Chasing Calliope [Jim Hopper x Reader]

Damaged Goods

TW: Depictions of miscarriage, the death of a child, and the death of a s/o.

You were thankful that the lord blessed you with the ability to give such kick-ass pep-talks.

Hopper had essentially wolfed down three of your homemade muffins, washing them down with two mugs of coffee and warming your heart to the point of melting. It was nice to see him so comfortable in his own body, especially after seeing such dejection and shame in his eyes earlier.

He was utterly adorable, wet strands of dirty blonde hair falling across his forehead as he attempted not to get crumbs on the grey Hawkins P.D. tee shirt that clung to the still-damp parts of his chest.

It felt like he was at home with you. That you both had built a tiny home together.

It was almost as if nothing ever happened in the first place. No Joyce. No date.

And no brightly-patterned shirt.

"Christ, I'm sore," he groaned, stretching his back using the back of the dining chair. "You keep bricked under those couch cushions, Callahan?"

"Small slabs of concrete, actually," you smirked, picking up his plate along with yours before walking into the kitchen and dropping them into the sink. "How about a walk? Might help loosen those muscles of your's."

"Muscles?" he asked with a smile. "You keep flattering me like that, and I'll get loosened up in no time."

You shook your head, returning to the table before crossing your arms expectantly at him.

"Fine," he smiled, scratching his stubbled jaw before nodding his head. "As usual, you're probably right about that."

You smiled brightly, ruffling his damp hair before walking to your room to dress for the day.

A simple pair of denim shorts and a flowy white blouse would do the trick.

You emerged from your bedroom a few moments later, your arms raised above your head as you tied your hair into a high ponytail. You scoffed as you heard Hopper whistle under his breath while tying his boots up.

"Lookin' good," he cooed, his eyes roaming over your frame before returning to your eyes.

You blushed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as you toed on a pair of off-white converse high-tops, "Right back at ya, Chief."

The man smirked, standing to full height as he looked down at you, his mustache twitching as his mouth fell into a soft smile, "So, where you taking me on this walk, miss?"

You grabbed your keys off of the counter quickly before pushing him out of your house playfully, "Must you know every detail or can't you just enjoy the ride?"

"The ride?" he drawled, voice dripping with innuendo.

"Yes, Hopper. The ride," you replied with a shaky breath, shaking your head at the man's flirtatious gall.

You locked your door, skipping down each of your steps before looking at Hopper with amusement in your eyes. He trudged alongside you, his hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his worn jeans. You smiled, reaching out to rub the middle of his back with a friendly hand.

"What did you have planned for the day?" you asked, returning your hand to your own hip, itching to reach out and grab his hand and fighting the urge victoriously.

"Well, I told Flo that I would help her go through some cold case files," he shrugged, the both of you approaching a shaded trail across the street that fed into a brightly-light forest. "So, I guess I'm going to the station on my day off."