The Scarred - Chapter 3

As Promised,

Fan Art From Your Series “Blood Of A Rose” 🖤❤️

( P.S. You might wanna turn your brightness ALL the way up 😅 )

This is absolutely amazing and beautiful!! Thank you so much for taking an interest and doing this, it made my day! 💕

The Scarred - Chapter 12 🩸

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.

“Penelope…” Her name invaded her sleep, mingling with her dream in a way that didn’t make sense. “Penelope?” It continued. “Penelope!” Her head began to stir. 

“Penelope!” She jolted awake to the sight of Liam standing over her, shaking her with what seemed to be a panicked expression. “Oi, ye need to wake up, we need to leave!” He urged, grabbing her arm and practically yanking her up out of bed. She shook her head, confused about whether or not she was still dreaming as he pulled her towards the front door. 

“Liam! Liam, what’s going on?” She tried to fight back, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“I’ll explain in the car, alright? Get yer shoes on!” 

She did as he said, slipping on a pair of canvas shoes as the sound of sirens wailing in the distance finally caught up to her, Liam cautiously keeping watch from the window. When she stood up, he snatched her again and they bolted out of the apartment, making their way to the back staircase opposite of how they would usually come home. 

Penelope struggled to keep up with him - especially as they sped down the stairs - and worried she was going to fall flat on her already scarred face. 

My face! The realization hit her. She didn’t have her bandages anymore. She was bare. The cool breeze felt foreign to her, but it was relieving at the same time. 

As she thought to herself, mindlessly following wherever Liam dragged her to, she caught the sight of a familiar van and her face contorted into confusion as the door slid open and she was pushed inside. Liam followed in directly behind her and pulled the door shut, tires burning out as they sped away from the sirens that quickly grew louder. 

The van was notably more crowded. Four men tucked away in the back, one where Liam and herself sat, and two in the front. All armed and on alert. 

“Liam, what’s going on?” Penelope asked, everything catching up to her at once. Her breathing quickened as she tried to swallow the growing familiar sense of impending doom, heart beginning to beat irregularly. He finally turned to her. 

“Someone snitched.” He answered simply, but it only raised more questions. 

“Snitched -?” She fell against Liam who caught her with ease as the van dramatically swerved. 

“Aye. Yer not safe there anymore, Penny. I’m sorry.” He spoke sympathetically, keeping her close to him as they continued to be jostled around. 

“Why wouldn’t I be safe there, who would snitch?” She urged, but Liam just shook his head and she kept quiet to her thoughts. The driver eventually became more controlled with his movements, everyone releasing a collective sigh of relief once the sirens eventually silenced. 

The van rolled to a stop and everyone hopped out, Liam taking his time with Penelope who held onto him as if her life depended on it. Surrounded by the other men, he led them into a different abandoned warehouse, though more polished than the one she was in before. The stairs seemed endless as Penelope’s heart raced, in her ears.

The climb inevitably ended and they entered a medium-sized room, darker as curtains were closed to block out the daylight. Men moved about with a purpose, some carrying heavier objects and rearranging, others hunched over a table where papers were scattered. 

But what really caught her attention was the familiar purple coat that joined the men at the table. 

“J…?” 

His gaze immediately made its way to where they stood, eyeing between the two of them causing Liam to step away. He approached her with an exaggerated swagger, but his eyes were sharper, more calculating than usual as he scanned her form. 

“Well, look who made it in one piece.” He grumbled to himself. His gaze then flickered over to Liam. “Y’know, I was starting to think we had a problem.” Liam wasn’t affected by the subtle threat, however, as Joker turned his attention back to Penelope. His hand gripped her jaw, turning her head every which way to check on her before letting go and patting her cheek. “Get her some clothes.” He nodded at Liam.

“Sure thing, boss.” Penelope’s eye widened, looking over at Liam.

“Boss -?” 

“Calm down, toots,” The Joker tried to console her. “He’ll explain.” He waved them off, throwing her one last look before he joined the men at the table once more. 

“Come on, now.” Liam ghosted a hand over her back, leading her out and into a separate room just down the hall. 

“Just what in the hell is going on!” Penelope snapped as soon as the door shut behind them. Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair before searching for what she assumed were her ‘clothes’. “Liam, I swear, if you don’t fucking answer me -“

“Emma called the cops on ye.” 

Her breath caught, a sharp pang hitting her chest. 

“I told ye she couldn’t be trusted, Penny. She went snoopin’ where she shouldn’t have and found answers she didn’t like.” He finally turned to face her. “I’m sorry.” 

He watched as her eye glazed over, pain being the first thing he saw. Then it shifted into something new, something he wasn’t familiar with. He saw anger. She raised a hand, pointing at him as her lips moved to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand then moved to point at the door. “You work for him?” Penelope practically whispered. “You’ve worked with him this whole time?” She took a step towards him, breathing shaky. 

“Aye.” She chuckled dryly, turning around to pace a few steps. 

“This whole time I’ve been telling you about him, and you just played along.” She thought out to herself. 

“Penny -“

“Is anything about us real to you or was it all fake to get me here?” She turned to face him suddenly, pain returning. 

“None of this is fake fer me. What we have is real, yeah? What ye and the Joker have is real.” He cautiously walked towards her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I was only tryin’ to protect ye. Hell, I’d still lay my life down fer ye if it came down to it.” Penelope sniffed and he reached to wipe away the tear that fell. 

“You promise?” She whispered. Liam nodded.

“Aye. I promise.” He rubbed her shoulders as she stood in thought. “How about those clothes, yeah?”

It wasn’t until then that she finally took in the room. It was smaller, seemingly a makeshift bedroom. A queen bed sat in the center. A more worn-down wardrobe sat against one of the side walls beside the bed. A single nightstand with a lamp. “What is this place?” She asked as Liam rummaged through the bottom drawers of the wardrobe. 

“The Joker’s main hideout.”

“Is this…?”

“His bedroom? Aye. If ye couldn’t tell by how horribly furnished it is.” The two of them chuckled. He then stood up, holding a black turtleneck and leggings to match. “Uh…” He sighed. “Wasn’t sure about the color.” He stated sheepishly. Penelope just shrugged. 

“Black’s my favorite, anyways.” 

“Good! I’ll leave ye to get changed then. Ye can head back to the main room when yer ready, I’ll be there.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, patting her shoulder as he passed and left. 

Once the door shut, she quickly changed, feeling gross from wearing the same thing for too long. She spotted a small mirror that hung next to the wardrobe and stood in front of it, eyeing the sleeve that was left unfilled due to her missing arm. 

Penelope looked around the room, then spotted her knives and handgun sitting on the nightstand and smiled at the sight. Before she grabbed one of the knives, she spotted an extra piece of equipment.

A harness. 

For the right thigh, three holsters for her knives. A holster for the handgun sat above them for easy access, she figured to prevent her from having to reach over to her left side.

She thought for a moment, wondering if she should try it on. Debating if this was what she truly wanted. Then she thought about what Liam said. About Emma calling the police, her apartment no longer being safe. She remembered what Joker had told her. 

“… once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore.”

Her hand felt the leather, caressing it with her fingertips. 

“I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know.”

Finally, she picked up the harness, struggling to slip on and fasten it with her one arm. She was eventually able to, tightening and fitting it where she could until it was comfortable. Grabbing the knives, she slipped them into their rightful place one by one, followed by the handgun. She then took one of the knives, carefully cutting through the fabric of her sleeve until it popped off, now leaving a hole where her shoulder was. 

She took a deep breath, walking to the door when she stopped to look at herself in the mirror once more, eyeing her exposed scars. She chewed on her cheek, swallowed anxiously, then ripped the door open and made her way back to the other room. 

Once she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. Too many for her comfort. She stopped and looked around, finding Liam and the Joker next to each other at the same table as before. The former’s mouth was agape, in awe at the transformation while the Joker simply stared, expression unreadable. 

The other men around the table quickly followed their line of sight, each of their own expressions holding a variety of reactions. Some were the same as Liam’s, others indifferent and going back to what they were doing previously. The Joker then motioned for her to come to them with his fingers, licking at his lips as she obliged. 

“I see ya found my little gift.” He said as he eyed her up and down. 

“I did.” Penelope replied quietly, all too aware of everyone around her. “It’s nice.” She complimented with the ghost of a smile. 

“Good. It wasn’t cheap.” Liam gave him a look. 

“Ye stole it.” He jested.

“Which took effort, alright? Let’s not worry about the little details here.” He waved off Liam as Penelope giggled before re-focusing on the blueprint of Gotham City laid out below them. “Now, as I was saying before being rudely cut off -“ Penelope and Liam shared a look this time. 

She tried to disappear into the background, watching as the Joker spoke. It was the first time she’d seen him so…methodical. She had imagined chaos, shouting, maybe even madness. Instead, he seemed almost clinical in his delivery, though that unnerving smile still twisted his face.

“Here,” The Joker said, tapping the map, his voice low and raspy but commanding attention. “The main point of entry. It’s not heavily guarded, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take precautions. We’ll slip in, take what we need - and more - then leave. In and out.”

Liam nodded along, leaning over the blueprint to point out potential bottlenecks. “We should hit the power grid first, cause a blackout in the area. Maybe set off a couple a charges in the area. With the chaos around, no one will be lookin’ where we are.”

The Joker’s head tilted ever so slightly as he considered Liam’s addition, a grin spreading wider. “Now that’s what I’m lookin’ for. A little disturbance goes a long way.”

Penelope’s breath hitched. It was surreal, seeing him like this, Fully in control, directing the madness with such precision. The scars that marred his face were more pronounced under the dim lights, but it was his eyes that unnerved her the most. Hungry and sharp with intelligence.

He paused, studying Penelope like a new toy. “Got somethin’ to say, toots?” He asked, almost coaxing.

Penelope swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning as emotions piled on top of each other, fighting for attention. Excitement, adrenaline, hesitation, confusion. But her mind made its decision. “When do we start?” She asked as she looked up at him with a mischievous grin. 

Penelope’s chest tightened as she watched the men around the table nod, some of them grinning, others chuckling at her boldness. The Joker’s presence was suffocating, pulling everyone into his chaotic orbit. And here she was, standing on the edge of it, caught in his gravitational pull. “Atta girl.” 

After the meeting concluded, Penelope looked around and spotted a pile of crates by the only open window. As Liam and the Joker had their own conversation, she made her way over and climbed over a couple before sitting on top of one of them, facing the window as her legs swung over the edge. Her hand reached over to grab one of her knives, mindlessly flipping and toying with it as she thought. 

She knew Emma for nearly two years. After everything they had been through, after all she opened up to her about, after their moments of vulnerability. She betrayed her at the first sign of trouble. Just as Liam said. 

Thud!

She launched the knife into the crate in the spot beside her, digging it back out. 

Emma turned her back as if it never meant anything. 

Thud!

Penelope pulled it back out, about to throw it again. 

“Do that again and you’ll set the whole place on fire.” The Joker’s gravelly voice stopped her. 

“Really?” She asked in a minor panic.

“No.” He answered simply and she rolled her eyes with a giggle. He leaned beside her against the crates, head level with her thighs. A moment of silence passed before Penelope broke it. 

“How did Liam know it was Emma?” She asked out of the blue, staring out of the window. Joker licked at his scars. 

“Traced the call.”

“Liam told you about his suspicion about her, didn’t he?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, a confirmation. “I suppose I should thank you, then.” He grumbled. 

“I don’t do ‘thank you’s.” 

“Whatever you say, Mr. J.” The two glanced at each other, the Joker humming at the new title. “What exactly is this raid for?” 

“Couple of the men found an armory. Hidden in plain sight.” 

“As if you don’t have enough guns?”

“Well, you can never have enough. The fun hasn’t even started, toots.” 

“I’m coming, right?” 

“Well, duh, I wouldn’t drag you in just to sit around. But you’re stickin’ with me.”

“No complaints from me.”

-

The low hum of the city echoed in the distance, its usual chaos muted by the weight of anticipation. Penelope adjusted her harness, her fingers tracing the edges of the throwing knives snugly fitted in their holsters. The handgun sat just below her hip, a cold but reassuring presence. It had been hours of preparation, and now, standing beside the Joker, her pulse was a steady beat of adrenaline.

Liam crouched by a power junction a few feet away, his hands working quickly to cut the wires. The other men were shadows, blending into the urban sprawl, setting up charges farther out. The Joker stood calmly, watching, a glint of madness in his eye.

Penelope, nervous but determined, stayed close to him, practically stuck to his hip. He hadn’t said much to her yet, just a smirk here and there letting her know he enjoyed the fact that she was along for the ride. She kept her breaths steady, hands relaxed but ready.

“Alright, toots,” The Joker finally muttered, not turning to her but keeping his eyes on the armory’s entrance across the street, “Stay close.”

Her throat was dry, but she nodded. “Got it.”

Liam signaled from his position, and the neighborhood plunged into darkness. The streetlights blinked out one by one, leaving the street in a quiet, electric void. A low rumble followed, one of the charges going off. Penelope’s heart jumped at the sound, though no one else flinched. It was the distraction they needed.

“Time to move.” Joker grinned, tapping her on her hip.

They moved swiftly, the Joker leading the way through the newly darkened streets, his men fanning out behind him. The armory was hidden beneath the guise of a shipping company, its mundane exterior nothing more than a front. Penelope could feel the shift in energy, the calm before the storm. She could tell this wasn’t just a random job for him. It was calculated chaos, his version of art.

At the door, one of the Joker’s men swiftly bypassed the lock, and within moments they were inside, the scent of dust, carbon and metal filling the air. Penelope stayed close to the Joker as he said, her eyes scanning the room as they made their way through the warehouse. Weapons - guns, explosives, even military-grade equipment - lined the walls.

“This is the fun part,” The Joker whispered to her, eyes gleaming as he walked by a row of semi-automatics. “You take what you want and leave nothin’ for anyone else.”

Liam started directing the men, telling them what to grab and where to stash it. Penelope stayed beside the Joker, her mind racing. This was her chance. She hadn’t fully considered what being a part of this world would mean, until now. Yet, watching the Joker in his element, there was an allure she couldn’t deny.

As the men continued looting, a sudden clatter echoed from somewhere deeper in the warehouse. Penelope’s hand instinctively went to her knives, ready. The Joker just chuckled.

“Relax,” he said. “Always a few rats scurrying around.”

But Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. There was a rhythm to this. The power outage, the explosives, the break-in. But there was also the chance of everything going sideways. For the first time, she understood what Liam had meant when he taught her about staying calm in the face of danger during one of their training sessions.

“Stay close, toots,” The Joker murmured again as he pocketed a few grenades, “And keep those knives ready. Gonna need them sooner than ya think.”

Just then, the crackle of gunfire rang out from the far end of the warehouse, and one of the Joker’s men dropped to the ground. The distraction charges had pulled in some curious onlookers - possibly guards - but they weren’t enough to deter them entirely.

Penelope’s grip tightened around the hilt of her knife, and she felt the Joker’s hand on her back, nudging her forward.

“Go on,” He grinned, “Time to see what you’re really made of.”

Without thinking, Penelope stepped forward, eyes locking on the approaching guard. In one smooth motion, she hurled the knife. It sliced through the air with precision and buried itself in the guard’s forehead, causing him to fall back with a heavy thump. She reached for her second knife, ready to throw again, but the Joker’s laugh stopped her.

“Not bad for a first shot.” He cackled, stepping past her. “I’ll make a proper criminal out of you yet.”

Her heart raced, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a breath, grounding herself. The rush of the throw, the hit—it felt like a release, a tiny spark of the chaos the Joker had always seen in her. She gripped the second knife and stayed close to him as the warehouse descended into a frenzy, determined to prove herself in the dark heart of Gotham.

The warehouse erupted into chaos as the sound of gunfire echoed through the air. Penelope’s heart raced, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was still riding the high of her first throw when two guards burst into the room, weapons drawn and eyes scanning for threats.

“Get down!” One of the guards shouted, aiming his firearm at Penelope.

She felt a rush of instinct surge through her. She didn’t think; she moved. With a quick flick of her wrist, she released her second knife, watching it sail through the air, aimed straight for the first guard. It struck him in the thigh, and he stumbled, dropping his gun with a cry of pain, Joker bursting with laughter behind her. Liam ran up next to him, about to help her when he was stopped.

“Let her do it.” He ordered, and Liam stepped back with hesitation as they both watched. 

The second guard turned to Penelope, fury igniting in his eyes as he charged at her. She didn’t hesitate, dodging to the side and using her momentum to pivot. Her training kicked in; she had practiced this with Liam, but this was different. This was real.

As the guard lunged, she grabbed his wrist, twisting it and using his weight against him to throw him off balance. He staggered, but his free hand shot out, catching her in the side. Pain flared, but she fought through it, focusing on her training.

With a swift kick to his knee, she brought him down, and before he could recover, she pulled out her gun, turned the safety off and pulled the trigger at his head before anyone could comprehend what was happening. The first guard groaned in the background, still writhing from the knife wound.

“Get him, Penny!” Liam called. The Joker simply leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, a predator watching his prey.

Penelope was already moving again, advancing on him as the first guard struggled to rise. She picked up his gun and held it at his temple.

“Get down.” She mocked before her face twisted into disgust and a shot rang through the warehouse.

“Such a violent little thing.” The Joker said to Liam with a smirk, still observing the chaos unfold as his laughter echoed off of the walls.

Penelope’s chest heaved with exertion. She hadn’t expected the thrill of the fight to feel so intoxicating. 

She stepped back, regaining her breath as the two guards lay lifeless on the floor.

“Now, let’s finish this little party,” The Joker said, moving towards the door with a mischievous grin. “Remember, doll, it’s all about theatrics. You don’t leave any witnesses.”

Penelope followed him, a smirk on her face. This was her new world. The rush, the danger, the thrill of being truly alive. The Joker was right; she was beginning to love every moment of it.

The Scarred - Chapter 10

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 woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, eyes glazed over as she glared at herself, judgment passing over her flawed body. She looked back up to meet her own gaze. Just then, a second familiar figure appeared behind her, stepping closer until the heat of their body was pressed against her.

Penelope tossed in her bed, a thin coat of sweat layered upon her skin as she panted, drowning in her own heat.

Her breath grew shaky as the figure brought a hand up to her neck, grazing his knuckles along the scarred skin. He brought his head to rest against hers, his scarred cheeks creating a soothing texture against her own. His hands slid down her figure to rest on her hips, pulling her closer to him. Her eye closed, head leaning back against his shoulder.

“Jack -“ She whispered to him.

Penelope shot up from her bed, too stunned to speak as tears streamed down her face. “Jack?” She cried to herself.

-

“This ‘Jack’ fellow. He mean anythin’ to ye?” Liam questioned as they waited on their order, sitting at a table tucked away in the corner of the small fast food joint.

Penelope thought for a moment, debating on whether or not she wanted to explain any further than she could handle. Liam patiently waited, however long it took for her. “He did…”

“Who was he?” He tried to pry further and he noticed her bite her lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want the short story or the long one?”

“Whichever you prefer, lovin’.” Another pause. She took a deep breath.

“He was my boyfriend. Together for four years. He joined the Army knowing I was against it and eventually made it to Special Forces.”

Her fingers began to fidget with her jacket.

“Shortly after his training was finished, he proposed to me. Then two months before our wedding, he was deployed. I haven't heard from him since.” Penelope’s eyes glazed over. “I can’t help but think of all of the terrible things that could have happened to him.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” Liam reached out, covering her hand with his own larger one as an act of sympathy. Penelope struggled to prevent the dam of her eye from breaking.

“I’m not sure if this helps, but as a man that had me own love once? He’ll do everythin’ he can to find his way back to ye. Dead or alive. I’m not superstitious, but I think that dream was his way of findin’ ye again.”

Those last few words are what broke her. Tears silently fell, and she rushed to wipe them away, too stubborn to show them openly in public. She sniffed and looked away as their order was called, Liam going up to grab their food before guiding them out of the building and back to the apartment.

They ate in a comfortable silence, the TV humming once again in the background as Penelope was deep in thought. She couldn’t help the gut feeling that began to form in her stomach, too strong to ignore. It began to gnaw at her, eating away at whatever thoughts tried to push it away.

Once the sun had set and Liam left for the night, she looked out of the living room window, debating on whether or not she should take any chances.

She eventually sighed and gave in, throwing on her shoes and jacket before making her way to her car.

Pulling into the familiar parking lot, Penelope sat in her car, the engine off, the sound of the city distant as she stared out at the still water. The lake was calm, moonlight dancing across its surface like silver threads. The parking lot was empty, just like the night they had met. When she had been more cautious, more unsure of the man that now haunted her.

Now, though, things felt different.

The woman stepped out, leaning against the driver’s door as she breathed in the polluted air around her.

She couldn’t shake the pull she felt, the way the Joker had gotten under her skin. The thrill, the chaos, the freedom he had awakened in her. It was all still there, humming like electricity in her veins. It was an addiction. And yet, he had vanished afterward, like a phantom slipping back into Gotham’s shadows.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision made her stiffen. She turned her head slowly, heart racing just a little. And there he was, leaning casually against a streetlight at the edge of the lot, watching her. His purple coat was open, revealing his attire underneath, and he looked every bit as chaotic and unpredictable as he had that night. But this time, his eyes didn’t hold the same level of danger. Instead, there was something familiar. Something almost intimate.

Penelope’s breath hitched as their gazes locked.

The Joker sauntered towards her with a lazy grin, his posture relaxed yet full of that wild energy she knew too well. She couldn’t deny it. There was something there that she couldn’t explain. A tension, but not one born of fear or caution. It was something magnetic, unspoken. Something that pulled them together even when logic said they should stay apart.

“Miss me?” His voice cut through the stillness, teasing, his grin widening as he reached her car.

Her good hand rested casually in her pocket. “What if I did?” She replied, her voice softer than she intended, yet steady. She didn’t feel the need to hide her curiosity now. She wanted to understand what it was that drew her to him.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head. “Oh, look at you,” He mused, circling the front of her car like a predator sizing up its prey. “All calm, all… confident now.” He tapped the hood lightly as he passed, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm. “What happened to that shaky, nervous thing you were before?”

“She grew up.” She gave him a small smile, knowing full well the Joker enjoyed the challenge.

He stopped at the driver’s side - closer than before - and leaned in, his face inches from hers as he stared at her, unblinking. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. Could almost hear the ticking of his erratic thoughts.

“I like this version of you,” He whispered, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “There’s a spark in ya, doll… And I’m gonna light it to hell.” His eyes gleamed, the dangerous edge still there. But now it felt personal.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Not this time. Instead, she leaned into the moment, thinking of that liberating feeling from that night. Letting the tension between them manifest into something real. Something tangible. “I want you to.” Penelope replied with an unwavering, honest gaze.

For a brief second, the Joker’s grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as if he was searching for something in her expression, something deeper. Then he laughed, the sound sharp and jagged in the quiet night.

“You’re not afraid anymore… that’s good,” He purred, straightening up but keeping his eyes on her. “Fear’s no fun when it’s one-sided, hm?”

Penelope felt the pull between them grow stronger. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of him, not of the things he brought out in her. And he could sense it. Their dynamic had shifted. They weren’t strangers playing a game of cat and mouse. They were something else entirely now.

“Come on,” He said suddenly, offering his hand. “Let’s go do something fun.”

She hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into his, the feeling of his gloved fingers closing around hers sending a shiver up her spine. This time, it wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. She knew this path would lead to chaos, to something she couldn’t control.

But perhaps that’s what she craved for. And how would she know if she never tried?

He led her to what seemed to be just a regular black car, but she knew better. One of his men waiting by the car opened the passenger door for her, another doing the same for the driver’s side which was new to her.

“You’re driving this time?” Penelope mused once they took their seats, attempting to joke with him and poke the bear.

“I’ve driven plenty, toots.” He winked at her and started the car, his men taking their seats in the back. The car revved and his grip choked the steering wheel, then suddenly took off into the dark streets.

Penelope yelped in surprise before it turned into laughter. The car quickly sped up, the empty streets offering him leverage as he swerved in the road. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal when they reached a long stretch of road, reaching nearly ninety miles an hour that had the woman clutching her seat.

“Joker?” She questioned anxiously.

“Thought ya grew up, toots?” He began to cackle. “So grow up! Enjoy the ride!” Taking a leap of faith, she eased into it, choosing to trust the man behind the wheel. A wide smile spread across her lips once she decided to embrace it as it came, growing more comfortable. And eventually she joined his laughter.

When the car slowed down to a more decent speed, she rolled down her window and began to ease her torso outside, sitting on the door and holding onto the handle inside as leverage. Neon lights sped past as she leaned her head back, taking the wind as it came.

“There ya go, doll!” She heard the Joker encourage from below. His hand reached for her ankle when she wobbled slightly, the small act making her stomach flutter unexpectedly.

The same hand patted her calf when the car pulled into an open lot in front of a large, worn down building.

She fully climbed out and looked over at the Joker, then at the building where two men stood at the doors. Following closely behind him, she eyed the men standing guard who offered the same in turn, the other two from the car close behind her.

The warehouse was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the cracked concrete walls as a few lights flickered ominously. Different voices echoed and carried through the building as they made their way up the stairs past different floors, stopping at the uppermost level. It was an open space with little furniture, weapons of every kind littered around the room. With a single look from the Joker, the other men that were there left.

Penelope stood near an old, rusted table, her body tense, feeling out of place in the gritty environment. She ran her fingers over where the scars on the left side of her body were, feeling the uneven texture.

Across the room, the Joker leaned against a pile of crates. His scarred smile never wavered as his wild eyes observed her every move. He tilted his head, amusement playing across his face.

“Relax, toots. You’re too stiff.” The Joker said, waving his hand theatrically. “Now, the basics. Crime? Oh, it’s not just about the guns and the knives and the explosions. It’s about the art of chaos.”

Penelope’s gaze flickered to his, her curiosity fighting her hesitation. “Chaos?” She asked, her voice soft yet edged with something deeper, something he’d been coaxing out of her since they met.

Joker stepped closer, shoes scraping against the floor, and set down a blueprint on the table between them. “Soon,” He said, tapping his finger on a marked building, “We make a statement. But first, you gotta learn how to send a message. It’s not just about what you take. It’s about what they lose.”

She blinked, studying the blueprint, unsure what part of this made sense. “I’m not like you, Joker, I can’t just -“ She motioned to the table in front of her, unable to find the right words.

A low chuckle escaped the Joker’s throat, and he walked behind her, placing his gloved hands lightly on her shoulders. He leaned down, his voice a low whisper in her ear. “Oh, but you already are. You just need to let go. Stop playing by their rules and start looking at the bigger picture, hm?”

Penelope shivered, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away. There was a flicker of excitement she couldn’t deny, a part of her that wanted to let go of the fear. Of the guilt and the pain.

“Here’s the thing,” Joker continued, circling back to face her. He tossed a knife onto the table in front of her, its blade gleaming under the warehouse’s dim light. “It’s not about what you can do. It’s about how much you’re willing to risk. For control. For power. For fun.”

Penelope looked at the knife, then back at the Joker. “What do you want from me?”

His grin widened, his eyes burning with manic intensity. “I want you to embrace that spark. That little chaos inside you - and, oh, I see it, don’t you dare try and hide it.” He cocked his head. “That fire that turned you into this?” He motioned at her figure. “That took your arm, your eye? It didn’t kill you. So let it burn.”

Suddenly, the doors burst open, followed by grunts and muffled screaming and yelling from what seemed to be a man. Penelope turned to see what was going on, but Joker quickly took hold of her jaw and forced her to look at him.

Penelope exhaled slowly, her mind replaying flashes of her past. The fire, the agony. Her lost innocence. Maybe, just maybe, he was right. The chaos was already there, harnessed and held against its own will.

His gloved hand let go of her face, moving down to her waist and turning her around to face the commotion behind her.

In front of her sat a disheveled and bloodied man on his knees, gagged by a rag tied around his head. Two men stood at either side, guns in hand as they carefully watched between him and their boss.

“Know who this is?” The Joker questioned, hand still on her waist. The woman shook her head. “Remember that fire?”

Everything suddenly grew cold for Penelope. She stiffened, practically staring into the pitiful man’s very soul.

“New hire. Whaddya know?” Joker chuckled, then stopped abruptly. “Then he just had to open his mouth and - ope! Lookie here.”

He slipped past the shaky woman and snatched his jaw, squeezing at his cheeks to make him look up at his blackened stare.

“Just so happens that ya hurt this doll right here!”

He motioned to Penelope, then playfully slapped his face and made his way back to stand behind her.

“Remember that? Now you can finally put a face to it.”

He peeked over her shoulder to catch her change in expression, nose slightly flaring every other breath as she attempted to harness her emotions.

“Don’t hide it. Embrace it.” He rested a hand on her upper arm. “Pick up the knife.” The Joker urged, his tone softer but no less dangerous.

She looked over at the table, thinking for a moment before she reached for the blade, the cool metal now more familiar in her palm. But as she gripped it, something shifted. The fear that had once anchored her slipped away, leaving room for something else. Power? Defiance?

“That’s it. Now look at him.” She obeyed. “Remember that pain. Remember everything you lost because of him.”

Without another word, he watched as she took a step towards him, knuckles white as she squeezed the handle of the blade. Another step. Then another, until she was directly in front of him.

Tears welled up in her eye, images flashing across her mind at the horror he caused. The pain she endured, the pain she continued to endure. The blade slowly inched its way towards his face, the tip resting just below his left eye.

“I think I’ll start with what I lost.”

Happy birthday, Otto! ❣️🐙

Otto Octavius Fan Video

*all rights go to their original owners*

Umbral - Masterlist

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.

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

Song Inspiration -

Evanescence - Afterlife

Umbral

Chapter 1 Chapter 6

Chapter 2 Chapter 7

Chapter 3 Chapter 8*

Chapter 4 Chapter 9

Chapter 5 Chapter 10

The Scarred - Prologue

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.

Tick.

“What do you think about your day to day habits?”

Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.

“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.

Tick.

The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”

A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over the stump that used to be her left.

Tick.

An eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Miller.”

“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.

“Miss Miller?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.

“Right,” Her arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.

Her hand stuffed in her pocket, she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, gray and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.

She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.

The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.

She hung her coat on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, beginning to scar and create discolored skin even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage.

She snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.

Serenity - Chapter 5

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.

They didn't know how long they had been sitting on the carriage, and thankfully no one else had used the road or passed them for Mary's sake. The majority of it was spent in a pleasant silence, but there were moments of simple conversation Reuben offered that helped to ease her nerves. Mary would be lying if she said she wasn't stalling her return, it applied to both of them really.

Reuben would never admit it, but he found it relieving talking to someone outside the castle in such a civil conversation. He couldn't care less what the other villagers thought or had to say, but Mary? She had a fascinating mind. He wanted to understand the complexity of it, to discover more about her. How could someone seem so simple yet so complicated at the same time?

He looked over at her as she gazed at the sky whose bright sun prepared to set, taking in the moment of peace. Birds chirped and flew around above them, the wind gently blowing through her braided hair as the sound of a nearby creek settled in to create its own natural sense of calmness. It was moments like these she wished lasted forever. But no matter how much she wanted to stay, she knew she had to return home at some point.

"I should get going." Mary muttered with a sigh.

"Why do you insist on staying with him?" The question caught her off guard and she furrowed her brow.

"He's not the reason I insist on staying." She answered as she stepped down with the help of Reuben. "Believe me, if it wasn't for my mother, I'd be out of there quicker than a dog with a bone." Mary chuckled distastefully. "I suppose we'll run into each other again eventually."

"Under different circumstances, I hope?" He questioned with raised brows.

"Yes. Very much hopefully." She watched him for a moment, biting her lip and turning to leave before she stopped herself. "Thank you." She came to face him once more, granting him a genuine smile. "It means a lot to me." Mary then began her journey back to the shop, leaving him to stare after her disappearing figure.

It threw him off. He couldn't remember the last time someone smiled at him, or thanked him. Not the old greeting or just for manner's sake, but a real smile. Let alone directed at him. Shortly after leaving he thought about it again. And again. And many times over until he finally fell asleep.

The plaza was quiet by the time she returned. The chickens clucking and wandering aimlessly was the only noise to be heard besides the usual ambiance. What surprised her was that the doors of the shop were still wide open. She crept up to them. As she inched closer she heard the faint noise of someone sobbing, growing louder and louder until she finally peered inside.

On the floor of the shop sat her father leaning against one of the legs of the table, an empty cup tipped over beside him. The room was dark save for what was left of the sunset. It was a depressing sight, really. It's not that it was uncommon for him to behave in such a way, rather it was just never in front of Mary or her mother.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to alarm him, didn't want him to notice her at all. He could change on a dime at any second. But alas, fate wasn't on her side. A floorboard creaked beneath her foot and she grimaced as her father picked his head up to look at her. His sobbing suddenly grew more intense and Mary almost sympathized with him.

Almost.

"Mary," he wailed. "I'm so sorry, Mary," She began making her way upstairs as he continued, desperate to get away from him. "I'm sorry!" Was the last thing she heard before she made her way into her parents' bedroom with careful footing. As she creeped the door open her mother came into view, sitting up in their bed with her eyes closed. Mary's eyes softened as she gazed upon her a second longer.

"Liebling?" The frail woman called softly just as Mary turned to leave. She looked back at her mother who now had her eyes open, never looking weaker than in that moment. It was a sight. One that frightened Mary greatly.

She made her way over to their bed and sat on the edge next to her mother, placing a hand over her own. As they looked at each other the day's events rushed through Mary's mind. The image of her father, the yelling. Her mother lying almost lifeless. As tears began to spill they enveloped each other in a warm embrace as if it was their last time able to do so.

"I'm sorry, ma. I'm so sorry," Mary cried into her shoulder. "I left you with him, I'm sorry -" She was cut off by her mother shushing her, running her fingers over her scalp in a comforting motion.

"You did what you had to, liebling." Her mother slowly pulled away and cupped her daughter's cheeks, giving her a stern look. "If that ever happens again," the older woman swallowed. "And if I'm not so lucky -"

"Don't say that -" Mary shook her head.

"You run." Her mother gave a firm nod. "You run far away from here and do not come back, do you understand?"

"I can't just leave you here -"

"Do you understand?" Mary shut her mouth and her lip began to quiver.

She couldn't ever leave her mother to rot with such a man. Nothing would quell the amount of guilt that would follow. But most of all, she could never deny her mother. A few seconds passed before she nodded in agreement and was pulled in once more.

"I want to protect you, mein liebling. I can't do that if I'm not around." She whispered solemnly as more tears fell.

"Where would I go?" Her mother was silent as she thought for a moment.

"I don't know. But you're no good dead, now are you?" Mary heard her smile, a simple jest to lighten their spirits. "I'm sure someone out there is in need of your talent." Mary averted her eyes bashfully with a smile. 

"I think someone already is." Her mother tucked a piece of hair behind her daughter's ear.

"Is that where you were all this time?" Mary nodded. "You have been visiting with him quite often recently."

"He's a customer."

"Well, you're never around your other customers this much with such a request."

"He's a picky customer?" The two of them giggled as if they were just two teenage girls.

It made her mother feel young again, made her giddy knowing her daughter possibly found someone. Even if it would be just an acquaintance, it was still someone. Would she have wanted it to be the Child Catcher? Absolutely not, but as long as her daughter was happy and he didn't hurt her, she didn't see the harm in it.

"But he seemed to love one of the designs I drew up for him. Hopefully it'll turn out."

"Knowing your work, liebling, it'll be much better than he's expecting."

"I hope so..."

The two of them stayed up later in the night talking to each other about whatever came to mind. Her mother continued asking questions about the catcher while Mary tried steering away from the topic. It was a much needed moment for the two of them after the day they had. Eventually, Mary made her way to her own bed to at least get a few hours of sleep, and it was surprisingly easier for her that night.

She repeated the same morning routine, working the shop with the usual grouchy customers when a familiar face grew closer. An old man with a slight hunch meandered his way through the plaza towards her shop, riding on a cart filled with goods he'd collected and traded along the way. "Good morning, Miss Mary!" He chirped with a friendly smile as he turned to face the pile behind him to grab a larger box.

"Good morning, Mr. Weber!" The woman returned, taking the box from him. He leaned down closer to her to keep his next words between the two of them.

"Some fancy material you got there, milady. I'd keep it in a safe spot away from prying eyes if I were you." He sat up straight with a wink. "I was finally able to find more silk, if you need it? Or some chiffon?" He continued rummaging through his cart. "Ah!" He pulled out a large bundle of sheer fabric, accented with silver. "This was a rather special find of mine. I had it in safe keeping on the way here. I knew for sure you'd have a use for it, my dear." He passed it off to her as she gawked at the beauty of it, ideas flooding.

"How much?"

"Free of charge! And there's no room for bargaining." He offered another wink and rattled the reins to take off once more. "Take care, Miss Mary!" The woman watched him disappear down the street with a smile, then moved to put away the new fabric before setting the box on the center table.

It was a rather simple brown box. No one would ever suspect it held something of importance. She supposed it was for the best. She thought about waiting to open it when she was alone, but her curiosity ended up getting the best of her and she carefully opened it. What first caught her eye was the carefully folded fabric, both yellow and orange.

She ran her fingers over the smooth texture in awe. Never had she owned a piece so elegant and made sure to handle it with great care as she took it out and set it on a nearby rack. The rest of the items consisted of the material for the more detailed designs of the coat and the typical basic necessities. 

Unable to contain her excitement she giggled cheerfully, immediately putting herself to work on the design. She cleared off the center table and laid everything she needed on top of it, including her sketchbook. She switched between helping customers and her new project relentlessly, continuing to work after hours even if her hands were cramping and sore. It took her mother hollering for her to eat for her to stop herself.

She cleaned up her mess and tucked everything away out of sight, making her way upstairs to take a seat at the dining table. As they ate she noticed her mother and father casting her looks, though her mother's was more knowing and playful.

"What's got you so happy, huh?" Charles grumbled in discontent, scratching at his stubble.

"Mr. Weber stopped by today with more supplies." After a moment he hummed and went back to eating, missing the exchange of looks between the two women.

Serenity - Chapter 7

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.

She couldn't really remember what had happened. It seemed as if it was all a dream to her. When she woke up she kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out with a hum. She felt as if she was on a cloud, and as if she was wrapped in one and she cradled the blanket closer to her.

She was scared to open her eyes, but she knew she wasn't anywhere familiar by the feeling of it. It was too calm. Too comfortable. The smells were different, the air itself felt different. She decided to relish in it while she could. Never had she been granted the luxury of sleeping on a mattress so weightless.

Then she felt a hand tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and she shot up, immediately regretting it as a wave of pain shot through her skull. She whimpered and sat back in defeat, holding her head in her hands.

"Not the brightest idea, Miss." A feminine voice lightly patronized and Mary felt a cold rag placed over her forehead. "Keep that there for me, please."

"You startled me." She responded simply and did as she was told. She chanced opening her eyes and they widened. She lay in a bedroom, shades of brown and black decorating it. It was spacious and accessorized well, yet still simple. A door across from the bed led to what seemed to be a washroom, and another on the right to wherever she was brought from. "Where am I?"

"The catcher's room, Miss." The blonde began setting out a dress and accessories to go with it, then moving to fix the nearby vanity table. "He brought you in here yesterday afternoon."

"Yesterday -?"

"Been out cold. That mark on your forehead is a nasty one, Miss." The woman took the rag from her. "I was beginning to wonder if it would ever stop bruising."

"Where is he?"

"Who, the catcher?" Mary nodded. "Off schmoozing, no doubt."

"Schmoozing?" The maid sighed.

"Questions, so many questions. Not good for your head." She disappeared into the washroom and the sound of running water echoed from it. "He's requested I treat you, miss. And dare I say you need it - up."

She took Mary by her hands and helped her stand up, carefully guiding her to the washroom. The maid then began untying her dress, but was respectful enough to leave it on her shoulders and turned off the water of the tub.

"I will leave you to undress." The woman then left abruptly, shutting the door behind her. Mary, on the other hand, wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. The water steamed from the bubbled tub which was decorated with an assortment of products she had never used before. She had no idea what half of it even was, and she was thankful the maid was there to help otherwise she would've surely made a fool of herself.

So, Mary undressed and folded everything to put on a nearby shelf, carefully sitting herself in the spacious tub. She let out a sigh as she did so, the hot water easing her tensions from the past few weeks. Probably from her entire life. It let off a delicate smell, floral perhaps. She couldn't quite tell what it was exactly, but the smell alone was soothing enough. Just as Mary laid her head back against the tub the door opened and she jumped up.

"It's just me, miss." The blonde mused as she set a towel and new undergarments on the same shelf and knelt beside the tub, cradling the back of Mary's head to lean her back and wet her hair. She then poured what she assumed was shampoo into her hand and began massaging it into her scalp, smiling when she heard Mary hum. "I take it you're not used to this kind of thing?" She dipped her head again to rinse.

"Not in the slightest." The maid handed Mary a bar of soap who began to lather herself with it, the former moving on to conditioning her hair. "What is your name?" The woman stilled, but Mary wouldn't have even caught it if she hadn't been paying attention.

"Emilia." The woman answered as if she was afraid of it. "But you mustn't call me by my name."

"Mustn't? They don't like it?"

"No one ever calls us by our names unless they specifically want us for something, and for your sake I suggest not standing out." She rinsed out Mary's hair once finished and wrung it out to dry it as much as possible, standing up to grab the towel. "I'm going to take care of your clothes, miss. I'll be back shortly."

Once more, Mary was left to her own devices for the time being. She grabbed the towel, soft yet had enough roughness to do the job. The towel alone could pay her taxes for a whole month. When she finished she put on her undergarments, the soft silk smooth as it ran across her skin. Mary finally cracked open the door, peeking to see if anyone was in the room. Once comfortable she slipped out and made her way over to the bed where a dress lay.

It was medium green and rather simple, but still elegant in its own way. The fabric seemed heavy and weighted, but it was deceiving for when she picked it up it felt as if it was barely heavier than a nightgown. She slipped it on with little effort to find that it fit her perfectly. Almost too perfectly. She did what she could in the back, however futile, and she was relieved when Emilia entered the room.

Almost immediately she was behind Mary, tying the rest of it fluidly. Mary made a noise of discontent at how tight she tugged on a particular section.

"I like breathing, thank you." Emilia just giggled.

"You get used to it, miss."

"Do I have to?" Mary asked incredulously.

"If you plan on staying." She finished tying and guided Mary by the shoulder to sit at the vanity.

"I don't know if I am." Emilia began fiddling with Mary's hair, deciding what to do with it.

"Well, miss, enjoy this while you can I suppose." She began creating two braids on the sides of her head, bringing them back to clip them together in a half-do of sorts. It was simple, but hardly doing anything with her hair it felt as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Do I have to wear makeup?" Mary asked when Emilia reached for a brush.

"Not if you don't wish to, miss."

Mary then began to frown when she looked at the mark on her forehead. It was already black and blue, stitched and all. It made her sick knowing it would eventually be a scar she had to live with for the rest of her life. Not so much because of her having a scar, but more-so how she got it.

"I could cover it up, if you'd like?" The maid offered sincerely, knowing it was bothering her. Mary moved to speak when the door opened suddenly, the catcher entering with an unreadable expression. He looked between the two women before landing on the maid.

"Leave us."

"Yes, sir." She dropped her head and sped out, closing the door behind her. Mary, however, hadn't moved. She continued to stare at the gruesome bruise with mixed emotions. Hatred, frustration, grief.

"I was starting to think you'd never wake up." Reuben started as he walked over to stand behind Mary, hands resting on the back of the chair she sat on. "According to the nurse, you'll have headaches for some time, possibly other side effects." When he noticed her unmoving figure he frowned.

As she continued to stare her lips tensed and downturned, vision growing blurry as tears began to escape. Everything seemed to rush at her all at once. Being chased and beaten by her own father. Her mother. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to the village, nor did she want to. And she had every doubt that she would be allowed to stay in the castle. She had nowhere to go. She felt so alone. More alone than before.

Mary bit her cheek in an effort to stop, but it was inevitable so she tore her eyes away from her reflection to the desk of the vanity. She closed in on herself, wrapping her arms to grip onto her dress when she felt a pair of hands take hold of her wrists to gently pry them off. She looked up at Reuben whose eyes held a sense of sympathy and it finally broke her.

She inhaled sharply, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in it. She cried out painfully, voice hoarse and distraught over everything that had happened. At first Reuben wasn't quite sure what to do, having never been one to comfort. Usually he was the cause of one's pain. But alas, with great hesitation, he eventually wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

He couldn't remember the last time he had done anything like this. In fact, he couldn't remember doing it for anyone in his entire life. He never had a close relationship with anyone, really. It was new to him and it made him uncomfortable, but at the same time it warmed him in a way knowing he may have someone he'd be able to be that way with. So he decided to go along with it.

His thumb caressed her back in hopes to soothe her and he felt her tighten her hold, fisting the fabric of his coat. It wasn't until her cries were but a whimper that she began to loosen her grip. Mary slowly pulled away from him, keeping her arms wrapped as she looked up at him once more.

The way he looked at her made her feel vulnerable and bare. Exposed. She wasn't sure whether it was for better or for worse, but she assumed she would find out in the near future.

She always heard everyone say how terrible of a man he was, the vile things he did to the children and villagers he captured. Yet in this light, she found it entirely hard to believe. He was never one to take his time when it came to his work unless he was in a disguise, and even then it only took a few minutes to lure the children out. She just couldn't see him creating a plan so intricate as to what she was experiencing. At least not to kill or capture her.

Mary then looked down at his vest where she rested her head and her eyes widened.

"I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" Reuben rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing a bit of water won't fix." He disappeared into the washroom and she heard the sink begin to run. She stood up and fixed herself in the mirror, smoothing out her dress mainly out of nerves. Mary meandered through the room, eyeing and taking in all of the decor. Paintings of scenery and portraits lined the walls, shelves and tables of artifacts each worth a fortune below them. When she reached the lush brown curtains she hesitated. Her hand gently began pulling it back to reveal the most grandiose view.

It looked over what seemed to be the front of the castle, his room appearing to be frighteningly high. It all seemed so much larger than what she saw from the village. The cobblestone walls glistened in the sun's rays, reflecting its light to make it seem brighter than it was. The giant red rug that led to the front doors from the main gate created a stark contrast compared to it.

"The view doesn't do it justice." He spoke from behind her. "But I wouldn't stare too long, you'll cause a headache." He rested a hand on her back, guiding her out of the room. "I've requested you meet the Barons. They are your host, after all."

The halls they walked down were rather bland, compared to his room, with cobblestone walls and flooring. The only occasional decor was a painting or form of weapon on display, but the sheer largeness of the rooms in the castle made up for it.

"They so graciously made time for you." His voice then turned to little more than a mumble. "Even though they do almost nothing all day."

They reached a double gate of sorts, and behind it a box-like room. Reuben opened the first, then slid open the second and motioned for her to enter.

"What is it?" Mary asked cautiously, hesitant about the contraption.

"An elevator. It's a machine that carries things up or down."

"Elevator...?" She echoed as she stepped inside, Reuben following suit and closing both gates before pulling a lever. It made a jolt before it began descending and Mary used Reuben to catch herself, muttering an apology. "Have you told them about me?" Mary asked curiously.

"I have." Her heart skipped. "But I only did so if they asked." She then let out a relieved sigh. "I'm not one to dish out personal information, believe me."

"Well, did they ask much?"

"Not particularly. Then again, I'm never around them too often for them to really care."

"Why's that? Aren't you their henchman?" Reuben looked at her from the corner of his eyes, gaze intense and secretive.

"Let's just say my job doesn't require me to be in the common areas of the castle." Mary could only nod.

When the elevator stopped he led her out and down a set of stairs. When they turned a corner she was met with possibly the largest room in the castle. In the center sat large black and white tiles, a small set of stairs on one side led to the main entrance of the castle. A larger set to the left and at the top rested the barons sat elegantly in their thrones. Well, the Baroness moreso.

Men and women of seemingly higher status were spread about the room. Some played chess, others a form of ball with a cue. None of which she had seen before. Off to the side sat a row of women crocheting what seemed to be a scarf of some sort, bringing a small smile to Mary.

"Make sure to curtsey." Reuben discreetly told her as they went up a few steps. "Your excellency!" He greeted dramatically, taking his hat off to bow deeply as Mary performed her best curtsey. "I would like to introduce you to the seamstress." Mary offered a slight bow of her head.

"Ah, ha ha!" The Baron laughed boisterously in excitement, his wife gasping and clapping. "So you're the one who made the coat!" He leaned forward in his seat with a smile.

"Yes, my lord." Mary nervously glanced over at the catcher who bore a mischievous smile.

"And what a fine coat it is!" The baroness piped up. Mary felt her face begin to warm and she silently prayed it wasn't as red as it felt.

"Um - we - thank you, my lady."

"Tell me, what is your name?"

"Mary, my lady. Mary Elise."

"And what is it that you do, Mary?" Mary took a labored breath, glancing at the floor. It was a simple yet complicated question, especially at that present moment.

"Well, I'm a seamstress, my lady. Have been all my life."

"Well, all of my seamstresses have been their whole lives and aren't nearly as talented as you. I think what you have is a gift, Miss Elise. I would love to see what else you could do here." Mary's eyes widened and her heart dropped. It had been the last thing she expected to come from such a person.

"Now, just a minute!" The Baron interrupted. "I agree, what you have made for our catcher is vundabar. However!" He paused. "Before making such a decision, I want you to make one more thing for us." He stood up, slowly descending down the steps towards Mary. "My birthday happens to be arriving soon, and it appears that my wife and I are without proper attire. If you are able to make us such attire, you will be granted the role of our personal seamstress. But!" He stopped directly in front of her. "If you fail, you will leave at once. No questions. No bargaining. Understood?" Mary nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord."

"Off you go!" With another bow and curtsey, the two of them rushed back in the direction they came.

"Best case scenario." Reuben spoke first as they went up the stairway, making their way back into the elevator. "The baroness seems to take a rather special liking to you."

"And the Baron?" Reuben made a face.

"It seems he's feeling merciful at the moment. Anyone else, he would have them killed for failing such a task."

Once they left the elevator Reuben led her down a different direction than the one they came from, posing a question.

"Where are we going, Reuben?" The name caught him off guard for a second as he was still growing used to hearing it.

"Well, you need to see what you're working with, don't you?" Mary's eyes glistened with excitement and she smiled, trotting a little to keep up with him. He stopped abruptly in front of a smaller wooden door, giving her a look before opening it slowly to build suspense. He stood off to the side and Mary took it as the go-ahead, making her way through the doorway. She gasped, eyes wide in wonder and amazement.

The room was about twice the size of her own shop, but much cleaner and almost perfectly organized. Expensive fabrics were folded or laid out neatly, mannequins placed around the room wherever convenient. What caught her eye was the polished sewing machine that stood in the center. It almost seemed brand new, and it wouldn't surprise her if it was.

"Well?" Mary turned to Reuben with the largest smile he had seen from her yet.

"When is the Baron's birthday?"

Chapter 1

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 torches lining the Grand Hall flickered, casting elongated shadows against the obsidian walls. The air was thick with the scent of smoldering incense, a tradition as ancient as the Covenant itself. At the center of the chamber, six figures stood rigidly in a line, cloaked in the dark, combat-hardened suits of the Umbral. Their faces remained impassive, their postures drilled to perfection. They were not just soldiers. They were the executioners of the Covenant’s will.

At the head of the hall, a raised dais loomed, adorned with banners of crimson and black. One bore the emblem of the Covenant, the other of the First Order. And standing just behind the Altar of Ascension, watching with calculating interest, was General Hux.

His uniform was pristine, his gloved hands tucked behind himself. Unlike the other High Lord elders draped in ceremonial robes or Covenant Duskborns standing at attention, he was an outsider. A reminder of the alliance between the Covenant and the First Order, a bond forged from necessity rather than trust.

Standing at the altar, the Wraith Commander of the academy spoke, his voice like steel scraping against stone.

“You stand here today as the few who have survived.” His gaze swept over the graduates, lingering on each of them. “Of the many who entered, you are the only ones who endured. The trials have burned away weakness, stripped you of fear, and reforged you into something greater.”

One woman remained motionless as the commander’s piercing gaze settled on her. She could still feel the phantom aches of the trials. The grueling endurance tests, the relentless combat drills, the nights spent standing motionless under the open sky, waiting for an attack that could come at any moment. The academy had demanded everything from them. And they had given it.

One by one, their names were called. Each stepped forward to receive the insignia of the Umbral, a symbol of their rank and purpose. When the woman’s name was spoken, she moved with perfect precision to stand before both the altar and the commander to have the insignia fastened onto the top left of her chest. It was heavier than she expected. Not in weight, but in meaning.

Once it was securely fastened, her gaze briefly flickered to General Hux. He studied her with a carefully measured expression, his sharp eyes betraying nothing.

As the Umbrals stood back in line, the commander gave them a single nod and stepped away from the altar. The Umbrals then synchronously pulled out one of their daggers harnessed to their thighs and - in accordance with the Covenant’s oldest tradition - dragged the blade across their palm. enough to draw blood but not enough to drip. As they all looked up at the Covenant’s emblem, they put away their blades with their arms back at their sides. Their expressions were overcome with fierce determination before they all spoke. 

“In darkness, I was forged. In blood, I am bound.” The Umbrals felt the palms of their hands begin to heal and close up. “ In shadow, I rise.” 

The audience watched intently as their voices spoke with an intense unnamed emotion. The memories of their history settled in their hearts as the Umbrals continued. 

“I am the blade unseen, the wrath unyielding. My will is iron, my duty eternal. I forsake the light, for it is not my path. I swear my loyalty to the Covenant, to my kin, to the Order that raised me from the ashes of the weak. My blade is theirs to command. I will not falter. I will not fail. I am an Umbral, and an Umbral does not kneel.”

As they finished their oath, there was a moment of silence before the hall erupted in a resounding chorus of acknowledgement, their success etched into the annals of the Covenant’s legacy.

But before the new Umbrals could disperse, the Wraith Commander stepped forward.

“Duty awaits, Umbrals.” His voice echoed with finality. “Your placements have been decided.”

A datapad was produced, and the assignments were read aloud.

“Varo Drenn, stationed aboard the Finalizer. Assigned to High Command security detail.” Applause sounded from behind them. 

The list went on, and then -

“(Y/n) (L/n).”

She barely shifted, but inside, her senses sharpened.

“You will be stationed aboard the Finalizer. You are assigned directly to General Hux.”

The hall remained silent, but a subtle tension threaded through the air before the applause started. Few Umbral were assigned to personal protection roles, particularly to someone of a higher ranking. But it was not unheard of.

She turned her head just slightly towards the general. His expression did not change, but there was the faintest flicker of something in his gaze. Approval? Interest?

Or perhaps just calculation.

(Y/n) simply bowed her head in acknowledgment. She did not question her orders. She did not hesitate. Her assignment had been set. And she would see it done.

“That is all from me, Umbrals. I wish you all the best of luck in your careers moving forward.” The commander eyed them carefully. “Honor in Loyalty!”

“ Strength in Silence!” The Umbrals viciously responded, their voices powerful as they carried through the chamber. 

The ceremony had ended, but the weight of it lingered in the vast expanse of the great hall. The gathered elders had dispersed, along with the spectators from the Covenant and the First Order. Now, only the newly anointed Umbrals remained, standing in their familiar groups and murmuring in hushed voices.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, flexing her palm where the ceremonial cut had already healed. She had known this moment was coming for years, yet the finality of it settled in her chest like a weight.

A voice broke through the silence beside her.

“Didn’t think we’d actually live long enough to make it to this point.”

She turned, already recognizing the low, dry tone before meeting the sharp gaze of Varo.

Dressed in the same black ceremonial attire as her, he looked every bit the Umbral he now was. Tall, imposing, his features carved from sharp lines and quiet intensity. But there was an ease to his posture, an irreverence in his stance that had always set him apart from the others. While many of their kind held themselves with rigid discipline, Varo carried his authority like a cloak draped loosely over his shoulders, rather than armor strapped too tightly to his skin.

(Y/n) arched a brow. “You doubted?”

Varo let out a short, amused breath. “Not about myself. You, though? Definitely.”

She gave him a pointed look, unimpressed.

He smirked. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who kept getting thrown into the pits every time you challenged the instructors.”

“They were wrong,” she said simply.

“They were stronger,” he corrected. “At least at the time.” He studied her for a moment before nodding. “But I guess you proved your point.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as the murmurs of their fellow Umbrals filled the space around them. Some had already begun filtering out of the hall, moving toward their new lives, their new assignments. It was a strange thing. To spend years side by side, only to be scattered the moment they were forged into weapons.

Varo broke the silence first. “So you’re being sent off with the general?” (Y/n) stiffened slightly. Of course, he would have questioned it already. 

She nodded. “I suppose so.”

Varo let out a low whistle. “Not bad. High-profile assignment. Though I can’t say I envy you. General Hux looks like he hasn’t slept about as much as ourselves.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond, but she could see the curiosity in his expression. “And what about you?” she asked instead. “High Command security?”

“High Command security.” he nodded, crossing his arms. “Captain Phasma’s command, I’m assuming. We’re stationed together, but I doubt we’ll see much of each other. At least, not as much as we’re used to.”

She considered that. They had trained together for years, watching each other’s backs, surviving what others couldn’t. Now, they were being pulled into separate orbits. She knew it was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any less strange.

“You’ll be safer there,” she remarked.

Varo scoffed. “I’m not sure safer is the right word when it comes to guarding a bunch of ambitious officers with knives hidden behind their backs.” His smirk faded slightly, something more thoughtful settling in his expression. “But I’ll manage.”

(Y/n) studied him. There was an understanding between them, one that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They had survived the trials, endured the blood, the pain, the sacrifice. They were Umbrals now. Their lives weren’t their own anymore.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t still themselves.

“Be careful, (Y/n),” he said, quieter now. “Not just with the general. With the Covenant, too.”

She tilted her head. “You sound like you don’t trust them.”

Varo shrugged. “I trust that they’ll use us as long as we’re valuable. And if we stop being valuable?” He gestured vaguely. “Well. You know how it works.”

She did. All too well.

“But we aren’t Umbrals for no reason. We know our value.”

She didn’t let the thought linger. Instead, she extended her hand toward him, palm up.

Varo looked at it, then smirked slightly before gripping her forearm in a firm clasp.

“We survived,” he murmured.

“For now,” she replied.

Their hands fell away, and with one last glance, Varo turned and disappeared into the departing crowd.

(Y/n) stood in the dimming light of the Grand Hall, silent for a moment longer before finally stepping forward.

She walked with the same precise step, her boots striking the stone floor in measured intervals. The weight of her new insignia pressed against her chest, a tangible reminder of what she had become.

As she stepped past the towering doors of the chamber, she immediately noticed the presence of General Hux waiting in the adjacent corridor.

He stood with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his long black coat pristine, every inch of him composed and controlled. Two First Order officers flanked him at a distance, but his attention was entirely on her.

She approached with unerring confidence, stopping precisely at the required distance. With a practiced motion, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head slightly. The formal gesture of acknowledgment within the Covenant.

“General Hux,” she said, her voice smooth and measured.

The man regarded her with the same critical gaze he had maintained throughout the ceremony. Up close, his presence was even more exacting. Sharp angles, unwavering posture. An air of authority that demanded nothing less than absolute obedience.

“Umbral (L/n),” he greeted in return, his tone clipped but devoid of disdain. “It seems we are to be in close quarters from now on.”

She straightened, her expression impassive. “I will carry out my duties as assigned.”

Hux’s lips pressed together slightly, as if amused by her strict adherence to protocol. “I would expect nothing less.” His gaze flickered over her with analytical precision. “You are younger than I anticipated.”

“My age is irrelevant, sir,” she replied without hesitation. “I would not be standing before you if I were not capable.”

Hux tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “Indeed. The Umbral training is known for its… unforgiving nature. And yet, you emerged among the few who completed it.”

There was an edge of something in his voice. Not admiration, but acknowledgment.

“My survival is a testament to the Covenant’s teachings,” she said simply.

He nodded, accepting the response before shifting slightly. “Your role with myself will differ from standard Umbral assignments, as I’m sure you are aware. You will report directly to me. No other officer aboard the Finalizer holds authority over you unless I say otherwise.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, General.”

There was a moment of silence, something unsaid hanging in the air between them. Hux studied her, and she, in turn, did the same. She had learned to read people, to dissect their intentions, their weaknesses. General Hux was not a man who wore his emotions plainly.

But there was something in his eyes that told her he was doing the same to her.

Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Very well. You will accompany me back to the Finalizer. Your belongings have already been arranged for transport.” He turned sharply, beginning to walk, (Y/n) moving in perfect sync beside him.

As they walked, the halls of the academy fortress loomed around them, dark stone and towering spires casting jagged shadows under the dim glow of the perimeter lights. 

They walked outside into the cooler night air towards their awaiting transport, their boots echoing against the stone path leading to the landing platform.

From the ceremony, she had observed him in sharp detail. The cold, precise way he carried himself, the calculating glint in his eyes. He was an enigma to her, even now, as they moved in unspoken synchrony towards their shared destination.

For a time, neither of them spoke. It was not uncomfortable, only measured. (Y/n) had been trained in the weight of silence, in the power of withholding words until they served a purpose.

Hux was the one to break it.

“You’re not what I expected.”

She turned her head slightly, studying him from the corner of her vision. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable.

“Explain,” she said simply.

His brow arched faintly, as if noting her directness. “I expected a mindless weapon after all I’ve heard. A blunt instrument honed by the Covenant to serve without thought or hesitation.” A pause. “Instead, I find someone who holds herself like a dedicated soldier rather than a puppet.”

She considered that. “I am a soldier,” she affirmed. “And I was trained to be a weapon. But the two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Hm.” He didn’t argue the point.

The wind picked up as they neared the platform, the hum of its idle engines filling the space between them. The platform was quiet, and only a handful of the Covenant’s attendants and a few First Order officers stood waiting for them, Varo amongst them.

“A few key points to remember when under my supervision,” Hux began.

“Yes, General?”

“I do not tolerate insubordination.” The two of them ignored the bystanders they passed as they boarded the ship, focused in conversation. 

“I do not tolerate incompetence,” (Y/n) returned evenly.

That earned her a brief glance, though his expression remained carefully schooled. “My interests, demands, and safety are your first priority.”

“Naturally, sir.” Another look from the general.

“Your orders come from myself and myself alone. Not from Captain Phasma, not other officers. No one. If anyone urges otherwise, you are to report it to me. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” She spoke with an unwavering gaze. 

“Good,” he said after a moment. “Then we won’t have a problem.” He turned to take a seat, (Y/n) moving to lean against the wall beside him, yet alert. “I don’t expect blind loyalty from you, Umbral,” he said, his voice measured. “Only obedience.”

(Y/n) met his gaze quickly. “Obedience is earned, not demanded.”

A flicker of something passed through his expression. Perhaps intrigue, perhaps amusement. It was gone before she could decipher it.

“Then I suggest you learn quickly.” He caught a shadow of amusement in her expression, but it quickly faded.