Complete Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit.”

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

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

(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We leave in three minutes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a long moment, no one spoke.

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

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

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

Why were Umbrals there?

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

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

The statement was simple. Cutting and final.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because failure is not an option.”

No one spoke after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, General.”

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

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

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

“I’m not afraid of ghosts, sir.”

His gaze held hers.

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it’s worse than we thought.”

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

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

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

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

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

There was a beat of silence between them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Y/n) didn’t flinch.

“For the Covenant,” she replied.

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

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

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

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

The silence dragged on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing what?” Varo asked, feigning innocence.

She turned her head slightly. “Testing boundaries.”

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

Hux finally spoke.

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

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

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

Varo muttered under his breath, “Brutal crowd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned his gaze to Varo.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes, General.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hux’s hands tensed slightly.

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

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

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

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

He didn’t confirm or deny.

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

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

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

Chapter 9

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

Armitage stirred first, blinking against the soft light as his senses came back to him one by one. The weight of a body against his side registered next. Cold. Solid. The absence of breathing a unique reminder of who it was.

He turned his head slightly.

(Y/n) lay beside him, half-buried beneath the sheets, hair tumbled and unbound, one arm rested upon his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Her expression, usually composed and sharpened by discipline, was peaceful. It was a version of her he’d never seen before, one reserved for these rare, unguarded moments.

He didn’t move for a long time. Just watched her.

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. That she had let him this close… or that he had allowed himself to meet her there.

Her eyes fluttered open, slow and amber in the dim light. For a heartbeat, she looked at him as if unsure whether the moment was real. Then she gave the faintest smile, quiet and reserved, but unmistakably genuine.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep.

“It’s difficult not to.” He admitted, not bothering to look away. 

She raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t push. Instead, she shifted so her head was resting on the curve of his shoulder.

There was silence again, comfortable.

Eventually, (Y/n) broke it. “I thought I’d feel conflicted,” she said quietly, “But I don’t.”

He glanced at her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Good to know that we’re on the same page, then.”

Another pause. 

Then he leaned in slowly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We should be on the bridge soon.”

(Y/n) sighed. “Let’s give it five more minutes.”

“Five,” he agreed softly. “But no more.”

After they finished getting ready and checking in for updates at the bridge, the two of them made their way to the general’s office. 

Just as they settled themselves, the door hissed open with its usual sharp efficiency. 

Phasma entered first - polished and imposing in her chrome armor - followed by Varo with a datapad clutched in his hand.

Hux and (Y/n) stood behind his desk patiently as they approached. And if there was any tension lingering from the intimacy of the previous night, neither showed it. 

(Y/n) stood tall in her uniform, hair pulled back to perfection, eyes sharp once again. Though Varo’s knowing glance didn’t miss the faint glow in her complexion. He said nothing, but a smug grin tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth.

“General. Umbral,” Phasma greeted coolly, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Report?” Hux requested. 

“We finished processing the remaining rogue prisoners last night,” Phasma said, her voice smooth and unyielding. “Nothing useful from three of them. Too scared or too loyal to give us anything beyond what we already know. But one of them slipped.”

Varo stepped up, tapping on the datapad and projecting a faint holo display over the table. “One of the younger ones mentioned a location unintentionally. They were arguing with one of the guards and let it slip while cursing about ‘wasting time near the dead moon.’ We cross-referenced it with known Resistance supply routes.”

“We found activity consistent with a hidden relay station,” Phasma finished. “It’s remote, but its location makes it a perfect fallback point for the remaining rogues and potentially their leader.”

(Y/n)’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking over the projection. “Dead moon… That’s near the Obraxis Veil. It’s unstable territory.”

“Exactly,” Varo said. “Which means anyone hiding there is either desperate or confident that they won’t be followed.”

Hux’s expression darkened. “We can’t afford to ignore this. If they’re regrouping, it means their leader could already be en route.”

“They will be,” (Y/n) said quietly. “This wasn’t just an attack. It was a distraction.”

Phasma’s tone didn’t waver. “We’ll need to act soon, sir. If you authorize it, we can begin planning a strike team. Smaller, mobile, precise.”

Hux nodded once. “Begin preparations with both your Troopers and the Covenant. I want operational parameters ready within six hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Phasma replied crisply before turning and exiting without another word.

Varo lingered just a beat longer. “I’ll coordinate and have them ready to deploy.” His gaze drifted briefly to (Y/n), and he added with a quiet smirk, “You good?”

She gave a tight nod. “Good.”

With a short salute, Varo followed Phasma out, the office door hissing shut behind him.

Silence settled again between Hux and (Y/n), the weight of the intel heavy in the air.

“This is accelerating,” Hux said lowly.

(Y/n) nodded. “They’re forcing our hand.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then said softly, “Then we’ll make sure we’re ready.”

Once again, the two found themselves inside the briefing room, lit only by the soft blue glow of the encrypted holoprojector in the center of the room. 

General Hux stood with his hands clasped behind his back, face expressionless but alert. (Y/n) stood to his right, arms folded, sharp-eyed and composed. Though her posture was rigid, Hux could feel the tension beneath it. 

The holoprojector hummed to life, flickering before stabilizing into two distinct projections. On one side, the tall, imposing form of the Supreme Leader of the First Order emerged in holographic light. His features were partially obscured, but the cold, piercing eyes were unmistakable.

On the other, the figure of the Covenant’s Grand Master took shape. Tall and regal, skin pallid like marble and eyes ancient with knowledge. His ornate robes flowed with ethereal stillness, and the emblem of the Covenant pulsed faintly across his chest.

“General,” the Supreme Leader greeted, allowing the briefing to start.

Hux nodded once and spoke clearly. “The rogue Covenant group we engaged has yielded new information. Through interrogation, we’ve confirmed the existence of a possible fallback position used by the rogues near the Obraxis Veil. We believe their leader may be regrouping their forces there due to the complexity of the location and growing activity that intelligence is collecting.”

The Grand Master tilted his head slightly, voice like cold velvet. “And you are confident in the validity of this information?”

“Yes, Grand Master,” (Y/n) answered. “The source was… resistant. But they broke. We believe this was a coordinated distraction meant to divide our attention.”

The Supreme Leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you’ll deal with it before they can mount anything further. I expect a clean strike.”

“We’re already preparing a mobile unit,” Hux confirmed. “Captain Phasma and Umbral Drenn are coordinating troop selection. The Covenant will be deployed in tandem.”

The Grand Master’s gaze slid to (Y/n). “And what of the interrogation personally? Did it provide anything else of value?”

(Y/n) hesitated for half a breath, but her voice remained steady. “There were personal complications. But they didn’t interfere with the mission. The prisoner is being held for further interrogation, should more be needed.”

The Grand Master’s expression barely shifted, but something flickered in his eyes. Understanding, or perhaps warning. “Complications have a way of multiplying, Umbral (L/n). Ensure they do not cloud your purpose.”

“They won’t, Grand Master.” (Y/n) said, cool and resolute.

The Supreme Leader’s hologram leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been granted considerable support, General. Further proving alliance with the Covenant remains necessary. I want results. Fast.”

“You’ll have them, Supreme Leader.” Hux replied without hesitation.

The two projections exchanged one final glance. The Supreme Leader and Grand Master both united in purpose if not in ideology. Then, in perfect synchronicity, they cut transmission. The holoprojector dimmed, and silence returned to the room.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly. “They don’t trust us.”

“No,” Hux said quietly. “But they’ll trust what we deliver.”

He turned towards her, and for a brief moment, their expressions softened. 

“I should brief my soldiers now. I’m sure they’re itching to get more information on what exactly is happening.” (Y/n) nearly complained as she picked up her datapad to contact Varo.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately picked up. 

“Yeah, boss?” He greeted in his usual casual tone. 

“Gather the Covenant into the briefing room. I want to go over the new intel with them.” 

“You got it. I’ll make sure they’re there in 15.” The screen blipped, signaling the call ending. 

(Y/n) rubbed at her forehead with a sigh, her arm dropping down by her side. 

“Tired?” Hux quipped with a tinge of playfulness, hinting at their activities from the night prior. (Y/n) tossed him a look and he raised a brow at her defiance. 

Minutes later, just as Varo had said, the Duskborns stood in formation around the briefing table, tall and cloaked. 

(Y/n) stood at the head of the table, Varo and Hux stepping to the far side of the room, choosing to remain out of the spotlight. 

(Y/n)’s eyes scanned the room as each Duskborn straightened under her gaze, a mix of respect and readiness resonating in the still air.

“This mission will not be simple,” (Y/n) began, her tone clipped and clear. “The faction knows they’ve been exposed and - as we all know - desperation makes people dangerous.”

A soft hum from the holotable populated a projection. (Y/n) gestured to a narrowed valley system just outside of a decommissioned relay tower. “These are their projected fallback coordinates. Intel confirms their leader is still unaccounted for, but we anticipate they will return once the rogues transmit the message of unresponsive personnel.”

She looked up, sharp eyes locking with each of the operatives.

“You are not just here to fight. You are here to make a statement. The Covenant does not tolerate traitors. This mission is to uphold the Blood Accord and by treason, their punishment is execution by beheading. Cold and swift.”

There was a ripple of quiet approval through the Duskborns.

One of the newer members, a younger male, raised his hand. “Umbral (L/n),” he said carefully, “is it true that some of the rogues were once part of noble lines? Possibly even family?”

(Y/n) froze for just a fraction of a second.

Her posture remained rigid, her expression unreadable, but a storm passed behind her eyes.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “But that is irrelevant to the mission. Regardless of who they once were, they swore their oath and chose treason against their own people.”

A stillness settled over the room. Even the Duskborn who’d spoken looked uneasy, as if he realized too late the weight of what he’d asked.

Across the room, Varo shot the general a sidelong glance and whispered under his breath, “Told you she’s scary when she gets that tone.”

Hux’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/n) as he hummed in agreement, and something more.

(Y/n) continued smoothly, voice unwavering.

“You will all work as a team, but will be assigned in pairs. Umbral Drenn will lead the central push  alongside the Order’s stealth troopers. General Hux and myself will direct from the command ship that will be following your transport. We will keep our distance, but close enough to intervene if necessary. Additionally…” (Y/n) paused.

“ There’s the dramatic effect.” Varo mumbled with a smirk.

“I want to make it perfectly clear that the Grand Master has authorized the full extent of both Covenant and Umbral engagement. Mercy does not exist in this mission.”

A ripple of anticipation swept through the Duskborns. For many, it had been decades since they’d acted under such authority, and the thought of it made them itch for a fight.

(Y/n) stepped forward, shoulders squared, her presence almost magnetic.

“If any of you falter, I will know. And I will not hesitate to pull you for questioning.”

A beat of silence. Then the Duskborns struck their chests in unison. A solid, thudding vow.

Varo leaned towards Hux again. “She really does the ‘terrifying vampire warlord’ thing well.”

Hux allowed a faint, private smirk.

“Truly,” he murmured. 

(Y/n) gave one final look to the team.

“Further details will be provided to you soon. Dismissed.”

As the Duskborns filed out like silent shadows, Hux and Varo remained behind. (Y/n) lingered at the holotable, eyes fixed on the map, though her thoughts clearly drifted elsewhere.

Varo approached carefully. “That question back there, about the rogues and family…”

“I handled it,” (Y/n) said sharply, too quickly.

Varo nodded once and backed off, giving her space. But Hux lingered a second longer, watching her with something unreadable behind his gaze.

She didn’t turn to face him, but he didn’t press. Something between them said he understood, and that he wouldn’t let her carry the weight alone.

The door hissed closed behind the last of them with a finality that somehow felt heavier than usual.

(Y/n) stayed in place, her arms folded as she gazed out in front of her. Her shoulders were squared like always, but her stillness betrayed her. Armitage stepped in quietly behind her.

“You handled the briefing well,” he said.

Her response was slow, deliberate. “I know.”

Hux gave a small nod, then caught her off guard as he moved to lean against the edge of the table in front of her, watching her. Silence lingered a moment longer than comfort allowed.

“That Duskborn,” he said, “as ignorant as he was -”

(Y/n) finally looked at him. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll all find out eventually. It’s better that they heard it that way, without room for doubt.”

“You were… composed,” Hux said carefully.

(Y/n)’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

He didn’t correct her.

“Attractive?” He attempted, the word feeling foreign to him, and the context even more so.  

She looked down bashfully for a moment, then uncrossed her arms and took a slow breath.

“It’s strange,” she admitted. “To feel something burn when you thought you’d already cauterized the wound. I shouldn’t care. I don’t know why I do.”

“Because you’re not heartless,” he said simply.

That made her eyes darken. Not from anger, but from quiet emotion.

“Has it ever been a requirement for you?” she asked softly. “To be in this world and not feel?”

“Not a requirement,” he said, voice lower now. “A means of survival.”

(Y/n) stepped closer, her presence steadying the space around her.

“I hate that part of me still listens for her voice. Still waits for her approval.”

Hux nodded, then after a moment, reached out. Not commanding, not demanding. Just offering.

She took his hand.

“You don’t need her voice,” he said, quietly now. “Not when you have your own.” He gently pulled her to move closer, stopping mere inches away from him.

(Y/n) stared at their joined hands for a moment, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Somehow, you always say the right thing.”

“I don’t,” he said with a flicker of a smile. “I simply say the truth.”

That earned a soft, real breath from her. Not quite a laugh, but something close.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked gently.

“I am,” she said. “Because you’ll be there.”

Their eyes met - his hand still in hers - and for a long second, neither said a word. 

(Y/n), in a moment of bravery, leaned into him. Her arms slowly settled around his waist, head resting against his chest as he did the same, his head on top of her own. 

It was a foreign comfort to be embraced by someone other than themselves, a dangerous comfort. One that they found to be a quickly growing addiction the longer they strayed in the other’s presence. They still had much to explore emotionally, but for now, it was just enough. 

Eventually, they had to pry themselves apart - albeit begrudgingly. They still had to go over planning for the all-too-quickly nearing mission that had everyone involved on their toes.

The briefing room was quiet save for the hum of the holomap and the occasional flicker of shifting data. (Y/n) stood beside Armitage at the table, both of them deep in concentration. 

Tactical reports hovered in midair beside the map. Enemy movement patterns, terrain schematics, and intercepted transmissions scrolling in real time.

Armitage selected a section of the display, rotating the terrain of the target zone with precise movements. “They’ve fortified the main entrance. We’ll need to breach from the east or south. Preferably somewhere we can mask the team’s entry long enough to get through the outer perimeter.”

(Y/n) nodded, eyes scanning the projections. “There’s a patch of dense forest here,” she pointed, “if we move in under the cover of night, with the right cloaking and noise suppression -”

“It’s still too close to the secondary patrol route,” Armitage interrupted, adjusting the map again. “If they sweep early, our unit’s compromised before they even touch the ground.”

“They won’t sweep early,” (Y/n) countered. “We’ve tracked the intervals. Their pattern hasn’t changed in over a month.”

“Which is exactly why they’re due for it to change.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that sat heavy between two people who were both too smart and too stubborn for their own good. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked towards him, brows raised. Hux stood straight, unfazed, still looking over the map like it would bend to his will.

She folded her arms. “You’re planning for variables that don’t exist.”

“I’m planning for the worst-case scenario.”

“And you think I’m not?”

They stared at each other, tension mounting again. It wasn’t the anger of enemies, more the clash of sharp minds refusing to yield. There was something in the air, simmering just beneath the surface. Not quite frustration, not quite admiration… but undeniably something.

Armitage stepped around the table to get a better angle of the terrain projection, then gestured sharply at a ridge. “Fine. Then let’s go over your precious landing spot one more time. Tell me exactly how you intend to keep them hidden here.”

“I just did,” (Y/n) said, stepping around to meet him. “But you weren’t listening and were instead trying to win, so I’ll repeat it.” She stiffly stepped towards the map closer and pointed, words more pronounced in simmering agitation. “If we drop the team here ,” She said sharply, “they’ll have both cover and elevation. It gives them visibility over both known entrances to the base while still remaining hidden.”

Armitage’s eyes narrowed. “It may be a cloak, but it also puts them at risk of scan detection. The Resistance scans for signs of incoming ships in that valley in quick, short intervals. Our last recon proved it.”

“They’ll be cloaked and will be moving between intervals where the scans are not active,” (Y/n) retorted. “Unless the Resistance has acquired a new array of sensor tech we’re unaware of -”

“They don’t need new sensors if we hand them a clean shot on a silver platter,” Armitage cut in. “We use the ridge and we’re compromising their stealth. They’ll be spotted in minutes.”

“Not if they move quickly and precisely, which my people are known to do.” (Y/n) argued.

“I’m not gambling with their lives based on if , (Y/n).”

(Y/n)’s mouth opened, a retort ready, but before it could leave her tongue the door to the room hissed open. 

Varo and Phasma stepped in to find both of them nearly shoulder to shoulder, the holomap between them like a line in the sand. They watched as both of their heads whipped to face them, the heat of their previous discussion still burning in their eyes.

Varo gave a low whistle and a grin. “Interrupting something tactical or something personal?”

(Y/n) stepped back slightly, clearing her throat. “Strategic discussion.”

Phasma’s helmet turned to the holomap. “Of course it is.”

Hux gestured to the holomap, a gentle huff escaping past his lips before he spoke. “We’re finalizing the drop zones. She wants to use the high ridge. I say it’s too exposed.”

“And I say stealth cloaking will keep them hidden if they move quickly and efficiently out of the drop zone before they’re caught in a scan,” (Y/n) added with clipped precision.

Varo and Phasma stepped closer, surveying the layout.

Varo leaned over the glowing terrain map and pointed. “We could use the ridge for their initial descent and have them rappel directly into tree cover before advancing. That way the transports can evade the scans in time as soon as they’ve dropped. We know they’re capable.”

Phasma gave a small nod. “It’s viable. Terrain there is steep but manageable for trained units. We’ve done it before.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders dropped just slightly. “It’ll be tight, but it works.”

Hux gave a short exhale, the tension in his stance loosening. “Alright.”

Varo crossed his arms and shot (Y/n) a teasing look. “You two always like this?”

“Only when he’s wrong,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

Hux’s brow twitched, but he turned away to adjust a tactical overlay.

Phasma didn’t comment. Only slightly shook her head, perhaps to hide the trace of amusement.

The sounds of daggers clashing and slicing through the air filled the matted training room, echoing off of durasteel walls. (Y/n) ducked and pivoted, her blade a silver blur as Varo dodged many close calls. 

Neither spoke now. This was their language. Precision, movement, and endurance.

Varo grunted as (Y/n) feinted left, then spun into a calculated strike that he just barely blocked. “Starting to think you’re enjoying this more than usual,” he said between breaths.

“I am,” (Y/n) replied coolly, not missing a beat.

Then the doors hissed open.

Neither flinched at the sound. They kept moving, trained to never let their guard down. But (Y/n)’s gaze flicked briefly towards the figure that entered.

Hux, hands clasped behind his back, eyes already fixed on them with keen interest.

Still, they kept going.

He said nothing, only stepping in far enough to stand just off to the side. Observing.

He watched closely. The sharpness of (Y/n)’s posture, the swift control in her strikes, the clean and lethal grace she carried like second nature. It was different from everything else he’d seen from her. Different from her stoic professionalism on the bridge or the romantic partner she was evolving into.

This was raw. Focused. Unapologetically in her element.

“You’re throwing too wide,” (Y/n) told Varo mid-duel. “Again.”

“I’m trying to make you sweat,” he replied, breath hitching with effort.

“You’ll need a better plan.”

She stepped in with a quick flurry of strikes that pushed Varo backward, forcing him to readjust his footing. Hux’s brow lifted slightly. She wasn’t even winded.

After another exchange, Varo finally gave a sharp exhale and disengaged, lowering his blades with a low chuckle. “You see what I’ve had to put up with, sir?” he called toward Hux, half-joking, half-exhausted. “She’s all calm and quiet until you put a weapon in her hand. Then she turns into that thing.”

Hux’s mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile. “I’ve noticed.”

(Y/n) said nothing, simply stepping back and tilting her head toward Varo in acknowledgment of the match. Her breathing was controlled, but her eyes glinted with intensity, skin gleaming and shadowed by the low light of the chamber. She looked at ease. 

“Want to go again?” Varo asked, rotating his shoulder.

“Probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Don’t want to tire ourselves too much before the mission,” she replied, her gaze now shifting to Hux.

Varo raised both hands. “I can take a hint.”

But he didn’t leave. Just moved to one of the side benches, giving them space but clearly still within earshot if needed.

Hux stepped forward, studying her carefully. “Impressive.”

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly. “You’ve never seen me fight.”

“No. But I suspected.”

“And now?” she asked, her voice still laced with that post-spar calm. 

“Now I’m even more glad that you’re not a rogue.”

She allowed a flicker of a smile to pass before turning to grab a towel, blotting her neck and face. Varo stretched out on the bench with a sigh.

“Can’t wait to tell the others I survived sparring with the Umbral herself,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky she was holding back,” Hux remarked dryly, still watching (Y/n).

Varo turned to her in disbelief. “You were holding back?”

(Y/n) tossed the towel over her shoulder and shrugged with a mischievous smile as he rolled his eyes. She then looked back at Hux, her expression unreadable now. “Did you come to pull me back to the bridge?”

“No,” Hux said softly. “I came to see you.”

Varo, now very much pretending to scroll something on his datapad, smirked.

(Y/n)’s gaze lingered on Hux’s a moment longer, her voice quieter as she replied teasingly, “Well, you’re seeing me.”

And Hux - despite everything he knew of war, strategy, and command - was at a loss for what to say to that.

But he nodded once. Because he had seen her. And it had changed everything.

So he settled on saying the only thing he could manage. 

“Care for a walk?” 

(Y/n)’s eyebrows raised slightly before smirking. “Mind if I shower first? It won’t be long, I promise.”

“Of course.” He nodded, then watched as she made her way to the showers and disappeared. 

He glanced over at Varo who still sat on the bench and the latter gave him a knowing look.

“What?” The male Umbral held his hands up in surrender before standing.

“Nothing, General.” He passed by Hux to leave with a smirk. “Nothing at all.” 

A few minutes passed and (Y/n) finally emerged, hair let down and wet, out of uniform in an undershirt, leggings and her boots. 

“Shall we?” She asked him after he stared at her for a moment. He caught himself and nodded, the two of them making their way out of the room. 

Armitage and (Y/n) walked side by side, a comfortable silence lingering between them after the intensity of the sparring session. Armitage’s hands were tucked behind his back, ever composed. 

“You fight differently than I imagined,” Armitage said after a stretch of silence.

(Y/n) glanced over, brow arching slightly. “Is that a compliment or a concern?”

He let out a low breath, almost a laugh. “A compliment. Though I admit, there was a moment I feared for Varo’s life.”

She gave a small, amused hum. “He should be used to it by now.”

“You’ve always been dangerous,” Armitage continued, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. “But that was… different. There’s a clarity in you when you fight. Like it’s the only place your mind is truly at ease.”

(Y/n) didn’t answer at first. That struck a little too close. Instead, she looked straight ahead, eyes sharp even as they softened.

“It’s the only time I feel in control,” she said finally. “Everything else… there’s too much room for uncertainty.”

Armitage glanced over at her, brow furrowing just slightly. “Including myself?”

She slowed her pace before she stopped entirely. He stopped beside her.

“Especially you,” she said honestly, voice low.

They stood there for a beat in silence, the air between them heavy, but not uncomfortable. 

He spoke thoughtfully. “I’ve devoted everything to this fleet. This cause. And then you…” He sighed, words failing him for a moment. But (Y/n) was already watching him like she understood everything he hadn’t said.

“I didn’t expect it either,” she murmured. “But I don’t regret it.”

He studied her for a long moment, thinking. He looked around them, the corridor empty as personnel slept through the night cycle, leaving the skeleton crew to themselves. 

He then offered his arm in a rare, almost shy gesture.

She looked down at it, then back up at him with a faint smirk before linking her arm with his. “Careful, General. You’re starting to look sentimental.”

He let out a quiet, dry laugh. “Only with you, Umbral.”

They continued their walk, together now in stride and silence, with more said between them in that quiet than any words could.

They rounded another corner, neither in a rush to return to their respective quarters. There was a tension between them, but it was a quiet, mutual thing now - no longer volatile, but charged in a different way.

Finally, Armitage slowed to a stop outside of his door. He hesitated for a moment before he turned to face her with a thoughtful expression.

“Would you think -” He stopped himself for a second. “Since I saw your quarters, I think it’d only be appropriate for you to see my own, yes?” he said carefully before opening his door. He gestured for her to enter and (Y/n) glanced at him in question before stepping in. 

His quarters were pristine, larger than her own. Fitting for a general. But something else was different, something softer. 

The lighting was dimmer, warmer than usual. A strange contrast to the harshness of his office. It still held a sense of strict order and discipline, but it had an odd comfort to it as well. 

“I assume you’re hungry after training?” He asked as he hung up his overcoat and made his way to the kitchen. 

“Starving, even.” (Y/n) sighed as she took in the room, wandering over to where he stood in the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside him, watching. 

The soft hum of the heating element filled the room as Armitage moved with practiced precision, setting out two mugs and a tin of loose-leaf tea. His posture was, as always, precise - spine straight, movements calculated - but there was an ease to his presence that only showed in these rare, private moments.

(Y/n) lifted a curious brow when he went into the fridge, then her lips parted when he pulled out a blood back and went to warm it up. He gave her a mischievous side glance.

“Since when did you start having blood packs in your quarters?” She asked in disbelief. 

“Since I figured you would visit at some point.” He shot back with a faint smirk. 

“And when would that be?”

He raised a brow at her. “I’d say last night.” He nodded as if he actually had to think about it.

(Y/n) giggled quietly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips as she watched him fix his tea once the water heated.

“You even prepare tea like you’re orchestrating a military campaign,” she remarked, arching a brow.

Armitage glanced over his shoulder with a dry look. “Precision is key. Unlike some, I prefer my beverages not tasting like dishwater.”

(Y/n) smirked. “That almost sounded like a personal jab.”

“It was,” he said evenly, turning back to the tea. “I once had a droid bring me a tea that tasted like it was put in a dirty mug with the bag only steeped for five seconds.”

(Y/n) chuckled. “I’m assuming you’ve had serious trust issues since then?” 

Once finished making his own tea and the blood pack was warmed, he poured the thick substance into her own mug and turned to hand it to her. 

“I had trust issues before then, imagine where the bar is now.” 

(Y/n) graciously took the mug with thanks and shook her head, following him to the living room to sit on one of the couches. 

As they settled in pleasant silence, sipping from their mugs, (Y/n) could feel Armitage’s gaze linger every now and then as she drank. She was used to it coming from other people, but from him it was amusing. 

“If you’re curious, just ask. You’re not going to offend me.” She offered gently from the edge of her mug. 

She locked eyes with him for a moment, watching as he debated himself internally on what to ask, if he should even ask. 

“Does it help?” The question finally slipped, his head lowering to gesture towards her mug.

“The blood?”

Armitage hummed. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Are the packs enough? Being synthetic - they are synthetic, correct?” 

(Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle again at his genuine curiosity, finding it endearing. “Yes, they’re synthetic. It’s not the same as organic blood, but it’s enough to make do. It’s more humane, anyways.”

“How often do you need it?”

She paused for a moment in thought before answering. 

“I’d say every few days if I’m not exerting myself. More often during missions or when I train - like today.” 

“And what if it’s not available when you are hungry?” Armitage caught her finger twitch, a subtle sign of discomfort. “If it’s too much -“

“It’s fine.” She cut him off softly before answering his question, but not before sighing. “The Covenant trained us under starving conditions during our field exercises. We were taught to exist in it, to harness it rather than be controlled by it to ensure we wouldn’t be a liability.”

Armitage’s brows lifted slightly. “You were starved on purpose?”

(Y/n) shrugged indifferently. “It was just part of the process,” she said. “In our final trials, we went without blood for weeks. Hardly any sleep. They wanted to see if we’d break, and anyone who did failed the academy.”

She met his eyes and smirked at his near incredulous expression. 

“I think it made me a better person for it, anyhow. Even for those not in the Covenant, it’s a good learning lesson for our kind to keep them from going on a murdering spree.” She attempted a jest at the end.

Armitage hummed in thought as he eyed her. She set down her mug and carefully brushed her fingers over the top of his gloved hand. He turned his palm up to intertwine their fingers, his eyes never leaving her face. 

“We should get some rest. I imagine tomorrow is going to be quite busy.” He suggested softly. 

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath before slowly resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Quite busy…” She repeated in a murmur as she stared at the coffee table. 

Serenity - Chapter 6

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, it certainly is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm - I'm just -"

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

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

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

"I didn't -"

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

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

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

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

"I'll take care of it."

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

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

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

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

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

"I never asked you to."

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

And yet neither of them moved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You -"

"Pa..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5

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 two remained in the War Room as Varo and Phasma joined them soon after. A large tactical display hovered between them, showcasing the sectors suspected to harbor the rogue threat.

General Hux stood at the head of the table again, hands behind his back. To his right stood (Y/n), and on the opposite end of the table stood Phasma and Varo, their expressions focused, but the tension in the room was palpable.

“We have authorization to act. Now we need to figure out a way to track them down and find them.” The general began.

Phasma followed. “They’re ghosts,” she said flatly. “Not a single trace left behind. No footprints. No blood. Just bodies.”

“That’s the Covenant for you,” Varo muttered grimly. “They know how to vanish. And they’re using it.”

“Not just vanish.” (Y/n) added. “Each strike we’ve reviewed… they’re not looking to make a statement. They’re gathering something.”

Phasma tilted her head in question. “Intel?”

“Or resources.” She replied. “They’re choosing their targets too precisely. They know our protocols. Our rotations. What we have and where. Every time they attack, they raid the location.”

“Then we bait them.” Hux suggested. He stepped forward and gestured toward a flickering system on the map. “These three supply stations are within striking distance of the last known rogue activity. We plant the idea that one of them is carrying classified tech and leak the information through a Resistance channel we know they’ve intercepted in the past.”

Phasma hummed in thought. “Risky. But controlled. I can reroute stormtroopers for concealed perimeter placements.”

“I don’t want any engagement.” Hux ordered. “Observation only. Identify, record, and pull back. The moment we can confirm their identities, we strike with the Covenant’s backing.”

“We’ll need more than scouts, sir.” Varo warned. “These aren’t just any rogues. We engage with standard units, we lose more good soldiers.”

The general nodded in agreement. “Which is why you -” He looked at Varo. “- will be embedded in the region as a liaison. You’ll move freely between units and help direct operations. No one else has the experience to recognize them for what they are.”

(Y/n) shifted and offered a warning to Varo. “If they smell you, they’ll come out. If any of them knew you before they defected…”

Her gaze sharpened.

“They might want to carry out unfinished business.”

Varo’s expression was unreadable, but something cold flickered in his eyes.

“Then let them try.” He threatened indirectly. “I’m very persuasive when it comes to traitors.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.” (Y/n) replied simply.

Hux tapped the console, confirming the initial troop deployment orders.

“Begin rotating squads to the target sectors under routine drills. Make it look mundane.”

“They’ll never know we’re watching.” Phasma consoled him.

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“Dead rogues or silence,” Varo started. ”Either way, we’ll bring order back to the Covenant.” 

Later on, as the night cycle began, the corridors with higher command personnel quarters were dimly lit, lights cycling to mimic planetary night. Most of the officers had retreated by this time. A hush blanketed the area, the kind of silence that only came during these artificial nights in the belly of a warship.

(Y/n) sat alone at a secluded alcove in the corridor, an architectural oddity tucked near the viewport wall. The viewport stretched tall and wide, revealing the swirling stars and the velvet void beyond. A built-in bench sat along one side of the wall next to the window, lit only by the glow of passing starlight.

She sat with one leg curled up beneath her, still dressed in her uniform but with the zipper of the bodysuit around her neck slightly undone for breathing room. A small blood pack, half-drained, rested beside her hip. Her datapad was forgotten in her lap, the screen dimmed. Her gaze was fixed on the stars, lost in quiet thought.

Her ears then honed in as she heard a set of footsteps further down the corridor. Measured. Familiar.

(Y/n) didn’t turn to look. She already knew who it was.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be awake in this sector.” The general commented in a quieter tone.

“Neither did I.”

There was a pause. Hux stood there, considering her. Not just the strange placement of her presence, but the rare image of her relaxed posture and unguarded expression.

“This isn’t regulation seating.” He pointed out. (Y/n) glanced over at him in a playful deadpan.

“Are you here to enforce it, General?”

He let out the faintest sound, almost a scoff. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer and took a seat beside her on the bench, maintaining a respectful space between them.

After a moment, the general began to speak again.

“This part of the ship was designed to house long-term High Command. They included comfort features… but few of us make time to use them.”

“It’s the only place I’ve found that doesn’t feel like war.” (Y/n) said in a more hushed tone.

A long silence fell between them. Outside the viewport, stars drifted past slowly, distant and indifferent.

The general hummed. “I find comfort in order.” (Y/n) tossed him a pointed look - as if to say ‘no, really?’ - and he clicked his tongue in minor annoyance. “It makes things… predictable. Safe.”

He paused.

(Y/n) turned her head slightly to look at him. “Why do you think it’s safe?”

He looked at her now, his expression more open than she’d ever seen. “I think predictability can keep a person alive. But it doesn’t protect you from harsh realities in life.”

The words hung between them for a moment too long.

“No… it doesn’t.” (Y/n) agreed softly.

She looked away again, fingers absently brushing her datapad.

“I thought I knew my people. What we stood for. What we bled for. But now I’m not so sure.”

“You’re referring to the rogues.”

“I’m referring to those I once trusted. Those who chose to spit on everything that kept us alive. After what the Resistance did to our kind… I can’t understand how they could turn their backs on the Covenant or First Order.”

Hux thought for a moment before he answered. “Pain doesn’t forge loyalty. Not for everyone. For some, it just festers… until all they want is to be the one holding the knife. And they won’t care who’s at the end of the blade.”

(Y/n) watched him closely now, seeing the way his jaw tensed as he said it. “You speak like someone who knows.”

“I do.” He answered flatly.

Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t cold. It was shared. Weighted, but equal.

After a beat, (Y/n) leaned back slightly against the wall, letting her head rest there as she stared up.

“I don’t regret joining the Covenant or becoming an Umbral. But some nights… I wonder who I would’ve been if I didn’t.” 

“You’d still be dangerous.” Hux quipped.

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Just a flicker. “And you’d still be impossible.”

“That almost counts as a compliment.” His lips twitched in a smirk.

Another moment of quiet. 

(Y/n)’s gaze was fixed on the stars outside, but her awareness was sharp. She could feel the  general’s presence beside her as if it were its own gravitational field. And he, for all his rigid posture and measured breathing, had not moved since sitting down.

The silence lingered, no longer heavy with unspoken thoughts, but… tentative. Curious.

“You seem more yourself.” Hux suddenly pointed out.

“I thought I was always myself.” She replied curiously.

“Yes, but… you’re more calm. Not as stiff. It’s refreshing… and it suits you.”

She glanced over at him, a single brow lifting. “Well, I do expect myself to know how to separate professionalism from personal matters, if that’s what you mean. I’m just careful with who sees what side.” She then turned to face him slightly. “How would you know what suits me?”

“I pay attention. You’re not the only observant one here.”

Her lips parted slightly as they stared at one another, but whatever retort she was about to make was lost when her knee brushed lightly against his.

She stilled immediately. So did he.

The touch had been accidental. Casual contact in the narrow space of the bench, but it sparked like static, subtle and unmistakable.

Neither of them moved away.

(Y/n) shifted her gaze back to the window, face unreadable save for the faint shift in her posture. Hux pretended to return to his datapad, his grip on it just a little too firm, his jaw set with a precision that was almost… performative.

“Apologies.” (Y/n) muttered.

“Unnecessary.”

She looked down at her hands. He tapped once on the datapad, but didn’t really read whatever was on the screen.

The silence returned. Not awkward, but charged. It buzzed faintly beneath their skin.

(Y/n), sensing the tension still in his posture, allowed herself a rare act of rebellion against her instincts. She shifted just a bit closer. Not enough to touch again. Just enough to make it noticeable.

And Hux noticed. But what he noticed even more was how she became even more tranquil after she had done so.

She didn’t look at him, and if it were possible, her cheeks would’ve been tinted. The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. Barely.

“It’s strange.” She spoke.

“What is?”

“Sitting still. Doing nothing. And yet… it doesn’t feel like a waste of time.”

He studied her carefully now. “It isn’t.”

Another moment passed. A pause not meant to be filled.

And then Hux stood, smooth and precise as usual. But the movement was slower. He tucked his datapad under one arm, glancing down at her with something unreadable in his gaze.

“It’s late.”

“So is everything on this ship.” She jested.

He allowed the corner of his mouth to lift, just a ghost of a smile, and then turned.

But just before he stepped away, he hesitated.

“I’ll expect you in my office at 0600.”

“Of course.”

“Bring tea.”

She blinked.

(Y/n), feigning seriousness, replied. “Blood or sugar?”

He glanced at her, a faint glint in his eye. Amused. Surprised.

“Surprise me.”

And with that, he disappeared down the corridor, boots silent on the floor.

Left alone again, (Y/n) stared out at the stars.

Her body still remembered the brief brush of contact. And her expression softened with something akin to warmth.

The next morning, General Hux was already at his desk, filtering through whatever came in while he was asleep. He didn’t look up immediately when the door slid open with a soft hiss.

(Y/n) stepped in, punctual to the second. In one hand she carried a thermal cup. In the other, a sealed blood pack.

She approached the desk and placed the cup neatly within his reach.

“Surprise.” She greeted flatly.

Hux raised his eyes. His gaze flicked between the items. Then his brow lifted, barely.

“You brought both.”

“I like to cover contingencies… that and I’m starving.” She added as she twisted the cap and began to drink from it, the cool liquid easing down her throat.

He regarded her for a long moment, then reached for the cup. Steam rose from it as he took a measured sip.

“Sugar.” He hummed. “You didn’t risk the blood. Wise.”

“I need my commanding officer awake, not disgusted.”

He smirked faintly at that, a rare expression, short-lived but genuine. (Y/n) caught it but didn’t comment.

For the first time since she’d been there, she moved to the small seat across from his desk without his direction, posture straight with her legs crossed. Despite the cold formality of the room, the air between them was… different. Not quite relaxed, but no longer so distant.

He reviewed a few lines on the datapad before speaking again.

“I assume your quarters are adequate? I don’t believe I’ve ever asked.”

(Y/n) replied with a faint tilt of her head.

“Functional and familiar.”

“That’s what passes for comfort around here.”

“I don’t require comfort.” She teased before taking another sip.

“No. But everyone benefits from a moment to breathe in an acceptable environment.”

She blinked at that, ever so slightly surprised.

“Is that what last night was?” She smirked. 

He looked up at her then, the full weight of his focus falling on her face. “Possibly.”

Something passed between them again. Unspoken. Subtle. 

Then, like the snap of a soldier returning to attention, he set the datapad down and stood, brushing a hand down the front of his coat.

“Come. We’re expected on the bridge. I need to have updates on Resistance activity by 0700.”

She stood smoothly, falling into step beside him after tossing the now empty blood pack.

As they moved towards the door, (Y/n) offered an afterthought. 

“Next time, I think I’ll bring both in a thermal. Tea for you, blood for me. Haven’t had it warm in a while.”

Hux glanced sideways at her. “Efficient.”

A beat.

“Thoughtful.” He added, though quieter.

The door hissed open and they stepped into the corridor in perfect contrast, moving in precise sync.

The bridge of the Finalizer was quiet in its efficiency, cloaked in the bluish-gray tones of early cycle operations. Terminals glowed softly, crew members moved with practiced rhythm, and the stars beyond the viewport were distant and still.

General Hux stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back as he analyzed data from one of the terminals. (Y/n) stood beside him, arms crossed as her eyes scanned the bridge with deliberate calmness. She was close enough to intervene if needed, yet never encroaching on his command space.

A lieutenant approached first, offering a crisp nod before handing Hux a tablet. “General, update from outpost Delta-Four. Last contact was at 0300. No response since then and no distress call was sent.”

Hux read it with a furrowed brow. “Similar to Sector Eight last week.”

“Yes, sir. Final transmission mentioned movement along the outer edge of a debris cluster. Then silence.”

“No signs of conflict?”

“None. It’s clean.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “They’re getting bolder.” He handed the tablet back to the lieutenant and turned back towards the terminal to key in a command. Facing the bridge again, a map of the outer sectors materialized in a wash of pale blue light. Red indicators blinked in a triangular pattern.

“Have long-range scans pulled from the Starbreaker Array. Cross-reference radiation trails, shield fluctuations. Any anomalies, no matter how faint.”

The officer gave a quick nod. “Yes, General.”

(Y/n)’s gaze flicked briefly to the glowing display, then back towards the junior officers bustling quietly. 

Another officer approached. A younger systems technician with smudged gloves and a nervous gait. “General… we detected an attempted intercept on last night’s dispatch to Command. It failed, but whoever it was, it wasn’t Resistance-grade slicing.”

Hux’s hands tightened behind him. “I want the source tracked, triangulated, and dissected. Every data spike, every digital pulse logged. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The technician nearly tripped backing away. (Y/n) didn’t react, though her eyes flicked to Hux subtly, noting the flare of tension in his expression.

He exhaled slowly before the doors to the bridge slid open with a sharp hiss.

Captain Phasma entered first, tall and commanding in her chrome armor. Her pace was deliberate, each step punctuated by the soft thud of metal boots on deck plating. Varo followed at her side, his usual grin exchanged for a more focused expression. When he spotted (Y/n) already at Hux’s side, his brow lifted in silent greeting.

Hux turned as they approached “Phasma. Drenn,” he greeted. His eyes flicked to (Y/n), then back to the others. “You’re just in time. We have a developing situation.”

(Y/n) gave a small nod in response to Varo’s glance. 

Hux stepped back slightly and gestured towards the holomap still displayed. “We may be looking at a coordinated infiltration effort. Unknown parties. Skilled and precise. Possibly something more than the Resistance. This may be one of our only chances to intercept and identify them.” The general nodded his head in the direction of the doors to the bridge and walked, the group following him.

The doors to the bridge hissed open, then sealed shut again as General Hux led them down the corridor. (Y/n) walked beside him as while Varo and Phasma flanked from behind.

No words were exchanged on the walk. The tension from the short briefing still lingered in the air like static. Tightly wound, waiting for direction.

Once inside Hux’s office, the door sealed behind them with a low thrum. Hux moved to behind his desk, bringing up the latest holomap which crackled to life in front of them.

“This is where they’re projected to hit next,” Hux said without preamble, pointing to a small, seemingly insignificant relay station nestled between two inactive mining sectors. “It’s remote. Understaffed. A low-profile target. Perfect for remaining unseen.”

“And exactly what we’d expect them to go for if they’re testing our blind spots.” Phasma chimed in.

“We’ve tracked fragments of their signal spikes converging here,” Hux continued, zooming in on the relay’s coordinates. “Encrypted communications, faint enough to be overlooked if you weren’t already looking for them. But there’s a pattern.”

Varo squinted at the holomap. “It’s a bait station. Easy to infiltrate, but also easy to ambush from. If someone knew how.”

Hux’s eyes flicked towards him. “Which is why we’re going to beat them to it.” He turned slightly, addressing all three of them. “We’ll deploy a stealth team, small and silent. We observe first. Identify who they are. Confirm if this is the same force behind the outpost vanishings.”

(Y/n) stepped forward slightly, her voice level. “And if it is?”

“Then we’ll respond accordingly,” Hux said coldly. “And we won’t miss.”

Phasma nodded. “I’ll have a squad outfitted for cloaked transport and scout support. The relay can be secured quietly, with minimal presence.”

Hux tapped his fingers against his desk. “No standard stormtroopers. It’ll be too obvious.”

He turned his gaze to Varo. “I want you in position ahead of the operation. You’ll be our eyes on the ground. Blend in with the relay crew if needed. Keep comms silent unless contact is made.”

Varo gave a sharp nod. “Understood.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So we’re playing shadow games now. I always preferred being the knife in the dark over the hammer at the gate.”

“Then consider this a return to form,” Hux replied dryly, before turning back to the holomap.

A brief silence followed as each of them absorbed the mission’s stakes. Then Hux looked to (Y/n) once more, his gaze thoughtful beneath the commander’s mask.

“Umbral (L/n) and myself will have visual from here on the bridge while the operation is active. Anyone who is on ground will have a surveillance system so we can track what they are seeing and have more eyes identifying who we’re dealing with should anything happen.” Everyone nodded before the holomap disappeared. “If we’re going off of their typical patterns, the mission will be set during tomorrow’s night cycle. Phasma and Drenn, I want you to coordinate with intelligence and logistics to formulate a plan. Dismissed.”

Phasma offered a curt nod and exited with precise efficiency. Varo lingered just long enough to exchange a glance with (Y/n), a small, wordless assurance before following.

The door slid shut, leaving only the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant thrum of the ship’s engines. General Hux remained standing, unmoving as he observed the remaining Umbral.

Her gaze was distant, as if she was looking at something far beyond the walls of the office.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Hux said without looking up.

(Y/n) blinked, shifting slightly. “Apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to appear distracted.”

“You didn’t,” he said simply, finally glancing over at her. “You appear unsettled.”

Her mask didn’t crack, not fully. But something in her eyes softened. A hesitation.

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

Hux’s brow lifted ever so slightly. “Umbral?” The formality in her title made her glance at him sharply, until she realized he was watching her not with scrutiny, but something bordering on concern. Her posture eased by a hair’s breadth.

She exhaled quietly through her nose. “It’s Umbral Drenn.”

“Ah.”

“He’s the only person I have left,” she said slowly, as if peeling the words out of herself. “We’ve fought, bled, trained… Endured everything together. And now I’m stuck here. Watching him walk into a threat we still don’t fully understand.”

She didn’t pace. She didn’t fidget. But her stillness was heavy, dense with emotion she rarely permitted to surface.

“I’ve lost too much already,” she added softly. “If I lose him too…”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

Hux studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, but far from cold. He stepped away and moved towards the viewport behind his desk.

“I understand more than you think,” he said after a pause. “The burden of command is not just strategy and protocol. It’s the slow erosion of everyone who made you feel human.”

She looked at him then, some part of her surprised.

He didn’t meet her gaze, but his voice was steady.

“You will remain here,” he continued. “You’ll watch the feed with me. If anything happens to Drenn, you’ll know before anyone else does.”

(Y/n) blinked once, unsure how to respond to the weight of his words.

“Thank you,” she said finally, quieter than usual.

He turned to her now, his expression still composed, but his eyes… there was something else there.  

Their eyes held for a second too long, just long enough for something to pass between them.

Then Hux turned back to his desk. The Umbral stood for a moment in thought, and for the first time in years, she found herself fidgeting slightly. 

-

The lights were dimmed in the corridors, the stars outside scattered like frost across a black pane. The two Umbrals stood side by side, simply looking out at the galaxy before them in the same alcove (Y/n) had sat in with Hux.

(Y/n)’s arms were crossed, a subtle tension in her frame. She said nothing for a while, watching the distant shimmer of a nebula bleeding color into the void. Varo stood beside her, his usually relaxed posture tempered by a rare stillness.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual.

(Y/n) didn’t glance his way. “So are you.”

A small chuckle escaped him. “Fair enough.”

They lingered in silence a moment longer.

“Do you ever think about what we signed up for?” (Y/n) asked. Her voice wasn’t cold. It carried the weight of something old, something uncertain. “What it cost us?”

Varo nodded slowly. “All the time. Just… not usually out loud.”

Now she glanced at him. “Tonight feels different.”

“It does,” he agreed, looking out at the stars again. “Walking into something none of us fully understand. And just… watching. Not fighting. It feels wrong.”

She nodded. “I know.”

His gaze flicked over to her, reading the steel behind her voice. But then it softened, and he tilted his head towards her slightly. “You think we did the right thing, choosing the path we did as Umbrals? All of this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Her silence wasn’t uncertain. She was simply searching for truth.

“It was the only path that gave us purpose,” she said finally. “And if this faction turns out to be what we fear, then it’s our duty to stop them. No matter who they were to us.”

Varo was quiet again, but then nudged her shoulder gently. “Still. I’m glad I’m not doing this without you.”

(Y/n) looked up at him, a faint trace of a smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. “Likewise.”

For a few moments, they stood in comfortable silence again. Then Varo exhaled, brushing his hand through his hair and casting her a sideways glance.

“You know,” he added with a small smirk, “if I die tomorrow, I want you to avenge me with dramatic flair. Really make a scene. Rip someone’s spine out or something.”

She rolled her eyes, smirk deepening. “I’ll consider it.”

“Seriously,” he pressed, grinning now. “Cry. Wail. Maybe swear vengeance in front of a flaming backdrop.”

“I’ll pencil it in,” she said flatly, but there was warmth in her tone.

The weight of the night didn’t vanish, but it lessened between them. Whatever tomorrow brought, they wouldn’t face it alone. Even if apart.

The Scarred - Chapter 9

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.

“You okay, Penny?” Emma questioned, seeing the woman in question begin to nod off. She quickly sat up and rapidly blinked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep, that's all.” She responded, which wasn’t really a lie at all. Liam had tried to convince her to call in to take the day off, but Penelope couldn’t do that to Emma. That and she worried it would come off as suspicious since she rarely ever does it, and even more so given recent events that have been occurring at the shop itself.

“Is something bothering you, hun?” Emma asked gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m okay,” She turned to face her. “Promise.” She smiled, and thankfully it was returned before the older woman walked away. Penelope let out a sigh of relief, massaging her temple.

They received more customers than usual that day, thankfully. It helped to both keep her awake and distract her from her thoughts, which grew to be a harder task as of late. By the time the work day drew to a close, Penny was practically sleepwalking. Zombified and depleted of energy, she waved off Emma in a goodbye before she turned to leave.

As she passed an alleyway, thinking all was well and would finally return home to relax, she gasped when something snatched her jacket and pulled her in.

“I did some thinking - y’know?” A familiar voice tossed up her stomach with nerves. She turned to look up at the painted face that greeted her - however much of a greeting it was.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She whisper-yelled in exasperation, her adrenaline throwing all caution to the wind regardless of who was in front of her.

“I think you oughtta have these than myself.” He continued on, completely ignoring what she said. She looked down and saw the handgun and knives from last night.

“You couldn’t have done that last night rather than snatching me and giving me a heart attack?”

“You’re alive, aren’t cha?” The Joker dismissed as if it was the most simple thing. Penelope couldn’t help but roll her eyes to his amusement and he hummed.

“Gettin’ a little bold after last night, don’t cha think?” His voice was flat, yet somehow still held a joking undertone. Penelope grew fidgety, mentally slapping herself for forgetting who she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” She nearly whispered with a downcast gaze.

“Ah, I’m just messing with ya, doll!” The Joker cackled. “But seriously, take these, I don’t want em.” She greatly hesitated before gently taking them from his hands, looking at them for a moment and putting them in her satchel.

“Thank you -“

“I’m going to give a wild guess and say you don’t have a single gun at your place?”

“I mean, I don’t, but -“

“Ah-ta-ta-ta.” He cut her off, placing a finger over her lips.

“Don’t got time for chit-chat, toots, but uh -“ He looked around for a second before leaning in closer to her as if he was telling a secret. “We can save that for later, hm?” He winked with a click of his tongue and gave her a couple of small pats on her head before turning to leave. “Don’t wait up for me!” He hollered over his shoulder and disappeared off to who knew where with a skip.

Penelope just stood in the alleyway confused as ever for the umpteenth time. If she wasn’t awake before, she definitely was now. She turned to make her way back to the main sidewalk, this time bumping into someone else.

“Oi, there ye are!”

“For fuck’s sake!” She gasped once again, hand over her chest. Liam frowned and steadied her.

“First of all, that’s my line. Second, the hell were ye doin in an alley?” He gently coaxed her to start their walk back to their apartment complex.

“Too tired to explain right now.”

“Alright, fair enough. Guess it’s not a good time to say ‘I told you so’ then?” Penelope gave him a side eye and he held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Quiet time it is.”

When the two of them reached her apartment and stepped inside, they were quick to get comfortable and relax on the couch. The TV hummed in the background at a low volume, soothing the two of them as Penelope began to fall asleep in Liam’s lap, the latter playing a game on his phone mindlessly.

No matter how close the woman was to sleep, though,, her body fought back. Her mind raced with scattered thoughts, a heavy sigh leaving her lips catching Liam’s attention.

“What’s on yer mind, lovin?”

“Too much.” She answered simply. Liam took his turn to sigh.

“Still too tired to talk about it?”

“The Joker is supposed to be dangerous…” She whispered mindlessly. Liam tensed at first and put down his phone. She continued once he began to caress her hair. “And yet I can’t shake that I feel safe with him.” Penelope turned in his lap, head facing up at him as she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how else to describe it. But something about him just feels so familiar, Liam. Like a reminder of something I can’t remember.”

“Aye. I know the feelin’, believe me.” He shifted as he thought. “If he wanted ye dead, he would’ve done so already. It’s a gruesome thought, but I believe it’s the truth.” He looked down at Penelope who met his gaze of understanding.

“But what if he has an ulterior motive? What if he’s just using me?” She watched as Liam began to shake his head.

“He doesn’t seem the type. Not patient enough from what we’ve seen on the news. Seems to me that if he wants something, he just goes fer it. The man won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” There was a moment of silence, the two of them sitting in contemplation, coming up with scenario after scenario where something could go wrong. But none of them seemed realistic in comparison to what had happened so far.

Days passed with no contact from the Joker or his men, much to her surprise. Days turned into a couple of weeks. Penelope just assumed that he was either too busy or got bored of her. She wasn’t sure which would have been a better explanation.

In a way, she missed his odd encounters. Before him, her life was boring, for lack of a better word. It was the same routine over and over and over. Granted, Liam tossed things up from time to time. But she eventually grew used to that, as well.

Penelope decided to switch things up herself after some days. She found a target range not too far away where she could continue her practice with the knives and handgun, Liam joining her from time to time.

It wasn’t until a while after that he came up with an idea.

“Come on.” The Irishman dragged the woman by her wrist to what looked like a gym of sorts.

“Liam, what’re we doing here -“

“You’ll see, ye twat, just come on.” As they entered the building, he scanned them in and took her upstairs, the smell making her nose twitch in discomfort. Once they reached the top, she was welcomed to an empty matted room. Her eye widened in surprise, unsure of what Liam was getting themselves into.

“The hell is this about?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Take off her shoes and coat and you’ll see. Stop asking questions, dammit!” He chuckled as he got ready himself and walked onto the mat.

Soon after she followed, giggling at the feeling of the mat beneath them like a child on a trampoline.

“Oi!” She snapped her head up to where he was and stood in front of him. “I figured since ye got them fancy knives and gun, we teach ye some real self defense, yeah?” Penelope’s eye shot wide open.

“Self defe -? You do realize I only have one arm, right?” Liam shrugged.

“All the more reason ye need it.” Penelope sighed and glanced away for a second, then took a deep breath.

“Okay fine, I’ll play.” He nodded with a reassuring grin.

“Right, Penny. First rule: self-defense isn’t about strength. It’s about leverage. Ye don’t need two arms er perfect vision fer this. It’s all about knowin’ how to use what ye’ve got.”

Penelope nodded, her single eye narrowing as she focused on him. Her missing left arm had made her hesitant, and the burns that marked her left side were a constant reminder of her limitations. But she needed to do this.

Liam stepped closer and motioned for her to raise her remaining arm. “Let’s start with balance. No matter what situation yer in, ye need a strong foundation. Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind, heel up. Keep that center of gravity low, but don’t lock yer knees.”

Penelope followed his instructions, her movements stiff but determined. She felt a slight shift in her body as she adjusted her stance. Liam circled her slowly, nodding his approval.

“Good. Now, if someone comes at ye from the front, yer not going to overpower em, but ye can use their own momentum against em. Grab my wrist with yer right hand.”

Penelope hesitated for a moment before grasping his wrist. Liam, much taller and stronger than her, didn’t resist at first, but then slowly applied pressure, mimicking an attacker’s force.

“When someone grabs ye, ye won’t have the leverage to just pull away,” He explained. “But what ye can do is use yer entire body to redirect the attack.” He gently guided her to pivot her hips and pull him off balance. “See? Ye use yer hips and shoulders to create force. That’s what keeps ye grounded and throws em off.”

Penelope felt the shift in weight and how Liam’s body tilted slightly as she pulled him off-center. Her eyes widened in surprise, a spark of confidence growing inside of her.

“Now, what if someone tries to take ye down?” Liam asked, stepping back and raising his hands as if to simulate a grab for her. “Yer instinct might be to pull away, but that just puts ye at a disadvantage. Instead, ye drop yer weight. Lower yer center of gravity, and they won’t be able to lift ye.”

He demonstrated, lunging toward her in slow motion. Penelope took a deep breath and bent her knees, dropping her weight as Liam had instructed. She felt him try to lift her, but she remained planted, like a rooted tree.

Liam grinned. “That’s it! Perfect. And while they’re strugglin’ to get a grip, that’s when ye go fer yer next move. Elbows, knees—anything hard and sharp. It’s not about bein’ clean. It’s about surviving.”

Penelope smirked slightly at that. “So… you want me to fight dirty?”

Liam’s eyes twinkled. “In Gotham? There’s no other way.”

He motioned for her to step back, giving her space. “Now, let’s try it with a punch. Someone’s swingin’ at ye from the right. What do ye do?”

Penelope tensed. Her left eye was no longer, and her missing arm meant her range of vision was limited. But Liam had thought of that.

“Ye can’t block with yer left, so ye have to move. Slip to the outside of their swing, stay low, and use yer shoulder to knock em off balance. That’s where yer right arm comes in.”

He swung at her slowly, exaggerating the motion so she could practice. Penelope sidestepped, dipping her head and bringing her right shoulder up to mimic the block.

Liam nodded in approval. “Good! Now follow up with yer right elbow—hard to their face er throat.”

Penelope did as he instructed, bringing her elbow up in a quick motion, though she hesitated at the last second. Liam chuckled. “Don’t hold back next time. You’ll need that speed and precision.”

They spent the next hour going over similar moves: how to throw a knee into an attacker’s gut, how to pivot and drive her elbow into someone’s ribs, how to avoid attacks from angles she couldn’t see. With each move, Penelope grew more confident, her hesitation slowly melting away.

Finally, Liam held up a hand, signaling for a break. “Yer gettin’ there, Penny. Ye’ve got the instincts. Now ye just need to trust yerself.”

Penelope wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, breathing heavily but feeling more grounded than she had in a long time. “It’s… a lot to take in. But I want to keep practicing.”

Liam clapped her on the shoulder. “And ye will. Just remember, yer not as vulnerable as you think. Ye’ve been through hell and came out the other side. That’s more strength than any move I can teach ye.”

Penelope gave him a small, hearing him say something so endearing a rarity coming from him. Her eye glimmered, practically glazed over with emotion. “Thank you, Liam.”

More days passed. And more. But it wasn’t boring anymore, no. Liam and Penelope had been practicing her self-defense as often as they could without straining themselves, and eventually he decided to teach her offensive attacks as well should they be necessary.

It was obvious to her that he genuinely cared for her and her safety, understanding that he wouldn’t always be there to protect her. That much was clear. Though it was a welcomed respite, the Joker still lingered in the back of her mind.

No matter how long it had been since he visited, she couldn’t help but think that their encounters were far from over.

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.

Blood of A Rose - Part 1 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Summary - (Y/n) is an aspiring artist, but rather than mainstream, she captures what she considers to be the beauty of death. She has been fighting with the industry and local art museums to publicize her work. Reaching negative publicity, a particular clown takes an interest.

Masterlist

Notes - I see a lot of smut with little plot to build up to it so decided to write it myself. He’s always portrayed as aggressive and hasty with it, but I took a different take on it since he’s always so methodical and takes his time with what he does and I feel like that would stay the same in the bedroom or wherever else with his wild ass. Slow and torturous smut, ladies. Let me know if you’d like a continuation of this!

Word Count - 5,602

Warning(s) - Gore, depictions of graphic art, morally ambiguous reader, smut/sexual themes, no harm to reader

Song Inspiration -

IAMX - Bernadette

Ice Nine Kills - A Work of Art

The brush stroked gracefully along the canvas, a symphony of strings playing in the background as she worked. A multitude of shades of red took precedence over the piece, hints of yellow and skin tones sprinkled in where she thought was necessary. 

She cleaned off her brush and took a step back, admiring her newest work, eyeing it for flaws or hints of emptiness. When she found none she smiled to herself, untying her apron and leaving to enter the house to wash herself clean of any unwanted paint that caught her skin. 

She turned on the faucet, pumping soap into her hands and began to scrub. She watched as the red began to drain down the sink, sighing in delight at the sight of it. 

(Y/n) had always been captivated by the concept of death. Not in the way people feared or avoided it, but in the way she saw its eerie elegance. Growing up in a household that celebrated perfection and the beauty of life, her fascination with decay and the passage of time was met with silence, sometimes disgust. 

As a child, she’d spend hours sketching wilted flowers or photographing the abandoned cemetery near their house. Sometimes she found dead animals which was always a treat for her. She found beauty where others saw only ruin and death. Her parents had tried to correct her, and her teachers had labeled her work disturbing. But (y/n) remained drawn to the delicate balance between life and death.

As she grew older, the fascination deepened, and she poured it into her art. Her paintings had always included blood in one way or another, whether it was an aging object, haunted landscapes, or human forms twisted in the stillness of death. On the other hand, her photographs captured the fleeting beauty of nature’s quiet end. The decay of a flower, the pale tranquility of a body. 

However, the world around her wasn’t ready for her vision. Critics were quick to brand her work as grotesque, calling it an abomination, and galleries refused to showcase her art. News articles labeled her as disturbed, questioning her mental health rather than her talent.

But for (y/n), it was never about horror. She saw beauty in the inevitability of death, in the idea that all things must come to an end. To her, it was a reminder of the fragility of existence and the raw, unfiltered truth of the world. Yet, each harsh critique was another nail in the coffin of her confidence, driving her further into herself. 

She became more reserved, speaking less in public, avoiding eye contact at exhibitions - if she even attended. She longed to defend her work, but the voices of her critics echoed in her mind, silencing her before she could even begin.

Despite the noise, (y/n) still clung to her vision, working tirelessly in the small, dimly lit studio that was the garage of the small house she currently rented. Surrounded by the eerie stillness of her creations. 

She began to change into something more fitting for the colder October weather, slipping on a coat to bury her hands in and walking into the crisp autumn air. As her feet tapped through the night’s atmosphere, she closed her eyes for a moment, the smell of the dying trees and asphalt sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. 

She didn’t live far from the heart of Miles County, quickly reaching it and taking joy in the quietness of it all compared to the usual bustling energy during the day that she preferred to avoid. 

She passed a display lined and stacked with TVs, some of them turned on and broadcasting different channels. 

“- another piece was released just days ago with another overwhelming amount of negativity -“ 

She stopped promptly, turning her head towards one of the TVs closest to her and seeing a portrait of herself display. 

“Be advised, the image is disturbing.” 

Her last work was then shown. She admired it, not from an egotistical standpoint, but more from the genuine beauty of the concept. 

A flower pot, chipped and cracked. An elongated and decaying finger was the stem of the flower in the pot, bloodied thorns sticking out of it every which way. Ears made up the petals, an eyeball at the center in place of a typical pistil. A radiant glow shone from behind the flower, its rays of light praising its beauty in all of its wretched glory. 

Her eyes began to water as they threw out carefully constructed insults, indirect but still noticeable enough to catch. 

However, what (y/n) didn’t notice was the tall, slim monochromatic figure standing behind her just feet away. Gripping the overfilled black trash bag hanging over his shoulder, he curiously watched the same TV, head tilted slightly in fascination.

She brought a balled hand up to below her nose, keeping it from running as a tear fell. Too caught up in the screen before her, she failed to notice the man that now stood next to her, watching the TV from next to her rather than behind, his bag now on the sidewalk.

Having had enough of their cruel remarks, she turned to walk back home, but gasped when she nearly collided with the strange man. 

Her eyes slowly trailed up his form, landing on his white painted face, accented by the black paint around his eyes and mouth. She took in his features with curiosity and fascination, taking note of his exaggerated hooked nose, cheekbones and pointed chin. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and quickly wiped at her tears. “I didn’t notice you there.” 

His head slowly turned towards her and his mouth widened into a dramatic smile, flashing his black-coated teeth. It suddenly turned to surprise, shaking where he stood with excitement and pointing to the TV. 

“You… Do you like it?” She asked, unbelieving. He nodded enthusiastically and pointed to her, then the TV, then back to her. She caught on. “Oh, um… Yeah - yeah that’s me.” 

His hands shook with another wave of excitement, his hands representing the beat of his heart, then giving a chef’s kiss. 

“Well, thank you,” She sniffed again. “That means a lot to me, actually.” She gave a small giggle of amusement at his mannerisms. 

He then stopped suddenly, putting his hands on his hips with a disapproving look. He ran a finger down his cheek to simulate a fake tear, then pointed to her, then the TV. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it by now.” (Y/n) waved off, but the clown knew better. 

He held up a finger, his mouth forming an ‘o’ with eyebrows raised, then turned to rummage through his bag. She watched curiously, wondering how this was even happening. He suddenly turned back around, presenting a rose to her with a large smile. 

Again, she couldn’t help but giggle and grew bashful, her cheeks tinting red as her fingers lightly grazed his own to take the flower from him. She brought it up to her nose to smell it, a smile gracing her lips. She then felt something drip down her hand and looked down at the flower again, seeing as a drop of blood made its way down over her fingers. 

“Nice touch. Thank you.” She complimented and her smile widened. 

He folded his hands in front of himself, swaying as if to show he himself was bashful. 

“Are you mute?” She asked curiously out of the blue. 

He nodded and she smiled in understanding. 

“Well, I think you’re quite charming regardless.” She spoke softly and he waved a hand at her, then raised it to his cheek as if he was blushing. Her giggles turned into laughter. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

(Y/n) watched as he looked up in thought, tapping his chin. He then stuck a finger up to show he had an idea and dipped a finger into the blood of the rose, turning to the glass pane with the TVs and began to write. 

“Art?” She asked and he nodded eagerly, making her laugh once more. “It suits you.” He shrugged dramatically in response. (Y/n) sighed, looking at her watch reading 10:34. “As much as I love this interaction, I should head back home.” She looked back up at him and he pouted and looked down, then shot up with another idea. 

He made a walking motion with his fingers, pointed to himself, then to her and pointed in the direction she came from. 

“You want to walk me home?” He nodded. 

She stood in thought for a moment, wondering if she should really trust the monochromatic clown. He seemed sweet enough, and it wasn’t a lie when she said he was charming. She couldn’t deny that there was something oddly attractive about his facial features, either. 

Against her better judgment, she looked back up at him and gave a shy smile. “Okay.” Art clapped with glee and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and motioning for her to lead the way. 

The walk was quiet, save for (y/n) making casual conversation every now and then. It wasn’t an awkward silence when she didn’t speak, and Art seemed to be just as content as he happily walked alongside her. She couldn’t help but sneak looks at him along the way, and though he seemed blissfully oblivious he caught every glance. 

She felt a pang of pity when they reached the smaller house, walking up to the door and turning to him to see him pouting once more. “Thank you for walking me. It gets lonely sometimes, to be honest.” 

He looked down, swinging with sadness at the end of their walk. 

“Well,” She sighed in thought. “I mean, I suppose you know where I live now. Maybe you could visit some time? I never really have company, anyways.” 

His excitement reappeared, making herself happy in the process. He nodded vigorously and she laughed for the umpteenth time. 

“Be safe out there, okay?” He nodded again and waved at her as she opened the door to go inside. “Goodnight, Art.” The door closed and she leaned against it, wondering what the hell just happened. 

Of all people, she befriended a clown. But it was nothing against him. She supposed she just attracted the oddballs of the world given that she was deemed one herself by society. 

She mindlessly prepared for bed, running through her interaction with the man over and over repeatedly. It was the only thing she could think about. No amount of distraction would keep him from her head. (Y/n) sighed as she stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over her abdomen.  

When she woke up the next morning, preparing breakfast in the kitchen as the TV hummed in the background, her ears caught something rather peculiar. 

“- found dead in their home just last night after neighbors reported screaming to the police.  We were told photographs of the scene are too graphic to broadcast and were not provided.”

(Y/n) walked over to the TV, seeing a picture of the news anchor who insulted her work the night before, along with his family. As much as she pitied them, she couldn’t help the tsk of her tongue when they refused to provide the photographs. She had recently been relying on such photos as inspiration for her pieces, and she couldn’t do much but grow more and more curious about them. 

After eating her breakfast and freshening up, she went to her desktop computer and powered it on. Having made note of the name of the news anchor, she began to search the case in hopes that they posted the photos online and came across an image that baffled her. In the middle of the article was a sketch of the suspect. 

The clown she had encountered. 

She stopped reading and sat back against her chair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. He knew where she lived, and she invited him to visit. Granted, she figured if he wished her harm, he would just bust through a window or the door itself regardless of invitations. 

But then she couldn’t shake his goofy mannerisms, how he showed her more kindness in one night than anyone had in all of her (y/age) years. How he showed her how much he loved her art, giving her the rose to cheer her up. 

Then she remembered. Art was with her when the news anchor was insulting her work. Now he and his family are dead. 

Could he have…?

Coincidence. (Y/n) shook her head. 

(Y/n) stood and made her way to the garage, checking if her latest work had dried up. To her delight, it did, and she removed it from the easel to prop against the wall holding her countless other works. 

The rest of the day was wasted away, filled with cat naps, snacking and binging shows. She thought of going out and doing something for herself, but the thought of being surrounded by people immediately put her off. So she decided on lounging until the sun set and could truly be in her element. 

Time seemed to mock her, dragging on and on enough to make her think that it froze altogether. But alas, the hues outside grew darker and she began to prepare for her night out. 

Throwing on a sweater dress, pantyhose and her shoes, she picked up her digital camera that sat on a nearby table, hanging it around her neck before making her way outside. When she turned to face the street, she jumped at the sight of Art standing nearly directly in front of her with the same oversized bag and wide grin. 

(Y/n) froze, wondering if things should change between them after finding out what he did. What he could do. 

She figured it was already too late if he indeed wished her harm. He knew where she lived and could easily find her. So why should she give him further incentive? And he hadn’t done anything to her personally to be rudely snubbed. The memories of the night before ran through her head, an innocent and friendly encounter. 

So she indulged herself until fate decided the outcome. 

“Hey, Art.” She greeted him with a gentle smile. He waved excitedly at her, then pointed at the camera around her neck with a questioning expression. “Oh, I’m just going on a walk. Trying to see if there’s anything interesting to photograph for my next piece.” 

He tapped his chin and looked off, thinking. He perked up with a finger, eagerly motioning for her to follow him. Unable to contain her curiosity, she walked up to him and began to follow. 

“You know a place I could find something?” He grinned mischievously at her, a silent ‘yes’. 

After some walking, they came upon an older building. The walls actively rotted away, windows broken and some boarded up. He stopped with her when she paused at the front, looking up at the building in awe. 

Perfection.

She reached for her camera, but his hand quickly came over hers to stop her and heat rushed up to her face. He pulled away and motioned to the building, then placed his hand over his heart endearingly. “Is this your home?” He nodded. “Oh! I’m sorry, I won’t take pictures.” 

He patted her shoulder as a thank you and motioned for her to follow once more, leading her into the building. 

The smell was horrid to anyone else, but to (y/n) it was just another day of work. With the countless rotting animals and even occasional mutilated body she’s encountered, she had no choice but to grow used to it. By now, the smell reminded her of her work and provided a sense of comfort in a twisted way. 

However, standing in what was the killer’s home, it also struck her like a bolt of lightning. The familiar smell of blood and rot was in his home, which could only mean one thing. 

“You wanted to show me something in here, didn’t you?” 

Art’s smile grew impossibly wide, pointing at her to show he was impressed that she caught on quickly. He dropped his bag and held out his hand in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion, leg kicked out and foot up on its heel, holding the same sadistic smile when she met his eyes. (Y/n) delicately placed her hand in his, his own only grasping onto her fingers with a surprising gentleness as he led her through the dark building to a separate room. 

The smell grew stronger the closer they drew to the room as more and more of the all too familiar red hues began to reveal themselves. 

When they finally entered, she gasped at the sight before her. Art presented his own ‘masterpiece’ to her with excitement, taking in her every reaction. 

Sat on a chair in the center of the room was the remnants of a decapitated man, chest cavity wide open. Blood covered the body from neck to toe, stains coating the walls and floor around it. 

At first she was frightened, but as he presented it to her she realized something. She realized that they shared the same fascination. Granted, he had a more methodical way of showing it, but artists always vary in accordance to what mediums they used, right? 

“You did this?” 

Art nodded eagerly, practically vibrating where he stood as he impatiently awaited for a verbal response. As she took in the sight before her shamelessly, he urged her with his hands to spit out what she was thinking. 

“It’s beautiful…” She whispered breathlessly. And it was the truth. It felt as if she was staring at a blank canvas for her to mold and create into something new, with his permission of course. The possibilities were endless as they ran through her head, too many to keep track of. 

Ever observant, he took notice of the turmoil and his almost innocent excitement turned into something more wicked. Something clicked in his brain as he practically watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon before his very eyes. 

He motioned to (y/n), then to the body, then with widespread arms he motioned at them together. 

“You want me to create something?” She wondered if he ever suffered whiplash from nodding so aggressively, at least with her. “May I walk around to see what you have that I could use?” Another nod. 

(Y/n) looked around the room, finding it completely empty besides the chair and body. She then left to wander, Art following her like a lost puppy, eager to watch her work. After searching through three other rooms, she finally found a flower pot. It had a chunk missing from the back, but she could easily turn it to where it wasn’t visible. 

She turned to Art. “Do you have a cup or something to fill it with dirt?” He thought for a moment, then gave her a sign to wait before disappearing. 

Her eyes wandered around what she assumed used to be a bedroom. An old mattress in the corner with an equally rotting dresser, nightstand and standing mirror. 

When he reappeared, he held out a tin can to her and she gladly took it, making their way outside with the pot to fill it. He watched as she did so, taking note of the way she avoided getting herself dirty. He silently laughed to himself, pointing at her as her dainty hands refused to muddle with the soil. “What?” She questioned with her own chuckle. 

He mimicked her avoiding the dirt and grime as he continued to laugh and she rolled her eyes. 

“The work I showcase does not reflect my behavior. You’d be surprised how much I hate getting dirty.” (Y/n) giggled as she finished filling the pot, mindful of the missing chunk so as to not let any dirt spill. “Where did you get the rose from yesterday? Was it around here?” 

He motioned for her to follow, looking back at her every now and then as he led her around the building to the back. A single rose bush was planted with only a few fully-bloomed flowers left intact. He offered to cut one of them off, and doing so he held it delicately to himself. 

“Could you hold this for a second?” She held out the pot to him and he nodded. “Careful of the back, I don’t want anything to spill.” He nodded again and watched as she wandered, looking around for other plants to add to the pot. She settled on a few weeds, picking a handful of petals off of the other roses on the bush before heading back to the room with Art. 

He softly set the items down in the corner as she cradled the petals in her hand, looking at the body with a tilted head. Art stood next to her, mimicking her mannerisms as he tried to understand what she was thinking of. He watched as her mouth moved to speak, but nothing followed until a few seconds after. 

“Um…” She pointed to the body, looking at it for a few more seconds before turning her head to him. “Could you, um…” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could do a couple more things to it for me?” 

His face twisted into mischief, as if to say ‘I thought you’d never ask’. His palms pressed against each other, fingers twiddling as he waited for what she wanted. 

“Could you flatten the top and remove the um…” She motioned to the abdomen. “What’s inside…?” His mouth made an ‘o’ in a surprised expression before shifting into the same smile, booping her nose before leaving the room, she assumed to grab supplies. 

He soon returned with a hacksaw and scissors, making his way to the body to do what she asked. Her stomach grew queasy once he began and she averted her gaze out of habit. 

The noise suddenly stopped and she looked back to see him standing upright with a frown. She felt a pang of fear and dare she say guilt, thinking he was offended. 

“I-I’m sorry, I love the end result, but I just get squeamish with the process, is all…” She whispered almost pitifully. 

He watched as her face paled and she was left baffled when he made his way over to her, saw still in hand. However, he simply pushed her out of the room into a wide open area that was further away, holding up a finger to tell her to wait before he disappeared to finish.  

Her face grew hot at the gesture, stomach fluttering as a bashful smile reached her lips. When (y/n) turned, she was met with a workbench, worn stool sat in front of it. She wandered over with curiosity, eyeing the rusted tools, nails and screws that sat on top of it. 

A few jars were scattered along the back of it against the wall, reading the labels. Most of them were some form of acid, others she refused to guess the result of the compound mixture. 

(y/n)’s eyes lit up when she found small circular candles akin to what would be put in a pumpkin, grabbing a couple along with a match from a box sat next to them and put them in her pocket. 

She jumped when the sound of metal clattering to the floor invaded her ears and she whipped around to find Art standing there, saw next to his comically large shoes. He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, motioning for her to head back to the room to which she obeyed. She passed him with the same bashful smile, remembering his kindness from earlier.

When she entered, she saw that he did indeed do as she asked and turned to Art with a wider smile. “Thank you.” The clown tipped his hat and she giggled. “Could you hold these please?” She asked of the petals and he held out his cupped hands for her to place them in. 

Eyes following her like a cat, he watched as she knelt by the pot, planting the rose in the center of it followed by the other plants she picked along the way, standing and making her way to the body. She placed it in the now empty cavity of the abdomen, then turned to take the petals back from Art. She sprinkled them over the body, some inside where the pot was. 

She then pulled out the candles, placing them methodically inside the abdomen, making a point to avoid touching the body itself. Igniting the match, she lit the candles and stood, looking for the light switch to turn off the overhead lights. Art caught on and immediately turned them off somehow. (Y/n) looked at him with a confused expression to which he just shrugged with a wide grin. 

She shook her head and giggled, lifting the camera from around her neck, checking the settings before testing different angles through the lens, snapping photos when she came upon the ones that satisfied her. (Y/n) made her way next to Art who shook his hands with excitement.

He stood against her with their closeness, practically his entire side brushing against her from behind as he looked down at the photos she clicked through. The beat of her heart picked up, blood rushing to her ears at the realization. 

“Which one do you think is best?” She asked softly, turning to look up at him to see him already looking at her. 

The candlight shone ominously against his features, pale eyes piercing through her own, her smile dropping as his nose nearly touched her own. His eyebrows quickly rose and dropped, head turning as his eyes squinted with his smile. His hand slowly rose, carefully prying the camera from her hands and setting it down. As he stood back to his full height, she craned her neck to look up at him, their bodies slowly turning to face each other until he took a step towards her, (y/n) taking a step back. 

Taking his time, he walked her back until her body was pressed against the wall and his figure was the only thing in her field of view. Her breath shook as his bloodied fingertips reached up to caress her jaw, settling delicately under her chin to hold her gaze. 

He leaned closer, tilting his head as his nose tickled her face. The hand under her chin then moved down to her neck, his feather-like touch changing pressure as it wrapped itself around her, increasing just enough to make her gasp and he finally closed the gap between them. 

The kiss was surprisingly tame for how brutal he was, her eyes closed as she gave in to the intoxicating feeling and the only thing she could think of or feel was the man that held her. As for him, his eyes remained open, taking in and savoring her every expression. 

The expressions of the same twisted mind that complimented his own work, turning it into breathtaking beauty that was beyond comparison. His mannerisms grew more eager, more desperate at the thought of whatever else they could create together, his free hand finding her waist and squeezing enough to release air from her lungs audibly, a plea for more. 

His tongue slid against her teeth and she welcomed the invasion, parting her mouth to take him in as his hand ran over the hump of her arse, fingers digging into the fat and muscle enough to bruise. His wanton thoughts grew to become an obsession, anger rising at the thought of her parting from his life. 

Their breath mingled, his mouth moving down to her jaw, then to her pulse point where he bit down just enough to release a trickle of blood and she cried out, hand squeezing his forearm of the hand still wrapped around her neck. As he sucked at the blood, the hand moved from her neck down to her breast, kneading and toying with it as her head leaned back, swaying at the pleasure. 

Her leg lifted as his other hand slid from her arse down her thigh, hugging it close to him as he shifted his leg to apply pressure at her core. He pulled away from her neck, teeth still bared in its grin but his eyes clouded with lust and greed as he took her in. Her lips were parted with need, vulnerable and exposed before him in a gamble of trust and fate. 

She felt his leg shift and she whined, a shiver running down her spine once she finally opened her eyes to look up at him. The sight before her sent a pulse to her center, clit throbbing as his hand slid down from her breast to her hip, her eyes following as he slowly dropped to his knees before her. 

The thigh he previously held was now over his shoulder, hands sliding the skirt of her dress up to her hips to bury his nose into her clothed pussy. She sighed at the feeling, hands moving to hold the skirt for him. Suddenly, she heard a rip, cold air hitting her core as he tore her pantyhose open to reach her. 

(Y/n) watched as he looked up at her with a mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows, disappearing back under her skirt when she felt his warm muscle drag along her leaking center. She felt his breath fan over her, his nose tickling her bud as his tongue dipped into her, teasing her entrance before plunging into it. 

The woman gasped and her back arched as he toyed with her, her hand coming down to grip one of his own that squeezed at her thighs. He shook his head eagerly as he continued his feast and she moaned at the action, rolling her hips against him. His tongue then removed itself, moving to settle on her clit and she trembled at the sensitivity. 

His free hand inched towards where his tongue had been, playing with her lower lips and providing a tickling sensation before he dipped a finger in, pushing to the knuckle. His finger began to move in rhythm with his tongue, practically digging into the spongy area that drove her mad with desperation. 

She let go of his hand when she felt him move it, followed by the sound of a zipper coming undone as he pulled out his hardened member, continuing to chase her high and begging to himself to hear her scream. 

She felt the coil begin to build and tense up, her heart racing as her skin grew hot in anticipation. The two of them locked eyes and his own squinted, encouraging her to fall over the edge. His gaze alone was enough, her chest heaving as she leaned her head back against the wall with a cry. 

She struggled to catch her breath, panting and watching Art with a fucked-out expression as he rose to his feet with a deep hunger in his eyes. Her eyes flicked down to his erection, then back up at him with brows knit in anticipation. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her in to press her against him. 

Holding her gaze, he teased his member against her entrance, brow twitching as she tried to move against his strength. His smile suddenly dropped as he impaled her with his length, mouth open as he mocked her expression with great pleasure. His grin returned as she gripped onto his shoulder, one of her legs moving to hook around his waist. 

He snatched her chin when her eyes began to close, forcing her to watch him as he began to set an agonizingly slow pace. He wanted to hear her beg. Needed to hear her beg. His cock twitched at the thought of it and she moaned. 

“Art…” She called breathlessly and he tilted his head to listen. “Please…” The word shook as it left her lips. The leg hooked behind him pulled him in closer and his mouth twitched as she pleaded him once more. 

He lifted her other leg to wrap around him, carrying her as if she was weightless, his display of strength only deepening her arousal and need as both of her hands settled behind his neck. He suddenly began to plunge into her repeatedly, a feral noise escaping from her throat as he watched on with animalistic desire. 

He angled their bodies effortlessly, paying attention to her every expression and vocal flux in order to throw her over the edge for a second time. Her moans heightened their pitch, growing louder as her grip on him tightened and his eyes somehow darkened further, thrusting harder and harder with an inhuman amount of strength and stamina.

“Art -“ He gave a single nod with a sadistic grin as (y/n)’s hands shifted to his shoulders, nails digging into the satin of his suit before she crossed over into her orgasm. One of his hands snatched her jaw, slightly squeezing at her cheeks as their noses touched. He practically stared into her soul as he soon found his own release, baring his teeth as she felt his warm stream of seed fill her. 

She sighed in exhaustion as Art silently huffed to himself. He then brought his head next to hers, licking the shell of her ear.

His mind was made up. Her fate was sealed.

Chapter 8

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hux hummed in agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She glanced at him curiously, encouraging him to continue. 

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

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

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

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

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

He winked at her. “Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would, actually.”

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

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

He did. 

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

Not with her.

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

The door shut behind them with a soft hiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Armitage spoke, low and thoughtful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes. 

Those eyes . 

They were open. Clear. Trusting.

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

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

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

A beat. 

“Wanting you.”

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

“Then have me,” she practically pleaded quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think you could stay tonight?”

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

Surprise. Hesitation. Disbelief. 

A long moment passed between them before he finally responded. 

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

The Scarred - Chapter 8

Masterlist

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

The Joker’s manic laughter echoed off of the interior of the van as she took her seat, assumingly next to him based off of the proximity of his voice.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The Joker crooned, his voice dripping with playful malice. "A little birdie all alone in the big bad city."

Penelope’s heart raced with nerves and anticipation. She could feel his gaze pierce through her, as if he could see into her very soul. Just then, the van revved before taking off to who knew where.

"Ah - don't be afraid, toots," The Joker said, his voice oddly soothing. "I'm just here to show you a good time." His deeper tone sent shivers down her spine.

“How could I believe that?”

“You can’t.” He answered bluntly. “Think of it as a - uh…” He smacked his lips. “A trust exercise, of sorts.”

“The bag over my head set the tone for that, I suppose.” The Joker cackled.

The rest of the ride was silent, save for Joker’s occasional humming and commentating. She eventually lost her perception of time, her body slowly growing tired. Just as her eyes began to start closing, the van was parked and doors were opened. Suddenly, the bag was ripped off of her head to be face to face with the Joker.

“Wake up, sleepy head!” He then exited the van, Penelope following slowly after.

It was pitch black, however the distant city skyline somewhat made up for it. Based on the distance, they were a good half hour from the edge of the city limits. If it wasn’t for the lights, she would’ve thought they were lost in a barren wasteland of sorts. They stood on a large patch of dirt-covered flatland, practically surrounded by random piles of what looked like junk.

“C’mon.” The Joker caught her attention and she turned towards him as he started walking towards the back of the van, throwing the doors open.

“Welcome to our little playground.” He drawled more to himself.

They both stared into the miniature arsenal of weapons; knives of every size and shape, handguns, shotguns, and an assortment of explosives. Penelope’s eyes widened as she took in the deadly array, swallowing hard as her heart pounded in her chest.

“Pick one,” The Joker urged, his grin widening. “Go on, don’t be shy.”

With a trembling hand, Penelope reached for a small throwing knife. It was lightweight, the blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. She held it awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

The Joker chuckled, stepping beside her and motioning to her hand. “Feel the weight, the balance,” he guided. “This isn’t just a knife, y’know. It’s an extension of you.”

Penelope’s grip tightened, a spark of something unfamiliar flickering within her. She glanced up at the Joker, who nodded encouragingly. He then looked up and around before wandering into the wasteland, shuffling around and huffing before he called her over and met her halfway.

“Now, I want you to throw that knife,” he nodded at the object, “at that poster.” He pointed and she followed, seeing a large poster that stood tall of what seemed to be an old billboard advertisement. “Got it?”

Penelope paused, then quickly nodded and stuttered. “How do I throw it?” She practically asked in a whisper.

“Well, first, you're way too rigid. You need to shake out, loosen up.” The Joker shook out his hands. “Relax.” Once he noticed her become less stiff, he continued. “Now, you need good posture. So straighten up.” He performed the actions with her. “Since you’re obviously a righty, stick your right foot forward and left foot back. Hold the blade,” He stepped closer to her and moved her hands into the right position with the grace of a newborn foal. “Handle up, and throw.” He then patted her hand and stepped away, motioning towards the target.

Penelope took a deep, shaky breath, trying her best to forget about the Joker’s presence when she finally threw the knife with surprising ease. When it hit the poster with a ‘thud’, he stepped forward to check where it hit. Suddenly he burst out laughing, catching her off guard.

“Ya mean to hit dead center?” He grabbed the knife and made his way back to her.

“That’s what I was aiming for, yes.” Her fingers fidgeted nervously.

“Well, that was either beginner’s luck or you got some talent in ya! Let’s test that theory, huh?”

He handed the knife back out to her for her to take and she did, getting back into her previous stance. With a second ‘thud’ the Joker checked again and he licked his lips, pulling out the knife once more and repeatedly pointing at her with it.

“Think these were meant for ya, doll.” He growled with barely contained excitement. Much to her own surprise, Penelope couldn’t help the twitch of her lips to form a phantom smile. She took her stance once receiving the knife once more, this time with her head held a little higher.

She had no sense of time the longer she practiced, and at some point the clown-like man disappeared to the van for reasons unknown to her. Penelope had to admit, however, that she was thankful for the colder air after her body warmed up from their activities.

She felt a sense of pride knowing how well she had come to handle the knives in such a short amount of time, and she couldn’t help but feel like it was almost natural to her. Not even the Joker himself could deny it.

Just as Penelope was about to make another throw, she heard footsteps growing closer and she looked over to see the Joker meandering over to her with his hands behind his back.

“Let’s trade, toots.” He suddenly took the knife from her hand and stuck it in his pocket, showing his other hand which held a sleek handgun. She stared at it, unsure and fairly hesitant as he held it expectantly out to her. He quickly lost patience and took her hand, placing it there properly himself.

The cold metal was heavier than she expected, and her fingers fumbled with the grip at first. The Joker’s hands covered hers when he took notice and fixed her hand, then raised her arm to point it at the now abused sign.

He then stood directly behind her, the warmth and pressure of his body nearly overstimulating. His smell intoxicated her, filling her senses as his hand snaked down her arm and over her own, steadying her aim. He leaned his head down next to hers.

“Take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger.” It was nearly a whisper. A hushed command. And she obeyed.

The gunshot echoed through the night, startling Penelope. Her heart raced, but there was a thrill in the recoil, a rush of power. She took a shaky breath from the adrenaline, then exhaled an airy chuckle. She wasn’t sure how to feel about everything that was happening, about the situation she was in.

But one thing she couldn’t deny was how she loved the feeling of pulling the trigger.

The Joker noticed it almost immediately, a familiar glimmer in her eyes that made him more than hopeful. It was nearly impossible to miss, whether he was standing against her or feet away.

“Good, very good.” The Joker purred before stepping away slightly, but close enough to help with recoil if need be. “Again.”

Penelope listened, rocking on her feet before holding firm and taking aim once more. Another shot rang through the air.

She staggered back slightly, a giggle slipping past her lips. Penelope looked back at the Joker for permission and he immediately nodded with giddy delight. Three more shots pierced through the night air and the woman began to laugh. The Joker’s cackles mixed with her own.

Two more shots.

Tears pricked her eyes as she smiled, genuine and free as she felt a wave of happiness and excitement that she hadn’t felt in years.

But then the smile slowly dropped as she began to spiral. Images of what her life used to be flashed before her eyes, mingled with more recent memories.

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

Screams flooded her ears.

“Y - you just -“

“Killed a man? Aye. The bastard ‘ad it comin’.”

She looked down at the gun in her hand, then up at the sign.

“If they can’t help me, who can?”

She looked back over at the Joker with an unreadable expression. His own was eager, egging her on.

“Come on, come on…” He encouraged as he swayed on his feet.

“Give me a gun and I’ll protect myself.”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The gun raised to point at the man in front of her, directly at his head. He stepped into it, the barrel pressing into his forehead as he held eye contact with her.

“I’d be worryin’ ‘bout why he’s worried ‘bout ye bein’ fun.”

A single tear trailed down her cheek, lips downturned and trembling to fight back her emotions.

“It’s good to have someone you trust in a city like this. Someone to protect you.”

Penelope suddenly pulled away with a frustrated yell, turning and unloading the rest of the magazine into the sign.

There was a heavy silence that followed. Penelope’s head hung low, breathing heavy.

“You’re starting to see it, aren’t ya?” The Joker said softly, his voice almost tender. Almost. “The world is nothing but a game.” He stepped closer towards her, now directly beside her, facing her trembling form. “And you, doll,” He reached out, two fingers settling beneath her chin to turn her face towards him. “Are finally learning how to play.” His hand dropped.

Penelope met his darkened gaze, a newfound determination in her eyes. “Show me more.”

And he did.

He provided therapy for her that no one else could. He lulled her further and further into his own darkness, his own madness ever so gently in a way that only the Joker could pull off. In a way that only the Joker could to convince such innocence to begin to crack.

Why should he fix something that is broken? Why fix it when he could mold it into something new, something more beautiful than it ever was?

And that was exactly what he planned to do.

As the sky turned the slightest shade brighter, they put an end to their shenanigans. The bag was back over her head, in the same seats as before. The ride was more silent on the way back, their energy depleted from the long night. Though they couldn’t say the same for the Joker.

As they came to a stop in the same parking lot they picked her up in, the bag was pulled from her head, the van’s door sliding open. Before Penelope stepped out, however, she turned towards the Joker who was already looking at her. She swallowed.

“Thank you.” She whispered, then stepped out before there was any response and went to her car without looking back.

The drive home for her was calm, but she fought to keep her eyes open after pulling nearly an all-nighter. Her feet trudged up the stairs to her apartment level, lazily unlocking her door and entering. She leaned against the door as it shut behind her, eyes closed with a faint smile on her lips.

“Yer playin’ with fire, ye know that?” Penelope jumped at the sudden intrusion, glaring at the brunet sat on her couch.

“What’s it to you?” She bit back, taking off her shoes and jacket.

“Oh, I dunno, yer safety?”

“You’ve been waiting for me just to say that, haven’t you?” She disappeared to her bedroom and Liam hollered a response.

“Look at ye, ye know me so well!”

“Wait -“ She reappeared with a large t-shirt in hand. “How long have you been waiting here?”

“Probably since two hours after ye left.”

“What the hell…” Penelope sighed before leaving the change. “Are you spying on me or something?”

“No, just got good enough hearin’ to recognize yer door openin’ and closin’.” The woman chuckled.

“You really are like an overprotective brother, aren’t you?”

“Would ye rather me not be protective at all?” Liam entered her bedroom when he got the ‘ok’, moving to stand in front of her with his arms crossed.

“No, it’s just amusing sometimes.” He sighed.

“Jokes aside, you need to be careful, Penny. I’m not going to tell ye who ye should and shouldn’t take as company, but he’s a dangerous man with a dangerous reputation. I just want ye safe, yeah?” Penelope looked up at him with as much of a smile as she could muster up.

“I know.” Liam pulled her into a hug, head on top of her own. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Mutterseelenallein (Otto Octavius/Fem!Reader)

Angst

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

Word Count: 1236

Warnings: Angst, implied suicidal thoughts/attempt

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

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

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

“I can’t!”

“You can. I know you can.”

“But what if I hurt you?!”

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

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

“It works great - they work great!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was scared.

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

“I just wanted to be important…”

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

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

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