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misswynters · 3 months ago

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Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

| next chapter | masterlist |

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena

#house targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon smut #hotd aegon #aegon ii fanfic #aerion targaryen #hotd imagine #jacaerys velaryon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #halaena targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd daeron #hotd x reader #hotd smut

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remusjohnslupin · 3 months ago

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♦ ROHANNE WEBBER: “Ser Duncan,” Lady Rohanne said, “I was ten years old when the black dragon rose. I begged my father not to put himself at risk, or at least to leave my husband. Who would protect me, if both my men were gone? So he took me up onto the ramparts, and pointed out Coldmoat’s strong points. ‘Keep them strong,’ he said, ‘and they will keep you safe. If you see to your defenses, no man may do you harm.’ The first thing he pointed at was the moat.” She stroked her cheek with the tail of her braid. “My first husband perished on the Redgrass Field. My father found me others, but the Stranger took them, too. I no longer trust in men, no matter how ample they may seem. I trust in stone and steel and water. I trust in moats, ser, and mine will not go dry.”

#rohanne webber #gotrohannewebber #asoiafedit #asoiafwomensource #gotedit #preasoiafsource #gotladies #fantasyedit #pregotedit #preasoiafedit #asoiafmine #preasoiafladies #mine*

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aliensurvivalist · 9 days ago

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I get the feeling that Bofur doesn’t like Thorin very much

First, on the carrock, Bofur rolls his eyes at Bilbo and Thorin’s hug. Probably because Thorin made it seem like he was berating Bilbo again and then decided to suddenly be nice and act like he didn’t pretend Bilbo was literally the worst person in the world.

Then, after the stone giants, he gives Thorin the fattest side eye as he’s saying Bilbo should’ve never gone on the journey after he literally almost fell to his death

Then, in the goblin caves, gives a little bit of stink eye to Thorin after he tells him to take first watch

Then, in the elf cellar, is literally the only one who doesn’t move at Thorin’s instruction and just stands there staring at him (Trust me, you can’t see it but he’s giving him stank eye here too okay)

Then, more stank eye on the boat

Then, ramparts…

I just don’t think Bofur likes the way Thorin treats Bilbo

#might be more but um I literally don’t think I can watch the movies all at once anymore #i get too overwhelmed #like it overwhelms me how much I love them #I’ve always headcanoned that Bofur hates Thorin LMAO #but also I do like them as friends I think they could be good friends ☺️#sorry for varying degrees of quality gifs #the hobbit #bofur #the hobbit bofur #lord of the rings #lotr #bilbo baggins #boffins #bilfur #bilbofur #bofur gifs #gifs #the hobbit gifs #thorin oakenshield

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yuurei20 · 15 days ago

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Lilia Facts Part 1: Lilia's Past (pt1)

We received many hints about Lilia’s past in the lead-up to Book 7:

Lilia says that he was called “the Phantom Commander” in Briar Valley and both Silver and Baul say Lilia was known as “the Running Rampart."

Lilia mentions wearing “stuffy uniforms” to formal affairs and armor for his “day job."

When Ortho compliments his video game skills Lilia says, “There's no going back once a battle has begun —this holds true in games and real-life battles. I'm leaning on experience.”

Lilia also says he was “once a feared captain in Briar Valley” but now he is retired from the field.

When asked what gift he would recommend for the Glorious Masquerade event, Lilia offers his idea of group calisthenics. “It's a form of exercise. The Briar Valley royal guards used to do calisthenic demonstrations. It shows strong leadership by unifying a large group behind a single purpose and having them put on an entirely synchronized show…it's the perfect way to daunt onlookers!”

Idia expresses displeasure in Silver and Sebek brute-forcing their way into his bedroom to force him to attend rehearsal for the Glorious Masquerade performance and Lilia explains, “When someone tightens their defenses, we have but to increase our offensive force.”

After hearing about Silver’s father Idia says he imagines him as “one of those wise mentor characters with muscles all over and a mind like a steel trap” and Silver responds, “Yes. He is one of the royal guards who serve the rulers of Briar Valley. I have heard that his martial prowess is widely recognized and that the queen trusts him greatly. He has stepped down from the front lines now, but he once earned medals for his myriad feats in battle. I am certain he has far more experience than I could possibly imagine.”

Lilia has a voice line of, "It used to be l'd soak in a hot spring to heal my wounds. Never thought I'd be doing it just for pleasure."

#twstlilia #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #liliafacts #twstfacts

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ihobbit · 1 year ago

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I think Bilbo was the greatest treasure in Thorin’s life, and definitely more important than the Arkenstone. This is proven by his behavior immediately after the showdown on the ramparts. The shock of being betrayed by Bilbo was overwhelming. The closest, the most beloved, the one whom Thorin trusted ABSOLUTELY. Thorin is dressed in armor and armed, but the most important thing is that now he knows exactly where the stone is - it is in Bard’s pocket! If the Arkenstone really was that important to Thorin, he would attack immediately! But Thorin suddenly doesn’t care. From this point on we hear nothing more about the Arkenstone. He goes into the throne room and just sits there, filled with pain and resentment. We must understand that Thorin has a difficult fate and hard life, and Bilbo became a real salvation for his wounded soul. And now he feels that he has lost the only one that was really important to him. And of course it's not a stone.

#hobbit #bilbo #thorin #the hobbit #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thilbo #thilbo bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #love #arkenstone #ihobbit #botfa #king under the mountain #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo

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hugmekenobi · 5 months ago

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S3: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: Juggernaut

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The Batch seek out an unlikely ally to get you and Omega back. Meanwhile, you and Omega find out what's in store for you on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, me making up an SP number, humour used as a deflection tactic, Hunter losing it a bit, brief injury descriptions, threats, implications of torture, mentions of scars, Rampart, Hemlock being a creep, lotta angst,

Word Count: 5.7K

Author's notes: Had a bit of creative fun doing this episode but it should also hopefully feel like an angsty one lol

You braced yourself against the weather as you exited the ship.

The gusts of wind on Tantiss swept the steady drizzle of rain in a diagonal against your face.

You and Omega stopped just before Hemlock as he came to meet you both.

Then, a move occurred that genuinely surprised you.

In quick succession, the operative took Omega’s cuffs off and then did the same to yours before he took to his ship and left.

You and Omega massaged your wrists as you regarded the man ahead of you with suspicious curiosity.

“I trust we won’t have any issues with you and your… talents. Unless you want Omega to suffer the punishment for your disobedience?” Hemlock directed the question to you.

You knew that would be the card he would play, and it was a fucking effective one. “No issue.” You said tightly.

Hemlock nodded before he addressed both of you. “Turning yourselves over was a wise decision. Come with me.”

Omega glanced up at you, but you gave her a nod and the two of you slowly followed Hemlock inside.

The route to the lab had not left Omega’s memory and she recognised the familiar corridors that Hemlock led you both through, although the heightened stormtrooper presence was new.

“Bring the Jedi to the cell we arranged below but keep her away from the vault. She and Omega are not to be together.” Hemlock directed the group of troopers that approached as you all came to a halt outside the lab doors.

Your head snapped over to Hemlock as you heard that.

Omega frantically looked between you and Hemlock. “No!” She shouted.

You saw the group of troopers moving in on you. You called on the Force and pushed them further down the corridor and smacked them into the wall, but you couldn’t do anything more than that. You couldn’t risk Hemlock punishing Omega.

You saw another squad closing in.

You had to let them take you.

Omega looked up at you, tears in her eyes. “They can’t take you! I won’t let them!” Omega turned to Hemlock but all she saw on his face was a cruel sneer. “Please-”

You wouldn’t have her begging that man for anything. You bent down and hugged Omega tight to your chest. Do what you need to do to get outta here. I’ll see you again. You don’t worry about me. You said hurriedly as you felt numerous hands grab you and yank you away from her.

The butt of a blaster smacked against your temple, making you lightheaded and your body more compliant with the soldiers as they pulled you down the corridor.

“No!” Omega fought against the strong grip a trooper took of her shoulder and she couldn’t free herself. But they couldn’t stop her words.

“Bring her back!”

“No! We stay together!”

“Let me go!”

“Stop!” That was the last thing she was able to say before she was dragged into the lab.

Omega’s fading cries were all that echoed through your head as the troopers dragged you away and through another maze of levels and hallways.

Emerie had heard the commotion outside, and she saw the fear and sadness on Omega’s face as she entered but she had to hide her lingering discomfort as Hemlock brought her over. The small smirk that graced Hemlock’s face did not escape her though.

“Begin testing her at one. I want confirmation.” Hemlock ordered but he saw hesitance demonstrated by Emerie at the order. “Is there a problem, Dr. Karr?”

“No.” Emerie replied swiftly. “I’ll handle it.”

“Where’s Nala Se?” Omega asked as she looked around the lab but found no sign of the Kaminoan.

“In a cell. I’m afraid the Kaminoan won’t be aiding you in another escape.” He said to Omega before addressing Emerie, “I’ll return later for the results.” He walked out the lab. He had other preparations to oversee.

Omega walked over to her sister, “Emerie, you don’t have to do this.”

Emerie sighed as part of her wished the words didn’t affect her as much as they did but what else was she supposed to do? This is where she wanted to be… didn’t she? “I’m sorry, but I do.” She prepared the syringe and approached the young girl. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” Emerie took the sample.

“Am I?” Omega questioned uncertainly. “And why did he take her from me? What is he going to do her? Will she be okay?”

And the reassurance Emerie once might’ve been prepared to offer couldn’t be said anymore.

Pabu was a ghost town.

The people of the island were recovering and hiding in their homes.

All that remained were the signs of destruction the soldiers had left behind.

But there were no more troopers.

No more gunships.

And he knew what that meant.

He couldn’t deny it to himself anymore.

It had happened again.

They’d taken his home.

They’d taken Omega.

They’d taken you. The love of his life.

Gone.

Your time spent together had been so rushed, so interrupted and there had been too little time for him to express how important you were to him since you’d returned.

The life that the two of you were preparing to have together had been snatched away. And now you were gone. You were gone before he’d had the chance to-

And both of you would be subjected to whatever torment Hemlock wished to inflict. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.

If only he’d been quicker, stealthier. If only he’d handled that gunship pilot better. If only-

He stopped short and clawed at his chest as he felt the guilt constrict around his heart. His knees buckled as the entire weight of his failure crashed into him and he had to brace himself against one of the ransacked stalls to keep from collapsing but he forced himself to calm down.

He couldn’t allow himself to lose himself in it. Not anymore.

He’d done that before but that was then.

Now, he let clarity overcome him.

Now he would not lose focus.

He would not falter.

He would not be dissuaded.

Everything he had was going to go into getting you two back.

Hemlock would die.

Nothing was going to stop him from achieving that.

He felt wet nose nuzzle against his palm and he glanced down to see Batcher looking up at him with concerned eyes.

He straightened up and carried onto Archium.

Hunter took his helmet off as he approached his brothers, and he was glad to see Wrecker awake and back on his feet. “The troopers have pulled out, but the cruiser’s still jamming our comms.”

“I still can’t believe you let them turn themselves in.” Wrecker said reproachfully to Crosshair.

“The Empire would have destroyed this whole town. They stopped them.” Crosshair responded, his frustration at the whole situation seeping into his tone. He was more surprised however that the admonishment had come from Wrecker and not Hunter but then again, there was still time.

“Yeah, and they’ve got them again.” Wrecker replied dejectedly. “And we’re stuck here without a ship.”

“Even if we get our hands on a ship, we still have no way of finding Tantiss base.” Hunter said.

The trembling from his hand was an instant reaction. “That’s not exactly true.” Crosshair said cagily as he held his hand.

Hunter stared at his brother carefully and made himself wait for further explanation before he said anything he might regret.

“Wait. You’ve known where Tantiss is this whole time?” Wrecker questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t say I know. There’s someone who might have the coordinates.”

“Who?” Hunter asked urgently.

“Admiral Rampart. He sent Nala Se there when we decommissioned Tipoca City.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Hunter took a few aggressive steps towards Crosshair but checked himself as he caught the way his brother kept massaging his shaking hand. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if he jumped down Crosshair’s throat, he didn’t deserve that.

“Because Tantiss isn’t a place I ever wanted to go back to.” Crosshair admitted. “And Rampart’s not particularly trustworthy. He is a last resort, but he’s our only option.”

“Where’s Rampart now?”

“I was still in the Empire when they arrested him. He was sent to-”

Batcher growling and the sound of a platform opening interrupted him and the three of them turned to see a hatch in the middle of the Archium floor opening up.

“Do not shoot!” AZ yelled as he and Phee came into the room.

“I second that.” Phee agreed as she saw the three clones with blasters pointing in their direction.

The three of them holstered their weapons.

“I saw the Imperials on my approach. When I landed, Doc here briefed me on the situation.” Phee explained.

“How did you get in here unseen?” Hunter enquired.

“Used the hidden cavern access when I docked my ship.”

“We’re gonna need to borrow that.” Crosshair insisted by way of greeting.

Phee regarded the new face with a knowing smile, “You must be Crosshair. Tech told me all about your… sparkling personality.”

“Is that a no?” Crosshair replied, crossing his arms in his typical unimpressed fashion.

“Any friend of brown eyes is a friend of mine. Where are we heading?”

“An Imperial labour camp on Erebus.” Crosshair divulged with a heavy breath but if it meant a chance to get you and Omega back, he would face the demons of his past.

“Ooh, I like this already.” Phee said with a roguish grin. She led the way down, with Wrecker joining her first.

Crosshair faced his sibling and started nervously, “Hunter-”

Hunter just about managed a single, reassuring nod. “I know, Crosshair.”

“I wanted to- if there had been any other way- I’m-”

Hunter touched his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Crosshair. Not at all.” He exhaled a sharp sigh, “It was the right call. Besides, you couldn’t have stopped them, no matter how much you wanted to. All that matters is that I know we’re getting them back.”

Crosshair studied his brother. Of all the reactions he’d expected, this one had been low on the list. This was a different type of determination that gave him the impression that Hunter meant what he was saying, but there was more that he was not allowing himself to feel or express anymore.

Hunter removed his hand before they both stepped onto the platform to follow the others down.

Being helpless to Phee’s plan of sending the ship into a vertical nosedive in order to get past the perimeter had emulated Tech’s crazy, yet somehow effective piloting, and it became very clear why the friendship between the two of them had been growing into something more.

With Phee being on standby for a retrieval after she’d dropped them in, they’d managed to infiltrate the system and find out what prison transport Rampart was on and taking the turbo-tank from the Imperials on-board had been a simple task in the end.

Hunter took control of the steering.

Wrecker and Crosshair took up position by the doorway to the prison hold.

Crosshair touched the walls, “It’s magnetically sealed. Wrecker, remember Plan 55?” Crosshair waited patiently as his brother worked on remembering the details of it.

“Oh. Yeah. 55. Waiting on you. Go.” Wrecker said in quick realisation as he prepared his blaster.

Crosshair opened the door, and they advanced down the corridor.

The door opened and Crosshair instantly ricocheted his blaster bolt around the walls, killing most of the troopers and Wrecker took care of the few stragglers that remained.

“Ct-9904?” Rampart said in disbelief as he recognised the uniformed clone.

“You remembered. How touching.” Crosshair sneered as he stared at the former admiral. The ill-fitting, dirty orange jumpsuit and raggedy beard and untidy hair gave a distinct worn and dishevelled appearance to the Imperial that Crosshair knew he would despise, and he found the whole thing rather satisfying. He tapped the side of his helmet to let Hunter know, “The target’s secured.”

“The target?” Rampart repeated with outrage. “What is this? Are you here to kill me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Wrecker cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion between them, “What about them?” He asked in reference to the other prisoners on board.

Hunter slowed the turbo-tank to a stop to let Wrecker and Crosshair release the remaining prisoners.

“All clear.”

Wrecker’s confirmation on the comms prompted Hunter to get the tank moving again.

“And what about me?” Rampart asked as the larger clone came back from freeing the others.

“You’re fine right where you are.” Crosshair replied tersely.

“If you’re not here to execute me, and you’re not letting me go, then you must need something from me.” Rampart deduced.

“Tantiss base. Where is it?” Crosshair asked briskly.

“Ah. Tantiss.” Rampart repeated as if the answer had been what he’d expected. “And how much is that information worth to you?”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.” Crosshair growled.

“Hmm. I disagree. I’ll talk after you get me off this planet.” Rampart negotiated smoothly, “You don’t get what you want if I don’t get what I want.”

“We’re approaching the bridge. Wrecker, man the cannon.”

Hunter’s voice on the comms interrupted the tension settling between the three men and Wrecker set off to do as instructed.

From the activation of the bridge gates and barricades and the tank that was approaching from the other side of the bridge, it had become pretty clear that the Imperials were onto them, but Hunter wasn’t about to let that stop him. It would take a lot more than that and probably not even then. He increased the speed of the vehicle and powered through them.

The enemy tank opened fire on them, but Wrecker was quick to respond however the blaster fire wasn’t making a dent in either transport.

There wasn’t time for a firefight, “Their armour’s too strong. Take out the wheels.” Hunter ordered Wrecker as he kept the speed of the tank on a steady increase.

Wrecker did just that and the tank came to a crashing halt as the front set of wheels exploded.

Hunter simply ramped up the power and sent their tank flying over the downed Imperial vehicle.

In the chaos of the tank righting itself, Crosshair and Rampart had gotten thrown to the ground.

Rampart attempted to use the opportunity to grab a free blaster, but the clone shot it out of his hands.

Crosshair got to his feet and trained his sniper on Rampart.

“Oh please. You’re not going to kill me.” Rampart said confidently.

Crosshair set his rifle to stun. “Hmm. Not yet.” He replied simply before he knocked the man out and grab him by the collar.

He’d managed to get the tank through to the other side of the bridge, but the sight of approaching gunships caused Hunter to dramatically drop the speed and he drifted the tank onto an off-road path- the narrow cliffside wasn’t enough to deter him from the pace at which he was driving.

Crosshair opened the door to rejoin his two brothers and he dragged Rampart’s body inside.

Hunter tapped the side of his helmet, “Phee, we’re past the perimeter and need that pickup.” He said into his comm but all he heard was the fuzzy sound of static.

Wrecker was able to fire back and destroy one of the gunships on their tail, but he couldn’t stop the other one from making up ground. “Cannons are offline!” He shouted with an aggravated punch to the console as he saw the power go down. “We’ve got troopers up top.” He said as another sensor beeped. He and Crosshair both got ready to deal with it but the reaction from Hunter stopped them both.

Hunter, uncaring about the precarious path, merely weaved the tank in an aggressive pattern to toss the troopers off. This entire thing was getting old rather fast, he had more important things to be doing now. Most fell quickly but one soldier managed to tumble over the side that had a ladder he could cling onto, so Hunter smashed the lone trooper into the cliffside.

Whilst that plan had worked, it hadn’t deterred the final gunship which landed a successful shop that disabled the steering. The controls went rigid in Hunter’s hands. “Controls are dead.” He voiced aloud. They could really use that pickup now.

“We’re running out of road!” Wrecker cried as he saw the end of the path rapidly approaching.

Then, the glorious sound of explosions sounded from the outside.

“Not exactly a stealth exit, boys.” Phee commed in as she took out the final gunship.

“Let’s move!” Hunter directed as they all made their way to the roof of the tank.

Wrecker watched as his brothers made the jump to Phee’s extended ramp. He tossed Rampart’s limp body on the stairs but the gap between the tank and Phee’s ship was increasing, and he couldn’t be confident that he’d make the jump. “Move closer!”

Hunter saw the end of the road was drawing nearer and there wasn’t more time to get the distance exactly right. “Hurry! Jump!” He urged.

Wrecker took a few steps back before he ran and leaped over. He slid down the last couple steps but fortunately, Hunter had a secure hold on his upper arm, so he was able to be pulled securely on board.

Phee got the ship out of any further harms way.

Crosshair, being the only one of the three of them to keep his helmet on, kicked Rampart’s leg to wake him up.

Rampart came around with a wince.

“We got you off the planet. Now tell us where Tantiss is.” Crosshair demanded.

Rampart released a reluctant groan, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Hunter asked snappishly.

“No one knows the coordinates to Tantiss. It was designed that way. But I might know how to get around that.” He said but he didn’t elaborate.

Crosshair was getting tired of his games. “Either you tell us now, or we drop you back in that Imperial prison.”

“Now, now. No need for threats.” Rampart tisked. “After all, we’re in this together. Retrieving the young girl will be no easy task, but the girl and a Jedi? You’ll need my expertise so best play nice.” Rampart smirked as he saw the way all three of them stiffened their posture. “Oh yes, word travels amongst the unsavoury characters I was forced to be in close quarters with and between the officers.”

He fixed his stare on Hunter whose jaw was clenched so tight; Rampart wondered if the act was causing him physical pain. “CT-9904 had some rather interesting information to share about the two of you. I didn’t think the protocol would’ve allowed for such… fraternisations.”

Crosshair recoiled slightly as he remembered the conversations. Rampart’s words felt like he may as well have just punched him in the gut, and Crosshair risked a glance to Hunter as he readied his own apologies, but Hunter wasn’t looking at him.

Hunter stalked around the table to stand over the seated form of Rampart who was already beginning to cower into the booth. “You’re here because we need your information but let me make something very clear to you…”

This particular demeanour Hunter was exhibiting was foreign territory to the two brothers. Crosshair and Wrecker watched the interaction closely in case they were needed to intervene, more for their brother’s sake than Rampart’s.

Hunter’s voice took on a tone that was so low and so threatening, it even put Wrecker and Crosshair on edge and made them stand up a little taller. “Mention her or Omega again and you’ll wish you were back on Erebus.”

And Rampart could tell by the intensity of his stare and the conviction behind his words that the clone wasn’t bluffing either. Rampart’s throat went dry, and he swallowed a few times to find his voice again, “P-” He cleared his throat. “Point- point taken.” He said shakily. He’d miscalculated his power in this situation rather badly. Despite the fact he was the one that had the information to offer, it would only be worth it if he got out of here in one piece and the clones kept to their end. Evidently, that would not happen if he pushed that particular button too much.

Satisfied that his words had landed, Hunter turned to go back to the cockpit but jutted his head for Crosshair to follow him.

Wrecker offered a supportive pat on Crosshair’s shoulder as he left.

“Phee, can you go watch Rampart with Wrecker for a few minutes?” Hunter asked tightly as he felt his emotional control slipping.

“Uh, sure.” Phee said with a questioning look between the two clones but the tension in the air was palpable, so she didn’t linger.

Crosshair removed his helmet and waited nervously for his brother to speak.

“What did you tell him?” Hunter ground out as he pushed the rising wave of emotions back down.

Crosshair looked down at the floor in shame. “Nothing. I-”

The wave came back stronger this time, and he couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction to his brother’s evasiveness. “Crosshair!” Hunter interrupted heatedly.

Crosshair met Hunter’s stare.

Hunter started talking but his words came out short and sharp with his voice rising with each sentence. “Rampart can’t gain any leverage here. If he has anything about her, about me, about our relationship that he could use against us… against me then I have to know! I need to know what he knows!”

Crosshair kept his voice level; a shouting match would do no good here and Hunter had every right to be reacting the way he was. All Crosshair could do was hope Hunter would believe him. “He doesn’t know anything. Not really.” Crosshair took a breath. “I told him getting her in Imperial custody might be a good way to get you. It would be a way to get you to slip up and come out of hiding. And if you came, the rest of the squad would follow. Nothing specific, I swear.”

Hunter looked at Crosshair but everything on his face and everything he knew about his brother told him he was telling the trust. He didn’t sense any dishonesty and he wasn’t about to throw away the trust he’d built and regained with Crosshair over some stupid comment from Rampart. He relaxed his stance and his tone, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Hunter said as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the oncoming headache that had been brewing since leaving Pabu.

Crosshair dismissed the unnecessary apology. “I’d expected a lot worse.” He recognised the signs and knew his brother needed a moment to himself now, so he quietly left the cockpit.

Hunter exhaled deeply and reached under his clothes and clasped the leather chord as he pulled out the necklace. He fiddled with the Jedi symbol that decorated it and allowed himself the few seconds of ease and happy memories the action brought before he hid it once more.

Hunter shook off everything that had just transpired and put everything else that wasn’t involved in getting you and Omega back to the back of his mind before he rejoined the others.

Omega’s body was heavy with weariness. These tests had taken hours and after the night she’d already had, her body was struggling to fight against the urge to just slide of the stool and sink to the floor.

Her ears pricked up as she heard a cheering dinging, but she saw the curious yet slightly concerned look Emerie shot her way. Omega didn’t have any time to enquire more about that since Hemlock returned.

“Dr. Karr, what are Omega’s results?”

“Her blood sample yielded a favourable M-count replication.”

“As expected.” Hemlock said as he looked to the young girl.

“What does that mean?” Omega asked.

“I’ll show you.” Hemlock replied.

Omega was left with little choice but to follow Hemlock out and walk a route that was unfamiliar to her.

“Did you know an individual’s M-Count cannot be directly replicated?” Hemlock quizzed as he led the way to the vault. “Attempts have been made but each time, the levels degraded. And so we experimented.” He opened the doors to the corridor illuminated with red beams and gestured for Omega to carry on.

Omega didn’t move yet. “Where are you taking me?”

“The vault.”

Together, the two of them then carried on walking.

“We tried various methods, mixing samples from out other test subjects, yet nothing worked...” Hemlock continued to divulge, “until we combined your sample with one of our M-Count specimens.”

Together, the two of you would make a scientists dream so Omega couldn’t understand Hemlock’s command to separate the two of you. What did he have planned for you that was so different to anything else that would lie behind the doors ahead. “Then why couldn’t we stay with each other?”

Hemlock paid no attention to the broader meaning behind question. He kept his focus on her role here instead. “You are a vital piece to our work here, Omega.”

Omega stopped short as the doors opened and she was met with the sight of three children- they were a few years younger than her- and a baby. She recovered quickly and asked, “Who are they?”

“They are the rest of the puzzle. And this, this is your new home.” Hemlock turned around and walked out.

Omega heard the doors shut with a secure clash and she gulped as she took in the space.

She was confined. Again.

You felt a flicker of fear as the door opened and you saw the tiny cell you were to be put in.

The walls were blank and grey.

There wasn’t any type of bed.

All that was there was a thick silver chain with shackles attached to it that was weaved through a notch in the wall.

All of that added to the already freezing temperature of the cell.

One of the troopers shoved you hard in the back and you tripped into the room.

“SP-42, you need to wear this uniform now.”

You studied the face of the woman that gave you the drab, grey clothes and you saw traces of Omega in her face. Plus, it was obvious she was doing her best not to give away the fact that she knew who you were. “Emerie, isn’t it? Omega mentioned you.”

Emerie shifted uncomfortably but subtlety nodded. “She talked about you, too.” She said quietly before she addressed you at a louder volume with a more official stature. “But I really need you to follow my instructions, SP-42.”

“Please, SP-42 was my father. My first name will be fine. I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time together.” You quipped as you took off your armour, the rest of your clothes and changed into the uniform that was handed to you.

“Ah, the use of humour to distract one from the pain of their current situation.”

Your blood ran cold at the soft and quiet yet threatening voice, but you masked your discomfort quickly as Hemlock came into view. “Oh great, it’s SP-Fuckface.” You remarked crudely as you fixed him with an intense glare.

Emerie tensed up at the comment as she took your personal items from you and handed them to one of the troopers.

“Come now, I thought your people were above such vulgar words.” Hemlock fully came into the cell.

“My people and I tended to differ on a lot of things.” You responded icily.

“Indeed.” Hemlock mused.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes up and not look disgusted by the way he touched the half-skull insignia on your old top.

Hemlock nodded to the one of the troopers to take them away and he inhaled deeply before he gave you his full attention. “I must say, this has been a long-awaited reunion. I offer you my congratulations- the search for you always proved most troublesome, despite your rather public endeavours against the Empire. You were a hard one to predict. Even the information I’d been given ahead of time was not always relevant.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make my capture convenient for you.” You retorted as the troopers took your hands behind your back and secured the shackles to your wrists. You pulled against the chain to test it, but it was strong and only extended a short way, so the bitter metal of the shackles instantly dug into your skin.

Hemlock ignored you and kept to his train of thought, “So, imagine my surprise when I got word that you’d handed yourself in all those months ago.”

“What are-” The realisation that hit you brought with it an overwhelming nausea as you stared at him and the cruel smile on his face.

It had always been Hemlock.

From the moment he’d known what you were.

From the moment you escaped him and made the decision to stop hiding.

From the moment you handed yourself over to the Imperials on Christophsis.

It was never just any Imperial official that wanted you.

It all led back to him.

“The secure prison facility…” Your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper as you recalled the words of the Imperial’s that had been getting ready to transport you off Christophsis.

“Very good.” Hemlock complimented. “If it weren’t for the incompetence of those officers in charge of you, I would’ve had you here a lot sooner.”

You reminded yourself of your training as you felt your breathing quicken and the panic that flared in your gut. You got your emotions under control and made sure you presented yourself as if his words had no impact on you.

Hemlock nodded as he saw your reaction, or lack thereof. It only proved he was right to take this course of action with you. You were no mere specimen. “Do you know that little display of yours in the hallway caused several concussions and a few dislocated shoulders?”

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to find one here.” You snapped.

Hemlock simply gave you a cool smile, “You misunderstand. I know that was only a taste of what you are capable of and it’s that strength of yours will prove most useful to my operation here.”

The panic came back again. “Useful?” You repeated, determined to keep the quiver out your voice as he started to circle you. You kept your eyes firmly towards the door as you felt him pause by your side.

“You see, I have great plans for you.” Hemlock whispered into your ear.

His breath was cold against your skin, and you were fighting against every instinct that was telling you to flinch away.

“Why am I here?” Still managing to keep your voice steady.

“You are here because I wish to study you.” Hemlock let out a deep sigh as he breathed in the scent of your hair. “You are here because having someone with your talents will be most beneficial.” He stroked his hand down the back of your skull. “You are here because you are going to join my operatives. With you being a part of them, nothing will stop me from achieving my goal.”

You had to jerk away from him then, “No.” You breathed in horror. “Never.”

“The very fact that you think you will have a choice shows how little you understand your situation.”

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in around and you could feel your knees growing weak, but you pushed yourself to stay upright. “You can’t break me. Your fellow Imperials tried already.” But the low, mocking chuckle you got in reply deeply unnerved you.

“You will find my methods to be more… sophisticated than what you’re used to.”

You felt his gloved hand trace down your clothed back, following the exact pattern of the scars left behind after everything you endured on Christophsis. You forced down the bile that rose in your throat.

Hemlock traced the pinprick scar on your neck, enjoying the way you attempted to flinch away from him before your stubborn strength kicked in and you stood still. You would provide him a most stimulating challenge that he was yet to meet, even the other prisoner hadn’t resisted as much as he expected. “I focus far more on the mind than those imbeciles on Christophsis. Perhaps if they’d used their interrogation droid more wisely, I would’ve been reacquainted with you sooner.”

Your entire body went numb. His vile words were far more threatening than any of the Imperials and troopers you’d come across.

“They didn’t understand what they had in their possession, but I do. Your mind will become mine. You will be one of my operatives.”

“And if I don’t?” You would sooner die than join him and you knew he had to know that too.

Hemlock came round to stand in front of you once more. “Then your time here will be short-lived. But I hope we can avoid such an unpleasant outcome. After all, Omega’s fate could depend on it.”

You lunged forward but the chain tugged you backwards immediately.

“Take her vitals and return to the vault.” Hemlock ordered as he placed his hands behind his back and walked out.

It took everything in you to keep standing as Emerie drew a sample of your blood.

Emerie avoided eye contact with you. That entire interaction had her struggling not to bolt. She just kept her sights firmly on the vial as she stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“Emerie.”

Emerie paused but kept her back to you.

“Look out for her, okay? She might not need it but it’s looking like I can’t be the one to be there for her if she does.”

Emerie nearly turned to face you, but she stopped herself and said nothing as she exited.

Only when Emerie left did you collapse to your knees on the stone ground and let the emotions leave you in frantic, terrified breaths.

You allowed yourself a moment to lose yourself in your situation before you regained your composure.

You adjusted yourself into as comfortable as a position you could manage.

You closed your eyes and allowed the Force to wrap you in its calming and secure presence.

He wouldn’t break you.

No matter what he thought he could do.

He wouldn’t get to you.

You would get out of here somehow.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @notgonnaedit , @allthingsimagines @nightmonkeysstuff, @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #friends to lovers #star wars #angst

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esther-dot · 9 months ago

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The poor thing in the road, it's eyes still glistening 17k by @eruherdiriel

Hooves are not what wake Jon in the middle of the night, pulse racing and hands clammy with sweat. It’s fire. Orange and angry, eating away at houses and shops and shacks in his dream. Even now that he is awake, Jon can still taste burnt flesh on the back of his tongue. The wounds from his brother’s mutiny and Drogon’s gouge, frozen only hours ago, burn white. War leaves everyone broken, Jon perhaps most of all. Sansa finds even peacetime requires letting go.

the sky is big enough 15k @hopetorun

The war is over, except all the ways it isn't, and Sansa isn't alone, except for all the ways she is.

O Voyagers 28k WIP

Jon’s eyes are fixed on the floor at her feet. To a stranger it might look like respect, the proper deference shown to a queen, but Sansa knows better. If he wished to look at her, he would. He has not forgiven me, she thinks, her heart a stone in her chest. He likely never will.

daughters and queens bleed alone 4k

They crown Sansa with a rope of twisted steel, two wolves arching across her brow in a delicate embrace. No stags upon this crown—no branching antlers, no gleaming manes, no blooming hearts of southern roses. No fire, no blood, no graceful sweep of scales and wings, or the silver bite of dragon’s teeth. The Queen in the North stands before them, and Winter has come.

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Jon left King's Landing and never returned. Sansa became Queen in the North and weathered the storm. When they see each other again, there is not much left to say.

stories to tell our children 1k by @jonsaslove

“You said that Old Nan used to tell you stories so scary you couldn’t sleep for a fortnight! That was a baby story!” Duncan nods, agreeing with his sister. Her father interrupts. “Well, Old Nan was a very good story teller. She could tell you a story about fairies and princesses and make it seem terrifying with just her voice and a menacing stare.” Or; Jon and Sansa tell their children bedtime stories.

Where the Shadow Ends 245k (I'm sure y'all have read this one, but it is THE post canon fic, so it must be mentioned!)

For years Sansa has ruled the North, wisely, justly, capably--and utterly alone. Everyone tells her she needs an heir; all she wants is a family. But after everything she’s suffered, there’s only one man she trusts won’t use her for her claim. Only one she trusts with her body. Unfortunately, she trusts him in no other way--especially not with her heart. For years Jon’s hidden in the far north, choosing solitude over the people he loves, choosing self-exile as punishment rather than atoning. But then Tormund tires of his moping and drags Jon back to Winterfell where guilt and consequences and a tempting offer await him. accompanying gifset by @thewindsofwolves

We Set Fire in the Snow 7k by @framboise-fics

Three days was long enough for moments of tenderness, for soft touches and gentle murmurs alongside the violence of their passions, but it was not long enough to burn this fire between them down to ashes, to put out the flames, he thinks ruefully, bitterly, achingly, as he rides out and looks back at her standing on the ramparts as he remembered her, her hair a curtain of fire, her body rigid like she has been sculpted from ice. He will take that fire back North, to warm him through frigid nights, he thinks; to burn inside of him so that he shall never find any peace; and let her feel the same, he thinks, let him not be alone in his agony. If he loved her he should surely wish her peace, so does he love her? Or is this how a wicked man loves, painfully, cruelly, selfishly? Is he her punishment just as she is his?

An Affair in Stages 13k by @justadram (not tagged post canon but works as one which is interesting as the first chapter was posted way back in 2013!)

It begins with a proposition, but where it will end neither of them knows.

Please Speak Well of Me 17k

A queen isn’t supposed to cry. So she’s learned to turn her tears to frost before they ever reach her cheeks. “Sansa,” Jon says to her, and the ice within shifts, weakens. Brackish water begins to leak through the cracks. She can barely remember how to speak, and it doesn’t come as much of a comfort that he seems to be fumbling as well. Over the foolish moons, Sansa had imagined that, if the time came that Jon ever returned, the mere sight of him would unwind the tangles of conflict inside of her. There would be something in his eyes, something she had forgotten about his face, something that would remind her what was real and what was not between the two of them.

breathe me in, taste my words 2k

Much to her surprise, marriage has only made Sansa less of a lady, not more. She doesn’t mind terribly, but maybe that’s because Jon doesn’t either.

Stone by Stone 8k

Finally, her words came in a rush. “But I seem to have built my own wall. Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me. And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

fire in exile 2k by @princemills

The thoughts of the others he’d lost were too unpleasant, and the thoughts of those who survived made him want to keel over like a babe, knowing he’d left them behind. It wasn’t really a choice, but it didn’t stop him from pondering his choices. From King in the North to bending the knee to Daenerys to stabbing her with a dagger beneath white ash borne from burning flesh, he’s never made the correct choice, and now he’ll burn in hell for it. Or, as Westeros deems hell: he’ll freeze his balls off at the wall, or Tormund will cut them off. Whichever comes first. - a quick study of jon and the choices he makes in exile.

watch me run right back to you 16k

Three times Jon and Sansa almost kiss…and three times they actually do.

come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) 36k @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

AU after 8.05. After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow chooses to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-crowned Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa. (Featuring widow!Sansa, contrite!Jon, and a cute baby.)

Homecoming 31k @theoriginalsuki

Halfway to him, she broke composure; she flew at him, an arrow from a bow, and he opened to receive her, lifting her, clutching her to the soft, neglected animal of his body. Sansa has one request of Jon, and then he can leave her forever: help her to find a husband.

Gifsets: Jonsa and Their Three Children by @kingbuckley , Together We Build Our Empire by @aureliacamargo, Future Jonsa with Children by @amandapeetshusband, In Which They Live a Long and Happy Life Together by @baelerion, To See Him Once Again by @theirwinterfell, Maybe We'll Meet Again by @thatmansplayinggalaga

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #post canon #dot fic list

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abouttomakeanameformyself · 1 month ago

Text

Someone New Chapter one: Someone gets hurt

When you go through a breakup, you find yourself drinking your feelings and looking for a place to stay. You stumble into a seedy bar and meet a certain bartender.

Pt 1/10

1/5 🌶️ (references to sex but it's mostly implied)

This is part of a series I will be updating regularly. Tropes include friends to lovers, friends with benefits, roommates, and GrumpyxSunshine. In flirty bartender Remy we trust.

Rejection hung around like smoke in the air as your doc martens thudded down Royal street. The stench and sounds of Bourbon was overestimating to the senses, but that's quarter for you. You've been avoiding the French Quarter since you started at Tulane University five years ago, but most New Orleans natives did. It was loud, crowded, and busy with sad drunk tourists. Given the fact you were sad and mildly buzzed it was actually the perfect hideaway.

The bounds between Decatur, Canal, Esplanade and Rampart were a personal fucky-Bucky free zone. Plus, open container laws. Since you were old enough to drink now, it seemed appropriate that you could drown your sorrows in $15 of watery sugar booze. The hangover was going to be horrific but horrific enough to jump scare you out of your current while also equally horrific predicament.

You have been with your boyfriend James since the end of your sophomore year, when a booze infused hookup became a relationship. You lasted through the rest of undergrad, and into Grad school. Until today. Nothing says happy midterms like walking in on your boyfriend of 3 years being straddled by your best friend.

You passed pissed a long time ago. Right now it was settled into a mix of numbness and shock. The list of things to do was subtly growing.

Move out

Get a better apartment

Get really hot.

Try not to cry in public.

It sucked. The whole situation fucking sucked. It was still better than forgiving Yelena and possibly seeing her fuck James a second time. It wasn't bad enough that she needed your boyfriend, she had to ruin your rent controlled historic apartment in the lower Garden District. Assholes.

It was worth mentioning that Kate would at one point or another need to know that her girlfriend was bopping your boyfriend. Kate was 18 months younger than you and felt like a baby sister. Forget your own relationship, Yelena was gonna hurt pookie. That was unforgivable. You didn't want to tell her, but the whole predicament of the fact that she deserved to know.

The little voice in the back of your head, that sounded an awful lot like James was telling you that you were projecting your feelings on Kate. The other little voice in the back of your head that sounded like your mother told you that you needed to do right regardless of how it relates to you. Both of those voices combined didn't really help you make a decision at all, it was just starting to give you a migraine.

What started as a walk long walk around campus turned into a streetcar ride to mid-city. Or maybe Magazine street. About 3 hours ago that turned into roaming aimlessly through crowds of tourists. People at the Boot on campus could easily put two or two together, or even worse you could run into the ex-boyfriend and the ex-boyfriend rider. It was all too fresh. You needed a fucking drink, and hiding in hand grenades and voodoo daiquiris with the degenerate middle aged tourists was comforting. Their midlife crisis drinking was a blanket over your own crisis drinking.

The Quarter was jam packed. Especially for a Wednesday. The stickiness of the summer evenings have given way to a warm breeze, with the occasional chill. Louisiana never got cold the way it did back in South Dakota. You had the right wardrobe choice for going on a shame stroll around the city. A pair of mom and James's old Net’s shirt was casual and comfortable.

It was one of your favorite articles of clothing actually. It was soft from years of washing, and hung on your frame perfectly. It didn't matter that you didn't know what a Net even was, you loved the shirt. Well fuck him. He's not getting it back. Sure, holding a shirt hostage was kinda petty, but sliding your dick into your girlfriend's best friend was also petty.

The vibrating in your pocket was the tell tale sign that people were worried. Or that shirt man was trying to crawl out of the hole he buried himself in. Which happens to be your friend's hol- that wasn't important. Half of you wanted to throw your phone on the ground and mentally unplug, but the reality of the situation was you were gonna be too drunk to take the streetcar efficiently. You needed your phone to Uber home.

The tourists seemed to be thinning out the further you moved down Royal Street. All the excitement was a block over Bourbon usually, but it was nice from the crowds you witnessed earlier. Less out of towners destroying the historic district with alcohol containers and public indecency. The fewer people around made the Quarter a little bit nicer. Suddenly the tourists made sense. It was pretty when it was quiet.

The galleries and boutique bars separated Royal from Bourbon’s roll of party spots. It was a completely different vibe. While you didn't hold much artistic ability, it was grounding to look at the masterpieces through the windows. There was something so comforting about the way it made you think about something else. It was a quick reprieve from the memory of your boyfriend's face as he was quite literally balls to the wall inside your long term roommate.

Your wandering around the Quarter turned into a lazy stroll, and the sky turned dim. The weight of the day wore you out and all you wanted was a pick me up. You've heard that Erin Rose apparently had an amazing Irish coffee but that seemed like the opposite of where you wanted to be. At this point, you had a shitty margarita from a crap bar on Bourbon. Just enough to be tipsy but that wasn't enough, you needed to hear colors and see sounds.

You were tired, but a familiar aroma brought you back to life with a single sniff.

Now, Tulane taught you a lot in the several years you've been in attendance. The graduate programs at Tulane were coveted spots. Yet, not everything was an academic experience. Your ability to sniff out the perfect espresso martini was not because of education it was more of a passion based skill. It was a life line. The wave of coffee and vodka and serotonin was far more intoxicating than Sir bottom shelf tequila.

The glittering lights of the bar across the street caught your eye. Glowing yellow lights in a cursive script spelled out Lebeau’s. It seemed like a local place, with the smooth lighting and moody exterior. Carefully, one doc in front of the other you stepped in.

The walls were this beautiful authentic exposed brick. The bar was sleek, with smooth jazz playing low in the background. Dark violet accents framed the dreary wood that the majority of the furniture consisted of. It was almost empty, except for one man in the corner of the bar, playing solitaire by himself on one of the cocktail tables by the door. No bartender though.

Your brows furrowed, and you stepped in. The quiet was inviting. Whoever was in charge was probably just giving a run to the storage room or something.

“I would consider another sponsorship, ‘Cher. ‘Pecially around these parts.” A crisp voice broke out in the quaint silence, absolutely ruining the vibes.

When you walked into the bar, you came with the intention of drinking. While you knew you weren't alone, you didn't really care about the card guy. People go to bars to sit alone and decompress, not to bug random civilians. Only weirdos jump into random conversations with no warning. When the smoky Cajun drawl, it took you a solid 30 seconds to realize that you weren't hallucinating.

Your head slowly turned to face the stranger, only this time there was no maneuvering of cards. He was staring at you. Red on black eyes flicking down your frame quickly. Only, it didn't feel like he was checking you out. It felt more analytical than it was pervy, which was comforting. Well, it was comforting in the way that you weren't being objectified but he was still fucking staring at you, which was an issue. “Pardon?”

“Your shirt, Nets. Not popular in these parts. Ya’ from out of town, Chérie? New Jersey? I think the Nets are Jersey.” He was leaning on his elbows, forearms resting against the wooden tabletop.

He had one of those scruffy patches of stubble on his face, that was still clearly facial hair but looked well maintained. Clearly he was aiming for a rugged appearance, and he wasn't far off. He wasn't unattractive actually. He was quite attractive. You couldn't dwell on it much, because the second you had the realization that he wasn't completely unfortunate looking, James's face flashed in your mind.

“First of all buddy, not New Jersey. The Nets are from Brooklyn. Second of all, no, I'm not from New Jersey. Third of all, don't you dare tee-shirt shame me. It's not even my damn shirt. Also, the shirt is not that important, I just want a fucking drink.” You said in response, brows furrowing in frustration. There has to be a bartender at this place, who has a fully stocked empty bar and isn't behind the count-

The stranger smirked as the realization was dawning on you that he was the Bartender. Well fuck me today I guess. He stood from his seat, grinning at your clear embarrassment, the cheeky bastard. He had one of those faces that always looked like he was sort of smirking. Great. Just what you needed! You just snapped at the bartender and he clearly found it funny.

Suddenly a lobotomy seemed more desirable than a martini. When you have that change up maybe professional help should be seeked.

“If you're wearing another man's shirt, I’d say that he has bad taste. Looking at you though, I can tell that's not true. Remy Labeau is a lot of things but he's not a liar.” Oh lovely. Flirty bartender. How horribly fucking cliche. “Now what can get you to drink, Beau?”

At least he was smart enough to offer you a drink.

“Espresso martini. It's my ex's shirt, it just happens to be what I wore today.” You were still standing in the middle of the room. It was silly, but earlier you halted your movements to have a full conversation about your shirt for some reason. With a few steps, you slipped into a seat at the bar.

Exhaustion hits your body like a ton of bricks the second you find yourself in a position of rest. You've been up since about 7, went to bed at 3, had two midterm- god you've been so preoccupied with the fact James Buchanan shit-for-brains Barnes sucked that you completely forgot that you just finished this semester midterms. To look on the bright side at least he had the decency to get caught cheating after your tests. Fucking asshole. You haven't stopped moving since you ran out of your bedroom hours earlier.

“If it's an ex, then he has bad taste if he gave something up that looks as good as you.” Remy replied, his smirk faltering slightly. The statement sounded flirtatious, but something behind his eyes felt disconnected somehow. Okay, so what if a generic hot bartender had layers? Half of the job requirement is being nice to sad drunk people.

Remy carefully slid over that treasured martini, just as you requested. “Personally, I think you'd be a lot kinder to me if you laid off the caffeine ‘Chérie. Ya’ seem jumpy. So, this ex. Is it a new ex? Or?”

It seemed like curiosity. Harmless. The first instinct you had was to go for the throat and tell him it was none of his business. He was just trying to do his job. Make the drunk girl at the bar feel supported so you get a tip yadda yadda. You sighed, tilting your head back and bracing yourself for the information you were about to dump on this poor man. “Actually, very new. About-” You paused to pull your phone out of your pocket for the time, grimacing at the 17 missed calls and the 43 unread messages. “I would say around 8 hours ago. Give or take.”

Remy’s brows rose, as his dark eyes analyzed your face. He clearly didn't believe you. “You broke up with him? Remy thinks that he wouldn't let one like you get away that easily, beau.”

The flattery was kind in theory. It was this poor blue-collar worker's attempt to make you feel better. That is not what happened, of course. It was like the healing bruise was prodded. So instead of actually responding with words, like a normal fucking person, the tears were immediate.

Remy was less prepared for the random tests than you were. The tall, broad man was startled, his eyes widening in shock. His body ducked down, searching for napkins or tissues or something. The random and very ugly crying had the annoying hot bartender in a state of panic. He seemed so smooth up until now, but clearly you caught him off guard. “Fuck m- I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“It's totally fine.” You mumbled through the tears. Your mental stability hit the wall. It was going to happen eventually. Emotional and physical exhaustion was playing at your mental stability. You needed to get a hold of yourself. “It's not your fault. It's not my fault either. I came back from an exam to find him underneath my best friend. In my bed. I'm-”

You trailed off, taking a moment to control your breathing, before deciding to reinsert your foot in your mouth. Not like you'll ever see him again. “It's just very new. I felt like I had this perfect set up, now I'm back at square one. I had this perfect relationship and I loved my apartment. I have put years into a friendship with this person. I lost a rent controlled apartment in the garden district. An affordable apartment in that neighborhood is about as common as a golden fucking unicorn.”

Remy listened to your words, standing back up to his full height. His dark eyes searched your face. His smirk faded into a relaxed expression. The only indicator that he was actually thinking was his eyebrows, which were furrowed together. He looked quite analytical actually.

“That's a lot actually. I'm sorry.” His words were so genuine. The expected move from the hot bartender handbook would be Remy telling you that you were too good for James, or that he didn't know what he was missing. That never came. Just an apology and an acknowledgement that it was hard news. There was no fake pity in his voice. It was honestly incredibly refreshing.

“I know I need to find someplace to stay. The friend was my roommate, and she's on the lease. I'll have to go get my stuff but I'm hoping to go when they are in work or class. It's basically impossible to completely move out without one of them showing up. I guess I'll have to go in shifts or leave some stuff behind.” Your attention shifted back to your ignored martini, and you were thankful for the excuse to silence yourself by bringing the glass to your lips.

“No bébé. You won't.” He said, his intense thought process breaking as easily as a single strand of hair.

He caught you off guard as you dabbed your eye with a drink napkin. “Wh- I'm sorry. What do you mean I won't?”

“You won't be alone to get your things, beautiful. You won't need multiple trips. I'm taking you to get your things in the morning. You're gonna stay with me. My friend Scott just moved into an apartment with his girlfriend Jean. I have an extra room. You're going to be my new roommate.”

#x men the animated series #gambit #remy lebeau x reader #mcu #x men #gambit smut #its been so long #don't bite me I'm rusty #sunshine remy my beloved #the reader is quite literally just a girl #im sorry for the bucky slander he would never

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misswynters · 3 months ago

Text

Dragon Twins Series (Teaser)

pair: aegon targaryen x dayne! fem!reader x aerion targaryen

synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. aegon is the heir to the iron throne. whereas aerion is more of the adventurous and rebellious type.

warnings: none

a/n: it’s easier for me to write it as a fem reader whoever i can always change it.

series masterlist

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep Loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders. House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house she would soon be entangled with. She dismounted gracefully, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and adjusted her violet cloak, a gift from her family marking her status as a noble of Dorne.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

As the evening progressed, you found yourself seated between the two princes at the high table. Conversations flowed around them, a mix of courtly pleasantries and subtle intrigues. Aegon spoke of politics and the future of the realm, his tone serious and contemplative. Aerion, on the other hand, entertained her with tales of his escapades and dreams of adventure, his laughter ringing through the hall like a melody.

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva

#aegon targaryen x reader #aerion targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #house dayne #house targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon smut #dragon twins series

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nahoney22 · 5 months ago

Note

And for my second request with a f reader… this is quite confrontational but I can’t help but be sucked into the rugged rampart simp brigade! 😶

Perhaps reader has to escort Rampart somewhere but distractions are needed so can I please have the classic ‘kissing to escape enemies’ trope? OF COURSE THIS IS A WILD BUT PLS I LOVE U 😆 delete if not appropriate! Thanks!

-JJ ✌🏻

Tell No-One 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Grand Admiral Rampart X Female Reader

word count: 1.2k

prompts:

none

Tasked to infiltrate a base to gather information, yourself and Rampart find yourselves in a rather precarious and close circumstances.

warnings: Safe for Work, Kissing to Escape Enemies Trope, Heated Kiss, Awkward Moments, Bickering, Unsure Feelings.

authors note: oh I love a wild request and bearded Rampart makes me purrr. Enjoy.

It was safe to say that the boys were a little apprehensive when it came to you and Rampart going to a remote base by yourselves. But, they trusted you and knew you were capable enough. As well as knowing that Rampart was pretty useless, weak and pathetic to do anything if he tried to attack you.

He had been dragged around by you and the Batch for a while now since he was valuable for Echo and Rex to gather Imperial information, and the lads weren’t discreet when it came to mocking him and his silly screaming from Tantis. You also couldn’t help but join in on the teasing.

The base where the two of you were headed was located by a bustling market in the heart of a city. There was a cacophony of noise and movement with Vendors shouting about their wares, and citizens hurried about their business, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding between you and the insufferable Admiral. The plan was simple: get him to lead you to the hidden Imperial base. The execution, however, was proving far more complicated.

“You’re sure this is the right way?” Rampart sneered, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“Seeing as these were the coordinates you gave, I hope so,” you snarl back. “Just keep moving,” you hiss, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Imperial patrols. “We can’t afford to draw attention.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who seems to enjoy playing hero,” he retorted, his tone as sharp as a vibroblade.

Before you could respond, you noticed a squad of stormtroopers—the ‘replacements’ of Clones—pushing through the crowd, clearly searching for something or someone. Your heart pounded in your chest, and without thinking, you grabbed Rampart’s arm and pulled him into a narrow alleyway.

“What are you—” Rampart began, but you cut him off.

“If you want to live, just shut up and follow my lead,” you snapped.

But Rampart didn’t shush his whining. “Get your filthy hands off—”

As the stormtroopers drew closer, you took a deep breath and made a split-second decision. You grabbed Rampart by the collar of his new civvies (since his prison attire was rather eye-catching) and pulled him close, your lips crashing against his. His initial shock was obvious, his body tensing against yours as you cut him off from his incessant whining.

For a moment, you thought he might push you away, but then he responded, his lips moving against yours with surprising intensity.

You were confused, your eyes widening during the kiss, but you didn’t pull back as your heart fluttered wildly. Then, you gasped against his lips as you felt his hand slide up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss that had your eyes fluttering shut.

Everything seemed to blur, the noise of the market fading into the background as well as the plan in action. And despite your initial dismay, you found yourself lost in the sensation.

His lips were surprisingly warm and firm, with a soft, insistent pressure that made your head spin. You were keenly aware of every little detail: the scratch of his beard against your skin, the faint taste of spice on his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours. Your hands moved from his collar up to his shoulders, noticing they were quite toned.

You couldn't help but lose yourself further when his free hand pressed against the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His kiss was commanding, almost desperate, and you couldn't help but respond in kind. You tilted your head, letting his lips slot perfectly between yours. A small, involuntary sound escaped your throat as he pressed you against the wall, the rough surface scraping your back, a shiver running down your spine.

You moved your hand to his cheek, fingers tracing across his scratchy beard that you couldn’t help but admit suited him quite well. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and the heat of his body against yours was almost overwhelming. You felt the strength in his arms, the rough callouses of his fingers, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it pounded against your chest.

The intensity of the moment, the unexpected passion, left you breathless and dizzy.

Finally, you broke away, gasping for air, and stared into his eyes, both of you breathing heavily. The stormtroopers passed by without a second glance, but the tension between you was almost unbearable.

“That was... effective,” Rampart said, his voice awkward and unsteady. His usual arrogance was tempered by a hint of something else—something vulnerable.

“Just a distraction,” you said quickly, trying to steady your racing heart. “Nothing more.”

Rampart’s gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and you noticed, looking back at his and meeting his gaze. “Just a distraction…” he repeated quietly, and you swore you almost swooned as he cupped your jaw and leaned in. “Nothing more…” Stars, it was like he was drunk.

Your gut wanted to have another kiss; another foolish and irresponsible kiss. Yet your brain was screaming at you to be sensible and do the right thing. And fortunately, your brain won.

“Stop.” You moved your head back, his hand dropping from your face, and he read your expression before he nodded.

“Of course,” he said, his tone regaining some of its usual sharpness. “Let’s keep moving.”

As you navigated through the market, the atmosphere between you remained charged with unspoken tension. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss—the way his lips had felt against yours, the heat of his body pressed close to yours. It felt as though you had committed seventeen war crimes and a thousand sins all at the same time.

You found a small, abandoned building on the outskirts of the market to take refuge in as the two of you took too long to infiltrate the base and decide to get started at first light.The silence however, was thick and awkward as you set up a makeshift camp. But it’s Rampart who broke the silence.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost unsure.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling before running a hand through your hair. “It was the only thing I could think of to blend in and avoid getting caught. That’s it.”

Rampart was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. “Edmon,” he said, almost too quietly to hear. “My name is Edmon.”

You frowned and looked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. “Edmon,” you repeated softly. “Alright. I’d tell you mine but you already know it.” You reply, a small smile on your lips.

It’s weird to see him smile but just like his beard, he suited it.

“And,” he continued, his gaze now fixed on the ground, “let’s agree not to mention the kiss again. It was... a moment of desperation.”

You nodded. “Agreed.”

As you settled down for the night, the memory of the kiss lingered in your mind. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was some kind of connection, however fleeting. You just couldn’t let the others know. Ever.

Sighing softly, you roll onto your side as you close your eyes, knowing that the mission just got a whole lot complicated. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one who felt it.

Masterlist:

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot

#grand admiral rampart #admiral rampart #admiral rampart x reader #admiral rampart x you #nahoney22 writes #rampart x reader #the bad batch

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