Reposting Cause My Boo Is Back ♥️🤍🖤

Chapter 8

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 door slid shut behind General Hux as he entered his office, footsteps light yet heavy with unspoken thoughts. The atmosphere in the room was thick, weighed down by the events of the interrogation, and (Y/n)’s presence only seemed to intensify that tension. She stood by the viewport behind his desk, her back turned to Hux as she gazed out at the stars. It was hard to tell if she was looking for answers from the vastness of space or simply trying to avoid the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Hux lingered near his desk, watching her carefully. He hadn’t missed the shift in her demeanor since the interrogation. There was something different about her now, something subtle but undeniable. He knew that what had transpired in that room had left a mark on her. 

“(L/n),” Hux began, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity, “You’re quiet.”

(Y/n) remained silent, her fingers tightening on her arms where they were crossed in front of her. It was as if she were weighing something inside herself, something she didn’t know how to voice. After a moment, she exhaled slowly, but didn’t turn to face him.

“What she said,” she murmured. “About us.”

Hux responded plainly, but his averted gaze showed otherwise. “She seemed to think it was significant.”

(Y/n) finally turned, her expression guarded. But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something vulnerable. “Is it?”

The question hung in the air, leaving no space for games or half-truths. Hux felt a strange twist in his chest, a tightening he wasn’t accustomed to. He studied her as (Y/n)’s gaze faltered, her shoulders tense as if she were bracing herself for an answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear. 

“Do you think…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think she was right?”

Hux slowly rounded the table closer to her, his expression softening as he drew closer to her. “Well, that depends,” he began, his voice more earnest now, “If I think she was, then it would mean something. Wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed, the words lodged in her throat. She had expected him to brush it off, to dismiss it like so many other things she had been told to suppress. But his response wasn’t what she had imagined. It made her heart beat a little faster, her pulse quickening at the thought of facing the truth of what was building between them.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to humor talking about it,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But… I can’t stop thinking about it. Especially after what she said.”

Hux studied her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched her face for any trace of the controlled stoicism that had defined her for so long. But it wasn’t there. Not now. Instead, there was something raw, something that made him feel exposed, as if the walls they had both kept between them were slowly crumbling.

“You’re not the only one trying to make sense of it.” Hux admitted, much to their surprise.

(Y/n)’s breath caught at his words. It was disorienting, in a way, to hear him say what had been silently understood between them. And yet, it was the first time in what felt like forever that something real, something genuine, was spoken aloud.

“My focus has always been on the mission. I’ve tried to justify it as my loyalty to my assignment, but this…?” She paused. “It’s different.”

Hux took another step closer, now barely a foot away from her as his expression grew more tender than she had ever seen it before. “It is different. But we don’t have to figure it all out right now. Not everything has an immediate answer.”

(Y/n)’s gaze flickered to the floor for a moment, but slowly lifted to look at him again once she felt the brush of his gloved fingers against her arm. She knew there was so much they couldn’t say, not yet. The words were all tangled up inside of her, but she felt a shift in the air, an understanding that neither of them had ever truly acknowledged until now.

“We can’t pretend this is nothing,” (Y/n) said, her voice a little firmer now. “ I can’t pretend it.”

Hux studied her for a long moment, his gaze softening. “Then we won’t.”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face, looking for some sign that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment of honesty. It was as if they were both testing the waters, unsure of how deep they were willing to go. But for once, she didn’t want to pull back. 

And they didn’t. 

The silence between them grew thick with the weight of unspoken words and shared realizations. (Y/n) stood there, the distance between them closing, yet neither one made a move. The tension was palpable, the quiet stretching out in a way that felt almost unbearable, like they were both standing on the edge of something they didn’t fully understand, but wanted to.

Hux’s eyes never left hers, his expression still soft but full of intent, even hesitation. There was a moment of vulnerability there that (Y/n) had never seen in him before, a rawness that made her breath catch. It was clear now that they were both standing on the precipice of something new, and though neither of them could predict where it would lead, neither of them seemed ready to walk away from it, either.

Slowly, (Y/n) stepped forward, closing the space between them and causing the hand on her arm to shift higher. She’d never been this close to him before. Not like this. It felt like every breath she took was shared with him, every beat of his heart hers to share. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent. And it made her feel as if everything else had melted away.

For a brief second, she hesitated, unsure whether to continue or pull back. But then, she saw something in his eyes. An openness that mirrored her own. It was in that fleeting moment that she realized she didn’t have to be afraid of what they were becoming. She didn’t have to hide from this. From him.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against her jaw, testing the boundaries between them. Her own hand came up to rest on top of his chest, feeling the thrumming of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It was an intimate sensation, one she never had the luxury of feeling. 

Hux didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. He remained still, waiting, letting her make the decision.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. She was acutely aware of how close they were now, of the electricity crackling between them, urging them forward. She could feel his breath warm against her face, his gaze steady and searching. Everything in her screamed to lean in, to finally bridge the gap that had always been there.

And then, without thinking, without words, she closed the distance.

Her lips met his, tentative at first. Testing, unsure. But when he responded, both of them moved together as if they had always known how. It was slow at first, tentative, as if they were both discovering this new part of themselves.

(Y/n)’s hand slid up to his neck, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, and Hux’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. The intensity of the kiss deepened, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/n) felt a sense of peace, as if everything had come full circle. 

She had always been so guarded, so controlled. But now, with him, she didn’t have to hide anymore. There were no expectations, no pressures. Just them, in this moment, finding something real.

They finally pulled apart, breathless, both of them looking at each other as if they were seeing one another for the first time.

Hux’s fingers gently brushed her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray piece of hair that was out of place from its usually perfected style. “We should’ve done this sooner,” he whispered, his voice low and full of meaning.

(Y/n) let out a breathless laugh, the sound soft and genuine. “Maybe. But I’m glad we didn’t rush it.”

Hux hummed in agreement. 

The room was still, and for once, the weight of the war, the orders, and the missions didn’t seem so heavy. It was just the two of them.

“I don’t know exactly what this means, but I’m not as afraid of it as I think I should be.”

(Y/n) felt a knot in her chest loosen at his words. It wasn’t a declaration of love, not yet, but it was something. It was enough for now.

“Neither am I,” she said, almost to herself, before looking up at him with a softer expression. “I don’t know what happens next, but I’m not afraid either.”

Hux gave her a small nod, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “We’ll find our way.”

Neither of them had all the answers, but they knew one thing for certain - they were no longer pretending. And that, in itself, felt like the first step forward for them. 

(Y/n)’s voice broke the stillness first, soft and almost hesitant. “(Y/n),” she said, her voice a little unsure as she spoke her own name. It was an offering, an invitation. It felt almost too personal, too intimate to say aloud.

Her gaze dropped for a moment, mind racing as she tried to gauge his reaction. It felt like she was crossing an invisible line, one that might make everything feel different. But she didn’t regret it.

Hux’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable for a moment as he looked at her. It wasn’t the name of an officer or a superior. it was something else entirely. It was personal.

“I -” He stopped himself, the words getting caught in his throat. “Armitage.” He nearly choked out, his heart racing uncharacteristically. But the gentle smile she gave him made it worth it. 

“Armitage.” His heart skipped. He wasn’t used to hearing his name spoken with such sincerity, but somehow, hearing it from her felt natural.

Hux’s lips twitched upward, and he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t even realized he wanted it, but hearing his name from her own lips felt like a bond. A commitment, maybe, even if they both didn’t fully understand it yet.

Her gaze softened as she looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed like the weight of their shared experiences had brought them to a place of understanding. They both knew that this wasn’t just about the mission anymore. There was something here, something that was no longer hidden beneath their armor.

“I suppose we should prepare to brief Drenn and Phasma.” Armitage reluctantly reminded both himself and (Y/n), not wanting to ruin their moment. The latter sighed and nodded before they slowly peeled away from each other and turned towards his desk. 

Once the two others arrived, Hux was standing behind his desk with (Y/n) to his left, the others on the other side. They all knew the nature of what had transpired, the importance of the information that had been gathered. But the air still held some form of thickness with the remnants of the intense interrogation.

“I’m pleased to say that the interrogation was successful. But now it is imperative that we act quickly from what we received. (L/n), if you will.” The general began.

(Y/n) straightened slightly, acknowledging the order. She had become used to this dynamic, this balance of trust and command between them. Her gaze shifted from Hux to Varo and Phasma as she spoke.

“It was confirmed that the rogue faction is still in contact with Resistance forces, but their next location is still not clear enough for us to target,” (Y/n) began, her voice steady but tinged with something colder now, something sharp. “However, Elira,” She paused, just for a moment, to steady herself. “Made it clear that there is a larger play at hand.”

There was a brief flicker of recognition in Varo’s eyes, and Captain Phasma’s unreadable expression didn’t change, though the air seemed to tighten. The information had clearly shaken them both, but none of them dared to show it.

“It seems the Resistance has a heavier involvement with the faction than what was originally assumed.” Hux added, his tone darkening. “They’ve been providing the rogues with supplies and safehouses. Coordinating and assisting each other to perform these recurring strikes on First Order establishments.”

Varo frowned, his eyes narrowing. “And they’re preparing a larger strike?” he asked, his voice full of masked concern.

(Y/n) nodded. “They wanted to regroup, build momentum, and meet the others at the next location. What they failed to consider was the Covenant’s involvement. That’s what ultimately led to their capture.”

Hux didn’t let his gaze falter. “But the remaining rogues are more elusive, believe it or not.” He commented with a hint of annoyance.

Phasma spoke up, her voice as calm and measured as ever. “What’s our next move?”

(Y/n)’s eyes were cold now, her focus entirely on the task at hand. “We still have the other four prisoners to pull information from so we’ll be able to finalize a more stable plan once that’s taken care of. We need names, contacts, any possible location. They have to know something if they were planning to meet the others.”

Hux glanced at her, a flicker of admiration in his eyes before he turned back to the others. “Once all information is extracted, we must act swiftly, and with precision. This isn’t about eliminating the rogues anymore. This is about stopping a much larger operation.”

Varo looked to (Y/n), a slight smirk tugging at his lips before turning back to the general. 

(Y/n) gave a nod, her expression firm. “More than stop them. We’ll send a message. Make sure this never happens again.”

Captain Phasma stepped forward. “Then it’s settled. I’ll have droids assigned to interrogations during the scheduled timeframes.”

Hux nodded in approval. “That is all for now. I will notify you after information is collected from the interrogations and ready to brief. Dismissed.”

Phasma and Varo nodded, the latter casting her a final, knowing look before turning to leave. 

Following the brief, Hux and (Y/n) reached the entrance to the bridge, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent corridor. The doors slid open and they stepped in with purpose. The crew worked in near silence, their movements efficient and synchronized, the controlled hum of the ship’s engines providing a constant backdrop.

“Report?” Hux asked immediately, his gaze sweeping across the room as he approached the control console where a subordinate officer stood.

The lieutenant snapped to attention. “General Hux, Umbral (L/n). No significant updates since the last transmission. However, we’ve managed to locate a few more traces of rogue activity. It’s a small, hidden network. It seems we’re closing in on one of their projected targets based on the patterns we are seeing.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Are they still active or attempting to relocate?”

The officer’s fingers flew over the console, bringing up new data “We have a rough location, but there are no confirmed movements yet.”

(Y/n) stepped forward, her eyes scanning the information that flashed across the screen. 

Her hand rested on the console, her fingers brushing lightly against it as she leaned in closer, and inevitably closer to the lieutenant who hadn’t moved away. He held his breath at her proximity, frozen in place by the intimidation of her presence. And he had a sinking feeling as he looked at her that he even found her slightly attractive. 

Hux looked between the two of them, blood simmering beneath his skin. He would never admit it, but his glare towards the subordinate was more than enough to express what he was feeling. 

The lieutenant finally looked up at the general and his eyes widened slightly, immediately taking a step away from her.

“Set a course to the location,” she finally said, her tone firm. “We can’t afford to take any chances of losing them.”

The officer hesitantly glanced at the general who gave a node of approval. “Yes, Umbral.”

Hux stepped back, his gaze shifting to (Y/n), watching her as she took charge. There was an intensity about her now that matched his own, and it stirred something in him that he had to push down. He couldn’t afford to let distractions cloud his focus. Not now.

“Good,” Hux said, his voice was particularly hardened, but still carrying authority. “Keep me updated if anything changes.”

“Yes, General.” The officer acknowledged before the two of them left the bridge once more.

Later on, (Y/n) found herself within the alcove where she and Armitage had their first moment together, a quiet stillness settled in the later hours of the night cycle. (Y/n) sat on the bench just the same, her back against the wall, her dark uniform replaced by simple black attire. The issued sleepwear was comfortable, yet still representative of the Covenant. The lights were dim, casting long shadows over the space. She wasn’t used to this kind of quiet as of late, but tonight, it was a welcome change.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, the events of the day and the intensity of her feelings for Hux weighing on her in ways she didn’t know how to process. 

The kiss. The words they hadn’t fully said. The subtle shift between them that she couldn’t ignore. 

She had spent enough time thinking about it, enough to start overanalyzing every single moment, trying to understand it all.

She was lost in thought when the soft sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. She glanced up, finding Varo rounding the corner. His ever-present smirk was softened tonight, though. A far cry from the playful taunts he usually threw her way.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Varo said with a casual shrug, his eyes scanning the space before landing on her. 

(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her eyes flicking towards the corner of the alcove.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice betraying a trace of emotion she couldn’t quite hide. She quickly cleared her throat. “It’s been a long day.”

Varo took a seat beside her, his posture relaxed, his arms casually resting on his knees. “You know, for someone who’s usually an uptight prick, you’re not as composed as you usually are. What’s going on?”

(Y/n) remained silent for a moment, her eyes focused on a distant point in the alcove, not wanting to meet his gaze. She could feel the weight of his expectant stare, the way Varo seemed to have this uncanny ability to know when something was off.

Varo grinned, sensing her hesitation. “I’m guessing this isn’t about your mother or the rogue vampires. You’ve had plenty of that already. So, what is it?”

(Y/n) hesitated, taking a deep breath. “It’s… about the general.” she admitted, her tone softer than she intended.

Varo raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Ah. That explains a lot.”

She shot him a quick, almost defensive look, but Varo’s expression remained calm, casual. He clearly wasn’t going to push. At least, not too much. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms and waiting, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

(Y/n) sighed, finally meeting his gaze, her eyes guarded but honest. “It’s not as simple as I thought it would be, Varo. I -” She paused, unsure of how to continue. “I didn’t expect this to happen the way it did. It was completely unexpected.”

Varo didn’t interrupt. He just let her speak, waiting for her to continue at her own pace. He knew better than to press, especially when (Y/n)’s walls were this high.

“I’ve been focused on duty. On my assignment. I’ve kept myself guarded for so long, and now… now there’s this.” Her voice trailed off, a mixture of uncertainty and something else she couldn’t place.

“Sounds like you’ve got some feelings there,” Varo said lightly, his tone teasing but not unkind.

(Y/n) didn’t laugh at his joke. Instead, she nodded, her eyes distant. “I do. We both do. But it’s more than that. It’s… I don’t even know how to explain it.” She took a moment, glancing down at her hands, her fingers twitching nervously. “He’s… different. I’ve never allowed anyone to tear me apart so quickly. To leave me so open and vulnerable. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Varo watched her closely, his gaze softening for a moment. “You don’t need to figure it all out at once, you know. You gotta understand that we were trained to be soldiers. We’ve never had the luxury of dwelling on things like this.”

(Y/n)’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I know. But this isn’t about the mission anymore. Not entirely.”

“And yet,” Varo said, leaning forward slightly, “You’re still thinking like a soldier. Even with him. You’re afraid, (Y/n). You’re afraid that if you give in to this, it’ll distract you. But it won’t. It’ll just change things. And sometimes… that’s the best kind of change.”

(Y/n) let out a slow breath, her eyes lowering again as the weight of his words sank in. “You think so?”

Varo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall again, crossing his arms and looking at her with a thoughtful expression.

“Don’t think too hard about it. You don’t have to be the perfect soldier all the time. Hell, if you ask me, Hux needs someone like you.”

(Y/n) looked at him sharply, a little surprised. “What do you mean?”

Varo shrugged casually. “Hux… he doesn’t always know what to do with himself. But with you?” He chuckled lightly. “He’s definitely got someone to keep him on track if something happens. Emotionally and professionally.”

(Y/n) shook her head slightly, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

“Trust me. I’ve been watching.” Varo’s smirk widened. “But, more importantly - you two? There’s something there.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her smile turning into a soft laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before.”

Varo grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, there’s only one way to figure it out.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease just a little. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Varo said with a knowing smile. “I’m just here to remind you that you don’t have to have everything figured out. Sometimes, you just need to… let it happen.” Her eyed her for a moment. “You wanna know something else?”

She glanced at him curiously, encouraging him to continue. 

“I’ve heard that relationships with personal assignments are actually encouraged by High Lords.”

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“It creates a deeper sense of loyalty. Which, in turn, would mean a more successful assignment.”

(Y/n) sat in silence for a moment, her thoughts swirling as she took in what Varo had said. For once, she allowed herself to relax, to let the uncertainty sit without trying to fix it. There was a strange comfort in that, even if it didn’t feel entirely natural.

“Thanks, Varo,” she said softly, turning to face him.

He winked at her. “Anytime.”

(Y/n) and Varo remained seated in comfortable silence. She leaned back against the wall with her arms loosely folded, her thoughts still lingering on the kiss, on the shift between herself and Armitage.

That shift seemed to arrive in person only moments later as footsteps approached. 

Varo lifted his head first, eyebrows raising with amusement as the tall, unmistakable figure of General Hux rounded the corner into the alcove.

Hux paused when he saw them, his expression unreadable but his gaze lingering on (Y/n) a fraction longer than protocol might have allowed. He wore his uniform still - sharp, pristine, and composed - though there was something faintly softer in his eyes as they flicked between the two.

“Drenn,” Hux greeted stiffly, polite but distant as ever in tone.

Varo rose to his feet smoothly, flashing a smile that didn’t quite hide the glint of mischief in his eyes. “General,” he replied with mock formality, brushing nonexistent dust from his jacket. “I was just keeping her company, but I think she’s in good hands now.”

(Y/n) gave him a mildly exasperated look.

“I’ll take the hint,” Varo added under his breath as he passed her. Then more loudly, to both, “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

As he walked off, he gave (Y/n) one last, knowing glance. She rolled her eyes at him behind Hux’s back.

Once he was gone, a quiet settled again. Armitage stood a few feet away, his hands folded behind his back. There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to hint that he hadn’t come here by accident.

“I was looking for you,” He said finally. “I stopped by your quarters.”

(Y/n) glanced over at him, still seated, her expression open but cautious. “Is everything alright?”

He hesitated, then took a few steps closer. “I thought you might want company. After everything today.”

Her eyes flicked downward, then back up to him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” He looked down for a moment, then met her gaze again.

There was something in his voice. Tentative, unfamiliar. Like the footing beneath him was uncertain and he didn’t quite know how to steady himself in this territory. She understood the feeling.

(Y/n) pushed herself up from the bench slowly, now standing beside him in the soft lighting of the alcove. Her hair was down, and the shift from her usual rigid posture made her seem more human, more vulnerable. Armitage saw it and found it hard to look away.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, “How everything’s changed so quickly.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Armitage paused. “But sometimes change can be good.”

She met his gaze, studying him. “You’re right, that’s very strange coming from you.”

Armitage threw her a side glance of disapproval. “I have my moments. Just that no one ever sees them.”

(Y/n) gazed at him a moment longer, her sharpness dulled by weariness and something far more tender.

Then her voice, quiet but sure, made a simple offer.

“I suppose I should have my dinner now.” A faint curve tugged at one corner of her lips. “Would you like to join me?” 

Armitage blinked once, as if surprised. Not by the invitation itself, but by how much he wanted to accept it. His expression gave away little, save for the slight lowering of his shoulders and the flicker of something softer behind his eyes.

“I would, actually.”

(Y/n) inclined her head in a simple nod. “Come on, then.”

She turned and began walking without ceremony, confident that he would follow. 

He did. 

His stride falling in just behind hers, his hands still clasped behind his back in a subconscious effort to maintain composure. But as he walked, he realized with a strange sense of peace that for the first time in longer than he could remember… he didn’t feel the need to be composed.

Not with her.

And in that silence, he let himself fall into step beside (Y/n), hands slowly unclasping themselves from behind him. He walked beside her not as the General of the Finalizer, but simply as the man she had invited in.

The door shut behind them with a soft hiss. 

(Y/n)’s quarters were sparse but lived-in, dimly lit with the gentle glow of low lumen panels. There were few personal touches. Just a few old Covenant relics lining the shelf near her desk, and folded training attire draped neatly across the back of a chair. Still, it was warmer than most quarters on a First Order vessel. Warmer than his.

(Y/n) moved first, her posture more relaxed than usual, her movements quieter.

“Sit wherever you like,” she said, brushing past him to a compact kitchenette where she retrieved two mugs. “The lighting’s adjustable if it’s too dim. I just keep it darker for obvious reasons.”

Armitage glanced around, then chose the loveseat built into the wall across from her bed. He sat back with his hands resting in his lap, posture still perfect. 

(Y/n) then brought over both mugs. She handed him his - a pale amber tea with a faint herbal scent - and kept the dark crimson one for herself. 

Armitage nodded to her as a thank you before she settled in beside him without a word.

For a moment, they just sat in silence. Sipping slowly, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.

Then Armitage spoke, low and thoughtful.

“I think I could get used to seeing you this relaxed.”

(Y/n)’s brow rose as she took another sip. “Why’s that?”

“It’s oddly comforting, I think. Even reminds me of myself outside of working hours.”

She set the mug down on the coffee table in front of them. “Well, no one stays sharp forever. Not even me.”

Hux gave a short, amused huff. “Don’t let the others hear you admit that. It would shatter their entire perception of you.”

(Y/n) turned slightly towards him, resting one elbow against the back of the couch and leaning her head on her hand. “Let them believe what they want. Fear has its uses.” There was a pause. Then she added, quieter, “Except with you, of course.”

He turned his head slowly to look at her, and found her already watching him.

Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes. 

Those eyes . 

They were open. Clear. Trusting.

“I’ve spent most of my life hiding what I feel,” (Y/n) said softly. “From my parents, from the Covenant, from the Order. But I somehow find myself not wanting to have to hide from you.”

Hux set his mug aside, his fingers accidentally brushing her hand that rested on her thigh. It wasn’t intentional - not exactly. But he didn’t move away either.

“I’m not used to this,” he admitted. “Any of this. But I can’t deny that I find myself wanting it.”

A beat. 

“Wanting you.”

Her breath hitched just slightly, but her hand cautiously turned beneath his, palm to palm, fingers threading together in a tentative hold. She thought about Varo’s words before Armitage arrived. 

“Then have me,” she practically pleaded quietly.

His thumb brushed the edge of her knuckles. For all his control, he still looked like a man trying not to fall too fast. But in her presence, he was already halfway there.

They leaned towards each other - not a rush. But a slow, inevitable draw. When their lips touched, it wasn’t urgent. It was grounding.

(Y/n)’s hands instinctively reached for him, her fingers tangling in his short, gelled hair as she pulled him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was afraid she might shatter.

The kiss deepened, entwining in a dance that spoke of pent-up desire and unspoken longing. (Y/n) could taste the remnants of the tea he drank, the warmth of his breath mingling with her own. 

As they broke apart, breathless, Armitage rested his forehead against hers, his hands sliding down to her hips. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

(Y/n) asked, her gold eyes glinting. “And what is it you want?”

“You.” He nearly growled. “ All of you.”

Her hands traced the contours of his uniform, her touch deliberate with barely contained desire. “Then take it.”

Armitage’s eyes darkened as he suddenly pulled her on top of him, relishing the light gasp that slipped past her lips which he quickly captured once more. Their hands began to wander over one another as their tongues mingled and danced. 

Armitage’s fingers then began to tease the hem of her shirt, slipping up beneath it to let the unnaturally cold temperature of her skin meet his warmth. He broke apart from her lips to wander down her neck as she sighed at the feeling of his warmth, eagerly welcoming the foreign sensation. 

As his hands continued to caress higher, his fingertips carefully brushed the underside of her breasts, following the curvature to their outer edges. (Y/n) let out a particularly loud sigh as his thumbs ghosted over her erect nipples, hips growing restless as she squirmed on top of him. 

He hummed against her neck at the feeling of her brushing against the growing tent in his uniform and grabbed her hips, pulling her down onto him to elicit a low groan. Her own vocal satisfaction mixed with his at the feeling of him pressed against her now throbbing core, head tilting back with her mouth agape. 

“Armitage,” The man hummed at the sound of his name. “Please.” (Y/n) begged and he pulled away to look up at her. 

They breathed heavily for a small moment. Then Armitage stood, taking (Y/n) with him who wrapped her legs around his waist. He brought them over to her bed, delicately laying her on top of it. 

His frame leaned over her to capture her lips once more. The kiss was messier, filled with more passion that had been built up from them pining over each other for too long. 

He began to grind himself into her, their voices mingling with pleasure as her hands pulled him into her. 

Armitage clung to her, hands wandering and caressing every dip and curve, committing it to memory. He gripped the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up, (Y/n) lifting her torso enough to slide it off. 

He sighed as he looked down at her bare torso, not knowing where to start until he felt her hand pull him down to her neck. 

His mouth grazed over her skin, kissing and sliding over it until he reached one of her breasts. His lips wrapped around its nipple, tongue tickling and circling it as her other breast was massaged by his still gloved hands. 

She looked down at him when he growled and pulled away, watching as he peeled his gloves off with his teeth before continuing his ministrations. 

Slowly, he trailed his way down her abdomen, his mouth tickling the surface along its path until he reached the waistband of her pants and underwear. 

He kissed along the edge of it, fingers hooking under the seam as he looked up at her for approval.

When she slightly lifted her hips for him to pull them down, he did so without hesitation. They slid off of her legs and he kissed around her pelvis, her sighs of pleasure egging him on. 

He turned to her inner thighs - biting, nipping and sucking as he grew closer to her femininity. His warm breath fanned over it, practically panting as he took it in.

Then, without warning, his mouth gently attached itself to her. 

(Y/n) threw her head back as a moan escaped her lips, hand latched into his fiery locks. Armitage hummed at her pull, tongue lapping at her center as his hands left momentarily to undo his uniform top. 

As it slipped off of his form, he pulled away from her. She felt his fingers replace his mouth as she looked down at him in question, watching as he crawled his way up to loom over her as the digits teased. 

His face settled barely an inch away from her own, gazing intently into her golden irises as he eased two fingers into her. He watched as her eyebrows furrowed, a soft gasp slipping past her lips before her eyes closed. 

He slowly began to pump his fingers, curling them to pull different reactions from her, testing to see what was more effective. At a particular angle, she let out a particularly sharp moan and he smirked to himself, feeling her nails carefully claw at his back. 

As his pace quickened along with her moans, he leaned down just next to her ear and whispered. 

“ Don’t you dare hold back from me. ” 

The burning coil in her pelvis suddenly snapped and she nearly screamed, back arching as Armitage felt her juices thickening around his fingers. He groaned when her nails finally dug into him, no doubt drawing blood. 

He pulled back slightly to work his uniform trousers as she recovered. (Y/n) gazed at him with hooded eyes as he pulled them off along with his boots, dropping them to the floor with a soft thud. 

He drew close to her once more, one hand rubbing over his stiffened cock while the other supported his weight. 

Their breaths shook as he teased at her entrance, already drawing another soft moan from her as the head teased over her sensitive clit. 

“Armitage -“ She pressed, cut off by him pushing into her. They both sighed at the foreign sensation, eyeing each other with unmatched intensity. 

(Y/n) pulled him closer so they were chest-to-chest before he rolled his hips, groaning with his lips pressed together in barely contained pleasure. 

She pulled him down by the back of his head into a kiss, moaning into each other as his pace gradually quickened. Her hands gripped at his arms and shoulders, feeling them tense and his muscles shift as he now pounded into her.  

Her moans were no longer quiet, and she prayed that the walls were sound proof. But they couldn’t care less in that moment as she felt his warm body against her, her cold skin keeping him cool as he nearly broke into a sweat. 

His hair fell out of place as pieces hung over his forehead, face buried in her neck as he groaned and huffed. Her sounds flooded his ears, filling his head as his cock throbbed from inside of her, feeling her tighten around him as he angled himself in the same way his fingers angled to bring her over the edge. 

His pace grew hasty, chasing his own release and desperate to hear her lose herself once more as her hands tightened their grip on him.

At last, she cried out and practically sobbed at her second orgasm. She felt weightless. Dizzy and absent as her voice no longer felt like her own in that moment as he continued to push through her release. 

Just as she began to feel overstimulated, he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock over her stomach, watching as he groaned as strings of cum landed on her skin. 

Everything seemed to slow as he breathed heavily, searching her face for anything negative. 

When he found nothing but peace and content, he leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her cheek, landing one on her lips before he stood and disappeared into the washroom. 

She heard the sink run as he most likely cleaned himself, throwing an arm over her eyes as she replayed the intimate moment in her head. 

Armitage emerged from the room, pausing to admire what he considered was an ethereal beauty laying across the bed. 

How he was ever able to turn one of the most intimidating forces in the First Order into a delicate flower beneath his hands, he would never understand. But he knew he would never take it for granted. 

Silently, with a rag in hand, he made his way over to her and cleaned up the mess he made of her, surprisingly gentle compared to his more strict persona that everyone else knew him for. 

After it was discarded, he returned to the bed, placing a delicate hand on her waist to coax her into getting under the covers. 

She complied mindlessly, brain still fuzzy as she sighed with pure satisfaction. (Y/n) watched as he moved to his uniform on the floor, picking it up piece by piece. 

Just as he was about to begin dressing himself, she called out to him softly. 

(Y/n) watched as his head snapped to her with a mix of concern and newfound fondness, a smile nearly showing on her lips. 

“Do you think you could stay tonight?”

His shoulders barely dropped, undetectable to anyone who was not familiar with his character. But to her it said everything she needed to know. 

Surprise. Hesitation. Disbelief. 

A long moment passed between them before he finally responded. 

“I believe I could.” He answered, a corner of his lip upturning ever so slightly in endearment. 

*all rights belong to their original owners

Serenity - Chapter 6

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.

As days passed along Mary's work began to pay off, her project progressing gracefully. But it wasn't until it was finished that she was able to truly see the beauty of it. It didn't look exactly how she sketched and imagined it as she made improvisations along the way, but it surpassed her expectations by far. It almost had her dress beat, and that was something she never would've thought could happen.

As she gazed at her work through her small candlelight she heard a tap on the doors of the shop, whipping her head around to see who it was. It was in vain, however, as the dark of the night cloaked whatever it was. She set down the candle and quietly stepped over to the doors, carefully opening one and peeking out. Over to the left? Nothing. Over to the right -

"Reuben!" She exclaimed in a whisper with excitement. She took a closer look around the plaza before stepping outside completely, leaving the door ajar behind her. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." She teased through a rush of courage the recently completed assignment gave her. He offered a mischievous smile in return.

"How could I ever forget the so-lovely seamstress of Vulgaria?" He flattered with a small bow and the wave of his hand. Mary's cheeks warmed and she bashfully turned away, something he relished in. "How is it coming along?" He watched as she faced him again with a deepening smile, motioning for him to follow her into the shop. Looking back at him she placed a finger over her lips to signal for him to keep quiet, then leading him towards the back of the shop where the mannequin sat.

His eyes widened, mouth agape as he caught sight of the coat. Even under the dim light it was a sight to behold. Sure, it was just another one of his disguises, but he knew full well he could never toss such a thing. The attention to detail, careful stitching. None of the workers at the castle could provide anything that articulate. And Mary eagerly watched his every expression, proud to be able to pull such a reaction from the fearsome Child Catcher.

"There's still loose strands and bits that need to be touched up, but other than that it's finished." She carefully pulled the coat off of the mannequin and handed it to him, watching as he slid it on with a smirk. He held his arms out at his sides in a silent question with a cock of his head. Mary slowly eyed him up and down, then met his eyes with a nod. However, she stepped closer and reached up to remove his hat.

"I have an idea." She stated simply and turned to set it on the table.

She grabbed some ribbon and loose pieces of leftover fabric, tying and twisting and knotting with her back to him. He furrowed his brow in curiosity until she turned around. The ribbon had been tied around his hat, the front decorated with a small bundle of flowers to complement the coat. She replaced the hat atop his head and stood back with a child-like smile.

"It's not much, but it sure does bring it all together." Reuben looked around, finding a standing mirror in a nearby corner. He made his way over and began twisting and turning, testing it out with some fluid motions he liked to use. "I tried my best to keep it lightweight for you."

"Well, it certainly is."

"How does it look?" Mary stood next to him, gazing at him through the mirror.

"Fit for a candy man." He watched as Mary suddenly tensed, about to question her when he heard a creak sound from upstairs. They stood still as a statue, waiting for another noise. Just as they thought they were in the clear another creak sounded and Mary's eyes began to glaze over in fear.

"Reuben?" They looked at each other and he noticed her jump at another creak before she began nudging him to the doors of the shop, rushing themselves outside.

As the door shut behind them Mary moved outside the view of the window and leaned against the wall. Reuben, having already taken off the coat, folded it neatly to rest over his arm as Mary took his hat once more to untie the ribbon, laying the same way.

"Just tie that around whenever you need to use it," She spoke hurriedly, glancing behind her every few seconds. "I'm sorry, but he - he can't know, Reuben, he just can't -" A gloved hand rested lightly over her mouth.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." He, too, glanced behind her. "Go back inside before he sees." Mary nodded, whispering a quiet 'okay' to herself and casting him one last look before entering.

Just as the door shut Mary's father began stepping down into the shop. She began snipping at some nearby fabric to make it seem like she was busy while her father eyed her with a squint.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Mary stopped, keeping her head down as he creeped closer to where she was. She could feel his breath on her neck as his body heat radiated behind her. Nausea began setting in, bile making its way up into the back of her throat.

"I'm - I'm just -"

"You think I'm stupid or somethin'?"

"No, Pa." She whispered as her heart began skipping beats.

"You ain't fiddlin around, you ain't workin on nothin." He caught her chin in a harsh grip, yanking her head to face him. "I thought I told you never to be around him." She held her breath as the heavy smell of alcohol waved off of his own.

"I didn't -"

"Don't lie to me!" He suddenly yelled as he slammed his other fist onto the table. "I don't give second chances, so next time I see you whoring around with that sadist it'll be your last." He shoved her face away and she stumbled back, watching as he stomped his way back upstairs.

The next morning was cold. Quiet. No bird sang. Not a single word was spoken amongst the small family. Charles took his usual seat in the corner while her mother continued to tidy up the shop between fixings.

"Liebling?" Mary turned to face her mother. "Would you mind going into the market for me today?"

"What about the shop?" The younger woman paused her stitching and set it down.

"I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure, Ma?" Her mother gave her a pointed look and Mary took the hint. She grabbed a shawl and threw it over her shoulders before taking the basket to head out.

Thankfully the plaza wasn't as packed as it was the last time they visited. She felt eyes on her back as she passed by other villagers, however. Mary paid them no mind, used to the judgemental stares as she went about her merry way. Stand after stand, shop after shop, the basket was growing heavier than she had expected, and she still had the journey back to the shop. She didn't even realize how far she had ventured until she began to make her way back.

Just as she passed an alleyway she yelped when something pulled her into it. A gloved hand motioned for her to be quiet and she smiled, then worriedly glanced around.

"What are you doing here?" He reached into his coat pocket and she heard a small jingle as he fished out a handful of coins.

"Thought I'd pay you before I forgot." Mary slowly began to shake her head in disagreement.

"I never asked you to."

"What you made doesn't come free." He reached down to take her hand and placed the coins in it, closing her fingers on top of it. Mary looked up at Reuben and was startled at how close their faces were. Should either of them move the slightest bit, their noses would touch.

And yet neither of them moved.

They continued staring at one another as their eyes danced over the other's face, taking in the smallest features they never noticed before. Every line, wrinkle, mole and freckle.

When her eyes met with his she couldn't help but be mesmerized. They were a unique hazel that one could easily get lost in, one that she was already lost in. His nose was what captivated her the most. It was a disturbing feature to most, but to Mary he wouldn't be the same without it. She thought if anyone would be able to pull it off it would be him, and he did it well to say the least.

"I -" She breathed, but couldn't quite find the right words. She noticed his eyes flick down to her lips, causing her to follow suit. Time seemed to slow as they inched closer, Reuben maneuvering his head to keep his nose out of the way. Despite the effort, she felt it lightly brush against her cheek and it sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath fan over her lips, just beginning to brush over when a shout sounded in the distance.

Their heads snapped to the street and Mary's heart sank. The shout mixed with a scream coming from a second person. She began to set off in the direction of it when Reuben snatched her wrist, eyeing her warily when she looked back at him. She gently pulled away from his grip and continued backing into the street.

As Mary reached it her pace turned into a brisk walk, face contorted into one of worry as she bypassed villagers who looked on with a similar expression. As she looked at those around her on her way to the shop she grew more and more concerned, breathing growing shallow.

For the umpteenth time that week she crept into the shop, taking a deep breath before facing the small room to find it empty. Her eyes turned up to the floor above, losing her own sense of time as she practically crawled to the stairs. With each step the seconds slowed further and further. She held onto the floor of the living area as she peeked over it from the stairs, eyes widening at the sight of her father hunched over her mother's body.

"Ma..." Mary whispered, gathering her skirt as she trotted up the last few steps to make her way over to them. "Ma!" She rushed as her father began to sob. She was about to kneel down with him when he suddenly grew quiet, enraged as he twisted to face her.

"You -"

"Pa..."

"Bitch!" Mary lept to the side with a shriek as a vase was launched her way, crashing and shattering as it hit the wall. In a flash her father's hands were latched onto her braid and used it as leverage to ram her head into the wall.

Everything became a blur as she collapsed. Her hearing was muffled. As much as she tried to move, the pounding in her head refused to let her.

You run. Her mother's words repeated themselves to Mary. You run far away from here and never come back.

She whimpered as she struggled to push herself off of the floor, stumbling into the wall as dizziness hit her next. Her eyes wandered the room in search of her father and found him distracted by her mother again, so she took the chance to make her way back down the stairs as fast as she could in her current state.

At first Mary took her time as she gradually regained her senses, but the harsh sound of Charles' footsteps flooded her with anxiety and she bolted. Weaving and stumbling through the crowds of villagers, her run turned into a sprint when her father began catching up to her.

Just as he was about to reach her she knocked over a shelf, and him along with it. As he struggled to get out from under it she stared for a second before setting off once more.

"Giddyap!" The catcher's cage sped down the street towards the frightened woman, followed by a group of soldiers on their horses.

She stilled and thought about her choices, that is however straight she could think in the first place. Her body set itself to flight as she caught sight of her father again and took Reuben's hand that was outstretched to her, pulling her up to sit next to him before cracking his whip and turning his horse around.

"Foolish girl, you should've never gone after them." He looked over at her to see her face completely drained of its color.

Blood ran down from the side of her forehead, vibrant against her skin. The area around the wound had already begun to bruise and continued to pound, taking on a migraine. She had no energy to cry. No energy to mourn, to talk, to panic. She felt drained, tired. She wasn't sure if it was because of her head or what had just happened. Mary simply groaned and leaned her head back against the cage, eyes screwed shut in pain.

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.

The Scarred - Chapter 3

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 hell is happening?” Penelope whispered to herself as she stared with a wide eye. She carded her hand through her hair, unsure of what to do, what to think. Whoever was behind this, they were patient and calculative. It frightened her. It frightened her and yet she hadn’t even met the person. That was the most unnerving part about it all.

Her hand moved to pick up the larger shards to throw away, then to grab the broom and sweep the rest. She scrambled to look through every hatch, every door, cabinet and closet for anything that might have been left behind. Yet there was nothing. Once more, the only sign that someone had been there was the face that had been cleared already. There was no lingering smell, not even a hair. Not a single spec of dust out of place.

“Okay,” She muttered. “Okay - okay.” Her mouth rambled on as she carried out her night routine, heart pounding faster than she would have appreciated as she tried to relax under the warm stream of water. Her feet padded against the cold tile as she tended to her formulating scars, pacing the small room before throwing on her pajamas. She raced to her coat, fumbling through the pockets for her phone and shuffled through her contacts. The coldness of it rested against her ear as she chewed on her cheek, wiggling the fingers of her hand absentmindedly.

“Penny?” The familiar voice made her perk up. “What’s up?”

“I just needed someone to talk to…” The woman practically whispered. She made her way to lay on her bed, listening attentively to the shuffling in the background over the phone.

“Oh, ’course, hun,” Emma had an underlying tone of understanding in her voice. “Did everything hold up okay at the shop?” Penelope thought back to the bald man.

“Yeah - everything went fine. Sold three vases.” She started fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Three? That’s amazing!”

The voices echoed in the auditorium, the petite woman messing with the tassel that hung from her head. Everyone migrated to their families after having all walked the stage, visiting friends from time to time to say their goodbyes or reminisce in their memories. The woman searched for a familiar brunette bun.

“Penny!” She turned to face the voice, but was soon met with engorging flames. They towered over them all, everyone screaming and scattering in a panic. “Penny!” The voice screeched again, but no matter how many times she spun around and searched, she couldn’t find them. She started sweating profusely, both from the heat and stress of it all. Flames licked her skin, almost teasing it before it grew volatile.

Penelope’s eye snapped open, breathing heavily. Her hair stuck to her skin from the cold sweat she was left in. She laid there for a moment or two, collecting herself as best as she could. She imagined wind humming through her window, birds chirping as the sun’s first rays peaked through the clouds. She closed her eye again, imagining a bird.

What kind of bird it was, what it was doing. Perhaps it was a Swallow? It’s boring, brown feathers smooth as they glided and fluttered. The curious black eyes that fidgeted as it cocked and turned its head.

She took deep breaths, opening her eye once more to sit herself up on the edge of her twin bed. She stared at the soft carpet below her, loathing herself for waking up at such an ungodly hour. The faintest shade of blue colored sky if she were to squint. Penelope then stood, stumbling over to her dresser to change out of her now drenched sleepwear. She thought about taking a quick heat dump to cool her off, but the amount of energy it took for her to get in the shower right now made her shudder, so she settled with splashing cold water on her face instead.

She trudged into the living room to her box TV, turning it on and having the low noise of the news play in the background as she migrated to the kitchen. She decided to simply pop an egg sandwich from the freezer into the microwave, pouring herself a glass of milk to go along with it. She bounced when she plopped onto the couch, pulling the lap blanket from the top of it to wrap herself up in. Her eye stared at the screen with a bored expression, heavy as she watched.

With how consistent the news was it was a wonder to her how it was never a rerun. The same news anchor, the same monotone voice with the same type of news. A new murder case, Bruce Wayne’s next trip to an extravagant venue, cloudy skies with an expected drizzle all week. None of it came as a surprise to her anymore.

Crime rates continued to slowly increase ever since The Joker showed up. Penelope would be lying, however, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. From what she had seen on the news and heard from around the city, he was a very finicky person. He seemed so clumsy and careless, yet was always the one in control. No one could ever predict what he would do next, keeping everyone on their toes at all times.

She somewhat felt bad for the first responders who seemed to just be ragdolled from one end of the city to the other or thrown into frequent traps when he was out and about. She couldn’t deny that the thought of it made her snicker, wondering how they hadn’t learned their lesson the first few times. It was all a joke.

A vibration sounded from her phone and she looked to where it buzzed on the coffee table, the green icon showing that she had received a message. She reached over and picked it up, flipping it open in curiosity.

I’m stopping by Gotham Coffee. Want anything?

Emma. Penelope smiled at her phone, fingers moving to reply when another buzz went off. An unknown number, and what was sent was the number twelve. That was all she needed to know who it was.

The two women sat at the counter, sipping casually from their now cold coffee cups as they made small talk. Emma noticed how tense Penelope had seemed when she first entered the shop, what with her stiff posture and gaze cast down on the floor more so than usual, so it was a relief to see her smile a little more the longer they talked. They had just finished with one of their many giggle fits when the bell of the shop went off, cutting it short. Their heads snapped to the front and Penelope’s stomach dropped, mouth suddenly dry.

Once again, the light of the shop reflected off of the bald man’s head as his eyes focused on her own. With every step he took she felt as if she just shrunk smaller and smaller. It wasn’t until he stood directly in front of them that she shot up from her seat, scrambling into the back room to grab the vase she previously prepared. Her multitude of tiny footsteps echoed from the back as Emma and the man practically held a staring contest, the latter holding a sickly sweet smile. When Penelope emerged from the back room with the vase her arm shakily handed it to him, sucking on her bottom lip anxiously. With how rough he seemed, the gentleness with which he handled the vase amused her. But she wouldn’t dare show it. Emma looked over at Penelope as soon as he left.

“Was he one of the three vases?” She quipped, quirking an eyebrow. Penelope took a deep breath in, then casted her a sheepish smile.

“Four.” Emma stood to throw away their coffee cups. “He paid yesterday. Said he was picking it up at noon today.”

“How much?” Penelope’s mouth started to water, mouth faltering as she tried to form a response.

“Just twenty-five.” Emma, always having been good at reading people, knew she was being lied to, but for her friend’s sake decided not to push. She knew that if Penelope ever held something back, she did so for good reason. She just chuckled.

“How was it when he ordered it?” Her voice took on an amused tone. “‘Begonia and baby’s breath, please’.” She mocked the man, driving the two of them back into a giggling fit. They wasted the day away talking, trying to busy themselves one way or another until the end of the day. The last hour was the hardest. In silence they sat and watched the grandfather clock tucked away in a corner. Yet it only worsened their predicament.

Fridays had always been slower than any other day, and it was on Fridays that they truly realized that time was never on their side.

When they had fun, it flew by. When they wanted something to just be over with, it dragged on. It was cruel. Time was cruel. Life was cruel.

Penelope knew these things. So when the clock sounded at the hour they were out the front door, Emma locking up the shop and tossing Penelope a smile. They gave each other their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a good weekend’s and made their way back to their respective homes. The city was in chaos, full of eager citizens who all wanted the same thing as Emma and Penelope. Some had already made their ways into their local bars, choosing to drown out their lives or celebrate simply because they made it through another week.

As for Penelope, she sat on the edge of her open windowsill and watched. A cigarette balanced between her lips as she struck a match and lit the end of it, shaking it out as she breathed in the all-needed nicotine. Her weekly treat. One she decided to keep to herself. She rested her head on the wall beside her, the buzz starting to get to her after a significantly larger inhale. She stared out at the scenery in wonder, mind finding its first moment of peace since the last time she had a smoke.

A sudden knocking on her door jolted her from her spot, the stick nearly falling from her mouth. She quickly put it out in the ashtray next to her and climbed down to close her window, bare feet skittering across the floor. She stood on her tip-toes to look through the peep-hole, yet no one stood at the door.

She unlatched it and opened it cautiously, peeking through until something caught her eye. She opened the door a bit wider to see a familiar vase sat on top of her welcome mat. Her vase. She noticed something dangling off to the side and delicately picked up the flowers to see what it was, and what she saw made her heart make its way to her throat. A playing card.

A Joker card dangled from the vase.

Chapter 2

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 steady hum of the transport ship was a constant beneath their feet, a rhythmic pulse of power that carried them through the vastness of space. Inside the dimly lit cabin, the atmosphere was subdued. Formal, disciplined, yet not entirely tense. 

Hux sat with his back straight, a datapad in hand. His eyes flicked over reports and incoming transmissions from the Finalizer, processing the minutiae of fleet logistics with the same cold efficiency as always. He did not acknowledge the Umbrals beyond what was necessary. Yet, his sharp gaze lifted briefly when movement caught his attention.

(Y/n) stood a short distance away, her posture still disciplined, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor. A small relaxation of her shoulders, the slight ease in her stance. Changes so minute that most would miss them entirely.

Except for him.

The reason soon became apparent as Varo had approached her. His expression was composed but carried a faint trace of familiarity, something that separated him from the others. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. 

“You’re holding together well,” Varo remarked, his voice carrying the weight of an old camaraderie.

(Y/n) glanced at him, one brow lifting slightly. “Were you expecting otherwise?”

A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Not really. But even you have to admit this is different from what we’re used to.” He gestured vaguely around them. “The academies are one thing. Taking on an assignment? That’s something else.”

(Y/n) exhaled quietly, her gaze shifting briefly to the viewport where the stars streaked past in elongated trails of light. “We were made for this,” she said simply.

“Made for it, sure,” Varo agreed. “But I’d rather fight beside someone I know than be stuck with others who think we’re nothing more than glorified beasts on leashes.” (Y/n) caught a new frustrated glint in his eyes. “They have a hard time trusting us, but they don’t realize it goes both ways.” 

Hux noted the way (Y/n)’s expression flickered. Something subtle, a trace of understanding.

“Let them think what they will,” she murmured. “It changes nothing.”

Her attempt at grounding themselves seemed to work as Varo huffed a quiet chuckle. “Still the same as ever.” He tilted his head slightly. “No regrets?”

(Y/n) finally met his gaze, and in that moment, there was something unspoken between them. Shared experiences, unspoken memories from the academy. The brutal trials, the losses, the moments of quiet survival.

“No,” she said at last, and there was no hesitation in her answer.

Varo studied her for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “Good.”

Hux, still seated and listening in on their conversation, watched them from the corner of his eye.

It was… fascinating.

The Umbral he had observed up until now had been nothing short of calculated and professional. She had spoken only when necessary, moved only with purpose. But here, in the presence of someone she trusted, she was not softer - that was the wrong word.

More settled.

There was no loss of awareness, no drop in discipline. She was still poised, still unreadable to the untrained eye. But there was a difference, one that made Hux’s fingers still briefly over his datapad.

This was an Umbral outside of direct orders. This was (Y/n) (L/n) as a person, not just as a weapon. And it was something worth noting.

Not long after, the landing sequence they experienced was smooth, the ship barely shuddering as it settled into the Finalizer’s hangar. 

Inside the ship, General Hux remained composed as he stood, eyes fixed ahead as the ramp lowered with a sharp hiss. The air changed immediately. Cooler, sterile, filled with the low hum of machinery and distant orders being barked across the hangar deck.

(Y/n) followed precisely half a step behind him as he descended the ramp, boots meeting the polished black floor with measured precision as Varo followed beside her. 

The hangar was alive with motion. TIE pilots making their way to their fighters, officers moving in coordinated patterns, stormtroopers standing at attention as their general passed. Hux did not acknowledge them. He expected discipline, not admiration.

A group of officers awaited him near the entrance to the main corridors. At their forefront, Captain Phasma stood in gleaming armor, a towering presence of authority. She inclined her head as Hux approached.

“General.”

“Captain.”

Her visor tilted toward (Y/n) for a brief moment, then to Varo. “Which one of you is Umbral Drenn?” The man in question stepped forward. Phasma gave a single nod in acknowledgement. “You will be shadowing me for the next five days to ensure your understanding of our operations in High Command. Further guidance will be provided to you later.” She informed before turning to the general. “Your presence was missed, sir. There are several matters requiring your attention.”

Hux nodded, already moving forward. “Walk with me.”

(Y/n) and Varo followed silently as they moved towards the turbolifts, officers and other personnel scurrying out of their way. Phasma strode beside Hux, her tone clipped and efficient.

“The Resistance has increased its scouting efforts in the Mid Rim. No direct engagements, but intelligence suggests they are probing for weaknesses.”

“Predictable.” Hux’s expression remained unreadable. “Have our patrol routes been adjusted accordingly?”

“They have. Colonel Ronn reports all security measures are holding, but vigilance is advised.”

The lift doors opened, and the group stepped inside. The moment they ascended, Phasma’s tone shifted, slightly lower.

“There was also an incident with Captain Voss.”

(Y/n) did not react outwardly, but she sharpened her focus. Hux, however, merely exhaled through his nose, a sign of mild irritation rather than surprise.

“What has he done?”

“He questioned your decision to take an Umbral as a personal guard.” A pointed glance at (Y/n). “Not publicly, but he has made his opinion known among certain circles.”

(Y/n) remained motionless, her gaze fixed ahead.

Hux’s lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. “Let him. Voss is intelligent enough to know the consequences of stepping beyond his station.”

The lift arrived at the floor of the bridge and as they neared, the doors hissed open, revealing the vast command deck of the Finalizer. A sea of officers stationed at their posts, the soft hum of control panels and distant chatter filling the air.

As the general stepped forward, the ship’s personnel immediately straightened, all eyes momentarily drawn to their returning commander. (Y/n) observed silently as they passed through, noting how conversations momentarily ceased as Hux moved to take his place at the command platform overlooking the viewport.

The stars stretched endlessly before them, vast and cold.

Hux clasped his hands behind his back, surveying his domain. “Report.”

An officer stepped forward. “All systems operational. No disturbances during your absence. We are prepared to resume standard operations under your directive.”

Hux nodded once. “Maintain course. I will review today’s logs personally. Any deviations in patrol efficiency are to be reported immediately.”

“Yes, General.”

As the officer left, Hux glanced toward (Y/n), his expression unreadable. He studied her for a moment, then turned back towards the viewport.

She had remained silent, as expected. Present, but unobtrusive. A shadow at his side.

(Y/n) remained alert as General Hux turned and faced Phasma who had not yet left, her tall frame imposing as she continued briefing him. “There is another matter. The Supreme Leader has sent a transmission requesting an update on the Starkiller project. He will expect a report.”

Hux’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course he will.” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Patch it through to my private terminal. I will address it personally.”

Phasma nodded before stepping away to relay the command, Varo following, leaving General Hux and (Y/n) to themselves. 

(Y/n) remained silent, watching as Hux’s fingers flexed behind his back, the only outward indication of his restrained irritation. 

He turned sharply, beginning to walk along the command walkway overlooking the bridge. (Y/n) followed in step.

“You will make yourself familiar with the Finalizer’s layout,” Hux stated without looking at her. “I expect you to know the ship’s schematics, primary access routes, and all possible security vulnerabilities within the next seventy-two hours.”

(Y/n) inclined her head slightly. “Understood, General.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his eyes assessing her with scrutiny.

“There will be those aboard this ship who question your presence. Some out of ignorance, others out of resentment.” His voice was level, but his meaning was clear. “I do not concern myself with their opinions, and neither should you. If any officer openly challenges your position, you are to report it to me.”

(Y/n) met his gaze evenly. “I can handle myself, sir.”

A flicker of something, amusement, perhaps, crossed his expression before vanishing behind his usual stoicism. “Of that, I have no doubt, Umbral.”

A short pause stretched between them before he resumed walking, continuing toward the exit of the bridge. (Y/n) followed, standing just behind him to his right.

Silence settled between them, but it was not uncomfortable. It was measured, weighted with unspoken understanding.

His expression was unreadable, but (Y/n) could sense the calculation behind his silence. Whatever the Supreme Leader had demanded of him, it was not a request he would take lightly.

Her steps were measured, keeping a respectful distance behind him as they moved through the corridors of High Command. The officers they passed barely spared her a glance, their attention focused solely on their returning commander.

When they reached the secured door of his office, Hux keyed in the access code. The doors hissed open, revealing the stark, meticulously organized interior. Polished black surfaces, a large desk with a holoprojector at its center, and its own expansive viewport behind it. The room was immaculate, devoid of any unnecessary personal effects.

Hux stepped inside, barely acknowledging (Y/n) as the doors slid shut behind them. He removed his gloves methodically, placing them on the desk before tapping a sequence into the holoprojector. The device flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow as the Supreme Leader’s form materialized before them.

The air in the room seemed to shift, thick with an oppressive weight. Even through the projection, Snoke’s presence was suffocating. His towering form loomed over them, distorted slightly by the transmission’s flickering edges.

“General Hux,” Snoke’s voice rumbled, slow and deliberate. “I trust you have not wasted my time.”

Hux straightened further, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “The Starkiller project continues on schedule, Supreme Leader. Engineering reports optimal progress, and our primary test phase is nearing completion.”

Snoke’s hollow eyes studied him, his expression unreadable. “Good. You understand the consequences should you fail.”

There was no hesitation in Hux’s response. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

A long pause followed, tension lingering in the air like a coiled viper. Then Snoke’s gaze shifted slightly.

“You have taken an Umbral into your service.”

(Y/n), who had remained silent and unmoving, felt the weight of his attention settle on her. It was as if Snoke’s gaze pierced straight through her, as though he was dissecting her presence, her worth.

Hux’s voice remained steady. “The Covenant has assigned her to myself. She is among the highest ranks of their order.”

Snoke exhaled, a low sound that was neither approval nor disapproval. “The Covenant serves its purpose.” His gaze lingered on (Y/n) a moment longer before shifting back to Hux. “Do not let her presence become a liability.”

“I won’t, Supreme Leader.” Hux assured him.

Another silence. Then, Snoke inclined his head ever so slightly.

“Proceed with the operation. I will expect another update soon.”

The transmission cut out abruptly, the hologram dissolving into nothingness.

Hux exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders slightly as if shedding an invisible weight. His fingers flexed against the polished desk before he turned towards (Y/n).

“You are dismissed,” he said simply, though his gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “Begin your reconnaissance of the Finalizer immediately.”

(Y/n) inclined her head. “Yes, General.”

Without another word, she turned and exited his office, the doors sealing shut behind her.

As she strode down the corridor, she couldn’t shake the sensation of Snoke’s gaze still lingering in the back of her mind. It was a different kind of scrutiny compared to that of the Covenant’s Grand Master, one that was less inviting and more dangerous. But perhaps it was due to their differing species.

The halls of the Finalizer were a labyrinth of sterile steel and calculated design. But to (Y/n), they were merely another environment to master. Every corridor, every bulkhead, and every access hatch had to be committed to memory. The Covenant had trained her to adapt to unfamiliar terrain with ruthless efficiency. This ship would be no different.

She moved with purpose, weaving through the bustling corridors of High Command. Officers and troopers passed her by, some sparing glances in her direction, though none dared approach. Her presence was an anomaly, a shadow among the uniformed ranks of the First Order.

(Y/n) had no doubt that rumors of her assignment had already spread. An Umbral of The Covenant personally guarding General Hux? There would be speculation. Distrust. Resentment.

None of it mattered.

She descended towards the lower decks where the layout became more complex, hallways twisting into the maintenance sectors and security control stations. 

The artificial lighting hummed faintly above, casting shadows as she turned a corner and nearly collided with a figure standing in her path.

(Y/n) stopped short, her body tensing instinctively as her gaze lifted to meet the cold, piercing eyes of Captain Voss.

His uniform was pristine, his posture rigid with military precision. There was no insignia of High Command upon his uniform, yet the authority he carried was unmistakable. He was a First Order officer through and through, one who did not believe in wasting words on pleasantries.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he regarded her, arms clasped behind his back. Then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“So,” he said evenly, “you’re the Umbral.”

(Y/n)’s expression remained unreadable, her posture unmoving. “Captain Voss.”

His lip curled slightly, though whether in amusement or disdain, she couldn’t tell. “You know who I am?”

“I make it a priority to recognize potential threats.”

A low, humorless chuckle left him. “Threat?” He tilted his head, scrutinizing her as though she were some curious specimen beneath his gaze. “You misunderstand, Umbral. You are the threat. An unnatural creature let loose aboard our fleet under the guise of loyalty.”

(Y/n) did not react, though his words were designed to provoke.

“Do you have a point, Captain?” she asked, her voice cool and measured.

Voss took a step closer, lowering his voice to something nearly conversational. “Only an observation,” he murmured. “You may have fooled the general into believing in your worth, but I see you for what you are.” His gaze darkened. “And I will be watching.”

They stood in silence, tension coiling in the space between them like a viper ready to strike.

Then, as if the moment had never happened, Voss stepped past her, his presence brushing against hers as he moved down the corridor.

(Y/n) remained still for a long moment, her fingers twitching at her sides. She had expected resistance. She had expected scrutiny. But Captain Voss was more than just wary. He was trouble.

The general was engaged in a discussion with one of his officers when (Y/n) stepped onto the bridge. The dull clang of her boots against the polished floor drew only the briefest of glances from the crew. Most had already grown accustomed to her presence, though unease still lingered beneath their professionalism.

Hux, however, acknowledged her arrival immediately. With a curt nod, he dismissed the officer at his side and turned his full attention to her.

“Report,” he ordered, his voice precise, leaving no room for wasted words.

(Y/n) halted before him, her posture unwavering. “The ship’s layout has been committed to memory,” she stated evenly, noting the slight raise of Hux’s eyebrows. “Critical sectors, alternative routes, access corridors, and blind spots have been accounted for. There will be no uncertainty in my movements should an incident occur.”

Hux observed her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And?”

(Y/n)’s jaw tightened slightly. He wanted more. Not just facts. He wanted assessments.

“There are areas of vulnerability,” she continued, adjusting her stance. “Certain maintenance shafts are lacking proper security oversight. The officer quarters are positioned too closely to primary access points leading towards command sectors. An infiltration risk if not properly monitored. Additionally, there are multiple routes through the ventilation system that could allow undetected movement for someone knowledgeable enough to exploit them.”

Hux’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, though it was not dissatisfaction. If anything, there was a sharp edge of approval in his eyes.

“And what would you suggest?”

(Y/n) did not hesitate. “Increased security sweeps in blind spot regions, reallocation and brief investigation of stationed personnel in high-risk zones, and additional lockdown measures in the event of an incursion.” She tilted her head slightly. “With your approval, I can communicate this to Umbral Drenn so he can oversee these adjustments personally and I can inspect once complete.”

A slow pause. Then, Hux’s lips pressed into something almost resembling a smirk.

“Efficient,” he remarked. “As expected.”

(Y/n) inclined her head slightly, accepting the words without pride. “Was there anything else, sir?”

Hux considered her for a moment longer, as if weighing an unspoken thought.

Then, with a subtle shift in his stance, his expression cooled once more. “You encountered Captain Voss.” It was not a question.

(Y/n) met his gaze steadily. “I did.”

“And?”

“He made his position clear.”

Hux exhaled shortly, a breath that was almost amused. “I’m sure he did.” He studied her with something bordering on curiosity. “And what is your input on him?”

(Y/n) was silent for a brief moment before responding.

“Controlled in his resentment, but not without intent,” she said evenly. “He sees me as a threat. Not to the Order, but to himself.”

A flicker of something colder passed through Hux’s expression. Not anger. Not yet. Just quiet acknowledgment of what he already knew being confirmed.

“Captain Voss is an officer of the First Order,” Hux said, his tone deliberate. “But he is not your superior. He will not interfere with your duties so long as he values his position.” A pause. “However, should he become a problem… inform me.”

(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Hux regarded her for a moment longer, then turned back towards the viewport, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“Relay your findings to Umbral Drenn and see to it that these flaws are remedied immediately. Once he is informed, you are dismissed. You are quartered beside my office in room A375.”

“Will do, sir.” (Y/n) then turned and made her exit.

The cold glow of the various screens illuminated the room of the security hub, casting faint shadows across the chamber’s sleek metallic surfaces. Various officers moved with precision, their tasks carried out in controlled efficiency. The monitors along the walls displayed multiple security feeds, scanning every sector of the Star Destroyer.

(Y/n) entered without hesitation, her footsteps silent against the polished floor. 

Varo was already waiting near the holotable, arms folded as he scanned the display. He glanced up when she approached, but before either could speak, Captain Phasma strode into the room.

Her chrome armor reflected the dim lighting as she moved towards them, helmet concealing whatever expression she might have worn. The imposing stormtrooper commander carried an air of quiet authority, her presence alone demanding respect.

“I assume this is regarding the vulnerabilities you reported to General Hux,” Phasma stated, her voice even but firm.

(Y/n) met her gaze without hesitation. “Yes, Captain.” She keyed in a holographic projection of the Finalizer to expand before them, highlighting weak points (Y/n) had identified. “There are significant flaws in patrol shifts around the hangar bays, particularly during rotation cycles. Lower deck patrols leave a brief window where two sectors are completely unmanned. These are weak points that could be exploited.”

Phasma studied the projection in silence for a moment. Then she turned her helmet towards Varo. “Do you agree with these findings after your own inspection?”

Varo nodded. “I do. They’re accurate.”

Phasma’s tone remained neutral, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath her words. “Then we correct them immediately. The Finalizer’s security should be absolute, not riddled with gaps that invite disaster.” She turned back to the projection. “Who is responsible for these sectors?”

(Y/n) answered without hesitation. “Captain Voss oversees the affected sections.”

There was a brief pause. Though Phasma’s helmet concealed her reaction, the air between them grew taut. “I will deal with Voss personally,” she said at last. “In the meantime, Umbral Drenn will implement corrective measures. I expect immediate results.”

(Y/n) exchanged a glance with Varo before nodding. “I recommend patrol rotations to be altered, and surveillance coverage increased in compromised areas. High Command security will receive additional reinforcement, and the bridge will have extended guard shifts.”

Phasma inclined her head slightly. “Good. I want a full update within the next cycle.” Her gaze flicked between them, then landed on Varo. “Do not fail.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left, her cape flowing behind her.

Varo let out a quiet breath. “Well. That went about as well as expected.”

(Y/n) exhaled softly, her expression unchanged. “At least we have clearance to fix the issues.”

Varo smirked. “And the added bonus of Phasma breathing down Voss’s neck.”

A rare flicker of amusement crossed (Y/n)’s face. “Consider that a victory.”

With their orders set, the two Umbrals turned back to the holomap. There was work to be done, and neither intended to leave The Finalizer vulnerable for long.

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! 💕

Blood of A Rose - Part 2 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - Following the events of their night together, (y/n) and Art explore their dynamics together to form a perfect duet of blood and beauty.

Notes - Was requested to expand on the relationship between Art and the reader and will happily oblige! It’s honestly so fun to write Art’s character, I hate how little there is out there for him. My man needs attention.

P.S - Might branch this into a series of one shots showing their relationship more and whatnot either from my own ideas or requests from you guys for what you’d like to see with them. Hell, might even make a whole blog based on them. Thoughts?

Word Count - 4,091

Warning(s) - Blood, gore, violence, morally ambiguous reader

Song Inspiration -

Cody Frost - Process

Screams were heard all around them, piercing and agonizing. Everything was set ablaze, yet she felt no heat. She felt no pain. Even as the smoke clouded, she could breathe without struggle. (Y/n) craned her neck to look up at the clown before her, eyes wide with wonder, with trust. Her life was in the hands of a murderer and yet she felt safe. She felt protected.

His usual grin did not show, yet he didn’t frown. His face remained neutral while his eyes said it all, filled with an untamed obsession, possessiveness and dare she say adoration. His gloved hands rose to her jaw, cupping it delicately as he guided her to train her eyes on him, to ignore all that happened around them. As she stared up at him, her hands came to rest over his own, and with a look of his eyes she was told -

He would be her past, present and future. 

(Y/n)’s eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft light of the moon that peaked through the boards of the window. The colder air bit at her skin through her sweater and she shivered. 

She sat up and looked around curiously, seeing that she was now in the makeshift bedroom from before. She then looked down and saw that she was on the mattress, however a tattered blanket now lay on top of it beneath her, shielding her from whatever mold and rot had been on it. 

Her legs closed when she felt a light breeze brush against the tear in her pantyhose, heightening the chill. (Y/n) stretched her arms out and stood, then heard what sounded like someone hammering from a different room. Her mind raced with the events of what she assumed was still the same night. Her face burned, stomach fluttering as the ghost of Art’s caress tickled her skin. 

She took a deep breath and left the room, quietly making her way to where the sound came from. Mindful of the debris on the floor as she grew near, she entered the room with the workbench, Art hunched over it on the stool as he hammered away at something. 

When (y/n) stepped closer he paused. Her breath stilled as his head slowly turned to the side, yet not over his shoulder to look at her, letting her know that he knew she was there. 

Once he returned to work she released the breath she held and made her way over to him, seeing as he hammered a screw-eye hook of sorts into the end of a chair leg. 

His face was focused, not smiling or putting on his usual dramatics as he worked. It felt strange to her, seeing him this way. It reminded her that even if he was a murderer he wasn’t excused from putting in the work to make it happen, whether it was a hobby of his or not. It reminded her that he still had interests and needs just as everyone else. It was oddly humanizing and she couldn’t help but feel privileged to see him in such a state. 

He motioned to a nearby corner and (y/n) turned to see another stool placed there, then moved to bring it over and sat on top of it to continue to watch him. He then motioned to her - conversing as he worked - then symbolized sleep as if to ask how she slept, then proceeded to pick up an average sized chain. 

“It was actually quite nice. Best sleep I’ve had in a while.” 

With chain in hand, he clapped excitedly, happy with her response. He hooked it to the screw, bending and twisting the metal to make sure it was secure as (y/n) watched casually, as if it was just another day. 

“Is it… Is it still the same night?” 

He shook his head and her eyes widened. Art turned to see it and began to laugh to himself. 

“How long has it been?” 

He held up a finger after his laughing fit died down, going back to his work. 

“One day…? But how?” 

He nodded and glanced over at her, watching as she looked down, growing more and more confused. He patted her shoulder and she looked up at him, seeing him point to himself, then her. 

“Because of you?” Her brow furrowed, then her expression changed as she chuckled. “Are you saying I slept for so long because of what we did?” 

Art shrugged and made a cheeky expression, but she became confused again when he then shook his head. He motioned to himself again, then pointed to her head. 

“You… forced me to stay asleep?” He eagerly nodded, smiling and pointing at her to say she got it. “But how? Did you knock me out?” His head shook. “Did you drug me?” 

His head shook again and he rolled his eyes, arms falling to his sides in exasperation. He then motioned to his entire body, pointed to his head with both fingers, then to her head again. 

“You were in my head…?” He nodded and clapped. “How is that even possible?” 

Art shrugged dramatically with a mischievous smile. (Y/n) paused and slowly met his eyes. 

“The dream…?” She asked, and in the back of her head she already knew the answer. 

The clown only solidified it with a raise of his eyebrows, mouth forming an ‘o’ and shrugging as an ‘oops’. (Y/n) could only laugh, not knowing how exactly to react to someone with such supposed supernatural abilities. 

She wasn’t sure if she had finally grown to become insane or if it was all a hallucination, all in her head. But as she thought to the night before she found that it all felt too real, too vivid to be fake. 

(Y/n) suddenly felt exposed and crossed one leg over the other, tugging down the skirt of her dress as her face grew warm. Art looked over at her, face twisting into mischief as his eyes squinted with his smile. He wiggled his eyebrows when she looked at him and she turned her face away bashfully. 

He reached over to grasp her chin, coaxing her to look back at him. He nudged his head in her direction, grinning to encourage her to do the same. Once her smile returned and she giggled, he playfully booped her nose and turned back to his workbench, his smile now remaining on his dramatized face as he worked. 

The minutes seemed to drag on as he worked, but not once was she bored. She watched eagerly, fixated as his hands toyed and shaped the weapon he was creating. His actions were all well thought out and deliberate, masculine yet graceful as his fingers caressed the wood and metal. 

Deeming the weapon satisfactory, he raised it by the handle - the chair leg - and examined it carefully. Three chains hung from the screw-eye, knife tips, nails and spikes decorating the length of them. 

“Is that a flail?” (Y/n) gasped. 

Art’s head whipped over to look at her and patted her thigh, the hand holding the weapon shaking excitedly as he nodded. He watched as she eyed his new creation, then an idea formed in his head. His gaze shifted to look over at her, now smiling sadistically. She caught the change in his expression and she began to smile, catching on to what he was thinking. 

“I’ll get the camera!” She hopped off of the stool.

-

After some convincing from her end, they stopped by her house for her to quickly change into something more comfortable. It wasn’t until she began to beg sweetly that he finally agreed, unable to say no to her more innocent nature, regardless of her interests.

Not a person was in sight as they were shielded by the dark of the night, hardly any street lamps in the area they currently wandered. 

“Does the bag ever get heavy for you?” (Y/n) asked as they walked through the ghosted roads. 

Art shook his head, using his other arm to exaggerate flexing his muscles and she laughed. 

“I bet that bag is the reason you’re so strong, lugging it around everywhere and all.” He waved her off at the compliment and tickled her ear with his finger. “I’m serious! You make it look like it weighs nothing.” 

As they walked, they began to see the edge of the town ahead of them. Or rather, Art saw it. (Y/n) was too focused on the clown beside her, taking in all of his features under the starry night, the moon perfectly accentuating every curvature and jagged edge, every - 

She was suddenly yanked to the side of the sidewalk he walked on and she gasped, looking over to see a pole that she nearly walked straight into. She looked back over at Art who had a hand on his hip with a frown. He pointed at her, his eyes, then the direction they were walking in. 

“Sorry…” She giggled as she blushed, nervously fiddling with the camera hanging around her neck. 

He pulled back his arm and reached for her, pulling her to stand on the opposite side where he was previously walking to prevent it from happening again. He motioned for her to continue walking, rolling his eyes from behind her before he set his pace next to her again. 

As they reached the town, Art began to look around carefully, more alert in the brighter area while (y/n) had a mind of her own. While he kept an eye out for his next victim, she focused on finding her next inspiration. She supposed they went hand in hand, but she was never one to strive for the bare minimum. 

He then paused, holding his arm out for her to do the same, knowing she very well would’ve kept on walking. Hearing the voices of what seemed to be a couple arguing, he listened carefully to find where they came from. 

Then he spotted them. 

A man and woman arguing next to a car. The man was halfway in the driver’s seat while the woman stood next to it, flailing her arms. 

Art then heard a shutter sound from beside him, slowly looking over to see (y/n) holding her camera up, taking photos of the argument before them. She looked over at him and shrugged innocently.

She put down the camera and the two of them watched the pursuing argument, equally invested in the exchange. The man then slammed the car door shut. 

“They just broke up for sure.” (Y/n) whispered to Art and he looked down at her with a widespread grin, wiggling his eyebrows then nodding towards the woman who was now making her way into what seemed to be her villa. 

Art crossed the street, making his way over with (y/n) in tow and walking up the small set of stairs leading to the front door. He looked down at her, then turned to the door in front of them and tested the door knob, unsurprisingly finding it locked. 

He gave (y/n) a ‘wait’ signal and set down his bag, cracking his neck and stretching his arms out in front of him with linked fingers. Art then gave her a side smile, then suddenly kicked the door open. She froze with wide eyes, yet her stomach betrayed her as it flipped at his show of masked strength. 

He picked up his bag again and grabbed her wrist to pull her inside with him, closing the door behind them. Footsteps quickly descended the staircase in front of them and they looked up to see the same woman from before, chest heaving in fear at the sight before her. 

While (y/n) quickly snapped a photo of her expression, Art dropped his bag again and wiggled his fingers at her in a wave with a menacing smile. He then held up a finger to her and began to look through his bag as the woman remained frozen like a deer in the headlights, watching as he pulled out a scalpel and the new flail. He turned to (y/n) and raised his eyebrows, then bolted upstairs after the woman who fled. 

As they thumped around upstairs, she began to explore the villa, looking for things to use in her next piece. The woman’s screams and shrieks were muffled behind the door of the room they were in and were drowned out, inevitably useless. 

(Y/n) eyed a smaller box TV that sat on an entertainment stand in the living room, an idea popping into her head. She walked over to it and unplugged it in preparation, resuming her wandering when the noise above her suddenly stopped. 

She heard a door open upstairs followed by footsteps descending the staircase. (Y/n) looked towards it, seeing a now bloodied Art giving her the ‘ok’ to go upstairs when she was ready. 

“Could you do me a huge favor?” She asked as he made his way over to her, shaking off the blood on his hands and nodding. “Could you help take the TV upstairs for me? I want to use it as the head.” 

Art made a surprised expression, clapping his hands giddily at the idea. He then paused with a finger up, making a sawing motion and asked for her to wait a moment, disappearing upstairs. Not long after, he returned with his saw and put it back in his bag, happily walking over to the TV and tipping his hat at (y/n) when he walked by. He then picked it up as if it was nothing but a feather and made his way back upstairs, (y/n) following closely behind as she giggled. 

They entered the woman’s bedroom, her body splayed out on the bed with small to large chunks of her skin and fat missing, head nowhere to be found. 

As he placed the TV where the woman’s head used to be, (y/n) admired the slashes left from the flail. Some were rather deep, others shallow. Their marks tore at the dress that the woman wore, some simulating claw marks while other areas were simply shredded. 

“Could you move the arms to look like this?” (Y/n) posed her own arms to grab the sides of her head. Art carefully took note of the angle and position, then moved the victim’s arms to reflect it. “Perfect.” (Y/n) smiled, looking up at the ceiling to see LED lights lined along the edge. 

Art watched as she wandered to find the remote, smiling to herself once she found it and changed the color to red and turned off the main light. She looked around the floor, watching for anything she could trip on before lifting a foot onto the bed. 

Art’s face twisted into panic and his hands shook, stepping next to her and helping her up onto the bed. 

“Thank you.” She responded softly, one of his hands still holding her waist to help steady her as she readied her camera. He followed her as she captured different angles, some standing while others she crouched. 

(Y/n) took his hand to help herself down, smiling up at him as he grinned at her excitedly. Just as the night before, she flipped through the pictures she took, and just the same, she felt his closeness. 

The only difference was rather than nerves, she felt relaxed. She felt calm and comfortable despite the mess around them that he caused. His hand that rested on her far shoulder radiated heat through her layers of clothing and she subconsciously leaned into him, head pressed against his chest while he pointed at the photos he favored. 

His silent presence, twisted grin plastered on his painted face, drew her in like a moth to flame. (Y/n) found herself unable to refuse, an invisible pull guiding her to him. 

At first, their following encounters were just a few hours in the night together. Art would appear when (y/n) least expected, showing up at odd hours, his silent insistence drawing her out into the dark. However, she began to notice her sleeping pattern slowly change. She grew more tired sooner, falling asleep earlier and earlier, waking up in a strange nocturnal rhythm. 

At night, she would wake to find him waiting, patient but always silent, eager to lead her deeper into his world. (Y/n), feeling a strange sense of peace in his presence, began to follow him without question. And after only a few weeks of their odd relationship, she began to grow used to it. Comfortable with it. Comfortable with him.

“Hey, Art.” (Y/n) greeted him as she yawned, fresh out of bed to find him rummaging through her kitchen. 

He looked up at her and waved, a widespread grin bringing out her own smile in her vulnerable, post-dream state. He gushed at the sight, elbows resting on the countertop with his chin in his hands, blinking dreamily at her as she walked over to him with her arms out. 

Art popped up, engulfing her in his arms as she sighed happily at the feeling. He rocked the two of them slowly, the rhythm almost putting her back to sleep. 

Slowly, (Y/n)’s life became consumed by Art. The gruesome art pieces she crafted from his handiwork grew bolder, more disturbing, as if the dark side of her creativity was being unleashed by his influence. 

In her dreams, she would see him. His painted face looming over her, silent but omnipresent. At first, the dreams were disorienting. But over time, they became comforting. She would wake, feeling a strange longing for him, for the connection they shared in the darkest corners of her mind, weaving its way to the forefront. 

As the days bled into nights, (y/n) found herself thinking of Art constantly. He was always there, even when he wasn’t physically present; a haunting figure in her thoughts. His silence, once goofy, became a form of comfort. She began to crave his presence, yearning for their time together. 

And so (y/n) found herself growing dependent on him. Whether it was for her art or simply her attachment to him, how safe she felt with him. He understood her in a way no other person could, and she reciprocated. 

The way he was so brutal and aggressive with others, yet gentle and thoughtful with herself only drew her closer to him. He treated others as nuisances, problems to deal with and get rid of while he treated her as delicately as the rose that brought them together. The contrast was endearing to her, and she couldn’t help but be entranced. 

Though such treatment came with an undisclosed amount of protection and possessiveness, to which she learned rather quickly. 

“It just came out wrong, I’m sorry!” (Y/n) giggled. Art mocked her, rolling his eyes as his mouth and hand mocked her talking. The culprit of such a fit? 

She called his nose cute.

“Your nose is attractive, is what I meant. Believe me, you’re still as frightening as ever.” 

He threw her a side eye, then dramatically sighed and waved it all off. 

“Hey!” She stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk, a lit street lamp looming over them as they faced each other. “I’m sorry.” She gave him her best doe eyes, then stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

His grin slowly returned, hand coming over the top of where she kissed him and she giggled. He then took her hand in his own, continuing their nightly walk.

Later on, they heard slurred conversation ahead of them, seemingly male in nature. (Y/n) tried to slow their walk, but Art looked back at her and encouraged her to keep up with him. As they grew closer, they passed an alleyway that held a small group of drunks, hearing a whistle of a cat call. 

The clown immediately stilled, and (y/n) quickly grew worried. 

“Hey, where ya goin’ babes?” One of the men called, stepping out of the alleyway with a bottle in hand. “Not with the mime, I hope.” 

Art and (y/n) slowly turned to face the man, their hands still interlocked as she gripped his tighter and stepped closer to him, practically hiding behind him like a scared child. 

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you actually wanna be with the guy!”

“Ey, c’mon man, stop messin’ with them, she’s not worth it.” Another man stepped out, followed by a third to watch the scene play out. Art’s eyebrows furrowed in anger, twisted grin remaining as he set down his bag and quickly reached into it. 

“Obviously not if -“ Two shots suddenly pierced through the night air, the second and third men collapsing to the ground while Art aimed a handgun at the first who initiated. 

(Y/n)’s hold on his hand moved to his arm, clutching onto it as the bodies began to puddle with blood beneath them. She looked up at Art, his grin replaced with a frown and it sent a chill down her spine. She had only seen him genuinely angry maybe once or twice, and whatever followed was far from pleasant, to say the least. 

“H-hey, I was just jokin’ man, I was just jokin’!” The drunk held up his hands in surrender, but the clown wasn’t buying it. 

As he continued to ramble and apologize, begging for his life, Art kept the gun pointed at his head. He watched as the man slowly broke in front of him, growing increasingly desperate. Art’s grin then slowly reappeared, giving the man a glimmer of hope.

Then Art suddenly aimed at the man’s thigh and fired, doing the same to his other until he fell to his knees. Art tossed the gun into his bag and rummaged through it further, his face twisting into a sadistic expression when he pulled out a box cutter flashing it to the man as a tease before stalking over to him.

(Y/n) turned around, facing away from the chaos and gore as she plugged her ears to drown out the noise. Even still, the sound seeped through as the man struggled and cried out helplessly. His fight was futile compared to Art’s strength, and the latter simply ragdolled him as if the man was just a child. 

When the noise stopped, she unplugged her ears and felt a hand pat her waist, turning to see Art wipe off his now bloodied hands. She turned to see his mess, and his face suddenly grew concerned when she pouted. 

“I don’t have my camera.” (Y/n) nearly whined, and Art mimicked her frown. 

At first, (y/n) resisted the growing dependency, confused by her attachment. But he began to seep into her thoughts with concerning frequency. The dreams became more vivid, more intimate, filled with his silent adoration as he twisted her perception of reality until he became the center of her world, the only constant in her life, planting seeds of affection until it became impossible to imagine her life without him.

His obsession with her only grew. He would stand over her while she slept during the day, watching her with an almost childlike fascination. When she woke, his silent attention made her feel adored, special. The way he looked at her, possessive yet affectionate. His presence was her comfort, his protection her shield.

Eventually, (y/n) could no longer distinguish where her own desires ended and his began. The thought of being apart from him was unbearable. She began to seek him out during the day when she should have been resting, desperate to be near him. 

When they were together, it was a twisted dance of blood and beauty. A duet that no one else could understand. She would create art from his chaos, and he would watch her with silent adoration, the two of them locked in a world where only they existed.

They grew to share a dark, intimate bond. (Y/n), once a quiet and reserved artist, had become consumed by Art - both his work and his presence. He had molded her. And she, willingly or not, had come to love him for it. 

As their connection deepened, (y/n) knew that she could never return to the life she had before. The darkness was too intoxicating, the bond too strong. 

She belonged to him now, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Serenity - Chapter 4

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 woke up with a start, gasping as she shot up in her bed.

Her bed…?

Had it all just been a dream? Did she really sneak out last night? She looked around, seeing her bag lying on the floor. She remembered the majority of what happened other than a few moments that were foggy to her in her tired state. She remembered riding the horse back to the village, but nothing after that.

She felt foolish letting her guard down so easily. Especially around someone with such a reputation. He didn’t seem to wish her any harm though, he didn’t seem to have any ill intentions at all. That’s what they’d want you to think, though, isn‘t it?

Her mind continued to argue with itself endlessly as she began her normal routine. Freshen up, dress, eat breakfast, open the shop. It was nothing but clockwork. However, she didn’t fail to notice her mother moving slower than usual. And her father’s uncharacteristically careful eye on the ill woman. Another thing among many for Mary to worry about.

Once the shop opened she immediately received her first customer which happened to be possibly the most ill-mannered woman in their area, Madame Caffe. Mary made sure to make the woman’s adjustment especially hasty.

“One lev, please -“

“Yes, I know. I come here nearly every month in case you’ve forgotten.” The grouch of a woman practically slammed the money on the counter, speeding off with her skirt.

Once finished she took care of what other customers came during the morning bustle, then disappeared into the shop when she finally caught a break. She began setting out supplies she knew she already had for the catcher’s - Reuben’s - new piece. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“Another project?” Her mother voiced with a wink, taking a seat at the center table of the shop. It was the first time she came downstairs in two days. It was very much unlike her as Mary used to always have to shoo her away from work. Mary just giggled, deciding not to pry.

“You know I can’t help myself.” The smile her mother offered would melt anyone who looked upon it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, liebling.” In the background her father eyed the two of them suspiciously, feeling as if they knew something he didn’t. He may have been a drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. And he intended to use that to his advantage.

“Your projects are the reason our business is going to the rats.” He grumbled as he sipped on his bourbon.

“Charles, you know as well as I that if it wasn’t for her projects we would’ve been with far less than rats.”

“Well, if she would focus more on the customers and less on her silly costumes we’d be out of this hellhole.” Mary continued working with her back to the two of them, breathing growing heavier as her tense lips downturned.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. If you didn’t keep spending our money on alcohol we could have already been somewhere nicer. And besides, no one ever leaves this town if not to leave the world itself one way or another.“ Her mother’s voice began to gain volume in frustration. “We’re better off than half the people in the village, at least be grateful for that. And it’s all thanks to our daughter’s silly costumes!”

Deafening silence followed. The air grew thick. Tears began to prick Mary’s eyes in fear of what was to come. Never had her mother yelled. It filled Mary with an anxiety she couldn’t control. Chaos ensued in the background, her father’s yelling catching her attention.

She whipped around to face the scene. Her mother was now on the floor, her father lunging at her once more to grab her by her bun. Tears began to steadily stream down both women’s faces, Mary frozen in place. Her mother began to cough uncontrollably, grabbing onto the cloth over her chest in search of relief.

“Stop!” Mary shouted in desperation, but it was futile. He began to scream in her mother’s face, practically pinning her to the table by her head. “Pa, stop!” Those who heard the commotion began to sneak peeks into the shop, watching as simple bystanders rather than interfering. Mary’s heart raced in fear for the frail woman whose eyes began to close. “Stop it, Pa!” Mary screamed.

Her mother’s struggle came to a complete stop, body limp. It wasn’t until then that Charles let go. His eyes grew wide, glazing over as he carefully set her on the floor. They waited. And waited. Then he felt a faint pulse. He sighed in relief, cradling her close to him.

As for Mary, she continued to panic. Her father had terrible fits, but none where he would put either of them in mortal danger. She had never felt more terrified in her entire life. Her panting soon filled the room and she flinched when her father looked up at her. Before she could decipher what his expression even was she was out of the shop, wandering off to who-knows-where.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but it was no use as it continued to flood. The villagers in her path leapt out of the way as she ran, getting herself as far away from the shop as possible. As a road that led outside the town became visible she slowed to a speedy walk, clutching her chest as her mother had as a last resort of comfort. As Mary neared the edge she held onto the wall for support, the intensity of it all making her feel lightheaded and weak.

She closed her eyes and paced the road to slow her breathing, using techniques her mother showed her when she was younger and the attacks were more frequent. But no matter how hard she tried it just didn’t seem to work. She took a deep breath as her heartbeat filled her ears. Her hands cupped them, ran along her forehead, clutched her dress. Anything.

But just as she felt another surge of panic begin to grow she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whisked around in a fright, jumping away from the source when she saw Reuben standing there with his face scrunched together in confusion and…worry? Behind him was the carriage.

Quickly she dried her face, sniffing as she turned it away from him in embarrassment.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice taking on a darker, yet more careful tone than usual.

When she didn’t answer he sighed, looking down the street that she came from with a squint. He then looked back over at her as she closed in on herself and rested a hand on her back, beginning to guide her over to the box seat of the carriage.

“Sit.” Reuben urged when he felt her hesitate and helped her up. He stayed on the ground and leaned against the cage to allow her some space. He made sure to glare down anyone who dared to follow her or peer over at them, sending them directly back to where they came from.

“My mother.” He looked over at Mary. She looked over at him, eyes red and beginning to swell from the crying. “He almost killed my mother.” She whispered weakly.

“Your father?” Mary nodded. Not one to sympathize, he surprised himself as he felt his blood begin to boil. How Mary was able to tolerate living with such a man was beyond him, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice.

“She, um,” She motioned to her chest area, finding her words. “She has a heart condition,” her voice cracked. “And she - she raised her voice at him and he attacked her and she just -“ She took a breath to try and calm herself. “She just went limp. But he found a pulse once he realized what had happened.” Mary looked up and around, eyes wide with worry. “I shouldn’t have run away - I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have left her with him -“

“If you didn’t run away he would’ve done the same to you.” Reuben pressed, not wanting her to return to such a place so soon after what happened. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Slowly he climbed up to sit next to her and gently peeled her hands away from herself, looking her dead in the eyes. “Your mother would surely understand. She wouldn’t want you putting your life in danger.”

Mary looked away, unsure if she should believe him. Why was he even bothering to comfort her? He certainly didn’t have an obligation to. Yet at the same time, similar to the night before, she felt comfortable. Maybe that was the reason he was a child catcher. People were so easily fooled by his compassion that they failed to see he had an ulterior motive. But what motive would he have in her case? Had she offended the barons unknowingly and he was luring her in?

The possibilities were endless and there was even a chance she was worrying over nothing. He was a human being just as everyone else was, after all. One with questionable morals, but human nonetheless. He had a life outside of being the barons’ henchman and it was something that the villagers failed to acknowledge. For Mary, however, it was the only reason she was able to trust him thus far.

Or was it because someone had finally noticed her?

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!