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rippersz · 19 days

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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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

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

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thinking about it gave you a headache.

For where was the point in wondering?

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

Because-

Wait.

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“Help! Help!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too late.

You were too late.

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

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

Too late.

You were too late.

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

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

Something–a sound–made you freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.”

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

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

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

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

“And the others?”

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

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

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

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

The gun still didn’t move.

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

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

“How long since?”

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

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

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

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

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

“-we can’t just leave them-”

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

“-not stupid. We need more people-”

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

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

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

“Woah-”

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

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

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

But she didn’t move.

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

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

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

“More like a rat.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.”

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

“You heard me. Shoot them.”

“Pha-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

The grass.

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

oh.

Oh.

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

How fucking lucky were you?

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer? Naked under the what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Yes. Sure.”

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

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

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

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

Red lips twitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

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

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

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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unmeisenpai · 25 days

Text

Ok here’s some random omega vers with Brienne because I couldn’t resist yall reading it. Also ❌18+❌ ONLY MDI, omega verse, Brienne being a top, biting/ marking, breeding kink. I think that’s everything please lmk if I missed anything and I hope yall enjoy.

Slamming

“Brienne…mmm.please….slow down.”

Your legs were numb, as Brienne slammed you into the wall. Your whole body off the ground, as she held you in her strong arms.

You never expected your knight, Lord commander of the Kings guard, Ser Brienne of Tarth would be taking you roughly, behind a brothel.

You hadn’t seen her in 8 years, and ever since she left Tarth you heard nothing of her whereabouts, if she was dead or alive.

So when you received a raven from Kings Landing, inviting you to stay in the castle as a personal guest of the Lord Commander. You never expected to see Brienne standing by the Kings side, clad in Gold armor and looking like a Goddess of War.

Now here you are being filled to the brim by the very knight you longed for.

Your arms warped around her neck, as she slams into you biting down on your shoulder. You want to scream at her pace and grunts, but you keep yourself quiet, and decide to bite her instead.

She hisses at that, and grunts into your ear as she digs her nails into your thighs and slams you into the wall harder and harder with each thrust.

“Brienne take me, I’m yours I always have been.” Her only response to your words is her hand moving towards your clit and rubbing tight circles onto it. You hissed at that and did your best not to scream.

Her thrusts grew needy and desperate, as she chanted your name over and over.

“Destiny you’re mine, I’ll never let you go.”

Her thrusts become erratic as she cries out your name, you know you can’t take much more, so you call out to her.

“Brienne I can’t… I’m going to…” She understands your meaning and kisses you roughly, in that moment you can feel her fill you to the brim with her seed. Your whole body reacts and you can’t help but cum on her cock, as you scream her name.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #the sandman lucifer x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #larissa x reader #jane murdstone x reader #wallpaper #top brienne #ser brienne #Brienne x oc

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milfsloverblog · 10 months

Note

Oooh. How about a fic where the reader gives Brienne her favor at every melee and Brienne is just clueless

Tokens of Devotion

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!reader

A/N: I started writing this so many weeks ago, sorry it took so long anon! I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, it was a lovely idea!!<3

Brienne could hardly believe it the first time she’d seen you waving a ribbon at her, calling her name in the hope of catching her attention.

“Me?” She mouthed, pointing at her breastplate.

“Yes, you!” You nodded and waved the blue ribbon more vigorously.

The woman hesitated. What if this was some sort of sick joke? What if once she’d get close to you, the whole crowd started laughing at how much of an imbecile she was for thinking a lady would ever give her, Brienne the Beauty, her favour.

“Please!” You insisted, knowing the mêlée was about to start.

After a few more seconds of hesitancy, Brienne eventually made her way to you. She kept her head up and her shoulders straight, readying herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Thank you,” you said when she was finally close enough. “For a second I thought I would have to give my favour to another knight…And I really did not want to.”

The tall woman dared to look at you then and the beauty of her features nearly made the ribbon slip from in-between your fingers. It took everything within you to tear your eyes away from her face and tie your favour to her pauldron.

“I should be the one thanking you, my lady. I will fight for your honour.” The blonde said, letting her eyes roam on your face while you looked down at your working hands.

You knew it was simply a polite way to address you, but your heart fluttered anyway. Oh, to be her lady.

Your fingers lingered on the steel of her armour for a couple of seconds too long before you eventually pulled away.

“May it bring you luck.” You gestured to the ribbon.

“It already did.” Brienne said, giving you an awkward nod before walking away back to the field, her heart beating loudly inside her rib cage. Her very first favour. She would carry it proudly, and she would make sure to be victorious.

The mêlée lasted for over an hour, men falling left and right, some being disarmed and others simply yielding to their opponent.

“Yield!” Brienne barked at the last man standing, still firmly holding her sword in front of her.

It had been the two of them for a moment now, Brienne’s muscles burning and begging the knight to let go of her sword. But she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t want to disappoint the lady in the crowd who was rooting for her.

“I yield.” The knight spat the words out after another couple of minutes, being too exhausted to keep fighting even if it meant losing to a woman.

You loudly cheered when Brienne was announced victorious, louder than anyone else in the crowd did. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach at the thought that maybe your favour had given her the strength to win. Not that you doubted she would have won anyway.

Brienne removed her gauntlets and her helmet, slicking her short blonde hair back before she made her way over to you again.

“I knew you would be victorious!” You said excitedly, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent them from reaching for the tall woman.

“Well, I had to fight for both your honour and mine, didn’t I?” Brienne pushed a shy smile and offered you her hand to shake. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Brienne of Tarth.” You smiled and gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss on it instead of going for a simple handshake.

Brienne was left at a loss for words, her cheeks taking a pinkish colour as you let go of her hand. No one had ever done that before, certainly not a woman.

“Well, I suppose there will be people waiting to celebrate with you at the tavern. Until we meet again!” You winked at the knight, disappearing into the crowd before she could say anything else.

Brienne stood there for another minute, dumbfounded by the whole scene that had just happened until she was practically dragged to the tavern to celebrate.

She found that drinking did not help to forget the feeling of your lips on her hand, if anything it only made it worse.

When she showed up to the next melee a month later, Brienne wasn't expecting to see you. Not that she wasn't wishing to see you again; she simply didn't think you would come back for her. Why would you?

How wrong she was, she realised when she heard the familiar voice calling her name. There you were, a smile that reached your ears as you waved something that, from afar, looked like a piece of fabric.

Four long strides were enough for Brienne to be standing right in front of you, your heart once again starting to beat uncontrollably fast when you noticed that your previous favour was still tied to her armour.

“Well, will you start collecting my favours then?” You joked, showing her the piece of fabric that you were holding.

Brienne looked away for a second, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She had thought about removing the ribbon from her pauldron, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. Not when she was reminded of your face every time she’d look at it.

“It was only a joke. Although I would not mind seeing a collection of favours on your armour. Only mine, though, or I might get jealous.” You smiled at the blonde. “Will you accept my favour, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Of course, how could anyone decline such an offer?” She nodded and took another step closer. Looking down at your hands she noticed that the piece of fabric matched your dress, raising an eyebrow to silently question you.

“I lost my ribbon on the way here.” You admitted. “So I ripped a piece of my dress.”

“My lady, you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have!”

“Oh, but I wanted to.” You looked up into her blue eyes and pushed a soft smile.

Have you ever been told how beautiful you are, you wanted to ask, how looking into your eyes feels like swimming in Tarth’s sapphire water?

“The mêlée is about to begin, my lady.” Brienne snapped you out of your thoughts, her hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise, I was…” You shook your head and chose not to finish your sentence.

You quickly tied the piece of fabric to her pauldron, right next to your previous favour. And it felt right, seeing a piece of your dress on her armour, knowing that you two were now matching.

“Think of me.” You whispered and let go of her before taking a step back.

Brienne swallowed thickly and quickly walked back to the battlefield, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. She wondered for a second if you had cast a spell on her, if the ribbon and fabric tied to her armour were enchanted with a love spell.

The woman was brought back to reality by the tip of an opponent’s sword nearly poking her breastplate. She quickly parried the sword away, moving swiftly to avoid a counterattack.

You watched her fight for what seemed to be hours, cheering every time she landed a successful strike or avoided a blow. It almost looked like a perfectly rehearsed dance, the way she moved around effortlessly.

You could only imagine what she looked like under her helmet as she fought, snarling and groaning from all the effort. Your mind wandered and for a second you imagined her on top of you, groaning and sweating from another kind of effort.

It was only a silly girl crush, something that would pass in no time. At least you hoped it was. You’d heard about the rumours saying Brienne had had some sort of intimate relationship with Jaime Lannister. You knew you could never compare to the most handsome man in Westeros, if he was her type, you simply had no chance with her. It was only a silly girl crush anyway, it would pass in no time.

You were lost in your thoughts when Brienne was declared victorious, the crowd loudly cheering for her.

The knight removed her helmet and immediately turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together when she couldn’t find your face anywhere in the crowd.

“So, Brienne, tell us about the girl?” Tyrion asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What girl?” Brienne huffed a little too defensively.

“The girl.” He insisted. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve been fidgeting with that piece of fabric since we’ve sat down.” He said, pointing at the favour on her pauldron.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it about my brother?” Tyrion smirked.

“Tyrion-“ Brienne warned him but to no avail.

“Oh come on! He chose Cersei’s cunt, you will have to get over it someday.” He shrugged.

“Shut your mouth!” Brienne barked and slammed her hand on the table, the whole tavern going quiet for a couple of seconds. “This has nothing to do with Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw about that girl and me. Nothing is going on.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she always is the loudest cheer in the crowd? Or why she is the one you immediately looked for after your victory?” Tyrion cocked an eyebrow.

“I said I would not be having this conversation with you.” The tall woman hissed and emptied her cup before storming out of the tavern.

She almost felt like ripping the ribbon and fabric from her armour right there and then, grabbing them and being about to yank them off when she suddenly remembered how bright your smile was every time she’d acknowledged you.

She didn’t want to feel these things again, not after Jaime. She never wanted to feel these things again, and yet...

Love, what a disease.

“Brienne?” The tall woman’s back immediately straightened when she heard her name being called.

“My lady…” She turned around, her hand still firmly gripping your favours.

“Are you alright? You look…upset?” You took a step closer, gently wrapping your hand around hers. It was almost comical how small yours looked next to hers. “Would you like me to take these off for you?”

“No, no, I-“ Brienne closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” She asked looking at you.

“I’m sorry?” You frowned, confusion painting your features.

“This,” she said. “Acting like you care. Acting nice. How long will you keep the joke going? How long until you admit that you’ve been taking the piss out of me?!”

“Taking the piss out of-“ You huffed loudly. “You think I’ve been mocking you? Why on earth would I do that?! Why would I rip a piece of my most beautiful dress to give you as a favour? All for a joke?!”

“If not for a joke, then why?!” You could hear the pain in her voice, how it slightly trembled no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure.

“Because I like you.” You admitted in a whisper. “And I’m no Jaime Lannister, I’m no prettiest woman in Westeros, I’ve got nothing to offer you but those silly little favours. Those, and my devotion. I would never, ever be cruel to you.”

You barely had time to register Brienne’s hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into the softest kiss, her body trembling as if she was still fearing that this was all a joke. So you kissed her back with all you had, arms thrown around her neck to hold her close.

“It’s enough,” Brienne whispered when she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours. “Those silly little favours and your devotion, it would be more than enough.”

“Good.” You smiled, taking her hand in yours. “How about we share a drink, mh? To celebrate your victory.”

Brienne nodded, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you back to the tavern, holding the door open to let you in.

Tyrion grinned like the right imbecile he was when you sat down in front of him with Brienne. He introduced himself before turning to look at the woman by your side.

“Much more pretty than Jaime, if you ask me.” He smirked and pointed his chin at you.

You saw Brienne nod in agreement and looked down to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

Isn’t it crazy, you thought as you fidgeted with the ripped fabric of your dress, what those little tokens of devotion could lead to?

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #ser brienne #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #no beta we die like larissa

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lovingkvinner · 1 year

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Y/n: Larissa….?

Larissa: yes darling

Y/n: woul- would you still love me if I was a worm?

Larissa: my love of course I would still love you *grabs your face*

Y/n: really?

Larissa: yes a thousand times over, i would shapeshift into a worm and we would live in the soil of the forests outside nevermore and we would have our own tiny little worm cottage and I would shapeshift to go to work and bring us food then I would come straight back in worm form and we would live happily as little worms together forever.

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #principal weems #wednsday addams #lesbian #gay #brienne of tarth #larissa weems oneshot #larissa x reader #fanfic #larissa weems x reader #incorrect quotes

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potchio · 6 months

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baby 🥹🥹

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #brienne of tarth

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 3 months

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You’re Too Good For Me ~Larissa Weems xBrienne of Tarth

Summary— Inspired by this post made by @franouo !! “WHAT IF (in an AU) Larissa survived Marylin's atack (SHE'S ALIVE) and needs protección AND somehow Brienne shows up, maybe a portal or time travel (idk how yet) and they start this kind of dry relationship in the begging for mutual interests, like Larissa needs protección (maybe debelop panic atacks after all the trauma) and Brienne needs help to come back to Westeros and the only person who can help is Larissa because all the principal of a "Magic school" thing like Brienne says but with in the time pass they break each others walls and start falling for each other.”

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, smut, eating out, fingering, kissing, implied loss of virginity, flustering, first times, first orgasm, strangers to friends to lovers, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

By the grace of god or whatever supreme fucking being, Larissa has survived Marilyn’s nightshade poisoning. Everyone said that it had been a miracle. No one had been known to survive nightshade poisoning in the past…

Larissa, of course, was relieved to have survived. She was grateful, mostly. But part of her struggled with the fact that she had indeed died for an extended amount of time. And that she had then come back to life…

It was hard for the blonde to comprehend. The whole experience had thoroughly traumatized the principal… She couldn’t go a day without our heightened anxiety, couldn’t go a week without at least one panic attack.

As the school year came to a close, the events of that fatal night fading into the past, and all the students got sent home, Larissa was left pretty much on her own at the school, as most of the staff had gone too. There were certain responsibilities that the principal had to uphold over the summer at Nevermore, such as keeping the school in good shape for the upcoming school year.

Even though it had been weeks, Larissa felt her anxiety, and panic, and vigilance like her near death experience had occurred yesterday…

One particularly hot summer day, Larissa was making her daily rounds of the school, when she saw a shimmer of blue gleaming in the morning sun down the road from the school.

The blue figure came closer and closer, and Larissa made out the person to be some kind of knight…? The knight came through the gates and walked up to Larissa. At a closer glance, the blonde principal realized that the tall knight was in fact a lady.

“Excuse me? Can I help you…?” Larissa asked.

The woman looked breathless and confused.

“Sorry to bother you, madam… but are you Lady Weems?” Brienne asked.

Larissa was taken aback slightly by the formal title. But she kept her cool demeanor.

“I am. And you are?”

“My name is Brienne of Tarth. I have traveled far to your land to request your aid.” The blonde knight explained.

Larissa looked at the woman puzzled.

“Oh…? And what for?” She asked.

“It seems I accidentally was portaled to your land, M’Lady, and I need assistance to get back. I was told by a fellow traveler that you and your school for magic would hold answers.” Brienne breathed out.

Larissa pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“Why don’t you come in, Brienne…?” She offered, indicating with her hand to the school.

Brienne’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

“Yes M’Lady…!”

“Larissa will do just fine, Darling.” Larissa insisted, putting her hand up and shooing Briennes formal title aside.

Brienne blushed lightly and nodded. Larissa then led the other tall blonde up to the school, through the corridors, and into her office. Larissa shut the door behind her, and indicated for Brienne to take a seat.

Brienne then spent a better part of an hour explaining how she had somehow traveled through space and time. She had been pulled through a blueish-purple glowing portal, against her will, and turned up in Vermont. After Brienne had finally finished her tarry tale, she asked the begging question,

“So, Larissa… Will you help me return to Westeros?”

Larissa smiled and nodded.

“I cannot promise anything, but I will certainly try my hardest, Darling.” She breathed out.

Brienne’s eyes sparkled with gratitude and hope.

“Thank you M’l—Larissa. How can I ever repay you…??” The knight asked.

“It’s no trouble, Darling, really I insist.”

“No please, let me return the favor…” Brienne insisted.

Larissa signed and contemplated.

“Very well. Now that you mention it…” she breathed out, “I could use your protection…”

Brienne nodded immediately.

“I understand, and you shall have it, Larissa…!” She exclaimed.

This made Lariss smile. She appreciated that Brienne hadn’t pried into why she wanted protection. And she felt grateful at the woman’s eagerness to help.

And that was how Larissa and Brienne’s mutual beneficial relationship started. Brienne was quick to move into the castle, taking one of the available staff private quarters.

The relationship at the beginning was dry and base on pure mutual interest. Larissa did her daily duties to care for Nevermore, and on the side, she back researching possible solutions for Brienne’s return.

Brienne insisted that she help the tall, blonde principal with some of the school duties. Larissa at first wouldn’t hear of it, but then the school caretaker quit on her, and she was forced to face the idea of cleaning all of Nevermore on her own until she could hire a new caretaker. So Larissa let Brienne help her by keeping the grounds clean and tidy, especially the outside.

On the days where Larissa was really riddled with anxiety and panic, Brienne was more than happy to take up more responsibility. Larissa began to trust the woman as she proved herself to be quite capable.

And slowly, the relationship between Larissa and Brienne began to shift…

Brienne and Larissa got into the habit of spending their evenings together. They would sip wine and talk the night away. It got easier and easier as the time slipped by.

“So you are a knight from where you are from?” Larissa asked the other woman, putting her feat up and relaxing in her chair after a long day.

“Mhmmm, yes Westeros…” Brienne sighed.

“That must be difficult…” Larissa sympathized.

“Dear God you have no idea…” Brienne chuckled, using humor to hide her pain and suffering.

“Tell me about it…? If you wish…” the blonde principal cooed softly.

Brienne eventually opened up to the struggle she faced as a female knight back home. She poured her heart out in vulnerability, talking about the pain and suffering she’d endured to get where she was today.

In turn and when Larissa was ready, she began opening up about her death.

“What about you…? I imagine something must have happened…” Brienne prodded, trying not to be too pushy as she knew this was a touchy subject for the other woman.

“I…” Larissa stammered, pausing and taking a deep breath, “I died.”

Brienne had assumed something traumatic must have had happened to the blonde woman, as many nights, Brienne found herself rushing to Larissa’s quarters to comfort the woman from her night terrors and panic attacks.

Soon, the two women began to develop a true bond. And now, Larissa dreaded the say when they figured out how to bring Brienne home. And Brienne dreaded the day Larissa wouldn’t want her around anymore, enough to figure it out.

On just another evening, the women were sitting in Larissa’s office. This evening, Brienne wasn’t drinking, she was too wound up.

“Everything alright, Darling…?” Larissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

Brienne sighed.

It was bugging her. Her impending leave.

The summer was almost up, the school year would start again, and Larissa would have no time for her anymore…

“I… Simply wound too tight today it seems…” Brienne breathed out.

Larissa pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“Anything in particular making you anxious…?” She asked.

Brienne bit her lip and looked away. Larissa sat up and placed a hand on Brienne’s thigh.

And Brienne gasped. Loud.

“Talk to me, love. Please…” Larissa pled.

Brienne gulped. Her heart began to race, and her cheeks went rosy red.

“I… don’t want to leave” she whispered in confession.

The knight looked down in sadness, not being able to meet the other woman’s gaze. She expected Larissa to condemn her or get angry.

But instead, Larissa’s one hand caresses Brienne’s thigh in calming circles, and her other hand came under to cup Brienne’s chin. Larissa moved the woman’s head to meet her gaze.

As Brienne met Larissa’s eyes, she saw sparkling orbs. They weren’t filled with anger, no… care…? understanding…? something else…??

Brienne’s breath was bated and shallow.

“Hey, it’s okay, Darling. Take a deep breath” Larissa breathed out in comfort.

And that Brienne did. She took several, before meeting Larissa’s gaze one more.

Now the blonde principal’s eye flickered away from Brienne’s gaze, down to the blue knights lips and back up. It was just for a fraction of a second, but it was clear.

“I… I don’t want you to leave either.” Larissa breathed out softly.

Their eyes were locked together, stuck in this trance, Larissa’s hands still on Brienne’s chin and thigh. Brienne bit her lip anxiously, her stomache having erupts with butterfly’s.

They were entranced by each other’s gaze, presence, being… Each blond wanted the other’s lips on their own. Now it was Brienne’s turn for her gaze to flicker down to the other woman’s lips.

Larissa took this as her cue to lean forward more, bringing the two impossibly close. Brienne instinctually leaned further forward, leaving mere centimeters in space between their lips. But it was Larissa who closed the gap, her soft, plump lips pressing into Brienne’s lips.

Brienne immediately let out a light gasp. At first Larissa thought that it wasn’t a good sign, until Brienne suddenly grasped Larissa’s upper body with both hands and tugged her closer and tight. Larissa let out a breathy groan, her lips not pressed and bruised against Brienne’s.

Larissa began exploring, letting her tongue run along the other’s lips. Brienne immediately hummed in delight, leading to the blonde principal to start nipping and putting more playfulness into the kiss.

The more hums and gasps and sighs Larissa pulled from the blonde’s lips, the more encouraged she felt to heat up the kiss, until the two of them finally had to pull away for oxygen after a solid couple of minutes of breathless kissing.

Brienne blushed and looked away, as Larissa met the her gaze.

“Was that alright…?” Larissa asked.

Brienne blushed even harder and bit her lip, nodding slowly. Her gaze returned to the other woman’s.

“Perfect” Brienne whispered.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to blush and look away. Before Larissa could look back at Brienne, the knight pressed her lips against the blonde principal’s.

The kiss reignited, this time more heated and just as passionate. It started to become sloppy, tongues intertwining and breath mingling. Moans and groans escaping both women’s mouths.

Larissa’s hand on the other woman’s right began to push up on her thigh, riding Brienne’s night gown further and further up. Her other hand found purchase behind Brienne’s neck.

Brienne’s hands then sprung for Larissa’s hips, pulling the woman practically in her lap. Larissa groaned and bucked her hips into the knights lap. Brienne’s eyes threatened to roll back.

“M-more more more…” Brienne chanted in a whimpering plea.

Larissa couldn’t deny the beautiful knight. She slid down off of the couch, and she guided Brienne to lay back on the couch. Brienne’s panting was erotic and loud, spurring Larissa on even more.

Kneeling in between Brienne’s legs and at the edge of the couch, Larissa looked up at the desperate woman.

It only now struck each woman what they were about to do.

But the exchanged glances solidified the fact that neither of them would regret it, and that they both wanted it just as bad as the other.

“Spread your legs for me, Darling…” Larissa breathed out in her sultry tone.

God Brienne felt sparks and waves of pleasure from this woman’s voice alone… She’d never felt this good before.

Brienne laid back all the way on the couch and immediately spread her legs for the blonde principal. Larissa sat herself right in front of Brienne’s core, rolling up her night gown and staring at the knights gleaming sex.

“W-what…?” Brienne stuttered, already starting to bliss out and confused as to why Larissa was merely staring.

“So pretty…” Larissa breathed out, entranced by Brienne and her dripping cunt.

Before Brienne could respond, Larissa had dove into her pussy. She wasted no time in slurping away at Brienne’s juices. Brienne’s hand jolted to Larissa’s hair, tightly grabbing her head by her pinned locks and shoving her further into her own cunt in desperation. Her other hand flew to the couch, scrunching the material in a tight fist.

“Ah ah AhhhHhH Larissa—” Brienne moaned out, her head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut.

Larissa licked through the woman’s folds, sucked and tapped her clit, bit and nipped at her inner thighs. All of this only made Brienne closer and louder. Her hold on Larissa’s hair tightened impossibly tight.

“Ah AhHhhHhhHh—!!!” Brienne cried out, her back arching and her hips jerking towards Larissa.

And when Larissa’s fingers began to circle Brienne’s entrance, and then actually entered the woman… Brienne lost it.

“God Lariss—AHHH…!!” Brienne screamed, “Faster FASTER—!!!” She begged.

The woman tore both her hands up towards her head. Larissa watched Brienne mesmerized the entire time. She added another finger and fucked her faster, fastening her lips to the woman clit. With a couple harsh sucks, Brienne snapped.

Brienne shed jolted back as she screamed through her orgasm. Her back arched even further, her body pulsed. She saw stars and her walls clenched hard around Larissa’s fingers.

“AH AH AH ahhh AhhhHhHH—!!” Brienne moaned and cried out.

Larissa watched jaw dropped as she fingered the woman through her orgasm.

She’d never seen anything so beautiful…

Once her cunt had stopped pulsating and clenching, Larissa slowly removed her digits. She just looked up at Brienne speechless.

Eventually, Brienne lowered her hands to reveal her hard blush.

“S-sorry… mm was too loud…” Brienne murmured.

Larissa shook her head with an open mouth. She promptly shut her mouth upon realizing how long she’d kept it open.

“No no, I… Was…. Was I that good..??” She breathlessly reassured her.

Brienne blushed furiously.

“I… I’d never… never you know…” Brienne whispered.

Larissa’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped again.

“Oh Lord, I didn’t even ask. I am so sorry, Darling—” the blonde principal began rambling.

But she was cut off by Brienne lunging forward, taking Larissa face in her hands, and smashing her lips against hers. She pulled away after a moment, and the other woman had her answer.

Brienne was beaming and Larissa couldn’t help the little smirk on her face.

“Perhaps a bath…” Larissa suggested softly.

“Don’t you…?” Brienne asked, concerned that Larissa hadn’t been helped.

But Larissa shook her head.

“Later. You need to be taken care of first, Darling.” She insisted.

Brienne blushed furiously yet again, before happily being led by Larissa to her private bathroom to take a bath together.

~~~

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

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owlarchivist · 1 year

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they are so real to me

#larissa weems #morticia addams #larissa #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams #morissa #gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #larissa x morticia #the addams family #they are so in love #and they were roommates #owl.archives

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mouse-of-dimitrescu · 5 months

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𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 🎄 #𝟷 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Elysian End ( nsfw )

WARNINGS: finger-fucking, fluff, slight mention of battles, fluff

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚏

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Brienne was due to come back from battle that Friday morning and you found yourself looking out the window every five minutes in anticipation — hoping that you would see your lover walking down the path.

You and Brienne lived in a small cottage which proved perfect for the two of you. It was cloaked in crawling plants, you had recently planted flowers outside the door to make your abode look more homely. Brienne — particularly on Spring days — liked to sit by the pond just outside and seek comfort in the nature of her home.

At this time of year, your cottage was enveloped in snow. On the inside, you had decorated it with a small ornamental tree — on the top of the tree stood a seven-pointed star — for the seven parts of the singular deity of whon Brienne worshipped.

In this winter time, you wore bulky fluffy coats that reminded you if Viking attire and since it was snowing, you found it difficult to even catch sight of Brienne. That morning, you had made a batch of Brienne's favourite chocolate chip cookies and made sure that the house was warmed up by the fireplace. Around midday, you caught sight of a figure approaching the cottage and without hesitation, you immediately ran outside.

It was Brienne. Strands of hair covered her face, dampened and frosty. Her lips were a bit cracked and she clutched onto her sling bag, naturally smiling when she saw you. You ran up to her and she instantly dropped her bag, twirling you around.

" Brienne! I missed you so much!" You exclaimed happily, kissing Brienne's frozen lips.

Brienne smiled and kissed you again. " I missed you too, in so glad to be back home." She said with a delighted expression. Brienne loved her work but she was obviously tired from her long journey.

You led Brienne inside and helped her out of her armour, taking her bag and placing it in the washing room. While Brienne bathed, you prepared tea for the both of you, humming to yourself. She soon came downstairs, wrapping her fingers around the cup — seeking for warmth.

" Thank you." She said softly, looking over at you and wondering if you had changed slightly since the last time you saw each other.

While sitting on the sofa, you and Brienne cuddled close together under a warm blanket and sipped your hot drinks, loving the quiet and cozy intimacy. The fireplace crackled in front of you, the flames were twitching and dancing around each other like wings.

Brienne took the last gulp of her drink before placing it aside on the small table. She looked over at you and kissed your cheek. You smiled and ran absift hand through her damp hair.

" I love you. " Brienne said, picking up your free hand and kissing it gently. Your heart practically melted at this gesture and you placed your cup aside as well, coming to hug Brienne tightly.

" I love you too." You whispered softly. " It's terrifying when you're gone."

Brienne sighed and gave you a little squeeze. " I know. I don't enjoy being away from you for such a long time but I am dedicated—". You cut Brienne of with a smile and a look of understanding.

" Yes of course." You nodded and kissed Brienne's cheek.

" Thank you, love. I missed you so much. Maybe we can do something to celebrate... now that I'm home?"

" Such as?" You pulled away with a smile, looking into Brienne's sparkling blue eyes.

" I said I missed you but I didn't just miss your personality and love. I missed your body too. " Brienne whispered, blushing slightly but ignoring the reddening if her cheeks. You felt her fingers gently tug at the ribbon on the waistband of your nightgown. You let Brienne tug the garment off your shoulders. The nightgown fell behind you on the couch and Brienne immediately noticed that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

" I missed your body too. Every inch of it." You smiled, coming to straddle Brienne. Her eyes wandered over your bare figure and her thumbs traced over your nipples, feeling them harden under her touch.

" I can see that." She smiled and pulled her top off. She removed her pants too — with your aid — and you found yourself kneeling in front of her... naturally.

Your hands made their way to Brienne's knees and you gently spread her legs, revealing her glistening cunt. She watched your every move, her head leaning back slightly on the cushions. You looked up at her for certified consent and she whispered a 'yes', giving you a small but needy nod. You smiled, not wanting to tease Brienne or wadte any time. She had a long journey.

Your tongue licked a stripe up Brienne's folds, separating them, she gasped at the sensation and tried to grab hold of the couch. But that never worked. So when you began to enter a finger inside of her, gently pumping it, she grabbed hold of your hair, wanting to feel your tongue against her sensitive bud again.

" Please... another finger." Brienne moaned, feeling your lips around her clit.

You happily added another finger and continued to thrust your digits inside of Brienne, curling them upwards. Your lover moaned and gasped, locking your body between her legs in desperation. You could both hear how wet she was, her slick coated your fingers and mouth — which you lapped up happily.

" Oh, fuck." Brienne shut her eyes and rested her head back fully, furrowing her brow. You let your free hand squeeze her waist and travel up her torso, eventually fondling with her breast. She moaned at this and her one hand let go of your hair, copying your actions in an urgent attempt to reach her high.

Your fingers were moving rapidly, picking up their pace. You heard countless moans spill out of Brienne's mouth, urging you on. You looked up at her to see her cheeks flaming red, her eyelids shut and her lips curled up with satisfaction as she moaned your name.

" Love... faster. I'm almost — fuck....there." Brienne groaned, almost unable to form full sentences.

You smiled at this and obeyed your lover, wanting to give her anything and everything. You added a third finger, Brienne's eyes shot open as she felt you stretch her walls. She let out a loud groan and held tightly onto your hair again.

" Fuck! Oh gods..." Her head tilted from side to side as you continued to pleasure her.

Soon enough, you felt Brienne's walls contract around your fingers, her clit twitching under your tongue and you knew she was close. Knowing this, you increased your pace, licking at her cunt and burying your fingers deep inside of her.

" Oh gods! Love—" Brienne came with a loud cry of your name and a few vulgar murmurings that escaped her puffy lips. You helped her ride out her high, watching her as she writhed and wantonly squeezed your body against her, her legs wrapping around you even more.

Brienne breathed heavily. She eventually opened her eyes and you slowed down your pace. She smiled breathlessley down at you and you kissed her thighs lovingly.

" I'm going to pull out." You said softly. Brienne nodded and felt you slip your fingers out of her. Her legs loosened from their grip around you and spread themselves, allowing you to come up to your lover and kiss her gently. Brienne tasted herself on your tongue and upon this realisation, she immediately deepened the kiss.

" I missed that." Brienne whispered against your lips.

" I missed that too." You smiled and held her gently. " I'm going to get a cloth and things to clean you up with, then we can cuddle. " You smiled. Brienne nodded tiredly and waited for you to return.

You came back with a cloth and some water, handing the water to Brienne. You cleaned her up and she sipped from the cup. Afterwards, you came to hold her again, kissing her cheek.

" You definitely got stronger." You said with a giggle.

Brienne laughed. " Why do you say that?" She asked, clearly amused.

You softly stroked Brienne's thigh and she smiled, knowing what you were referring to. " You very much trapped me, Set Brienne." You chuckled.

" Apologies, my lady. I hope your back is okay." Brienne said formally, but her lips still held onto that mischievous smile.

You laughed at the formalities and ruffled Brienne's hair. " More than okay. I got a free back massage. I just noticed your strength. It was hot."

Brienne smiled with a blush and looked down, she eventually kissed your neck in a gentle manner. You wrapped your arms around her waist and kissed her collarbone.

" I love you very much." Brienne mumbled against your lips, ghosting them with her words. Your heart melted. She made you feel immensely dizzy.

" I love you too. Very much." You smiled. That's when Brienne's lips met your own and you felt like you were falling all over again — what a brilliant fall that was.

Brienne and you sat by the fireplace for the rest of the evening, talking about her battles and victories. She spared gory details for poor Podrick and gave you a brief rundown of what happened. You could listen to get talk for hours. She spoke of her interests and questioned you about yours — you both acted as though you had not had this conversation before. It was comforting to experience the same moment all over again. It was a reminder that these memories could never perish — no sword nor diction could defeat it.

It was beginning to get late. Brienne yawned tiredly and rested her head on your shoulder, entertwining her fingers with yours. You smiled and kissed Brienne's head.

" It feels so much better to have you home." You whispered softly, enjoying the peaceful moment with your lover.

" It's good to be home. And to know that I'm safe now." Brienne smiled and shut her eyes for one brief moment.

" You tired?" You asked, sitting up slightly. Brienne nodded and got up.

" Yes I would fancy a good sleep."

After getting ready for bed and completing your nightly routines, you both lay down under the covers, shivering slightly from the cold. Brienne wrapped her strong arms around you and held you against her chest.

You traced lines over the minimum of her exposed skin and kissed her jawline, cheek and eventually lightly pecked her lips. Your lover smiled at you and kissed you back with the same sweet affection.

" Since it's a celebratory time of the year, I do want to visit the nearby septry and pay my respects while I'm home. Just for an hour." Brienne explained softly.

" Sounds good. For peaceful contemplation." You nodded and held more tightly onto Brienne.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #gwendolineuniverse #smutty christmas #brienne of tarth x reader #larissa weems

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