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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Today's Document
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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occasionally subtle
$LAYYYTER
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almost home
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@grungedolliris
Prelude
Masterlist
𖤝 Skarlette (aka Skar) 19, turning 20 feb 20, obsessed with alt-rock & indie/pop, favorites: Radiohead, The Smashing Pumpkins, Weezer, Billie Eilish, Lizzy McAlpine
𖤝 DNI: racists, homophobes, Hole lovers , Billie haters , Trumpies, sexists, overall weirdos
OMGOGMGOGLGOGLG OUR GIRL WON YAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAAYYAYAYAYYA SHES SOOO PRETTY ABS CUTE OMG IM SO HAPPY 😭😭
can i suck it? | b.eilish
billie eilish x fem!reader
context. your best friend, billie, wants to take a look at your new nipple piercing. so you let her..
warnings. smut, praising, degrading?, flirting, oral, hella teasing.
masterlist
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆Worth It⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ {Robin Buckley}
⋮ ⌗ ┆ Tags: Hopper!reader, lesbian!reader, needy!robin, getting caught making out by readers dad, coming out(technically)
⋮ ⌗ ┆ Synopsis: Whilst babysitting your younger sister and her friends, robin decides her need for you cannot wait any longer and results in a makeout session that you two pay for later
⋮ ⌗ ┆ Genre: Fluff, Slightly suggestive(?)
There you both sat, right there on the couch, in front of Hopper himself, embarrassed, flushed, still glowing with that unmistakable after-makeout haze. You kept stealing lingering looks at each other when you thought he wasn’t watching, hands still intertwined like they’d been magnetized together, love, or at least something dangerously close to it, hanging thick in the air.
Hopper couldn’t stand it.
It was bad enough he already had to deal with Eleven and Mike swapping spit under his roof like it was some kind of public service announcement for teenage hormones. But now you too? Jesus Christ. He hated the teenage years of his daughter’s life with a burning, personal passion.
Now, how you guys got here was entirely Robin’s fault.
She’d been invited over under the extremely flimsy excuse of “finishing a project,” which Hopper already knew was complete bullshit. He wasn’t stupid. No one was finishing projects with that much eye contact and nervous smiling. Still, he sucked it up and gave permission anyway, pretending he didn’t see the way Robin practically bounced on her heels when you opened the door.
You hadn’t exactly come out yet, which was precisely why you were excluded from the infamous three-inch door policy, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for that small mercy. Even so, you made absolutely sure Eleven swore on everything she loved that she wouldn’t break the promise you’d all made, especially after she’d already caught you and Robin during one of your many makeout sessions. El had agreed, a little too amused for your liking.
Today, unfortunately, Hopper came home early.
Too early.
Early enough to walk straight into the living room and find the two of you gnawing at each other’s skin, mouths crashing together, hands everywhere they absolutely should not have been, eating each other’s faces like you hadn’t seen one another in years.
But what were you supposed to do?
You were in charge of watching El, Max, Lucas, and Mike. Your bedroom was currently occupied and off-limits. Steve had completely chickened out of babysitting because he “had a date” (traitor). There was nowhere else in the house that even remotely resembled privacy.
So Robin, bold and reckless as always, took it upon herself to try and get her rocks off in the living room.
And honestly? You weren’t completely against it.
You were needy too.
Now you sat there, painfully aware of Hopper’s stare burning holes straight through you, fingers still laced with Robin’s like neither of you knew how,or wanted, to let go. The room was quiet except for the television droning on uselessly and Hopper’s deep, exhausted sigh as he rubbed a hand down his face.
Hopper let out a long, slow breath, the kind that sounded like it had been building since the moment he unlocked the front door. He stared at the two of you for a few seconds too long, eyes flicking from your still-intertwined hands, to your flushed faces, to Robin’s mouth, then back to your hands again.
“Alright,” he finally said, voice low and tight. “That’s enough.”
Neither of you moved.
“I said,” Hopper snapped, pointing sharply at your hands, “that’s enough.”
You and Robin awkwardly untangled yourselves, scooting a few inches apart like that distance was going to magically undo what he’d just walked in on. Hopper crossed his arms, jaw clenched so hard you thought his teeth might crack.
“This is my house,” he continued, pacing once in front of the couch. “Not a damn drive-in theater. I leave for one shift early and I come back to—” He gestured vaguely at the space between you. “whatever the hell that was.”
Robin opened her mouth, already looking like she was about to make a joke.
Hopper shot her a warning glare. “Don’t. You say one smart thing and you’re not allowed back here until you’re thirty.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
He turned to you then, expression softening just a fraction, not enough to be comforting, but enough to hurt worse. “And you,” he said, shaking his head. “I trusted you to watch the kids. Not to start… this.” He waved his hand again, clearly refusing to name it.
“I didn’t raise El to think this is normal behavior in the middle of the living room.”
From the hallway, Eleven’s voice piped up, small but firm. “It is normal.”
Hopper groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “El, go to your room.”
She hesitated. “They were happy.”
“Room,” he repeated.
She disappeared, mumbling something under her breath.
Hopper exhaled again and looked back at the two of you. “I don’t care who you like. I don’t care what you do.” His voice dropped, tired now. “But there’s a time and a place. And it is not on my couch.”
The room fell quiet.
“Now,” he finished, pointing toward the hallway, “sit apart. Keep your hands to yourselves. And if I walk in on this again, I swear to God I’m installing that damn three-inch door policy for everyone.”
He turned and walked away, muttering under his breath.
You and Robin exchanged a look.
Robin leaned closer, voice barely a whisper. “Still worth it,” she murmured, eyes bright despite everything.
You didn’t answer,your smile did.
kiss me, i'm cold
warnings: making out, sensual vibes, mainly fluff
summary: a snowstorm knocked out the power, leaving you and your girlfriend, billie alone in the candlelight to keep each other warm.
wc: 1.1k
"c'mere." billie's voice was a hushed whisper, afraid she'd break the tender moment in front of you two.
you shuffled across the shag carpet, careful not to step on a stray dog toy, and plopped yourself in billie's lap. once you were comfortable, her hands went to your waist, making you jump at the temperature.
"bils! your hands are freezing!" you both chuckled as you squirmed in her grasp. her long lashes flicked up and down as she took in your smiling face, pinching your sides to make you squeal again.
Didn't know what to post today so, here's a picture of Kurt and Krist kissing each other.
⋆.𐙚 ̊In Between⋆.𐙚 ̊ (Billie Eilish)
.☘︎ ݁˖
⋮ ⌗ ┆Tags: EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT, MDNI, fwb, switch!billie, switch!reader, makeup sex(?), small argument
⋮ ⌗ ┆Synopsis: You go to Billie’s apartment to apologize, and one kiss turns into a night of hidden intimacy. When it’s over, she proposes a secret arrangement: no labels, no public announcement, just the closeness between you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆Genre: angst,fluff and smut
⋮ ⌗ ┆Parts: 3/5 ( 1 2 )
Standing in her doorway, you felt like a fraud. Your hands were sweating, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. You’d texted her, a simple ‘Can I come over?’, and she’d replied with a single, enigmatic ‘k’. No exclamation points, no emojis. Just a letter. A tombstone for whatever you were building.
Billie was curled on the far end of her huge grey sofa, a hoodie pulled up over her head, making her look smaller than she was. She didn’t look up when you entered, just kept her eyes fixed on the blank television screen. The curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a soft, grey twilight that matched the mood.
You cleared your throat, the sound swallowed by the plush carpet. “Hey.”
She finally turned her head, her face shadowed. “Hey.” Her voice was quiet, neutral. Guarded.
This was harder than you thought. “I…” you started, then stopped, your courage failing. You took a breath, trying to force the words out. “I’m sorry.”
That got her to sit up a little, pulling the hoodie back. Her eyes were wary. “For what?”
“For last week,” you managed, your own voice barely audible. “For what you said. How you said it. It was cruel and it wasn’t true.”
A long pause. She watched you, her expression unreadable. “Which part wasn’t true?”
Your heart hammered. This was it. The precipice. You could lie again, build another wall, and watch her retreat for good. Or you could jump.
“All of it,” you whispered, the confession feeling like it was being torn from your lungs. “All of it was a lie.”
Something in her face softened, just a fraction. The tension in her shoulders eased. “Okay,” she said, softer this time. She patted the empty space on the sofa next to her. An invitation.
You crossed the room on shaky legs and sat, leaving a careful foot of space between you. It felt like a canyon. “I was scared,” you admitted to your hands, twisting a loose thread on your jeans. “Am scared. People… they talk. My family, the fans… I just panicked. And I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said, her voice gentle now. “I shouldn’t have pushed. I know you have stuff to figure out. I just… I got impatient.”
“You’re allowed to be impatient,” you said, finally looking at her. The dim light caught the blue in her hair, made her pale skin seem almost luminous. “You deserve better than my cowardice.”
“I just want you, whatever that looks like,” she said, and the honesty in it was a punch to the gut.
The foot of space between you vanished. You don’t know who moved first, maybe you both did. Your hand found her knee, her fingers came up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face. The touch was electric, a current running straight through you, silencing the cacophony of fear in your head. Her thumb stroked your cheekbone, slow and deliberate. You leaned into it, a silent plea.
“Y/n,” she breathed, and your name on her lips was a question and an answer all at once.
You closed the remaining distance, pressing your lips against hers. It wasn’t gentle. It was a week’s worth of unsaid words, of loneliness and regret, all poured into a single, desperate kiss. Her hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, and you were climbing into her lap, your body responding with a need so potent it drowned out everything else. This was real. This was the truth.
Her bedroom was dark, the only light a thin sliver from the hallway. Clothes became obstacles, quickly discarded. Her skin was soft, her hands firm as they mapped your body, relearning every curve. When she finally moved over you, her weight a welcome anchor, the last of your resistance crumbled. You weren’t thinking about fans or family or what anyone would say. There was only her,the scent of her hair, the feeling of her breath against your neck, the way she whispered your name like a prayer. Her skin was cool against yours, a stark contrast to the fire building in your core. Her hands were firm as they mapped your body, relearning every curve as if for the first time, her touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.
She rolled over you, her weight a welcome anchor, her blue-black hair falling around you like a curtain. The last of your resistance, the last whisper of your fear, crumbled into dust. You weren’t thinking about fans or family or what any of them would say. There was only her. The clean, familiar scent of her hair, the feeling of her breath, warm and ragged, against your neck.
You pulled her down for another kiss, deep and hungry. Your hands slid down her back, tracing the elegant line of her spine, gripping her hips to pull her closer. She responded with a soft gasp, her tongue finding yours, the rhythm becoming more urgent, more demanding. This was the truth your lips had been too afraid to speak. This was the apology your words had failed to deliver.
“Y/n,” she breathed against your mouth, your name a ragged prayer. Her hand slipped between you, her fingers trailing lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You tensed, a jolt of pure electricity arcing through you. “Is this okay?”
You could only nod, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers found your wetness, circling your clit with a slow, deliberate pressure that had your back arching off the bed. A choked moan escaped your lips. Every coherent thought evaporated, replaced by the singular, overwhelming sensation of her touch. She knew exactly how to play your body, every nerve ending singing under her expert guidance.
She shifted, kissing a path down your body,your collarbone, the valley between your breasts, the soft skin of your stomach. Her other hand pinched a peaked nipple, rolling it between her fingers, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. You were completely at her mercy, and you never wanted it to end.
When her mouth replaced her fingers, you thought you would die. The soft, wet heat of her tongue against your clit was an exquisite torture. Your hands flew to her hair, your fingers tangling in the silky strands as you held her to you. She built a rhythm, slow at first, then faster, her tongue flicking and circling, her hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider for her. The sounds you were making weren’t yours; they were the sounds of pure, unadulterated need. You could feel the pressure coiling in your stomach, tighter and tighter, a white-hot ball of pleasure waiting to explode.
“Billie, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse. “I’m so close.”
She hummed against you, the vibration sending you over the edge. The world shattered. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you gasping, your body trembling uncontrollably. She didn’t stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, boneless mess beneath her.
After, she moved back up your body, her movements languid. She kissed you again, and you could taste yourself on her lips,intimate, primal. A new hunger stirred within you, a desperate need to give her the same earth-shattering release.
You rolled you over, surprising her with your sudden strength. Now you were on top, your knees bracketing her hips. You looked down at her, her face flushed in the dim light, her lips swollen from your kisses, her dark eyes wide with desire. This powerful, world-famous artist was laid bare beneath you, all for you.
“Your turn,” you murmured, your voice a low purr.
You took your time, exploring her body with your hands and your mouth, paying attention to every sigh, every shiver. You learned the spots that made her gasp, the pressure that made her arch her back. When you finally slid two fingers inside her, she was so wet and ready that they sank in to the hilt. You set a slow, steady pace, curling your fingers to find that rough patch of skin inside her that made her cry out. With your thumb, you circled her clit, matching the rhythm of your hand.
Her hands were gripping your ass, pulling you down, her hips rising to meet your every thrust. Her head was thrown back, her pale throat exposed, the cords standing out as she panted your name. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You could feel her inner muscles beginning to clench around your fingers, and you knew she was close.
“Look at me,” you commanded, your voice thick with desire.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. They locked onto yours as you increased your pace, pumping your fingers faster, pressing your thumb harder against her clit. Her breath hitched, her body tensed, and then she was coming, your name a long, drawn-out cry on her lips as her orgasm washed over her.
You held her through it, your movements slowing as she came down from her high. When you finally pulled your fingers away, she let out a soft, contented sigh.
You lay tangled in the sheets, the quiet now different. Softer. Sated. Billie’s head was on your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach. For a few minutes, it was perfect. A bubble of peace in a world you’d spent weeks building up as a battlefield.
Then the reality started to seep back in. The cold sweat of what you’d done, of what it meant. The panic you’d fought off earlier came roaring back, fueled by the intimacy of the moment. You shifted, your body suddenly feeling rigid beneath her warm weight.
“Hey,” she murmured, lifting her head. “What’s wrong?”
You had to say it. You had to build the wall back up, brick by brick, before this thing consumed you whole. “This,” you said, your voice tight. “This doesn’t make us… you know. Official.”
She stilled. Her fingers stopped tracing. “What?”
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, putting distance between you even though you were still in the same bed. “This was meant to be… an apology. But this thing that happened, Billie….It doesn’t mean we’re a couple.”
Her face was a mask of disbelief, quickly hardening into hurt. “So that’s what this was for you? An apology fuck?”
“No! Of course not,” you said, the lie tasting bitter. “But you‘re not ready. To be that person. The world isn’t ready. What would this do to you? To your career? To mine?”
“So you’d rather hide it?” she shot back, her voice rising. “You’d rather pretend we’re just friends after… after this? You think that’s not going to mess me up? That I can just go back to normal?”
“I’m trying to protect you!”
“Protecting me?” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Protecting yourself, you mean. You’re so fucking scared of what people might think that you’re willing to throw away… this.” She gestured between you, her eyes glistening. “Don’t you dare hide behind my career. This is about you.”
She was right. Of course, she was right. The shame was a hot flush on your cheeks. “I’m not strong like you, Billie,” you whispered, the fight draining out of you. “I’m not brave.”
Her anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a weary sadness. “You think I’m brave?” she said, her voice softer. “I’m terrified every single day. But being without you is scarier.”
The silence stretched. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You were going to lose her. You’d ruined everything with your fear.
She paced around the room, still naked, your eyes never left her body. You wanted her more than you’d ever admit.
“Okay,” she said finally, taking a deep breath. “Okay. We can figure this out. A solution.”
“What solution?”
“We don’t tell anyone,” she said, her gaze steady. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready. No labels, no official announcements. But we… we have each other. In private. We stop pretending we’re just friends when we’re alone. We let this be real for us, in this space. And we work on you. On you being ready. Together.”
It was a lifeline thrown into the storm of your anxiety. A secret. A space that was yours alone. It wasn’t the brave, heroic thing to do. But it was something. It was a chance.
“Really?” you asked, your voice small. “You’d do that?”
She reached out, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’d do anything for you,” she said, and this time, you believed it.
I Came In Through The Window Last Night (Robin Buckley)
Tags: IMPLIED SEXUAL SITUATIONS, sexual tension, NO ACTUAL SMUT, established wlw relationship,
Genre: Fluff
Synopsis: A late-night call turns into a familiar window visit when missing each other hits harder than usual. A soft, sneaky, love-soaked night leads to morning embarrassment, teasing moms, and the promise that next time, they’ll actually do homework.
The phone barely gets through the first ring before Robin picks up. "Hey," you whisper, already smiling just at the thought of her.
Robin exhales lightly, like she's been holding her breath. "Hey , baby."
You roll onto your side, twirling the phone cord around your finger, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, the ones your mother put on your roof years ago.
"I miss you."
"We literally had dinner together," she says, but her voice is far from annoyed, you can quite literally hear the smile she's wearing. "You walked me to my bike," you deadpan.
"Still counts."
There's a faint click on the line, it was small but loud enough for you and Robin to pause your movements.
Robin immediately shifts into her "customer-service" voice. "So , uh... about your homework?"
You bite your lip to stop from laughing. "Yeah,it's ... really hard tonight."
"Is it?" she asks, playing along. "What part is confusing you?"
"All of it" you say softly but teasingly. "Can't focus, it keeps distracting me."
Another pause, then quieter, almost just for your ears only "You want me to come over?" Robin teases, but she already knows the answer.
"Yes," you respond as soon as the words leave her mouth. Tonight felt a little different ; the day was long, and all you wanted was your pretty girl's arms wrapped around you.
Robin clears her throat, louder now. "I can bring my notes... you know... studying always helps."
Another click, meaning someone hung up.
You both wait just a second.
"...I'll be there in twenty," she says, dropping the act completely. " Window or door?"
"Window... always."
You're pacing by the time you hear the subtle knocks - two light taps, a pause, then one more : Robin's special signal.
She climbs in like she's done it a hundred times before, her Doc Martens hitting the floor silently.
You shut the window before her as she turns, she's already grinning.
As soon as you're finished, Robin's hands are immediately on your waist, her thumbs squeezing your sides just enough to make you inhale sharply.
"You've been like this almost all night, " she murmurs, her soft lips trailing your cheek instead of the place she knows you want them. "Could hear it in your voice."
You tilt your head, giving her more access without even thinking about it, it's become muscle memory. " What do you mean?"
"You sounded super... needy," she says hesitantly. "Kinda restless too." You just hum.
Her fingers slip under the hem of your sleeping gown, her touch so familiar you don't even flinch, you relax under it. She 's not rushing - that's what makes it worse, the way she takes her time, she knows exactly what it does to you.
"Today was a hard and long day, " you sigh. "I kept thinking about you... tried to sleep, but I failed," you add.
Robin hums, pleased, her mouth low , tracing slow kisses along your jaw. "Yeah? That's why you called?"
"That's why I called," you whisper back.
She pulls back just enough for her eyes to rest on yours ; her eyes are dark in the low light. "You know if you tell me you want me, I'm not gonna say no."
Your fingers curl in her jacket, pulling her closer. "I want you."
That does it.
She kisses you... finally. This time it's slow and deep, really laced with feeling. She presses you back toward your bed, not forceful, never that, just certain, until you're sitting and then lying back against the blankets.
Her knees slide in between yours .
"God, " she murmurs, her forehead dropping to yours. "You always look at me like that."
"Like what?" you ask, confused, your brows furrowing.
"Like you already know what's about to happen." You chuckle. "I do... I always do."
Her hand trails higher, her touch lingers, teasing-not enough to be unfair, just enough to make you arch into it . She kisses you again.
"You good?" she asks, low.
You only nod in response before pulling her closer.
The room feels warmer, the warmth that welcomes.
Robin presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your mouth again . "I'm staying," she says softly. "I've got you."
You pull her closer, if that's even possible. "I know."
The rest of the night is filled with touches and quiet moans and groans.
Sunlight creeps in through the window, catching on the mess of discarded clothes and naked bodies.
Robin groans softly, her arm tightening around you." We should not have stayed up that late."
"We say this every time, and I swear we end up staying up even longer than before."
She presses a small, lazy kiss to your naked chest, then your shoulder, before making you straddle her lap. You lean down and press a quick peck to her lips. "We should put on some clothes," you say against her lips.
"We should go for another round," Robin teases while her hands trail up to your breast. She grips it ; you follow her hand and bring it back down to your waist. " No , we have things to do today," she groans. After a small makeout session, you both eventually get out of bed.
You walk downstairs hand in hand, still glowing from last night's "homework session, "still warm.
And stop dead.
Both of your moms are already at the table ; how'd Robin 's mom even know she was here? Robin's mom looks up first. "Morning."
Your mom smiles sweetly. "Sleep well?"
Robin squeezes your hand out of nerves. "Yeah, we were up late." Your mom nods thoughtfully. "We heard all about your homework session on the phone." Your stomach drops.
"It sounded," Robin's mom adds, completely straight-faced, "very... challenging." You make a strangled noise, burying your face in Robin's shoulder.
"Oh my god," your mom finally cracks, laughing out loud. Soon Robin's mom joins too. "Relax, I'm letting it pass this time."
You both nod ."Robin, next time just use the front door. Don 't want you getting hurt, climbing up to the second floor," your mom says
softly, "Don't worry, Miss, I've fallen enough times to know where and when I should put my foot on the branch. "
You both walked back up to your room . "Next time we are actually doing algebra."
"Sure , Buckley. "
ೀ Where You Go After (Robin Buckley) ೀ
Tags: IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT, aftercare, abandonment, hurt/comfort, emotional vulnerability,intimacy, heartbreak,established lesbian relationship
genre: angst(ish) to fluff
Synopsis: The aftercare is perfect,tender, grounding, intimate,until she leaves, and the hurt of being loved only in fragments forces Robin to confront her fear and finally learn what it means to stay.
The room smelled faintly of sweat and cheap hairspray, warm after the tangled mess of sheets and soft sighs. You lay pressed against Robin, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along her chest, and she nuzzled into your shoulder, lips brushing along your collarbone. Her hands roamed gently, lingering over places that made you shiver.
“Mm…you’re so warm,” she murmured, voice low and husky.
You chuckled, tilting your head so she could kiss you properly. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”
Robin’s hands squeezed your sides lightly, tugging you closer. “You feel… right,” she said, pressing her forehead to yours. The quiet hum of the record player and the faint street noise outside made the apartment feel like a private world, suspended in its own bubble.
You yawned, stretching lazily against her. “You’re lucky I’m not falling asleep on you already,” you teased, brushing your nose against hers.
Robin grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Lucky? Babe, I’m always lucky.” She kissed your temple softly, then stiffened slightly, glancing toward the door.
“Everything okay?” you asked, feeling the warm bubble between you crack slightly.
Robin hesitated, shifting a little. “Uh… yeah… I… I have to head out. There’s… a crawl tonight.”
You blinked, confusion flaring. “Crawl? What crawl?”
She shrugged, trying for casual. “Some… little bar crawl thing. You know, friends. That thing I do sometimes.”
She left after that, no kiss, no apology.
You promised yourself when she left you wouldn’t care
Though the pain in your heart already found a place
Sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, catching on the messy sheets that still smelled faintly of Robin. You hugged a pillow to your chest, the warmth of her body from last night leaving a hollow ache you couldn’t shake. Your fingers absently traced circles on the pillow, imagining it was her.
A soft knock made you sit up sharply. “Robin?”
The door creaked open, and there she was,hair slightly mussed, that familiar grin teasing her lips, eyes sparkling in the morning light. Your chest tightened.
“Morning,” she said, stepping in. “Thought I’d… swing by.”
You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Yeah? Swing by… after leaving me alone last night? Without saying a word?”
Robin froze mid-step, her gaze dropping to your crossed arms. “Y/N… I—”
“Don’t ‘I’ me,” you snapped, though your voice shook slightly. “I didn’t know where you went. I thought… I thought you didn’t care.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she closed the gap between you slowly. “I do care. You’re my girlfriend. I wasn’t leaving you—I just… didn’t explain. I should’ve.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes stinging. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I deserve that?”
Robin reached out, brushing her fingers gently over your jaw, tilting your face toward her. “I thought… maybe you’d understand. But I see now I was wrong. I should’ve told you. I just… didn’t want to break the bubble we had last night.”
Your heart thudded. You wanted to grab her, feel her hands on your skin, pull her close,but the sting of yesterday kept you frozen. “You really do mess with my head.”
Her grin softened, but her fingers didn’t leave your face. Instead, they traced the curve of your cheek, brushed along your neck, down your collarbone. “I know. And I love that I do.”
You groaned softly, the warmth of her hands making it impossible to stay mad. “Love that you hurt me,” you muttered, though your chest was warming, betraying your words.
Robin leaned closer, brushing her nose along yours. “Not hurting you. Making up for it. Come here.”
Before you could protest, she slid closer, pressing her body to yours. Her hands roamed over your sides, down your waist, fingers tangling in your hair. Your hands responded instinctively, running over her shoulders, arms, back, holding her tight. Every brush of skin against skin sent shivers down your spine.
“I’m touchy now,” she murmured against your lips, playful and possessive, “because you’re mine. All of you, every time.”
You shivered as her lips trailed down your jaw, her teeth gently nibbling your earlobe, hands sliding along your hips. “You’re ridiculous,” you breathed.
“And you love it,” she whispered, sliding a hand under your shirt to press against your side, teasing, warm, teasing.
You laughed softly, rolling onto your back with her on top, letting her hands explore the curve of your waist, tracing up your sides, fingers brushing the sensitive skin behind your ribs. “Fine… you win. But don’t scare me like that again.”
Robin grinned, leaning down to press soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, neck, shoulders. “Deal. But you better be ready,” she murmured against your skin, her hands moving with a teasing, possessive insistence. “I’m not stopping with kisses this time.”
You wriggled slightly under her, laughing as her hands brushed over your stomach, sides, hips, tracing teasing patterns. “You never stop, Robin Buckley.”
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered, fingers brushing down your arm to hold your hand, thumbs stroking over your knuckles. Every inch of touch was claiming, playful, intimate, making the whole apartment feel like your private world.
And just like that, the tension from yesterday dissolved into warmth, teasing touches, and laughter. The morning belonged to the two of you,full of skin, closeness, and quiet promises that this was just the beginning.
Thinking about the fact that Doris (the hospital receptionist) absolutely despises Nancy
And absolutely loves Robin
I think that's very funny.
Moments We Held✦(Robin Buckley)
cw : none!!
genre: fluff
synopsis: Robin and you look back on your relationship through photos, reliving the messy, sweet, and unforgettable moments that led you both to each other,and to forever.
A/n: FIRST POST OF 2026!!, ALSO I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY ABT THE ENDING OF STRANGER THINGS!!, I LOVE ROBIN
The house is quiet in that fragile, almost sacred way,like it’s holding its breath, afraid to disturb something precious.
Robin sits on the floor, back against the couch, knees pulled to her chest, a stack of photos spread out in front of her. You sink down beside her without a word. Her shoulder brushes yours, and it feels like an anchor.
“I—” she starts, but the words stumble out. She picks up the top photo, fingers trembling slightly. “I just needed to see… that we’re real.”
You glance at the photo: Family Video, neon glow in the background. Robin is caught mid-motion behind the counter, mouth open, hands flailing like she’s explaining something no one asked for. And there’s the faint blur of a smile that could break hearts.
The moment your fingers touch the photo you felt as if you were truly reliving the moment
-First meeting-
The tape display crashes to the floor.
“Oh no—oh god—oh crap, I’m so sorry!” Robin mutters, crouching to scoop up the fallen VHS cases. “I just… I just… ugh. I swear I’m usually more coordinated than this!”
You kneel beside her, handing her a tape. Your fingers brush. She freezes, like she’s just touched something she thought didn’t exist. “Oh. Hi. I—I’m Robin,” she blurts, voice too loud for the quiet store, hair falling into her eyes. “I work here. Obviously. You can tell. By my… uniform. Or the way I’m flailing?”
You laugh softly. “I can tell.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yes,” you say. “You’re… impossible to miss.”
Her face flushes pink. She grins and launches into a passionate tangent about why certain VHS tapes are objectively better than others. Her hands wave, nearly knocking over the display again, but you don’t mind. You just listen, mesmerized. Her energy is ridiculous, overwhelming, and completely magnetic.
At one point, she drops a tape again. You hand it back, and your fingers brush. She gasps softly, embarrassed. You smile at her, and for a heartbeat, she looks at you like she’d been waiting for someone who would just… get it.
I like her, you think quietly. I like her a lot.
The photo lowers. Robin leans against you.
“I thought you hated me,” she murmurs.
“I thought you were brave, talking to a random stranger about random shit….at the time i could never do something that brave” you reply.
She smiles like it matters more than she can say, then reaches for the next photo.
-coming out to each other-
The photo is dim, grainy, taken with a cheap camera Robin begged someone to use. You’re sitting on the floor of her bedroom, knees brushing, backs against the bed. You’re not smiling at the camera. You’re looking at each other.
The air smells faintly of lavender and old carpet cleaner. Outside, the street is silent, streetlights casting long shadows into the room.
Robin fiddles with the hem of her shirt, jaw tight. “There’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she says, voice low.
You turn to her. “Okay.”
She swallows hard. “I think… I like girls.”
Her hands tremble, heart hammering. She doesn’t know if this confession will drive you away, or if everything will shatter in an instant.
You don’t hesitate. “Me too,” you say, gently.
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“I’m gay, at least I think?” you repeat.
Relief crashes through her like a tidal wave. She laughs and cries at the same time, hands flying to her face. “Oh my god… thank god. I thought I’d always…be alone, thought that i was the only one who felt this attraction to the same sex”
You pull her into your arms. Her shoulder shakes, forehead pressed into your chest. “You’re not alone. You never will be.”
She believes you.
Present-day Robin brushes the photo’s edges. “That night… I didn’t know I could feel this safe,” she whispers.
“We saved each other,” you say.
-First date ask-
The Polaroid is crooked. Robin’s face is bright red, eyes wide, panic and hope colliding.
In the memory, the living room is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. Robin paces, hands tugging at her hair.
“Okay. Hypothetically… if someone were going to ask you on a date—not like friends… an actual date—would… maybe…?”
You grin. “Robin, what are you asking?”
She freezes. “Would… you… go on a date with me?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widen. “Yes…?”
“Yes,” you say again.
She laughs, breathless, cheeks pink, heart racing. “Oh my god… okay. Cool. Yes, yes, yes!” She pulls you into a hug, and you stumble slightly, laughing. For a moment, the world shrinks to just the two of you.
Present-day Robin squeezes your hand. “I didn’t know yet how much courage it would take to ask for something I really wanted.”
“And yet, you did,” you whisper.
-First kiss/ officially together-
The photo is bright, sunlight spilling over your joined hands. Robin leans into you, head tilted, heart hammering.
In the memory, the air smells like fresh grass and warm sunlight. Birds chirp. A soft breeze tugs at Robin’s hair.
“I… I guess… this is it,” she murmurs.
She leans closer. “Can I… kiss you?”
You nod.
The kiss is soft, slow, delicate. Her hand moves to your cheek, trembling slightly. You hold her like she’s fragile glass, warm and alive.
She presses her forehead to yours afterward. “I’ve never… done this,” she whispers.
“Me neither,” you say.
It isn’t just a kiss,it’s learning how to exist openly, how to choose each other. Love grows quietly, steadily, between your smiles, fingertips brushing, lazy laughter.
Present-day Robin brushes the photo’s edges. “I remember thinking… this is the first time I’ve felt like we could survive anything.”
“We can,” you say.
-The proposal-
The final photo is sharp, new. Your hand raised, the ring catching the light. Robin’s fingers tremble as she holds it, eyes wide, the same mix of terror and hope she’s carried since the beginning.
In the memory, the world is impossibly quiet. She can hear your breaths, smell faint lavender mixed with crisp evening air.
“I don’t… I don’t know how we plan a future after everything we’ve seen,” she whispers, voice breaking. “But I know I want you. Always. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you say immediately.
She presses her forehead to yours. “We survived. We really did.”
Present-day, Robin slides the photo back in the stack. Fingers lace with yours, thumb brushing the ring.
“I used to think memories were all we’d get,” she whispers. “Proof that something good existed… before it could be taken away. But this… this is ours. Past, future… everything.”
-Present day-
Robin leans into you, head on your shoulder, heartbeat finally matching yours. The house smells faintly of leftover dinner and blankets.
“I can’t believe we actually did all of this,” she murmurs, thumb brushing the ring. “Survived everything… and ended up here.”
“Here is good,” you whisper, pulling her closer.
She giggles, nuzzling into your neck. “I still get nervous around you sometimes.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” she says, laughing. “Even after the first date, the first kiss, the proposal… I still get butterflies like a dork.”
“You’re adorable. And maybe a little ridiculous. But mostly… perfect,” you murmur.
She laughs, burying her face in your chest. “You’re ridiculous too.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you whisper.
You settle into the couch, knees tangled, blankets draped over your legs. Outside, the city lights twinkle faintly. Inside, it’s warm. Safe. Perfect.
“Promise me one thing,” she murmurs.
“Anything,” you say.
“Promise me we’ll never forget any of this. Every messy, chaotic, beautiful second.”
“I promise,” you whisper, tightening your arms around her.
She sighs, pressing a long, lazy kiss to your lips. Slow, soft, lingering,the kind that says we’ve survived, we’re safe, we’re home.
For the first time in a long time, neither of you worries about what’s next. The future is bright. The past is ours. And right now, you’re completely, undeniably home.
"older men are hot" "older men, younger girl" "need an older man"
girl you NEED to study if you wanna graduate the 8th grade😭😭😭
How long is it going to take for writers to realize not everyone is a pale white person with bright blue eyes and straight blonde hair..
Or do POC not exist in their world...
✦maybe lock the door✦(Robin Buckley)
tags: wlw,established relationship, makeout session, getting caught, mature themes, no actual smut
genre: fluff,slightly suggestive
synopsis: While making out with Robin, Y/n’s mother walks in
You barely make it two steps into your room before she’s kissing you again.
Not rushed this time,slow, deliberate, like she’s finally decided to stop overthinking it.
Her hands slide up your arms, warm and sure, thumbs brushing your skin as if she’s memorizing it. You back into the bed, laughing softly when your knees hit the mattress and she follows without hesitation.
“Okay,” you murmured against her mouth, smiling. “Okay, wow. Hi.”
She tugs you closer instead of answering.
She hums into the kiss, deepening it, all warmth and enthusiasm and that faint nervous edge she never quite loses. Her glasses get crooked; you push them up automatically. She grins into the kiss like she caught you doing something intimate.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The-” she kisses you again, stealing the word right off your lips “-the distracting thing.”
“I’m not, I’m just returning the energy”
Her sweater comes off somewhere between kisses,half accidental, half not. It lands in a heap on the floor. Robin doesn’t even notice at first.
She does notice when you tug her shirt up just enough to make her laugh and pull back, breathless.
“Wow—okay—hang on—are we—” she glances at the door, then back at you, clearly failing to care “—yeah, no, never mind.”
She kisses you again.
It’s messier now. Warmer. She presses you back onto the bed, bracing herself with one hand while the other rests at your waist, fingers curling like she’s grounding herself. Her hair falls forward, brushing your cheek, and she groans quietly when you tug gently at it.
“Oh—oh, that’s unfair,” she mutters, forehead resting against yours.
You smile. “You’re smiling.”
“Because I’m happy,” she says simply, then kisses you again.
Somewhere in the chaos, your shirt gets tugged over your head, tossed aside without ceremony. Robin freezes for exactly half a second before her eyes soften and she laughs under her breath.
“Hi,” she says again, quieter now.
“Hi.”
She kisses you like she means it,slow, lingering, like she’s savoring every second. Her thumb traces idle patterns against your side. Nothing rushed. Nothing rushed at all.
And then—
The door opens.
“Hey, honey—”
Your mom stops dead.
You and Robin do not stop dead fast enough.
Robin’s hand is still on your waist. You’re still half on the bed. Shirts are clearly missing. The air is… noticeably changed .
“Oh,” your mom says.
Robin jerks back like she’s been shocked.
“I—HI—HELLO—” she squeaks, scrambling upright, hair wild, face completely red. “I SWEAR—WE WERE—UM—”
Your mom raises an eyebrow, amused but calm. “I can see that.”
You sit up, tugging a pillow into your lap purely out of instinct.
Your mom sighs, stepping fully into the room and closing the door most of the way behind her.
“Okay,” she says gently. “Everyone breathe.”
Robin does not breathe.
“I’m sorry,” Robin blurts. “I didn’t mean to—this wasn’t—well it was—but—”
Your mom smiles despite herself. “Robin, right?”
Robin nods rapidly. “Yes. Robin. Shirtless Robin. Apparently.”
Your mom chuckles. “You can put it back on. Or not. I’m not here to traumatize anyone.”
Robin fumbles for her shirt like it’s trying to escape her.
“So,” your mom continues, leaning casually against the dresser, “I knocked. Didn’t get an answer.”
You groan softly. “We didn’t hear you.”
“That much is obvious,” she says dryly.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then your mom smiles again,warm, knowing.
“I just wanted to ask about dinner,” she says. “But I also wanted to make sure you two were okay.”
Robin glances at you.
You reach for her hand. She squeezes it immediately, grounding herself again.
“We’re okay,” you say.
Your mom nods. “Good.”
She pauses, eyes flicking between your intertwined fingers, the discarded clothes, the very obvious affection neither of you is hiding well.
“…Door stays open,” she adds gently. “But I’m glad you’re happy.”
She heads toward the door, then stops.
“Oh—and Robin?”
Robin looks up, terrified.
“Yes?”
Your mom smiles. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
Robin exhales, shoulders dropping. “Thank you. Very much.”
The door opens again,and this time, she leaves.
Robin collapses back onto the bed beside you, covering her face with her hands.
“I cannot believe,” she mutters, “that your mom walked in while I was actively forgetting how to be a person.”
You laugh, nudging her. “You did fine.”
She peeks at you through her fingers, smiling shyly.
“…Worth it,” she says.
Then, softer, she leans in and presses a quick, careful kiss to your lips,still warm, still full of promise.
“Later,” she adds, grinning. “When we’re less… supervised.”
