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WHEN SHADOWS LINGER; Part 1

Dom!Nancy wheeler x Loser!female reader (set in season 4 after fred dies)

As always, this is dark, the majority of actions are out of character because it’s exaggerated for the sake of the story,

Warnings: Rough sex, dubious consent, loss of virginity, cold Nancy Wheeler, oral sex, toxic dynamics, internalized homophobia

You were Nancy Wheeler's new assistant, taking over Fred's old desk. She didn't like you. Too bright, too obvious, too alive. And yet, you kept slipping into her world, closer than she expected-or wanted. Her relationship with Jonathan was crumbling, a quiet erosion she couldn't stop, and when she found you there, willing and unafraid, she used you. A distraction. A dangerous one.

Maybe you were just the right kind of chaos at the right time.

The Hawkins Gazette office always felt cold- cheap fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, papers were scattered like leaves across the desks, the smell of ink and old coffee clung to the air.

You still weren’t used to being there, in the very seat that once belonged to Fred Benson. The thought came with a strange mixture of guilt and gratitude, like stepping onto a stage someone else had fallen through. Hawkins didn’t talk much about Fred anymore, not out loud, but his ghost lingered in the way people avoided eye contact when they passed his empty mug on the shelf.

But that wasn’t why your pulse always beat a little too fast at work.

Across the room sat Nancy Wheeler.

She worked like the world would stop spinning if she did. Papers rustled, fingers flew across her typewriter, jaw tightened with determination. She never wasted words, never wasted time, and- if you were being honest with yourself… never spared you so much as a second glance.

She hadn’t even known your name before Fred died.

You were younger than her by a year or so, shorter, softer around the edges. A little shy, a little awkward. The type to laugh at your own jokes when no one else did. But caring- too caring, your friends always told you. Maybe that was why you kept noticing Nancy long before she ever noticed you. The way her eyes lit up when a mystery broke open. The way she refused to let anyone underestimate her.

You had been infatuated from day one, even when she brushed past you like you were just another piece of furniture… Something inanimate or some insect… Not even worth getting one’s shoes spoiled over.

Even now, her cool distance never really stings- it only makes you admire her more. She is everything you aren’t: composed, fearless, unbreakable. Or at least pretending to be.

Who cares.

This mornng, though, something about the office feels different. Darker. Like the shadows have grown teeth.

You blame the gloomy weather.

Nancy’s voice cuts through the silence. “Are you going to help me with this or just stand there?”

Her tone is flat, slightly impatient, eyes never leaving the stack of notes in her hands.

You swallow, step closer, and tell yourself- again- that working alongside her is the luckiest accident of your life.

Even if she barely knew you existed.

Even if her indifference made your heart beat harder than it should.

“W-what can i do for you Wheeler?” You clear your throat, hands crossed like you’re trying to protect yourself from something dangerous.

Or someone.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. God, she’s exhausted- you can see it, even through the irritation. Fred’s absence hangs between you both like a wrong note in a song neither of you knows how to fix. Everything in her life is fraying, thread by thread: Hawkins is trembling under Vecna’s shadow, Jonathan is slowly but surely drifting from her, Steve’s hovering like the mosquito that he is, and now you- another responsibility, another reminder of things she can’t control.

Nancy inhales, then gestures to the exit.

“Collect your things, we’re going out. Nothing’s going to get done if we just sit here all day.”

You sigh, already sensing the state of her mood.

“Alrighty..”

•

The sun rose sickly pale, like even it was too exhausted to shine properly.

You trot behind Nancy, notebook in hand, backpack bouncing against your spine as you keep pace with her clipped strides. She has not looked at you properly since the car ride. Her jaw is locked, shoulders stiff beneath her denim jacket. It makes you very anxious.

“Okay” you say, trying to keep your voice light, “so maybe we should try Reefer Rick’s place again? Third time’s the charm, right?”

“No.”

Nancy doesn’t slow down. “We’ve got no time to waste anymore.”

“Oh. Right.” You nod fast, swallowing the heat creeping up your neck. “Um. Then what about Hendersons? They might’ve heard- ”

Nancy doesn’t look at you. “People don’t magically become helpful between breakfast and brunch [Name].”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard.

Fine. That was fine. You can take a hint. Even if she delivers it like a slap.

You walk a few steps behind her now.

The rest of the morning goes the same way- door after door, face after face, shutting the two of you out. Some stare at Nancy with thinly veiled accusation. Others avoid looking at you entirely, like being near Nancy’s new “replacement” assistant might summon something dark.

By the sixth slammed door, you try again.

“They are just scared Nance,” you murmur gently. “It’s not your fault.”

Nancy turns on you so abruptly you stop mid-step.

“Don’t” she snaps. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That tone. That… pity.” She spits the word like it tastes bad. “I don’t need you to make me feel better. I need facts. Leads. Anything useful.”

Your composure falters for half a second- you catch it, swallow it, straighten your posture like nothing touches you.

“It’s not pity” you say softly. “I just thought you might feel better if-“

“I don’t need to feel better” she snaps, and it comes out harsher than she probably intends. “I need to work and be useful.”

You nod quickly. “Right. Useful. Sorry.”

Whatever..

The two of you end up trying a few more spots.

People cross the street to avoid you. One woman curses under her breath about “kids sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” Another shoves her curtains shut the moment Nancy raises her hand to knock.

Her breathing gets harsher. You see her wiping her palms on her jeans. Whether she is angry, scared, or blaming herself again- you can’t tell.

So you try a joke. A tiny one. Barely a spark.

“Well” you venture softly, “that went worse than my eighth-grade talent show.”

You smile- small, hopeful.

The brunette doesn’t- she hardly even looks at you.

There is a long, brittle silence. A car rolls by, slow and suspicious.

Nancy sighs first, rubbing her forehead. “Look. We’re not getting anything like this. We should… reconvene later. After dark. People might talk then.”

You nod, satisfied with her decision. You’re starting to grow hungry anyways. “do you want to go grab a-“

“I have to check something at home. And you… you should take a break. Go do… whatever you do when you’re not following me around.”

Ouch.

But you force a nod. “Sure. Yeah, whatever. Uh- where should I meet you again?”

“Forest Hills trailhead.” She starts walking away. “Nine.”

You hesitate. “Do you- want me to bring anything?”

“No.”

Her answer is immediate. Final.

She doesn’t turn back. She doesn’t even check if you are still following.

You stand there a moment, hugging your notebook to your chest while the daylight presses down on you like a damp cloth. Something in your stomach twists- regret, embarrassment, hell you aren’t sure. Maybe both?

But you understand her. You always do.

So you watch her go- shoulders tight, steps angry, shadow stretching long across the pavement- and you decide you’ll still show up tonight.

Even if she doesn’t want your comfort. Even if she barely wants you there and if you are the wrong person trying very hard to be useful.

•

You are there early- of course you are. You sit on the splintered bench by the trailhead, fiddling with your flashlight, trying not to rehearse apologies you weren’t supposed to say anymore.

When you finally hear footsteps crunching the gravel, you stand too fast.

Nancy emerges from the dark with hair messier than usual. Her breathing uneven. Her hands are shoved deep into her jacket pockets as if to keep them from shaking.

You sense something’s wrong before she even reaches you.

“You’re early.” she says, voice flat.

“So are you.” you shoot back, then wince internally—too harsh. You can’t help yourself, her bad mood is starting to get to you.

She doesn’t comment. She brushes past you, heading for the deeper woods.

The air grows colder the farther you walk. You keep glancing at Nancy, trying to read her posture, but she keeps her face forward, jaw locked with a ferocity that borders on brittle.

“Did something happen?” you finally ask, too softly to sound nosy.

She takes a long breath through her nose, eyes fixing on the trees.

“I talked to Jonathan today.”

Your throat tightens at the way she says his name- flat, empty, like an object she is setting down for the last time.

“Oh,” you whisper. “Did it… go bad?”

Nancy lets out a small, humorless laugh. “It ended.”

Your heart thuds. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she snaps, then catches herself, squeezing her eyes shut. “I just- don’t. I can’t handle sympathy right now.”

You jog a few steps to keep up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

You visibly frown, slightly wounded “Okay.”

The trees creak overhead like old bones.

Nancy eventually stops in a small clearing where the moonlight cuts through the branches.

“This is where the witnesses reported strange noises,” she mutters, scanning the ground. “We’re looking for anything unusual. Footprints. Residue. Signs of-”

“Nance?” you say cautiously.

She turns, clearly exasperated by your constant prodding and blabbering about things she’d rather leave unsaid

You exhale, gathering the courage to say what has been sitting like a stone in your chest all day.

“I’m sorry I annoyed you earlier. I wasn’t trying to pity you. I just… wanted to help.”

Nancy stares at you. Really stares.

Her eyes look tired in a way that makes your ribs ache—red-rimmed, distant, like she’s been crying for hours but refuses to let a single tear fall.

“You don’t get it,” she says coldly. “Everyone thinks they know what I need. Jonathan. My mom. Fred.” Her voice falters at his name. “…And now you.”

You step back slightly, wounded but steady.

“I wasn’t trying to be like them.”

“I know-“ she admits, brushing hair behind her ear. “And that’s the problem. You’re too- ”

She gestures vaguely at you. “Bright. Optimistic. Enthusiastic. I don’t have room for that right now.”

Your chest tightens, but you nod. “I understand.” (You don’t)

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.” (It’s not)

Nancy exhales shakily, tearing her gaze away like it physically hurts her to hold eye contact.

“It’s easier to push you away” she murmurs, “than to deal with how guilty I feel.”

You blink. “Guilty? For what?”

“For everything.”

Her voice cracks- just once, but enough to split something open.

“Fred. Jonathan. This town. These deaths. And dragging you into it.”

You step closer, carefully, like approaching a feral animal that might bolt.

“You didn’t drag me” you say softly. “I followed.”

“Exactly.” she whispers. “I don’t deserve that.”

A branch snaps in the woods making both of you freeze. The temperature drops so sharply your breath fogs.

“Stay close,” she orders, sliding seamlessly back into hunter-mode, though her voice isn’t quite steady.

You press your shoulder near hers- not touching, just close enough that she knows you’re listening.

Nancy swallows hard. “[name]” she murmurs, “if something happens-”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” you say, fiercer than you mean to.

She shoots you a look- surprised, maybe grateful, maybe just startled.

But the woods don’t let you process it.

A low, distant groan drifts between the trees. A human sound twisting into something else.

Nancy’s hand instinctively reaches for yours- cold, tense, clutching.

You don’t breathe.

For one fragile moment, fear wraps you both together like a thin thread pulled tight.

Then Nancy whispers, barely audible:

“…Don’t leave my side.”

You nod once.

Firm. Controlled. Steady- the one thing about yourself you can offer her without messing it up.

The sound comes again- closer this time.

Not a monster. Not supernatural. Worse, in some ways.

Voices.

Flashlights.

“Fuck” Nancy curses under her breath. “Jason’s crew.”

You tense. They have been roaming Hawkins like feral dogs, convinced Eddie is the devil incarnate. Anyone in their way becomes collateral.

Nancy grabs your wrist- not harshly, but tight. “This way.”

You follow her through the trees, breath shallow, lungs burning. The moon flickers through the branches above, strobing the path in silver flashes.

“HEY! Who’s there?!”

You freeze.

A tall silhouette steps out from behind a tree. Andy. One of the basketball guys. Bigger up close, shoulders square like he’s ready to swing a bat. They all look goofy in your opinion anyways.

His flashlight lands squarely on you.

You feel Nancy’s fingers twitch around your wrist.

“Oh” Andy mutters, lowering the beam a little. “It’s… Wheeler?”

His voice cracks on her name- fear. Maybe respect, you can’t tell.

“We’re not looking for you.” he says, stepping closer. “Unless you’ve suddenly started hanging out with freaks.”

Nancy’s grip tightens just slightly. She steps in front of you without hesitation- slim but fierce, eyes sharp.

“We’re following up on something for the paper.” she says coolly. “And you’re in our way.”

Andy blinks, slightly irritated by her tone. “Just… be careful out here, okay? Eddie’s not human anymore.”

“He’s innocent-“ you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Andy’s gaze snaps to you. Cold. Hostile.

You cringe at your own stupidity, and you don’t even need to spare her a glance to know the exact expression wheeler is sporting right now.

“Who the fuck even is that?”

One of the guys scoffs, genuinely confused.

It actually amuses you in some wrong way, knowing how forgettable your face must be to people. Knowing you barged into their little conversation like some wannabe-heroic leprechaun defending your little demonic friends’ honor

Nancy shifts just enough to wedge herself between you and him, and suddenly the air feels heavier, charged in a way only you seem to notice. Great- apparently, you’re the only one thinking this whole situation is completely bizarre

“We’re leaving-” she says, voice low. It actually grounds you in a very unpleasant way.

Andy hesitates, then steps back. “Yeah. Whatever. Don’t get yourselves killed.”

He disappears into the dark with the rest of the pack- voices fading, flashlights bobbing away like angry fireflies.

The moment they are out of earshot, Nancy exhales sharply, mimicking your words in a ridiculously high-pitched voice. “Seriously [Name]? ‘He’s innocent’ Who told you to open your mouth?”

Offended, you mutter, more to yourself than to her “I don’t talk like that-“

“No, actually, Is this funny to you?” She scoffs.

“Fun- what? Nance come on, they’re a bunch of fucking clowns, you’ve seen them-“ you push, disbelief and humor lacing your tone

“Save it” she snaps, rolling her eyes as she starts to retreat, completely tuning out whatever nonsense you were about to throw at her. “We need to move”

And, of course, McDrama Wheeler bolts from the scene like she just stepped out of a Chuck Norris action movie- leaving you gaping after her like a tranquilized gorilla.

•

By the time you reach the car, your legs are trembling-Nancy unlocks the doors with shaky fingers. Once inside, she doesn’t start the engine. She just sits there, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles blanch.

You watch her chest rise and fall, too fast, too sharp.

“Nance” you say softly. “M’ sorry okay? I wanted to help… Come on, look at me.”

For a long moment, she doesn’t

Then she does. The guilt that consumes your body is enough to drive every last bit of sarcasm from you, leaving nothing but raw, hollow silence

Her eyes are wet- not crying, but right on the edge. Exhaustion, grief, anger, fear- all of it swirling under her lashes like stormwater circling a drain.

“That was so dumb, you could’ve gotten hurt.” she scoffs

You startle. “Me? Nancy, you were the one-“

“That’s not the point” she snaps, voice cracking. “I keep losing people.”

Your breath catches.

She means Fred.

She means Jonathan.

She means everyone she couldn’t save.

You reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. She lets your hand touch hers.

“Nancy-” you murmur, “I’m still here.”

That does something to her.

Her eyes search yours-desperate, haunted, soft for the first time all day.

“Why?” she whispers. “Why do you keep staying?”

You swallow. “Because I want to.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not enough.”

“Nancy-”

Before you can finish, she leans across the console, grabbing your jaw firmly with one hand, and kisses you.

Not sweet.

Not soft.

But aching.

Desperate.

You gasp softly against her lips, surprised, but she guides the kiss- commanding the angle, the closeness, the pace- like she’s finally given herself permission to feel something.

“Don’t make me regret that.” she warns once the two of you have pulled back completely

You tremblelike a leaf, eyes wide from disbelief. “I won’t.”

For a few seconds, the world feels still.

No Vecna.

No grieving town.

No failing relationships or dead friends.

Just two girls in a car, breathing the same fragile air.

Then she pulls you back to reality

“Seatbelt.” she says, voice back to business- but softer, with a crack of warmth hiding under the sternness.

You nod, pulse wild.

Whatever tonight has become, it changes everything.

•

The drive back to your house is quiet in the way broken glass is quiet-

dangerous, sharp, one wrong move from cutting you open.

The tension is enough to silence the once bubbly warmth in your chest.

Nancy keeps both hands on the wheel, knuckles pale, jaw locked like she’s clenching back every word wanting to claw its way out.

You stare out the window, trying not to replay the kiss over and over like a scratched record.

When she finally pulls up in front of your house, she doesn’t look at you.

And, naturally, here it comes- every sapphic girl’s nightmare: the straight girl immediately regretting every single choice she just made.

“Alright.” she says, voice flat, professional-

the same tone she uses on strangers she interviews.

Like you aren’t the girl she’s just kissed.

“We’ll meet tomorrow. Same time. I’ll call you with the details.”

You blink.

Seriously?

“That’s it?” you ask.

Nancy doesn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Something hot stings behind your eyes- not tears, just heat, humiliation maybe.

“So we’re pretending the kiss didn’t happen?”

Nancy’s stare stays glued to the windshield.

“It was adrenaline” she says. “Stress. Nothing more.”

Your heart drops straight through you.

“…Oh.”

You reach for the door handle before your voice can betray you.

“Right. Got it. I hope you got what you needed out of it.” You spit before getting out.

And you get out fast- too fast- slamming the door harder than intended as you storm toward your porch, eyes burning, throat tight.

You almost make it inside when-

“[Name]-“

Nancy’s voice cuts through the night, sharp and aggravated.

You ignore her and open the door.

“Hey!” she snaps. “I’m talking to you.”

You step inside and push the door half-shut-

Nancy catches it with one hand, pushing her way in because of course she fucking does that.

“What are we, ten? What the hell was that?” she demands like you’re the crazy one here.

You scoff. “I don’t know, Nancy. You tell me. You kissed me and then acted like I imagined it.”

She takes a step closer.

You back up instinctively-

not scared, but overwhelmed.

She always takes up space like she owns the air around her.

“It didn’t mean anything.” she says firmly. “I told you that.”

“Well I’m not your goddamn experiment-“ you shoot back, voice breaking. “You don’t kiss people like that when it means nothing.”

Nancy’s jaw clenches.

Her knuckles flex at her sides.

“You’re projecting” she says. “You always project. You get attached to everything that moves and then act shocked when the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

The words hit hard.

Harder than you expect.

You swallow, but for once- you don’t fold.

For once, you don’t apologize.

“You don’t get to say that.” you push. “Not after how you treat me.”

Nancy blinks- surprised.

You’ve never raised your voice to her before.

“You push me around. You talk down to me. You act like I’m some annoying kid who should be grateful you even look at me. And I take it- every time- because I care about you, Nancy!”

Nancy’s breath hitches.

Barely.

But you notice.

You step forward now- your turn to intrude on her space.

Even though you are shorter, even though your voice trembles, it feels like standing on a cliff edge.

“I follow you everywhere,” you start, voice breaking. “Not because I’m desperate. Not because I want your approval. But because… I like you.”

The words spill out too fast to catch.

“I like you.” you repeat, softer, rawer. “And I know I shouldn’t. I know you’re hurting and angry and you don’t want me in your way. But I can’t help it.”

Nancy’s lips part-

not in shock, but in something closer to dread.

You shake your head, eyes stinging.

“And tonight-when you kissed me? I thought… maybe you felt something too.”

Silence.

Thick.

Suffocating.

Nancy steps closer again-

close enough that your back hits the wall behind you.

Her hand comes up, bracing beside your head.

Not trapping-

but claiming space, claiming the moment, claiming control without touching you.

You look up at her, heart slamming.

“Don’t do this.” she whispers.

“Do what?” you whisper back, bewildered.

“Feel things for me.”

Her voice trembles. Just once.

“I’m not good for you.”

Your breath catches.

“Nancy…”

She squeezes her eyes shut like the sound of her name hurts.

“You don’t understand…” she murmurs, leaning so close her forehead almost brushes yours. “Everyone I let close ends up dead or gone or suffering. Fred. Barb. Jonathan. And now you’re standing here telling me you care about me- like that’s not the most terrifying thing I’ve heard all week.”

Your voice is barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I just did.”

Nancy opens her eyes-

and damn, they were wet again, shimmering under the porch light filtering in through the window.

She stares at you like you are the most reckless, foolish, precious thing she’s ever seen.

Then-

She drops her forehead to yours.

Not a kiss.

Not yet.

Just breath shared between two broken places.

“You make things complicated.” she whispers.

You let out a shaky laugh. “And you make things impossible.”

For the first time all night, a ghost of a smile tugs at Nancy’s mouth- small, fragile, almost painful.

Then she whispers:

“Tell me again.”

“…What?”

“That you like me.”

You swallow hard and say it without flinching this time.

“I like you Nancy Wheeler.”

She inhales sharply-

a breath she’s been denying herself for hours.

Her hand slides from the wall to your neck, where your jaw is, tilting your face up with a firm, controlled touch.

“[name]…” she whispers. “I shouldn’t be here.”

You feel the drop instantly, like the floor has tilted under you.

You swallow. “But you are.”

You can’t go over this again..

Her eyes close, her chest rising sharply.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I am.”

You wait for her to come back toward you.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she runs a hand through her hair and turns away, walks to the kitchen like she’s trying to escape the air between you.

“I can’t give you what you want.” she says, voice cracked around the edges. “I can’t give you what you need.”

Your stomach knots as you follow, aggravated.

“What do you think I need?”

“Love,” she snaps- too loud, too raw- then lowers her voice again. “You deserve love. Not whatever I am right now.”

She looks at you finally-

and it hurts, because her eyes are empty and full at the same time.

“I just broke up with Jonathan.” she says. “Hours ago. I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m not… I’m not ready for anything real.”

Her voice breaks on “real.”

You take a small, careful step toward her. “Nancy-“

“No.”

She holds out a hand, stopping you.

It trembles slightly.

“I’m not interested in… dating a woman.” she says, eyes darting away. “That’s not what this is. I’m not- this isn’t who I am.”

Your throat tightens.

A small sting in your chest you refuse to acknowledge.

She makes you feel like you’re some kind of plague, something contagious.

It hurts.

You feel like something broken sitting on top of a shelf.

And she keeps going, voice thinning.

“I just… I needed something. Someone. A moment that wasn’t grief or guilt or people yelling or doors slamming in my face. I needed to feel- anything.”

You don’t move.

You don’t interrupt.

You let her say it, even though each word lands like a bruise forming slowly under your skin.

Nancy’s breath shivers.

“So yes..” she finally whispers, “call it a rebound. A distraction. A quick fix. Whatever makes it sound less cruel.”

It still sounds cruel-

and she knows it.

The silence between you aches.

You lift your chin, steadying your voice. “Why are you still here then?”

Nancy stares at you for a long moment.

Then she steps closer. One slow, deliberate step until she’s inches away again-

towering slightly over you.

“Because-“ she whispers “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your breath catches.

“And I don’t want you to be alone tonight either…” she admits softly, painfully. “Even if I can’t give you more than this.”

You blink hard, trying not to show the sting in your eyes. You don’t understand where this is leading at all.

You force your voice steady.

“So then… what am I to you right now?”

Nancy inhales like the question hurts.

“You’re the one person I don’t feel like I’m drowning around,” she confesses. “And I’m so sorry that’s all I can give.”

Your chest aches.

You nod slowly, even though everything inside you feels too tight.

She reaches out- hesitant, but wanting-

and her fingers brush yours.

“You don’t have to forgive me..” Nancy murmurs. “But… can I stay? Just tonight.”

You should say no.

You should protect yourself.

The implication behind her words is clear as day. She just wants your body not you. And not because it’s you but because you’re right here and willing.

But you look at her-

at the exhaustion carved into her face, the devastation she’s been carrying alone, the tenderness she’s fighting so violently-

and your resolve softens.

You nod once.

Nancy lets out a breath she’d been strangling in her lungs.

She steps closer and pulls you into her, arms wrapping around you with the kind of fierce desperation that feels half-hug, half-clinging-to-life.

You melt into it.

Even though it hurts.

Even though you know it can’t last.

But tonight, in the dim quiet of your home, with shadows crowding the walls and the weight of everything hanging above you-

Nancy Wheeler needs you.

Not forever. Not in the way you want. Not in the way that saves anyone.

But she needs you tonight.

So you kiss her- Ignoring the hot stream of tears running down your heated cheeks.

She wants a rebound? You’ll play the part. Be a good girl for her one last time..

“Don’t make me regret that-“ you repeat, echoing her words from when she first kissed you in her car.

A subtle jab.

Nancy’s breath is still ghosting over your lips when she straightens- just enough to look down at you properly. Her eyes are darker now, sharper, like she’s made a decision she can’t take back.

“Come here,” she murmurs.

She doesn’t wait for you to move. Her hand slides to the small of your back, guiding- no, pulling- you closer until your bodies meet. Your breath stutters, but Nancy’s doesn’t. She’s steady, composed, almost infuriatingly sure of herself now that she’s given in.

Her fingers trace up your front, then hook under your chin

“Look at me.”

You do. You always do.

Something in her softens for a heartbeat at the way you respond- then hardens again, like she can’t let that softness stay.

“I knew you wanted this-“ she mutters matter-of-factly, her thumb brushing your lower lip. “But I didn’t know how… easy it would be to make you bend for me.”

Your face heats up with embarrassment, though luckily she can’t see it in the dim lighting of your house. You reach for her jacket, desperate to distract yourself from her last words- but she’s quicker.

“Let me,” she says, taking your wrists gently and placing them behind you on the counter. “Just this once… let me have you.”

You nod, pulse skittering. The warm authority in her voice sends a shiver through you.

Nancy kisses you again- longer, firmer- her hands settling on your waist, anchoring you, directing the pace, the depth, the angle. Every movement she makes is intentional, claiming, like she’s been waiting for an excuse to take charge of something she actually wants.

Her lips break from yours only to trail a breath by your ear.

“You make me want to ruin you…” she admits quietly, her tone half-frustration, half-confession. “And you’ll let me, [name], won’t you?”

Your hands tighten on the edge of the counter you’re pressed back against, she nudges your chin back toward her, reclaiming your mouth before you can answer, kissing you like she refuses to let doubt interrupt her again.

She knows the answer- hell, you both do. Speaking it aloud would be nothing but a waste of time.

And for that moment- under her hands, under her control- the world outside the comfort of your house disappears.

“Please-“

Nancy kisses you hard enough to push another sound out of your throat- one she swallows immediately. The moment she hears it, something flashes in her eyes, something sharp and frustrated and wanting.

“Be patient”

Her grip on your waist tightens. Not painful, but firm enough that you feel the strength she usually hides beneath her composure.

The kiss turns rougher, more urgent, her hands sliding up your sides and dragging you closer by your hips, forcing your body flush against hers like she’s done pretending she doesn’t want it. She kisses you with an intensity that borders on messy- rare for Nancy, who’s always so controlled- and that loss of composure makes your breath stutter.

She feels it. She notices everything.

One hand comes up to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. She tugs- not harshly, but enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to her breath. The sound you try to hide only makes her grip firmer.

“You…” she whispers, voice low and strained. “You’re not a virgin though, are you?”

Second part

💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · WHEN SHADOWS LINGER · PART 2 Dom Nancy wheeler x female reader (set in season 4 after fred dies) As always, this is dark,

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