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hopperjims · 3 years ago

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Midnight Thunder

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Reader (GN) x Jim Hopper

Word Count: 5253

Warnings: injuries, horror, swearing

Requested: No

Summary: The reader is walking home from work, they see something in the woods, and it gets stressful.

A/N: Reader is 20+

A/N: I have tidied this fic up a bit and added a few things, so it might read a little differently from the first time if you've already read it!

Summer at nighttime in Hawkins was ordinarily a pleasant experience for the walk home, however, the stormy weather had seen to it that you would feel utterly miserable, close to just flopping down and wailing in the muddy rivers that had been created along the roadside.

You ached from a long, busy, shift at the roller-diner, the soles of your skates had been less than kind to your feet. Your back had already taken the brunt of carrying food, drinks and stock back and forth all night; now it protests further for each one of the uneven footsteps along the grass verge that had become like quicksand as the rain continued to sink into it.

The sensible shoes attached to your feet were waterlogged, and you felt itchy as gritty mud splashed up your bare legs in shorts, clothes pinned to your body - leaving no mystery as to what might be underneath. You were soaked, sore and quite frankly over it. Your entire being was now holding the weight of the water that fell from the sky. You were sure your bag was also soaked through, knowing you’d have to dry everything with the heater once you got back to your cottage on the outskirts of town.

Sheets of bright lightning continued to flash like explosions across the sky, illuminating your path for the duration of your journey, thunder rumbled through the atmosphere and vibrated the ground beneath your feet - you could feel it in your bones, it made your hairs stand on end.

As you continued your trudging you started to feel uneasy, even in nature’s cacophony you couldn’t help but sense something unnatural was occurring in the treeline. For someone who got a kick out of horror movies, you didn’t much appreciate the adrenaline and sense of danger you were starting to experience.

The first few times you had looked towards the trees and waited for lightning to illuminate them, you couldn’t make out anything other than the looming trees and their leaves dripping profusely with water onto the woodland floor below. Branches would create odd, monstrous, shapes but you were still rational enough to know that they remained in only the conjuring of your mind.

That was until your third peek.

Amid every rumble and splash and every skittering animal sound that interspersed, you started to feel like something was moving quick among the brush - its movements felt calculated as though they were moving in time with you. You clutched at your bag, trying to shake away the water running in rivulets down your face, telling yourself to keep your eyes on the ground ahead so as not to trip or slip, but your urge to look into the depths of the tangled vines and the uneven ground was strong. So you did.

On the third look, a big flash illuminated directly overhead, the thunder was quick behind it as the two phenomena battled in the sky. Your heart skittered anxiously as there, in a small opening between two large trees, stood something. Someone? No. Something, for sure.

An ominous dark figure, with spindly tree-like limbs that could have easily fooled you into thinking it was something natural coming from the ground. Yet, it moved with sentience, you could tell. The thing that instilled dread in the deepest pit of your stomach wasn’t the odd limb movement though, it was that in the several flashes of light that followed you came to the revelation that this thing didn’t appear to have a face.

"What the fuck." You exhaled in shock.

Another thunder crack, your eyes widening as in the spotlight of lightning you're sure you see 'it' open some kind of cavity, a mouth, razor-sharp teeth bearing menacingly as you let out a strangled yelp.

“Shit.” Your voice cracked, totally inaudible if not for the fact that you could feel that you had spoken.

You clutched the back of your neck, an instinctive need to protect yourself and feel in control as you ignored the sticking of the mud beneath your feet, deciding you’d risk running on the actual tarmac of the road. You would have to take the chance of encountering a vehicle and deal with it then.

Constant glances in the sporadically illuminated treeline showed that the spectre never seemed to move, no longer roaring, just watching. It was always somehow keeping up with however far your feet carried you, but never moving in your direct eyesight. It only made your heart pound uncomfortably in your chest, panting as you kept running, the blood rushing in your ears, shoes thumping against the road with heavy stomps of sloshing water in shallow potholes, as you tried to make it to your cottage in record time.

You’re not sure how long you were running for, feeling like the road was stretching on more than it ever had. Fatigue and panic made for a rather erratic pace as you run, not realising the depth of a particular pothole as your foot snagged on the jagged edge of the tarmac.

It's too late to correct yourself as your body tips sideways, your knee and elbow colliding with the ground first, making you gasp in shock as pain radiates through your body. You roll onto your side, crying out in frustration and an edge of agony.

"Fuck!" You hiss, trying to scramble to your feet, your awareness of the 'thing' in the woods flooding your nervous system once again.

Just as you think you've pulled yourself upright, the gashes in your limbs stinging and throbbing, blood beginning to ooze from them, the light around you becomes a different type of flash. Blue and red flashes grow closer to your position, complete with the short familiar ‘whoop whoop’ of a police truck, it startles you and comforts you in equal measure.

You whip your head around, making sure you had heard and seen what you thought you had.

Sure enough, pulling alongside you was the Chief of Hawkins’ Police, Jim Hopper.

You had never been so relieved to see the gruff figure in his truck, rolling down the passenger window, cigarette smoke rolled out of the gap and subsequently was dispersed by the downpour, you squinted as the rain somehow got heavier. You stared blankly at the man, still terrified of what had been lurking in the woods, wincing as your body twinged sharply.

“Y/N? Jesus Christ, get in! You alright?”

His voice snaps you closer to reality, teeth starting to chatter with cold and nerves, eyes wide as you look from the Chief to the trees. When trees light up again there's nothing there. No monster, no ominous figure, just trees and leaves at the mercy of the downpour, like you. It's too late, however, you're already freaked out beyond belief.

You turn back to the Chief again, he was about to get out and come to you, but you take quick strides to the Chevy Blazer and hoist yourself inside, pulling the door closed with a resounding slam.

The Chief gives you a moment, eyeing you with something close to concern as you soak into the passenger seat of the truck. You’re trying to calm your breathing, eyes wide ahead staring into space, your ears are still ringing and the truck’s body muffles the ruckus outside.

“What the hell happened? We gotta take you to the Emergency Room.” You had always found Jim’s voice to be actually pretty divine, it had a rich sound to it, with an undertone of rumbling that would usually make your skin scatter with goosebumps. Tonight, however, it made you emotional, it was soft and tender - cautious of how anxious and hurt you were right now.

The weight of what you think just happened settles in.

“I-...-I, saw… I saw, I don’t know…No ER… I- I wanna go home.” Your lip trembles and a few tears escape. You hate yourself for crying in front of him, it was hard enough having him call you ‘kiddo’ or ‘kid’ even though you were in your 20s. You knew it was meant with something akin to affection, but it really took the wind out of your sails considering you had a sort-of-maybe big crush on Jim Hopper.

There’s a warm reassuring hand on your uninjured arm now, whether he left you shivering from the contrast of your cold skin or the exhilaration of the touch you couldn’t be sure,

“Listen, I can’t force you, but those gashes look pretty deep. I can try to take care of ‘em at your place, but if they’re too deep, we’re going to the ER. Am I clear?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep more tears at bay.

He reaches into his glove compartment and pulls out an old t-shirt that was stashed in there. He holds it up to you, "It's clean, I'm just gonna rip it and you can use it to tie around those cuts."

You nod, willing the trembling to subside.

Jim makes a noise of satisfaction as the t-shirt rips easily, handing you the strips to tie around yourself. Which you do so robotically, oblivious to the Chief still eyeing you with concern.

“What did you see, Y/N?” He asks, an edge to his voice now, eyes darkening in a professional, “Is this a police matter?” kind of way.

You shake your head, embarrassment starting to creep in. “It… I don’t know, it was something out there, Chief. Maybe an animal? I don’t know… it’s silly. Just freaked me out, especially in this weather. Then I had to fall head over ass…” You try for a smile, but you’re certain it looks as feeble as it feels.

It’s not that you didn’t trust him, you really did, but you just couldn’t put into words what had happened and you were in desperate need of just being safe and warm again.

Jim’s mouth turns into a frown, given the murmurs of weird sightings, diseased farmland, and other unusual happenstances of late, he was sure there was more to what you were saying. He just didn’t want to push it, not right now, you didn’t need that.

“I’m gonna get you home, we’re gonna make sure you get warm, patched up properly and dry, and then if you feel like talkin’ that’s fine by me, and if you don’t… well, that’s alright too. Okay?”

You swallow, letting out a shaky exhale, nodding.

“Okay… thanks, Chief.”

“Hey, it’s Jim, come on now. You’re not in trouble.” He gives you a genuinely warm smile, and you feel your body beginning to thaw out from that alone. “Thanks, Jim.” You smile bigger this time, closing your eyes as he begins to pull the truck back out onto the road.

Turns out you only had 10 minutes left of your journey home, but in that 10 minutes you had managed to doze off in the passenger seat next to Jim. Your adrenaline had taken a nose dive and, despite your shivering, the warmth and security of being with the Chief had let your body shut down for a moment.

Jim pulls onto the small drive outside your house, you had inherited it from your parents who moved away to Florida a few years ago, to a retirement home.

Shutting the engine off he takes a second, turning to see your dozing form.

He shakes your shoulder gently, smoothing out the frown lines on your forehead. “Hey, Y/N, come on kid, time to head inside.”

You groan in your sleep, leaning into the gentle touch of the Chief, Jim shakes his head with a silent laugh.

“Hey, I’m gettin’ old, I’m not carrying you.” His eyebrows raise when he realises you’re not budging. Sighing as he lets himself out of the driver’s side, coming round to your side.

Carefully he opens the door and makes sure you’re not about fall right on out. He gently shakes your arm again, this time managing to get your eyes to open. You shiver as the air hits you, the storm had calmed down for now.

“Hey, sleepy head. We’re home.” He smiles, offering a hand to help you out.

“Mngh.” You groan, the pain from your fall comes rushing back, stumbling out of the truck, nearly going down again if not for Jim’s strong and steady hold on you.

You blink dizzily at him, seeking more of his comfort as you lean into his large frame. “I got you. You have keys in your bag, yeah?”

You nod, fishing around blindly into the bag as your palm and fingers brush across the metal of your keys. You grip them tight, jangling them somewhat smugly.

Jim nods with a quiet chuckle at your sense of triumph. “Come on then, let’s get you in.”

Slowly you hobble with Jim’s help to your front door, lifting the keys to the lock to gain access to your home. Except, with another noise of frustration you realise your hands won’t stop shaking enough to slot the key into the lock. A warm hand clasps over yours, keeping you steady enough to be successful the second time around. You look up at Jim with tearful eyes,

“Thanks.” You murmur, scolding yourself for feeling so emotional still.

“It’s all good, come on, let’s get in before the storm picks back up.”

Pushing the door open, it's absolutely still in the darkness of your cottage. Save for the hum of your refrigerator and the sound of nature’s critters outside, it’s pretty damn quiet. Jim lets you step cautiously forward alone as he shuts the door, reaching to turn on a few of the lamps scattered around the place.

You set down your bag on the counter tipping the contents out as you place the small portable heater beside it, deciding to keep it on until you had to go to bed. Then, you stand almost lost for a moment. Jim’s voice is still soothing as he comes closer again, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You got some towels? We need to dry you off enough so I can take a look at those cuts.”

You nod, “Uh, yeah, I got some old towels in the laundry closet, doesn’t matter if we get blood on ‘em.”

“Good, well I’m gonna grab you some water, you got painkillers, first aid kit?”

Another nod, directing him to a cupboard in the kitchen.

“Go get sorted, I’ll set this up.”

“Okay…thanks again, Chief. But you really don’t have to stay..."You say the words but you know you don’t sound convincing, the last thing you want is to be left alone right now.

He raises his eyebrows as if to say “Really, kid?”

You don’t repeat the statement, knowing it was made half-heartedly in the first place.

“I’ll be right back then.” You murmur, hobbling down the hall to find towels, a change of clothes and some sort of peace of mind.

As you open your bedroom door you shiver, suddenly the darkness and being away from Jim made you feel on edge. As you limped further into your space, looking for the towels and something suitable to change into, you turned towards the mirror in your room. A yelp near-scream escapes you as you clock a silhouette behind you, you back yourself up and around to get a look, letting out a relieved huff and a half-deranged chuckle which dissolved back into a soft sob, it was a jacket you’d chucked over your coat stand haphazardly. Yet you couldn’t stop imagining that the thing from the woods had somehow followed you back and got in.

In all the seconds of commotion, you hear Hopper yelling your name, running in your direction. He comes to stop by your door, only to find you standing helpless in the middle of your room, holding up apologetic hands.

“I’m sorry! It’s okay, I-I thought…” Your lip wobbles, looking at Jim with pleading eyes, silently asking why you couldn’t calm down.

Jim’s face softens, he wouldn’t usually put up with the hysterics from most folks, but he can tell that you’re majorly freaked out and seemingly at a loss on how to deal with it.

He steps forward, bringing you into a hug, “Come ‘ere, it’s alright, I’m here and nothing’s coming in and nothing’s happening to you. Do you understand me?”

You nod, letting yourself nestle into his chest, inhaling the smell of cigarettes and whatever cologne he’d picked up of late. It was uniquely The Chief, and it did wonders for your racing mind, even if it made your heart skitter to be so close to him.

You’re sitting at your kitchen table now, your leg resting across Jim’s lap as he cleans out the wound in your knee, you grip the table edge and grit your teeth, not wanting to be a wimp about the stinging. You watch the Chief’s focused expression, how careful he is with you.

"Sorry, almost got it. Hand me that gauze, would ya?" He asks, and you immediately comply, feeling relieved as you feel the gauze secured on the wound and tape sealed around your leg. With a gentle pat on your shin, he carefully puts your foot back on the ground. Shuffling a little closer in the chair.

"Right, let's take a look at that arm..."

If you had thought having your leg in Jim’s lap was an experience, the intimacy of him guiding your arm closer to his hands, of the proximity of his chair being virtually pressed to yours, legs a whisper away from each other, was entirely something else.

You focused on your breathing, suddenly very self-conscious of your every move, looking away and focusing on the rain that had begun to lash against your window again. As Jim cleaned out the gash running from your forearm to your elbow you had to tense every part of yourself to not make a fuss, attempting to keep yourself together. However, his own hiss got your attention,

“Ah, I’m sorry kid, but this is gonna need these steri-strip things.” He holds up the packet from your first-aid kit.

He looked apologetic, and you looked horrified. “It’s not gonna hurt too much, but I will have to push the wound together so it closes properly. Or I could still take you to the-”

“No! No… I mean, please… I hate hospitals, and I trust you… I’ll be fine, Ch- Jim.”

Jim smiles at your correction of his name, feeling something flutter in his chest when you say you trust him. You and he were friends of sorts, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed that you would sometimes blush around him, or sneak glances at him. He found it sweet, even though he always thought himself too rough and too ahead in age to be of any real appeal to you.

“Alright, you’re brave, this cut looks like a real bitch.”

You laugh at that, “I’m brave? Jim, I’ve done nothing but whine and fret since you found me.”

His face turns almost serious then, “Hey, it’s been a stressful night and the road tore up your skin, cut yourself some slack.”

You go to rebuff the statement but think better of it, feeling the butterflies in your stomach again. He was being so good to you.

“Okay, you’re right… I am brave.” You sigh with a small snort.

“You’re damn right.” He grumbles, giving you a smile with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.

"Right, you're gonna hold my arm and squeeze as much as you need to until the pain passes, okay? It won't take long to seal you up." He pauses, waiting for your permission to continue.

You bit your lip before nodding, timidly reaching out to hold onto his arm as he permitted. It felt strange to be in proper contact with him, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers as he began to push at the wound with one hand, and peel away the strips from their backing so he could place them across your skin.

The pushing sensation makes you feel a little queasy, holding onto Jim as you squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your face into his shoulder as he works.

“Almost there, sweetheart. Hold on.” He murmurs, letting you stay close as he fixes the final few strips into place.

“There we go. You still with me?” He queries, he can feel you taking steady, deep, breaths against his uniform. Jim hesitates for a moment before resting his free hand on the back of your head, stroking for a moment, encouraging you to look at him. The touch puts goosebumps on the back of your neck, slowly lifting your head as you will nausea to pass. You look at him with tired eyes, nodding with a weary smile.

“Sorry.” You whisper, slowly releasing your hand and yourself from his personal space. Jim feels colder for it, wishing he had the guts to say something to you.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He murmurs, caught in a gaze that you’re returning. Time is still, the rain continues as the lightning returns, chased by a heavy rumble.

You look at his lips for a fraction of a second, but there’s something in Jim’s eyes that lets you know he caught it. He looks almost sad, and you’re not really sure how to take that. Always too nervous yourself to make any kind of move, you opt to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you for tonight… will you, I mean, do you want to stay? The weather’s not letting up, and I uh… I want you to be okay.”

If he’s caught off guard or affected he doesn’t show it, nodding in a thankful manner. “I wouldn’t mind, yeah, it’s pretty rough. Besides, I wanna make sure you’re alright tonight, you had quite the spook.”

“I appreciate that, a lot…” You can feel the heat on your cheeks as you realise you just kissed him, even if it was a fairly innocent gesture. “The sofa is a pull-out sofa, I’ve got spare blankets and pillows…so uh, yeah, make yourself comfortable. You can take anything from the cupboards or the fridge, no need to ask…”

He smiles at that, squeezing your shoulder in silent thanks, “I’ll uh, just radio the station and let them know I got caught out here, if an emergency pops up they can reach me on the radio.”

Your eyes widen, you had totally forgotten that when the Chief had picked you up he probably would have been working.

“Oh my god, Chief. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise, I’ve taken up so much of your time…” He holds up a silencing finger.

“Y/N, believe me. Not that I’m happy you got hurt, but being here beats listening to Callahan’s snoring any day.”

This makes you giggle, nodding your head. “Hm, yeah that’s fair enough. Well, I’m going to get you set up, grab some water and try to sleep, it’s all kinda hitting me now… I’d be happy to make you breakfast in the morning if you’d like?”

Jim smiles, “You don’t have to pay me back, Y/N. But if you’re making breakfast…I may be so inclined.”

“Perfect, that’s what I like to hear.”

Once you’re sure Jim’s got everything he needs for a night on the couch-bed, you take yourself to your own bedroom to finally call it a night. In your sleep shorts and t-shirt, you climb in, taking the two painkillers Jim had got out for you, gulping down some water. As you settled under the covers you listen to the rain falling, feeling so much safer and at ease knowing the Chief was just down the hall. Allowing your eyes to close in the hope of chasing sleep, thinking of Jim’s tenderness, his worry for you, his commitment to making sure you were alright - all of these thoughts sinking you down into further layers of sleep.

You then find yourself drawn to the sound of scratching, deep aggressive scratches that are so loud you can tell they’re coming from against the front door. Panic spikes through you, both in fear for what could be on the other side, and fear that Jim was much closer to it than you were. Surely he couldn’t be sleeping through, that? After, the scratching comes to a resounding “SLAM!” against the door, so violent that you’re almost sure the house vibrated with the motion.

Heart hammering, blood pulsing wildly, you find the courage to hobble out of bed and down the hall to check on Jim. Cautious yet rushed footsteps carry you to the darkness of your living room and kitchen, only the faint glow of Jim’s radio and occasional lightning flash gives any light to the space. Yet, the Chief is nowhere to be found…and just as you clock an open window, your curtains billowing in the strong winds of the storm, another BANG BANG BANG causes you to slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying out.

You back away, eyes darting around to see if Jim was hiding or hurt, but the window’s ominous opening told you something else, you had a dreadful feeling Jim was gone.

Silent tears started to brim at your eyes, worried for the Chief and terrified for yourself. SLAM SLAM SLAM… Silence… and then, a guttural series of roars and gargled clicks that have your whole nervous system on edge.

You back away, further and further from the sounds, retreating to your room… but, to your dismay, your backwards walking takes you right into the solid form of something slick and cold, it makes you freeze in panic. Not daring to turn or move, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for something to happen. Fetid breath washes over your back and you feel like you could pass out from the terror. The seconds tick by and you simply don’t know what to do with yourself, bile rises in your throat from the odour of whatever was standing behind you, long slithering fingers grasp around your neck, and the guttural clicks are back right against your ear. You can feel the darkness clouding around your vision… until, a bone-shattering roar fills your ears and you know that there is no possible way you can escape the jaws of your predator, one feeble cry out for your rescuer as you pray to be saved.

“JIM!”

You gasp yourself awake, choking on saliva and a need to suck in lungfuls of air as you pant into the darkness of your room, still in bed and alone, body shaking with terrorised adrenaline as you look around the room. In the empty, quiet and safe place you’d fallen asleep in, you feel nausea at the bottom of your stomach, the nightmare had been so viscerally real that you’re reeling from the experience.

With wobbling limbs you scoop up your glass of water, sipping hurriedly as you go, needing to check on the Chief as the storm continues overhead. When you get to the doorway towards your living room you hesitate, afraid of what you might find, worried that you were still in the nightmarish reality. With a glance you see that all windows are still shut, there is no pounding on the door, only the rather comical snores of the man on the couch.

You go to turn back to the hallway and towards your room once more, but the darkness in the hall feels like it holds the same grim fate that came to you in your dream. You can’t shake the sensation, and it has you turning back towards Jim and the couch. Having turned it into a bed there was room for you as well, and you find yourself hovering beside the sleeping man like an anxious phantom.

You didn’t want to invade his space without permission, so you gently shook his shoulder. Noticing now he was in his white undershirt, and that he must only be in his boxers as his overshirt and pants were folded neatly on a kitchen chair. You whispered his name, giving him another shake as you decided to perhaps back out and suck it up, just as you were ready to give up and leave Jim in peace, his eyes blinked blearily into awakedness.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, are you okay?” He's awake quickly, and you feel bad for worrying him.

“I’m… I’m fine, I’m sorry Jim…I had a nightmare, I can’t seem to shake it. I was wondering if I could-- You know what? This is silly, I’m so sorry, go back to sleep, okay?”

A gentle hand grasping yours stops your retreat, kind and understanding eyes meet yours,

“Stay. It’s okay if you need the company.” Jim gives you an encouraging pull, scooting over on the folded-out mattress. He wanted to say, “It’s okay if you need me”, but he didn’t like to be presumptuous that he had the monopoly on that.

You let out a breath, you didn’t realise how tense you had been until you had the confirmation that you could stay under Jim’s protection.

“Thank you, really. I owe you big time.” You murmur, climbing in next to the Chief, tugging the thin blanket over you.

You both lay there in silence, evened out breaths and small tired sighs, “You don’t owe me anything, I want to be here.” Jim says quietly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You feel your heart skip at those words, the urge to ask him to cuddle is on the tip of your tongue. “Goodnight, Jim.” You purse your lips, fiddling with the edge of the blanket between nervous fingers.

“Jim…” You whisper,

“Yeah?” He returns the volume.

“Would… can we…do you…”

“Yes, you can come here if you want.” He says matter-of-factly, a smile in his voice.

You are surprised by that, you didn’t think for a second he would even be in the realm of knowing what you were going to ask.

Words leave your brain at that, silently letting yourself gravitate like you've been craving towards Jim’s firm and comforting body. He opens up an arm, leaving you the space to tuck yourself in as you pillow your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. There was something reassuring about Jim’s size, he is big and strong in the most unconventional of ways, and he does what he wants, there was always something so entrancing about that.

“Thanks.” You sigh, and his laughter rumbles through his chest and against your head.

“Y/N, are you ever going to stop saying thank you?”

“If you stop being so sweet to me, yeah. But I don’t think you will, so…thanks.”

He hums at that, squeezing you gently in his embrace, mindful of your injuries. Your leg brushes against his and you shiver.

“Fair enough, can’t say I will stop.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head,

“Come on, let’s get back to sleep, or we’ll never wake up for breakfast.”

You make a noise of agreement, already on the cusp of slumber in the safest place possible.

“G’night Jim…” You mumble sleepily, nuzzling into his chest.

“Goodnight again, Y/N. Pleasant dreams this time.” He doesn’t get a response this time, however, soft puffs of your breath tickle his throat as he strokes along your back, glad you can relax against him like this.

Jim closes his eyes, sleepy again himself, feeling something good might have come out of the midnight thunder.

Fin.

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #stranger things #jim hopper imagine #stranger things imagine

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