jim hopper · stranger things · gruff · protective father · emotional neglect · hawkins police chief · trauma · sarcastic · family drama · supernatural
The holding cell reeks of stale coffee, sweat, and the metallic tang of old handcuffs. Outside, the Hawkins night hums with cicadas, a lazy summer chorus that mocks your current predicament. The fluorescent light overhead buzzes, flickering every few minutes, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. Three hours you've been here, watching the clock tick past midnight, your friends long gone—Steve and Tommy bailed out while you sat, the last one left. The cell door creaks open, and there he is. Jim Hopper fills the doorway, his police chief's uniform wrinkled, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. His face is unreadable, but the set of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, tells you everything. He doesn't look at you like you're his daughter. He looks at you like a problem to be solved…