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The Scarred - Chapter 12 🩸

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.

“Penelope…” Her name invaded her sleep, mingling with her dream in a way that didn’t make sense. “Penelope?” It continued. “Penelope!” Her head began to stir. 

“Penelope!” She jolted awake to the sight of Liam standing over her, shaking her with what seemed to be a panicked expression. “Oi, ye need to wake up, we need to leave!” He urged, grabbing her arm and practically yanking her up out of bed. She shook her head, confused about whether or not she was still dreaming as he pulled her towards the front door. 

“Liam! Liam, what’s going on?” She tried to fight back, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“I’ll explain in the car, alright? Get yer shoes on!” 

She did as he said, slipping on a pair of canvas shoes as the sound of sirens wailing in the distance finally caught up to her, Liam cautiously keeping watch from the window. When she stood up, he snatched her again and they bolted out of the apartment, making their way to the back staircase opposite of how they would usually come home. 

Penelope struggled to keep up with him - especially as they sped down the stairs - and worried she was going to fall flat on her already scarred face. 

My face! The realization hit her. She didn’t have her bandages anymore. She was bare. The cool breeze felt foreign to her, but it was relieving at the same time. 

As she thought to herself, mindlessly following wherever Liam dragged her to, she caught the sight of a familiar van and her face contorted into confusion as the door slid open and she was pushed inside. Liam followed in directly behind her and pulled the door shut, tires burning out as they sped away from the sirens that quickly grew louder. 

The van was notably more crowded. Four men tucked away in the back, one where Liam and herself sat, and two in the front. All armed and on alert. 

“Liam, what’s going on?” Penelope asked, everything catching up to her at once. Her breathing quickened as she tried to swallow the growing familiar sense of impending doom, heart beginning to beat irregularly. He finally turned to her. 

“Someone snitched.” He answered simply, but it only raised more questions. 

“Snitched -?” She fell against Liam who caught her with ease as the van dramatically swerved. 

“Aye. Yer not safe there anymore, Penny. I’m sorry.” He spoke sympathetically, keeping her close to him as they continued to be jostled around. 

“Why wouldn’t I be safe there, who would snitch?” She urged, but Liam just shook his head and she kept quiet to her thoughts. The driver eventually became more controlled with his movements, everyone releasing a collective sigh of relief once the sirens eventually silenced. 

The van rolled to a stop and everyone hopped out, Liam taking his time with Penelope who held onto him as if her life depended on it. Surrounded by the other men, he led them into a different abandoned warehouse, though more polished than the one she was in before. The stairs seemed endless as Penelope’s heart raced, in her ears.

The climb inevitably ended and they entered a medium-sized room, darker as curtains were closed to block out the daylight. Men moved about with a purpose, some carrying heavier objects and rearranging, others hunched over a table where papers were scattered. 

But what really caught her attention was the familiar purple coat that joined the men at the table. 

“J…?” 

His gaze immediately made its way to where they stood, eyeing between the two of them causing Liam to step away. He approached her with an exaggerated swagger, but his eyes were sharper, more calculating than usual as he scanned her form. 

“Well, look who made it in one piece.” He grumbled to himself. His gaze then flickered over to Liam. “Y’know, I was starting to think we had a problem.” Liam wasn’t affected by the subtle threat, however, as Joker turned his attention back to Penelope. His hand gripped her jaw, turning her head every which way to check on her before letting go and patting her cheek. “Get her some clothes.” He nodded at Liam.

“Sure thing, boss.” Penelope’s eye widened, looking over at Liam.

“Boss -?” 

“Calm down, toots,” The Joker tried to console her. “He’ll explain.” He waved them off, throwing her one last look before he joined the men at the table once more. 

“Come on, now.” Liam ghosted a hand over her back, leading her out and into a separate room just down the hall. 

“Just what in the hell is going on!” Penelope snapped as soon as the door shut behind them. Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair before searching for what she assumed were her ‘clothes’. “Liam, I swear, if you don’t fucking answer me -“

“Emma called the cops on ye.” 

Her breath caught, a sharp pang hitting her chest. 

“I told ye she couldn’t be trusted, Penny. She went snoopin’ where she shouldn’t have and found answers she didn’t like.” He finally turned to face her. “I’m sorry.” 

He watched as her eye glazed over, pain being the first thing he saw. Then it shifted into something new, something he wasn’t familiar with. He saw anger. She raised a hand, pointing at him as her lips moved to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand then moved to point at the door. “You work for him?” Penelope practically whispered. “You’ve worked with him this whole time?” She took a step towards him, breathing shaky. 

“Aye.” She chuckled dryly, turning around to pace a few steps. 

“This whole time I’ve been telling you about him, and you just played along.” She thought out to herself. 

“Penny -“

“Is anything about us real to you or was it all fake to get me here?” She turned to face him suddenly, pain returning. 

“None of this is fake fer me. What we have is real, yeah? What ye and the Joker have is real.” He cautiously walked towards her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I was only tryin’ to protect ye. Hell, I’d still lay my life down fer ye if it came down to it.” Penelope sniffed and he reached to wipe away the tear that fell. 

“You promise?” She whispered. Liam nodded.

“Aye. I promise.” He rubbed her shoulders as she stood in thought. “How about those clothes, yeah?”

It wasn’t until then that she finally took in the room. It was smaller, seemingly a makeshift bedroom. A queen bed sat in the center. A more worn-down wardrobe sat against one of the side walls beside the bed. A single nightstand with a lamp. “What is this place?” She asked as Liam rummaged through the bottom drawers of the wardrobe. 

“The Joker’s main hideout.”

“Is this…?”

“His bedroom? Aye. If ye couldn’t tell by how horribly furnished it is.” The two of them chuckled. He then stood up, holding a black turtleneck and leggings to match. “Uh…” He sighed. “Wasn’t sure about the color.” He stated sheepishly. Penelope just shrugged. 

“Black’s my favorite, anyways.” 

“Good! I’ll leave ye to get changed then. Ye can head back to the main room when yer ready, I’ll be there.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, patting her shoulder as he passed and left. 

Once the door shut, she quickly changed, feeling gross from wearing the same thing for too long. She spotted a small mirror that hung next to the wardrobe and stood in front of it, eyeing the sleeve that was left unfilled due to her missing arm. 

Penelope looked around the room, then spotted her knives and handgun sitting on the nightstand and smiled at the sight. Before she grabbed one of the knives, she spotted an extra piece of equipment.

A harness. 

For the right thigh, three holsters for her knives. A holster for the handgun sat above them for easy access, she figured to prevent her from having to reach over to her left side.

She thought for a moment, wondering if she should try it on. Debating if this was what she truly wanted. Then she thought about what Liam said. About Emma calling the police, her apartment no longer being safe. She remembered what Joker had told her. 

“… once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore.”

Her hand felt the leather, caressing it with her fingertips. 

“I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know.”

Finally, she picked up the harness, struggling to slip on and fasten it with her one arm. She was eventually able to, tightening and fitting it where she could until it was comfortable. Grabbing the knives, she slipped them into their rightful place one by one, followed by the handgun. She then took one of the knives, carefully cutting through the fabric of her sleeve until it popped off, now leaving a hole where her shoulder was. 

She took a deep breath, walking to the door when she stopped to look at herself in the mirror once more, eyeing her exposed scars. She chewed on her cheek, swallowed anxiously, then ripped the door open and made her way back to the other room. 

Once she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. Too many for her comfort. She stopped and looked around, finding Liam and the Joker next to each other at the same table as before. The former’s mouth was agape, in awe at the transformation while the Joker simply stared, expression unreadable. 

The other men around the table quickly followed their line of sight, each of their own expressions holding a variety of reactions. Some were the same as Liam’s, others indifferent and going back to what they were doing previously. The Joker then motioned for her to come to them with his fingers, licking at his lips as she obliged. 

“I see ya found my little gift.” He said as he eyed her up and down. 

“I did.” Penelope replied quietly, all too aware of everyone around her. “It’s nice.” She complimented with the ghost of a smile. 

“Good. It wasn’t cheap.” Liam gave him a look. 

“Ye stole it.” He jested.

“Which took effort, alright? Let’s not worry about the little details here.” He waved off Liam as Penelope giggled before re-focusing on the blueprint of Gotham City laid out below them. “Now, as I was saying before being rudely cut off -“ Penelope and Liam shared a look this time. 

She tried to disappear into the background, watching as the Joker spoke. It was the first time she’d seen him so…methodical. She had imagined chaos, shouting, maybe even madness. Instead, he seemed almost clinical in his delivery, though that unnerving smile still twisted his face.

“Here,” The Joker said, tapping the map, his voice low and raspy but commanding attention. “The main point of entry. It’s not heavily guarded, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take precautions. We’ll slip in, take what we need - and more - then leave. In and out.”

Liam nodded along, leaning over the blueprint to point out potential bottlenecks. “We should hit the power grid first, cause a blackout in the area. Maybe set off a couple a charges in the area. With the chaos around, no one will be lookin’ where we are.”

The Joker’s head tilted ever so slightly as he considered Liam’s addition, a grin spreading wider. “Now that’s what I’m lookin’ for. A little disturbance goes a long way.”

Penelope’s breath hitched. It was surreal, seeing him like this, Fully in control, directing the madness with such precision. The scars that marred his face were more pronounced under the dim lights, but it was his eyes that unnerved her the most. Hungry and sharp with intelligence.

He paused, studying Penelope like a new toy. “Got somethin’ to say, toots?” He asked, almost coaxing.

Penelope swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning as emotions piled on top of each other, fighting for attention. Excitement, adrenaline, hesitation, confusion. But her mind made its decision. “When do we start?” She asked as she looked up at him with a mischievous grin. 

Penelope’s chest tightened as she watched the men around the table nod, some of them grinning, others chuckling at her boldness. The Joker’s presence was suffocating, pulling everyone into his chaotic orbit. And here she was, standing on the edge of it, caught in his gravitational pull. “Atta girl.” 

After the meeting concluded, Penelope looked around and spotted a pile of crates by the only open window. As Liam and the Joker had their own conversation, she made her way over and climbed over a couple before sitting on top of one of them, facing the window as her legs swung over the edge. Her hand reached over to grab one of her knives, mindlessly flipping and toying with it as she thought. 

She knew Emma for nearly two years. After everything they had been through, after all she opened up to her about, after their moments of vulnerability. She betrayed her at the first sign of trouble. Just as Liam said. 

Thud!

She launched the knife into the crate in the spot beside her, digging it back out. 

Emma turned her back as if it never meant anything. 

Thud!

Penelope pulled it back out, about to throw it again. 

“Do that again and you’ll set the whole place on fire.” The Joker’s gravelly voice stopped her. 

“Really?” She asked in a minor panic.

“No.” He answered simply and she rolled her eyes with a giggle. He leaned beside her against the crates, head level with her thighs. A moment of silence passed before Penelope broke it. 

“How did Liam know it was Emma?” She asked out of the blue, staring out of the window. Joker licked at his scars. 

“Traced the call.”

“Liam told you about his suspicion about her, didn’t he?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, a confirmation. “I suppose I should thank you, then.” He grumbled. 

“I don’t do ‘thank you’s.” 

“Whatever you say, Mr. J.” The two glanced at each other, the Joker humming at the new title. “What exactly is this raid for?” 

“Couple of the men found an armory. Hidden in plain sight.” 

“As if you don’t have enough guns?”

“Well, you can never have enough. The fun hasn’t even started, toots.” 

“I’m coming, right?” 

“Well, duh, I wouldn’t drag you in just to sit around. But you’re stickin’ with me.”

“No complaints from me.”

-

The low hum of the city echoed in the distance, its usual chaos muted by the weight of anticipation. Penelope adjusted her harness, her fingers tracing the edges of the throwing knives snugly fitted in their holsters. The handgun sat just below her hip, a cold but reassuring presence. It had been hours of preparation, and now, standing beside the Joker, her pulse was a steady beat of adrenaline.

Liam crouched by a power junction a few feet away, his hands working quickly to cut the wires. The other men were shadows, blending into the urban sprawl, setting up charges farther out. The Joker stood calmly, watching, a glint of madness in his eye.

Penelope, nervous but determined, stayed close to him, practically stuck to his hip. He hadn’t said much to her yet, just a smirk here and there letting her know he enjoyed the fact that she was along for the ride. She kept her breaths steady, hands relaxed but ready.

“Alright, toots,” The Joker finally muttered, not turning to her but keeping his eyes on the armory’s entrance across the street, “Stay close.”

Her throat was dry, but she nodded. “Got it.”

Liam signaled from his position, and the neighborhood plunged into darkness. The streetlights blinked out one by one, leaving the street in a quiet, electric void. A low rumble followed, one of the charges going off. Penelope’s heart jumped at the sound, though no one else flinched. It was the distraction they needed.

“Time to move.” Joker grinned, tapping her on her hip.

They moved swiftly, the Joker leading the way through the newly darkened streets, his men fanning out behind him. The armory was hidden beneath the guise of a shipping company, its mundane exterior nothing more than a front. Penelope could feel the shift in energy, the calm before the storm. She could tell this wasn’t just a random job for him. It was calculated chaos, his version of art.

At the door, one of the Joker’s men swiftly bypassed the lock, and within moments they were inside, the scent of dust, carbon and metal filling the air. Penelope stayed close to the Joker as he said, her eyes scanning the room as they made their way through the warehouse. Weapons - guns, explosives, even military-grade equipment - lined the walls.

“This is the fun part,” The Joker whispered to her, eyes gleaming as he walked by a row of semi-automatics. “You take what you want and leave nothin’ for anyone else.”

Liam started directing the men, telling them what to grab and where to stash it. Penelope stayed beside the Joker, her mind racing. This was her chance. She hadn’t fully considered what being a part of this world would mean, until now. Yet, watching the Joker in his element, there was an allure she couldn’t deny.

As the men continued looting, a sudden clatter echoed from somewhere deeper in the warehouse. Penelope’s hand instinctively went to her knives, ready. The Joker just chuckled.

“Relax,” he said. “Always a few rats scurrying around.”

But Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. There was a rhythm to this. The power outage, the explosives, the break-in. But there was also the chance of everything going sideways. For the first time, she understood what Liam had meant when he taught her about staying calm in the face of danger during one of their training sessions.

“Stay close, toots,” The Joker murmured again as he pocketed a few grenades, “And keep those knives ready. Gonna need them sooner than ya think.”

Just then, the crackle of gunfire rang out from the far end of the warehouse, and one of the Joker’s men dropped to the ground. The distraction charges had pulled in some curious onlookers - possibly guards - but they weren’t enough to deter them entirely.

Penelope’s grip tightened around the hilt of her knife, and she felt the Joker’s hand on her back, nudging her forward.

“Go on,” He grinned, “Time to see what you’re really made of.”

Without thinking, Penelope stepped forward, eyes locking on the approaching guard. In one smooth motion, she hurled the knife. It sliced through the air with precision and buried itself in the guard’s forehead, causing him to fall back with a heavy thump. She reached for her second knife, ready to throw again, but the Joker’s laugh stopped her.

“Not bad for a first shot.” He cackled, stepping past her. “I’ll make a proper criminal out of you yet.”

Her heart raced, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a breath, grounding herself. The rush of the throw, the hit—it felt like a release, a tiny spark of the chaos the Joker had always seen in her. She gripped the second knife and stayed close to him as the warehouse descended into a frenzy, determined to prove herself in the dark heart of Gotham.

The warehouse erupted into chaos as the sound of gunfire echoed through the air. Penelope’s heart raced, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was still riding the high of her first throw when two guards burst into the room, weapons drawn and eyes scanning for threats.

“Get down!” One of the guards shouted, aiming his firearm at Penelope.

She felt a rush of instinct surge through her. She didn’t think; she moved. With a quick flick of her wrist, she released her second knife, watching it sail through the air, aimed straight for the first guard. It struck him in the thigh, and he stumbled, dropping his gun with a cry of pain, Joker bursting with laughter behind her. Liam ran up next to him, about to help her when he was stopped.

“Let her do it.” He ordered, and Liam stepped back with hesitation as they both watched. 

The second guard turned to Penelope, fury igniting in his eyes as he charged at her. She didn’t hesitate, dodging to the side and using her momentum to pivot. Her training kicked in; she had practiced this with Liam, but this was different. This was real.

As the guard lunged, she grabbed his wrist, twisting it and using his weight against him to throw him off balance. He staggered, but his free hand shot out, catching her in the side. Pain flared, but she fought through it, focusing on her training.

With a swift kick to his knee, she brought him down, and before he could recover, she pulled out her gun, turned the safety off and pulled the trigger at his head before anyone could comprehend what was happening. The first guard groaned in the background, still writhing from the knife wound.

“Get him, Penny!” Liam called. The Joker simply leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, a predator watching his prey.

Penelope was already moving again, advancing on him as the first guard struggled to rise. She picked up his gun and held it at his temple.

“Get down.” She mocked before her face twisted into disgust and a shot rang through the warehouse.

“Such a violent little thing.” The Joker said to Liam with a smirk, still observing the chaos unfold as his laughter echoed off of the walls.

Penelope’s chest heaved with exertion. She hadn’t expected the thrill of the fight to feel so intoxicating. 

She stepped back, regaining her breath as the two guards lay lifeless on the floor.

“Now, let’s finish this little party,” The Joker said, moving towards the door with a mischievous grin. “Remember, doll, it’s all about theatrics. You don’t leave any witnesses.”

Penelope followed him, a smirk on her face. This was her new world. The rush, the danger, the thrill of being truly alive. The Joker was right; she was beginning to love every moment of it.

Complete Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Pairing - The Child Catcher x OC

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

Masterlist

Pairing - The Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Masterlist

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

Summary -

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

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

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

Serenity - Masterlist (Complete)

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

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

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

Warnings -

Trauma

Abuse

Minor sexual themes

Manipulation

Chapters -

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 (Final)

Chapter 2

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

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

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

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

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

The steady hum of the transport ship was a constant beneath their feet, a rhythmic pulse of power that carried them through the vastness of space. Inside the dimly lit cabin, the atmosphere was subdued. Formal, disciplined, yet not entirely tense. 

Hux sat with his back straight, a datapad in hand. His eyes flicked over reports and incoming transmissions from the Finalizer, processing the minutiae of fleet logistics with the same cold efficiency as always. He did not acknowledge the Umbrals beyond what was necessary. Yet, his sharp gaze lifted briefly when movement caught his attention.

(Y/n) stood a short distance away, her posture still disciplined, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor. A small relaxation of her shoulders, the slight ease in her stance. Changes so minute that most would miss them entirely.

Except for him.

The reason soon became apparent as Varo had approached her. His expression was composed but carried a faint trace of familiarity, something that separated him from the others. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. 

“You’re holding together well,” Varo remarked, his voice carrying the weight of an old camaraderie.

(Y/n) glanced at him, one brow lifting slightly. “Were you expecting otherwise?”

A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Not really. But even you have to admit this is different from what we’re used to.” He gestured vaguely around them. “The academies are one thing. Taking on an assignment? That’s something else.”

(Y/n) exhaled quietly, her gaze shifting briefly to the viewport where the stars streaked past in elongated trails of light. “We were made for this,” she said simply.

“Made for it, sure,” Varo agreed. “But I’d rather fight beside someone I know than be stuck with others who think we’re nothing more than glorified beasts on leashes.” (Y/n) caught a new frustrated glint in his eyes. “They have a hard time trusting us, but they don’t realize it goes both ways.” 

Hux noted the way (Y/n)’s expression flickered. Something subtle, a trace of understanding.

“Let them think what they will,” she murmured. “It changes nothing.”

Her attempt at grounding themselves seemed to work as Varo huffed a quiet chuckle. “Still the same as ever.” He tilted his head slightly. “No regrets?”

(Y/n) finally met his gaze, and in that moment, there was something unspoken between them. Shared experiences, unspoken memories from the academy. The brutal trials, the losses, the moments of quiet survival.

“No,” she said at last, and there was no hesitation in her answer.

Varo studied her for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “Good.”

Hux, still seated and listening in on their conversation, watched them from the corner of his eye.

It was… fascinating.

The Umbral he had observed up until now had been nothing short of calculated and professional. She had spoken only when necessary, moved only with purpose. But here, in the presence of someone she trusted, she was not softer - that was the wrong word.

More settled.

There was no loss of awareness, no drop in discipline. She was still poised, still unreadable to the untrained eye. But there was a difference, one that made Hux’s fingers still briefly over his datapad.

This was an Umbral outside of direct orders. This was (Y/n) (L/n) as a person, not just as a weapon. And it was something worth noting.

Not long after, the landing sequence they experienced was smooth, the ship barely shuddering as it settled into the Finalizer’s hangar. 

Inside the ship, General Hux remained composed as he stood, eyes fixed ahead as the ramp lowered with a sharp hiss. The air changed immediately. Cooler, sterile, filled with the low hum of machinery and distant orders being barked across the hangar deck.

(Y/n) followed precisely half a step behind him as he descended the ramp, boots meeting the polished black floor with measured precision as Varo followed beside her. 

The hangar was alive with motion. TIE pilots making their way to their fighters, officers moving in coordinated patterns, stormtroopers standing at attention as their general passed. Hux did not acknowledge them. He expected discipline, not admiration.

A group of officers awaited him near the entrance to the main corridors. At their forefront, Captain Phasma stood in gleaming armor, a towering presence of authority. She inclined her head as Hux approached.

“General.”

“Captain.”

Her visor tilted toward (Y/n) for a brief moment, then to Varo. “Which one of you is Umbral Drenn?” The man in question stepped forward. Phasma gave a single nod in acknowledgement. “You will be shadowing me for the next five days to ensure your understanding of our operations in High Command. Further guidance will be provided to you later.” She informed before turning to the general. “Your presence was missed, sir. There are several matters requiring your attention.”

Hux nodded, already moving forward. “Walk with me.”

(Y/n) and Varo followed silently as they moved towards the turbolifts, officers and other personnel scurrying out of their way. Phasma strode beside Hux, her tone clipped and efficient.

“The Resistance has increased its scouting efforts in the Mid Rim. No direct engagements, but intelligence suggests they are probing for weaknesses.”

“Predictable.” Hux’s expression remained unreadable. “Have our patrol routes been adjusted accordingly?”

“They have. Colonel Ronn reports all security measures are holding, but vigilance is advised.”

The lift doors opened, and the group stepped inside. The moment they ascended, Phasma’s tone shifted, slightly lower.

“There was also an incident with Captain Voss.”

(Y/n) did not react outwardly, but she sharpened her focus. Hux, however, merely exhaled through his nose, a sign of mild irritation rather than surprise.

“What has he done?”

“He questioned your decision to take an Umbral as a personal guard.” A pointed glance at (Y/n). “Not publicly, but he has made his opinion known among certain circles.”

(Y/n) remained motionless, her gaze fixed ahead.

Hux’s lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. “Let him. Voss is intelligent enough to know the consequences of stepping beyond his station.”

The lift arrived at the floor of the bridge and as they neared, the doors hissed open, revealing the vast command deck of the Finalizer. A sea of officers stationed at their posts, the soft hum of control panels and distant chatter filling the air.

As the general stepped forward, the ship’s personnel immediately straightened, all eyes momentarily drawn to their returning commander. (Y/n) observed silently as they passed through, noting how conversations momentarily ceased as Hux moved to take his place at the command platform overlooking the viewport.

The stars stretched endlessly before them, vast and cold.

Hux clasped his hands behind his back, surveying his domain. “Report.”

An officer stepped forward. “All systems operational. No disturbances during your absence. We are prepared to resume standard operations under your directive.”

Hux nodded once. “Maintain course. I will review today’s logs personally. Any deviations in patrol efficiency are to be reported immediately.”

“Yes, General.”

As the officer left, Hux glanced toward (Y/n), his expression unreadable. He studied her for a moment, then turned back towards the viewport.

She had remained silent, as expected. Present, but unobtrusive. A shadow at his side.

(Y/n) remained alert as General Hux turned and faced Phasma who had not yet left, her tall frame imposing as she continued briefing him. “There is another matter. The Supreme Leader has sent a transmission requesting an update on the Starkiller project. He will expect a report.”

Hux’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course he will.” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Patch it through to my private terminal. I will address it personally.”

Phasma nodded before stepping away to relay the command, Varo following, leaving General Hux and (Y/n) to themselves. 

(Y/n) remained silent, watching as Hux’s fingers flexed behind his back, the only outward indication of his restrained irritation. 

He turned sharply, beginning to walk along the command walkway overlooking the bridge. (Y/n) followed in step.

“You will make yourself familiar with the Finalizer’s layout,” Hux stated without looking at her. “I expect you to know the ship’s schematics, primary access routes, and all possible security vulnerabilities within the next seventy-two hours.”

(Y/n) inclined her head slightly. “Understood, General.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his eyes assessing her with scrutiny.

“There will be those aboard this ship who question your presence. Some out of ignorance, others out of resentment.” His voice was level, but his meaning was clear. “I do not concern myself with their opinions, and neither should you. If any officer openly challenges your position, you are to report it to me.”

(Y/n) met his gaze evenly. “I can handle myself, sir.”

A flicker of something, amusement, perhaps, crossed his expression before vanishing behind his usual stoicism. “Of that, I have no doubt, Umbral.”

A short pause stretched between them before he resumed walking, continuing toward the exit of the bridge. (Y/n) followed, standing just behind him to his right.

Silence settled between them, but it was not uncomfortable. It was measured, weighted with unspoken understanding.

His expression was unreadable, but (Y/n) could sense the calculation behind his silence. Whatever the Supreme Leader had demanded of him, it was not a request he would take lightly.

Her steps were measured, keeping a respectful distance behind him as they moved through the corridors of High Command. The officers they passed barely spared her a glance, their attention focused solely on their returning commander.

When they reached the secured door of his office, Hux keyed in the access code. The doors hissed open, revealing the stark, meticulously organized interior. Polished black surfaces, a large desk with a holoprojector at its center, and its own expansive viewport behind it. The room was immaculate, devoid of any unnecessary personal effects.

Hux stepped inside, barely acknowledging (Y/n) as the doors slid shut behind them. He removed his gloves methodically, placing them on the desk before tapping a sequence into the holoprojector. The device flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow as the Supreme Leader’s form materialized before them.

The air in the room seemed to shift, thick with an oppressive weight. Even through the projection, Snoke’s presence was suffocating. His towering form loomed over them, distorted slightly by the transmission’s flickering edges.

“General Hux,” Snoke’s voice rumbled, slow and deliberate. “I trust you have not wasted my time.”

Hux straightened further, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “The Starkiller project continues on schedule, Supreme Leader. Engineering reports optimal progress, and our primary test phase is nearing completion.”

Snoke’s hollow eyes studied him, his expression unreadable. “Good. You understand the consequences should you fail.”

There was no hesitation in Hux’s response. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

A long pause followed, tension lingering in the air like a coiled viper. Then Snoke’s gaze shifted slightly.

“You have taken an Umbral into your service.”

(Y/n), who had remained silent and unmoving, felt the weight of his attention settle on her. It was as if Snoke’s gaze pierced straight through her, as though he was dissecting her presence, her worth.

Hux’s voice remained steady. “The Covenant has assigned her to myself. She is among the highest ranks of their order.”

Snoke exhaled, a low sound that was neither approval nor disapproval. “The Covenant serves its purpose.” His gaze lingered on (Y/n) a moment longer before shifting back to Hux. “Do not let her presence become a liability.”

“I won’t, Supreme Leader.” Hux assured him.

Another silence. Then, Snoke inclined his head ever so slightly.

“Proceed with the operation. I will expect another update soon.”

The transmission cut out abruptly, the hologram dissolving into nothingness.

Hux exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders slightly as if shedding an invisible weight. His fingers flexed against the polished desk before he turned towards (Y/n).

“You are dismissed,” he said simply, though his gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “Begin your reconnaissance of the Finalizer immediately.”

(Y/n) inclined her head. “Yes, General.”

Without another word, she turned and exited his office, the doors sealing shut behind her.

As she strode down the corridor, she couldn’t shake the sensation of Snoke’s gaze still lingering in the back of her mind. It was a different kind of scrutiny compared to that of the Covenant’s Grand Master, one that was less inviting and more dangerous. But perhaps it was due to their differing species.

The halls of the Finalizer were a labyrinth of sterile steel and calculated design. But to (Y/n), they were merely another environment to master. Every corridor, every bulkhead, and every access hatch had to be committed to memory. The Covenant had trained her to adapt to unfamiliar terrain with ruthless efficiency. This ship would be no different.

She moved with purpose, weaving through the bustling corridors of High Command. Officers and troopers passed her by, some sparing glances in her direction, though none dared approach. Her presence was an anomaly, a shadow among the uniformed ranks of the First Order.

(Y/n) had no doubt that rumors of her assignment had already spread. An Umbral of The Covenant personally guarding General Hux? There would be speculation. Distrust. Resentment.

None of it mattered.

She descended towards the lower decks where the layout became more complex, hallways twisting into the maintenance sectors and security control stations. 

The artificial lighting hummed faintly above, casting shadows as she turned a corner and nearly collided with a figure standing in her path.

(Y/n) stopped short, her body tensing instinctively as her gaze lifted to meet the cold, piercing eyes of Captain Voss.

His uniform was pristine, his posture rigid with military precision. There was no insignia of High Command upon his uniform, yet the authority he carried was unmistakable. He was a First Order officer through and through, one who did not believe in wasting words on pleasantries.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he regarded her, arms clasped behind his back. Then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“So,” he said evenly, “you’re the Umbral.”

(Y/n)’s expression remained unreadable, her posture unmoving. “Captain Voss.”

His lip curled slightly, though whether in amusement or disdain, she couldn’t tell. “You know who I am?”

“I make it a priority to recognize potential threats.”

A low, humorless chuckle left him. “Threat?” He tilted his head, scrutinizing her as though she were some curious specimen beneath his gaze. “You misunderstand, Umbral. You are the threat. An unnatural creature let loose aboard our fleet under the guise of loyalty.”

(Y/n) did not react, though his words were designed to provoke.

“Do you have a point, Captain?” she asked, her voice cool and measured.

Voss took a step closer, lowering his voice to something nearly conversational. “Only an observation,” he murmured. “You may have fooled the general into believing in your worth, but I see you for what you are.” His gaze darkened. “And I will be watching.”

They stood in silence, tension coiling in the space between them like a viper ready to strike.

Then, as if the moment had never happened, Voss stepped past her, his presence brushing against hers as he moved down the corridor.

(Y/n) remained still for a long moment, her fingers twitching at her sides. She had expected resistance. She had expected scrutiny. But Captain Voss was more than just wary. He was trouble.

The general was engaged in a discussion with one of his officers when (Y/n) stepped onto the bridge. The dull clang of her boots against the polished floor drew only the briefest of glances from the crew. Most had already grown accustomed to her presence, though unease still lingered beneath their professionalism.

Hux, however, acknowledged her arrival immediately. With a curt nod, he dismissed the officer at his side and turned his full attention to her.

“Report,” he ordered, his voice precise, leaving no room for wasted words.

(Y/n) halted before him, her posture unwavering. “The ship’s layout has been committed to memory,” she stated evenly, noting the slight raise of Hux’s eyebrows. “Critical sectors, alternative routes, access corridors, and blind spots have been accounted for. There will be no uncertainty in my movements should an incident occur.”

Hux observed her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And?”

(Y/n)’s jaw tightened slightly. He wanted more. Not just facts. He wanted assessments.

“There are areas of vulnerability,” she continued, adjusting her stance. “Certain maintenance shafts are lacking proper security oversight. The officer quarters are positioned too closely to primary access points leading towards command sectors. An infiltration risk if not properly monitored. Additionally, there are multiple routes through the ventilation system that could allow undetected movement for someone knowledgeable enough to exploit them.”

Hux’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, though it was not dissatisfaction. If anything, there was a sharp edge of approval in his eyes.

“And what would you suggest?”

(Y/n) did not hesitate. “Increased security sweeps in blind spot regions, reallocation and brief investigation of stationed personnel in high-risk zones, and additional lockdown measures in the event of an incursion.” She tilted her head slightly. “With your approval, I can communicate this to Umbral Drenn so he can oversee these adjustments personally and I can inspect once complete.”

A slow pause. Then, Hux’s lips pressed into something almost resembling a smirk.

“Efficient,” he remarked. “As expected.”

(Y/n) inclined her head slightly, accepting the words without pride. “Was there anything else, sir?”

Hux considered her for a moment longer, as if weighing an unspoken thought.

Then, with a subtle shift in his stance, his expression cooled once more. “You encountered Captain Voss.” It was not a question.

(Y/n) met his gaze steadily. “I did.”

“And?”

“He made his position clear.”

Hux exhaled shortly, a breath that was almost amused. “I’m sure he did.” He studied her with something bordering on curiosity. “And what is your input on him?”

(Y/n) was silent for a brief moment before responding.

“Controlled in his resentment, but not without intent,” she said evenly. “He sees me as a threat. Not to the Order, but to himself.”

A flicker of something colder passed through Hux’s expression. Not anger. Not yet. Just quiet acknowledgment of what he already knew being confirmed.

“Captain Voss is an officer of the First Order,” Hux said, his tone deliberate. “But he is not your superior. He will not interfere with your duties so long as he values his position.” A pause. “However, should he become a problem… inform me.”

(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Hux regarded her for a moment longer, then turned back towards the viewport, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“Relay your findings to Umbral Drenn and see to it that these flaws are remedied immediately. Once he is informed, you are dismissed. You are quartered beside my office in room A375.”

“Will do, sir.” (Y/n) then turned and made her exit.

The cold glow of the various screens illuminated the room of the security hub, casting faint shadows across the chamber’s sleek metallic surfaces. Various officers moved with precision, their tasks carried out in controlled efficiency. The monitors along the walls displayed multiple security feeds, scanning every sector of the Star Destroyer.

(Y/n) entered without hesitation, her footsteps silent against the polished floor. 

Varo was already waiting near the holotable, arms folded as he scanned the display. He glanced up when she approached, but before either could speak, Captain Phasma strode into the room.

Her chrome armor reflected the dim lighting as she moved towards them, helmet concealing whatever expression she might have worn. The imposing stormtrooper commander carried an air of quiet authority, her presence alone demanding respect.

“I assume this is regarding the vulnerabilities you reported to General Hux,” Phasma stated, her voice even but firm.

(Y/n) met her gaze without hesitation. “Yes, Captain.” She keyed in a holographic projection of the Finalizer to expand before them, highlighting weak points (Y/n) had identified. “There are significant flaws in patrol shifts around the hangar bays, particularly during rotation cycles. Lower deck patrols leave a brief window where two sectors are completely unmanned. These are weak points that could be exploited.”

Phasma studied the projection in silence for a moment. Then she turned her helmet towards Varo. “Do you agree with these findings after your own inspection?”

Varo nodded. “I do. They’re accurate.”

Phasma’s tone remained neutral, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath her words. “Then we correct them immediately. The Finalizer’s security should be absolute, not riddled with gaps that invite disaster.” She turned back to the projection. “Who is responsible for these sectors?”

(Y/n) answered without hesitation. “Captain Voss oversees the affected sections.”

There was a brief pause. Though Phasma’s helmet concealed her reaction, the air between them grew taut. “I will deal with Voss personally,” she said at last. “In the meantime, Umbral Drenn will implement corrective measures. I expect immediate results.”

(Y/n) exchanged a glance with Varo before nodding. “I recommend patrol rotations to be altered, and surveillance coverage increased in compromised areas. High Command security will receive additional reinforcement, and the bridge will have extended guard shifts.”

Phasma inclined her head slightly. “Good. I want a full update within the next cycle.” Her gaze flicked between them, then landed on Varo. “Do not fail.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left, her cape flowing behind her.

Varo let out a quiet breath. “Well. That went about as well as expected.”

(Y/n) exhaled softly, her expression unchanged. “At least we have clearance to fix the issues.”

Varo smirked. “And the added bonus of Phasma breathing down Voss’s neck.”

A rare flicker of amusement crossed (Y/n)’s face. “Consider that a victory.”

With their orders set, the two Umbrals turned back to the holomap. There was work to be done, and neither intended to leave The Finalizer vulnerable for long.

The Scarred - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you -“

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

“I mean, I don’t, but -“

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

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

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

“Oi, there ye are!”

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

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

“Too tired to explain right now.”

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

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

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

“What’s on yer mind, lovin?”

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

“Still too tired to talk about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liam, what’re we doing here -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Scarred - Chapter 2

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 note was all she could think about the next morning. Her pen tapped on the table relentlessly, the blank page of her journal sitting next to her now soggy cereal.

How did they even get inside? Who was it? Did they go through her belongings?

If they had, they must’ve paid close attention to detail as everything had still been exactly as she had left it. The locks on her door and windows were left undamaged, nothing was broken. The only sign that someone had been in there in the first place was the note. How long could they have been invading her space if all it took was a note to be noticed? The amount of questions that rambled through her head, the amount of ‘unknowns’ and ‘what if’s’ made her increasingly uncomfortable. Not to mention, the message itself had its own essay of questions. She couldn’t even tell if it was heartfelt or sarcastic.

Don’t forget to smile.

The walk to work wasn’t any different from all of the other days. The same bitter air, the same dark skies, passing the same people, wearing the same coat. Everything had a routine, and she enjoyed it. She took pride in keeping the same routine for long periods of time. The door chimed once again as she stepped into the shop, Emma already inside getting things ready as always.

“Good morning!” The woman sang. Penelope just gave a tight smile, wondering to herself how someone could be so energetic that early in the morning.

After Penelope set down her bag she wandered about the room, touching up some vases and pots here and there while her friend worked in the back room. After fixing the last vase she did a slow spin around, a final look to see if she missed anything before heading over to her spot behind the counter. She flipped her journal open, rubbing her left stump as she stared at the page for a minute or so until the scratching on the page started.

“You keep biting your cheek like that, you won’t have one to bite on.” Emma’s voice piped up. She watched as Penelope suddenly stopped, almost as if she was a child getting caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing. Emma just giggled at her and rubbed her shoulder, then made her way over to the door to flip the shop’s sign to ‘open’.

As Penelope watched her she thought back to the night before. Her dinner that was left forgotten. The bowl that was still left shattered on the floor.

The note.

She had thought about telling Emma, but what good would that do her? She would either brush it off or overreact, neither of which she appreciated. But there was never a happy middle when it came to Emma. She learned that the hard way when a customer started making crude comments towards Penelope. It was safe to say he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, if at all.

“Penny?” Her eye snapped up from her journal to the woman. “Di’ja hear what I said?” The woman in question simply shook her head. Emma sighed with a smile. “I have an appointment after lunch an’ I’m not sure how long it’ll take. I’ll need you to hold down the fort while I’m out, okay?” Penelope was about to start chewing on her cheek again, but quickly caught herself and resorted to a short nod. Emma could sense her underlying worry and walked over to her, softly resting her hand over hers. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Her footsteps creaked along the old wood flooring as she disappeared to the back room again. Penelope grew doubtful of her words, eyebrows knitting together as she finally succumbed to chewing on her cheek once more.

The day seemed to go by slower than the pace of a turtle, to her misfortune. It only left more time for her brood. More time for her to dread the inevitable. Her pen rapped against the wood of the countertop, and thankfully Emma was a patient person. Any other would have snapped at her by now. She heard the jingle of the woman’s keys and felt her stomach drop, taking a slow, deep breath to calm herself, yet in vain. Her heart skipped a beat as her nerves grew stronger.

“I’m off, Penny. If you need me just give me a call,” The brunette gave her a side hug and kissed the top of her head. “You got this, hun.” She whispered and gave her a reassuring smile. She looked back at her as she reached the front door and Penelope offered a wavering smile, accompanied by the smallest wave of her hand.

“Bye.” The woman spoke softly as she watched Emma leave the shop. She didn’t know what to do, so she just sat there. Hunched over with her hand laying loosely on her lap. Her hand reached to rub her shoulder and she stood up, walking to the back room. Rarely did she ever. It wasn’t her first time managing the shop on her own. She was quite capable, really. She just preferred to have Emma there as a form of comfort should something happen.

Shelves lined the slightly larger room, pots and vases of various flowers laid upon them that were lit up by artificial lighting. She weaved through the rows of flowers, stopping to smell one every now and then when she grew curious. One that had caught her eye, however, was a vase of daffodils.

No matter how yellow, how vibrant they seemed, she seemed to believe there was a sadness. With their slightly downturned petals and simple stemming, it was a flower that was too often looked over. She thought for a moment, staring at the slim vase in question. Her hand then reached up to wrap around its neck, cradling it to her chest and she made her way back to the front.

“Oh!” The woman jumped, just barely catching herself from dropping the vase.

A man stood in the center of the shop, looking around casually as if her frightened stature was normal to him. He was of a larger build, dawned in a leather jacket and jeans. The light of the shop reflected off of his bald head, scruff moving with his lips.

“I - I apologize, I couldn’t hear the bell from the back.” Her voice faintly trembled as she gently set down the vase next to her journal. He remained silent, his eyes a fierce shade of green as they connected with her own. “Um -” Her eye darted around the room before gathering the courage to meet his again. He started taking slow steps towards her as she spoke. “Are you wanting to browse or is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

“I have a personal order I’d like to place.” He spoke suddenly with a harsh tone.

“Well -” She blinked quickly as he cut her off.

“From the boss.” Her eye was wide, glazed over in fear.

“The bo -?”

“He wants a vase of begonia and baby’s breath,” The man cringed while he said the names. “By noon tomorrow. That’s when I’ll pick it up,” He threw a stack of cash in front of her, worth at least a thousand. He turned to make his way out of the small room, but not before calling over his shoulder. “For your sake, I suggest you make it happen.”

“My sake?” She muttered to herself after the door shut, her voice a higher pitch than usual. Her breathing quickened and her eye darted about the space around her, then she scrambled to the back room to prepare the vase.

Her keys shuffled to unlock her door, her teeth gnawing at the soft scabs already covering the inside of her cheek. She swung the door shut harder than she had meant to, throwing her coat and shoes off as she scrambled about the room anxiously. She had already started peeling the bandages from her face by the time she reached her bedroom. Then she stopped.

Penelope’s hand fell down to her side when the realization hit her. She inched herself out of her bedroom, time moving slower by the second. Her feet dragged her to the freshly scratched paint, eye ever so slowly making its way to the floor. The glass was still there, but instead of the scattered shards that had been, they were neatly placed to form a face that menacingly smiled at her.

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.

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. 

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

Word Count - 4,091

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

Song Inspiration -

Cody Frost - Process

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

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

He would be her past, present and future. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it… Is it still the same night?” 

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

“How long has it been?” 

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

“One day…? But how?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a flail?” (Y/n) gasped. 

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he spotted them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She called his nose cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday, Otto! ❣️🐙