Serenity - Chapter 8

The Scarred - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

The vase fell from her hands, the shattering glass echoing through the hall. Penelope’s mind and body grew petrified as she stared at the card sitting in the mess of glass, water and flowers. She fell back against her door frame, her breathing sharp and fast as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped onto the front of her bra to pull it away from her chest, looking for any kind of relief, any way to find space for her to breathe properly. Yet it did nothing. She knew she was making a scene, and she wanted so badly to hide away in her apartment.

But what about the mess? She asked herself amidst the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

“’Scuse me -?” Penelope shot straight up, eye frantically darting towards the new voice. A tall, average built man stood before her, hands held out in front of him as an offering of peace. “Apologies, I didn’ mean to alarm ye. Are ye alrigh’?” His bright eyes held a gentleness in them, the same as his voice. It was soothing in a way she had never before experienced. It was hardly able to calm her, however, in her panicked state. “Righ’, dumb question…” He mumbled to himself, glancing between Penelope and her welcome mat. “I’ll clean this up righ’ quick fer ye, tha’ alrigh’?” She gave the smallest nod, letting go of her bra to wipe the tears from her face as he disappeared.

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. She hated coming across as weak and vulnerable, and she felt as if she was both in that moment.

Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

“Why are you helping me?” The sound of her voice caught him off guard as he continued picking up the pieces.

“Juss doin’ my duty.”

“In Gotham?” The man sighed and looked up at her from where he was crouched on the floor.

“‘Ard as it is to believe, miss, not erryone in this city is a crook.” It wasn’t until then that she noticed his thick accent. It was a surprise to her, however one she greatly accepted. She felt childish for it, but she was excited as it was her first time meeting someone with one. “Ye wann’ keep this?” He asked, holding the Joker card between his index and middle fingers. She hesitated before reaching to grab it. “Now, I’m not all tha’ superstitious,” He stood up with a huff. “But if tha’ is a genuine Joker card, I’d watch out if I were ye. Yer either really lucky, er ‘bout to be really dead.” He noticed the growing fright in her eyes. “Or! Some guy is juss actin’ the maggot and playin’ wit’ ye.”

“People are scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don’t think they’d dare to impersonate The Joker himself. Seems like he gets more bold by the day for a nobody, anyhow.”

“Then pray yer juss really lucky. He’s gainin’ reputation rather quick, if I do say so meself.” He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. “I don’t believe I’ve caught yer name yet?”

“Penelope.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Miller.”

“Penelope?” The name left his lips in curiosity. “Tha’s a new one.” Her eye shifted to the ground. “Bu’ it’s refreshin’.” The man offered her a friendly smile, but her expression remained constant. “Liam Garson. Juss moved in couple a doors down.” He pointed off to his left.

“Why?” He threw her a confused look. “I mean, why Gotham?”

“Oh!” Liam chuckled. “Well, why not? Barely any restrictions with the mob and cops runnin’ ‘round lie’ chickens wit’ their ’eds cut off. Sure, muggers an’ the lie’ crawl abou’, but tha’s the price ye pay fer freedom, righ’?” He contained himself from beaming when she gave the ghost of a smile.

“Well, I see where your morals lie, Mr. Garson.”

“Liam.” He jested. “An’ I may lack some, but I’m better off than over ‘alf the boyos ‘ere.”

“’Boyos’?” Penelope gave a small chuckle.

“Males, juveniles, youngins.” She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’ll let ye be. Juss wanted to check on ye and make sure ye were alrigh’.” He started to back away. “If ye need anythin’, I’m in 329.” With a final salute, he disappeared into his own apartment. Penelope slowly turned around to head into her own, closing her door softly.

She looked down at the card caught in her nimble fingers. She couldn’t help the jolt that rushed through her body when she realized that if it was his card, he knew where she was. He knew who she was. She was somebody to him and she wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified. It made her start to question her own morals. Any other person wouldn’t even think to be flattered, so why would she?

He was a murderer, a psychopath. And yet she had half a mind to consider being flattered.

Really lucky or really dead.

Why would she be dead? Had she angered someone without her knowing?

She froze.

“The boss.” She whispered to herself in realization. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. The bald man had to be working for The Joker. Which meant he knew where she worked.

How much else did he know? Who all knew? How many people were following her?

Question after question ran through her head and it was almost unbearable. She didn’t know what she even did to be on his radar in the first place.

“- patrolling the streets trying to trace his whereabouts for the time being, but so far -“ The news anchor’s voice hummed softly from her TV and she practically ran over to it, snatching the remote from the coffee table to turn up the volume.

“Well, John, I think it’s safe to say that The Joker’s slow uprising is truly fascinating for the people of Gotham. Not only in the sense that he is beginning to make a name for himself, but it gives the chance for other criminals to wreak havoc on the city knowing that Batman could possibly be busy with him if things start to get out of hand, more than usual for what the mob calls a ‘nobody’.” The woman on the other line spoke. Penelope scoffed at her words.

“Way to give them ideas.” She mumbled to herself with a wide eye.

“Let’s just hope that Batman is able to do what he does best, and fast. Cause -“ Penelope switched the TV off, having heard enough of it.

It upset her that the city was putting their faith in a masked man, that none of them had the nerve to do something themselves. That they couldn’t even rely on their own first responders. That she couldn’t rely on first responders.

She began to peel off her bandages, dragging her feet towards her bathroom. So much had happened in only a week and it all started to catch up to her, her head starting to pound from it all.

The note. The glass. The bald man offering her a large sum of money for just a vase of flowers, that he possibly worked for The Joker, finding out The Joker had been tracking her for who knows how long.

Penelope reached into her medicine cabinet for pain killers, deciding on taking two with a glass of water. Finally she laid down on her bed, snuggling up to her fuzzy blanket with her eye closed in an attempt to fall asleep. She briefly thought about telling Emma, but if she truly was dealing with The Joker, she wanted her involved as little as possible.

For her safety. She thought to herself in reassurance before sleep took over.

The sounds of rushing water and seagulls filled the air around her, the occasional pair of footsteps passing by that she grew wary of from time to time. The sun began to disappear in the horizon, painting the sky with breathtaking shades of pink and orange on the rare cloudless evening. Music played softly from her phone that sat on one side of her, her dinner left half eaten on the other. Her legs dangled over the ledge as she watched from the pier. It was almost tradition on warmer nights, as it was a rarity. It would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the littered concrete and occasional plastic bag that floated by as a reminder of where she was.

Along with the gun that clicked from behind her.

“I’d say just jump and save me the work, but then I wouldn’t get your money.” A gruff voice spoke. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare turn her head or flinch a finger. Her heart rate picked up, stomach churning. “Well?” The man urged, losing patience.

“I don’t have any.”

“How’d you get that nice dinner, then, huh?”

“Been saving up for it.” A lie. The man just chuckled.

“Alright. How about you get off of there, put your hands up, and then face me. Slow.”

“I only have one hand.”

“So, raise your one hand, then.” Penelope awkwardly turned around on the ledge.

“Alrigh’, enough talkin’.“ The man halted, red quickly seeping through his jacket. She watched in horror as he collapsed.

Penelope looked up to see the man who had helped her the day before. He walked around the mugger towards her, switchblade in hand. When he saw her flinch he slowed his pace, tucking away the weapon to make her more comfortable.

“Y - you just -“ She spoke frantically, pointing towards the now dead body with a shaky hand.

“Killed a man?” She nodded quickly. He tilted his head dismissively. “Aye. The bastard ‘ad it comin’.” She shied away from him as he took a seat next to her, arm folded in front of her. “Relax, miss. I juss saved yer life, did I not?” He looked over at her to see her chewing on her cheek.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I do it -?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” The man shrugged. “Was either he killed you or I killed ‘im, an’ I wouldn’t dare let such a beautiful woman go to waste lie’ tha’.” Penelope scrunched her nose and scoffed.

“Beautiful woman…” She mumbled to herself. “If you think I’m easily won over by flattery, you’re wrong.”

“With all due respect, miss, I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout fer meself.” The brunette noticed her eye take on a more gentle stare. He sighed, scratching at his beard.

“Why’re you here?” She asked, rubbing her left arm.

“I could ask ye the same question.” Penelope looked at him quizzically.

“Dinner.” Liam nodded.

“Was on a walk. ‘Eard the ruckus. Came to see what was ‘appenin’.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Aye. It sure is. A damn good one, if I do say so meself.” Silence fell between the two of them, however it was peaceful. Penelope quite enjoyed it. “If ye don’t mind me askin’,” Liam broke in. “What do ye plan on doin’ wit’ this Joker business? Assumin’ it’s not too late already. I mean, ‘ave ye told anybody?” She shook her head, focusing on her breathing.

“I haven’t.” Penelope swallowed as Liam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Ye ‘aven’t? Well, why not? Not even the cops?”

“What’ll they do?” She finally looked up at him. “What will they do? You’re the one that was saying yesterday that they’re all ‘running around like chickens with their heads cut off’.“ She began to rant, everything starting to catch up to her. Her eye began to glisten as it watered over. “And if they can’t help me, who can? Certainly not Batman!“ She spit the masked man’s name with venom. “They're all bought out by the mob, anyways! Why the hell would they care to keep The Joker from coming for just a single person, from coming for me -!”

“Miss!” Liam held onto her shoulders, keeping her steady. In a moment of desperation, she clung to him, and once again she caught him off guard as she started to break down for the second time. He began to gently stroke her back, letting her take in the silence to collect herself.

A van sat in the distance, tinted windows making it impossible to see through. It was cracked enough for him to see who was in it and he made eye contact with a pair of almost pure black eyes, giving them a faint nod.

Serenity - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

-

The few days that passed since the abduction were wary. The energy in the village had swiftly changed. Heads were downcast. The air was tense and the bustle was far less pronounced, yet still remained nonetheless. Naturally, Mary received less customers than usual due to growing suspicion. Though no one cared to ask what had happened in the first place. The villagers just assumed.

They weren’t the friendliest bunch, which was fitting for the country. Even if the Baron and Baroness were at least decent the people down below would still find something to mope about. Nothing was ever enough for them.

That was how Mary, with quite the facade, saw them. Greedy. Mannerless. Irritable. She was sure things would be different were it not for her father, but even if he were to pass right then and there the people would see Mary and her mother all the same.

With a sigh, she began to revisit the stitching on her dress, touching up and making sure everything was as perfect as humanly possible. She smiled to herself, proud of her work. Throughout her years of working the shop she had scrapped possibly hundreds of designs for a ‘dream dress’ for lack of a better word.

The finished product was far from what she first thought up, but the evolution of it all was fascinating to her. Whether it be the basic design, the color or the fabric. She had never felt so accomplished, yet it felt so pointless now that she had indeed finished. Twenty-six years of brainstorming for a dress that she would possibly never have the chance to wear.

Not quite the dress of an aristocrat, and yet not that of a queen. It was a healthy balance. It wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, but still held a certain uniqueness to it.

It resembled Mary.

She heard footsteps climbing down the stairs behind her, followed by a gasp.

“Liebling!” Her mother placed a hand above her heart in disbelief. “Such talent.“ She gawked. “Such wasted talent.” She began to cough, clutching an area on her chest as she hunched over.

“Ma? Are you alright?” Mary rested a hand on her shoulder as her mother recovered, patting her chest with a deep breath and a nod.

“Yes, yes, dear. I’m quite alright.”

“You should sit down -“

“I’m fine, liebling.” The room grew quiet as the two of them stared at her dress. Thinking too much or not thinking at all, it was comfortable.

“Ma?” Her mother hummed. “What did you mean by ‘wasted talent’?” Mary heard her sigh and felt a light pat on her back.

“You’re so talented, mein lieber.” She started. “I just wish we could offer you more. Who knows how much further you’d be able to go were it not for this Godforsaken village.” She wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Imagine what you could do if you just had all of the right materials. The tools. The best machinery. And this dress? This dress is just the beginning.”

“Indeed, it is.” A nasally voice interrupted. The two of them jumped and turned to the source, finding the catcher and two soldiers at the entrance. Uncharacteristically, however, he was without his net and hook. It was a rather odd sight for the two of them as he rarely ever visited the town just to show face, if at all. “I’m not here,” He paused, glancing over at the mannequin they stood in front of before looking back over at the pair. “For children.” He practically spat in disgust.

“What are you here for, then?” Mary asked out of curiosity, her mother throwing her a side-eye.

“I have a request for the seamstress.” He paused. “And only the seamstress.” She looked over at her mother who only glared at the man, then softened as she turned to her daughter.

“I’ll be fine.” Mary reassured with her eyes cast to the floor beside her, then quickly checked the entrance past the catcher’s figure before looking back at him.

“Dear -“ One look from her daughter was all it took. One look was all the reassurance she needed. With a hand on Mary’s shoulder as a lasting charm, she left the shop in search of her husband.

Mary took a deep, nervous breath and brought her hands to fold in front of her, wringing them anxiously.

“What is your request?”

“An outfit fit for a candy man, my dear.” He lightly mocked. Her eyes squinted in confusion.

“One of your personas?”

“Yes.” He began to wander, examining a nearby shelf covered in a multitude of colorful fabrics.

“I would be helping you if I were to accept.” She heard him hum and turned to face him. “Why not have another seamstress at the castle make it? Surely there’s more than a few to choose from.”

“The ones we do have lack creativity, something that you carry even with a lack of resources.” He explained as he made his way back over to her. With great hesitancy, she questioned.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.” He stepped closer. “But I believe you can trust my authority.” Her heart began to race at the minor threat, if it even was one. She wasn’t even sure anymore. She gnawed on her bottom lip in thought, weighing her options. The words of her mother stuck out to her the most.

Maybe being noticed by the Child Catcher was a blessing in disguise? If she were to accept, she would ruin the reputation she worked so hard for should the villagers notice. As if it could get worse.

But why should she care what they think? No matter the outcome, they would still be their own judgmental, nosy selves. The only real problem would be if her father found out. Mary shivered internally just at the thought of it. As long as he wasn’t around when the catcher was there, she could always blow it off as another personal project. And she wouldn’t dare deny a direct request.

She breathed in, looked up at the catcher who waited patiently for an answer.

“I’ll do it. But as you said, I lack the proper materials.”

“Everything will be provided to you. The only thing you have to worry about,” he pointed to the plaza behind him. “Is them. As soon as they find out what you’re up to, they’ll cast you out faster than I can find the little ones.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that. They’re the least of my worries, to be quite frank.” His brows knit together in question. “I appreciate the warning.” His expression turned into one of realization as he glanced at the living space that sat above them.

“Uh-huh.” Mary began to grow anxious, both at the silence and the amount of time they had before her parents returned. Her mother could only stall for so long before her father grew suspicious.

“When would you like to discuss the details?” Catching on to her restlessness, he decided against wasting any more time.

“The time is entirely up to you, however, I would prefer it if it were done as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure tomorrow would suffice. But it would have to be after dark. My father isn’t exactly the most understanding.”

He held out his hand, waiting for her to shake on it. However, when she reached out to it, his grip was far more gentle than she had expected. She watched as he leaned down towards it, a feather-like kiss placed between her knuckles with his abnormally long nose tickling the top of her hand.

Her mind grew foggy, unable to breathe. It was as if her body completely forgot how to function. She couldn’t tell if the reaction was caused by the man behind it or pure flattery, but she couldn’t say she was repulsed in the slightest.

Mary couldn’t help the disappointment she felt when he pulled away, and the smug grin on his face told her he was aware of it all.

“Until then.” Mary watched as the three men retreated to the plaza, the catcher on his box seat as always with the other two flanking him on their horses.

She let out an exasperated sigh, collapsing her weight against the table behind her as she quickly grew lightheaded. Not a moment later, her father stumbled into the shop, her mother not far behind.

“Are you alright?” She asked Mary cautiously. She just nodded in response, still thinking over what had just happened.

“What is he doing here, are three people not enough for the sadistic bastard?!” Mary’s father abruptly entered, beelining for her. “What did he want?” Mary glanced between her mother and the man who questioned her.

“He offered a job.” Her voice trembled. Her father’s jaw tensed.

“And?” Another glance from Mary at her mother who stilled.

“I declined.” For a moment he was silent, still. Studying her to see if she was indeed telling the truth. Eventually he huffed and made his way up the stairs, most likely to grab his usual bourbon.

“Where was he?” Mary whispered, tidying up the center table after catching her breath.

“I found him on the outskirts. He was headed for the road.” Mary rolled her eyes as her mother began to help.

“Ma, you need to rest.”

“Stop your worrying, liebling. Can’t have you doing all the work by yourself.”

“You’re only going to make it worse, especially after running around like that. Go rest. I can handle the shop.” Hesitantly, her mother gradually came to a stop. She eyed her daughter guiltily before resting a kiss atop of her head.

“Alright. You holler if anyone gives you any trouble, you hear?” Mary chuckled, bidding her farewell as she retired upstairs for the day.

Serenity - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

Reuben decided to stay with Mary as she continued her work, watching her careful movements in curiosity. The baroness' dress hung on a mannequin, nearly finished as Mary made final adjustments. Finally, she straightened it out and fluffed the skirt just a bit, standing back to admire her handiwork while fiddling with her fingers.

Sheer fabric was used for the arms, collar bone area and back. Ruffled fabric lined the shoulders, trailing around the back of the neck. The majority of it was a silver color, not too flashy yet still stuck out in a crowd. It held purple accents, of course, in representation of the Vulgarian colors.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Mary questioned anxiously, glancing at Reuben.

"I think you know my answer."

"'Of course, Miss Mary, she'll love it!'" She mocked him, making sure to flail her arms dramatically as she made her way over to her sketchbook to work on the design for the Baron.

"Well, you're not wrong, Miss Mary." He wiggled a finger behind her ear making her curl away from him and he smirked. "I'll be off to make my rounds, get out of your hair." Mary shot him a look as he made his way to the door. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I've told the maid to make sure you eat." Reuben eyed her before shutting the door behind him. Mary rolled her eyes with a bashful smile, sketching away.

She paid no mind to the time, naturally. There were no windows in the room and she was delved too deep into her work to really care to check. Emilia was her only clock. Mary did grow more aware after lunch, knowing she had to prepare herself for dinner.

A knock sounded softly from the door and was cracked open.

"Miss?" Mary whipped her head towards the maid with a nervous expression.

"Time already?" She received a sympathetic smile.

"I'm afraid so." Mary sighed, finding a stopping point in her work to follow her to Reuben's quarters. Her stomach sank at the sight of a new dress that lay across the bed.

"It gets tiring wearing more than one dress a day, no?" She questioned Emilia as she began undoing her dress, taking a deep breath within the short moment of freedom.

"I certainly would think so. At least you're not the one tying and untying all of them." Mary nodded in agreement, slipping out of the dress and into the more elegant one that Emilia held for her. "Your head seems to be healing well." The maid felt her tense slightly. "I could try and conceal it if you wish?"

"No, it's fine." Mary mumbled. "Thank you, though."

"My pleasure, Miss." Emilia finished up and undid Mary's hair, running her fingers through it in thought. She sat her down at the vanity, beginning to twist and braid it.

"Have you ever worked closely with the barons?" Now Emilia sighed.

"Once. Quite the experience. I would rather not do it again."

"Are you able to talk about it?" Emilia shook her head.

"I'm afraid I would speak ill of them if I did." She grabbed a few bobby-pins from the desk, beginning to pin up Mary's hair.

"What would happen if you did?"

"Let's just say you wouldn't be seeing me too often." She messed with her hair a bit more to perfect it. "Your curiosity could land you the same fate, Miss." Emilia noticed the woman's skin pale at the thought. Mary swallowed as the maid placed ornaments in her hair, then clipped a necklace around her neck.

"I worry I'll still be underdressed." Emilia chuckled.

"That's what they want." The maid fiddled with the fabric of Mary's dress, in a way soothing the both of them. "That's why everything seems so bland here. Everything except themselves." Mary looked up at Emilia with an unreadable expression. "Come, now." She patted her shoulders and the woman stood up. "I'm sure the catcher is waiting."

The two of them stepped into the hall and, sure enough, Reuben was making his way towards them. Emilia shut the door behind them and curtsied, then left in the opposite direction.

"Beautiful, as always." He complimented with a smirk, holding his arm out to her to which she took bashfully. As they ventured through the halls he could feel her hold grow more tense, anxious. He could almost feel her aggressive pulse through her hands. "You'll be alright. Remember what I told you."

"Will you be staying?" Mary nearly whispered, moving in closer to Reuben. He felt his chest swell with what almost felt like pride knowing she trusted him enough to feel protected, that he was a source of comfort for her. Then again, he was essentially all she had left to hold on to.

"He asked me personally, so I would assume so, yes. Let alone the fact that he thought you were -" He cut himself off, swallowing. "That you are my lady." Mary had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. He began to smile himself when her grip loosened a bit in comfort. Mary's eyes grew curious when they approached a set of glass doors. Reuben held the door open for her and they stepped out into what she assumed was a garden.

It was a decent size, though not incredibly large. It was vibrant compared to the dull interior of the castle, but it was a welcome change. Colorful flowers bloomed wherever she looked, a variety of floral smells pleasantly filling her nose. The golden rays of the setting sun rested on the area, creating an even more alluring scene.

Reuben led her down a few steps, guiding her further into the garden as an awed grin spread across her face. It was calming enough to make her forget what she was dreading in the first place, but then a small opening brought her back to reality.

A medium-sized glass table sat in the center, a set of tasteful chairs sat around it. A larger bottle of wine accompanied by glasses sat upon it, already opened and being drunk by the Baron. The Baroness, however, waited patiently as she looked around at the garden. There was a glint in her eyes, however, when she spotted the two of them entering the court and smiled.

"Bombie?" She nudged her husband and he shot up, boisterously cheering. Mary curtsied while Reuben bowed, as per usual.

"No, no, no! Have a seat, none of that!" He exclaimed happily. Reuben pulled a chair out next to the baroness for Mary before seating himself next to her. She looked over at Mary and offered a warm smile, and she gave a more shy one in return. "Well," The Baron drawled as he leaned in. "How is our seamstress settling in? Well, I hope?"

"Very well, your excellency. I couldn't be more thankful for your hospitality."

"Ah, but it's just an eye for an eye! You're helping us, and as long as you do, you will be a welcome guest here." Servers arrived, pouring wine into their glasses and setting plates with silverware in front of them.

"How is your project coming along, Miss Elise?" The Baroness spoke up, sipping on her wine as she turned towards Mary in keen interest.

"It couldn't be any better, my lady. I actually finished your dress just this morning." The Baroness gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together.

"That was quite quick! Efficient, isn't she, Bombie?" The man in question just chuckled with a nod.

"Fast, yes. But quality is what I am personally looking for."

"You couldn't ask for a finer dress, your excellency." Reuben piped in to support Mary, and it seemed to boost the Baron's confidence in her work. The maids returned with their dinner, laying trays and bowls in front of them with what seemed like enough food for the whole village to Mary.

She glanced around, unsure of their customs and courtesies when it came to dining. She watched the others begin to plate once the Baron began and followed suit, being cautious with how much food she took, and rather eating with her stomach instead of her eyes. Mary had to hold in her already obvious satisfaction as she took her first bite, the food warm and freshly cooked.

They all made small talk throughout the meal, whether it was lighthearted joking or simple questions. She wasn't quite sure what to think of them. She'd heard awful things from the villagers, and then Emilia, yet Reuben seemed to think so highly of them. He always spoke of them with utmost respect, save for a snide remark every now and then, but it happens with everyone. She just wasn't sure if it was out of fear or genuine admiration.

"When should we expect to see your work?" The Baroness curiously asked once they all began to settle from the meal, though Bomburst continued to nibble here and there.

"I've just started on his excellency's, so I would say the day after the next."

"Well, I'm thrilled to have a fresh mind at work. And one with unique talent, I've heard." The Baroness glanced over at Reuben, and in turn Mary looked over at him as well. He quirked a brow at her and she gave a tight lipped smile.

"You've built it up so much, I better not be disappointed when I see it!" The Baron suddenly called out. Mary's skin turned to paper, but she continued with her pleasant facade for appearances. She felt Reuben sneak a hand over hers from under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I certainly have no doubts about your talent. If the Child Catcher says your work is a sight to behold, then I trust his opinion." Mary covered his own hand with her other and color gradually returned to her face.

"I suppose you are right, my dear." Bomburst begrudgingly agreed. "He's been with us for many years, you know." He directed at Mary. "I would say he is my most trusted worker here in Vulgaria. I'd take him over the Chancellor or any of those other aristocrats any day." Though it sounded like a compliment, the Baron truly meant it as more of an insult to those in the castle. "So if I see you mistreat him, or if there's any suspicion of it, I will have your head."

Mary feigned a smile at the Baron.

"I wouldn't dream of it, your excellency." He nodded firmly, then slapped his thighs and stood up.

"Well, I think I'll retire for the night. Many things to take care of. I'll be waiting for our little gift, Miss Elise." He poked fun at the seamstress before abruptly leaving the court. The Baroness soon stood to join him, but turned towards the two of them one last time.

"You're more than welcome to visit the gardens if you wish." She then followed after her husband, an elegant skip in her step that Mary found curious.

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and sat back in her chair, loosening her posture. Reuben held in an amused chuckle.

"Care for a walk?" The man asked as he stood, offering a gloved hand to her. She collected herself for a few moments before she took hold of it and followed him.

The air was but a gentle breeze that calmed her and she took in her surroundings appreciatively. The village never held such gardens, and it felt as if she had been trapped in the castle forever. She could already see herself visiting quite frequently whether it was by herself or with Reuben.

They reached a railing that looked over the smaller mountain the castle sat on, revealing a grandiose view of the countryside not visible to the village. It held rich shades of green in its hills and other mountains, an occasional structure in the distance. The sun had just reached the horizon and Mary couldn't help but stare.

As Reuben hesitantly slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer she began to realize how peaceful everything truly was in that moment. It was hazy, as if it wasn't truly reality. Never would she have thought she would end up where she was. Not in the castle, not as a seamstress in that castle, and especially not with the man who practically everybody feared most, second to the Baron himself.

"Reuben?" Mary whispered, fearful of breaking whatever it was that was happening.

"Yes?" She hesitated before answering.

"I'm scared to leave this moment."

"Reasonably so." He looked down at her from where they stood. "But there's much more to come."

Mutterseelenallein (Otto Octavius/Fem!Reader)

Angst

Summary: Reader has stuck with Otto Octavius since before his transformation/accident, and continues to do so even afterwards. But the stress of it all finally gets to her.

Word Count: 1236

Warnings: Angst, implied suicidal thoughts/attempt

What once was a bright star now began to die in the hands of its creator. Dizzy. Lost. Swaying back and forth every which way, tossed and turned, lifted and slammed back into the ground that she had to constantly pull herself back up from.

She sat on a small wooden stool, hands folded in her lap with a defeated slouch as she stared at the working man. A blank expression rested upon her face, watching his hands carefully tinker as sparks reflected and bounced off of his goggles. She would have been proud if not for the circumstances.

His whole demeanor had changed. It was night and day. The soft, thoughtful man she once knew was now just a shell for the parasites on his back to use of their own will. In rare moments she saw a familiar glimmer in his eyes, but it faded so quickly that she wasn’t even sure if it was ever truly there.

“I can’t!”

“You can. I know you can.”

“But what if I hurt you?!”

“You won’t hurt me, dear. You need to trust them.” Otto chuckled at the woman in front of him. She moved to a stance so she could throw the ball he had given her, and even though she trusted his work the thought of throwing a ball directly at his face made her stomach quench. In a moment of bravery she threw it with all of the might she had, the ball speeding towards Otto until an actuator slung its way around him to catch it mere inches away.

There was a pause. Then the two looked at each other and suddenly cheered. She ran her way over to Otto and threw herself onto him in excitement.

“It works great - they work great!”

“They sure do!” Otto laughed, voice muffled in her hair. “Quick, let’s see what else they can do!”

The woman bit down on the inside of her cheek as her waterline began to overflow. She rubbed her hands along her thighs and sniffed.

“Um, Otto?” She barely spoke. “Can I step out for a minute?” He stalled his movements in thought, then grunted. It was enough of an answer to get her to stand up.

“Don’t be too long.” With a nod she exited the rundown building, a cool breeze brushing her cheeks as she closed in on herself. She walked to the edge of the dock and stared down at her reflection with a knowing look. The longer she stared the more lost she became.

Eyes squinted shut with pursed lips she shook in an effort not to cry. Not to break. Not until her body couldn’t handle it. Not until she fell to her knees. Not until that very moment when it finally happened.

Everything seemed to collapse as she took in a trembling, uneasy breath. A silent cry. Trying to stay quiet, what would be wailing came out as a pathetic whine. The hold on her clothes turned her knuckles white, knees buzzing with pain from their impact with the concrete beneath her. Drops landed softly in the water below to distort her reflection.

It all seemed to move slower once she opened her eyes. The sound of her heartbeat flooded her ears. The birds grew quiet. The wind stilled. She leaned closer to the water, hand outreached to come into contact with it. The colder temperature numbed the tips of her fingers as she grew braver with her cries.

Her thoughts ran faster than she could handle as her hand sunk in further. Further to her elbow as she leaned forward off of the heels of her feet. Her breath stilled. The hand that kept her from falling slowly lost its grip.

“(Y/N)!” The bellowing voice startled her, pushing her head first into the water. An actuator grabbed hold of her shirt before her lower half could reach, her head and torso completely soaked in the freezing water when it brought her back up to the wood of the dock. “Have you lost your mind?!” Otto slid out of his trench coat and wrapped her up, ushering her back into the old warehouse. “Imagine what would’ve happened if I wasn’t there!”

He watched (Y/N)’s shivering form incredulously, confused and frustrated with what he saw. It made him feel something he hadn’t felt since the accident. Something he never wished to feel ever again.

He was scared.

“Nothing would be different.” (Y/N) whispered in response as Otto paced. He snapped his head to look at her, seeing her staring at the floor.

“Nothing would be different?” Otto spoke gently, painfully. And it grew louder. “Nothing would be different - are you hearing yourself, (Y/N)?!”

“Just fine, Otto!” She rasped in anguish. The flood gates reopened with a new wave of emotions. “I said ‘nothing would be different’!” She gasped for breath and ran a hand through her dripping hair, frantic. “I’m just a doll to you! Something for you to look at, to have to say you have it even when you don’t need it! You don’t need me, Otto.” She watched as he fumed, face growing red.

“I do.”

“Why? How?” (Y/N) challenged, stepping closer to the taller man who remained silent. “You don’t know?” She laughed hysterically through her tears. “You don’t know?! After all we’ve been through, Otto, you don’t know?!”

For the first time since he changed, he was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. The voices in his head battled for dominance through the confusion, his own gaining what little upperhand he had. (Y/N) took notice, voice softer.

“I came back for you, Otto.” Her eyes glistened as they looked up at him, glazed. “I came back for you and you just cast me aside like some stranger. And even then I kept coming back. Isn’t that enough?”

“My dear, I -“ Otto took a deep breath, the voices the quietest they have been since they started. Everything caught up to him. Everyone he injured, carelessly threw around, stepped on. It broke his heart knowing his own (Y/N) had been involved. He pulled her into him with a hand rested protectively over the back of her head. She held onto him as if her life depended on it, finally sobbing into his chest.

“I just wanted to be important…”

“Hush, now. You’re the most important thing to me, (Y/N).” His own eyes began to water. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through, my dear.” A tear slid down his cheek. “I’m sorry - I’m so sorry.” He dropped to his knees, arms wrapped around her waist with his face buried in her stomach. “They won’t leave me alone. I can’t stand it - the voices! I can’t tell which ones are my own anymore, I don’t mean to hurt you or anyone, I just - I can’t -“

“Otto?” He looked up at her, melting at the sight of her adoring gaze. “It’s going to be okay. Right?” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure herself or the man in front of her at that point, but when he nodded she knew things would get better. It was just a matter of time.

She joined him on the floor and the two of them shared the other’s tears, tied up in each other.

Chapter 7

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

The hiss of the door was nearly silent as it slid open. The general stepped inside with purposeful strides, datapad in hand, the pale lights of the corridor casting shadows along the walls. He paused just inside the threshold, eyes landing on the figure ahead.

(Y/n) stood motionless at the far end of the room, back to the door, arms stiff at her sides and head hung low. Her entire silhouette coiled like a wire pulled taut.

Hux froze.

She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t moving. But the air felt heavier. Thicker.

Like a storm about to break.

He watched her in silence for a long second before speaking, voice cautious and measured.

“Their shuttle is approaching. They’ll be docking within the next few minutes.”

She didn’t respond at first. Then slowly, deliberately, she turned.

Her eyes met his. Ice-cold. Still. Controlled. And somehow far more dangerous.

Her face was a mask of serenity, but it was the kind of calm that lived just before a strike. The kind of silence that waited before violence.

Hux swallowed. Just once. His pulse kicked against his collar despite himself.

“(L/n)?”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched, just slightly.

“Ready.” 

Her voice is calm. Measured. Controlled.

Too controlled.

Hux stared at her, his own expression unreadable for a moment before he gave a slow nod, stepping aside.

“Then let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

She moved towards the door, walking past him with silent purpose. He watched her go, jaw set tight as he followed.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it was that waited behind that eerily perfect composure. Wondered how close she was to unraveling… and what would happen if she did. 

The massive expanse of the hangar was clouded with tension. The transport ship settled into place, steam hissing as the ramp descended with a mechanical whine.

Troopers and techs held back, keeping a wide berth as Varo emerged first before turning to the Covenant flanking the detained rogues.

Their uniforms were similar to that of the Umbral, however instead of black, the uniform was more of a grey, along with their cloak. Though, unlike the Umbrals, they wore sleek, black Eva helmets, adding to their intimidation. Yet also kept them from any individual distinction.

“Restrained and on their knees.” Varo ordered.

The Duskborns moved with practiced precision, grabbing each of the five rogues and forcing them forward. The detainees were bloodied but breathing, their mouths bound, hands cuffed with reinforced mag-restraints. They struggled. Some were defiant, some afraid. 

Then their eyes landed on two figures quickly approaching with determination in their long strides as they were shoved to their knees in a line.

(Y/n) stood beside the general, her gaze sharp and fixed on them like a predator tracking prey. Her expression was unreadable, but her posture was tight with restrained fury.

One of them, a woman with faded dark hair and hollow eyes, faltered as she saw (Y/n).

Her eyes widened.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t with the gag in place. But her stare was laced with recognition, disbelief, and something sharp and uncomfortable.

(Y/n) didn’t blink as they came to a stop in front of them. Her eyes were locked on her mother like twin blades.

The general’s presence was cold and commanding as he addressed the kneeling rogues with both disdain and sadistic satisfaction in their capture.

“Your brood of vipers have made this an interesting couple of weeks, I must say. But all good things must come to an end, unfortunately.” His lips stretched into an evil smile as he slowly stepped closer. “Oh, we’re going to have fun breaking you.” He gestured to the squad behind him. “Take them to the holding cells.”

The Troopers moved to comply, accompanied by a few Duskborns. (Y/n) then spoke. Low, calm, and without looking away from her mother.

“That one.” Her head lowered in the direction of the older woman. “She’ll be the first interrogated.”

Hux looked at her briefly but said nothing. There was no question in his mind that she wouldn’t falter on her decision.

He nodded once, silently giving the order. A pair of troopers roughly yanked (Y/n)’s mother to her feet, separating her from the others as they began escorting the prisoners away.

The remaining rogues were dragged down the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the hangar, accompanied by the growls of the Duskborns.

Varo watched them go, his expression grave. But once they were out of sight, he stepped up to (Y/n), his voice low and careful.

“(Y/n).” It was his first time using her first name in the presence of others on the ship, let alone the general. But with the look in her eyes that was present since she entered the hangar, he couldn’t care less about titles and formality.

She didn’t answer.

“You doin’ alright?” He tried again, more gentle as Hux carefully watched the exchange, equally invested.

Her eyes finally flicked to Varo’s. And though she didn’t say a word, her expression was enough. An expression Varo had seen only a few times before.

The look of a wild animal held in a cage.

He didn’t press her. He just stood beside her, silent in his support.

Hux’s gaze bounced between the two of them, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

There would be much to discuss. But first, there would be blood.

The air remained heavy with the aftershock of what happened before (Y/n) turned slowly from where her mother was dragged away. Her eyes cut across the hangar to the remaining Covenant who awaited her orders in a neat, disciplined formation.

She didn’t hesitate as she stepped towards them.

“Captain.” She called. A man quickly rushed forward with unnatural speed, stopping directly in front of her at attention. His darker cloak marked his distinction as the squad leader for their group. 

“Yes, Umbral?” He spoke, voice slightly distorted by his helmet. 

“Secure perimeter patrols around the detention wing. No shifts longer than four hours. You will rotate in pairs only, no one guards alone. We don’t know if they are capable of anything outside of Covenant training.”

The captain nodded, taking her words with strict obedience.

“I want you and one other Duskborn to reinforce engineering access points as well as bioscans at every bulkhead and atmospheric control gate. If they’re smart, they’ll try to sabotage next.”

“Yes, Umbral. Understood.”

“If anyone on this ship attempts to prevent you from doing any of these tasks, you report it to me immediately and I will personally handle it.”

“As you command, Umbral.”

“Dismissed.” With a snap of his heels, the captain spun around and began barking orders to the Duskborns. They broke off in precise movements, scattering to carry out their directives.

The general, still standing behind her, watched the exchange with sharp focus. Hands clasped behind his back, lips drawn into a contemplative line. There was no cold detachment in his gaze this time.

There was something else.

Admiration. A hint of surprise. And buried somewhere deeper… a flicker of desire.

She hadn’t just taken control. She commanded. Cool, composed, and utterly lethal in presence. A weapon shaped into a leader.

Beside him was Varo, arms casually crossed and expression unbothered as he leaned slightly towards Hux.

“She always gets like this when she’s pissed.”

Hux’s brow lifts slightly, attention still fixed on (Y/n).

Varo continued with a grin. “I’ve been taking notes. Someday I’m gonna give orders like that and people’ll actually listen instead of laugh.”

“Doubtful.” Hux deadpanned.

“Fair.”

(Y/n) finally turned towards them, her features carefully neutral once again, though Hux caught the sharp edge still hiding in her eyes.

Hux gave her a single nod, though his gaze lingered longer than it should.

“Excellent work, (L/n).” He paused, then spoke lower, almost thoughtful. “Impressive.”

She tilted her head, the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in her expression, but it was hard to tell if it was from the praise or the unspoken tension hanging between them.

“You make the rest of us look like amateurs.” Varo teased. “It’s honestly infuriating.”

“You do that all on your own, Drenn.” She replied flatly.

Varo mocked being offended and pointed at her. “That was uncalled for. Accurate, but uncalled for.”

Despite everything, the prisoners, the tension, the weight of what was coming. There was a breath of ease between them. A fragile but welcome reprieve.

Hux exhaled quietly, eyes trailing (Y/n) again.

“We need to begin preparing for the interrogations. And then you’ll be able to…” he thought for a moment. “Handle… your subject.”

(Y/n) nodded before her and Varo followed behind the general as they made their way to his office. Varo gave (Y/n) a sly look, voice pitched low.

“He was staring.” He spoke bluntly. “Like, full-on ‘I’m going to write poetry about her in my quarters’ staring.”

(Y/n) grit her teeth as Varo grinned. “Varo.”

“Just saying.” He put his hands up in surrender. “You’re terrifying when you take command, but I’m pretty sure he thought you were something else. Might wanna warn him next time before he -“ Varo was cut off by a harsh slap on his arm.

But as she looked at Hux in front of them, there was something else flickering in her expression.

The office carried a heavy silence save for the soft clicks of data being organized. Hux stood beside his desk, reviewing the preliminary files of the detainees, his posture rigid, focused. (Y/n) remained near the far wall, her back partially turned, arms folded tightly across her chest.

The silence between them stretched until Hux finally broke it.

“First interrogation is scheduled to begin in 15 minutes.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately.

“I’m sure you have questions,” she spoke quietly. “Elira (L/n).” Hux’s gaze snapped to her at the mention of the same last name. “My mother.”

Hux’s fingers froze above the datapad. His expression was unreadable, though something in his eyes softened slightly.

“I see,” he said carefully. 

Telling herself that it was necessary information prior to the interrogation, she continued, her voice steady but subdued. “I thought I’d never see her again. The last time I did, she disowned me.”

She inhaled slowly through her nose, grounding herself as her gaze lowered to the floor. 

“My parents supported the Resistance, so naturally I followed. Growing up, they told me that the stories of what happened to our people were fabricated lies. That the Covenant was just another form of control used by the First Order.”

Her voice grew quieter.

“When I told them I enlisted in the Covenant, that I’d met Varo - who told me the truth - they were furious.”

Hux took a few steps toward her, listening.

“She told me I was brainwashed. That the Resistance was the only path forward for people like us. I told her I didn’t want to forget what they did to our people. I wanted justice. She said if I walked out that door, I would no longer be her daughter.” (Y/n) swallowed the tightness in her throat, eyes flicking up to meet Hux’s. “I left anyway.”

He watched her for a moment longer, taking in the weight of her words. The rare vulnerability threading through the calm composure she wore like armor. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

“You made the right choice.”

“I don’t need reassurance,” she said, turning away slightly.

“No,” Hux said, “but you deserve it.”

(Y/n) let out a breath, shaky despite her effort to control it. “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see her. I want to be cold. I want to act like she’s just another prisoner. But…”

“But she’s not,” he finished for her.

“She looked surprised,” (Y/n) murmured with partial amusement. “When our eyes met in the hangar. I don’t know if she was ashamed… or just didn’t expect to see me.”

Hux stepped closer, careful not to invade her space, but close enough that his voice dropped into something more human.

“You’ve turned out loyal. Capable and unshakably devoted to your cause. She should be grateful you didn’t let their cowardice define you.”

(Y/n)’s lips parted as if to speak, but she stopped herself, nodding once instead. The silence returned, heavy but less suffocating now.

Finally, Hux spoke again.

“I’ll attend the interrogation with you. You won’t go in there alone.”

(Y/n) turned to him, surprised. “You don’t have to -”

“I want to.” He replied firmly.

She met his gaze, and this time, there was no veneer of command or control in either of them. Only something quietly understanding. A long, steadying moment passed between them.

Then (Y/n) nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hux didn’t respond with words. Just a quiet nod… and the comfort of silence shared with someone who understood what it meant to be abandoned. 

And to keep going anyway.

The metallic corridor outside of the detention wing was chilled, dimly lit with harsh overhead fluorescents that buzzed faintly, casting pale light across polished black floors. Two Duskborns stood stationed on either side of the sealed blast doors of the interrogation room, their heads locked forward in unblinking silence. A pair of stormtroopers flanked them, weapons held steady against their armor.

Varo stood waiting nearby, his posture alert but relaxed in that uniquely casual way of his. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned to see (Y/n) and General Hux striding towards them together.

(Y/n)’s expression was unreadable, her eyes cold, her jaw clenched. She moved with unwavering purpose, every step measured and silent. But Varo knew her too well to miss the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

He stepped forward, glancing at Hux with a short nod before turning his attention to her.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly.

(Y/n) blinked, her lips twitching as if caught between a grimace and a smile. “Am I pretending?”

Varo shrugged. “You’re walking like you’re about to go into battle. And I’d say you’ve got that ‘vengeful spirit of the ancestors’ look in your eyes again.”

Her shoulders tensed slightly before she forced a breath through her nose.

“I’m fine,” she muttered.

“No, you’re angry. And hurt. And about to go talk to the person who did that to you.” Varo’s voice softened. “You don’t have to be fine, (Y/n). You just have to be in control.”

There was a brief pause.

She looked up at him, expression guarded but grateful beneath the steel.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to her,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

“Start with what you want her to hear,” he said. “Then say what you need to say.”

He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. “You’ve faced worse. You’ve survived worse. She won’t break you.”

From behind them, the general waited silently, allowing the moment between them to settle. His hands were folded behind his back, his gaze unreadable but sharp as ever. But there was no judgment in his eyes, only a rare flicker of something quieter. 

(Y/n) turned to Hux, nodding once.

His gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat longer than usual before he offered a nod in return. 

The blast doors hissed as they began to part, the light beyond flickering on with a sterile, clinical chill.

Together, (Y/n) and Hux stepped through - side by side - into the chamber where the ghost of her past waited to speak.

The room was black steel and held a sense of brutality. Devoid of comfort, drenched in sterilized silence. A single spotlight poured down from above onto the table bolted to the floor in the center of the room. Restraints clamped down on the prisoner’s wrists and ankles, tight and unmoving as the table was inclined for her to lay upright.

On that table sat her ghost. (Y/n)’s mother.

Still sharp-featured and graceful despite the grime of capture, but aged in a way that had nothing to do with time. Her clothes, though stripped of insignia, still held the vague air of Resistance sympathies. Her gold eyes burned with a smug, knowing light, even now.

(Y/n) stood before her. Unmoving. Focused.

Her cloak was gone, boots echoing across the metal as she paced in measured steps around the chair. The sharp hiss of the sealed blast door sounded behind them, where Hux now stood silently in the shadows. He said nothing. Observed everything.

“(Y/n),” her mother purred, voice far too casual for the weight in the air. “My daughter, standing like a First Order dog. I always imagined you’d outgrow your rebellion against us. But look at you. Still clinging to the leash someone else put around your neck.”

(Y/n) ignored the bait. She circled again, cool and collected.

“You were found in the company of known ex-Covenant fugitives. Now Resistance operatives.” Her tone was flat, clinical. “You will give us names, contacts, safehouses, and supply lines. Do this, and perhaps you’ll be granted leniency.”

Her mother tilted her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “The Covenant must’ve broken you more than I thought. They told you a new history, gave you new fangs, and now look. You’re snarling at your own blood.”

(Y/n) stopped walking. Her arms stayed at her sides, her posture impeccable, but the line of her jaw was sharp now, locked tight.

“I’m snarling at traitors.”

Her mother’s expression twisted.

“To our people?” she hissed. “Or to the family you discarded for the sake of your friend’s myth? You think they care for you? You think that man behind you,” Her gaze flicked to Hux. “Would even look your way if it weren’t for how useful you are? How obedient you are?”

That landed.

(Y/n) didn’t flinch, but her breath hitched. Subtle. Small. But there.

“My loyalty is to my assignment. And to the Covenant and First Order.” She replied tightly, her voice lower.

Her mother’s lips curled. “That’s not what I see in your eyes when you glance at him.”

From the back of the room, Hux shifted slightly. He remained composed, unreadable. But his gaze sharpened with interest.

(Y/n)’s eyes darkened, fangs just barely visible behind a clenched jaw.

“You know nothing about me,” she said, voice steady but low with restrained threat.

“I know you,” her mother pressed, eyes glowing. “I see the girl who wanted to belong so badly she let herself be molded into a weapon. And now you’re falling for your handler. How poetic.”

(Y/n) stepped forward too fast. Her hand gripped the edge of the table, close to her mother’s throat, but not touching.

“I said you know nothing about me,” she seethed. “You forfeited that right when you threw me out.”

The words rang sharper than anything that had come before. Her mother’s smugness wavered just slightly.

Behind her, Hux took a single step forward, voice cutting cleanly through the silence.

“Where were your orders coming from?” He redirected.

His voice cut cleanly across the air. Calm, precise, commanding.

Her mother blinked, pulled abruptly from the rising tension between her and her daughter. She turned toward Hux with a subtle sneer, clearly displeased with the shift in control.

“We intercepted coded transmissions routed through an old Resistance frequency,” Hux continued, stepping forward into the light with quiet authority. “You’re going to tell us where the next operation is planned, and how long you’ve been in contact with the rogue faction”

A beat passed.

Then another.

The silence gave (Y/n) time to steel herself again. She folded her arms, lips drawn in a firm line, and resumed her position at Hux’s side, this time more guarded, more resolved.

Her mother looked between the two of them. That smug gleam in her eyes had dulled slightly.

“You two really do make quite the team,” she said, colder now.

Hux said nothing. (Y/n) stared through her like she was already ash.

And somewhere, deep beneath the chill in her voice, something cracked in (Y/n)’s chest that she refused to look at too closely.

A long, dragging silence lingered in the room. (Y/n)’s mother didn’t speak for a moment. Her eyes flicked between him and (Y/n), no longer filled with smugness, but calculation. Weighing.

Then she exhaled, slow and bitter.

“You think I’ll sell them out? That I’ll betray everything for you?” she said, turning her gaze fully back to (Y/n). “You’re a child playing war. You have no idea what we’ve sacrificed to keep the truth buried. What the Resistance gave us in exchange for silence. You think you’re righteous now because the Covenant gave you a uniform and purpose -”

“I think,” (Y/n) interrupted, her voice eerily calm, “that you’re wasting my time. And I don’t like when people waste my time.”

She stepped forward slowly, her boots clicking softly against the metal floor. Hux remained just behind her, a silent force of support, eyes sharp and watching.

Her mother sneered. “You’re going to try to frighten me, is that it? You forget that I raised you. You were always too soft to do what needed to be done.”

(Y/n) stopped directly beside her.

“I was,” she admitted. “But I’m not her anymore.”

Then her eyes darkened. The golden glow in her irises sharpened, deepening into something ancient, something primal. She let her hand rest on the edge of the interrogation table, not threatening, but suggestive. The air changed, subtle and slow, like the pressure before a storm.

Her mother’s composure wavered just slightly.

“You may be working with ex-Covenants who simply studied Umbral technique,” (Y/n) said quietly. “But I’m the Umbral. While your little faction can barely attempt to reach our frequencies, I can reach nerves you weren’t even aware that you had. And unlike them,” she nodded toward the security panel, “I won’t need a droid to do it.”

Hux said nothing, merely backed away to allow her space as he sensed an urge of bloodlust in her tone. His silence was approval, his gaze intense as he watched the scene unfold.

Her mother scoffed, but it was weaker this time. “You’re bluffing.”

(Y/n) smirked sadistically.

She extended her hand with slow, deliberate precision, brushing her fingertips near the side of her mother’s neck, just close enough for her mother to feel the tips of the preternatural sharpness of her nails, the way her presence seemed to sink into the skin.

Her mother stiffened.

Still, (Y/n) didn’t touch her besides the tickling sensation. Not yet. She let the words work their way under her mother’s skin.

“You can talk,” she said softly. “Or I can peel the truth out of you. Slowly .”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

Her mother’s jaw tensed. Her eyes betrayed her as she tried to maintain her pride. Her hands tugged slightly against the restraints.

“You wouldn’t -” she began.

(Y/n) interrupted, her voice hollow and cold. “You gave me nothing. You lied to me. Disowned me. I have no remorse for your pain.”

That, more than anything, made her mother flinch.

And for the first time since entering the chamber, the woman’s eyes shifted. Not with defiance, but with recognition.

A crack.

Hux observed it all silently, his hands still folded neatly behind his back. But there was a look in his eyes now. Measured pride, and something else deeper, more personal. Watching (Y/n) become who she needed to be. Commanding. Ruthless. Unshaken.

But he could see the strain beneath the resolve, beneath the fury, the remnants of a daughter still buried under years of betrayal.

Her mother finally exhaled. But no information followed.

(Y/n) leaned in closer, nails beginning to press into her neck with trained precision. Even with barely any pressure, her mother’s eyes widened enough to reveal the amount of pain she was experiencing.

“I would rethink your analysis of what you think I’m capable of. This isn’t just loyalty to the Covenant or the First Order.” Her nails pressed further and the older woman’s mouth gaped, veins beginning to swell on her skull from strain. “This is the wrath of a daughter long forgotten.”

Suddenly, her nails pierced through her skin and dug through directly to her nerves. 

Varo stood just outside the reinforced blast doors, arms folded, leaning against the wall like he was waiting for a caf refill instead of an interrogation to end. For a while, it was quiet.

Then -

A muffled scream erupted from within the interrogation chamber. Sharp. Definitely pained.

One of the stormtroopers stiffened. The other glanced nervously at Varo.

Varo didn’t even flinch. He just raised a brow, cocked his head towards the door with a smirk, and muttered, “There it is.”

The Duskborns didn’t so much as blink.

“About time,” Varo added. “Thought (L/n) might actually try diplomacy for a second there… A brief, terrifying second.”

The stormtroopers exchanged an awkward glance.

“Is that standard?” one of them asked, as another muffled cry echoed from behind the doors.

Varo shrugged. “Depends on your definition of standard. She’s doing the thing where she doesn’t blink, right?” He looked to the Duskborn on the left who held a datapad with surveillance of the interrogation. They gave a subtle nod.

“Yeah,” Varo continued. “That’s her ‘I’m gonna extract your soul through your teeth’ face. Totally fine.”

Another scream. One that sounded like it came with tears.

One of the troopers cleared his throat. “Should we, uh, alert medical, sir?”

Varo snorted. “To have them walk into that room and spontaneously combust? No thanks. Anyways, if it gets too quiet in there, then you should worry.”

The Duskborn beside him let out a low, approving hum. Close to a laugh.

Varo grinned. “Best seat in the house, boys. You’re witnessing a master at work. And by ‘witnessing’ I mean ‘listening to a war crime in real time.’”

He glanced back toward the chamber doors, tone softening slightly beneath the bravado.

“She’ll be alright,” he added quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Then another muffled scream rang out - panicked this time - and Varo clapped his hands together once.

“Welp. That’s the sound of truth. Sounds like we got what we need.”

After a few minutes of silence, the door hissed open with a hydraulic groan, leaving behind only a faint echo of the storm it had followed.

General Hux stepped out first, composed as ever, though his jaw was tight and his gloves slightly askew. Subtle signs that he’d been more involved than he liked to appear. Behind him, (Y/n) emerged in silence.

Her posture was upright, but her steps were heavy. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, bore none of their usual sharp focus an afterglow of restraint barely kept in check.

Varo stood straighter as they appeared, arms unfolding from where they’d been crossed.

“Ah,” he said with a short nod. “So… good news or do I prep another cell?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer. She brushed past him like a shadow, her expression carved from stone. For a second, it looked like she might keep walking. But then she paused.

Without turning, she said lowly, “She broke.”

Varo raised his brows. “No kidding?”

“She gave us a name,” Hux confirmed, stepping to stand beside (Y/n). “And a destination. We’ll be debriefing shortly.”

The two Duskborns exchanged glances, subtle but meaningful. The troopers remained silent, uncertain whether to feel relieved or unnerved.

Varo leaned in slightly, his voice pitched just for (Y/n). “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped and automatic.

Hux watched her carefully, noting the stiff line of her shoulders and the way her fingers flexed slightly. Telltale signs of unrest.

“She did quite well, I must say,” Hux added evenly, still watching her. “Admirably.”

(Y/n) didn’t thank him. She just gave a short nod and said, “Excuse me,” before striding off down the hall.

Varo let out a breath and looked over at Hux. “You sure she’s alright?”

“No,” Hux replied without missing a beat. “But she will be.”

Varo gave a short chuckle. “You always say that like it’s a fact.”

Hux adjusted his gloves slowly. “Because with her, it is.”

The Scarred - Re-Vamped!

Hello, everyone!

If you’ve read the story The Scarred on @j-wont-stop page, it is actually my account. I logged out and haven’t been able to log in so I created this new one.

It’s been a long time coming, I’m sorry for the wait and I understand if yall gave up on it after a certain amount of time, I would’ve, too, honestly - however! The story is back on its way to completion and I’m excited to share where it goes!

Some things have been tweaked due to minor plot changes, but generally it still follows the same plot! So if you’re ready to stick to it, I’ll be sure to make sure it was worth the wait!

For my Serenity story, it is finished, I’m just making minor adjustments before I post the final parts.

Thank you all so much for your support!

Serenity - Chapter 11 (Final)

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

Mary wasn't quite sure when she awoke the next day, but by the time she did she could feel it would've been the latest she'd done so. She flinched when she felt the bed dip next to her, fingers combing through her hair, not completely aware of her surroundings in her sleepy state. A calming voice quickly soothed it.

"It's just me." Her demeanor quickly changed and she relaxed once more, blindly finding Reuben to cling on to during such a rarity. He was hardly ever in the room when she woke up. She only ever really woke up on her own or from Emilia.

She knew he was dressed by the layers of fabric she felt and fiddled with lazily, humming in content with an equally lazy smile. The man hummed his own, a light laugh at her early morning state. Even he could tell she wasn't completely awake yet.

"Best to enjoy it now before it's gone." He advised, piquing her curiosity.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means this is the calm before the storm." Mary turned over onto her back and blinked her eyes open to look at him, appreciating the curtains that remained closed.

"What're you going on about? What storm?" Mary was practically begging now, quickly awakening from his antics as she sat up on her forearms.

"Why, my dear, it's the Baron's birthday today." He gasped as if he was offended she'd forgotten, but Mary could tell it was but a simple jest. She swatted at his chest and fell back down onto his thighs, using them as her own pillow as she giggled, Reuben soon joining.

"You gave me quite a fright, I hope you know." She said through their little fit. Reuben wiggled a finger at her cheek teasingly and she scrunched her nose.

"That was the point." He leaned back against the headboard as she gave a large stretch, groaning at the relief of it before sitting up.

"I didn't get up too late, did I?"

"It's only ten." He shrugged as if it was nothing, but his smirk said otherwise.

"Only ten?!" Mary gasped in shock and shot up from the bed, peeking out the window then whipping around towards Reuben again. "Why did no one wake me up sooner?" The catcher stood and stepped towards Mary, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

"You needed sleep." He placed a kiss on her forehead before moving to the wardrobe. "But nevertheless, you're awake now. And we need to get you ready for the party." A knock sounded from the door and he went to open it, Emilia stepping inside after an exchange of words with the catcher. He eyed Mary, then left the two of them to their own devices. The maid

looked over at Mary and offered a cheery smile.

"Would you like to see your dress, Miss?" Mary nodded eagerly, Emilia disappearing only for a moment to return with her said dress.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of it.

The atmosphere changed rapidly in the room, a thick silence filling it. She didn't know what to think. How to feel. She was frozen in place as her eyes watered, overwhelmed.

In front of her hung the very dress she made for herself. The very dress she never thought she would have the chance to wear. The very dress that was her mother's favorite.

She sniffed as she stepped closer to it, reaching out to run her fingers along the chiffon fabric, memories flooding her now busy head. Everything hit her all at once, it seemed. Grief, excitement, happiness. Guilt. Images of her and her mother flashed by, along with her father occasionally. Then the sight of her mother's body lying in their dining room.

She could still feel her lifeless eyes boring into her very being, not at all like the mother she knew. How she was denied her own time to mourn beside her body, to weep as her father had before she arrived.

The maid called for Mary, but in vain as it was muffled to her. She felt it harder to breathe, holding onto the bed post for support as she gasped for breath. She moved to sit on the bed and clutched at her throat as she wailed desperately.

Emilia rushed to her side, soothing her as best as she could in her own panicked state.

"Miss Mary?" The blonde moved to kneel in front of her hunched over form, taking hold of her hands to stop them from almost choking herself. "Miss Mary!" The seamstress finally reached Emilia's eyes, the latter motioning for her to breathe with her, guiding her through the motion.

"Miss Mary, focus on me. Only me, okay? How my hands feel, what I look like - every detail, okay?"

Mary nodded as she began grounding herself, following the maid's orders as best she could. Emilia continued to breathe with her until they were in sync, and then some. She made sure not to move from her spot on the floor until absolutely positive that Mary had recovered. When she had, the maid moved to sit beside her once more, resting a hand on her far shoulder to rub it in small circles.

"Thank you..." Mary whispered, not quite meeting Emilia's eyes in embarrassment.

"Not a problem at all, I assure you." The two of them stayed that way for a few more moments, then Mary stood to retrieve her dress and quietly made her way to the bathroom to change. Emilia made quick work of it when she stepped out, Mary staring at her reflection. The cut on her head remained, however more faint than before. Her eyes were bloodshot and began to swell from her previous attack, she just hoped it would go down by the time the party started.

Emilia fussed and took her time with the seamstress' appearance more than she would've for anything else. However, as it being Baron Bomburst's birthday, she took great care.

Mary wasn't sure what to expect. How many people would be there? How extravagant would the party even be? Even though she trusted Emilia's judgment she couldn't help but wonder.

Mary hoped she wouldn't have to sit and wait for the festivities to start, but with how long it took for her to get ready she supposed she didn't have to worry about it at all. She failed to notice the time, and it was only when Reuben visited her room to escort her that she noticed.

He stood in awe at her appearance. She had cleaned up quite nicely before, but somehow he was stunned time and time again. In that moment she was nothing short of ethereal. Mary could only avoid his stare, cheeks growing rosy with his blatant gawking.

"Reuben?" The man closed his mouth, stepping towards her while in his own trance. As he stopped in front of her with his gloved hands lifted, hovering over her waist before finally easing them onto her. His hold was gentle, as if she was made of porcelain. Being the very first time he was truly dumbfounded, a grin reached her lips.

"I'm afraid the baroness herself would be envious."

"You could be beheaded for such talk." Mary teased. Reuben simply clicked his tongue and offered his arm to her to which she gladly accepted.

"No matter. We have a birthday to celebrate."

As they neared the throne room the music from the orchestra grew into a crescendo, followed by occasional clapping from what sounded like a larger crowd. When they stepped around and through the archway leading them into it Mary first noticed the vibrancy of colors in the room, or moreso a singular color.

A multitudinous flurry of different shades of purple spun around the room, others remaining seated at the tables along the sides. Some were as joyful as can be while the rest held quite the exact opposite. Streamers and balloons dawning the Vulgarian colors were placed around the room for all to see, along with table coverings and other miscellaneous accessories.

A look of shock spread over her face at first, but the longer she took everything in, the quicker it transformed into a bright smile. Reuben walked her down the stairs, delicately taking hold of her hand as he did so. She was led around the crowd of waltzers and to an open bench at the table, coincidentally where the two females Mary spoke with earlier were sitting with their own partners.

"Oh, my! Is that you Miss Mary?" Mildred, she recalled, chirped almost as soon as they sat down.

"Well I'll be, it most definitely is!" Aundrea  responded. If she didn't know any better, Mary would think they were sisters. "And is that the notorious catcher I see at your hip?" The older woman winked, causing Mary to blush.

"You have a keen eye for the obvious, Miss Bauer." The minor insult easily slipped off of his tongue, but it seemed to be quickly brushed off.

"You should've seen them when they walked in!" Mildred whispered excitedly. "Everyone's heads turned!" Mary felt a swell of pride in her chest, adjusting her posture to sit up more straight while they began to plate their food. 

"Yes, everyone will be asking for dresses now!"

"And insight -" Mildred's whisper was cut off by Aundrea shushing her aggressively with a giggle, giving her arm a light smack. Reuben simply rolled his eyes and poured Mary and himself a glass of champagne.

"Thank you." The small group continued with their giggle-filled small talk as the men looked on at the crowd, the bunch nibbling on their food while doing so.

As annoying as they could be, Mary found the two ladies to be quite humorous and enjoyable, save for all of the useless gossip. It came as a distraction for her, to feel as if she had even a chance at fitting in somewhere at last. Soon all of the voices, music and hustle and bustle of the room became muffled, tuned out and she took a moment to relish in the feeling of that moment and appreciated all that she had. With her mother in mind she let a gentle smile reach her lips, water beginning to pool against her waterline.

A hand then moved to her thigh cautiously. Mary looked over at Reuben as she held that same smile.

"I just wish Mother could be here to see it." She whispered. Reuben reached up and brushed away a stray tear that had unknowingly slipped.

"She can, I'm sure. And she's more than proud." He glanced over at the main floor. "None of those today. We celebrate." He stood up and held out his hand to her with a slight bow. "My lady?" Mildred and Aundrea awed and nudged Mary.

"Go on!" They both whispered hurriedly in unison.

Mary's smile widened and she gladly took his hand, allowing herself to be dragged to the mass of bodies waltzing. As before, they placed their hands properly and began their steps, Mary feeling more confident thanks to Reuben and the champagne.

At that moment all that existed was the music and the two of them. Mary's stomach tingled with excitement as they spun, giggling to herself while he smiled on in amusement.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?" Mary asked out of the blue.

"I may have a feeling."

"I don't want this moment to -" Mary gasped as the large castle doors burst open suddenly. The music screeched to a halt along with the people. Multiple footsteps echoed as they entered the throne room, Mary peering around the bodies trying to see what was happening.

When she could finally see her eyes widened. Her body froze on the spot, her head the only thing that moved as it followed the disruptors. Three guards, one man with an all-too-familiar grumble. Two practically dragged his body as dead weight while the third led from the front, everyone parting to let them through to the barons.

Mary's breath was shallow and Reuben felt as her hands grew sweaty, quickly grabbing at his wrist and arm and stepping closer to him. As they passed the two of them she noticed her father glance at her with a prideful smirk that made her nauseous. The catcher instinctively pulled her away to stand a bit behind him.

"Why've they brought him here?" Mary whispered frantically.

"I'm afraid I don't know."

Once they reached the bottom of the steps the two guards dragging the man forced him to his knees, hands bound behind him. The third stepped up a few and gave a deep bow.

"Your excellency."

"What is this?!" The Baron belted in an outrage.

"A disturbance. He was found sneaking into the courtyard and attacked a guard there."

"Who are you, what brought you here?!"

"Charles... Elise." He drawled out. The barons scanned the crowd, sharp gazes landing on Mary who let out a shaky breath.

"Mary Elise?" The baroness called out to her. For a moment she didn't move, then reality struck and she stepped closer to the stairs, Reuben a few feet behind.

"Yes, your excellency?" Mary's voice quivered in response, hardly above a whisper.

"Who is he to you?" Without looking at him she replied.

"My father."

"The one who...?" Her silence gave her the answer. The baroness cleared her throat and turned to Bomburst, mumbling something into his ear with a side eye.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho." The Baron chuckled deeply, and it was without amusement. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have this fine lady with us today." He motioned towards Mary. "But be that as it may, with such a disturbance not only on my birthday!" He paused. "But with the entire village no doubt. Let alone one of my hardest workers. Mary," Bomburst gave her a frightening look. "What say you?"

All of a sudden she felt all eyes on her. But at that moment, she couldn't have cared less. Her original fear turned into adrenaline, then anger. Everything he had done to her and her mother flooded her mind and fed into it. The silence in the room grew heavy, She lacked expression, heavy lidded eyes turning towards the sorry man that knelt before her. She then took a breath.

"He doesn't deserve beheading." Mary watched as her father's eyes widened, followed by a spark of hope as he began to smile.

"Oh, thank you -!" The woman held up a hand and he silenced. She torturously stepped closer, stopping to think. Everyone held their breath, some leaning forward in anticipation.

"Feed him to the rats." All color drained from his face as his smile turned to a look of horror. Gasps echoed, some even applauded and cheered and the man was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming seamless apologies.

Mary just stared at the floor where he had been, thoughtless and vacant. A hand on her back brought her to, her head turning to its owner to see Reuben with an expression she couldn't read. He gave her a firm nod. However, what he least expected was the smile that began to form that was genuine in the worst way. Nonetheless, he welcomed it and answered with his own.

"Resume the festivities!" The Baron cheered.

For your new Art the Clown Series: Can I please request the reader and Art going on their first ever official date? A night on the town? Like it’s not just what they usually do. There’s some fine dining, a movie, and a romantic walk in the park involved. Of course, all made twisted and bloody by the duo. 😆

Of course! Definitely gonna be a fun one to write 👏🏻

The Scarred - Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning - This chapter contains smut but can be read without it. Smut will start after the second banner. MDNI/NSFW!

The smell of iron filled her lungs, the blood stuck to her face invading her senses as the man now lay still on the floor below her. With a crazed look in her eye, she kicked away the arm that was now detached, heavy as it slid across the stained floor. 

She began to breathe heavily, unable to decipher whether or not she had really done it. But the smell alone brought her to the reality of the situation. 

As the men began to pick up what was left of the body, she began to smile, then it turned into a chaotic giggle. She turned to face the Joker and it immediately dropped.

He stared at her with such an intensity that turned her to stone, eyes somehow darker than they ever were. Her lips parted in a silent question, worried about whether or not she overstepped. 

She heard the doors shut behind her and suddenly, in a few large strides, he approached her and aggressively pulled her into him. His lips crashed down onto her own blood stained ones, not possibly caring less in that moment as he practically suffocated her. 

At first she was stiff, baffled by his sudden behavior that seemed completely out of character for him. 

Then she finally let go and accepted it. 

Her arm reached up around his neck, reciprocating the affection with equal intensity. Nothing was held back by either of them, his hands wandering over her figure as she kept her own planted, choosing to focus on the sensation of his scarred lips. 

She sighed once he pulled away, eye slowly opening to gaze into the hazel gems before her. 

“J?” Penelope whispered, the nickname slipping out without a second thought. His expression faltered when it reached his ears, but their usual spark soon followed after. 

He didn’t correct her. He didn’t snap. Instead, a low chuckle rumbled from his throat, rolling into a sharp, sinister laugh that echoed off of the concrete walls. His gloved fingers came up to her face, tracing the scarred side with surprising gentleness, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Well, well, well,” He rasped, voice dripping with twisted delight. “Look who’s getting familiar now, hm?”

Penelope tensed but didn’t pull away. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a wildness dancing just beneath the surface. Yet there was a strange acceptance, too. As if she’d unlocked a piece of him. Something private. Dangerous.

“Ya know, doll,” He cooed, the nickname rolling off his tongue mockingly, yet with a hint of genuine fondness. “Most people aren’t brave enough to give me nicknames.” He licked at his lips. “Ya might want to be careful, though,” He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “Calling me that? That’s… close. And close gets people hurt.”

His fingers dropped from her face, drifting lazily down to her shoulder, lingering on the edge of her missing arm. 

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, those crazed eyes searching hers, trying to see if she’d flinch. But Penelope held her ground, her heart racing, something in her stirring. A newfound sense of chaos, creeping up, waking.

“I’ll take my chances,” She whispered, her voice steady despite the flutter of fear and excitement in her chest.

The Joker’s smile returned, wider than ever. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down her spine.

-

When she entered her apartment, she ignored the presence she knew would already be there, prioritizing a shower to get the now dried and crusted blood off of her. His questions of concern were muffled as she mindlessly wandered to her bedroom to pick out her pajamas. 

“Penelope!” Liam finally yelled, gripping firmly onto her shoulders and turning her to face him. For once, he was truly speechless. Unable to hide his worry for what inevitably came to be his best friend, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, Liam.” She offered a genuine smile, resting her hand over one of his own. She brushed past him towards the bathroom to turn on the shower and closed the door. 

Questions flooded in his mind as he impatiently waited on the couch, the TV now completely blocked out. His leg bounced anxiously, biting at his nails. He practically jumped out of his skin when the door opened and she walked in, acting as if nothing even happened. 

She searched through her cupboards for something, plastic crinkling in her hands as she opened a pack of popcorn and popped it into the microwave. 

“Penny?” Liam cautiously called to her. She simply hummed in response. He stood and gradually made his way over to her. “Did he hurt ye?” 

“Quite the opposite.” Penelope answered casually, unloading the dishwasher as she spoke. 

“Penny. Ye know ye can trust me.”

“I killed a man, Liam!” She finally blurted out as she whipped to face him. “He found the man that caused this,” She motioned to her deformed body. “And I killed him.” 

The two of them stood silently, searching the other for any sign of distrust or betrayal. While she overthought his reaction, Liam had assumed it was only a matter of time before it happened. As soon as the Joker made himself known to her, he knew it was over.

“The scary part isn’t even that I did it. It’s that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Not after what he did to me, Liam.” Her voice began to break, lip beginning to tremble. “Not after…” She sniffed and wrapped her arm around his torso, relieved that his warm comfort was provided without a moment’s hesitation. 

He gently hushed her, cradling her head while his other hand’s thumb caressed her back. “It’s alright, lovin’.” He whispered. 

Liam pulled away, hands gently taking hold of her face to look at him. 

“There is nothin’ wrong with ye. Nothin’ wrong with what happened, ye understand? He got what he deserved, yeah?” 

Penelope nodded as he wiped away her tears, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave before leading them to the couch. She wrapped herself in a blanket, opening the bag and nibbling on a small handful. 

“Did he scream?” He asked in a joking tone once she calmed down more. To his relief, she giggled. 

“Like a pussy.” 

-

The flower shop was quiet, the soft scent of roses and lilies filling the air as Emma arranged a bouquet of daisies behind the counter. The bell over the door jingled softly as Penelope stepped inside, her movements slow and careful. Emma’s eyes lifted to greet her, but the smile faded slightly when she saw Penelope’s face—pale, drawn, and distant.

“Hey, hun,” Emma called gently, setting the flowers aside. “Everything okay?”

Penelope gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eye. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

Emma frowned, watching her carefully. She knew Penelope had been through a lot, but lately, something had shifted. The girl had always been quiet, but now there was a tension beneath the surface, as if she were on edge, waiting for something. Emma noticed the slight twitch in Penelope’s remaining hand, her fingers trembling for a moment before she shoved them into her pocket.

“I’m gonna go handle the new shipment.” Penelope asked, her voice strained.

Emma nodded slowly but kept her eyes on her as she made her way to the door leading into the back room. “Of course, sweetheart. You sure you’re feeling alright, though? You’ve been… distant lately.”

Penelope stiffened, her back to Emma as she began unpacking a box of tulips. “I’m fine.” She said quickly. Too quickly.

Emma bit her lip, the maternal instinct in her stirring. She walked over, placing a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Look, I know things have been hard for you, but if something’s wrong… you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Penelope flinched at the touch, though she tried to hide it with a small shrug. “I know. But really, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. She didn’t believe that for a second. There was a darkness in Penelope’s expression, something haunted and restless. Emma had seen it before in people who were hiding something, something dangerous. She couldn’t help but feel a knot of worry tighten in her chest.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Penelope,” Emma said softly. “You’ve been acting off. And it scares me.”

Penelope hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the box. “I’m fine, Emma.”

But Emma wasn’t convinced. Her heart ached as she watched her, knowing that whatever it was, Penelope was shutting her out. 

“I’m here if you need me,” Emma said quietly, retreating back to the counter. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

Penelope nodded, but Emma could see the flicker of guilt in her eye before she turned away.

A little while passed and eventually it was close to closing. Penelope sat behind the counter scribbling away in her journal, however more aggressive than usual. The door chimed as it opened, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she saw it was only Liam. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Emma. 

“Ey there, Penny.” He greeted, giving a simple nod to Emma as he charismatically leaned on the counter in front of the former. “Day treatin’ ye right?” Penelope shrugged. Emma decided to disappear into the back, but took care to listen in on their conversation.

“As much as it can, I suppose.” 

“Ye still up fer the range?” He asked, concerned about whether she was too tired or overwhelmed. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t think I’ll be up for being there as long, though.” 

“No worries about that, I figured as much.” He glanced over at the clock and Penelope did the same, packing up her things to leave. She walked over to the back room and leaned in the doorway. 

“I’m heading out, Emma. Text me if you need anything, okay?” The brunette gave an appreciative smile. 

“I will. You take care now, okay? Be safe.” 

“You too.” Penelope offered a smile of her own before meeting Liam at the door to leave. 

The range was rather large, hidden away in the outskirts which she appreciated. With how big it was, she was surprised that they were the only ones there besides the owner at the front. 

They stood in a separate room where the actual range was, handguns aimed down range and firing. After finishing an iteration they took their ear covers off, the pressure of them irritating her head. 

“She doesn’t know about what ye’ve been up to, does she?” Liam suddenly asked, catching her off guard. Penelope hesitated before answering. 

“No.” Liam leaned against the nearby wall, eyeing her. 

“I’d be careful about her if I were ye.” 

“Why’s that? She doesn’t know, and it’s going to stay that way so long as I can help it.” Penelope readied her gun for the next iteration, then set it back down carefully.

“Ye see, that’s the thing. Ye don’t trust her enough to tell her. And that says a lot. Ye told me and yet ye’ve barely known me for half as long.” 

Liam pushed himself off of the wall and began making his way towards her. 

“Ye don’t trust her as much as he think ye do, Penny. She may be a friend, but she’s not loyal. The second she gets even a hint of what yer up to, she’s gonna get curious and try to find out more, and when she does, she’s goin’ straight to the cops.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to me -“

“But she would.” Liam spoke sternly, urging her to believe him. “I’ve dealt with plenty of her kind and it never ended well. Even just today, I saw the way she was eyein’ us. She’s already suspicious.” 

Liam raised his hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Ye need to be careful around her. I know it’s hard, she’s yer friend, I get it. I do. But I’m speakin’ from experience. As much as it hurts to hear, ye can’t trust her.” 

Penelope cast her gaze downwards, struggling to take in all that she was being told. 

“Come on. Let’s keep goin’.” He nodded towards the targets in front of them, taking notice of the turmoil going on in her head. 

As always, he walked her to her apartment when finished. Both because he was right down the hall and it was just the right thing to do. But just before she opened her door, he stopped her. 

“Just think about what I said, yeah? I’m tryin’ to keep ye safe.” Penelope paused, thinking. Then she finally nodded and Liam smiled at her, patting her shoulder before walking to his apartment. 

Penelope turned back to her door and opened it, a familiar smell reaching her nose making her sigh as the door softly clicked shut behind her. She looked over at her couch where the notorious clown-like man sat comfortably. He lounged back like he belonged there, flipping through channels with an air of indifference, his lips twisted into that familiar, unsettling grin.

Her heart raced. She didn’t know what to feel. Fear, confusion, curiosity? The same mixture of emotions had been bubbling inside her since that night. The night she’d felt his lips on hers, tasted the madness, and the thrill of what she’d done. The blood on her hands still felt so fresh.

“You’re here.” Penelope finally said, breaking the silence, her voice hoarse but steady.

Joker didn’t look away from the screen, but his grin widened. “Where else would I be?”

She swallowed hard, moving slowly towards the couch, her eyes never leaving him. “I don’t know… plotting, terrorizing people. Laughing at something burning, maybe?”

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, and patted the seat next to him. “Sheesh, can’t a guy just catch a break sometimes? Hm?” He jested, eyes still fixated on the TV. “Sit down, toots, we’re watching a comedy.”

She hesitated, glancing at the TV. Some mindless sitcom played, laugh tracks echoing. She took a seat, keeping her distance but not too far. The cushion sagged slightly under her, and she found herself staring at him, trying to read something - anything - in his chaotic, unpredictable eyes.

“What’s so funny about this?” She asked, her voice soft, unsure whether she meant the show or their entire situation.

Joker’s eyes slid over to her, sharp and amused. “Oh, nothing about the show. It’s the idea of it. People trapped in their boring little lives, pretending everything’s fine.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s hilarious, don’t ya think?”

Penelope’s gaze shifted from the TV to him, searching his face. She couldn’t understand how he saw the world. He terrified her, fascinated her, made her want to crawl away and stay close all at once. Her fingers traced the edge of the cushion nervously. “How do you live like this?”

“Like what?” He asked flatly, his eyes glinting as if her question was a challenge.

“Like…” She struggled for the right words. “Without… rules. Without a plan. Just… chaos.”

He laughed, leaning back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say I live in chaos.” His voice was soft now, almost soothing, but there was still a biting tone to it. “Yeah, I cause chaos. But live in freedom. Freedom from their rules. Their endless nagging, the ‘don’t do this, do this’, ya see? You’ve tasted it, haven’t you? The freedom. The power.”

Penelope tensed, the memory of that night creeping back in. The rush of adrenaline, the way her hands had trembled… then steadied. “That’s freedom…?” She whispered. 

Joker’s grin faltered for just a second, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. “You did what you wanted to do. Without worrying about consequences. Their consequences. The consequences of everyone trying to control you and be someone that you’re not.”

She bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “How can I be sure there won’t be consequences?”

“You’re lookin’ at it, toots.” Joker said, his tone playful but condescending. “You can choose to pretend everything’s fine, just like everyone else. Go back to being quiet, timid little Penelope. Or…” He leaned in close. “You can be free.”

Her pulse quickened, and she turned to face him, searching his eyes.“Why do you want me to change?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.

Joker’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as if he was considering her question seriously. “I don’t want you to change. I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know. And I finally got a taste of it. And so did you. The real question is…” He shifted his body to face her. “Can you live with it? Because once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore. It’ll show its true colors. You’ll see. And once you do?” He threw her a look with an accompanied gesture. “I can guarantee you won’t want to go back.” 

Penelope wasn’t sure what to do, what to think. She couldn’t help but believe him. Everything he said had some resemblance of truth. Was the freedom truly worth it? Was it worth throwing everything away? Emma? Liam? If the way she felt that night at the warehouse was only a taste of it, she could only imagine how she would feel if she just completely let go. 

She was sure Liam would understand, he was supportive of her every step of the way. No matter if it was morally questionable. 

But Emma? 

Penelope thought about what Liam had told her. Emma was a close friend. A mother figure, even. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Liam was right about her. She kept telling herself that she never told Emma any of what was happening for her protection, but could she have just been lying to herself to prevent her own guilt? Did she truly trust Emma, or did she just cling to the brunette for lack of options? 

A tear trickled its way down her cheek, not even noticing beforehand as she was lost in thought. She looked Joker in the eye and spoke with a trembling voice. 

“I don’t want to live like this anymore…” Penelope shook her head. “I’m tired of feeling stuck.” She noticed a subtle shift in his expression, hardened. He suddenly rose to his feet with newfound determination. 

“Get up.” He demanded, catching her by surprise. After a moment, she stood and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bathroom and facing her towards the mirror. “Ya want to stop living by their rules, hm?” Penelope nodded in desperation. “Take off the bandages.” 

Her eye widened in disbelief, breathing halted. He stepped closer to her, his warmth pressed against her. 

“Break their norm. Show them you’re not theirs to control anymore. Stop trying to be like them.” He leaned in next to her ear. “Send a message.”

Penelope took a shaky breath, meeting Joker’s eye through the mirror. Her heart raced, blood rushing in her ears as her hand fought to leave her side. Slowly but surely, it raised. Her hands caressed the edge of her bandages, toying with the fabric until she finally began to pull them off with care. 

She refused to look at herself, tears now streaming down her cheek as a sob left her lips. She felt cool leather grip her jaw, forcing her to look at her reflection in the mirror. 

The sight seemed foreign to her no matter how many times she took them off. The texture was soft, yet uneven. It was finally healed with skin covering where her eye should have been.

“Now that… is a doll.” 

His knuckles caressed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The tickling sensation caught her breath, head leaning back against him. This enigmatic man made her feel alive, made her want to embrace the freedom he spoke of as his hands slid down her slim figure, igniting something within her. 

"There ya go." Joker whispered, his breath hot against her ear. 

Penelope's gaze fell on her exposed scars, and for the first time, she felt truly wanted. She felt beautiful. 

"Now how about that freedom?" He growled, hands slipping under her shirt and caressing her soft skin. As his skilled fingers found her hardened nipples, Penelope's breath hitched. His marred lips mixed with her own textured neck, covering it with nips and licks as he practically worshiped her scars. She wanted this man, wanted to feel his touch. She yearned to explore this new, uninhibited side of herself that he was awakening.

Joker’s hands then lifted her shirt, pulling it off over her head and soaking in the sight of her with a heated gaze. 

More scars littered her left side, similar to what was on her face. He felt her begin the retreat, but his hands quickly snatched her wrists to keep her where she was. “None of that. Got it?” He threatened and she nodded in response. 

He then unclasped her bra and tossed it away, hands moving to cup and toy at her breasts. One hand began to travel lower, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her slender legs. Once she stepped out of them he turned her around to face him and pushed her until she was leaning against the bathroom counter. Her legs opened, inviting him to stand in between them. One of his thighs pressed against her radiating core, flexing his muscle until her head leaned back with a sigh. 

He released a feral growl and reached around to the back of her head, pulling her into him so their lips clashed against each other. The kiss was rough and full of need, Penelope lightly moaning into it as she ground herself against his thigh for some much needed relief. 

“Yeah? Ya like that?” Joker taunted before snatching her thighs and setting her on top of the empty space of the counter. “C’mere.” He dropped to his knees, his hands pulling down her panties and spreading her pussy lips, revealing her glistening, swollen clit. He inhaled her scent, a mix of desire and her unique musk, before plunging his tongue deep inside her, making her gasp and grip the edge of the counter.

Joker’s tongue was a skilled weapon, licking and sucking at her clit, sending waves of pleasure through Penelope's body. He teased her entrance, dipping his tongue just inside before pulling away, only to return with renewed fervor.

"J -" Penelope moaned, her head thrown back. "Please, don’t stop."

Joker hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through Penelope. “Dangerous thing to beg me like that, doll.” 

He warned before he continued his oral assault, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Just as she was about to climax, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and desperate.

"Thought it’d be that easy, hm?" He said, standing. 

Penelope, wild with desire, reached for Joker’s trousers, undoing them with tremulous fingers. Once unbuttoned, her hand tremulously reached inside to grasp his hardened cock, pulling it free from its confines.

Joker’s cock was thick, the head glistening with pre-cum as she stroked it, her touch tentative yet eager. "Like whatcha see?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

Penelope nodded, her eye never leaving his cock as she continued to stroke it, marveling at the power she held in her hands. "Please, J…" She whispered, her voice thick with need.

He didn't need to be asked twice. 

He gripped onto her hip tightly, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

“Now what’d I say about begging?” With one smooth thrust, he filled her, his cock stretching her pussy as he slid deep inside.

Penelope cried out, her body welcoming the invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He leaned forward, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. 

Joker’s hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he pounded into her, his cock hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. Penelope's body trembled, her orgasm building with each delicious stroke.

"That’s it," He growled against her lips. "There ya go, toots. Come on, show me how much you want it.” 

His words were like a trigger, and Penelope's body exploded in a cascade of pleasure. She cried out, her pussy clenching around Joker’s cock as waves of ecstasy washed over her. He followed her over the edge, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, filling her with his hot cum.

As their heart rates slowed and their breathing returned to normal, Joker leaned back, watching as one of his hands ran over her scarred body. When their eyes met, Penelope smiled. Eye sparkling with newfound confidence. 

Chapter 3

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

The doors to General Hux’s office slid open with a quiet hiss as (Y/n) stepped inside. The space was sterile and methodically arranged, a monitor displaying fleet operations. The room carried the crisp scent of standard regulation upkeep. Precise, orderly, and devoid of warmth, much like the man seated behind the desk.

Hux did not immediately acknowledge her entrance. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the datapad in his hands, his posture as composed as ever. 

She moved forward and stopped before his desk, clasping her hands in front of her. “General.”

At last, he looked up. His piercing gaze swept over her as if ensuring she met the standard he demanded. He set the datapad down with deliberate precision before gesturing to the chair opposite him.

“Sit.”

Without hesitation, (Y/n) obeyed, lowering herself into the seat with rigid posture and crossing one leg over the other. Though she had been assigned to him, there was still much to understand about how he expected her to operate.

Hux leaned back in his chair, his fingers folded together in front of him. “Being assigned to me, you will be present for all meetings, briefings, and high-priority assignments. You will not interfere with my command, but you will ensure my security.” His tone remained even, yet carried the weight of authority. “I expect absolute discretion. You will not speak in official matters unless addressed directly, nor will you allow your presence to be a disruption.”

(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

“You will also continue overseeing security measures aboard the Finalizer, particularly any vulnerabilities that may pose a risk to High Command.” Hux studied her closely, his expression unreadable. “As shown yesterday, your findings have already proven thorough.”

“Thank you, General.” (Y/n) nodded. “I will continue to ensure there are no weaknesses.”

“Good.” He let a brief pause linger before adding, “Now, for your awareness, there is a briefing in thirty minutes.” A silent nod was her response.

Hux’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to his datapad. 

The quiet hum of the ship’s systems filled the space, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of General Hux’s fingers against his datapad, eyes locked on the reports scrolling before him, analyzing every detail with meticulous focus.

(Y/n) stayed in her seat, shoulders beginning to relax after a few minutes or so. 

As they awaited the designated time for the briefing, the silence between them stretched, neither uncomfortable nor strained. Just an unspoken understanding of their respective roles.

“You are adjusting well, I hope?” Hux remarked suddenly, still focused on his datapad.

(Y/n) turned slightly, regarding him with measured curiosity. “I was trained to adapt. But yes, I am settling in well, thank you.”

A faint smirk ghosted across his features. “A necessary trait.” He paused for a moment, then added, “What of the security concerns? Have they been adjusted?”

“I have spoken with Captain Phasma and Umbral Drenn about necessary reinforcements,” she replied. “High Command’s quarters now have additional security measures, as well as key control corridors. All other issues are being fixed as we speak.”

Hux’s eyes flicked toward her briefly before returning to his datapad. “Good. I expect nothing less.”

A brief silence followed before (Y/n) spoke again with curiosity, as well as an attempt to get to know him better. But she would never admit the latter. “You didn’t seem too affected by the vulnerabilities when I mentioned them yesterday.”

Hux gave a low, almost amused hum. “If I let myself dwell on every potential weakness, I would hardly get anything done. Besides, that’s what security is for.” He watched as a humored smirk reached her face, then quickly looked back down at his datapad.

Satisfied, he gave a short nod before checking the time. 

“We leave in three minutes.”

Hux said nothing more, simply standing and stepping past her as the time arrived. (Y/n) dutifully followed him out of the office, walking in sync as they made their way to the briefing room. 

The doors slid open and all conversation inside fell into a tense silence as General Hux stepped inside. (Y/n) followed precisely behind him, their presence an immediate disruption to the murmured voices of the room.

Seated at the long, durasteel table were several officers. Intelligence analysts, strategic analysts, and logistical personnel, all awaiting Hux’s arrival. Captain Phasma stood near the back, her imposing chrome figure motionless, observing. Beside her stood Varo, however more casually and seemingly unbothered. 

The officers were disciplined, but even discipline could not mask instinct. The moment they saw her clad in her Umbral uniform - her movements silent and predatory - unease rippled through them. A few of them shifted slightly, others stiffened, their hands resting just a bit closer to their belts. Some exchanged quick, uncertain glances.

The First Order was built on power and control, and yet, the Umbrals were something outside of it. Something unnatural.

If Hux noticed the tension, he did not acknowledge it. He moved towards his seat at the head of the table without hesitation, placing his datapad down in front of him. (Y/n) took her position behind and to his right, standing like a shadow.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally, one of the officers - a middle-aged man with a rigid posture - cleared his throat. “Sir.” His gaze flickered toward (Y/n), as if unsure whether to continue with her there. “Shall we begin?”

Hux noted the empty seat at the table. “We are waiting for Captain Essen.”

The room remained still. No one dared question Hux directly, but the unspoken question lingered in the air. 

Why were Umbrals there?

Another officer, a woman with sharp features, shifted in her seat. “General, if I may ask -” her eyes flickered towards (Y/n), cautious, measured, “is security a concern?”

Hux finally looked up, his expression cold and unreadable. “It would be if they were not here.”

The statement was simple. Cutting and final.

Whatever doubts they had, no one voiced them again. The officers turned their attention to their datapads, and the room settled into rigid professionalism once more.

The doors opened once more as Captain Essen arrived, striding in with an air of obnoxious authority. He barely spared (Y/n) a glance before taking his seat, unlike the others who had yet to fully mask their unease.

Hux wasted no time. “Now that we are all here,” he glanced at the captain in disapproval and annoyance. 

General Hux stood, posture rigid, hands clasped neatly behind his back as a holographic image projected itself above the center of the table.

“Recent operations in the Mid Rim have uncovered a disruption within Resistance ranks. Our intelligence suggests that an unidentified force is working alongside them. One that has displayed an unusual level of precision and efficiency in combat against our troops. Whoever they are, they are trained, disciplined, and deliberate in their strikes.”

A murmur passed through the room as the holoprojector shifted, displaying a series of attack reports. Outposts, convoys, scouting units. All ambushed with calculated precision. The markers on the map indicated a pattern, a slow but deliberate targeting of First Order assets.

Captain Phasma tilted her helmet slightly. “Do we have any confirmed identities?”

The General’s jaw tensed. “No. Whoever they are, they remain elusive. There is no clear insignia, no known affiliations, and no captives taken alive. They possess a level of skill that suggests advanced training. Beyond what we have seen the Resistance is typically capable of.”

Varo leaned forward slightly. “Their attacks indicate careful coordination. They don’t strike randomly. They are targeting weaknesses in our operations so someone among them understands our tactics.”

Hux inclined his head in agreement. “Precisely. Which is why this matter is of utmost priority. We must identify who they are before they become a greater threat and further exploit the Order’s tactics. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become” His gaze swept the room, sharp and expectant. “I want increased surveillance on all known Resistance movements in these sectors. Our reconnaissance units will prioritize capturing one of these operatives alive, if possible. Until we have more information, no assumption should be made about their origin or objectives.”

An intelligence officer hesitated before speaking. “If they are as skilled as you suggest, sir, what makes you certain we can capture one at all?”

A silence settled over the room. (Y/n) felt Hux shift slightly beside her before he responded, voice cool and unwavering.

“Because failure is not an option.”

No one spoke after that.

As the meeting concluded, officers exchanged brief nods before gathering their datapads. Some cast wary glances towards (Y/n) and Varo as they exited, though none dared to address them directly.

Standing beside Hux, she remained still, absorbing the information. She did not need to say it aloud to recognize the familiar sensation curling in her gut that came with the impending doom of an unforeseen enemy. 

Her and the general shared a quick glance before his eyes shifted to stare at the blank surface of the table. 

The last of the officers filed out, the metallic hiss of the door sliding shut behind them leaving the room cloaked in a heavy stillness. The hum of the holoprojector dimmed as Hux tapped its console, dismissing the glowing map and returning the room to its cool, neutral lighting.

He didn’t speak at first, letting a silence settle between the two of them. He simply stared for a long moment, the fine lines around his eyes drawing taut as if calculating a dozen outcomes at once. Then, without turning to face her, he spoke.

“What are your thoughts on this?” His tone was mild, curious, not critical. He then turned to face her. 

She stepped forward slightly, no longer merely standing in the shadow of a soldier but assuming the role of the strategist he was asking her to be.

“There’s discipline in their attacks,” she voiced, her stoic demeanor dropping slightly as she grew more thoughtful. “Clean movements. No wasted time. No reckless aggression. It’s not guerrilla warfare, at least not in the traditional Resistance sense. These are trained killers. Efficient. Precise.” Her tone remained flat, but there was a shift in her gaze. A flicker of deeper concern as she folded her arms in front of her. “From what I’ve seen, they behave like us.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You believe they’re the Covenant?”

“I believe,” she answered carefully, taking a deep breath. “that whoever they are… they’ve either studied the Covenant and are mimicking their tactics, or were once part of it.”

He considered her words, pacing slowly across the room, hands still behind his back in thought. “If what you say is true,” he said, “and dealing with the Covenant is a possibility, we’re dealing with more than defectors. We’re dealing with apostates. Rogues with the skillset of assassins and the ideology of fanatics.”

(Y/n) nodded. “And worse… they know how to exploit weaknesses in the First Order. Which means they’ve had time to observe us. They’re planning something larger.”

He stopped pacing and turned to her again. “This is your area of expertise. What would you suggest we do?”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Double security rotation in the compromised sectors. If we’re being watched, they’ll expect patterns. Break those patterns. Cause misdirection. Set traps where they think they’re safe. And…” She looked at the spot where the hologram once was. “I want to study the combat reports. If they’re Covenant-trained, I can spot their technique. No matter how much they’ve tried to disguise it.”

Hux studied her face for a long moment, fascinated by her intelligence. Then he gave a small nod.

“I’ll grant you access to the full debriefings. I want Umbral Drenn involved as he is one of your own. I’m sure he’d be able to provide valuable input.”

“Yes, General.”

As she turned slightly to prepare her departure, he spoke again. Quietly this time.

“If they are what you suspect… it won’t be easy for you.”

She paused, looking back at him. There was a glint of remorse, though her voice remained steady.

“I’m not afraid of ghosts, sir.”

His gaze held hers.

“Good,” he said at last. “Because ghosts can be the most dangerous enemies of all.”

Then, with a flick of his eyes toward the door, he dismissed her with a subtle nod as they both shared the familiar sense of unease.

As she exited the room, Varo stood just down the corridor, leaning stiffly against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He straightened the moment he saw her.

“You’re finally out,” he said under his breath, striding toward her. “How bad was it?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the corridor behind him, instinctively checking for eavesdroppers before she spoke.

“I think it’s worse than we thought.”

Varo exhaled sharply. “So we’re right to assume?”

She gave a slight nod. “It’s not confirmed, but… the patterns, the precision, the disappearance? It doesn’t match the Resistance’s usual methods that we’ve studied.”

Varo’s jaw tightened. “And you think they’re Covenant-trained?”

“I know they are,” she said flatly. “They’ve either defected or were exiled and found a new cause. Either way, they’ve been careful to stay out of sight until now.”

Varo rubbed a hand over his mouth, then glanced away, voice low. “I had a bad feeling. As obvious as it is, I still don’t want to believe it.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

Then he looked at her again, eyes searching. “You don’t think it’s…” he hesitated, words stuck in his throat. 

(Y/n) looked away, the mention of the name flicking something sharp in her otherwise impassive face before she shook her head.

“Zera?” she shook her head. “Impossible to determine off of tactics alone. But we’ll be able to determine if there are Umbrals involved or simply standard Covenant.”

Varo’s voice was quieter now. “Well, let’s hope there’s no Umbrals. That would make things far more complicated.”

She looked back at him then. “I’ll be reviewing combat footage soon with General Hux. Cross-referencing movements. Stances. Flaws in form. He wants you to join to see if you have more input.”

Varo nodded slowly, though his expression remained uneasy. “Regardless of who they are, we’ll be ready for them. Whatever they’re planning, we’ll shut it down.”

“We don’t have a choice,” (Y/n) agreed. “If they’re ex-Covenant, they know our strengths. But we would also know theirs. And I’m not going to let them tear down what we’ve built just because they were too weak to follow the code.”

There was steel in her voice now, the mask of an Umbral settling over her features. But Varo knew her well enough to see the flicker of something deeper beneath it. Pain, betrayal not yet faced.

“We’ll handle it together,” he said, placing a steady hand on her arm.

(Y/n) didn’t flinch.

“For the Covenant,” she replied.

“For our people,” he added, quietly in an unspoken vow. He dropped his arm just as the door to the briefing room opened and the general walked out, making his way towards the pair who followed him once he showed no signs of stopping. 

“We’ll stop by the bridge to settle any matters there before we discuss things further in my office. Umbral Drenn, I want you, (L/n) and myself to go over the combat reports. I will notify Captain Phasma of your temporary absence.”

“Yes, General.” Varo replied with determination as they walked with purpose towards the lift at the end of the corridor. 

The lift doors closed with a soft hiss, and the silence inside immediately turned heavy. General Hux stood front and center, back straight, datapad in hand as he reviewed a stream of tactical updates. (Y/n) stood beside him, composed and motionless, hands folded neatly in front of her. Varo, positioned a respectful distance to Hux’s left, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking between the floor and the countdown on the lift panel.

The silence dragged on.

Varo cleared his throat softly, attempting to ease the recent tension. “So… lift rides. Always this silent, or are we doing something ceremonial here?”

Hux didn’t even glance up. (Y/n) didn’t respond either, though her eyes narrowed slightly. Amused or warning, it wasn’t clear.

Undeterred, Varo continued. “I mean, I get it. First week with the new team, gotta establish dominance. But if this is the vibe every day, I may start talking to the walls just to hear an echo.”

“Time and place, Drenn.” (Y/n) finally drawled out as if she was used to constantly reminding him.

“Hey, I’m just trying to provide a little morale. Emotional support, y’know?” After a moment of silence, Varo leaned back slightly to look at (Y/n), his voice just a shade too loud in the confined space. “Blink once if you’re actually enjoying this, blink twice if you’re praying for explosive decompression.” The general exhaled heavily through his nose.

(Y/n) didn’t blink at all as she responded. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Varo asked, feigning innocence.

She turned her head slightly. “Testing boundaries.”

Varo grinned. “I prefer to think of it as calibrating team chemistry.”

Hux finally spoke.

“If your intent is to measure how much noise I’ll tolerate before reassigning you to cargo inspections for the next month, Umbral, you’re quickly approaching your answer.”

Varo straightened. “Right. Copy that, sir. Just… gauging lift etiquette.”

“As long as you’re in the lift, silence is the default etiquette.” This caused (Y/n) to chuckled softly and the general finally looked over to side-glance at her. His eyes reflected what seemed to be surprise, but he quickly masked it as he looked forward again.

Varo muttered under his breath, “Brutal crowd.”

(Y/n), in an uncharacteristically dry tone, added, “It’s not the crowd. It’s the venue.”

Varo huffed out a short laugh and looked up at the ceiling. “Next time I’ll take the stairs.”

The lift chimed, and the doors slid open. Hux stepped out first, not acknowledging either of them.

Varo and (Y/n) followed behind, the former whispering, “Do you think he heard that?”

(Y/n) nodded. “Knowing you? Every word.”

Varo glanced nervously down the hall, then back at her. “Good. At least we’re bonding.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “You’re an acquired taste.”

He grinned. “You’re acquiring it, though.”

She didn’t answer, but her silence, this time, didn’t seem disapproving.

The subtle change in lighting and sound from the rest of the ship to the command bridge was immediate. Cooler tones, sharper alert systems, and the low murmur of officers moving with strict purpose.

The moment Hux stepped onto the bridge, heads turned and spines straightened. Officers at their consoles stood at attention, acknowledging the general’s presence.

“Status report,” Hux said crisply, eyes scanning the forward viewport before turning toward the nearest communications officer.

The officer cleared his throat. “No change in the last two hours, sir. No new movements detected from the Resistance front. Patrols along the outer systems have remained within predicted patterns.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. “And the anomaly from the outpost?”

“Still investigating, General,” the officer replied. “The team is analyzing the signal distortion. It appears to have been an intentional scrambling. There were faint traces of bio-signatures, but too faint to confirm species or number.”

Varo stepped forward slightly. “Was it similar to the last occurrence near Sector 7G?”

The officer glanced between him and the general before nodding. “Yes, sir. Nearly identical. Quick incursion, silence, and retreat. No tech left behind.”

(Y/n) shifted beside Hux, her eyes narrowing as they looked at each other. “They’re testing our responses. Watching how quickly we mobilize.”

“Agreed,” Hux said. “And they’re becoming more confident.”

He stepped forward, overlooking the bridge with hands still behind his back, then addressed the senior officer at the main console. “Deploy a double rotation on the patrols near the outer systems. I want all tactical relays running constant scans for any trace of cloaking disturbances.”

“Yes, General,” the officer said, turning quickly to execute the order.

Hux looked to Varo and (Y/n). “They’re baiting us. Probing our borders without making themselves fully known.”

(Y/n) nodded. “They’re waiting for us to act first.”

Hux’s voice dropped slightly as he addressed the two Umbrals directly. “Make no mistake. Whoever they are, their actions have escalated them to a direct threat. If they are former Covenant… they know enough to be dangerous. We’ll root them out. Quietly and efficiently.”

He turned to walk back toward the exit, the Umbrals in tow as they made way for his office. 

The office was quiet but for the sharp hum of data scrolling across a holo-projector between them. General Hux sat behind his desk, posture immaculate, one gloved hand resting against his chin in thought. Across from him stood (Y/n) and Varo, both locked in a silent focus like Siamese cats as report after report flickered before them. Damage assessments, troop debriefs, weapon pattern readings.

Varo leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “That’s the third unit that reported full signal jamming mid-op. Exact same signature. Frequency disruption spiked in a sharp wave, scrambled visuals, sensors blinded.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, arms folded. “But only briefly. Just long enough to disorient and isolate them.”

“Classic guerrilla-style tactics,” Varo muttered. “But refined. They knew exactly where to strike and how to disappear.”

General Hux’s voice cut in, sharp and composed. “We’ve fought Resistance saboteurs before. This is beyond their usual disorganized chaos.”

(Y/n) nodded. “They moved with discipline. Patterned strikes. Coordinated withdrawal. Whoever led them had military training… or something similar.”

Hux’s eyes flicked to her. “Similar to yours?”

She hesitated. “Yes. Umbral. But admittedly not as skilled or precise as someone from the academy. Someone simply studied us and are attempting to use the same tactics.”

A beat passed.

Varo glanced between the two. “I’ve been thinking the same. The way they handle shadow ambushes, their use of terrain, misdirection. It feels like home.”

(Y/n)’s jaw clenched slightly, the flicker of unease betraying her usual control. “If they are ex-Covenant… we may be facing a rogue faction. Not just a few stragglers.”

“That would explain the silence from the Covenant,” Hux said. “If they suspect internal betrayal, they’ll be trying to contain the fallout quietly.”

Varo rubbed the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Not everyone graduates as a loyal soldier.”

(Y/n) ’s voice was quieter now. “And not everyone takes rejection well.”

Hux leaned forward. “If this is a rogue Covenant group, what’s their goal?”

Varo shrugged and blew a raspberry before rambling off ideas. “Destabilize both sides. Maybe they want revenge? Maybe they think they can burn it all down and rebuild it better. Could be ideology. Could just be vengeance.”

(Y/n) ’s eyes didn’t leave the shifting data. “We won’t know until we lock an identity and capture them for interrogation.”

Hux nodded. “Then we make that our priority. We’ll identify them. Track them. I want patterns, predictions, and locations. I want to know where they sleep and where they bleed.”

He turned his gaze to Varo.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes, General.”

“Coordinate with Phasma and bring me a plan by the end of the day tomorrow. Dismissed.”

Varo gave a sharp nod, glancing towards (Y/n) a final time before taking his leave. 

The general eyed her as she stared at his desk, arms folded in front of her, deep in thought. He swallowed before deciding to pry. “What troubles you?” 

She shook her head, debating on whether or not she should speak on it. But Hux was patient. After a deep breath, she finally answered. “It doesn’t concern the mission.” 

“That’s not what I asked, (L/n).” Her eyes snapped to meet his own that bore into her with an intensity she was not used to. He stood from his chair and rounded his desk, eyes never leaving her as he stood feet in front of her. 

“What would you do if your own people betrayed you?”

Hux’s hands tensed slightly.

His gaze didn’t shift right away. For a moment, she thought he might ignore the question. But then he exhaled, measured and cold.

“I’d survive it,” his voice was steady, but carried something darker beneath the surface. “And then I would make sure they lived long enough to regret it.”

(Y/n) studied him. No smugness in his words. No theatrics. Just raw, precise conviction. Something about it wasn’t just rehearsed. It was lived.

“So you have.” Her voice was soft. Observational. No judgment in it.

He didn’t confirm or deny.

“Blood isn’t loyalty,” Hux said more softly after a pause. “It never has been. You learn that very quickly in the kind of world we were both shaped in.”

There was no venom in his tone. Just the kind of sharpness that came from an old wound that never quite closed.

“If they betray you, they were never your people to begin with.”