Work Text:
You finish painting the last letter on your big sign. You put your paintbrush in the cup of water and admire your handiwork
-Justice for Ryan White, his disease is no excuse-
“Why are you doing this?” your little brother asks.
“Because the government is shit and they’re mistreating this poor kid, it’s not fair and people need to speak up about it,” you explain.
“Didn’t he get kicked out cause he was gonna get everyone else sick?”
“His disease isn’t airborne. The only way he’d get others sick is if he had…” you trail off when you remember who you’re talking to.
“If he had… what?”
“Never-mind, it’s adult stuff,” you wipe your hand on a rag and stand up to tip out the cup of water. Your little brother rolls his eyes.
“You always say that. You run off to college and come home thinking you’re an all-knowing, wise old man.”
“That’s because I am,” you grin “I’m basically Gandalf.”
Your brother scoffs and rolls his eyes again “careful Dusty, keep that up and your eyes will fall out,” you ruffle his curls as you walk past him.
He bats your hand away “no they won’t, mum told me that’s not true.”
“She told you that so it would happen then you’d go blind and be forever dependant on her. She’s trying to trap you so her Dusty-poo lovebug can never leave,” you grin wickedly as his eyes widen.
He hides the brief second of fear with a scoff and another eye-roll “college somehow made you even weirder.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll replace you with Will,” you pick up your sign and your jacket and keys before walking out the front door.
“He’s only quiet around you cause he’s in loooooove,” Dustin sings as he shuts the front door behind him.
“Just because a boy is nice to a girl doesn’t mean he’s in love, some guys just have this thing called common decency.” You throw your sign and jacket in the backseat of your car before settling behind the wheel.
“I don’t know what that means but I totally have it. Unless it’s something bad, then I don’t have it.”
This time it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “just get in the car.”
You drive to the Sinclair’s house and park your baby, “go get your friend,” you tell Dustin.
He reaches over you and honks the horn.
“DUSTIN!” you yell.
“What?”
“That’s impolite, I meant go knock on the front door,” you snipe.
“It worked, didn’t it?” he says smugly as Lucas and Eric trundle towards your car.
You lean over Dustin and roll down his window “sorry Mrs Sinclair, kids am I right?” you grin sheepishly. Mrs Sinclair just smiles fondly and waves you away.
Once Erica and Lucas are buckled in, you head over to the Wheelers house. Dustin unbuckles his seatbelt and starts opening the door, but you just honk your horn. His head snaps towards you.
“Only because it’s fast and means I don’t have to endure Mrs Wheelers questions about my love life.” Dustin grins at you as Mike runs towards your car.
Once he’s settled you start driving towards the elementary school.
“What’s the sign?” Mike asks.
“It’s her protest sign,” Dustin responds.
“Who’s Ryan White?” Lucas asks.
“Some sick kid she’s protesting for.”
“He’s a sick kid who was unfairly kicked from his school and is being mistreated because of his illness,” you try to explain.
“Why are people mistreating a sick kid? What’s his illness?” Mike asks you.
“Don’t bother prying for much, she’ll just tell you it’s grown-up stuff,” Dustin rolls his eyes.
“Maybe if you guys weren’t such babies, she’d tell you,” Erica sasses.
“You’re the baby in this car,” Lucas snaps at her.
“More mature than you, fartface,” she bites back.
“Fartface? Cause that’s so mature.”
“Guys! Keep fighting and I make you walk,” you threaten and the two fall silent.
“I still don’t understand why I can’t help. Wouldn’t it be better for Ryan if more people were fighting for him?” Dustin grumbles.
“You make a good point, but I make an even better one. You have school.”
He huffs and slumps back in his seat mumbling about school.
“Look on the Brightside, sure you have to go to school, but you can use this as an opportunity to find MadMax,” at this both Dustin and Lucas perk up and start discussing MadMax.
….
After dropping off the kids, you find yourself at the fountain at the centre of town holding your sign up high and protesting against the government to anyone who walks by. Most of them ignore you or throw scornful looks your way but you don’t let that deter you. Head held high like the sign and march on.
That is until some guy tries to rip your sign from your hands, raving about how you’re a hysterical woman whose man needs to teach some respect. You use your sign to wack him over the head and knock him into the fountain. He comes up spluttering and you keep marching back and forth, determined to ignore him and keep preaching for Ryan White.
Unfortunately for you, Mr Annwhistle saw the whole exchange and called the police from inside his store. Not ten minutes late a sheriff’s department truck pulls up alongside the small park the fountain is situated in. A giant man exits the truck and heads towards you and the dripping wet wimp.
“Officer Hopper, a pleasure to see you again,” you grin.
“Sure it is Ms Henderson, you know the drill,” his gruff voice sounds as sexy as always.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” you bat your eyes at him.
“Don’t play coy, hands behind your back, you’re under arrest.”
“Whatever for? Hasn’t anyone heard of freedom of speech?”
“You have the right to peaceful protest, which was broken when you assaulted Mr Bailey,” Hopper sighs.
“He attacked me first,” you glare at the smug little man.
“That’s not what Mr Annwhistle told me,” Hopper takes your sign from you.
“That’s because Mr Annwhistle is a misogynistic jerk,” you huff.
Come on y/n, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m sure we can get this all cleared up down at the station,” Hopper pulls out his handcuffs and motions for you to turn around.
“Handcuffs are normally a second date kind of thing, but I’m willing to negotiate,” you smile as Hopper cuffs your hands behind your back and leads you to the truck. You stumble on a cracked paver and Hopper jolts into you. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” you ask.
Hopper rolls his eyes at you “get in the car Henderson.” He puts his hand on the back of your head to sit you in the back of his truck, but you dodge under his arm.
“Hang on a minute, what about Mr Bailey?”
“What about him?”
“Why aren’t you arresting him?”
“Cause he didn’t assault anyone,” Hopper reaches out and tries to get you into his truck, but you pull away again.
“Says some jerk-off who’s always high on painkillers,” you scoff.
“If you come to the station you can make an official statement about both those claims,” Hopper sighs as he grasps your elbow.
You pull your arm from his grasp, accidentally elbowing his gut in the process. He gasps out, winded and you freeze in horror. He stands upright and his eyebrows furrow in anger.
“Uh oh,” you murmur.
One of his hands wraps around your wrist and the other grasps the back of your neck, he leads you into the back of the car and shoves you in, slamming the door shut behind you. He gets in hard enough to shake the whole truck and starts up the engine. The whole ride to the station is filled with tense silence and occasional eye contact in the rear-view mirror that is meant with his infamous glare. You finally arrive at the station and he drags you out of the car, leading you to his office with a harsh grip on your arm and a hurried pace your smaller stature struggles to keep up with. He ignores one of his deputies trying to get his attention and shoves past a man in glasses blubbering on about Russians. He shoves you into his office and slams shut the door before whirling on you.
He walks towards you and you instinctively take a step back, your back now pressed up against his wooden desk.
“You know, this is a small town, usually pretty quiet. Especially these last four years, I wonder why that is?” He cages you in “the first day in months I get a call about something serious and it just so happens to coincide with your return. I arrive on the scene and to absolutely no one's surprise the perpetrator is you.”
“You keeping tabs on me Deputy Hopper?” you smile weakly.
“That’s sheriff Hopper to you,” he snaps.
“Hmm, someone likes to be in control,” you wink “you want me to call you.. sheriff?” you ask breathily. He pulls back and rubs a hand over his face.
He rounds his desk and flops down into his chair, opening a file on his desk. “Petty theft, shoplifting, trespassing, defacing public property, defacing private property.”
“What’s that?” you ask, turning to face him.
“Your record. Not the official one, of course, you were too young for these to go on your permanent record. But now that you’re an adult you will have an official record with assault and assault of an officer as well as refusal of arrest.”
“Woah, wait a minute, you said we’d get this straightened out.”
“That was before you assaulted me, the sheriff.”
“An accidental elbow to the stomach hardly counts as assault!”
“I’m the sheriff. I decide what counts as assault!” he raises his voice at you.
You round the desk and stand before him “maybe there’s some way I can convince you to drop those charges?” you drop to your knees in front of him.
He shakes his head and tries to get you to stand up “what did I say to you four years ago when you tried to make a move?”
“Well you see sheriff, that was then, things have changed.”
He hums at you “I’m no longer fresh out of high school, barely 18. You said it yourself, I’m an adult now.” You blink up at him and slowly lick your lips “let me make it up to you sheriff.”
He groans and runs his hand over his face again, but he makes no more protests.
You jangle the cuffs behind your back “mind taking these off?”
“Why? So you can assault me again? No, the cuffs stay on.”
“Hmm, officer Hopper, how raunchy of you,” you laugh.
“Shutup and put that mouth to good use,” he grips your hair tight and you let out a loud moan.
You grasp the zip of his pants between your teeth and pull it down slowly nosing into his crotch and letting out a dreamy sigh, you’ve wanted this for four years now. Ever since that summer, you volunteered to help out when Flo was sick. You get the button of his pants between your teeth and try to pull it through the hole. Grumbling in annoyance when it won’t work.
Hopper eventually takes pity on you and flicks the button through the hole with a quiet chuckle. He pulls out his half-hard length and strokes himself slowly. You lean forward and place a little kiss on the head of his cock. He hisses as you kitten lick at the slit. He’s fully hard by this point and it’s a glorious sight to behold. It’s very proportionate to the rest of him, slightly longer than average but nice and thick with a patch of thick curls at the base. You lean in and just breathe him in.
He moves his hand from his length and instead tangles it in your hair, pulling your head away from his curls and back to the head of his dick. “Get to it,” he groans.
“Bossy, bossy. Someone’s a bi… mmph,” you’re cut off as he shoves himself into your open mouth. You grin around his length and swallow around him, taking him as deep as you can. He lets out a low moan and bucks his heap causing you to choke slightly.
“You alright in their Chief,” one of his deputies knocks.
“Fine,” Hopper grunts.
“Murray's here to speak to you, chief.”
“Tell him I’m busy,” Hopper shouts.
The doorknob jingles and Hopper curses, shoving you under his desk and sliding his chair to follow. “Murray, I don’t have time for this, I’m busy.”
“You don’t look busy, it’s just some file on Y/n Henderson,” you hear Murray take a seat across from Hopper “wait, Henderson, any relation to Dustin Henderson? In affiliation with the Russian girl?”
“What Russian girl?” Hopper asks and you roll your eyes. Really? Now he’s into a conversation, what happened to being busy? Guess you’re just going to have to remind him. You rest your head on his thick thigh and nose at his softened length, he seems to have lost interest since the unwanted arrival of this Russian obsessed Murray. That just won’t do.
You trace the vein on the underside of his cock with the tip of your tongue, occasionally pausing to suckle lightly or deliver a chaste kiss. Above you Hopper carries on his conversation as if nothing untoward is happening, which is a bit of a blow to the ego. If he’s going to shove you under his desk, pretend like you don’t exist then you are just going to have to give him the best damn blowjob of his life.
You kiss and nip at his dick from base to tip and give a little to his head before swallowing down as much of his length as you can, hollowing your cheeks and giving a harsh suck. Hopper lets out a grunt which he tries to cover up with a slight cough, you notice a slight strain in his voice and grin around him. You feel him hit the back of your throat and gag slightly, before taking a deep breath through your nose and swallowing around him, letting him slide further down your throat.
Hopper lets out a shout, shocking you and surely Murray as well.
“As much as I want to hear this, I really am busy,” Hopper grunts “how bout we meet for lunch and discuss it further?”
Murray must have agreed because the next thing you know the door is shutting and Hopper’s hands are wrapped in your hair, tugging you down further on his cock. You gag violently, trying to breathe through your nose or pull away, but the vibrations your struggle caused must be too much for him because soon after he’s coming down your throat with a loud curse.
You swallow it down, tears starting to run down your puffed-out cheeks, meeting the light trail of cum that’s escaped your lips. Hopper slowly drags you off his length, falling back in his chair with a groan, you lick your lips with a self-satisfied grin.
“How was that, Chief?”