xoabrielle

[xoabrielle]

RUNNIN' WITH THE DEVIL [TEOTR 1]

arabella's fateful arrival in hawkins has her staying with her uncle after her mom couldn't take it anymore.

masterlist - next chapter - previous chapter - song link

cw: mention of death/loss, mention of fake ids, mentions of drug use

Hawkins, Indiana - June 1985

Hawkins hadn’t changed since Arabella was six. She doesn’t remember much, but she remembers the smell of farmland and the emptiness of the town in comparison to the bustling streets of Philly. She knew the small business owned by someone’s grandmother or father that was passed down through generations. It was the little things in Hawkins. Probably because that was all Hawkins had to offer. 

At the minimum, at least it was warmer here than in Philly. She was able to finally wear that pair of jean shorts with the black belt and that cream button-down, unbuttoned of course. The small white tank top she had underneath hid enough, even if her uncle Jim rolled his eyes at her outfit. “Do you own a different car? I think one police car ride was enough this week.” 

Arabella said, arms crossed as her uncle drove past the corn rows and into the small town. The Welcome to Hawkins sign could be seen but Arabella didn’t feel welcomed - she felt suffocated. Her mom didn’t waste any time in booking the closest flight possible, she had been dragged home in the cop car on Tuesday and she was on the flight to Indiana by Thursday. “Sorry, chickadee. You did it to yourself. At least you’re in the front this time around.” 

Hopper tries but the joke lands flat, her giving him the side eye as she looks back out the window. Uncle Jim lived on the outskirts of Hawkins, still in the town but his cabin was nestled to where the woods granted peace and quiet. “Figured you wouldn’t mind riding in the Blazer, considering it’s been a while since you rode with me,” Hop says again, Arabella shrugs her shoulders. Maybe under different circumstances, yeah. 

“If I wasn’t being forced against my will, maybe.” She sighs, stretching her arms out in front of her. The bracelet her dad had gifted her rattled on her arm as she stretched, pulling her arms back into the crossed position on her chest again. “It’s like she couldn’t wait to get me gone.”

She slumped against the leather seat as Hopper chuckled, pulling into the cabin’s driveway. The cabin stood on rusty legs but did its job, a few steps lining up to the porch. He patted his niece's leg before looking at her, cutting the engine, and taking the keys out of the ignition. “She just wants what's best for you, Bella. Can you blame her after what happened?”

“S’not my fault she decided to work the day shift!” Arabella defends, putting her hands up in defense. Hopper gives her a pointed look, getting out of the cop car as Arabella follows. She opens the backdoor and slings her backpack over her shoulder and grabs her suitcase, Hopper grabbing the larger one. 

“That’s not an excuse and you know it, kid.” He grunts, walking toward the stairs of the cabin. Arabella rolled her eyes and followed. She knew it wasn’t an excuse, but it had become routine for so long that it's what it honestly boiled down to. She realized that maybe coming home with a new tab on her tongue wasn’t the smartest, but the cop car had already given her state away before she could even make it up one step. “Look; your mother and I both agreed that whatever is going on,” Hopper gestured to where she stood, a disgusted look on her face, “ends now. Before you seriously end up hurt or worse, dead.” He pointed. She nodded at that comment, knowing better than to argue with him when it came to that. It seemed that loss was her uncle’s specialty at times. 

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be hard now.” She muttered one last time under her breath as Jim was too focused on unlocking the door. A push of the knee does it, both of them walking in as Hopper sets her suitcase down. “You have a singular chair in front of your TV?”

She asks, turning toward her uncle. The living room bleeds into the kitchen, most of hte furniture matching in a sort of weird too late for the sixties but earlier enough for the seventies type of way. The living room had a small TV, a recliner, and a loveseat that looked worn, but loved. He shrugs his shoulders as he lugs the suitcase into what she last knew as Sara’s room. “I’m a simple man.” He retorts, opening the door to reveal two beds instead of one. The room was small already, but the two beds and two dressers left no space to do really anything. The green wood paneling seems to be peeling in places, the one side of the wall is covered in pictures, posters, and notes as Hopper placed Arabella’s stuff on the bed with a red blanket. “You still like red, right?”

Hop asks, looking up at his niece. She nods, “Yeah, uh. Still like red.” Her face paled at the implication of sharing a room with her uncle. As if Hawkins wasn’t enough punishment. “Do you, uh,-” She started, turning to point to the bed with the colorful green, yellow, and pink crocheted blanket on. He clears his throat the, same horrid expression on his face. 

“No, no. Jesus.” He says, a hand pulling at his beard as he breathes, “That’s where your cousin sleeps.” 

Arabella looked at him with raised eyebrows, a puzzled expression written across the girl’s features. Cousin? Last Arabella was concerned, her cousin had died a long time ago from cancer. Besides, by the time Uncle Jim and her now estranged aunt Diane had moved away from the city after a messy divorce, Sara had been buried and Hopper lived alone. 

“Oh!” Hopper says, “No, uh, you're adopted cousin. Name’s El. Big sweetheart.” Is all he gives away as Arabella stands and nods, trying to make sense of the fact she was whisked away to Hawkins for some sort of behavior treatment, and on top of that is sharing a room with a random cousin she’s never heard of. She stands there and nods slowly, Hopper taking that as his cue to leave. “I’ll let you settle in then chickadee.”

She shoots him a thumbs up, slinging her backpack onto the bed as she heads to the doorway. He turns around before calling out her name again. “Mhm?” She responds, turning to face him as he smiles softly.

“Even if it is not-so-great circumstances..”, he starts, nodding to her, “I’m still glad you’re here.”

~~~

After a few minutes of haphazardly spewing her items around, Arabella was finally unpacked. She had shoved her clothes in the small dresser, her shoes under the bed and the pack of smokes she was sure her uncle would confiscate if he caught a whiff of under her mattress, the room was starting to feel a little more like her.

As much, as it could, she supposed. The room door opened and Arabella turned over her shoulder, figuring it was probably her uncle coming to bother her again. She was met with a girl with short brown hair and brown eyes looking at her with a smile. Arabella made a face, she didn’t mean to, but she tended to wear her facial expressions freely. The girl sits down on the bed next to the dresser, watching as Arabella packs the rest of her stuff away. “Hi.”

The girl, who Araella had presumed was El, speaks. “You are.. Arabella?”, her words are spaced out and everything seems to be formatted like a question. Arabella doesn’t think anything of it, just nodding her head. 

“Bella’s fine.” She mutters, turning around to sit on the floor. Her back was pressed against the dresser as she looked at El. “You’re El?” The two girls just stare at each other, not knowing really what to say next. Arballea decides to start the dreaded conversation. “How old are you?”

“I am fourteen.”, El says slowly, almost as if she doesn’t know her own birthday. Arabella draws her lips in a thin line and nods. “How old are you?”

“Depends on what state you’re in.” She chuckles to herself. El stares at her confused, not understanding the innuendo of having multiple IDs. Arabella waits for the girl to get it, but she doesn’t. “I’m eighteen. Have an early birthday.” 

She lets out. She did have an early birthday, considering she’d be graduating high school at nineteen. El smiles, growing up in the lab she never really had anyone to look up to, and she was hopeful Arabella could be something of her sister. Arabella seemed cool, really, really cool. “Are.. are you staying here?” 

El says, eager to learn more about Arabella. Arabella sits down on her bed across from El, looking at El as she sighs, leaning against the wall. “Seems like it, doesn’t it?”

El doesn’t pick up on Arabella’s melancholy tone, only the fact she would be staying here. The bright smile that shines on El’s face is an indicator enough. “We will have fun summer.”

Arabella wasn’t holding her breath. arabe

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #fanfic #billy hargrove smut

[xoabrielle]

STORMS [TEOTR 0]

it seems like arabella's luck never runs out - until it does.

masterlist - next chapter - song link

cw: mentioned alcohol use, drug use,

Philadelphia - 1985

Arabella knew her luck had run out. 

Realistically, it probably should have ran out long ago. But stumbling home to the townhouse her and her mother shared after getting dragged home in the back of a cop car? Yeah, her luck was definitely out.

Juliet Concord stood at the steps of the townhouse as her daughter swayed in the handcuffs that currently held her. Arms crossed and house robe on, the rollers in her hair that Arabella swore made her look like Grandma Concord. Juliet narrowed her eyes at her daughter who stood still locked in handcuffs. “Thank you, officer. Again, I’m so sorry.” 

Juliet assured the officer, who promptly unbuckled the handcuffs as Arabella laughed, winking at the officer. “Take me out to dinner first, wouldja?” A sharp look from her mother was received, Arabella rolling her eyes. “Oh relax, m’fine.” 

The slurring of Arabella’s words and the glossy look in her brown eyes assuredly said different. Juliet promptly grabbed her daughter’s before she fell up the seven steep steps that led into the townhouse. The hardwood floor that lined the house scuffed against Arabella’s black boots, the black sheer tights that adorned her body ripped in places they weren’t when she left - not that Juliet knew that. Arabella slumped against the couch as her mother scurried away, fetching a water bottle before returning. “I cannot believe you, Arabella! Galavanting with..with those people, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night with no remorse!”

Arabella truly was too far gone to have this conversation, not sure if it was the drugs or the vodka, but all she could do was muster a smile and a thumbs up. “Yada, yada, yada. M’fine! See?” 

The minute she stands she’s back on the couch with a slur of giggles. “M’kay, so maybe NOT fine but-”

Juliet scoffs as she paces back and forth, the plush carpet that lined the living room becoming disheveled. Her house robe was wrapped tightly as she crossed her arms. She looked back at Arabella’s wide eyes, her voice demanding as she grabbed her chin. “Tongue. Now.” 

Arabella scrunched her nose and tried to turn away but it was no use. Her mother was a certified nursing assistant, she knew the signs. She reluctantly opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue. A small, square sat on the tongue, some sort of rainbow depicted on it. Juliet wanted to scream, to cry, to shake her daughter to her senses. She grabbed the nearest trash can, “Spit it out, Arabella. Before I call the police and have them take you away. For good.”

Another eye roll as Arabella lazily spit out the new tab. The party had been busted and sadly Arabella was in the small circle in the back of the random house, and running wasn’t in the cards for her. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

Arabella, still in her own little world, snorted. “Then don’t.” She laughed at her own comment, bracing herself on the coffee table before she fell over. Juliet let something out that was a mix of a pained sigh and shocked noise. “M’tired, can I go to bed?” 

Juliet shrugs her shoulders. “Well by all means, if you so desire it!” She watched her daughter fall up the steps as tears pierced her eyes. How did it come to this point - and what the hell was Juliet going to do about it? She sat down on the couch, unsure if there was anything that could be done. She had tried an all girls school, week long rehab program, she had even tried signing her up for one of those inspirational talks. But it all seemed in one ear and out the other. 

The happy family photos stared back at her as she thought. The smiling little girl with two pigtails and the red ribbons had been replaced by an eighteen year old with no remorse for the world. Juliet’s eyes scan until she lands on the photo of her brother with a baby Arabella in his arms. An idea sparked, Juliet reaching for the phone and dialing a familiar number. 

“Hey Jimmy, it’s me. Question for you,” Her nails tap against the coffee table before she sighs, “How do you feel about Bella coming to visit?”

#billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove #fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #TEOTR #the end of the road

[xoabrielle]

Stranger Things | 2.09

And when those blue snowflakes start falling, that's when those blue memories start calling. You'll be doing all right, with your Christmas of white, But I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.

#the blue shirt does something to me #billy hargrove

[xoabrielle]

THE END OF THE ROAD

Life was a chess game and Arabella Concord was the game master, everything was a chess piece. A bat of her eyelashes, a pout of her lips and the charasma she exuded proved that. But Arabella would quickly learn that ‘check’ couldn’t get you far enough in this game. After her mom hits a wall with how to deal with her daughter, a family photo reminds her there may just be another option. Arabella is shipped off to her uncle’s for the summer, with the hopes of fixing the mess she had gotten herself wrapped up in.

It's a shame the only thing she ends up wrapped up in is Billy Hargrove sheets.

billy hargrove x female!oc. cw: smut, drug use, alcohol use, mentions of abuse and character death (non-canon compliant), unhealthy relationship dynamics, will add more as they appear.

marked as [TEOTR]

masterlist below the cut

prologue: storms

runnin' with the devil

don't stop

saturday night's all right (for fightin')

photograph

centerfold

gold dust woman

nothin' but a good time

just what i needed

epilogue: time after time

#billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy smut #stranger things #billy fic

[xoabrielle]

me 🤝 maping out a new WIP bc i love william hargrove.

#yay #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc

[xoabrielle]

logical b. hargrove x fem!reader

billy hargrove knows how to work his way into someone's heart, no matter how smart the person is.

cw: angst, hurt, cheating (sort of, reader and billy aren't in a relationship), mentions of smut. no use of y/n but use of the nickname princess

thank u miss rodrigo for the new album - my ideas are off the charts! thinking about doing a GUTS inspired series because miss olivia ATE with that album.

Master manipulator

God, you're so good at what you do

He was sex on legs, a walking Greek god. He knew just what to say, just what to do. How to get you to bat those pretty eyelashes and want all of his attention. He was just that good. 

The bell had just rang for the third period's end. English was never Billy's subject, it wasn’t something he got. How the hell was he supposed to understand what Shakespeare meant? 

You loved English. You lost yourself in books and spent lunch in the library. There was something so captivating about being trapped in another world, away from Hawkins, away from high school. And everyone knew you loved English - so when Billy needed a tutor, who else was he to turn to besides the pretty girl in his class who understood books like he did Friday nights. It was simple at first, he would wink at you in the hallway and give you those eyes. The ones that screamed he was a bad idea, right? 

He had stopped by your locker, wanting nothing more than to sweep you off your feet. So when Billy leaned against the locker and looked down at you with a smirk, you were a goner. “Heard you're the brains of English class. Mind teaching me your tricks, babe?”

Yeah, you were hooked.

And I fell for you like water

Falls from the February sky

But now the current's stronger

And I couldn't get out if I tried

By your third tutoring session, you had long forgotten about books and the symbolism behind Romeo and Juliet’s romance. You were more than happy to focus on Billy. How good he felt kissing you, how his thighs in those jeans rubbed that spot that itched so well when you moved. How his hands fit nice and snug in your hips. There was no denying it, Billy Hargrove had worked his charms so well that you just couldn’t resist him. “We gotta”, another kiss to your lips, “Gotta get back to the homework-.”

“Fuck the homework,” Billy murmured against your lips, too engrossed in the way you felt against his lips and how plush and soft your skin was. You were a vision, atop his lap as he just kissed you and kissed you. Books didn’t matter, you did. At least that’s how he made you feel.

A final peck to his lips and you were grabbing your book again, reading out loud the passage that he was trying to understand. Billy groaned - uninterested and unable to figure this shit out. He wanted to go back to feeling your lips on his, try his luck at something more. “C’mon princess, one more kiss?”

Princess. The nickname that had held an effect on you for the past few weeks. The way it came out of his mouth as he inhaled a cigarette after school, or now when you were alone in your room with the door closed, his hands on your hips as he tried to pull you flush against him once more. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but god he looked so perfect like this. There was a pause before you spoke, voice soft and collected, even if you did not feel that way on the inside. “Figure this out and I’ll let you do more than kiss me, Hargrove.”

Billy figured it out, and you fell harder and harder into his trap.

And now you got me thinking

Two plus two equals five

And I'm the love of your life

'Cause if rain don't pour and sun don't shine

Then changin' you is possible

Tutoring sessions turned into something more. 

Car rides to and from school, kisses outside of the bedroom. His hand was on your thigh when you would sit and read in his passenger seat. It was peaceful, it was unexpected - it was terrifying. Kisses when he got the answer right, him testing how well you could read when his fingers were deep inside you. Post bliss cuddles where he read aloud and you listened, long drives at night where he’d stop at some sketchy gas station to get those gummy worms you liked. How he’d steal the blue ones only, so you started setting them aside for him. 

It was the end of the day, Friday night plans in whispers among Hawkins High students. You gathered your books at your locker, waiting for Billy to come over and make a comment about how he thought he might need an extra session. 

Instead, you meet him at the Camaro, cigarette almost gone as he leans against the door. You smile when you see him, denim-clad and hair-perfected, baby blues that make your knees weak at every turn. “I was waiting for you at my locker.” 

“Talkin’ to Hagan.” His response was short, pointed. You nodded and got in the car anyway, knowing it was either this or the long walk home. His hand goes to your thigh like your usual, but it doesn’t feel..right. Maybe it was the English nerd in you, analyzing the situation that didn’t need to be. Or maybe it was the feeling deep down you were attached and he wasn’t.

“Are you coming over tonight?” You ask, glancing over as he drives toward your house. He shrugs his shoulders, the answer not a no but not a yeas. Has the novelty worn off? “I thought we could maybe watch a movie or-.”

“Going to that party tonight, princess. Can’t tonight.” You fixed your books in your lap, nodding. Your disappointment must have been written across your face because Billy was pulling into your driveway and looking at you. Tucking a strand of hair out of your face. “Don’t get so pouty, princess. I’ll stop over after, save some time just f’you.” 

He leaned in for a kiss, and you kissed him back. Maybe this was something real after all. Maybe that warm fuzzy feeling in your chest was okay after all. 

The sky is green, the grass is red

And you mean all those words you said

I'm sure that girl is really your friend

Our problems are all solvable

He never showed. 

You waited and waited, chapter after chapter. You even kept your window open, but he never showed. Saturday bleeds into Sunday, Sunday into Monday. To say you were surprised when the blue Camaro came rolling into your driveway was an understatement. You got in the car like you normally did, but Billy’s hand didn’t go to your thigh. It stayed on the steering wheel. ”I missed you on Friday.”

Billy shrugs “Got hung up at the party. No big deal.” 

The words cut sharp. No big deal. How was this not a big deal to him? “Well i waited for you, so I was disappointed is all.”

“God, princess. I said it’s not a big deal. Fuckin’ drop it.” You glance over at him, his jaw clenched and eyes stuck on the road ahead. You turn out to look out the window, thoughts confused and stomach anxious. 

Billy doesn’t look at you when you get to school. Simply rolling into the parking spot and making his way toward Tommy and Carol, leaving you to walk to your locker alone. You wanted to cry, to scream. But this was your doing. You believed him when he said he cared when you were a breath of fresh air. The novelty had worn off. 

The rumors spread fast, the latest gossip form the rager emitting like a forest fire across Hawkins High. Billy and Lacy, who had spent all night attached at the hip. Who had gone home together, who had been playing a cat and mouse game for weeks. Lacy, who he seemed to want more than ever before. Lacy Lacy Lacy.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, the idea of him with someone else after everything you had shared. Was this all you were, a stepping stone? A means to a good grade? A trial run for Lacy? It made your stomach churn, and your blood run cold. Your hands clammy. Surely it wasn’t true.

And then you see it - Billy with his hands in Lacy’s back pocket, her ribbon matching his shirt. That stupid grin and those stupid eyes that once lit up your world, now lightning up hers. If only you had used your head instead of your heart.

Your gaze meets, your eyes peering into his. He offers no explanation, no apologies. Just a world of crumbled walls and lies layed bare. You turn away, too hurt to comprehend anything. You take a seat in the back of Englsh class, a funny feeling in your stomach that there was no one to balme but yourself.

If only you had been logical.

logical, logical, love is never logical

logical, logical, love is never logical

logical, logical, love is never logical

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billyhargrove #angst #billy hargrove x yn