#whilemina x reader

 Ever since you were a kid you managed to get yourself into the strangest situations, and they always seemed to outdo each other. About now you were starting to think you reached the peak of life experiences, after the apocalypse what else was there for you to see?

When the end came you weren’t too phased. You just watched things happen to you and accepted them, not that there was anything else you could do. But you didn’t panic. You didn’t cry for your lost life. There wasn’t much to lose either way. 

You met Timothy eventually. You had time to think about all of these questions he kept asking you, but you didn’t really. For the most part you were numb. You knew he was trying to get to know you, given that you were in this situation together for a reason, and sure, you talked to him, you cracked a few jokes to ease the tension. You told him a bit about your life in the past year or so, and listened to his and to his plans for the future studying at UCLA. 

After some time you came to understand that you two were supposed to be some sort of modern Adam and Eve, the new beginning to humanity. The both of you were told about your perfect DNA, and that just magnified the voice inside you saying that this was a big mistake. You didn’t say anything about it because this was the only reason you were alive, but deep down you knew this was wrong. You were sitting in someone else’s spot. 

Sometimes you would look at Timothy and feel like there was a rock sitting in your stomach. He was good looking, sure, for a guy. But that was just the problem. You never had any actual relationships, you always distanced yourself from people. You did feel attractions, you did feel love, but not for men. You didn’t hate kids, but also didn’t want to have any. Especially not now with this guy you were stuck to. You also didn’t hate him. None of this was his fault, so you pushed the thought aside for the most part.

Two weeks later you were sent to Outpost 3, and soon enough you met the person in charge. Wilhemina Venable and her perfect everything. She showed you to your rooms and explained the purple-gray hierarchy, and at that you heard that voice again, telling you this was wrong, surviving And also being part of “the elite”?

Timothy asked a few questions, and you almost shivered at the tone in her voice. Very determined and void of emotions. You understood the sureness of everything she said and it didn’t leave any space for you to answer or question. You didn’t have anything to say really. You weren’t that interested in the logistics of this whole thing. If you started thinking about it you knew it would be hard to stop.

“The house rules are simple. You will refer to me only as Ms. Venable.” she said, looking straight into your eyes. She also said something about not leaving the building, not that you were planning on running away any time soon. The ice in her demeanour was impressive, you wondered for a second if her makeup and hair had looked this perfect when the bombs fell. If her outfit looked as crisp and if the grip on her cane was as strong, or if she was holding the cane at all. You could have assumed it was just an accessory, it didn’t look out of place on the hand of someone as elegant as her, but something told you otherwise.

You must have looked spaced out because Timothy was staring at you. She raised her voice just a bit, adding  “No unauthorised copulation of any kind, under any circumstances.” And at that you felt that rock get a bit less heavy, relieved you wouldn’t be forced into it at least for now.

“The two grays you saw on the way in should work as a reminder” 

Sure you were happy with the rule, but not everyone would, and it made you a bit uneasy to think about the tension that would form after a while. Killing people for it felt unnecessary and if there were other purples you knew there would be complaining to be heard. Just something else to look forward to!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the first week there you mostly listened to the other purples blabber on about their lives, and all the things they didn’t get to do and all the money they didn’t get to spend on all these useless things. There was arguing all the time, no one seemed to agree on anything except all of what they lost, and pitying themselves for the situation they were in. You appreciated Dinah’s attempts at motivating everyone and keeping a positive mindset, but all of those empty words fell flat. 

One day (or night? Or afternoon? You weren’t sure) everyone was sitting in the music room, purples in the couches, Mallory sitting on the floor next to Coco, some grays standing around and Venable at the farthest table seat from you, reading a book. You could sense the silence wouldn’t last long. It was only a matter of time until Mr. Gallant started complaining about the song playing on repeat, but before he could, you tried something.

“Let’s say we had a cat at the outpost”

Everyone looked at you curiously, a cat? Why would there be a cat?

“What would you guys name it?”

Coco looked at you as if you had just offended her family name “I don’t know why or how you plan to get a cat in here. Have you lost your mind Y/N?”

You chuckled at that “I don’t want a cat, it’s just a question, to get our heads away from the whole apocalypse thing”

She made a face at the stupidity of your question “I don’t know, probably Oscar or Felix or something”

“Ugh Coco don’t be basic. You know, I would name it Rip Taylor, or Larry Kramer. Or any of the great gay radicals of the 70’s and 80’s” Gallant said gettig more exited about the question.

Andre said “Judas, or Alejandro. Cats are traitors”

Gallant smirked “I see what you did there” 

Evie leaned forward, cup swaying in her hand “I don’t know about cats but I quite like poodles. Maybe even a greyhound. I would name him Mr. Chandon. After the champagne of course”

“My grandma had a cat, she was called Pumpkin.” said Timothy.

Coco scoffed “Let me guess, was she orange? How original”

“Actually she was white” he answered with a malicious smile.

Coco tried to change the attention from that interaction “Alright, Y/N you asked the question and you haven’t answered it yet. What would you name it?” 

You gathered everything in you to make a serious face. You waited for a bit until everyone had their eyes on you and answered “Fish.”

At that the room erupted with laughter, after a minute or so you wiped your eyes so that your makeup wouldn’t get ruined, your cheeks already hurting. You managed to straighten up a bit and looked across the room to Venable. You’d imagine she would call you all dumb and set a new rule that kept everyone from laughing, but instead she just looked at you with her eyes slighly narrowed, the rest of her face covered by the book.

“How about puppy?” Mallory said. Everyone laughed even harder.

Your voice was now high pitched, you struggled to get the words out all at once "You see… that's a great one, but i think Bark is even better" 

"Come here Bark" said Andre, laughing harder still and slapping his knee.

You knew this would make you look stupid, because it was. But still you welcomed a laugh after all this time, and only something this dumb would work. 

After that you took it upon yourself to keep people entertained. You wouldn't let your fears show in front of all these fancy people, especially not Venable. It would be much better if they thought you were funny and light hearted than to find out about the monsters you kept sitting in your room.

You knew she could crush you with a finger anytime, and you found yourself thinking about her way more than you should. Was it her looks? Was it the attitude? You had always been one to look in wonder at the strong confident women you met throughout your life. But you also convinced yourself you didn't need anyone. 

The things you had lived through were more than enough to confirm it. You always managed to figure things out on your own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the third week you understood Mr. Gallant’s annoyance at the song constantly playing, even though you only had to assemble in the music room for the “Cocktails” once a day. Everyone was thankful about how oddly soundproof that room was, you couldn’t hear a thing down the corridor, and for that reason it would be mostly empty for the rest of the day. 

Despite that annoyance about the song, you still spent quite some time there. Ever since you stepped into the room for the first time, the shelves completely lined with books called out to you. For a while, the free time you didn’t spend reading, you spent hovering about the shelves, registering the titles and reading the synopsis for the ones you didn’t recognise.

The other thing about the room that called out to you was the piano, just sitting abandoned. It would probably get very dusty if not for the greys who had to keep the outpost spotless. You were surprised no one had played anything yet, after all, you were stuck with a bunch of rich people, and in your head every rich person had piano classes when they were little. At least that was the type of rich person you always wanted to be.

You had been anything but rich before the apocalypse, but you did know some music theory. You were a band kid and played classical guitar since you were little, and you found yourself thinking about how lucky you were that your mom put you in those classes. Music did become a very important aspect of your life very fast, always the thing you could use to escape, to soothe whatever mood you found yourself in. The end of the world, of course, couldn’t come without irony, and the one thing that used to keep you sane was starting to have the opposite effect.

Piano was most definitely not your instrument. You loved to listen to it, but to play anything you needed a lot of practise. Still, by now you wanted anything to drown out the voice calling the occupants of interplanetary craft, so every now and then you would try to go by ear on the chords for a pop song you remembered, and mess around with it until some other purple entered the room.

One evening during the Cocktail hour Coco asked you to play something. “We all know you can play, just please, I’m so sick of this song” She said looking at the radio with a disgusted look on her face.

“Ehrm, I don’t actually know any piece all the way through. Piano isn’t really my instrument so most of the music I remember would also not sound right.”

“You don’t know it all the way through, but that means you know at least a little something. Go on darling don't be shy” Evie said, and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy playing in front of these fancy people. 

You sat down on it’s large bench, you wanted to at least try something classical, to try and show them that you weren’t absolutely uncultured. Choosing Moonlight Sonata might have been predictable, but at least it wasn’t Fur Elise. The first movement was all you could remember, but it was the piece you knew the best. In the end you were met with applause, to your surprise.

“Ah splendid! I had no idea poor people even knew about Beethoven!” Evie was certainly one for theatrics, the way she overreacted made you giggle, almost letting you forget the shakiness in your hands.

“Play something you can sing to, I heard you sing before, you have a lovely voice” Timothy said with a big smile, and you realised just then how that sounded. When did he even hear you sing? By the way Coco and Gallant looked at eachother you could tell they had gossiped about you before, and the thought that the whole outpost might be thinking about it too made you want to puke. 

To hide your discomfort you started playing the first song you could think of, and while you played the only thought on your mind was Ms. Venable. What if she thought you and Timothy had a thing? Would she kill you both without even hearing you out? Somehow that wasn’t the part that disturbed you the most, though you couldn’t quite understand what was. She didn’t hang around the music room much during the day, and when she did she would either hide behind a book or have an argument with someone and leave. Right now you hoped she wasn’t even looking at you and didn’t hear the tone of what he said.

After a while the purples naturally expected your daily performance, and even suggested songs and sang along. You got into the habit of going to the music room when everyone was busy elsewhere to remember chords to songs and practise, and the mood did seem to lighten up. But despite that, every now and then Ms. Venable would look bitterly at the piano, and a feeling of uneasiness would settle within you. How long would it last until she ordered for the damn piano to be destroyed? Or maybe she would just throw you out of the outpost and feed you to the monsters?

Her coldness toward you sure worked at keeping you down, not that anyone would know. Despite being the one always coming up with jokes and ways to make everyone get into friendly conversation, there was that constant sadness. Every minute you spent alone in your room was a minute you spent thinking about the past and all the things that went wrong in your life. The memories from your parents always came up, before you ran away from living with your dad in search for a life you would enjoy. You hated him. You couldn’t help not to.

Every time you said 'thank you" a heavy silence would fill the room. As if the words 'you're welcome' would burn a hole through his mouth. All you ever wanted was reassurance, to feel heard and to know there was someone to lean onto. But that hadn't been the case, not then, and it wouldn't be any different after the world collapsed.

At night you would let the tears take away the weight on your soul. You would remember when you were a child, crying in your mom's arms because of your scraped knees, and wish she had never let go and walked away. Some nights you questioned the Gods on their decision to take her when they could have just taken you, of cursing the earth with your broken form, where hers was light, and sweet, and kind and perfect.

You couldn't help but feel like a thief, sitting in bed holding within you something as wonderful as life itself. As you skimmed through your dusty cabinet of feelings, you could find nothing but guilt. And the thought of it made you feel even more guilty. Until there was just guilt everywhere again. It was all too familiar by now. On the inside of your pillows there was guilt. On the table by those poetry books, hidden in the corners but always in plain sight there was guilt. On each thread of each garment you wore, there was guilt. Guilt in the sky. Guilt in the sea. Guilt in the perfume of flowers and in the taste of fruit.

Nothing you ever tried would make it go away. Not the nicotine or the alcohol. Not the sleepless nights or the unconscious days. And every time you sank lower into it you wondered if the warmth of someone holding you would. Just the same way your mother's embrace would make the pain go away.

The end of the world brought a numbness with it at first, but it gradually receded to the guilty conscience and with that came your inability to sleep.

It was one of the unspoken rules to not be out of bed at night, because someone could assume you were sneaking to be with someone breaking the actual copulating rule, and also because everyone had to be on time for breakfast.

Still, after a couple of days of waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night or not being able to fall asleep at all, you decided to try and walk around the outpost to see if you could find sleep hidden in some corner somewhere.

The eeriness of the place was actually comforting. The silence and the soft shadows that the candle in your hand casted for some reason did work at calming you down, and after a few days it was your new “bad” habit.

That was of course until that night.

At some point in the night you found yourself in the corridor that led to the music room, staring at the door. It had the tiniest crack open, and through it you could see candlelight. 

At first you just assumed someone forgot to put the candles out, but as you came up to the door you realised someone was still up. And that someone was playing the piano? You opened the door a tiny bit wider to peek inside. Yes, someone was playing. That someone was playing what you recognised to be the third movement from Moonlight sonata, and was playing it perfectly. It sounded furious. And passionate. It was like every note was rippling through your very bones, you could almost feel yourself vibrating along with its anger. You simply couldn’t turn away from it, the melody wrapped itself around you and you could not budge even if you wanted to.

That someone, funnily enough, was none other than Ms. Venable herself. Once you realised it was her it was already too late to think about running back to your room. As the last chord rang she looked straight into your eyes, a look so unbearably cold that it burned.

Her hands floated away from the keys and toward her cane, and with its help she turned around fully and stood up. She stood her ground, and after a second or two she tapped her cane.

That was when you realised you were holding your breath and your mouth was open. You blinked a couple times in disbelief as you struggled for words.

“That was… it was beautiful” Seemed to be all you could get out.

She made her way toward you slowly, but you could tell how angry she was by the deafening tic her cane produced with each step. “What on earth are you doing up?” She said punctuating each word.

“I-” She grabbed your chin forcefully, making it impossible to look away from her.

“I couldn’t sleep” You managed to whisper

She narrowed her eyes at you and said “Make this the first and last time I find you outside your suite after hours without permission.”

You nodded stiffly before she let go of your face, and as you turned around to leave you bid her goodnight. Madness? Was that the thing running in your veins? She elected to ignore you and with that you slipped off back to your room, the grooves of her fingerless leather gloves still imprinted onto your skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss girl, you have to drop by my room one of these days so I can lend you some concealer! Those eyebags are offensive to be honest." Coco said while sitting across from you at the dinner table, Mr. Gallant nodding in agreement.

"Sure thing Coco" 

Up until that night you managed to sleep a few hours per night, but after it, things got even worse than before. Three days had passed and you doubted you had slept as many hours.

Since googling how to sleep wasn’t an option anymore, you tried remembering on your own the sort of thing some health wellness website would advise. Drinking water: you did drink water? That one is always the solution they give. Eating a healthy,varied and balanced diet: yes of course. Your jelly mystery cubes surely gave you a wide range of options. Meditating: you tried a couple times, but on your own all you managed to do was sit cross legged for hours trying to fight off the thoughts. Working out? The last resort.

Running around the outpost didn’t seem like a very good idea, so you just stayed in your room doing push-ups, squats, sit-ups and lifting books in your pajamas one early morning before breakfast.

But considering the aforementioned nutrition situation, it wasn’t surprising how after almost an hour of repeating those exercises you felt dizzy and nauseous. You were sat down on the floor, back against your bed and head resting on your hands, which in turn rested on your bent knees, trying very hard to not pass out, when you heard a knock on the door.

You assumed it was a gray coming to help you get ready for breakfast, even though it felt too early for that, and lifting your gaze toward the door you mumbled “Come in, it’s open.”

To your surprise, the person who pushed the door open wasn’t dressed in gray, but in black, cane ticking in announcement of her arrival.