Chapter 9
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.
More Posts from Igot-the-juice and Others
The Scarred - Chapter 5
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.
“Let’s get ye home, yeah?” Liam spoke softly after she had calmed down somewhat. He guided her with a hand on her back, eyeing the van knowingly as they walked past it. Penelope sniffed and placed her hand in her pocket, head kept down in shame.
“I’m sorry.” Penelope whispered after a few moments. Liam’s head whipped in her direction.
“Fer what, exactly?” She sniffed again.
“I’m not usually like this. You just met me at a bad time.” Her head lifted and she gave him a delicate smile. Only a fool wouldn’t fall to their knees at the sight of it, her large eye glistening under the street lights. It was child-like. Innocent in every way, yet far from it at the same time. Its complexity fascinated him.
“Depends on ‘ow ye look at it.” She stared up at him as he looked forward once more. “The way I see it, I think I met ye at the best time.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Not to toot me own horn, but tha’s twice I’ve helped ye in what seems lie’ a crisis. I mean,” he threw his arms up in a joking manner. “What in God’s name would ye ‘ave done without me?” The comment made her chuckle and he joined in with her. It was a relief. A much needed one, at that. They carried on with their conversation as they walked with an occasional brief silence, but soon they had been talking as if they were old friends, eventually exchanging numbers.
It took her by surprise that as the weeks passed, he was able to make her feel so comfortable. To make her feel so secure, so safe with him. Even after he killed someone in front of her, claiming it was for her own safety. There was an aura around the man that drew her to him and she wore it like a blanket to keep her calm.
She wasn’t attracted to him, no. He was handsome, charismatic. Charming, even. But what she felt was a deep admiration. As if he was an overprotective brother. And overprotective, he was. She didn’t know if he was just a gentleman or something else, but the slightest aggression towards her sent him over the edge. He wouldn’t fight unless absolutely necessary, but he could get overwhelmingly creative with his vocabulary, to say the least.
Liam made his way to Penelope’s door, rapping on it a few times to make his presence known. He folded his arms over his chest and looked over to where he heard footsteps, seeing a taller brunette making her way over to him with furrowed eyebrows.
“Hi?” The woman questioned him in curiosity.
“Who might ye be?” Her eyes widened.
“Irish?” She made a sound of approval and nodded her head. “Emma. I’m stealing Penelope for tonight.” She spoke dominantly, winking at him with a smirk.
“Are ye two -?”
“No! No. If anything, I thought you two were.” She laughed. “I’m married.”
“Well, tha’s never stopped anyone.”
“So you two are a thing?”
“Wha -?”
“You didn’t deny it.” She shrugged with a chuckle.
“She’s a good friend o’ mine.”
“Oh! Are you Liam?” She exclaimed in excitement.
“Aye. Tha’s me.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Mentioned me, ‘as she? I should feel special.”
“You should. Took me years to get where you are with her.” Emma’s voice grew softer. “Takes a certain person to get her to trust any -“ The door whipped open and the two snapped their heads towards the woman in the doorway.
“Speak o’ the devil.” Penelope looked between the two of them with a wide eye. Liam’s eyes quickly scanned over her, looking between her and Emma. “Wha’s the occasion?”
“What, am I not allowed to dress nice every once in a while?”
“Juss different seein’ ye without the baggy-ish clothes.” He gestures with his hands.
“She’s visiting my family for dinner. And you look stunning, hun.” Emma gave Penelope a warming smile while Liam practically gawked.
“Well, I suppose I’ll leave ye to it.” He began to walk off when Penelope stopped him, voice holding just a trace of concern.
“Was there something you needed?” He turned and looked back at her.
“Nothin’ of importance.” Liam gave her a tight smile before heading back to his own apartment. Once he was gone Emma looked over at Penelope and wiggled her eyebrows, earning herself a light nudge to her shoulder.
“How is it?” The man of the hour asked, a bright smile complimenting his eagerness.
“Amazing!”
“Good, good! I’m glad you like it.” The atmosphere was comforting, save for the older man’s niece’s occasional glare from across the dining table. The two story house was elegant, however not exaggerated. It was warm and the perfect size for their smaller family. The different shades of browns and greens were appealing to the eye, none too bright or too dark. “I hope Gotham’s treating you well? No trouble?” Penelope lightly shook her head.
“Thanks to Emma, it is.”
“And Liam.” The brunette coughed under her breath. Penelope shot her a look and she giggled.
“Who?” Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.
“A guy friend she has.” There was a mixture of ‘ooo’s and gasps among the room and Penelope felt her face start to warm.
“Boyfriend.” The niece chirped in. While Emma laughed along thinking it was all just fun, Penelope’s jaw tensed. Thankfully it went unnoticed.
“Really?” Emma’s mother spoke excitedly.
“Nah, we’re just messing with her. But she does have a friend she’s been hanging out with.” Emma died down the situation, noticing her friend’s discomfort. They mingled into the later night, indulging themselves in a glass or two of champagne after having cake and Emma’s father opening his presents. Penelope stepped out into their backyard once things had grown more rowdy. She took a deep breath and closed her eye to calm her increasing heart rate when she heard the door slide open from behind her. She turned to see their niece’s husband step out to join her.
“Needed a break?”
“Yeah.” Penelope mumbled, looking back out to the fenced in yard, rubbing her right shoulder.
“I feel ya.” He chuckled as he pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “This ’guy friend’. You like him?” Penelope began to chew on her cheek.
“As a friend, yeah.” He nodded.
“You trust him?”
“With my life.” She examined the man stood beside her. “Why?”
“Gotham’s why.” It wasn’t until then that he looked at her. He noticed the look she was giving him and sighed. “It’s good to have someone you trust in a city like this. Someone to protect you.”
“Give me a gun and I’ll protect myself.” She quirked her brow at him.
“I’m not just talking about physically -“ The door slid open again and his wife peeked her head out.
“Babe, we should get going.” The addressed man nodded and gave Penelope one last look before heading inside. She sent Penelope her signature glare before closing the door once more.
The Scarred - Chapter 1
Masterlist
Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.
The bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her coat. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.
“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. The woman’s figure practically towered over her because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.
“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.
“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with a doe eye.
“Um -” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished in the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.
“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.
“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.
“Do I -” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.
“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”
“I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”
“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.
“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What -”
“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life’s story to someone?”
With candlelit faces, the two of them laughed. The younger woman’s eyes were glazed over with joy as her mother presented the cake in the dark room.
The soothing ambience of the soft music and boiling water in the background was a stark contrast compared to her raging thoughts. She made her way to the fridge, opening the freezer to pull out a bag of tortellini.
As thick smoke started to crowd the room, accompanied by distant screams, they stared at each other. Now both of their eyes were glazed, yet it held an entirely different meaning.
After having ripped the bag open with her teeth, Penelope warily poured the frozen pasta into the water, standing as far away as possible to avoid being splashed. As she waited for them to be ready she grabbed a jar of pesto from the fridge, then a larger bowl and olive oil from the cupboard.
“Penny -” She was cut off by her own coughing. “The window - open the window!”
Lightly sucking on the inside of her bleeding cheek, she brought the pot over to the strainer that had been placed in the sink. She leaned away from the steam as she poured in the pasta and water, setting the pot aside when finished. The bowl was brought over for the pasta to be transferred.
Even through the overwhelming pain, she maintained eye contact with her daughter for reassurance. She noticed the way she apprehensively glanced out of the window. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
The sound of glass shattering filled the still air of the room. Having now sat down on the floor against the counter she let her head fall back with a light ‘thud’, taking shaky breaths as she tried to ground herself. Suddenly, she cried out to the nothingness in front of her, not a yell or a scream. The noise had found the perfect middleground as she trembled.
Penelope wasn’t sure how long it had been. Hours, minutes, maybe even only seconds. Her legs were laid out in front of her now, head hung low with a gentle sniff every now and then. Her dinner had been long forgotten. She had lost her appetite. She looked over to where the small bowl had been thrown, white chunks scattered below where it hit the wall. Thankfully the wall was fine save for some scratched paint.
She begrudgingly pushed herself from the floor to cover the bowl with the pasta and put it in the fridge. Exhausted, she left the glass where it was, deciding to just clean it up after work the next day. With a soft ‘click’ her bedroom glowed with warm light and she trudged over to the small bathroom. Just as she was about to start her normal routine, however, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was small, barely noticeable as it blended with the egg-white countertop. The lined paper had some chicken scratch on it and she strained her eye to read it, yet when she could finally make out the words her heart dropped.
Don’t forget to smile.
Serenity - Chapter 8
Masterlist
Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.
"How long has it been?"
"Five hours, at least.”
"I'd say seven."
"I bet nine."
"Has she even eaten?"
"Hasn't left since the catcher brought her here."
"It's one thing to do your job. It's another when it's an obsession."
"You would know all about that, now, wouldn't you?" The group of women gasped and stepped away from the door they huddled in front of. Reuben made his way towards them with an irritated expression. "I wonder what his excellency would think if I were to tell him you all were harassing his new seamstress." Comically, the women all glanced at each other with fearful expressions before speeding off.
He smirked rather proudly and turned to the door, carefully opening in to prevent any disturbance. There Mary sat at a desk, hunched over a barely made dress she was working on. Eyebrows knit together as she focused, she hummed as she worked, not taking notice of the man just yet. It was quite obvious to him that she was in her true element. She was relaxed, comfortable. Dare he say at peace. It was a pleasant sight to him, especially after all she had been through in the recent weeks.
She stopped when she heard the door close lightly and turned towards it, eyes lighting up when she saw him.
"Reuben!"
"So sorry, it appears you were being eavesdropped." He spoke in a slightly agitated tone as he made his way over to her.
"Eavesdropped? By whom?"
"The other seamstresses." He rolled his eyes. "No matter, I got rid of them."
"Oh..." Her eyes downcasted in realization. "Well, thank you." She offered a smile before returning to her work.
"I must say, you work rather quickly."
"It's amazing what one can accomplish when left undisturbed." Silence followed, and only then did she realize how what she said sounded and looked up at Reuben with wide eyes. "I - I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all."
"I know, dear." Mary sighed in relief and returned to what was in front of her. Then she felt her face warm at the new nickname. "Though, you do need rest every so often." He spoke as if he was talking down to a child, looking at her with a knowing expression.
"I'm fine, Reuben."
"You haven't eaten since you've been in here for who-knows-how-long, so I find that hard to believe." Mary avoided his gaze guiltily. "As far as I'm concerned, you haven't eaten since I brought you to the castle which, at this point, would be two days."
"I'm sorry..." Mary spoke softly. "I just got excited." Reuben sighed and removed what she held in her hands.
"Understandably so." He patted her shoulder to get her to stand up. "It's time I showed you the kitchen."
Mary's head spun with all the twists and turns it took to get to the said kitchen. The castle was large, yes, but walking through it felt like a maze more than anything. If all goes well, she wasn't sure how long it would take her to memorize what led to where.
The kitchen itself was large, naturally. Everything was pristine, clean as can be. Multiple stoves lined one side of the walls, the most she had seen in one spot probably. Men and women scrambled about, however in an organized manner. It seemed they had a routine that worked for the lot and it took her by surprise. Then she remembered where she was.
"Kochin!" Reuben raised over the chaos that was the kitchen. A short, plump man began speeding in their direction, exasperated.
"Yes, sir?" He asked hurriedly as he wiped a rag over his forehead, whipping it back over his shoulder.
"Bring a plate over for the lady." He leaned down closer. "A nice plate." The man, Kochin, then nodded hurriedly before scurrying off and yelling directions to the other cooks. "Caught them right as they were about to start cleaning up." He looked over at Mary with a quirked brow.
"Well, now I feel bad." She mumbled and wrung her hands.
"It's their job. They're used to it by now." Kochin returned quickly with a heaping plate of food, holding it out to Mary who stood with wide eyes. Reuben's eyes urged her to take it and she hesitantly did so.
Reuben nodded at the man and turned Mary towards the exit to walk them back to his room.
"I can't eat all of this!" She exclaimed as soon as they reached the bedroom. She sat down at a nearby desk and stared at the heaping pile of food.
"Then eat what you can. Meanwhile, I have to take care of a few matters. I shouldn't be long. Don't. Wander." He then shut the door behind him and she heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
The food smelt amazing, to say the least. It was the most extravagant meal she had received in her entire life. She felt awful knowing she surely wasn't going to finish it, but she would've felt even worse if she didn't eat anything from it at all. Choosing the latter she nibbled at her food piece by piece, taking her time to savor the rich flavors. But her assumptions were correct.
She was only about a quarter of the way finished by the time she was full. Either her stomach was shrinking or she hadn't realized how little she had really been eating in the village. Then the food coma hit.
She pushed the plate to the side to rest her chin in her hand, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hadn't the slightest perception of time, only following her body's instincts as her head finally came to rest on her arms to sleep. She must have been truly exhausted with how fast it hit her. Typically Mary would fight herself when it came to falling asleep, lying awake for half an hour at least before she succumbed to it.
Just minutes later Reuben walked in, stopping in his tracks when he saw Mary passed out on his desk. His eyes softened at the sight of it, knowing it was one of the few times she was truly at peace. He sighed and silently shut the door, taking off his coat and hooking it onto a rack that already held his hat before making his way over to Mary. He brushed a loose piece of hair from her eyes, debating on whether or not he wanted to move her and risk waking her up.
After a few seconds of thought he left to pull the sheets of his bed back, then hooked his arms beneath Mary, carefully lifting her to lay her on the bed. Thankfully, she didn't even flinch or move in the slightest save for incoherent mumbling at the action. He wasn't sure if he should've been concerned or not, but nevertheless he slid her shoes off of her feet and pulled the blanket over.
He was about to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn't move. He was planted by the sight of Mary's resting features. He took his time examining them, and he had to admit she had a unique facial structure. That was surely saying something considering his own.
She was rather beautiful in an original sense, in her own sense. It was a different kind of beauty that he couldn't describe. Perhaps he was around the middle-aged women of the castle too often, but even when he traveled to the village he never saw anyone that caught his eye quite like Mary.
There was a small knock on his door and he flinched when he saw Mary move the slightest bit, then he made his away over to it to see who it was.
"Apologies, sir," The maid spoke with a downcast gaze. "I was just coming to see if you needed anything else before you retired for the night?" She watched as Reuben disappeared for a moment, then returned with the unfinished plate of food and handed it to her with a sigh.
"She will need another dress for tomorrow, as well." He spoke in a hushed tone. Emilia nodded. "That will be all." Reuben confirmed dismissively, practically shutting the door in her face.
He huffed and began unbuttoning his vest, loosening the cravat around his neck as he glanced over at Mary over and over. He shook his head and folded the clothing over the back of his vanity chair.
Everything was frozen. Or rather seemed so. It all seemed so much darker than she had remembered. It was a different darkness. A darkness that lurked in the daylight where it shouldn't have been.
Mary turned in the center of the plaza, looking around at the villagers staring back at her with unreadable expressions. One stepped closer. Followed by another. Then it all happened like a domino effect, a mob crawling in her direction leaving her without an escape.
Her body betrayed her, feet frozen where she stood. Her breathing quickened, throat constricting in on itself. She clawed at her neck as her legs gave out, her knees taking the impact against the cold stone. She wheezed as they all enclosed themselves around her until they were all she saw -
Mary's eyes opened to the sunlight peeking through the curtains. She breathed in, slow and thorough. Her cheeks were cold. Wet. She sat up slowly, body drained even after her sleep. She wiped her cheeks tiredly as she sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side.
She wasn't sure how long it had been before she finally stood, looking back over at the bed to see a dress laid out for her. Mary pondered for a moment on whether or not she should wait on Emilia, then decided against it and ran a bath for herself.
As much as she fancied the dresses, the tightness of them drove her up the wall. She cursed whoever thought up the idea of it as she began to tighten what she could, being sure to keep it looser for her own comfort. However, she huffed when the door opened. What she expected to be the maid turned out to be Reuben with a plate of breakfast and the huff became a sigh. "Oh, thank God."
She was taken aback at his appearance. Mary had been so used to seeing him clad in black that his undershirt on display was a sight she unexpectedly welcomed. His vest was still buttoned, encased around his more lean form accompanied by his cravat. The more dressed-down appearance seemed out of character for the man.
The catcher quirked a brow in amusement, catching her more wandering gaze.
"I feared you were the maid." Mary chuckled in an exasperated fashion.
"And why would that be?" He set down the plate and made his way over to her. "May I?" He motioned to her dress and she nodded in approval. He took the laces from her, bare fingertips grazing against her soft skin enough to set it ablaze.
"I know these dresses are supposed to be more form-fitting, but I'm certain she's trying to suffocate me." Reuben chuckled. It was light, different from the darker tone she was used to hearing while he was on the job.
He was far more gentle with his movements than Emilia was and Mary welcomed it gratefully. She couldn't explain what she felt whenever his hands brushed against her, but she was sure she was growing more and more drunk on it. Then it stopped. She stopped herself from pouting and turned to face him with a gentle smile.
"Thank you." Mary then turned to his vanity and grabbed a hair tie, quickly pulling her hair into a bun. "You didn't have to, you know." The woman sighed as she made her way over to her breakfast. She took her first bite, then looked up at him with a doe-eyed look. "Did you eat already?" The catcher nodded and leaned back against the desk beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, making her somewhat self-conscious as she ate. It was awkward for her and she began to drown in it.
She swallowed her current bite and gradually looked up at him. Reuben quickly averted his gaze elsewhere and she noticed a pink hue begin to dust his cheeks. Her chest fluttered and she took another bite in an attempt to hide her growing smile.
Later on, Mary found herself back in the sewing room after Reuben walked her, having to leave in that direction anyways. After closing the door he made his way to the throne room to the swarm of aristocrats and nobles that surrounded the barons.
"Ah, Catcher!" The Baron exclaimed, the group of sycophants parting themselves as he made his way over to Reuben who bowed deeply to the cheerful man as he approached.
"You called for me, your excellency?"
"I did, I did. Where is that lovely seamstress of yours?" Reuben faltered.
"Working on your lady's dress at this moment, my lord."
"It's coming along well, I hope?" The Baron began leading the two of them away from the crowd.
"I have no doubts."
"Good, good. Now," He stopped and faced Reuben. "I want you to bring your lady tonight to join us for dinner. You've built her quite the reputation, catcher, and I'd like to know more about this woman should she be our new seamstress."
"With respect, your excellency, she's not my lady." The Baron's eyes widened, then squinted as he drawled out a chuckle with a wink.
"Of course she isn't." It took all of Reuben's will not to roll his eyes. He was devoted, sure, but even the ever loyal catcher had his moments of irritation with the barons. Bomburst pat him on the shoulder before heading back over to his throne to mingle once more. Reuben huffed, straightened his coat with a snap and made his way back upstairs to Mary.
"Dinner?!" Panic set in Mary's eyes, putting an abrupt stop to her work. "I - I only just got here two days ago - and why would they want to have dinner with a seamstress?" Reuben, sensing her anxiety, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rested a hand on her back.
"Being chosen to be the barons' seamstress is nothing short of a rarity. They simply wish to get to know you better to see if you're a good fit." Mary chuckled despite her current crisis.
"Was that on purpose?"
"Not in the slightest." Mary stood up and began to pace.
"What if I slip up and say something I'm not supposed to? Or do something I'm not supposed to?" She whipped around to face Reuben. "They won't put me to death, will they?" He sighed and stepped in front of her, lifting his hands to rest on the sides of her arms. Even with his gloves, she could feel the heat of it burning through, enough to soothe her almost instantly.
"You have no reason to worry." He watched as Mary's gaze remained downcast, eyes glazing over yet not a single tear falling. Timidly she reached up to hold onto one of his forearms, refusing to meet his eyes.
Then cool leather met her chin, gently coaxing her to face him. As her head turned her eyes continued to stray, and only when she sensed the smallest bit of confidence in the midst of whatever she was feeling did she meet the hazel of his eyes. It wasn't until then that she realized the little distance between them.
Everything was still in that moment. Seconds felt like minutes, where minutes felt like hours. It was all a haze, the smell of him intoxicating her, making her lightheaded. When she felt his lips on her own she froze for the smallest second, then began melding them as she reciprocated. The softness of his lips caught her off guard, but it was dearly cherished. The kiss was gentle, fervorous. Short.
They pulled back ever so slightly, eyeing the other for any sign of hesitancy or doubt, and when they found none they went in once more without a second thought.
It was more potent, held more passion. Gradually their breathing grew heavier. His fingertips ghosted over her jaw, reaching further back to cup it and draw her closer. Her hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, balling the fabric beneath.
It was awkward for him at first with his damned nose, but a few seconds in and he was almost perfect. In fact, Mary relished in the feeling of it brushing against her cheek. It brought her a sense of tranquility, and reminded her of who she was with.
When they broke away it was a slow movement, regretful. He stared at her with an intensity that left her weak, that would leave anyone weak. It made her feel as if she was all that mattered in that moment. Mary wrapped her arms around his torso, Reuben holding her close to him, head resting atop her own that nestled in the crook of his neck.
Mary wasn't sure what to think. She felt lost. Confused. Of everything that had happened over the course of the past two months, it was all blurring together and made her head spin. She tightened her grip around him in fear and puzzlement.
Mary focused on the feeling of him. The way it felt to have their bodies so close to one another, sharing the new moment of intimacy. Her lips still felt warm, tingly. Something bloomed in her chest, something she was unfamiliar with. It was indescribable to her yet it filled her with such an elation.
When they pulled away a single drop traveled down her cheek as Mary smiled at the man in front of her. He ogled with a sense of adoration, using his thumb to brush the tear away. Then a breathless chuckle escaped his lips.
"The Baron thought you were my lady when I spoke with him earlier." Mary held a curious mien.
"Oh?" Reuben's lips twitched in amusement.
"I told him you weren't, and yet here we are." It was Mary's turn to chuckle. A light giggle that made his heart flutter uncharacteristically.
"Am I, then?" Mary murmured, her expression thoughtful. Her next words were but a whisper. "Am I your lady?"
"I'm afraid so. I fear the day you soften me, and I'm even more fearful that it's already started."
“Terrifier” - Art the Clown
Chapter 8
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
The door slid shut behind General Hux as he entered his office, footsteps light yet heavy with unspoken thoughts. The atmosphere in the room was thick, weighed down by the events of the interrogation, and (Y/n)’s presence only seemed to intensify that tension. She stood by the viewport behind his desk, her back turned to Hux as she gazed out at the stars. It was hard to tell if she was looking for answers from the vastness of space or simply trying to avoid the thoughts swirling in her mind.
Hux lingered near his desk, watching her carefully. He hadn’t missed the shift in her demeanor since the interrogation. There was something different about her now, something subtle but undeniable. He knew that what had transpired in that room had left a mark on her.
“(L/n),” Hux began, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity, “You’re quiet.”
(Y/n) remained silent, her fingers tightening on her arms where they were crossed in front of her. It was as if she were weighing something inside herself, something she didn’t know how to voice. After a moment, she exhaled slowly, but didn’t turn to face him.
“What she said,” she murmured. “About us.”
Hux responded plainly, but his averted gaze showed otherwise. “She seemed to think it was significant.”
(Y/n) finally turned, her expression guarded. But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something vulnerable. “Is it?”
The question hung in the air, leaving no space for games or half-truths. Hux felt a strange twist in his chest, a tightening he wasn’t accustomed to. He studied her as (Y/n)’s gaze faltered, her shoulders tense as if she were bracing herself for an answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear.
“Do you think…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think she was right?”
Hux slowly rounded the table closer to her, his expression softening as he drew closer to her. “Well, that depends,” he began, his voice more earnest now, “If I think she was, then it would mean something. Wouldn’t it?”
She swallowed, the words lodged in her throat. She had expected him to brush it off, to dismiss it like so many other things she had been told to suppress. But his response wasn’t what she had imagined. It made her heart beat a little faster, her pulse quickening at the thought of facing the truth of what was building between them.
“You know, I didn’t expect you to humor talking about it,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But… I can’t stop thinking about it. Especially after what she said.”
Hux studied her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched her face for any trace of the controlled stoicism that had defined her for so long. But it wasn’t there. Not now. Instead, there was something raw, something that made him feel exposed, as if the walls they had both kept between them were slowly crumbling.
“You’re not the only one trying to make sense of it.” Hux admitted, much to their surprise.
(Y/n)’s breath caught at his words. It was disorienting, in a way, to hear him say what had been silently understood between them. And yet, it was the first time in what felt like forever that something real, something genuine, was spoken aloud.
“My focus has always been on the mission. I’ve tried to justify it as my loyalty to my assignment, but this…?” She paused. “It’s different.”
Hux took another step closer, now barely a foot away from her as his expression grew more tender than she had ever seen it before. “It is different. But we don’t have to figure it all out right now. Not everything has an immediate answer.”
(Y/n)’s gaze flickered to the floor for a moment, but slowly lifted to look at him again once she felt the brush of his gloved fingers against her arm. She knew there was so much they couldn’t say, not yet. The words were all tangled up inside of her, but she felt a shift in the air, an understanding that neither of them had ever truly acknowledged until now.
“We can’t pretend this is nothing,” (Y/n) said, her voice a little firmer now. “ I can’t pretend it.”
Hux studied her for a long moment, his gaze softening. “Then we won’t.”
(Y/n) glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face, looking for some sign that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment of honesty. It was as if they were both testing the waters, unsure of how deep they were willing to go. But for once, she didn’t want to pull back.
And they didn’t.
The silence between them grew thick with the weight of unspoken words and shared realizations. (Y/n) stood there, the distance between them closing, yet neither one made a move. The tension was palpable, the quiet stretching out in a way that felt almost unbearable, like they were both standing on the edge of something they didn’t fully understand, but wanted to.
Hux’s eyes never left hers, his expression still soft but full of intent, even hesitation. There was a moment of vulnerability there that (Y/n) had never seen in him before, a rawness that made her breath catch. It was clear now that they were both standing on the precipice of something new, and though neither of them could predict where it would lead, neither of them seemed ready to walk away from it, either.
Slowly, (Y/n) stepped forward, closing the space between them and causing the hand on her arm to shift higher. She’d never been this close to him before. Not like this. It felt like every breath she took was shared with him, every beat of his heart hers to share. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent. And it made her feel as if everything else had melted away.
For a brief second, she hesitated, unsure whether to continue or pull back. But then, she saw something in his eyes. An openness that mirrored her own. It was in that fleeting moment that she realized she didn’t have to be afraid of what they were becoming. She didn’t have to hide from this. From him.
His hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against her jaw, testing the boundaries between them. Her own hand came up to rest on top of his chest, feeling the thrumming of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It was an intimate sensation, one she never had the luxury of feeling.
Hux didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. He remained still, waiting, letting her make the decision.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. She was acutely aware of how close they were now, of the electricity crackling between them, urging them forward. She could feel his breath warm against her face, his gaze steady and searching. Everything in her screamed to lean in, to finally bridge the gap that had always been there.
And then, without thinking, without words, she closed the distance.
Her lips met his, tentative at first. Testing, unsure. But when he responded, both of them moved together as if they had always known how. It was slow at first, tentative, as if they were both discovering this new part of themselves.
(Y/n)’s hand slid up to his neck, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, and Hux’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. The intensity of the kiss deepened, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/n) felt a sense of peace, as if everything had come full circle.
She had always been so guarded, so controlled. But now, with him, she didn’t have to hide anymore. There were no expectations, no pressures. Just them, in this moment, finding something real.
They finally pulled apart, breathless, both of them looking at each other as if they were seeing one another for the first time.
Hux’s fingers gently brushed her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray piece of hair that was out of place from its usually perfected style. “We should’ve done this sooner,” he whispered, his voice low and full of meaning.
(Y/n) let out a breathless laugh, the sound soft and genuine. “Maybe. But I’m glad we didn’t rush it.”
Hux hummed in agreement.
The room was still, and for once, the weight of the war, the orders, and the missions didn’t seem so heavy. It was just the two of them.
“I don’t know exactly what this means, but I’m not as afraid of it as I think I should be.”
(Y/n) felt a knot in her chest loosen at his words. It wasn’t a declaration of love, not yet, but it was something. It was enough for now.
“Neither am I,” she said, almost to herself, before looking up at him with a softer expression. “I don’t know what happens next, but I’m not afraid either.”
Hux gave her a small nod, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “We’ll find our way.”
Neither of them had all the answers, but they knew one thing for certain - they were no longer pretending. And that, in itself, felt like the first step forward for them.
(Y/n)’s voice broke the stillness first, soft and almost hesitant. “(Y/n),” she said, her voice a little unsure as she spoke her own name. It was an offering, an invitation. It felt almost too personal, too intimate to say aloud.
Her gaze dropped for a moment, mind racing as she tried to gauge his reaction. It felt like she was crossing an invisible line, one that might make everything feel different. But she didn’t regret it.
Hux’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable for a moment as he looked at her. It wasn’t the name of an officer or a superior. it was something else entirely. It was personal.
“I -” He stopped himself, the words getting caught in his throat. “Armitage.” He nearly choked out, his heart racing uncharacteristically. But the gentle smile she gave him made it worth it.
“Armitage.” His heart skipped. He wasn’t used to hearing his name spoken with such sincerity, but somehow, hearing it from her felt natural.
Hux’s lips twitched upward, and he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t even realized he wanted it, but hearing his name from her own lips felt like a bond. A commitment, maybe, even if they both didn’t fully understand it yet.
Her gaze softened as she looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed like the weight of their shared experiences had brought them to a place of understanding. They both knew that this wasn’t just about the mission anymore. There was something here, something that was no longer hidden beneath their armor.
“I suppose we should prepare to brief Drenn and Phasma.” Armitage reluctantly reminded both himself and (Y/n), not wanting to ruin their moment. The latter sighed and nodded before they slowly peeled away from each other and turned towards his desk.
Once the two others arrived, Hux was standing behind his desk with (Y/n) to his left, the others on the other side. They all knew the nature of what had transpired, the importance of the information that had been gathered. But the air still held some form of thickness with the remnants of the intense interrogation.
“I’m pleased to say that the interrogation was successful. But now it is imperative that we act quickly from what we received. (L/n), if you will.” The general began.
(Y/n) straightened slightly, acknowledging the order. She had become used to this dynamic, this balance of trust and command between them. Her gaze shifted from Hux to Varo and Phasma as she spoke.
“It was confirmed that the rogue faction is still in contact with Resistance forces, but their next location is still not clear enough for us to target,” (Y/n) began, her voice steady but tinged with something colder now, something sharp. “However, Elira,” She paused, just for a moment, to steady herself. “Made it clear that there is a larger play at hand.”
There was a brief flicker of recognition in Varo’s eyes, and Captain Phasma’s unreadable expression didn’t change, though the air seemed to tighten. The information had clearly shaken them both, but none of them dared to show it.
“It seems the Resistance has a heavier involvement with the faction than what was originally assumed.” Hux added, his tone darkening. “They’ve been providing the rogues with supplies and safehouses. Coordinating and assisting each other to perform these recurring strikes on First Order establishments.”
Varo frowned, his eyes narrowing. “And they’re preparing a larger strike?” he asked, his voice full of masked concern.
(Y/n) nodded. “They wanted to regroup, build momentum, and meet the others at the next location. What they failed to consider was the Covenant’s involvement. That’s what ultimately led to their capture.”
Hux didn’t let his gaze falter. “But the remaining rogues are more elusive, believe it or not.” He commented with a hint of annoyance.
Phasma spoke up, her voice as calm and measured as ever. “What’s our next move?”
(Y/n)’s eyes were cold now, her focus entirely on the task at hand. “We still have the other four prisoners to pull information from so we’ll be able to finalize a more stable plan once that’s taken care of. We need names, contacts, any possible location. They have to know something if they were planning to meet the others.”
Hux glanced at her, a flicker of admiration in his eyes before he turned back to the others. “Once all information is extracted, we must act swiftly, and with precision. This isn’t about eliminating the rogues anymore. This is about stopping a much larger operation.”
Varo looked to (Y/n), a slight smirk tugging at his lips before turning back to the general.
(Y/n) gave a nod, her expression firm. “More than stop them. We’ll send a message. Make sure this never happens again.”
Captain Phasma stepped forward. “Then it’s settled. I’ll have droids assigned to interrogations during the scheduled timeframes.”
Hux nodded in approval. “That is all for now. I will notify you after information is collected from the interrogations and ready to brief. Dismissed.”
Phasma and Varo nodded, the latter casting her a final, knowing look before turning to leave.
Following the brief, Hux and (Y/n) reached the entrance to the bridge, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent corridor. The doors slid open and they stepped in with purpose. The crew worked in near silence, their movements efficient and synchronized, the controlled hum of the ship’s engines providing a constant backdrop.
“Report?” Hux asked immediately, his gaze sweeping across the room as he approached the control console where a subordinate officer stood.
The lieutenant snapped to attention. “General Hux, Umbral (L/n). No significant updates since the last transmission. However, we’ve managed to locate a few more traces of rogue activity. It’s a small, hidden network. It seems we’re closing in on one of their projected targets based on the patterns we are seeing.”
Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Are they still active or attempting to relocate?”
The officer’s fingers flew over the console, bringing up new data “We have a rough location, but there are no confirmed movements yet.”
(Y/n) stepped forward, her eyes scanning the information that flashed across the screen.
Her hand rested on the console, her fingers brushing lightly against it as she leaned in closer, and inevitably closer to the lieutenant who hadn’t moved away. He held his breath at her proximity, frozen in place by the intimidation of her presence. And he had a sinking feeling as he looked at her that he even found her slightly attractive.
Hux looked between the two of them, blood simmering beneath his skin. He would never admit it, but his glare towards the subordinate was more than enough to express what he was feeling.
The lieutenant finally looked up at the general and his eyes widened slightly, immediately taking a step away from her.
“Set a course to the location,” she finally said, her tone firm. “We can’t afford to take any chances of losing them.”
The officer hesitantly glanced at the general who gave a node of approval. “Yes, Umbral.”
Hux stepped back, his gaze shifting to (Y/n), watching her as she took charge. There was an intensity about her now that matched his own, and it stirred something in him that he had to push down. He couldn’t afford to let distractions cloud his focus. Not now.
“Good,” Hux said, his voice was particularly hardened, but still carrying authority. “Keep me updated if anything changes.”
“Yes, General.” The officer acknowledged before the two of them left the bridge once more.
Later on, (Y/n) found herself within the alcove where she and Armitage had their first moment together, a quiet stillness settled in the later hours of the night cycle. (Y/n) sat on the bench just the same, her back against the wall, her dark uniform replaced by simple black attire. The issued sleepwear was comfortable, yet still representative of the Covenant. The lights were dim, casting long shadows over the space. She wasn’t used to this kind of quiet as of late, but tonight, it was a welcome change.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess, the events of the day and the intensity of her feelings for Hux weighing on her in ways she didn’t know how to process.
The kiss. The words they hadn’t fully said. The subtle shift between them that she couldn’t ignore.
She had spent enough time thinking about it, enough to start overanalyzing every single moment, trying to understand it all.
She was lost in thought when the soft sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. She glanced up, finding Varo rounding the corner. His ever-present smirk was softened tonight, though. A far cry from the playful taunts he usually threw her way.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Varo said with a casual shrug, his eyes scanning the space before landing on her.
(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her eyes flicking towards the corner of the alcove.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice betraying a trace of emotion she couldn’t quite hide. She quickly cleared her throat. “It’s been a long day.”
Varo took a seat beside her, his posture relaxed, his arms casually resting on his knees. “You know, for someone who’s usually an uptight prick, you’re not as composed as you usually are. What’s going on?”
(Y/n) remained silent for a moment, her eyes focused on a distant point in the alcove, not wanting to meet his gaze. She could feel the weight of his expectant stare, the way Varo seemed to have this uncanny ability to know when something was off.
Varo grinned, sensing her hesitation. “I’m guessing this isn’t about your mother or the rogue vampires. You’ve had plenty of that already. So, what is it?”
(Y/n) hesitated, taking a deep breath. “It’s… about the general.” she admitted, her tone softer than she intended.
Varo raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Ah. That explains a lot.”
She shot him a quick, almost defensive look, but Varo’s expression remained calm, casual. He clearly wasn’t going to push. At least, not too much. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms and waiting, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
(Y/n) sighed, finally meeting his gaze, her eyes guarded but honest. “It’s not as simple as I thought it would be, Varo. I -” She paused, unsure of how to continue. “I didn’t expect this to happen the way it did. It was completely unexpected.”
Varo didn’t interrupt. He just let her speak, waiting for her to continue at her own pace. He knew better than to press, especially when (Y/n)’s walls were this high.
“I’ve been focused on duty. On my assignment. I’ve kept myself guarded for so long, and now… now there’s this.” Her voice trailed off, a mixture of uncertainty and something else she couldn’t place.
“Sounds like you’ve got some feelings there,” Varo said lightly, his tone teasing but not unkind.
(Y/n) didn’t laugh at his joke. Instead, she nodded, her eyes distant. “I do. We both do. But it’s more than that. It’s… I don’t even know how to explain it.” She took a moment, glancing down at her hands, her fingers twitching nervously. “He’s… different. I’ve never allowed anyone to tear me apart so quickly. To leave me so open and vulnerable. I don’t know what to do with it.”
Varo watched her closely, his gaze softening for a moment. “You don’t need to figure it all out at once, you know. You gotta understand that we were trained to be soldiers. We’ve never had the luxury of dwelling on things like this.”
(Y/n)’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I know. But this isn’t about the mission anymore. Not entirely.”
“And yet,” Varo said, leaning forward slightly, “You’re still thinking like a soldier. Even with him. You’re afraid, (Y/n). You’re afraid that if you give in to this, it’ll distract you. But it won’t. It’ll just change things. And sometimes… that’s the best kind of change.”
(Y/n) let out a slow breath, her eyes lowering again as the weight of his words sank in. “You think so?”
Varo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall again, crossing his arms and looking at her with a thoughtful expression.
“Don’t think too hard about it. You don’t have to be the perfect soldier all the time. Hell, if you ask me, Hux needs someone like you.”
(Y/n) looked at him sharply, a little surprised. “What do you mean?”
Varo shrugged casually. “Hux… he doesn’t always know what to do with himself. But with you?” He chuckled lightly. “He’s definitely got someone to keep him on track if something happens. Emotionally and professionally.”
(Y/n) shook her head slightly, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. “You think so?”
“Trust me. I’ve been watching.” Varo’s smirk widened. “But, more importantly - you two? There’s something there.”
(Y/n) glanced at him, her smile turning into a soft laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before.”
Varo grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, there’s only one way to figure it out.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease just a little. “You’re right.”
“I know,” Varo said with a knowing smile. “I’m just here to remind you that you don’t have to have everything figured out. Sometimes, you just need to… let it happen.” Her eyed her for a moment. “You wanna know something else?”
She glanced at him curiously, encouraging him to continue.
“I’ve heard that relationships with personal assignments are actually encouraged by High Lords.”
(Y/n)’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“It creates a deeper sense of loyalty. Which, in turn, would mean a more successful assignment.”
(Y/n) sat in silence for a moment, her thoughts swirling as she took in what Varo had said. For once, she allowed herself to relax, to let the uncertainty sit without trying to fix it. There was a strange comfort in that, even if it didn’t feel entirely natural.
“Thanks, Varo,” she said softly, turning to face him.
He winked at her. “Anytime.”
(Y/n) and Varo remained seated in comfortable silence. She leaned back against the wall with her arms loosely folded, her thoughts still lingering on the kiss, on the shift between herself and Armitage.
That shift seemed to arrive in person only moments later as footsteps approached.
Varo lifted his head first, eyebrows raising with amusement as the tall, unmistakable figure of General Hux rounded the corner into the alcove.
Hux paused when he saw them, his expression unreadable but his gaze lingering on (Y/n) a fraction longer than protocol might have allowed. He wore his uniform still - sharp, pristine, and composed - though there was something faintly softer in his eyes as they flicked between the two.
“Drenn,” Hux greeted stiffly, polite but distant as ever in tone.
Varo rose to his feet smoothly, flashing a smile that didn’t quite hide the glint of mischief in his eyes. “General,” he replied with mock formality, brushing nonexistent dust from his jacket. “I was just keeping her company, but I think she’s in good hands now.”
(Y/n) gave him a mildly exasperated look.
“I’ll take the hint,” Varo added under his breath as he passed her. Then more loudly, to both, “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”
As he walked off, he gave (Y/n) one last, knowing glance. She rolled her eyes at him behind Hux’s back.
Once he was gone, a quiet settled again. Armitage stood a few feet away, his hands folded behind his back. There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to hint that he hadn’t come here by accident.
“I was looking for you,” He said finally. “I stopped by your quarters.”
(Y/n) glanced over at him, still seated, her expression open but cautious. “Is everything alright?”
He hesitated, then took a few steps closer. “I thought you might want company. After everything today.”
Her eyes flicked downward, then back up to him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” He looked down for a moment, then met her gaze again.
There was something in his voice. Tentative, unfamiliar. Like the footing beneath him was uncertain and he didn’t quite know how to steady himself in this territory. She understood the feeling.
(Y/n) pushed herself up from the bench slowly, now standing beside him in the soft lighting of the alcove. Her hair was down, and the shift from her usual rigid posture made her seem more human, more vulnerable. Armitage saw it and found it hard to look away.
“It’s strange,” she murmured, “How everything’s changed so quickly.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Armitage paused. “But sometimes change can be good.”
She met his gaze, studying him. “You’re right, that’s very strange coming from you.”
Armitage threw her a side glance of disapproval. “I have my moments. Just that no one ever sees them.”
(Y/n) gazed at him a moment longer, her sharpness dulled by weariness and something far more tender.
Then her voice, quiet but sure, made a simple offer.
“I suppose I should have my dinner now.” A faint curve tugged at one corner of her lips. “Would you like to join me?”
Armitage blinked once, as if surprised. Not by the invitation itself, but by how much he wanted to accept it. His expression gave away little, save for the slight lowering of his shoulders and the flicker of something softer behind his eyes.
“I would, actually.”
(Y/n) inclined her head in a simple nod. “Come on, then.”
She turned and began walking without ceremony, confident that he would follow.
He did.
His stride falling in just behind hers, his hands still clasped behind his back in a subconscious effort to maintain composure. But as he walked, he realized with a strange sense of peace that for the first time in longer than he could remember… he didn’t feel the need to be composed.
Not with her.
And in that silence, he let himself fall into step beside (Y/n), hands slowly unclasping themselves from behind him. He walked beside her not as the General of the Finalizer, but simply as the man she had invited in.
The door shut behind them with a soft hiss.
(Y/n)’s quarters were sparse but lived-in, dimly lit with the gentle glow of low lumen panels. There were few personal touches. Just a few old Covenant relics lining the shelf near her desk, and folded training attire draped neatly across the back of a chair. Still, it was warmer than most quarters on a First Order vessel. Warmer than his.
(Y/n) moved first, her posture more relaxed than usual, her movements quieter.
“Sit wherever you like,” she said, brushing past him to a compact kitchenette where she retrieved two mugs. “The lighting’s adjustable if it’s too dim. I just keep it darker for obvious reasons.”
Armitage glanced around, then chose the loveseat built into the wall across from her bed. He sat back with his hands resting in his lap, posture still perfect.
(Y/n) then brought over both mugs. She handed him his - a pale amber tea with a faint herbal scent - and kept the dark crimson one for herself.
Armitage nodded to her as a thank you before she settled in beside him without a word.
For a moment, they just sat in silence. Sipping slowly, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.
Then Armitage spoke, low and thoughtful.
“I think I could get used to seeing you this relaxed.”
(Y/n)’s brow rose as she took another sip. “Why’s that?”
“It’s oddly comforting, I think. Even reminds me of myself outside of working hours.”
She set the mug down on the coffee table in front of them. “Well, no one stays sharp forever. Not even me.”
Hux gave a short, amused huff. “Don’t let the others hear you admit that. It would shatter their entire perception of you.”
(Y/n) turned slightly towards him, resting one elbow against the back of the couch and leaning her head on her hand. “Let them believe what they want. Fear has its uses.” There was a pause. Then she added, quieter, “Except with you, of course.”
He turned his head slowly to look at her, and found her already watching him.
Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes.
Those eyes .
They were open. Clear. Trusting.
“I’ve spent most of my life hiding what I feel,” (Y/n) said softly. “From my parents, from the Covenant, from the Order. But I somehow find myself not wanting to have to hide from you.”
Hux set his mug aside, his fingers accidentally brushing her hand that rested on her thigh. It wasn’t intentional - not exactly. But he didn’t move away either.
“I’m not used to this,” he admitted. “Any of this. But I can’t deny that I find myself wanting it.”
A beat.
“Wanting you.”
Her breath hitched just slightly, but her hand cautiously turned beneath his, palm to palm, fingers threading together in a tentative hold. She thought about Varo’s words before Armitage arrived.
“Then have me,” she practically pleaded quietly.
His thumb brushed the edge of her knuckles. For all his control, he still looked like a man trying not to fall too fast. But in her presence, he was already halfway there.
They leaned towards each other - not a rush. But a slow, inevitable draw. When their lips touched, it wasn’t urgent. It was grounding.
(Y/n)’s hands instinctively reached for him, her fingers tangling in his short, gelled hair as she pulled him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was afraid she might shatter.
The kiss deepened, entwining in a dance that spoke of pent-up desire and unspoken longing. (Y/n) could taste the remnants of the tea he drank, the warmth of his breath mingling with her own.
As they broke apart, breathless, Armitage rested his forehead against hers, his hands sliding down to her hips. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
(Y/n) asked, her gold eyes glinting. “And what is it you want?”
“You.” He nearly growled. “ All of you.”
Her hands traced the contours of his uniform, her touch deliberate with barely contained desire. “Then take it.”
Armitage’s eyes darkened as he suddenly pulled her on top of him, relishing the light gasp that slipped past her lips which he quickly captured once more. Their hands began to wander over one another as their tongues mingled and danced.
Armitage’s fingers then began to tease the hem of her shirt, slipping up beneath it to let the unnaturally cold temperature of her skin meet his warmth. He broke apart from her lips to wander down her neck as she sighed at the feeling of his warmth, eagerly welcoming the foreign sensation.
As his hands continued to caress higher, his fingertips carefully brushed the underside of her breasts, following the curvature to their outer edges. (Y/n) let out a particularly loud sigh as his thumbs ghosted over her erect nipples, hips growing restless as she squirmed on top of him.
He hummed against her neck at the feeling of her brushing against the growing tent in his uniform and grabbed her hips, pulling her down onto him to elicit a low groan. Her own vocal satisfaction mixed with his at the feeling of him pressed against her now throbbing core, head tilting back with her mouth agape.
“Armitage,” The man hummed at the sound of his name. “Please.” (Y/n) begged and he pulled away to look up at her.
They breathed heavily for a small moment. Then Armitage stood, taking (Y/n) with him who wrapped her legs around his waist. He brought them over to her bed, delicately laying her on top of it.
His frame leaned over her to capture her lips once more. The kiss was messier, filled with more passion that had been built up from them pining over each other for too long.
He began to grind himself into her, their voices mingling with pleasure as her hands pulled him into her.
Armitage clung to her, hands wandering and caressing every dip and curve, committing it to memory. He gripped the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up, (Y/n) lifting her torso enough to slide it off.
He sighed as he looked down at her bare torso, not knowing where to start until he felt her hand pull him down to her neck.
His mouth grazed over her skin, kissing and sliding over it until he reached one of her breasts. His lips wrapped around its nipple, tongue tickling and circling it as her other breast was massaged by his still gloved hands.
She looked down at him when he growled and pulled away, watching as he peeled his gloves off with his teeth before continuing his ministrations.
Slowly, he trailed his way down her abdomen, his mouth tickling the surface along its path until he reached the waistband of her pants and underwear.
He kissed along the edge of it, fingers hooking under the seam as he looked up at her for approval.
When she slightly lifted her hips for him to pull them down, he did so without hesitation. They slid off of her legs and he kissed around her pelvis, her sighs of pleasure egging him on.
He turned to her inner thighs - biting, nipping and sucking as he grew closer to her femininity. His warm breath fanned over it, practically panting as he took it in.
Then, without warning, his mouth gently attached itself to her.
(Y/n) threw her head back as a moan escaped her lips, hand latched into his fiery locks. Armitage hummed at her pull, tongue lapping at her center as his hands left momentarily to undo his uniform top.
As it slipped off of his form, he pulled away from her. She felt his fingers replace his mouth as she looked down at him in question, watching as he crawled his way up to loom over her as the digits teased.
His face settled barely an inch away from her own, gazing intently into her golden irises as he eased two fingers into her. He watched as her eyebrows furrowed, a soft gasp slipping past her lips before her eyes closed.
He slowly began to pump his fingers, curling them to pull different reactions from her, testing to see what was more effective. At a particular angle, she let out a particularly sharp moan and he smirked to himself, feeling her nails carefully claw at his back.
As his pace quickened along with her moans, he leaned down just next to her ear and whispered.
“ Don’t you dare hold back from me. ”
The burning coil in her pelvis suddenly snapped and she nearly screamed, back arching as Armitage felt her juices thickening around his fingers. He groaned when her nails finally dug into him, no doubt drawing blood.
He pulled back slightly to work his uniform trousers as she recovered. (Y/n) gazed at him with hooded eyes as he pulled them off along with his boots, dropping them to the floor with a soft thud.
He drew close to her once more, one hand rubbing over his stiffened cock while the other supported his weight.
Their breaths shook as he teased at her entrance, already drawing another soft moan from her as the head teased over her sensitive clit.
“Armitage -“ She pressed, cut off by him pushing into her. They both sighed at the foreign sensation, eyeing each other with unmatched intensity.
(Y/n) pulled him closer so they were chest-to-chest before he rolled his hips, groaning with his lips pressed together in barely contained pleasure.
She pulled him down by the back of his head into a kiss, moaning into each other as his pace gradually quickened. Her hands gripped at his arms and shoulders, feeling them tense and his muscles shift as he now pounded into her.
Her moans were no longer quiet, and she prayed that the walls were sound proof. But they couldn’t care less in that moment as she felt his warm body against her, her cold skin keeping him cool as he nearly broke into a sweat.
His hair fell out of place as pieces hung over his forehead, face buried in her neck as he groaned and huffed. Her sounds flooded his ears, filling his head as his cock throbbed from inside of her, feeling her tighten around him as he angled himself in the same way his fingers angled to bring her over the edge.
His pace grew hasty, chasing his own release and desperate to hear her lose herself once more as her hands tightened their grip on him.
At last, she cried out and practically sobbed at her second orgasm. She felt weightless. Dizzy and absent as her voice no longer felt like her own in that moment as he continued to push through her release.
Just as she began to feel overstimulated, he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock over her stomach, watching as he groaned as strings of cum landed on her skin.
Everything seemed to slow as he breathed heavily, searching her face for anything negative.
When he found nothing but peace and content, he leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her cheek, landing one on her lips before he stood and disappeared into the washroom.
She heard the sink run as he most likely cleaned himself, throwing an arm over her eyes as she replayed the intimate moment in her head.
Armitage emerged from the room, pausing to admire what he considered was an ethereal beauty laying across the bed.
How he was ever able to turn one of the most intimidating forces in the First Order into a delicate flower beneath his hands, he would never understand. But he knew he would never take it for granted.
Silently, with a rag in hand, he made his way over to her and cleaned up the mess he made of her, surprisingly gentle compared to his more strict persona that everyone else knew him for.
After it was discarded, he returned to the bed, placing a delicate hand on her waist to coax her into getting under the covers.
She complied mindlessly, brain still fuzzy as she sighed with pure satisfaction. (Y/n) watched as he moved to his uniform on the floor, picking it up piece by piece.
Just as he was about to begin dressing himself, she called out to him softly.
(Y/n) watched as his head snapped to her with a mix of concern and newfound fondness, a smile nearly showing on her lips.
“Do you think you could stay tonight?”
His shoulders barely dropped, undetectable to anyone who was not familiar with his character. But to her it said everything she needed to know.
Surprise. Hesitation. Disbelief.
A long moment passed between them before he finally responded.
“I believe I could.” He answered, a corner of his lip upturning ever so slightly in endearment.
The Scarred - Prologue
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.
Tick.
“What do you think about your day to day habits?”
Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.
“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.
Tick.
The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”
A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.
“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over the stump that used to be her left.
Tick.
An eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Miller.”
“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.
“Miss Miller?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.
“Right,” Her arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.
Her hand stuffed in her pocket, she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, gray and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.
She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.
The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.
She hung her coat on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, beginning to scar and create discolored skin even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage.
She snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.
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 5
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
The two remained in the War Room as Varo and Phasma joined them soon after. A large tactical display hovered between them, showcasing the sectors suspected to harbor the rogue threat.
General Hux stood at the head of the table again, hands behind his back. To his right stood (Y/n), and on the opposite end of the table stood Phasma and Varo, their expressions focused, but the tension in the room was palpable.
“We have authorization to act. Now we need to figure out a way to track them down and find them.” The general began.
Phasma followed. “They’re ghosts,” she said flatly. “Not a single trace left behind. No footprints. No blood. Just bodies.”
“That’s the Covenant for you,” Varo muttered grimly. “They know how to vanish. And they’re using it.”
“Not just vanish.” (Y/n) added. “Each strike we’ve reviewed… they’re not looking to make a statement. They’re gathering something.”
Phasma tilted her head in question. “Intel?”
“Or resources.” She replied. “They’re choosing their targets too precisely. They know our protocols. Our rotations. What we have and where. Every time they attack, they raid the location.”
“Then we bait them.” Hux suggested. He stepped forward and gestured toward a flickering system on the map. “These three supply stations are within striking distance of the last known rogue activity. We plant the idea that one of them is carrying classified tech and leak the information through a Resistance channel we know they’ve intercepted in the past.”
Phasma hummed in thought. “Risky. But controlled. I can reroute stormtroopers for concealed perimeter placements.”
“I don’t want any engagement.” Hux ordered. “Observation only. Identify, record, and pull back. The moment we can confirm their identities, we strike with the Covenant’s backing.”
“We’ll need more than scouts, sir.” Varo warned. “These aren’t just any rogues. We engage with standard units, we lose more good soldiers.”
The general nodded in agreement. “Which is why you -” He looked at Varo. “- will be embedded in the region as a liaison. You’ll move freely between units and help direct operations. No one else has the experience to recognize them for what they are.”
(Y/n) shifted and offered a warning to Varo. “If they smell you, they’ll come out. If any of them knew you before they defected…”
Her gaze sharpened.
“They might want to carry out unfinished business.”
Varo’s expression was unreadable, but something cold flickered in his eyes.
“Then let them try.” He threatened indirectly. “I’m very persuasive when it comes to traitors.”
“Trust me, I’m aware.” (Y/n) replied simply.
Hux tapped the console, confirming the initial troop deployment orders.
“Begin rotating squads to the target sectors under routine drills. Make it look mundane.”
“They’ll never know we’re watching.” Phasma consoled him.
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
“Dead rogues or silence,” Varo started. ”Either way, we’ll bring order back to the Covenant.”
Later on, as the night cycle began, the corridors with higher command personnel quarters were dimly lit, lights cycling to mimic planetary night. Most of the officers had retreated by this time. A hush blanketed the area, the kind of silence that only came during these artificial nights in the belly of a warship.
(Y/n) sat alone at a secluded alcove in the corridor, an architectural oddity tucked near the viewport wall. The viewport stretched tall and wide, revealing the swirling stars and the velvet void beyond. A built-in bench sat along one side of the wall next to the window, lit only by the glow of passing starlight.
She sat with one leg curled up beneath her, still dressed in her uniform but with the zipper of the bodysuit around her neck slightly undone for breathing room. A small blood pack, half-drained, rested beside her hip. Her datapad was forgotten in her lap, the screen dimmed. Her gaze was fixed on the stars, lost in quiet thought.
Her ears then honed in as she heard a set of footsteps further down the corridor. Measured. Familiar.
(Y/n) didn’t turn to look. She already knew who it was.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be awake in this sector.” The general commented in a quieter tone.
“Neither did I.”
There was a pause. Hux stood there, considering her. Not just the strange placement of her presence, but the rare image of her relaxed posture and unguarded expression.
“This isn’t regulation seating.” He pointed out. (Y/n) glanced over at him in a playful deadpan.
“Are you here to enforce it, General?”
He let out the faintest sound, almost a scoff. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer and took a seat beside her on the bench, maintaining a respectful space between them.
After a moment, the general began to speak again.
“This part of the ship was designed to house long-term High Command. They included comfort features… but few of us make time to use them.”
“It’s the only place I’ve found that doesn’t feel like war.” (Y/n) said in a more hushed tone.
A long silence fell between them. Outside the viewport, stars drifted past slowly, distant and indifferent.
The general hummed. “I find comfort in order.” (Y/n) tossed him a pointed look - as if to say ‘no, really?’ - and he clicked his tongue in minor annoyance. “It makes things… predictable. Safe.”
He paused.
(Y/n) turned her head slightly to look at him. “Why do you think it’s safe?”
He looked at her now, his expression more open than she’d ever seen. “I think predictability can keep a person alive. But it doesn’t protect you from harsh realities in life.”
The words hung between them for a moment too long.
“No… it doesn’t.” (Y/n) agreed softly.
She looked away again, fingers absently brushing her datapad.
“I thought I knew my people. What we stood for. What we bled for. But now I’m not so sure.”
“You’re referring to the rogues.”
“I’m referring to those I once trusted. Those who chose to spit on everything that kept us alive. After what the Resistance did to our kind… I can’t understand how they could turn their backs on the Covenant or First Order.”
Hux thought for a moment before he answered. “Pain doesn’t forge loyalty. Not for everyone. For some, it just festers… until all they want is to be the one holding the knife. And they won’t care who’s at the end of the blade.”
(Y/n) watched him closely now, seeing the way his jaw tensed as he said it. “You speak like someone who knows.”
“I do.” He answered flatly.
Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t cold. It was shared. Weighted, but equal.
After a beat, (Y/n) leaned back slightly against the wall, letting her head rest there as she stared up.
“I don’t regret joining the Covenant or becoming an Umbral. But some nights… I wonder who I would’ve been if I didn’t.”
“You’d still be dangerous.” Hux quipped.
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Just a flicker. “And you’d still be impossible.”
“That almost counts as a compliment.” His lips twitched in a smirk.
Another moment of quiet.
(Y/n)’s gaze was fixed on the stars outside, but her awareness was sharp. She could feel the general’s presence beside her as if it were its own gravitational field. And he, for all his rigid posture and measured breathing, had not moved since sitting down.
The silence lingered, no longer heavy with unspoken thoughts, but… tentative. Curious.
“You seem more yourself.” Hux suddenly pointed out.
“I thought I was always myself.” She replied curiously.
“Yes, but… you’re more calm. Not as stiff. It’s refreshing… and it suits you.”
She glanced over at him, a single brow lifting. “Well, I do expect myself to know how to separate professionalism from personal matters, if that’s what you mean. I’m just careful with who sees what side.” She then turned to face him slightly. “How would you know what suits me?”
“I pay attention. You’re not the only observant one here.”
Her lips parted slightly as they stared at one another, but whatever retort she was about to make was lost when her knee brushed lightly against his.
She stilled immediately. So did he.
The touch had been accidental. Casual contact in the narrow space of the bench, but it sparked like static, subtle and unmistakable.
Neither of them moved away.
(Y/n) shifted her gaze back to the window, face unreadable save for the faint shift in her posture. Hux pretended to return to his datapad, his grip on it just a little too firm, his jaw set with a precision that was almost… performative.
“Apologies.” (Y/n) muttered.
“Unnecessary.”
She looked down at her hands. He tapped once on the datapad, but didn’t really read whatever was on the screen.
The silence returned. Not awkward, but charged. It buzzed faintly beneath their skin.
(Y/n), sensing the tension still in his posture, allowed herself a rare act of rebellion against her instincts. She shifted just a bit closer. Not enough to touch again. Just enough to make it noticeable.
And Hux noticed. But what he noticed even more was how she became even more tranquil after she had done so.
She didn’t look at him, and if it were possible, her cheeks would’ve been tinted. The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. Barely.
“It’s strange.” She spoke.
“What is?”
“Sitting still. Doing nothing. And yet… it doesn’t feel like a waste of time.”
He studied her carefully now. “It isn’t.”
Another moment passed. A pause not meant to be filled.
And then Hux stood, smooth and precise as usual. But the movement was slower. He tucked his datapad under one arm, glancing down at her with something unreadable in his gaze.
“It’s late.”
“So is everything on this ship.” She jested.
He allowed the corner of his mouth to lift, just a ghost of a smile, and then turned.
But just before he stepped away, he hesitated.
“I’ll expect you in my office at 0600.”
“Of course.”
“Bring tea.”
She blinked.
(Y/n), feigning seriousness, replied. “Blood or sugar?”
He glanced at her, a faint glint in his eye. Amused. Surprised.
“Surprise me.”
And with that, he disappeared down the corridor, boots silent on the floor.
Left alone again, (Y/n) stared out at the stars.
Her body still remembered the brief brush of contact. And her expression softened with something akin to warmth.
The next morning, General Hux was already at his desk, filtering through whatever came in while he was asleep. He didn’t look up immediately when the door slid open with a soft hiss.
(Y/n) stepped in, punctual to the second. In one hand she carried a thermal cup. In the other, a sealed blood pack.
She approached the desk and placed the cup neatly within his reach.
“Surprise.” She greeted flatly.
Hux raised his eyes. His gaze flicked between the items. Then his brow lifted, barely.
“You brought both.”
“I like to cover contingencies… that and I’m starving.” She added as she twisted the cap and began to drink from it, the cool liquid easing down her throat.
He regarded her for a long moment, then reached for the cup. Steam rose from it as he took a measured sip.
“Sugar.” He hummed. “You didn’t risk the blood. Wise.”
“I need my commanding officer awake, not disgusted.”
He smirked faintly at that, a rare expression, short-lived but genuine. (Y/n) caught it but didn’t comment.
For the first time since she’d been there, she moved to the small seat across from his desk without his direction, posture straight with her legs crossed. Despite the cold formality of the room, the air between them was… different. Not quite relaxed, but no longer so distant.
He reviewed a few lines on the datapad before speaking again.
“I assume your quarters are adequate? I don’t believe I’ve ever asked.”
(Y/n) replied with a faint tilt of her head.
“Functional and familiar.”
“That’s what passes for comfort around here.”
“I don’t require comfort.” She teased before taking another sip.
“No. But everyone benefits from a moment to breathe in an acceptable environment.”
She blinked at that, ever so slightly surprised.
“Is that what last night was?” She smirked.
He looked up at her then, the full weight of his focus falling on her face. “Possibly.”
Something passed between them again. Unspoken. Subtle.
Then, like the snap of a soldier returning to attention, he set the datapad down and stood, brushing a hand down the front of his coat.
“Come. We’re expected on the bridge. I need to have updates on Resistance activity by 0700.”
She stood smoothly, falling into step beside him after tossing the now empty blood pack.
As they moved towards the door, (Y/n) offered an afterthought.
“Next time, I think I’ll bring both in a thermal. Tea for you, blood for me. Haven’t had it warm in a while.”
Hux glanced sideways at her. “Efficient.”
A beat.
“Thoughtful.” He added, though quieter.
The door hissed open and they stepped into the corridor in perfect contrast, moving in precise sync.
The bridge of the Finalizer was quiet in its efficiency, cloaked in the bluish-gray tones of early cycle operations. Terminals glowed softly, crew members moved with practiced rhythm, and the stars beyond the viewport were distant and still.
General Hux stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back as he analyzed data from one of the terminals. (Y/n) stood beside him, arms crossed as her eyes scanned the bridge with deliberate calmness. She was close enough to intervene if needed, yet never encroaching on his command space.
A lieutenant approached first, offering a crisp nod before handing Hux a tablet. “General, update from outpost Delta-Four. Last contact was at 0300. No response since then and no distress call was sent.”
Hux read it with a furrowed brow. “Similar to Sector Eight last week.”
“Yes, sir. Final transmission mentioned movement along the outer edge of a debris cluster. Then silence.”
“No signs of conflict?”
“None. It’s clean.”
Hux’s eyes narrowed. “They’re getting bolder.” He handed the tablet back to the lieutenant and turned back towards the terminal to key in a command. Facing the bridge again, a map of the outer sectors materialized in a wash of pale blue light. Red indicators blinked in a triangular pattern.
“Have long-range scans pulled from the Starbreaker Array. Cross-reference radiation trails, shield fluctuations. Any anomalies, no matter how faint.”
The officer gave a quick nod. “Yes, General.”
(Y/n)’s gaze flicked briefly to the glowing display, then back towards the junior officers bustling quietly.
Another officer approached. A younger systems technician with smudged gloves and a nervous gait. “General… we detected an attempted intercept on last night’s dispatch to Command. It failed, but whoever it was, it wasn’t Resistance-grade slicing.”
Hux’s hands tightened behind him. “I want the source tracked, triangulated, and dissected. Every data spike, every digital pulse logged. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The technician nearly tripped backing away. (Y/n) didn’t react, though her eyes flicked to Hux subtly, noting the flare of tension in his expression.
He exhaled slowly before the doors to the bridge slid open with a sharp hiss.
Captain Phasma entered first, tall and commanding in her chrome armor. Her pace was deliberate, each step punctuated by the soft thud of metal boots on deck plating. Varo followed at her side, his usual grin exchanged for a more focused expression. When he spotted (Y/n) already at Hux’s side, his brow lifted in silent greeting.
Hux turned as they approached “Phasma. Drenn,” he greeted. His eyes flicked to (Y/n), then back to the others. “You’re just in time. We have a developing situation.”
(Y/n) gave a small nod in response to Varo’s glance.
Hux stepped back slightly and gestured towards the holomap still displayed. “We may be looking at a coordinated infiltration effort. Unknown parties. Skilled and precise. Possibly something more than the Resistance. This may be one of our only chances to intercept and identify them.” The general nodded his head in the direction of the doors to the bridge and walked, the group following him.
The doors to the bridge hissed open, then sealed shut again as General Hux led them down the corridor. (Y/n) walked beside him as while Varo and Phasma flanked from behind.
No words were exchanged on the walk. The tension from the short briefing still lingered in the air like static. Tightly wound, waiting for direction.
Once inside Hux’s office, the door sealed behind them with a low thrum. Hux moved to behind his desk, bringing up the latest holomap which crackled to life in front of them.
“This is where they’re projected to hit next,” Hux said without preamble, pointing to a small, seemingly insignificant relay station nestled between two inactive mining sectors. “It’s remote. Understaffed. A low-profile target. Perfect for remaining unseen.”
“And exactly what we’d expect them to go for if they’re testing our blind spots.” Phasma chimed in.
“We’ve tracked fragments of their signal spikes converging here,” Hux continued, zooming in on the relay’s coordinates. “Encrypted communications, faint enough to be overlooked if you weren’t already looking for them. But there’s a pattern.”
Varo squinted at the holomap. “It’s a bait station. Easy to infiltrate, but also easy to ambush from. If someone knew how.”
Hux’s eyes flicked towards him. “Which is why we’re going to beat them to it.” He turned slightly, addressing all three of them. “We’ll deploy a stealth team, small and silent. We observe first. Identify who they are. Confirm if this is the same force behind the outpost vanishings.”
(Y/n) stepped forward slightly, her voice level. “And if it is?”
“Then we’ll respond accordingly,” Hux said coldly. “And we won’t miss.”
Phasma nodded. “I’ll have a squad outfitted for cloaked transport and scout support. The relay can be secured quietly, with minimal presence.”
Hux tapped his fingers against his desk. “No standard stormtroopers. It’ll be too obvious.”
He turned his gaze to Varo. “I want you in position ahead of the operation. You’ll be our eyes on the ground. Blend in with the relay crew if needed. Keep comms silent unless contact is made.”
Varo gave a sharp nod. “Understood.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So we’re playing shadow games now. I always preferred being the knife in the dark over the hammer at the gate.”
“Then consider this a return to form,” Hux replied dryly, before turning back to the holomap.
A brief silence followed as each of them absorbed the mission’s stakes. Then Hux looked to (Y/n) once more, his gaze thoughtful beneath the commander’s mask.
“Umbral (L/n) and myself will have visual from here on the bridge while the operation is active. Anyone who is on ground will have a surveillance system so we can track what they are seeing and have more eyes identifying who we’re dealing with should anything happen.” Everyone nodded before the holomap disappeared. “If we’re going off of their typical patterns, the mission will be set during tomorrow’s night cycle. Phasma and Drenn, I want you to coordinate with intelligence and logistics to formulate a plan. Dismissed.”
Phasma offered a curt nod and exited with precise efficiency. Varo lingered just long enough to exchange a glance with (Y/n), a small, wordless assurance before following.
The door slid shut, leaving only the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant thrum of the ship’s engines. General Hux remained standing, unmoving as he observed the remaining Umbral.
Her gaze was distant, as if she was looking at something far beyond the walls of the office.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Hux said without looking up.
(Y/n) blinked, shifting slightly. “Apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to appear distracted.”
“You didn’t,” he said simply, finally glancing over at her. “You appear unsettled.”
Her mask didn’t crack, not fully. But something in her eyes softened. A hesitation.
“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.
Hux’s brow lifted ever so slightly. “Umbral?” The formality in her title made her glance at him sharply, until she realized he was watching her not with scrutiny, but something bordering on concern. Her posture eased by a hair’s breadth.
She exhaled quietly through her nose. “It’s Umbral Drenn.”
“Ah.”
“He’s the only person I have left,” she said slowly, as if peeling the words out of herself. “We’ve fought, bled, trained… Endured everything together. And now I’m stuck here. Watching him walk into a threat we still don’t fully understand.”
She didn’t pace. She didn’t fidget. But her stillness was heavy, dense with emotion she rarely permitted to surface.
“I’ve lost too much already,” she added softly. “If I lose him too…”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Hux studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, but far from cold. He stepped away and moved towards the viewport behind his desk.
“I understand more than you think,” he said after a pause. “The burden of command is not just strategy and protocol. It’s the slow erosion of everyone who made you feel human.”
She looked at him then, some part of her surprised.
He didn’t meet her gaze, but his voice was steady.
“You will remain here,” he continued. “You’ll watch the feed with me. If anything happens to Drenn, you’ll know before anyone else does.”
(Y/n) blinked once, unsure how to respond to the weight of his words.
“Thank you,” she said finally, quieter than usual.
He turned to her now, his expression still composed, but his eyes… there was something else there.
Their eyes held for a second too long, just long enough for something to pass between them.
Then Hux turned back to his desk. The Umbral stood for a moment in thought, and for the first time in years, she found herself fidgeting slightly.
-
The lights were dimmed in the corridors, the stars outside scattered like frost across a black pane. The two Umbrals stood side by side, simply looking out at the galaxy before them in the same alcove (Y/n) had sat in with Hux.
(Y/n)’s arms were crossed, a subtle tension in her frame. She said nothing for a while, watching the distant shimmer of a nebula bleeding color into the void. Varo stood beside her, his usually relaxed posture tempered by a rare stillness.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual.
(Y/n) didn’t glance his way. “So are you.”
A small chuckle escaped him. “Fair enough.”
They lingered in silence a moment longer.
“Do you ever think about what we signed up for?” (Y/n) asked. Her voice wasn’t cold. It carried the weight of something old, something uncertain. “What it cost us?”
Varo nodded slowly. “All the time. Just… not usually out loud.”
Now she glanced at him. “Tonight feels different.”
“It does,” he agreed, looking out at the stars again. “Walking into something none of us fully understand. And just… watching. Not fighting. It feels wrong.”
She nodded. “I know.”
His gaze flicked over to her, reading the steel behind her voice. But then it softened, and he tilted his head towards her slightly. “You think we did the right thing, choosing the path we did as Umbrals? All of this?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Her silence wasn’t uncertain. She was simply searching for truth.
“It was the only path that gave us purpose,” she said finally. “And if this faction turns out to be what we fear, then it’s our duty to stop them. No matter who they were to us.”
Varo was quiet again, but then nudged her shoulder gently. “Still. I’m glad I’m not doing this without you.”
(Y/n) looked up at him, a faint trace of a smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. “Likewise.”
For a few moments, they stood in comfortable silence again. Then Varo exhaled, brushing his hand through his hair and casting her a sideways glance.
“You know,” he added with a small smirk, “if I die tomorrow, I want you to avenge me with dramatic flair. Really make a scene. Rip someone’s spine out or something.”
She rolled her eyes, smirk deepening. “I’ll consider it.”
“Seriously,” he pressed, grinning now. “Cry. Wail. Maybe swear vengeance in front of a flaming backdrop.”
“I’ll pencil it in,” she said flatly, but there was warmth in her tone.
The weight of the night didn’t vanish, but it lessened between them. Whatever tomorrow brought, they wouldn’t face it alone. Even if apart.
The Scarred - Chapter 7
Masterlist
Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.
As Penelope slipped her key into the lock of her apartment door, her hand shook. Almost expecting him to be in her living space once more. However, when it opened and no one was there, there was no relief to be felt. It was only a matter of time that he showed his face to her again, and it didn’t have to be whenever she got home. It could be at any moment, at any time, at any place. The only comforting thought about the situation was that he hadn't killed her. She assumed that if he wanted her dead, she already would be.
Penelope made her way to the fridge, pulling out leftovers to reheat for a quick dinner. As the microwave ran, she stared at the countertop in thought, facing the living room.
Even if no one else was there, his presence somehow lingered. She recalled his scent, however disturbing it was. She remembered the smell of gasoline and smoke, yet it held a sweet undertone. Burnt sugar, almost. Never would she have thought that he would have smelled of anything even remotely sweet.
She shook her head, itching to get those thoughts out of her head just as her microwave sounded. Switching the TV on, she bundled up in her blanket, food in her lap and started nibbling away. It was a good enough distraction for the time being, however temporary. And when she finished, she debated if she would even be able to sleep.
Putting the dishes away, she pulled out her phone and went to her call history, deciding on not being alone for the night. After the phone rang a few times, it picked up.
“To wha’ do I owe tha pleasure, miss?” Penny smiled lightly.
“Would you mind having company tonight? I can’t sleep…” Her voice faded at the end in embarrassment.
“I’ll do ye one better and ‘ed o’er ta yer place, yah? Tha’ way we can work on ya feelin’ safe in yer own space again. ‘Ow’s tha’ sound?” The woman took a deep breath in thought.
“Okay… Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Be o’er in a minute, miss.”
She decided to keep her bandages on with him coming over. It was uncomfortable, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel naked with them off in front of others. Not even Emma has seen her without them. She wasn’t sure if she would ever take them off in front of anyone, no matter who it was.
Barely over a minute later, there was a knock at her door. She peeked through the peephole, making sure it was in fact Liam before opening it for him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bother -“
“Oi.” Liam cut her off. “What’d I say abou’ apologizin’?”
“Right.”
“C’mon now, let’s get ya some sleep, yah?” He rested a hand on her back and led her to her bedroom. Liam decided to stay above the covers while she climbed underneath, her head in his lap while he draped an arm over her. He watched as her eye finally began to close, keeping a close eye on her until she fell asleep.
“J -“ The woman gasped. Her mind was clouded with the movement of his hands as they caressed her. Her mouth was parted, eye fluttered shut and head tilted back against her soft pillow as he guided her into oblivion. Their mixture of sweat and pants only ignited the atmosphere and he buried his head in her neck to lick a trail up to her jawline, earning a shiver beneath him.
Her eye opened again to see a face without the paint. A bare face with maniacal scars resembling a Cheshire smile. Yet the face itself was all too familiar. A face she hadn’t seen for years. It brought nothing but comfort and security.
The bell above the door rang as she stepped into the warmer air. She trudged towards her chair, energy dampened from the night before. Just as she took her seat she heard footsteps coming from the back, heavier than usual.
“You okay, Emma?” She tried. No response. The footsteps grew closer, louder, heavier.
“Yeah, just moving this bad boy to the front.” Emma grunted as she waddled a heavy and filled vase through the doorway. Penelope let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Don’t scare me like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She practically shrieked.
“You wanna come over here and carry this and try having a casual conversation?!” She exclaimed with hands on her hips after setting the vase down. “I’m too old for that, I nearly broke my back.” She exhaled while dramatically wiping her dry forehead. Penelope chuckled to herself and the woman tossed her a look. “I’m gonna go grab some water from the store, you want anything?”
“I’m good, thank you though.”
“What? You said you want lemonade?”
“No -“
“Lemonade, got it.” She backed out the door. “Cya!”
“Geez!” Penelope jumped from her seat, the unique voice popping through the doorway of the back room. “I was wondering when she’d stop all that racket.” The Joker vocalized shamelessly, a natural habit she’d been coming to find out. Penelope’s original fear slowly drifted into irritation.
“You have a bad habit of catching people by surprise.”
“Oh - well the reaction is the best part!” He meandered his way over to the front of the counter. “Besides yours. You were a little bland this time - do better.” He leaned his forearms on the wooden surface.
“As in there’ll be a next time, I’m assuming?”
“See? Ya get it! These people really need to start catching on. They never seem to take a hint, ya know?”
“How’s that when you apparently kill nearly every person you meet?”
“You watch too much of the news, they only ever show the boring parts. So much goes on behind the scenes that nobody knows about.”
“And why’re you telling me this?”
“Can’t a guy just have a conversation?”
“You’re not just ‘a guy’.”
“And you’re not just a girl, hm?” Something glimmered in her eye. “Oh - come on - try and tell me that I’m wrong. Go on, do it.” Silence followed, but Joker patiently waited. “It takes one to know one, toots.” He clicked his tongue with a wink. “Don’t get it twisted.”
“Why’re you here?”
“I have a proposal.” He stepped back to round the counter. “Proposition?” He rolled his eyes. “An offer.” He jumped up to sit on the counter directly next to her, her head following his every move.
“Which is?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say an offer, cause I’m not really giving you a choice -”
“What do you want me to do?” He paused, eyes rolling over to her with a devious look.
“I want to show you what it means to really have some fun.” His voice took on a darker, more serious tone.
“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of ‘fun’.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try, hm?” Her eye drifted off in thought.
What is he playing at? She asked herself. Even if she wasn’t being forced, she couldn’t deny her curiosity getting the best of her. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him drew her closer. It made her want to know more about him, why he did what he did. And going through with what he offered may give her some answers, no matter how dangerous it seemed. And what did she have to lose, anyways?
“Midnight at the docks. I’m sure you know that area very well.” He looked at the clock on the wall before hopping off of the counter, slapping the counter with a gloved hand before heading towards the back room. “Cya then, toots!”
Just as he left, Emma walked through the door to see Penelope giving her a confused expression.
“What?” She asked in her own confusion. Penelope just sighed and rested her head on her hand.
As the work day came to a close, a jolt of nerves flooded her abdomen. She left the shop, bidding her goodbye to Emma before turning to make her way to her apartment. The lavender smell that usually provided comfort only made her nauseous with anxiety, deciding against eating even with a growling stomach. It wasn’t purely nerves, however. She was anxious, and dare she say a little excited.
Penelope simply showered, got dressed and plopped onto her bed in a poor attempt to get some sleep before heading out. The soft ticking of her nightstand clock filled the otherwise deafening silence, creating an illusion of it growing louder with each tick.
She wasn’t sure when, but she eventually found sleep. It didn’t hit her until she woke up. She jolted upright, snapping her head towards her clock.
11:27.
Another batch of nerves struck her. She took a deep breath and moved towards her bathroom, reapplying new bandages. As she pressed on the last bit, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror, practically snarling at its reflection before aggressively turning away from it to put her shoes and coat on.
The city was eerily quiet, except for the occasional drunkard and criminal walking the streets. She debated on walking, but being how late it was, decided that driving was safer. It was an ironic statement considering what she was getting herself involved in. Who she was getting herself involved with.
She slowly rolled into the parking lot, seeing a black van already sitting in it. No doubt, it was The Joker. She put the car in park and stepped out, two men she didn’t recognize following suit soon after. One had a bag in his hand, both had rifles hanging around their torsos. The one with the bag stepped forward, and then everything was black.
-
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