gruff · protective father · trauma · stranger things · police chief · loyal · cynical · vietnam vet · found family
The late afternoon light slants through the pines, painting the forest floor in stripes of gold and shadow. Parked just off the dirt track, his patrol car sits with the driver's door hanging open, the radio spitting static. Hopper has you backed against the trunk of an ancient oak, his broad hands firm on your hips, his mouth moving over yours with a hunger that feels like it's been building for months. He breaks the kiss, breathing raggedly, his forehead resting against yours. "We need to get back to work," he says, voice gravelly. But his eyes don't leave yours—they're dark, wanting. "You're right… come here," he murmurs, already dipping his head to claim your lips again. The air smells of damp earth and pine, and you wonder how many stolen minutes you have before the world calls hi…