noise complaint
masterlist
pairing: hopper x reader
desc: hopper finding you drunk at a party, throwing you over his shoulder, driving you home and helping you sober up by holding your head up and holding the glass to your lips while you drink water and ramble about the ginormous crush you have on him is simply something so special to me
a/n: first hopper fic!! i do hope you enjoy. there’s hints of crybaby reader and an implied age gap. p.s. while searching for a gif for this fic i saw a fic description that had some similar elements to this one. i haven’t read the fic itself but i wanted to just apologise if my fic seems too similar! that was completely not my intention and i hope i don’t come across as offensive as i hadn’t known about the fic before writing this one.
A warm, happy buzz thrummed through your body as you smiled up at the ceiling blissfully. You had been drinking, the edges of the world becoming soft and blurry, a sweet warmth blooming in your chest. The music blaring through the speakers and the chatter of the party around you sent gentle vibrations through the plush couch you were lying on. Your smile grew wider. You felt good.
“Oh, shiiit!” You giggled, watching as a couple of party-goers raced past you, laughing at the way they tripped over themselves as they ran.
“Oh, shit.” Your voice lost all its tipsy amusement, becoming deadly serious as Hopper’s face appeared above yours.
There was no use in running now. He had caught you red-handed, a little drunk and spacing out on the couch at a house party that was probably a little too loud for the host’s neighbours’ liking. Still, you turned over, sliding off the couch in defeat, shielding yourself from his condescending expression. Maybe if you tried, you’d be able to roll under the couch and hide from him forever.
You heard him click his tongue above you in annoyance.
“What’re you doing here, kid?” His gravelly voice held a flat tone, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.
“I’d ask you the same question, but I assume you aren’t here to party-arty-arty.” You mumbled into the rug.
You rolled over onto your back, now looking up at him. Of all the house parties, in all of Hawkins, in all the world, he had to walk into the one you were at.
It was bad enough that the chief of police caught you less than sober, rolling around on the rug at a house party, but it was even worse that he lived right next door to you. You’d get the mail in shame for the rest of your life.
“I’m not here to party-arty-arty.” He grumbled, words sardonic as he rolled his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at his distaste for your phrase. “We got a noise complaint.”
“Bummer.” You mumbled. Your hand crept up to his heavy boot, tugging on one of his laces absent-mindedly. He scowled, pulling his foot away. You dissolved into giggles, abruptly stopping as you saw the glare he gave you. “Lighten up, Hop.”
“I’ll lighten up once you get the hell outta here.”
You smiled up at him sheepishly. “I… don’t have a ride home.”
He blinked at you incredulously before letting out a low groan, digging his palms into his tired eyes. “Shit.”
“That’s one for the swear jar!” You sang, holding out your hand as if expecting him to drop a dollar in it. He lightly smacked it away and you pouted defensively. “Government wage that bad, huh?”
He shushed you irritatedly, prompting you to let out another laugh. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if deep in thought.
He couldn’t just leave you there. You were his neighbour’s daughter, for God’s sake.
“You’re cute when you’re thinking.” You whispered.
He opened his eyes, ignoring your comment and the heat creeping up his neck.
He exhaled sharply, crouching down next to you as he slid his jacket off, wrapping it around your waist. Then, in one movement, he hauled you up onto his shoulder.
You exploded with laughter, your dizziness worsening as you hung upside down, thrown over his shoulder.
He paused, taking care to pull his jacket down over your butt as your skirt rode up. He locked his arm around your thighs and made his way out of the house, boots clomping on hardwood and then gravel as he approached his truck.
He took a second to breathe in the night air. His free hand snaked into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it nonchalantly, as if you weren’t slumped over his shoulder, ribcage shaking as you struggled to stifle your laughter.
You raised your arm behind you, toward his face, index and middle finger extended, asking for a drag. He pushed your arm away.
“Nice try.” He scoffed, opening the door and helping you into the passenger seat.
“Worth a shot!” You grinned. He shook his head, letting out a low chuckle.
He leaned over you, pulling your seatbelt over your chest and buckling you in with a satisfying “click”. His eyes flickered to your face as you smiled dreamily up at him.
He felt his lips turn up in response, unable to control himself.
“What’s got you smiling, huh?” He asked, curious.
“You look rather handsome tonight, Chief.” You whispered, your voice lilting, sing-songy in your inebriation. You tugged his hat off his head, twirling it between your fingers.
He looked at you, your shy gaze avoiding his as you clumsily handled his hat.
His heart thumped. He turned away, clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered expression.
“You look rather drunk.” He replied, giving your reddened cheeks a tap.
He rounded the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat, watching as you kicked your legs up on the dash with a loud thump, placing his hat over your face as you settled into your seat.
His eyes travelled over your leg propped up so close to him, bent upward onto the dash. He grabbed your knee and shoved it back down, and he could tell you were giving him that mischievous smile, even through the hat that obscured it. His lips quirked upward.
As he drove you back to your house, the bump and sway of the truck on the poorly paved roads lulled you to sleep. Slowly, the hat slid off your face as your temple dropped against the window. You held the hat in your arms, keeping it close to your lap as you dozed, the drinks you had earlier sending you to sleep quick enough.
He turned to look at you, taking a drag of his cigarette as the other hand gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the roads. He slowed down, attempting to steer past the potholes so you could sleep in peace. Still, your head would knock against the glass every once in a while, causing you to frown in your sleep. He chuckled, watching your sleepy pout lit up by the streetlights that flashed by overhead. It was cute.
He faltered for a moment, hesitating, before reaching over to hold your shoulders, trying to push you back onto your seat.
Gonna give herself a damn concussion.
Instead, you slumped toward him, your head, heavy with sleep, falling upon his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, glancing at you. You nuzzled into his side, lips parted gently.
He swallowed thickly, trying to stay as still as possible, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel though. Slowly, he relaxed, getting used to the weight of your body pressing into his shoulder.
Eventually, he pulled into his driveway. He hated having to wake you up, pausing to gaze at your peaceful, sleeping face before gently shaking you awake. He held back the urge to smile as you rubbed your bleary eyes, glancing around you as you realised where you were.
“Alright, run on home, now.” He said, nodding toward your door.
Your eyes widened, and you swivelled back toward your seat, yanking down the passenger side mirror.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You mumbled, panic tinging your voice.
You smoothed down your dishevelled hair inelegantly, pressing the backs of your hands to your still inflamed cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down.
You huffed hopelessly, setting your forehead against the dash, letting out a little whine of despair.
“Okay, cut the dramatics…” His heart softened as you let out another pitiful whine, but he pressed on. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door-”
“Hop, please don’t make me go home yet.” You pleaded with him, holding onto his arm. “I’m still buzzed, my parents are gonna be able to tell-”
He opened his mouth to refuse once more, but began to panic when he spotted the glimmer of tears welling up in your eyes, your lip wobbling.
“Hey, hey, don’t cr-”
You gave one last convincing sniffle.
He sighed, caving in. “Okay, okay-”
You gave him a toothy grin before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a grateful hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squealed.
“Alright, alright.” He sighed, patting your back awkwardly, feeling reluctant when it was time to break away from you. “Just until you sober up.”
He opened the door for you, letting you hold onto his shoulder for balance as you hopped down from his truck, making sure you were walking steady as he led you to his porch. You plopped down ungracefully, and he draped his jacket over your shoulders.
The wood of the porch was cold and uneven beneath your thighs as you sat on the ledge, fiddling with Hopper’s hat in your hands. He returned from inside with a glass of water, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he sat down next to you.
You looked at your feet as you sat in silence, the night breeze ghosting your face gently, crickets chirping in the distance. You heard the click of his lighter and turned to watch as Hopper’s face was illuminated by the fire as he lit another cigarette, his features bathed in the golden light.
You put on his hat, adjusting it so you wore it just like he did. He peered over and chuckled, flicking the brim.
“Cute.” He muttered, before clearing his throat and turning away, awkwardly drumming his fingers on his thighs.
“You think I’m cute?” You asked, looking up at him through your wide eyes.
A blush crept up his cheeks.
“Drink.” He said gruffly, holding out the glass to you.
You ignored his gesture. You felt your cheeks warm even further, the effects of the liquid courage you’d had earlier taking hold now, stronger than ever. Your lips became loose, and you could tell you were about to be a little too truthful and that you’d regret all the words that were about to leave your mouth. Still, you spoke.
“Because, I think you're cute.” You blurted out.
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before regaining his feigned unfazed expression.
“You’re drunk. Drink.” He spoke.
“Like, really cute.” You swayed toward him. “Like, really, really-”
His hand splayed on the back of your head as he held your head up towards him, holding the glass to your lips, making you pause and take a sip.
“Cute.” You finished.
“I think I like you.” He made you take another drink of the water, the smooth, refreshing liquid sliding down your throat, a little slipping down your chin as he held the glass to your mouth. He used his thumb to wick the droplets away. “Like, really like you.” Another drink. “Whenever I see you-” Another sip. “I get all these butterflies in my stomach and I-” Sip. “Just can’t describe it. Like, I-” Sip. “I think-” Sip. “I think I like everything about you.”
You went on like this for ages, Hopper holding the glass to your lips and interrupting you with sips of the water, as you rambled on and on about the huge crush on him that you’d been nursing for ages now, completely oblivious to the smug smile that was now gracing his face as he held you.
After a good while of pouring your heart out, you seemed to run out of steam, panting a little at the rapid speed you had been talking at.
“Feeling better?” He asked, you nodding in response. You were sobering up, but the burn in your cheeks still hadn’t subsided. You were blushing for an entirely different reason, now.
He nudged the small of your back, urging you to stand up.
“Walk in a straight line.” He called out, prompting you to laugh as you did what you were told.
“You gonna ask me to recite the alphabet backwards now?” You turned to him, smiling cheekily as he approached you.
He hummed, as if in deep contemplation. “I think that won’t be necessary.”
He threw his arm around you as he walked you to your door, pulling his jacket tighter around you.
You stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath of anticipation as you both stared at it.
“Hop?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll wave at me from your window if I end up getting grounded, right?”
“Of course, kid.”
