midnightmala
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Nancy looked so fucking small out there, bleeding through her sleep shirt and a pair of jeans that used to belong to some middle school kid that had been dead for a decade, and Robin thought about herself ten years from now. Pictured herself haunting this big old house, wearing clothes that used to belong to Regional Emmy Award Winner Nancy Wheeler who had been dead for a decade, and she wondered when exactly she had fallen in love. And she wondered how many apocalypses a person could be expected to survive.
or
Robin's backstory from My Piece of Land
Series
- Part 3 of You Are My Home
Bookmarked by midnightmala
20 Jan 2026
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Nancy heard a rustling from down in the hole, a panicked animal kind of movement. She stopped in her tracks, kept her gun up steady.
The noise stopped as suddenly as it started. There was a pause. All Nancy heard was her own deep breathing, the gentle wind, and some scattered birdsong that told her this thing probably wasn't a predator, whatever it was. And then the quiet broke.
"Stay back!" A woman's voice, raspy and dry. Nancy was thirsty at the sound of it. "I'm armed! You don't want to mess with me, I'm- Shit."
"I'm armed too," Nancy said, her voice calmer now, modulated, despite the pounding of her heart in her throat. "And you're stuck in a hole. I can leave you to it if you want, or I can throw a grenade down there to keep you company. Or you can put your hands up and maybe we can talk like civilized people. Your choice."
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Or: the Ronance TLOU Bill & Frank AU nobody asked for but my brain insisted on writing anywaySeries
- Part 1 of You Are My Home
Bookmarked by midnightmala
06 Jan 2026
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Nancy wore shorts sometimes, in the summer. Short little shorts that presented their own challenges to Robin's fragile psyche. And to bed, too, when they'd slept over each others' houses and dorms and now apartments. Shorts or pajama pants. Sometimes not even that. Not that Robin noticed. Not that it mattered. Not that it was any of her business what kind of clothes Nancy liked to sleep in, even if they were sleeping in the same bed.
But in the daytime, Nancy wore skirts. And at night, if she had time to change after work before they went out, sometimes she wore dresses.
And Robin was the worst person in the world.
Bookmarked by midnightmala
31 Dec 2025
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"Gross, dude," Robin muttered, but she was distracted by Nancy, who was evidently distracted by a woman who had just walked into the bar. Older, mid forties maybe. Short dark hair. Conservative kind of business-y outfit. Robin didn't recognize her. She was more concerned at the moment with the furrow in Nancy's brow, and the urge to press her thumb just there to smooth it out. Leave a thumbprint behind as evidence. Robin Buckley was here.
"Hey. Steve," Nancy said, eyes not leaving the woman at the bar. "How about you try... spreading the Gospel, I guess... to her?" She gestured at the woman. "She's one of Owens' people. Agent... Stinson I think. She's obviously off-duty, she might be open to it?"
Or
A dame walks into a bar. Our heroes are gay about it.
- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by midnightmala
31 Dec 2025
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Slowly, cautiously, because this is probably the best and worst idea either of them have ever had, born of impulse and desperation, Nancy skates her fingers over the back of Robin’s hand. Then, fingers partially tangled, she angles Robin’s hand lower. Together they slip into the gap between Nancy’s thighs, circling the warm skin and the light fuzziness of her leg hair.
OR: “Oh my God, we fucked in Steve’s bed.”
Series
- Part 10 of masterlist of my stranger things works
Bookmarked by midnightmala
21 Dec 2025