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jarviscockerssecrethusband · 3 days

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Something about Steve finding autistic Billy, who’s always had to mask for his own safety, having a sensory overload on the cold floor of the showers. The lights were too bright and the people were too loud and running water made his skin feel like it was going to crawl off.

And Harrington sees him. Doesn’t yell or even scowl in distaste. He just kind of looks. Like he’s thinking.

Rummages around in his pocket until he comes out with a small stuffed animal.

Her name’s Star he says. And could Billy take care of her. She always helped Steve through shit like that.

He smiles really genuinely and walks off, feet turned out like a duck.

And Billy feels his heart beat just that little bit faster.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #autistic steve harrington #autistic billy hargrove

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gh0sted-exe · 1 month

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they are gay. they are trans. they are autistic.

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thissortofsorcery · 8 months

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@intothedysphoria has inspired me to write about autistic!harringrove, and my own experiences with autism... Max, this is for you! I hope you like it!

tw for anxiety and sensory overwhelm, but it ends fluffy, I promise.

---

It started as a normal day, but it quickly derailed from there.

An asshole at work approached Billy from behind and clapped his hand around the nape of his neck, despite Billy having told him several times he didn’t like that.

Billy didn’t like being touched at all, by most people. And some people had no concept of personal space.

A horrible, painful shiver cut through his spine, icy cold and almost slimy, and Billy held back a shudder. He broke out in goosebumps, and only years and years of practice, of putting on the charm let him pull away from the dickhead graciously, laugh at whatever he said and keep himself together until he could hide away in a bathroom stall.

Billy presses his fingers to his closed eyes hard, seeing stars, and rubs the back of his neck vigorously, trying to replace that cold shiver with something else. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels so fucking frustrated.

Finding out you’re autistic in your twenties is an experience. A lot of things start making sense, and a lot of things you pushed down and convinced yourself weren’t a problem spring back up like a jack-in-the-box, a hundred times worse.

Like the touch thing. It’s not that Billy doesn’t like being touched. He just doesn’t like being touched by people he doesn’t know, and for no reason.

Like, his physical therapist, when she was helping him regain dexterity in his hands after Starcourt, that was fine.

Some dude in the office touching his neck, even casually, not so much.

Billy takes a deep breath, tries to remember the self-care workbook he and Steve filled out together a couple months ago. Tries to calm down.

Three ways I can distract myself when someone touches me, he’d written, glancing back up at Steve with a smile. Happy they were doing it together.

Loud music + puzzle

Hot drink

Yelling

Steve laughed and shook his head (“it’s very you”) when Billy wrote down the last one, but it really did help.

Billy gives himself a few more moments in the stall before he slinks out, heading to the sinks and splashing cold water on his face. The sensory shock helps a little, the cool, pleasant feeling helping balance the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

He checks if the break room is empty before he goes in, and it thankfully is. He doesn’t want to run into anyone. Doesn’t think he has it in him to mask right now.

Billy makes himself a mug full of scalding hot coffee and hurries back to his office, avoiding eye contact with anyone who throws out a hello. So what if they think he’s angry. Maybe he is pissed.

He manages to spend the rest of the day locked in his office, headphones on, and only comes out when it’s time to go home.

Of course, all he wants is to see Steve, wants his comforting presence, even if they’ve been dating only three months. When he walks through the door of Steve’s house, he sees Steve sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing his ugly vomit green socks with raccoons on them, that he’s had since he was 15 and won’t get rid of.

A wave of relief crashes through him, nearly leaving him dizzy. He breathes deep, catches the smell of his clean house, laundry, and Steve.

“Hey baby,” Steve calls, laying his head on the back of the couch to look at him, making his glasses just a little bit crooked. “Bad day?”

“Does my face look that terrible?” Billy grumbles, taking his shoes off at the entryway before he steps into the living room.

“Your headphones are around your neck,” Steve points to them, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

Oh. Billy forgot to put them away. He doesn’t need them in the car.

He sighs and throws himself down next to Steve, a careful, deliberate distance away.

“I’m just ‘whelmed,” Billy mumbles.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not anymore. Just whelmed,” He says, sighing again. His body sags, melting against the cushions. He doesn’t feel shivery anymore, but he feels tired, like he’s on the bad end of an all-nighter.

Steve puts his hand on the cushion between them, palm up, not touching Billy.

Billy takes a deep breath, watching Steve’s hand. He knows that hand intimately, knows it to be warm and soft and kind, knows how its skin feels against Billy’s, the friction making the shivers good instead of bad.

He puts a tentative fingertip on Steve’s pointer finger, and all Steve does is press back, smiling gently.

Billy slides his fingers in between Steve’s, laces them together, holds his hand palm to palm, and feels the touch of his skin like they’re buzzing together.

Billy knows he can change his mind, and all Steve’s gonna do is smile, sit on his side of the couch, and continue the conversation.

“How’s that book you were working on going?” Steve asks. He rubs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand once, and stops. When Billy squeezes his hand, he resumes the movement, sending pleasant tingles up Billy’s arm.

“Good. The writer was receptive to what I said. They sent me a couple reworked chapters today,” Billy says, moving closer to Steve, so their arms press together.

As the conversation goes on, Billy presses closer and closer, at his own pace, and Steve accepts it crumb by crumb.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, or how Steve is so patient with him. Steve loves physical contact. Billy does, too, but he’s so particular about it that sometimes he wonders if he’s even worth sticking around for.

Billy ends up lying on top of Steve, chest to chest, nose tucked into his throat, breathing in his warmth and his scent.

“Don’t touch my neck, okay?” He asks, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, easy as that. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Steve turns his head and kisses Billy’s head, right on the hairline, pulling a deep, content sigh from him.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Billy says, squeezing his ribs just a little tighter. “For doing this for me. Being patient.”

Steve looks down at him, frowning slightly.

“‘Course. You shouldn’t— You don’t have to thank me,” He says, earnest. “It’s not a chore, Billy. You’re not…” He licks his lips, trying to think. When he looks at Billy, it's like he's telling him a secret. “You make me happy. All of you.”

Billy’s smile is wide, stretching his full lips and showing his teeth, and Billy only drops it so he can kiss Steve.

They keep it chaste, an unhurried, soft press of lips, enjoying their intimacy and their closeness and their familiarity. Simple as it is, it's one of the best kisses he's had. Steve's the best person he's ever met.

When Steve touches him, he feels safe. Billy wants to keep him.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #billy x steve #sorcery writes #mine

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 months

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My Harringrove Relay Race Piece!

Word Count: ~700

Pure sfw romantic fluff 💕

@harringrove-relay-race

_________

Carol got a flat tire and can’t make it in time.

So here Billy and Steve are.

Sat on the floor, ice packs in hand like weapons, the two of them working as a tactical team to keep Heather's brain from overheating. That's not how it works, but Billy’s ocd brain heard that cold helps her feel better after seizures on a hard day, and sort of ran with it.

Their best friend is epileptic, full time under the care of their other best friend. The boys are no medical professionals like Carol, but they’re functioning off of enough practical knowledge to be trusted to keep her safe.

Heather, however, doesn’t like feeling crowded.

Now that she’s responsive and relaxed again, propped up on some pillows, she complains, “Really, I don’t need babysat, you guys.”

Steve instantly backs off. He understands the feeling of overstimulation, comparing in his head the feeling of having a crowd around after a meltdown, blurry forms of faces getting too close.

Billy would. But his instincts are screaming at him to hold it in place. Keep her cool, or something bad will happen. Something he doesn’t even wanna think about.

He swallows his nervousness thickly, “We’ll stay ‘til Carol gets here to help you out.”

“You’ve said that a million times, bub.” Heather smiles softly, understanding, at the same time really trying to get Billy to understand she’s okay.

That makes him sort of sheepish. Embarrassed by the part of himself he always wished he could control. He forces a little smile too, “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Of course not, sugar lump. But Steve looks like he’s going to faint. And you look tired.” She gently pushes on his cheek to make him look at Steve, and yeah, he does look worn the hell out. Damn it. He’s spent too much energy caring for everyone else again. Billy would be drowning in guilt, if not for Heather’s reassurances, “I don't feel seizure-y anymore. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Caught between two sides of his own thinking, Billy starts to chew the inside of his cheek. Not even noticing he’s doing it.

Until Steve interrupts, quiet to show he isn’t mad, just observing, “Bad stim.”

He always carries at least two chew necklaces for that reason. Usually his favorite cloth one, and a rubber one for Billy. The chewies hurt his own teeth, but he wears it anyways, just in case his Billy needs it.

It’s romantic really.

And it is as well when Steve loops it off of his own neck, and places it over Billy’s, giving him an easy fix to the harmful chewing.

Appreciative, Billy kisses the palm of Steve’s hand as he puts it on him,

Watching the moment, Heather snorts a little laugh at them. “You two are so lovey-dovey. It’s disgusting.”

Billy rolls his eyes back, “Aw, you’re just saying that.”

In the short stretch of silence that follows, Steve decides to scoot a little closer and lay his head on Billy’s shoulder. At first, he thinks he might just want some affection, but the action suddenly reminds Billy of something.

“Do you wanna tell her?” He asks Steve, trying to be quiet about it.

She hears anyway. Propping herself up, Heather wiggles her brows, “Ooh, tell me what?”

“Promise not to have another seizure?”

“You know that’s not the way it works.”

“I don’t know… this is pretty big.” Alright, so maybe he’s nervous and stalling for time. So what?

Heather’s voice gets squeaky in frustration, “Just tell me, William!”

The anticipation is too much. Steve declares it himself, tapping his hands excitedly, “We’re getting married!!”

Grocery bags and car keys are dropped to the floor behind them. Carol’s home, and she has Tommy with her.

Billy and Steve will be the first of their friends to get married. It might help that they don’t have college or kids or budding careers in the way, but Billy’s proud of the achievement anyways.

Tommy flashes a signature cheeseburger smile and gives a thumbs up behind Carol, who herself shrieks, “What?! Tell. Me. Everything!!”

Everything including Billy dropping the ring under the couch and losing it, or Steve crying so hard he got the hiccups, and couldn’t eat the cookies Billy baked to celebrate?

He won’t say no, but they’re going to be here for a while.

________

Hope y’all liked this little snippet! And if you enjoyed this, I bet you’re all gonna love what our next poster has in store! So excited and thrilled to announce the very talented, very inspired- @nymphwriter!

#harringroverelayrace #harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #heather holloway #carol perkins #tommy hagan #my writing #ocd billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #autistic steve harrington #epileptic heather holloway

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imsodishy · 1 year

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Now a series on AO3

Billy has a tone problem.

Dad says it all the time, "Watch your tone, young man," and sure sometimes Dad is full of shit, but it’s not just him. It’s lots of people. All the time.

It's, "Why are you so mad about it?" when he’s just shooting the shit.

A sarcastic, "Well don't sound so excited," when actually he was kind of looking forward to the movie.

"I've had about enough of this attitude, Mr. Hargrove," from teachers when he was just answering the goddamn question.

And over, and over, "You don't need to bite my head off!" when he was just... he was just fucking speaking. It's just how he sounds sometimes. When he's tired mostly. Goes real good with his face that wasn't scowling actually, he was just spaced out.

So he practices. In private, in the shower, in mirrors, he rehearses. Line readings again and again, 'til he finds the right way to deliver it. Fleshes out the character. Hits the right note. Says nothing when he doesn't have something prepared. He can pull off the strong, silent type, that's better than saying it wrong. Builds himself a nice little bit of leeway by leaning in to the asshole persona, makes the slips ups less noticeable.

He gets better at it over the years, but it never gets easy. He thought it might. He thought maybe everyone had to learn how to be a person like this and then once he had it down it would be as easy for him as it was for them. No luck though. It stays hard.

And fucking exhausting.

And it's harder when he's tired, so it's a vicious circle.

If he spends all his energy at school, then he's got nothing stored up for home, and he'll piss Dad off. But if he keeps up the act at home, he can't manage it at school, and then he's in trouble, and when Dad hears about it... yeah, another one of those circles.

Either way, he's really got nothing by the time he’s alone in his room. Just blank. Staring at the ceiling. Music loud enough to rattle his skeleton. Shake him loose. Maybe loud enough to fill him back up so he can start again tomorrow.

part 2

#dishy writes #this came outta nowhere. guess ive been thinking about masking lately.#ive been trying to mask less so...#billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #flat affect gang represent!#act like it fic

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strangerqueerthings · 1 year

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Just thinking about autistic Billy and ADHD Eddie, and how they complete each other.

Billy struggles with his temper, and the expectations he can't meet. He's got Chronic Masking Fatigue from trying to be normal, to keep Neil from harping on him, but putting on a mask requires a large amount of energy to maintain, like holding in your gut all day.

Billy's been masking for SO LONG, that he forgets how to be HIMSELF and it creates a feedback loop of "Want to be myself but can't; tired of being 'normal,' but can't stop faking it" resulting in his temper exploding in his own form of meltdowns.

He doesn't WANT to talk because the things he likes to talk about "won't make him money" or "land him a respectable job." He doesn't WANT to make eye contact, but everyone demands it, because a lack of eye contact means you're untrustworthy, means you have something to hide, or worse- that you're spineless, a coward.

So he does it more intensely, more directly than is normal in an attempt to make people break eye contact with him. (See: his staredown with Steve at the Byer's house, and how Steve looked away after a few moments of Billy's Cold Shark Gaze)

Meanwhile, Eddie is a chatterbox, full of energy, always told to stop stimming, sit still, pay attention. Teachers hate him, folks who don't know him think he's weird, even a bit off in the head, but he has Gareth and Jeff, who are weird like him, and they don't care, so what does it matter?

Wayne doesn't stomp it out of him, because he loves his nephew, and it's not doing any harm. Sure Eddie is an oddball, sure he's struggling in class, but he's happy, he has friends, and that's what matters.

When he finally is alone with Billy? Billy is quiet, and is HAPPY to just sit and listen to Eddie talk, to chill with him and doesn't tell him he's being weird. He has his own stims that Eddie notices- he plays with the ring he always wears, or constantly flips the lid on his Zippo.

He listens, and he's interested, and Eddie doesn't demand eye contact, doesn't demand verbal reactions from him, but when Billy DOES say something, Eddie listens intently, and makes Billy feel HEARD.

When Billy feels SAFE enough around Eddie to get high and FINALLY let the mask drop and Eddie's DELIGHTED because Billy comes ALIVE and talks nonstop about his special interests- cars, the ocean, traveling, and music- and they just BOND over their shared interests and neurodivergence that everyone else tries to stomp out of them.

#Mungrove #Eddie Munson #Billy Hargrove #Autistic Billy Hargrove #I'm auDHD and Autistic Billy/ADHD Eddie mean a LOT to me

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iamxuechengmei · 9 months

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"you're not like other girls" the politically correct term is Autism Spectrum Disorder

#autism #actually autistic #autistic problems #autistic steve harrington #autistic lan wangji #autistic lan zhan #autistic billy hargrove #autistic characters #autistic things #writing autistic characters #autistic adult #autistic girls #austrian spectrum disorder #autism spectrum disorder

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texancommie07 · 3 months

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I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday I'm In Love

Heavy Metal Valentines Day Five: First Date

July 1st, 1985

To Say Eddie Was About To Implode From Excitement Would Be An Understatement. It Was Finally Happening, Billy And Them Were Finally Have A Date. A Real One.

Not Just A Quick Chat And Peck In The Woods After A Deal, Not Just Glances In The Hallways Of Doom, Not Just A Nod As They Went Into Their Respective Vehicles To Head To School. A Real, Bonafide, Genuine Date.

They Were Practically Bursting At The Seams. They Had Already Had A Good Solid Thirty Minute Screaming Into Their Pillow Session, And Moshing Around Their Room For A Good Hour In An Attempt To Release Some Of Their Pent Up Energy. It.... Hasn't Really Worked, But That's Fine! It's Just Means They'll Be Super In The Moment During The Date Portion.

They Really Hoped They Didn't Overwhelm Billy, They Were Still Figuring Out New Things That Overwhelmed Them Due To Their Early-Onset Psychosis (Read: Autism), And They Saw A Lot Of Similarities Between Billy And Them. So They Went Over The Plan Another Few Times In Their Head To Make Sure That They Remembered How The Day Was Supposed To Go Down, So As Not To Cause A Sudden Schedule Shift And Upset The Both Of Them.

Eddie Ran Over Their List Of Store Bought Items, Mostly Patches, And One Kill 'Em All T-Shirt(Donated By Rick, Bless Him), And Some Snacks For The Both Of Them. They Checked Over The Snacks Again, Red Hot Cinnamon Candies And A Dr. Pepper For Billy, And A Bag Of Rolos With A Vanilla Ramune For Them.

They Glanced In The Mirror, Checking Out Their Outfit For What Had To Be The Hundredth Time Since They Put It On. They Were Wearing Their Queen Shirt-Turned Tank Top And Their Only Pair Of Holeless Jeans. It Was A Fine Outfit, But That Wasn't The Part Eddie Was Worried About. Their Chest Was Out.

They Had Grown Interested In 1920s Fashion Thanks To Their Auntie Lisa, And In Doing That, They Stumbled Upon Some Chest Flattening Corset Patterns From That Era. They Were Originally Made To Flatten The Chests Of The Flappers Who Wore Them, But With The Start Of Puberty Hitting Eddie Like A Freight Train In All The Worst Ways, They Had Different Reasons For Using Them.

Billy Had Wanted This To Be A Casual Thing, Since They Weren't Going Anywhere. Billy Knew About, It Wasn't Like They Didn't Tell Him Or Anything(Plus It Really Wouldn't Have Matter Since Billy Was From California And Had A Merry Band Of Transvestites As His Closest Companions Over There, And As A Result He Clocked Them Almost Immediately), But Billy Hadn't Ever Seen Eddie Without Their Binder On. And It Wasn't Like Eddie Thought Billy Would Be Cruel Or Anything, But The Little Voice In The Back Of Their Head Was Always More Persistent When They Had Tits.

Shaking Off The Minor Existential Dread From Their Bones, They Took A Deep Breath And Put On Their "Boys Don't Cry" Vinyl (Another Gift From Their Auntie Lisa) And Did Some Final Clean Up Around The Trailer While They Waited For Billy To Get Off Work.

--------------------------------------------------

Eddie Has No Idea What They Were Worried About. The Date Was Going Great, They Had Danced A Bit, They Watched TV, They Even Ordered Pizza!(Wayne Knew It Was A Special Occasion And Even Gave Eddie Enough Money To Get Garlic Knots!)

Billy Had Brought Over Some Patches Of His Own Choosing, And Told Eddie Where He Wanted Them On His Vest. They Had Cut Out The Kill 'Em All Shirt To Make A Back Patch And Were Currently Seeing It On. Billy Had Seemed A Little Standoffish And Strange At The Start Of The Date, Almost Secretive And Defensive, But Billy Tended To Be Like That In General, And Eddie Had Brushed It Of As Nerves, As After A While Billy Opened Up More And More.

They Currently Had Him Rambling On About Metallic Trivia That They Already Knew, But They Didn't Dare Tell Billy That. This Was The Happiest They Had Seen Him Since He Got Here, And They Knew How Nice It Felt To Have Someone Who Would Just Listen. Eddie Swore If You Looked Too Hard, You Would See Hearts In Their Eyes With They Way They Were Looking At Billy. They Would Probably Stab Their Hands A Few More Times Than Ideal, But It Didn't Matter, They Were Absolutely Smitten, And They Were Having A Great Time Working On Billy's Battle Vest.

They Hoped They Got To Finish It With Him.

Sketch

#billy deserved better #mungrove #my art i guess #billy antis dni #eddie deserves better #gay billy hargrove #heavymetalvalentines #gay eddie munson #trans eddie munson #autistic eddie munson #autistic billy hargrove #cw outdated medical terminology for autism #btw i have a kinda crack au where eddie and Larry from Sally Face are cousins #so that's who their auntie Lisa is

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willywormsworld · 2 years

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some of my autistic Billy HCs. also his mustache is ugly and I didn't feel like drawing it LMAO.

also one of them is like modern au but you can excuse that for now lol. just ignore it lol. that one was major protecting. (also Neil is a bitch and hates when billy uses his AAC app cus he finds the voice annoying, it takes time to answer, and billy isn't a baby who can't speak, in his words)

also I'd like to think that part if the reason why billy is so hostile is because hes always misunderstood people and either gets upset from the misunderstanding, or has anger as his default so he doesn't get hurt.

and yes him being half nekked all the time is apart of this too, cus sometimes wearing shirts (or even clothes) is just yuck! but he can't go running around naked so he's only a quarter nudist.

he also loved cali cus he got to run around on the beach barefoot cus he hates wearing shoes for long periods of time and Hawkins is too cold for him to even go without socks. in short he hates clothes, he would be a nudist if he could. he definitely was one of those babies who were naked 24/7.

#autistic billy hargrove #billy hargrove #antis dni #autistic! billy #im projecting on him so hard lmao

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harringroveera · 5 months

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Billy’s just helping his boyfriend out with the diagnosis

#harringrove #Autistic & ADHD boyfriends #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringroveera #incorrect harringrove quotes #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #harringrove meme #harringrove textpost #harringrove memes #harringrove edit #harringrove + text posts #steve x billy #steve harrington meme #incorrect steve harrington #billy hargrove meme #billy hargrove text post

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hargrove-mayfields · 9 months

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Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 3- special interests

My prompt: Harringrove- Shared Special Interest

-•-•-•-

One month. Billy and Steve have been living together for one month.

In that time they’ve discovered a lot about each other, things they never expected. Things like Steve hanging his jackets and sweaters in rainbow order in the closet, or Billy placing the cups in diagonal lines in the cabinet.

Only one thing had caused a disagreement, and that was about furniture covers. Billy’s ocd wanted them to avoid touching “sofa stank ass,” but Steve’s autism hated the texture of sitting on fabric on top of fabric.

Their solution was two separate chairs instead of one couch. Close enough to hold hands constantly, but separate enough to enforce their individual boundaries. Sure, it means cuddles are limited to their bed, but Billy’s on bedrest with full body aches and bouts of fibro fog usually once a week, so it works.

However, by far the most exciting tidbit they’d discovered was that they share a special interest. Games.

Video games, board games, sports- they’ve both explored the history, researched the best strategies, and played thousands upon thousands of games. DND had brought them together through mutual friendship with Eddie, while Super Mario kept their relationship on its toes.

Tonight, their choice was a little unconventional for them, a big dusty box fished from the very back of the closet. An inherited, smoke stained edition of Scrabble. If either of them and their dyslexia had realized that making a goal to play every game in the house would mean playing a spelling game, they might not have made that promise.

But, Steve already was dead set on doing it, and his dedication was not to be messed with. They were going to play that game, no matter how long it took.

Currently almost two hours and half a bag of letter chips in, it’s Steve’s turn again.

“Uhhh, I’ll spell… sunset! S-U-N.. S-E-T.”

Every chip is placed carefully, and they both double check it with the help of their Scrabble approved dictionary. At first, he’d placed them in the wrong spot, connected to a D instead of the S on the end that he meant to use, but they fixed it quickly instead of dwelling on the mistake. Billy knows Steve might cry of embarrassment if they keep the focus on his mistake for too long.

But now it’s time for Billy to have yet another go, as Steve reminds him in case he forgot again, “Your turn, Bubs! Got anything good?”

“Honestly? I have no ideas. These letters suck.” Billy grumbles, pushing the small tray that holds the letter chips away.

“You can look it up.” Steve suggests, the only way they ever agreed to go along with this game being shortcuts and technical cheats.

But Billy shakes his head, in deep concentration, “No. No, I wanna do it on my own.”

Steve gives an encouraging smile, “Take your time. I’m watching the TV over your shoulder.”

Something about the way Billy snorts says he doesn’t see that as encouragement, but instead sounds hurt, “I’m that boring, huh?”

Regretting the way he’d put it so bluntly, Steve makes sure to promise kindly, “Nope! I just like the game shows!”

It’s true too. He likes learning new words in a way that doesn’t make his brain feel like it’s on fire. And watching other people fail and struggle, even the best of the best, makes him feel a lot better about playing mostly two or three lettered words in this here game of Scrabble.

Billy’s shoulders relax with ease, satisfied that Steve isn’t annoyed with him. He does, however, quip sarcastically, “We’re so old.”

“Thirty isn’t old.” Steve hums, actually happy to be growing older instead of being trapped in the misery of his teens forever.

Growing up meant growing out of his intense self-deprecation, after leaving behind all the pain and the tragedy he’d gone through. Now in California, playing board games with the love of his life, nothing else matters.

Billy clarifies his meaning, showing to Steve that he feels the same way, and was just using an expression, “I’m not talking about literally, baby. And stop rounding up, I’m only 26.”

It’s lighthearted and they both smile, but something keeps nagging in Steve’s head. One of those old fears of his rising up despite his insistence that they don’t bother him anymore.

“We can do young people stuff.” He offers, sounding kind of upset though he doesn’t mean to let it show, “I mean, I just thought this was fun...”

Even though they’ve got a game set up, Billy leans over the small table on his elbows, and holds Steve’s hands, “Stevie. It’s great. I love these slow days with you. They make me happier than anything. I was just kidding.”

Instant relief floods Steve’s nervously twisted stomach, but just in case he asks, “You’re sure? ‘Cause we can do something else.”

It’s his fault they’re doing this. He said it would be okay. Fun even. He said they can do anything they want.

“I want to keep playing.” Billy promises, and then a real pleased look crosses his face, “I just thought of a word even.”

“What is it?” Steve brightens up immediately, leaning forward in interest.

Billy uses an ‘O’ chip already on the board to spell- “Love.”

Picking up from the look on Billy’s face, it’s not a coincidence that he’s taken to flirting through a board game. Steve blushes like they haven’t already been together for eight years. These slow times between them can be relaxing, but they’re usually days where they check in on their romance too. Rekindling the passion over a goddamn spelling game, that should, by all means, have caused Steve to panic ages ago.

It’s sweet, and it only gets better.

An adjacent ‘S’ in line with Billy’s ‘O’ and an ‘M’ further down the board makes it so Steve can spell the biggest word he’s ever played in this game, “Oh! I can use that to spell Soulmate!!”

“You got that right. I’m yours, and you’re mine.” Billy says all suavely. Steve’s literally giggling and kicking his feet, only to be shown once again through the next move just how much of a romantic Billy is.

“Matter of fact, I can use that new M to spell- Marry.”

For a moment, Steve just stares.

He’s not sure if it’s genuine or just a strategy, until Billy produces a tiny box from his pocket. It’s wooden, looks hand carved. Inside is a ring with a small ruby in a heart shape attached to a band, one he recognizes as being Billy’s mothers.

“Billy-“ He chokes. The words he’d been doing so good at freeze up. He’s used his brain so much today and now it’s failing him?

Billy is patient though, leaving the box propped open on the table so he doesn’t have to hold it and lock his wrist up, “Stevie.”

Steve swallows down his nerves as best he can, and starts to ask, “Are you..?”

“I am.” Billy finishes for him, so Steve doesn’t get too frustrated. It’s then that he starts to look nervous too. He chews his lip, a stim Steve recognizes as being an anxious one. Like he’s done something wrong by asking for something so big, “Do you want to?”

But this, this couldn’t be more perfect. A proposal through their shared special interest, a lifelong passion channeled into their love. Of course Steve wants that too. Really, he’s wanted it ever since they were teenagers, but now that they’re in their twenties, they’re finally ready for that dream to become a reality.

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

~~~~~~

For todays disability organization spotlight, let’s talk about the National Fibromyalgia Association.

The NFA is a site which provides health information and resources about Fibromyalgia, a condition that is under researched and often disregarded by medical professionals as not even existing.

The information on their site ranges from self care guides, science explaining chronic pain, COVID precautions for our disorder, medication and treatment suggestions, and emotional assistance for fibromyalgia patients, among other things.

Run by doctors and fibromyalgia patients alike, the websites main goal is to spread awareness and make research accessible for everyone. When I finally received my diagnosis, I spent a lot of time here learning about little things I could do for myself to manage my symptoms. Now I use mobility aids and am in physical therapy, and my symptoms are much more managed than before.

Because fibromyalgia is such a disregarded disability, so are our foundations. The NFA is currently asking for donations, either direct monetary donations or through buying their merchandise in the online shop.

If you would like to learn more about this organization or access their information guides, you can click here to visit the site.

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #autistic billy hargrove #autistic steve harrington #dyslexic billy hargrove #dyslexic steve harrington #billy Hargrove has fibromyalgia #my writing #ej writer

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imsodishy · 1 year

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(prev) Part 3 (next)

The night Billy tracks Max to some weird fucking house in the woods isn’t so much a pressure release valve as it is a catastrophic failure of all systems.

It just builds all night. First his dad, with Susan fucking watching. Then he’s sent out into the night, starts at the Sinclair’s, because obviously. Smile politely, blink now, sound concerned, blink again, say thank you when they send him off to the Wheelers. Do it again, less polite, more flirtatious, match her energy, don’t chew through your own tongue and spit blood in her face. Go to the Byers.

And then Steve Harrington is there.

Billy’s desperate for that empty swell of nothing he gets sometimes. Grasping for it with his fingernails as Harrington lies right to his fucking face and Billy’s blood boils.

As Max refuses to just do what she’s supposed to for once, he can hear the high pitched whistle in his brain.

When Harrington tells him to get out, flat and even, like he’s right and Billy’s wrong for even being here, Billy blows a fucking gasket. He blows all his gaskets. He can’t even see for all the steam that explodes outta him.

Then Max sticks him with a needle and there really is nothing for a good long while.

He's still kind of woozy when the Chief of police delivers them home. Susan ushers Max inside, Neil shakes the cop’s hand, a hearty, “Thank you, officer.”

Billy’s head feels stuffed with wool, he can’t hear himself as he yessirs and no sirs, the pair of them under the porch light. Can’t tell how he sounds, but he’s guessing not great judging by the pissed off slant of both their mustaches.

Whatever Max shot him up with keeps the rest of the night foggy. Silver linings.

He wakes up hurting. That big blank nothing inside him has finally showed up, a day late and a dollar short to keep him from making a mess, but better late than never he supposes.

He and Max are both grounded, but that means different things of course.

When Dad prompts him after the law is laid down Billy parrots, “Understood,” absolutely flat. He’s lucky Dad chooses to read it as contrite instead of flippant.

In the car Max keeps looking at him like she’s expecting something outta him, but he’s not sure what. She laid down the law too. It’s hazy but he knows damn well he conceded.

The Hawkins High rabble see Billy’s fucked up face and Harrington’s even more fucked up face and successfully put two and two together to make four. They needle and imply and outright ask in chorus, baby birds demanding to be fed. They want a story, any story will do, but Billy for once hasn’t actually bothered to come prepared. Even if he had he's got nothing in the tank to sell it.

It seems to take forever for them to notice that Billy’s not playing along. In the face of Billy’s, well, face, and his stony silence they pipe down, or slink away to make up their own stories without his input. The whispers are quick to turn mean. He and Steve both getting torn to shreds by the gears of the rumour mill.

He can’t bring himself to care.

It doesn’t take long before he can feel the scales of popularity tip out of his favor. Just a few too many days of being a bit too unpleasant and, just like that, the shine is off their California toy. They’ve spotted the defect. He didn’t even last a month.

The bruises fade, but the numbness persists.

At home Dad has gone from livid, to mad, to irritated, but Billy can sense they've hit the nadir and they’re already starting the climb back up the roller-coaster. Billy speaks when spoken to and Dad's fine with that up to a point, but this morning at breakfast he pointed at Billy with his fork and warned, “You had better be about done with this sulking, son.”

He hasn’t spoken to Max in three weeks. She’s gone from smug, to suspicious, to peeved. She stopped speaking to him in retaliation, but she only lasted three days. Now she huffs and puffs and tries to goad him into breaking too.

They’re both miserable in the chill as the days get colder. Even with the heaters going in the Camaro they keep they’re chins tucked into their collars. It’s not the most conducive environment for conversation anyway.

Climbing out of the passenger seat at the arcade Max leans back in to say, “Pick me up at six.”

They’re supposed to be home by six. Billy nods.

Max climbs back in and slams the door shut. “Seriously?” she demands, her eyes are wild and expectant.

It’s not him breaking, Billy just finally has something he can say to her, which, ironically is, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about, five thirty, shitbird, don’t be late!” she grumbles in a fairly insulting (though passable) imitation of his voice.

“And then?”

That pulls her up short, “What?”

“And then what would you say?”

She gapes at him for a minute before saying, “Kiss my ass,” and then she climbs back out of the car. Unclear if that’s what she’d say then or if it’s what she’s saying now. Both probably.

#dishy writes #these story chunks seem to be working for me right now *shrug*#billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #billy and max #neil hargrove #act like it fic

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emsgoodthinkin · 5 months

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Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Rafe Cameron

⤬ reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ⤬

Multi-Fandom imagines / videos 💭 📺

Eddie watching his gf stim

Eddie said sit on it

Obx daddy issues

I watch Scream for the plot

Subby lil Eddie

Joe🤝Joe

Eddie and Steve? Nah, Ghost and Konig

Eddie in a ski mask

Cute stupid head Ed

I can take them both (not in a fight)

Steve’s predator stare

If Billy was in Queen of the Damned

We all wanna sit on Keerys lap

Daddy Steve vibes

Head? Head.

Hybrid puppy Ralph vibes

Joes an ass man

Billy loves Steve’s eye contact

Joe calls Dacre mommy

Cocky Keery

Let Quinn take you to a bad place too

Arthur can’t take the pressure

Arthur deserves a good ride

Sweaty Ed

Joseph’s BBC

Eddie and corrupted princess vibes

Eddie soundgasm

Rockstar Eddie’s f*ck song

Looks can be deceiving Mr. Keery

Oh yes Rio

Steve Harrington? No, Steve Gallagher

Dacres fine like wine

Twitter links

Put a knife in me Rory

Rafe can handle it

Mommy Nancy

Damon’s words get you wet

Big boy Hopper

Big boy Billy

Riding Steve’s thick limbs

Eddie whoppin yo ass

Eddie say please?

Steddie voices

Do it in the shower Billy

Spencer is a womanizer

Dacre can’t stop lookin at you

Eddie’s warning stare

You crawling to Eddie

Eddie being too calm during punishment

Steve grabbing Eddie’s ass

Eddie’s jeans..

Which Joe can you see

I need Billy and Eddie to wreck me

Joe reacting to a dirty text

Eddie loses V-card

Your beautiful goofball Ed

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iamxuechengmei · 9 months

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I don't care that Eddie died, I didn't care about him at all, why the stranger things fandom worships his sorry ass is beyond me. And why do so many people think he's autistic and trans. He's a shrimp and can't fit all those identities in such a tiny useless body. Fuck Eddie with a forklift for all I care

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texancommie07 · 3 months

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Mamma mia, here I go again

My, my, how can I resist you?

Mamma mia, does it show again

My, my, just how much I've missed you?

Heavy Metal Valentines Day Two: Chocolates

February 10th, 1985

So...Munson, Huh?

Billy Regretted Every Action That Lead Him Up To This Moment. He Was Walking Out Of The Local K-Mart With A Bag Full Of Graham Crackers, Marshmallows, And Some Marlboro Reds. Oh, And Two Boxes Of Valentines Day Chocolates (They Were Even Heart Shaped, How Obnoxious Can You Get?).

And Now He Was Dealing With The Consequences Of His Inability To Adult, Because Now He Has To Deal With Heather's Childish Pestering.

He Didn't Want To Bring Her, He Didn't Want To Bring Anyone. This Wasn't Supposed To Be Something That People Knew About. He And Eddie Had Been Together For A Little Under Two Months Now, And They Have Been Careful. No Holding Hands Or Hugging In Public, Hell They Didn't Their Best To Avoid Interacting Outside Of The Safety Of Their Trailer.

And So, Billy Just Had To Be A Sappy Piece Of Shit, And Try And Get Them Some Chocolates For Valentines Day. He Had Seen Some Variety Pack On Sale, And They Preferred Dark Chocolate, So It All Works Out Right? Go In, Grab The Chocolate, Pay, Get Out, Easy As That Right? No, Nothing Good In Billy's Life Was That Easy.

For Some Reason Ever Since Billy Was Young, There Were Just Areas And Times Were He Just, Shut Down? It Got The Worst In Small, Confined Stores, People Too Close, The Lights And Freezers Are Buzzing, Too Many Smells, The Lights Hurt His Head, All Of The Above, And When It Got Like That, Billy, Just, Couldn't Person Anymore.

So, His Solution? Bring What Might Be The Only Person More Annoying Than Max Himself, Heather.

He Had A Reason, Heather Was The Only Other Person Who Knew About Him And Eddie. Plus, It's Not Like She Was Useless, She Helped Come Up With The Idea To Buy S'more Ingredients, So That Incase Anyone Asked, He Could Just Use The Excuse That He Wanted S'mores And The Only Chocolate They Had Was Holiday Themed.

But Even With Her Benefits, He Really Didn't Want To Deal With Her Shit Attempts At Small Talk.

"Shut It, You Made Me Buy You An Extra Box So You Could Shove It Into Cunningham's Locker And Watch From Afar Like The Lesbian Disaster You Are."

He Could Hear Her Clothes Rustling As She Whipped Around To Scream His Ear Off In A Sad Attempt To Defend Herself From His Brutal Honesty.

He Cut Her Off Mid Ramble, Both Trying To Save Face (It Seems Like She Forgot She Shouldn't Be Screaming About Lesbians In The Middle Of A Parking Lot), And Trying To Save His Hearing.

"Oh My God, Just Shut Up And Get In The Car! At This Rate I'm Gonna Go Dead By 25. You're Driving Me Fucking Crazy With Your Hysterical Screeching."

"Crazy?"

"Oh My God. No."

"I Was Crazy Once."

"NOOOO!!"

Sketch

#billy deserved better #mungrove #my art i guess #heavymetalvalentines #autistic billy hargrove #implied #gay billy hargrove #lesbian heather holloway #qpr billy x heather #i love them #they're worsties #billy antis dni

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manwrre · 7 months

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It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.

They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.

Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.

The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.

Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.

Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.

Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.

Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.

Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.

His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.

The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.

Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.

And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.

So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.

This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.

When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.

He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.

Swallows.

Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.

Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.

Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.

The sun child.

Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.

And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.

So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.

Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.

He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.

Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.

Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.

Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.

Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.

It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.

Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.

Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.

Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.

He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.

The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,

it snaps.

Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”

And God, he’s so screwed.

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