#Jim hopper imagines

[darling-i-read-it]

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.”

[stevesxyellowxsweater]

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

[jhopezwrld]

STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST

STEVE HARRINGTON

(drabble) steve proposing to you

JONATHAN BYERS

nothing yet

JIM HOPPER

nothing yet...

BILLY HARGROVE

nothing yet

EDDIE MUNSON

nothing yet...

ARGYLE

nothing yet...

NANCY WHEELER

nothing yet

ROBIN BUCKLEY

nothing yet...

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

Imagine:

He spreads your pussy lips open “ah, there she is” he chuckles softly as he finds your swollen clit. “Looks like this needs a good sucking” he smirks up at you then drops a dollop of spit onto your sensitive clit. He leans in and circles your nub teasingly with his tongue before attaching his lips and lightly sucking, his eyes never leave yours as you arch your back and moan.

[ikarakie]

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

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

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

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

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

[wtfsteveharrington]

- stranger things masterlist -

18+ minors dni | please check content warnings

✨ - smut | ♡ - fluff | 🥀 - angst

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DUOS

steve harrington x robin buckley - fem!reader

you’re dating steve & you think robin’s hot. literally almost 23k words of smut and banter.

✨ tequila & strawberry lipgloss | part one

✨ coffee & mint chapstick | part two

✨ chai & hot pink lipstick | part three

✨ vodka & watermelon chapstick | part four

INDIVIDUAL

steve harrington | blurbs | fic recs

♡ grocery shopping - gn!reader

a lil domestic piece about boyfriend steve following you around the store & doing his best

✨put away my pride - gn!reader

roommate!steve. you find him late one night & steve offers to help take care of your frustrations.

✨ sorry to interrupt - fem!reader

set during s4 where steve sleeps next to you instead of in the basement & escalates from there

✨ what i’m waiting for - fem!reader

period sex!! written lower case & bullet point style.

eddie munson | blurbs |fic recs

✨ & ♡ something i don’t know - gn!reader

eddie’s hand is around your neck and you can’t help your reaction, much to his entertainment

♡ dungeon master - fem!reader

blurb about eddie’s greatest campaign but it literally warms my heart and i wanna share it

robin buckley | blurbs |fic recs

coming soon

chief hopper

✨ come by the station - fem!reader

you surprise your boyfriend at work by pretending you need to file a police report. needless to say it escalates from there.

[harringroveera]

Okay well now that’s very understandable honestly

[sunnylou28]

if you really think about it, it's not that Mike tends to date Hopper's children, its Hopper the one who tends to adopt Mike's partners. Mike kissed El before Hopper took her in, and he had fallen for Will long before Hopper and Joyce even got together.

[luveline]

ah okay wait i could kinda see hopper with like a younger ish reader and he’s all like grumbly old man about it and doesn’t get why r likes him and reader is just like calm down lets go get ice cream

Your boyfriend has anger issues. Seriously, he’s easy to rile, easier to complain, and he doesn’t like doing things he doesn’t wanna do, which is lots of things, but thankfully isn’t you. 

You offer your hand, butterflies in your stomach squeezing up into your chest when he takes it, his eyes dark with his squared brow. You love being with him in part because he intimidates you, what with his frowning, his uniform, his arguable silly hate. He suits the hat. He pulls it down over his eyes when it rains, a cigarette between his teeth like he’s in a noir film.

“Where’s your hat today, Chief?” you ask. 

He nods toward the backseat. “Why, you like it?” 

“You know I like the hat. It’s a great hat. It makes you look like the Lone Ranger.” 

“I’m never wearing it again,” he says severely. 

“Come on, Hopper, don’t be like that,” you tease back, back of your head dipping back to brush the headrest, your hand right in his. Hopper had this way of making you feel pretty, or cared for? It’s definitely something. He holds your hand and rubs your knuckles and your hand feels pretty, or fine. Not delicate, but held. “I really like it. I meant it as a compliment.” 

“You mean everything as a compliment.” 

You side-eye his muttering. “You know you’re my boyfriend, right?” 

“Doesn’t make any sense.” 

“What, that you’d ever go out with me?” 

“That you’d be with me,” he corrects. 

“That’s really…” You bite your tongue. Perturbed, you crane your neck, kissing the back of his hand softly. Barely a kiss, no smack nor pressure, just a soft brush of your lips. “Hop, I don’t get you sometimes.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he insists. 

“You act like we’re worlds apart. I like you. I don’t get why you don’t get it.” 

He sighs at your small tone. “Don’t take it the wrong way.” 

“Then don’t mean it that way.” 

He glares at the road outside, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. He stays rubbing soft lines with his thumb on your skin, the car speeding fast toward his cabin, snow falling in chunky flakes against the windows. You tuck your other hand over your twined fingers, thinking. What’s the right thing to say? He’s clearly upset believing that he’s not good enough for you, or not right for you, something. 

“Okay,” you say, “alright, here’s what’s gonna happen, handsome,” —he snorts— “we’re gonna go for milkshakes, you’re gonna kiss me up against the car, and I’m gonna tell you how much I like being with you, because it’s true.” 

“In that order?” 

“In that order.” 

Hopper steers the car into a u-turn. “Fucking. Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you a milkshake.” 

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

🔪Kinktober Masterlist🔪

✨Here’s me putting everything into one collection and also in order so I can actually realize what I’m writing and where it’s going because imma be dumb and post something twice I swear or not post at all and that just hurts my feelings✨

Anyway 😌

Day 1: Public sex

Sink or Swim - Eddie Diaz x Reader

Day 2: Collaring

Captured, with Love - Buddie x Reader

Day 3: Cock Warming

Farm Boy - Clark Kent x Reader

Day 4: Fingering

Summer break 1987 - Jim Hopper x Reader

Day 5: Obsession

I Was Made For Lovin’ You - Eddie Diaz x Reader

Day 6: Face Fucking

Bridgerton (But Not Really) -Bucky Barnes x Reader

Day 7: Breeding Kink

Lucky Rabbit - Steve Rogers

Day 8: Glory hole

Sleepy Hollow, 1999 Buck x Reader

Day 9: Somnophilia

You Were Made For Lovin’ Me - Eddie Diaz x Reader

Day 10: Titty fucking… and a whole host of others

Scream, 1996 - Buck x Reader

Day 11: Edgeplay

Edge of Sanity - Loki x Reader

Day 12: Cardiophilia

Halloween, 1978 - Eddie Diaz x Reader

Day 13: Desperation

Jennifer’s Body, 2009 - Anakin x Reader

Day 14: Sex Pollen

It, 1990 - Eddie Diaz x Reader

Day 15: Innocence Kink

The Exorcist, 1973 - Buck x Reader

Day 16: Thigh Job

The Shining, 1980 - Buck x Reader

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: you've just been dragged to the middle of nowhere, aka hawkins, indiana, with your pos father where the cicadas are loud and the neighbors are louder. after moving into your new trailer home that’s seen better days—probably in another lifetime, you somehow end up under chief hopper's care, hawkins' grumpiest cop. oh, and did i mention you found a creepy portal in the woods? how much weirder can this town get?

While the pair unloaded their meager belongings from the truck, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness that clung to her. She resented her father for uprooting their lives once again, dragging her to this dismal trailer park in the middle of nowhere. 

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: brief mention of an argument between pos father and daughter, brief mention of foster care, cursing, otherwise none

word count: 4k

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𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

The dusty road stretched ahead, flanked by rows of weather-beaten trailers that seemed to sag under the weight of years gone by. The summer sun beat down mercilessly, casting harsh shadows across the barren landscape. Clothing lines hung in front of trailers, with clothes flopping around in the breeze. A battered pickup truck rumbled to a stop among the trailers, kicking up dust clouds in its wake.

“Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?”

“Y/N–” 

A gruff muffled voice mumbled as music flowed from a Walkman, and a girl moved her hair out of the way of her headphones. She took them off—flicking her eyes at her father who was trying to speak to her through the noise of her music, with frustration filling his eyes. There was a sign of age and decay on his face, slightly reeking of cigarettes.

“You’ve got to stop with the damn music when I’m talking to you,” The girl’s father spat. She remained silent, looking at the details of her new home; Hawkins very own lovely trailer park. 

“Get out, let’s start unloading.” The man sighed and opened the truck door, harshly shutting it behind him.

The girl sighed, unzipping her backpack in the foot space of the passenger seat, placing her Walkman inside of it. She stepped out of the truck, eyeing her new, run-down home. Y/N watched her father who carried boxes and house keys walk toward their home, a tan and brown trailer with a mini porch leading up to the entrance. The sound of cicadas filled the background in the forest behind them, with the not-so-friendly sight of neighbors arguing on their front porch in the distance.

While the pair unloaded their meager belongings from the truck, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness that clung to her. She resented her father for uprooting their lives once again, dragging her to this dismal trailer park in the middle of nowhere. 

But beneath the anger and resentment, there was also a flicker of something else—a glimmer of hope, perhaps, buried deep beneath the layers of disappointment. Maybe Hawkins could be a fresh start after all?

As Y/N finished unloading the last of the boxes from the truck into her room, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over her. Her first day at Hawkins High in two weeks weighed heavily on her mind, how long would she be in Hawkins? Will she fit in enough? Will making new friends and meeting new people even be worth it?

The girl then glanced up at the trailer park's entrance sign through her room's window, the words "Forest Hills Trailer Park" taunting her with its irony. The park was far-fetched from the suburban neighborhoods she had grown accustomed to in her childhood, thanks to the money her mother had left behind that is now gone due to her father’s irresponsibility after his decline.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Y/N took cautious footsteps to her kitchen, passing the empty halls into the living room filled with moving boxes. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the small white fridge the previous tenants left behind, seeing it empty.

“No dinner tonight, birdie.” Y/N’s father spoke with a trace of alcohol lingering from his breath, calling the girl a familiar nickname—recalling the better days she shared with both her father and mother. 

“I’ll go to the store first thing in the morning,” He declared, and Y/N turned around to see him walking toward his room with a pack of beers in hand, stumbling slightly.

The girl harshly shut the fridge door, a look of resentment growing in her eyes. “You thought to bring yourself a pack of beer but didn’t think to pack any food?” She snapped, watching her father stop in his tracks. 

“You’re a fucking adult, you should think to pack your own shit.” He turned around, eyeing the girl’s frustrated figure standing at the fridge.

“I’m sixteen years old. We both know you won’t be the one going to the store tomorrow,” She hissed, growing more irritated while eyeing the pack of beers in her father’s hands. 

“Then starve, ungrateful brat.” Her father spat back, retreating to his empty and undecorated room.

Y/N sighed, hungry and defeated—treading her way out of the kitchen and back into her room. She opened the door to the dim lighting and walked toward a pile of boxes, then sat on her knees to begin unpacking. 

The first thing she pulled out of the boxes was a sketchbook with a set of colored pencils. She carefully held the sketchbook in her hands, opening it and skimming through the pages of her drawings that hundreds of hours had been spent on.

There were drawings of wildlife, landscapes, and people she would observe. One of her drawings that always stood out to her was Watson Falls from Oregon in 1982 where she previously resided before her move to Indiana.

It was one of her favorite places that her father had relocated to in his search for work, just as he had moved to Hawkins and the dozens of places before. The girl was not one to belong to a big social crowd, not wanting to get attached—knowing she and her father would pick up and move time and time again.

With a sigh, she closed her sketchbook, setting it with her colored pencils on top of other unpacked boxes. She took a deep breath and moved her hair out of her face, crawling over to her mattress in the corner of the small room, arranging the sheets and pillows she had thrown onto it amidst the unpacking. She laid down, staring at the bland ceiling, letting sleep consume her.

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Y/N sat crisscrossed on the damp ground with her sketchbook balanced on her knees as she felt a sense of calm wash over her. There was a slight breeze that caressed her cheeks, with her hair flowing in the wind. 

The girl’s face was tinted with a slight pink as sweat began to trickle down her forehead due to the summer heat. The dense woods behind her trailer stretched out before her with the sounds of cicadas and other wildlife filling the thick, hot air.

With each stroke of her pencil, the girl captured the beauty of the landscape—the gnarled branches and twisted roots weaving together in a mesmerizing dance with sunlight peeking through the trees. As she worked, a strange sensation crept over her—an odd prickling at the back of her neck that sent shivers down her spine.

Glancing up from her sketchpad with an odd feeling, the girl's heart skipped a beat as she saw something glowing an orange and red hue in the darkness of the woods as the sun began to set. Overcome with curiosity, the girl hesitated for a moment before standing to investigate. With her sketchbook tucked under her arm, she ventured deeper into the forest, the dense undergrowth rustling beneath her feet with each cautious step.

As she rounded a bend in the woods trail, the girl stumbled upon a clearing bathed in an ethereal glow. In the center stood a gnarled oak tree, its branches reaching skyward like twisted fingers grasping at the heavens. She began to hesitantly reach towards the mysterious glow, her hand becoming damp as she made contact with it, the other side foggy.

With a gasp—she suddenly pulled her hand back, watching as a figure moved toward her through the other side. The figure made its way even nearer to the entrance, and the girl watched with wide eyes as its shadow covered the hue of the portal. 

Its presence was overwhelming and filled the girl with dread, not quite understanding what she was looking at. Before she could even process what was happening, a gnarly hand with long claws suddenly burst through the portal, a thick slime covering the girl’s face from the impact.

With a sudden jolt of fear, she turned and fled, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the woods as she raced back toward the safety of her trailer. She used her sleeve from her flannel to wipe the disgusting slime off of her face with terror overcoming her body. 

Even as she put distance between herself and the mysterious portal, she couldn't quite shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air—something was not right. Whatever that thing was, it did not belong here. 

No one would believe what she saw.

The girl swiftly opened her trailer door, rushed inside, and slammed the door shut behind her, catching her breath from running, putting her hand on her heart. The familiar voice of her father sent a chill down her spine as she read the clock—9:04 PM.

“Where the hell have you been, Y/N? You were supposed to be back by eight, sharp.”

The air was suddenly thick with tension. The girl stood by the front door as her eyes met her father's unsober ones. The trailer reeked of alcohol as her father's face grew more and more red with anger by the second. 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.” Y/N softly spoke, beginning to trail her way back toward the safety of her room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Her father stumbled his way over to her, beer in hand, grabbing the girl’s arm.

“Away from you,” She coldly stated, harshly pulling her arm away from the man.

“Yeah, run away from your problems just like your mother did,” Her father spat, and the room was silent for a moment, with tension suffocating the air. Suddenly—the girl grabbed the beer bottle in her father’s hands and smashed it onto the floor, with resentment growing in her expression.

“You little shit—you think you can do that? This is how you treat me? After everything I’ve done for you!” He slurred, his voice rising, looking at the glass shards from the beer bottle that covered the floor.

“Done for me? You’ve done nothing but ruin everything!” Y/N shouted back, her voice cracking as she felt tears forming, her next words hesitating for a moment.

“Mom would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

Her father staggered closer to her, the scent of alcohol thickening as it entered the girl's nose. “You think you can talk to me like that?” He asked, coldly.

“I’ll teach you—you little brat, some fucking respect.” He then turned around and stumbled toward the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab another beer. 

As the girl turned around to exit the situation and retreat to the safety of her room, she was suddenly met with a beer bottle struck at her from across the kitchen into the living room, barely missing the side of her face and smashing into the empty, undecorated wall in front of her next to the hall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” She screamed, turning around, the feeling of betrayal flooding through her system.

“You like that, huh? You like to smash stuff? I’ll show you what it’s like!” Her father screamed back, grabbing the whole beer case from the fridge, smashing it onto the floor. The girl’s body filled up with fear, and she fought tears, helpless, watching as her father found more and more items from the kitchen to destroy.

Abruptly, he stopped everything he was doing and angrily staggered into the hallway toward the girl’s room, kicking the door open with his foot.

“No, no, what are you doing?!” Y/N followed him into her room, tears now streaming down her face, watching as he searched erratically through her messy, unpacked room, throwing things out of his way—smashing her belongings in the process. 

He seemed to have found what he was looking for, reaching for her sketchbook that was under her pillow. “Don’t!” She screamed, throwing herself toward him to try and grab her hard work carefully drawn on all the pages.

“This is what happens when you disrespect me!” He shouted throughout the trailer, opening her sketchbook and tearing it in half. The desperate girl threw a weak fist at her father’s chest, watching as anger boiled over in him. 

In a flash, her father struck her, sending the girl reeling into the wall. She began to sob, feeling the betrayal sting and bruise her face, watching as her father continued to tear up the pages she spent hundreds of hours of her time on.

Y/N and her father constantly fought, but never on this level—this was the first time he’d ever laid hands on her. Her father threw the shredded paper onto the floor and left her room. She looked around, seeing her belongings shattered from the fight. Her body trembled, and she crawled toward her destroyed hard work. 

The girl attempted to piece the pages back together, but hopelessness began to infiltrate her body. Through her tears, she noticed as the room flooded with bright flashes of blue and red lights coming from outside her window, and she squinted, spotting police vehicles.

In the other room, the girl’s father silently cursed at himself and staggered his way to the living room. The flashing red and blue lights of police cars illuminated the front yard, lighting up the darkness from the night outside. 

Y/N’s father looked out the window next to the front door, seeing the chief of police step out of his vehicle. His expression was grim as he made his way up the trailer porch, firmly knocking on the front door.

“Chief of police, Jim Hopper, open the door!” He knocked loudly, his voice commanding as he announced his presence. The door swung open, revealing Y/N’s father—Thomas, who was visibly agitated. The sight of a policeman momentarily sobered him, but the anger in his eyes remained.

“What do you want?” Thomas snarled, alcohol reeking from him, attempting to block the chief's view of the chaotic scene inside.

“There was a noise complaint, step aside,” Hopper ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Pushing past Thomas, the six-foot man entered the living room and took in the scene—the broken lamp, the smashed objects and alcohol, and a girl with tear stains standing in the hall, holding the side of her cheek.

“It’s just a small mess, my daughter over here had a meltdown, she just got a bit clumsy, I—” Thomas started with an excuse, his voice full of hidden guilt as the chief examined the scene.

“You’ve done enough,” The chief stated coldly to Thomas. “Sit down and don’t move.”

The tall-figured man, Hopper, turned his attention to the girl with his demeanor softening slightly. He took light steps toward her, asking quietly, “Can you take your hand off your face for me?” 

The girl looked behind the chief to her father for approval, but the chief intervened. “Don’t look at him, kid, look at me.”

She reluctantly moved her hand to her side, clenching her fist, not making eye contact with the authority figure as he examined the bruise forming on her cheek with tear stains covering her face.

“It’s going to be alright.” Hopper fondly spoke as he put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, before turning around and putting his attention back on the drunk. 

He pulled out his handcuffs, looking at Thomas. “Put your hands up, you’re under arrest for domestic violence. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in court.”

“What?!” Thomas slurred defensively. “Tell him, Y/N! I didn’t do that to you!” He desperately pleaded as his daughter watched him get handcuffed by the chief with tears in her eyes. The police chief took the man outside, shoving him into his partner's vehicle. 

“You didn’t even have a warrant, you can’t arrest me!” Thomas argued inside of the vehicle.

“I’m surprised you’re even sober enough to have that thought,” Hopper shook his head, slamming the door shut. “Well Chief, he technically is right, we should’ve had a warrant.” The other officer with brunette hair and glasses spoke, giving a slight shrug.

“I’ll meet you at the station,” he tells the other officer, brushing him off, beginning to make his way back to the trailer. “I’ll take care of the kid.”

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

“And then that’s when he struck you?” A police officer with dark skin questioned the girl who was in a rather fragile state, holding an ice pack to her cheek. Her eyes were on the clock—10:48 PM. 

“Y/N?” The same voice resurfaced, while another intervened.

“Give her a break," The girl looked up, seeing it was Chief Hopper who spoke.

“Go home, guys, it’s getting late. I can handle this.” The chief commanded his officers, and they agreed, packing their things to get a night's rest at home.

The chief's attention shifted to the girl sitting down. “Look, kid… you can’t stay at your house until you have an adult guardian staying with you,” he started, fondly. 

“Do you have anyone you can call? Any other family?” He gently questioned, watching as the girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She slowly shook her head with a carefully guarded expression. 

The officer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching this girl go through the foster care system—knowing all she needed was a stable environment, especially at the end of her teenage years.

“Alright,” he nodded to himself. “Your father will be going through court for custody over you for domestic violence charges. The system will place you in foster care for the time being. But I have an offer,” The chief raised his eyebrows and watched as the girl shifted her guarded expression to him, listening. 

“I can pull a few strings, and as long as you’re comfortable with it, you can stay with me, kid.”

The girl was silent, observing the chief. He had a soft and unsure expression written on his face, and his mustache covered his lips, while his chief hat hid his brunette hair. The girl's eyes were guarded but vulnerable, the man could see it.

“Thank you,” She started speaking softly, pausing. “I don’t want to go into foster care... I love my dad, but he’s… this fight was different.” She paused again, changing the subject, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mind staying with you while this is figured out.”

"Alright then, let’s get you settled in tonight," The chief fondly smiled, reassuringly placing a hand on the girl’s tense shoulder as she nodded.

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

The evening settled over Hawkins, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Y/N found herself nestled comfortably in the chief of police’s trailer that was isolated in the middle of the woods.

The warmth of the crackling fireplace enveloped her as the fall season approached, offering solace and a sense of security that she hadn't felt in a long time. A new sketchbook Hopper had gifted Y/N upon hearing of her interest in art sat in her lap as she sketched the sight of the fireplace. With her pencil in hand, Y/N sat opposite Chief Hopper, the sound of the fireplace filling in the silence. 

“How are you feeling?” The man started up some conversation, glancing over at the girl. 

“Considering the circumstances, I’m alright,” She bluntly stated, observing the beer bottle in Hopper’s hands with pill bottles scattered across the coffee table in front of him, before shifting her focus back on her sketchbook.

“Good. That’s good.” The chief nodded, listening to the fire crackle throughout the trailer until Y/N, sat across from him, broke the silence. 

“You know you should stop with that stuff, being Chief of Police and all,” she suggested, giving a small shrug as her pencil glided across the page she was working on.

“That might be a good idea, huh?” Hopper remarked, giving a soft chuckle as he slowly began to realize that the kid had a point, thinking about how it might even trigger her looking back at the conditions of her father’s home, with beer bottles smashed across the house and pills scattered in the kitchen. Thinking about her father, he remembered the status of Thomas's case.

“Your father’s court date is in December… in the meantime, he legally can’t contact you.” Hopper started the difficult subject, watching as the girl continued sketching in her book. The date in the corner of the drawing read August 3rd, 1983.

“He’s been released from jail, and he has the option to fight for custody against the state in his court hearing," The man added.

“And if he doesn’t?” The girl asked quietly, attention still on her sketchbook. 

“You’ll belong to the state.” Hopper reluctantly finished, silence filling the air once again, with the girl momentarily pausing her sketching.

“Anyway, the first day of school is tomorrow… have you met anyone you’re going to school with yet?” Hopper changed the subject, in hopes to lighten the grim mood.

“I haven’t had the chance to go out and meet anyone,” She stated, quickly ending the conversation, leaving Hopper to wonder what else to talk about with the girl before bed—until he decided to just leave it.

"Alright kiddo, I’m going to hit the hay. I’ll take you to school in the morning.” Hopper stood up, retreating to his bedroom. 

“Sounds good. Thank you,” Y/N softly replied, hearing a gruff “mhm” from the man as he departed to his room. As the night grew later and the fire dwindled to embers, the girl prepared for bed, her mind buzzing with anticipation for the day ahead—her very first day at Hawkins High.

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worlds apart navigation next chapter

taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover

[readingwithalyssaa]

Stranger Things Favs

18+ (edited 5/31/2024)

Work does not belong to me!

Billy Hargrove

moody @billlydear

Midnight Munchies @billlydear

Closer @ijustwanttoreadfanfiction

bathroom sex @munsluyt

nice boys @beetboxx

Your beautiful locks @sweet-villain

You gonna let me keep her? @sadhours

Housewife @sadhours

no control @sadhours

Fic 1 @sadhours

Fic 2 @hawkins-losers

mine @supermarketbae

When the partys over @billysbabyy

Sunrise and sunset @billysbabyy

She wasnt your person to ruin @billysbabyy

Hand behind your back @billysbabyy

Fic 3 @billysbabyy

On her knees @billysbabyy

Phone number @billysbabyy

Slapping @billysbabyy

Run rabbit run @billysbabyy

Riding @thevestigeofvanillaan

Ruined Makeup @tommydarlings

Toxic @tommydarlings

No more @tommydarlings

Fic 4 @tommydarlings

Religion @tommydarlings

Taking good care of you @tommydarlings

Please forgive me lord @tommydarlings

Crybaby @tommydarlings

Simmer down @sadhours

oral fixation @sadhours

You can be the boss @666eddie

montana blues @sserpente

kiss it better @myobmaya

the child support charade @angelltheninth

Billy x Steve x Eddie

Higher and higher @tastefulstars

Lucky you @kitkathatesu

Get in line @tastefulstars

Jim Hopper

out of the woods @mypoisonedvine

Harmless @moooxy

Jim Hopper x Joyce Hopper

Jopper Fic 1 @ddejavvu

Eddie x Jonathan

fic @eiightysixbaby

[ddejavvu]

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?"

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the wall between us

kinktober, day sixteen

a/n: ...yeah, this one is weird, but also kinda wild

summary: pov, you live in a cult where there is an impregnation ritual on your 18th birthday

warnings: steve harrington x reader, smut, cult au (they are both members), cult leader!jim hopper, weird birthday impregnation ritual, public sex, fem gloryhole, breed kink, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forbidden romance

word count: 773

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Always a blessed day when a flower blooms and becomes ready to expand on our wonderful family,” you heard Jim, your charismatic and adorn leader boast from the other side of the thin wooden wall, “now, gentlemen, let us bow our heads and pray, please, grant me the power to deduce who will bless this girl with a babe….” after a moment of dead silence, Hopper broke it with a loud, “ah! I can see it!” the others in the audience rumbled as he finally revealed, “it is you!”

“Me, sire?” a voice in the crowd cut through, sounding completely taken aback. 

“Yes, you bear the seed she needs, my child,” his proclamation prompted the other members to cheer loudly as you heard footsteps near. 

Laying on your back, legs resting up against the wall, you felt a gust of wind kiss your bottom that stuck out of the meticulous cut-out, indicating that a person had stepped up.  

“Hi,” he greeted in a hushed tone, the crowd still bustling from behind him. 

“Hello,” your fingers apprehensively fiddled with the fabric of your white dress, crumbled and gathered at your waist. 

“Uh, happy birthday.”

“Oh,” you blinked a second, surprised by his demeanour, “thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?” his low voice was clear, though his touch hadn’t found you yet.

“Sure.” 

“Are you nervous?” 

“A little, yeah,” you gnawed at your bottom lip, “I’ve just waited for this for a very long time… are you?”

“I know I shouldn’t be, but he’s just never picked me before, so…” he admitted, staying quiet a moment before checking, “is it alright if I begin?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you rushed to say, adrenalin pumping through your veins. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his touch ghost over your skin, just your hip, the exposed part of you that was the furthest away from your core. Your fingers tightened their grip on your dress as his gentle touch slowly fluttered closer to your presented pussy, “is it strange that I wish I could see you?”

“Not at all,” he nearly chuckled, “I feel the same way,” his broad thumb came up to brush over your glistening folds, his touch staying ever so light as he tickled your clit. 

Just then, you heard a heavy pair of boots come near, “come on, son,” you heard Jim whisper into the man’s ear, “you haven’t got all day,” a threatening aura laced his tone, “complete the ritual,” a callused hand suddenly crept over your skin, “look,” and without warning, a finger plunged into you causing you to gasp, “she’s practically begging for you to pump her full,” momentarily curving his digit, he tickled a spot inside of you that made you shiver, “don’t make me pick somebody else,” though his controlling touch then faltered, parting ways by swiftly landing a sharp slap across your bottom, a hushed yelp bubbling from your lips. 

“I’m sorry, sire,” the man quickly apologised, hastily rushing to bury himself in you. 

Turning his attention back towards the crowd, Jim then roared, “and the ceremony has officially begun!” boisterous cheers promptly erupted, “soon we will be blessed with more abundance!” 

Keeping his voice low, you heard the man whisper as he bucked into you, “I’m sorry, I really wanted to do this differently, take our time…”

“It’s alright,” you breathed, “it’s how it's done…” your whole body rocked with each of his efforts to fulfil his duty. Planting your palm on the wood parting you two, where you presumed his visage was, you couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like… exactly the way his hips snapped into you… had his hair fluttered down to obscure his vision? Was he looking at you and you alone? Because if he looked anything like how he sounded or how he felt, then you couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that could mean, but what you did know was that it enticed you in a way you’d never felt before, “…maybe one day we’ll meet again and there won’t be a wall between us. Will you show me then how you had wished to do it?”

With a low and strangled moan, you felt him twitch inside of you and his movements quickly slow as he filled you up. 

“What’s your name?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Y/n,” you felt your heart flutter as you stared at the wall, “and yours?”

“Steve,” he whispered, his touch warm as his fingers fluttered over your goosebump-ridden flesh, “I’ll find you, Y/n. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I promise I won’t stop till I do.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ikarakie]

hopper sees steve as a surrogate son. really, he shouldn't make such a habit of picking up stray children, but he looked at harrington and saw a kid who just... needed someone. saw the vacancy in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. saw the police file, the noise complaints and the few reports from hawkins middle school about suspicious bruises that had been swept away. saw a boy who'd seen too much. who just needed someone to lean on.

so he tries to be that. offers the kid a hand every now and then. keeps an eye on him, all alone in that big house, after everything. after '83 and then '84 and then summer of '85, when he'd signed his medical papers because there was no other adult for him around. it always left him a bit hollow, but he told himself that it was okay as long as he was around. as long as steve knew, deep down, that he could come to hopper for help, even if he'd wait until he was on the brink of overload before doing so.

it's all this that makes the sight of steve's car, that brown beemer that had dropped his daughter back home so many times, pulled into a ditch with the lights off cause his stomach to sink. a million awful things come to mind as he pulls in behind it and quickly hops out of his cruiser.

had he seen something and spiralled into a panic? had he gotten a bad migraine? had he run off into the woods alone?

thankfully, he finds the best case scenario: a slightly flushed and dishevelled steve rolling down a foggy window. grinning like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he realises it's just hopper. he's fine, he's in one piece.

what's not fine, however, is the person with him in the backseat. eddie fucking munson, a kid hopper's put in handcuffs more than once. not because he's another boy, who gives a shit about that, but because it's eddie munson. drug dealer, general troublemaker, and definitely a bad influence on his boy.

he does his best to save the judgement this time, sensing the fear emanating off the couple. tells them to be more careful, to go home and kiss or do whatever there instead in case anyone else drives by tonight. munson looks at him like he's grown a second head, (which, fair. usually their interactions go a lot less amicably than this) and steve just tears up and nods. he reaches in to ruffle the boy's hair, ignoring the protests, before reluctantly trudging back to his car and driving away.

he calls steve the next afternoon and gets him to confess that, yes, he is dating edward 'eddie' munson. no, it's not a fling. yes, they're boyfriends, god help him. he gripes about it a decent amount, because really, steve? that one? you picked that one? but he keeps the tone light enough that steve feels comfortable enough to defend eddie's honour amidst laughter. within a week he's got steve sat across from him, eddie by his side looking two seconds away from shitting himself.

"well, boys." he grins, cracking his knuckles. eddie watches. gulps. "let's have a little chat, shall we?"

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients. 

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously.  “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes.  Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind.  He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk.  “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving.  And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends.  Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes.  “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her.  Christ, she was relentless.  Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends.  That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair.  She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret?  I need to know all the facts first.  Especially if I have to keep it from my brother.  And Steve.  And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose.  She was right.  Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly.  “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention.  And truth be told?  Harrington needs a break.  So does my niece.  And your friends?  They need some time with mom and dad.  You do, too.  But right now?  You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them.  And quite frankly?  I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them.  Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding.  She pursed her lips, considering this.  Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.  Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him.  Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams.  There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast.  She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe. 

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve. 

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up. 

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world. 

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom. 

Hopper and Murray were out of the question. 

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it. 

And Argyle?  Well, he’d said about as much as he could say.  Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.  

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket.  Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly.  “It’s uhh, yeah.  Plagued at this point.  Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk.  “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, Vecna.  Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see.  She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything.  After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it.  And the way she and Robin had started off?  Not great.  Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck.  Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house.  But they weren’t exactly best friends.  Friends for sure.  But not like Nancy and Barb had been.  Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused.  “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there.  Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained.  “You two were thick as thieves.  She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness.  “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled.  “Always.  Saved them on little flashcards and everything.  She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’  Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that.  She shook her head, grinning widely.  “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip.  Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time.  As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted.  “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly.  “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.  

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky.  “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know?  Not just to tell her how sorry I am.  For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off.  Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook.  “So many questions, like…like the way we used to.  As best friends.  About — everything.  Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know.  Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter.  Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state.  Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington.  Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant.  The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life.  However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.  

Barb had been that for Nancy.  But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked.  She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip.  “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to.  Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant.  She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together.  It just…just...worked.  Clicked, made sense.  Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real.  Really real.  Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy.  But I didn’t really.  Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for.  Ever.  Not once.  He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him.  Not the other way around.  All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight.  But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept.  And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly.  “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone.  And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was.  The way that I still am.  But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”  

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it.  H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him.  Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.  

Robin knew she meant Barb.  She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry.  For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone.  All the time.  And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside.  Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice.  “He loves her, and s-she loves him back.  S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him.  And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…?  Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with?  I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her.  “It’s not selfish.  It’s human.  Steve is amazing.  But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now.  She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes.  They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset.  “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it.  “You’re right, I did.  We did.  Me and Eddie.  But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically.  Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers.  “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey.  You had each other.  Steve?  Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman.  Because back then, he didn’t know yet.  He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly.  “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly.  “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once.  Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do.  On his own.  Dustin was the first to reach out to him.  Well, he basically forced himself on Steve.  And Steve needed that.  He’s an only child.  He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him.  You have Mike.  Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued.  “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults.  He got left behind to watch the kids with her.  They went through…a lot of shit that night.  You did, too.  But so did they.  They fought off Billy Hargrove.  They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels.  They survived the night together.  You know what that feels like.  You and Jonathan bonded that way.  Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing.  Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids.  And that was great.  Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth.  Like, some sort of femme tomboy.  Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way.  At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze.  “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright?  You know you’re beautiful.  You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years.  That’s not even a question.”  

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.  

“...but Steve had to move on.  Or…find ways to convince himself that he could.  And Bauman?  She was there for that.  She was around, during all his growth.  And trust me – it was ugly.  You have nothing to envy there.  God, the way that they argued?  The way Steve talked to her, honestly?  Honestly.  You would’ve slapped him.  I sure as hell did a few times.  Mostly verbal slapping.  But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie.  You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth.  You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it.  She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now.  And she owned up to her shit, too.  It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault.  But hey, she took the hits.  Many times.  And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over.  Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture.  Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it.  But still, they got through shit together.  They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians?  She and Steve honestly kept me so sane.  And they kept us safe, too.  Me, Dustin and Erica.  They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world?  They did.  They didn’t even think twice.  Steve grew into a way better person because of her.  And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids.  She didn’t grow up with siblings either.  That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression.  Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot.  But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone.  Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it.  Shit, we didn’t know it either.  That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray.  Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed.  “I know that.”

“Of course you do.  We all do.  He does, too.  Especially now.  Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that.  She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast.  “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him.  Or him.  I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up.  Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her.  “Because who he was then, is not who he is now.  And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised.  “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently.  “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive.  “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused.  “But…what about after he got back?  What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.  She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started.  “...we just…moved past it.  We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly.  “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped.  “I’m so sick of it.  I always have to push him to tell me things.  He just — shuts me out.  Clams up, retreats.  He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods.  “That’s definitely on him.  But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.  

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers.  “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens.  “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles.  “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.  

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair.  “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did.  That he would.  That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms.  They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle.  Nancy has said enough for now.  It would all unravel itself more over time. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.  

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica.  They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.  

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying.  She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier.  Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin.  He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool.  “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected.  She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while.  It terrified him, making his anxiety spike.  Had he lost her?  Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table.  Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable.  So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water.  Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in.  Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle. 

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin. 

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously. 

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone.  Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that.  Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden.  Out of sight.  Quiet.  On high alert.  It’s a gamble.  Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread.  He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there.  And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold. 

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering. 

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against.  We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there.  Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look.  They knew this wasn’t going to go well.  At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick.  This also meant leaving Will behind.  “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly.  “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time.  El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back.  She can’t.  I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes.  “But as far as the rest of you kids go?  No more.  It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here.  But if this is how it’s gotta go down?  You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense. 

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit.  He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low.  “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce.  And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side.  Those kids are going to raise hell.  All of them are.  And this plan is not changing.  It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot.  Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is.  Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table.  “I’m counting on you.  I know that’s not fair, but I am.  You’re tough as nails.  You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends.  Your friends.  You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him.  I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it.  Whatever you have to say?  Say it.  And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me.  Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression.  But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said.  “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence.  Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us.  She can’t be now.  And Steve cannot hang back.  He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle.  And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it.  She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce.  “Tell me.  If she tries pulling a fast one?  You tell me.  Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.  Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son.  “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically.  “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms.  “We’ll have to be scarce about it.  Selective.  Nowhere is safe.  It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety.  Leaving you behind?  The kids?  Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you.  He was an extension of you.  The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked?  Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?  

Was there actually an end to this nightmare?  A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe.  Yes.  Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing.  It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered.  Every little girl does.  In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination.  The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want.  The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after.  The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl.  How could you not?  It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much.  You’d been made to grow up from a very young age.  Your grandmother had been there for you enough.  She kept a roof over your head.  Food on the table.  A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work.  You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely.  You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so.  She was gone a lot.  She wasn’t very old.  Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time.  A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant."  You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it.  She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support.  Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted.  You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city.  It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife.  It was cool, for the most part.  But it definitely meant being able to hold your own.  She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far.  He was home a lot.  Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much.  He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that.  It meant consistency.  His spare room basically became your room.  It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over.  You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it.  The two of you got along effortlessly.  His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray.  That’s where you got it from.  But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his.  He was all over the place.  You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often.  Your uncle was definitely an oddball.  But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied.  You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world.  It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself.  It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start.  A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time.  Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one.  There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.  

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin.  Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds.  But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love.  In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them.  But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together.  It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again.  Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon.  He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright.  Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch.  As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody.  Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards.  Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her.  He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max?  Always.  

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear.  He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve.  Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together.  Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.  

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.  

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh.  “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected.  “I got a better idea.  Tell your most embarrassing story.  One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering.  “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy.  “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed.  “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink.  “Trust me.  She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand.  “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn.  “One time?  I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand.  “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him.  “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time.  El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled.  “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard.  It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high.  All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too.  Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk.  All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy.  It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots.  Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright.  You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving.  And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end.  Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group.  Technically, Erica was too.  But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space.  She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door.  That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him.  After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you.  His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be.  But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses.  Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you.  “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it.  The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have.  But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out?  All of them wanted this. The two of you together.  They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable.  “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot?  It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively. 

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered. 

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready.  Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.  

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts. 

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas. 

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered. 

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. 

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?” 

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper. 

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party.  (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends.  Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.”  (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way.  It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe.  In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other.  He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago.  Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving.  You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.”  Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing.  You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress.  It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you.  Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined.  There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets.  And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once.  Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit.  He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head.  Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts.  And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them.  Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world.  Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him.  All of you were there.  Will was there, next to all his friends.  You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper.  Even your Uncle Murray.  

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique. 

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her.  She was alive, as were the rest of you.  Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.  

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together.  You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you.  It's been light.  Hopeful. 

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift.  It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling.  You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you.  A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze.  He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room.  Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully.  “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent.  He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye.  “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes.  He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind.  You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin.  The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.  

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar.  But you could really get used to it.  It’s new.  And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well.  Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him.  Likely because of Hopper.  Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn.  Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil.  Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind.  Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug.  She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand.  You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy.  Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost.  But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see.  She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room.  For Nancy, that had been…hard.  Necessary, but hard.  For multiple reasons.  For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting.  Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong.  But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night.  Not yet.  Not after everything that had unfolded.  So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart.  But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed.  Just what the doctor ordered.  Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist.  Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon.  But he was the much simpler kind.  Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting.  Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed.  A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends.  Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy.  Robin was very different from Barb.  However, her heart was just as loving.  She loved hard, and it showed.  She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return.  And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him.  And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve.  And she even began to feel some happiness for you.  Not completely.  Not yet.  She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time.  A very long time.  But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.  

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions.  Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast.  And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet.  The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household.  Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens.  It wasn’t like all the other times.  This was different.  Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them.  Comfortable.  It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others.  And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks.  Their faces were somber, a bit grim.  Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands.  Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous.  Maybe even afraid. 

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed.  And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got.  Tension spread around the room.  It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound.  They hadn’t uttered a single word.  Not one of them.  The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards.  They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines.  The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils. 

One list of names would be hiding out here.  The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk.  Both teams could die.  Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat.  His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish.  His mind races, but his lips don’t move.  Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards.  The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him.  And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened.  Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now.  You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group.  With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did.  He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control.  He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards.  Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud.  He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica.  Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue.  He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother.  He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance.  Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated.  He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride.  But even so, he looked conflicted.  Really conflicted.  

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie.  She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it.  You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards.  Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs.  While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently.  As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious.  Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy.  Did they know this was coming?  Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them.  The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly.  “Truthfully, it’s not owed.  I know that.  Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me.  Not those guys out there.  Hence why I’m here.  And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things.  Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned.  Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense.  He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before.  There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were.  “If it were up to me?  None of you would be out there.  I’d be out there on the frontlines.  But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here.  Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect.  The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this.  We’ll be surrounded from all angles.  No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.  

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman.  I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction.  It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear.  He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self.  He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught?  What do we do?  Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward.  “We’ve thought about that.  Right now, there’s only 2 options.  But they’re solid.  The best we’ve got right now.  One more than the other.  See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up.  And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life.  His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed.  Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter.  They had him beat, and he knew it.  He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen.  It was so unexpected that he did as she said.  But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion.  As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t.  Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend.  Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense.  That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike.  Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement.  Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop.  “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled.  “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”  

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown.  Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him.  Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them.  All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this.  After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes. 

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack.  He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand.  Please Steve, please, let me go with you.  Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug.  The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time.  Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley.  She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf.  You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well.  His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.  

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end.  She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame.  “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs.  Jonathan watched her go, panicking.  He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading.  You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated.  You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side.  Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.  

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life.  Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest.  He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them.  He couldn’t.  If he did, he’d failed them.  But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway.  He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them.  For them. 

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed.  The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him.  He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.  

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first.  Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul. 

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him.  I understand.  I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand. 

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language.  I love you and I hate this.  But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast.  He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain. 

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.  

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El.  They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.  

This plan was not open for discussion.  

This plan was not open for debate.  

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

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