He wondered if you’d ever been with a man as big as him before? Hopper knew he was hung, at least three inches above the average man’s size. He was thick too, and he knew from experience that women appreciate a cock with not only length but girth as well. He knew he could pease you, could do things to your body that no other man ever had, if only you’d allow him. If only, if only, if only…

Hopper was drowning in ‘if only’s.’ One way or another, he would have you. The first step , he decided, was to approach you as a colleague. Not as your boss, necessarily, even though that’s what he was. He needed to be subtle about his approach, so as not to come across as abusing his position of power over you. This needed to go down smoothly, softly, a calculated plan of action that Hopper was dedicated to seeing through, from the beginning to where it ended with his cock buried inside you…

He planned to approach you at the station’s annual ‘Spring Fling,’ a community fundraising event for local charities held every year on the second Saturday in April. Hopper chose this event because it was outside of work, yet as an employee of the Hawkins P.D. you were sure to be there. The days leading up to the Spring Fling were the hardest for Hopper, both figuratively and literally. He’d never had to masturbate so often in his life, finding himself painfully hard through most of the work day just being near you. Thank god for the privacy of his office and the lock on its door. Hopper had begun taking extra coffee in the morning with the excuse that he was more tied than usual, with the actual intent of dumping the coffee out and using the empty cups to cum inside.

He groomed himself as usual the morning of the event, taking slightly longer to adjust himself in the mirror before leaving his trailer. Hopper had been a little self conscious about his weight in recent years, but he was tall and knew that his height worked as an advantage for him. Straightening in the mirror, pressing his shoulders back, he met his eyes in his reflection, their deep, intense blue. He was ready.

Hopper planned to make casual, friendly conversation with you, before inviting you to dinner. He’d control his body as best he could, force his eyes not to wander from your eyes to anywhere besides your lips, perhaps, and even then, for the briefest of moments. He needed to seal this deal, to secure your trust (although as Chief of Police and your employer, he was reasonably sure he already had it). No need to get ahead of himself, however, Hopper remembered. It was better to assume you had at least a neutral opinion of him before proceeding, rather than expect your automatic approval.

When he arrived at the Spring Fling, Hopper was surprised to see how just many people had turned out. The event usually drew a big crowd, but the majority of Hawkins seemed to be there this year. It was promising for the charities hoping to earn donations that day, but made Hopper’s effort to spot you in the crowd more difficult. He met up with officers Callahan and Powell, and lingered with them near the stage set up for music to be performed later, hoping that perhaps the trio of them would catch your eye and prompt you to say hello.

When Hopper did see you, he was awestruck. You were, to him, like something divine: an angel dressed in white, your long skirt moving gently in the light April breeze, the neckline low enough to display your breasts but modest enough to keep his mind actively wondering for more. Your hair was pinned up by bright yellow ribbons, tied together at the back of your head to create what looked to Hopper like the crown a princess in a fairytale might wear.

You were so effortlessly elegant, so perfectly innocent, moving through the crowd completely unaware of the effect you were having on Hopper, and likely most of the other men in attendance. Hopper opened his lips to speak as you approached, but was stopped short when he noticed the young man walking alongside you. Hopper hadn’t seen him before, had been so lost in the sight of you that anyone else near you had faded into the background of his vision, blurred by your presence.

The young man smiled and placed his arm around your waist, as if to claim you. Hopper’s jaw tightened; he’d seen this man before. Up close, he was barely a man at all, at least as Hopper perceived. This was a boy, in his early twenties Hopper assumed. Hopper wondered what this boy was doing for you, what he was doing to you, knowing full well that he could do it so much better, regardless of how good this boy was in bed-

“Chief!” you said brightly, pulling Hopper from his vindictive string of thoughts. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe this many people showed up today, isn’t it great?”

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m glad to see such a big turnout.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man with his arm around your waist. “You look beautiful, (y/n),” he said, and you smiled, cheeks going slightly pink. Because of course they did. Of course you blushed easily, because you were so sweet, so soft. And it made Hopper want to absolutely ruin you…

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone slightly sharper than he’d intended. You smiled and looked up at the (admittedly handsome, Hopper conceded) man beside you. “This is Steve, my boyfriend,” you replied, your cheeks going pinker. The young man extended his hand to Hopper for a friendly shake. “Steve Harrington,” he said, his big brown eyes full of a joy that Hopper had only dreamed of ever experiencing. “My mom runs one of the charities participating here today, right over-.” He pointed awkwardly past Hopper, who didn’t bother to look, chuckling slightly. “-Over there,” Steve continued, adding “it’s good to meet you, Chief.”

Hopper studied the boy a moment longer, committing to memory all of the details about him he’d have to pick apart and analyze later. “Likewise,” Hopper lied, taking Steve’s hand and squeezing harder than he needed. Steve’s eyebrows rose but his smile remained polite. “Well uh, (y/n) tells me a lot about her new job,” Steve said, his tone pleasant as ever. Hopper’s eyes shifted back to you. “Does she?” he asked, and you smiled up at Steve.

“I tell him what I can,” you teased. “But not all the details; I can’t give away too much information about everything that goes on at the station-.” You playfully patted Hopper’s arm, and he swallowed. “-You know,” you continued. “Official police business and all that…”

Hopper knew you only were being friendly, but his paranoia made him wonder exactly how much you knew about what went on at the station? Specifically, his daily masturbation when you were just outside his door? Hopper forced the possibility away, refusing to entertain it. If you knew about it, you probably wouldn’t be so friendly towards him right now, or anytime for that matter. You’d probably think your boss was a pervert (and that’s exactly what Hopper knew he was) never speaking to him again unless you had to. You were too sweet, too innocent, to ever condone such carnal, almost animalistic behavior from a man, surely. At least, that’s what Hopper had always assumed. It’s why he wanted to test how far he could soil such a pretty little flower, to pluck every petal and see what you were capable of underneath?

“Only good things,” Steve assured Hopper. He nodded politely. “Well that’s good to hear,” Hopper said, but he wasn’t looking at Steve; he was looking at you. “(Y/N) is a real asset to the station. We’re lucky to have her.”

Steve smiled down at you warmly. “Me too,” he murmured, and you leaned into each other for a quick kiss. Hopper felt his blood boiling.

You noticed the odd look on the Chief’s face, and felt slightly embarrassed. Even though you weren’t at work, and in a casual setting, you worried maybe it was still unprofessional to give your boyfriend a kiss in this situation? In front of your boss? You were still learning the proper decorum for working at the station, and you hoped your innocent display with Steve hadn’t rubbed Hopper the wrong way. The last thing you wanted to be was unprofessional.

To lighten the mood, you decided to attempt a joke. “I think,” you told Steve, glancing from him to Hopper. “The reason the Chief likes me is because I get him those extra cups of coffee right away every time he asks for them.”

Hopper couldn’t help it; his eyes widened slightly. You were giggling, probably oblivious to the actual weight of what you’d said, but…Hopper’s paranoia lurched in his stomach. What if…what if you did know? He scanned your eyes for any sign of hidden meaning, for any indication that you were on to his behavior behind the office door. But all Hopper saw in your eyes was, as usual, a beautiful innocence that lay waiting to be corrupted…

Steve chimed in with “I’ll bet you need every last drop too, huh Chief?”

Hopper frowned at him, not understanding for a moment before he realized Steve was talking about coffee. “With your job, being so stressful, I mean.”

Hopper nodded, realizing that his dislike of Steve Harrington was rapidly shifting to hatred. “Yeah, it’s a job alright,” Hopper muttered in Steve’s direction, still avoiding looking at him.

You noticed a friend of your and Steve’s a few feet away, and waved to them. Steve saw them as well, and you both took a step in their direction. “Gotta go, boss,” you smiled warmly at Hopper. “See you Monday morning.”

Hopper grinned tightly, glancing very briefly at Steve when the younger man took his hand again. “Pleasure to meet ya, Chief,” Steve told him. Hopper didn’t return the sentiment.

The rest of the event dragged on for Hopper monotonously. Although he tried his best to avoid seeking you out in the crowd, he still found himself looking for the yellow ribbons adorning your hair, and the white dress that drifted so gently in the breeze. It was a welcome distraction in a way, having so many people around, speaking to him even though he had no interest in them or their conversation. There was only one person in the crowd that he cared about; and now, he knew that having you would be more of a challenge than ever.

Hopper felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned. He was looking at a woman, and it took him a solid thirty seconds to recognize that she was the woman he’d fucked in his car months ago. “Hello there, Sherrif,” she said with an overly flirtatious drawl, her voice and demeanor reeking of desperation. She slid her hand down Hopper’s arm, and he watched it, noting the harsh, tacky shade of her nail polish. He knew that you would never wear such a color. You kept your nails neat and pretty, painted in soft pastels like the flowers in your hair.

Hopper hated this woman’s hand on him. He hated the way her neon pink lipstick had transferred onto her teeth as she smiled up at him, waiting for validation. Hopper wondered how long it would take to wash that disgusting pink lipstick off his dick later? He smiled back at the woman, watching her light up at his attention, that he remembered her. There was nothing in this for Hopper, he realized, besides a quick fix to a problem only your body, your mouth, could solve for him.

He looked past the woman briefly just in time to see you and Steve leaving the event together, hardly able to keep your hands off each other. It was all the motivation Hopper needed to make yet another bad decision; and so he took the woman’s hand in his, and asked her a question he already knew the answer to: “What’re you doing tonight?”

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Cockwarming hopper while he works at his desk at the precinct 💀

this post is 18+, minors dni.

but but but but but consider: he works in a semi-public setting so people are gonna notice someone sitting on his lap all the time, so you sit under the desk and cockwarm him with your mouth

Drool has long since begun to drip from your mouth, seeping out between your lips and staining the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes grow heavy as your tongue bobs against the underside of Jim's cock, suckling steadily on his sex.

You have to keep quiet only because there's someone on the other side of the desk, otherwise you'd be licking and sucking and choking on Jim's cock. He's not technically supposed to have you there, but you'd begged with shiny eyes to come in with him today, and as hard as he tries, he can't say no to you.

"You'll have to take territory disputes to court," Jim drawls, exasperation leaking into his tone. He's trying his hardest to stay polite, but the person he's talking to is just not getting it.

"But it's my fence, too. That's not something that a court has to decide, it's already decided 'cause it's in my fuckin' backyard!"

"Don't swear at me," Jim's voice turns sharp, and more drool pools under your tongue. There's something so arousing about his authority, even when it's not directed at you.

"I'm telling you that there's nothing the police can do. What, do you want us to repaint it for you? Arrest him for choosing the color blue?"

"I want you to do your job!" The man insists, and Jim's hips shift. HIs cock slips further into your mouth, nearly curving down your throat, and you can feel how tense the muscles in his thighs are. You know he's angry, you know he'll blow if you don't stop him, so you reach up, slipping your hand through the zipper of his uniform pants and cupping his balls.

You pull back to lick gently over the head of his cock, then suckle gently around it. With your hand you massage his balls, kneading and stroking the flesh amidst the patch of wiry brown hair there.

You feel him freeze up, gears turning in his brain with whether or not he wants to shout. Then he eases back into his seat, throwing a hand into his lap that doesn't look suspicious to the man he's speaking with.

"My job is to uphold the law." Jim speaks with a low, patient tone now, and he takes the hand in his lap and uses it to stroke his thumb over your cheekbone appreciatively. "Painting a fence is not illegal. If you'd like to take action against your neighbor, you need to convince a court that action is deserved. That is not my job."

"Useless." The man scoffs, and you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor, "You're a real community hero, Chief!"

You worry that Jim will get angry again. That his patience is already wearing thin, that it will snap in two. But he maintains those soothing motions against your cheek while the man stomps away, and as soon as the door to his office shuts, he's pushing his chair back to peer down at you.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He murmurs, a fond twinkle in his eye as your stomach flips at his praise, "Don't know what I'd do without you, y'know?"

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper scenario #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper one-shot #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper headcanon #jim hopper headcanons #jim hopper hc #jim hopper hcs #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper dialogue #jim hopper x reader fanfiction #jim hopper smut

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wannabespacesmuggler · 9 months

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J.H. | The Duality of Jim Hopper

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. You’re certain that there is no truth behind the rumors until you take one hell of a beating and Hopper wants answers.

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings: mentions of an injury, teenagers being punks, swearing, Hopper being Hopper

Word Count: 4.5k

“How are you settling in?”

The voice tears your attention away from one of the books piled up on the table in front of you. You glance toward the sound and see Marissa, the librarian, standing beside you. A part of you wants to groan at her question because you are acutely aware that you don’t share the same history as most of your friends in Hawkins.

You didn’t approach another child on the playground during your first day of kindergarten and establish a once in a lifetime kind of friendship -- like Mike and Will. You didn’t share cigarettes under the bleachers of your local high school while attempting to not get busted by administration -- like Joyce and Hopper. You didn’t attend new mother classes and bond over the newfound joy of motherhood -- like Karen and Marsha.

No. You haven’t lived in this small town your entire life. You moved to Hawkins after everyone your age had settled into their lives -- with jobs, and spouses, and children. Meanwhile, you came to Hawkins from Indianapolis in an attempt to have a quieter life. No children, no spouse, and no job -- that is until you had an interview with Donald Melvald.

And Melvald’s is where you met Joyce Byers, who quickly became your lifeline in Hawkins. You remember your first day at work, when she took all day just to train you. Little did you know, Joyce was just as excited as you were to have some company throughout the day. She easily took you under her wing and brought you up to date with the history of Hawkins. Eventually, she invited you into her life and home. Dinners at the Byers’ home became more frequent as you continued working together. The Byers slowly became your family in Hawkins.

“I’m doing well. Thank you for checking in.”

She gives you a polite smile. You were hoping she’d leave the conversation at that, but she asks you another question.

“Are you still working over at Melvald’s with Joyce?”

You give her a nod in response and turn your attention back to the stack of books that Will had recommended to you. It’s not that you don’t like Marissa. She’s fantastic at her job and you enjoyed the few conversations you have had with her, but you know she’s also a gossip -- or at least that’s what Joyce told you when you asked why the local librarian started asking you so many personal questions during your first visit.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. So are the boys. I’m actually going over there for dinner tonight.”

You hope you’ve given her enough information to quench her thirst for details.

“Oh. With the Chief?”

Apparently not.

Your brow furrows at her question and you shake your head. Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small.

The two of you became quick friends, but you weren’t aware of his reputation in town until after you had dinner with him. It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you at Benny’s; Joyce was actually the one who had planned the little outing, but Will ended up coming home from school early that day with a fever, so Joyce had to cancel last minute. Hopper ended up wandering into Melvald’s later that day after Joyce had called the two of you about her predicament.

“We can still go tonight. If you want?”

Hopper will never tell you that he wants to take you out to dinner. Instead, he leaves the decision to you; afraid of the rejection that could come if he were to just blatantly ask you out.

You shrug before giving him a verbal answer.

“I don’t have anything else going on tonight.”

Hopper smiles as he leans against the counter, watching as you continue restocking the shelves.

“Meet you at Benny’s? 7:00 o’clock?”

You stop restocking and glance up at him. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was intimidating. He’s a large man and his presence practically demands your attention. Hell, his broad frame is taking up half the counter. But then his hands are anxiously fiddling with an unlit cigarette as he waits for your response. It almost makes you laugh -- the duality of Jim Hopper.

“Actually, can you pick me up? My car has been acting up.”

“I’ll be there at 7:00 and maybe I can take a look at your car?”

Jim watches you stand up. As you walk past him to get behind the counter, you gently place your hand on his bicep. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, but for some reason, every single fucking time you touch him, Hopper has to fight off the shiver that begs to journey down his spine. He doesn’t give it a second thought though. He can’t. He’s had his heart locked up tight for years. He isn’t sure if he could find the key even if he tried.

“You’re a lifesaver, Hop.”

You enjoyed dinner and Jim did end up fixing your car that night. You repaid him for the ride and a free tune-up with a case of beer, which the two of you powered through in the span of a few hours. At some point, you stole the keys to Hopper’s truck and convinced him the crash on your couch for the night. The next day, you two were the talk of the town after your neighbor told everyone she knew that the chief of police was leaving your house awfully early in the morning.

Since then, you’ve gotten quite a few questions about Hopper from the local citizens who didn’t know you too well -- assuming you were just another one of his many flings.

It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at Marissa. Still, you offer her a polite response.

“Hopper’s working tonight.”

Marissa seems to be content in your answer and leaves you with your stack of books. You let out a sigh of relief and glance out the window. A small smile pulls at your lips as you spot Jonathan and Nancy talking to a group of boys in the parking lot, until you see one of the boys throw a punch a Jonathan.

You hastily push out your chair, turn on your heels, burst through the doors and sprint through the parking lot. You can hear Nancy begging for the boys to stop, but her protests fall on deaf ears as the boys continue to pummel Jonathan. Nancy turns toward you and relief washes over her features -- she doesn’t know you well, but Jonathan has always spoke highly of you and right now she’ll take any help offered.

“Get off of him!”

Your voice gets one of the boys’ attention for just a moment.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

You furrow your brow at the comment. Jonathan may not be your child; however, you care for him as if he was your own and you’re not going to let this teenager lay another hand on him. Quickly, you try to get inbetween the two boys. You think you have the upperhand until the boy on top of Jonathan throws his elbow back in an attempt to get you off of him. His elbow cracks you in the nose and immediately sends you crashing to the ground. The sound of your body hitting the gravel stops the boy’s assault on Jonathan. He turns to you and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he did not mean to hurt you; he had been blinded by anger and made a stupid decision.

However, those stupid decisions seem to continue as you watch red and blue lights reflect off of Jonathan’s car. You can vaguely hear the sound of a police siren and someone yelling your name, as you watch the boy who had been pummeling Jonathan into the pavement run in the other direction. You take a moment to take in details about the boy, knowing that you’ll end up at the station giving a description of the boy to Hopper.

As you try to get up, you’re met with the face of Officer Callahan.

“Woah, there. Seems like you took quite a beating.”

“No, no, no. Jonathan. You need to check on Jonathan.”

Officer Callahan puts a gentle, but firm hand on your shoulder to keep you in place as you frantically search for the boy.

“It’s okay. Powell’s with him right now. We’re going to get you both to the hospital. Chief is already on his way.”

You give Callahan a nod and lay back down on the rough gravel. As the adrenaline begins to leave your system, the pounding in your head starts to take precedence. In an attempt to ease the pain, you close your eyes. You only mean for it to be a minute, but as you hear Callahan’s voice begging for you to just hold on, you feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

When you open your eyes again, the pounding in your head has dulled and your ears are met with the rhythmic sound of your heart beat on the monitor next to you. You’re about to call for a nurse to get some information when you hear a woman yell from down the hall.

“Sir, you can’t smoke in here!”

You hear a string of grumbled expletives before a familiar figure leans against the doorframe of your hospital room.

“Hey, Hop.”

He’s disheveled. His uniform shirt is fully unbuttoned and falling off one shoulder, leaving his henley to be on full display. It looks as though he threw on the shirt hastily as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Somewhere in the chaos he’s lost his hat as well, allowing you a glimpse at his unusually tousled hair -- he’s been running his hands through it in frustration since he got the call from Callahan that you were on your way to the hospital.

His eyes rake over your body, checking for injuries, before they settle on your face. The hardened anger in his gaze quickly fades to a tender concern as he studies your broken nose and two black eyes.

Eventually, he moves from the doorframe and takes large strides toward you. He towers over your body as he stands beside your hospital bed. His jaw is clenched so hard that you begin to worry that the man might crack a tooth. The anger in the pit of his stomach begins boiling over once more as he gets a better look at your injuries -- they’re much worse upon closer inspection. Callahan was right -- you took one hell of a beating.

“Hop.”

Hopper lets out a solemn sigh as you slide your hand into his. Finally, he meets your gaze and his features soften. You swallow a string of emotions -- Hopper has never looked at you this tenderly before. It’s a lot to take in -- on one hand he’s got a warmth in his features that you’ve never witnessed before that only seemed to spark once he entered your hospital room and, on the otherhand, his body is so rigid that you fear he might snap if another goddamn thing happens today.

Keeping a tight grip on your hand, he takes a seat beside you on the small hospital bed. He reaches out and places his free hand on the side of your face. Your breath catches in your chest as his thumb gently traces over your wounds. His touch is careful, the softest whisper of contact. He’d stop if you asked him to, but you wouldn’t dare. You’d let him trace over the bridge of your nose over and over and over again, if it means that you’ll maintain Jim Hopper’s undivided attention. However, as he grazes over the area where the kid split your nose open, you flinch away from his touch. He pulls his hand back immediately and anger washes over his features once more. It was only for a second, but it was enough for you to recognize the festering rage stewing in the back of Hopper’s mind.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice is low and he ducks his head down to your level, maintaining eye contact with you as he speaks. You open your mouth but no words come out. You’re entirely enamored in the duality of Jim Hopper once again -- fierce and rageful, while simultaneously gentle and kind. A protector in every sense of the word. He moves cautiously, placing his hands on either side of your face. He’s cradling your face like a coveted prize jewel. He takes a moment and then asks you again.

“Sweetheart, who hurt you?”

You finally let out the breath that got caught in your throat. His voice is somehow sweet as honey while simultaneously laced with venom.

“It was just some punk kid that was giving Jonathan trouble.”

His brow furrows immediately at your response.

“What kid? I’ll make sure he never touches you again. And Jonathan.”

There’s a beat before he says the last two words. He rushes to add Jonathan into the equation in an attempt to make it seem like he’s sitting here with you because it’s his job, and not because his heart dropped into his stomach when he got the call from Callahan. He didn’t even both listening to the rest of Callahan’s message over the walkie. He knew someone hurt you and that you were being escorted by an ambulance -- that was more than enough to get him racing to his truck and speeding to the hospital. But now, in this moment, where it is just you and Hopper, he tries to cover up the fact that he’s here solely because he cares for you.

“He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He looks at you with an incredulous expression. Where Jim is harsh, you are forgiving. He’s always appreciated the ways you’ve challenged him since you moved to Hawkins. But, right now, he wishes you were as angry as he was. But, instead, you’re sitting here with your infinite grace and it’s just pissing him off more. He retracts his hands from your face and stands up, before raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Oh, he didn’t mean to hurt you? Sorry, sweetheart, Callahan didn’t relay that to me that in his message -- you know the one where he let me know you were unconscious! I should go find him then, right? So I can check in on him?”

The honey is long gone from his voice, it is all venom. And the way he says ‘sweetheart’ this time is almost condescending. You’ve heard Hopper raise his voice before, his anger is no stranger to you; however, this is the first time he has risen his voice at you. It startles you for a moment. You let out a frustrated breath and furrow your brow.

“Hey, don’t take this out on me. That isn’t fair.”

“You scared the shit out of me!”

And then there is a painful silence between the two of you. Hopper is practically panting as he tries to regain his composure. Against his better judgment, he glances in your direction. Guilt immediately blooms where anger had previously resided. Deciding he’s done enough damage, he turns and begins to walk toward the door in an attempt to find Jonathan’s room.

“Hey, Hop. Wait.”

Hopper stops as he hears your voice. It sounds smaller than normal -- almost as if you were scared that he’d cast your plea aside and leave you in this room alone. Don’t you know by now he would do anything you asked of him? He lets out a sigh before turning back to you.

“Please don’t go.”

Hopper nods at your request before slowly making his way back over to you. This time, instead of sitting beside you on the small hospital bed, he pulls a chair up to your bedside and slumps into it. He no longer looks angry or concerned or soft. No, he just looks exhausted and the sight causes a sharp pain in your heart. The two of you sit in silence for a few moment before Hopper notices your hands wringing anxiously. He decides then to break the silence.

“How did you even get caught up in this mess?”

You let out a laugh before answering, catching Hopper off guard.

“I was actually at the library.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow at your confession and looks at you in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

The two of you laugh together at your absolute dumb luck. You’re glad that the tension in the room has dissipated. Now, the silence is comfortable.

“You know Marissa?”

Hopper raises a brow at you once more.

“The librarian?”

“Yes, the librarian. I think she likes you.”

Hopper lets out a half-hearted laugh at your comment. A part of him wishes you were around when he was a younger man -- when he was less bitter. Before the war totured the boyish charmisa out of him. Yet another is glad that you weren’t there to witness his past. That unlike everyone else, you don’t assume that he’s already slept with the local librarian -- even if it’s true.

“Trust me. I know.”

You stare at him with a look of naive confusion. Eventually, you put the pieces together and your eyes light up. You roll your eyes and laugh before covering you face with your hands.

“This explains so much.”

Now it’s Hopper’s turn to be confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“She asks about you all the time.”

If Hopper were a few years younger, that comment would fuel his ego; however, those days are behind him.

“And that explains why she doesn’t like me.”

Hopper is taken aback by that comment. He can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like you.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because she believes what everyone else does.”

Hopper looks at you as if you’re speaking a different language. You let out a laugh at his oblivious nature which only seems to confuse him more. It makes sense that the comments were directed toward you and not the intimidating chief of police; however, you can’t believe he hasn’t overheard anyone talking about it at this point.

“People talked after you crashed on my couch that night.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have to get into details about what they said. Hopper knows. He knows his reputation proceeds him. And he should have known that spending more time with you would raise a few eyebrows in town. Sometimes he hates this stupid small town and the fact that someone is always watching.

“Did you think about it?”

Hopper looks at you for a moment before he furrows his brow. God, this oblivious man is going to kill you. Deciding that it’s too late to back out now, you decide to double down.

“Did you think about me that night like you thought about Marissa?”

“How hard did that kid hit you?”

He attempts to lighten the mood and brush off the question, but you won’t have it. He’s avoiding your eye contact, deciding instead to fiddle with the pack of cigarettes that he pulled out from his pocket.

“Jim.”

It knocks the breath out of his lungs. You’ve only called him that one other time -- the same night you’re asking about. Hopper was already one too many beers in when you fell beside him, onto the couch. He let out a loud laugh while throwing an arm behind you, on the back of the couch. You laugh along with him and lean your head back into his arm. You turn your head to face him and you’re suddenly aware of how close you are to Hopper. He’s looking at you like you’re a goddamn dream. And you’re not sure what time it is but Hopper looks softer in the moonlight. And you know you’re not thinking straight; however, leaning into the sudden intimacy between you and Hopper doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.

And then you say his name. And it sounds like a goddamn prayer. His mind is fuzzy and he swears you’ve never looked as stunning as you do right now -- he takes a moment to capture this memory and file it away into the back of his subconscious.

He watches as you lean into him. You move slowly, allowing him room to back away if he wanted; however, he doesn’t pull back. Instead, he takes your lead and leans in as well. Before any drunken, heat of the moment decisions can be made, your phone rings, cutting through the thick silence. Hopper emits a low growl, but allows you to pull away and leave the room. You answer the phone and he can hear your voice from the other room. He sets his beer down on your coffee table, deciding that he’s definitely had enough to drink. By the time you return to your living room, Hopper is snoring and the moment has passed.

He may not be drunk now; however, he’s just as enamored as he was that night as you say his name.

“No.”

His answer hits you harder the elbow you took to the face. Your eyes fall to your hands and you nod. Hopper is immediately filled with regret. God, he’s an idiot. That’s not what he meant. Of course he’s thought about you. It’s just different and he’s not quite sure how to explain it to you, but he’s going to try because he cannot stand the sadness that has washed over your features.

“Sweetheart, you’re not Marissa. When I was with her, I wasn’t thinking about her; I was just thinking about me. Of course I thought about it that night -- you and I. It’s just you could never be just a fling to me.”

Hopper avoids eye contact with you as he speaks, but it doesn’t matter. His honest words make your heart flutter and repair the heartbreak that his previous answer caused. A small smile spread across your face at the sudden realization that Hopper likes you.

“I thought about it too, that night.”

Hopper’s head rises and he meets your gaze.

“You know -- you and I.”

You repeat Hopper’s words back to him with a small smile on your face. Hopper can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The two of you have entered uncharted waters; however, Hopper has never felt more comfortable than he does right nwo, wading into the deep end with you. He moves his chair closer to your bedside and takes your hand in his once again. When he meets your eyes, your breath is once again trapped in your lungs. It’s like you’ve transported right back to that night and you’re Jim Hopper’s answered prayer.

“You know, the kid hit you pretty fucking hard. Are you sure you’re thinking straight?”

You roll your eyes; however, Hopper still manages to get a good laugh out of you. Even when he’s flirting, he’s still a goddamn smartass.

“Just kiss me, Jim.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. In a moment, he’s out of his seat -- towering over you once again. If you were any other person in Hawkins, you would probably perceive Jim’s presence so close to you as formidable, but, right now, you just feel safe. And you can’t help but lost in the duality of Jim Hopper.

He moves his hands and gently cradles your face. Your eyes close as you lean into his touch. You allow yourself to just enjoy the feeling of Jim’s skin on your own, until he traces his thumb over your bottom lip. As you open your eyes, you’re met with Jim only a breath away from you. You lean into him and then his lips meet yours and it just feels right - like everything has finally fallen into place; Hawkins, Melvald’s, the Byer’s family, Jim.

Jim’s movements are gentle and slow, until you grab a fistful of his open sheriff’s uniform and pull him closer. The guttural growl that reverberates in Jim’s chest as he moves his hands down your body, sends a shiver down your spine. The sweet, lazy kiss has now turned into something more passionate and desperate. Seemingly lost in the moment, Jim nudges his nose against yours which makes you involuntarily let out a pained hiss. Jim pulls away instantly and his eyes fill with panic, until he realizes what he’s done. A soft chuckle escapes him as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

His voice is low and sultry. You’ve never heard anything so heavenly before. And then you're laughing with him. Today has been overwhelming, to say the least, and it’s comical to you. Jim leans back again and meets your eyes. There’s a new fierceness in his gaze that isn’t quite so rageful. He moves his hand to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear.

He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by footsteps stopping just outside your hospital room and a surprised gasp. Jim’s eyes close and he shakes his head. He should have known -- there is no such thing as privacy in this small town. He opens his eyes and you’re smiling at him. You’re fucking smiling at him and it takes everything in him to not kiss you again.

“It’s Joyce isn’t it?”

You peek over his shoulder and spot Joyce standing in the doorway with both of her hands over her mouth. The sight makes your smile grow and you nod your head to answer Jim’s question. He lets out an annoyed sigh and finally moves away from you. Jim doesn’t go too far though, he simply sits on the edge of your hospital bed and keeps a protective hand on your thigh.

“Joyce.”

Jim’s voice is stern. The dramatic change in tone almost gives you whiplash. Joyce seems to be at a loss for words as she just moves her gaze between you both. Jim finally throws both of his hands up in front of him, exasperatedly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Jim rolls his eyes at her apology, but there’s a small smile plastered on his face. He might be impatient and uncordial with almost everyone in this small town; however, Jim Hopper has always had a soft spot for Joyce Byers. And right now, Jim feels like he’s back in high school. Joyce has never been nonchalant, so every time Jim included her in his extracurricular activities, it always seemed to bite him in the ass; however, no amount of detentions ever stopped him from inviting her into his life.

“It’s fine, Joyce. How’s Jonathan?”

Your nerves dissipate once Joyce lets you both know that Jonathan is perfectly fine -- a little bruised and battered, but ultimately okay. She attempts to make some awkward small talk with you both, before excusing herself from the conversation so that she can go check on Jonathan.

With that, Jim’s attention is once again focused solely on you. He moves to kiss you again, but stops once his forehead meets yours.

“I swear to God, if a nurse barges in next.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hopper.”

A content smile spreads across his face at your words. He could get used to hearing those words -- he could get used to all of this.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #hopper #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper imagine #stranger things x reader #two idiots in love #grumpy x sunshine #jim hopper is oblivious but so are you #jim is canonically a ladies man #but he's only got eyes for you #joyce byers #david harbour

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

Text

Workplace Gossip

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

Word Count: 3.7k

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

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

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

(not my gif)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You picked quite the place.”

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

“You weren’t too late.”

“No sir.”

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

“Jim Hopper.”

“Yeah.” You extended a hand.

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

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

“I just moved here last week.”

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

“I promise.”

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

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

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

“Who, like you?” Powell questioned.

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

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

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

“I think she loves him.”

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

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

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

“He’s not that old,” you suggested.

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

“Only if you’re paying.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m gone.” -

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

Never as the girlfriend.

Just as the new secretary.

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

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

“Yes Jim?”

“I have a daughter,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

She liked that Jim liked you.

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

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

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

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

“We’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being dramatic Jim.”

“Never get in that boy's car.”

“You jealous Jim?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took the toothpick out of his mouth.

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

“Y/N,” you said.

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

“What are you doing here Hargrove?”

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

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

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

“Thanks for watching her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He strayed near the phone in case El needed him.

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

You rested back down, snuggling into your spot.

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

“Damn job.”

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

“Oh God.” You stood up.

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

“No you don’t.”

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

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

“Damn straight. Dance with me Hop.”

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

Both of you turned, surprised, caught off guard.

“You expecting someone?” you asked.

“No. You?”

“No sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Fuck him.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“The look on your face.”

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

“Do you like-”

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

“He’s closer to you-”

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Calvin!” Flo exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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velvetcloxds · 4 months

Text

A MAN IN UNIFORM | J.H.

pairing: brother's best friend!jim hopper x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (reader in her late 20s)

summary: your brother's best friend has always been hot, but him stepping in when you got an unfair ticket strutting around in his sheriff uniform has you feeling some type of way

Now, had Hopper walked out of his office to find anyone else making a scene in the middle of the police station, shouting at the top of their lungs, catching every eye in the room, throwing things at one of his best officers- he’d have thrown them right out the door. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you, his best friend’s little sister and heaven knows he at least had to give you a chance before doing exactly that. He folded his arms and leaned against the open door of his office as he shook his head to stop his deputy from getting your attention.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately, picked up the phone and slammed it down again, dialed your number, and then shoved the phone away, imagining your voice on the other end- would you be excited to hear from him, surprised maybe? He saw you properly at Christmas and Thanksgiving every year and sometimes easter, ran into you around town, and flirted a little in the movie store but not nearly as often as when you were teenagers hopping between diners and bars in high school.

“Listen here, bucko,” you pointed a bright red-nailed finger at the officer who was smirking far too smugly in your opinion, all things considered. “Do you have any idea how close I am to kicking you right off that chair?” he didn’t think you were serious, Hopper knew you were, so when you took a step forward, he did too.

“Lady, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s just a ticket.”

“Just a ticket,” you shrieked, it was a familiar sound, one much like the one you’d give him when he’d thrown you in the pool on summer break or cut you off from the jello shots back in university, it didn’t mean anything good was to come. “If my brother finds out I was given a ticket in his car by some dipshit who just got his badge, he’ll have my head- no matter the reason for said ticket being that the asshat in question had his little ego bruised when I didn’t want to go out with him and decided to get back at me,” Hopper moved at that, a gentle hand on the small of your back, a dangerous look aimed at the officer in front of you as he mumbled your last name just loud enough to let you know it’s him.

“Hopper,” the officer tutted, seemingly under the impression that he was about to be backed and not the other way around, smugness only growing as he stood up to hand over the ticket that you’d thrown at him earlier. “I tried to talk her down,” he scoffed, you fumed, the audacity. “You know how these girls are, can’t take no for an answer.”

“You little shit.”

“Language,” Hopper reminded you, but he was smiling in a way that meant he didn’t mind nearly as much as he should, lightly pulling you behind him and pointing towards his office, it was a clear command and you’d not take it so seriously were he not looking down at you, were he not so close to you, had you not realized in a split second how long it’s been since you’d seen him in uniform doing all of the above somehow making it all seem absurdly attractive. “I’ll take care of it, yeah, meet me in my office. “

Jim Hopper was the only man who could give you an order like that and have it obeyed, even with a big huff and stomped steps and a whole ordeal of uttered musings and threats, you did go to his office, and you busied yourself with the little figurines on his desk while you waited. He was talking to or rather at the officer you’d lost your cool with and you weren’t nearly as curious about what he was saying as you should’ve been. He’s always been attractive, always been too kind to be that hot and you remember countless years being wasted on having a crush on your lame brother’s very cool best friend who picked you up from school and carried your books and turned down nights with girls far out of his league in favor of keeping an eye on you and put out his cigarette when you were near- and now that very cool, very hot, very kind man was walking right towards looking far too damn good in a uniform you’d have to stop yourself from imagining him without.

“Is it safe in there?” he hummed as he stilled in the doorway, one hand holding a crumbled-up ticket, the other reaching to the coat rack to take his hat and you watched him with narrowed eyes as he set it on his head. “Stop frowning at me like that, trouble,” he wasn’t serious, really, he found it adorable even though he knew he shouldn’t, then again, he also shouldn’t have disciplined an officer for being an ass to his friend, but that ship has also sailed.

“Did you put him in his place?” you dared, taking his keys from his paper stack before sliding off his desk to meet him at the door, that same finger that you used to point at the officer now sliding over his tie to straighten it. “Because I’ll walk right back to him if you didn’t.”

“Course I did,” he was the smug one this time and it had the exact opposite effect on you, especially when the officer came walking past the office with a box full of goods and his tail between his legs on his way to the public complaint department of the station and you understood why Hopper seemed so pleased with himself. “Happy?” he dared but of course you were, so much so that you tugged his tie lightly to pull him closer and placed a red-lipped kiss right on his cheek, giggling from the feeling of the little hairs of his beard creeping up over tinted skin.

“Very happy, Jimmy,” you cooed, and he was glad for the door frame because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself standing were it not there. “Seems that uniform of yours is good for more than just making me nervous,” you admitted and gave him no time to push for more before slipping past him into the hallway, stealing his hat and gripping his keys tightly as you did. “Are you taking me out for lunch to celebrate, sheriff?” as if he’d ever say no, as if you’d ever let him.

“As long as you’re not driving,” he knew it would rile you up just enough to frown all perfectly at him, with big eyes and scrunched nose as you walked backward towards the exit.

“I’m ordering an extra piece of pie just for that.”

“I thought we were sharing,” he countered, quick to follow just in case you tripped and hurt yourself. You shook your head, tutting as he caught up with you just in time to grab your hand and pull you out of the way of some stranger.

“No way, got to keep those pants of yours looking nice and tight.”

“Naughty,” he breathed, and he paired the word with a little whistle and desperate glance away from your teasing, very longing gaze. You made quite the little show of licking your thumb and wiping carefully at the red lip stain on his face, for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to cover him with those all over, his neck, his chest, those big arms of his and in turn you found your cheeks spreading with warmth and wondered if you were too old to have a crush on your brother’s best friend or the town sheriff for that matter.

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x yn #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper fic #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

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hannaswritingblog · 4 months

Text

Imagine: Jim Hopper asking you out on a date

Fandom: Stranger Things

Suggested by @winterxisxcomingx

You rarely ever make dinner other than the frozen food that's quick and easy to prepare. Only on days like today, when Hopper stops by your place, you actually put some effort into the food you'd sit to eat together.

You and Jim have been friends with benefits ever since you moved to Hawkins a couple of years back. You met him by accident when you were running some errands in town, but it didn't stop you from being instantly drawn to him. Jim must've felt the same, as he would visit you more and more often. Things soon became heated and the room at your place he would visit most often was your bedroom. Despite you two being so close, you've never dared to ask to be something more with him. It seems... natural that you're just friends.

Your reminiscence of the past is interrupted by a knock on a door. You turn off the stove and rush to let Jim in. It takes you by surprise when after opening the door, you see him with flowers in hand, wearing a flannel shirt that you've never seen before. Struck by his appearance, you freeze in place for a second.

"Hi, Y/N," he says, "are you going to let me in or..."

"Sure, come in," you respond, moving out of his way. "Hey, is this flannel new? Are you seeing someone else after?"

"This?" he points at his shirt, sounding surprised. "No, I just haven't worn it in a while, but it is one of my better ones. But why would I see anyone else later?"

"Because you never dress up for me. And the flowers..."

"Oh, that. Yeah... Well, it's all for you, this is a special occasion and..."

Seeing him so flustered makes you laugh a little and ask:

"An occasion? Are we celebrating something? I would make something even better for dinner and..."

"Don't worry about that, sweetheart," he tells you and explains: "We're not celebrating today, but next week it'll be two years since we first met and I thought it's high time for us to become more than friends. I was hoping that... you would go on a date with me."

"You mean... an actual date? Not this... thing we do every few days?"

"Yes, that's what I mean. Unless you don't feel the same..."

"I feel exactly the same," you stop him with a reassurance. "I'll go on that date with you."

Hopper gives you a big smile and leans in for a kiss, which you gladly accept.

#hanna's writing #hannaswritingblog #fanfiction #imagine #gif imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #jim hopper #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #suggested #winterxisxcomingx

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Rules—Jim Hopper x f!reader**

summary: you made a promise to not even look at chief Jim Hopper in order to keep your relationship a secret. but after a while, you can’t keep it together any longer.

word count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: fondling, teasing, dry humping, semi-public action.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: my apologies to Joyce. Jopper is still #1 in my heart, but this one’s for us, Hopper gals 😌

gif: @wheelernancy

He’s only ever asked for one thing from you: discretion. It wasn’t about hiding or avoiding anyone, really, just keep a low profile when it comes to the two of you. That meant no visits to his office, no visits to your office, no side eyes to each other, and not a word that could be misinterpreted as anything more than polite.

It had gotten increasingly difficult over the past few weeks though. You’ve been patient and low-key thrilled about the secrecy, but dating Chief Jim Hopper was something to brag about in itself. It was difficult to see him and not kiss him, not even cuddle up to him or smile brightly and happily.

But you knew that his coworkers would make this a reason to gossip, tease Hopper in any way they could, and that wouldn’t reflect well on either of you. Hopper already had a sketchy reputation when it came to women in spite of his grim past, and you certainly didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. You also would’ve liked to be there for him and share a normal connection, without fearing of what others have to say.

Needless to say, you were in a bit of a pickle.

You’ve been good so far. In the five months you had been secretly seeing Chief Hopper, you have behaved accordingly. A little too much, you might cheekily add. Though in the intimacy of his—or your—place, Hopper always rewarded you plenty for your good behavior, nothing would’ve compared to the thrill of being a little naughty, for once.

Truthfully, you didn’t plan this per se. It’s based merely on subconscious desire, guiding you almost blindly to the police station. The visit is no different than any other, except—well. You suppose this is a more conjugal visit after all. You’ve never visited the station and simply waltzed into his office or even demanded to see him. You always waited for him to come to you, outside, in the car, in the dark. So this is unknown territory all around. Yet, you carry yourself with confidence. You are well known among the officers for being a very sweet neighbor and a very hardworking lady. None of the police officers know you as Hopper does behind closed doors.

Much to your luck, the station is nearly deserted. The janitor already began his night shift, but the light in Hopper’s office is still on. Smiling politely as you walk by the janitor, you knock on the door, trembling with forbidden excitement upon hearing his raspy “Come in”.

You wear a bright smile as a greeting, as opposed to Hopper’s wide eyes and shocked face. He immediately stands up, cautiously sprinting to the door to close it behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks frantically.

“Filing a complaint.”

His face drops, suddenly a whole other concern on his mind. “What, really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t see you as often lately, and not as publicly as I should.”

Hopper exhales, rolling his eyes. This is certainly not the place for you to have such a dramatic reaction, but he also suspects you’re not there at that ungodly hour to tell him just that.

“This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?”

“No, Hop. I understand why it’s best to keep this under the radar, but… it would be nice to be able to sit next to you without you calling me ‘ma’am’ or asking me about my reason for being at the station.”

Hopper falls back into the chair, examining your face. There’s clear hurt smeared over it, but nothing short of mischievousness. He sees the flicker in your eyes, the way it dances in your irises, seemingly teasing him.

“I get what you want, baby, but it’d be so much harder that way.”

“You’ve been working too much. I barely see you,” you sulk.

“I know, I know, baby…”

“What am I supposed to do while I wait for you all alone at home? It’s just me in that big house, thinking of you… playing with myself…”

That draws him in without fail. His pupils are fully blown as he stares at you pretending to sulk and be upset. The uniform starts to strange him, and suddenly he feels like ripping it off entirely. He gulps, watching you sit on the edge of his desk, legs crossed enough to expose your thigh in that sinfully short skirt that turn him into a puddle.

“That what you do?” he asks in a thick, coarse voice, a wild smirk on his lips. “Sit around and touch yourself?”

“Sometimes, yes. I mean, what other choice do I have when you’re not there, you know?”

He scoffs, his large hands reaching to pull you across the desk and onto his lap. You gasp in surprise when you land on his thighs, biting your lower lip and taking off his hat.

“You could just wait for me,” he coos.

You shrug. “I could, but I just get sooo wet, it’s unbearable.”

Hopper’s hands boldly reach behind you to grab handfuls of your ass, squeezing it till you gasp and roll your hips as a response. The movement feels surprisingly good; even he’s astounded at the feeling of your almost bear pussy grinding on his leg.

“How unbearable is it now?” he asks.

“Very.”

Your voice is dark, filled a desire like none before. You repeat the movement from before, trying to establish a rhythm on his thigh while Hopper kisses you deeply, almost swallowing you entirely. You moan into his mouth, a cue for him to squeeze your ass again and subsequently move you on his thigh. You try to stifle your gasps as much as possible, even as Hopper shushes you.

“We don’t wanna alert the janitor that there’s an impending mess to be made, would we?” he cheekily asks.

You nod, Hopper’s hands moving in tandem with your hips as you finally figure out a rhythm. You only stop to pull your panties to the side, much to his surprise. He can barely contain himself, especially when he remarks the wet trail you’re leaving on his pants and how hard he’s gotten already. Risqué is not enough to describe the current situation, but it’s oddly enticing. You can’t stop rubbing your wetness against his thigh, and thinking you could get caught makes it ten times better.

And then Hopper leans in to kiss you again, sloppy and greedy, your hands never leaving your ass. He’s starting to think about all the ways he’ll get to use them when he gets you home, in the solitude needed for you both to release all of that tension.

“Hop—I think I’m—“

“Yeah?” he grunts in between kisses. “Go for it, baby. Gimme a good one.”

You can’t help but; next thing you know, you spasm and seize up right there on this thigh, convulsing around nothing and smearing your arousal all over his work pants. You know he’s gonna use this as an excuse to scold you and then fuck it out of you later, and that thought makes you smile through your climax.

“Atta girl,” he smiles as well, his head buried at your chest as your own is thrown backwards in sheer ecstasy.

When you slow down, still reeling from the force of the unexpected orgasm, you smile at him, cup his cheeks and kiss him sweetly, tenderly.

“You’re okay to walk to the car like this?” he teases you some more.

“I’ve been in worse shape.”

You giggle, hands pressed on his chest. In that moment, you know he’s also thinking of the times he’s fucked you so hard your legs were shaking, simply turning into boneless masses of flesh. And even then you tried to be bold about it, but he chuckled and pulled you back to bed, any sign of confidence vanished when he held you in his arms.

You get down from his lap, struggling to adjust your attire, and Hopper keeps his mouth shut. He makes no cocky comment, he simply admires you. Then, he follows into your footsteps and stands up, looking around for potential colleagues. Luckily, everyone’s gone. Mark the janitor might still be there, but he never pays any mind to any business that goes down around the station.

Trusting his gut, Hopper picks you up and puts you over his shoulder, making sure at the same time that nothing beneath your skirt is revealed.

“Hopper, what the hell are you doing?!”

“We’re going home, baby.”

“Yeah but what in God’s name—“

Hopper shuts the door behind him, nodding once towards Mark, who only side eyes him.

“Evening, Mark,” he salutes him. “Take it easy, man.”

“Evening, Chief.”

Not a single stare, nothing. Even you’re surprised as you dangle from Hopper’s shoulder, but you’re left feeling rather thankful as well. You didn’t want anyone asking questions about that particular sight.

He finally puts you down when you get to his car, and you throw him a shocked glare again.

“What the hell was that? Did privacy go out the window?” you nearly laugh.

“It kinda did when you came into my office with ill intentions.”

“I beg your pardon, Chief Hopper, I had nothing but kind intentions.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you and you both get into the car. You do a little gesture to arrange your outfit, and this time, he lets out a big sigh, followed by a chuckle.

“At least one of us has,” he replies. “Cause when we get home, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

tags:

@spitfire4life @trickstersp8

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x f!reader #jim hopper x female reader #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fic #jim hopper smut #david harbour #david harbour fanfiction #david harbour fic #david harbour smut

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stevesxyellowxsweater · 6 months

Text

Dating Jim Hopper Would include...

Helping him navigate the crazy world of teenage girls,

Loving him no matter how he looks,

Dealing with him being stubborn,

The occasional sleepover,

but being respectful because of El,

Baking him things,

Teaching him to cook,

Moustache burn,

Wearing his shirts,

Helping him enforce the door open 3 inches,

Dates to Enzo's,

Watching action movies when it's his turn to pick a film,

and purposely picking romantic ones when its your turn,

Getting him to open up about his trauma,

Being constantly worried about him while he's at work,

Watching him getting very jealous,

and finding it very sexy,

Passionate fights, with amazing make ups after,

Both of you being too stubborn to say sorry first,

Visiting him at work and sneaking food past Flo,

Him being incredibly protective,

Jim teaching you how to use a gun,

Who knew that the gun range could be romantic?,

Catching him dancing while he's making breakfast,

Helping him come to terms with El growing up,

Helping him relax after a stressful day,

Being good friends with Joyce,

Going hunting,

but not killing anything cause you force him not to,

Falling asleep on the couch together.

view more characters here

#jim hopper one shot #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper imagines #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #dwi

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luveline · 2 months

Note

need need NEED more hop x reader w el they are the CUTEST

“So she’s coming?” El asks.

Hopper pushes a glass of orange juice in her direction. “Mm-hm.”

“And she wants to see me.”

“Yeah, kid, she wants to see you.”

Eleven’s hair curls just under her ears. Hopper hadn’t suspected her hair would be curly once it began to grow, but it waves gently, and tighter the longer it becomes. He doesn’t know how to take care of it. He only just taught her how to use shampoo and conditioner without leaving all the suds in.

She scratches it. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” He ruffles her hair. “Eat your breakfast. You can get changed when you’re done. You need me to help you find something?”

“No. I like choosing.”

Hopper knows. She isn’t good at matching yet, but she’ll get there.

She eats her breakfast too quickly, doesn’t drink her juice, and doesn’t put her plate in the sink before she goes, but Hopper doesn’t bother getting mad. He’s trying to be less moody. He’s also trying to be understanding; she’s learning to be a normal kid. Most normal kids are slobs.

“Can we have dessert?” El shouts from her room.

“You can have a snack later.”

“Please?”

“You can have some chips once you get dressed. Are you still hungry, or–?”

“Snacks,” she says, turning on her radio.

Hopper nods, laughing to himself when there’s a knock at the door. He’s been waiting to see you all weekend, and he walks to the door with a terrible smugness about him to let you in.

“Hello,” he says, wedging the creaky frame open with his shoe.

“Hi, handsome.” You look up into his eyes, fresh-faced like you’ve had a good scrub and dressed for a day in the house in cuffless sweatpants and a hoodie he thinks might be his. “Wow, nice shirt, hotshot. What is that? The Hawkins Police Department fun run of eighty two? That’s vintage.”

He leans down to kiss you hello.

“Oh, hi,” you flirt.

You’re confident when you know you’re loved, he’s found. Still the homespun woman he knew you to be, but affectionate once you’re comfortable. He smiles into your mouth and pulls you tight to his chest, lifting you off of your feet for a millisecond before placing you back down.

“Where’s my girl?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“El?” you call. You slide around him to find her but turn back, “Did you ask her about the hugging?”

“She says it’s fine.”

“Like, she wants to?”

It had been a strange conversation. Hopper is used to telling El things, or being told things by her. He didn’t ask her what she likes for breakfast, he just kept guessing until he found the right stuff. She never asked him if she could sit in his side during movies, she just inched closer until he put his arm around her.

“She wants to,” Hopper says. She’d seemed perturbed by the question, sure, but it ended with her happy little smile through a handful of popcorn.

“El?” you call again.

“Kid! Your best friend is here!” Hopper shouts.

Thunder from her bedroom, a door swung open and slapping the wall. “Y/N?” she asks, the skirt of her dress swinging as she pauses in the doorway.

You smile and step forward. You’re tentative but excited all the same, laughing as you wrap your arms around her shoulders, and pat her back. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Where have you been? It’s two weeks.”

“Yeah? I didn’t mean to not see you for so long, I’m sorry.”

“Hop says you have lots to do.”

“There’s a leak in my bathroom,” you take her by the shoulders. “Aw, this is nice. When’d you get this? It’s light and summery.”

“Hop… from a catalogue.”

You raise your brows at him, grinning. “That’s nice. How many did you get?”

“We got five.”

“Five! From the catalogue!” You hold her hand. “Hop must really like you, huh? Who can blame him?”

El looks down at your joined hands. Hopper feels his skeptic heart softening. “He likes you, too.”

“But do we like him?” you joke, letting go of her hand to put your arm behind her back instead. You give Hopper a look.

“What?” he asks.

“I was thinking we’d go out for milkshakes?”

Hopper bites his tongue. El has a birth certificate now, she’s his daughter, she can’t be taken, but going out with her into the world draws stares and derision alike. People can tell she’s abnormal, and he can’t stand that. She doesn’t deserve to be gawked at for talking a little slowly, or messing with stuff she doesn’t understand.

But he doesn’t want her feeling punished for those things either.

“Get your jacket, El.” She beams, rushing for her room. “She’s gonna love the jukebox,” Hopper says.

You meander back into his arms, kissing his stubbly cheek. He pretends to nudge you away.

#jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

Plain Old Man - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Jim can't figure out why you love him. After all, isn't he just a plain old man?

Contents/Warnings: hop's self-conscious :(, consensual + legal age gap, fem!reader

requested: hopper x younger really feminine reader. he think she’s the cutest thing ever and that she’s too good for him so he’s kind of upset, but she figures it out and sits on his lap and kissing all over his body </333 // slightly deviated from, but i hope you still enjoy it!

WC: 1.47K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You love Fridays, because when Jim swings by the pizza place for your dinner, he stops into the boutique next door, and always brings you something. Last week it was a pair of dangly earrings, shimmery and green in the shapes of fairy wings. The week before that it was a silver necklace with a pearl charm, to match a set of earrings he'd gotten before that.

You're buzzing with excitement as you hear his car pull up outside, and you bypass the hand he's balancing the pizza on to wrap your arms around his waist. They interlock behind him and you squeeze, wishing you could latch yourself onto him forever and hang off of him like a sloth.

"Hop!"

"Hey, sweetheart." You feel a kiss placed on the crown of your head, his mustache prickling the skin there, "Let's get inside, okay? Pizza's gonna get cold."

Your nose is, too, so you let him nudge you back inside before it starts to ache.

"I baked us muffins," You inform him, taking the box from his hands and watching him toe off his muddy work shoes by the door, "They're blueberry, but I added that topping over them that you liked last time on the banana ones. It's a little sticky, and kinda clumpy, but it tastes the same!"

He nods through your ramble, eyes lighting up at not only the prospect of muffins but of the special crumble you lay over top. He ushers you into the kitchen, but when you reach for the lid of the pizza box he sets a hand on your waist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he pats the breast pocket of his jacket, and you visibly brighten.

"Oh! Oh," You gush, reaching eagerly for the bag that he hands you, crinkly plastic and purple-tinted, "Thank you, honey."

Your nails pry at the tissue paper that's wrapping whatever present you've gotten, and when you rip the tape away it reveals two barrettes, one pink and one blue. they're beaded, shimmery under the light, and they'll look adorable tucked into your hair.

"Hop," You gush, surging forwards to face-plant into his chest, "I love them! I can use them to twist my hair back like I've been doing lately."

"I know," He nods, leaning forwards to bump his nose into your own, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, "That's why I bought them. I know the pins haven't been holding it."

You'd stolen two worn-out, dented bobby pins from Jim's nightstand, that you're fairly certain he'd used to pick locks with. It concerned you, but he hasn't asked for them back, so you're sure his lock-picking days are behind him.

"Put 'em in!" You urge him, unclipping the barrettes from the card they're on and dumping them into his large, rough hand, "You know how to do it, right?"

"I know how to pull your hair back," He scoffs, sticking one clip between his teeth so that his words muffle as he uses his hands to twist a chunk of your hair away from your face. He pulls it back and secures it with the clip, a snap letting you know it won't fall out.

"Perfect," He praises you (though you think it might be aimed at himself), and pops a kiss to the metal clip.

Your smile is infectious as he uses the other clip on the opposite side of your head, thick fingers twisting your delicate hair carefully. When it's pinned he kisses that side, too, and backs away to look at you head-on.

He smiles, but it's strange. It doesn't fade, per se, but the look in his eyes shifts, and your gut churns with nerves when they seem to be sad.

"Hop?" You tilt your head, watching him try and fail to focus on you instead of whatever's happening in his head, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, pressing a mediocre kiss to your cheek as he rushes for the pizza box behind you, "Yeah, sweetheart. You look real pretty. Let's eat, okay?"

He plates his pizza in silence, so you do too. But it's strange, because he always complains about the cheese not being gooey when he pulls slices apart, and there's not a peep out of him today. Just a downcast glance that tracks his feet all the way to the couch. He typically spreads out, eager to relax after a day of work, but he sits proper, plate on his lap and eyes on the tv.

You reach down to flick it on when you pass, and you sit closer to his side than you normally would. You feel his thigh tense up against your own, and you frown, glancing over at him.

"Jim," You croon, setting your hand cautiously against his thigh, "Are you okay? The truth this time, please."

"Yeah, honey, I.. I don't know." He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly and sighing, "It's fine, really. I like your clips, sweetheart, they look good."

He goes to take another bite of pizza, but you pull it out of his hands just before he can. It means that his teeth clack together instead of meeting the bread, and he looks bewilderedly at you, hand still outstretched.

"Hey," He frowns, "That's my pizza."

"I know it's your pizza," You plop it back onto the plate, setting it on the coffee table and taking its place in his lap, "It'll still be your pizza when you tell me what's bothering you."

He sighs again, and this time you feel it where your hands are braced on his belly. You smooth your hands over it, tracing your thumbs from the dip of his navel out to his sides.

"Tell me, Jim," You plead, "I'm worried about you."

He looks at you for a moment, head-on, eye to eye and face to face, and breaks. He murmurs a gruff 'fuck,' under his breath, head drooping down so that his chin meets his chest.

"Jim," You whine, tucking your fingers under his chin and lifting it so that he can't avoid your eyes, "Just tell me, honey. I need to know."

"You are.." He pauses, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly at you, "Gorgeous. You know that?"

"You tell me all the time," You promise him, shimmying your hips slightly to press your tummy further into his, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I think you're too gorgeous for me. And sweet, and nice, and perfect. I'm a plain old man," He gestures to himself, his beige uniform and scruffy stubble, "That's it."

"You're not a plain old man," You chide him, pinching at the pudge of his belly, "You're the man I love. You know that, don't you? That I love you."

"I'd like to think so," His smile stays sad, "I just can't think of a reason you would."

"Well because- because you're.. you! Jim," Your brows furrow and you lean closer, nose-to-nose, "I love you because of who you are. Not because of any one specific reason, the reason is just you. I love you, Jim Hopper."

His hand cups the back of your neck and pushes you forwards. It's not a kiss, but your lips meet, as do your foreheads as your noses smush together.

"You're too good to me," He murmurs, his voice slightly raspy.

"No," You protest, pecking his lower lip in a sweet smooch, "I could never be too good to you. 'Cause you deserve the best."

"You are cheesy today," He chuckles, but you know it's not an insult as much as it is an observation, "Did those muffins have extra sugar in them? Something's got you all sweet."

"It's you," You grin, knocking your nose into his once more and digging your hands into the soft chub of his belly, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you all day, I wanted to call you a bunch but I didn't wanna bother you."

"You wouldn't bother me," He promises, smoothing a hand down your back, "But it's probably not good to hold up the line at the police station."

"Yeah," You hum sadly, and lean down to tuck your face over his shoulder in a much-needed hug, "It's better when El's here. She keeps me company."

"Speaking of," He glances at the clock, patting your back gently, "We need to go get her soon. Max's mom said she can't stay another night, she's got chores to do."

"Finish your pizza," You clamber off of his lap and rush for your own plate, "Because before she comes back, you're going to make me happy scream."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughs as you settle yourself back against him on the couch, attention finally turned to the television, "We should brush our teeth first, then. I'm not kissing pizza breath."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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space-cowboys-and-aliens · 1 year

Text

Read My Mind

Jim Hopper x GN!reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: calm fluff, unwinding after a long day, wholesome vibes, no use of Y/N

Note: I do not condone nor support romantic, sexual, or in any way inappropriate relationships between adults and minors. This fic does not contain explicit material; however, if you are 18 and under please read and/or engage at your own discretion.

Summary: Hopper comes home late to you in his bed wearing an old shirt of his.

Word Count: about 300

He shrugs off his blazer as he walks through the front door and lets it shut behind him.

As he makes his way through the eerily quiet cabin, he spots you.

He leans his broad figure against the bedroom door frame when he realizes what you are wearing.

Curled up, half-asleep on his bed. Only wearing one of his old T-shirts. His lips purse together.

“What are you doing there?” he asks amusedly.

Eyes widening, he advances. His hands find their way, grabbing your sides as a grin stretches under his mustache; joining his tousled hair and twinkling eyes, it completes his boyish look. You cannot suppress your giggles as you squirm in his grip. He rests on his side. His hands run up and down your ribcage. Breath in your voice,

“You know, I just found this laying around, thought I could use it to slip into something a little more…”

“…a little more comfortable?”, he finishes, arms linking around your waist, pulling you onto his side of the bed, laying kisses down your neck. Knowing you both have the same idea, you sigh contently. His fingers work their way up into your scalp.

“Long day?”, he murmurs as he gently massages your head using his fingertips. You moan, almost crying out when he pushes up against a particularly tender spot. He pulls your body closer until you're practically on top of him. Your smile breaks.

“Yeah. Long day?”,

you ask him.

He smirks.

“Oh, yeah.”

He looks into your eyes and wonders how deep they really go. He always thought they could never end, the way he never brings himself to come up once you pull him into your gaze.

You hum in thought.

You ponder.

Then, drawing up,

“Wanna skip date night tonight? Just curl up here? Make something quick, put on a movie or two? Or three?”,

your smile stretching wider.

His matches, eyes still glowing.

“How do you read my mind so well?”,

he playfully wonders. He looks dazed, loving. He has taken to kneading the plush around your stomach, an area you used to feel so ashamed of. Shame long gone once you discovered it was always one of his favorite parts of you.

“Yeah, I just want to make my baby feel good after their long day.”

main masterlist

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #chief jim hopper #jim hopper #chief hopper #hopper x you #hopper x reader #hopper stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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spaghettiddy · 2 years

Text

Thinking about being a waiter in a diner in Hawkins, regularly serving the chief of police Jim Hopper. Spending your shift waiting for the bell on the door to ring and see him walk in, even if it's almost closing time. Greeting him with a shy smile and him responding with a nod, taking off his beige hat. Repeatedly drying the same 4 plates just to be in the right position to look at his wide back profile. Drawing a heart with whipped cream on his pie. Asking your coworkers to switch shifts, just to have one more chance to hear him say "Thank you sweetheart", when you refill his cup with coffee, freshly made, just for him.

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #Jim hopper x you #Jim hopper drabble #jim Hopper oneshot #jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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velvetcloxds · 11 months

Note

hey could I request a blurb for dbf! hopper where he calls reader whenever he needs help with eleven? love your blurbs!

OUR GIRL | J.H.

word count: 1k

warnings: I made this nanny!reader x dbf!hopper, hope that's okay, age gap obviously, reader is in their twenties. giggles terribly because I love him so much- also the gif??? ignore the blood though

summary: hopper asking you to come over after eleven and mike broke up

You were sitting with your back against the wall, Eleven gripping her pillow tightly though her head was settled in your lap, your fingers digging through her hair in an attempt to calm her down. When Hopper called claiming he was having trouble with her attitude you'd expected to come over to settle a little pre-teen-encouraged spat, what you found, however, was a girl trying to cope with her first breakup.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you hummed, the girl moving further into your lap, looking up at you with the saddest brown eyes and absolutely breaking your own heart in the process. "Boys suck," was your simple reply, and though Hopper was stuck in the hall, not allowed in but obviously peaking through the half-closed window, he offered a little nod in agreement.

You'd been the designated nanny for all the kids in town, getting first-hand information about all the latest couples and crushes and you'd sworn to give Mike Wheeler a hiding at his full pre-teen age if he so much as caused a frown on the little Hopper's lips. She was special to you, always the best company if you had to finish an assignment when watching her, helping you with dinner when Jim was working late and it didn't help at all when you and Jim ended up in your complicated little love affair, you'd rearrange the whole town for her before, you'd wipe out the whole world for her now.

"Dad said so too," she sighed and you couldn't stop yourself from pulling her up into a hug, knowing she'd long outgrown being sat up in your lap to be coddled when sad but it was awful hearing her cry like this and she clearly didn't mind, nuzzling her head into your chest with a few sniffles. "Said he'd beat Mike up if I wanted, I didn't," you had to smile, looking up to the door knowing Jim was there, knowing he'd catch your eyes and shrug.

"You can still change your mind," the man noted, and when he pushed his head through the open space both you and Eleven shook your head, sharing a knowing look before reaching a hand out to beckon him over.

"Come on in, old man," you breathed.

"Dad," she groaned and peaked up from where she'd been engulfed in your, Jim's, sweater, letting him take her hand despite her pride, managing a little smile when you squeezed her one more time. "Not cool."

"Listen, Ellie," you stepped in, guiding her to look at you, smoothing some hair from her face and dotting away the wetness under her eyes. "Not all boys are trouble, you know, despite what your dad says, but do you maybe want to wait a little longer before trying the whole dating thing again?" she nodded quickly, if this is how bad Mike, her friend, could make her feel then she had zero interest in any other boys.

"No more boys, ever," she concluded and Hopper was very pleased with that, a wide smile dipping into his lips and earning him a warning raised brow from you. "Except for Dad," she added and made both you and Jim laugh lightly. "He's a good one, that's why he's your boyfriend," she explained and wiped her cheek dry, shrugging as if it was all very self-explanatory.

"He is a good one," you agreed, happy that she was no longer crying, clearly still sad but no longer needing the extra cuddles you had planned for later.

"Do all boys break your heart?" the purest little question, Hopper looked to you to answer, this entire conversation was not for him because he could swear she was just his little El yesterday and now she's talking about boys.

"Not all of them, not the good ones," she moved to sit next to you, a little yawn slipping from her lips, tired from all the crying and the long day and the drama that was sure to come, so you brushed a hand up and down her back, an old habit from when she struggled to fall asleep. "Your dad would never," you were looking at him, smiling just as widely as he was, it was something to behold, such a silly little gesture but it was true, Jim Hopper would protect your heart for as long as he could and you knew that for sure.

"Okay, so I just need to find a good one then, like Dad," Eleven yawned again and you nodded for Hopper to meet you in the hallway, slipping out from your little corner and holding onto the girl's hand as she moved to lay down, sighing happily as you draped her with a blanket, tucking her in just as you usually do.

"You don't have to worry about that now though, you know, just stay our little Ellie for a little while longer, won't you?" you crouched down to be at her level, smiling at her sleepy state and she giggled lightly at your comment.

"I'll try," she mumbled and you kissed her forehead, booped her nose, and squeezed her hand three times just like you'd do when she fell back asleep after a bad nightmare. "I love you, blueberry," she breathed, eyes closing, heart already asleep but mind fighting it just for a few seconds.

"I love you too, pancake," and you did, she wasn't yours, not even slightly but you loved her like she was, like you'd been a part of her life forever, and in special moments like these it felt like you were. "We need to have a little word with Wheeler," you announced tiptoeing into the kitchen where Jim was already making you a cup of cocoa, silently bribing you to stay a little longer.

"We can meet him in the alley," he scoffed and you were drawn to him without any control, melting into his back as you snaked your arms around his waist. "Thank you for coming to talk to our girl," he sounded shy in the statement, busying himself by putting too much sugar in the mug Eleven got you for your birthday, she'd painted it herself and admittedly it looked awful but it was your favourite thing in the world.

"Our girl," you breathed and the words sounded so perfect to your ears, tasted like home on your lips. "We do make a good team though, don't we?"

"The best," he lifted one of your hands from his waist, squeezing it three times, kissing it softly, holding it tight. "You staying the night?"

"Will you help me study if I do?" he wouldn't, he'd distract you long enough for you to cave and cuddle but you had an extra day to study anyway so you'd risk it.

"Of course, I will," he reached a hand around and patted your butt gently, completely contradicting his words. "No distractions, no kisses until you're done," you giggled, kissing the space between his shoulder blades and you didn't need to see his smirk to know it was there, hand not showing any signs of moving.

"Liar."

#dbf!hopper #dbf!jim hopper #jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x yn #hopper x reader #hopper x you #hopper x yn #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hipper one shot #jim hopper fluff #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #nanny!reader #monique's writing events #right where queue left me

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