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#fairy robin buckley

three-possums-playing-human · 2 years

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Making a Feral Four au where Eddie’s a vamp, Steve’s a werewolf, Robin is a fairy/pixie type thing, and Nancy is a witch! It’s gonna be a one shot, but i may make it a series sometime later.

Starting with… Steve becoming a werewolf during a camping trip! This one is more Steddie-centric, I plan on making a more Ronance-centric one later.

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 1 year

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supernatural fruity four au where whenever they have occasion to tell people they're supernatural they go like 'okay one of us is a vampire, one's a fairy, one's a witch, and one's a werewolf. guess which is which' because everyone literally always guesses that eddie's the vampire, nancys the fairy, robins the witch, and steve's the werewolf, and they think it's fucking hilarious how literally no one ever clocks a single one of them correctly

in actuality, nancys the vampire, steve's the fairy, eddie's the witch, and robins the werewolf

#nancys the vampire bc she looks like a haunted victorian doll just think about it #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #also u get classic werewolf/vampire and fairy/witch pairings #steddie #ronance #actually saying that i don't think fairy/witch is considered a classic pairing but it SHOULD BE #the witch out in the forest collecting ingredients and finding an Enchanting Creature bathing in the creek #Do You See The Vision #except when it's steddie it's eddie going for his secret weed crop in the woods #and coming across steve washing his laundry in the creek bc his washing machine broke and the laundromat scares him

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fastcardotmp3 · 3 months

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Robin stops mere inches in front of Nancy, bends at the waist to be at eye level as she raises a hand and lets the gentle pressure of her fingertips trace across the apple of Nancy’s cheek. “There’s magic woven into you, Nancy Wheeler.” » Ronance // Rated T // Immortal!NancyxDragon!Robin // 2.8k » Febuwhump #14: left for dead, “no…not like this” & not allowed to die » Febuwhump Masterlist

read on ao3 // preview under the cut

“So, are you a witch?” asks the girl with hair like fire and a tongue to match. She goes by the name of a boy without an ounce of shame. She bruises her knees and brags intelligence. She is living a life Nancy might have in a different time.

A life she is somehow, impossibly, still living.

“What makes you think I’m a witch?”

“You live in the woods and you saved Will,” she points out like it’s obvious.

“I found Will. Your friends saved him.”

“Same, difference,” Max shrugs. “But why else would you live out here? So far from everyone else? If you’re regular?”

“I don’t have to be a witch to not be regular,” Nancy can’t help the breath of amusement that cuts through her voice. Can’t help feeling it either.

Can’t help that enough time has passed to make it hurt less, if not entirely absent of the hurt even still.

“Are you even human then?” Max asks, a glimmer in her eyes, a spark in the curiosity that envelops her like an aura. There’s no malice to her search for knowledge.

There’s so much wonder, like a girl behind the counter in her family’s shop so many years ago, books hidden in her skirts, cracked open behind the register.

“Endlessly so,” Nancy smiles, and she feels an old, forgotten glimmer return to her own aura as well.

#dot does febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #ronance #dot fic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy & barb #fairy tale au #of sorts #the final one!!! gah!! 🥹💜

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ghostlyfleur · 8 months

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𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛!𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑦!𝘩𝑎𝑤𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡

chrissy cunningham x nancy wheeler x robin buckley x fem

warnings: none, i don’t think. let me know if i missed any.

imagine them just spoiling the shit out of you— nancy is more authoritarian, a bit more strict, but she softens so much for her girls everyone can tell they’re her soft spot. robin gets flustered easily, her mouth going faster than her mind so she’s always throwing compliments and praise around but can’t take it when you do it to her, never able to hide how much she loves her babies. chrissy is the overly affectionate, blushy one, turns very needy and clingy and horny easily, all gentle touches and soft spoken voice.

just constant flirting, all kinds of kisses, cuddle piles, weekly dates that you alternate planning, lots of napping together, self care nights, sleepover-esque weekends, holding hands, the four of you just happy to exist only with each other, not needing anyone else. maybe roommates?

all four of you have social media accounts where you post so much content that’s aimed at bringing awareness to lgbt matters, always very open about your relationship, everyone knows the four of you are each other’s best friends and loves of each other’s lives— y’all post about going to pride parades and events, constantly posting about bringing light to poly relationships and such. you guys go viral on tiktok for sure.

your aesthetics are also so unique, each of you standing out in different ways— the journalist, the band geek, the cheerleader, the baker.

── harmo’s footnotes:

please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. character dreams.

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ridestomars · 2 years

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… but like a fairy reader with any of them would be funny. In my opinion Nancy would find it so cool but she wouldn’t be weird about it. Robin would ramble on and on about it and just go into like a lesbian panic if you showed her your wings. Steve would be funny about it and a little uneducated and compare you to like Tinkerbell. Eddie would like fawn over your wings and just want to touch them and call them pretty because he is actually so sweet and soft. … just my thoughts hehe 🤣😂👀😁🧚

this is absolutely perfect.

i feel like nancy would be the only one who's actually cool about the whole thing. like, she'd probably find it crazy at first (but would never show that to you, of course), so it would take a bit of getting used to but even then, she'd always treat you normally because you're her friend, after all. i also feel like she'd be the best to talk about human traditions or "technicalities" (if that makes sense), since she's the only one who actually has the patience to sit down with you to talk about those "boring" subjects like history. also, i definitely see her going shopping with fairy! and would spend the whole time encouraging you to try all kinds of styles, and then she'd teach you how to style your hair the way you like it and to do your makeup!

robin wants to know every little detail of your life, and i'm not even kidding. like, her idea of a perfect day with you is: you both hanging out in a quiet place and asking you about everything fairy-related (that she can think of). i feel like she would love to do little arts and crafts with you, like making rings out of twigs or nice colorful paintings. i picture robin as a cinephile, so i definitely see her taking you to the movies almost daily. or renting some cool movies for you to watch together on your sleepovers – that would vary a lot, like, she would go from a 40s hitchcock movie to revenge of the nerds in a second. and she'd also explain to you everything she knows about movies, and would even get her mom's old super 8 camera to record videos of you two together.

and poor stevie wouldn't have a clue of what's going on and would just roll with the punches, really. but the face he makes when you show him your wings for the first time was priceless; the type of memory that when it comes to mind just makes you giggle by yourself. but he would love to spend time with you, always asking the most senseless questions – that would often end up with nancy smacking him on the arm. but i feel like he would be your hawkins guide, showing you around town like a pro. it's like he's a walking map, almost, because he knows everything and everyone, even the most hidden parts of town... and he makes sure to show you everything.

eddie would be a bit intimidating at first, but he would warm up to you really quickly. and once you become friends, he's willing to show you everything music-related that you've been missing. because not only you would marathon mtv programs like crazy, but he would gift you records almost every week. if we're talking about my eddie au, then i just know that this boy would be so jealous of your friendship with the other three. like, he's so immature about it but it's just so cute :( because he says shit to you like "this is so unfair! i met you first! you should be spending time with me!", with those puppy dog eyes that just make you melt.

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

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ghostlynimbus · 1 year

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The Fae

Though there are many types of fae in this world, only two are relevant to our story. The noble realm fairy, beings of great magical power at the top of the hierarchy of fae, and the lowly enchanted, beings who were once human but who have been transformed by fae magic into something of a fae themselves.

Ghost's Supernatural AU Masterpost

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #Mr. Harrington #Mrs. Harrington #steve harrington's parents #mr and mrs harrington #fairy #fae #fic: supernatural au #ghost.txt #realm fairies have dominion over an area #and young(er) realm fairies typically maintain a realm within their parents' realm #when his parents arent home Steve is the oldest thing in Hawkins

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bitchyglitterfox · 2 years

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The Siren and The Fairy - Robin x F!Reader

Summary: A fairy and a siren meet nightly at their rendezvous despite the pleas of friends from both sides.

A/N: So this is me a first-time poster but an avid reader here on Tumblr, anywho this is an obvious AU for Hawkins's fav babysitter club turned into mystical creatures! also let me know what you liked and what I can do better in the future! I might make this a mini-series where I make the Hawkin's babysitter club creatures but not corresponding ya know?

Warnings: Smut, so if you're under 18 ill have vecna steal your knee caps! Fingering(F receiving) Reader x siren!Robin, siren lore spoken about, Forbinen love, gendered language, I think that's it

Word Count: 1.2k

Night, my favorite time of day. When the stars come out and all the humans are asleep, I am able to sneak away to the sea in order to see my lover Robin.

“Are you going to see that Siren again?” Nancy asks just as I’m about to leave the forest.

“No, what would make you think I would go see a siren?” I say laughing nervously while also trying not to act suspicious however failing horribly.

“I’ve followed you once or twice, I see the love you have for her but you know how dangerous they are, they lure you in with their voices, and besides there are humans who are always coming into dock at this time of night!” she yells slightly, my eyes widen as I place my hand over her mouth to keep her from waking the others or anyone who may have prying ears.

“She isn’t, she is kind and caring and she loves me.” I say narrowing my eyes at her, “I’m a grown woman Nance, I can protect myself.”

“I just worry about you. Just be back before the humans wake at sunrise.”

“I promise to be back before then.” I give her one more smile before flying out of the forest towards the bay. The smell of the sea air let me know I am close to the bay and closer to Robin, my sweet Robin. Such a sweetheart. We first met a year ago on a night quite like this. I was out by the sea, enjoying the air when I heard a splash and a pained yelp.

I went over to see what creature had been hurt when I saw a siren’s tail trapped in a fisherman’s net and a rather large gash on her chest. My eyes trailed up to be met with the most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever gazed upon.

“Let me help you,” I say leaning down to cut him free.

“No, I don't take help from humans,” she said slightly moving away from me.

“Well that makes two of us, I’m not a human either, I’m a fairy. You cant tell because I am currently in my human form.” I say taking a knife from my bag and cutting the ropes, “There, now I have something for that gash on your chest, do you think you could change into your human form and lean against the rock?”

“I can’t, we can’t change if we are severely injured.” she says wincing while scooting back against the rock, “Can I know the name of the Fairy who saved me?”

“My name is Y/n and what might your name be siren?” I ask while grabbing the herbs from my bag, “This will sting a bit.”

“My name is Robin, ah that hurts! What is that?” she says gripping my arm.

“I told you it would, they are herbs from the forest, they have magical healing properties, just watch,” I say gently as I pull my hand away and watch as the large gash on her chest heals, it looks as if there was never a gash there, to begin with.

“You are incredible,” she says in awe.

“You are too, um, you aren't going to seduce me and then kill me right?” I say blushing since she still has a hold of my wrist.

“No, we don't do that with creatures only humans. Besides you saved my life, how could I do that to you? However the seducing could be arranged if you would like for me to give you a reward for saving me” she says smiling, causing me to blush.

From that moment on Robin and I would meet at that same spot by the sea in our human forms and just talk. Soon we began seeing each other not as friends but as lovers.

I pull myself out of my thoughts when the sound of the sea hits my ears. I fly down changing into my human form, my bare feet hit the soft ground, toes curling into the sand of the bay. I continue to the very rock where we met for the first time. I sit down with one knee crossed under my leg laying in the water. I see movement in the water and soon a figure jumps from the water, landing next to me on the rock is Robin in her human form.

I turn my head slightly towards her and smile. Her presence always makes my heart flutter. She places her hand on my cheek and brings my face closer to hers. Our lips meet and mold together, almost as if they were puzzle pieces. I enjoy the salty way her lips taste while we kiss, I slide my tongue into her mouth and glide it over her tongue. We pull away from each other much to my distaste.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my love,” she says as she grabs my hand and leads me back towards the meadow on the edge of the forest.

“But you just saw me last night robin,” I kiss her again, “How much time do we have until you have to go back into the water?”

“Endless, as long as I have water from the Sea, I can stay out as long as I please. The necklace you made me allows me to have endless time now.” her lips attack mine hungrily as we both lay down. Her hands slide up my dress, gliding across the skin of my stomach. Her hands find my breasts as she begins to kneed them. A moan escapes my mouth as she begins their way to my down to my neck, marking me as her.

My hands find their way to her pants pulling them down. She pulls away from my neck allowing me to free myself from my dress. She aligns her fingers with my dripping pussy and gently thrusts in, I moan out of pleasure pulling her face to mine once again interlocking our lips. She begins to hook her fingers inside me hitting the sweet spot, her thumb rapidly rubbing against my nub.

“I love you so much” she mumbles against my lips as she pushes faster.

“I love you too” I moan out, as my hands grip the grass surrounding me.

Soon her thrusts become shorter and faster and I can feel a knot begin to form in my stomach.

“Alexaundra, faster, go faster” I moan out as I arch my back, soon feeling my release, I lay back down as we finish. She pulls out of me and sticks her glistening fingers in her mouth.

“That is literally the hottest thing you have ever done,” I say biting my lip and stopping myself from moaning.

We lay there, arms wrapped around one another, looking at the stars above us.

“Y/n my love, I want to ask you something,” she asks as she turns to face me.

“What is it my love,” I look at her, her face is wet from sweat, or is it from the sea, her beautiful face is enticing.

“Ever since the day we met, I have felt drawn to you. I love you, what I am saying is, Y/n, will you marry me” She says pulling out a beautiful ring with a jewel the same color as the sea.

“Yes, Robin, I’ll marry you. I love you so much.”

We stay laying in each other’s arms until the sun began to peek out from the horizon. We got dressed once more and went our separate ways.

One being a creature of the forest, the other a creature of the sea, these two shouldn’t go together but when love is involved, anything is possible

#robin buckley smut #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things #netflixs #stranger things fluff #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #fairy x siren

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pez-and-quiet · 1 year

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A BATTERY JUST FUCKING FELL ON MY HEAD

So I was tying to fucking write byler angst and one of my fairy light batteries fell out of its case like excuse me no I NEED the feeling of fairy lights and my vecna playlist to write fucking good music

#stranger things #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #ronance #nancy wheeler #byler #outfit looked cooler with my leather jacket #fairy lights #batteries

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dingusfreakhxrrington · 2 years

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🍷 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖆 may i please have fairies + robin buckley please

can i also have a navi header pretty please? if it's too much don't worry abt it <3

thanks for taking part in the spookfest athena! i hope these are okay 🤍

(i included a plain and sparkly gif version of the navi header because i’m sure which one i like more ☺️)

take part in the dingus spookfest

#spookfest #ask #robin buckley icons #robin buckley layouts #robin buckley layout #robin buckley headers #layouts #headers #icons #layout #stranger things icons #stranger things headers #fairy icons #navi header

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artaxlivs · 9 months

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Were they kidding with this bullshit? Like, seriously? So many gates opening up to different dimensions now that there were too many for Supergirl to close and this? This is what they got? Fuck this. Seriously.

"Are you a virgin?" Mike asked like the total little dickhead he is.

"So what if I am? Aren't you? And the rest of your little friends?" Eddie sniped back at the rude little bastard but then, he blanched, "actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Why did this have to be happening when Eddie was on a perimeter check?

Mike rolled his eyes like he couldn't believe how ridiculous Eddie was being, "Dumbass, we're children. Unicorns never go to innocent children in fairy tales. Because we're all innocent. They go to innocent adults. Virgins." He put far too much emphasis on the word because he is, as mentioned, a little dickhead.

"Listen, fuck you and the unicorn you rode in on. I'm not fucking innocent. I've done...things. Things I'm not gonna tell you about!" Eddie sputtered, crossing his arms and almost losing his precarious balance on the tree branch.

He needed to be careful because there was a unicorn circling underneath him. And not the beautiful, ethereal kind. It was beautiful, sure, but it had blood all over his muzzle and splattered across it's chest and on it's front hooves. Probably from the last virgin it had tracked down in god knows what dimension and trampled slash eaten to death. It's eyes were blazing red fire and it had fangs. Fangs. Fuck. That.

Eddie heard Steve sighing and then he flailed an arm from Eddie's tree branch to Robin and said, "It can't be trying to get you because you're a virgin, it's not going anywhere near Robin!"

The girl in question squeaked. Her ears and cheeks went bright red. All three of them turned to look at her.

"Wait, what? Was it you know who? From the...? You didn't tell me? When did you...?" Steve asked cryptically, shedding absolutely no light on who Buckley was knocking boots with.

"Yes after we met at the...place." Robin supplied lamely and then bared her teeth and said through them, "After. But before we went back in to fight Henry slash Vecna slash One." She shrugged and let out a hysterical sounding giggle. "It was...End of the World Sex. Just in case, you know?"

"Ohhhh I'm so proud of you!" And oddly, Steve really did sound proud. Which was weird. Eddie was pretty sure Robin was gay which meant the caginess was in reference to a girl but the fact that Steve was so supportive was a little suprising.

Without actively thinking about the repercussions, Eddie's mouth decided to test that theory, "Well damn, wish I'd have thought of that. Steve - want to deflower me so this unicorn leaves me alone?" The hysterical giggle Eddie let out rivaled Robin's.

Slowly Steve turned back to him but before he could reply, Mike scoffed, "You are his type. Skinny, big bushy hair, big eyes, you and Nancy both talk like everyone is just waiting to listen to you to speak." He rolled his eyes, "Annoying."

"Rude!" Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully, "You know what though? I'm fine with it. Nancy Wheeler is a badass and I want to be her when I grow up. Or when I get down from this tree." Eddie cringed, staring down as the unicorn stopped and looked up, one of it's flaming eyes bore into him. It neighed, shaking it's gorgeous mane but also splattering little droplets of blood everywhere.

Gross. So gross.

"Huh. Now that you mention it..." Robin stared up at Eddie thoughtfully, "I totally see it."

Steve just dragged his hand down his face and glared at the angry unicorn, "Okay, we need a real plan because Eddie isn't coordinated enough to have sex in a tree." He put his hands on his hips like a baseball mom wondering if she brought enough orange slices and Shastas for the whole team. "Do we know any other adult virgins to lure this one away?"

Mike snorted, "Those are probably more rare than the unicorn.'

Eddie flipped him off, "You're rolling at disadvantage on all charisma and persuasion checks for the rest of time."

"We'll have to find a new DM when the unicorn gores you anyway," Mike shrugged. "Whatever."

Then he wandered off. Just walked away, like Eddie wasn't two feet away from being mauled by a feral beast who's name was probably Glitter Sparkle or some shit. What a dickhead.

Looking away from the unicorn, Eddie watched Robin wave Steve over and whisper to him. They had a hushed conversation for several minutes while Eddie yelled things like, "Wanna share with the class?" and "Good friends don't make shitty plans in secret!" But they ignored him. Bastards.

Until Steve turned to the tree and asked, "By 'things' what do you mean?"

What?

"Harrington, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You said you've done 'things' but not had sex. What things?" Steve brushed a hand through his miraculously still perfect hair, and sighed, obviously frustrated, "We're trying to figure out what the unicorn considers virginity. Robin's never..." He petered off and glanced back at her and then over at Mike who was half way down the block with his radio out, sitting on a bench with his back to them, probably telling everyone that Eddie still had his V card. Traitor.

He was too far away for them to hear his conversation so he was probably too far for theirs.

Robin cleared her throat. "I've never had, you know, penetrative sex. Just...um...uh...third base!" She squeaked again and then covered her face with her hands.

"You're being extremely weird about sex talk while a blood covered unicorn is stalking me like a jungle cat!" Eddie informed her. "Oral. Just say oral sex, you weirdo!"

"Ok fine!" She shouted, "I've given and reciprocated oral sex! Jesus." Then she crossed her arms and grumbled under her breath, tapping one foot on the grass.

Eddie couldn't help it. He laughed with glee. "Was she cute?"

Robin sputtered, mouth dropping in shock.

What? Did she think she was a subtle lesbian? Because she wasn't. Not at all. Her high tops had boobs drawn on them like some twelve year old boy just hitting puberty. He rolled his eyes.

Steve looked up at Eddie then. His eyebrows were arched in that way they get when he's thinking up a plan. They're not always good plans but he carries them out and everyone usually lives so, Eddie could do worse. "Well - Big Boy?" Steve's lips twitched in a smile at using Eddie's nickname for him. "I'm guessing when you said you've done 'things,' you were lying?"

"Yeah, duh." Eddie retorted, snapping in his irritation and mounting fear. Mounting, ha. Like a horse and like sex. Mounting. He bit his lip to contain the very poorly timed giggle.

Robin rolled her eyes, grabbed Steve's arm and gave him a severe 'be careful' look and then hustled over to where Mike was sitting. When Steve tucked his bat into his backpack and started to creep around the tree, he realized she was giving them privacy. Holy shit.

The unicorn didn't even acknowledge Steve's presence as he skirted around it and climbed the tree, grunting and complaining under his breath how nobody better call him the Virginsitter because he swears to God. Then the rest of his grumbling got lost, buried under the sound of Eddie's heart pounding in his ears.

Holy shit.

And that's how Eddie lost his mythically constructed virginity in a tree to Steve Harrington who was apparently bisexual and very, very good at blowjobs.

Neither of them even noticed which way the unicorn went.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #feral unicorns #it's a thing #I'm making it a thing #virginity is a man made construct to place value on a women's virtue and fuck that nonsense

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robthegoodfellow · 2 months

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I'm Glad My Dad Died

mungrove | slightly expanded version of fic written for @strangerthingscharityzine | ao3

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy had a secret: he was glad his dad was dead. So glad that even when his mom sold their house in Ocean Beach and moved them to Hawkins, Indiana, uprooting him from his friends and the sea and everything Billy loved, he still wouldn’t go back to the way things were. Given the options—California, dad alive; or Indiana, dad dead—he’d pick the second every time.

He would, even though Hawkins was its own hell. Learned the hard way that among prepubescent country bumpkins, embroidered roses on your shirt and hair like Shirley Temple bought you a one-way ticket to Loserville.

It was the fall of 1979. Disco was dying and former flower children were gearing up to vote for Reagan. Kumbaya over, time to make America great again.

So, yeah—sixth grade sucked, but stuff at home was world’s better. They were living with Aunt Doris—because San Diego was too expensive, his mom said, and wouldn’t it be nice to get a fresh start?

Mom was really into the whole fresh start thing—which Billy suspected was fueled by guilt and determination to be the kind of mother she hadn’t been before. And… he appreciated that. He did.

But—he wished she would stop? Put down the pen, step away from the extracurricular sign-up sheets.

Because if the outfit put a target on his back, swim team aimed the bow, and band fired the arrow.

You’ll miss the water, honey. And you love music!

She wasn’t wrong. He did love those things—but not enough to willingly wear a Speedo in public or blunder through some Beethoven on the flute. Also in public.

Oh—why the flute? Because she’d fed him a steady diet of hippie tunes from the cradle and knew how much he dug Jethro Tull. Perfectly reasonable explanation—his peers would definitely understand.

Here lies Billy Hargrove, innocent victim of social homicide.

The bullying was relentless, but Billy figured he could take it. No middle school bully could come close to the one he’d lived with all his life.

You know, the one he was glad was dead.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy hadn’t wanted to attend the talent show, but Mom insisted it was important to support his friends. By which she meant her friends—women she’d been palling around with who had kids in said show.

Kids she’d been aggressively arranging playdates with like Billy was five.

Patrick’s talent was making twenty free-throw shots in a row. Robin’s was singing “This Land is Your Land” in four different languages. His mom and Mrs. Buckley had laughed about keeping the less than patriotic lyrics, assuming the Spanish rendition would fly over people’s heads.

Billy felt bad even thinking it, but he did wonder if his mom pushing these particular friends at him was part of her fresh start campaign.

Pat was black. Robin was a girl. And his dad had a habit of muttering snide remarks about anyone who wasn’t a WASP packing a sizable stinger—who wasn’t a clone of Neil Hargrove, basically.

And look, Pat and Robin were—fine. But he knew and they knew that they were only hanging out because their moms wanted them to, which was awkward as hell. Made his palms sweat whenever they were together or whenever they said hi at school despite him being a fairy freak according to kids whose opinions mattered.

They were nice, but it felt like pity. Embarrassing in a way that made him shrivel up inside.

So he wasn’t in the best mood, slumped in the auditorium between his mother and Doris, praying no one pelted him with shit from behind. Mom felt crappy enough about all those years with Neil—Billy didn’t need her kicking herself for scooping him out of the fire and into a frying pan.

Pat set a record—28 in a row—and Billy clapped. Robin sang her song wearing a daisy crown, and Billy clapped. Dully, he watched as stagehands set up the next act, hauling out a drum kit.

Gareth, this shrimpy sixth grader, sat at the drums. Then an eighth grader came out, followed by a couple kids in seventh, the former bearing an electric guitar, one of the latter a bass. The guitarist waved, leaned into the mic—skinny guy with a buzzcut, eyes big and dark as an alien.

We are Corroded Coffin—paused as a contingent of the audience went nuts—and this song is called Paranoid.

In the next row, a kid whispered, excited: Think they’ll make Coleman pull the plug again?

Gareth banged his drumsticks, counting them off.

The opening riffs were like nothing Billy had heard before—this grind of chords that rattled teeth, thrummed in the chest. He straightened, compelled forward, a fishing line hooked deep.

Buzzcut was bent over the strings so low that all you could see was the top of his head, a fuzzy cue ball. Then Gareth kicked in, and the front man wailed the first verse, this nasal staccato, sort of speak-singing.

Billy scrambled to decipher the rapidfire—caught bits of the first verses. Then the bridge begged for help, and the rest landed loud and clear.

I need someone to show me The things in life that I can't find I can't see the things that make true happiness I must be blind

The words were meant for him—just for Billy. It’s me. The guitarist leapt, plunged into a driving solo. The song’s about me.

Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal

Helpless, Billy turned to his mom, who grinned, whispering they’re great, aren’t they? He could only nod, swinging back to the guitarist, riveted until the final blaring note.

For Christmas, Billy unwrapped the smallest package under the tree—a cassette. It was all he’d asked for: Black Sabbath’s greatest hits album.

Because that night of the talent show, he sold his soul for rock n’ roll.

More specifically, for heavy metal.

More secretly, for the boy with the big brown eyes.

Eddie, he’d found out at school the next day, gossip overheard at lunch. The boy was Eddie.

Eddie Munson.

And whenever Billy caught a glimpse of him, the rest of that year, he thrummed like an electric guitar.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Unfortunately, his passion for headbanging and powerchords did not meaningfully improve the remainder of middle school, and by the time he walked the stage at eighth grade graduation, Billy resolved to make a change—give himself a fresh start on his terms.

First, he mowed endless lawns and bought a new wardrobe: bootcut jeans with matching boots, which lent him some height and a certain swagger; button downs in dark colors worn open to his sternum and white tees like the crew from Outsiders; a bitchin’ leather jacket.

His hair had progressed from Shirley Temple to Farrah Fawcett, so he trotted to the barber for a Bon Jovi bi-level. Almost chickened out at the mall when he got his ear pierced, but loved the way the earring swung from his left lobe… though the right would’ve been more accurate.

He quit band and swim. Thought maybe he’d try basketball instead, and enlisted Pat to help him practice.

They were actual buddies by then.

Lastly, he took up smoking. Marlboro Reds, because they were badass. Soldiered through the pack all summer, suppressing a gag on every pull till he was puffing like a chimney.

August before ninth grade, Pat’s brother let them tag along to a party at the quarry; if Billy got in good with upperclassmen, it could pave the way to social acceptance—maybe even… popularity?

Total pipe dream, but then… it worked.

That night was one for the record books: first time smoking dope, shot-gunning a beer… first time a girl went down on him.

First time he’d seen Eddie in two years. Wouldn’t even have recognized him, except the eyes hadn’t changed. Eddie was a junior and looked it: taller, wild dark hair to his shoulders, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. He made a brief appearance and vanished—there to sell some supply, not socialize.

Billy wished he’d stayed. Admitted then what he was most excited about for high school: the chance to see Eddie Munson again.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Ironically, the object of Billy’s obsession had suffered a fall from grace in the transition to the big leagues: swirling rumors swore he was a Satan-worshiping anarchist and a burnout to boot. A weirdo who played geeky games with his loser friends.

Except—unlike Billy, Eddie didn’t give a fuck. While Billy strutted around vaguely unsettled, ill at ease with his costume, this immersive performance for the foreseeable future, Eddie had unveiled his freak flag—reveled in it, let it fly.

Regret gnawed at him, grew in Billy’s gut—knew if he were a little braver, he could trash this cool kid stuff and…

End of Eddie’s senior year, Billy was sick at heart. Knew he’d missed his shot.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

So imagine his confusion, surprise—his hidden euphoric delight—when Billy spotted that dark mop atop a wiry frame loping across the parking lot on the first day of eleventh grade.

Eddie should have graduated, but for whatever reason… hadn’t.

Thus, a new resolution: seize this chance. Be Eddie’s friend.

By second semester, Billy had worked his way up to casual chit chat and also, incidentally, was a raging pothead—so much so that his mother was worried, and she had spent the 60s stoned out of her gourd.

Let him experiment, Doris advised, winking at Billy over dinner. His grades are fine. What’s the harm?

The following evening, Doris showed him her special cookies stashed in the freezer, cautioning him to only ever take one bite and be patient. Billy asked if he could give one to his friend.

Top tier moment, right up there with Dad dying. Eddie’s eyes lit up all starry, demanded Billy come hang so they could make like Keebler—try the old elfin magic—and Billy was blessed to learn that Loaded Eddie = Handsy Eddie.

Blessed and cursed, because Eddie learned that Blazed Billy = Honest Billy. Tell me a secret, Eddie said, tickling. Tell me a secret.

Nothing happened. Eddie was just… affectionate. Bit of a snuggler. Who now knew he was the reason Billy was such a metalhead.

And that Billy was glad—about his dad.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Eddie was held back again, and suddenly math and history were Billy’s favorite classes because Eddie sat next to him in the back row. Seemed to do decently with Billy there egging him on.

Thus, his final resolution: graduate with Eddie. Drag him across the finish line if necessary. Billy held study sessions he didn’t need at the library after school, invited Eddie to join—and Eddie did.

Eddie invited Billy to come see his band play at a local bar on Tuesdays—and Billy did.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said one weekend, when they were sharing a bowl, and Billy snorted, gazed into bloodshot eyes. Glad you got held back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this. Eddie smirked, soft. Getting high? Billy laughed. Hanging out.

Billy turned eighteen that March, and the Buckleys and McKinneys came over to celebrate, as usual. Unusual was the doorbell as they were about to eat, Eddie and Wayne trooping in, sorry for being late.

Robin picked up on something that night—cornered him in the bathroom. Are you and Eddie…? Billy went tight, and she rushed to reassure. It’s okay if you are. I am, too. So Billy breathed, calmed. I am. I dunno if he is. Robin arched her brow. From where I’m sitting, odds are good.

Billy spent weeks yanking hope by the roots.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Come May, they walked in green cap and gown—hugged in the milling crowd, Eddie cackling wet in his ear, a clinging koala. Didn’t think I could do it.

Billy brought him along to Robin’s graduation party. In the backyard, her old childhood treehouse beckoned, and they heeded the call.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said, sitting back against mossy boards. They weren’t even high. He flicked Billy’s earring—set his heart swinging. That should be on the other side, Billy said, and stared until Eddie flushed red, understood. I got a secret, he said, and Billy didn’t dare to know but did.

Eddie said it: I’ve wanted to kiss you all year.

A click as Billy swallowed, bone dry. Then do it.

And Eddie did.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

#mungrove #when characters meet as kids you know the drill #apologies to jennette mccurdy #eddie munson #billy hargrove #guest appearances from billy's mom robin buckley and pat mckinney

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sweetblinginrose · 26 days

Text

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥! ,

(OS Steve Harrington x fem!reader Kline x Robin Buckley)

summary: you, Steve’s ex-girlfriend, bounce out of town because of your dad’s passing. You decide to swing back during the holidays after your big transformation, only to stumble upon this chick who’s feeding into your sensual cravings.

word count: 11k +

warnings: infidelity, oral sex (receiving, female), homophobia, lesbianism, two-year age difference (both are older), kisses, inexperience, scissoring, no cuddling after sex, caught by a bystander.

a/n: i wrote this bored, so there’s a bit of filler. not recommended for folks craving instant action, there’s some backstory here. can’t promise it’s all good, wrote it while watching a movie lol

masterlist

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Indeed, your life seemed like a modern fairy tale, but with a touch of irony. Being the daughter of Mayor Laurence ‘Larry’ Kline, your existence was wrapped in an aura of privilege and power. However, not everything that glitters is gold, and behind the facade of perfection, secrets and uncomfortable truths were hidden, but you ignored them.

Since childhood, you were the center of attention, not only for being the mayor’s descendant, but also for your innate charisma. Your room was a sanctuary of toys and luxuries: shelves filled with porcelain dolls with glassy eyes that seemed to follow you around, drawers overflowing with colorful ribbons that adorned your hair, and a vanity covered with imported makeup you hadn’t even fully learned how to use. Your clothes were never repeated. You had a wardrobe that rivaled the most exclusive shops, with designer dresses and shoes that squeaked when you wore them for the first time. The attention you received was constant and sometimes overwhelming. Boys and girls your age looked at you with a mix of admiration and envy, while adults treated you with a deference that bordered on servile. And then there was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the golden boy of Hawkins, your favorite plaything, whose attention seemed to be the most coveted prize. His charming smile and perfectly styled hair were the dream of many, but he only had eyes for you. However, even that perfect relationship had its cracks, its secrets that only you knew, since you had been fortunate enough to snatch his virginity.

With every step you took down the hallway, the murmur of conversations mingled with the sound of your little platforms. Your pastel yellow Chanel skirt was like a ray of sunshine amidst the monotony, drawing looks that oscillated between admiration and envy. You felt as if you were on an impromptu catwalk, with the school hallways transformed into your personal stage.

Your best friend, always by your side, shared your confident and elegant attitude. Although rumors said her financial situation wasn’t as comfortable, her demeanor and style left no doubt that she was up to the challenge. Together, you formed a dynamic duo, two fashion forces in a sea of sportswear and uniformity.

As you passed by Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, the couple of the moment, you felt a spark of satisfaction. Despite their smiles and the image of happiness they projected, there was an open secret that everyone in the school knew: Steve was with Nancy trying to fill the void you had left, just as he does with all the girls. His presence by her side was only a shadow compared to the memories he shared with you. It was a game of appearances and hidden emotions, a delicate dance of glances and whispers that intertwined in the everyday life of the school day. And in that dance, you held the baton, aware of every movement and the melody that only you could orchestrate.

Every time you approached Steve, your steps were confident and your presence unmistakable. You could see how his world paused for a moment, how his eyes left whatever had captured his attention to meet yours. Even in the most unexpected moments, like when his lips were about to touch Nancy’s, he would pull away, as if an invisible magnet was drawing him towards you.

“Hi, Stevie…” you would say with a warm voice and a tone that resonated with a mixture of respect and genuine affection. It wasn’t just a formality imposed by the long-standing friendship between your father and his, but a gesture you sincerely enjoyed.

His response never changed: a silly smile, one of those that appear without permission from the brain and speak more of feelings than words. It was a smile that didn’t need embellishments or explanations, that said “Glad to see you…” without needing to utter a single syllable. And although he would never admit it out loud, you knew that smile was just for you, a small secret shared in the midst of daily routine.

With a subtle yet meaningful gesture, you ran your tongue over your lower lip, a slow and deliberate movement that didn’t go unnoticed. Your eyebrows arched slightly, an unequivocal signal that only he could decipher. You looked him up and down, a quick but intense scan that confirmed the mutual attention. Then, with a grace that seemed as natural as breathing, you decided to continue on your way, letting the pastel yellow skirt sway gently with each step you took.

To any casual observer, your behavior was nothing more than a mundane greeting, one of those social exchanges that fade into the collective memory of everyday life. However, what they were unaware of was the espionage game hidden behind that facade of normalcy. That “Stevie” pronounced with a particular cadence and that raising of eyebrows were the secret code, the agreed signal that indicated it was time to act.

He, knowing its meaning, didn’t hesitate for a second. Anything he was doing was suspended, abandoned without remorse.

With the mental agility of an experienced spy, he turned to Nancy with an apologetic expression on his face. “Nancy, I’m sorry, but I need to check something on the sound system,” he said, his voice attempting to sound casual but unable to fully hide the underlying urgency. “I think I left something on and I don’t want it to overheat.”

Nancy, accustomed to his sudden technical disappearances, nodded with a understanding smile. “It’s okay, Steve. Go and fix whatever you need,” she replied, releasing him with a gentle pat on the arm.

His steps quickened, driven by the urgency of that silent call, heading towards the stairs hidden behind the locker rooms. It was a ritual they had perfected over time, a dance of glances and gestures that communicated much more than words ever could…

The muffled whisper faded into the dimness, a secret confessed only to the dancing shadows around. Each touch of his tongue was a promise, a silent oath igniting a cascade of sensations, a rushing river flowing through every fiber of your being, and especially through your thighs. You grasped his hair, those rebellious strands privileged only to be tousled by your fingers, while struggling to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to sweep you away. The coolness of the stone against your back was an anchor, the sole reminder that you still belonged to this world, intensifying the clandestine atmosphere of pleasure you both shared.

In the dimness of the old stairs, the world narrowed down to the haze around you and whispers. The flickers of light that seeped through played hide and seek among the forgotten corners, barely revealing Steve’s silhouette. His face, adorned with cute moles forming constellations, was hidden in the depths of your skirt, a mystery, an enigma defying reality with his presence. Despite the faint darkness surrounding you, your eyes had adapted enough to distinguish his, shining with a fierce passion, an uncontrollable flame consuming the air between you, making you tremble even more. Every stroke of his tongue, every suction, was a torment and a pleasure intertwined dragging you towards a forbidden ecstasy.

The echo of your moans intertwined with the gentle murmur of the wind, creating a symphony of desire in the air charged with anticipation. With each movement, each touch, the heat of your bodies intensified, merging into a whirlwind of burning sensations. One of your hands, trembling with excitement, clung firmly to the wrought iron railing, while your legs tensed involuntarily as Steve’s lips explored every nook of your intimacy. “Mhhm, right there, Stevie,” you whispered between gasping breaths, letting out a more intense moan as you felt the pressure of his mouth against your center of pleasure. The strength of your hands unconsciously squeezed his face between your thighs, plunging him even deeper into the vortex of your desire, while the essence of your excitement flooded his senses.

Steve’s grunts resonated in the space between your legs, causing his lips to vibrate slightly against your sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being. Every movement, every sigh, was a dance of shared ecstasy, leading you to the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

Moaning in response to every caress, every suction, you surrendered completely to the frenzy of the moment, feeling as if you were about to unleash heaven in an uncontrollable explosion of ecstasy.

A few seconds later, after a symphony of intense suctions and wet licks, you surrendered to the rush of pleasure and came in Steve’s mouth. He was kneeling in front of you as you leaned over him, your dripping pussy releasing your essence onto his eager lips. Steve welcomed your ecstasy with a smile radiating excitement, his eyes shining with shared passion, and his cock, of course, barely contained in his too-tight pants, scarcely visible but hinting at the unrestrained desire consuming him. Steve’s gaze, filled with satisfaction and lust, locked onto yours as he savored every drop of your essence as if it were the most exquisite nectar.

His lips, wet and eager, continued to explore your intimacy with a devotion that left you breathless, while his skilled tongue continued to provoke waves of pleasure that coursed through every fiber of your being.

You could feel the force of his desire pulsating against your skin, his eager hands seeking contact, craving more of you even in that moment of shared ecstasy. The sexual tension that had built up between you reached its peak, manifesting in the urgency of his movements and the desperate hunger of his lips against yours. But before you let him kiss you, still reeling, you gently pushed him away, looking him up and down with an expression of superiority, as you always did.

“Don’t think I’m gonna kiss you, screw you, or anything like that. I just wanted you to eat me out, nothing more. Don’t feel like doing anything else with you. Let your little girlfriend Nancy suck your dick. I’m out,” you said, adjusting your skirt, forgetting something but leaving as quickly as possible to avoid having to talk to him, as usual.

Little did you know, you had left your delicate lace thong there, forgotten alongside Steve, the masochist who was always lurking. Steve knew that you two no longer had the same connection as before, but that didn’t stop him from trying to get closer to you. This time, he decided to seize the opportunity, knowing he would never have the intimacy with you that he desired as in the old times.

Without wasting a moment, Steve picked up your thong soaked with your fluids and tucked it into the back pocket of his pants. With stealthy movements, he slinked towards the locker room bathrooms, with the sole intention of finding relief for his throbbing cock.

He sat cautiously on the toilet lid, closing the bathroom door with a firm twist of the key, thus ensuring his privacy. With a mix of palpable anxiety and desire, he prepared to indulge in solitary pleasure, with your image ever-present in his mind.

With trembling hands, he retrieved his wallet, a treasure he guarded jealously, and from it, he pulled out a photograph of you. In the image, you looked radiant, modeling one of his T-shirts, your delicate nipples barely outlined in the fabric. With a gaze fixed on your face, his fingers caressed the image with devotion, as if they could touch your skin through the paper.

In addition to the photo, he pulled out the thong you had previously forgotten, a garment that became a tangible symbol of your past encounters, as it had been a gift from you when you had been dating. Carefully, he wrapped his erection with the soft fabric, feeling the familiar texture and the echo of your presence in every fiber. The combination of the no longer so warm creamy fluid and the soft fabric triggered a wave of pleasure that immediately brought him to the brink of ecstasy. A slight moan escaped his lips as he surrendered to the frenzied rhythm of his own hand, immersing himself in a world of fantasies where only you occupied his mind.

“I’m sorry, Nancy…” he murmured with a choked voice, while his fingers explored the soft skin of his erection, sensitive and sore from the accumulated tension. His eyes were fixed on the photograph he held with reverence, your image shining before him.

Every detail of your face captivated him: your rosy, provocative lips; your pronounced eyelashes framing eyes full of mystery and seduction; your beautiful hair gracefully waving around your face. Everything about you delighted him, from the elegance of your gestures to the intensity of your gaze.

But despite his fascination, a feeling of resentment stirred within him. He hated how sometimes you could be so stubborn, so insensitive to his desires and needs. The tension between you grew with each encounter, fueled by your whims and his repressed frustration.

With a sigh laden with mixed emotions, he surrendered to solitary pleasure, each caress a blend of desire and desperation. Though he loved you madly, sometimes he wished you could understand what he felt, what he needed from you beyond appearances.

After reaching climax twice, his still labored breathing echoed in the silent locker room. A thin layer of sweat beaded his forehead, a testament to the intensity of his emotions released in those moments of solitary ecstasy. Small droplets of his essence escaped his body, lightly staining the locker room floor, marking the territory of his unrestrained passion.

With trembling hands, he adjusted his tight pants, still feeling the buzz of pleasure resonating through his body. The air was laden with the scent of desire, permeating the environment with the intensity of their intimate encounter.

With determination in each step, he headed towards his last class before lunch. Although his mind still buzzed with images of your face, his body was now infused with a sense of calm and satisfaction. He had released the accumulated tension, at least for a moment, and was ready to face the rest of the day with renewed energy.

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

The rain pounded the pavement with a fury that seemed personal, each drop an accusation against the city asphalt. Amidst this storm, the Family Video store stood like a beacon for movie lovers, its flickering sign battling the darkness imposed by the whims of the weather.

Robin held the umbrella with a steady hand, protecting not only her own hair from the rain but also that of her companion in discussions and confidences, Steve. With his gaze fixed on the trunk of his car, Steve rummaged through forgotten tools and objects, desperately searching for the small lamp that would allow them to continue their work in the video store.

“How could you be into Kline’s chick, dude? She’s just as gross as her daddy, I don’t get it,” he said, his voice barely audible over the constant drumming of the rain. The question was not only a questioning of shared tastes but an echo of a deeper rivalry, one that extended beyond romantic preferences and touched the fiber of their friendship. “I still don’t get why you’re into the same girls as me, man,” he continued, his frustration growing with each word, as if the same drops falling from the sky fueled his discontent.

Robin, with a patience found only in those who have weathered countless storms, both meteorological and emotional, responded with a calm that contrasted with the agitation of the night. “I just have good taste, Steve.”

Finally, Steve’s fingers stumbled upon the object of his search. With a sigh of relief mingling with the dampness of the air, he grabbed the lamp and closed the trunk with a thud that resonated in the stillness of the night. Both were splattered with the treacherous drops that had accumulated their weight on top of the car, a small victory of the storm over their efforts. The dimness of the Family Video store enveloped Steve and Robin like a blanket, darkness interrupted only by the erratic flashes of lightning seeping through the windows. “Good taste? She was straight-up trouble, Rob,” he murmured, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the store. The shelves, normally full of life and color from the movie covers, now seemed threatening shadows in the darkness. “I went out with her, and I can tell you, it wasn’t a great experience, apart from the sex, of course,” he continued, his tone a mix of regret and disdain. As he closed the soaked umbrella, drops of water detached and joined the chorus of rain pounding outside. He placed the umbrella by the door, like a forgotten guardian, and shook his hair, trying to rid himself of the invading moisture. He pulled out a mini mirror, the surface reflecting a face marked by the tumultuous night. He checked his hair. With a sigh, he continued to the counter, where he deposited the small lamp, its light a promise of warmth in the cold that engulfed the place.

“You went out with that hottie?! I might start believing that whole thing about ugly dudes scoring the hottest girls…,” Robin joked, her laughter a flicker of light in the darkness, as ephemeral and bright as the lightning outside. She stepped aside, leaving space for Harrington, in a gesture of camaraderie, unable to give him a friendly punch on the arm.

The tension between Steve and Robin was palpable in the charged air of the Family Video store. “She wouldn’t even look twice at you… she’s super straight. I even think she was homophobic…” Harrington said, his voice tinged with a jealousy that seemed to drag shadows from the past, shadows of a high school era that both had left behind, or so they thought.

“Well, I’ll just turn her from phobic to homo, easy,” Robin retorted, her eyebrows raised in a playful challenge, a joke meant to lighten the mood but only served to bring Steve a flood of memories, flashbacks he’d rather keep buried.

“Ugh, don’t do that!” Steve complained, his patience wearing thin like the tape of an old VHS movie. Robin, feeling the weight of her friend’s irritation, let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, I won’t breathe either if that bothers you too, for god’s sake…” she said, rolling her eyes in a theatrical expression of frustration before walking towards the back room.

Leaving he alone at the counter, the echo of her footsteps mingled with the buzz of burnt fuses and the murmur of rain against the roof. Steve stood there, in the dimness, his mind navigating the turbulent waters of his adolescence. He remembered you, with your fiery temper and defiant smile, a presence that had marked his youth and, despite the years and distance, still stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within him. It had been approximately four years since you went to Spain on exchange, four years that had done little to cool the memories Steve held of you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he missed your bad temper, and above all, that body of yours…

The days at the Family Video store passed with the slowness of a slow-motion movie, each moment stretching into infinity. Robin, increasingly immersed in Harrington’s past with that girl, couldn’t help but let the details surface in his mind. “Yes, I… did all that…” he confessed with a blush that didn’t need light to be perceived, speaking of secret encounters on the stairs, those moments stolen from time and curious eyes. “But please, I beg you not to tell Nancy! I’m trying to win her back but she doesn’t know anything about what happened when we were together…” he pleaded, his voice a whisper laden with urgency and fear. Robin’s expression, pale as the moon on a starless night, reflected the surprise and horror of realizing the presence looming behind them.

“Not know what?” asked a sweet voice, as familiar as the melody of a forgotten song. Nancy, with her friendly smile and a small wad of money in her hands, appeared like a figure from a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. “What? No, nothing!” he stammered, anxiety building up in his chest like clouds before a storm, desperately seeking Robin’s complicity but finding only the void of a situation slipping out of control.

The door of the store burst open with a bang, like the prelude to a dramatic act in a play. A girl, dressed in clothes where red and black stood out. Her tight leather pants, a torn red top, accompanied by a dark jacket showing signs of being well worn, culminating with the icing on the cake: a flamboyant, teased hair, typical of glam metal enthusiasts. She made her triumphant entrance. In her hands, a movie magazine, her finger marking a page like one points to a destination. “Hey, I changed my mind, I think I’d rather watch Satan’s Mistress, it has…” you began, but your voice trailed off the moment your eyes met Steve’s.

It was a gaze that crossed years of distance, a bridge laid over an abyss of time and memories. Your former partner in sex, passion, and toxic courtship.

The reunion was a whirlwind of emotions, a vortex that swept up the fragments of a past everyone had thought overcome.

Your voice echoed in the confined space of the video store, a reminder of its former sweetness now tinged with the roughness of tobacco. “Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The Viceroy hung on your lips, a stark contrast against the burgundy tone that adorned them. With a careless gesture, you dropped the magazine you held onto a shelf full of horror movie covers, a sanctuary for lovers of fear and tension. Your black heels struck the ground with determination, each step an announcement of your presence that filled the air with an almost musical cadence. You made your way to the counter, your imposing figure leaning against the collection of VHS and DVDs that decorated the place.

“Keith…” Steve’s voice was a murmur, his eyes scanning the woman standing before him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the change; the woman he knew had been replaced by someone new, someone who defied his understanding.

Robin, on the other hand, couldn’t hide her delight. The feminine arrogance that had characterized the girl in the past had pleased her, but this… this was something completely different. It was a transformation that invited both admiration and bewilderment. “Damn…” exclaimed Robin, not trying to conceal the surprise caused by your daring neckline.

The video store had become a stage for unexpected revelations. Steve, still recovering from the initial impact, found his voice to articulate a question that burned inside him. “W-When did you come back to town?!” His voice trembled, a reflection of the nerves that assaulted him as he evoked memories of a seemingly distant past.

“Not long ago,” you responded with a calmness that contrasted with Steve’s agitation. “My father was murdered two years ago, I don’t know if you remember. So now I’m here to spend the holidays at his house, here in Hawkins.” Each word was pronounced with a serenity that belied the tragedy of your story, while the cigarette smoke curled in the air, as if trying to escape the reality of your words. Your clothing, tight and revealing, seemed like a second skin, outlining every contour of your body with exaggerated precision. Robin, from her corner behind the counter, couldn’t look away. To her, you were like a celestial vision, a fallen rocker angel who had returned with stories of distant worlds.

Nancy had become a mere shadow in those moments. Her original intention had been simple: to rent a movie at Steve’s store, a perfect excuse to spend time with you, now that you had returned. But reality had twisted in a way she couldn’t comprehend. She understood nothing.

Harrington, with a nod of acknowledgment, found himself in a sea of uncertainty, the scene before him causing a growing discomfort. “I’m sorry…” he murmured, looking away towards the ground, a gesture revealing his unease.

“Don’t worry about it, these things happen,” you responded with a voice dripping with unwavering calmness, as you flicked the ash from your cigarette into the nearby ashtray. The act led you to approach the blonde girl, whose beauty was as evident as her friendly smile. Returning the smile, you noticed a glint of something undefinable in her eyes, as if you had ignited a spark of emotion within her. “Well, I guess I’ll head back to the car,” you announced, turning with an elegance that defied the gravity of your heels. “Grab whatever movie you want, Nans,” you said with a carefree tone, exiting the store and leaving behind a trail of perfume and mystery. Your steps were confident and graceful, each movement a testament to your ability to walk on those pillars of style as easily as others would walk in sneakers.

Nancy, observing the scene, felt the tension that had taken hold of Steve, his body rigid as if on the verge of breaking. Determined to ease the atmosphere, she approached him with a timid question. “Uh… do you have the movie she mentioned?” Her voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by uncertainty.

He, trapped in his own confusion, couldn’t recall the mentioned title, but Robin, with her ever-sharp attention, jumped to the rescue. “Satan’s Mistress! Yes! A horror movie from a few years back, based on a book, pretty good actually.” Her enthusiasm was palpable, her hands tracing arcs in the air as she spoke and moved with a clear purpose. She found the movie quickly, placed it on the counter, and scanned it, announcing the price to Nancy, who paid with a handful of small bills she held firmly.

Nancy was ready to bid farewell, to leave behind the video store and its memories, but something stopped her. She turned abruptly, as if a sudden idea had crossed her mind, a missing piece in the afternoon’s puzzle that needed to be placed.

Nancy’s proposal resonated in the video store like an invitation to leave the past behind and dive into new adventures. “She’s having a welcome party at her place, so she’ll invite old classmates and all that. Do you want to come?” Her voice was a mixture of enthusiasm and nervousness, aware of the surprise her announcement could cause.

Harrington, still entangled in the threads of the past, was about to decline the offer, his mouth opening to formulate an excuse. But before he could articulate a single word, Robin intervened with an energy that seemed to overflow the confines of the store. “Yes!” she exclaimed, her affirmation so loud and clear it seemed to fill every corner, even suspending the constant buzz of the fluorescent lights.

Surprised by Robin’s vehemence, Nancy gave an awkward smile, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue reflecting her embarrassment. Quickly, she shared the address and time of the party, words that hung in the air before she turned around and walked out of the video store, leaving behind a silence that draped over the place like a blanket.

The silence that had fallen over the video store was so thick it could almost be cut with a knife. The shelves filled with movies seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the next act of this unexpected human comedy.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice pierced the silence, her casual tone breaking the stillness like a stone dropped into a calm pond.

He, still lost in his thoughts, barely uttered a sound resembling an assent. “Mhhm?”

“I think I’ve wet myself,” declared Robin, with a calmness that contrasted with the nature of her announcement.

Steve couldn’t help but react. “Damn, Robin, you’re gross,” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disgust and humor. It was an accusation spoken with the lightness of camaraderie, an acknowledgment of the peculiarity of their friendship that could withstand even the strangest of revelations.

…

The screech of Steve’s car brakes blended with the music emanating from the mayor’s old mansion, an echo of youth reverberating within the walls of a building now housing those who, just two years ago, were teenagers but were now venturing into adulthood. The mansion, with its flickering lights and aura of nostalgia, was a beacon for memories of a simpler time.

Robin, with the grace of someone who had shared countless adventures in that passenger seat, lowered the car mirror and examined her reflection. Her eyes lingered on every detail of her face, ensuring her makeup would withstand the night ahead. Her hair, tousled and free as always, framed her face with a naturalness that needed no adornment. The orange T-shirt she wore, snug and adorned with yellow stripes, seemed to capture the last light of dusk. The flared jeans, swaying with each movement, and the borrowed jacket, a temporary gift from her friend, completed her outfit with a harmony of colors that spoke of her carefree and vibrant personality.

Meanwhile, Steve remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the house looming before them. The mansion brought back memories of clandestine nights, shared laughter, and whispered secrets while climbing the ivy that reached to the window of their old room. Those memories enveloped him like a cool breeze, taking him back to a time when everything seemed possible. Dressed with the same nonchalance with which he faced life, he had made no effort to dress up. His clothes, casual yet stylish in their own way, reflected his attitude towards life: simple, straightforward, and uncomplicated.

The music from the mansion grew louder, as if calling the guests to immerse themselves in the celebration. Robin, giving one last glance at the mirror, smiled satisfied and closed the compartment with a click. Steve sighed, a sigh that contained years of stories and lived moments, and with a complicit smile towards Robin, stepped out of the car.

The song filling the air was a lesser-known classic, “Turn Up The Radio” by Autograph. With its energetic and catchy rhythm, the electric guitar resonated with chords that invited leaving troubles behind and plunging into the euphoria of the moment. The singer’s voice, with its raspy and passionate tone, sang about freedom and youthful rebellion, a perfect anthem for those seeking escape in music. In the front yard, the scene was a living collage of the era. Groups of friends gathered around an Ford Mustang, its doors wide open to share the music emanating from the stereo. Laughter and conversations mingled with the sound of beer cans being opened and the sizzle of a nearby grill where burgers and sausages were being cooked.

The blonde, with her eyes wide open, couldn’t take her eyes off those strangers who seemed to have stepped out of a metal music video. Her fascination with glam style had been born just hours before when she saw you enter the store with that star aura. Curiosity had seized her, and now, seeing you at the door of the house, that curiosity turned into admiration.

You and Nancy were immersed in a conversation, but your sixth sense for important arrivals made you look up just in time to see that duo approaching. An eyebrow raised in a gesture that mixed surprise and interest. Your hair, cut in layers with a precision that only the best stylists could achieve, cascaded around your face, each strand contributing to the impressive volume that seemed to defy gravity. Robin was speechless, her mouth slightly open in a mute expression of amazement. The moonlight reflected on your leopard-print pants, making the wild patterns come to life. The corset you wore, snug and enhancing your figure, was the centerpiece of an outfit that screamed confidence and rebellion. The girl was captivated, not only by your physical appearance but also by the energy you exuded, a mix of mystery and magnetism that irresistibly attracted her. Harrington, on the other hand, seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. With a sudden decision, he chose to withdraw from the scene, seeking refuge among familiar faces. He headed towards a group of former basketball teammates, greeting them with back slaps and knowing smiles. Meanwhile, Robin remained paralyzed, watching you with a mixture of admiration and a new awakening of her own style.

You watched as Steve walked away, leaving the girl alone in the midst of the party bustle. With a carefree gesture, you took the Marlboro resting behind your ear, which sported metallic hoops as witnesses to past rebellions. You lit the cigarette with the flame of a Zippo that gleamed under the starlight and began walking along the stone path, a path that evoked childhood memories and that your father had ordered to be built years ago when the mansion was still a home and not a museum of memories.

“How’s it going, blondie? Do I know you?” you asked with a confidence that seemed to emanate from your very essence, a certainty that charged the air with electricity. Robin, with her golden hair reflecting the neon lights, stood paralyzed, feeling a shiver running down her spine and erasing any other thought from her mind. The orange-haired girl who had captured her attention throughout her time in the band vanished from her consciousness, and even her own name seemed like a mystery.

“Uh-uh, I…” Robin stammered, struggling to find the words as a playful smile played on your lips, noticing her nervousness. You raised an eyebrow, a perfect arch that added emphasis to your playful expression at her discomfiture.

“I think we’ve never met…” you interrupted her attempt to reply, cutting through the air with a certainty that left little room for doubt. “I’d never forget a face like yours,” you concluded, your words hanging in the space between the two of you like a promise or a premonition. You looked her up and down, a scan that was not so much an evaluation as it was a recognition of her presence, her uniqueness. You exhaled the cigarette smoke, and it wafted through the air before dissipating in front of her face, an ephemeral veil that seemed to separate and yet unite two worlds.

Buckley blinked, an instinctive reaction to the smoke wafting through the air, and coughed slightly, a momentary interruption that brought her back to the present. A blush spread across her cheeks, a rosy hue that highlighted the concealed freckles and her eyes, which maintained an innate sweetness. “No, we’ve never met, or at least I don’t think so…” she said with a trembling voice, avoiding your gaze because she knew that if her eyes met yours, the words would be lost in the abyss of her nervousness.

You, with a smile that revealed amusement at her discomfiture, furrowed your brow and took another drag of your Marlboro, keeping the conversation going with an ease that contrasted with her uncertainty. “Uh? How’s that?” you asked amidst laughter, scanning the girl with a gaze that seemed to see beyond the surface.

“Well, we went to high school together, but you’re older than me…” Robin explained, her voice gaining a bit more firmness as the words flowed. You raised an eyebrow, a gesture that denoted both surprise and genuine interest.

“You’re still in high school?” you inquired, exhaling a new cloud of smoke that spiraled into the night sky.

Robin nodded, her gesture accompanied by a shadow of embarrassment at the age difference, and a palpable frustration at not being able to hold a normal conversation, to be that normal girl she wished to be at that moment. “Well, you don’t seem like it… you look great,” you said with a sideways smile, an expression that carried a mixture of compliment and challenge. You looked her up and down, not with judgment, but with an appreciation that made her feel seen, truly seen. You crossed your arms, and the corset you wore emitted a soft creak, a sound that seemed to be in tune with the tension and expectation hanging in the air. Robin, still recovering from the effect of the smoke and the surprise of your approach, found herself in a crossroads of emotions, between shyness and the excitement of being in the spotlight of your attention. She responded to the compliment with a charming shyness, her cheeks taking on a rosier hue as she tilted her head, allowing her short hair to brush against her skin. With a gentle and considerate gesture, you lifted her chin, encouraging her to meet your gaze. “You seem down… want a drink, …?” The pause hung in the air, an invitation for her to introduce herself.

With a frantic nod, as if just understanding the hint, she hurried to respond. “Robin. Robin Buckley. And yes, I’d love a drink. I’d love to,” she said with a voice that almost stumbled over itself, clearing her throat slightly to maintain composure. Your smile widened, and with a conspiratorial gesture, you took hold of your ex-boyfriend’s jacket sleeve and led Robin towards the house. As you walked, you shared your name and asked questions about her life, showing genuine interest in her and her story.

You made two strong drinks and led her to your backyard, a quiet and empty space that would soon be filled with your laughter and conversation. As the night wore on, and after several short trips in search of more alcohol, you both found yourselves laughing and teasing with a familiarity of old friends, which had never existed between you. “I would never have thought of that! She really does look like a Muppet,” you exclaimed, unable to contain the emphasis that alcohol liberated, sharing a genuine laugh with Robin.

The blonde’s confession hung in the night air, a revelation as unexpected as it was sincere. “I still don’t understand how I ended up liking her,” she said, the words escaping her lips before she could catch them and return them to the refuge of her thoughts. It was a moment of vulnerability, a window to her soul that she rarely allowed herself to show. Uncertainty tinged her confession; concern about revealing too much, about crossing an invisible line that could change the dynamics of the night. She didn’t want to talk about her sexuality, not because she was ashamed, but because she didn’t know yours and feared the possibility of making you uncomfortable.

Your response to Robin’s revelation was a hearty laugh, followed by a joke that added lightness to the moment. “I get you, I hooked up with one who looked like Sloth from The Goonies,” you said amidst laughter, referring to the iconic character from the adventure movie, released a year earlier.

Robin, surprised by your comment and the revelation it implied, couldn’t help but burst into explosive laughter, causing her to expel alcohol through her nose. Surprise and hilarity mingled in her reaction; she didn’t expect you to share her inclination, didn’t expect to find someone who resonated with her own experience. Anxiety and nervousness invaded her, a mix of excitement and fear at the possibility of not being alone in her feelings. The night had brought an unexpected chill, and the incident with the drink had left Robin with a wet shirt, making her tremble slightly. Noticing her discomfort, you offered a practical and kind solution. “Come on, I’ll take you to my room to change,” you suggested, guiding her through the party and into the warmth of the house.

Robin entered the room, her gaze roaming over the personal space you now shared. She sits onto the leopard-print quilt, her fingers sliding over the synthetic fur, soft and welcoming to the touch. The music, a constant and rhythmic pulse, filtered through the door, marking the beat of the night.

Meanwhile, you were immersed in the search for the perfect garment in your closet, a collection that spoke of past stories and concerts. You hummed the melody that seeped into the room, the influence of alcohol dissipating enough to allow you to focus on the task. You were looking for something that captured the essence of your new friendship without being overly flashy. Upon returning to the room, you found Robin absorbed in the photographs adorning your walls, images capturing moments of a previous version of yourself, one that contrasted with the person you were now. “What? Surprised? I looked better before, I know,” you said with a playful and ironic tone, depositing a Metallica T-shirt on the quilt and placing a hairdryer next to it, a silent invitation for Robin to dry her wet shirt.

“What?! No!” exclaimed Robin, turning with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment at being caught in her contemplation. “No, not at all… before you were very pretty, but I think… now you are more,” she articulated with difficulty, the words stumbling over each other as she clung to the furniture, seeking physical support for her emotional turmoil. The sincerity of her comment caught you by surprise, raising your eyebrows in astonishment. A smile spread across your lips, and an unfamiliar sensation, akin to butterflies fluttering in your stomach, emerged. It was an emotion you hadn’t experienced in a long time, a recognition that resonated with a part of you that had remained silent.

“Then, do you think I’m pretty, or straight up hot?” you ask, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you take measured steps toward Robin. The distance between you closes with each deliberate move, and though the question hangs lightly in the air, there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in your eyes.

Robin nods slowly, her gaze drifting from your eyes to linger on your lips, as if trying to read every nuance of your expression. “Well, let me tell you, I feel the same about you…” you say, your voice caressing each word, now just inches away from her. The tension between you is palpable, like a spark on the verge of igniting a flame. The air is charged with an electricity only proximity can generate. You can feel the warmth emanating from Robin, and every breath you take is infused with her essence. There’s an unspoken promise hanging in the air, an invitation to cross the invisible line that still separates your worlds.

“The same?” Robin asks, her tone a whisper barely daring to break the silence. Her hand rises, trembling yet determined, and brushes against the fabric of your rough corset as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. “You’re much more than pretty,” she confesses, and there’s weight in her words, a depth that goes beyond mere attraction.

“And how can I be sure you’re not lying to me? What if you’re just saying it to make me feel good?” you tease, puffing your cheeks slightly in a feigned pout that fails to hide the playful sparkle in your eyes. Robin’s hand, which had found its place over the curve of your corset, pauses for a moment, as if your words had planted the seed of doubt. But the smile playing on her lips reveals she’s enjoying the game as much as you are. Through the thick fabric, Robin’s fingers feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhalation and exhalation like a wave crashing against the shore. The closeness between you diminishes even more, and though neither of you mentions it, both can feel the electricity of the moment, as tangible as the fabric between your fingers.

“Lie to you?” Robin replies, her voice low and filled with a warmth that seems to envelop you. “There’s no need for lies when the truth is more enticing.” The confidence in her tone is enough to dispel any shadow of uncertainty, and the way her thumb gently caresses the pattern of the corset is a promise in itself.

Involuntarily, or perhaps not so much, you find yourselves even closer, the distance between you measured not in centimeters, but in heartbeats.

“Why don’t you show me then?” The question leaves your lips with a challenging tone, but your eyes shine with a mix of anticipation and amusement. She, trapped between your body and the furniture, seems to search your gaze for some sign to guide her. The proximity is inevitable, and the tension that had been building now seems on the verge of overflowing.

The space feels charged, each shared breath adding more intensity to the moment. You can feel the slight tremor in Robin’s hands, a vibration that speaks of nervousness and anticipation. The room has been reduced to this small stage where only the two of you exist, and the silence that surrounds you is a silent witness to the connection being forged.

Robin swallows, her gesture almost imperceptible, but you catch it clearly. “Show you, huh?” she says with a voice that tries to sound confident but betrays a trace of vulnerability. “I don’t need words for that.” And with a movement that breaks the last barrier of distance, her lips seek yours in a kiss that promises to be as revealing as the whispered confessions. The contact is soft at first, almost tentative, but soon gains confidence and depth.

Feeling her lips against yours, a spark of excitement ignites within you, and a victorious smile spreads across your face, illuminating the moment with a sense of silent triumph. Each brush of her lips against yours is like a perfectly tuned melody, a symphony of sensations that completely envelops you. With each kiss, you eagerly explore the softness of her lips, savoring the sweetness of the shared moment. As it continues, her hands leave the furniture and find a new refuge on your bare shoulders, conveying a sense of connection and complicity that fills you with joy. This gesture encourages you to deepen the kiss, to fully surrender to the torrent of emotions flowing between you. With instinctive impulse, your hands grip her waist firmly, feeling the firmness of her body beneath your fingers, gently caressing her, lightly scratching with your nails. Determined to explore further, you smoothly slide your hands inside her jacket, where the still damp shirt rests, like a tangible echo of the moments shared that night. The cool, damp texture of the fabric beneath your fingers reminds you of the play of contrasts of the evening, where the warmth of the encounters mingled with the freshness of the unexpected.

As the intensity of the kiss grew, your senses sharpened, capturing every detail of the experience. You could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with yours, creating a dance of sensations that enveloped you completely. When her tongue joined yours in a playful and fiery exchange, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving you only with the rapid pulse of shared passion. The grip on her waist tightened, as if you wanted to merge your bodies in an intimate, fiery embrace. As you pressed your pelvis against hers, you felt the electricity sparking between you, a current of desire flowing freely in the anticipation-filled air. With each touch, each contact, the tension between you reached new heights, leaving Robin trapped between your body and the furniture, with no escape possible. Her soft moans mixed with your own in a symphony of pleasure, every whisper, every sigh fueling the whirlwind of emotions consuming you both. Your hands eagerly explored every inch of her back, every curve, every contour, while their fingers clung to you with an urgency reflecting the unrestrained desire burning within them.

As Robin’s pleasure-filled moans echoed in the room, your own desire intensified, fueled by the sight of them writhing under your control. The need to feel her weight on the furniture consumed you, driving you to lift she and place her where you desired. With determination, you grasped one of her thighs firmly, letting your nails sink slightly into her skin as you lifted her body with one hand, making space on the furniture with the other.

With a swift gesture, you cleared the furniture of all figures and objects adorning its surface, leaving a clear space for Robin. When you finally seated her there, a sigh escaped her parted lips, momentarily interrupting the desire-laden silence enveloping you both. Breaking away from the fierce kiss, a strand of saliva stretched between your lips, a testament to the fervor with which you had surrendered to each other.

As your eyes settled just at the level of her breasts, obscured by the loose fabric of her shirt, your imagination soared, visualizing every curve and contour hidden beneath the cloth. Biting your lower lip eagerly, you seized their buttocks firmly, drawing her body towards yours with an irresistible force. A faint cry escaped Robin’s lips at the unexpected surge of passion, but her hands soon caressed your neck tenderly, desperately seeking your lips.

Playfully, you moved out of her reach, enjoying the seductive game unfolding between you both. Until, finally, you succumbed to the overwhelming desire and united your lips in a kiss even hotter and wetter than before. The taste of her mouth, the sensation of her breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of pleasure that enveloped you completely, making you forget everything but the warmth of the moment shared between you both.

Robin, determined to intensify the moment, decided to encircle you with her slender thighs, drawing your body closer to hers in a gesture filled with desire. You could feel the warmth emanating from her groin, colliding against your corset and eliciting a playful giggle that escaped between your lips, briefly separating you from the kiss. At that moment, Robin noticed the change in your expression and felt momentarily bewildered, thinking she might have done something wrong. She looked at you with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, but before she could articulate a word, you broke the tension with a daring joke.

“I think your shirt isn’t the only thing that got wet…” you said with a mischievous smile, quickly changing Robin’s expression. Without averting your gaze from hers, you slid two of your fingers down her lower thigh with a provocative gentleness, sending a shiver of anticipation through her body. The sexual tension between you intensified, turning the air around you into an electrifying blend of desire and playfulness. “See?” You decided to intensify the game and explore Robin’s groin more deeply, guided by the heat emanating from that area. With bold determination, you slid your fingers downward, finding the place where the heat was most intense. You plunged your fingers into the damp denim fabric, feeling the hot texture and the moisture seeping through it. You were mere millimeters away from her wet pussy, separated only by two thin layers of fabric that heightened the tension and anticipation between you.

For Robin, this experience was almost unfamiliar; she had experienced something similar only once before, so she felt like an inexperienced person in the middle of an ocean of unfamiliar sensations. She didn’t know how to react or what to do, but her breathing became more irregular, and her heart pounded with strength, reflecting the intensity of the moment and her own emerging desire. She opted to tightly close her eyes and squeeze your shoulder, which you found endearing.

Your eyes slid over every nuance of her expression, capturing each change in her features with surgical precision. Every time you increased the pressure of your caresses, you could feel Robin’s body responding with slight tremors, unmistakable signs of her excitement and craving for more. With each calculated touch, your fingers explored the unknown terrain of Robin’s groin, while your lips found refuge on the soft skin of her neck. The atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, as if every sigh were an echo of the passion growing between you.

Meanwhile, your other hand ventured over the smooth contour of her opposite thigh, tracing comforting circles on her sensitive skin. The combination of sensations immersed her in a whirlwind of pleasure and anticipation, caught between the desire to surrender completely and the caution of the unknown.

The slight spasms emanating from her body were like small navigation signals, indicators that you were touching the right places, the access points to her ecstasy. Each brush against that sensitive button was like striking a key on a piano, unleashing a symphony of moans and sighs that resonated in the room like a melody of shared pleasure.

As your lips explored every inch of her neck with devotion, your hands continued their captivating dance over the contours of her thighs, delicately caressing every curve and angle. Robin was completely tense, her body vibrating with anticipation and repressed desire, but her responses were a whispering echo of her longing for more. With a slightly husky voice, you ventured to ask her if she was enjoying it, letting the whisper of your words mingle with the whisper of silk in the air. Her nod was barely perceptible, drowned out by the tension consuming her completely. So, you decided to tempt her even more, offering her the promise of even greater pleasure if she allowed you. Between licks and kisses on her neck, you suggestively slid your words, letting each syllable resonate in the desire-filled air.

With a mischievous smile dancing on your lips, you relished the effect of your words on Robin, observing how her desperation was reflected in every gesture and tremor of her body. You tilted your head slightly, allowing your warm, moist breath to caress her ear, leaving a tantalizing trail of saliva with your hot, eager tongue.

Amidst warm giggles, you ventured to ask a question laden with anticipation and desire, whispering it into her ear with irresistible playfulness. “Have you ever been eaten out?” The tension in the air was palpable, and everything about Robin seemed to bristle at your words. It was evident that this was a new experience for her, an unknown territory that plunged her into a mixture of anxiety and excitement. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, she slowly shook her head, swallowing hard at the prospect of the unknown. In response to her answer, you raised an eyebrow, savoring the anticipation of what was to come. With a suggestive gesture, you licked your lips, fixing your gaze on hers with an intensity that was almost palpable. “Well, then I feel lucky to be the first…” you teased softly, letting out a playful giggle as you lowered your body. You found yourself on your knees in front of her, your face at the level of her crotch still covered by her flared pants. However, the moisture seeped through the denim fabric, revealing the intensity of the desire that consumed her. “Wow… I’ve never seen any girl get this wet for me…” you complimented with a smile, as you began to unbutton the buttons holding her pants, slowly lowering them with your gaze locked on hers.

She slowly raised her hips towards you, making the process easier with a trembling gesture of anticipation and effort.

You tossed Robin’s jeans somewhere in the room, leaving her standing before you in her underwear. She covered herself shyly, lightly squeezing her thighs as she avoided your direct gaze. A silly giggle escaped your lips when you noticed the Care Bears design on her panties, which didn’t go unnoticed by Robin. She felt embarrassed, and you could clearly perceive it in her expression. To reassure her, you emphasized that it was just a joke, trying to lighten the awkward moment and make her feel more comfortable with herself. With a determined yet gentle movement, you carefully parted Robin’s thighs, revealing her panties completely soaked. Every inch of fabric was saturated with moisture, from the waistband to the elastic on the legs. The transparency of the fabric exposed her intimacy, allowing you to see directly her pussy. The inner thighs were damp, and the core of the panties was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, creating an intimate scene charged with anticipation. Although Robin felt vulnerable in that moment, her trust in you was also evident, allowing you to access such a private place of her being. With a soft sigh, you moistened your lips before bringing them closer to her underwear, placing delicate and deep kisses on the soaked fabric. Each kiss elicited louder moans from Robin, whose breathing became irregular as her thighs lightly clenched against your face. You could feel the frantic beat of her heart resonating in the air, as if it were vibrating right down there. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you decided to give a playful lick through her panties, tasting the salty flavor of her excitement on your tongue. You looked up and met Robin’s eyes, whose expression mixed desperation and anticipation. One hand impatiently pushed her hair aside, while the other grasped her right thigh, unsure of what to do with it in that moment of intensity. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could see how her cheeks were slightly flushed with the embarrassment and excitement that engulfed her. With a determined movement, you pushed her panties aside, revealing her wet and eager pussy to your caresses. You began by softly licking her outer lips, enjoying the salty taste of her excitement as you prepared for the task ahead. You could feel the hand resting on her thigh inching closer to your hair, seeking something to hold onto to face the whirlwind of sensations that was about to come. You responded with a smile, ready to give Robin the pleasure she so eagerly craved. When you finally connected your mouth with her pussy, the deep moan that escaped the blonde’s lips resonated in the room. Your first lick was intense, exploring every corner of her sex with a fervor that left no doubt about your desire to satisfy her. Her hand, now gripping your hair, pressed you against her crotch, urging you to continue.

With closed eyes, you surrendered completely to the act, licking fiercely as if you were famished for her. Every encounter of your lips with her pleasure button caused a shiver through her body, accompanied by moans that echoed in the air and fueled your own excitement. You devoted yourself to playing with her, alternating between soft licks and delicate suctions, exploring every fold and crevice of her intimacy with a devotion that knew no bounds.

Robin moaned your name desperately as you devoted yourself to fulfilling each of her desires. With every skillful movement of your tongue, you took her beyond the limits of pleasure, bringing her closer to ecstasy with a mastery that only the deepest desire could bestow. You could feel her on the brink of orgasm, her body trembling with the anticipation of the impending release.

When she finally reached that climax, it was with a burst of pleasure that left her breathless, clinging tightly to your hair and pressing your face against her sex in a desperate embrace. Her confidence grew with each passing second, surrendering completely to pleasure and seeking to satisfy her own needs with a passion that left you breathless.

Your face was soaked with her fluids, every inch of your skin covered by the testimony of her pleasure. The sensation of her essence dripping down your skin added a new level of intensity to the experience, fueling the fire burning within you.

When you pulled away from her pussy after her orgasm, you looked at her with a passion that overflowed all known limits. You were more excited than ever, driven by the desire to satisfy your own needs and to push her to the limit once again.

You wiped your face with your arm and guided her to your bed with an impulse you couldn’t contain. With determination, you positioned yourself on top of her, ready to continue exploring the pleasures that only the encounter between two eager bodies could offer.

As you freed yourself from the garment covering your lower part, you revealed a leopard lace thong that immediately caught Robin’s attention. Her gaze lingered on the revelation of your lingerie, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and fascination. The lack of words from Robin was evident, and you could feel the tension in the air as she processed the situation.

For her, this territory was completely new. She had never experienced anything beyond kisses and hugs, and her sexual education was limited to what she had seen and heard through occasional conversations with friends or what she had heard on television. The lack of practical experience and exposure to explicit material, such as magazines or porn videos, left her without a clear frame of reference to understand what was happening in that moment.

Faced with her confusion, you decided to take the lead, gently guiding her with your actions and words, creating a safe space where she could explore and discover new sensations without fear or pressure. Your intention was to make her feel comfortable and secure in this new territory, and your understanding and affectionate attitude reflected that desire.

With a compassionate smile on your lips, you made an effort to explain the situation clearly and calmly, aware of Robin’s inexperience in this unknown area. The conversation flowed naturally, despite the nerves present in the atmosphere.

Upon hearing your proposal, Robin showed curiosity mixed with a hint of disbelief, which made you chuckle. Her innocent questions reflected her unfamiliarity with the intimate world and made you smile at her candor.

With patience, you assured her that what they were about to do was pleasurable for both, despite the lack of a traditional element. The absence of a “cock” was not an obstacle, but rather an advantage in this scenario, as you pointed out with a mischievous smile as you removed the thong, revealing your own intimacy, which, although not as soaked as Robin’s, throbbed with anticipation.

You guided Robin gently, indicating how to position herself to carry out this new experience. Although she was initially bewildered, she trusted you and followed your instructions, letting herself be carried away by curiosity and the excitement of the moment.

When your soaked sexes brushed against each other, sending a shiver through her entire body, Robin experienced a wave of new and exciting sensations. The friction between your bodies caused an involuntary spasm in her hips, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to move in search of more pleasure. With each movement, she satisfied your need for stimulation, creating a symphony of shared pleasure that enveloped both of you in mutual ecstasy.

With a palpable urgency, you surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, rubbing your sex against Robin’s with unrestrained passion. The need for mutual satisfaction drove your movements as you firmly grasped her thigh to keep her in place, ensuring that she could delight in this experience as much as you. Each strategic brush hit precisely the spot that unleashed waves of pleasure in Robin, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy time and time again. Shared moans and lascivious sounds filled the room, mingling with the shared moisture that flooded the air. The intensity of the moment prompted you to change position, placing yourself on top of Robin with the skill of years of experience. With fluid and precise movements, you moved over her pussy with a mastery that only desire and mutual connection could bestow.

As you shifted, Robin’s shirt gradually rode up, revealing her left breast swaying to the rhythm of your synchronized movements. Every movement was a dance of unbridled passion, as her golden hair cascaded over her face and onto the bed, adding a touch of sensuality to the scene. Together, you created a symphony of ecstasy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both in a bubble of happiness and satisfaction.

With each hip movement, the accumulated tension reached its peak until finally, in an explosion of shared ecstasy, you reached climax together. You might have taken a few seconds longer to reach the peak, but the synchrony of your orgasms was perfect, causing spasms and tremors in your intertwined bodies.

“Mhhmm… yes…” A torrent of overwhelming sensations engulfed you, plunging you into an ocean of pleasure and mutual satisfaction. Every muscle tensed and relaxed in harmony with the other, while moans of pleasure filled the room. It was as if time stood still in that moment of shared ecstasy, leaving only the whisper of your ragged breaths and the frenetic beating of your hearts.

After reaching climax, your bodies slowly relaxed, enveloped in a feeling of peace and fulfillment. The intimate connection you had shared left you with a sense of deep satisfaction, strengthening the bond between you and creating unforgettable memories of that unique and exciting experience.

After the shared climax, a cry of excitement escaped your lips, breaking the ecstasy of the moment and separating you from the mess you had caused. “Fuck!” Turning away from Robin, you lit a cigarette with a careless gesture, while smoke curled in the passion-filled air. “You should go with Steve, I’m off for a beer,” you said with the cigarette between your lips, not bothering to search for your underwear, just covering yourself with a skirt you found lying around.

Robin, exhausted and confused, didn’t know what to do as you walked away. She collapsed onto the bed, her body still vibrating with the intensity of the encounter, but her mind flooded with unanswered questions. Nearly 40 minutes later, Steve’s knocks echoed in the hallway, searching for Robin. “Robin?” his voice echoed from afar, opening and closing doors in his frantic search. Steve feared the worst as he approached the last remaining door: yours. Although he had never entered through that door before, always preferring the window, this time he fervently hoped that Robin wouldn’t be there.

“Robin!” he called out loudly, rousing her from her stupor. Steve opened the door with determination, only to be met with the shocking scene of his friend hastily getting dressed, shouting and closing her eyes with a guilty expression.

“Damn it, Robin, seriously?!” his voice was filled with frustration and concern as he watched the chaos before him, not fully understanding what he had just witnessed.

#fanfic #stranger things #stranger things 1 #stranger things 4 #lesbians #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #smut #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x you #oneshot #steve harrington oneshot #robin buckley oneshot

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apuckishwit · 1 year

Note

"What the HELL are you wearing?"

Steddie ^^

A continuation of this (hope OP doesn't mind, but it fit so nicely!)

“What the hell are you wearing?” Steve—shit, Eddie should probably find out his last name if he’s going to be following this guy back to Paris…and also asking him back to his hotel room after the show—calls as they enter the charming little chateau he’s staying at. Seriously. It looks like something out of a fairy tale—ivy covered walls, a beautiful garden full of flowers and vegetables, a snowy white cat perched on the fence. If you looked up the phrase ‘charming little chateau’ in the dictionary, there would probably be a picture of this place right next to it.

Eddie peeks around Steve’s shoulder (it’s only polite to wait to be invited inside, it has nothing to do with him wanting a longer look at that enticing ass in those jeans) and for a moment, his heart sinks. There’s a woman around their own age standing in the—charming—living room, bathed in sunlight from the wide picture windows. There’s nothing particularly offensive about her outfit…except for the neon purple beret perched on her head. She’s got a huge canvas set up on an easel in front of her, the floor covered by drop cloths and paints, brushes, and other tools covering every flat surface. She’s pretty, in an off-beat kind of way—not as classically attractive as Steve, to Eddie’s eyes, but pretty all the same, and Eddie can sense the easy familiarity between the two as Steve drops his bag of purchases by the door and saunters into the living room. He plucks the beret off the woman’s head, examining it with a look of disgust and dodging nimbly when the woman reaches to snatch it back.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, has he misread this whole situation? Or, Christ, is he about to be invited to a threesome or something? He doesn’t think he’s been misinterpreting the looks Steve keeps casting at him, but he does not feel like awkwardly turning down some hot young couple trying to be adventurous…particularly as he’s kind of depending on them to get him back to Paris in time for the show.

Then he takes a closer look at the woman.

“Holy shit, you’re Robin Buckley!” he exclaims, drawing her eyes to him. They immediately go as wide as his feel.

“Holy shit, you’re Eddie Munson!” she gasps.

Well. At least he knows Steve didn’t bring him back here with the intention of having a threesome.

Steve freezes, glancing between them with a—still unfairly attractive—frown. “You two…know each other?” he asks slowly.

“I mean…not personally?” Eddie says. “Just—oh my God, I love your art! My best friend is obsessed with you!” he can’t help gushing. Robin Buckley is a darling of the international art scene—her portraits and paintings in demand in galleries all over the world. Eddie would kill to have some of her art on one of their album covers.

Chrissy is going to die of jealousy when she hears about this. She’s been nursing the worst crush on Robin Buckley for going on two years now. Ever since she saw the woman speak at a charity gala dedicated to raising money for art scholarships for LGBT+ youth.

“My art! Dude! I love your stuff. Holy fuck, the Touchstone album was on blast 24/7 while I was painting my last triptych!”

Steve has moved further into the living room and is examining Buckley’s canvas with interest. At Robin’s words, he looks back at Eddie, arching an eyebrow. “You’re a—singer?” he asks, obviously guessing. Eddie ducks his head down, biting his lip a little.

“Something like that,” he says modestly. Buckley cackles.

“Oh my God! Dingus! How do you go out for booze and come back with the freakin’ lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin? What is your life?” She points a paintbrush covered in yellow paint at him, causing him to dance backwards with a laugh that is fucking musical to Eddie’s ears.

“I don’t know who that is! No offense,” he tosses over his shoulder at Eddie, “he was trying to ask that clerk in the cheese shop for help finding the train station.”

Buckley nods sagely. “In English?” she asks Eddie.

Eddie nods sheepishly. “Didn’t go so well. Thank God Stevie here was in line behind me.” He notices Steve’s cheeks go a little pink at the pet name, and can’t help but smile. He hopes he gets to see how far down that blush goes tonight.

Buckley hums, her eyes flicking between him and Steve before they go a little sly. “Stevie,” she says, sidling a little closer to her friend. She glances at Eddie again. “Voulez-vous coucher avec lui?” she asks with a smirk.

And look. Eddie doesn’t speak French. Gareth made him memorize how to ask where the bathroom is, order a beer, and tell someone to fuck off (just for funsies) and he has a handful of other helpful phrases written down phonetically in his lyric notebook. However, Chrissy blasts Lady Marmalade every time it comes on the radio and he knows damn well what Buckley just asked Steve.

Steve shoots him a sly little side-glance, looking him up and down in a way that has heat blooming in Eddie’s gut. “Oui,” he says, tossing Eddie a little wink. Eddie kind of wants to fist pump.

Buckley laughs again, sounding delighted. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Dustin about this. He’s going to die!”

Steve shakes his head. “Rob, I swear to God, if you tell Dustin about this, you can walk back to London next week.”

“Pfft, like I can’t buy my own plane tickets. Worth it!” she singsongs before whirling back to Eddie. “I am so delighted to meet you, Eddie Munson…would you like to join us for lunch, or do we need to get you back to Paris, like, ASAP?”

He glances at the—very charming—clock sitting on the mantle behind Buckley’s easel. He’s not due at soundcheck for another few hours and Steve said the city was only about an hour and a half train ride. Besides. Chrissy has been so good to him over the years—she truly is his best friend as well as their manager. He owes it to her to put in a good word with the woman she’s been pining over, doesn’t he?

“I could eat,” he says. “Gotta keep my energy up for tonight,” he says, making direct eye contact with Steve as he says it. That delightful flush sweeps over Steve's cheekbones again.

Seriously. Wandering around the French countryside. Best. Decision. Ever.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy/robin if you squint #my writing #stranger things #stranger things fic #fic prompt

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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

Would you/have you done one about steve comforting a reader who is scared of fireworks?

hi, love! thanks for your request! here's another v self-indulgent fic!! — the one where steve calms you down when have a hard time adjusting after the "fire" at starcourt tw for mentions of ptsd (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve has the prettiest backyard you’ve ever seen. It’s adorned with a sparkling blue pool amidst a patch of lush green grass. It’s embellished with various holiday decorations that only add to its grandeur — yellow fairy lights, sparkling streamers, and paper decorations in varying shades of red, white, and blue.

His parents always go all out for these kinds of get-togethers, no matter how insignificant the holiday feels in comparison. The adults are gathered in the house now, tired after dealing with teenagers all day, getting wine-drunk in his father’s den.

The teenagers in question are spread out along the yard, most of them out front. You can see the kids through the gate, chasing each other with sparklers. You and Steve sit apart from all that, almost achingly drowsy after spending all day in the sun.

The boy lies on his back in the hammock and presses you to his chest. His wide palms smooth up and down the length of your back, over your shirt. The fading Hawkins Tigers t-shirt actually belongs to him, and it swallows you whole accordingly.

Everything smells like sunscreen and pool water and his cologne. It entwines with the scent of his father’s whiskey and lingering smoke from the grill. The nostalgic smell of a dewy summer night lulls you to sleep entirely.

Steve tilts his head to his shoulder to watch you. There’s a distant smile playing on his lips he doesn’t even know is there. You look so cozy pressed against him, but he can tell you’re not sleeping. You shift every couple minutes, furrowing your brows like you’re waiting for slumber to come.

He’s tired, too, but not enough to stop watching you.

“Hey, Stevie!” Robin shouts across the yard.

The boy forces himself to pull his eyes off of you. He turns his chin to his shoulder to look at the sandy brunette girl. Her sneakers are slotted between the holes of the metal fence. It props her a few measly inches off the ground, and she wraps her hand around the top bar of it.

Steve’s scolded her a thousand times about that. He doesn’t want her to get stuck and break an ankle. But in true Robin Buckley fashion, she refuses to listen.

“What?” he calls back.

She bends at the waist over the fence. “You guys wanna come shoot fireworks with us?”

Your eyes are still closed. You hope she can tell from the distance so she’ll think you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t like fireworks — you never have, really, but especially not after Starcourt. The memory of that night makes your breath quicken and your heart race as your body buzzes with a misplaced adrenaline.

You’re more scared of Steve saying yes to her plea. It’s one thing to be scared, but being scared without him holding you is exponentially more terrifying.

“I’m good just watching you guys!” Steve shouts in return.

You feel the words rumble in his chest. A sigh of relief spills from your mouth in a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Robin rolls her eyes at his response, grumbling something under her breath as she hops off the fence.

Steve winces as he watches her go, still terrified her shoes will get caught and her ankle will snap and they’ll have to go to the emergency room.

She makes it down safely, though. The fear still lingers within him, like the smell of smoke you can’t ever get out of your clothes.

“I’ve had enough of fireworks for a lifetime,” Steve mumbles more quietly to you. Still rubbing your back with one hand, he takes the other from behind his hand to smooth over your arm. His warm palm gives you a reassuring squeeze on your forearm. “I don’t how these shitheads are doing it, honestly.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest beneath you.

You try your best to muster a smile even though he can’t really see you from this angle. You’re just trying to convince yourself you’re not as scared as you really are.

“Me neither…”

Your eyes follow Dustin and Lucas with an acute attentiveness. One of them holds a long candle lighter while the other clutches a cylindrical firework. Your bones still ache with exhaustion, but you couldn’t be more wide awake.

You’re heart whoosh, whoosh, whooshes in your ears at an increasingly rapid pace when the two boys crouch beside the firework.

Their faces glow with the orange flame for a few moments. When they hurry off in the other direction, you tense in preparation for the loud noise you know is coming.

The booming crack from the sparking gunpowder frightens you, anyway.

Your heart lurches in a fleeting panic, your body jerking even though you know you have no reason to be scared. Your sudden jolting scares Steve, too. The loud noise wasn’t as frightening to him as thinking you were about to fall out of the hammock.

He holds you tighter and laughs softly to himself — not at you, exactly, but at his own misplaced alarm. “Shit, babe. You okay?”

You exhale a deep sigh against him. “Yeah. Sorry, I just— I wasn’t expecting it to be so loud.”

You feel stupid for phrasing it like that. Of course, fireworks were loud. That was sort of the whole point, wasn’t it? But you don’t know how else to explain your fear to him. Sudden and thunderous noises just scare you more than they used to, far more than they should for the average person.

Steve doesn’t need an explanation, though. You don’t need a reason to be scared of something, or to tell him what the thing you’re scared of is. He just doesn’t want you to feel scared at all. About anything. In a perfect world, he could protect you from all the wars you wage in your own head.

“Want me to tell ‘em to stop?” he asks with pinched-together brows.

Your answer is immediate. You hold him tighter, as though keeping him from moving, as you shake your head against him. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not their fault. Fireworks just… they remind me of—”

“I know,” Steve coos gently to you, fingers squeezing softly at your arm again.

It’s not like you needed to explain it to him. He was there for all of it, watching with tears in his eyes as a possessed Billy Hargrove dragged you through a burning Starcourt Mall — gaze glassy with gunpowder and smoke and the thought of losing you.

His aversion to fireworks isn’t as rooted in fears as yours is. More than anything, he just hates the smell of them now. Maybe because he was only throwing them that night — at the big, fleshy, melting spider monster who wanted to kill them all.

He wasn’t the one who tasted death that night. Not like you, anyway.

Another fireworks cracks in the air.

The sound blasts and echoes through the whole yard. It sounds like gunshots — loud, repetitive, and merciless.

You weren’t paying enough attention to expect its arrival this time.

Suddenly, you’re back at Starcourt, getting hunted by secret Russian soldiers. The smell of blood and gunpowder stings your nose and makes tears burn the backs of your eyes. You wince and squeeze them shut, holding tighter onto Steve.

A Renaissance painting of July 4th, 1985 is stained on the back of your eyelids.

The vibrant colors of Starcourt Mall are made of neon signs and bright orange flames. A monster made of flesh towers over you, sparkling with alternate-dimension slime and the vivid fireworks cracking overhead.

It’s been a year since then. A lifetime. Hardly a second ago.

Your nose smushes into Steve’s shirt as you clutch onto him for dear life.

His free hand — the one not already splayed against your back — leaves your forearm and rises to your face. His palm is wide and warm as it engulfs your ear. He presses you into him, not too intensely, but enough to drown out the nightlife of Hawkins in July.

The scent of him covers you like a blanket. He smells like chlorine and body wash and chocolate ice cream — soft and warm like a summer night. Like heaven. Like home.

He brings you back to life without trying.

You finally turn to look up at the boy after spending several minutes avoiding his gaze. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his shirt as you do so. Your tired eyes meet his smiling face.

“Better?” he asks with a crooked, pink grin.

You can’t really hear him, not with both your ears muffled. But you can read the word as it spills from his pink mouth and feel it rumble in his chest.

A gentle smile quirks the corners of your lips. You nod.

He holds you like that the rest of the night. He props his golden forearm against his chest and keeps his palm pressed intently against your ear. It doesn’t totally cancel out the cracking fireworks, but it helps to keep them at bay.

Your eyes dance along the velvet starry sky as fireworks burst in rainbow colors against it. They don’t remind you of death and dying anymore.

You feel held. Like you can finally move on from it all.

As long as you’ve got Steve Harrington holding you, at least.