Chapter 2
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.
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The Scarred - Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞
Masterlist
Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.
Warning - This chapter contains smut but can be read without it. Smut will start after the second banner. MDNI/NSFW!
The smell of iron filled her lungs, the blood stuck to her face invading her senses as the man now lay still on the floor below her. With a crazed look in her eye, she kicked away the arm that was now detached, heavy as it slid across the stained floor.
She began to breathe heavily, unable to decipher whether or not she had really done it. But the smell alone brought her to the reality of the situation.
As the men began to pick up what was left of the body, she began to smile, then it turned into a chaotic giggle. She turned to face the Joker and it immediately dropped.
He stared at her with such an intensity that turned her to stone, eyes somehow darker than they ever were. Her lips parted in a silent question, worried about whether or not she overstepped.
She heard the doors shut behind her and suddenly, in a few large strides, he approached her and aggressively pulled her into him. His lips crashed down onto her own blood stained ones, not possibly caring less in that moment as he practically suffocated her.
At first she was stiff, baffled by his sudden behavior that seemed completely out of character for him.
Then she finally let go and accepted it.
Her arm reached up around his neck, reciprocating the affection with equal intensity. Nothing was held back by either of them, his hands wandering over her figure as she kept her own planted, choosing to focus on the sensation of his scarred lips.
She sighed once he pulled away, eye slowly opening to gaze into the hazel gems before her.
“J?” Penelope whispered, the nickname slipping out without a second thought. His expression faltered when it reached his ears, but their usual spark soon followed after.
He didn’t correct her. He didn’t snap. Instead, a low chuckle rumbled from his throat, rolling into a sharp, sinister laugh that echoed off of the concrete walls. His gloved fingers came up to her face, tracing the scarred side with surprising gentleness, his grin stretching impossibly wide.
“Well, well, well,” He rasped, voice dripping with twisted delight. “Look who’s getting familiar now, hm?”
Penelope tensed but didn’t pull away. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a wildness dancing just beneath the surface. Yet there was a strange acceptance, too. As if she’d unlocked a piece of him. Something private. Dangerous.
“Ya know, doll,” He cooed, the nickname rolling off his tongue mockingly, yet with a hint of genuine fondness. “Most people aren’t brave enough to give me nicknames.” He licked at his lips. “Ya might want to be careful, though,” He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “Calling me that? That’s… close. And close gets people hurt.”
His fingers dropped from her face, drifting lazily down to her shoulder, lingering on the edge of her missing arm.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, those crazed eyes searching hers, trying to see if she’d flinch. But Penelope held her ground, her heart racing, something in her stirring. A newfound sense of chaos, creeping up, waking.
“I’ll take my chances,” She whispered, her voice steady despite the flutter of fear and excitement in her chest.
The Joker’s smile returned, wider than ever. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down her spine.
-
When she entered her apartment, she ignored the presence she knew would already be there, prioritizing a shower to get the now dried and crusted blood off of her. His questions of concern were muffled as she mindlessly wandered to her bedroom to pick out her pajamas.
“Penelope!” Liam finally yelled, gripping firmly onto her shoulders and turning her to face him. For once, he was truly speechless. Unable to hide his worry for what inevitably came to be his best friend, brow furrowed.
“I’m fine, Liam.” She offered a genuine smile, resting her hand over one of his own. She brushed past him towards the bathroom to turn on the shower and closed the door.
Questions flooded in his mind as he impatiently waited on the couch, the TV now completely blocked out. His leg bounced anxiously, biting at his nails. He practically jumped out of his skin when the door opened and she walked in, acting as if nothing even happened.
She searched through her cupboards for something, plastic crinkling in her hands as she opened a pack of popcorn and popped it into the microwave.
“Penny?” Liam cautiously called to her. She simply hummed in response. He stood and gradually made his way over to her. “Did he hurt ye?”
“Quite the opposite.” Penelope answered casually, unloading the dishwasher as she spoke.
“Penny. Ye know ye can trust me.”
“I killed a man, Liam!” She finally blurted out as she whipped to face him. “He found the man that caused this,” She motioned to her deformed body. “And I killed him.”
The two of them stood silently, searching the other for any sign of distrust or betrayal. While she overthought his reaction, Liam had assumed it was only a matter of time before it happened. As soon as the Joker made himself known to her, he knew it was over.
“The scary part isn’t even that I did it. It’s that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Not after what he did to me, Liam.” Her voice began to break, lip beginning to tremble. “Not after…” She sniffed and wrapped her arm around his torso, relieved that his warm comfort was provided without a moment’s hesitation.
He gently hushed her, cradling her head while his other hand’s thumb caressed her back. “It’s alright, lovin’.” He whispered.
Liam pulled away, hands gently taking hold of her face to look at him.
“There is nothin’ wrong with ye. Nothin’ wrong with what happened, ye understand? He got what he deserved, yeah?”
Penelope nodded as he wiped away her tears, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave before leading them to the couch. She wrapped herself in a blanket, opening the bag and nibbling on a small handful.
“Did he scream?” He asked in a joking tone once she calmed down more. To his relief, she giggled.
“Like a pussy.”
-
The flower shop was quiet, the soft scent of roses and lilies filling the air as Emma arranged a bouquet of daisies behind the counter. The bell over the door jingled softly as Penelope stepped inside, her movements slow and careful. Emma’s eyes lifted to greet her, but the smile faded slightly when she saw Penelope’s face—pale, drawn, and distant.
“Hey, hun,” Emma called gently, setting the flowers aside. “Everything okay?”
Penelope gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eye. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”
Emma frowned, watching her carefully. She knew Penelope had been through a lot, but lately, something had shifted. The girl had always been quiet, but now there was a tension beneath the surface, as if she were on edge, waiting for something. Emma noticed the slight twitch in Penelope’s remaining hand, her fingers trembling for a moment before she shoved them into her pocket.
“I’m gonna go handle the new shipment.” Penelope asked, her voice strained.
Emma nodded slowly but kept her eyes on her as she made her way to the door leading into the back room. “Of course, sweetheart. You sure you’re feeling alright, though? You’ve been… distant lately.”
Penelope stiffened, her back to Emma as she began unpacking a box of tulips. “I’m fine.” She said quickly. Too quickly.
Emma bit her lip, the maternal instinct in her stirring. She walked over, placing a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Look, I know things have been hard for you, but if something’s wrong… you can talk to me. You know that, right?”
Penelope flinched at the touch, though she tried to hide it with a small shrug. “I know. But really, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
Emma’s brows furrowed. She didn’t believe that for a second. There was a darkness in Penelope’s expression, something haunted and restless. Emma had seen it before in people who were hiding something, something dangerous. She couldn’t help but feel a knot of worry tighten in her chest.
“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Penelope,” Emma said softly. “You’ve been acting off. And it scares me.”
Penelope hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the box. “I’m fine, Emma.”
But Emma wasn’t convinced. Her heart ached as she watched her, knowing that whatever it was, Penelope was shutting her out.
“I’m here if you need me,” Emma said quietly, retreating back to the counter. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”
Penelope nodded, but Emma could see the flicker of guilt in her eye before she turned away.
A little while passed and eventually it was close to closing. Penelope sat behind the counter scribbling away in her journal, however more aggressive than usual. The door chimed as it opened, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she saw it was only Liam. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Emma.
“Ey there, Penny.” He greeted, giving a simple nod to Emma as he charismatically leaned on the counter in front of the former. “Day treatin’ ye right?” Penelope shrugged. Emma decided to disappear into the back, but took care to listen in on their conversation.
“As much as it can, I suppose.”
“Ye still up fer the range?” He asked, concerned about whether she was too tired or overwhelmed.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t think I’ll be up for being there as long, though.”
“No worries about that, I figured as much.” He glanced over at the clock and Penelope did the same, packing up her things to leave. She walked over to the back room and leaned in the doorway.
“I’m heading out, Emma. Text me if you need anything, okay?” The brunette gave an appreciative smile.
“I will. You take care now, okay? Be safe.”
“You too.” Penelope offered a smile of her own before meeting Liam at the door to leave.
The range was rather large, hidden away in the outskirts which she appreciated. With how big it was, she was surprised that they were the only ones there besides the owner at the front.
They stood in a separate room where the actual range was, handguns aimed down range and firing. After finishing an iteration they took their ear covers off, the pressure of them irritating her head.
“She doesn’t know about what ye’ve been up to, does she?” Liam suddenly asked, catching her off guard. Penelope hesitated before answering.
“No.” Liam leaned against the nearby wall, eyeing her.
“I’d be careful about her if I were ye.”
“Why’s that? She doesn’t know, and it’s going to stay that way so long as I can help it.” Penelope readied her gun for the next iteration, then set it back down carefully.
“Ye see, that’s the thing. Ye don’t trust her enough to tell her. And that says a lot. Ye told me and yet ye’ve barely known me for half as long.”
Liam pushed himself off of the wall and began making his way towards her.
“Ye don’t trust her as much as he think ye do, Penny. She may be a friend, but she’s not loyal. The second she gets even a hint of what yer up to, she’s gonna get curious and try to find out more, and when she does, she’s goin’ straight to the cops.”
“She wouldn’t do that to me -“
“But she would.” Liam spoke sternly, urging her to believe him. “I’ve dealt with plenty of her kind and it never ended well. Even just today, I saw the way she was eyein’ us. She’s already suspicious.”
Liam raised his hands to rest on her shoulders.
“Ye need to be careful around her. I know it’s hard, she’s yer friend, I get it. I do. But I’m speakin’ from experience. As much as it hurts to hear, ye can’t trust her.”
Penelope cast her gaze downwards, struggling to take in all that she was being told.
“Come on. Let’s keep goin’.” He nodded towards the targets in front of them, taking notice of the turmoil going on in her head.
As always, he walked her to her apartment when finished. Both because he was right down the hall and it was just the right thing to do. But just before she opened her door, he stopped her.
“Just think about what I said, yeah? I’m tryin’ to keep ye safe.” Penelope paused, thinking. Then she finally nodded and Liam smiled at her, patting her shoulder before walking to his apartment.
Penelope turned back to her door and opened it, a familiar smell reaching her nose making her sigh as the door softly clicked shut behind her. She looked over at her couch where the notorious clown-like man sat comfortably. He lounged back like he belonged there, flipping through channels with an air of indifference, his lips twisted into that familiar, unsettling grin.
Her heart raced. She didn’t know what to feel. Fear, confusion, curiosity? The same mixture of emotions had been bubbling inside her since that night. The night she’d felt his lips on hers, tasted the madness, and the thrill of what she’d done. The blood on her hands still felt so fresh.
“You’re here.” Penelope finally said, breaking the silence, her voice hoarse but steady.
Joker didn’t look away from the screen, but his grin widened. “Where else would I be?”
She swallowed hard, moving slowly towards the couch, her eyes never leaving him. “I don’t know… plotting, terrorizing people. Laughing at something burning, maybe?”
He chuckled, the sound low and dark, and patted the seat next to him. “Sheesh, can’t a guy just catch a break sometimes? Hm?” He jested, eyes still fixated on the TV. “Sit down, toots, we’re watching a comedy.”
She hesitated, glancing at the TV. Some mindless sitcom played, laugh tracks echoing. She took a seat, keeping her distance but not too far. The cushion sagged slightly under her, and she found herself staring at him, trying to read something - anything - in his chaotic, unpredictable eyes.
“What’s so funny about this?” She asked, her voice soft, unsure whether she meant the show or their entire situation.
Joker’s eyes slid over to her, sharp and amused. “Oh, nothing about the show. It’s the idea of it. People trapped in their boring little lives, pretending everything’s fine.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s hilarious, don’t ya think?”
Penelope’s gaze shifted from the TV to him, searching his face. She couldn’t understand how he saw the world. He terrified her, fascinated her, made her want to crawl away and stay close all at once. Her fingers traced the edge of the cushion nervously. “How do you live like this?”
“Like what?” He asked flatly, his eyes glinting as if her question was a challenge.
“Like…” She struggled for the right words. “Without… rules. Without a plan. Just… chaos.”
He laughed, leaning back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say I live in chaos.” His voice was soft now, almost soothing, but there was still a biting tone to it. “Yeah, I cause chaos. But live in freedom. Freedom from their rules. Their endless nagging, the ‘don’t do this, do this’, ya see? You’ve tasted it, haven’t you? The freedom. The power.”
Penelope tensed, the memory of that night creeping back in. The rush of adrenaline, the way her hands had trembled… then steadied. “That’s freedom…?” She whispered.
Joker’s grin faltered for just a second, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. “You did what you wanted to do. Without worrying about consequences. Their consequences. The consequences of everyone trying to control you and be someone that you’re not.”
She bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “How can I be sure there won’t be consequences?”
“You’re lookin’ at it, toots.” Joker said, his tone playful but condescending. “You can choose to pretend everything’s fine, just like everyone else. Go back to being quiet, timid little Penelope. Or…” He leaned in close. “You can be free.”
Her pulse quickened, and she turned to face him, searching his eyes.“Why do you want me to change?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.
Joker’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as if he was considering her question seriously. “I don’t want you to change. I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know. And I finally got a taste of it. And so did you. The real question is…” He shifted his body to face her. “Can you live with it? Because once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore. It’ll show its true colors. You’ll see. And once you do?” He threw her a look with an accompanied gesture. “I can guarantee you won’t want to go back.”
Penelope wasn’t sure what to do, what to think. She couldn’t help but believe him. Everything he said had some resemblance of truth. Was the freedom truly worth it? Was it worth throwing everything away? Emma? Liam? If the way she felt that night at the warehouse was only a taste of it, she could only imagine how she would feel if she just completely let go.
She was sure Liam would understand, he was supportive of her every step of the way. No matter if it was morally questionable.
But Emma?
Penelope thought about what Liam had told her. Emma was a close friend. A mother figure, even. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Liam was right about her. She kept telling herself that she never told Emma any of what was happening for her protection, but could she have just been lying to herself to prevent her own guilt? Did she truly trust Emma, or did she just cling to the brunette for lack of options?
A tear trickled its way down her cheek, not even noticing beforehand as she was lost in thought. She looked Joker in the eye and spoke with a trembling voice.
“I don’t want to live like this anymore…” Penelope shook her head. “I’m tired of feeling stuck.” She noticed a subtle shift in his expression, hardened. He suddenly rose to his feet with newfound determination.
“Get up.” He demanded, catching her by surprise. After a moment, she stood and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bathroom and facing her towards the mirror. “Ya want to stop living by their rules, hm?” Penelope nodded in desperation. “Take off the bandages.”
Her eye widened in disbelief, breathing halted. He stepped closer to her, his warmth pressed against her.
“Break their norm. Show them you’re not theirs to control anymore. Stop trying to be like them.” He leaned in next to her ear. “Send a message.”
Penelope took a shaky breath, meeting Joker’s eye through the mirror. Her heart raced, blood rushing in her ears as her hand fought to leave her side. Slowly but surely, it raised. Her hands caressed the edge of her bandages, toying with the fabric until she finally began to pull them off with care.
She refused to look at herself, tears now streaming down her cheek as a sob left her lips. She felt cool leather grip her jaw, forcing her to look at her reflection in the mirror.
The sight seemed foreign to her no matter how many times she took them off. The texture was soft, yet uneven. It was finally healed with skin covering where her eye should have been.
“Now that… is a doll.”
His knuckles caressed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The tickling sensation caught her breath, head leaning back against him. This enigmatic man made her feel alive, made her want to embrace the freedom he spoke of as his hands slid down her slim figure, igniting something within her.
"There ya go." Joker whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Penelope's gaze fell on her exposed scars, and for the first time, she felt truly wanted. She felt beautiful.
"Now how about that freedom?" He growled, hands slipping under her shirt and caressing her soft skin. As his skilled fingers found her hardened nipples, Penelope's breath hitched. His marred lips mixed with her own textured neck, covering it with nips and licks as he practically worshiped her scars. She wanted this man, wanted to feel his touch. She yearned to explore this new, uninhibited side of herself that he was awakening.
Joker’s hands then lifted her shirt, pulling it off over her head and soaking in the sight of her with a heated gaze.
More scars littered her left side, similar to what was on her face. He felt her begin the retreat, but his hands quickly snatched her wrists to keep her where she was. “None of that. Got it?” He threatened and she nodded in response.
He then unclasped her bra and tossed it away, hands moving to cup and toy at her breasts. One hand began to travel lower, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her slender legs. Once she stepped out of them he turned her around to face him and pushed her until she was leaning against the bathroom counter. Her legs opened, inviting him to stand in between them. One of his thighs pressed against her radiating core, flexing his muscle until her head leaned back with a sigh.
He released a feral growl and reached around to the back of her head, pulling her into him so their lips clashed against each other. The kiss was rough and full of need, Penelope lightly moaning into it as she ground herself against his thigh for some much needed relief.
“Yeah? Ya like that?” Joker taunted before snatching her thighs and setting her on top of the empty space of the counter. “C’mere.” He dropped to his knees, his hands pulling down her panties and spreading her pussy lips, revealing her glistening, swollen clit. He inhaled her scent, a mix of desire and her unique musk, before plunging his tongue deep inside her, making her gasp and grip the edge of the counter.
Joker’s tongue was a skilled weapon, licking and sucking at her clit, sending waves of pleasure through Penelope's body. He teased her entrance, dipping his tongue just inside before pulling away, only to return with renewed fervor.
"J -" Penelope moaned, her head thrown back. "Please, don’t stop."
Joker hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through Penelope. “Dangerous thing to beg me like that, doll.”
He warned before he continued his oral assault, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Just as she was about to climax, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and desperate.
"Thought it’d be that easy, hm?" He said, standing.
Penelope, wild with desire, reached for Joker’s trousers, undoing them with tremulous fingers. Once unbuttoned, her hand tremulously reached inside to grasp his hardened cock, pulling it free from its confines.
Joker’s cock was thick, the head glistening with pre-cum as she stroked it, her touch tentative yet eager. "Like whatcha see?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire.
Penelope nodded, her eye never leaving his cock as she continued to stroke it, marveling at the power she held in her hands. "Please, J…" She whispered, her voice thick with need.
He didn't need to be asked twice.
He gripped onto her hip tightly, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself at her entrance.
“Now what’d I say about begging?” With one smooth thrust, he filled her, his cock stretching her pussy as he slid deep inside.
Penelope cried out, her body welcoming the invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He leaned forward, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss.
Joker’s hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he pounded into her, his cock hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. Penelope's body trembled, her orgasm building with each delicious stroke.
"That’s it," He growled against her lips. "There ya go, toots. Come on, show me how much you want it.”
His words were like a trigger, and Penelope's body exploded in a cascade of pleasure. She cried out, her pussy clenching around Joker’s cock as waves of ecstasy washed over her. He followed her over the edge, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, filling her with his hot cum.
As their heart rates slowed and their breathing returned to normal, Joker leaned back, watching as one of his hands ran over her scarred body. When their eyes met, Penelope smiled. Eye sparkling with newfound confidence.
Serenity - Chapter 5
Masterlist
Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.
They didn't know how long they had been sitting on the carriage, and thankfully no one else had used the road or passed them for Mary's sake. The majority of it was spent in a pleasant silence, but there were moments of simple conversation Reuben offered that helped to ease her nerves. Mary would be lying if she said she wasn't stalling her return, it applied to both of them really.
Reuben would never admit it, but he found it relieving talking to someone outside the castle in such a civil conversation. He couldn't care less what the other villagers thought or had to say, but Mary? She had a fascinating mind. He wanted to understand the complexity of it, to discover more about her. How could someone seem so simple yet so complicated at the same time?
He looked over at her as she gazed at the sky whose bright sun prepared to set, taking in the moment of peace. Birds chirped and flew around above them, the wind gently blowing through her braided hair as the sound of a nearby creek settled in to create its own natural sense of calmness. It was moments like these she wished lasted forever. But no matter how much she wanted to stay, she knew she had to return home at some point.
"I should get going." Mary muttered with a sigh.
"Why do you insist on staying with him?" The question caught her off guard and she furrowed her brow.
"He's not the reason I insist on staying." She answered as she stepped down with the help of Reuben. "Believe me, if it wasn't for my mother, I'd be out of there quicker than a dog with a bone." Mary chuckled distastefully. "I suppose we'll run into each other again eventually."
"Under different circumstances, I hope?" He questioned with raised brows.
"Yes. Very much hopefully." She watched him for a moment, biting her lip and turning to leave before she stopped herself. "Thank you." She came to face him once more, granting him a genuine smile. "It means a lot to me." Mary then began her journey back to the shop, leaving him to stare after her disappearing figure.
It threw him off. He couldn't remember the last time someone smiled at him, or thanked him. Not the old greeting or just for manner's sake, but a real smile. Let alone directed at him. Shortly after leaving he thought about it again. And again. And many times over until he finally fell asleep.
The plaza was quiet by the time she returned. The chickens clucking and wandering aimlessly was the only noise to be heard besides the usual ambiance. What surprised her was that the doors of the shop were still wide open. She crept up to them. As she inched closer she heard the faint noise of someone sobbing, growing louder and louder until she finally peered inside.
On the floor of the shop sat her father leaning against one of the legs of the table, an empty cup tipped over beside him. The room was dark save for what was left of the sunset. It was a depressing sight, really. It's not that it was uncommon for him to behave in such a way, rather it was just never in front of Mary or her mother.
She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to alarm him, didn't want him to notice her at all. He could change on a dime at any second. But alas, fate wasn't on her side. A floorboard creaked beneath her foot and she grimaced as her father picked his head up to look at her. His sobbing suddenly grew more intense and Mary almost sympathized with him.
Almost.
"Mary," he wailed. "I'm so sorry, Mary," She began making her way upstairs as he continued, desperate to get away from him. "I'm sorry!" Was the last thing she heard before she made her way into her parents' bedroom with careful footing. As she creeped the door open her mother came into view, sitting up in their bed with her eyes closed. Mary's eyes softened as she gazed upon her a second longer.
"Liebling?" The frail woman called softly just as Mary turned to leave. She looked back at her mother who now had her eyes open, never looking weaker than in that moment. It was a sight. One that frightened Mary greatly.
She made her way over to their bed and sat on the edge next to her mother, placing a hand over her own. As they looked at each other the day's events rushed through Mary's mind. The image of her father, the yelling. Her mother lying almost lifeless. As tears began to spill they enveloped each other in a warm embrace as if it was their last time able to do so.
"I'm sorry, ma. I'm so sorry," Mary cried into her shoulder. "I left you with him, I'm sorry -" She was cut off by her mother shushing her, running her fingers over her scalp in a comforting motion.
"You did what you had to, liebling." Her mother slowly pulled away and cupped her daughter's cheeks, giving her a stern look. "If that ever happens again," the older woman swallowed. "And if I'm not so lucky -"
"Don't say that -" Mary shook her head.
"You run." Her mother gave a firm nod. "You run far away from here and do not come back, do you understand?"
"I can't just leave you here -"
"Do you understand?" Mary shut her mouth and her lip began to quiver.
She couldn't ever leave her mother to rot with such a man. Nothing would quell the amount of guilt that would follow. But most of all, she could never deny her mother. A few seconds passed before she nodded in agreement and was pulled in once more.
"I want to protect you, mein liebling. I can't do that if I'm not around." She whispered solemnly as more tears fell.
"Where would I go?" Her mother was silent as she thought for a moment.
"I don't know. But you're no good dead, now are you?" Mary heard her smile, a simple jest to lighten their spirits. "I'm sure someone out there is in need of your talent." Mary averted her eyes bashfully with a smile.
"I think someone already is." Her mother tucked a piece of hair behind her daughter's ear.
"Is that where you were all this time?" Mary nodded. "You have been visiting with him quite often recently."
"He's a customer."
"Well, you're never around your other customers this much with such a request."
"He's a picky customer?" The two of them giggled as if they were just two teenage girls.
It made her mother feel young again, made her giddy knowing her daughter possibly found someone. Even if it would be just an acquaintance, it was still someone. Would she have wanted it to be the Child Catcher? Absolutely not, but as long as her daughter was happy and he didn't hurt her, she didn't see the harm in it.
"But he seemed to love one of the designs I drew up for him. Hopefully it'll turn out."
"Knowing your work, liebling, it'll be much better than he's expecting."
"I hope so..."
The two of them stayed up later in the night talking to each other about whatever came to mind. Her mother continued asking questions about the catcher while Mary tried steering away from the topic. It was a much needed moment for the two of them after the day they had. Eventually, Mary made her way to her own bed to at least get a few hours of sleep, and it was surprisingly easier for her that night.
She repeated the same morning routine, working the shop with the usual grouchy customers when a familiar face grew closer. An old man with a slight hunch meandered his way through the plaza towards her shop, riding on a cart filled with goods he'd collected and traded along the way. "Good morning, Miss Mary!" He chirped with a friendly smile as he turned to face the pile behind him to grab a larger box.
"Good morning, Mr. Weber!" The woman returned, taking the box from him. He leaned down closer to her to keep his next words between the two of them.
"Some fancy material you got there, milady. I'd keep it in a safe spot away from prying eyes if I were you." He sat up straight with a wink. "I was finally able to find more silk, if you need it? Or some chiffon?" He continued rummaging through his cart. "Ah!" He pulled out a large bundle of sheer fabric, accented with silver. "This was a rather special find of mine. I had it in safe keeping on the way here. I knew for sure you'd have a use for it, my dear." He passed it off to her as she gawked at the beauty of it, ideas flooding.
"How much?"
"Free of charge! And there's no room for bargaining." He offered another wink and rattled the reins to take off once more. "Take care, Miss Mary!" The woman watched him disappear down the street with a smile, then moved to put away the new fabric before setting the box on the center table.
It was a rather simple brown box. No one would ever suspect it held something of importance. She supposed it was for the best. She thought about waiting to open it when she was alone, but her curiosity ended up getting the best of her and she carefully opened it. What first caught her eye was the carefully folded fabric, both yellow and orange.
She ran her fingers over the smooth texture in awe. Never had she owned a piece so elegant and made sure to handle it with great care as she took it out and set it on a nearby rack. The rest of the items consisted of the material for the more detailed designs of the coat and the typical basic necessities.
Unable to contain her excitement she giggled cheerfully, immediately putting herself to work on the design. She cleared off the center table and laid everything she needed on top of it, including her sketchbook. She switched between helping customers and her new project relentlessly, continuing to work after hours even if her hands were cramping and sore. It took her mother hollering for her to eat for her to stop herself.
She cleaned up her mess and tucked everything away out of sight, making her way upstairs to take a seat at the dining table. As they ate she noticed her mother and father casting her looks, though her mother's was more knowing and playful.
"What's got you so happy, huh?" Charles grumbled in discontent, scratching at his stubble.
"Mr. Weber stopped by today with more supplies." After a moment he hummed and went back to eating, missing the exchange of looks between the two women.
Complete Series Masterlist
Masterlist
Pairing - The Child Catcher x OC
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.
Masterlist
Pairing - The Joker x OC
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.
Masterlist
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
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.
Serenity - Chapter 2
Masterlist
Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.
-
The few days that passed since the abduction were wary. The energy in the village had swiftly changed. Heads were downcast. The air was tense and the bustle was far less pronounced, yet still remained nonetheless. Naturally, Mary received less customers than usual due to growing suspicion. Though no one cared to ask what had happened in the first place. The villagers just assumed.
They weren’t the friendliest bunch, which was fitting for the country. Even if the Baron and Baroness were at least decent the people down below would still find something to mope about. Nothing was ever enough for them.
That was how Mary, with quite the facade, saw them. Greedy. Mannerless. Irritable. She was sure things would be different were it not for her father, but even if he were to pass right then and there the people would see Mary and her mother all the same.
With a sigh, she began to revisit the stitching on her dress, touching up and making sure everything was as perfect as humanly possible. She smiled to herself, proud of her work. Throughout her years of working the shop she had scrapped possibly hundreds of designs for a ‘dream dress’ for lack of a better word.
The finished product was far from what she first thought up, but the evolution of it all was fascinating to her. Whether it be the basic design, the color or the fabric. She had never felt so accomplished, yet it felt so pointless now that she had indeed finished. Twenty-six years of brainstorming for a dress that she would possibly never have the chance to wear.
Not quite the dress of an aristocrat, and yet not that of a queen. It was a healthy balance. It wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, but still held a certain uniqueness to it.
It resembled Mary.
She heard footsteps climbing down the stairs behind her, followed by a gasp.
“Liebling!” Her mother placed a hand above her heart in disbelief. “Such talent.“ She gawked. “Such wasted talent.” She began to cough, clutching an area on her chest as she hunched over.
“Ma? Are you alright?” Mary rested a hand on her shoulder as her mother recovered, patting her chest with a deep breath and a nod.
“Yes, yes, dear. I’m quite alright.”
“You should sit down -“
“I’m fine, liebling.” The room grew quiet as the two of them stared at her dress. Thinking too much or not thinking at all, it was comfortable.
“Ma?” Her mother hummed. “What did you mean by ‘wasted talent’?” Mary heard her sigh and felt a light pat on her back.
“You’re so talented, mein lieber.” She started. “I just wish we could offer you more. Who knows how much further you’d be able to go were it not for this Godforsaken village.” She wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Imagine what you could do if you just had all of the right materials. The tools. The best machinery. And this dress? This dress is just the beginning.”
“Indeed, it is.” A nasally voice interrupted. The two of them jumped and turned to the source, finding the catcher and two soldiers at the entrance. Uncharacteristically, however, he was without his net and hook. It was a rather odd sight for the two of them as he rarely ever visited the town just to show face, if at all. “I’m not here,” He paused, glancing over at the mannequin they stood in front of before looking back over at the pair. “For children.” He practically spat in disgust.
“What are you here for, then?” Mary asked out of curiosity, her mother throwing her a side-eye.
“I have a request for the seamstress.” He paused. “And only the seamstress.” She looked over at her mother who only glared at the man, then softened as she turned to her daughter.
“I’ll be fine.” Mary reassured with her eyes cast to the floor beside her, then quickly checked the entrance past the catcher’s figure before looking back at him.
“Dear -“ One look from her daughter was all it took. One look was all the reassurance she needed. With a hand on Mary’s shoulder as a lasting charm, she left the shop in search of her husband.
Mary took a deep, nervous breath and brought her hands to fold in front of her, wringing them anxiously.
“What is your request?”
“An outfit fit for a candy man, my dear.” He lightly mocked. Her eyes squinted in confusion.
“One of your personas?”
“Yes.” He began to wander, examining a nearby shelf covered in a multitude of colorful fabrics.
“I would be helping you if I were to accept.” She heard him hum and turned to face him. “Why not have another seamstress at the castle make it? Surely there’s more than a few to choose from.”
“The ones we do have lack creativity, something that you carry even with a lack of resources.” He explained as he made his way back over to her. With great hesitancy, she questioned.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.” He stepped closer. “But I believe you can trust my authority.” Her heart began to race at the minor threat, if it even was one. She wasn’t even sure anymore. She gnawed on her bottom lip in thought, weighing her options. The words of her mother stuck out to her the most.
Maybe being noticed by the Child Catcher was a blessing in disguise? If she were to accept, she would ruin the reputation she worked so hard for should the villagers notice. As if it could get worse.
But why should she care what they think? No matter the outcome, they would still be their own judgmental, nosy selves. The only real problem would be if her father found out. Mary shivered internally just at the thought of it. As long as he wasn’t around when the catcher was there, she could always blow it off as another personal project. And she wouldn’t dare deny a direct request.
She breathed in, looked up at the catcher who waited patiently for an answer.
“I’ll do it. But as you said, I lack the proper materials.”
“Everything will be provided to you. The only thing you have to worry about,” he pointed to the plaza behind him. “Is them. As soon as they find out what you’re up to, they’ll cast you out faster than I can find the little ones.”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that. They’re the least of my worries, to be quite frank.” His brows knit together in question. “I appreciate the warning.” His expression turned into one of realization as he glanced at the living space that sat above them.
“Uh-huh.” Mary began to grow anxious, both at the silence and the amount of time they had before her parents returned. Her mother could only stall for so long before her father grew suspicious.
“When would you like to discuss the details?” Catching on to her restlessness, he decided against wasting any more time.
“The time is entirely up to you, however, I would prefer it if it were done as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure tomorrow would suffice. But it would have to be after dark. My father isn’t exactly the most understanding.”
He held out his hand, waiting for her to shake on it. However, when she reached out to it, his grip was far more gentle than she had expected. She watched as he leaned down towards it, a feather-like kiss placed between her knuckles with his abnormally long nose tickling the top of her hand.
Her mind grew foggy, unable to breathe. It was as if her body completely forgot how to function. She couldn’t tell if the reaction was caused by the man behind it or pure flattery, but she couldn’t say she was repulsed in the slightest.
Mary couldn’t help the disappointment she felt when he pulled away, and the smug grin on his face told her he was aware of it all.
“Until then.” Mary watched as the three men retreated to the plaza, the catcher on his box seat as always with the other two flanking him on their horses.
She let out an exasperated sigh, collapsing her weight against the table behind her as she quickly grew lightheaded. Not a moment later, her father stumbled into the shop, her mother not far behind.
“Are you alright?” She asked Mary cautiously. She just nodded in response, still thinking over what had just happened.
“What is he doing here, are three people not enough for the sadistic bastard?!” Mary’s father abruptly entered, beelining for her. “What did he want?” Mary glanced between her mother and the man who questioned her.
“He offered a job.” Her voice trembled. Her father’s jaw tensed.
“And?” Another glance from Mary at her mother who stilled.
“I declined.” For a moment he was silent, still. Studying her to see if she was indeed telling the truth. Eventually he huffed and made his way up the stairs, most likely to grab his usual bourbon.
“Where was he?” Mary whispered, tidying up the center table after catching her breath.
“I found him on the outskirts. He was headed for the road.” Mary rolled her eyes as her mother began to help.
“Ma, you need to rest.”
“Stop your worrying, liebling. Can’t have you doing all the work by yourself.”
“You’re only going to make it worse, especially after running around like that. Go rest. I can handle the shop.” Hesitantly, her mother gradually came to a stop. She eyed her daughter guiltily before resting a kiss atop of her head.
“Alright. You holler if anyone gives you any trouble, you hear?” Mary chuckled, bidding her farewell as she retired upstairs for the day.
The Scarred - Chapter 7
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.
As Penelope slipped her key into the lock of her apartment door, her hand shook. Almost expecting him to be in her living space once more. However, when it opened and no one was there, there was no relief to be felt. It was only a matter of time that he showed his face to her again, and it didn’t have to be whenever she got home. It could be at any moment, at any time, at any place. The only comforting thought about the situation was that he hadn't killed her. She assumed that if he wanted her dead, she already would be.
Penelope made her way to the fridge, pulling out leftovers to reheat for a quick dinner. As the microwave ran, she stared at the countertop in thought, facing the living room.
Even if no one else was there, his presence somehow lingered. She recalled his scent, however disturbing it was. She remembered the smell of gasoline and smoke, yet it held a sweet undertone. Burnt sugar, almost. Never would she have thought that he would have smelled of anything even remotely sweet.
She shook her head, itching to get those thoughts out of her head just as her microwave sounded. Switching the TV on, she bundled up in her blanket, food in her lap and started nibbling away. It was a good enough distraction for the time being, however temporary. And when she finished, she debated if she would even be able to sleep.
Putting the dishes away, she pulled out her phone and went to her call history, deciding on not being alone for the night. After the phone rang a few times, it picked up.
“To wha’ do I owe tha pleasure, miss?” Penny smiled lightly.
“Would you mind having company tonight? I can’t sleep…” Her voice faded at the end in embarrassment.
“I’ll do ye one better and ‘ed o’er ta yer place, yah? Tha’ way we can work on ya feelin’ safe in yer own space again. ‘Ow’s tha’ sound?” The woman took a deep breath in thought.
“Okay… Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Be o’er in a minute, miss.”
She decided to keep her bandages on with him coming over. It was uncomfortable, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel naked with them off in front of others. Not even Emma has seen her without them. She wasn’t sure if she would ever take them off in front of anyone, no matter who it was.
Barely over a minute later, there was a knock at her door. She peeked through the peephole, making sure it was in fact Liam before opening it for him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bother -“
“Oi.” Liam cut her off. “What’d I say abou’ apologizin’?”
“Right.”
“C’mon now, let’s get ya some sleep, yah?” He rested a hand on her back and led her to her bedroom. Liam decided to stay above the covers while she climbed underneath, her head in his lap while he draped an arm over her. He watched as her eye finally began to close, keeping a close eye on her until she fell asleep.
“J -“ The woman gasped. Her mind was clouded with the movement of his hands as they caressed her. Her mouth was parted, eye fluttered shut and head tilted back against her soft pillow as he guided her into oblivion. Their mixture of sweat and pants only ignited the atmosphere and he buried his head in her neck to lick a trail up to her jawline, earning a shiver beneath him.
Her eye opened again to see a face without the paint. A bare face with maniacal scars resembling a Cheshire smile. Yet the face itself was all too familiar. A face she hadn’t seen for years. It brought nothing but comfort and security.
The bell above the door rang as she stepped into the warmer air. She trudged towards her chair, energy dampened from the night before. Just as she took her seat she heard footsteps coming from the back, heavier than usual.
“You okay, Emma?” She tried. No response. The footsteps grew closer, louder, heavier.
“Yeah, just moving this bad boy to the front.” Emma grunted as she waddled a heavy and filled vase through the doorway. Penelope let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Don’t scare me like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She practically shrieked.
“You wanna come over here and carry this and try having a casual conversation?!” She exclaimed with hands on her hips after setting the vase down. “I’m too old for that, I nearly broke my back.” She exhaled while dramatically wiping her dry forehead. Penelope chuckled to herself and the woman tossed her a look. “I’m gonna go grab some water from the store, you want anything?”
“I’m good, thank you though.”
“What? You said you want lemonade?”
“No -“
“Lemonade, got it.” She backed out the door. “Cya!”
“Geez!” Penelope jumped from her seat, the unique voice popping through the doorway of the back room. “I was wondering when she’d stop all that racket.” The Joker vocalized shamelessly, a natural habit she’d been coming to find out. Penelope’s original fear slowly drifted into irritation.
“You have a bad habit of catching people by surprise.”
“Oh - well the reaction is the best part!” He meandered his way over to the front of the counter. “Besides yours. You were a little bland this time - do better.” He leaned his forearms on the wooden surface.
“As in there’ll be a next time, I’m assuming?”
“See? Ya get it! These people really need to start catching on. They never seem to take a hint, ya know?”
“How’s that when you apparently kill nearly every person you meet?”
“You watch too much of the news, they only ever show the boring parts. So much goes on behind the scenes that nobody knows about.”
“And why’re you telling me this?”
“Can’t a guy just have a conversation?”
“You’re not just ‘a guy’.”
“And you’re not just a girl, hm?” Something glimmered in her eye. “Oh - come on - try and tell me that I’m wrong. Go on, do it.” Silence followed, but Joker patiently waited. “It takes one to know one, toots.” He clicked his tongue with a wink. “Don’t get it twisted.”
“Why’re you here?”
“I have a proposal.” He stepped back to round the counter. “Proposition?” He rolled his eyes. “An offer.” He jumped up to sit on the counter directly next to her, her head following his every move.
“Which is?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say an offer, cause I’m not really giving you a choice -”
“What do you want me to do?” He paused, eyes rolling over to her with a devious look.
“I want to show you what it means to really have some fun.” His voice took on a darker, more serious tone.
“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of ‘fun’.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try, hm?” Her eye drifted off in thought.
What is he playing at? She asked herself. Even if she wasn’t being forced, she couldn’t deny her curiosity getting the best of her. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him drew her closer. It made her want to know more about him, why he did what he did. And going through with what he offered may give her some answers, no matter how dangerous it seemed. And what did she have to lose, anyways?
“Midnight at the docks. I’m sure you know that area very well.” He looked at the clock on the wall before hopping off of the counter, slapping the counter with a gloved hand before heading towards the back room. “Cya then, toots!”
Just as he left, Emma walked through the door to see Penelope giving her a confused expression.
“What?” She asked in her own confusion. Penelope just sighed and rested her head on her hand.
As the work day came to a close, a jolt of nerves flooded her abdomen. She left the shop, bidding her goodbye to Emma before turning to make her way to her apartment. The lavender smell that usually provided comfort only made her nauseous with anxiety, deciding against eating even with a growling stomach. It wasn’t purely nerves, however. She was anxious, and dare she say a little excited.
Penelope simply showered, got dressed and plopped onto her bed in a poor attempt to get some sleep before heading out. The soft ticking of her nightstand clock filled the otherwise deafening silence, creating an illusion of it growing louder with each tick.
She wasn’t sure when, but she eventually found sleep. It didn’t hit her until she woke up. She jolted upright, snapping her head towards her clock.
11:27.
Another batch of nerves struck her. She took a deep breath and moved towards her bathroom, reapplying new bandages. As she pressed on the last bit, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror, practically snarling at its reflection before aggressively turning away from it to put her shoes and coat on.
The city was eerily quiet, except for the occasional drunkard and criminal walking the streets. She debated on walking, but being how late it was, decided that driving was safer. It was an ironic statement considering what she was getting herself involved in. Who she was getting herself involved with.
She slowly rolled into the parking lot, seeing a black van already sitting in it. No doubt, it was The Joker. She put the car in park and stepped out, two men she didn’t recognize following suit soon after. One had a bag in his hand, both had rifles hanging around their torsos. The one with the bag stepped forward, and then everything was black.
The Scarred - 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.
Notes - This story is set prior to the events of The Dark Knight. Some moments may feel OOC, but only because you will see sides of certain characters that weren’t represented in the movie, however I will do my best to stay true to the character and base it off of what is canon. *I do not own any of the content in this franchise other than my own characters!*
Song/Theme - “Set Fire” by Carina Round
Warnings -
Trauma
Flashbacks
Panic attacks
Anxiety
Gore/violence🩸
Aspects of torture
Sexual themes🔥
Smut (MDNI/NSFW) 🔞
Manipulation
Mature language
Chapters -
Prologue Chapter 10
Chapter 1 Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 🔥
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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?
Chapter 1
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
The torches lining the Grand Hall flickered, casting elongated shadows against the obsidian walls. The air was thick with the scent of smoldering incense, a tradition as ancient as the Covenant itself. At the center of the chamber, six figures stood rigidly in a line, cloaked in the dark, combat-hardened suits of the Umbral. Their faces remained impassive, their postures drilled to perfection. They were not just soldiers. They were the executioners of the Covenant’s will.
At the head of the hall, a raised dais loomed, adorned with banners of crimson and black. One bore the emblem of the Covenant, the other of the First Order. And standing just behind the Altar of Ascension, watching with calculating interest, was General Hux.
His uniform was pristine, his gloved hands tucked behind himself. Unlike the other High Lord elders draped in ceremonial robes or Covenant Duskborns standing at attention, he was an outsider. A reminder of the alliance between the Covenant and the First Order, a bond forged from necessity rather than trust.
Standing at the altar, the Wraith Commander of the academy spoke, his voice like steel scraping against stone.
“You stand here today as the few who have survived.” His gaze swept over the graduates, lingering on each of them. “Of the many who entered, you are the only ones who endured. The trials have burned away weakness, stripped you of fear, and reforged you into something greater.”
One woman remained motionless as the commander’s piercing gaze settled on her. She could still feel the phantom aches of the trials. The grueling endurance tests, the relentless combat drills, the nights spent standing motionless under the open sky, waiting for an attack that could come at any moment. The academy had demanded everything from them. And they had given it.
One by one, their names were called. Each stepped forward to receive the insignia of the Umbral, a symbol of their rank and purpose. When the woman’s name was spoken, she moved with perfect precision to stand before both the altar and the commander to have the insignia fastened onto the top left of her chest. It was heavier than she expected. Not in weight, but in meaning.
Once it was securely fastened, her gaze briefly flickered to General Hux. He studied her with a carefully measured expression, his sharp eyes betraying nothing.
As the Umbrals stood back in line, the commander gave them a single nod and stepped away from the altar. The Umbrals then synchronously pulled out one of their daggers harnessed to their thighs and - in accordance with the Covenant’s oldest tradition - dragged the blade across their palm. enough to draw blood but not enough to drip. As they all looked up at the Covenant’s emblem, they put away their blades with their arms back at their sides. Their expressions were overcome with fierce determination before they all spoke.
“In darkness, I was forged. In blood, I am bound.” The Umbrals felt the palms of their hands begin to heal and close up. “ In shadow, I rise.”
The audience watched intently as their voices spoke with an intense unnamed emotion. The memories of their history settled in their hearts as the Umbrals continued.
“I am the blade unseen, the wrath unyielding. My will is iron, my duty eternal. I forsake the light, for it is not my path. I swear my loyalty to the Covenant, to my kin, to the Order that raised me from the ashes of the weak. My blade is theirs to command. I will not falter. I will not fail. I am an Umbral, and an Umbral does not kneel.”
As they finished their oath, there was a moment of silence before the hall erupted in a resounding chorus of acknowledgement, their success etched into the annals of the Covenant’s legacy.
But before the new Umbrals could disperse, the Wraith Commander stepped forward.
“Duty awaits, Umbrals.” His voice echoed with finality. “Your placements have been decided.”
A datapad was produced, and the assignments were read aloud.
“Varo Drenn, stationed aboard the Finalizer. Assigned to High Command security detail.” Applause sounded from behind them.
The list went on, and then -
“(Y/n) (L/n).”
She barely shifted, but inside, her senses sharpened.
“You will be stationed aboard the Finalizer. You are assigned directly to General Hux.”
The hall remained silent, but a subtle tension threaded through the air before the applause started. Few Umbral were assigned to personal protection roles, particularly to someone of a higher ranking. But it was not unheard of.
She turned her head just slightly towards the general. His expression did not change, but there was the faintest flicker of something in his gaze. Approval? Interest?
Or perhaps just calculation.
(Y/n) simply bowed her head in acknowledgment. She did not question her orders. She did not hesitate. Her assignment had been set. And she would see it done.
“That is all from me, Umbrals. I wish you all the best of luck in your careers moving forward.” The commander eyed them carefully. “Honor in Loyalty!”
“ Strength in Silence!” The Umbrals viciously responded, their voices powerful as they carried through the chamber.
The ceremony had ended, but the weight of it lingered in the vast expanse of the great hall. The gathered elders had dispersed, along with the spectators from the Covenant and the First Order. Now, only the newly anointed Umbrals remained, standing in their familiar groups and murmuring in hushed voices.
(Y/n) exhaled slowly, flexing her palm where the ceremonial cut had already healed. She had known this moment was coming for years, yet the finality of it settled in her chest like a weight.
A voice broke through the silence beside her.
“Didn’t think we’d actually live long enough to make it to this point.”
She turned, already recognizing the low, dry tone before meeting the sharp gaze of Varo.
Dressed in the same black ceremonial attire as her, he looked every bit the Umbral he now was. Tall, imposing, his features carved from sharp lines and quiet intensity. But there was an ease to his posture, an irreverence in his stance that had always set him apart from the others. While many of their kind held themselves with rigid discipline, Varo carried his authority like a cloak draped loosely over his shoulders, rather than armor strapped too tightly to his skin.
(Y/n) arched a brow. “You doubted?”
Varo let out a short, amused breath. “Not about myself. You, though? Definitely.”
She gave him a pointed look, unimpressed.
He smirked. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who kept getting thrown into the pits every time you challenged the instructors.”
“They were wrong,” she said simply.
“They were stronger,” he corrected. “At least at the time.” He studied her for a moment before nodding. “But I guess you proved your point.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.
There was a brief lull in the conversation as the murmurs of their fellow Umbrals filled the space around them. Some had already begun filtering out of the hall, moving toward their new lives, their new assignments. It was a strange thing. To spend years side by side, only to be scattered the moment they were forged into weapons.
Varo broke the silence first. “So you’re being sent off with the general?” (Y/n) stiffened slightly. Of course, he would have questioned it already.
She nodded. “I suppose so.”
Varo let out a low whistle. “Not bad. High-profile assignment. Though I can’t say I envy you. General Hux looks like he hasn’t slept about as much as ourselves.”
(Y/n) didn’t respond, but she could see the curiosity in his expression. “And what about you?” she asked instead. “High Command security?”
“High Command security.” he nodded, crossing his arms. “Captain Phasma’s command, I’m assuming. We’re stationed together, but I doubt we’ll see much of each other. At least, not as much as we’re used to.”
She considered that. They had trained together for years, watching each other’s backs, surviving what others couldn’t. Now, they were being pulled into separate orbits. She knew it was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any less strange.
“You’ll be safer there,” she remarked.
Varo scoffed. “I’m not sure safer is the right word when it comes to guarding a bunch of ambitious officers with knives hidden behind their backs.” His smirk faded slightly, something more thoughtful settling in his expression. “But I’ll manage.”
(Y/n) studied him. There was an understanding between them, one that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They had survived the trials, endured the blood, the pain, the sacrifice. They were Umbrals now. Their lives weren’t their own anymore.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t still themselves.
“Be careful, (Y/n),” he said, quieter now. “Not just with the general. With the Covenant, too.”
She tilted her head. “You sound like you don’t trust them.”
Varo shrugged. “I trust that they’ll use us as long as we’re valuable. And if we stop being valuable?” He gestured vaguely. “Well. You know how it works.”
She did. All too well.
“But we aren’t Umbrals for no reason. We know our value.”
She didn’t let the thought linger. Instead, she extended her hand toward him, palm up.
Varo looked at it, then smirked slightly before gripping her forearm in a firm clasp.
“We survived,” he murmured.
“For now,” she replied.
Their hands fell away, and with one last glance, Varo turned and disappeared into the departing crowd.
(Y/n) stood in the dimming light of the Grand Hall, silent for a moment longer before finally stepping forward.
She walked with the same precise step, her boots striking the stone floor in measured intervals. The weight of her new insignia pressed against her chest, a tangible reminder of what she had become.
As she stepped past the towering doors of the chamber, she immediately noticed the presence of General Hux waiting in the adjacent corridor.
He stood with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his long black coat pristine, every inch of him composed and controlled. Two First Order officers flanked him at a distance, but his attention was entirely on her.
She approached with unerring confidence, stopping precisely at the required distance. With a practiced motion, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head slightly. The formal gesture of acknowledgment within the Covenant.
“General Hux,” she said, her voice smooth and measured.
The man regarded her with the same critical gaze he had maintained throughout the ceremony. Up close, his presence was even more exacting. Sharp angles, unwavering posture. An air of authority that demanded nothing less than absolute obedience.
“Umbral (L/n),” he greeted in return, his tone clipped but devoid of disdain. “It seems we are to be in close quarters from now on.”
She straightened, her expression impassive. “I will carry out my duties as assigned.”
Hux’s lips pressed together slightly, as if amused by her strict adherence to protocol. “I would expect nothing less.” His gaze flickered over her with analytical precision. “You are younger than I anticipated.”
“My age is irrelevant, sir,” she replied without hesitation. “I would not be standing before you if I were not capable.”
Hux tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “Indeed. The Umbral training is known for its… unforgiving nature. And yet, you emerged among the few who completed it.”
There was an edge of something in his voice. Not admiration, but acknowledgment.
“My survival is a testament to the Covenant’s teachings,” she said simply.
He nodded, accepting the response before shifting slightly. “Your role with myself will differ from standard Umbral assignments, as I’m sure you are aware. You will report directly to me. No other officer aboard the Finalizer holds authority over you unless I say otherwise.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, General.”
There was a moment of silence, something unsaid hanging in the air between them. Hux studied her, and she, in turn, did the same. She had learned to read people, to dissect their intentions, their weaknesses. General Hux was not a man who wore his emotions plainly.
But there was something in his eyes that told her he was doing the same to her.
Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Very well. You will accompany me back to the Finalizer. Your belongings have already been arranged for transport.” He turned sharply, beginning to walk, (Y/n) moving in perfect sync beside him.
As they walked, the halls of the academy fortress loomed around them, dark stone and towering spires casting jagged shadows under the dim glow of the perimeter lights.
They walked outside into the cooler night air towards their awaiting transport, their boots echoing against the stone path leading to the landing platform.
From the ceremony, she had observed him in sharp detail. The cold, precise way he carried himself, the calculating glint in his eyes. He was an enigma to her, even now, as they moved in unspoken synchrony towards their shared destination.
For a time, neither of them spoke. It was not uncomfortable, only measured. (Y/n) had been trained in the weight of silence, in the power of withholding words until they served a purpose.
Hux was the one to break it.
“You’re not what I expected.”
She turned her head slightly, studying him from the corner of her vision. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable.
“Explain,” she said simply.
His brow arched faintly, as if noting her directness. “I expected a mindless weapon after all I’ve heard. A blunt instrument honed by the Covenant to serve without thought or hesitation.” A pause. “Instead, I find someone who holds herself like a dedicated soldier rather than a puppet.”
She considered that. “I am a soldier,” she affirmed. “And I was trained to be a weapon. But the two are not mutually exclusive.”
“Hm.” He didn’t argue the point.
The wind picked up as they neared the platform, the hum of its idle engines filling the space between them. The platform was quiet, and only a handful of the Covenant’s attendants and a few First Order officers stood waiting for them, Varo amongst them.
“A few key points to remember when under my supervision,” Hux began.
“Yes, General?”
“I do not tolerate insubordination.” The two of them ignored the bystanders they passed as they boarded the ship, focused in conversation.
“I do not tolerate incompetence,” (Y/n) returned evenly.
That earned her a brief glance, though his expression remained carefully schooled. “My interests, demands, and safety are your first priority.”
“Naturally, sir.” Another look from the general.
“Your orders come from myself and myself alone. Not from Captain Phasma, not other officers. No one. If anyone urges otherwise, you are to report it to me. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” She spoke with an unwavering gaze.
“Good,” he said after a moment. “Then we won’t have a problem.” He turned to take a seat, (Y/n) moving to lean against the wall beside him, yet alert. “I don’t expect blind loyalty from you, Umbral,” he said, his voice measured. “Only obedience.”
(Y/n) met his gaze quickly. “Obedience is earned, not demanded.”
A flicker of something passed through his expression. Perhaps intrigue, perhaps amusement. It was gone before she could decipher it.
“Then I suggest you learn quickly.” He caught a shadow of amusement in her expression, but it quickly faded.
Otto Octavius Wallpaper/Aesthetic
*i do not own any of the original photos, credit goes to their rightful owners*
Serenity - Chapter 8
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.
"How long has it been?"
"Five hours, at least.”
"I'd say seven."
"I bet nine."
"Has she even eaten?"
"Hasn't left since the catcher brought her here."
"It's one thing to do your job. It's another when it's an obsession."
"You would know all about that, now, wouldn't you?" The group of women gasped and stepped away from the door they huddled in front of. Reuben made his way towards them with an irritated expression. "I wonder what his excellency would think if I were to tell him you all were harassing his new seamstress." Comically, the women all glanced at each other with fearful expressions before speeding off.
He smirked rather proudly and turned to the door, carefully opening in to prevent any disturbance. There Mary sat at a desk, hunched over a barely made dress she was working on. Eyebrows knit together as she focused, she hummed as she worked, not taking notice of the man just yet. It was quite obvious to him that she was in her true element. She was relaxed, comfortable. Dare he say at peace. It was a pleasant sight to him, especially after all she had been through in the recent weeks.
She stopped when she heard the door close lightly and turned towards it, eyes lighting up when she saw him.
"Reuben!"
"So sorry, it appears you were being eavesdropped." He spoke in a slightly agitated tone as he made his way over to her.
"Eavesdropped? By whom?"
"The other seamstresses." He rolled his eyes. "No matter, I got rid of them."
"Oh..." Her eyes downcasted in realization. "Well, thank you." She offered a smile before returning to her work.
"I must say, you work rather quickly."
"It's amazing what one can accomplish when left undisturbed." Silence followed, and only then did she realize how what she said sounded and looked up at Reuben with wide eyes. "I - I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all."
"I know, dear." Mary sighed in relief and returned to what was in front of her. Then she felt her face warm at the new nickname. "Though, you do need rest every so often." He spoke as if he was talking down to a child, looking at her with a knowing expression.
"I'm fine, Reuben."
"You haven't eaten since you've been in here for who-knows-how-long, so I find that hard to believe." Mary avoided his gaze guiltily. "As far as I'm concerned, you haven't eaten since I brought you to the castle which, at this point, would be two days."
"I'm sorry..." Mary spoke softly. "I just got excited." Reuben sighed and removed what she held in her hands.
"Understandably so." He patted her shoulder to get her to stand up. "It's time I showed you the kitchen."
Mary's head spun with all the twists and turns it took to get to the said kitchen. The castle was large, yes, but walking through it felt like a maze more than anything. If all goes well, she wasn't sure how long it would take her to memorize what led to where.
The kitchen itself was large, naturally. Everything was pristine, clean as can be. Multiple stoves lined one side of the walls, the most she had seen in one spot probably. Men and women scrambled about, however in an organized manner. It seemed they had a routine that worked for the lot and it took her by surprise. Then she remembered where she was.
"Kochin!" Reuben raised over the chaos that was the kitchen. A short, plump man began speeding in their direction, exasperated.
"Yes, sir?" He asked hurriedly as he wiped a rag over his forehead, whipping it back over his shoulder.
"Bring a plate over for the lady." He leaned down closer. "A nice plate." The man, Kochin, then nodded hurriedly before scurrying off and yelling directions to the other cooks. "Caught them right as they were about to start cleaning up." He looked over at Mary with a quirked brow.
"Well, now I feel bad." She mumbled and wrung her hands.
"It's their job. They're used to it by now." Kochin returned quickly with a heaping plate of food, holding it out to Mary who stood with wide eyes. Reuben's eyes urged her to take it and she hesitantly did so.
Reuben nodded at the man and turned Mary towards the exit to walk them back to his room.
"I can't eat all of this!" She exclaimed as soon as they reached the bedroom. She sat down at a nearby desk and stared at the heaping pile of food.
"Then eat what you can. Meanwhile, I have to take care of a few matters. I shouldn't be long. Don't. Wander." He then shut the door behind him and she heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
The food smelt amazing, to say the least. It was the most extravagant meal she had received in her entire life. She felt awful knowing she surely wasn't going to finish it, but she would've felt even worse if she didn't eat anything from it at all. Choosing the latter she nibbled at her food piece by piece, taking her time to savor the rich flavors. But her assumptions were correct.
She was only about a quarter of the way finished by the time she was full. Either her stomach was shrinking or she hadn't realized how little she had really been eating in the village. Then the food coma hit.
She pushed the plate to the side to rest her chin in her hand, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hadn't the slightest perception of time, only following her body's instincts as her head finally came to rest on her arms to sleep. She must have been truly exhausted with how fast it hit her. Typically Mary would fight herself when it came to falling asleep, lying awake for half an hour at least before she succumbed to it.
Just minutes later Reuben walked in, stopping in his tracks when he saw Mary passed out on his desk. His eyes softened at the sight of it, knowing it was one of the few times she was truly at peace. He sighed and silently shut the door, taking off his coat and hooking it onto a rack that already held his hat before making his way over to Mary. He brushed a loose piece of hair from her eyes, debating on whether or not he wanted to move her and risk waking her up.
After a few seconds of thought he left to pull the sheets of his bed back, then hooked his arms beneath Mary, carefully lifting her to lay her on the bed. Thankfully, she didn't even flinch or move in the slightest save for incoherent mumbling at the action. He wasn't sure if he should've been concerned or not, but nevertheless he slid her shoes off of her feet and pulled the blanket over.
He was about to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn't move. He was planted by the sight of Mary's resting features. He took his time examining them, and he had to admit she had a unique facial structure. That was surely saying something considering his own.
She was rather beautiful in an original sense, in her own sense. It was a different kind of beauty that he couldn't describe. Perhaps he was around the middle-aged women of the castle too often, but even when he traveled to the village he never saw anyone that caught his eye quite like Mary.
There was a small knock on his door and he flinched when he saw Mary move the slightest bit, then he made his away over to it to see who it was.
"Apologies, sir," The maid spoke with a downcast gaze. "I was just coming to see if you needed anything else before you retired for the night?" She watched as Reuben disappeared for a moment, then returned with the unfinished plate of food and handed it to her with a sigh.
"She will need another dress for tomorrow, as well." He spoke in a hushed tone. Emilia nodded. "That will be all." Reuben confirmed dismissively, practically shutting the door in her face.
He huffed and began unbuttoning his vest, loosening the cravat around his neck as he glanced over at Mary over and over. He shook his head and folded the clothing over the back of his vanity chair.
Everything was frozen. Or rather seemed so. It all seemed so much darker than she had remembered. It was a different darkness. A darkness that lurked in the daylight where it shouldn't have been.
Mary turned in the center of the plaza, looking around at the villagers staring back at her with unreadable expressions. One stepped closer. Followed by another. Then it all happened like a domino effect, a mob crawling in her direction leaving her without an escape.
Her body betrayed her, feet frozen where she stood. Her breathing quickened, throat constricting in on itself. She clawed at her neck as her legs gave out, her knees taking the impact against the cold stone. She wheezed as they all enclosed themselves around her until they were all she saw -
Mary's eyes opened to the sunlight peeking through the curtains. She breathed in, slow and thorough. Her cheeks were cold. Wet. She sat up slowly, body drained even after her sleep. She wiped her cheeks tiredly as she sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side.
She wasn't sure how long it had been before she finally stood, looking back over at the bed to see a dress laid out for her. Mary pondered for a moment on whether or not she should wait on Emilia, then decided against it and ran a bath for herself.
As much as she fancied the dresses, the tightness of them drove her up the wall. She cursed whoever thought up the idea of it as she began to tighten what she could, being sure to keep it looser for her own comfort. However, she huffed when the door opened. What she expected to be the maid turned out to be Reuben with a plate of breakfast and the huff became a sigh. "Oh, thank God."
She was taken aback at his appearance. Mary had been so used to seeing him clad in black that his undershirt on display was a sight she unexpectedly welcomed. His vest was still buttoned, encased around his more lean form accompanied by his cravat. The more dressed-down appearance seemed out of character for the man.
The catcher quirked a brow in amusement, catching her more wandering gaze.
"I feared you were the maid." Mary chuckled in an exasperated fashion.
"And why would that be?" He set down the plate and made his way over to her. "May I?" He motioned to her dress and she nodded in approval. He took the laces from her, bare fingertips grazing against her soft skin enough to set it ablaze.
"I know these dresses are supposed to be more form-fitting, but I'm certain she's trying to suffocate me." Reuben chuckled. It was light, different from the darker tone she was used to hearing while he was on the job.
He was far more gentle with his movements than Emilia was and Mary welcomed it gratefully. She couldn't explain what she felt whenever his hands brushed against her, but she was sure she was growing more and more drunk on it. Then it stopped. She stopped herself from pouting and turned to face him with a gentle smile.
"Thank you." Mary then turned to his vanity and grabbed a hair tie, quickly pulling her hair into a bun. "You didn't have to, you know." The woman sighed as she made her way over to her breakfast. She took her first bite, then looked up at him with a doe-eyed look. "Did you eat already?" The catcher nodded and leaned back against the desk beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, making her somewhat self-conscious as she ate. It was awkward for her and she began to drown in it.
She swallowed her current bite and gradually looked up at him. Reuben quickly averted his gaze elsewhere and she noticed a pink hue begin to dust his cheeks. Her chest fluttered and she took another bite in an attempt to hide her growing smile.
Later on, Mary found herself back in the sewing room after Reuben walked her, having to leave in that direction anyways. After closing the door he made his way to the throne room to the swarm of aristocrats and nobles that surrounded the barons.
"Ah, Catcher!" The Baron exclaimed, the group of sycophants parting themselves as he made his way over to Reuben who bowed deeply to the cheerful man as he approached.
"You called for me, your excellency?"
"I did, I did. Where is that lovely seamstress of yours?" Reuben faltered.
"Working on your lady's dress at this moment, my lord."
"It's coming along well, I hope?" The Baron began leading the two of them away from the crowd.
"I have no doubts."
"Good, good. Now," He stopped and faced Reuben. "I want you to bring your lady tonight to join us for dinner. You've built her quite the reputation, catcher, and I'd like to know more about this woman should she be our new seamstress."
"With respect, your excellency, she's not my lady." The Baron's eyes widened, then squinted as he drawled out a chuckle with a wink.
"Of course she isn't." It took all of Reuben's will not to roll his eyes. He was devoted, sure, but even the ever loyal catcher had his moments of irritation with the barons. Bomburst pat him on the shoulder before heading back over to his throne to mingle once more. Reuben huffed, straightened his coat with a snap and made his way back upstairs to Mary.
"Dinner?!" Panic set in Mary's eyes, putting an abrupt stop to her work. "I - I only just got here two days ago - and why would they want to have dinner with a seamstress?" Reuben, sensing her anxiety, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rested a hand on her back.
"Being chosen to be the barons' seamstress is nothing short of a rarity. They simply wish to get to know you better to see if you're a good fit." Mary chuckled despite her current crisis.
"Was that on purpose?"
"Not in the slightest." Mary stood up and began to pace.
"What if I slip up and say something I'm not supposed to? Or do something I'm not supposed to?" She whipped around to face Reuben. "They won't put me to death, will they?" He sighed and stepped in front of her, lifting his hands to rest on the sides of her arms. Even with his gloves, she could feel the heat of it burning through, enough to soothe her almost instantly.
"You have no reason to worry." He watched as Mary's gaze remained downcast, eyes glazing over yet not a single tear falling. Timidly she reached up to hold onto one of his forearms, refusing to meet his eyes.
Then cool leather met her chin, gently coaxing her to face him. As her head turned her eyes continued to stray, and only when she sensed the smallest bit of confidence in the midst of whatever she was feeling did she meet the hazel of his eyes. It wasn't until then that she realized the little distance between them.
Everything was still in that moment. Seconds felt like minutes, where minutes felt like hours. It was all a haze, the smell of him intoxicating her, making her lightheaded. When she felt his lips on her own she froze for the smallest second, then began melding them as she reciprocated. The softness of his lips caught her off guard, but it was dearly cherished. The kiss was gentle, fervorous. Short.
They pulled back ever so slightly, eyeing the other for any sign of hesitancy or doubt, and when they found none they went in once more without a second thought.
It was more potent, held more passion. Gradually their breathing grew heavier. His fingertips ghosted over her jaw, reaching further back to cup it and draw her closer. Her hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, balling the fabric beneath.
It was awkward for him at first with his damned nose, but a few seconds in and he was almost perfect. In fact, Mary relished in the feeling of it brushing against her cheek. It brought her a sense of tranquility, and reminded her of who she was with.
When they broke away it was a slow movement, regretful. He stared at her with an intensity that left her weak, that would leave anyone weak. It made her feel as if she was all that mattered in that moment. Mary wrapped her arms around his torso, Reuben holding her close to him, head resting atop her own that nestled in the crook of his neck.
Mary wasn't sure what to think. She felt lost. Confused. Of everything that had happened over the course of the past two months, it was all blurring together and made her head spin. She tightened her grip around him in fear and puzzlement.
Mary focused on the feeling of him. The way it felt to have their bodies so close to one another, sharing the new moment of intimacy. Her lips still felt warm, tingly. Something bloomed in her chest, something she was unfamiliar with. It was indescribable to her yet it filled her with such an elation.
When they pulled away a single drop traveled down her cheek as Mary smiled at the man in front of her. He ogled with a sense of adoration, using his thumb to brush the tear away. Then a breathless chuckle escaped his lips.
"The Baron thought you were my lady when I spoke with him earlier." Mary held a curious mien.
"Oh?" Reuben's lips twitched in amusement.
"I told him you weren't, and yet here we are." It was Mary's turn to chuckle. A light giggle that made his heart flutter uncharacteristically.
"Am I, then?" Mary murmured, her expression thoughtful. Her next words were but a whisper. "Am I your lady?"
"I'm afraid so. I fear the day you soften me, and I'm even more fearful that it's already started."
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