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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 7 months ago

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Heart of Gold - Part 2

Miranda Hilmarson x Mounted!Police!Fem!Reader

HELLO EVERYONE <3 I finally managed to finish Part 2 of my Miranda Hilmarson Fic. I'm sorry it took so long but it's finally here. I hope you enjoy this little addition to the first part. I'm not yet sure if I should make a 3rd part but if you guys want one, I'll look into it <3

Huge thanks to @weemssapphic for proofreading this part <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Talk of bullying, talk of death and dying, descriptions of blood, death and being shot (I'm sorry... this is an angsty one)

Authors Note: Hurt/Comfort with a shit ton of Angst. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Words: 2'400+

AO3 Link

Taglist

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“Why do you care so much about me?”

You look at her, unable to answer the question. Should you tell her? Should you take the risk and risk the friendship you’ve built? Miranda looked at you intensely, chest heaving from being dragged around. You tried to collect your thoughts but just as you were about to answer, Miranda dropped her head, looking down at her feet. A sigh of defeat left her lips.

“It’s a joke to you as well isn’t it?” she asked through clenched teeth, tears threatened to spill from her eyes any second. You looked at her in shock.

“No! No Mir that's not the case!!! That's not the case at all-”

“Save it!” Miranda looked up at you, eyes red, tears wetting her face as she furiously wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks.

“I should have known… you’re like everyone else… I- I should have never trusted you…” and with that, Miranda stormed out before you could say anything else.

The defeat on her face, the betrayal, the way she looked so full of hope only for it to be replaced by pain, a pain you felt right in this moment with her. How could you have fucked up this bad… you should have just told her… you should have just SHOWN her. You had to catch up to her. Without further hesitation your feet carried you through the stables towards the parking lot only to see her drive off in a hurry.

“Shit… SHIT'' Defeated, you return to the stables to gather your things and leave. You’d see her tomorrow! You’d get your chance to talk to her again… hopefully.

—

However, luck wasn’t on your side. Miranda had started avoiding you, leaving the room when you entered, walking the other direction when you walked towards her. And this had been going on for a few weeks now.

It hurt.

You knew better than to follow her but… it hurt. After a particularly busy day, you went to get some drinks with your colleagues, wishing you were with Miranda. A heavy sigh left your lips as you absentmindedly picked at the label of your beer. You felt sick…

“Hey guys… I’m gonna go home… I don’t feel too well…”

You stood, handing your beer to your friend, and gathered your things. Of course you were met with protest but you just ignored it, and soon enough they figured that it might be best to just let you leave. So that is what you did.

Exiting the pub you felt the cold breeze on your skin. The air was a bit chilly and it smelled like rain. Cool darkness enveloped you and you stood there for a minute, just feeling the breeze on your skin and the smell of rain. When you opened your eyes again, that’s when you saw her.

Miranda anxiously stepped on a cigarette she’d just finished. It looked as if she were considering coming into the pub or not. She hadn’t seen you yet. Should you approach her? Go back inside? Before a choice could be made, she looked up, making eye contact. You were expecting her to run away, to flee from your loving and pained gaze once again but…. She didn’t. She held your gaze, waiting.

“Miranda-“

“Can we walk?”

She interrupted. You looked at her, surprise painted all over your face as she just waited for you to reply. Quickly, you nodded, walking over to her and following.

“Miranda… I am so sorry. If I have done something that hurt you please just let me know I-“

“Don’t apologise… I should-“

The blonde took a deep breath, shoving her hands in her vest pockets and looking down at her feet, kicking some stones around as she walked with you. She had missed you… but she needed time to think.

“I should have let you answer that night… I am sorry…”

Suddenly, Miranda stopped, looking out over the beach and the dark ocean. You stood beside her, your eyes trained on her face. You had to tell her how you feel. You had to let her know that she is worthy of love and affection. That she is beautiful, wonderful, perfect. In your eyes, Miranda was perfect.

“I care because you’re worth it.”

Miranda was avoiding your gaze, but you saw her eyebrows furrow. This just spurred you on more.

“I care because you are worth the time and energy. I care because you are the sweetest and most adorable and kind person on this planet. I care because you lit up my world when I met you the very first time. You make my days better and I cannot fall asleep or wake up without thinking of you.”

Miranda looked down at you, her eyes, usually so blue and bright now seemed grey, and were welling up with tears. Carefully, you took her hand into yours, giving her a reassuring squeeze with your hands.

“I care because I fell in love with you…. Miranda… I love you”

You said it, admitted your feelings, and it sent a rush of anxiety down your spine, leaving its sticky tingling feeling behind. You were expecting her to leave again, to get upset at you… what you didn’t expect were her lips suddenly pressed against yours, a big hand with long, slim fingers, gently cupping your cheek and pulling you closer.

Miranda had hoped you would say that. It took her a while to realise… several weeks. She simply wasn’t used to it. No one had ever shown her the care and affection you had. And she found herself falling for you. Afraid you would hate her if she admitted it, she kept quiet.

But that night…. She had to know.

However, as soon as the question left her lips, she felt herself getting anxious. She was terrified. What if you said you pitied her and that’s why you ‘acted’ like you cared so much? So, before you could answer, she pulled away. She ran away. To protect herself, not noticing how much her actions had hurt you. Until she saw how your smile faded, how your eyes stopped shining, how you seemed to have lost your joy. And she hated herself for hurting you so much.

“I am sorry Y/N… I… love you too. I was just anxious and-“

Now it was your turn to interrupt her with a kiss. Your arms wrapping around her shoulders, holding her close. You didn’t need to hear more. It was no secret that Miranda was oftentimes anxious. Who could blame her… she’s been through a lot.

“I’ve heard everything I needed to hear Mir… you don’t have to apologise. You’re okay. I am not mad at you. I’m glad you told me…”

Your whispers and words of affirmation and understanding caused Miranda to completely dissolve. Her tears flowing freely as she held onto you, finding comfort in your embrace. She did not know how she deserved you, but she would be an idiot if she’d ever let go of you. You loved her… and she loved you.

—

And so it happened that the two of you became the cutest couple at the police station (at least according to you two. Who cares what the others think).

More often than not, you brought Miranda a coffee, some treats or even flowers. You started spending almost every waking moment together, only separating to go home and sleep.

Both of you wanted to take it slow. There was no hurry. You weren’t going anywhere and neither was Miranda. The love you experienced in each other's embrace and kisses was enough to keep you two glued together. No force could ever part you… not even a routine patrol that ended more dangerous for you than expected.

—

It was like every Wednesday afternoon.

You were patrolling the promenades before going back to the stables and calling it a day. Already excited to spend time with Miranda after work, you did not realise that the altercation you rode towards, would end up being almost fatal for you.

Of course it had to happen.

You knew you shouldn’t have split up with your colleague. But there was no harm in thinking that if he took the lower road, you could take the higher one and still be close enough to hear each other.

The second you realised that there was a gun pointed at you, you started calling for your colleague. Reaching for your own gun, you suddenly felt a piercing pain in your shoulder. A BANG was heard and then your ears were ringing. The pain in your shoulder increased, dragging its disgusting talons over your neck to the back of your head, digging deep into your skin. You started feeling faint, head pounding and everything started looking fuzzy and far away. At first you hadn’t even noticed that your horse was galloping towards the stables. Your hand just instinctively grabbed onto the horn of the saddle and your grip tightened.

Artemis was huffing, whining and neighing the closer she got to the stables. A place she knew was safe. She felt your shift in energy, understanding the severity of the situation more than you. The smart horse she was, she stopped in front of the station, making a ruckus to get the other officers’ attention.

Miranda looked out the window, expecting to see you waving at her but what she saw, sent her into a panic. She rushed out to you and Artemis, gently pulling you from your mare and asking you questions. What exactly she asked, you didn’t know… you didn’t hear. All you knew was that you were in Miranda’s arms and it soothed the pain you were experiencing.

Meanwhile Miranda tried to stay calm. She had called the ambulance, staying with you and holding you close, trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands, your shirt and her sleeves were covered in thick, dark red, warm blood. Your blood.

Miranda tried really hard to keep it together, to stay strong for you, but she couldn’t keep the sobs in. Tears coated her soft pale skin, huffs and sobs escaped her lips, frantic breathing accompanied by the fear that she could lose you. She couldn't lose you… Miranda wouldn’t survive without you, she knew that. She needed you. She loved you.

The next few hours were a blur for Miranda. You were unconscious, the medics doing everything they could to keep you alive as she accompanied you, holding your hand throughout the entire drive to the hospital. There, you were separated.

But Miranda didn’t let up.

She waited, and waited, and waited. Minutes turned to hours, hours filled with anxiety, fear and pain. She did not even wash up, her hands, shirt and trousers still soaked in your blood. Now cold, sticking to her skin, as if death itself latched onto her.

It wasn’t until 4 hours later that the nurse finally went to fetch Miranda. She did ask her to at least wash her arms before bringing her to your room. There you laid, unconscious, but breathing. You were breathing. Miranda immediately went to your side, gently brushing some hair from your face, caressing your cheek, and holding your warm, soft hand.

“I need you… please don’t leave me just yet…” She whispered.

“I love you. Come back to me…” She begged.

“I can’t lose you..”

She breathed.

Miranda hoped you would hear her. She would tell you about all the things she wanted to experience with you, places she wanted to show you and future plans she had dreamed about. For more than 48 hours, Miranda sat by your side. The nurses had to force her to at least eat and drink something if she wasn’t going to sleep or go home to get changed. She sat by your side and wouldn’t leave. It was as if Miranda was in a frozen state. Holding your hand and pressing kisses to your cheek and forehead. She was only ripped from her trance as the heart monitor flatlined. She shot up, calling out for help, screaming, begging, sobbing, but no one heard. She was alone… and you were gone… —

“Miranda?”

Suddenly, Miranda felt a soft hand on her arm, another on her cheek, wiping away tears that escaped her eyelids once more. She opened her eyes, finding herself in her bedroom. Her breathing ragged, panic evident on her face, she started looking around. Where were you? “Miranda… darling… It’s okay. It was just a bad dream…” Her eyes shot to the direction of the voice, and she started sobbing. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her head. Miranda’s arms immediately wrapping around your middle, so as not to hurt your healing shoulder. She pulled you close and that's when she realised where she was. Miranda was at home, in her bed, with you holding her, consoling her.

“I am here Mir. I won’t go anywhere… I promised you I won’t.” Your soft voice brought her peace. This wasn’t the first time she awoke in this manner. Once the nurses and doctors were happy with your recovery, they allowed you to go back home. Miranda insisted you live with her, so she could take care of you and protect you. Of course you said yes. But ever since then, Miranda was plagued by nightmares. One worse than the other, the outcome was the same every time. She couldn’t save you. She couldn’t protect you. You were gone, leaving her alone in her pain and loneliness.

But it was just a dream. Every night she would feel your arms around her, your soft voice rousing her from the hell she fell into. Every night, you would reassure her that you were still there, that you survived, and that it was thanks to her quick thinking. Every night, you would dry her tears and have her fall asleep with her head on your chest, hearing your heartbeat. You were alive, and you were with her. It would take some time for the two of you to overcome the trauma, the horrors both of you faced each night. But you would overcome it. Together. Miranda could overcome it with your love, and you with hers. And her heart of Gold.

So, just like every night, you reminded her of that. A kiss pressed to her head as you noticed her relaxing in your arms, sleep ready to take her again. You whispered, so as not to wake her again: “Miranda?”

“Hm?”

“I love you”

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End Note: As always, reblogs, comments and likes are well appreciated <3 Taglist: @vivendraws @erinyaya @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @Xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorious @gwenistheloml @yourgaeyisshowing @readingtheentrails

#queer #gwendoline christie #sapphic #fanfic #wlw #reader insert #ao3 #gwendoline christie fanfics #Miranda Hilmarson x Reader #Miranda Hilmarson fanfic #Miranda hilmarson #Fanfic #x reader #angst #hurt comfort #heart of gold part 2

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weemsfreak · 9 months ago

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Miranda Hilmarson x NamedfReader

Presenting my first ever piece for Miranda Hilmarson!

Follows Top of the Lake China Girl, Miranda survives. ~3.8k words

➤ Inspiration for this story No Children - The Mountain Goats

Part 1 of 2

Warnings: cigarettes, alcohol, a few Top of the Lake spoliers, men slander, bullying

◇◆◇◆◇◆

Hateful.

That's what you were.

That's who you were.

But you hadn't always been like this.

At one point, you had awoken from slumber and greeted each day as if you could make the world yours.

At one point, you believed that there was some good, and that maybe you could help to make the good prevail.

But, that was a long time ago. And since then the world has thrown absolute shit at you time and time again.

You started to believe that even the good was not good,

and you eventually became bitter at the world.

You became hateful.

◇◆◇◆◇◆

Adrian left. Coward. You knew the man was weak. His office, now yours, hadn't a trace of him left, you made sure of it.

You had only spoke with him at occasional meetings back when you worked in Germany.

He seemed competent, but not very smart. You didn't know him all too well, but, he was a man.

And when this man left willingly, you moved to Sydney and took his job.

When he left, he left a woman, and a baby, you were told.

He packed up his family and left, you weren't sure why.

Everything you had heard about him and this woman sounded like a clusterfuck, honestly.

The woman was a constable who worked for you, now. But, you didn't know her yet, as Adrian had given her six months paid leave to look after her baby and recover.

Apparently she had gotten shot and almost died.

Under the guidance of Adrian.

Apparently she had a surrogate that ran, so Griffin found her baby and brought her home while the woman was in the hospital recovering.

Who did nothing to help? Adrian.

Apparently Adrian made sure that the baby would be looked after by the help of others.

He had a big heart, was a big softie, looked like one anyway; but you begged to differ.

Careless Adrian.

And then he left.

You hadn't met this woman yet, Constable Hilmarson, her name was, but you were sure when you did, she would be a mess.

◇◆◇◆◇◆

A tall woman in uniform entered your office and offered a hand for you to shake. You instantly knew who it was.

"Constable Hilmarson. A pleasure to meet you Detective Sergeant Schulze."

Your gaze directed to her slim hand before it moved up, and up, to her face. She was pale, blonde, void of makeup, and plain.

She was not what you had expected, yet exactly what you would expect at the same time.

She was boring and mundane, yet there was something about her that made her shine.

You understood why Adrian would, well whatever happened between him and this woman, but she was, at the same time, just so plain.

You assumed she would be a mess, you assumed she would be heartbroken, dragging her ass around in self pity.

But here she was, first day back at work, smiling wide down at you.

You had half a mind to ignore her gesture and tell her to sit, to wipe the smile off her face; alas, you had to be professional.

So you stood, noticing that you were rather short next to her, and took her hand in yours.

"Likewise."

◇◆◇◆◇◆

The months went by, as they do, and everything seemed to be going rather well. Griffin and Hilmarson worked on small cases, nothing too crazy had happened. The men were working well with each other, though they could be doing more. They always could be.

The only thing that you were having a hard time with was some paperwork that Adrian left for you.

This man was fucking disorganized, which made sense, considering how many other things he was obviously preoccupied with.

Maybe someone would know what he wrote here? What the hell was that supposed to say?

Shit.

You made your way out into the office, asking the men if they could read it. Of course they all attempted, until they quit.

"Griffin, can you make out Butler's writing?"

She took the paper from you and stared at it for a moment, "No, sorry." She paused, "Maybe Hilmarson can."

Your eyes flit to her empty desk, "Where is she?"

"Smoke break" Griffin replied.

Rolling you reyes with a groan, you made your way outside.

"Hilmarson!"

When she heard her name and caught you moving fast towards her, her eyes widened and she threw her cigarette behind her.

"Sorry Sarg, I'll get back" she said, turning to walk past you hastily.

"No."

She stopped and stared down at you, her eyebrows furrowing.

You grumbled, "I don't care if you smoke, I need help with something."

She slowly moved closer to you and pulled out another smoke.

Hilmarson one hundred percent believed that you were annoyed with her, that was until she offered you a cigarette and you took it.

"Adrian's writing is messy as fuck." You pulled out the paper and passed it to her.

"What does this say?"

She scanned his writing, hate filling her heart at the thought of him.

"It says 'Stally and Carson reported to Bondi beach'."

You took the paper from her, squinting your eyes at the names. You never would've guessed that said 'Bondi'.

You gazed up at Hilmarson as she looked to her feet, seemingly lost in her own head.

Her cigarette burned itself out between her fingers, eyes failing to blink.

You hadn't failed to notice the amount of comments and 'jokes,' as the men called them, that were thrown her way. You were aware of the banter and harmless fun between coworkers, especially police, but you had heard a few things that were not within the confines of your definition of harmless jokes.

Miranda hated hearing of that beach, Bondi beach. She hadn't been to a beach in so long. So, so long.

She also hated hearing of Adrian. She hadn't seen him in so long.

Good.

She watched as you took a drag and squinted down at the paper in your hand.

She heard what they called you; a bitch, bitter, boring, hateful.

And although you were grumpy, grumbly, not very personal, didn't say thank you, and never smiled a real smile, she liked you.

Your emotion and intentions were usually direct, you didn't beat around the bush.

And for that reason she thought that maybe you liked her too.

You accomplished things, you didn't care what people thought of you.

You weren't scared to talk back, you weren't scared to stand up for what was right.

Actually, you didn't seem scared at all, of anything.

She wished she could be as careless as you, she wished she could stand up for herself.

Sometimes, she even wished she could be hateful.

◇◆◇◆◇◆

A call came in, letting you know that a suspicious box had been found at Bondi beach.

Interesting, you had just learned what that place was the other day.

Your eyes traveled to the window of your office, expecting to catch Griffin at her desk, before you remembered she was off today.

"Shit" you groaned.

Grabbing your things, you exited your office, deciding you would go yourself. If this turned into a case, you'd rather give it to her over the men.

"Hilmarson, you're coming with me to investigate."

She was up from her desk in a flash, grabbing her hat and following you to the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Bondi beach" you answered, reaching for the door.

She stopped dead in her tracks as a small gasp escaped her lips.

"I-um, I actually just remembered that I have to do something important this afternoon, I-I forgot."

You turned to find her staring down at her hands, fidgiting with long fingers.

"It can wait" you demanded.

"N-no it's really important, I'm sorry" she murmured.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked her up and down, you watched as she bit her lip, nervously standing her ground.

"Are you really disobeying my order constable?"

At this, her wide eyes met yours, but you could see something unusual in them.

Fear.

Some of the men were listening, letting out "ouuuu Hilmarson" when she refused your order.

"Quiet!" you barked.

Was she really refusing? Was she really going to make you take a man?

Fine.

You pointed to constable Brown, "You, you're with me."

◇◆◇◆◇◆

Looking out over the ocean and popping the top off of a beer bottle, you watched from a cliff as the night turned darker, the waves beginning to crash a bit harder.

As the night turned darker, it seemed, you also began to crash harder.

Today you read her file.

You read her file and then decided to drink away your sorrows.

You understood now why she wouldn't go to Bondi beach.

You understood now why you saw fear in her eyes.

See, there wasn't much that scared you anymore, but, there was one thing.

You were forever guilty, forever wounded, forever hateful for what had happened to her, your love.

It was a simple mistake, really, but it cost you your happiness, and her, her life.

She was tall and slim and strong.

She had the widest smile, one that made her cheeks puff out, adorable.

And she was brave.

It's almost like you could picture her, standing down there on the boardwalk, looking out over the never-ending expanse if water; just like you.

Together again, one last time.

Hell.

Hilmarson?

You blinked, placing your beer onto the rock and scooting closer to the edge.

If your brain wasn't playing tricks on you, which it very well could've been, she was stood on the walkway, hands tucked in her pockets, eyes squinting as she looked out over the water.

But it couldn't be her, it wouldn't be. She was too fearful.

You stood and sat further away, hoping she couldn't see you from her spot.

She did.

As you were admiring staring at her questioningly, she happened to look your way. A small smile lit up her face, then she turned and started running.

You watched as she ran down the walkway and up the path to the cliff.

You couldn't help but let smirk lightly at her clumsiness, why was she running?

"Hi" she murmured, climbing the rock to sit beside you.

You turned your gaze to the water and sipped your drink, "I thought you were avoiding the beach."

Hilmarson faced you and tilted her head in question, "Why would you think that?"

Placing your beer bottle into your bag, your eyes never left the ocean.

"I know why you refused my order."

You heard her take a deep breath in and exhale.

"Okay, please don't be pissed at me. I'm sorry about that. I can't- I can't go onto the beach, it makes me, um, nervous. I can look at it though, from far away."

You turned to her with a look that said 'seriously?'

She pouted, "It's different."

"I suppose" you deadpanned.

She looked to the ocean in contemplation as your gaze stayed focused on her.

She had soft alabaster skin, way softer than yours could ever be.

She had eyes that sparkled like the snow on the most blue winter day.

They showed fear, fear and sadness and betrayal.

And, she had your heart, the ability to melt it like fire.

The ability to dig herself into your flesh and pull out your insides, until you didn't know who you were any longer.

Until you were a shell of a person.

Until you were hateful.

She had the ability to do all of this, when she died.

You reached into your bag and pulled out two bottles of beer, passing one to her.

◇◆◇◆◇◆

Walking past the desks, you did a double take when you got to your office door.

Hilmarsons desk was an abomination, papers and random things scattered everywhere. You scoffed when you noticed multiple coffee mugs and spoons littering her desk, and you wondered if her home was the same.

Was that a carton of milk?

"Hilmarson, clean this shit up" you demanded, walking to her and scanning your eyes over the paperwork.

She looked up at you in surprise, then nodded her head in shame before stacking the papers sloppily into a pile, "Sorry sarg." You turned and headed back to your office, closing the door in attempt to get some work done.

However, after five minutes, you couldn't help but peer out your office window to find Hilmarson dropping the stack of papers onto the floor, scattering everywhere. You watched as she crouched down, picked them up, and attempted to stand, hitting her head on the underside of her desk.

You shook your head, standing and opening your office door. "Hilmarson, see me in my office."

She sheepishly entered, closing the door behind her.

"You are extremely careless and clumsy" you stated.

She smirked slightly before it disappeared.

"Is this one of those 'clean your shit up or I'll fire you' talks?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what was she talking about?

"Have you had one of those talks before?"

She looked to the floor and nodded.

You sighed, "Well then why haven’t you cleaned your shit up yet?"

Her gaze travelled back to you with a proud expression, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"I'm doing better. I'm not as messy as I have been, and I haven't broken anything lately."

Just as she said this, she swung her arm dramatically over a shelf, knocking a small vase onto the floor.

You sighed and placed your head in your hand. "Hilmarson, just go."

She winced as a frown overtook her face, then she turned quickly, leaving pieces of vase on the floor.

You sat at your desk and asked yourself what Adrian saw in this woman. Were you missing something here? Did she posses something in which you had to learn to appreciate? Did he see it? Did he know how?

◇◆◇◆◇◆

Hilmarson was sat on Griffins desk, her phone in Griffins face as she smiled, eyes watery.

When Griffin saw you enter, she almost pushed Hilmarson off of the desk, telling her to get back to work.

You walked up to them as Hilmarson sat and plunked her phone onto her desk with a frown.

You raised a brow at her, "What's so amusing, Hilmarson?"

She looked up at you as her mouth opened in confusion, her brain running a mile a minute trying to differentiate sarcasm from serious.

A smile lit up her face again.

You watched Griffin shake her head out of the corner of your eye, and then a phone was in your face.

A picture of a baby dressed in pink. The baby, hair so light you questioned it had any, was crawling on the floor playing with an empty beer bottle.

You were no mother, but that probably wasn't safe.

She then swiped to the next photo and you found Hilmarsons signature smile staring back at you.

Your eyes flit between the photo and her, she smiled wide up at you with a glimmer in her ocean eyes.

You sighed, knowing that you usually wouldn't give a shit about a child, especially some baby photos.

The fact was, Hilmarson was slacking off, and you wanted to be a bitch about it.

You wanted to tell her to get back to work, you wanted to say 'get over it, it's just a child'; but for some reason you couldn't.

So you nodded, "She's definitely yours, Hilmarson."

Locking yourself in your office, you sat with your head in your hands. You didn't understand why she was so happy all the damn time.

A shitty job, a shitty town. Adrian had left her, after all.

But the more you thought, the more you realized that she must be grateful.

For she had her baby and she was alive. She was alive.

◇◆◇◆◇◆

You finally packed up your mornings work and headed to the break room, eager to eat your sandwich.

Nobody said a word as the men finished up their work and headed out for lunch, you were used to it.

Eagerly you reached the break room to find Hilmarson leaving with a bowl of cereal, letting the door close with a thud.

She nodded at you with a small grin.

As soon as the door to the room shut, you opened it.

Stally laughed, "Hilmarson as a mother!? What a joke."

"Yea, her and her one good egg" Carson replied.

Your eyes widened as you froze, hand gripping the door knob with fury.

You turned quickly, watching as Hilmarsons gaze spun your way, a frown instantly overtaking her face.

Her bright eyes became dull as the lines between her eyebrows and around her lips deepened.

It was saddest, most pathetic you had ever seen her.

"Stally, Carson, are you seriously insulting a fellow officer?"

The men turned to you, startled by your sudden presence.

"Schulze, it was- we were just joking" Carson stuttered.

You stared at them with the heat of a thousand suns.

"It's not a joke unless it's fucking funny" you seethed.

The men looked at each other, then back at you, they were screwed.

As soon as Stally opened his mouth to say something, you stopped him.

"My office, NOW!" you hollered, swinging the door open for them to exit.

As you followed the men to your office you kept your gaze to the floor.

You slammed your door shut and demanded they sit.

"If you think for a second I will tolerate slander, insults, shitty fucking jokes, or bullying of another officer…" you pointed to your door.

"Walk out that door now and never, ever, show your good for nothing faces here again."

You crossed your arms, standing your ground as you stared them down, their eyes on the floor in silence.

Stepping closer, you leaned down, your lips just above their ears.

"I don't know your stories, but I do know that if you had went through half of what Hilmarson has, you wouldn't be here right now. Would you?"

If they were going to act like children, you'd treat them as such.

"No Sargant" Stally mumbled.

You stood and backed away. "Are we clear?" you asked in a sickly sweet tone.

"Yes"

"Good. Open the door" you demanded.

Miranda couldn't help it, she was used to being made fun of, but her heart fell when you opened the breakroom door. When she watched you basically push the men into your office and slam the door shut, confusion washed over her.

So she sat at her desk, which wasn't far from your office, and listened.

She was thankful that most of her colleagues were gone to lunch, so they didn't have to see, or hear, any of what had happened. Or, what was happening.

She could hear you through the door, through the walls, your voice reverberated off of her skin, and at the same time seeped into her cells and spread throughout her body.

Tears formed in her eyes as warmth spread with it, and she realized what you were doing.

You were standing up for her.

"Hilmarson!"

She stood instantly and appeared at your door in three strides.

"Sargent" she nodded.

"Come in, close the door."

You paused, looking between the men and Hilmarson. She looked at you, they looked at the floor.

"This is absolutely ridiculous" you mumbled. "Stally, Carson, stand."

They stood.

"Turn to Hilmarson"

They turned.

"Apologise to her for acting like privileged twelve year old's, for god knows how long."

They did.

"Now get the hell out of my office" you spat.

You sat and stared at the wood of your desk, sighing before looking back up.

Hilmarson was still there, watching you with a toothy grin and watery eyes.

You knew what they called you, a bitch, bitter, boring, hateful.

But, none of it mattered. None of it mattered because it was you, and because it was true.

Hilmarson, on the other hand, had most likely been bullied for years.

The tall one, the woman, the odd one out, the leftover.

Adrian had to have noticed, he must have known. He was the only one who could've put an end to it, the only one with real authority.

Yet, he didn't.

And so, Hilmarson smiled down at you with thanks in her bright eyes, and you felt your heart…do something.

Her smile almost made all the bullshit you went through worth it.

"Thank you."

You averted your gaze back to the desk as you nodded.

"Do me a favour?"

Hilmarson stepped closer to you, "Of course."

You sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

"It seems when I leave my office I walk into a playground run by men. I never liked playgrounds, or men."

Hilmarson chuckled, you almost did too.

"Get me my sandwich from the fridge? I haven't eaten all day."

You didn't know their stories, true. You didn't know what any of your colleagues had really been through, just as they knew nothing of you.

But as their boss, you had their files, and that was enough to have leverage.

It was enough to understand.

When lunch was over, you stepped out of your office and demanded everyone's attention.

"I don't know what kind of place some of you think this is, but it's NOT fucking junior high. I don't know what Adrian let some of you get away with, but I will have no bullying, no misogyny, no sexism, and no bullshit in this office. I hear and see EVERYTHING, and if you decide to test that theory, you'll soon find out."

You looked around the room, finding everyone's attention turned to you, annoyed.

Except for Hilmarson, who smiled.

"Get back to work"

◇◆◇◆◇◆

She was near, you could feel her presence.

You hadn't felt it in so long.

Like the warmth of the sun, the smell of the rain, the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

She was there.

And oh how warm, how beautiful she was.

You had forgotten.

Her, in all her glory.

You, in all your misery.

Your soul combined with hers, one goes nowhere without the other.

But that was wishful thinking. Wishful dreaming, perhaps.

Because that wasn't the case. No, not at all.

The case was that she was frowning, extremely unlike her, unfamiliar to you.

You could only remember her smile.

The case was that you had fucked up, a mistake, really.

The case was that she was dead. A bullet.

And suddenly, you remembered what you had said to her that day.

It was your fault, it was all your fault.

…And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away

And I never come back to this town again

In my life

I hope I lie

And tell everyone you were a good wife

And I hope you die

I hope we both die

The words spill like venom, involuntarily. You slap your hand over your mouth, but it's no use.

You watch with bated breath as your wife starts to spill tears like a waterfall, and turns to scratching at her own flesh, blood and tissue dropping onto the floor,

until…

Miranda.

Your heart fell as Miranda stared back at you.

She was frowning, extremely unlike her, unfamiliar to you.

You could only remember her smile.

You could only remember her happy.

God, you just wanted her to be happy.

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #adrian suckzzz #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #wlw #top of the lake china girl #miranda hilmarson fanfic #miranda survives

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mrs-harkness · 1 year ago

Text

A Dream Between Us Part 3

Pairing: Miranda Hilmarson x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4K

Warnings: Description of crime scenes

"This was a rush job," Robin said, squatting and looking over the woman's body, "this victim has been stabbed, which isn't his MO."

Miranda stood beside you, her hand ghosting over the back of yours. You attempted to breathe normally, but each time it grazed your skin, goose bumps formed all over. You tried your best to focus on Robin and the situation in front of you.

"Could it possibly be a copycat?" Miranda suggested. She leaned her body towards you so now it was inevitable that she was touching you. You didn't dare pull away.

"How could it be though? You guys never released the information about the calling card," you said back. You hiccuped embarrassingly enough right afterward, revealing just how much alcohol was in your system.

Robin looked at you and Miranda with a raised eyebrow. She stood up and looked at you two suspiciously.

"What were you two doing here anyways?"

Miranda and you looked at each other. Thankfully Miranda spoke first so you didn't have to.

"We were getting drinks. I wanted to get to know the rookie better," she said, looking directly at you instead of Robin.

You cleared your throat.

"Oh I mean Y/N," she said with the sweetest smile.

Or do you mean Cutie? you thought.

"Well, we have to assume he knew you two were here. Which means he is watching us," Robin sighed and removed her gloves.

Miranda looked at you again, worry evident on her face. Could this person really be watching you guys? Why did they choose you and Miranda to follow tonight? It must have been because you two were the first to leave after your shift and they spotted you first. That's the only explanation.

"You two can stay at the station if you want or we can send a patrol by your home. Don't you live in the same apartment building as us?" Robin asked you.

This was news to you. You knew other officers lived in the building, but you had just moved in recently and stayed inside, not really paying attention to your neighbors.

"Do I?"

"Yes, I thought you knew," Miranda said, giggling. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you had spent a whole month there and never saw Miranda or Robin once. It showed on your face.

"Don't feel bad, I have only seen you once. Most of us stay inside. I actually live right above you."

Robin nodded, also slightly amused by your bewilderment. You were embarrassed but there was also an excitement that bubbled up in you at the thought of being neighbors with Miranda.

"So what's it gonna be? Station or back at the apartments," Robin asked, typing something into her phone.

"Apartments, I wanna sleep in my own bed," Miranda answered. You nodded, agreeing with her. You had plants you needed to water.

"Ok, I'll call a patrol and have them sit outside the building for tonight. I'll give you a ride home," Robin said, putting the phone up to her ear to call patrol. However, Miranda shook her head.

"That's ok. We can walk home together. He can't take two officers down," she said, looking at you, the smile still on her face. You smiled back at her.

"Are you sure? It's like a twenty-minute walk from here? It would be safer if I drove you-"

"Yeah it's okay Robin, I think we will be safe if we walk," you said, wanting to spend more alone time with Miranda.

Robin looked at you and sighed. Just then a voice came on the other end of the phone, patrol finally answering. She nodded at you both and then turned away to speak with them. Miranda turned to you.

"You ready to go home?" she asked, her voice filled with something similar to excitement. You nodded and began walking off in the direction of your apartment.

You walked in silence for a while before Miranda began inching closer and closer to you as you walked along the sidewalk. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks. Your stopping caused you to jerk her arm, and she looked at you curiously. Then she looked back down at your hand.

"You have such small hands," she hummed, turning your hand over in hers. You had to resist the urge to weave your fingers through hers. The alcohol made you feel bold, but not bold enough to hold her hand. She, however, didn't seem to feel the same because she wrapped her hand around yours and let her arm dropped so your hands were now hanging between you. You looked down at them, then back up at Miranda.

"What are you doing?" you asked. Miranda's face dropped suddenly and she let go of your hand and looked away.

"Sorry, Uh I just wanted-"

You cut her off by reaching out and grabbing her hand again, this time feeling bold enough to lace your fingers between hers.

"I didn't say to stop," you whispered, your face heating up. A part of you felt brave and proud of your actions. You were happy you did it too because Miranda turned to you and looked at your hands, her face content.

"I just wanted to see how much bigger my hand was than yours."

Now it was time for you to pull your hand away. Bravery immediately turned to regret at the realization. Only when you tried to pull away, Miranda squeezed tighter, not allowing you to unlace your fingers. You looked up at her.

"I didn't say to stop," she quipped. She then ran her thumb over your knuckles and you were sure your knees were going to buckle. You walked on, hand in hand, silent again. You stole glances at Miranda, the whole time with a huge smile on her face. You knew you should be a little on edge after the night's events, but you had never felt safer in your life.

Eventually, you reached the apartments and walked up to your front door. You stood there in silence, looking down at how your hand looked wrapped around Miranda's. You eventually looked up at her.

"I guess I have to let go now," you laughed. Miranda rubbed her thumb over your knuckles again, sending chills down your spine.

"Yeah I guess so," Miranda said back. You held one another's hands for a moment longer before she unlaced her fingers from yours. You immediately felt cold from the loss of contact.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," she said eventually, crossing her arms and looking down at you. You nodded.

"Yeah, me too. We should do it again soon."

There was more silence.

"What about tomorrow? We could watch a movie at my place. I don't live too far from here," she said, looking up towards the second floor and smiling a cheeky grin.

"Sounds like a date," you said back. The alcohol was definitely making you bold.

"I would like that."

You beamed at the thought and nodded your head quickly.

"Yeah, me too," you said a little too fast. Miranda laughed.

"Ok. Tomorrow night. Date night at my house."

Before you could agree again, Miranda bent down and kissed your cheek, sending electricity through your body. You audibly gasped, trying to catch your breath. Miranda looked concerned.

"Was that ok?" she asked, slightly worried she had crossed a line.

"That was amazing," you said back. Miranda laughed with her whole chest this time. Her laugh was like magic and her face scrunched up with laughter was one of the more beautiful sights you had seen in your life. Eventually, she stopped and caught her breath, her eyes softening as she looked back down at you.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been wanting to do that all night," she said, shying away from your gaze.

Butterflies buzzed in your chest. She had wanted to kiss you all night.

You didn't say anything else as she walked towards and up the stairs to the second floor. Once she got to the top, she stopped and looked back at you.

"Goodnight Y/N," she said. You smiled.

"You can call me that other thing if you want!" you shouted.

"Rookie?"

"No! Cutie!"

You made her laugh again, which was starting to become your favorite thing ever.

"Goodnight cutie," she said and turned to go towards her apartment.

You watched her for as long as you could before unlocking your own apartment door. You stepped inside and locked it back. You leaned on the door and sighed. Tonight had been scary, but all you could think about was Miranda and the time spent with her. You would worry about the case in the morning, but for now, you would imagine Miranda kissing your face some more and listening to her laugh for the rest of your life.

#gwendoline christie #miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson fanfic #miranda hilmarson x reader #my love #my wife #top of the lake

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year ago

Note

Heyyy @weemssapphic !!

Thank you so much for the tag!😭🥰You’re such an marvelous writer yourself 💞 I feel so honored to be tagged in this.

I’d like to add some Gwen blogs to your list (not comprehensive, there are many many amazing Gwen writers out there):

@gwensfreak

@rainbow-hedgehog

@neuroprincess

@ladyzmilf002

@bri-sonat

@soft-astral

@no-phrogs-in-hats

@fandom-puff

@prettygreenpills

@marilynthornhilllover

@alder-saan

Love you all 😘

Can you share a few of your favourite Gwen writers on here ?

this is such a hard question, there are so many extremely talented, lovely writers on here! this is by no means an exhaustive list of people whose writing i enjoy, but here are some of the people whose fics never fail to make my day brighter:

@yourlocaldisneyvillain

@anti-bright-places / @pro-weems-places

@dianneking

@alexusonfire

@moodreaderlesbian

@juicyflawless25

@readingtheentrails

@milfsloverblog

@orchidsshine

@zephyr-is-tired

@cissyenthusiast010155

this fandom is so full of amazing ideas and brilliant writing, not to mention kind, loving people, and i feel very blessed to be part of that 💛

#amazing bloggers #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie character #gwendoline christie x reader #cissyenthusiast010155 answers #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfic #brienne of tarth fanfiction #brienne of tarth #miranda hilmarson is such a sweetheart #miranda hilmarson fanfic #miranda hilmarson

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rippersz · 8 months ago

Text

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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blairkiss · 2 months ago

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Endless passion.

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Female reader, 18+, Lesbian Sex, Soft dom!Miranda, Wife!Miranda, Fluff at the end

by @blairkiss .. first smut !

The first thing she does is kiss me, before we're even fully through the door. Her mouth is soft and sweet. She tastes of wine, the same wine we drank in the restaurant. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever known.

She pushes me gently back, still kissing, until my shoulders touch the wall. The door falls shut, the latch clicking softly. We stand together, kissing, breathing.

“Miranda.” I whisper into her ear. Her tongue is warm on my throat.

"My sweet wife," she whispers.

She takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom. I feel shy with her, sometimes, like a nervous virgin, although I am far from that. But there is a certain awkwardness when we undress, because she is so much more graceful than I. When I'm in her arms, though, there's nothing but pleasure.

"How do you want me?" I ask her. "How do you want it to be?"

She considers. "Lie down," she tells me. "Let me show you."

I lie back on the bed, and she joins me, propped up on her elbows over my body, I look up at her with lust and excitement. An expression of pure love to the large woman who was currently on top of my body.

"I have wanted this all day," she says.

"Yes," I say.

"You make me so wet."

I spread my legs for her, and she settles between them, she looked up at her for permission and to which I gladly put my hands in her blonde hair.

After a few moments of Miranda fiddling with my pants, she eventually takes them off, aswell as my underwear. She sticks them in her back pocket for safe keeping, as she usually collected them and would use them for her own purposes.

“yes.” I said breathlessly, my hands in her blonde hair. I can feel her breath against my inner thigh

"You taste so good," she says. She licks along the seam of my lips. She presses her tongue inside.

She's done this so many times, but she has always managed to make me feel like it's the first time. She's an expert with her tongue. She knows just how I like to be touched. Her tongue moves slowly, circling around the nub of my clitoris. Then she pulls it into her mouth, and I can't help letting out a borderline pornographic moan.

"That's right, let me hear you," she says, her breath warm against my skin. "I love to hear you."

"Yes."

She moves her tongue down to my opening, pressing inside. I arch up off the bed.

"Miranda, yes."

She returns her tongue to my clit, stroking me there, making me writhe in pleasure.

Within minutes of the similar movement from Miranda, I tug on her hair more.

“God.. Mir— I’m gonna..” I can feel it bubbling up inside me, ready to burst out and take over my body, I hold it in longer.

The way her tongue moves around the tip of my clit, her lips wrapped around me, sucking softly, her fingers moving inside, stroking, I can't hold on any longer.

"Yes, oh yes."

I come. My muscles tense, I arch off the bed, my eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure radiates out from my center, through my hips, thighs, chest.

Miranda pulls away, seeming proud of making me feel this way, her eyes watching over me as I basked in the aftershock.

"That was good," she says.

I can't quite speak yet, so I smile.

She climbs back on top of me and kisses me. She slides her tongue inside, letting me taste myself.

"Mmm," I murmur.

She sits up and straddles my thigh.

“I’m exhausted.” I sigh, my hands weakly grabbing Miranda’s hips.

"Then we should get some sleep," she says. She rolls off and pulls the covers over both of us.

We are quiet, lying there, and the silence is a comfort. It's enough, to be next to her. To share her space, her time.

I roll onto my side, and she scoots over so we're pressed close together, her breasts against my chest, her face buried in the crook of my neck. I can feel her warm breath against my skin.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too."

I fall asleep like that, curled up against her, her strong arm wrapped around my waist.

#miranda hilmarson x reader #Miranda Hilmarson #gwendoline Christie #Wlw fanfic #fanfic #Top of The Lake

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daydream-cement · 1 year ago

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Couples Costume

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Miranda convinces you to do a couples costume for Halloween.

Author's Note: YAYYYY!! This is the first week of Spooky Season with @alexusonfire!!!! This weeks prompt was couples costumes and what could be cuter than matching with Miranda??? <33

The constable dropped onto the couch next to you, swiftly turning her body and reclining back so her head rested in your lap. She was finally able to relax for the evening now that she returned home from work and showered.

“How was work, honey?” You ask, eyes not leaving as you scroll with one hand and use your other to play with her hair.

Miranda held up her phone displaying an email she received, showing a party invite, “A friend is hosting a Halloween party! We should wear a couples costume!”

“A couples costume?”

There was a glint of mischief in Miranda’s eye, “Yeah! It could be fun!”

“Hmmm…” You smile down at the blonde, swiping some hair away from her face. You brush your knuckles along her cheek, “You know what, Andy? If you can find a cute costume for us to wear, then we can wear a couples costume, okay?”

“Deal!”

—

“Try it on, then come out and show me!” Miranda teetered back and forth on the bed where she sat criss-crossed. There was a huge smile plastered across her face that caused your lips to twitch as you attempted to remain serious.

“Miranda, please…” You force a frown, staring down at the red fabric in your hands. The constable had been planning these Halloween costumes for months and now that it was the night of the costume party, there was no backing out.

“Please, baby! I know you will look so cute.”

You didn’t want to disappoint the constable, but you didn’t know anything about this tv show. Miranda was the Star Trek fan, not you. What were you supposed to say at the party when asked about this costume?

“Can’t I just be myself for Halloween? Or I could just wear my costume from last year?”

“No! Come on! Just try on the uniform.” Miranda’s eyes went big and she intertwined her fingers, holding them up in a begging motion. God, she was so cute. Miranda’s pleading eyes and pout were always able to break you down.

“Okay…”

“Yay!!” Miranda jumped up on her knees, throwing her arms around your shoulders before yanking you towards her. You were feeling immediately better about your decision to agree to wear the costume as Miranda began peppering your face with kisses.

—

“Hello, Captain.” Robin teased as soon as she saw you enter the room with Miranda. She smirked as she observed your bright red captain’s uniform.

Miranda draped an arm over your shoulders, a great big smile graced her lips. Miranda’s love of the Star Trek franchise began to show as she began explaining both of your costumes to Robin. “Don’t they look so cute? Captain L/n of the USS Enterprise reporting for duty! I am their chief of security!”

The constable donned a yellow Star Trek uniform indicating she was a part of the security crew on the starship. She had been so excited to put it on and had been using Star Trek references all night because of it.

Robin hadn’t taken her eyes off of you as she secretly adored the way you made her best friend so happy. She was clearly amused with your couples costume. “I didn’t take you for a Trekkie, L/n.”

Glancing from Miranda, who now rested her chin on your shoulder, to Robin, you rolled your eyes in jest, “Occupational hazard of dating Hilmarson over here.”

“What are you supposed to be, Rob?” Miranda asked, her hands winding around your stomach as she spoke to her best friend. Even after years of dating, you never grew tired of the physical affection she gave you.

“I’m your worst nightmare.” Robin wore a shit eating grin as she raised her glass towards you and Miranda before giving you a nod and walking off.

—

When you returned home from the party, tispy Miranda took her time in removing her costume. You could tell she was absolutely in love with the chief of security outfit as she settled onto the couch in it with a bowl of cereal to watch reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation. You curled up next to her, clad in one of her shirts, as you allowed her to educate you on the Star Trek universe.

Midway through the fourth episode of the evening, you felt Miranda’s body lean into yours. Her large hand gripped your forearm, her voice quiet and genuine. “I had so much fun tonight. Thank you so much for agreeing to wear matching costumes with me.”

You thought back on how disgruntled you had originally been about the outfit, but knowing Miranda was made happy made it all worth it. You offer a simple reply before turning your head and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Of course, Andy…”

“You make me so happy.” Miranda’s voice came again, a little more hoarse as if she were about to cry.

You turned to hold her face, hoping you could make her giggle or smile instead of conjuring tears. You give her cheeks a squeeze, nuzzling your nose against hers, “Awh.. Andy. You make me so happy.”

Miranda sniffled once, but you spoke once more to distract her from the oncoming tears, “Now please tell me what Riker is up to in this episode. I can’t tell which head he is controlled by.”

The constable giggled at the innuendo and turned her attention back to the screen, explaining the sexually precarious situation that William Riker always seemed to be getting himself into.

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 #spooky season

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viivenn · 7 months ago

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guys….. abbot crossover…. miranda hilmarson is the school resource officer… her and melissa… them….

the closet is made of glass.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year ago

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Miranda Hilmarson Masterlist

Mommy… Master List

Approach at your own risk... smut = * extra smutty=**

One Shots

“I love MILFS” shirt Drabble

Initialized Necklace Blurb ~GN!reader

Breast Worship Kink with Miranda Hilmarson

Oh and I take Requests, so hit me up with your ideas 😉 Requests & Prompt-List

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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 10 months ago

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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.

Decided to make a lil illustration for the fic :3

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 @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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