Serenity - Chapter 3
Serenity - Chapter 3
Masterlist
Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.
-
Mary stared at the ceiling of the rather minuscule bedroom. She hardly slept that night, restless. Rapidly thinking about what the following day would bring. Or rather what the Child Catcher would bring.
No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, whether it’d be new ideas or just ways to organize the shop, she couldn’t bring herself to stop wandering off to him. Question after question. Wondering.
He said the others at the castle lacked creativity, but that only left room for more questions instead of answers. Was the castle really that bland? Was it that lifeless?
The morning went by at a leisurely pace, and the afternoon even more so. It was as if the world was mocking her. It made her lose her focus. Made her more sluggish. Though it didn’t make her work any less remarkable. She would strive for nothing less than perfection, after all. But it all just so happened to be on possibly one of the busiest days she had in quite some time.
She began to question if there was a special occasion she and her parents were missing out on, or a festival perhaps? A birthday? The possibilities were endless in such a village. But just being a busy day would have to suffice for the time being.
She quickly patched up a pair of lederhosen with some difficulty, which she would never openly admit. The leather was tough to sew especially without the proper equipment. It was already irritating to work with even if she had all of the correct tools. But to compensate for the extra work and material, she charged more than she would for a simple fix. Which the men always had their own opinions on.
After trading with the man she slid her sketchbook in front of her on the stand, readying her pencil over the faded paper. Maybe coming up with some ideas for him beforehand would put her mind at ease? Unless he already had a specific one in mind, then her sketching would be pointless. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.
A candy man, he said? She doubted he would be willing to change his entire fit, rather than something to just throw over. A gentle smile graced her lips, the thought of him wearing such a flamboyant suit amusing her.
At last the pencil began to move across the paper, scurrying and scratching as ideas began to flood. Almost too many to keep up with. It didn’t take long for the first design to be completed with customers stopping by for a quick fix every other minute. She labeled what colors went where and what the fabric would be for each piece. All in great detail.
She repeated the same process for a few others, and thankfully it helped the day go by quicker. The sky was a deep gradient of orange and purple by the time Mary closed up the shop. She closed the double doors, turning to tidy the rest of the room in preparation for the day after. The old wood creaked beneath her feet to fill the airy silence, and it was peaceful. A breath of fresh air after the tiring day.
Once finished she trudged up the stairs to see the dining room empty which was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. The stove was cold, pots and pans left the way it was that morning. Her father’s cup wasn’t even on the table or in the sink. That was what made her stomach churn.
A cough sounded from her parents’ bedroom through the closed door, growing more violent the longer it continued. The sound of it struck a fear in her that left her paralyzed. She listened. Waited. A minute later it came to a stop.
And the silence that followed frightened her.
Her breathing soft, she strained her ears to listen for even the smallest sound. Anything to ease her frantic mind. Then she heard her mother’s muffled voice.
Mary let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and at last began to prepare everything for dinner. She washed the vegetables and set out the cutting board and knives, chopping them up when she heard a door open. Feet shuffled across the floor, a pair landing beside her.
Her mother placed a larger pot inside the sink and turned it on, moving to light the stove.
“Ma,” Mary whispered softly when she heard a sniff, her own eyes glazing over. “Please stop.”
“Liebling.” Her mother’s voice held a mixed tone. Stern, yet trembled. Mary let it be, a tear escaping down her cheek.
Once they ate and the dishes were washed the older woman waved Mary over into her bedroom, her father still sitting at the table. She sat on the edge, Mary sitting almost directly behind her with a brush. She began to carefully remove the bun from her mother’s hair and combed her fingers through it in an attempt to undo any knots or tangled hairs.
“What did he want?” She asked Mary when she began to brush. She halted her movements for a second before continuing, caught off guard by the blunt question. “And don’t lie to me.” Her daughter hesitated, then huffed.
“You must swear not to tell a single soul.” Her mother let out a heartfelt chuckle.
“Who would I tell, dear?” After a minute or so of brushing she answered.
“He wants me to make an outfit for one of his characters.” A short moment passed and Mary honestly couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. She didn’t still, didn’t sigh, didn’t gasp. Mary even convinced herself that she didn’t hear her, that is until her mother spoke.
“Will you?” Mary sighed.
“I will. I had a feeling it wouldn’t end well no matter the decision. It was either decline and insult the Baron’s henchman, or accept and face the wrath of the people when they find out.”
“When they find out?”
“It’s only a matter of time.” Mary stood up once finished and put away the brush. “Those intrusive bastards.” She mumbled to herself and her mother just smiled.
“Well, what does he want? Do you know?” Her questions surprised Mary, taking everything better than she thought she would. Just two days ago she was scared to death of him when he first entered the shop and now there they were having a casual conversation about what his next lure would be as if it were common gossip.
“All he said was a candy man. I sketched out a few ideas I had today. Whatever it turns out to be, I just hope he likes it.”
“Only a fool would find your work distasteful. But it is interesting how he is giving you so much free reign for something so seemingly important to him.”
Mary felt guilty for not telling her the whole truth. She trusted her mother more than anything. Not because of familial relation, but because of how much they had been through together. What they still went through together. She meant well, and it wasn’t as if she was lying. She just didn’t want her to worry more than she already did.
By the time her parents finished getting ready for bed and settled down Mary was downstairs collecting all she needed. She put her sketchbook and pencil in a simple tattered shoulder bag along with her favorite measuring tape. She then checked upstairs to make sure her parents had finally fallen asleep before heading to the front of the shop.
She peaked out the window of one of the doors, making sure no one was still wandering the plaza. When the coast was clear she carefully left the shop, turning the knob as she closed it to prevent any unnecessary noise.
Her hands nervously twisted the strap of the satchel as she turned to face the wide open space. She rarely ever ventured out in the dark, let alone to meet with someone. She supposed she was a bit of a hypocrite since she considered herself to be a reclusive person herself. Now, she wasn’t heavily introverted, but enough to call herself one.
Mary took a few steps into the plaza, looking around for any sign of the man. Would he be hiding? Or was he confident enough to just wander in? Perhaps she was too early? She chewed on her lip with blooming panic as the questions began to swirl, but was put at ease when she saw him step out from a nearby street.
Never would she have thought she would be relieved to see the Child Catcher, but alas she sighed at the sight of him. The relief gradually diminished, however, with every step she took closer to him.
Being in his presence would strike fear into even the toughest man in the village. To say he had a reputation would be an understatement. To the others in the village he was a sadist, taking great pleasure in capturing the children and watching them cry and suffer. Same with the adults he had executed for having them in the first place. Mary, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think of the man. As far as she was concerned, he was just doing his job. Maybe he had a bit of too much fun doing it, but it was a job nonetheless.
When she reached him he leaned his head in the direction he came, turning to walk back down the street with Mary in tow. When she turned the corner she saw a horse standing in the middle of it, patiently waiting. She felt intimidated as she stood beside it, being short enough as it was. She turned to the catcher who held a hand out, offering his help.
“Where are we going?” Mary asked warily.
“The bridge.” His bluntness surprisingly made her trust the man more, made him seem like he had nothing to hide which was ironic given the situation.
After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and collected her skirt with the other, placing her foot in the stirrup to push herself up onto the horse. She gasped when she felt him lift her up with a startling amount of strength, yet was still careful in his movements. It was rather deceiving compared to his more scrawny appearance.
As he hopped on behind her she began to welcome the height difference, it even put the hint of a smile on her face. His arms reaching around her to grab the reins soon brought her back to the reality of the situation. After he kicked and the horse began to move she quickly gripped onto the saddle in front of her, never having ridden a horse before as it took on a graceful walk, and once she grew used to it her smile returned.
“Enjoying yourself?” The man behind her piped up in subtle amusement.
“Very much.” Was her simple response. She looked up to the sky, the stars beaming down brightly. Not a single cloud was in sight. “Imagine the view from the castle.” Mary mumbled, losing herself in the many new sensations the night already brought her.
“It’s better than the one down here, no doubt.”
“Well, do you ever look at them?” She questioned, her eyes never leaving the sky. She couldn’t understand why, but she felt more comfortable talking to him as they were. It was refreshing for her to talk to someone new. Someone who was willing to listen, or rather seemed like they were willing. Whether he was doing it out of politeness or because he was her customer, she couldn’t tell. But she appreciated it either way.
“I see no reason to.”
The rest of the ride was silent, yet peaceful. And Mary hated to admit it, but it made her sleepy. She wasn’t used to staying up later at night. Perhaps that was why she always woke up so early. Or was it the other way around?
When they reached the arch of the stone bridge he jumped off, then once again helped Mary. She had been far less graceful and nearly face planted the gravel were it not for the catcher…well, catching her. He tied the horse to a nearby post and turned to Mary expectedly, only to see her already taking a seat beneath the bridge. He followed suit and sat next to her, keeping a good distance so as to not make her feel uncomfortable, which she made a mental note of.
“If you don’t mind,” she began as she pulled out her book and pencil. “I already had a few ideas sketched out during the day if you wanted to take a look at them?” She looked over at him, shrinking with beady eyes at his unreadable expression. “Unless you already had one in mind?” She quickly added. He glanced down at her sketchbook.
“Let’s see yours first.” With a closed smile, she opened it and flipped to find the page.
“Given your line of work, I thought maybe a larger cloak of some sort. It would be a simple change and I think it would flow more gracefully if it has the right flare.” She finally landed on her first drawing. “Since you said ‘candy man’, I thought it would be best to stick to more intense colors, or bright. I was thinking purple for the base color and tried adding in other designs, but the color just didn’t really stick out to me.” Mary flipped to the next page and he watched her enthusiasm begin to show.
As she continued to explain her ideas, the catcher watched on in bewilderment. He knew she had to be at least somewhat skilled to create what she had in the shop, but her range of thought and creativity was far beyond what he had originally thought. Not only was she good at sewing, but he noticed how she tailored to the customer as well.
For the first time in years he was stunned. He greatly underestimated her, and so did the rest of Vulgaria. It was a shame no one took advantage of her work and how much she enjoyed doing it. He could tell she held so much passion, so much love for what she did and yet no one seemed to notice or appreciate it.
It reminded him of himself.
“This one is my personal favorite.” He perked at her words, eager to see why it was indeed her favorite. He leaned closer and carefully looked over the detailed design. It was consistent with her previous cloak designs, however it was the largest of the bunch. Enough to cover the majority of his suit.
The base was a vibrant yellow, orange and white trimming and geometric designs tactically placed to make it stand out more. Flowers of blues and yellows lined the coat along the edges and sleeves, rich green leaves sprouting from them. But it was a patch of red with black zig-zags along the upper back that struck his fancy the most. It seemed out of place compared to the rest, yet somehow she made it work. It wouldn’t be the same without it.
“That one.” The catcher drawled out. Mary snapped her head over to him, mouth agape.
“But, I haven’t -“ She stopped herself when his eyes flicked over to meet her in an intense gaze. She quickly looked away and stuttered. “Of course. This one it is.” She then turned and started digging through her bag to pull out her tape measure and stood up.
Her eyes followed him as he did the same, just over a head taller than her. Her eyes glanced between his own, fiddling with the tape in her hands absentmindedly. Then she suddenly realized why she had it in the first place.
“Right.” She chirped quickly and began to take his measurements, starting with his arms and jotting down the numbers along the way. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name exactly? I find it rude not to know the names of my customers.” Mary asked softly to break the awkward silence, mostly out of her own curiosity. Her hands lightly shook out of nerves.
“Reuben.” He caught the faintest smile reaching her lips.
“Reuben…?”
“Reuben Herrmann.” It took everything in him not to cringe at the name. It had been quite a while since he heard or even said it after being called The Child Catcher for so many years. Very few people knew his real name, and he preferred to keep it that way. The only reason he even told Mary in the first place was because he was aware of how little she spoke to other villagers, if at all. He had a feeling she wouldn’t even tell her own mother without his expressed permission.
Mary reached around his front to measure his torso and it wasn’t until then that he realized how close they were. He could tell she was trying to avoid it from happening, but given she was taking measurements it was only a matter of time. And now it was his turn to feel flustered, mainly from hearing her repeat his own name back to him.
“I think it fits you.” Mary hummed, then she began to giggle and decided to try and break through his closed-off demeanor. “You know, the people gossip about what they think your name is?”
“They do?” She nodded and continued with her giggle fit. “And what have they said?”
“Well, nothing even remotely close to Reuben. Your name is that of a saint compared to what they’ve come up with. But I think my favorite is Archie.” Mary’s giggling turned into laughter when the catcher’s face twisted into disgust.
“Archie? Well, I’d say we’re blessed that they can’t have children.” By the time her laughter died down she was finished and put away the tape measure, hooking the bag over her shoulder.
“Well lucky for you, Mister Herrmann, you won’t be catching any Archies.” The two of them made their way back over to the horse, untying and mounting it once more to begin their journey back to the village.
Mary let out a gentle yawn, covering it as best she could. The sound of the horse’s hooves tapping against the ground, the movement of it alone practically rocking her to sleep. She struggled to keep her eyes open as the crickets seemed to grow more faint, everything around her meddling together. Subconsciously she leaned back against Reuben, her head rested off to the side on one of his shoulders. But by the time she realized she was falling asleep it was too late.
More Posts from Igot-the-juice and Others
Chapter 10
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 hangar was bustling with activity as personnel of all kinds scrambled to prepare for their mission. Orders were being barked, soldiers made their way in and out of different ships, carrying and dropping off various items. Some held a level of stress in their posture and expressions, others seemed as if it was just another day to them.
The air was thick with the sound of machinery, clanking metal, and low murmurings of troopers and Duskborns checking supplies. Rows of sleek First Order transports lined the hangar floor, receiving final diagnostics. Weapon crates were stacked, gear was being distributed, and squads gathered in tight clusters for final briefings.
Varo, however, was an outlier.
(Y/n) walked beside the general, black cloak trailing behind her, her expression sharp and focused. Hux surveyed the hangar with his usual critical eye, his gloved hands clasped neatly nearly behind him as he took in the organized chaos.
“Everything seems to be running on time,” Hux said coolly. “More or less.”
“More or less usually means less,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.
Before he could reply, a familiar voice cut through the clamor.
“Now this ,” a familiar voice started. “ This is what I’ve missed,” Varo said from across the hangar as he made his way over to meet them, grinning as he slid a throwing knife into the sheath on his wrist. “The anticipation. The gear checks. The nervous pacing.” He took a deep, dramatic inhale through his nose. “The subtle aroma of blood and fuel in the air. Beautiful .”
(Y/n) arched a brow at the sight of him practically glowing with excitement. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Hey, we’ve been stuck in recon mode for days. I’m starving for a real fight,” he said, clearly savoring the energy in the room. “You don’t get to judge me for being excited.”
“You’re excited the way a hound is excited to chase a transport.”
“Exactly. But smarter. And with better hair.”
(Y/n) shook her head, but the corners of her mouth curled in spite of herself.
“Come on, (Y/n),” Varo added. “This beats standing around the bridge pretending to understand General Hux’s complicated holomaps.”
“I understand them fine,” she said. “It’s his smug commentary that’s unbearable.” She teased harmlessly.
“Right! That little ‘hmm’ he does when someone misses a tactical cue,” Varo added.
“I am standing right here,” Hux interjected, deadpanned.
(Y/n) smirked, clearly trying to keep her composure.
Then she made the mistake of looking at Varo again, just as he gave the general a silly expression in the following silence between them.
She let out a sharp, unexpected laugh. It started small as she tried to hide it, but it quickly spilled into full-bodied laughter, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She bent forward slightly, shoulders shaking, her eyes gleaming with mirth.
Varo raised his hands in mock victory. “Yes!”
Hux stared at her, momentarily caught off guard. He had never seen her laugh like that, never heard her sound so unburdened, so alive. The sight of it held him still.
When she straightened again, brushing her hair back and shaking her head, she was still smiling.
“You’re the worst,” she said, voice still thick with amusement.
“But you love me anyway.”
She turned to fire back some quip, but her gaze flicked to Hux and the moment lingered. For a heartbeat, she just looked at him. He met her eyes, something warm and unfamiliar settling in his chest.
“I think I’ve just witnessed a miracle,” Hux said with hinted amusement.
“Don’t make it weird,” she replied, her tone flat but eyes betraying her amusement.
“No promises,” Varo added, already wandering off to harass another squad about the angle of their blade holsters.
(Y/n) composed herself with a soft exhale and straightened her cloak. She glanced sideways at Hux who was still watching her with something unreadable in his gaze.
“What?” she asked, arching a brow.
“Nothing,” he replied, tone measured. “It’s just… enlightening to see you interact with your counterpart.”
“Varo’s an idiot,” she muttered fondly.
“And yet, you laugh more with him than you do with anyone else on this ship,” he noted.
“I laugh at him,” she clarified.
“Of course.” Sensing his sarcasm, she snapped her head with narrowed eyes in question, but he simply cocked his head as a challenge to her defiance.
With a dissatisfied hum, she turned for them to resume their walk along the hangar floor, stepping past squads of troopers checking their weapons and finalizing loadouts. A technician approached with a datapad, offering a quick salute to the general before giving a rundown of shuttle assignments, fuel levels, and emergency fallback protocols.
Hux nodded through the information, signing off with a flick of a stylus. When the officer stepped away, (Y/n) glanced towards a row of heavy transports being loaded with Covenant units.
“They seem like they’re ready,” she said. “I recognize the itch when I see it.”
“Exactly what I’d expect from your forces,” Hux said, his tone quietly respectful.
She turned her head slightly, her voice lower. “They’re not mine. Not really.”
“You lead them. They follow you. That makes them yours in all the ways that matter.”
The words lingered in her mind as they reached the final row of transports. Captain Phasma was there already, her gleaming chrome armor catching the overhead lights as she reviewed the final squad configurations. She gave a curt nod to the general and (Y/n) as they approached.
“Preparations are on schedule,” Phasma said. “All squads are at combat readiness. Final systems checks will be complete in twenty minutes.”
“Good,” Hux replied. “Ensure nothing is left to chance.”
Phasma turned and walked with one of her lieutenants as (Y/n) drifted closer to where the command ship was, gazing up at the cockpit.
“Hopefully this will be our last time dealing with this damned faction.” She murmured.
“Are you nervous?” Hux asked, stepping up beside her.
“Not for myself,” she admitted. “For the ones I’m responsible for. We lose even one, and it stays with us.”
Hux’s eyes flicked over her face, noting the calm resolve beneath her words. “You’re ready, (Y/n).”
She looked at him then, and for a moment there was no rank, no orders. Just two people on the edge of something dangerous and defining.
“I know,” she said. “I just need them to be.”
He watched as she turned to look back at her Covenant troops again.
As final prep commands echoed across the vast hangar, one of them - tall, but clearly younger than the rest - stood just slightly apart, fumbling with the thick straps of his tactical harness. The rest of his squad was nearly ready, their posture straight and unreadable, but the younger Duskborn’s jaw was clenched in frustration.
Without a word, (Y/n) veered away from Hux’s side.
The clinking of metal buckles and the rustling of his uniform greeted her as she approached. The Duskborn noticed her too late to compose himself fully, and when he looked up, his expression shifted from surprise to embarrassment.
“Umbral (L/n),” he said quickly, bowing his head.
“At ease,” she murmured. Her voice was low, but not cold. Calm and steady. “What’s the issue?”
“My harness, ma’am,” he admitted, fidgeting. “I can’t get the spine guards to stay centered. I’ve adjusted it twice already, but it keeps shifting to the right.”
“Hold still.” She offered assistance without hesitation.
She stepped in close and began adjusting the straps herself. Her movements were swift, practiced. Each pull and buckle done with silent precision. The Duskborn stood rigid but didn’t flinch under her touch. She could feel the tension radiating off of him, the anxious buzz of youth beneath the discipline.
“You’re new,” she said quietly, her eyes on the harness. “First field deployment?”
“Yes, ma’am. I transferred from the Sanghollow garrison two months ago.”
(Y/n) gave one last tug on the strap, locking it into place. “This gear is heavier than what you’re used to. You’ll adjust in the drop. Trust it and it’ll take care of you.”
He looked at her, hesitating. “I’ve studied your academic campaigns. What you did during the Tarsyn Rebellion - how you held the shield line when everyone else had fallen back. We were told you shouldn’t have survived.”
(Y/n)’s brow twitched slightly, but she said nothing.
“You did,” he added. “I just wanted you to know that leadership like you is the reason I’m proud to be where I am.”
(Y/n)’s gaze softened just a touch. “Well, people like us don’t survive for the legacy. We survive so the next ones don’t make the same mistakes that we did.”
He nodded solemnly, the nervousness in his expression fading to something steadier.
“You’ll do well,” she said, stepping back. “Keep your head up, follow your orders, and don’t try to be the hero. It gets people killed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
(Y/n) gave his shoulder a small, almost imperceptible squeeze before moving down the line. She stopped at each Duskborn, checking gauntlets, securing weapons, quietly giving a nod or muttering something only they could hear. None of them questioned her presence. They welcomed it, a silent reverence in the way they stood taller when she passed.
From a distance, Hux observed.
He remained still, eyes tracking her movements as she moved through her people. He’d seen her command before. He’d seen her fight, train, nearly kill - but this was something different.
There was strength in her gentleness. The way the Duskborns looked at her - like she was a myth walking among them - it told him everything he needed to know about the kind of leader she truly was.
When she finally returned to him - pace unhurried, expression composed - he spoke softly.
“You have their loyalty.”
“They have mine,” she replied. “A good leader doesn’t expect the loyalty of their people. They earn it.”
He held her gaze for a second longer before offering a small nod of admiration and approval.
Before he could speak, a comms officer approached at a brisk pace, datapad in hand.
“General, Umbral,” the officer said, stopping short. “We intercepted a short-range coded signal from the target location. We believe it’s a call for extraction.”
(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed. “How long ago?”
“Less than five minutes. They’re trying to get the target off-world.”
Hux took the datapad, reading the decoded line. “They’re aware of our planning. We’ll lose our chance if we delay.”
(Y/n) looked towards the transports, her mind already racing.
“We’ll advance the timeline,” Hux said, handing the datapad back. “Move the infiltration squads out immediately. Inform Captain Phasma - she coordinates deployment from the ground with Umbral Drenn.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer nodded and sprinted off.
Just then, Varo appeared beside them, already geared up.
“We launching early?” he asked, breathless with excitement.
“Resistance extraction attempt,” (Y/n) said, watching another squad load up. “Mission’s starting now.”
Varo gave a wide grin. “Perfect. I love when plans get interrupted. It makes things interesting.”
She arched a brow at him. “Only you would enjoy last-minute chaos.”
“It builds character.”
He turned to go, but gave her a nod.
“See you on the other side, Umbral.”
As he vanished into the transport line, (Y/n)’s eyes lingered on the group of Duskborns. Hux moved beside her, letting her know that they needed to leave.
Their own vessel awaited nearby. Sleek, reinforced, and fully equipped for high-level command operations. A small crew of officers and pilots stood ready at the base of the ramp.
“We stay close,” he started as they made their way towards the ship. “Just outside of striking range. If the mission goes awry, we’ll intervene.”
(Y/n) gave one last look towards the hangar before following him up the ramp.
The hum of the command vessel was steady as it powered on, its interior as sleek as the outside and minimal compared to the Finalizer’s grand design. It wasn’t built for intimidation, it was built for precision.
Hux and (Y/n) stood side-by-side at the front, displays illuminating their faces with scrolling readouts, tactical data, and live-feed visuals as the pilots flipped various switches and managed the central console.
The two of them watched as others in the hangar ran into their appropriate ships before the ramps lifted shut, TIE fighters and transport ships turning to zip out towards the large expanse of space and down to their targeted coordinates.
(Y/n) held onto the chair of the pilot in front of her to steady herself as their ship lifted just as the last TIE fighter left, signaling for them to follow.
Her heart raced with adrenaline as the ship sped, her grip tightening and the general looked over at her with an expression of mild concern.
Catching his movements, she glanced over at him with the ghost of a smirk. “I may be a little more excited than I’d like to admit.” She said quietly. Hux simply shook his head before looking forward again.
As the surface of the dark planet closed in, the ships slowed and initiated their cloaking.
The silence was deafening, the only sound being the engine of the ship and occasional beeping from the controls. In the distance, they could see faint movement of either the faction or Resistance personnel scrambling to prepare for extraction.
“ TIE fighters on standby. ” A voice came through the comms quietly, as if afraid to speak.
“ Delta team preparing to deploy. Standby.”
Everyone on the command ship held their breath as the other squads reported the same.
“ Stealth teams have deployed .” One of the pilots of a transport ship reported in finality.
“Signal confirms no Resistance sensors have picked them up yet.” An officer on the command ship notified Hux and (Y/n) who nodded in acknowledgement.
“Maintain course,” Hux instructed coolly.
(Y/n) stood tall beside him, arms folded, her eyes locked on one of the overhead monitors. Through the helmet cam of a Duskborn operative, she could see the darkened corridors of the relay station, every movement silent and efficient.
“No signs of Resistance forces yet,” another officer said. “Interior heat signatures are minimal.”
“They’re hidden,” (Y/n) murmured. “Classic misdirection. If the call for extraction was real, the Resistance should be inbound soon.”
“Well, we’ll just have to greet them properly, then, won’t we?” Hux voiced. “Bring up the orbital pathways.”
An officer nodded, transferring a new map to the main display. The orbital path of the planet appeared, layered with potential hyperspace exit points.
“If they attempt to jump from low orbit as expected, they’ll come out here or here.” Hux tapped two coordinates. “I want TIE fighters repositioned in those coordinates to cut them off.”
As the officers relayed commands, (Y/n) leaned in closer to one of the screens, watching the team advance. She could see Varo at the front, weaving between shadows like a phantom.
“He’s enjoying himself,” she muttered dryly.
Hux glanced towards her, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “He always does in controlled chaos.”
The console flickered, red light briefly sweeping across the interface.
“ Enemy movement detected ,” Came a quiet voice through the comms.
“We’ve got an incoming ship, likely their extraction team.”
Hux straightened. “Identify and engage. I want their escape paths closed before they make contact.”
“Yes, sir.”
(Y/n)’s gaze didn’t leave the screens, but her stance shifted, more alert now. “Once the target’s secured, they’ll try to punch through us.”
“They won’t,” Hux said firmly. “Not with the Covenant in play.”
On the ground, the station corridors were cold and metallic, barely lit, the humming of machinery providing a low thrum beneath the silence. Varo stalked at the front of the formation, hand raised to signal a stop. Behind him, the Duskborns and stealth troopers fanned out along the corridor, weapons drawn, silent as wraiths.
The quiet didn’t last.
From around the corner, bootfalls echoed, rushed and uneven.
The Resistance had come early.
Varo barely had time to signal before the firefight erupted.
Blaster bolts tore through the corridor, lighting up the shadows with rapid flashes of red and blue. Varo evaded and sped to cover, firing off a precise volley that dropped two advancing soldiers. The Duskborns engaged with frightening coordination, some vanishing into the shadows before reappearing behind them, blades drawn.
A scream echoed, and then another - followed by a thundering sound from above.
Above them, TIE fighters screamed through the void, engaging the Resistance X-wings in a high-speed dogfight above the station. Laser fire lit the space in a chaotic dance, illuminating the planet below. One TIE spiraled down in flames, colliding with a wing of the station in a burst of debris.
“We’ve got incoming on both sides!” Varo shouted over the chaos, ducking behind a steel pillar as another blast hit too close. “Push them back! Don’t let them bottleneck us!”
A Duskborn soldier leapt across the corridor, spinning mid-air with an unnatural grace and hurling a dagger into a Resistance soldier’s chest before disappearing into the shadows again.
“We’re too exposed here,” one Duskborn warned. “We need to move now!”
“Negative,” Varo snapped, eyes tracking the Resistance squad leader through the chaos. “We hold position until the area is cleared. If they break through, they’ll manage to escape.”
He stepped from cover, dual daggers drawn, and engaged a pair of soldiers in close quarters, moving like water. Sharp, fast and lethal. One went down with a slash to the throat, the other disarmed and stunned with a punch to the jaw.
A nearby Duskborn called out, “Umbral! They’re flanking left!”
“I see them!” he replied, pivoting and launching a throwing knife across the hall. It struck true, dropping another enemy.
Just then, the comms crackled to life.
“ Umbral Drenn, this is Command. Resistance fleet has arrived. We’ve repositioned to cut them off. What’s your status? ” General Hux alerted them.
He ducked behind cover again, breathing shallow, adrenaline high. “Messy. But we’ve got it under control for now. Tell (L/n) she owes me a drink.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“ Duly noted .” (Y/n). “ Hold the line. Reinforcements are on standby if necessary. ”
As the comms went silent, Varo grinned despite the madness. “She better make it the expensive stuff.”
Behind him, the Duskborns surged forward once more, pressing the advantage. And above them, the skies continued to burn.
“Bravo and Charlie team,” Varo addressed the First Order soldiers through their comms. “Hold position and guard the entrance, Delta will push through.”
The air grew colder the deeper they pushed. Not the kind of chill that came from faulty temperature controls. It was something older, more primal. The shadows stretched longer, the lights flickering in a way that set every instinct of theirs on edge.
Varo led the squad with calculated precision, blood from the last encounter still smeared across his neck guard. His eyes narrowed as he held up a clenched fist, signaling silence.
“We’re getting close,” he said, voice barely audible. “They’ve gone quiet, but they’re here.”
The atmosphere had changed. There was no longer the frantic resistance of panicked soldiers. They were entering territory claimed by something more dangerous.
Kin.
A sharp hiss echoed down the corridor and, in an instant, three shadows dropped from the ceiling, landing with unnatural grace. The corridor exploded in movement.
Rogue Covenant.
One launched towards Varo with feral speed, but he caught the attack, bracing with a grunt as he was shoved back. The rogue’s eyes were glowing with bloodlust, fangs bared.
“Careful!” Varo shouted. “Remember, they used to be Covenant!”
The Duskborns split into formation. Blades clashed in a flurry of strikes too fast for the human eye to follow. One Duskborn was hurled into a wall with a sickening crack. Another managed to impale a rogue through the ribs, but the vampire hissed and yanked the blade deeper to get close enough to bite before he was finally thrown off.
Varo ducked a wild slash and countered with a dagger to the thigh, pivoting behind his opponent and grabbing them in a chokehold. “You’ve fallen far,” he snarled into their ear, “but I know you remember how this ends.”
The rogue thrashed, eyes flashing with fury before Varo twisted the silver blade up and under their sternum, dusting them in a shimmer of gray ash.
“Hold formation!” he ordered, breath heavy. “Push forward - we’re close.”
Back aboard the command ship, (Y/n) and Hux stood before the central display, watching the real-time updates unfold. Red markers pulsed where resistance forces were concentrated - handled by First Order troopers - but now faint gray sigils were beginning to appear deeper in the structure, identifiers to denote vampire presences.
“They’ve engaged the faction,” (Y/n) said quietly, recognizing the marks. Her jaw clenched. “It won’t be a clean fight.”
“They’ll hold,” Hux replied firmly.
The Covenant forces continued down the dark passage, slower now, watching every shadow. The silence returned, but it was heavier, like it was waiting.
As they rounded the next corridor where a large set of doors stood, they came to a stop and looked on, preparing themselves for what was behind them.
Then they suddenly opened and more shapes emerged from the dark. More vampires stood in their path, cloaked and still.
One stepped forward. Tall, severe. Her eyes focused on Varo with chilling familiarity.
“Nice to see you again, Varo,” she said softly.
Varo’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Zera?”
“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to run into you again.”
“I wish I could say the same, but I had a hunch.” Zera’s head tilted in amusement. “It’d explain the attempt at Umbral tactics. Decided to train yourself instead?” He asked cautiously.
He hit a nerve.
She growled and suddenly the rogues engaged, and they quickly found that they outnumbered the Duskborns.
Varo didn’t have time to shout before three Duskborns were tackled to the ground in a screech of blade and claw.
“Hold the line!” he roared, drawing both knives, back pressed to a pillar. “They’re trying to cut us down before we can reach her!”
Steel clanged, sparks flew, and bodies slammed into walls. The Duskborns fought fiercely, but they were short in numbers.
One of the rogues struck with dual blades, spinning into the formation and wounding two of the Duskborns with equally expert slashes. Another lunged at Varo from above, and he barely managed to intercept the strike, the impact sending him skidding across the floor.
“Command, this is Drenn,” Varo hissed into his comm, teeth bared as he parried another blow. “Confirmed visual on the leader but we’re outnumbered - we need immediate reinforcements!”
Static buzzed and he panicked for a brief second.
Then a reply came through.
“ Copy.” (Y/n) responded.
(Y/n) stood at the center of the ship, already halfway to the exit when the call came through. Her eyes gleamed under the dim red lighting.
She didn’t wait for Hux to say anything.
“I’m going,” she said flatly. Hux looked at her with mixed emotions, torn between duty and the pull in his chest that told him she couldn’t go.
Never before had his personal affiliations affected his work. But as he stared at (Y/n) for what felt like precious minutes, he knew that what was between them was far more than simple romantics.
After seeing the determined, almost begging look in her eyes, he nodded firmly in approval.
The Covenant ship descended through the clouds like a blade falling from the heavens, engines flaring bright against the bleak terrain.
The moment it touched down, the ramp hissed open. But just before she stepped off, Hux stopped her with a hand on her chest.
“Umbral.” He addressed firmly, her face hardened as she looked at him.
The gaze they shared spoke more than words ever could - promises of return and safety.
“No mercy.” Hux commanded her with finality.
A sadistic smile stretched on her lips.
Finally, she descended the ramp and from the smoke and light, (Y/n) emerged.
She didn’t run. She walked with measured calmness, cloak flowing, blades strapped to either side of her thighs, eyes burning with focus.
Rogue scouts now stationed on the roof barely had time to signal before (Y/n) blurred into motion, scaling the structure with preternatural speed. Two guards moved to intercept -
She ducked under the first strike, came up hard, and drove her dagger through the rogue’s chin. The second turned to flee, only to be caught by the back of his uniform and hurled from the rooftop with a deadly twist of his neck.
The battle inside turned desperate. One Duskborn was on his knees, bleeding from a gash in his thigh. Another was pinned against the wall, fangs bared just inches from her throat as the others struggled in their own personal battles.
Then a door flew open inward with a loud bang , sending everyone scattering.
(Y/n) stepped through and the entire room shifted.
The rogues froze mid-strike, eyes going wide as recognition dawned. One even backed up instinctively.
“(Y/n),” Varo breathed, blood on his brow, chest heaving. “You took your time.”
She didn’t answer. Just lifted one blade, spinning it once in hand.
“I prefer ‘fashionably late’.” She took another step forward and practically snarled her next words. “I’ve always hated parties.”
The tension cracked like lightning.
She launched herself into the nearest rogue like a storm given form. Her strikes were precise, brutal. Honed from years of restraint. In a blur, she cut one down, pivoted, and disarmed a second, finishing them with a silver dagger through his spine.
The battlefield tipped violently in their favor.
With (Y/n) at the front and Varo at her side, the Covenant surged forward.
The rogue vampires felt it. An oppressive weight in the air, as if the very presence of the Umbral disrupted the natural order.
One rogue lunged at her, shrieking with clawed hands outstretched. (Y/n) met him without hesitation. She stepped inside his guard in a flash, parried his strike with her forearm, and stabbed upward into his ribs. The blade buried deep, and as he shrieked in pain, she twisted it, then shoved him aside.
Another rogue tried to flank her, drawing a hooked dagger. (Y/n) turned on him just in time, ducked under his swing, and struck his knee with a brutal kick that collapsed him sideways.
To her right, two Duskborns struggled to hold off a pair of rogues who moved with feral, reckless speed. (Y/n) was already in motion, sliding between them in a blur. She grabbed one rogue’s shoulder mid-strike and yanked him back, slamming him hard into the wall. Her dagger found his heart with surgical precision.
The second rogue turned on her, blade spinning, teeth bared.
(Y/n) blocked his strike with a quick upward sweep, twisted around him with fluid grace, and landed a crushing elbow into his throat. As he staggered back choking, she drove her knee into his gut and finished him with a heart-piercing thrust.
Varo shouted from across the chamber, throwing a blade to one of the wounded Duskborns. “Keep pushing! We’re clearing a path!”
(Y/n)’s focus never wavered. Blood splattered across her armor and skin, but she moved with calm brutality. She was calculating every step, strike, and movement as if it were second nature.
One of the older rogue vampires, more disciplined than the rest, snarled and darted towards her with dual blades, flipping through the air to close the distance.
He landed in front of her with a crash and swept his daggers toward her neck.
(Y/n) ducked, blocked, and countered. The exchange between them was fast, nearly imperceptible. Flashes of silver, the clash of bone and blade, the hiss of air being carved by movement. But she read him.
He overextended. And she punished him for it.
With one hand, she disarmed him. With the other, she grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into her rising knee. Bone cracked. He dropped.
Silence began to settle, broken only by ragged breathing and the groans of the wounded.
She looked over at one rogue who still stood, clutching a broken weapon. He looked at (Y/n), eyes wide - not with rage, but fear.
She stared back, her voice low and cold as her eyes drifted over the other disabled rogues.
“Yield.” She commanded as a threat.
They didn’t move. But the defeat in their eyes was enough and the Duskborns quickly closed in to detain them.
Varo approached from behind, sheathing his blades with a sharp exhale. “I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified right now.”
(Y/n) didn’t answer at first. She looked down at the blood-soaked floor, her breathing steady. Then finally turned to him.
“Both are acceptable.”
A flicker of a smirk touched her lips, just for a second.
Behind them, the reinforced door loomed, and Varo looked to her.
“Ready?”
She nodded once, eyes sharp, blades still steady in her grip.
The door groaned open, hinges straining as (Y/n) and Varo stepped inside. The space beyond was dimly lit, the stale air thick with dust and tension.
Zera stood alone in the center, arms loosely at her sides, a single blade sheathed at her back. But she made no move to draw it. Her eyes lifted as the pair entered, slowly landing on (Y/n).
There was no surprise in her expression.
“I heard the screaming,” Zera said with solemn defeat. “Knew it had to be you.”
(Y/n) didn’t respond with words. She approached without hesitation, her boots echoing off of the metal floor. Varo followed close behind, tense but steady. When they stopped in front of Zera, the silence was heavy.
“You came all this way,” Zera said, gaze flicking between them. “To kill me?”
(Y/n)’s voice was flat. “No. Not yet.” She stepped towards her old friend turned enemy, a shift in her gaze showing something new. Something different than burning rage and vengeance.
It was disappointment.
“You studied our techniques and implemented them yourself.” (Y/n) stated with a saddened voice. She looked down for a moment to collect herself before she met Zera’s gaze once more. “You would’ve made a fine Umbral.”
The hatred instantly left Zera’s eyes, now sorrowful and conflicted.
Before Zera could respond, Varo stepped forward and grabbed her arm in one swift movement. She didn’t resist. But there was a flicker of something in her expression as he twisted her arm behind her back.
“Move,” Varo ordered.
Zera hesitated, then took a step. Then another.
They dragged her out through the corridor, back through the chaos of the relay station. And then into the heart of what remained.
The carnage was undeniable. Rogue vampires lay dead in dusty piles, blood smeared across the walls and floor. A few survivors knelt in manacles, guarded closely by Duskborns who still bore fresh wounds. Their eyes followed Zera as she was led into view.
The moment her boots hit the blood-slick floor, her shoulders tensed.
Varo shoved her down to her knees.
Her gaze swept across the bodies. The failure, the betrayal, the loss. Then finally landed back on (Y/n), who stood above her like judgment incarnate.
A younger Duskborn approached and placed manacles around Zera’s wrists, the sharp clink of metal a grim punctuation.
Zera didn’t fight it. But her jaw clenched.
“You lost them,” (Y/n) said coldly. “All of them.”
Zera lifted her eyes, defiance flickering under the weight of shame. “We were fighting for something better.”
“You were fighting for yourself,” Varo snapped. “And you killed your own to do it.”
He turned away, raising a hand to activate his comm.
“Command, this is Umbral Drenn. We’ve secured the objective. Target Zera Veyne is in custody.”
“ Copy that, Umbral. Stand by for extraction coordinates. ” The pilot responded.
As the transmission ended, (Y/n) crouched slightly, lowering herself to Zera’s level. Not in empathy, but so her words struck closer.
“You wanted to burn it all down. Now look at what’s left.”
Zera said nothing.
But (Y/n) could see it. In her silence. In her posture. The reality had finally caught up with her.
(Y/n) stood again, walking away without another word.
Behind her, the other Duskborns moved in to lift Zera and the other rogues from the ground.
The battered survivors, led by their defeated leader, were marched out of the relay station, each of them exhausted, bloody, and broken. The full weight of their loss was evident in their gait, and the air around them hummed with a heavy tension.
At the far end of the landing zone, the command ship loomed, large and imposing. The ship’s engines hummed softly, its silhouette a shadow.
The Duskborns who had captured Zera and the rogues kept their grip firm, but they moved with a silent precision, ensuring that none of their captives could escape. Zera’s eyes were fixed ahead, her face a mask of calculated defiance, but the flicker of doubt in her gaze betrayed her true emotions.
They were brought to their knees before the waiting group of Storm Troopers, stealth troopers and Captain Phasma. Behind them, General Hux descended the ramp and made his way over to them.
Standing at the front with (Y/n) joining, he observed the scene with the cool detachment of someone who had seen it all before, his sharp eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction as he surveyed the group of detainees.
(Y/n)’s expression was as cold and unforgiving as his, but with a sharper edge. Her eyes flicked briefly to Zera, lingering with a mixture of disdain and something harder to pinpoint, almost… sympathetic, though it was quickly masked.
Hux finally spoke, his voice a smooth, venomous drawl.
“Well… it seems the great leader of the rogue faction has finally been captured. Tell me, did you truly think this would end any differently?”
Zera’s eyes locked with his, unflinching. There was no fear in her expression. Only a stubborn defiance.
“The Order will fall.”
Hux smirked. “Perhaps. But not under my command.”
He took a step closer to her, slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I have to admit, I was expecting more of a challenge. You disappointed me. You were the leader of a faction that promised so much… but in the end, you couldn’t even keep your own soldiers in line.”
Zera’s jaw clenched, but she kept silent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a retort.
Hux turned to (Y/n), his gaze lingering on her for just a moment before he continued.
“And you, my dear… you proved your worth yet again.”
(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately. She only nodded once, her cold eyes scanning the remaining detainees with a steady, calculating gaze. But beneath the surface, her heart fluttered at the new term of endearment, let alone at the fact that it was used in front of the others.
“I did my duty, General. Nothing more.”
Hux smirked again, clearly enjoying the small exchange of power between them. Then, he nodded at her.
“Do as you wish with them, Umbral.”
(Y/n) turned to the rogues, stepping forward. “By order of the Blood Accord, punishment for treason is beheading.”
As (Y/n) continued, Zera looked up at her slowly, menacingly. Meeting her with an unwavering gaze. And then, without warning, she shouted.
“By the blood of our kind and the law of The Covenant!”
The words echoed across the landing zone, surprising those in the vicinity, and the Duskborns who had captured her stiffened, knowing what was to come.
(Y/n)’s eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief as Varo stepped forward to express the same.
“I, Zera Veyne, call forth the Rite of Severance!”
The Challenger’s Oath was an ancient rite, a final means of demonstrating dominance and honor among the Covenant’s warriors. To challenge someone to a duel meant that one was not just testing skill. It was a fight to the death.
It was a ritual, a declaration that the challenger did not accept defeat, would never accept submission. A challenge only for the truly desperate or the fiercely prideful.
“Let honor and strength determine our fate, for only one shall walk away from this trial.”
Hux watched as the air exponentially tensed, everyone looking at each other as if to ask if what was occurring was real, and what they should do. He stepped forward next to Varo who explained.
“It’s a sacred challenge in the Covenant. To the death.”
Hux’s gaze immediately flew to look at (Y/n) who simply stared at the ground in front of Zera.
He stepped up to her to speak with her quietly.
“(Y/n). You’ve already captured her. It is done. Do not give into pride.” He attempted to turn her away from the idea.
He was met with silence. Varo was next.
“You have no right! You forfeited the second you turned your back on us!” He backfired to Zera.
(Y/n) then held up her hand, causing silence.
“The Covenant does not abide traitors.” She started solemnly. Then, she looked up at Zera, a darkness in her eyes. “But by my blade and my will, I accept your challenge.” She stepped forward threateningly. “And by the law of our order, I will see this ended.”
(Y/n) took a steady breath, the anger in her chest simmering but contained.
Varo stepped to Hux to convince him to order her to change her mind, uncharacteristically panicked. “Sir, it’s not too late. We can execute Zera without the duel. (Y/n)’s bound by her assignment to listen to you.”
“No!” (Y/n) finally shouted, a fiery gaze settled on her comrade. “Varo, you will witness. I’ve made up my mind.”
Varo looked at Hux one last time, stomach dropping when the general nodded. “Trust her.”
Varo looked back at (Y/n) with his eyebrows furrowed in concern and fear. He swallowed before sighing and nodding.
“Unbind her.” He ordered the Duskborns with Zera.
They followed his order hesitantly, quickly removing her manacles and stepping away.
Like two tigers in a cage, (Y/n) and Zera made their way to stand in front of each other, their gazes heavy. Varo stood off to the side, centered between the two.
“The Rite of Severance is called.” His gaze faltered. “By the will of the Covenant, this battle shall be fought to its rightful conclusion. Only the victor shall remain.” Varo begrudgingly confirmed the rite.
He took a deep breath before continuing.
“Interference and ranged weapons are forbidden. This duel is to be fought at close range only .” He looked at Zera. “There is no retreat once engaged. To turn away is to forfeit and face immediate execution.” He looked to (Y/n), then motioned to the two of them and took a step back. “At the ready.”
Zera’s lip curled in distaste as she slowly unsheathed her blade, a sword of the Covenant.
(Y/n) held an even expression, but her eyes burned with the adrenaline of what was to come. Her hand lifted to her neck, unclipping her cloak and letting it fall to the ground. Her hands moved to the harnesses on her thighs, pulling out her daggers.
A heavy silence gripped the air as the combatants began to circle each other, the gathered First Order and Covenant members watching from a wide berth. The wind stirred the dust and ash beneath their boots, swirling the tension tighter.
(Y/n) moved with calculated precision, every step grounded in years of brutal Umbral training. Zera’s stance, though, was raw and furious - less refined, more instinctive. Dangerous.
They struck first at the same moment.
Silver blurred through the air. Clashed.
Zera came in with a heavy downward arc, forcing (Y/n) to dart to the side and deflect with both blades, the force jarring up her arms. (Y/n) retaliated with a flurry of swift, shallow strikes meant to wear Zera down, but Zera’s strength was unrelenting. She tanked the hits and shoved forward, nearly knocking (Y/n) off balance with a powerful sweep.
The duel dragged across the landing zone. One moment elegant and deadly, the next, savage and visceral. Neither held back. Fangs flashed. Sparks erupted as blades scraped. There were no words now, only breathless grunts and metal on metal.
Zera slammed her shoulder into (Y/n)’s chest, knocking her back several feet. Before (Y/n) could recover, Zera charged, blade high.
(Y/n) ducked just in time, Zera’s sword barely missing her neck. She spun and carved her daggers upward in a cross slash, scoring deep across Zera’s ribs. But Zera didn’t falter - she pivoted into a punishing backhand that flung (Y/n) to the ground.
“She’s pushing too hard…” Varo muttered anxiously.
Hux responded with a tightened jaw. “She knows what she’s doing. She has to.”
(Y/n) scrambled back to her feet just as Zera swung again. She blocked with both daggers, the force rattling her bones. Their blades locked, and - for a split second - their eyes met. Zera bared her fangs in a hiss.
“You don’t deserve their loyalty.” A flash of vulnerability made its way into (Y/n)’s expression and Zera took the chance, kneeing (Y/n) in the stomach and knocking one dagger loose.
(Y/n) staggered, her breath gone and barely able to react in time. Zera kicked her back again, and the silver sword came down hard. (Y/n) rolled, but not fast enough. The blade carved across her upper arm, searing pain flaring hot and immediate.
She hissed at the pain and quickly looked back up at Zera who advanced, towering over her.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, (Y/n)?” She raised her sword high, but (Y/n) quickly spun and her legs kicked Zera off of her feet with a thud.
As she recovered from the fall, (Y/n) quickly grabbed her lost dagger and readied herself once more.
“I never wanted this.” She replied to Zera bitterly.
Zera stood once more, sword readied as she glared. “You wanted to fight together in Umbral academy, no?” She spat, stepping forward. “So let’s fight then!”
They crashed into each other with a flurry of strikes, each blow more desperate than the last. (Y/n) slipped behind Zera mid-strike and elbowed her between the shoulder blades, but Zera twisted and slashed backward, catching (Y/n) across the upper thigh. Blood spattered the dirt.
(Y/n) staggered.
Zera capitalized, tackling her to the ground. Sword pressed against (Y/n)’s throat, only her daggers wedged between them kept her alive. They struggled, locked in a deadly stalemate, blades trembling under the pressure.
“You were always the better fighter. But you hesitated.” Zera spoke through gritted teeth.
“Not anymore.” (Y/n) snarled.
With a surge of strength, (Y/n) twisted her hips, throwing Zera off balance. They rolled, (Y/n) now atop her, and she plunged her dagger downward. Zera caught her wrist just in time and both women grunted.
A sudden headbutt from Zera dazed (Y/n), knocking her back. The sword sliced upward, grazing her ribs. (Y/n) gasped but recovered, leaping back to her feet.
Blood dripped from both of them now. Uniforms torn. Movements slower. But their eyes never wavered.
Suddenly, Zera lunged with a thrust aimed straight for (Y/n)’s heart.
(Y/n) parried it with her left dagger, spun, and used the momentum to dodge around the slash that followed - flipping her grip and stabbing one dagger into Zera’s side. Zera cried out, twisting in pain.
And (Y/n) used that moment.
She brought her daggers up, crossed them at Zera’s throat, and in a single, swift motion, sliced outward.
Zera’s eyes widened, breath caught.
The silver sword fell from her hand.
Her body collapsed to her knees. Then, slowly, it slumped forward. Lifeless.
The head rolled to the side a moment later, cleanly severed.
(Y/n) stood above the body, covered in sweat and blood, chest heaving. She held her daggers loosely, her eyes fixed on the now crumbling, dust riddled body of someone who had once been her closest friend.
The landing zone had fallen silent.
Dust and blood still hung in the air, the remnants of a fight that had gripped everyone in its thrall. The rogue vampires were now fully subdued, forced to kneel and witness the fall of their leader.
(Y/n) stood near the center of it all, her daggers still in hand, arms trembling faintly from exhaustion and adrenaline. Her clothes were torn, streaked in blood - both hers and Zera’s - but her posture remained firm. Stoic. Victorious.
Then she heard the familiar crunch of polished boots against gravel.
She didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
General Hux crossed the field with brisk, purposeful strides, but his composure was fraying at the edges.
His usual expression of poise was shadowed by barely contained emotion. Relief, fear, something deeper. He halted just a breath away from her, eyes scanning her face and then flicking briefly down her frame, checking for injuries.
He didn’t reach for her - not here, not in front of the soldiers - but his voice softened in a way that only she would hear.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m alive.” She replied hoarsely.
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a quiet edge to it. The fight had left more than physical marks.
He exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of his shoulders, but his hands still clenched at his sides. Every inch of him screamed to hold her. To check every wound. To say something more. But they weren’t alone.
So instead, he met her gaze and gave the smallest, subtlest nod, a wordless exchange between them. Later , it said.
A respectful beat passed, and then Varo approached, still high on the tail end of the fight. His uniform was dusted with ash, and there was a cut above one brow, but his grin was unmistakable as he broke into their silent moment.
“Well, I guess we know who won’t be challenging (Y/n) anytime soon.”
(Y/n) let out a low, tired huff of amusement. Her mouth twitched upward, almost a smile. Varo clapped a hand gently on her shoulder.
“You did good, (Y/n). She was clearly stronger than we remembered. That wasn’t an easy win.”
“It was never going to be.” She replied quietly.
She finally sheathed her daggers and wiped the blood from her brow. Hux remained nearby, his presence quiet but unwavering. He didn’t speak, but his eyes never left her.
Varo smirked. “Now for the fun part.” He leaned his head towards the detained rogues and (Y/n) nodded, walking past both him and Hux to stand before the detainees. Her hands were clasped behind her back, head held high as she glared down each rogue.
“By order of the Blood Accord,” she said for the second time. “Punishment for treason is execution by beheading.”
Immediately and in perfect synchronicity, each Duskborn standing next to a rogue stepped forward, unsheathing their swords at the same time with a spin of the blade. They each stood in front of the rogues, awaiting their command.
“Execute!”
A harmonious slash sounded and the rogue’s heads rolled.
Chapter 3
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
The doors to General Hux’s office slid open with a quiet hiss as (Y/n) stepped inside. The space was sterile and methodically arranged, a monitor displaying fleet operations. The room carried the crisp scent of standard regulation upkeep. Precise, orderly, and devoid of warmth, much like the man seated behind the desk.
Hux did not immediately acknowledge her entrance. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the datapad in his hands, his posture as composed as ever.
She moved forward and stopped before his desk, clasping her hands in front of her. “General.”
At last, he looked up. His piercing gaze swept over her as if ensuring she met the standard he demanded. He set the datapad down with deliberate precision before gesturing to the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
Without hesitation, (Y/n) obeyed, lowering herself into the seat with rigid posture and crossing one leg over the other. Though she had been assigned to him, there was still much to understand about how he expected her to operate.
Hux leaned back in his chair, his fingers folded together in front of him. “Being assigned to me, you will be present for all meetings, briefings, and high-priority assignments. You will not interfere with my command, but you will ensure my security.” His tone remained even, yet carried the weight of authority. “I expect absolute discretion. You will not speak in official matters unless addressed directly, nor will you allow your presence to be a disruption.”
(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
“You will also continue overseeing security measures aboard the Finalizer, particularly any vulnerabilities that may pose a risk to High Command.” Hux studied her closely, his expression unreadable. “As shown yesterday, your findings have already proven thorough.”
“Thank you, General.” (Y/n) nodded. “I will continue to ensure there are no weaknesses.”
“Good.” He let a brief pause linger before adding, “Now, for your awareness, there is a briefing in thirty minutes.” A silent nod was her response.
Hux’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to his datapad.
The quiet hum of the ship’s systems filled the space, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of General Hux’s fingers against his datapad, eyes locked on the reports scrolling before him, analyzing every detail with meticulous focus.
(Y/n) stayed in her seat, shoulders beginning to relax after a few minutes or so.
As they awaited the designated time for the briefing, the silence between them stretched, neither uncomfortable nor strained. Just an unspoken understanding of their respective roles.
“You are adjusting well, I hope?” Hux remarked suddenly, still focused on his datapad.
(Y/n) turned slightly, regarding him with measured curiosity. “I was trained to adapt. But yes, I am settling in well, thank you.”
A faint smirk ghosted across his features. “A necessary trait.” He paused for a moment, then added, “What of the security concerns? Have they been adjusted?”
“I have spoken with Captain Phasma and Umbral Drenn about necessary reinforcements,” she replied. “High Command’s quarters now have additional security measures, as well as key control corridors. All other issues are being fixed as we speak.”
Hux’s eyes flicked toward her briefly before returning to his datapad. “Good. I expect nothing less.”
A brief silence followed before (Y/n) spoke again with curiosity, as well as an attempt to get to know him better. But she would never admit the latter. “You didn’t seem too affected by the vulnerabilities when I mentioned them yesterday.”
Hux gave a low, almost amused hum. “If I let myself dwell on every potential weakness, I would hardly get anything done. Besides, that’s what security is for.” He watched as a humored smirk reached her face, then quickly looked back down at his datapad.
Satisfied, he gave a short nod before checking the time.
“We leave in three minutes.”
Hux said nothing more, simply standing and stepping past her as the time arrived. (Y/n) dutifully followed him out of the office, walking in sync as they made their way to the briefing room.
The doors slid open and all conversation inside fell into a tense silence as General Hux stepped inside. (Y/n) followed precisely behind him, their presence an immediate disruption to the murmured voices of the room.
Seated at the long, durasteel table were several officers. Intelligence analysts, strategic analysts, and logistical personnel, all awaiting Hux’s arrival. Captain Phasma stood near the back, her imposing chrome figure motionless, observing. Beside her stood Varo, however more casually and seemingly unbothered.
The officers were disciplined, but even discipline could not mask instinct. The moment they saw her clad in her Umbral uniform - her movements silent and predatory - unease rippled through them. A few of them shifted slightly, others stiffened, their hands resting just a bit closer to their belts. Some exchanged quick, uncertain glances.
The First Order was built on power and control, and yet, the Umbrals were something outside of it. Something unnatural.
If Hux noticed the tension, he did not acknowledge it. He moved towards his seat at the head of the table without hesitation, placing his datapad down in front of him. (Y/n) took her position behind and to his right, standing like a shadow.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Finally, one of the officers - a middle-aged man with a rigid posture - cleared his throat. “Sir.” His gaze flickered toward (Y/n), as if unsure whether to continue with her there. “Shall we begin?”
Hux noted the empty seat at the table. “We are waiting for Captain Essen.”
The room remained still. No one dared question Hux directly, but the unspoken question lingered in the air.
Why were Umbrals there?
Another officer, a woman with sharp features, shifted in her seat. “General, if I may ask -” her eyes flickered towards (Y/n), cautious, measured, “is security a concern?”
Hux finally looked up, his expression cold and unreadable. “It would be if they were not here.”
The statement was simple. Cutting and final.
Whatever doubts they had, no one voiced them again. The officers turned their attention to their datapads, and the room settled into rigid professionalism once more.
The doors opened once more as Captain Essen arrived, striding in with an air of obnoxious authority. He barely spared (Y/n) a glance before taking his seat, unlike the others who had yet to fully mask their unease.
Hux wasted no time. “Now that we are all here,” he glanced at the captain in disapproval and annoyance.
General Hux stood, posture rigid, hands clasped neatly behind his back as a holographic image projected itself above the center of the table.
“Recent operations in the Mid Rim have uncovered a disruption within Resistance ranks. Our intelligence suggests that an unidentified force is working alongside them. One that has displayed an unusual level of precision and efficiency in combat against our troops. Whoever they are, they are trained, disciplined, and deliberate in their strikes.”
A murmur passed through the room as the holoprojector shifted, displaying a series of attack reports. Outposts, convoys, scouting units. All ambushed with calculated precision. The markers on the map indicated a pattern, a slow but deliberate targeting of First Order assets.
Captain Phasma tilted her helmet slightly. “Do we have any confirmed identities?”
The General’s jaw tensed. “No. Whoever they are, they remain elusive. There is no clear insignia, no known affiliations, and no captives taken alive. They possess a level of skill that suggests advanced training. Beyond what we have seen the Resistance is typically capable of.”
Varo leaned forward slightly. “Their attacks indicate careful coordination. They don’t strike randomly. They are targeting weaknesses in our operations so someone among them understands our tactics.”
Hux inclined his head in agreement. “Precisely. Which is why this matter is of utmost priority. We must identify who they are before they become a greater threat and further exploit the Order’s tactics. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become” His gaze swept the room, sharp and expectant. “I want increased surveillance on all known Resistance movements in these sectors. Our reconnaissance units will prioritize capturing one of these operatives alive, if possible. Until we have more information, no assumption should be made about their origin or objectives.”
An intelligence officer hesitated before speaking. “If they are as skilled as you suggest, sir, what makes you certain we can capture one at all?”
A silence settled over the room. (Y/n) felt Hux shift slightly beside her before he responded, voice cool and unwavering.
“Because failure is not an option.”
No one spoke after that.
As the meeting concluded, officers exchanged brief nods before gathering their datapads. Some cast wary glances towards (Y/n) and Varo as they exited, though none dared to address them directly.
Standing beside Hux, she remained still, absorbing the information. She did not need to say it aloud to recognize the familiar sensation curling in her gut that came with the impending doom of an unforeseen enemy.
Her and the general shared a quick glance before his eyes shifted to stare at the blank surface of the table.
The last of the officers filed out, the metallic hiss of the door sliding shut behind them leaving the room cloaked in a heavy stillness. The hum of the holoprojector dimmed as Hux tapped its console, dismissing the glowing map and returning the room to its cool, neutral lighting.
He didn’t speak at first, letting a silence settle between the two of them. He simply stared for a long moment, the fine lines around his eyes drawing taut as if calculating a dozen outcomes at once. Then, without turning to face her, he spoke.
“What are your thoughts on this?” His tone was mild, curious, not critical. He then turned to face her.
She stepped forward slightly, no longer merely standing in the shadow of a soldier but assuming the role of the strategist he was asking her to be.
“There’s discipline in their attacks,” she voiced, her stoic demeanor dropping slightly as she grew more thoughtful. “Clean movements. No wasted time. No reckless aggression. It’s not guerrilla warfare, at least not in the traditional Resistance sense. These are trained killers. Efficient. Precise.” Her tone remained flat, but there was a shift in her gaze. A flicker of deeper concern as she folded her arms in front of her. “From what I’ve seen, they behave like us.”
Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You believe they’re the Covenant?”
“I believe,” she answered carefully, taking a deep breath. “that whoever they are… they’ve either studied the Covenant and are mimicking their tactics, or were once part of it.”
He considered her words, pacing slowly across the room, hands still behind his back in thought. “If what you say is true,” he said, “and dealing with the Covenant is a possibility, we’re dealing with more than defectors. We’re dealing with apostates. Rogues with the skillset of assassins and the ideology of fanatics.”
(Y/n) nodded. “And worse… they know how to exploit weaknesses in the First Order. Which means they’ve had time to observe us. They’re planning something larger.”
He stopped pacing and turned to her again. “This is your area of expertise. What would you suggest we do?”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Double security rotation in the compromised sectors. If we’re being watched, they’ll expect patterns. Break those patterns. Cause misdirection. Set traps where they think they’re safe. And…” She looked at the spot where the hologram once was. “I want to study the combat reports. If they’re Covenant-trained, I can spot their technique. No matter how much they’ve tried to disguise it.”
Hux studied her face for a long moment, fascinated by her intelligence. Then he gave a small nod.
“I’ll grant you access to the full debriefings. I want Umbral Drenn involved as he is one of your own. I’m sure he’d be able to provide valuable input.”
“Yes, General.”
As she turned slightly to prepare her departure, he spoke again. Quietly this time.
“If they are what you suspect… it won’t be easy for you.”
She paused, looking back at him. There was a glint of remorse, though her voice remained steady.
“I’m not afraid of ghosts, sir.”
His gaze held hers.
“Good,” he said at last. “Because ghosts can be the most dangerous enemies of all.”
Then, with a flick of his eyes toward the door, he dismissed her with a subtle nod as they both shared the familiar sense of unease.
As she exited the room, Varo stood just down the corridor, leaning stiffly against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He straightened the moment he saw her.
“You’re finally out,” he said under his breath, striding toward her. “How bad was it?”
(Y/n) didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the corridor behind him, instinctively checking for eavesdroppers before she spoke.
“I think it’s worse than we thought.”
Varo exhaled sharply. “So we’re right to assume?”
She gave a slight nod. “It’s not confirmed, but… the patterns, the precision, the disappearance? It doesn’t match the Resistance’s usual methods that we’ve studied.”
Varo’s jaw tightened. “And you think they’re Covenant-trained?”
“I know they are,” she said flatly. “They’ve either defected or were exiled and found a new cause. Either way, they’ve been careful to stay out of sight until now.”
Varo rubbed a hand over his mouth, then glanced away, voice low. “I had a bad feeling. As obvious as it is, I still don’t want to believe it.”
There was a beat of silence between them.
Then he looked at her again, eyes searching. “You don’t think it’s…” he hesitated, words stuck in his throat.
(Y/n) looked away, the mention of the name flicking something sharp in her otherwise impassive face before she shook her head.
“Zera?” she shook her head. “Impossible to determine off of tactics alone. But we’ll be able to determine if there are Umbrals involved or simply standard Covenant.”
Varo’s voice was quieter now. “Well, let’s hope there’s no Umbrals. That would make things far more complicated.”
She looked back at him then. “I’ll be reviewing combat footage soon with General Hux. Cross-referencing movements. Stances. Flaws in form. He wants you to join to see if you have more input.”
Varo nodded slowly, though his expression remained uneasy. “Regardless of who they are, we’ll be ready for them. Whatever they’re planning, we’ll shut it down.”
“We don’t have a choice,” (Y/n) agreed. “If they’re ex-Covenant, they know our strengths. But we would also know theirs. And I’m not going to let them tear down what we’ve built just because they were too weak to follow the code.”
There was steel in her voice now, the mask of an Umbral settling over her features. But Varo knew her well enough to see the flicker of something deeper beneath it. Pain, betrayal not yet faced.
“We’ll handle it together,” he said, placing a steady hand on her arm.
(Y/n) didn’t flinch.
“For the Covenant,” she replied.
“For our people,” he added, quietly in an unspoken vow. He dropped his arm just as the door to the briefing room opened and the general walked out, making his way towards the pair who followed him once he showed no signs of stopping.
“We’ll stop by the bridge to settle any matters there before we discuss things further in my office. Umbral Drenn, I want you, (L/n) and myself to go over the combat reports. I will notify Captain Phasma of your temporary absence.”
“Yes, General.” Varo replied with determination as they walked with purpose towards the lift at the end of the corridor.
The lift doors closed with a soft hiss, and the silence inside immediately turned heavy. General Hux stood front and center, back straight, datapad in hand as he reviewed a stream of tactical updates. (Y/n) stood beside him, composed and motionless, hands folded neatly in front of her. Varo, positioned a respectful distance to Hux’s left, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking between the floor and the countdown on the lift panel.
The silence dragged on.
Varo cleared his throat softly, attempting to ease the recent tension. “So… lift rides. Always this silent, or are we doing something ceremonial here?”
Hux didn’t even glance up. (Y/n) didn’t respond either, though her eyes narrowed slightly. Amused or warning, it wasn’t clear.
Undeterred, Varo continued. “I mean, I get it. First week with the new team, gotta establish dominance. But if this is the vibe every day, I may start talking to the walls just to hear an echo.”
“Time and place, Drenn.” (Y/n) finally drawled out as if she was used to constantly reminding him.
“Hey, I’m just trying to provide a little morale. Emotional support, y’know?” After a moment of silence, Varo leaned back slightly to look at (Y/n), his voice just a shade too loud in the confined space. “Blink once if you’re actually enjoying this, blink twice if you’re praying for explosive decompression.” The general exhaled heavily through his nose.
(Y/n) didn’t blink at all as she responded. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?” Varo asked, feigning innocence.
She turned her head slightly. “Testing boundaries.”
Varo grinned. “I prefer to think of it as calibrating team chemistry.”
Hux finally spoke.
“If your intent is to measure how much noise I’ll tolerate before reassigning you to cargo inspections for the next month, Umbral, you’re quickly approaching your answer.”
Varo straightened. “Right. Copy that, sir. Just… gauging lift etiquette.”
“As long as you’re in the lift, silence is the default etiquette.” This caused (Y/n) to chuckled softly and the general finally looked over to side-glance at her. His eyes reflected what seemed to be surprise, but he quickly masked it as he looked forward again.
Varo muttered under his breath, “Brutal crowd.”
(Y/n), in an uncharacteristically dry tone, added, “It’s not the crowd. It’s the venue.”
Varo huffed out a short laugh and looked up at the ceiling. “Next time I’ll take the stairs.”
The lift chimed, and the doors slid open. Hux stepped out first, not acknowledging either of them.
Varo and (Y/n) followed behind, the former whispering, “Do you think he heard that?”
(Y/n) nodded. “Knowing you? Every word.”
Varo glanced nervously down the hall, then back at her. “Good. At least we’re bonding.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “You’re an acquired taste.”
He grinned. “You’re acquiring it, though.”
She didn’t answer, but her silence, this time, didn’t seem disapproving.
The subtle change in lighting and sound from the rest of the ship to the command bridge was immediate. Cooler tones, sharper alert systems, and the low murmur of officers moving with strict purpose.
The moment Hux stepped onto the bridge, heads turned and spines straightened. Officers at their consoles stood at attention, acknowledging the general’s presence.
“Status report,” Hux said crisply, eyes scanning the forward viewport before turning toward the nearest communications officer.
The officer cleared his throat. “No change in the last two hours, sir. No new movements detected from the Resistance front. Patrols along the outer systems have remained within predicted patterns.”
Hux narrowed his eyes. “And the anomaly from the outpost?”
“Still investigating, General,” the officer replied. “The team is analyzing the signal distortion. It appears to have been an intentional scrambling. There were faint traces of bio-signatures, but too faint to confirm species or number.”
Varo stepped forward slightly. “Was it similar to the last occurrence near Sector 7G?”
The officer glanced between him and the general before nodding. “Yes, sir. Nearly identical. Quick incursion, silence, and retreat. No tech left behind.”
(Y/n) shifted beside Hux, her eyes narrowing as they looked at each other. “They’re testing our responses. Watching how quickly we mobilize.”
“Agreed,” Hux said. “And they’re becoming more confident.”
He stepped forward, overlooking the bridge with hands still behind his back, then addressed the senior officer at the main console. “Deploy a double rotation on the patrols near the outer systems. I want all tactical relays running constant scans for any trace of cloaking disturbances.”
“Yes, General,” the officer said, turning quickly to execute the order.
Hux looked to Varo and (Y/n). “They’re baiting us. Probing our borders without making themselves fully known.”
(Y/n) nodded. “They’re waiting for us to act first.”
Hux’s voice dropped slightly as he addressed the two Umbrals directly. “Make no mistake. Whoever they are, their actions have escalated them to a direct threat. If they are former Covenant… they know enough to be dangerous. We’ll root them out. Quietly and efficiently.”
He turned to walk back toward the exit, the Umbrals in tow as they made way for his office.
The office was quiet but for the sharp hum of data scrolling across a holo-projector between them. General Hux sat behind his desk, posture immaculate, one gloved hand resting against his chin in thought. Across from him stood (Y/n) and Varo, both locked in a silent focus like Siamese cats as report after report flickered before them. Damage assessments, troop debriefs, weapon pattern readings.
Varo leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “That’s the third unit that reported full signal jamming mid-op. Exact same signature. Frequency disruption spiked in a sharp wave, scrambled visuals, sensors blinded.”
(Y/n) tilted her head, arms folded. “But only briefly. Just long enough to disorient and isolate them.”
“Classic guerrilla-style tactics,” Varo muttered. “But refined. They knew exactly where to strike and how to disappear.”
General Hux’s voice cut in, sharp and composed. “We’ve fought Resistance saboteurs before. This is beyond their usual disorganized chaos.”
(Y/n) nodded. “They moved with discipline. Patterned strikes. Coordinated withdrawal. Whoever led them had military training… or something similar.”
Hux’s eyes flicked to her. “Similar to yours?”
She hesitated. “Yes. Umbral. But admittedly not as skilled or precise as someone from the academy. Someone simply studied us and are attempting to use the same tactics.”
A beat passed.
Varo glanced between the two. “I’ve been thinking the same. The way they handle shadow ambushes, their use of terrain, misdirection. It feels like home.”
(Y/n)’s jaw clenched slightly, the flicker of unease betraying her usual control. “If they are ex-Covenant… we may be facing a rogue faction. Not just a few stragglers.”
“That would explain the silence from the Covenant,” Hux said. “If they suspect internal betrayal, they’ll be trying to contain the fallout quietly.”
Varo rubbed the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Not everyone graduates as a loyal soldier.”
(Y/n) ’s voice was quieter now. “And not everyone takes rejection well.”
Hux leaned forward. “If this is a rogue Covenant group, what’s their goal?”
Varo shrugged and blew a raspberry before rambling off ideas. “Destabilize both sides. Maybe they want revenge? Maybe they think they can burn it all down and rebuild it better. Could be ideology. Could just be vengeance.”
(Y/n) ’s eyes didn’t leave the shifting data. “We won’t know until we lock an identity and capture them for interrogation.”
Hux nodded. “Then we make that our priority. We’ll identify them. Track them. I want patterns, predictions, and locations. I want to know where they sleep and where they bleed.”
He turned his gaze to Varo.
“Can you do that?”
“Yes, General.”
“Coordinate with Phasma and bring me a plan by the end of the day tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Varo gave a sharp nod, glancing towards (Y/n) a final time before taking his leave.
The general eyed her as she stared at his desk, arms folded in front of her, deep in thought. He swallowed before deciding to pry. “What troubles you?”
She shook her head, debating on whether or not she should speak on it. But Hux was patient. After a deep breath, she finally answered. “It doesn’t concern the mission.”
“That’s not what I asked, (L/n).” Her eyes snapped to meet his own that bore into her with an intensity she was not used to. He stood from his chair and rounded his desk, eyes never leaving her as he stood feet in front of her.
“What would you do if your own people betrayed you?”
Hux’s hands tensed slightly.
His gaze didn’t shift right away. For a moment, she thought he might ignore the question. But then he exhaled, measured and cold.
“I’d survive it,” his voice was steady, but carried something darker beneath the surface. “And then I would make sure they lived long enough to regret it.”
(Y/n) studied him. No smugness in his words. No theatrics. Just raw, precise conviction. Something about it wasn’t just rehearsed. It was lived.
“So you have.” Her voice was soft. Observational. No judgment in it.
He didn’t confirm or deny.
“Blood isn’t loyalty,” Hux said more softly after a pause. “It never has been. You learn that very quickly in the kind of world we were both shaped in.”
There was no venom in his tone. Just the kind of sharpness that came from an old wound that never quite closed.
“If they betray you, they were never your people to begin with.”
Reposting cause my boo is back ♥️🤍🖤
“Terrifier” - Art the Clown
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.
Chapter 9
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
Armitage stirred first, blinking against the soft light as his senses came back to him one by one. The weight of a body against his side registered next. Cold. Solid. The absence of breathing a unique reminder of who it was.
He turned his head slightly.
(Y/n) lay beside him, half-buried beneath the sheets, hair tumbled and unbound, one arm rested upon his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Her expression, usually composed and sharpened by discipline, was peaceful. It was a version of her he’d never seen before, one reserved for these rare, unguarded moments.
He didn’t move for a long time. Just watched her.
He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. That she had let him this close… or that he had allowed himself to meet her there.
Her eyes fluttered open, slow and amber in the dim light. For a heartbeat, she looked at him as if unsure whether the moment was real. Then she gave the faintest smile, quiet and reserved, but unmistakably genuine.
“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep.
“It’s difficult not to.” He admitted, not bothering to look away.
She raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t push. Instead, she shifted so her head was resting on the curve of his shoulder.
There was silence again, comfortable.
Eventually, (Y/n) broke it. “I thought I’d feel conflicted,” she said quietly, “But I don’t.”
He glanced at her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Good to know that we’re on the same page, then.”
Another pause.
Then he leaned in slowly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We should be on the bridge soon.”
(Y/n) sighed. “Let’s give it five more minutes.”
“Five,” he agreed softly. “But no more.”
After they finished getting ready and checking in for updates at the bridge, the two of them made their way to the general’s office.
Just as they settled themselves, the door hissed open with its usual sharp efficiency.
Phasma entered first - polished and imposing in her chrome armor - followed by Varo with a datapad clutched in his hand.
Hux and (Y/n) stood behind his desk patiently as they approached. And if there was any tension lingering from the intimacy of the previous night, neither showed it.
(Y/n) stood tall in her uniform, hair pulled back to perfection, eyes sharp once again. Though Varo’s knowing glance didn’t miss the faint glow in her complexion. He said nothing, but a smug grin tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth.
“General. Umbral,” Phasma greeted coolly, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Report?” Hux requested.
“We finished processing the remaining rogue prisoners last night,” Phasma said, her voice smooth and unyielding. “Nothing useful from three of them. Too scared or too loyal to give us anything beyond what we already know. But one of them slipped.”
Varo stepped up, tapping on the datapad and projecting a faint holo display over the table. “One of the younger ones mentioned a location unintentionally. They were arguing with one of the guards and let it slip while cursing about ‘wasting time near the dead moon.’ We cross-referenced it with known Resistance supply routes.”
“We found activity consistent with a hidden relay station,” Phasma finished. “It’s remote, but its location makes it a perfect fallback point for the remaining rogues and potentially their leader.”
(Y/n)’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking over the projection. “Dead moon… That’s near the Obraxis Veil. It’s unstable territory.”
“Exactly,” Varo said. “Which means anyone hiding there is either desperate or confident that they won’t be followed.”
Hux’s expression darkened. “We can’t afford to ignore this. If they’re regrouping, it means their leader could already be en route.”
“They will be,” (Y/n) said quietly. “This wasn’t just an attack. It was a distraction.”
Phasma’s tone didn’t waver. “We’ll need to act soon, sir. If you authorize it, we can begin planning a strike team. Smaller, mobile, precise.”
Hux nodded once. “Begin preparations with both your Troopers and the Covenant. I want operational parameters ready within six hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Phasma replied crisply before turning and exiting without another word.
Varo lingered just a beat longer. “I’ll coordinate and have them ready to deploy.” His gaze drifted briefly to (Y/n), and he added with a quiet smirk, “You good?”
She gave a tight nod. “Good.”
With a short salute, Varo followed Phasma out, the office door hissing shut behind him.
Silence settled again between Hux and (Y/n), the weight of the intel heavy in the air.
“This is accelerating,” Hux said lowly.
(Y/n) nodded. “They’re forcing our hand.”
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then said softly, “Then we’ll make sure we’re ready.”
Once again, the two found themselves inside the briefing room, lit only by the soft blue glow of the encrypted holoprojector in the center of the room.
General Hux stood with his hands clasped behind his back, face expressionless but alert. (Y/n) stood to his right, arms folded, sharp-eyed and composed. Though her posture was rigid, Hux could feel the tension beneath it.
The holoprojector hummed to life, flickering before stabilizing into two distinct projections. On one side, the tall, imposing form of the Supreme Leader of the First Order emerged in holographic light. His features were partially obscured, but the cold, piercing eyes were unmistakable.
On the other, the figure of the Covenant’s Grand Master took shape. Tall and regal, skin pallid like marble and eyes ancient with knowledge. His ornate robes flowed with ethereal stillness, and the emblem of the Covenant pulsed faintly across his chest.
“General,” the Supreme Leader greeted, allowing the briefing to start.
Hux nodded once and spoke clearly. “The rogue Covenant group we engaged has yielded new information. Through interrogation, we’ve confirmed the existence of a possible fallback position used by the rogues near the Obraxis Veil. We believe their leader may be regrouping their forces there due to the complexity of the location and growing activity that intelligence is collecting.”
The Grand Master tilted his head slightly, voice like cold velvet. “And you are confident in the validity of this information?”
“Yes, Grand Master,” (Y/n) answered. “The source was… resistant. But they broke. We believe this was a coordinated distraction meant to divide our attention.”
The Supreme Leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you’ll deal with it before they can mount anything further. I expect a clean strike.”
“We’re already preparing a mobile unit,” Hux confirmed. “Captain Phasma and Umbral Drenn are coordinating troop selection. The Covenant will be deployed in tandem.”
The Grand Master’s gaze slid to (Y/n). “And what of the interrogation personally? Did it provide anything else of value?”
(Y/n) hesitated for half a breath, but her voice remained steady. “There were personal complications. But they didn’t interfere with the mission. The prisoner is being held for further interrogation, should more be needed.”
The Grand Master’s expression barely shifted, but something flickered in his eyes. Understanding, or perhaps warning. “Complications have a way of multiplying, Umbral (L/n). Ensure they do not cloud your purpose.”
“They won’t, Grand Master.” (Y/n) said, cool and resolute.
The Supreme Leader’s hologram leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been granted considerable support, General. Further proving alliance with the Covenant remains necessary. I want results. Fast.”
“You’ll have them, Supreme Leader.” Hux replied without hesitation.
The two projections exchanged one final glance. The Supreme Leader and Grand Master both united in purpose if not in ideology. Then, in perfect synchronicity, they cut transmission. The holoprojector dimmed, and silence returned to the room.
(Y/n) exhaled slowly. “They don’t trust us.”
“No,” Hux said quietly. “But they’ll trust what we deliver.”
He turned towards her, and for a brief moment, their expressions softened.
“I should brief my soldiers now. I’m sure they’re itching to get more information on what exactly is happening.” (Y/n) nearly complained as she picked up her datapad to contact Varo.
Unsurprisingly, he immediately picked up.
“Yeah, boss?” He greeted in his usual casual tone.
“Gather the Covenant into the briefing room. I want to go over the new intel with them.”
“You got it. I’ll make sure they’re there in 15.” The screen blipped, signaling the call ending.
(Y/n) rubbed at her forehead with a sigh, her arm dropping down by her side.
“Tired?” Hux quipped with a tinge of playfulness, hinting at their activities from the night prior. (Y/n) tossed him a look and he raised a brow at her defiance.
Minutes later, just as Varo had said, the Duskborns stood in formation around the briefing table, tall and cloaked.
(Y/n) stood at the head of the table, Varo and Hux stepping to the far side of the room, choosing to remain out of the spotlight.
(Y/n)’s eyes scanned the room as each Duskborn straightened under her gaze, a mix of respect and readiness resonating in the still air.
“This mission will not be simple,” (Y/n) began, her tone clipped and clear. “The faction knows they’ve been exposed and - as we all know - desperation makes people dangerous.”
A soft hum from the holotable populated a projection. (Y/n) gestured to a narrowed valley system just outside of a decommissioned relay tower. “These are their projected fallback coordinates. Intel confirms their leader is still unaccounted for, but we anticipate they will return once the rogues transmit the message of unresponsive personnel.”
She looked up, sharp eyes locking with each of the operatives.
“You are not just here to fight. You are here to make a statement. The Covenant does not tolerate traitors. This mission is to uphold the Blood Accord and by treason, their punishment is execution by beheading. Cold and swift.”
There was a ripple of quiet approval through the Duskborns.
One of the newer members, a younger male, raised his hand. “Umbral (L/n),” he said carefully, “is it true that some of the rogues were once part of noble lines? Possibly even family?”
(Y/n) froze for just a fraction of a second.
Her posture remained rigid, her expression unreadable, but a storm passed behind her eyes.
“Yes,” she said flatly. “But that is irrelevant to the mission. Regardless of who they once were, they swore their oath and chose treason against their own people.”
A stillness settled over the room. Even the Duskborn who’d spoken looked uneasy, as if he realized too late the weight of what he’d asked.
Across the room, Varo shot the general a sidelong glance and whispered under his breath, “Told you she’s scary when she gets that tone.”
Hux’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/n) as he hummed in agreement, and something more.
(Y/n) continued smoothly, voice unwavering.
“You will all work as a team, but will be assigned in pairs. Umbral Drenn will lead the central push alongside the Order’s stealth troopers. General Hux and myself will direct from the command ship that will be following your transport. We will keep our distance, but close enough to intervene if necessary. Additionally…” (Y/n) paused.
“ There’s the dramatic effect.” Varo mumbled with a smirk.
“I want to make it perfectly clear that the Grand Master has authorized the full extent of both Covenant and Umbral engagement. Mercy does not exist in this mission.”
A ripple of anticipation swept through the Duskborns. For many, it had been decades since they’d acted under such authority, and the thought of it made them itch for a fight.
(Y/n) stepped forward, shoulders squared, her presence almost magnetic.
“If any of you falter, I will know. And I will not hesitate to pull you for questioning.”
A beat of silence. Then the Duskborns struck their chests in unison. A solid, thudding vow.
Varo leaned towards Hux again. “She really does the ‘terrifying vampire warlord’ thing well.”
Hux allowed a faint, private smirk.
“Truly,” he murmured.
(Y/n) gave one final look to the team.
“Further details will be provided to you soon. Dismissed.”
As the Duskborns filed out like silent shadows, Hux and Varo remained behind. (Y/n) lingered at the holotable, eyes fixed on the map, though her thoughts clearly drifted elsewhere.
Varo approached carefully. “That question back there, about the rogues and family…”
“I handled it,” (Y/n) said sharply, too quickly.
Varo nodded once and backed off, giving her space. But Hux lingered a second longer, watching her with something unreadable behind his gaze.
She didn’t turn to face him, but he didn’t press. Something between them said he understood, and that he wouldn’t let her carry the weight alone.
The door hissed closed behind the last of them with a finality that somehow felt heavier than usual.
(Y/n) stayed in place, her arms folded as she gazed out in front of her. Her shoulders were squared like always, but her stillness betrayed her. Armitage stepped in quietly behind her.
“You handled the briefing well,” he said.
Her response was slow, deliberate. “I know.”
Hux gave a small nod, then caught her off guard as he moved to lean against the edge of the table in front of her, watching her. Silence lingered a moment longer than comfort allowed.
“That Duskborn,” he said, “as ignorant as he was -”
(Y/n) finally looked at him. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll all find out eventually. It’s better that they heard it that way, without room for doubt.”
“You were… composed,” Hux said carefully.
(Y/n)’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
He didn’t correct her.
“Attractive?” He attempted, the word feeling foreign to him, and the context even more so.
She looked down bashfully for a moment, then uncrossed her arms and took a slow breath.
“It’s strange,” she admitted. “To feel something burn when you thought you’d already cauterized the wound. I shouldn’t care. I don’t know why I do.”
“Because you’re not heartless,” he said simply.
That made her eyes darken. Not from anger, but from quiet emotion.
“Has it ever been a requirement for you?” she asked softly. “To be in this world and not feel?”
“Not a requirement,” he said, voice lower now. “A means of survival.”
(Y/n) stepped closer, her presence steadying the space around her.
“I hate that part of me still listens for her voice. Still waits for her approval.”
Hux nodded, then after a moment, reached out. Not commanding, not demanding. Just offering.
She took his hand.
“You don’t need her voice,” he said, quietly now. “Not when you have your own.” He gently pulled her to move closer, stopping mere inches away from him.
(Y/n) stared at their joined hands for a moment, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Somehow, you always say the right thing.”
“I don’t,” he said with a flicker of a smile. “I simply say the truth.”
That earned a soft, real breath from her. Not quite a laugh, but something close.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked gently.
“I am,” she said. “Because you’ll be there.”
Their eyes met - his hand still in hers - and for a long second, neither said a word.
(Y/n), in a moment of bravery, leaned into him. Her arms slowly settled around his waist, head resting against his chest as he did the same, his head on top of her own.
It was a foreign comfort to be embraced by someone other than themselves, a dangerous comfort. One that they found to be a quickly growing addiction the longer they strayed in the other’s presence. They still had much to explore emotionally, but for now, it was just enough.
Eventually, they had to pry themselves apart - albeit begrudgingly. They still had to go over planning for the all-too-quickly nearing mission that had everyone involved on their toes.
The briefing room was quiet save for the hum of the holomap and the occasional flicker of shifting data. (Y/n) stood beside Armitage at the table, both of them deep in concentration.
Tactical reports hovered in midair beside the map. Enemy movement patterns, terrain schematics, and intercepted transmissions scrolling in real time.
Armitage selected a section of the display, rotating the terrain of the target zone with precise movements. “They’ve fortified the main entrance. We’ll need to breach from the east or south. Preferably somewhere we can mask the team’s entry long enough to get through the outer perimeter.”
(Y/n) nodded, eyes scanning the projections. “There’s a patch of dense forest here,” she pointed, “if we move in under the cover of night, with the right cloaking and noise suppression -”
“It’s still too close to the secondary patrol route,” Armitage interrupted, adjusting the map again. “If they sweep early, our unit’s compromised before they even touch the ground.”
“They won’t sweep early,” (Y/n) countered. “We’ve tracked the intervals. Their pattern hasn’t changed in over a month.”
“Which is exactly why they’re due for it to change.”
There was a beat of silence, the kind that sat heavy between two people who were both too smart and too stubborn for their own good. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked towards him, brows raised. Hux stood straight, unfazed, still looking over the map like it would bend to his will.
She folded her arms. “You’re planning for variables that don’t exist.”
“I’m planning for the worst-case scenario.”
“And you think I’m not?”
They stared at each other, tension mounting again. It wasn’t the anger of enemies, more the clash of sharp minds refusing to yield. There was something in the air, simmering just beneath the surface. Not quite frustration, not quite admiration… but undeniably something.
Armitage stepped around the table to get a better angle of the terrain projection, then gestured sharply at a ridge. “Fine. Then let’s go over your precious landing spot one more time. Tell me exactly how you intend to keep them hidden here.”
“I just did,” (Y/n) said, stepping around to meet him. “But you weren’t listening and were instead trying to win, so I’ll repeat it.” She stiffly stepped towards the map closer and pointed, words more pronounced in simmering agitation. “If we drop the team here ,” She said sharply, “they’ll have both cover and elevation. It gives them visibility over both known entrances to the base while still remaining hidden.”
Armitage’s eyes narrowed. “It may be a cloak, but it also puts them at risk of scan detection. The Resistance scans for signs of incoming ships in that valley in quick, short intervals. Our last recon proved it.”
“They’ll be cloaked and will be moving between intervals where the scans are not active,” (Y/n) retorted. “Unless the Resistance has acquired a new array of sensor tech we’re unaware of -”
“They don’t need new sensors if we hand them a clean shot on a silver platter,” Armitage cut in. “We use the ridge and we’re compromising their stealth. They’ll be spotted in minutes.”
“Not if they move quickly and precisely, which my people are known to do.” (Y/n) argued.
“I’m not gambling with their lives based on if , (Y/n).”
(Y/n)’s mouth opened, a retort ready, but before it could leave her tongue the door to the room hissed open.
Varo and Phasma stepped in to find both of them nearly shoulder to shoulder, the holomap between them like a line in the sand. They watched as both of their heads whipped to face them, the heat of their previous discussion still burning in their eyes.
Varo gave a low whistle and a grin. “Interrupting something tactical or something personal?”
(Y/n) stepped back slightly, clearing her throat. “Strategic discussion.”
Phasma’s helmet turned to the holomap. “Of course it is.”
Hux gestured to the holomap, a gentle huff escaping past his lips before he spoke. “We’re finalizing the drop zones. She wants to use the high ridge. I say it’s too exposed.”
“And I say stealth cloaking will keep them hidden if they move quickly and efficiently out of the drop zone before they’re caught in a scan,” (Y/n) added with clipped precision.
Varo and Phasma stepped closer, surveying the layout.
Varo leaned over the glowing terrain map and pointed. “We could use the ridge for their initial descent and have them rappel directly into tree cover before advancing. That way the transports can evade the scans in time as soon as they’ve dropped. We know they’re capable.”
Phasma gave a small nod. “It’s viable. Terrain there is steep but manageable for trained units. We’ve done it before.”
(Y/n)’s shoulders dropped just slightly. “It’ll be tight, but it works.”
Hux gave a short exhale, the tension in his stance loosening. “Alright.”
Varo crossed his arms and shot (Y/n) a teasing look. “You two always like this?”
“Only when he’s wrong,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.
Hux’s brow twitched, but he turned away to adjust a tactical overlay.
Phasma didn’t comment. Only slightly shook her head, perhaps to hide the trace of amusement.
The sounds of daggers clashing and slicing through the air filled the matted training room, echoing off of durasteel walls. (Y/n) ducked and pivoted, her blade a silver blur as Varo dodged many close calls.
Neither spoke now. This was their language. Precision, movement, and endurance.
Varo grunted as (Y/n) feinted left, then spun into a calculated strike that he just barely blocked. “Starting to think you’re enjoying this more than usual,” he said between breaths.
“I am,” (Y/n) replied coolly, not missing a beat.
Then the doors hissed open.
Neither flinched at the sound. They kept moving, trained to never let their guard down. But (Y/n)’s gaze flicked briefly towards the figure that entered.
Hux, hands clasped behind his back, eyes already fixed on them with keen interest.
Still, they kept going.
He said nothing, only stepping in far enough to stand just off to the side. Observing.
He watched closely. The sharpness of (Y/n)’s posture, the swift control in her strikes, the clean and lethal grace she carried like second nature. It was different from everything else he’d seen from her. Different from her stoic professionalism on the bridge or the romantic partner she was evolving into.
This was raw. Focused. Unapologetically in her element.
“You’re throwing too wide,” (Y/n) told Varo mid-duel. “Again.”
“I’m trying to make you sweat,” he replied, breath hitching with effort.
“You’ll need a better plan.”
She stepped in with a quick flurry of strikes that pushed Varo backward, forcing him to readjust his footing. Hux’s brow lifted slightly. She wasn’t even winded.
After another exchange, Varo finally gave a sharp exhale and disengaged, lowering his blades with a low chuckle. “You see what I’ve had to put up with, sir?” he called toward Hux, half-joking, half-exhausted. “She’s all calm and quiet until you put a weapon in her hand. Then she turns into that thing.”
Hux’s mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile. “I’ve noticed.”
(Y/n) said nothing, simply stepping back and tilting her head toward Varo in acknowledgment of the match. Her breathing was controlled, but her eyes glinted with intensity, skin gleaming and shadowed by the low light of the chamber. She looked at ease.
“Want to go again?” Varo asked, rotating his shoulder.
“Probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Don’t want to tire ourselves too much before the mission,” she replied, her gaze now shifting to Hux.
Varo raised both hands. “I can take a hint.”
But he didn’t leave. Just moved to one of the side benches, giving them space but clearly still within earshot if needed.
Hux stepped forward, studying her carefully. “Impressive.”
(Y/n) tilted her head slightly. “You’ve never seen me fight.”
“No. But I suspected.”
“And now?” she asked, her voice still laced with that post-spar calm.
“Now I’m even more glad that you’re not a rogue.”
She allowed a flicker of a smile to pass before turning to grab a towel, blotting her neck and face. Varo stretched out on the bench with a sigh.
“Can’t wait to tell the others I survived sparring with the Umbral herself,” he muttered.
“You’re lucky she was holding back,” Hux remarked dryly, still watching (Y/n).
Varo turned to her in disbelief. “You were holding back?”
(Y/n) tossed the towel over her shoulder and shrugged with a mischievous smile as he rolled his eyes. She then looked back at Hux, her expression unreadable now. “Did you come to pull me back to the bridge?”
“No,” Hux said softly. “I came to see you.”
Varo, now very much pretending to scroll something on his datapad, smirked.
(Y/n)’s gaze lingered on Hux’s a moment longer, her voice quieter as she replied teasingly, “Well, you’re seeing me.”
And Hux - despite everything he knew of war, strategy, and command - was at a loss for what to say to that.
But he nodded once. Because he had seen her. And it had changed everything.
So he settled on saying the only thing he could manage.
“Care for a walk?”
(Y/n)’s eyebrows raised slightly before smirking. “Mind if I shower first? It won’t be long, I promise.”
“Of course.” He nodded, then watched as she made her way to the showers and disappeared.
He glanced over at Varo who still sat on the bench and the latter gave him a knowing look.
“What?” The male Umbral held his hands up in surrender before standing.
“Nothing, General.” He passed by Hux to leave with a smirk. “Nothing at all.”
A few minutes passed and (Y/n) finally emerged, hair let down and wet, out of uniform in an undershirt, leggings and her boots.
“Shall we?” She asked him after he stared at her for a moment. He caught himself and nodded, the two of them making their way out of the room.
Armitage and (Y/n) walked side by side, a comfortable silence lingering between them after the intensity of the sparring session. Armitage’s hands were tucked behind his back, ever composed.
“You fight differently than I imagined,” Armitage said after a stretch of silence.
(Y/n) glanced over, brow arching slightly. “Is that a compliment or a concern?”
He let out a low breath, almost a laugh. “A compliment. Though I admit, there was a moment I feared for Varo’s life.”
She gave a small, amused hum. “He should be used to it by now.”
“You’ve always been dangerous,” Armitage continued, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. “But that was… different. There’s a clarity in you when you fight. Like it’s the only place your mind is truly at ease.”
(Y/n) didn’t answer at first. That struck a little too close. Instead, she looked straight ahead, eyes sharp even as they softened.
“It’s the only time I feel in control,” she said finally. “Everything else… there’s too much room for uncertainty.”
Armitage glanced over at her, brow furrowing just slightly. “Including myself?”
She slowed her pace before she stopped entirely. He stopped beside her.
“Especially you,” she said honestly, voice low.
They stood there for a beat in silence, the air between them heavy, but not uncomfortable.
He spoke thoughtfully. “I’ve devoted everything to this fleet. This cause. And then you…” He sighed, words failing him for a moment. But (Y/n) was already watching him like she understood everything he hadn’t said.
“I didn’t expect it either,” she murmured. “But I don’t regret it.”
He studied her for a long moment, thinking. He looked around them, the corridor empty as personnel slept through the night cycle, leaving the skeleton crew to themselves.
He then offered his arm in a rare, almost shy gesture.
She looked down at it, then back up at him with a faint smirk before linking her arm with his. “Careful, General. You’re starting to look sentimental.”
He let out a quiet, dry laugh. “Only with you, Umbral.”
They continued their walk, together now in stride and silence, with more said between them in that quiet than any words could.
They rounded another corner, neither in a rush to return to their respective quarters. There was a tension between them, but it was a quiet, mutual thing now - no longer volatile, but charged in a different way.
Finally, Armitage slowed to a stop outside of his door. He hesitated for a moment before he turned to face her with a thoughtful expression.
“Would you think -” He stopped himself for a second. “Since I saw your quarters, I think it’d only be appropriate for you to see my own, yes?” he said carefully before opening his door. He gestured for her to enter and (Y/n) glanced at him in question before stepping in.
His quarters were pristine, larger than her own. Fitting for a general. But something else was different, something softer.
The lighting was dimmer, warmer than usual. A strange contrast to the harshness of his office. It still held a sense of strict order and discipline, but it had an odd comfort to it as well.
“I assume you’re hungry after training?” He asked as he hung up his overcoat and made his way to the kitchen.
“Starving, even.” (Y/n) sighed as she took in the room, wandering over to where he stood in the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside him, watching.
The soft hum of the heating element filled the room as Armitage moved with practiced precision, setting out two mugs and a tin of loose-leaf tea. His posture was, as always, precise - spine straight, movements calculated - but there was an ease to his presence that only showed in these rare, private moments.
(Y/n) lifted a curious brow when he went into the fridge, then her lips parted when he pulled out a blood back and went to warm it up. He gave her a mischievous side glance.
“Since when did you start having blood packs in your quarters?” She asked in disbelief.
“Since I figured you would visit at some point.” He shot back with a faint smirk.
“And when would that be?”
He raised a brow at her. “I’d say last night.” He nodded as if he actually had to think about it.
(Y/n) giggled quietly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips as she watched him fix his tea once the water heated.
“You even prepare tea like you’re orchestrating a military campaign,” she remarked, arching a brow.
Armitage glanced over his shoulder with a dry look. “Precision is key. Unlike some, I prefer my beverages not tasting like dishwater.”
(Y/n) smirked. “That almost sounded like a personal jab.”
“It was,” he said evenly, turning back to the tea. “I once had a droid bring me a tea that tasted like it was put in a dirty mug with the bag only steeped for five seconds.”
(Y/n) chuckled. “I’m assuming you’ve had serious trust issues since then?”
Once finished making his own tea and the blood pack was warmed, he poured the thick substance into her own mug and turned to hand it to her.
“I had trust issues before then, imagine where the bar is now.”
(Y/n) graciously took the mug with thanks and shook her head, following him to the living room to sit on one of the couches.
As they settled in pleasant silence, sipping from their mugs, (Y/n) could feel Armitage’s gaze linger every now and then as she drank. She was used to it coming from other people, but from him it was amusing.
“If you’re curious, just ask. You’re not going to offend me.” She offered gently from the edge of her mug.
She locked eyes with him for a moment, watching as he debated himself internally on what to ask, if he should even ask.
“Does it help?” The question finally slipped, his head lowering to gesture towards her mug.
“The blood?”
Armitage hummed. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Are the packs enough? Being synthetic - they are synthetic, correct?”
(Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle again at his genuine curiosity, finding it endearing. “Yes, they’re synthetic. It’s not the same as organic blood, but it’s enough to make do. It’s more humane, anyways.”
“How often do you need it?”
She paused for a moment in thought before answering.
“I’d say every few days if I’m not exerting myself. More often during missions or when I train - like today.”
“And what if it’s not available when you are hungry?” Armitage caught her finger twitch, a subtle sign of discomfort. “If it’s too much -“
“It’s fine.” She cut him off softly before answering his question, but not before sighing. “The Covenant trained us under starving conditions during our field exercises. We were taught to exist in it, to harness it rather than be controlled by it to ensure we wouldn’t be a liability.”
Armitage’s brows lifted slightly. “You were starved on purpose?”
(Y/n) shrugged indifferently. “It was just part of the process,” she said. “In our final trials, we went without blood for weeks. Hardly any sleep. They wanted to see if we’d break, and anyone who did failed the academy.”
She met his eyes and smirked at his near incredulous expression.
“I think it made me a better person for it, anyhow. Even for those not in the Covenant, it’s a good learning lesson for our kind to keep them from going on a murdering spree.” She attempted a jest at the end.
Armitage hummed in thought as he eyed her. She set down her mug and carefully brushed her fingers over the top of his gloved hand. He turned his palm up to intertwine their fingers, his eyes never leaving her face.
“We should get some rest. I imagine tomorrow is going to be quite busy.” He suggested softly.
(Y/n) nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath before slowly resting her head on his shoulder.
“Quite busy…” She repeated in a murmur as she stared at the coffee table.
Darling (Otto Octavius x Fem!Reader)
Smut
Summary: One of Otto Octavius’ students convinces him to let her help with a small experiment, but it doesn’t go according to plan.
Word Count: 2258
Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI, 18+ only!), grinding (mild), oral (fem rec), PinV
*this is not my GIF*
“Like this?” You asked cautiously with a low voice, careful not to make any sudden movements. After weeks, maybe even months of asking Dr. Octavius if you could assist him with one of his experiments, he finally caved. The two of you now stood in his lab, the sun having set as rain lightly padded against the ceiling.
He hummed in response as he hovered over your form that stood in front of the taller table, hunched over a microscope to watch the micro chemical reaction unfold with barely contained excitement.
You had been a student of his when he still taught at the university, practically the ‘teacher’s pet’ of the class, but with a more subtle twist. Science had always been an intriguing subject for you growing up so, naturally, you paid attention to every detail during his classes, asked questions, stayed after to clarify notes if need be. While you did indeed have a genuine interest, you couldn’t deny the fact that he wasn’t a bad looking man, to say the least.
That’s how it started, rather.
Over your years in college, what you thought was a small crush had turned into a much bigger problem for you than you had hoped. The way his hand would brush your lower back from time to time, how he’d hold your gaze for longer than what was necessary, lingering touches that seemed misplaced for the moment. It all seemed innocent, unintentional. Yet a part of you still wondered. What was worse was that you couldn’t tell if it was love or just an obsession like everyone else had told you. To be completely honest, you were scared to find out. And yet you couldn't help but dig a little further every chance you had, looking for everything you didn’t want to find.
By the time you graduated, you found your answer. The unmistakable heartache of possibly never seeing or meeting with him again was a dead giveaway. The way you stood in front of each other with your eyes glazed over while everyone else greeted their families. It had been a bittersweet moment for both of you. While he was proud of the woman you had become, watching you grow as a person over the years, he was also upset knowing he wouldn’t have any more classes with you.
However, once he told you about the lab he worked in close by, he noticed the way your eyes lit up and it filled him with a small warmth in his chest. You began visiting him at least once a month, then twice, then once a week. All while asking him, or rather begging, if you could help with an experiment of his. And today you were finally victorious.
As you carefully watched the reaction through the lens of the telescope you felt a hand rest itself on your far shoulder, the heat of it burning through the fabric of your shirt. You felt a certain warmth begin to creep up your neck as you began to lose focus on the experiment, palms growing sweaty. With a feeling of hypersensitivity you were all too aware of the hand creeping down your arm in a manner so gentle that you began to question if he was really touching you.
His breath fanned at your neck as his torso began lightly pressing into your back, the softness of it only adding to the heat of your face. His hand sneakily slipped from your arm to your waist and it was then that you completely lost all focus on the reaction. Sensing that you had started to catch on he tilted his head so his nose brushed against your neck, his other hand moving to rest on the other side of your waist.
With a shaky breath you moved to straighten your back out, an ache beginning to set in with being hunched over for so long. The action didn’t go unnoticed, the hands on your waist moving up just slightly to guide you to stand up further until your entire backside was pressed against him. His left hand inched its way down to the front of your hip, the other snaking its way up to your jaw, coaxing you to turn your head towards him.
As your eyes met with his you noticed his usual chocolate brown irises take on an almost onyx shade, hooded with an uncharacteristic longing. You began to grow lightheaded the longer you stared, following his hand that drew you closer to him as if you were starving.
And in a way, you were.
Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips connected, still for a moment before slow movements began. As the two of you lost yourselves in the long-awaited kiss you made a move to turn towards him, but the hand on your hip restrained you from doing so, in turn giving friction to the growing bulge in his trousers. He let out a light exhale at the contact, the kiss growing more heated as your own need began to form itself, pulsating in your lower abdomen.
“Doctor?” You breathed out, his tongue gliding along your lip before finding its way to your own. He hummed in response, losing himself in your everything as his hands began to wander, your own grasping at the hair on the back of his head. “Doctor?” You sighed once more when the tip of his finger brushed over your throbbing clit through the fabric of your pants.
His eyes snapped open, pulling away from your face with a start as if he had just woken up. His eyes flitted between yours, face flushed and eyes blown wide with what seemed to be fear.
“I -“ He stuttered out. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t - I don’t know what -“ He paused to gather himself.
“What?” You whispered, hand cupping his jaw and your eyes looking from his lips to his own eyes.
“I don’t know what came over me.” He breathed out in disbelief, disgusted with himself as he took a step away from you. “I’m so sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to force myself on you, I just -“ He began, but soon lost himself once more when he saw the look you were giving him. The sight of you alone made him speechless, your beauty unmatched, driving him mad as you slowly made your way closer to him.
“Doctor Octavius.” He carefully watched you, about to question you when you shook your head with parted lips. Your hands found the back of his head again, bringing him down to kiss you once more. It was different than the first kiss, filled with more lust and need than you had ever felt.
He took a moment to process what was happening, then as he began to warm up to it his hands found their way to your hips to pull you impossibly closer. The pace grew faster, motions becoming more and more desperate with each passing second as years of built up pining came crashing down in that moment.
“Doctor?”
“Otto.” The man corrected. He moved from your mouth to your jaw, dragging his teeth to graze them on your earlobe.
“Otto,” You breathed out at the sensation. “Please.” You begged, his hand running along your thigh as you brought it up around his waist.
“That’s it.” He praised as he rubbed his bulge against your aching core, the both of you releasing a shaky breath at the sensation. You continued rolling your hips against him as his hands snuck under your shirt to cup your breasts. His lips assaulted your neck as he squeezed, then reached back to unclip your bra, pulling both it and your shirt off.
“Otto -“ You gasped as his mouth latched onto one of your hardened nipples, running his thumb over the other before the hand moved down further. The tickle it left behind caused you to shiver, Otto smirking at the feeling of it as he got down onto his knees.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” He asked breathlessly, looking up at you as his hands came to rest at the waistline of your pants, toying with the fabric. All you could do was nod in the moment, caressing his hair with an adoring gaze. ”I need you to say it, sweetheart.” He urged, bringing his face closer to your stomach without breaking eye contact. He then closed his eyes as he placed a loving kiss on your stomach, then another, the softness of his lips lingering.
“Yes.” You practically whined, his teeth scraping at your skin with the answer. “Yes, Otto.”
“Perfect.” He whispered, undoing your pants and pulling them down for you to step out of them, kissing further down to your pelvis in the process. He gave the same treatment to your panties, resting one of your legs over his shoulder as he caressed and kissed your thighs. You sighed when his breath lingered over where you needed him most, but it soon turned into a louder moan when he gave your clit a kitten lick, followed by his tongue giving a long lick up your soaking slit before diving in.
You threw your head back as a string of moans and slurred words fell from your lips, his groans only adding to the sensation when you gripped tighter onto his hair. The thick muscle felt cooler against you as it swirled, sinking in and out as his nose brushed against your clit.
Your hand quickly moved from his head to his shoulder, using him for stability when a finger was added into the mix, his mouth now focusing purely on your throbbing nub. Your whole body pulsated at the sensation of him, feeling him add another finger to curl them inside of you against your g-spot, a higher pitched moan alerting him of it.
Your thighs began to tremble and shake against him, his hand holding down the leg on his shoulder by your hip in an almost bruising hold as his motions grew faster. You felt your core and clit begin to throb more violently, warning you of your oncoming orgasm as you grew breathless with your panting.
“Fuck - Otto!” His eyes flicked up to you, taking in your fucked-out expression as your hips ground against him in search of your release.
“Come on.” He breathed against you. “Come on, sweetheart, cum for me.” He growled, sending you over the edge as you cried out, your grip becoming loose as you lost control, relishing in the feeling. Otto pulled away as you slowly came down from your high, standing up to keep you steady and planted sloppy kisses along your collarbone, working his way up your neck and to your lips.
Once you finally came to you made quick work of his sweater, Otto backing you into the closest wall as he ran his hands along anywhere and everywhere on your body. As you undid his belt and fly he took his time memorizing every part of your body, every blemish and impurity that you hated being cherished by him in that very moment.
He felt an overwhelming emotion as he gazed at you, chests pressed against each other and the tip of his cock brushing against your cunt. As he rocked his hips to grind against your opening he gave you a particularly sensual kiss, hands buried in your hair as you breathed against him.
“I love you.” He blurted, bringing your legs up to wrap around his larger waist. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, Otto -!” You moaned out his name as he thrusted in as you spoke, the two of you resting for a moment in disbelief. You nodded at him as you stared at each other longingly, his face glowing with a smile before it twisted into pleasure as he pulled out, only to bottom out as he pushed back in. You both moaned at the feeling of it, his pace gradually picking up speed. He then buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and bit at it.
You let out a particularly loud moan when he angled his hips, hitting your now over-sensitive sweet spot. Your bodies rocked in rhythm, breathing quickened, moans turning into pants as you felt your high approaching for the second time that night.
“Otto -“ Your eyes rolled back at a particularly deep thrust, nails scratching at his back causing him to let out a longer groan. “Otto, I’m close -“
“Yes, yes, I know.” He panted, hands gripping desperately at your hips. “I know, darling. You’re doing so good.” His head lifted to meet your gaze, your eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. It was in that intense moment of eye contact that you lost it, convulsing beneath him as your orgasm hit harder than before, mixed with the feeling of his own release filling you as he moaned.
You both stayed there for a few more minutes, tangled in each other, afraid to let go. You held each other close, taking in as much of the other person as possible. Otto then pulled out of you and gently set you back on the floor, hands on your waist in case you lost your balance. When he met your eyes he found you already gazing at him in wonder, in love.
“Did you mean it?” You whispered, afraid to break the moment. He gave a gentle smile, leaning in to give you a soft kiss.
“Of course I did.”
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 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 - Masterlist
Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.
Notes - This story is set prior to the events of The Dark Knight. Some moments may feel OOC, but only because you will see sides of certain characters that weren’t represented in the movie, however I will do my best to stay true to the character and base it off of what is canon. *I do not own any of the content in this franchise other than my own characters!*
Song/Theme - “Set Fire” by Carina Round
Warnings -
Trauma
Flashbacks
Panic attacks
Anxiety
Gore/violence🩸
Aspects of torture
Sexual themes🔥
Smut (MDNI/NSFW) 🔞
Manipulation
Mature language
Chapters -
Prologue Chapter 10
Chapter 1 Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 🔥
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
‘Serenity’ Prologue
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.
-
Nimble fingers stitched the thicker fabric with ease, the thread flowing through with years of technique and precision. The movement resembled that of water, calm and patient. A knot was tied at the end and the remaining string snipped. The woman stood back from the mannequin to examine her handiwork, a soft smile gracing her features in approval.
“Pa?” A low grumble met her ears. “Madame Caffe’s dress is ready.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” The woman held in her sigh, head kept downcast as she passed by the grumpy father to the front of their stand.
“Here you go, miss.” The dress was delicately placed into the older woman’s arms.
“How much?”
“One lev.” The customer grumbled and placed the coins into her hand. The seamstress just sighed and put it away, making her way back into the petite shop.
“You seen your mother yet?”
“Not yet.” She turned to see her worrying father and offered a weak smile of reassurance. “The market’s probably more busy than usual, is all.” The woman collected stray fabrics, throwing them into a nearby basket.
“Yeah, whatever.” Her father waved off with another grumble. She waited a few seconds longer to see if he had anything else to say, then sat down at her sewing bench to resume a side project. She threaded the machine, adjusting the fabric so it rested beneath it just the way she wanted before she began pumping with her foot.
The fabric moved steadily beneath her hands, losing herself in the sound of her most prized possession. She was almost finished with her fourth section when she heard a loud crash behind her. She shrieked when the needle stabbed through her fingertip, yanking away from the machine. Hand clutched to her chest she grabbed bandages and a bottle of alcohol from nearby to quickly dress the wound.
When she finished she turned towards the cause of panic to see her father stood angrily over a ‘fallen’ mannequin, clenching and unclenching his fists. She began to take deeper breaths, almost panting as she watched the scene before her anxiously. Refusing to make eye contact with the man, her finger throbbed heavily. Nothing she couldn’t handle as far as she was concerned. He mumbled something incoherently.
“Pa -?”
“Where is she!” He thrashed, swiping one of their end tables clean as everything on top of it cluttered to the floor. “Where is she!” He continued. The seamstress began to creep her way to the entrance of the shop, her father’s shouts turning into sobs by the time she was able to leave. She aimlessly wandered through the plaza to the markets and shops in search of her mother, bystanders looking on in irritation or disgust as she passed. She sighed in relief at the sight of her, water pooling in her eyes.
“Ma!”
“Mary? Liebling, whatever is the matter?”
“Pa, he - he’s having a fit, he -“ She cut herself off in panic as she tried to catch her breath. Her mother quickly paid the man she was talking to and brought them to a corner away from prying eyes.
“Oh, dear,” She took a cloth and wiped her daughter’s face. “What’s he on about this time?”
“You.” She sniffed and felt her mother’s hand still. “He was getting worried because you were taking a while, I tried to reason with him, but he just - he - he wouldn’t -“
“You did what you could, liebling. Don’t you worry.” She gently pushed her basket into Mary’s hands to which she accepted. “Now, do me a favor and finish up the shopping for me. I’ll handle your father.”
“Ma -“
“I don’t want to hear it. The longer we wait the worse he’ll get, you know how he is.” She gave Mary a quick kiss on the side of her head.
“Be careful.” Her mother nodded and turned to leave, rushing back home as Mary watched her figure disappear in the thinning crowd. She hesitated to leave, then decided it was best she didn’t stall any longer and made her way back to the market.
By the time she finished the sun was setting and most stands were closing down. All that was left on the streets were stragglers either going on a stroll or rushing back to their own homes. She held the basket closer to herself when she caught sight of their oh-so-humble abode, stalking as she entered. Seeing no one in the shop, she cautiously walked up the small ladder-like stairs to their living area and peaked into the room. Her parents sat at the dining table eating their dinner quietly. Though it was anything but a comfortable silence.
Mary finished climbing and made her way over to their cupboard to put away what was in the basket, doing her best to make as little noise as humanly possible. A chair screeched along the wooden floor that jolted her, footsteps growing louder behind her to place dishes in the nearby sink before they faded into a different room. She took a deep breath in relief, turning to face her mother when she noticed a bruise starting to form on her wrist.
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