The Scarred - Chapter 9

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 1

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 bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her coat. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. The woman’s figure practically towered over her because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.

“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with a doe eye.

“Um -” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished in the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.

“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.

“Do I -” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.

“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”

“I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”

“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.

“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What -”

“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life’s story to someone?”

With candlelit faces, the two of them laughed. The younger woman’s eyes were glazed over with joy as her mother presented the cake in the dark room.

The soothing ambience of the soft music and boiling water in the background was a stark contrast compared to her raging thoughts. She made her way to the fridge, opening the freezer to pull out a bag of tortellini.

As thick smoke started to crowd the room, accompanied by distant screams, they stared at each other. Now both of their eyes were glazed, yet it held an entirely different meaning.

After having ripped the bag open with her teeth, Penelope warily poured the frozen pasta into the water, standing as far away as possible to avoid being splashed. As she waited for them to be ready she grabbed a jar of pesto from the fridge, then a larger bowl and olive oil from the cupboard.

“Penny -” She was cut off by her own coughing. “The window - open the window!”

Lightly sucking on the inside of her bleeding cheek, she brought the pot over to the strainer that had been placed in the sink. She leaned away from the steam as she poured in the pasta and water, setting the pot aside when finished. The bowl was brought over for the pasta to be transferred.

Even through the overwhelming pain, she maintained eye contact with her daughter for reassurance. She noticed the way she apprehensively glanced out of the window. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the still air of the room. Having now sat down on the floor against the counter she let her head fall back with a light ‘thud’, taking shaky breaths as she tried to ground herself. Suddenly, she cried out to the nothingness in front of her, not a yell or a scream. The noise had found the perfect middleground as she trembled.

Penelope wasn’t sure how long it had been. Hours, minutes, maybe even only seconds. Her legs were laid out in front of her now, head hung low with a gentle sniff every now and then. Her dinner had been long forgotten. She had lost her appetite. She looked over to where the small bowl had been thrown, white chunks scattered below where it hit the wall. Thankfully the wall was fine save for some scratched paint.

She begrudgingly pushed herself from the floor to cover the bowl with the pasta and put it in the fridge. Exhausted, she left the glass where it was, deciding to just clean it up after work the next day. With a soft ‘click’ her bedroom glowed with warm light and she trudged over to the small bathroom. Just as she was about to start her normal routine, however, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was small, barely noticeable as it blended with the egg-white countertop. The lined paper had some chicken scratch on it and she strained her eye to read it, yet when she could finally make out the words her heart dropped.

Don’t forget to smile.

Serenity - Masterlist (Complete)

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.

Notes - This story is set prior to the events of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Characters may seem OOC at times due to not being given much material to work with. Some background and history of the country and characters are not canon in the film. *I do not own any of the franchise, only my personal characters*!

Song/Theme - “So Far” by Ólafur Arnalds feat. Arnór Dan

Warnings -

Trauma

Abuse

Minor sexual themes

Manipulation

Chapters -

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 (Final)

Serenity - Chapter 8

Masterlist

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

"How long has it been?"

"Five hours, at least.”

"I'd say seven."

"I bet nine."

"Has she even eaten?"

"Hasn't left since the catcher brought her here."

"It's one thing to do your job. It's another when it's an obsession."

"You would know all about that, now, wouldn't you?" The group of women gasped and stepped away from the door they huddled in front of. Reuben made his way towards them with an irritated expression. "I wonder what his excellency would think if I were to tell him you all were harassing his new seamstress." Comically, the women all glanced at each other with fearful expressions before speeding off.

He smirked rather proudly and turned to the door, carefully opening in to prevent any disturbance. There Mary sat at a desk, hunched over a barely made dress she was working on. Eyebrows knit together as she focused, she hummed as she worked, not taking notice of the man just yet. It was quite obvious to him that she was in her true element. She was relaxed, comfortable. Dare he say at peace. It was a pleasant sight to him, especially after all she had been through in the recent weeks.

She stopped when she heard the door close lightly and turned towards it, eyes lighting up when she saw him.

"Reuben!"

"So sorry, it appears you were being eavesdropped." He spoke in a slightly agitated tone as he made his way over to her.

"Eavesdropped? By whom?"

"The other seamstresses." He rolled his eyes. "No matter, I got rid of them."

"Oh..." Her eyes downcasted in realization. "Well, thank you." She offered a smile before returning to her work.

"I must say, you work rather quickly."

"It's amazing what one can accomplish when left undisturbed." Silence followed, and only then did she realize how what she said sounded and looked up at Reuben with wide eyes. "I - I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all."

"I know, dear." Mary sighed in relief and returned to what was in front of her. Then she felt her face warm at the new nickname. "Though, you do need rest every so often." He spoke as if he was talking down to a child, looking at her with a knowing expression.

"I'm fine, Reuben."

"You haven't eaten since you've been in here for who-knows-how-long, so I find that hard to believe." Mary avoided his gaze guiltily. "As far as I'm concerned, you haven't eaten since I brought you to the castle which, at this point, would be two days."

"I'm sorry..." Mary spoke softly. "I just got excited." Reuben sighed and removed what she held in her hands.

"Understandably so." He patted her shoulder to get her to stand up. "It's time I showed you the kitchen."

Mary's head spun with all the twists and turns it took to get to the said kitchen. The castle was large, yes, but walking through it felt like a maze more than anything. If all goes well, she wasn't sure how long it would take her to memorize what led to where.

The kitchen itself was large, naturally. Everything was pristine, clean as can be. Multiple stoves lined one side of the walls, the most she had seen in one spot probably. Men and women scrambled about, however in an organized manner. It seemed they had a routine that worked for the lot and it took her by surprise. Then she remembered where she was.

"Kochin!" Reuben raised over the chaos that was the kitchen. A short, plump man began speeding in their direction, exasperated.

"Yes, sir?" He asked hurriedly as he wiped a rag over his forehead, whipping it back over his shoulder.

"Bring a plate over for the lady." He leaned down closer. "A nice plate." The man, Kochin, then nodded hurriedly before scurrying off and yelling directions to the other cooks. "Caught them right as they were about to start cleaning up." He looked over at Mary with a quirked brow.

"Well, now I feel bad." She mumbled and wrung her hands.

"It's their job. They're used to it by now." Kochin returned quickly with a heaping plate of food, holding it out to Mary who stood with wide eyes. Reuben's eyes urged her to take it and she hesitantly did so.

Reuben nodded at the man and turned Mary towards the exit to walk them back to his room.

"I can't eat all of this!" She exclaimed as soon as they reached the bedroom. She sat down at a nearby desk and stared at the heaping pile of food.

"Then eat what you can. Meanwhile, I have to take care of a few matters. I shouldn't be long. Don't. Wander." He then shut the door behind him and she heard his footsteps fade down the hall.

The food smelt amazing, to say the least. It was the most extravagant meal she had received in her entire life. She felt awful knowing she surely wasn't going to finish it, but she would've felt even worse if she didn't eat anything from it at all. Choosing the latter she nibbled at her food piece by piece, taking her time to savor the rich flavors. But her assumptions were correct.

She was only about a quarter of the way finished by the time she was full. Either her stomach was shrinking or she hadn't realized how little she had really been eating in the village. Then the food coma hit.

She pushed the plate to the side to rest her chin in her hand, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hadn't the slightest perception of time, only following her body's instincts as her head finally came to rest on her arms to sleep. She must have been truly exhausted with how fast it hit her. Typically Mary would fight herself when it came to falling asleep, lying awake for half an hour at least before she succumbed to it.

Just minutes later Reuben walked in, stopping in his tracks when he saw Mary passed out on his desk. His eyes softened at the sight of it, knowing it was one of the few times she was truly at peace. He sighed and silently shut the door, taking off his coat and hooking it onto a rack that already held his hat before making his way over to Mary. He brushed a loose piece of hair from her eyes, debating on whether or not he wanted to move her and risk waking her up.

After a few seconds of thought he left to pull the sheets of his bed back, then hooked his arms beneath Mary, carefully lifting her to lay her on the bed. Thankfully, she didn't even flinch or move in the slightest save for incoherent mumbling at the action. He wasn't sure if he should've been concerned or not, but nevertheless he slid her shoes off of her feet and pulled the blanket over.

He was about to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn't move. He was planted by the sight of Mary's resting features. He took his time examining them, and he had to admit she had a unique facial structure. That was surely saying something considering his own.

She was rather beautiful in an original sense, in her own sense. It was a different kind of beauty that he couldn't describe. Perhaps he was around the middle-aged women of the castle too often, but even when he traveled to the village he never saw anyone that caught his eye quite like Mary.

There was a small knock on his door and he flinched when he saw Mary move the slightest bit, then he made his away over to it to see who it was.

"Apologies, sir," The maid spoke with a downcast gaze. "I was just coming to see if you needed anything else before you retired for the night?" She watched as Reuben disappeared for a moment, then returned with the unfinished plate of food and handed it to her with a sigh. 

"She will need another dress for tomorrow, as well." He spoke in a hushed tone. Emilia nodded. "That will be all." Reuben confirmed dismissively, practically shutting the door in her face.

He huffed and began unbuttoning his vest, loosening the cravat around his neck as he glanced over at Mary over and over. He shook his head and folded the clothing over the back of his vanity chair.

Everything was frozen. Or rather seemed so. It all seemed so much darker than she had remembered. It was a different darkness. A darkness that lurked in the daylight where it shouldn't have been.

Mary turned in the center of the plaza, looking around at the villagers staring back at her with unreadable expressions. One stepped closer. Followed by another. Then it all happened like a domino effect, a mob crawling in her direction leaving her without an escape.

Her body betrayed her, feet frozen where she stood. Her breathing quickened, throat constricting in on itself. She clawed at her neck as her legs gave out, her knees taking the impact against the cold stone. She wheezed as they all enclosed themselves around her until they were all she saw -

Mary's eyes opened to the sunlight peeking through the curtains. She breathed in, slow and thorough. Her cheeks were cold. Wet. She sat up slowly, body drained even after her sleep. She wiped her cheeks tiredly as she sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side.

She wasn't sure how long it had been before she finally stood, looking back over at the bed to see a dress laid out for her. Mary pondered for a moment on whether or not she should wait on Emilia, then decided against it and ran a bath for herself.

As much as she fancied the dresses, the tightness of them drove her up the wall. She cursed whoever thought up the idea of it as she began to tighten what she could, being sure to keep it looser for her own comfort. However, she huffed when the door opened. What she expected to be the maid turned out to be Reuben with a plate of breakfast and the huff became a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

She was taken aback at his appearance. Mary had been so used to seeing him clad in black that his undershirt on display was a sight she unexpectedly welcomed. His vest was still buttoned, encased around his more lean form accompanied by his cravat. The more dressed-down appearance seemed out of character for the man.

The catcher quirked a brow in amusement, catching her more wandering gaze. 

"I feared you were the maid." Mary chuckled in an exasperated fashion.

"And why would that be?" He set down the plate and made his way over to her. "May I?" He motioned to her dress and she nodded in approval. He took the laces from her, bare fingertips grazing against her soft skin enough to set it ablaze.

"I know these dresses are supposed to be more form-fitting, but I'm certain she's trying to suffocate me." Reuben chuckled. It was light, different from the darker tone she was used to hearing while he was on the job.

He was far more gentle with his movements than Emilia was and Mary welcomed it gratefully. She couldn't explain what she felt whenever his hands brushed against her, but she was sure she was growing more and more drunk on it. Then it stopped. She stopped herself from pouting and turned to face him with a gentle smile.

"Thank you." Mary then turned to his vanity and grabbed a hair tie, quickly pulling her hair into a bun. "You didn't have to, you know." The woman sighed as she made her way over to her breakfast. She took her first bite, then looked up at him with a doe-eyed look. "Did you eat already?" The catcher nodded and leaned back against the desk beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, making her somewhat self-conscious as she ate. It was awkward for her and she began to drown in it.

She swallowed her current bite and gradually looked up at him. Reuben quickly averted his gaze elsewhere and she noticed a pink hue begin to dust his cheeks. Her chest fluttered and she took another bite in an attempt to hide her growing smile.

Later on, Mary found herself back in the sewing room after Reuben walked her, having to leave in that direction anyways. After closing the door he made his way to the throne room to the swarm of aristocrats and nobles that surrounded the barons.

"Ah, Catcher!" The Baron exclaimed, the group of sycophants parting themselves as he made his way over to Reuben who bowed deeply to the cheerful man as he approached.

"You called for me, your excellency?"

"I did, I did. Where is that lovely seamstress of yours?" Reuben faltered.

"Working on your lady's dress at this moment, my lord."

"It's coming along well, I hope?" The Baron began leading the two of them away from the crowd.

"I have no doubts."

"Good, good. Now," He stopped and faced Reuben. "I want you to bring your lady tonight to join us for dinner. You've built her quite the reputation, catcher, and I'd like to know more about this woman should she be our new seamstress."

"With respect, your excellency, she's not my lady." The Baron's eyes widened, then squinted as he drawled out a chuckle with a wink.

"Of course she isn't." It took all of Reuben's will not to roll his eyes. He was devoted, sure, but even the ever loyal catcher had his moments of irritation with the barons. Bomburst pat him on the shoulder before heading back over to his throne to mingle once more. Reuben huffed, straightened his coat with a snap and made his way back upstairs to Mary.

"Dinner?!" Panic set in Mary's eyes, putting an abrupt stop to her work. "I - I only just got here two days ago - and why would they want to have dinner with a seamstress?"  Reuben, sensing her anxiety, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rested a hand on her back.

"Being chosen to be the barons' seamstress is nothing short of a rarity. They simply wish to get to know you better to see if you're a good fit." Mary chuckled despite her current crisis.

"Was that on purpose?"

"Not in the slightest." Mary stood up and began to pace.

"What if I slip up and say something I'm not supposed to? Or do something I'm not supposed to?" She whipped around to face Reuben. "They won't put me to death, will they?" He sighed and stepped in front of her, lifting his hands to rest on the sides of her arms. Even with his gloves, she could feel the heat of it burning through, enough to soothe her almost instantly.

"You have no reason to worry." He watched as Mary's gaze remained downcast, eyes glazing over yet not a single tear falling. Timidly she reached up to hold onto one of his forearms, refusing to meet his eyes.

Then cool leather met her chin, gently coaxing her to face him. As her head turned her eyes continued to stray, and only when she sensed the smallest bit of confidence in the midst of whatever she was feeling did she meet the hazel of his eyes. It wasn't until then that she realized the little distance between them.

Everything was still in that moment. Seconds felt like minutes, where minutes felt like hours. It was all a haze, the smell of him intoxicating her, making her lightheaded. When she felt his lips on her own she froze for the smallest second, then began melding them as she reciprocated. The softness of his lips caught her off guard, but it was dearly cherished. The kiss was gentle, fervorous. Short.

They pulled back ever so slightly, eyeing the other for any sign of hesitancy or doubt, and when they found none they went in once more without a second thought.

It was more potent, held more passion. Gradually their breathing grew heavier. His fingertips ghosted over her jaw, reaching further back to cup it and draw her closer. Her hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, balling the fabric beneath.

It was awkward for him at first with his damned nose, but a few seconds in and he was almost perfect. In fact, Mary relished in the feeling of it brushing against her cheek. It brought her a sense of tranquility, and reminded her of who she was with.

When they broke away it was a slow movement, regretful. He stared at her with an intensity that left her weak, that would leave anyone weak. It made her feel as if she was all that mattered in that moment. Mary wrapped her arms around his torso, Reuben holding her close to him, head resting atop her own that nestled in the crook of his neck.

Mary wasn't sure what to think. She felt lost. Confused. Of everything that had happened over the course of the past two months, it was all blurring together and made her head spin. She tightened her grip around him in fear and puzzlement.

Mary focused on the feeling of him. The way it felt to have their bodies so close to one another, sharing the new moment of intimacy. Her lips still felt warm, tingly. Something bloomed in her chest, something she was unfamiliar with. It was indescribable to her yet it filled her with such an elation.

When they pulled away a single drop traveled down her cheek as Mary smiled at the man in front of her. He ogled with a sense of adoration, using his thumb to brush the tear away. Then a breathless chuckle escaped his lips.

"The Baron thought you were my lady when I spoke with him earlier." Mary held a curious mien.

"Oh?" Reuben's lips twitched in amusement.

"I told him you weren't, and yet here we are." It was Mary's turn to chuckle. A light giggle that made his heart flutter uncharacteristically.

"Am I, then?" Mary murmured, her expression thoughtful. Her next words were but a whisper. "Am I your lady?"

"I'm afraid so. I fear the day you soften me, and I'm even more fearful that it's already started."

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

Word Count - 4,091

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

Song Inspiration -

Cody Frost - Process

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

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

He would be her past, present and future. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it… Is it still the same night?” 

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

“How long has it been?” 

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

“One day…? But how?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a flail?” (Y/n) gasped. 

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he spotted them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She called his nose cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serenity - Chapter 10

Masterlist

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

The days seemed to pass by in a flurry, though Mary was appreciative of the work she performed in order to distract herself from the reality at hand. She lived in her own little world when she was in the sewing room. Even at the village, she had never felt so focused, no matter if it was because of who it was for. The seamstress hadn't taken such care of her work since Reuben's project.

It was well into the night and the woman hadn't left the room since lunch. With the catcher out and about she hadn't a reason to leave as he was always the one to drag her away from her work. Her movements were slower, more sluggish in her tired state. She was too close to finishing with the Baron's attire to stop. As always with practically muscle memory, she made final adjustments and corrections, clipping off dangling strings and whatnot.

Mary missed the presence that entered the room, the disappointed yet adoring look across their face. She heard a sigh from behind her and didn't turn to see them, already knowing who it was.

"I'm almost done, I promise." Mary answered his silent plea.

"You shouldn't put your work over your health." The catcher removed his hat and made way to stand beside her to see the finished product.

"How did it go?"

"Found two of them under a bridge." His usual pride was concealed by his own exhaustion. Any other time of the day he would've been boasting about it like a hero, which he was in a way.

"Two?" Reuben nodded. "How old?"

"I believe six and four."

"I don't ever remember seeing so many in such a short amount of time. That would make five in a little over a month."

"It happens from time to time. Nothing is ever consistent when it comes to children." He nearly spat. Mary finally quit fussing over her work and set down her scissors to face Reuben. She offered a weak smile.

"Finished." The man huffed incredulously, biting back a smile before the two of them made their way to his quarters. As Reuben began shedding his layers Mary undid her hair and jewelry, then turned to him. "Reuben?" She called gently and he turned to her as he pulled his cravat over his head. "Can you...?" She motioned to the back of her dress.

Without hesitation he stepped over to her, beginning to untie it in silence. It was a comfortable silence, however, and it was these moments that they seemed to cherish the most. It was a calm break from the chaos of the day, allowing them to wind down and relax, basking in the comfort of one another.

Reuben softly patted her waist when he finished and she thanked him, then made her way to the bathroom to finish changing. Mary made a beeline for the bed when she emerged, burying herself under the covers and closing her eyes for much needed rest. The room dimmed beneath her eyelids as Reuben turned off the overhead light, leaving on a faint lamp on the end table beside the couch as he opened a faded book.

She began to realize that the sheets started to smell like her, and less like the man they belonged to. Either that or it was starting to become a weird combination of the two which she personally didn't mind. It began to make her wonder if they were really together that often, or if anyone else noticed besides the Barons.

She couldn't remember ever having to rely on someone as much as she did Reuben. Not even her own mother. Perhaps it was because of trauma, that her mind would cling to anyone that gave her the time of day. She wondered if it would ever wear off, or if he would grow tired of her. As close as they were now, even with a fresh courtship, she couldn't bear the thought of being away from him. It scared her to even think about the chance of it happening.

Half an hour passed and she couldn't bring herself to sleep. She was exhausted, and the sound of pages being turned occasionally kept her in her sleepy state, but her mind had other ideas as she tossed and turned. Mary opened her eyes and glanced at Reuben. His head rested against his hand, elbow on the arm of the couch with his legs crossed as he continued to read his book.

"Reuben?" The catcher perked up at her voice. "Could you lay with me?" She almost whispered. His eyes widened in disbelief for a second, then he closed and set down the book, standing up and rounding the bed to the opposite side. "I can't sleep..." Reuben slid off his shoes and carefully crawled on top of the bedding to sit up next to her. She turned to face him and lay her head in his lap, resting an arm over his legs and curling into him.

"Is something bothering you?" Mary sighed and nuzzled herself closer to him. She was silent at first, thinking.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Mary whispered, her hand gripping the fabric of his pants. He didn't say a word in response, only began combing his fingers through her hair. It wasn't until he was sure she was asleep that he leaned his head back against the bed frame and closed his eyes.

"Marianne?" A voice echoed around her. "Mary?" The echo became clearer and the woman spun around in a tizzy, trying to find the source of it. "Mary!" The nearly unsaturated plaza began to spin with her movements. "Mary!" The voice cried out with no echo present and the woman in question spun around to see her mother kneeling before her with outstretched arms, face bruised and bloodied.

Mary quickly made her way to the throne room in a daze, eyes fleeting every which way. When she entered she quickly spotted the barons who, coincidentally, were speaking with none other than Reuben. His presence gave her just a smitch more of confidence and she stepped her way over, then offered a proper greeting.

"Your attire is ready whenever you wish to see them." The four of them looked amongst each other in quite a comedic action, then the Baron answered.

"Well, let's see!"

Once more, Mary rushed her way back up to the room with the three of them in tow. The elevator ride was quite awkward for her, however. With the sound of it buzzing the only white noise in the room it was painful, really. She couldn't be more thankful when they exited and continued their journey.

Her heart banged against her chest like a drum as they neared the entrance to the sewing room, hands beginning to sweat as her body nearly trembled with anxiety. She turned to face them, looking at each of them before turning the handle to gradually open the door. The barons peeked inside, walking further into the room when their eyes landed on what would indeed be their attire.

The Baroness gasped while Bomburst's jaw popped open, staring in fascination in a manner akin to a child. Mary slowly moved to join them in front of the mannequins, carefully watching their expressions.

"You're welcome to touch them, your excellencies."  And so they did. Their fingers traced over the intricate handwork, gawking at the different textures. Their eyes ran over their own mannequins a million times over.

"Miss Elise," Mary's heart skipped a beat. "You're hired." The Baroness spoke without ever taking her eyes off of her dress. It took everything in the seamstress not to jump for joy right then and there, but she most certainly couldn't hide the grin that pinched her cheeks. She bowed her head to hide it.

"Thank you, my lady. I won't disappoint you."

"I couldn't agree more." The Baroness finally looked over at her with a large smile, as if it was Christmas morning and she found presents under the tree.

"You'll have until the day after my birthday off from your work for what you have done. Then you can start your real work." Bomburst spoke, or really shouted, joyfully. The two of them gave her a nod before they left the room, murmuring about their excitement for the upcoming party.

When the door shut Mary rested a hand on her forehead and tittered with excitement, running over to Reuben to engulf him with a hug. The air left his lungs for a moment at the impact, but once he grounded himself he returned it and smiled down at her.

"They loved it! They really loved it!" Her voice muffled itself in his chest, then she tilted her head up and gently gripped the sides of his jaw to kiss his cheek. She was about to pull away when he stopped her and returned the kiss, however on the lips. It bubbled down her elated state slightly, and when he pulled away their cheeks were flushed.

"I'd say this deserves a celebration." Reuben offered with a wink and Mary giggled.

"What did you have in mind?"

No matter how many times she asked or pestered him with questions, he absolutely refused to answer her. Her curiosity, even she could admit, was what got her into trouble most often. She thought it one of her greatest flaws. She didn't even have her sewing to distract her from such misery as Reuben made it an official order not to let her into the room for her days off. As he said, for her 'own good'.

So, being as Mary would be officially living at the castle, she decided to explore a bit more. Of course, she only visited places she was more familiar with to prevent herself from getting too lost, but she did venture off from time to time and had to ask nearby guards for directions.

Mary then wound up in the throne room, a common occurrence as of late. It seemed so much yet so little happened all at once the more she looked on about the room. Everyone was split up into their own little groups, it seemed. There was a trio of women in a corner gossiping, a pair playing badminton, and a few individual stragglers. The largest group, however, was the one knitting, all sat in a row adding on to whatever it was they were all working on. She found it rather amusing more than anything.

"Well, hello, miss." A sophisticated voice greeted. Mary turned to the source, finding a pair of middle-aged women stood next to her. They wore bland gowns, yet their jewelry and wigs showed their higher status.

"Who might you be?" The brunette of the two asked.

"Mary Elise." Both women gasped and did little to hide their excitement.

"So you're the new seamstress?" The second woman dawning a light grey wig poked. Mary simply nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking, what are your names?"

"I'm Mildred Vogel." Answered the brunette.

"Aundrea Bauer."

"Why, I think those are rather beautiful names." The women tossed their wrists and giggled.

"Please, you flatter." Mildred bubbled and the two of them led Mary further into the room.

"We couldn't help but overhear that you finished the Barons' attire for his excellency's birthday!" Aundrea piped up rather loudly and Mary flinched, glancing around to see if any heads turned. To her relief, none did.

"Yes, yes, I can't wait to see what you've made to have them boast so openly!"

"Perhaps you could make us a little something, as well?" Mildred suggested and Mary began to internally panic when another voice interrupted.

"Now, ladies, leave the poor woman be before word gets out that you're pestering his excellency's seamstress." A man with a grey wig and elegant robe intervened, making his way over.

He looked down at the two women over his smaller glasses that balanced on his nose. At first they grew frustrated, but it quickly died down before they scurried off to who knew where. The stranger then turned to Mary.

"I hope they didn't give you too much trouble, Miss." He held out his hand. "Heinrich Fischer, Chancellor." She took hold of it to shake, but before she could remove her hand he covered it with his other and began to slowly maneuver them about the room as they spoke. He didn't seem to mean ill-will, it seemed more like a gentlemanly gesture than anything so she decided to pay no mind to it. Though it was awkward the first minute or so.

"It's not exactly what I expected it to be, I'll have to admit, Chancellor." She commented sheepishly and he chuckled.

"Of course not, dear girl, not at all. Not at all with all the stories floating around about out there."

"Stories?" He looked over at her in curiosity.

"Aren't you from the village?" Mary nodded. "Haven't you heard any stories from here? How the riches outweigh the amountiful brutality and whatnot?"

"I only heard bits and pieces from passerbys, but I never really trusted their opinions anyways." The Chancellor cleared his throat.

"Well, whatever the case, the stories seem to be getting more dramatic the further along they pass."

"How do you know if you don't visit?"

"Why, the prisoners, of course. It's amazing how much people talk when there's trouble a-brewing."

"Prisoners? Like children?"

"Children, yes, of course. Adults, too." He leaned in closer, speaking more quietly with a mischievous expression. "Though, many of those adults used to be children." He chuckled when he stood up straight once more, finally releasing her hand. "I figured you would know all inside and out about that with how much time you spend with the catcher."

"The topic just hasn't come up, I suppose."

"And speak of the devil." Mary noticed his gaze wander and followed it to see Reuben making his way over to the two of them.

"Chancellor." He greeted the man stiffly with a nod. "I'm afraid I've come to steal your company, if you don't mind."

"Of course, of course. She's your lady, after all. Quite a curious one." He quipped with a smile before waving them off and heading somewhere else. Reuben and Mary shared an odd look before she was dragged by the former out of the room.

"Not a fan?" Mary asked once they were out of earshot. Reuben held back a scoff.

"Eccentric. Everyone here is, including myself. But I like to think I'm the more sane one."

"Where are we going?" Mary questioned after a moment as he led her to an unfamiliar area of the castle.

"You'll see." He answered with a sly smile. She slowed for a second, then bit her lip to hide her own and trotted back to his side, taking hold of his arm. "Remember that celebration?" He recollected as they stopped before a larger doorway at the end of the hall. She looked at him in curiosity and he opened the doors, revealing a sight she only thought to be in her mother's fairytales.

It was a grand balcony. A miniature ballroom, one could say. Two large columns sat in the center, wrapped with vine and fairy lights. At the edge of the balcony sat a glass table for two, decorated with a candle and vase of a single rose. Food already sat covered at their seats in hopes to prevent any intrusion. It was a warm setting, one that remained dim so as to not outshine the stars above.

Mary stepped in further, circling to take in everything around her with a beaming smile before landing on Reuben. He looked on at her with fondness, the most gentle expression she had ever seen from him that was enough to make her cry. He followed in after her and took her hand, guiding her to the table to sit. She took a deep breath, still gazing at the scenery before her.

"I don't know what to say..." She finally whispered.

"Your face says enough." He noticed her cheeks redden and he smirked in amusement. They poured themselves a glass of wine before taking the covers from their plates. Reuben's smile widened when she gasped in excitement at the sight of the food. "Had it specially made for you." He winked and they began to eat.

Mary hummed at the first bite, having been the best meal she had since she'd arrived. They nursed their drinks throughout the supper, talking and poking fun at one another as if they'd known each other for years. She wasn't sure if it was the wine or the atmosphere, but it was the most she had felt at ease.

"I used your cloak the other day," Mary's eyes glimmered in curiosity. "I'd say it's the most comfortable one in my collection."

"Was it really?!" She perked up. "It wasn't overbearing was it? Not too much?" Reuben smiled at her onslaught of questions.

"It was perfect, my dear." Her hands clapped together with joy.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me!"

"Well, I'm sure it's not the first time you've received such a compliment with all that you did in the village." He raised a brow.

"Not often at all, I'm afraid. Even still, I'm more thrilled with the fact that I'm actually doing something bigger with my material, something better where my work is finally paying off." Reuben noticed the relief in her winsome eyes as she rested her chin in her hand dreamily. "I only wish my mother were here to see how far I've come." The catcher stood up when her expression grew with melancholy, walking over to a nearby end table along the wall as he spoke.

"She would've been the proudest mother in the village, no doubt."

Mary heard him fiddle with something on the table's surface, followed by light scratching when music began to play. The sound of an orchestral piece brought an extra sense of comfort and she smiled at him as he made his way over, holding his hand out to her.

"Care for a dance, my lady?" The woman hesitated.

"I - I don't know how." Reuben tilted his head.

"Then I'll teach you." She thought for a moment, looking away in embarrassment. But he was patient.

It paid off when she finally took hold of his hand and allowed him to whisk her away to the center of the balcony. One hand took hold of her waist while the other stayed joined with her own, her other placed on his shoulder.

"I just want you to follow my footing." She took an anxious breath and nodded. He began slower, allowing her to match his steps. "1 - 2 - 3," He mumbled. She stumbled a bit at first, apologizing for every misstep which he quickly dismissed, but after a few rotations she started to get the hang of it. "That's it." Reuben cooed and began to move quicker to match the music.

Mary began to giggle in enjoyment when she began to get the hang of it, allowing herself to focus more on the moment rather than worrying about her footwork. He returned her joy with a smile and decided to spin her. She shrieked in surprise, laughter pouring out when he pulled her back in close enough for their chests to touch. His hand moved to rest on her lower back, her own tickling the back of his neck beneath his hair.

The tempo of the song slowed, as did their movements. Their heightened cheerfulness died down to simple appreciation, but their gentle smiles remained. With both of their arms wrapped around the other they began to truly focus on one another. They took in every detail, every minuscule expression that crossed the other's face with admiration as they rocked themselves gracefully.

"I don't want to leave this moment." Reuben hummed at her comment.

"I believe you said that the last time we had a moment." Mary clicked her tongue.

"You know what I mean." He hummed again.

"I do. But if we never left that last moment, then we wouldn't have had this one." Mary simply sighed and laid her head in the crook of his neck.

"I can't remember the last time I've truly been this happy." He was left speechless as Mary looked up at him longingly, eyes glancing at his lips before she laid a soft kiss atop of them.

Thank you all for the lovely comments! I have many more ideas and one-shots to come! Some are a bit more lengthy than others, be warned!🥰

(P.S: Ideas/asks are most definitely welcome 😘)

Serenity - Chapter 5

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can't just leave you here -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's a customer."

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope so..."

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

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

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

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

"How much?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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. 

Chapter 1

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The list went on, and then -

“(Y/n) (L/n).”

She barely shifted, but inside, her senses sharpened.

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

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

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

Or perhaps just calculation.

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

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

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

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

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

A voice broke through the silence beside her.

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

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

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

(Y/n) arched a brow. “You doubted?”

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

She gave him a pointed look, unimpressed.

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

“They were wrong,” she said simply.

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

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

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

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

She nodded. “I suppose so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did. All too well.

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

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

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

“We survived,” he murmured.

“For now,” she replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfectly, General.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hux was the one to break it.

“You’re not what I expected.”

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

“Explain,” she said simply.

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

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

“Hm.” He didn’t argue the point.

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

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

“Yes, General?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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