stranger things imagines.

chief (NSFW)

POSTED ON: steve-hairingtons

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You slammed your car door and locked it with your key, slipping it into your coat pocket as snow coated your hair. You looked up at the all too familiar, red, lit up sign that read: Hawkins Bar. You sighed as you looked at your watch, seeing it was nine-thirty p.m. You slowly approached the door, swinging it open and taking a deep breath when the warm air engulfed you.

You walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, rubbing your eyes before crossing your arms on the counter. John, the bartender who was there every time you showed up, approached you.

He leaned on the counter, raising his eyebrows. He gave a small smirk, which you didn't return.

"The usual?" he asked. You nodded and he turned, grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels, filling a small cup.

"Thanks," you said, taking a sip.

"What happened this time?"

You always came in after a failed date, and John was like your therapist to vent about it. He listened and gave advice.

You sighed. "He told me he prefers brunettes. He flirted with the waitress. He asked about kids. He did everything you're not supposed to do on a first date."

"Jesus. Well, you'll always have me here when you need me," he joked, a crooked smirk forming on his face.

"Fantastic."

He kept the smirk as he walked off to serve another customer. You looked down at your drink, which you swirled around a bit in your cup. You propped your face in your other hand as you took a sip, setting it back down on the napkin in front of you.

It wasn't long before you felt a presence sit next to you a few seats down. You looked over to see a large man with a full beard and mustache. His hair was neatly combed back and he was wearing a khaki police uniform with a black coat on top. He took his hat off, laying it on the bar next to him.

"Schlitz," he said in a gruff voice, one that sent chills down your spine. You looked back at your own drink, sitting there in silence. That was when you felt two eyes drilling holes into the side of your head.

You waited a few seconds before you picked up your drink and spoke, not looking at him.

"You gonna say anything or just stare?" you asked, eventually looking at him and taking a sip.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Not sure yet."

You nodded slowly. "Y/N."

"Jim."

"Nice to meet you, Jim."

"You too."

"You got a last name?"

"Hopper."

"Jim Hopper. That has a ring to it."

"What about you? Last name?"

"Y/L/N."

"Then I guess both our names have rings to them." You smirked as you downed the rest of your whiskey in one gulp. You motioned to John, who refilled your glass. You sighed again, reaching up and rubbing your eyes. "You have a bad night?" he asked, putting his beer bottle to his lips.

You placed the heels of your palms against your forehead and stayed like that, feeling your stomach turning from the alcohol.

"Don't get me started."