#hopper imagines

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

You heard him click his tongue above you in annoyance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gonna give herself a damn concussion. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hey, don’t cr-” 

You gave one last convincing sniffle. 

He sighed, caving in. “Okay, okay-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A blush crept up his cheeks. 

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

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

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

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

“You’re drunk. Drink.” He spoke. 

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

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

“Cute.” You finished. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hop?”

“Yeah?” 

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

He dropped back into bed, sighing heavily as he yanked the quilted covers up just beneath his bearded chin. “It gets so fucking hot in here at night that I feel I am left with no other choice but to crack the window a little.” He paused for a second before adding, “And I stubbed my goddamn toe on the way!” He had never sounded more like a curmudgeonly old man, but it really did make your heart ache in the best way.

“Are you alright?” You offered sleepily.

Hopper yawned and nodded his head in response. “Once I regain feeling again in that toe, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He glanced over at you and slid his hand up the length of the sheets, interlocking his fingers with yours. “You alright baby girl?”

“I’m fucking freezing, Hop. This is the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and holds on for dear life.” Another involuntary shiver wracked your frame as if to prove your point.

Hopper chuckled heartily and patted the space next to him. “You know they say the best way to warm up is to share body heat?”

“Mm that’s what they say, hey?”

Hopper nodded his head. “’Course there’s no way to know for sure unless we test the theory ourselves.”

He opened his arms wide and you sidled yourself into the enviable warmth of his chest, inhaling deeply the scent that simply was Hopper; cigarette smoke, the subtle tang of a couple of beers from the night before, and cologne. It wasn't long before you felt his cock stir against the small of your back- a usual occurrence when he spooned you. A few minutes passed when you thought he had given in to sleep; his breaths had become deep and measured. But then his large hands began to roam freely along your hips and abdomen as he rutted himself shamelessly against you. You reciprocated his invitation by grinding back against him, grinning at the throaty groan that had erupted from his mouth. “You want this cock baby girl?”

“Yes, please Chief…”

Within seconds he knelt above you and yanked the covers from your body without warning, watching in awe as the frigid air met the sensitive skin of your breasts. You could hear the breath hitch in his throat as he watched goosebumps bloom around your nipples, causing the pink buds to harden under his gaze. "If only you could see what I see hm?" He traced a feather-light fingertip down the outline of your breast to the top of your hipbone and marveled at the way you squirmed breathlessly under his touch. “I haven't even really touched you yet darling, and I know you're soaked for me.” His fingertips danced teasingly at the lace hem of your panties. He inched them down further to the crotch of your panties where he made the discovery that only confirmed what he already knew; you were soaked through. He rubbed you through the flimsy fabric with enough force to have you keening against him, anything for just a little more pressure. He slipped two thick fingers into your folds and bent over the length of your body to take a nipple into his mouth. He rolled his tongue in circles to the rhythm of his fingers inside of you, earning him multiple moans and an upper back full of fresh nail scratches. Every now and then he'd brush the calloused pad of his thumb over your clit causing you to grind shamelessly against his fingers and cry out into the still air before you. Hopper was unbelievably good at taking you so close to the edge you could taste it and then simply stopping; this morning was no different. He pulled his fingers from your wet warmth to wrap a hand around his cock, stroking lazily from shaft to tip. Your own fingers had immediately taken over for where Hop’s had been, and though they weren’t near as long or as thick, you knew how much he appreciated the sight of you getting yourself off for him. Hopper’s hand moved faster along the length of his shaft; you could see a shining bead of pre-come at the reddened head of his cock. You wanted nothing more in that moment to have a taste, the salty liquid much more palatable than the substance that would undoubtedly follow it. “Are you going to make yourself come baby?” The timbre of Hopper’s voice- already normally low, was only that much gruffer under the weight of lust and recent sleep. It made your head dizzy with desire. “Or are you going to ride my face like a good little girl?”

“Fuck Hop,” You pleaded breathlessly at the thought of grinding yourself against his face until you gave in to your orgasm.

“Use your words baby. What would you like? Because you know I’d be all too happy to continue watching you touch yourself.”

You pressed fervent circles into your clit, and as he spoke you could feel the familiar coil of pressure deep in your belly. You weren’t that far off. “I want to ride your face…”

Hopper wordlessly rolled onto his back and rested his head against two propped up pillows. You inched your way slowly up his body; stopping when you were mere inches away from his cock. You closed your eyes and took him into your mouth, reveling in the pleasure that just having him in your mouth brought him. You started slowly at first, swallowing more of him as you inched along. You pulled away and fell onto your haunches, taking him into your hand and stroking hard along his length. The combination of spit and the strength in which you were gripping him, had his eyes shut tight and his fists clenching the sheets beneath you. “That feel good Hop?”

“So fucking good baby…” You lowered your head down again, this time taking him in as far as the back of your throat could handle. “Jesus fuck,” A long, low growl ripped from the base of Hopper’s throat and you gasped around his cock as his fingers found purchase in your hair, holding you to him. You tried your best to take a deep breath, as breathing through your nose was imperative at this point. You began to bob against him, choking slightly as he continued to hit the back of your throat. This, above anything else, was the quickest way to get Hopper coming. He fucked your throat for the next few minutes, hoarse curses and the muffled sound of gagging, the only thing that could be heard between the pair of you. He was starting to get sloppy with his movements and so you tapped the side of his thigh twice, signaling your need to surface for air. Hopper reached a warm hand up to caress the apple of your cheek, smiling blearily up at you. “You take my cock so fucking good baby…”

“Now it’s my turn, Hop.” You shimmied your way up his body and straddled his face, one thigh on either side of him. This was one of your favourite positions; there was a certain power in the notion that you had complete control in this situation, and that the Chief of police’s face was (in this moment) your own personal throne. You gripped the oak headboard above you with a certain voracity only reserved for situations like this. Hopper held tightly to the rounded curves of your ass with one hand, the other stroked lackadaisically down the length of his cock. You set your own rhythm and he was more than happy to keep up with you, groaning periodically against you every time you ground onto him harder. “Fuck, that feels amazing…” You dropped your head to meet his gaze and noticed the way his blue orbs were almost blown over with lust. The wiry bristles of Hopper’s mustache tickled your inner thigh each time you bounced against his face, and that sensation alone was almost enough to get you off. Almost. What really stared to drive you crazy was the infrequent moans Hopper groaned against you from stroking his own cock. The vibrations from that noise alone hit your clit with a vengeance and had you screaming out strings of obscenities. Hopper did it again, and your back arched, hips stilling against his face. “Hop you’re gonna make me come so fucking hard…” It was a breathless warning and one that he was ready for because he certainly didn’t slow down, but simply delved his tongue deeper and rode out the waves of your orgasm with you. Hopper held you to him with both hands even after you had come down from your high, kitten-licking your pussy as you did so. Tremors wracked your body, and a needy whine escaped your lips as he continued to lick you ever so slowly.

When he was satisfied that you had come as hard as you could for him, he patted your ass twice. “I need to feel you baby girl.”

You nodded wordlessly and slid down to where he wanted you, hovering teasingly above him. “You want me here, Hop?”

“Yeah baby, I want you to take that cock again.”

You slowly lowered yourself into his length, gasping at the sensation of him stretching you completely. It was a feeling you don’t think you’d ever tire of; there was something comforting in knowing just how perfectly he fit inside of you. “Fuck, Hop…” You threw your head back and began to ride him at a steady pace, and he matched each thrust with his own, causing an almost electric-like spark to flare somewhere in the depths of your belly again. Whether he used his fingers, or his cock, your g-spot was like a magnet to him that he found almost instantaneously. You could feel yourself yearning again; release was not far off for either of you.

“Such a good girl fucking me the way you are,” He murmured breathlessly. “But I’d like to do some of that now, if you don’t mind.” Begrudgingly, you pulled yourself from him, crawling onto all fours and waiting patiently for him to join you. In seconds he was behind you, pushing himself with minimal effort into your all-encompassing heat, groaning loudly at the new sensations. He wasn’t exactly gentle with you now; you knew that he could tell you weren’t far off and that only helped to spur his own release along. He wound his fingers through your hair and gripped so hard it bordered painful, but then again, Hopper had always had a delicious way of combining pain and pleasure during times like these. He railed into you, each time hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves tucked away, causing you to be a trembling mess beneath him. “You’re going to come for me, again aren’t you?” Hopper’s hand snaked its way between your bodies and found your clit just in time. “Of course, you are… you can’t help it can you baby girl?”

You were beyond the point of forming coherent sentences, so you simply gritted your teeth and nodded your head in silent agreement. He raised a hand and before you knew what was happening, he let it down hard against your ass causing you to moan loudly. Hopper leaned forward and pressed a trail of hot kisses down the length of your spine and let loose another painful slap. That was all it took before you fell apart beneath him, his name a ragged scream lost to the noise around you. “Oh baby…” Hopper stilled his hips against your back and with one last thrust, came in long, powerful waves inside of you. He made no effort to move just yet, simply riding out the waves of a very intense orgasm as long as he possibly could. When he was finished, he pulled himself from you and rolled onto his back, eyes shut and breathing heavily.

You nestled contentedly into him and took his hand in yours. “Hey Hop?”

He cracked an eye open and leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “What is it kid?”

“Could you maybe crack the window a little? It’s hot in here.”

You felt his eyes on you. 

You didn’t care. 

Well, truth be told, you did, but you were doing your damnedest to make it seem like you didn’t. Instead of being glued to his side, talking to him about this, that, or the other, you were chatting up one of the deputies, who was only all too glad to hang off every last word that came of your ruby-red painted lips. All eyes were on you when you entered the police station’s annual non-denominational Christmas party in that little black number of yours, and you wondered why you had waited this long to do that. Oh yeah, something about having people like you for you, rather than what you wear. 

Something like that. 

Right now, you couldn’t care less about your morals, but only about how his eyes follow you around the room, speaking to every other person, except him. 

You knew he was angry. 

You could see it, despite his not-so-best efforts to hide it. The drinking didn’t help. You spied him, out of the corner of your eye, knocking back another glass. It certainly didn’t. His brow was dark, brooding as usual, but there was something else there - something that sent shivers up your spine you glanced past him. His arms were crossed, sleeves conveniently rolled up to showcase his hairy, large forearms which told you he was a real man - unlike the boys you were talking to right now. 

“You’re really playin’ with fire, Y/N,” Florence told you by the buffet table they had put out. Stale chips and donuts, flat soda, and cold, potluck dinner dishes you didn’t care to eat, “Why don’t you just come out and ask him out?” 

“Not that it’s your business, Florence, but I have, and he’s insisted that we’re just friends,” you shrugged, taking a plate and placing a single frosted donut on it, “I don’t wanna spend all my time waiting on him, so I decided I wouldn’t.”

“And the dress?” your lips pulled into a wicked smile, peering at him from over your shoulder without a hint of acknowledgement, as you licked some frosting from your fingers. 

“Just a small bit of revenge,” you frowned when your arm came away with frosting, scanning for napkins, “Ugh, no napkins.” you placed the donut down, “I’ll get some from the back.” 

Of course that would require you to pass the chief himself and you did without even a “hello.” You weren’t there to say hello, or to be at his side, you were there to enjoy the party, and you didn’t need him to do that - though right now, you needed napkins. 

You moved a few boxes, around, “Got so many damn bullets back here, and yet, no napkins,” you grumbled, until finally you opened the box, “finally!” You were about to grab a few when the door opened behind you, “Florence, I found them, I-” 

You blinked, and found that it wasn’t Florence, “Deputy,” you gave a small smile, you couldn’t remember his name, “Looking for something?” You grabbed a fistful of napkins, trying to sidestep him, but he only grinned. 

“Looking for you,” his voice was scratchy, sending a chill down your spine. 

“Well, I was looking for napkins, so how about you let me out?” he advanced forward, until your back hit the cool metal racks behind you. 

“But the fun’s just beginning,” you tried to push past him, but he only pinned you to the rack, arm against your throat, his breath disgustingly warm against your cheek, “Isn’t it?” 

You felt horror wash over you, gasping, wanting to cry out, but no words left your throat. You tried to kick him, but he only pressed his own weight into yours. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Then he crumpled, arms falling slack, as he fell into a pile on the ground. You blinked back tears, as Hopper stared back at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the closet, behind him. The deputy groaned at his feet, as Hopper grabbed him by his collar, dragging him up and pinning him against the rack just as he did to you. And he punched him. Again. And again. And again. Until the side of the man’s face begins to take on a distinct purplish-red hue. 

You finally grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “Stop, please,” he pulled back again, a deep growl in his throat, “Jim, come on.” 

“Your ass is fired. I’m throwing you in jail tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll be sure to phone your wife. See what she has to say about this.” He threw him on the ground, shutting the door behind him, twisting a lock in place. 

Without another word, he turned to you, and god, the look he gives you turns your legs to jelly. You don’t remember how you follow him out of the party, only the tight, heavy tug of his large hand around your wrist. You glance back to see none of the patrons of the party didn’t dare to pay either of you mind, only Florence lifting a knowing cup up to you, before Hopper pulled you through the front doors. 

The cool, crisp air hits your face, and the trance is broken - you realize where you are and what had happened, “Hopper.” He doesn’t respond, only opening the door to his truck for you, and entering the driver’s seat, “Hopper, where are we going?” 

“Just,” he gives a heavy sigh, “just get in.’ 

The drive is silent, as heavy as his sigh that was the last sound either of you dared. You kept your eyes out of the window, knowing that looking at him would be nothing but trouble. And that’s what Jim Hopper was for you, wasn’t he? You leaned against your elbow, adjusting the silt of your dress, and you felt him look over for the first time. You felt his eyes linger on your bare skin, before shifting back to the road, and you wanted to ask him - ask him if he liked the dress, or would he like it better on the floor of his truck. 

But you didn’t. 

You kept quiet, and he pulled up in front of your driveway. The soft click of the seatbelt, as it releases, and you move to leave, when he locks the door. You turn to him, aghast, and in a moment, his lips claim yours. 

There is nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s territorial. It’s desperate. It’s hungry. 

“You just had to wear that goddamn dress, didn’t you?” he growls against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip not-so-gently at all, and you gasp, “Had to get everyone’s fucking attention.” 

“I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I-” the last word is high-pitched, as he moves his seat back to draw you into his lap, large hand on either side of your waist. His stubble scratched your neck as he laid waste to your collarbone, tugging on the straps of the dress. 

“You already had my fuckin’ attention,” he hums darkly, “just didn’t want to do it this way.” 

“What way? On the seat of your car?” you tease, whining when he chooses that moment to throw open the door of the car, “Hopper!” you squeal, clinging to him, as he shuts his door and carries you up the driveway. You fumble with your keys, as he wrenches it from your hands, and unlocks it, even as you fingers are busy unbuttoning the tops of his uniform. And he carries you in, pinning you to the shut door, and his next kiss steals your breath, all tongue and teeth, as he grins against you, your chest heaving. 

“Oh please,” you laugh, raising an eyebrow. “You’re hulking 6 foot 3 form is going to sleep on a loveseat that is half your size? I’d like to see that.”

Hop chuckles, that same deep, warm-hearted one that he is so used to making when around you. He has completely lost interest at whatever show is on the T.V, and instead, his eyes are entirely focused on you, your lips curved up into the brightest smile looking up at him. It almost lights up the entire room, and Jim can feel the heat radiating off of it.

He licks his lips. For a moment, his face is closer than he meant it to be. He pulls back, a hand on your thigh as he hoists himself up off the couch. He looks around the room in order to find something, anything, to say. “How about some wine? I think I’ve got something around here.”

He doesn’t notice the flash of embarrassment cross your face. All he sees is you nodding your head. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He quickly walks over to the kitchen, relieved to be out of your line of sight for a moment, no matter how brief. He digs around the cupboards, pulling things out in order to find the dark green bottle he knows is in there somewhere. He’s hardly a wine drinker, much-preferring whisky or something a little stronger, but when he finds it, he exhales with relief and pours two glasses. 

He takes another moment, filled with a long, deep breath and curses at himself before picking up the glasses and carrying them over. He is careful not to let them spill, and feels a stab of satisfaction when he places one in your outstretched hand, no dark red liquid staining your knitted tan sweater.

There’s silence when he finally sits back down on the loveseat next to you. You have your legs curled up beneath you, the bottom of the wine glass resting on the dark jeans of your thigh. He watches as you lift the glass of wine to your beautiful lips, take a delicate sip and almost throw up.

“Oh, god,” you half gag-half laugh. The vinegar wine is still in your mouth and you have to fight in order to swallow it instead of cough it out all over him. Jim takes the glass from your hand before you can spill it all over yourself and the loveseat.

The wine is so off that it’s painful in your mouth. He must have had it for months, perhaps more. But when Jim looks at you, he is not met with annoyance or frustration. Instead, he watches as you erupt into the most jubilant laughter he thinks he's ever heard. 

“How long have you had that for?” you ask between giggles. Your cheeks are flushed bright red and Jim can’t help but smile.

“Longer than I can remember.” Jim takes a sip for himself, the wrinkles of his face deepening as he scrunches his face up at the vinegar taste. And now he's laughing too, so much that he doesn’t realise that your thighs are now resting on his. Without thinking, his hand comes down onto your thigh and it seems so natural that he finds it hard to notice it shouldn’t be there.

It's only when the laughing slows that the two of you become aware of the intimate way you’re sitting. Jim’s laugh is the first to halt, his hand now stone on your thigh. He internally curses himself when your eyes fall on where his hand rests, the smile from your face quickly slipping away with every moment that passes in awkward silence.

He expects a flinch followed with a pitying look. He waits for it, for you to confirm that you don’t want the thing he has wanted for the last good year. But in the few moments that pass between you that seem to drag on forever, it never comes. Instead, you place your warm, soft hand on top of his. Another beat passes, and then you speak.

“You’re a good man, Jim.” Your thumb brushes against the rough skin of his hand as you say it, your other hand coming up to play with his fingers. Each second your skin is in contact with his, it feels like sparks are igniting each and every one of his nerves. 

He huffs, eyes flickering to your hand on top of his. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” you say. You reach across, gently placing your hand on the side of his face and guiding his gaze to yours again. He can see the sincerity in it, written deep into every feature. “You don’t see it, but you are. You’re a good man, a good father and if I should say so, you’re not too bad in the looks department either.”

Jim almost chokes. He raises his eyebrows at you, a smile quickly spreading across his face. “Is that right, (Y/L/N)?”

“Oh, yeah,” you laugh, nodding your head. Your hand had dropped from his face and now plays with the buttons of his blue flannel shirt. “Easily the best-looking man in Hawkins.”

Jim chuckles, one that makes you want to kiss him. “That’s a big call. I think you might have forgotten about Scott Clarke.”

You make one of the most over-the-top looks of astonishment that Jim has ever seen. That in itself deepens his laugh, even before you are able to get the words out of your mouth. “I think you’re right. I spoke too soon.”

He doesn’t think before leaning over and kissing you. There is no gentleness about it, the kiss starts of eager and ardent. Jim picks you up and sets you down on his lap, his hand finding its way up your sweater to grip at the bare skin that sits there. His hair is soft between your fingers and Jim can’t get enough of the feeling of you tugging at it. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath a flurry of haste. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he says.

You smile, leaning across and planting a warm and tender kiss to his cheekbone. “Stop talking and just kiss me.”

And he does, impassioned and intense, as he places you carefully down onto his bed.

My first Stranger Things imagine! I hope you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward to more content like this. I intend to start brainstorming an entire Hopper x Reader series soon, so there’s that :)

If you would like to make a request, you can drop one in my inbox. If you would like you can find a prompt from my prompt list linked in my bio or just come up with your own idea. 

The day that you met Chief Jim Hopper was on your twenty-third birthday, you were about to finish college and you decided that you were going to work for the police. You had always wanted to make a difference in Hawkins, you didn’t know why since it was a smaller town, but when you were younger you always felt safer if you were closer to a police station at night so you decided that you wanted to be someone who worked there and gave other people that sense of security. 

When you met Hopper, he seemed to be irritated by everything, he didn’t even notice that you were in the station and when they left you to meet Hopper and be assigned a job by him. You were quiet, you minded your own business, but you still had this hidden sort of sassiness that Hopper was able to see. After a week of working there, he took a liking to you, and seemed a bit less rude to you than he was to everyone else in the early morning and right before his shift ended.

As time progressed, you developed a sort of friendship with Hopper, however nothing much happened. He always remembered that he had met you when you turned twenty-three, and while you were an adult he just thought you were too young for anything to go further. Everything had changed on your twenty-ninth birthday, though. It was six years after you both had met, to the day, and he decided it would be okay for the office to send you out to investigate something small, only for you to come back to a surprise party. It wasn’t his idea, but he had no problem with the other officers throwing you a party since you had all known each other for a few years. When you got back to the station, you were met with streamers and balloons, nothing short of alcohol. After a few hours, you and Hopper were alone in the station, and both of you had been drinking quite a bit. You ended up confessing your feelings, and he cut it short and went home, only to confess he felt the same a week later.

Now, the two of you have been together for a year and Hopper seemed pretty happy. But lately, you’ve been acting a bit different, you recently met an old friend from high school and the two of you decided to catch up on what’s been going on with you both since graduation, which led to you hanging around a new crowd. At first, there was nothing wrong with your new friends, but then they started being a little more reckless, and you started being a little more insecure about your relationship with Hopper which is what caused you to do the reckless things with your friends.

Thing is, you loved Jim even if neither of you had shared that little fact with each other verbally, but people didn’t like that there was a good fifteen years of age between the two of you. While he wasn’t old enough to be your father, probably, people still thought it was too big of an age gap and had a problem with it. Some people were completely okay with what was going on with you two, especially since it seemed like you were actually opening Hopper up in some way. But some people frowned down upon it, they shook their heads and whispered when either of you walked by even if it was separately. You were beyond glad to be with Hopper, but you felt insecure about the things people said about the two of you and your relationship. 

You took this out by doing things like breaking into abandoned places, telling them secret things to help them commit crimes without alerting the police, everything. You were doing utterly stupid things, and at this point, if Hopper didn’t do something he was an accessory to the crimes you were committing. It’s not like you were doing anything hurtful or really bad, but you were still committing crimes and it was still a problem, especially since you worked at the police station.

Which is what led to where you were at this moment, sitting on the couch of Hopper’s cabin, which you practically lived at since you were almost always in his cabin and not in your own house, with Hopper sitting across from you while you fidgeted nervously. He knew you knew he knew what you had been doing. And you knew he was going to say something about it. 

“Why?” He asked, simply, his gaze heavily faced in your direction. “Why, what?” You asked, playing dumb, but you knew the answer. “Why are you hanging around with people who are bad for you?” He questioned and you sighed, “I- I don’t know they’re just people from school we’re catching up after twelve years.” You tried, but he shook his head. “That’s not it, Why?” He questioned you again, and you knew there was no avoiding what you didn’t want him to know about. 

“I hear them talk, Hop. I know everyone in this town doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” You muttered, facing everywhere but at him. “Excuse me?” He asked, and he honestly seemed rather offended by what you were saying. “People fucking talk about us like there’s something wrong with our relationship like I’m not good enough like I’m a child even though I’m thirty years old. You can’t tell me you haven’t heard it.” As you finished your explanation, you finally glanced at Hopper and he just looked like he didn’t know what do say.

“So you don’t want to be with me anymore, because if I’m the reason why you’re feeling terrible then we can-” “No! No, Hopper, I don’t want to not be with you but I just… I don’t feel like it… I’m not- I’m not good enough and you know it.” There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Hopper moved over to sit next to you on the couch. You glanced up at him only to feel his hand wrap around yours, you reciprocating and tangling your fingers with his.

“You can’t let them bother you, (Y/N). So what if some dick treats you like you’re a little girl, you’re not, you’re a grown woman.” His declaration was sloppy and awkward, but the fact that he tried to say anything to you was more than enough to convey his point. “I know I just… I get so afraid of people’s opinions I- I shouldn’t have let them impact me. I love you, and that’s all that matters.” It wasn’t until you had finished speaking that you realized you had just told Hopper that you loved him and that neither of you had said that to each other yet. You didn’t dare look up at him as you felt your face heat up and your head get fuzzy. Not like you were going to pass out but like you wanted to undo the mistake that you had just made.

There was silence before you felt Hopper’s free hand move to your chin to tilt it upwards so you were forced to look at him. The second your eyes met he quickly pressed his lips to yours, you easily kissing him back as your free hand tangled in his hair. The kiss lasted for a few moments, long enough for the two of you to need to break before you really needed air, your foreheads pressed against each other as you looked at each other in silence for a moment before you finally broke it. “I love you too.” He mumbled back, almost like he was afraid to say it, and you knew why. He had been through so much, had lost so much, he probably was afraid to tell someone that he loved them.  “Fuck what other people have to say.” He said, a bit louder than his last statement to which you quickly grinned. “Fuck ‘em.” You agreed, pulling him into another kiss before you leaned into the couch, Hopper wrapping an arm around you so you could lay your head in his lap.

As you fell asleep, calmed by him being around you and running his fingers through your hair, you knew you made the right choice. After that day, you told your old friends that you couldn’t help them anymore, that you had a duty as a sheriff’s deputy to abide by the law. Some of them understood and continued to speak with you, but some of the others didn’t. You knew you had love in other friends, in Hopper, and you didn’t need to be around people who were making you do things that just weren’t you.