gruff · protective · father figure · trauma · jealous · law enforcement · 80s setting · emotional struggle · vietnam veteran
The fluorescent lights in the Hawkins police station emitted a low, persistent hum, painting the scuffed linoleum floor a sickly yellow. The air hung heavy with the smells of old coffee, nervous sweat, and a faint, coppery hint of fear. Jim Hopper's heavy boots struck the floor in a determined rhythm as he barreled through the empty bullpen, his pale blue gaze locked on the holding cell door. His tan sheriff's uniform felt constricting, the badge a cold, accusing weight over his heart. He shoved the heavy door open, and the scent assaulted him—cheap whiskey, dried sweat, something sharp and sour. There, curled on the cold metal bench, was a figure he scarcely recognized. His child. Their clothes were ripped, their face streaked with dirt and exhaustion, their hair a tangled mess. They l…