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Mar 30, 2020

Carpe Noctem || Part 4

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: none today, kids

Word count: 5329 (prepare yourself)

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 4 finally! NZ is in quarantine, so i’ve been trying to write and gif a lot more! expect another update soon! let me know what you guys think!

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, hazydespair, @mp938368, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy, @um-well, @OnevergrowoldnevergrowoldO, @jay-ta-blog, @wildwood-trails, @stephhaniee14, @flowerniche, @sanfranciscroc, @little-miss-mischief1, @pami-yui, @lex-bb13, @deepblueswift13, @allknowingnerd, @shawnme-boy, @whymalu, @simonsbluee, @jons-angel, @whymalu, @mixtapes-books, @amazing1rl, @ambrosia-v-black, @souriemickey, @toads4days, @xsar-bearx, @lunarlung, @bubble-t-r-o-u-b-l-e, @cutiepiepotatoes, @bangtan-savage

Masterlist here

Just family.

If you weren't so opposed to the idea of making a scene, then you would have confronted your father about why he was such a deceiver.

It was clearly not strictly family. After you had gone to your room to change, you met your siblings down in the formal dining room, where they had been drinking and waiting for you to arrive. You all moved to the dining room. Roman, Ares and Lyon sitting on either side, your father taking his legendary seat at the head of the table. However, with Kylo sitting next to your Dad, the only space available was opposite, also next to your father.

Phasma was also seated at the table, thankfully separating Ares and yourself, which you did not mind one bit. In fact, a part of you was almost excited to catch up with Gwen after all this time.

As you stared at your food in front you, silence permeated the room. Save for the lone conversation between your siblings, few words exchanged, otherwise it was a tense, quiet affair. The dining room was huge, with a table fit for easily 20 people and with the 7 of you spread around one half of it, you still had a sizeable space between each other.

You gathered it was your fathers disposition that put everyone on edge. Sitting at the head of the table, nursing a glass of amber liquid. His food completely untouched as he watched everyone. The only one who seemed completely unperturbed by it was Kylo, eating the rack of lamb with a citrus and blue cheese salad without a care in the world it seemed. He was his usual stoic form, though unperturbed by the lack of conversation or apparent awkwardness that lingered, he ate dinner and kept to himself.

Your mind wandered to what Hux had told you about him earlier. About how he was your fathers sword and shield, apparently unflinching in his ability to spill blood. You had been gone for a number of years, and before you left for good you were still rather young - however you were perceptive. Due to your perceptiveness however, you knew he hadn't been around for a long time, not since you were a kid. So where the fuck did he come from?

"Is it always like this?" As conversation ensued at the other end of the table, you leaned over to Gwen to whisper quietly.

She chewed through a piece of meat, swallowing before answering, "We don't usually have dinner like this. Ever, really."

You nodded, not really receiving an answer to your question - you wanted to know if everything was usually this tense. Or if the day of Mallory's funeral was such a reason. "Good to know that we won't have to be subjected to this too often then."

"Don't worry," Phasma smiled down at you, "This isn't awkward because of you."

Your eyes drifted down the table, Roman and Ares laughing about something quietly to themselves - Lyon's eyes however - were locked on you. A hard stare as he pushed his food around his plate, haphazardly shoving some into his mouth before looking over at your Dad.

"Sure." you offered, though not completely convinced of her assurance; however kind of a gesture it was intended to be. You knew it was because of Mallory's funeral, that was the predominant proverbial wound, though your presence was pouring salt into said wound.

It made it so much worse, this you were sure.

Roman's voice quietened your internal monologue, speaking your name to gather your attention. You looked over to see him looking at you. "I'm going to Starkiller later on. You wanna come with?"

Starkiller was one of the only legitimate businesses your family had. One that wasn't used to launder money like the Supremacy, it was purely for profit. Though as you grew up you guessed it was your father's way of keeping your brother out of trouble. He had something to do, something to look after, and it was away from the dangerous dealings that could prove fatal. It was a club on the outskirt of your father's turf, under Roman's management though you didn't think he did much 'work' while there.

"What time were you thinking?" You spoke quietly, as not to disturb other conversation happening at the table and not to alert anyone eavesdropping. Your eyes flickered over to your new bodyguard, eating quietly, not even looking at you.

Roman shrugged, "After dinner sometime."

You nodded, "I'm a little jet lagged still. I might have a nap and come later?" You didn't want to go particularly, and you were definitely not jet lagged. To the contrary, you felt quite awake, you just had other ideas and perhaps it could prove a useful alibi.

"Sounds good." He smiled, then went back to eating food off his plate.

"How's school?" It was now your father's voice that pulled your attention. He looked at you while he asked, still not having touched his food. Only nursing a glass and looking over his family.

"It's going okay, thanks."

Phasma piped in next to you. "What do you study exactly? I don't think I've ever actually asked."

"I have a double major; law and psychology." You nodded, it sounded like a brag though you didn't intend for it to be. Although other members of your family looked down on education, others did not.

"Wow, interesting choice. Impressive." Phasma shot you a little smirk.

"You going to be ready to be my lawyer soon?" Roman joked from down the table.

"Or mine." Your father spoke up.

You gave them a half smile in return. Unable to tell the truth- that you had no intention of being a lawyer, it was just something you were studying because you wanted to possess the knowledge of the judicial law system and all the rules in place. You didn't particularly have intentions of breaking the law but if you did... then it would prove extremely fruitful. Psychology was another interest, you found it imperative to understanding your enemies - not that you had many of those either. Yet.

But you were the daughter of Andrew Snoke, and being made to feel so powerless in your youth gave you a complex as you grew up. You needed to acquire knowledge like no one had in your family before, and maybe then you would feel worthy. Powerful.

Dinner passed by quickly. As soon as everyone had finished, your father offered to move it to the office in the west wing of the manor for more drinks. You were going to decline, playing the excuse of jet lag almost immediately, however, you decided to acquiesce and have one drink. For Mallory.

Lyon and Ares started racking up the polished balls on the pool table, setting up for a game. Roman talked lightly with your father, pouring drinks from a crystal decanter for everyone who wanted one. Kylo was back to a dark corner of the room; finding a seat to watch over everyone and smoke a cigarette. He didn't fraternize with the others, or try to relax with a friendly game of pool. Always stoic and always working evidently.

You followed Gwen, finding a seat near the tall open windows facing the backyard. Curtains parted slightly, cool breeze blowing in faintly. Too dark to see out but the fresh air helped ease your mind, if only for a moment.

"Here." Gwen offered you a cigarette from her pack and you kindly accepted. A horrible habit, you knew, but to you it was a small price to pay for stress relief. A hit of nicotine helped your thoughts calm down, and deprived any ill feelings purchase in the forefront of your mind. You could have a few moments not totally at the behest of your anxiety or depression.

"Thank you." You accepted, along with the flame she held up so you could light it. Inhaling deeply, you gave yourself a second to appreciate the reprieve before you exhaled. And then braved to ask Gwen a question. "So come on, be honest with me."

Her pale eyes met yours, and quirked a brow. "I almost always am."

A short laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks for the honesty." Your eyes drifted around everyone, to see if anyone was paying particular attention. "But I mean... how serious is my Dad about all this bodyguard shit?"

"I'd say pretty serious. He assigned me to Roman after all."

This made you sit forward. "Really?" That was particularly serious. "I thought it was a sexist thing, that he didn't think I could take care of myself but, huh..." You sat back in the chair, thrown for a loop. You didn't think it was really that serious. Sure, there were aspects of Mallory's death suspicious but he was on high alert. Enough to warrant some of his most ruthless and trusted men - and women - to become glorified sitters for his children.

"You've all been assigned someone."

"Why didn't I get you? Why did I get him?" Your eyes shot over her shoulder, the furthermost corner of the sprawling room. Kylo sat with your father, drinking. His dark eyes trained on you; already watching.

Always fucking watching. You pulled your eyes away immediately, though you were positive he would not have been able to hear a word from the distance, or over your siblings shouts and taunts. His eyes were on you regardless and it made you uneasy.

Any hint of a smile covering Phasma's lips instantly dropped. The furrow in her brow set in again. "Well... you're you." She took a drag of her cigarette. "And as much as I hate to admit this, he's the best. Snoke is just being cautious."

"The best at what exactly?" You took a drag of your own cigarette, ashing in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table between you. Something flared in Gwen's eyes, what, you were not sure. Worry? Anger? Jealousy? Or was it fear? You had no idea.

"You're smart. I think you already know." She looked like she didn't want to talk about the subject anymore. You weren't sure if it was your father's presence, or Kylo's that deterred her from spouting any more honest truths.

Your mind went to Hux, and the words he had so freely spoken before dinner had you wondering. Calling Ren your father's right hand man, the problem solver.... a rabid animal. You knew your family was bad. By conventional terms with a modern sense of morality, they were evil.

Criminals, murderers, extortioners, torturers, tax-evading, wealth-hording, gun-shipping, drug-running psychopaths to be exact.

And as bad as you all were, everyone in the Snoke manor was scared of only one person; your father. He was a much older man now, and though he still held a significant amount of power over everyone in the house - it appeared he now had passed the torch on. All physical bouts and messy jobs were now Kylo's to execute, and it seemed he did them perfectly.

You had never seen or heard of him before. You wondered how new he was exactly, and how quick he had risen in the ranks to become your fathers most trusted man. He would have had to prove himself immensely, and the concept of what that possibly entailed both scared and intrigued you. You wondered what types of violence your father found to be grounds for proof of trust.

You made a mental note to ask Armitage how long he had been around, along with a few others things flying around your brain. Weirdly, they were all questions about Kylo Ren.

You decided to cool your thoughts, and continue small talk with Gwen. You asked about your brother, and what her new schedule was like since it hadn't appeared he had changed much. She confirmed that she spent most of her nights at Starkiller, watching your brother party with his friends.

You shared a few jokes at the expense of your family, especially when Lyon lost a game of pool and almost snapped the pool cue over his knee in anger. A glare from your father and his anger simmered down almost immediately. You finished your cigarette, though enjoying talking with Gwen you were thoroughly over this fucking situation. A drunk sausage fest with your family in which none of them even wanted to talk to you, to spend time with you. Your father could hardly stand the sight of you.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt - he had buried his daughter today, and looking at the face of your other estranged one was certainly not a priority he had to have. You expected nothing on arrival, and had already had a few days of drama free bliss. Really, your sisters death had the opposite reaction on your Dad than you thought it would.

You supposed you would enjoy it while you could. You thought it was going to be utter chaos here, loud arguments between you and your father, leading to a crescendo in which you would be forced to leave once more.

You decided to bid Gwen goodnight, finishing your drink in two big gulps you braved the walk to your father. Zig zagging around your brothers and the Snoke enforcers, you found your way to your Dad and Kylo. His eyes were focused on the drink in his hand, amber liquid swirling in a glass slowly. Kylo noticed you before he did.

"Dad?" You pulled him out of his reverie and he looked up. "I think I'm going to head to bed, I’m not use to New York time yet."

"Oh." He nodded, "Okay. Sleep well, kid."

You gave the faintest smile, eyes shooting to Kylo who stared you up and down. A curious look behind his eyes - like he knew you were lying. Though your father seemed completely fooled. You left immediately, trying to ignore the awkward goodbye with your father, you snuck out the doors and headed to your bedroom.

Checking your phone, it was only about 10 p.m. You figured jetlag would set in eventually, but after today’s days events you felt wide awake. You didn't want to go to sleep yet. Maybe you couldn't.

You shed out of your funeral clothes, getting changed into something far more comfortable. A white cropped t-shirt, dark jeans, and your trusted leather jacket. Slipping on some fresh socks and swapping you shoes for your black doc martins. You checked your appearance in the mirror before sighing. You looked good considering everything you had been through today.

Usually you looked like shit.

Grabbing keys, money, phone and smokes you locked your bedroom door, turned off the light and left out the window. It may have been almost ten years since you had done this, but it was a tried and true trick for sneaking out when you had more than 10 people staying at your house at any given time. Especially when some of those people's job were specifically to make sure people didn't get in or out without the family's knowledge. There was no way in hell you were going to make it out the front door without anyone finding out.

Or worse, Kylo.

You were hellbent on deterring his body-guarding for as long as you could; hopeful it would serve as eventual proof to your father that you did not need to be looked after. You didn't even want to think about how uncomfortable he made you feel.

Not in a bad way, you weren't scared of him like everyone seemed to be. But being in such close proximity was jarring in a certain way, despite his stoic, murderous presence, you couldn't stop staring at his face. At that scar, at those deep, brown eyes.

And at those lips.

He was hot, in an unconventional way, and you almost never found men sexy. For this reason alone you wanted to stay as far away as possible. You didn't even want to broach the reason of whatever the fuck had you thinking about Kylo Ren's lips.

There was a large trellis that covered almost the whole wall underneath your window. Covered by thick ivy vines that sprawled up most of the 3 story Snoke manor, you used this to sneak in and out of your room up until you were sent off to boarding school. And even when you came back for a Christmas once. It was a trick you had learned from watching Mallory sneak out when you were younger.

You poked your head out first, making sure you couldn't see anyone on a perimeter watch, another thing your father's lackeys did sometimes. Seeing the coast was clear, you positioned your feet and then moved out, leaving your window open for entry later. Making sure your footing was placed carefully and with a strong grip, you made your way down the side of the house. Your bedroom was on the second floor, though your house was notorious for high ceilings and you were pretty high up off the ground. Adrenaline kicked in and cooler heads prevailed as you made the climb down to the ground. Once your feet touched the grass underneath your window, you breathed a sigh of relief.

The garage was big enough to house all the vehicles of the multiple people who lived at your house. The entrance was under the south wing of the house, which was an easy, quick walk from your room. You made it there in a minute or two, careful to stay away from windows in case you were seen by anyone randomly gazing out. Opening the last garage door, the one that housed your precious car, you hopped in and started it up. Leaving the lights off, you shifted gears and made it out onto the driveway. Careful that anyone looking out a window or wandering around the property wouldn't be alerted by bright car lights. You were trying very hard not to be seen and you were hoping your hard work was going to pay off.

You had spent years perfecting this technique of Mallory’s.

You drove down the long, winding driveway guided by moonlight alone, until you reached the end. You flicked your lights on and took the exit onto the road. You exhaled a deep breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Paranoia relieved a little bit as you made your way down the street, your eyes still glanced at the rear view mirror looking for car lights that might follow.

You were half worried that Kylo would be trailing you, someone seeing you slinking around the property in the dark and sneaking out would definitely pique interest. You didn't want a bodyguard, especially one who's presence made you uneasy. In which way in particular, you weren't sure. But you wanted to be alone right now.

You had been alone for years and years on end before this moment - what had changed now that you needed a bodyguard? Mallory's death? Most likely. Being back in the country could've proved you to be an easier target too, you guessed.

However, you had been gone for so many years, and being the black sheep of the family did provide one comfort - no one outside the family really knew who you were. You were a taboo subject, rarely talked about and never seen. You weren't involved in the family business like your brother's were, and didn't go to classy fundraisers and socialite parties like Mallory did.

Not to mention you took Brazilian jiu jitsu for years when you were a kid - and you remembered some shit. You weren't lying when you tried to convince your father that you would be fine on your own.

It didn't take long to enter the city, and then find the towering skyscraper that was the Finalizer. It was a tall, dark building with gothic architecture encompassing the facade, contrasted beautifully with its elaborate but minimalist, neutral toned interior. A 5 star safe haven for the rich, famous and criminally inclined. Your father had made sure whatever secrets were experienced within, never had a chance of escape.

You pulled your vehicle into the valet area, shifting into park you hardly had enough time to grab your stuff before a young man opened your door for you.

“Welcome to the Finalizer, ma'am.”

You gave a half smile in thanks, walking forward to the grandiose gold double doors that served as the entrance. Another young man opened them with a smile, welcoming you to the hotel.

Gold light from over hanging chandeliers illuminated the room. Bright mosaic patterns intertwined with white marble made up the floor. An expansive room with nothing but elevators behind a desk with two more people behind it. You were glad you remembered the pass code, unwanting to make conversation with people you didn't know. Not today.

You made a beeline straight for the elevator, stepping into the mirrored room, throwing a smile at the girl behind the desk as you passed. The numbers for all the floors were illuminated by a dim light, the top 3 floors reserved penthouses for permanent residences given out by your father. The very top floor was for family, a sort of unusual halfway house. For when his children couldn’t stand being near him but lacked the funds to move into their own abode. It was Roman's home once upon a time, then it was empty save for the odd weekend or two when your brothers were too drunk to leave the city, and then eventually Mallory’s home. You didn't know what your father was going to do with it now. If your sisters body hadn't been found in it then you would have been tempted to move in.

Although, depending on how bad it got at home - maybe you could be easily convinced.

A small keypad was situated next to the floor buttons, and you entered the pass code for your sisters floor, something that wasn't required of irregular hotel stayers who had simple key cards for their rooms.

The elevator rode all the way to the top, and you were lucky to be alone. The surge of the lift paired with the g-force, you felt your heartbeat rapidly fasten. You tried to peg its inception down to the anxiety that now clouded your mind. You were about to enter your sister's apartment after all.

The last place she was when she was alive.

You remembered your father telling you the place had been cleaned after the forensic evidence had been collected. You hadn't been here in so long that you hardly remembered it. You were shipped off to boarding school long before you were old enough to spend drunken weekends here.

The doors to the elevator opened right up into the apartment. Separating with a 'ding' it revealed the almost pitch black penthouse. A little stream of light from the lift exposed a golden beam down the otherwise dark hallway. You turned the torch on your phone to it's brightest setting, walking out into the penthouse. The doors shut behind you as you found the light switch, and the penthouse was suddenly bathed in light.

Tall, white walls of the hallway gave way to an open planned penthouse. Floor to ceiling glass revealed the neon New York skyline below. The spacious living room gave way to a kitchen on the far left and bedrooms on the far right. A garden laden outside area showed numerous seating with a table, a hot tub, and an infinity pool that disappeared off the edge.

It was clad in dark fabrics and white paint. A shiny, new, modern penthouse that was starkly different than the Snoke manor. It was sparse with furniture, minimalist in its decor; simple but effectively pretty. Mallory had kept the place nice and tidy, artwork and pictures littered the penthouse walls, giving it a burst of colour that was proof of her bubbly personality living here.

You shed your jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch, your items discarded along with it. Your eyes darted around the apartment, eager to find something out of place, unusual enough that you would notice. Though, your lack of experience with the space provided some trouble.

Mallory had taught you a lot growing up - how to escape down a trellis on the side of the house to avoid being detected was one of them. One of the others was having a good hiding spot.

Andrew Snoke was a controlling father growing up, especially with his daughters. And even more so with his favorite, Mallory. You didn't blame her for turning to drugs in her turbulent youth, not with the pressure she was under. Your brothers had done all that and worse and they hadn't been crucified for it.

And because of all of that, Mallory had taught you that hallowed out books, sun-glass cases in underwear drawers, and envelopes behind hung pictures were all great hiding spots.

You made your way to the bedrooms, finding the master that Mallory called hers. Everything was clean, put away, though a glance at the walk-in closet and the mass of designer dresses it was easy to deduce her presence. There was a large bed in the middle, side tables either side. Various artwork hung on the walls and the long, wooden shelf in the room was littered with pictures of her and her friends.

You noticed a few of them by face, probably knew all of them by name the amount she talked about them - though you couldn't tell who was who. Mallory's smiling face was what caught your eyes and cause you to still. Shining, bright eyes and a wide smile that you were familiar with. One that you would never see again. Your throat tightened at the thought.

You darted over to the side tables with purpose, to forget the overwhelming sadness creeping into your mind and replace it with something productive instead. You rifled through its contents, opening drawers and quickly sifting through objects. Pushing things to the side you safely checked for a false bottom of each shelf, but found nothing in particular. Moisturizers, sleep masks, and a pack of cigarettes - though nothing special.

You continued your rampage through her room, looking behind artwork hung on the walls, looking under the bed, under the pillows, in between the mattress and the bed frame, then moving to the closet. You checked in her boots, making sure nothing was concealed in there, before becoming desperate and looking in her shoe boxes and the pockets of her coats. Heaving a sigh of contempt, and resigning to the notion that there was nothing in this room you decided to move on.

You made your way to the kitchen - checking cereal boxes, and the freezer, large tins that she kept nestled in the pantry. You checked anything and everything you thought could be a possibility, but nothing seemed suspicious. Nothing was awkwardly placed, nothing moved every so often that dirt patterns formed; everything was normal.

You ventured over to the living room. You checked behind the artwork first, and behind one you find a safe built into the wall. Your interest was piqued momentarily before realizing these were in all your fathers properties - and housed usually large amounts of cash, jewels, important legal documents and the like. You were looking for something in particula, and figured it would not be inside a safe your father had access to.

You knew Mallory kept a journal, she had as a teenager, and once she grew up and tried to stay sober she had one documenting her thoughts. Something her sponsor told her might be able to help with her sobriety. You hoped if anything her diary would hold some impertinent information. Anything.

However, you were not inclined to think a diary she wrote in everyday was kept in a safe in the living room. Too many processes for something so ridiculous as a journal. You figured she was still like she was growing up - in that she preferred to hide things from the prying men in our family - but she wouldn't go to those lengths. Not if our father had the code to said safe.

You would ask him about it later, but resigned to not give up. It had to be somewhere. You were confident it was not in the safe.

A large flat screen was set against the wall, a wide fireplace underneath. Built into the wall either side were some bookcases, not housing anything but photos, some CDs, and ornaments that Mallory had collected over the years that obviously meant something to her. And a card from you, from her last birthday. Nothing pretty or pink, or particularly special but simply declaring your love for your sister.

You placed it back on the shelf, eyes moving over to a trophy from Mallory's high school days, a cheer-leading trophy, sitting next to it a picture of her winning prom queen, next to her tiara that she blatantly kept. You smiled, if only at the ridiculous nature and stark reality of how different you two were. Things she cared about weren't even on your radar - you two didn't have anything in common. Lived on different continents in fact, and still the two of you got together and it was some of the only moments you felt you were truly happy. You would drink, or maybe smoke a little pot together and would end up in stitches of laughter, faces and sides burning in pain. You were definitely going to miss her humor.

A smile curved your lips and you glanced over, eyes catching a gold trophy that caused you to still. You had seen it before, you remembered it briefly, and as your eyes shot down to the engraved tag, it read your name.

Your hands gripped the trophy, a gold metal showing a girl doing a roundhouse kick in a martial arts stance. "Holy shit." The words flew from your mouth without thought.

Mallory had kept it.

~~~~

You and competed in over 6 different competitions, fought in over 22 different matches, becoming the champion for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the tri-state area for girls under 18. And you were only 13 years old at the time.

Years and years of rigorous training had led to this point, years of your youth spent on grueling grappling techniques and perfecting your punches. To this referee now announcing your name, a round of applause from all the parents in the stands stung your ears. He shook your hand, handing you the trophy. A flash from a camera blinded you momentarily, and you searched for familiar faces in the crowd.

Your eyes locked with Mallory's. She was standing up, clapping as hard as she could, a proud smile on her face. You looked at the seat next to her - reserved for your father.

It was empty.

Your heart dropped. You mustered a smile, praying for it to be over so you could go back to the changing rooms and release the tears that pooled in the corner of your eyes.

You locked your gaze with Mallory once more, and noticing the look on your face, and you glancing at the empty seat next to her, her mouth uttered an apology, providing a sincere look.

You bit your lip, squeezing the trophy as hard as you could in your hands until it was over. Once you were clapped off the stage with the girl who came 2nd and 3rd place, you ran to the changing rooms to find a lonely corner you could get out of your fighting robes.

You prayed for the tears to go away, to any God who was out there that could show one ounce of mercy to you. But no one answered. You were alone, and once one tear fell it was hard to stop the rest. Your father couldn't even come to your championship fight? He never devoted any time to you ever, and you were doing this because it made him vaguely proud in some way. Even still, he couldn't give you one second of his fucking time?

He had given you nothing, and you had done this all for him.

You sniffled, throwing your bag over your shoulder and haphazardly slipping your shoes on, you exited the changing room to meet Mallory outside the stadium.

"Oh my god! Congratulations!" She swept you up in a hug, perfume wafting through your nostrils, your face was buried in her blonde hair. "First place? Hell yes!"

You scoffed. "Yeah..."

She dampened at the sight of you, facade falling slightly. "Oh, come on, kid. Let's go get some ice cream, my shout."

"I don't know," you hitched the bag up your shoulder, "I don't really feel like ice cream."

She sighed, stepping forward to grab your hand that clutch the trophy. "I'm so sorry he didn't come, okay, but-"

"Did he say why?"

"Well, he just said he was busy and he had to-"

"He's always too busy." You interrupted her again. "He doesn't give a shit about me. I haven't seen him in weeks, and he's the one that put me into this martial arts bullshit!"

Mallory's weakening facade was demolished, and she burst into tears. "I'm so sorry."

You sighed deeply, though it had been evident you had been crying you chastised her regardless. "Why are you crying?"

"Because," she wiped her tears away, shifting her large handbag further up her shoulder, "Because I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Dad, for how he is and how he treats you." You weren't sure how but it seemed like she got even more upset. "And I'm sorry that I was fortunate enough to be nourished by her growing up and you were too young to experience-"

"Whatever." You cut her off again, before she could finish, she was crying with sympathy, empathy, whatever the fuck it was that caused her tears. If she finished her sentence you knew you would be reduced to the same fate. "Can you please take me home? I'm done."

You glanced over to the side, a stadium bin free standing. You walked over, taking one last look at the trophy before you threw it into the trash can. You glanced at Mallory, and then walked to the car park where she had her vehicle.You didn’t look back.

~~~

The two of you had made your way home, driving in silence. You remembered that day vividly now. Mallory was 8 years older than you were, so she had her license, and her own car. A whole life of her own. She was in college, eager to drink and socialize with her friends.

And then something changed.

You had never been close when you were younger, but after that day she had made a gratuitous effort of being in your life. Of supporting you emotionally and providing wisdom and comfort when you needed it. Of being a constant in your life, even when you left for boarding school. She was the only lifeline you had in this family. She had taken the role of father, and mother, and adopted those qualities to try give you a better life.

And she had kept it.

You clutched the trophy in your hands, even tighter. She must have picked it out of the trash, put it in her handbag and then followed you to the car.

And she kept it all this time. Never telling you about it, never trying to offer it back to you. She kept it as a proud memento on a shelf in her living room for herself. Your throat tightened, your lip trembling as you felt tears gather in your eyes. You couldn't hold it back, irrevocable sadness you had been keeping at a simmer turned into full on misery. You wept for times passed, over memories you shared with Mallory and the reality that you would never create any more. You cried over the possibility of the suspicious circumstances that surrounded her death, that someone could have taken her away from you before her time.

And you cried because you were alone, once again.

#carpe noctem #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanficiton #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #adam driver x reader

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