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rippersz · 21 days

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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?

Thinking about it gave you a headache.

For where was the point in wondering?

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-

Because-

Wait.

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…

“Fuck.”

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.

Too late.

You were too late.

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.

Too late.

You were too late.

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.

Something–a sound–made you freeze.

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.”

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”

“And the others?”

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”

The gun still didn’t move.

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”

“How long since?”

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.

“-we can’t just leave them-”

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-”

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-”

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.

But she didn’t move.

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.

“More like a rat.”

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.”

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.

“You heard me. Shoot them.”

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.

The grass.

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh.

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.

How fucking lucky were you?

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”

Lucifer? Naked under the what?

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.

“Okay. Yes. Sure.”

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.

Red lips twitched.

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 11 months

Note

Someone posted this on Insta ( can’t remember 😭) but this is so me 😭😂

Oh my, that’s too perfect 🤣🤭💞!! I couldn’t resist not imagening and then writing this… HAPPY PRIDE BTW 🏳️‍🌈

‘I love MILFS’ shirt… Drabble ~Gwen’s characters xFem!Reader

Gwendoline Christie’s characters reactions to Fem!Reader wearing the “I ♥️ MILFS” shirt… I did Larissa, Lucifer, Miranda, & Brienne for this one 😉

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, kissing, implied smut

Enjoy (;

Larissa Weems

It’s finally a peaceful Saturday, for just you and Larissa, your mini Larissa had been graciously taken by Marilyn for the day.

You wake up before the blonde, allowing her to sleep in.

You impromptu decide to make her breakfast in bed.

And you giddily snag the shirt from your closet as a little ✨extra✨ surprise…

But your plan falls flat, as Larissa heard you rustling in the closet.

She walks into the kitchen, nearly scaring you half to death.

“Well this is a nice surprise, darling…” Larissa husks in her early morning voice.

You haven’t turned around for her to see your shirt yet…

You finally dramatically sigh and turn around.

“Well I was planning to give you breakfast in bed…” you dramatically huffed.

But Larissa doesn’t respond.

Her eyes are glued to your shirt.

“Something the matter, baby?” You say with a smirk.

Larissa chuckled and rolls her eyes at your antics, then walking over to you, without a single word, and she scoops you up.

“I think I will indeed be having breakfast in bed…” she husks in your ear.

Her lips connect to yours passionately, and you hum with delight into the kiss.

She carries you to her bedroom, where the two of you spend your whole day off.

Lucifer Morningstar

You had found the shirt on one of your trips to earth.

It had made you smirk, and you were curious as to what Luci would have to say about it…

So naturally, you took it back with you.

You entered Luci’s great throne room, wearing the shirt.

“Hey Luci, I’m back…” you hummed towards the blonde, who was standing by the window, dazing out into their domain.

The Lightbringer doesn’t look back when they recognize your presence with a hum.

“I brought something back this time…” you probe the blonde fallen angels curiosity.

At this, the Lightbringer turned their gaze toward you, and their brows furrow.

“And what is that…? It doesn’t suit you very well, does it, little one…”

“It’s a shirt.” You smugly say.

Luci rolls their eyes playfully at your humor.

“No I mean, what is a milf…?” They clarify.

She’d fallen right into your trap…

“It’s you!” You chirped, your eyes glimmering coyly.

“Hmmm ok…” Luci stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, contemplating whether to open this can of worms.

They decided not to.

“I will see you at dinner, little one?” She redirected.

“Yep.” You chirped yet again.

You were being far too chipper for Lucifer’s taste…

At that, you left.

And Mazikeen soon entered the throne room, stifling a giggle.

“And what, pray you, is so humorous?” The Lightbringer sneered.

“Nothing master. Only Y/N’s shirt…” Mazikeen mumbled.

At this, Luci’s senses pricked up and their head swiveled to the demon.

“What about the shirt?!” They demanded.

“I just never imagined that you’d allow her to wear something like that…” Mazikeen spoke.

Now Lucifer was really confused.

“Something like what??!”

“MILF… Master, do you know what that stands for…?”

“No…” they grumbled.

“Ohhhh…” Mazikeen whimpered.

“It stands for Mother I’d Love to Fuck…”

Luci’s eyes widened, their jaw dropping.

Oh, you were so fucked…

Miranda Hilmarson

You’d put on the shirt at night as you prepared for bed.

As you grabbed your nightly tea, Miranda walked into the kitchen.

Once her eyes set on your shirt, She immediately looked away and blushed furiously.

“Like what you see…?” You teased, taking a sip of your hot tea.

Miranda gulped and finally looked up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not a milf…” she insecurely whispered.

Your heart cracked at her tone of insecurity…

You set your tea down and made your way over to the blonde, opening you arms to her.

She gladly accepted, immediately nuzzling into your frame.

Once you’d hugged her for a good solid five minutes, you pulled your face out to meet hers.

“Well I’d love to fuck you anyday…” you purred.

At your words, Miranda blushed even more, a small tear escaping her eyes.

“Thanks, babe…” she whispered with a cracked voice.

“And you certainly will be a MILF once I fuck my cum so deep into you, we defy the laws of the universe, and your belly starts to swell with my baby…”

At this, Miranda’s jaw dropped.

“Would you like that…?” You teased the stunned blonde.

All Miranda could do was nod, vigorously, her eyes lighting up at the possibility…

Brienne of Tarth

Brienne had immediately noticed your shirt when the party had set off at daybreak.

It was a long journey ahead, and it was itching her to ask you what your shirt meant.

“Y/N…” Brienne spoke in her gentler tone.

“Hmmm, yes my lady…?”

Brienne always caught a slight blush when you of all people called her my lady…

“I was wondering, what does that word on your chest mean?”

“Oh, OhHhhH…” you chocked out, almost embarrassed to have to explain this to the woman you’d been crushing on ever since you’d crossed paths with her.

“Are you alright, Y/N…?” Brienne asked, her tone laced with immediate concern.

“Yes yes! I’m fine, thank you.” You took a deep breath.

“It means Mother I’d Like to Fuck…” you basically whispered.

It took Brienne a second, but one was she got it, she got it.

Brienne mouthed a knowing Ohhhhhh as her eyes widened.

Your smiled lightly and then quickly looked away again.

God, were you hopelessly in love with the innocent, blonde haired woman…

~~~

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

Miranda Hilmarson Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist ~Coming Soon (:

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gela123 · 1 year

Text

AHHHHHH- GORGEOUS 😍💋💗👌

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x y/n #gwendoline christie x reader #miranda hilmarson #brienne of tarth x reader #larissa x reader #brienne of tarth #jan stevens x reader

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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 3 months

Text

Hearts of Justice

Miranda Hilmarson x Secretary!Reader

Hello everyone and happy new year to you all <3 I am back with a new mini-fic.

This fic and illustration (by me) is dedicated to my dear Tumbrl mutual and friend @vivendraws <3 I hope you like it!

Reminder that I have a Taglist now so make sure to use it <3

Also big thanks to @weemssapphicfor beta reading this piece <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissies, Love confessions

A/N: Y/N is a secretary at the police station where Miranda works. But what happens when y/n has to console Miranda after a rather rough breakup?

Words: 2'100+

AO3 Link

Taglist

-----

You have been working at the station for about two years now.

When you first started, Miranda Hilmarson had been the only friendly face there. The two of you immediately became best friends, spending your breaks and sometimes even free time together.

Technically, you weren’t a Constable, like Miranda. No, you worked as the station's secretary. You supposed this might have been the reason why they didn’t necessarily welcome you.

Of course, you have been the topic of many bets and pranks, especially from your male coworkers. You never understood the allure of such childish things but… when you were with Miranda, childish things seemed to just make sense. Listening to her gush about her favourite show or how passionate she was about her work, despite being picked on herself, was the highlight of your day. You supposed that’s why the two of you got along so well. Miranda and you shared the same struggles. Even though the both of you didn’t necessarily have a good connection to your coworkers, you still made it through the day with the help of each other.

A few months ago, you noticed how your affection towards the blonde Constable has changed. It has… intensified. And, of course, it had to happen right when that stupid Adrian dumped her. You never understood what she saw in him… he was a liar, a cheat, didn’t treat her right. It made your blood boil. Seeing her be so hopeful when you knew all he would do was make her cry, break her… it made you so unbelievably angry. And when the inevitable happened, and he dropped her, you were there. You caught her in your arms, cradled her gently and whispered apologies and soft affirmations as she sobbed in your arms on the couch of your flat.

“He didn’t deserve you”, “I am so sorry he did this to you”, “You deserve better, Mir”, “I will not leave your side. I promise”, “Never again will I let anyone hurt you like this”

It took you a good hour to have her relax in your arms. Still, you didn’t move. This is when it hit you. This exact, stupid moment was when it hit you. How much you actually admired her. How much you cared for her… how much you loved her. It hit you like a brick, square in the face, and your heart sank. You were in love with her. You couldn’t tell her… never… you were her best friend after all, and you certainly didn’t want her to think you used her in her most vulnerable state, so… you stayed quiet.

For days

For weeks

For months

Half a year has passed since that fateful night, and it simply got more and more difficult to hold back your emotions, your feelings, your affections. So, you started distancing yourself. Small things at first like your lunch break, the hours you worked.

In the end, you only saw her at the station, walking in and out. You have completely detached yourself from her and it… hurt. But you couldn’t tell her… could you? She wouldn’t understand…

It took all your strength to deny her once more when she asked you, with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, if you wanted to join her for a beer after work. You hated the defeated look on her face as you declined, coming up with yet another excuse. But this time… something was... different.

You could swear you saw tears. Miranda was… truly upset. This wasn’t your intention, this wasn’t what you wanted… before you could stop her or say something else, tell her you changed your mind, she walked off. Strong and long legs taking her down the halls and out the door. With a defeated sigh and tears burning in your eyes, you leaned back. That’s it… you’ve done it… Miranda probably hated you now.

“I would go after her if I were you…”

A strong voice spoke from behind, and you jumped, not expecting to be ambushed like that. You quickly turned in your chair to see the small detective standing behind you. A frown laid itself on your face as you looked at her questioningly.

“I- what?”

“Oh, you heard me.”

You looked at the brunette, then turned your face to the exit. Maybe… with a quick move, you stood, making your way out. Robin was right. You couldn’t let this be. You wouldn’t be the reason why Miranda cried. Never. You promised her.

Panting heavily, you finally caught up with the blonde who sat on a bench outside, frantically smoking a cigarette and wiping tears away. The sight broke your heart.

“Mir…”

You said softly, watching as she jumped and her eyes widened. She turned her head away and quickly wiped away her tears.

“Yeah… yeah?”

You took a deep breath and sat down next to her, just looking at her, unsure about what to do. You took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around you, hiding her face in your neck. You could physically feel her relax in your arms, and it made your heart constrict.

“I’m sorry… I would love to go have a beer with you tonight.”

You spoke softly, running your fingers through her hair. Gods, you missed being this close to her.

“Really…?”

The blonde asked quietly. With a deep breath and a nod, you pulled her even closer.

“Yes, really.”

You whispered and let go of her. Miranda let go reluctantly and smiled at you, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Wanna… meet at my place?” she asked softly and you nodded. Taking her hands and squeezing them gently. Miranda’s cigarette now on the floor, forgotten by the two of you. Her smile brightened a bit and she nodded.

“Then I’ll have some beers cold and ready when you arrive.”

“That sounds wonderful!”

—

The rest of the day had been strangely uneventful, besides the growing worry and fear of what tonight might bring for you. You almost lost your cool this afternoon, wanting to press sweet kisses to her head and face. But you held yourself back. Miranda wasn’t interested in you like that…

After work, you quickly rushed home, took a shower and changed into something a bit less formal and more comfortable. You styled your hair and added just a smidge of makeup. Not too much. With one final look in the mirror, you quickly made your way over to Miranda’s place. Standing in front of the door, your nerves started getting the better of you. You can’t do this… this is gonna be too much for you. Before you could decide if you wanted to leave or not, the door in front of you opened.

“Ah, I thought I had heard something!”

Miranda smiled down at you and stepped aside for you to enter. With a shy smile, you stepped into her flat. It had been weeks since you’d last been here. It smelled like her and you felt slightly dizzy. After taking off your shoes and sitting down on her couch, Miranda quickly followed with two beers, handing you one.

“I’m glad you’re here. I started to miss your presence.” she said softly and blushed, quickly taking a swig from her beer. You did the same, trying to suppress your blush. She missed you…

“You’ve been very busy lately… what had you so occupied? Maybe a special someone?” She asked softly, wiggling with her eyebrows but the way she asked the question… something seemed off.

“Wha- no! Well… not really… not like you think… I’m not…”

A bright blush crept onto your face, and you quickly took another big sip of your beer. Gods, you wouldn’t survive this. Miranda watched you closely, a sad frown on her face.

“Then… why were you avoiding me..?”

The pain you felt in your heart almost made you double over. This is never what you wanted. You never wanted to hurt her. With a sigh, you set the beer down and started fiddling with your fingers.

“It’s not… easy..”

“Tell me! Please! Have… have I done something wrong?”

“No…”

“Have… have I hurt you? Have I been a bad friend? Y/n please! I must know. What have I done to you? Have I said something that upset you or-“

“NO! No… Miranda… no, you could never…”

You sighed. You couldn’t tell her…

Looking up you saw her face, pain, fear, worry, sadness. You- you just had yelled at her…

“Oh gods, Miranda, I am so sorry I… I didn’t-“

“No it’s.. It’s okay…”

She spoke softly and set her beer down. She was about to get off the couch, but you grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. You had to tell her. You couldn’t see her so upset any more, it was too painful. The blonde’s icy blues looked at you, confusion written on her face as she waited for you to proceed.

“Miranda I- the reason why I was so distant… I don’t know how to tell you.”

You took a deep breath. Miranda had moved your grip, holding your hand now. Her thumb softly rubbing over your knuckles, trying to help you feel calm. It just made you even more nervous. She cared so much.

“The reason why I was so distant was… I am in love with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for an answer but when none came you pulled your hand from her grip and covered your face.

“I- I have realised that I felt this way the day that asshole broke up with you… it hit me like a brick and… I didn’t want to tell you. You were so broken… you needed a friend not… that. I-I couldn’t be around you any more because it was just eating me up from the inside every time we spent time together. I had to distance myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable… I didn’t want to- to take advantage of you I- I care too much… Miranda, I love you…”

Silence. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but if you had looked up you would have seen Miranda's face. A bright blush had covered her face, ears and chest, eyes wide, staring at you with hope, with longing, with unspoken emotions. You loved her. She could be loved, someone, you really loved her.

“I-I’m sorry… I’ll see myself out, please just forget-“

“No…”

You turned to look at her, taking in her features. She was… smiling. Not in a ‘making fun of you’ type of way, no, a genuine smile. Miranda moved closer, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close, running her fingers through your hair as she pulled you against her body. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around the strong blonde, falling into her embrace, her scent, her soft breaths against your shoulder, falling into her.

“Y-you’re not mad? Uncomfortable? Disgusted?”

Miranda pulled away to cup your face, wiping a tear from your cheek as she looked into your eyes.

“I could never. I love you too much.”

She whispered, smiling softly down at you. Your eyes widened. She… loved you?

“Miranda I-“

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked into her eyes, her icy blue orbs reflecting nothing but love, care and hope. You nodded, cupping her cheeks and gently tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Please!”

She leaned in, you felt her warm breath on your skin and then her soft, warm lips against yours. It was a perfect fit. Like the last piece in a puzzle. She completed you and in that moment all of your worries flew out the window. Miranda was gentle and careful. Her lips moved against yours with soft movements, and she made sure to hold you as if you were about to fall apart. She held you, she protected you.

After a minute or two, she pulled away and smiled softly at you, pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. You smiled and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her soft, warm lips against your forehead. You belonged here. In her arms, in her embrace.

“After that night… I started realising how much you actually mean to me. Of course, it took a while for me to realise that what I felt for you was more than friendship. When you started distancing yourself, I was afraid… I thought you noticed. That I- somehow had shown too much, said too much… scared you off…” Miranda admitted and stroked your cheek gently. Keeping eye contact with you. You pressed a quick peck to her lips and the palm of her hand.

“You could never. I love you, Miranda.”

The blonde Constable smiled and pulled you into another embrace, leaning back against the couch and having you snuggle into her arms. Where you belonged.

“I wouldn’t want to be loved by anyone but you.”

-----

Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @Xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorious @gwenistheloml @yourgaeyisshowing

As always, Likes, Comments and Reblogs are welcome <3

#gwendoline christie #sapphic #fanfic #wlw #reader insert #ao3 #gwendoline christie fanfics #queer #miranda my baby #miranda hilmarson #gwendoline christie characters #miranda hilmarson x reader

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daydream-cement · 7 months

Text

Little Walks

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Just little walks taken Miranda to your car.

Author's Note: Just a random lil fic. Thank you to @bri-sonat for your beta <3

“You’re Y/n, right?” A voice called from behind you. It was familiar enough to remind you of two distinct characteristics of its owner: cute smile & great tipper.

You stopped and turned your head, pausing to wait for the leggy blonde who was walking fast to catch up to you. Her excitement to see you was obvious, involuntarily giving you butterflies. You greet her with a nod and a big smile, “Constable. I haven’t seen you for a while. How have you been?”

Miranda fell into stride with you, her joy was infectious, “Busy, but good! I’ve been meaning to come back in. I miss that hot chocolate you made me.”

“I can assure you, there is nothing special about my hot chocolate.” You laugh, turning your chin upwards to catch a glimpse of her face. Much to your surprise, Miranda was already looking at you, her blue hues unwavering when they locked on your own. There go the butterflies again.

“I’d beg to differ.” Miranda shot back before dropping her gaze. Her tone suggested flirtation and the growing blush on her cheeks made you turn your attention to the sidewalk before you could get your hopes up. The constable’s eyes were glued to her boots kicking at a patch of gravel, her confidence wavering, “...do you usually get off work around now?”

You had no reason to lie to the tall constable, rather you were keen on getting to know her, so sharing things about yourself made sense. “For the most part, yeah. I like it when they give me a consistent schedule.”

“Cool... cool...” Miranda nodded nonchalantly, her cheeks showing signs of a suppressed smile.

She had started this little habit of waiting for you after a few times of eating at the restaurant where you waited tables. Hilmarson had gone two straight weeks of waiting for you to walk you to your car just to spend time with you. Her chivalrous offer to walk with you to your car was unexpected (and somewhat unnecessary), but how could you say no to those sweet eyes, and why would you want to?

To you, it was all one big coincidence that Miranda was always nearby patrolling when you walked down the alleyway toward your car. It was just a wonderfully serendipitous moment where her work schedule coincided with yours.

She would ask you about your day and sometimes speak vaguely of her work. You knew you had a small crush forming when you watched the way she would coo at passing dogs and cats sitting in the windows of the apartments they called home.

Miranda spoke incoherently in a high-pitched voice, squatting low to welcome an overexcited puppy into her arms. The constable enjoyed the animal’s attention for a long while before she looked up at you with a great big smile, “Isn’t she adorable?”

“She is…” You say, eyes focused on the constable. Your agreement was two fold - while the puppy was adorable, so was the woman crouched in front of you. Your gaze caused the blonde to look away, a blush spreading on her face when she realized your words had more than one meaning.

The puppy continued on with her walk and Miranda and you did the same. There was an awkwardness between you, but you saw the constable smirking from the corner of your eye.

The silence continued until you reached your car, the constable quickly reached out and opened your car door for you, “Hey, Y/n… I was thinking, uhm…”

Butterflies began swarming in your stomach and you paused in front of the constable, watching her expectantly. “Mhm? What is it, Andy?”

You could see the constable’s eyes go soft at the use of the nickname, her teeth biting at her bottom lip as she considered her words carefully. “Well, I was wondering… if you have time…”

Your eyes went wide and you leaned in closer, desperately hoping Miranda was finally going to ask you out.

“Do you think you, uh… could text me where you got that top? It’s… very cute.” Miranda looked away from you, her eyes squeezing shut as she realized how disappointed she was in herself. She had completely chickened out and couldn’t bear to see the look on your face.

And it’s a good thing she looked away. You were so disappointed. You actually thought she was going to ask you out.

“Oh… Uhm, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Thanks.”

The rest of your interaction was so strange. Miranda was as polite and kind as always, but there was a newfound distance between the two of you as she bid you goodbye and closed your car door.

Miranda stared at her shoes as she leaned against a building and waited for you to get off work. She was ten minutes early so she wouldn’t miss you. This walk to your car would be different. That's what she kept telling herself anyway.

She held a cigarette between her middle and forefinger while her cell phone was wedged between her ear and shoulder. The constable spoke in a hushed tone to her partner, “I’m not going to chicken out! Don’t say that...”

“I don’t know about that. You didn’t ask them out the past two times you said you would. I’m just assuming you’ll do it again.” Robin was plain in her criticisms of her best friend, not sugarcoating anything for the constable.

Miranda took a drag of her cigarette and pouted, “I swear, Rob. I’m gonna ask them for dinner on Friday.”

“You better. Otherwise, I’m going to have to listen to your pining for another week.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I’m not wrong. Whenever we are together, it’s ‘Y/n did this’, ‘Y/n did that.’ It’s never-ending, I swear, Mir.”

The two’s bickering was cut off when Miranda turned her eyes up and caught a glimpse of you leaving through the side door in the alleyway. The constable swiftly hung up on Robin and tamped out her cigarette on the brick wall nearby. “Y/n!”

You paused with a great big smile, treasuring the image of Miranda jogging down the alleyway to walk at your side. After Miranda had acted so strange yesterday, you were filled with determination to ask her out. You tried to make sure your flirting was as thinly veiled as possible - your hand reaching out to squeeze her forearm as unabashedly admired her face, “Good afternoon, constable.”

“H-hey...” the constable was taken aback by your forwardness, her thoughts stalling as she looked from your eyes to your hand. “I, uh, brought you something.”

You giggled and looked over her person expectantly, wondering what she could have possibly gotten you, “Really?”

“Yes! It’s right, uh- Right here.” Miranda searched her pockets until she found the little shell sitting in her pant pocket. She held it out to you with a great big smile. “Yesterday, you said you never get to go to the beach as much as you want to... So I.. uhm.. brought the beach to you.”

Her thought and pure sweetness made your heart ache. You pouted slightly as you took the small olive shell from her palm between your fingers, examining it for a moment before squeezing it in your fist. “Thank you, Andy...”

Andy. She loved when you used that sweet nickname. Never had she liked it before it fell off your lips.

“I found it on this beach when Robin and I were out of town doing interviews. I was actually thinking you would like it a lot there...”

“I’m sure I would. Maybe you should take me sometime?”

Miranda’s whole body was buzzing with excitement. “Really? Together?”

“Absolutely.”

You both spoke simultaneously, “Like a date?”

Immediately, you looked away from one another. There was an abundance of excitement and energy between the two of you that created a thick silence.

Miranda took the brave next step in taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. She broke the silence in a hushed tone, “I was able to get a day off Friday… I know you usually don’t work those days. We could go then.”

“I would really like that…” You smile, meeting her eyes before lifting her hand to your lips to press a soft kiss to her skin.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @shyladyfan, @rubberduckiesbathing, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @emilynissangtr, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @oculusalien, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @bitchr-mkay, @h-doodles, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic, @lilfartbox1, @mountain-bikingwitch, @aemilia19, @agathaandgwenslesbian, @gay-frogs08

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #fanfic #gwen christie

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marilynthornhilllover · 6 months

Text

KINKTOBER FIC: #1

Miranda hilmarson x fem!criminal reader

Everybody knows that I'm a good girl officer, I wouldn't do a thing like that.

Warning: smut, criminal activities, fingering, spanking, teasing, begging, foreplay, nipple sucking, mommy kink, use of pet names, hickeys etc.

The door to your apartment slammed shut, jolting you awake from your doze. Your head flew around to the area of which the sound came from where you found your fiance standing at the door with her hands on her hips. She looked like she was about to explode with anger. You couldn't help the sly smirk that took its place across your glossed lips.

" baby! your home early!" You squealed in a innocent tone as you got up from the couch and into the kitchen, but you were far from innocent, you were very guilty. Miranda's eyes flared as she took in your form. A fluffy Plush baby pink robe wrapped around your body. Even though the clothing was big, it defined your curves very well, miranda found herself getting enchanted by you. Everytime she found herself angry at you, you'd always find a way to push her away from the current situation.

Miranda's eyes ramed up your body and flicked back up to your eyes. They darkened as she saw the smirk still evident on your face. She made a low growl before coming towards you.

" baby did you have a bad day? perhaps-" before you could finish your sentence she grabbed your jaw tightly and shoved you against the counter edge, making you winched in pain, as your back hit the counter with force. She didn't say anything but just looked at you, every second that passed her pupils delated. They became filled with lust and desire, they were burning with passion and need.

" don't be a brat y/n, you are well aware of what you did" her tone was low and dark, her eyes glued to your lips as she spoke. Miranda wasn't always the type to be dominant, most of the time it was you who was pleasuring her, so seeing her so buffed up like a big bad wolf and dominant, started a ragging fire within your core, making you squirm against her - something you tried to hide but Miranda was faster and noticed it.

She smirked at your tiny form before her, so vulnerable and fragile. She chuckled as she spoke up, her tone keeping it's composure.

" you've been a very bad girl for mommy huh baby?" She hummed as she pressed a soft but meaningful kiss to your lips as her hands snaked around to the front of your robe where you tied a knot with the strings. Miranda continued her assault on you as she began leaving hickeys on your neck. It's not like someone will notice, your her stay at home wife, and when you do go out in public everyone will know that your hers.

Miranda softly bite down on your neck as she took off your robe making it fall to the ground, making it pool around your feet.

" mir-" she shushed you, falling to her knees. She pulled down your matching pink lace underwear admiring your soft pale - well Moistured skin. She licked from your lower abdomen and back up, her tongue leaving wet trails.

" miranda please-" you were starting to feel light headed. The way she was touching you felt heavenly. It's like she an angel who came to pleasure you and only you. You moaned softly biting your knuckle as your eyes rolled back. Miranda placed one leg over her shoulder, kissing along your wet folds.

She looked up at you, seeing the beautiful sight made her chuckle, she hadn't even touched you properly yet but you were already sluting out yourself to her.

She gently pushed her tongue against your clit, erecting a whimper from you as your hand flew to her hair, the other used to hold yourself up so you don't fall.

She began gently sucking on your bud, you could feel your orgasm already building up. Your nails strached across her scalp as she moaned in response, sending the vibrations straight through your core, making you squirm.

" miranda please stop teasing- I'm a good girl" you practically moaned as your grip on the counter tightened. Miranda started flicking her tongue very fast against your clit and down through your slit, curving it everytime she got back to your soft puffy bud. She chuckled softly as her actions grew faster causing you to gasp. She could feel you getting close.

You were to sex drunk to notice that miranda was staring into your soul with meaning behind her lustful eyes. Miranda stopped and got up. Coming dangerously close to your face, her hot breath making you more horny. Before you could protest she spanked you. You let out a pornographic moan as your body jolted upwards more onto the counter top.

Your body burned with pain and pleasure as she spanked your clit again, this time more rough.

She bit her lip as she looked down at your desperate face. god you made her wanna go crazy on you. She pushed you back making you lay against the cold granite counter top as she spanked you again. You whimpered as your tried to close your legs but she was quicker, parting them instantly.

" such a slut for mommy mhm?" Spank " stealing chocolate from the candy store just to get mommy's attention?" Spank " I mean how stupid can you be? Thinking mommy wouldn't find out, I mean I am a police aren't I baby?" Spank " that's right you like whoring out yourself for me, so mommy will fuck you like the whore you are, and your gonna take it like the good girl your swear to be" spank.

Miranda left you breathless. You did steal the chocolate, but it wasn't aligned to make her angry or even to get her attention, you were just feeling hungry.... and bratty.

The way miranda talked to you, in such a dark, dominant, sultry tone made you wetter than the Atlantic Ocean. Miranda smirked as she saw how red your cheek got. She looked down and gasped. You felt her fingers move up and down your slit, collecting all your arousal. She easily slipped two fingers into your aching hole making you arch your back and shut your eyes.

" so perfect. Can't believe your mine, my love" she whispered in your ear as she kissed down your neck, leaving bright red marks for only her to see, she trailed down your chest doing the same til she got to your breast and latched herself onto one of them. It was like she was a baby. Sucking and pulled harshly on your bud. She was driving you absolutely crazy.

Meanwhile her fingers in you were taking you to heaven. They would curl each time they entered you. Her pace was fast and relentless, but also very smooth. You were so wet that the entire room was filled with the sound of her moving her fingers within you. Miranda felt as you clenched down on her fingers, making her smirk. With that she picked up her pace making you let out a brutal moan.

"Mhm fuck! Miranda p-please oh MY GOD" your eyes rolled back as she curled her fingers deep within you with the barrel motion and started hitting your g-spot so perfectly. Your toes curled as your spongy walls started closing in tighter around her long slender fingers.

" mhmh, wanna cum for me princess?" She asked leaning more over your fragile pleasure shaking body, she could see that you wanted it so bad. Sorry, needed it so bad. You nodded, tears forming on your eyes as your body became hotter. The coil in your stomach feels like it's near to explode any second. Bit first you needed permission to do so.

" fuck miranda please!" You moaned as she surprisingly picked up her pace.

" you may cum but you owe me an apology afterwards you slut" she husked, the pet name pushing your further off the edge as you came undone for her screaming her name. Miranda couldn't help but let her demeanor crumble for you. She was sure she had broken you for good. You whispered her name like a prayer as after jolts of pleasure ran through your body.

She caressed your face as you sighed as closed your legs, moaning soft at the friction. She kissed your lips softly. She chuckled as you looked at her a pouted.

" What's wrong baby? We have to return that chocolate ok? I'll get you more for Halloween night" she whispered lovingly. You scoffed and rolled your eyes and you got up. Jumping off the counter you held onto her, your wobble legs not allowing you to walk freely. Suddenly miranda picked you up bridal style and started to walk the bedroom.

" of course after the second round when you repay the favor" she said chuckling.

" no problem, this time I'll make you scream more than i" you said, she hummed as she threw you on the bed and closed the door with her leg.

" we'll see about that princess"

#mirandahilmarsonxreader #miranda hamilton #marilynthornhilllover #fanfic #fypシ゚viral #gwendoline christie #kinktober fic 1

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mrs-hilmarson · 9 months

Text

A Dream Between Us Part 1

Pairing: Miranda Hilmarson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Mentions of Murder

A/N: Hope you enjoy a love story, murder hybrid! I plan on finishing the Teacher's Assistant if this goes well. Hope you like this in the meantime!

The room was quiet, sunshine peeking over the horizon as it was starting to spill through the window and onto the linoleum floors. However, your gaze was fixed on the woman beside you on the hospital couch sleeping peacefully. You loved her more than you could describe and somehow within a moment, it grew exponentially. Just then, that little 'moment' began to stir beside you. You reached over into the cot and retrieved the tiny infant that was somewhere in between sleep and waking. Her perfect little face scrunched up in displeasure and she wined out. You shushed her gently and brought her closer to you.

"Shh little love. We don't want to wake Mommy up. She hasn't slept in days," you whispered.

There were a few upset grunts, but after a moment of being held, your daughter calmed down and was content just laying in your arms. Her eyes looked deeply into yours. You knew she really couldn't see anything quite yet, but it still made your heart flutter. When she looked at you, all you saw was Miranda. Her eyes were the same shape and color blue and it was just the same stare that Miranda gave you so often, full of adoration. Both of them loved you and you saw it in their eyes.

Miranda softly snored on the couch, drawing out a silent giggle from you. The baby hiccuped and you caressed her cheek. Here you were, living the dream you and Miranda dreamed up all those years ago and you felt tears come to your eyes. You stared at Miranda's sleeping form and let the few tears fall quickly before turning back and smiling down at your daughter.

"You are such a crazy miracle, did you know that?" you whispered, drinking in her presence.

The baby wiggled around in your arms almost as if she was responding. You chuckled again, switching her to a position where her head lay in your hands, bringing her close to your face. You kissed her forehead and met her eyes once more. That Miranda gaze.

"While we wait for Mommy to wake up, would you like to hear a story? It is my favorite in the whole wide world."

The baby hiccupped again and you smiled, laying back and bringing her to rest on your legs instead. You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering.

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath, staring down in the mirror at the back of your locker. There were other constables in the room but their voices were muffled and you felt almost as if you were underwater. The stress of a new job was not kind to your anxiety and you were clenching your fists to keep your hands from shaking.

Fresh from the police academy, you were the newest rookie in the department and felt small. Each day felt hard on you. You weren't sure what possessed you to become a constable, but it had always been one of your dreams and you finally were able to realize that, even if now you were filled with a bit of regret.

There was snickering that came from the other side of the room, pulling you up from the water of your thoughts. You looked and saw a few of the men gathered in the corner of the locker room, staring at you, smiles on their faces. You remained silent and their giggling picked back up again. One leaned forward.

"How are you doing Y/N? Still wanna be with the big boys? You are a delicate little thing," he said with a gross smile on his face. You gritted your teeth and swallowed, unsure of how to respond.

"Leave her alone, idiots."

You turned to look at the doorway and were suddenly even more intimidated. There stood the most beautiful blonde constable, towering over everything. Miranda Hilmarson.You're heart beat heavily in your chest, the mere presence of her excited you every time you saw her. You wish you could say it was because she was your hero, but you knew it wasn't that.

"You're such a killjoy, Hilmarson," the male constable griped. They all seemed to grumble as they got up and went to the doorway, pushing into Miranda and knocking her around as they left.

You could tell it bothered her but she said nothing. You knew she wasn't popular around the station, mostly with the men. You continued to look at her, silently. She cocked an eyebrow and you suddenly realized you were staring at her. You quickly averted your gaze as your face flushed bright red. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Constable Hilmarson spoke again.

"I need you to follow me. Adrian is sending you on a case with me and Detective Griffin," she said.

You nodded wordlessly and walked closer to the blonde, but she did not move from the doorway. You looked up at her, your head tilted back. She looked at you with those piercing cool blue eyes, never breaking her gaze. You felt bare before her and something in your chest sparked. Your breath hitched and right before you could say anything, she smiled and turned around, and walked through the door.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment before running to catch up with her. She must have heard the pittering of your feet because she stopped and turned, waiting for you.

"Thank you, Miranda, for earlier, I appreciate it," you said, huffing as you caught up with her. She nodded and began walking again. You exited out of a door and into a parking garage.

"No problem Y/N," she said. She was walking noticeably slower now.

"How do you know my name?" You wondered out loud. You had never told her your name. Miranda chuckled.

"They told me your name when they asked me to go find the rookie. You weren't hard to spot. Plus you have been working here a few months now and I wondered who you were," she said, a genuine smile on her face.

Once again your face heated up, only embarrassing you further. You didn't notice but Miranda's eyes lingered on your face, silently taking you in and finding herself glad to be in your presence. She knew it may have just been the joy of no longer being the rookie, but she was enjoying having you around so far.

You walked through the parking garage the rest of the way without another word, trying to regain your composure and find the confidant and authoritative appearance that cops were supposed to have. You walked with your head forward, the sound of shoes on concrete being the only noise between you two. But as hard as you tried, you could not help but steal little glances at Miranda. You wished she would begin talking again, wanting to hear more from her, but the most you got was a meeting of eyes during one of your sneaky glances at the woman. From then on you really did keep your gaze forward. But she didn't.

Robin was waiting for you in the car, already ready to go. Miranda opened the back seat door for you and you got in, surprised as Miranda got in beside you. Robin was also surprised, a curious look filling the rearview mirror.

"Miranda, what are you doing?"

"I'm sitting in the car," she replied. You wondered if her answer was genuine or sarcastic. Robin rolled her eyes regardless.

"Yes but why are you sitting back there?" She asked a bit more annoyed than before.

"To explain the details to the rookie," she said.

"You can call me Y/N," you told them both, not loving the title of rookie.

"You can explain things to the rookie from up here. Now get up here."

Miranda looked over at you, pausing for a moment before sighing and opening the door back up to get into the passenger's seat. Now you really felt like a rookie.

The explanation of the case was quick as the drive to the crime scene was short. There had been a string of murders along the coast in the last three months. Some man walking his dog on the beach came across another body laying on the sand early this morning and Detective Griffin and Constable Hilmarson had been called in due to the fact they were the ones investigating all the homicides.

"Do you think it's that missing jogger last seen on the Sydney Harbor Bridge?" Miranda asked. You watched as Robin sighed.

"You know I don't like to assume things-"

"But if you had to do you think it is?"

"Yes Miranda, I have a suspicion it is."

Miranda sat back, pleased with herself. A little smile crept onto her face and something about her little grin caused a giggle to bubble up inside you and you couldn't stop it. Robin shot you a look in the mirror though which immediately sucked all the humor from your body. You dropped your eyes down and towards Miranda. There you saw a sweet smile on her face rather than a mischievous one and you relaxed a bit.

You walked through the sand towards the crime scene tape. This would be your first time seeing a body in person. You had seen crime scene photos in the academy and they never bothered you, but you knew this was going to be different. You didn't want to react negatively in any way. You wanted to impress Miranda. And Robin, you told yourself.

"Do we have an ID?" Robin asked as she flashed her badge and the officers on site lifted the tape to let you all into the area.

"You know we have to do DNA, but it is the same description of clothing as Katie Long," one of them said.

With that, they pulled back the tarp to reveal the woman underneath. She had been posed to look almost as if she was just laying asleep on the sand. Her clothes were bloodied and dirty, but there was no evidence of trauma aside from a minor bruise around her neck.

"Decomp isn't too terrible, she must have died recently," Robin inquired, getting closer to the woman.

"That or she has been preserved. She has been missing for weeks," the male officer chimed in.

"I would go more with the theory that she has died recently. She's malnourished, and according to her husband, she was very healthy and fit. More than likely she was held somewhere for those weeks she was missing and based on rigor mortis of the body, has died within the last 24 hours," you said.

Everyone turned to look at you. You swallowed, attention suddenly on you and you were unsure if it was positive or not. The male officer looked like it was probably negative.

"Looks like we have a future detective on the force," she chimed. You smiled and relaxed for a moment. You wanted to be a detective eventually so hearing those words from Miranda filled your chest with a pride you couldn't quite describe.

"Good job Rookie," Robin said, nodding her head towards you in approval. The male officer rolled his eyes.

"We can't just assume that. We have to do an autopsy and wait-"

"And we will. It's just a suspicion that the rookie has," Robin said, cutting him off.

"Y/N, my name is Y/N."

No one listened.

"Have you taken pictures yet?" Robin was very in her element and knew just what to do. She looked up at the male officer who hovered over you now.

"Yes."

"Did you find it?" she asked now, putting on gloves.

"Find what?" you asked.

Miranda quickly answered, pleased to be able to fill you in.

"The blue card the killer always leaves behind with the body. We didn't release that information to the public, but it's been there every time it's been one of their killings," she said.

You knew there was some information not released to the public and you could see why that wasn't. If someone is interviewed and knows about that, then they caught their killer. Robin began turning the body, struggling a bit with the stiffness of the body. She looked underneath and shook the clothing but there was nothing.

"Maybe it isn't the same guy?" the other constable asked.

Just then a tiny fleck of blue caught your eye.

"It's there. In the armpit."

Robin struggled a bit but managed to pull out the card in one piece. It was bright blue and small like a business card, but it was blank except for one line.

See you next time

Miranda surprised you by clapping you on the back, a smile that almost seemed genuinely impressed on her face.

"Good job Y/N," she said. You blushed at the mention of your name. It sounded so sweet coming from her. You noticed her hand lingered for a moment before dropping back down at her side.

Robin placed the note in a plastic baggy and sealed it.

"Let's get this back to the station. Bag the body and get it to autopsy as soon as possible," she said removing her gloves and standing up. She began walking back towards the car without another word. You went to follow her but Miranda grabbed your wrist and you felt like lightening had struck your body. She turned you around to face her.

"I wanted to ask you before we got back to that car, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to grab a drink tonight after work? All I know about you is your name and that you're a good cop."

You had to press your lips together to hide the wide grin of excitement that threatened to spill onto your face. You didn't think about it before nodding.

"I'd love that. I want to befriend the great Hilmarson," you said, suddenly confidant. Miranda led you a few steps before dropping your wrist again.

"Do people call me that?" she asked, curiosity in her voice. You paused, the embarssament creeping back into you.

"No, It was just me," you said. Your face flushed so hard you know she saw it. She laughed this beautiful hardy laugh and you swore you had never heard anything like it in your entire life.

You both got in the car, you in the back seat and her in the front. They discussed the case all the way back to the station, but you heard none of it. All you could hear was the thudding of your own heart and the great Hilmarson asking you to spend time with her playing on repeat in your head.

#miranda hilmarson #gwendoline christie #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson fanfiction

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

Note

So i have a miranda hilmarson x reader fic request. Basically some hurt/comfort where reader isnt used to being listened to/always hides their feelings and cries a lot at night, and miranda finds out and comforts them

Knight in Shining Armour

Hey anon, thank you for the request and sorry for the wait! In this one reader is a person going through some relationship problems, and it gets pretty bad to the point police are involved. Miranda is asked to be a lookout for a few nights at reader's place to make sure their ex won't attempt anything. So WARNINGS for domestic violence, some stockholm syndrome and mentions of people disregarding reader's abuse aside from all the angst that is already implied by that.

Word count: 1.5k

You thought it would get better. Your mom said it wasn't that bad, and if you made an effort, he'd start treating you well again. Kiss you more gently, soothe your bruises and even one day stop making them.

It did not. No matter how hard you tried, he would still come home angry, and anything in front of him was a reason to turn furious. Candlelit dinners were too fussy, watching football together was annoying because you knew nothing about it, going for walks was stupid, playing games, was frustrating, and talking was simply unbearable.

"I can't hear your whiny voice right now. If you utter a single word, I swear to god I'll crash your head in this table."

And then it was over. You woke up in a hospital bed, in one of those rooms with six other patients separated by baby-blue curtains, and a short woman in smart pants and jacket was looking at you.

"Hello, Miss y/l/n, I'm detective Griffin," she said matter of factly, looking at you in expectance.

"Detective? Why are you here?"

"You were beaten and almost killed by a man currently missing. One of your neighbours heard a commotion at your house last night and called the police, we found you unconscious in the kitchen and no signs of who assaulted you."

You thought detectives only dealt with murder cases, at least police ones; although you only knew what you saw on tv shows.

"Were you robbed?"

"No," you eyed her, wondering where he was. Would he come back home? Could you work this out and be ok again?

"Did you know the person who put you here?" her face was guarded but you could tell she knew what this was about. She was trying to help you. She'll eventually figure out I don't need help. I need him.

Later you were able to leave the hospital. You had a concussion but the doctor said you should be fine if you were careful and rested more when you got home. You didn't go home straight away, though, you were brought in for questioning at the station. Couldn't they interview you at your house? Where you'd be comfortable? You just wanted to bolt from there and look for him so maybe you could put this all behind you.

They asked a lot of things, some questions were the same, only phrased differently and they figured the one that did this to you was your partner. It was your fault, really. He'd asked for you to buy beer before going to work and you forgot. When he came back there was no beer so he left cross and returned drunk.

They sent you home with a tall blond woman. She tried to make conversation but you were too fed up and exhausted to entertain her. She seemed sweet, and you couldn't help but think she didn't fit as a police officer. Sure, she was tall and strong and intimidating, but as soon as you passed first impressions, she was the embodiment of a golden retriever.

You arrived, and she explained again that she'd be staying for two days surveying the street for any signs he might come back to harm you. You didn't want it, you wanted him back, but they didn't care about that.

The first night was torment. You called your mother to tell her what happened and she didn't show much concern. She said, "You made your bed, now lay in it" dismissing your worry he might not come back.

In the beginning, when you were scared and wanted to end things with him, your mother said it was your fault if he was not satisfied, you had to be a better girl for him. Now you were seven years in, and you were convinced that was the only type of love you would ever get, the hard-fought-for one, the kind you had to earn, not just receive.

You were desperate, crying till your eyes ran dry and your throat felt sore. Your bedsheets were a mess of twisted corners you held onto through the night, white knuckles only stained by a few red marks from when he held you down on the terrace floor when you had the idea of a picnic on the apartment's roof.

She was still outside the other day. Inside the car on the other side of the street. You slept for two hours and looked like less, your hair a mess and yesterday's clothes. Did she eat? She didn't leave the car for almost fourteen hours now, no way she had proper food there.

You didn't eat yourself but microwaved some of the leftover lasagna in the fridge and walked to the car.

"Everything ok?" she downed the window and looked at you from head to toe and back up, "You need anything? I can't enter and help you but I can call someone."

"I just brought you food," you shoved the container in her face and turned to leave.

"I meant it..." she called, "I won't go inside because I'm not supposed to let him get even near you, I have to keep looking. But I know a friend that could help maybe help you, he does energy work."

It was sweet how much she seemed to care, but you didn't need help. You just turned again and went inside.

This was the last night she would be looking. You were still desolate, but something made you act, maybe desperation to know or to have something to occupy your mind.

You searched through the drawers and your shared closet, some clothes were missing, his favourites. The money hidden underneath the sink in the biscuit jar was gone. You checked your bank account on your phone and sure enough, it was empty. He was not coming back.

You wailed. You lowered yourself to the kitchen floor, near the blood stain on the table, and hugged yourself while you screamed more than cried. It was all over. You would never have love again, not any. With your eyes closed, and ears ringing from the force of the muscles twisted in your forehead and neck, you didn't hear the door being kicked open, or the hurried steps towards the kitchen. You only felt arms around you and a hand on your face, trying to make you look up.

"Shhh... it's all right. Shit you scared me," it was Miranda, her nametag was only a few centimetres away from your face, "Thank God you're alright."

You clung to her, fingers twisting the blue fabric on her shoulders desperately.

"I'm not alright," you whispered, almost unable to speak "He's not coming back"

She tensed for a few seconds, not breathing, before sitting by your side and pulling you to her. You sat between her legs and she hugged you to her chest.

"How do you know?" she asked softly after your crying subsided to sobs and whimpers.

You unlocked your phone and showed the bank account. She tightened her arms around you with a deep sigh. It almost seemed as if she was relieved, her shoulders dropping. Her chin resting on your hair.

"We will find him, and arrest him, and you'll get your money back."

"As if I care about money... I want him back," you scoffed, impressed at how bitter you managed to sound.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she seemed almost livid, did she care? "Look at what he did to you! Why would you want to be with someone like him?"

"Because he loves me," you said automatically. It was obvious he did, he just showed it in harsher ways.

"I'm sorry, but that is absurd."

She seemed quite confident. You didn't respond to it, deep down you knew love was supposed to be kinder, but lying was better than nothing at all, wasn't it?

"I mean, if he loved you he would never hurt you like this. He would take care of you, comfort you, caress you and not punch you or bang your head on a table."

It hurt so much. She was telling the truth, but somehow the thought of it hurt so much more than any spanking. You started crying again, hiding your face in her uncomfortable vest.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry," she whispered "Here, let me take care of you," she hugged you tighter, enveloping you completely in her arms, and played with your hair until you were almost dozing off.

After, she encouraged you to take a shower and heated the rest of the lasagna for you to eat. She watched you the entire time, talking about silly or unimportant things to distract you. You saw right through her.

When it was dark outside, you watched some television together, and she told you about this guy, the brother of her colleague, who she thought could help you heal. She offered to keep in contact and you agreed to it. When you started to softly snore on her shoulder, she woke you up and led you to bed, telling you she would be just outside on the couch, and you finally had a peaceful sleep. No one kicking you or rolling around in the bed. Just you, and your knight in shining armour outside.

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort #answered request #kinda heavy angst #stockholm syndrome #sorry if this was too heavy or deviated too much from what you envisioned #loved the ask <3

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milfsloverblog · 7 months

Text

Taglist in the making!

I know, I know, it’s about time I make a proper taglist. I figured the emojis system would be the easiest one (and, let’s be honest, emojis are funnier than you just telling me the characters’ name).

So, all you have to do is leave a comment with the emoji(s) corresponding to the character(s) you’d like to be tagged for.

🖤 For all characters

💄 For Larissa Weems

🕷️ For Jane Murdstone

🩷 For Jan Stevens

👮 For Miranda Hilmarson

🗡️ For Brienne of Tarth

⭐️ For Lucifer Morningstar

🔫 For Captain Phasma

💋 For Gwen (In Fabric)

I’m not sure yet if I’ll ever write for Lady Jane and Commander Lyme, but who knows!

Thank you for your time <3

ps: reblogs appreciated :)

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #jane murdstone x reader #miranda hilmarson x reader #Brienne of Tarth x reader #jan stevens x reader #captain phasma x reader #brienne x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems #jane murdstone #jan stevens #principal weems #captain phasma #brienne of tarth

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brienneoftarth1989 · 2 months

Text

Undercover part 12

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Previous / Series

Summary: You had been in prison for a year. You were still living your gang life and were now one of the toughest gangs in the prison. You got a surprise visitor by the person who got you sent here, yet you couldn’t be made

Warnings: Prison life, gangs

Requests open

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How has it been a year already? One whole year since you had been incarcerated and yet you still had a lifetime ahead of you. When you first arrived at the prison you knew deep down that you needed to gain respect fast otherwise it would be hell for you.

So that was exactly what you did. Most people actually knew who you were due to the social media coverage of what happened at the warehouse so a lot of the inmates naturally gravitated towards you.

Before long you were recruiting more and more inmates to be a part of your gang as you sold drugs through the prison without being discovered by the prison officers. It wasn’t too bad for yourself as you got to socialise with your fellow inmates as well as getting rec time.

You also got yourself a job in the canteen serving food. This was great as it meant the money you earned could be put towards getting stuff from the commissary. Unfortunately, you didn’t earn that much which means you have to save up quite a bit. But being the leader of the prison gang did have some perks.

If you ever did need anything then your fellow inmates would happily buy it for you no questions asked. You had finally settled into your new home, however part of you still broke for Miranda. You haven’t heard or seen anything from Miranda. You just hoped that she was doing alright.

You were awoken from your bed by the sounds of the guards walking past and banging on your door. You would never get used to waking up this way. Plus they always woke you up at a ridiculous time in the morning.

Like what is the point. It’s not like you had to be anywhere. You dragged yourself out of bed as you put on your prison uniform. You then stood by your door as you waited for them to unlock it. When you hear the click you open the door before heading down to the canteen to start your job.

Breakfast consists of a portion of porridge, a slice of toast, some scrambled eggs and water. It wasn't the worst breakfast you have ever had but it still wasn’t the best. When you got to the canteen you put on your hairnet and apron and waited for the first wave of inmates.

You were in charge of giving out the scrambled eggs today. You headed to your station and waited. It wasn’t long before the canteen was full of inmates as you served them breakfast. “Morning boss” one of your many crew mates said to you as you secretly gave them an extra scoop of eggs.

“You better eat that quickly. I don’t want everyone to know I’m giving extra food to my gang members” you whispered as you let out a little laugh. “No worries boss” they said as they already started to eat the extra eggs you had given them.

You continued on with your job as you fed the entire prison their breakfast. When breakfast was over you helped clean down before grabbing something for yourself to eat. You were absolutely starving.

You like everyone else also had toast, porridge, scrambled eggs and water before then helping the kitchen staff clean down. As you were just one of the servers you were able to head back to your dorm block while the cooks stayed behind and started prepping lunch.

When you did finally get to your block you headed straight to your cell to try and get a little sleep as you were still so tired. Thankfully the guards left the doors unlocked which meant you didn’t have to wait for them to let you in during the day.

You immediately laid down in your bed as you let your eyes close shut. All you needed to do was just fall asleep which was hard with the constant noise and the lights being on. You took off your top before putting it over your head trying to block out some of the light.

Just as you thought you were finally going to fall asleep you heard a knock on the door. You sighed deeply before pulling your top away from your head and looking towards the door. There stood one of your crew mates clearly wanting to ask you something.

“What’s up? You look petrified” you asked them. “One of the other blocks got caught with drugs and they are doing a sweep of the whole prison” they told you terrified. That immediately got your attention . “Get me the drugs that we still need to sell. I have an idea” you told them.

They immediately rushed off to gather it while you thought of a plan. When they finally came back with the drugs you put them in another baggie before shoving it up into your pussy. You never thought in your lifetime you would be hiding drugs there.

It wasn’t long before guards were coming around and tossing your cells apart and making you show them your feet to prove you didn’t have any contraband hidden in your shoes.

Thankfully your block was smart and no one was caught which helped in your favour. Once the guards had left you started sorting out your cell again before removing the drugs from your body. You quickly rinsed the bag off before hiding it again in your cell.

You could finally breathe now that it was over. You were just about to lay back in bed when a guard came by. “Y/n you have lunch duty. You better head to the canteen before you're late” they told you sternly.

You dragged yourself back out of bed as you took yourself back to the canteen. Lunch today consisted of what looked to be beans and pasta with a fish cake on the side. It didn’t look nice or nutritious. You were giving out the fish cakes today which meant you couldn’t give extra out.

This was because the guards would notice the extra fish cakes on each tray. You got through the lunch rush before once again giving yourself some lunch. You gave yourself some extra pasta purely because you weren’t too big on the fish cakes they gave out. Once you had eaten you once again helped clear up before heading back to your cell.

Now you are going to try and get some sleep. You once again settled into bed and just as you were about to drift off you got another knock on your door. Something was against you today and didn’t want you to sleep. “Oh for fuck sake! Now what?” you moaned as you sat up again.

“There is no need for that. You have a visitor” the guard told you as they waited for you to sort yourself out. You haven’t had a single phone call or visitor since you have been here. Who on earth could it be? You thought to yourself. The guard escorted you down to the visitation room and was shocked to see Miranda sat at one of the tables.

You blinked thinking that you might be seeing things. She was still there. You went to sit down opposite her, shocked that she was even here in the first place. “What are you doing here?” You asked Miranda as you sat down.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come to see you” she laughed a little. “Well yeah I get that but why come and see me after everything that I did to you” you sighed as you looked down at your hands.

“Yeah, I know that our time together wasn’t exactly brilliant but I wanted to see how you had been doing since the trial” she told you with a soft voice. “Well let’s see. I’m in prison Miranda and I’m going to die here. So I wouldn’t say I’m doing overly great” you said sarcastically.

“Maybe this was a mistake” she said as she went to stand up. “Wait! I’m sorry. Prison has changed me. You got to stand up for yourself or people treat you like shit. I know you are just checking in to see how I’m doing” you sighed as Miranda perched herself back on the chair.

“Let’s see. Well I’ve got a job as I need money for commissary. I serve food in the kitchen at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It is quite nice actually as it gives me something to do each day” you said as you smiled at Miranda.

“I’m still keeping up with my gang life. I’m respected around here which is always a good thing to have in prison. No one messes with me. But I do miss my freedom and I miss you. I tried to blame you for what happened but I realised that you were just doing your job and if I should be mad I should be mad at myself” you sighed.

“Why should you be mad at yourself?” Miranda asked. “Because I should have checked you out more seriously and I should have seen the signs you were a cop. But instead I followed my heart instead of my head. Anyway that’s everything about me. What have you been up to?” You asked her.

“Well I’m still working for the police department. I’m trying to become a detective. I’m not really interested in undercover work since what happened between us. I’m in therapy as well, trying to deal with my PTSD but other than that I guess I can say I’m doing alright” Miranda said as she fiddled with her hands.

“Well I’m glad to see you moving further in your field of expertise. I’m sorry that I’ve caused you to have PTSD though but I guess that's something I knew could happen. But I do have one question though Miranda” you told her.

“Yeah, what is it that you wanted to ask?” She asked curiously. “What is it that you really want? Like why come and see me after all this time just to catch up?” You asked, wanting to know what she really wanted.

“I don’t want anything y/n. If anything I wanted to say goodbye to you properly” she said as she looked into your eyes. “I’m moving in order to pursue my dream of becoming a detective. Plus my therapist said that I should maybe speak to you before I leave” Miranda continued.

“What did they want you to talk to me about?” You asked curious as to where she was going with this. “Look I guess what I wanted to say is that I forgive you. I forgive you for everything that happened and everything that you did to me. And I’m sorry for infiltrating your gang. I guess part of what happened to me is my fault too” Miranda told you as you just looked at her.

“It’s not your fault Miranda. You were just doing your job. I’m sorry for everything I put you through and I’m just glad you are able to finally move forward with your life. I just want you to know there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of you. I just hope that you can live a good life after everything I did to you” you sighed as you went to take her hand but quickly pulled back as you knew the guards would flip out.

“I forgive you y/n even if it did cause me a load of trauma” she said as she let out a small laugh. “Goodbye Miranda” you smiled at her as you stood up to leave. “Bye y/n. Stay safe in there. I don’t want to see that you died in there” she said seriously.

“I will, don’t worry” you told her as you turned around and made your way back into the main prison. You were escorted back to your cell before you finally got back into bed to try and have a sleep. You fell asleep smiling that Miranda came to say goodbye once and for all.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #constable miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x y/n #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake china girl #reader fanfiction #police #undercover #undercover series #gangs #prison #prisoner #life behind bars #brienneoftarth1989

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spicy-picklez · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Can I request a Miranda x reader? Reader is a new detective in the precinct and reader and Miranda get partnered up for a case. Reader seems quiet when she’s not working but she kind of gets serious, Sherlock-style when working and Miranda finds it attractive. Reader is quite oblivious and is confused because Miranda would look away from her, blushing when she’s voicing out her observations. It takes a fellow detective pointing out how smitten Miranda is with her for reader to notice and she confesses that she likes her too. Tnx!

Hey Anon!

Thank you so much for this request, it is going to have multiple parts because I got rather carried away and I still have so many more ideas for this. Hope you like it!

-Picklez

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Unconfessed Feelings

Includes:

Dead body, talk of murder, mentions of gang activity,

Characters:

Miranda Hilmarson x fem!detective!colleague!reader

Summary:

It's your first day at your new precinct and the partner you've been assigned is simply magnetic. Neither of you can stop your thoughts from wandering as the two of you try to solve the murder and potential kidnapping of 28 year old Sophie Brown.

Word Count:

3.8k

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“Alright everyone, settle down.” Detective Sergeant Adrian Parker stands behind his podium, his voice booming around the debriefing room as the chatter dies down. “Thank you, ok. Today is a great day for our precinct, we have a new detective joining us. Detective Y/L/N has the highest close rate for her cases out of her entire last precinct and I hope you all make her feel welcome.” At this, you step out from the corner of the room you’ve been hiding in, giving a small wave to the other detectives and constables.

One constable in particular caught your eye. Not only because of her tall stature but because of her eagerness, leaning forwards, placing her elbows on the table as she watches you with an excited expression. Her gorgeous blue eyes glowed with genuine curiosity as they peek out from underneath her short blonde hair. You were at the centre of her attention, it’s not often the precinct gets a new detective and certainly not one that captivated her interests so easily. Dressed in black pants and a black blazer, your light blue undershirt is tucked into the waistband of your belted pants. Her eyes can’t help but travel down your body, admiring the way your shirt curved over your breasts and outlined your figure.

Taking a seat, you lean your forearms on the edge of the table as Adrian gives out case assignments. “Y/L/N, there’s been a body found in the trunk of an abandoned car. I’m giving you control of the case, take Hilmarson with you.” You nod, watching as the constable from before sits up, excitement coursing through her veins. Adrian places the case file in front of you as he continues to hand out assignments. Flipping through the pages, your eyes are immediately drawn to the photo of the car. You couldn’t be sure until you saw it in person but if what you noticed was right, you knew who the car belonged to.

“Dismissed.” Adrian’s voice pulls you back to reality. Standing up, you’re met with the tall figure of Constable Hilmarson. Excitement twists her features into an eager grin. “Hi, I’m Miranda Hilmarson, I’m assigned to help you with your case.” You smile, she looks even more enticing up close. “Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you.”

The duration of the car ride to the crime scene was spent conversing with Miranda. While most of the conversation was the two of you bouncing theories about the case off of each other, you had also learned a lot about each other. Parking the car, the two of you step out, ducking under the yellow police tape as you make your way to the car. The boot was popped open, revealing a mangled body sitting in a pool of blood. The amount of flies and the horrible smell told you that the body had been there for a while. Taking a closer look, you can see foam filled blood trickling from the victim’s nose and mouth. “Foamy blood from the mouth and nose, no rigor mortis, incredibly dark livor mortis, I’d say our poor vic has been dead for about 4-5 days.” You say, taking in notes of the corpse’s appearance as Miranda watches you work with pure fascination.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, you examine the wounds marking the corpse’s skin. Multiple gashes covered her body but what you're interested in is under her hair. Lifting the strands of her black hair, clamped together with dry blood, you see a bullet wound just behind her ear, angled upwards. An overwhelming sense of dread fills your veins as you see it, only the most skilled of gunmen could get such a perfect shot. Bending down, your hand reaches under the bumper of the car. “What are you doing?” Curiosity is evident in Miranda’s voice as she watches you lie down on the ground, sliding yourself under the car. Taped to the inside of the bumper was what confirmed your hunch. Ripping off the black coin, you pull yourself back out from under the car, blood on your blazer from the liquid seeping through the bottom of the trunk.

“Serbian Mafia.” You say, holding up the black coin, engraved with their symbol. Dropping it into an evidence bag, you continue with your explanation. “I thought I recognised the car when I saw the photo. 2005 black Holden Monaro, equipped with a 5,030 cc Chevrolet sourced V8 engine. There were only 580 Monaros made in 2005, even less of them black so it’s hard to miss them. I worked on a previous case where the Serbian Mafia were involved, again, it involved a black 2005 Holden Monaro identical to this one.”

Miranda's attention to you is unwavering, feeling her cheeks flush with heat as she watches you work. Your attention to detail and willingness to involve her in your work only made her more attracted to you. Due to her appearance and bubbly personality, others had held her at arm's length, often lashing out at her when something went wrong. You, however, include Miranda in the case as an equal despite only knowing her for all of an hour. Realising she's been staring, she clears her throat, her hand rubbing the inside of her wrist to ground herself.

"Right so if it is a member, how do we get them to talk? Or even find them in the first place? I doubt they'd be willing to come down to the station." Miranda asks, trying to regain her composure. Sucking your lip into your mouth in thought, dread fills your veins knowing what your next plan of action is. "We go to their bar. They meet there every night and we'll try to see what we can find out. For now, we'll go see the victim's family and find out what they know… do we have an ID on her yet?"

"Hey, I'm Lucas Darnell, forensic scientist. The vic's name is Sophie Brown, 28 year old vet nurse from Brisbane." Lucas says, passing you a sheet of paper as he does. Looking over her photo, a twinge of sadness hits you as you see her laughing with presumably her husband and kids. "What are you doing so far from home Sophie?" You murmur, reading through the details on her paper. A strong presence comes behind you as Miranda bends down to look over your shoulder at the paper. The faint scent of cigarettes covered by her deodorant fills your nose as she does.

"Sweet woman. Who'd do something like this to her?" She says, as your heart rate increases at having her so close to you. Her scent and her presence behind you is enticing, you never want her to leave. Trailing your finger down the paper, her brother catches your attention. "Does her brother sound familiar to you? James Brown. Known criminal, just got out of jail a month ago for armed robbery. Maybe he's done something to the wrong people and this is their way of payback?"

Miranda nods as you say this, not really listening to your words as she realises how close she is behind you. Feeling the warmth radiating off your body, she breathes in your perfume, enjoying the subtle vanilla scent. “Miranda?” Your voice brings her back to reality. “Hmm? Sorry.” She says, her breath warm against your skin. “Did you want to try to get a hold of her family? We need to figure out why she’s so far away from Brisbane.”

Taking a step back, she regains her composure as she exhales sharply. “Right, yes. Of course. Sorry.” She quickly says, heat rising over her cheeks as she walks off. A small smile appears on your lips as she does, watching her as she nearly trips over Lucas who’s swabbing the car’s steering wheel for DNA. Turning back to Sophie’s body, you notice a small mark on the inside of her wrist. A small M is branded onto her skin. Running your fingers over the bumps, you call Lucas over. “How much do you know about brands?”

You move over as he leans forward to get a closer look. “I’ve seen it before. M is the brand the Serbian Mafia gives to those they use as blackmail. The last time I saw it, I was a new employee at the precinct. The victim was the husband of a rival gang member. He was kidnapped and branded, the photo was sent to the wife along with a threatening message. He was found dead the next day.” This sparks your interest. If your theory is correct and it is to do with the brother, it means that you need to speak to James.

Searching around the scene, you see Miranda leaning against a police vehicle, one hand in her pocket as the other holds her phone to her ear. She shakes her head, hanging up the call as you come over. “James has been missing for the past week and Sophie's husband, Ray, set up a missing person report for her 5 days ago. The last time anyone saw her was 1.39am Saturday morning. She disappeared with a hooded guy while out in town for her friend’s birthday.”

“A hooded guy? Like her brother? A lover? Gang member?” You ask, new possible theories popping up in your head. Miranda shrugs as she responds. “That’s all I could find out. I’ve put out an APB for James and have got the police on their way to contact Sophie’s friends and family to see what they can find out.”

“Ah you’re incredible, thank you. I just need to check out one more thing before we should start getting ready for the bar.” You say as Miranda blushes at your words. The single compliment means everything to the constable, butterflies crowding her stomach. “Alright, what were you wanting to check out?” She falls into step with you as you duck back under the police tape. “The car. It’s been abandoned and clearly belongs to the Serbian Mafia so I wouldn’t be surprised if it has fake plates. But, I want to see if anyone’s put anything out about it.”

Pulling out your phone, you search up the plate number. “Yep. Fake plates. These ones are registered to a silver Nissan Note.” Your breath hitches as you see the owner’s name. “Hold on… it belongs to Mrs Margaret Brown. It can’t be a coincidence that the last names are the same.” A soft smile pulls at Miranda’s lips as she watches you emerge in your thoughts, mumbling theories out loud as each one pops into your head. Checking her watch, she brings you back to reality. “Right, so… it’s 6pm. We can either stay here creating theories all night or we can go mix in with the Serbian Mafia. Pick your poison detective.” She grins as a small chuckle escapes you at her enthusiasm. “Of course, sorry. I get rather carried away when I’m working. We should get ready.” You say, the two of you walking towards the car.

“It’s ok, I think your determination when working is rather cu- inspiring.” She catches herself before completing her sentence as heat rises on her cheeks yet again. Getting into the car, she rubs her sweaty palms on the fabric of her pants. You grin. “Well thank you.” Turning on the car, the two of you exchange eager conversation until you pull into her apartment complex carpark. “I’ll pick you up at 7.30.” You say, giving her a cheeky grin. “I look forward to it.”

Getting back to your apartment, you quickly jump in the shower, lathering your hair with shampoo and conditioner in turn. Washing your hair out, you turn the shower off as you wrap a towel around yourself. You glance at the time as you run a brush through your hair, pulling it up out of your face. 6.43pm. Right, 45 minutes to apply makeup, find an outfit and drive to Miranda’s. Pulling out your makeup, you place it on the edge of the sink, quickly rubbing primer onto your skin. Twenty minutes later, you rummage through your wardrobe desperately trying to find something to wear. Eventually you decide on a white low cut tank top and ripped, black, denim jeans. Grabbing a leather jacket, you pull it over your shoulders as you grab your keys and exit your apartment.

“Well, don’t you look gorgeous?” Miranda says, opening up the car door. A grin pulls at your lips as you respond. “I could say the same to you.” Miranda had traded her police uniform for light blue jeans, a black shirt with lace sleeves tucked into her waistband. The familiar red blush spreads over her cheeks. “I-... Thank you. I don’t really wear this often.” You nod, a genuine smile pulling at both of your faces as you reverse out of the park. “So… you ready to meet the Serbian Mafia?” The look she gives you is priceless. “Absolutely not.” You can’t help the chuckle escaping you at her response.

The duration of the car ride is spent full of eager conversation between the two of you. Both of you are pinging off each other, your energy sky-rocketing as you talk about anything and everything. Turning into the car park, you grin as you see the bar’s owner Marco talking with a group of people outside. “SEND IT COBRA!” Giving you a wave, he calls out across the carpark. “Cobra?” Miranda asks, confusion evident in her voice. “Hold on to something.” You say as a grin pulls at your lips. Putting your Commodore into first gear, you depress the clutch and begin revving the engine. She didn’t have time to respond before you lock your handbrake and release the clutch, the smell of burning rubber filling your nose as your tires spin beneath you. The sound of your wheels squealing echoes through the carpark as Marco cheers you on. Miranda’s eyes are wide, grasping onto the door handle as you pull the car into a donut, avoiding the parked cars with ease.

As she realises you know what you’re doing, Miranda relaxes her white knuckled grip and a grin pulls at her lips, an excited whoop escaping her. Flinging the back end of your car around, you switch directions, tyres still squealing as smoke flies from them. You bring your car back under control, pulling calmly into an empty parking space with a grin spreading across your face. Looking over at Miranda, she has the same grin on her face, her chest rising heavily with each adrenaline filled breath. “I do apologise, I was going to tell you about me doing that then I decided against it, I wanted to see your reaction.” An excited laugh escapes her, her face lighting up with joy. “Y/N, you little minx.”

Opening up the door to your car, you give her a cheeky wink. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Her cheeks burn with an all too familiar blush as you say this. “Yo Cobra! That was sick!” Marco’s Italian accent fills your ears as he comes up to bring you into a hug. “Marco, my bro!” You heartily slap him on the back of the shoulder as the hug breaks away. “Miranda, this is my childhood mate Marco. Marco, meet Miranda.”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Miranda says, offering her hand out to Marco which he shakes. “You too, any mate of Cobra’s is a mate of mine.” Scanning your gaze over the carpark, you remember what you’re here to do as a black Harley-Davidson Breakout catches your eye. The Serbian Mafia symbol is engraved in the back. “Hey, Marco. We’ll catch up with you later, we’re actually here for work.” You say as Marco nods. “I’ll see you later Cobra, be careful in there.” Falling into step with Miranda, the two of you walk across the carpark, your eyes still hooked on the bike.

“So where did the nickname Cobra come from?” Curiosity is evident in Miranda’s voice as she asks this, making you grin. Stopping in your tracks, you bend down to roll up your jeans on your left leg. Halfway up your calf are two fang marks and a gasp escapes her as she sees them. “When Marco and I were in our early twenties, we decided to take a trip to Thailand. I was young and dumb, and thought it’d be funny to go bush-bashing in the middle of the night. Accidentally stood on a monocled cobra and suddenly it wasn’t so funny after that. Lucky for me, there was no envenomation and I lived to tell the tale. He’s called me Cobra since then.”

“Jesus christ Y/N.” She says, as you walk into the pub, loud cheers and bottles clinking sound from the corner. Walking up to the bar, you pull out your card. “Smirnoff Double Black please.” You say, turning to Miranda for her drink choice. “I’ll have a Heineken.” She says, beginning to pull out her credit card before you stop her. “My shout.” You say, holding your card out to Paywave it. “Thank you.” She puts her card back in her pocket, grateful that the dimmer lighting hides the blush on her cheeks. She can’t help it, never before has she been so easily flustered. Whenever she’s around you, however, she gets butterflies in her stomach, a constant blush over her cheeks.

Grabbing your drinks, you walk over to a table in the corner, pulling out the stools for both of you as your eyes scan over the room. Your attention is caught on the group of men drunkenly playing darts opposite you. Heavily tattooed and wearing biker jackets, you weren’t quite able to read their patches but you knew to keep watch on them. “Don’t make it obvious what you’re doing, but those six men behind you playing darts? Can you make out any of their patches?” You say under your breath as Miranda pretends to drop her wallet on the ground. Bending down, she looks back before sitting back up moments later shaking her head. “None of them look like they’re our guys but still keep an eye on them.” You nod, taking a sip from your bottle as a loud cheer sounds from the pool table. “Skivvy run! Skivvy run! Skivvy run! Skivvy run!” The group starts chanting, slamming their fists down on the table as they pull the loser to the middle of the room.

A grin spreads over both of your faces as the two of you join in, banging your fists on the table as you chant. By the time the man took off his clothes, the entire bar was chanting along with drunken words. Cheering and wolf-whistles sound amongst applause as he strips down to his underwear. Taking a deep breath, he runs out the door whooping in his underpants through the car park as both you and Miranda start laughing. Shaking her head, she catches your eye which only makes the two of you laugh harder. “Don’t miss that.” You grin, watching as he comes back in panting, bending over to lean his hands on his knees. “You’ve done a skivvy run before?” She says, an all too familiar heat spreading through her as she imagines you in your underwear running down the street. You nod, laughing at the many memories of it. “Oh I’ve done a lot more than I’d care to admit… you?” Sticking her lower lip out, she shakes her head. “Nah, can’t say I have.”

A mischievous glint appears in your eyes as you hear this. “Ooh okay, when we’re not working, we’re going out drinking and you’re doing your first skivvy run.” Her mouth hangs agape as a breath sharply escapes her in shock. “And what makes you think I’d want to do that?” She asks, taking a drink from her beer as you grin. “Because I know you’d always be down for a fun time. Besides, you haven’t lived if you haven’t done a skivvy run at least once.” Your grin dies down as you see the bathroom doors open and a middle aged man in a biker’s jacket walks out, one of his patches catching your eye. “I think I found the owner of the bike outside.” You say, nodding your head in his direction for Miranda to look. Turning her head, she nods as she sees the same symbol on his patches.

Standing up from your seat, you down the rest of your drink as she does the same. Quickly making your way through the crowd, you approach your suspect who’s now sitting at a table in the corner, eyes hooked on the TV screen. “Excuse me, sir? Detective Y/L/N, Sydney Police, this is my partner, Constable Hilmarson. We just want to ask you a few questions regarding a body found in the back of an abandoned car.” You say, opening your jacket slightly to reveal your police badge hanging from the inside pocket. His face remains expressionless as his eyes slowly move down to your badge before looking up at you. “Thomas Parkes, and you assume because of my patch that I’m involved? I’m just here to enjoy a few drinks and the game detective. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

“Neither are we Thomas. Which is why we just want to ask a few questions. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about and will be able to return to your drinks and the game.” Miranda says, as his attention turns to her. Picking up his beer, he takes a sip, contemplating his choices. He nods as he returns his drink to the table, swallowing the liquid. “Alright.” Relief floods your veins at the single word uttered from his mouth. “Thank you, sir. Please come with us.” Miranda falls behind him, keeping an eye on his actions as he follows you outside. Finding a quiet place in the corner of the car park, you pull out your voice recorder. “Sir, can you please state your name and number in case we need to contact you with further questions?”

Sighing, you lean forward in your seat, resting your elbows on the table as you cradle your head in your hands. “So… that was useless.” You say as Miranda nods, taking a swig from her newly opened beer as the two of you sit defeated in the corner of the pub. Thomas, so far, isn’t your guy. He had an iron-clad alibi, sober driving his wife home from town the night Sophie went missing and claimed he didn’t know anything about the Brown family. “Only one thing we can do now, given this time of night.” You say, taking a sip from your Smirnoff before putting it back down on the wooden table as Miranda looks at you to continue. A smile pulls at both of your lips as you say your next word. “Drink.”

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A/N: Me? Know how to skid? Pssshhh never, I'm a good girl. *Is about to head out for a night of skids even though the last time I went for skids was last week and the car caught fire and I was trapped in the back over the gas tank with the door being melded shut by the heat.*

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#miranda hilmarson #constable #top of the lake #woman x woman

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