#ilsym

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“In Death I’ll Be In Good Company.”

[[ Wilhemina x Female Reader ]]

{{ R happens to be a Mortician before and during the events of the apocalypse, as an essential to any Outpost they are brought and positioned at Outpost 3. PT 1-? || This is my first ever fic, please be kind and any comments are appreciated! I decided that this might work best in parts. Many thanks to Bunny @versonstar for giving me the confidence to share my writing. }}

Y/N hadn’t figured out why she was directly chosen by The Cooperative to be one of the saved; especially since she was fresh out of mortuary college, with nothing more than her paid internship and apprenticeship under her belt. There had to be plenty of other Morticians, Funeral Directors, and Embalmers that held a higher place on the list—but; there was a reasoning she didn’t know about, and could only briefly touch upon with an objective lens. The Cooperation wanted those freshly graduated, as their knowledge to the inner workings of death and decay as well as disposing was foremost in their memory.

Y/N watched the rest of the so-called named ‘Grey’s’ rush around, putting on their drably colored yet ornately designed uniforms. A tall woman, dressed in a trench coat shoved a bundle of black into Y/N’s arms.

“Miss Y/L/N, Ms. Venable decided because of your knowledge and status, you will be given these clothes to wear. No exceptions.”

The woman was gone before an utterance of protested confusion could leave the lips of Y/N. Y/N had only been briefly introduced to the intimidating superiority of Ms. Wilhemina Venable, whom she was only allowed to address as Ms. Venable. It was in front of the rest of the Grey’s where Ms. Venable discussed their position in this outpost, the rules that had to be strictly followed, and that they should be grateful ‘such lowly, pathetic humans like them’ were given a chance to survive.

Everyone was scared of the woman, but Y/N found herself heavily intrigued. Especially the way the cane of the woman moved like an extension of herself- of Venable’s entire being, words and all. Y/N caught herself remembering the way Wilhemina Venable’s dark gaze briefly met hers as a shorter, older woman managed to whisper something into Ms. Venable’s ear. Shrugging on the last of the accentuating black fabric, Y/N came to realize the shorter woman was informing her of Y/N job post the apocalypse...

Y/N put everything into what Ms. Venable said, committing each rule and the layout of the Outpost to memory, especially to where she would dwell- way below the others. With what she was most comfortable with. The dead.

Death was something Y/N had always been comfortable with since a young age, no, she hadn’t experienced Death- save for when her beloved childhood cat, Corey passed. It was like a revelation then. Death wasn’t something to be feared, Y/N reasoned. Death was a promise made to you since the day you took your first breath—when you were ripped screaming from your mother’s womb. There was comfort in that. A promise never to be taken back.

Y/N slid on her tyvech suit- two actually, then her safety goggles, plastic full face covering layering gloves as well before snapping on the heavy weighted vest of radioactive proof material as an apron. Was she supposed to wear all of this on top of the corseted black dress Venable had given her to wear?

Good grief- but she wouldn’t say anything on it, Y/N found it a compliment to be given the color to wear as The Fist, Miss Meade....and Ms. Wilhemina Venable herself. Was she considered as an equal?

Entering the room, she saw four corpses laid out on metal slabs, three had thermal rashes and blasts smattering across their skin as if an artist- full of rage and fury painted their skin red- revealing muscle and sinew underneath. Only one of the corpses was untainted from an outward perspective.

Y/N moved to grab both her high end GM probe and low end GM pancake probe, readying herself to document the exposure.

“They didn’t make it in time.” A voice, clear, concise, and emanating from around the echoing walls and ceiling of Y/N’s ‘mortuary’ rang out.

Ms. Wilhemina Venable had made her appearance, emphasizing her lording and frightening demeanor by making herself known with just her signature voice. Didn’t she have a cane? Y/N caught herself thinking as she nearly dropped the expensive radioactive detecting equipment, wide eyes falling onto the mysterious figure of Ms. Venable. Oh, that’s right- this woman’s entity was more than just her body. It was her cane-; and her voice too.

Y/N noticed how Venable was keeping safely away from the corpses and by extension- Y/N herself.

“Before they were brought to the Outpost. They were immediately killed on sight. Our protocol’s are strict Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yes, Ms. Venable, but I still need to check each of them as per regulations-“ Y/N said only when she knew it was safe to reply, as something deep within her told her to never speak over Ms. Venable.

“Ms. Y/L I am familiar with the guidelines given and taught to you as a licensed mortician.” Venable cut off Y/N to which she immediately silence to let Venable speak. “But you’re going to have to forgo a /few/ of those rules for mine.” The caramel depths of Wilhemina’s eyes were enrapturing, but Y/N carefully focused herself where exactly the older woman was staring.

The one without any radioactive burns. Y/N was silent, processing what could be the cause of that poor Grey’s death. Were they in contact with the other two? Or were they...

———there.

Y/N spotted it on the left side of neck on the femoral artery. An entrance wound of a bullet, followed with the bruising of a silencer. The hesitation lingered, two sharp taps of a cane brought Y/N at attention.

“Yes, I understand, Ms. Venable.” It was as if a wordless pact had been formed, and something from Wilhemina told her to never question a body that might come down here other than the acceptable Acute Radiation Syndrome.

Wilhemina Venable’s presence never changed, even after hearing a verbal affirmation. Though there was a minute, quick twitch of her lip. She must have been pleased, and something other than respect stirred within Y/N stomach.

Venable’s cane smoothly guided the rest of synched and perfectly imposing frame, just as Y/N imagined. The woman held more that just her weight in the cane. Back to Y/N, Venable abruptly stopped and tapped her cane once more.

“Ms Venable?” Y/N answered, eyes having never left the seamless perfection of Venable.

“Are you wearing what I gave you?”

“Yes, Ms. Venable, thank you for granting me these clothes.” Y/N answered, genuine gratefulness showing through on the last bit as she flipped on the GM probes.

“Good.” Wilhemina Venable answered, swiftly- confidently taking off back to the world of the living. Someone as impeccable as she, was ruling like the promise Y/N kept to her heart.

In the meantime here’s some smooches to keep you busy 💖😘

THANK YOU DEE AND KEEP IT UP YOU GONNA GET SMOOCHED

I'm fully vaccinated I cant wait until we can start smooching the homies again 😔💖

MOTH IM GONNA STRANNGLE YOU AND YOUR DOG

12. Favorite color?: Ahh, it's a tie between red and pink. ;;; 

17. What do you love?: Well, I love you and Keith for sure, y'all are the best! I also love food and horror related things. :3

18. Obsession?: I'm not sure what I've been more obsessed with..vampires or cute clothes. Haha.

21. Kiss or hug?: Both?!?!?!

32. Favorite show?: The Punisher!! O:

GRRR BARK BARK WOOF GRR