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eddie-munsons-guitar86 · 7 months

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Love In Beauty Chapter One: Piercing Eyes

Steve was working hard, fingers stained with blue highlighter as he highlighted important information in his Esthetics textbook. Steve was on his third month of Esthetician school with only five more months to go. He felt weird being the only male Esthetician in a class of women but he managed to make a small group of friends he calls his 'Estie-Besties' the other girls saw him as weird and even some spread rumors on him being a creep. He wasn't, Steve had a dream and he wanted to follow it, even if his father thought it was 'stupid' and 'a waste of money'. Steve didn't care, he knows what he wants to be and his passion only made him shine brighter in his class.

"I feel like they don't schedule me client's on purpose." Steve sighs, rolling ice globes over Robin's cheeks.

"Mmmmm less talking more globing." Robin sighs softly.

"Come on, you have to agree with me Robs." Steve rolls his eyes playfully, putting the globes on his cart and sanitizing his hands before he grabbed his pallet, scooping up some of the gel masque with his applicator and applying it to Robins pale, freckled skin.

"Jesus...you could warn me next time!" Robin shivers and scrunches her eyes at the cold masque. "But I wouldn't worry about it Steve, you know how these old ladies are, they pick favorites and refuse anyone else to touch their face."

"This is only gonna hurt my chances of graduating, I need clients." Steve finishes her mask and sets a timer. "Alright I'll be back soon, gotta wash these." Steve gets up with his dirty utensils and goes into the back, where they wash and dry laundry and do their dishes, well, some do them. Steve ignores the girls gossiping and vaping near the filing cabinet and goes straight to the sink, getting into his routine of wash, rinse, Barbicide for ten minutes, rinse, dry, and put away. He always followed his routine because he knows if he doesn't it'll give him a certain feeling on his skin, the feeling of something missing or something being wrong, and it wont go away unless he fixes it. Steve goes back to the spa floor and finishes up Robins facial with some SPF before taking her to the front desk so she can buy a few products, giving Steve some product points.

"Always an amazing job Stevie." Robin smiles and ties her hair up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I actually do have clients to get ready for."

Steve chuckles and writes down what he did in her folder, listing the products he used on her skin and what add-ons he provided. He felt something heavy on his skin, something missing. He looks up to see another student from the Cosmetology side staring into his soul with those piercing blue eyes. Steve looked behind him to see if he was looking at someone behind him but there was no one, he was looking right at Steve. Steve blushes slightly and gives him a small wave before awkwardly shuffling back to his classroom to turn in the folder. The other student was stunning to Steve, ling blonde wavy hair tied up in a bun, facial hair clean and well groomed, skin tan and clean. Steve loved a man who took care of himself, loved men who took the time to make sure their hygiene is on point. Steve needed to be his, or else he feels that feeling again.

The feeling of something missing.

Authors Note:

Hello everyone!! I'm back!! I am so so so so so so sorry for disappearing like that, but here I am now. Please reblog this story for support and comment any questions you have that I can answer!! I love you all so much and I hope you enjoy this series!!!! <3 I will be basing some scenes off my own experiences from Esthetician school (Fully licensed!!) And if you have your own skincare questions do not be afraid to ask me!!

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billyxsteve #steve harrigton #stevexbilly #steve harrington #stranger things #esthetician #skincare #cosmology #haircare #harringrove au

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withoneheadlight · 2 years

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(lipstick) stain | part 2/? |

the one where steve finds the lipstick stain on billy's denim jacket, and his whole world comes crashing down.

“You keep staring at him like that, you’re gonna burn him faster than the sun. And he looks like, about medium-well already”

Robin jerks her headphones back. Purses her mouth in that characteristic gesture of hers, the one that makes every sentence inevitably end in dingus. Wet hair, black bikini, green eyes shielded behind the Ray-Bans she’s just snatched from him. And his mistake, Steve realizes, is that he keeps surrounding himself with people who are way too smart, and way too observant and―

Very, very nosy.

“And that’s your business ‘cause―?

The Ray-Bans are dark-glassed and reflect the June sky and Steve can’t, strictly speaking, see the way she’s rolling her eyes but, he so, so can feel it.

“You could accidentally make Heather Holloway burn, too. And that is my business”

“Uhm” he grins, this is also something that she does, no matter how shitty he’s feeling “More like you wish, Rob”

Robin pokes him with her foot. Steve pinches her small toe. And truth is―

Steve does like Heather. Likes her a damn lot, actually. Has the best memories from that time in sophomore year they hooked up.

Right now, he could burn her to ashes.

Because Steve hasn’t seen him in three days. Three days with their three nights. An emptiness in the pitch of his gut that feels raw and dry and cold, because he can’t stop thinking about the who, and when, and how. Of that kiss he carries.

(From behind. Hips pressed flush against soft, plush flesh and fucking them from behind. Same as Billy’s fucked him so many times. Same as Billy’s making him moan and bite, so many times. On that same spot. Leaving a similar mark on the skin of his forearm.

Except from teeth instead of―

Lips)

And Billy’s chit-chatting with Heather. Heather, who’s got lips shaped like a heart, the kind that, if she put lipstick on, would probably leave the prettiest, most perfect mark. And Billy― he hasn't even darted his eyes to Steve. Not once. And he’s leaning against one of the white poles of his lifeguard chair and a little towards Heather, giving her his undivided attention and that grin he’s got, lips oh so slowly spreading. The one that makes Steve want to devour all the space between them, get his hands on all that sun-kissed and golden, throw him into the water for being such an asshole and for so many other reasons that make no sense at all. Drag him out. Hold him close. So close he just won’t see anybody else. Nobody but Steve and then, kiss him and―

He stands up.

“Hey!” Robin calls after him, her ears deafened by music; high-pitched, wavering voice “Where you going?”

“Bathroom” Steve scoffs. Leans in to pull the headphones off her ear and whisper “So I don’t ruin the view for you”

Robin flips him off, glasses sliding down her nose. From over the plastic bridge, she peers at him: smeared black mascara and worry. Steve’s throat works.

“Do you― want us to get outta here? Have a smoke or so―”

“No” Steve shakes his head. Slowly. Steps away, walking backwards “I’m good, Buckley” he lies and hopes for the music to deafen it too, the way his voice sounds broken and hoarse “be back in five, uh?”

And turns around before he’s the one who burns.

Hey, Billy says. Only and exclusively that, “Hey”

And in the eternity that follows, there’s only them and the heat clinging to the pastel-blue walls and the question of whether it's that or Billy's closeness, what’s making the air almost unbreathable. Or if it is perhaps the way in which, when Steve answers with another,

“Hey”

Just as tiny. Just as drowned. Billy crosses his arms over his chest, hands clasped under his armpits, and he squares up, biceps bulging, all hard lines and that dormant violence of his curves but. What he really looks like is small, like this. Small and lost and fragile, where he’s always, always seemed so immense to Steve.

And, it tiptoes past the fogged clarity of the sun reflecting off the mirrors, this eternity. Tries to catch its breath as the slimy moisture from the showers swirls up in ragged-clouds, a summer storm gathering up the ceiling. Until―

Billy leans to the side, shoulder against the wall. Blocks him the way, somehow. Because it feels impenetrable, that barrier built of his mere presence, and―

Of that way he always, always looks at Steve and,

“Eh. Pretty boy. The other day. What―” He starts. Pauses. And he’s got those lips, so red they look permanently stained. Of kisses. Of lipstick. Of somebody else’s heart. And Steve’s being a brat. He’s been making all this up in his mind because it’s actually never― “Happened. Did― did something happen?”

“No” Steve shakes his head. Tears his eyes away from Billy’s lips “Nothing at all”

Because they’ve never, ever talked about it. Not really. Because Billy kisses him like a caress and Billy calls him baby and keeps on asking if he can ‘See you tomorrow?’ and because Billy keeps on looking at him that way like. He wants. This. Steve. And moremoremore. So much more. As if they were actually―

Together. Togethertogether. But―

In reality, They’ve never been more than desperate fingers aching for touch and starving hands searching for the heat in each other's pants. Finding. Billy’s cock rock-hard against his palm and Billy’s cock throbbing inside his mouth and never. Ever. In seven months. Has Billy told Steve. Or Steve told Billy.

And he’s being such a fucking brat because Billy doesn’t owe him anything. They’ve never talked about anything.

And Steve. Steve ain’t got the right.

“Oh” Billy breathes in deep, deep, deep. And it seems like, at least for one of them, the air becomes breathable, again “I thought―”

“What?”

Billy lets out a crooked laugh, shakes his head like he’s shaking off some absurd, stupid idea.

“Nothing”

Nothing.

And Steve ain’t got the right to ask him not to kiss anyone else because they’re exactly that. They’re nothing.

Except―

Sometimes. It feels impossible. Not to think they are because of―

They way Billy lowers his voice. His eyes drop to Steve’s mouth.

The way Billy says Ok, says Good and peels off the wall and steps close and pushes him back. Gently. Carefully. Into one of the showers. Shuts the curtain tight. Billy presses him against the beads of condensation weeping down the tiles, tears against his back. Grazes Steve’s lips with his own and Steve's heart is trembling, trembling, suddenly breaking when he says,

“’Cause it’s been three days since the last time I kissed you”

And it’s―

It’s Steve, who catches his lips. It’s Steve who kisses him long, and deep and like that sting in your eyes when you want to cry but hold back. It’s Steve who licks into his mouth, throat aching with the knowledge it won’t ever be enough, he won’t ever feel satiated. Three days of emptiness and his mind overflown with Billy and with For me, too. ‘Been for me, too. I want to never stop kissing you.

He pushes down the elastic of his swimsuit. Feels it drop around his ankles. Yanks his feet out of it, kicks away the fabric. Wraps his leg around Billy's hip and gasps, when Billy's hand slides up his thigh, grips him tight, tighter. Touches him in that way that splits Steve in two, like he’s never wanted anything as bad as this, as bad has he wants to touch him.

Even though maybe― maybe he does. Maybe there’s someone else he touches. Like he touches Steve. Maybe he does remember, too. Who those red-stained lips belong to.

He fumbles for the tap. Smacks. Opens it.

Cold. Warm. Hot. Billy groans a "What―?" then laughs soft, and pretty. Hides his face in Steve’s neck as the water pours down "Whatcha doin’, baby?" but he keeps laughing, soft and delicate, perfect against his pulse.

And the wise thing, Steve knows, would be letting him go but. He can’t resist him.

So he drags his lips along his cheek, searches for his mouth. Catches it with his tongue and a little teeth, kisses Billy deliberate and wet and slippery and open-mouthed. Kisses him with his whole body and with all this emptiness devouring him up from the inside out. Holds Billy close, heartbeat against heartbeat, shuts his eyes. Gives himself this: the water deafening everything that’s not the way Billy’s kissing him back. The fantasy of them dragging for just a little longer and―

It’s easy. When Billy holds him fast. When Billy kisses him like there’s nothing else for him, either. Just them, and the water washing away the whole world outside. And he― God, he moans. Broken. Pained. When Steve yanks his swimsuit down, too. When he springs out of it and their cocks bump and brush. Slide. Sweat and heat and that sweet, sweet stickiness dribbling between their cocks as they rock. Billy runs his fingers down the small of his back, and further, the barest touch on the tender skin of his crack. And the contact is so light, so not enough, when they graze his entrance, with an aching, hungry feeling, and all Steve can think is Billy opening him up with his tongue. Billy thrusting into his ass till. Billy’s making him full. Till he’s all Steve can feel inside.

Half a broken breath, half a plea, he whispers it in Billy’s ear “Baby. Baby. I need you inside of me. Need you to fuck me” It makes Billy moan obscenely loud, fingertips pressing into Steve’s hole, pads slipping in, sweet and rough.

"Shhh" he ghosts his lips along the shell of Billy’s ear "Shhh" Thinks It's okay. Thinks This is enough. This fantasy. This thing they’re doing none of them has put a name on. This is enough for you, Steve. Good enough for you. But― He knows it's not true. Kisses Billy softly, mouths the cold ring hanging from his earlobe, grabs his wet, darkened curls,

"Down. Keep it down, sweetheart. I don't want anyone else can hear you when I make you scream my name"

part 3

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #(lipstick)stain #billyxsteve #stevexbilly #xharringrove

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luci-hemwin-evanson · 1 month

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-I would like SpiderxAmerie pls? 🥹

Heartbreak High creators: Malakai & Amerie

-no no, Spider & Amerie 🙂

Heartbreak High creators: oh Amerie and that blonde guy?

- YES!

Heartbreak High creators: *New charter* & Amerie then

- NO Amerie & SPIDER 😒

Heartbreak High creators: Got it!

Heartbreak High creators: Missy & Spider 🫴

-💀

#Heartbreak High #well show is not out yet..#I could still hold a little bit of hopw #🤞 its a surprise like in season 1 #I KNOW ITS BAD OKAY BUT I CAN'T HELP IT I SHIP IT #I SHIP BILLYxSTEVE THEOxMALIA AND THEOxLIAM I CAN'T HELP IT #I also wanted Quinnie x Missy bc I hate Sasha #spider x amerie

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craziichas · 2 years

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I firmly believe that in a month the steddie ship on ao3 will surpass the ew that is harrgrove or whatever the fuck it is and that makes me sooooo happy. (No offense to anyone that ships Billy and Steve. Just not for meee)

#eddie munson #steddie #eddie x steve #steve harrington #steve and eddie #eddie munson is gay #steveddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington is bisexual #ao3 #steddie is better than billyxsteve #steddie is real

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sunwarmed-ash · 1 year

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Fucking Friday/Fic Fridays

Empathetic Asshole

Ship: Harringrove (BillyxSteve)

Rating/Word Count: Explicit, 16k+, WIP

Tags: Alternate Universe-Body Swap, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Closeted Gay Billy Hargrove, Enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, empathy as a superpower, mental illness, recreational drug use, Gay men and their obsession with Swayze, Ignore everything you think you know about the timeline, double dydoe piercing, Scars, Dialogue Heavy, First Kiss, Character Development, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove is Soft for Steve Harrington

Summary:

When Steve met his own reflection in the mirror, his hand flew out for purchase, reaching for anything that would keep him from collapsing once more on the floor. Answers came flying at him faster than he could process. Things started making sense while simultaneously not at all. That man wasn’t his father, because this wasn’t his house. The honey-brown eyes he was expecting to see in his reflection were replaced with a haunted, empty blue because this wasn’t his body. And Max, was more than likely the girl he had met all those weeks ago. Billy Hargrove’s sister. Which meant, that Demogorgon in a person-suit must have been Billy’s father.

A different, equally painful realization that he wasn't sure if he was ready to face yet began to brew in his gut and the fumes from it raised in an attempt to suffocate his lungs, and squeeze his heart until every capillary burst.

“BILLY!!” The angry man bellowed and Steve sprung into action, thankful for the adrenaline-fueled numbness as he reached for the first piece of clothing he could find and raced into the hall.

The house was all on one level which made it quick and easy to find the front door. Max was standing there impatiently, holding her board tightly against her body. Steve hurried himself and her through the front door without another word.

#fucking friday #fic fridays #sinful sunday #harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #empathetic asshole #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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dacr3x · 1 year

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#harringrove #steddie #mungrove #metalsandwich #other #billy hargrove #billy antis dni #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things

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ehhhhwhatsthis · 1 year

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Dont know how to deal with the fact that there are already way more eddiexsteve fics than billyxsteve fics on ao3.

Bring out the angst yallllll.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve x billy #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 #steddie

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eddie-munsons-guitar86 · 2 years

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Harringrove week prompt for the 26th

For todays prompt I chose after school detention!!

Steve was sitting in a carved up desk two seats up from Billy, his face bloody and bruised while Billy’s knuckles were covered in cuts and dried blood. The teacher put a packet of math homework in front of the two before walking off, locking the door behind him. The only sounds in the room were the sounds of pencils scribbling on paper and the clicking of the clock on the wall. Steve sighed as he tapped his pencil to his paper.

“Can you stop fucking sighing? Christ, Harrington...” Billy turned and huffed at him, halfway done with his packet while Steve only got done with the first page.

“Fuck off, Hargrove...” Steve mumbled as he stared at the paper in front of him, continuing to struggle with the problems presented on the page. Billy looked down at Steve’s paper, rolling his eyes and going over to him. He leaned over him and wrote down notes for him as assistance on the problems. Billy walked back to his seat and continued his homework packet. Steve looked at him with confusion before staring back at the paper. With the help of Billy’s notes, he was able to get the questions down with ease.

“Wouldn’t consider you to be a nerd,” Steve teased as he turned to the next page.

“That’s what happens when your dad pushes you to success,” Billy hummed and finished up his packet, closing it and putting it on the teacher’s desk.

“I’m in all the smart people classes with your ex. She’s a bit of a bitch honestly.”

“Hey, watch it, Hargrove.” Steve growled, glaring at him.

“Am I wrong? I saw how much you were crying after she basically said she doesn’t love you, never loved you, and never will,” Billy raised his slitted eyebrow, looking back over when to see Steve with tears forming in his brown, doe eyes. Steve sat back in his chair and held back his tears, filling the room with the sounds of his soft sniffling.

“But honestly...you don’t deserve her. Pretty boy like you will find love again, proper love,” Billy said in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Pretty boy, huh?” Steve looked up at him, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah, with your stupid fluffy hair, and your dumb fucking face,” Billy chuckled. “Perfect boyfriend material.” Steve blushed at Billy’s words.

“From the way you put it, Hargrove, it sounds like you wanna be my boyfriend,” Steve laughed, finishing his packet with rushed and messy work, turning it in on the desk.

“In your dreams, Harrington,” Billy scoffed and left once their teacher finally let them go for the day. As the two boys walk to their respective cars, Billy lingered to watch Steve go to his Beamer.

Fuck, he’s in love.

#billy hargrove #billyxsteve #harringrove #steve harrigton #stevexbilly #strangerthings #harringrove au #HarringroveWeek

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withoneheadlight · 2 years

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(lipstick) stain | part 3/? |

the one where steve finds the lipstick stain on billy's denim jacket, and his whole world comes crashing down.

big thanks to @wholeshebangs and @dragonflylady77 for beta-ing this ❤❤❤❤

July.

It goes by fast. Pastel-blue so pale it’s almost white. The sky indistinguishable from the clouds. It goes by along with the skin-caressing breeze blowing through the town and that kind of melancholy that carves out its nest into the hollows of your hands when it’s been too long, since they’ve really gotten to touch somebody. It goes by with Steve thinking about how the sun’s always gonna, be able to touch Billy the way he’d want to. No doubts. No fears. Not worrying about how this could be the last time.

Goes by with Billy crowning himself King one more night in the last of the summer parties and taking Steve by the hand in front of absolutely everyone. The prettiest smile Steve’s ever seen while dragging him out of the room and towards the shed in the backyard.

And it goes by fast. Everything. Not only July. And Steve’s got to clench his jaw real, real tight, when Billy kicks the door close, fingers wrapping on his wrists, and guides his hands around his waist until Steve’s crossing them tightly behind the curve of his back. He allows himself to rest a little, right there, to let his forearms fall like lead against the solid shape of Billy’s hip bones. Tries not to think about how perfectly they fit like this, the two of them together. Tries not to think about how this is Tina's house and how well Billy knew his way to the shed in her backyard and―

July goes by and Steve’s got to clench his jaw real damn tight because not long after they arrived to the party Billy realized he’d left his cigarettes on his car and Steve did what any guy who loves to deepthroat another guy’s dick but doesn’t have the balls to ask him if you two are something more than nothing would do: he offered to go, acted like a good whateverweare, told Billy “I’ll get them” and. Now―

Now, he knows there are five tear-opened letters stuffed down the Camaro’s glove box. Five. Each one from miles and miles apart from where Steve’s gonna spend stuck the rest of his life.

Yale. Columbia. Harvard. Berkeley. Stanford.

But it doesn’t really matter because it really isn’t enough for Steve but it has to. Because Billy’s got goals and aspirations and dreams. Billy’s got that something Steve's father keeps going on about that takes to fulfill them. Billy will surely have already made his choice and maybe this, this little incursion into Tina’s shed it’s really going to be the last time, so Steve―

Closes his eyes when Billy takes his face between his hands and kisses him soft and sweet and pretty and like they’ve made already a million promises to each other instead of having never said a thing. Lets Billy trap him between his body and the edge of the wooden table. Wraps his arms around Billy’s neck and that stupid denim jacket he keeps on wearing and Steve swallows and tries not to look down towards that kiss that ain’t his when Billy leaves a freshly made one, still hot, into his ear, whispers “Ehh. I missed being alone with you, pretty thing” making Steve’s heart into an open wound at the same time he gets his hands on his ass, lifts him up the table, pries his legs apart.

And Steve― traps him. In between them. Searches his lips. Kisses him open-hearted and moans from the hollow space between his ribs when Billy yanks his pants dawn and spits on his palm to make it slippery, his hand stroking Steve’s cock and slicing him open here too, forty-seven inches down below his heart: sticks three spit-slicked fingers up his ass and makes a plea sweat down the arching curve of Steve’s back. Makes Steve’s voice break same as everything else “Inside. Billy, please. I want you inside” and Billy breaks apart, just enough, millimeters, not really that much. Stares into his eyes. And he looks split open, too. Two wounds bleeding, one against the other. Billy nods. Asks,

“Hold me tight?”

And Steve chokes back a laugh, voice broken beyond repair. He doesn't want to cry so.

He clenches his teeth so damn fucking tight. Already knows how much it's gonna hurt. Already knows it's too late already for it not to.

Holds Billy. Tight. Wants to heal against his body. Wants their skin to become scar tissue, that soft, tender, newborn thing that grows afterwards. Can’t tell him everything he’s thinking but, he tells him this―

“I don’t want to ever have to let you go”

And Billy slides in. Hard and throbbing and dripping with heat and desire and Steve crosses his ankles over his ass and squeezes to get him deeper, deeper inside.

He doesn’t wanna cry but. Does. Hides his tears on Billy’s curls, when Billy speaks into his pulse, voice drawing a shiver down his spine.

“Then don’t ”

It’s the saddest thing to hold on to. Feels like a white lie:

Never let me go/This is the last time.

Steve takes it anyhow.

That same Saturday night, Steve runs the palm of his hand all along the three meters fifty centimeters of expensive wallpaper and vast emptiness separating his room from his parents’ down the hall.

He keeps the lights off, tries not to make a sound, barely allows himself to breathe while he carefully turns the handle, and slips inside.

His parents are not here, they’re at some expensive hotel down in Florida, toasting with champagne and weary spite, but in the empty bed their ghosts always dwell. They sway, pristine white, on the sharp-pink curtains and make twisted shadows against the mirrored new closet, freefall from rose-shaped shades of the ceiling lamp.

Steve only turns on the row of tiny lights on the vanity. He quickly grabs what he's come for.

Chooses the one that comes in a gold container, a thin ring of rhinestones separating the two cylindrical halves. The label on the bottom reads 'Heartbreak-Red', like it’s a fucking joke, and Steve bites down his lips and can’t keep his eyes off the way they flood with that same red, the way they split around that thing he feels for Billy Hargrove when he just can’t say it but draws it into his mouth, right in front of his absent mother’s mirror in the dim golden light.

He’s lacking the courage so, doesn’t try it.

Instead, he slides it into the thin pocket of his pajama pants. Turns off the lights. Holds on his breath all along the abyss back.

Doesn’t think her mother will miss it much.

#harringrove #xharringrove #billyxsteve #stevexbilly #(lipstick)stain

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