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@toastyrobos
Another fun and cute couple :D

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Edit: sadly i was informed that the ref was an AI image i feel so cheated what the fuck man i hate it here o(-(
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faint of heart.
summary: post-mission, you land yourself in the hospital with a concussion. in your daze, you plead for someone to tell damian so he won't tear the hospital down to find you, for him not to worry. only problem? you and damian are supposed to hate each other.
pairing: damian wayne x fem! reader
The faint beeping, the low hushed voicesβit's an annoying, distant commotion disrupting your sleep, enough to rouse you from the heavy, dark haze enveloping your senses. Your heavy lids peel open, blinking slowly as your vision adjusts to the sight of the hospital ceiling.
The striking scent of disinfectant hits you, and your nose instinctively wrinkles. A low rasp escapes your throat, just enough to stop the whispers.
"βShe's awake!"
Itβs a familiar voice, you think. Dick. It wasnβt the voice you wanted to hear, no matter how reassuringβnot when the one you're familiar with holds a much more begrudging tone.
"I need..." Who? There's an urgent pressure building up in the back of your mind, an important request hanging right off your tongue. "To tell him."
"Hey-hey, you're okay. Just a little disoriented." Dickβs face comes into view, his messy locks covering the fuzzy halo of light above you. βYou have a minor concussion, but no fatal injuries.β
"No. You need to tell him." Your face contorts, straining with visible effort to rack your brain for a name, trying to fight past the thick fog. "I am okay. It's him you have to worry about."
The corner of Dick's mouth tugs down briefly, confusion lighting his features. "Who?"
There's that damn question you're trying to answer. The fluorescent lights are much too oppressiveβoverly bright and sharp. You needed a shadow, someone who would know what to do when your teeth grinds together in discomfort.
"...Damian." You mutter. Ah, there it is. You don't notice the abrupt confused glances exchanged around the room, of how Damian's name was the last thing they expected to hear.
Your lids fall shut not a second after your job was done, body screaming to rest. At least you won't have to deal with Damian tearing down the hospital to find you.
"They despise each other." Tim reminds for the fifth time.
"I am aware.β Dick mutters, thumb scrolling through his contacts list. "What did I say about hacking my contacts list, Best Robin?"
"You didn't say anything about that specifically." Tim's foot taps impatiently against the tiles. βAnd why'd you think that contact name was meant for the demon spawnβnever mind, that's besides the point right now. She's clearly disoriented.β
βI just have a gut feeling.β Pressing the phone against his ear, Dick runs a habitual tug over his locks whenever another situation pops up that he has to solve. Being in this line of work is bound to give him early greys.
"A gut feeling." Tim huffs, shaking his head in disagreement. βWe better hope this doesnβt start another scuffle. Wouldn't want to toss another bone to the press. 'Blood son of Bruce Wayne attacks hospital patient'. I can already smell the print.β
Dick's frown sticks as he eyes you through the open door frame, laying in a hospital bedβunconscious ever since your first waking. The dots aren't connecting, not when the soot from the explosion still singes the edges of his jacket and his mind is all fuzzed up from a lack of sleep and endless documents. Still, the world had a knack for surprising him whenever he least expects it.
The ringing on the other side stops after two seconds.
"Damian." Dick addresses, re-running his fingers habitually through his hair. "There's been a situation at the hospital..."
Here's the thing, Dick knows Damian. He understands the trait of impatience passed along their family, which is why he's already summarised the facts down to twenty seconds. The call abruptly ends at ten.
"Huh." Dick mutters, brows pressed together as he looks back to Tim. "He hung up."
Dick had barely made it beyond the mention of your name and their current location. Your voice echoes in reminder as he stares at his screen, the duration of the call staring back at him. It's him you have to worry about.
Damian's anything but subtle. Of his frigid attitudeβhis blatant dislike towards you. Putting the two of you in the same room, it was guaranteed disaster. Yet, Damian was the first name out of your mouth.
"Told you it doesn't make sense." Tim shrugs. "Logically, he's the last person we should've called."
"We'll see." Dick answers, head leaning back to rest against the wall. "He's surprised us both plenty of times."
"Yeah, by attempting murder on us both. Your point being?"
Dick restrains a much-needed sigh.
Barely fifteen minutes later, Dick stirs at a loud commotion beyond the walls of the waiting room. His neck is cramping from this unergonomic chair, and his feet are nerved with pins-and-needles. Tim's ears are plugged in with wired earphones, jammed high with Green Day as he concentrates on his tablet, opting to work through his insomnia instead.
Thereβs a slamming of doors, rapid footsteps thundering against the tiles, coming closer and closer. Dick barely has time to nudge Timβs shoulder before the hallway door slams open.
Damian comes through like a storm, movements overly controlled in the way a person would seize up before a fight. As if he's expected the worst, and is prepared to battle whatever he might encounterβin a hospital.
βWhere is she?β Damian commands, voice echoing off the tiles.
Staring back at Dick are frantic, darkened eyes pinpointed on locked targetsβsearching for his answer. It's so abruptly intense, almost inhuman, that his mind stutters in regaining its grasp on reality. He hasn't seen that look in a long time, not since their first meeting where one wrong answer would make Damian your enemy.
βSheβs asleep.β Tim answers for him, one side of his earphones still plugged in throughout this entire mess. βShe needs the rest.β
Damian disregards his words, brushing past him. βI have to see her.β
Dick mustβve subconsciously shifted his glance to your room, towards the shine of the metal carvings of 78 placed in the centre. Damian's gaze follows, and he doesnβt spare a second of hesitation in heading towards the door.
Dick catches Damian's forearm right before he enters, and the glare he receives? Murderous. As if everything in his way of getting to you has become mere obstacles he has to overcome.
"Grayson." Damian's voice is all wrong, shortened and taut, syllables used to convey only what was needed. "Unhand. Me."
"Dames." Dick tries to make sense of this adverse reaction, but nothing from that brief phone call provided him any clues. "She's still unconscious, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be in thereβin this state."
Damian's chest heaves once, but the storm in his gaze has only darkened. "She called for me, didn't she?"
Dick blinks once. "Well, yes butβ"
"Then I will be there for her."
Damian disarms his grip with an alarming quickness, and Dick doesn't even have time to recalibrate his mistake before he's slipped through.
Dick's palm splays onto the door right before it closes, pushing it fully open with a warning ready on his lips to not disturb your recovery, only to find thatβDamian hadnβt moved from his spot since he entered. Dick feels Tim pressing into his side, curious eyes flickering at the situation, but Dick is too busy watching to care about how they're practically hanging onto the doorframe.
When Damian catches sight of you, his entire frame freezes into place. He's watching you, and Dick's watching himβand he sees it then, and realises what an idiot he's been.
Damian's entire expression immediately shifts. Loosening in relief at the sight of you mostly unharmed, at the sound of a calm beeping from the heart monitor. It's frighteningly out of place, the tenderness softening his wrath-like panic mere seconds ago. He moves almost mindlessly towards your side, forgetting the presence of his two brothers gawking at him from outside the doorframe, peering into what must be a fever dream.
"Idiot." Damian mutters, but it sounds more like a prayer answered.
"We've got it all wrong, didn't we?" Tim mutters, staring at the sight in awe.
"Told you." Dick whispers, his lips tilting upwards into a smile. "Gut feeling."
You stir not long after Damianβs arrival, as if your body is already attuned to his presence. Lids peering half-open, you squint at the shadow towering over you. For a moment, there was nothing but held breaths and a long pause as you familiarise yourself with forest green.
Then, the most miraculous thing happens. You smile, completely unaware of the turmoil and confusion you've caused.
βDami.β
Dick decides today is an absolute possibility for the world to end.
βYou're an idiot.β Damian hurls the practiced insult out like heβs been running it off in his mind for the past couple of minutes, but his weakened voice holds no bite in comparison to his overwhelming relief.
Under the sheets, Dick swears he sees his brotherβs fingers intertwining with yours.
βI told them to tell you not to rush.β You mutter hazily, still readjusting to reality. βAt leastβI think I did.β
Damian sucks in a breath, low, undistinguishable mutters whispered. Your lip twitches up slightly, which could only mean another insult you're brushing off.
βYet, youβre still here.β You tease. βFretting.β
The thin line of his lips creases deeper. βI do not fret.β
βArguing with the patient?β Your body shifts, tilting closer to Damian.
βI prefer arguing with you unharmed.β Damian mocks lowly. Dick sees the stiffness bleed out of Damianβs expression the longer his gaze is locked onto you, as if materialising your talkative state in his mind.
"I am unharmed."
"A mild concussion, a hospital bed." Damian's frown deepens. "At least attempt at a reasonable lie."
Damianβs body tilts just slightly, lowering to match yours, and the light catches your features once more. Your lips tilt downward for a single second, the sting of the fluorescent lights irritating your vision.
In a sudden movement without words exchanged, Damian adjusts. His shoulders block the light over your face once more, covering you with his shadow.
You can't help the grin that escapes. "That is what I was thinking about, before I passed out again."
Damian's expression contorts, as if his mind can't decide on hyper-focusing on the details of you falling unconscious again or on what you were imagining about him. You decide for him.
"The lights were all in my face andβ" You suck in a breath. "I kept trying to remember your name. I tried so hard to find it, this person who knows that I hate hospital lights without me needing to say it. Then, your name just slipped out."
βOh.β Tim murmurs from afar.
βOh.β Dick agrees.
βDonβt do that again.β Damian mutters in the quiet buzzing of the machines.
βSave people?β You tease.
βPut yourself in harmβs way.β Damian pushes back.
"Hey, what about the two of us?" Tim calls out, and Dick's quick to shove his elbow into the idiot's stomach. "Owβwhat? We never got this treatment and all the fretting."
Damian's gaze shifts at the disruption, the softness creased into the corners of his eyes fading into annoyance. "Leave us."
"Woah." Tim holds a hand to his abdomen, still feigning hurt. "That's just cold."
Damian's eyes narrow further, and Dick's reminded instantly of how the press is probably waiting outside the hospital for any hints of a scuffle. It's already news enough for not two, but three members now of the Wayne family rushing to the emergency ward. Grabbing Tim by his hoodie, Dick tugs roughly. "We'll leave you two be toβcatch up. No attempted murders, if the reminder's still needed."
It had slipped out so easily, the old warning, but it feels strangely out of place with this tender atmosphere. Dick's most definitely intruding on something he's not meant to see, but questions can be reserved for later.
Eyeing Damian one last time, he sees the way his brother's vision is trained on youβand he knows his job is done here.
You snort, a sheepish expression caught between your teeth, watching for confirmation as the door shuts with a click. When you have a shred of confidence that they're at least out of hearing range, you turn your attention back to Damian, unable to hide your grin.
βYou know theyβre probably freaking out right now?β You mutter conspiratorially. "They'll never buy into us hating each other anymore."
βThat is not my concern.β Damian frowns. βYou are.β
βThat might be the sweetest thing you've ever told me.β You coo. "I matter enough for you to deal with family dinner interrogations now."
Damian's stare remains unimpressed. βI will smother you with pillows.β
βThatβs unhygienicβand cruel.β
His tongue clicks softly as his hand comes up behind the pillow, instinctively propping them up higher as you adjust your neck, an action completely unrelated to his threat. βOnly you would be concerned of bacteria before attempted murder.β
βYeah, Iβm a piece of work." You murmur distractedly, choosing to gaze intently at him instead. His hair's fallen into different directions, all un-Damian-like. "Thatβs why you rushed all the way here, didnβt you?β
He stiffens, hand shifting away from the pillow, but still hovering near you. He's been holding back from the moment he's entered this damned institution, and his mind is ticking, battling between his habit to be the steady one, and the crushing need to hold you.
After a moment, the inner workings of his mind switching between his logic and his emotions must've finally faltered, as his fingers delicately cup the back of your head. He doesn't move you towards him, choosing to come over to you instead, his body hovering halfway over yours before finally letting his weight topple gently over you.
His arms wrap around you gently as his comforting weight falls over you, and the first thing you feel is how quickly his heart is racing. He needs this, you realise, as he settles with his arms wrapped protectively around you. To be physically present as your shield, even when there is no danger present.
Damian is affected. More than he seems from his tightly concealed expressions, obvious now that you can physically feel the effects on his body. Slight twitches of his fingers that appear when he's still afraid, waiting for the noise in his head to calm down.
βI didn't want you to worry.β You mumble into his embrace.
βImpossible.β Damian huffs softly, tracing his other hand over your wrist, feeling the soft thudding of your pulse. βYou're my problem to handle."
You feel a soft, imperceptible kiss pressed onto your temple, and your eyes flutter shut. This is the side of Damian only you get to have, the proof of its existence ghosting your skin. You have to force your eyes open, the lure of sleep already trying to dig its claws into youβand that's something you absolutely refuse. You don't want to miss this rare side to Damian, all soft and disarmed.
"You scared me." Damian admits after a long pause, barely audible.
You blink, surprised. "You're never scared."
"For you, I am." Damian confesses, his grip tightening slightly. "You tend to render me painfully exposed to weakness."
"Weakness, huh? Still haven't got rid of me though." You hum lightly.
"No." His tone is decisive, stern. "If I haven't decided that I've had enough of you, the world doesn't get to."
"I'm starting to think threats are your love language, Dami." Your hand lifts, struggling twice before you manage to run your fingers through his hair, resting its weight over the nape of his neck.
His body shudders slightly, and his nose buries itself deeper into the crook of your neck. If anyone were to look into hospital room 78, they'll encounter the strange sight of Damian Wayne embracing you as if you were his lifeline. No one would believe them, but the truth remains.
He was yours. Completely yours.
He was also definitely sentenced to a long interrogation the moment he steps out of this room.
"Who was the perpetrator?" He mutters after a moment.
"Damian." You're stuck deciding between a snort and a sigh. "It was an accident."
"You don't know that." He huffs. "I sincerely doubt in your ability to detect an attempted murder while you're unconscious."
Your grip tugs at his hair playfully, a pretty effective way of shutting him up. "Argue with me later."
You feel his lashes flutter against your skin, processing. "...Fine."
He breathes you in, his heart rate finally starting to calm the longer he hears your voice so close to his eardrums, your touch grounding his senses.
"It was torture." His voice is too still, stating the facts without the emotion that's driven behind them. "The drive here. I kept envisioning the worst, that you had called out for meβand if I didn't make it in timeβ"
His grip tightens with his words, and you're pressed into his chest, feeling what his words refuse to convey, starting to thud again below his ribcage.
"Damian." Your hand traces reassuringly over his neck. "I'm right here."
He listens, his rampant thoughts slowing in pace at the reminder. "I had never been so terrified." His voice remains level, his attempt at reinforcing his reality over his fears. "To receive a call from Grayson, hearing your nameβI couldn't let myself think of anything else other than finding you."
"You did." You mutter reassuringly. "You found me. I'm safe."
He lets out a low breath, a slow exhale at the sound of those two words he'd been needing to hear. "Sometimes, I think you've ruined me." He murmurs in truth.
You think he's unused to this. Letting down his walls, experiencing the blatant terror for another person's life that is completely out of his controlβthat he's left with nothing but pieces to readjust, to compromise. By letting you into his life and allowing you to be his person, he has abandoned his need to preserve himself, to be above fear.
"You're not escaping the argument." He notes down distractedly, trying to regain his ground despite being wrapped into you. "I still have my reservations."
"Anything you need, Dami." You reassure softly.
"Anything?" He murmurs, head shifting out of the crook of your neck to face you fully.
His green eyes are narrowed with intent now, gazing at you with unhidden intensity.
You swallow, nodding slightly.
When he leans in, the palm of his hand slips from the back of your head to over your jaw. His thumb traces over your lips softly as he leans in, replacing the ghost of his touch with his own mouth. It's tender, a separate language to convey the emotions he hasn't learnt to spell out, on what you do to him. Yet, with the way he's handling you, nose brushing against yours, in a way so precious it makes your heart acheβyou think that impending argument's worth it.
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(Transformers: Prime) Ratchet x Reader" Snowy Rescue
You're away on a business trip, hoping to get some distance from the craziness that is life on Team Prime -and a certain medic- but things don't go as planned.
Word Count:Β 1,960
Warnings: Snowy weather, car incident (nothing graphic)
You leaned forward in your car, squinting as if that would help you see through the haze of the white-out blizzard. The harsh, wintery scene on the other side of your windshield worsened by the minute.
In driving conditions that were so far below ideal, memories of a sunny day in Jasper played across your mind like a slideshow. Youβd think it was some tropical vacation spot with the way you exhaled in a sigh that was just short of wistful as you struggled to keep the car in your lane. The nearest snowbank that lined the route seemed to be calling out to your vehicle, making it sway this way and that as the tires slid.
If you didnβt know any better, youβd suspect this rental car to be an undercover Decepticon trying to foil your travel plans back to the hotel.
Perhaps it hadnβt been the best idea venturing out at this hour in the evening, but you couldnβt dismiss the desperate need of comfort food any longer- to hole yourself up in the hotel room with it and watch some TV.
It was all a distraction. The truth was, youβd only been away from home for a few days on business, but the homesickness reigned when the sun went down. It was no longer kept at bay with tasks to keep you busy during daylight hours.
You missed the kids; Jack, Miko, and Raf. You missed Optimus and Bee. Bulkhead and Arcee. Ratchet...Β Heck, even Fowler crossed your mind as you went down the list of faces you wanted to be surrounded by again.
When youβd first told the group that youβd be out of town for work, Optimus voiced his concern and suggested that a bot accompany you on the trip. You politely refused, telling him he should have all servos on deck in case of something major. There was rising suspicion about impending Decepticon activity.
Truth be told, a small part of you was wondering what it would be like to experience a few normal days without Autobots or Decepticons or the fate of the world at stake. Just a couple days of peace and quiet.
It didnβt come as easy to you as you imagined. The quiet in your hotel room each evening was deafening.
Which is why you would do just about anything to not be faced with it right away- including driving around in the middle of a blizzard with dinner bagged up and buckled into the passenger seat.
βI think thereβs a turn here,β you said aloud to no one in particular. βOh. Ohβ¦No.βΒ
It all happened so quickly. The tires began to slide as you took the curve just a tad too fast, and the steering wheel resisted your attempts to correct.Β
βNo, no, no!β You shrieked as the entire vehicle skidded to the right and sailed straight into the ditch.
You sat there in shock for a moment, the entire world tilted to the right from where you sat in the slope of the ditch. βOh, great,β you grumbled. βThis is just great. Iβm still miles from the hotel.β
Silence.
Sigh.
Your forehead rested against the steering wheel, and the only thing you could see was his faceplate. Those stunning bright blue optics that at times you swore could see right through you. He hadnβt said much after the announcement of your business trip, especially after you insisted that no autobots accompany you. Heβd simply blinked at you, the gears turning behind them, and returned to his work with no comment or even a huff at the very least.Β
All this happened simply because youβd wanted some time away from the life and death scenarios...Well, not so much.Β
In reality, what you sought was just a few days without hearing the gruff voice belonging to that exasperated, fussing, scornful, selfless, painstakingly diligent, kind, and most loyal bot.
A humorless laugh escaped you in the car. What had you expected? His insistence on your protection? Ratchet was never one to utter protest if it meant he got to stay behind.
With the car running, you climbed out to better assess the situation. The headlights illuminated the chunks of snow that fell from the sky. You peered at the fender from beneath the hood of your coat. Fortunately, there didnβt appear to be any real damage. It was just a matter of getting the vehicle pulled out. You hurried back into the car, shuddering, and took out your phone to search for the nearest tow company.
Just when you were about to dial the number, a piercing ring sounded from your device as the screen lit up. Rafβs name was displayed, and you couldnβt help but smile as you answered.
βHi Raf, whatβs up?β
βHi,β he greeted on the other end. βThe bots are on a mission, so itβs a bit quiet around here. I just wanted to see how your trip was going!β
Your smile softened. What a sweetheart he was. And youβd be lying if hearing a familiar voice wasnβt exactly what you needed right there and then.
βOh, itβs going,β you replied, peering out the window. βI, uhβ¦ Iβm having a bit of car trouble.β
βCar trouble?β
βYeah, Iβm actually stuck in a ditch.β
βYouβre stuck in a ditch?β Raf repeated loudly in disbelief, and you heard another familiar, gruff voice in the background.
βShe what?β
You covered the phone mic to hide your stifled chuckle as something metal clanged to the floor on the other end. Once the commotion had settled, Raf spoke again.
βAre you okay? Youβre not hurt at all, are you?β
βIβm fine,β you said. βA little worried about the rental car. It doesnβt look bad, but itβs hard to say how bad it is until it gets towed out. Iβm out in the middle of nowhere.β
There was muffled talk, like Raf was repeating what you said to another. Then, there was that low voice from before again, saying,
βTell her Iβm coming.β
Then, you heard Rafβs voice again, clearly. βHey, you still there? Ratchet says heβs coming to help.β
βItβs fine, really. Thereβs no need. Iβm about to call a tow truck,β you rambled, panicking at the thought of the autobot medic leaving his post to deal with something so silly when you could handle it yourself.
You could picture Raf shaking his head. Once Ratchet made up his mind, thereβd be no swaying it. βItβs too late, heβs locked onto your location and is activating the ground bridge now.β
A bright blue swirling light cut through the snowy darkness, growing in size until the orange and white autobot stepped through it, and then it closed behind him. His piercing optics shone beautifully as they immediately found you. You could hear the soft tic tic tic of snow clumps hitting the metal surface of Ratchetβs form.
You heaved a sigh and climbed out of the tilted vehicle once more, and Ratchet knelt down, one of his servos cupping around you as if to catch you if you stumbled.
βAre you sure youβre alright?β he asked.
You nodded. βYes, Iβm fine. I wasnβt injured.β
He gave a sigh of relief before looking at the car. βYouβre fortunate.β
βI suppose it couldβve been worse,β you conceded with a shiver.
Ratchet reached over to carefully lift the vehicle from the snowy ditch and set it back down on the road with ease. You approached it, avoiding his gaze as relief washed over you to see that it was all in one piece. His optics were narrowed as they surveyed the path ahead, and he scoffed.
βItβs no wonder this happened. These driving conditions are extremely hazardous.β
You gave a small shrug as if to say, βit is what it is,β and Ratchet eyed you. βI only have a few miles to go.β
βNot in this you donβt,β he replied, and you looked up at him in confusion. βCome back to Base for the night.β Before you could voice any protests, he continued, βIβll groundbridge you back in the morning for work.β
Standing there, eyes traveling the length of the icy road before you as it faded away into the white out, Ratchetβs offer was beyond appealing. Your heart warmed at the notion of crashing on the Base couch for the night- as you had many times before. After this ordeal, you were exhausted, and falling asleep to the soft glow of the television on the loft with the sounds of keys typing and the clinking of test tubes in the background was what you wanted more than anything.
βOkay,β you agreed finally, and Ratchet lifted a servo to communicate with Raf- a request for a groundbridge. You got into the car and shut the door, lips pressed firmly together in a line as the luminous vortex appeared once more, and Ratchet stepped aside to let you through first.
You carefully drove through and found yourself smiling again as you found yourself in the middle of the Base. Ratchetβs heavy footsteps approached behind, and you got out of the car.
βThank you.β
He merely gave a nod before heading back to his station, and Raf came running over.
βHey! You okay?β
βYeah, everythingβs good. I guess Iβm staying here tonight.β
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Later that evening, after feasting on your boxed dinner, you were all settled in comfy clothes, warm, safe, and sprawled out on the couch with a quilt covering your form. The other autobots had returned, and all the kids were taken home by their guardians. Even though the television was on, your full attention was on Ratchet in your peripheral. Aside from his usual grumbling about the others making noise before, he hadnβt said much. Despite having said, βthank youβ when first returning to Base, something was amiss. It felt like there was more to be said, but what? You werenβt sure.
You turned, finally, to observe him without reservation. Resting your chin on the back of the couch, eyes following his enormous form as he moved between the computer and a table of experiments.
Ratchet returned to the computer and began typing again. Without looking up, he cleared his throat quietly and asked, βsomething on your mind?β
βThank you for coming to make sure I was alright, for getting my car out of the ditch, andβ¦for bringing me back here.β
He hummed in acknowledgement, and then paused, servo halted mid-type. βThings weren't the same.β
βHm?β You shifted on the couch to tuck your knees under.Β
βWhile you were away,β he clarified, his optics meeting your gaze. βThis place wasnβt the same. Iβm aware that you wished to take some time away, and I respected that. No matter how concerned I was that you were going unprotected.β
You smiled at his confession, and decided it was time to add your own. βI thought I wanted a few βnormalβ days away from all this, butβ¦ as it turns out, it doesnβt sit well with meβ
The corner of his mouth curled in a rare, roguish half-smile before shifting to grab a tool from his work bench. You were unable to take your eyes off him, wondering if youβd catch that expression on him again anytime soon.
The two of you talked for a little longer. You inquired about his project, and Ratchet in turn asked about your business trip (aside from the ditch incident, that is). Before long, your eyelids were growing heavy, and it was nearly impossible to remain sitting up. You curled up in that nest of blankets on the couch and breathed a sigh. Tomorrow would be another day of meetings and reports, but for now, youβd enjoy being back home for the night. The beeps and bwoops of autobot tech while Ratchet worked lulled you into a comfortable sleepβ¦
Stuff from the past couple months.

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Second round of The Mandalorian and Grogu and loved it even more. I just adore these twoπ₯°π₯Ή.
Had the urge to sketch out Din and his son. Might do more. Who knows.
I may process thoughts and emotions differently, but that does not mean I feel any less than you.
The safest place I've ever known is in your arms
Falling Through the Snow - Captain Rex x Reader
Life Day Fic Exchange 2025 @cloneficgiftexchange
Written for: @captainpains
ββββββ ββοΈβ ββββββββοΈβ ββββββββοΈβ ββββββ
The first time you see snow, youβre coming in for a crash landing.
βItβs not a crash,β Rex says over the com, voice steady in your ear even as the LAAT shudders around you. βItβs a controlled descent.β
βInto a mountain,β you shout back, gripping the safety straps so hard your fingers ache. βThatβs the definition of a crash, Captain!β
βMaβam, if we were crashing, youβd be screaming.β
βI am screaming!β
The gunship punches through a low bank of clouds, and suddenly the viewport is full of white.
Youβve seen it in holos, sure. Pretty documentaries about Alderaanβs winter festivals, weather reports about seasonal storms, all that polite, curated data you catalog for the GAR. But this is different. The snow here isnβt picturesque; itβs driven sideways by savage wind, clawing at the transparisteel like it wants in.
Below, the planetβs surface is all jagged rock and ice, a maze of ridges buried under deceptively fluffy powder. You catch flashes of dark metal in the distanceβseparatist installations, half-hidden in the storm.
βLZ coming up,β the pilot announces. βHang on, boys.β
Rexβs hand steadies you by your shoulder, βYouβre not supposed to be on the front line,β he says quietly, as if the rest of the troopers could hear him over the roar of the wind. βSoon as we touch down, you head for the relay station and stay behind cover. Understood?β
You tilt your head toward him. His helmet is still on, blue jaig eyes glaring down the length of the gunship, but you can picture the matching furrow in his real brow. Youβve worked with him long enough to know his expressions by the way his shoulders set.
βI am the relay station,β you remind him. βThey pulled me out of the heated communications hub because of this planetβs ion interference.β
He huffs, just audible over the comm. βDidnβt say I didnβt want you here. Just donβt want you shot here.β
A beat of warmth flares under your ribs, inconvenient and familiar. Youβve had a quiet crush on Captain Rex since your first deployment with the 501st: heβd handed you a blaster and said so seriously you felt it in your bones, βStay close, and only fire if you have to, maβamβ. Heβs all duty and discipline hiding a secret tenderness below, and youβre only human.
You smile anyway, because joking is easier. βAw, Captain. Careful or Iβll start thinking you care.β
His hand squeezes your shoulder just once before he pulls it back. βStay behind cover, maβam.β
The gunship bucks as it hits a cross current, then slams down hard enough your brain rattles in your skull. The doors yawns open to a wall of biting wind and sharp, stinging flakes. The cold punches straight through your thermal gear.
You step into snow for the first time and immediately sink halfway up your calves.
βOh,β You gasp. βOh no. Nope. No thank you. I hate this.β
Jesse laughs through the squad channel. βWelcome to Orto Plutonia, civvie.β
βMove!β Rexβs command cuts through the chatter. βForm up! Kix, with the liaison.β
You fall in beside Kix, head ducked against the gale. Your portable relay case bumps against your hip with every step, heavy with encrypted datapads, signal boosters, and enough power to punch a comm line through this cursed atmosphere. The medic half drags you through the snow to get to the connection point.Β
The squad advances in a staggered formation, the contrast of their blacks peaking beneath their armor the only thing truly distinguishing them from the snow, blue markings half-obscured. Ahead, through veils of windblown flakes, you can just make out the dark outline of the Republic field stationβa low cluster of prefabs half-buried in drifts.
βStaticβs brutal,β Fives grumbles. βCanβt see for shitβ
βLanguage,β Kix says mildly.
Fives sighed, rolling his eyes. βCanβt see anything.β
Rex lifts a hand, and the line halts. βEyes up,β he says. βDroids could be using the storm for cover. Scanner?β
Jesse checks his wrist. βReadings are fuzzy, sir. Getting some movement, but the snowβs bouncing back the signal like crazy.β
You tap your comms headset. βExternal comms are fully jammed,β you report. βLocalized squad channelβs stable. Once we get to the station, I can set up a directional beam and punch through to orbit.β
βCopy,β Rex says. βLetβs make it there in one piece.β
Kix hand is in the middle of your back as you trudge the last hundred meters through knee-deep powder, half guiding you along, half ready to push you down into the snow if need be. You're cursing your entire department for not issuing civilians proper snow gear the whole way.
By the time General Skywalkerβs voice finally crackles faintly through the static of your datapad, you canβt feel your toes.
ββme in Rex. Report.β
You patch the signal to the squadβs internal channel. βYouβre live, Captain.β
Rex straightens, snow sliding off his pauldrons. βWeβve reached the outpost, sir. Setting up the communications relay now. Awaiting orders.β
You sink to your knees beside the prefabβs half-buried antenna, pry open a frozen access panel, and start coaxing the ancient tech to life. Fingers numb, nose dripping, you fall into the familiar rhythm of troubleshooting: reroute power, bypass damaged relays, swear under your breath at budget constraints.
βYouβre shivering,β Kix observes, crouching beside you to offer what little shelter he can from the whipping winds.
βIβm fine,β you say through chattering teeth. βHow people voluntarily visit winter resorts I do not understand.β
He chuckles. βAt least the snowβs pretty.β
You glance up. The storm has eased just enough that you can see the skyβa pale, washed-out gray, flakes tumbling like static on a broken holo. Pretty isnβt the word youβd use right now, but maybe when your extremities arenβt aching from the cold...
The comm array hums to life, a thread of stable power cutting through the chaotic interference. You grin, teeth clicking. βWeβre up,β you announce. βCaptain, you have a clear channel to the Resolute.β
Anakinβs voice comes through stronger now. βGood work. Captain, your objective stands. Intelligence confirms a Separatist command outpost approximately four clicks east of your location. Minimal organic life, heavy droid presence. You are to infiltrate, secure any data, and sabotage their main relay. We believe theyβve been tracking fleet movements.β
Rex nods. βUnderstood. Weβll move out immediately.β
You open your mouth to protestβExcuse me, hi, the civilian would like to not walk several kilometers in an arctic warzoneβbut Anakin beats you to the punch.
βLieutenant,β he says, using the honorary field rank they slapped on you for paperworkβs sake. βYou are to accompany Captain Rex. The Sepritistsβ relay is likely using a variant of the same interference weβre struggling with. Weβll need your expertise to reverse it.β
Rexβs helmet swivels toward you. You canβt see his expression, but you can feel the disapproval from here.
You sigh. βUnderstood, General.β
The connection clicks off.
Rex strides over. βWith respect, maβLieutenant, I donβt like this.β
βNeither do I.β You push to your feet and rub your arms for warmth. βBut theyβre right. If those relays are the same design, a droidβs not going to have the intuition to compensate for the interference. I will.β
βI canβt guarantee your safety out there.β
You study the emotion in his postureβthe tight line of his shoulders, the slight dip of his head. Heβs scared. Not for the mission. For you.
βYouβve kept me alive this long, Captain.β you say softly. β I trust you.β
Heβs silent for a moment. Then he gives a sharp nod. βKix, youβre with us. Fives, Jesseβyouβre on outpost defense until we return. If weβre not back in three hoursββ
βWe come and drag your asses home,β Fives says cheerfully. βGot it, sir.β
The trek to the Separatist station is worse. The wind picks up again, driving fine powder into every gap in your gear. Snow finds its way down the back of your neck, under your collar, into your boots. At one point you slip on a patch of ice hidden beneath the drifts and faceplant into a cold so deep it extinguishes every thought in your skull.
A strong hand hauls you upright by the back of your jacket. βCareful,β Rex says, an edge in his voice. βYou okay?β
You spit out a mouthful of snow. βIβve decided I hate my career choices, Captain.β
βNoted, maβam.β
Still, he doesnβt let go of your jacket until the ground evens out.
The Separatist outpost rises out of the snow like an ugly metal tooth, dark plating rimed with frost. Turrets rotate lazily along the upper ramparts, sensors sweeping the whiteout.
βHeavy droid presence, they said,β Kix mutters. βThatβs a lot of hardware.β
Rex waves you both down behind a ridge. βWe need a way in, that keeps the bulk of their firepower pointed the wrong direction.β
You peer over the snowbank, squinting through wind and flurries. βTheir external relays are mounted high for line-of-sight transmission,β you say, more to yourself than anyone. βIf we can get close enough to hijack the signal routing, I might be able to overload the targeting feeds.β
Kix snorts. βIn Basic, please.β
βI can break their eyes,β you translate. βTurrets start seeing everything as friendly or enemy. Either way, theyβll stop tracking us properly.β
Rex considers that. βHow close?β
You double check and wince. βUh. Aboutβ¦ twenty meters from the primary array. On the exterior wallβ¦. in the open.β
He groans. βOf course.β
You press on. βBut if you can get me ten seconds, I can patch us as friendly and broadcast a false priority target on the other side of the compound. Theyβll concentrate their fire where we tell them.β
Kix glances between you and Rex. βSir, with all due respect, this is insane But itβs our best option.β
Rex lets out a tired sigh, some fog from his breath escaping from under the edge of his helmet. βFine. Weβll move along the ridge, use the snow for cover as long as we can, then make a run for the base of the tower. Once the turrets shift to fire on the false target, we go in under their blindspot. Kix, youβre taking her in, Iβll provide cover and try to draw their fire. Lieutenantββ
βI poke the circuit boards until they cooperate,β you say, trying for humor, but mostly just sounding pitiful and cold. βGot it.β
The run for the tower is a blur of white and adrenaline. Blasterfire erupts as soon as your boots hit open ground, red bolts slicing through the storm. Snow explodes around you. Rex returns fire in measured bursts, picking off perimeter droids with clinical precision. Kix hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward and yanking you out of the way of stray shots.
You slam into the base of the wall, heart in your throat, and drop to your knees in the snow. Ice bites through your pants instantly. You rip off the external panel, fingers shaking as you jack in your datapad and start ripping your way through the towerβs basic security.
βTen seconds,β Kix says over your shoulder, blaster barking. βNine.β
βIβm going as fast as I can!β you snap, breath pluming in front of you. You find the routing subroutine and force your own code into the mix, fingers flying on instinct. Input friendly IFF tags, spoof the turretβs target table, redirect priority lockoutβ
βThree,β Kix says, voice tight.
βGot it!β You slap the execute key. The tower hums as the turrets pivot in unison, barrels swinging to aim at a section of empty white plain on the far side of the base. Blasterfire erupts there instead, pounding furrows into untouched snow.
βMove!β Rex barks, vaulting over the fallen tree heβd been using for cover running straight towards the both of you.
ββββββ ββοΈβ ββββββββοΈβ ββββββββοΈβ ββββββ
The inside of the base was one disaster after the other, but by some miracle the three of you managed to secure the intel and make it out in one piece. If making it out happened to entail the three of you falling out a side door that dropped you down a tall embankmentβ¦ well, beggars canβt be choosersβ¦ You were dizzy and disoriented as you stood up the troopers taking control of the situation at hand.
βWeβre too exposed,β Kix says, steadying you.. βIf they send units topsideββ
βThey will,β Rex says. βWe need cover. Thereβthose rocks! Letβs move.β
The snow is deeper up here, piling in drifts against jagged stone outcroppings. You drag your legs through it, feeling each step like a weight. Your lungs burn with cold, every breath a knife.
Halfway to the rocks, something punches into your side.
You donβt understand whatβs happened at first. Thereβs just an impact, like someone shoving you hard, and then your legs donβt work right. The ground rushes up.
You hit the snow and roll, powder spraying across your face. The sky spins crazily overheadβgray, white, gray, the dark outline of Rexβs helmet looming into view.
βSniper!β Kix shouts. βTop of the base!β
Rex drops beside you, blasterfire all around. βTalk to me,β he says, urgently. βWhere are you hit?β
You blink up at him. Your side feels⦠hot, weirdly, beneath the cold. You try to move and a white-hot lance of pain drives through your torso.
You gasp. βOh. There. I guess.β
Kix slides in on your other side, hands already working, pulling away fabric, checking the wound. βJust a graze,β he says, more to Rex than to you. βPretty bad burn, but not life threatening. Lucky.β
βDefine lucky,β you manage, teeth clenched.
βLucky is βyouβre not dead,ββ Kix says. βTalk later. Hold still.β
Another bolt kicks up snow a meter away. Rex snarls something wordless and fires back, covering both you and Kix with his body.
βCaptainββ you protest, breathless. βYou canβtββ
βQuiet,β he snaps. βIβm busy keeping you alive.β
Kix slaps a bacta patch onto your side. The gel floods the wound with a burning-then-numbing heat that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. You hiss, fingers digging into the snow.
βThis will hold for now,β Kix says. βBut she shouldnβt be running around.β
βIβm right here,β you say weakly. βAnd I vote we have to do, to not get shot again.β
Rex glances up toward the base, then down at you. You canβt see his eyes, but you can feel them, assessing, calculating.
βIβll draw their fire,β he says abruptly.
Kix starts to protest, but Rex cuts him off with a wave of his hand
βSheβs your patient. You take her, move along the rocks and circle wide. If I keep them looking my wayββ
βThat is a terrible plan,β you cut in.
βLieutenant,β he says, and thereβs an edge in it youβve only heard a handful of times. βWith respect, this is not your call.β
You glare up at him, gut twisting. βI am not letting you play hero just so I can limp back to the gunship with a singed side and a ghost.β
His hand closes around your shoulder. βYouβre a civilian, Iβm a soldier. This is my job.β
βIβm a communications expert, not the third in command of a whole kriffing legion, Captain.β You said firmly, βYou are not-β
He flinches like you slapped him. βNo,β he says, quiet and fierce. βYouβre worth it.β
The storm seems to mute around you, just for a moment. Snowflakes hang in the air, suspended. Your breath catches.
βRex,β you say.
He squeezes your shoulder once, then releases you. βKix, move her now. Thatβs an order.β
Before either of you can argue again, he pushes up and charges down the slope, firing deliberately wild, making himself as obvious a target as possible.
βCaptain, you kriffingββ Kix swears, then slings your arm over his shoulders. βAll right, you heard him. We go.β
You stumble along the base of the rocks, using them as partial cover. Every few seconds, a bolt slams into the snow somewhere near Rexβs path. He returns fire, agile even in the drifts, drawing the shots away from you.
βStay with me,β Kix urges.
βIβm trying,β you grit out. The pain in your side is a hot, throbbing ache now, dulled by the bacta but still very present. Your legs feel like someone replaced your muscles with lead.
You round a bend in the rocks and lose sight of Rex.
βKixββ
βI know.β His jaw is tight behind his visor. βHeβll be fine. Manβs stubborn and made of pure durasteel.β
You make it another twenty meters before the world tilts alarmingly. Your vision tunnels, edges going dark.
βHey,β Kix says sharply. βStay awake.β
βWorking on it,β you say, but your voice sounds far away.
Then the snow under your boots gives way.
You donβt even have time to swear. One moment youβre leaning on Kix, the next the ground simplyβ¦ disappears, collapsing into a hidden crevasse beneath the drift.
You and Kix plunge into darkness in a flurry of powder and fractured ice.
When you hit, the impact knocks every particle of air out of your lungs. For a few seconds youβre not even sure if youβre alive or not.
βUgh,β Kix groans nearby. βI hate snow. I hate gravity. You okay Lieutenant?"
You cough, curl around your side, and wince as pain flares. βYeah,β you croak. βMore or less.β
Kix helmet light flickers when he taps it, casting a weak cone of illumination around you. Youβre in some kind of ice cave, the collapse having dropped you through a thin crust into a hollow space below. The ceiling glitters with frost, reflecting the light like a constellation.
βCould be worse,β Kix says. βCouldβve fallen onto rocks instead of snow.β
βIβd like to lodge a formal complaint with the universe regardless.β
His helmet HUD ticks as he checks his systems. βComms are spotty,β he says. βSomething in this ice is blocking the signal. Weβre not getting through to Rex from down here.β
Panic stabs through you, sharper than your wound. βWe have to get back up. He doesnβt know where we are, heβllβheβll thinkββ
βHeβll assume we got clear and prioritize his own survival,β Kix says firmly. βBecause heβs a professional soldier and not a suicidal maniac.β
You give him a look. βHe just ran into sniper fire for us.β
Kix hesitates. βOkay. Fair point. But he also wants you alive. So letβs focus on making that happen.β
You clench your teeth and nod. βWhatβs our exit strategy, medic?β
He sweeps his light around. The cave slopes downward in one direction, deeper into the ice, and upward in the other toward a jagged opening where you fell through. Snow continues to trickle down from the collapsed ceiling.
βUp is blocked,β he says. βWe try climbing, we risk bringing the rest of it down on our heads. Down might open up further along. Maybe a natural fissure we can use to get back to the surface.β
You eye the downward path. βInto the depths of an unknown ice cave on a hostile world with one of us injured and no idea where our captain is. Sounds fun.β
βYouβre picking up the clone sense of humor,β he says dryly. βCome on. Lean on me. Slow and steady.β
βIs this where you tell me to stay awake and talk about my feelings?β
βOnly if you start slurring your words,β Kix says. βThen itβs concussion protocol and feelings hour.β
You manage a faint laugh and let him guide you.
The cave narrows in places, forcing you both to squeeze sideways through tight gaps between walls of blue-white ice. His helmet light refracts strangely, making it feel like youβre walking inside a broken crystal. Your breath echoes, harsh and loud.
After what feels like an eternity of shuffling, slipping, and cursing, the tunnel widens into a small chamber. A crack in the ceiling lets in a faint, diffuse glow from the storm above. Snow filters down in lazy spirals, gentler here than in the open air.
Kix stops. βWeβll rest here,β he says. βYouβre running on fumes, and I need to check that wound.β
βIβm fine,β you lie.
He turns his helmet toward you. βYou said that before, and then you almost passed out and we fell into a planet. Sit.β
You sit. The snow here is shallow, more of a dusting on the stone floor than actual cover. Itβs still cold enough to seep through your gear, but the ice walls block the worst of the wind.
Kix fusses over your side, replacing the bacta patch, checking for additional damage. His hands are gentle, practiced.
βYouβre lucky,β he says again. βIf that bolt had been a centimeter lowerββ
βLucky is βIβm on Coruscant with a hot mug of caf and a stack of routine transmission logs,ββ you say. βThis isβ¦ less lucky.β
He snorts. βIf you wanted boring, you picked the wrong battalion.β
You bite back the urge to say you didnβt pick your assignment - even giving your current situation, you still wouldnβt trade your time with these boys for anything. You lean your head back against the ice wall and close your eyes for a second. The cave is quiet, the sort of deep, insulated quiet that makes your own heartbeat sound loud.
βKix?β you ask softly.
βYeah?β
βDo you think he made it? Rex?β
Kix pauses. When he speaks, his voice is steady. βIβve been patching that man up since I was assigned to the 501st. Takes more than a storm and a handful of clankers to put him down. Heβll be fine.β
You nod, a little of the tightness in your chest easing. βOkay.β
βYou care about him,β Kix adds, casual but not too casual.
You crack an eye open to glower at him. βYouβre reading too much into my desire for my commanding officer not to die.β
βSure,β he says. βAnd I only carry a medkit for the exercise.β
You huff. βI like him,β you admit grudgingly. βThere. You win. Happy?β
βEcstatic.β
βItβs stupid. Heβs a clone, Iβm civilian, there are regs and ethics boards and power dynamics and a lot of reasons why itβs a bad idea.β
βAlso the war,β Kix says. βDonβt forget the war.β
βYes, thank you, I was trying.β
He pats your shoulder. βFor what itβs worth? Iβve seen the way he looks at you when youβre not paying attention.β
You blink. βWhat does that mean?β
βMeans if we get out of this, and you two donβt at least talk, Iβm reassigning myself to a unit with less romantic tension.β
βYou canβt reassign yourself,β you point out.
βExactly. I deal with enough already, take something off my plate.β
Despite everything, a laugh escapes you. It echoes oddly in the cave, softer than the sound deserves.
Above, the faint glow shifts as the storm outside moves. Snowflakes drift down through the crack like bits of torn paper. One melts on your glove, tiny and intricate.
βDink.β He shoves a canteen into your hands. You sip gratefully, the water lukewarm but welcome.
A crackle of static pops in your ear. You jerk upright.
ββxβ¦ Kixβ¦ anyone copy?β
Your heart stutters. βRex?β
More static. Then, clearer: βKix, Lieutenant, respond. Where are you?β
βWe hear you!β Kix says, thumping his helmet. βWe fell into some kind of ice cave. Comms have been a mess. Sir, are you okay?β
βFine,β Rex says, which you werenβt sure if you believed him or not. βI lost visual on you when you went over that drift. My tracker shows your signals below surface level. Can you see sky?β
βSort of,β you say, craning your neck. βThereβs a crack above us. Light coming through, snow falling in. Weβre in aβ¦ pocket? Chamber? Not sure how far down.β
βStay put,β Rex orders. βIβll find you.β
βThatβs not efficient,β you protest. βWe can try to climb toward the crack, meet you halfway.β
βNegative,β he says, voice sharpening. βYouβre injured, Lieutenant. You already fell through once. Iβm not risking you on unstable terrain again.β
βYou canβt justββ
βYes, I can. Thatβs an order.β
Kix mutters, βTold you. Professional soldier, suicidal tendencies, one package.β
You ignore him. βFine,β you say to Rex. βBut you better be careful. I will be very annoyed if you die on the way here just to prove a point.β
The connection fuzzes for a second, and you think you hear a soft huff of laughter. βCopy that.β
The next fifteen minutes are an exercise in patience and anxiety. You sit there in that cold, glittering cave, watching the crack above, listening for any sign of movement. Kix hums under his breath, some wordless tune.
Then, faintly, over the wind: βGrenade out!β
You startle. βWhat wasββ
Thereβs a muffled thump, and Kix scrambles to shield you as snow pours in through the crack in a thick white waterfall.
βSir?β Kix calls.
A gloved hand appears over the edge of the fissure, fingers digging into the ice. A moment later, a helmet follows, blue jaig eyes peering down.
βFound you,β Rex says.
Relief hits you so hard itβs almost painful. βShow-off.β
He disappears from view, then reappears half a minute later, lowered on a hastily rigged line anchored to something above. He drops the last meter into the cave with easy grace and straightens up, scanning you both.
He looks like heβs been through the grinder. His armor is scorched in several places, a long black streak running down one side of his chestplate. Thereβs a new dent in his helmet. More snow clings to him than to the landscape.
βAre you hurt?β you demand, before he can say anything.
βNothing serious,β he says. βYou?β
Kix answers for you. βSheβll live. Blaster graze, patched and stable. Some bruising from the fall. I want to check her for a concussion, and Iβd like to get her into a medbay before the numbing meds wear off.β
Rex nods. βExtractionβs on the way. I signaled Fives and the others once I picked up your signal. Theyβre setting up a beacon for the gunships.β He looks up at the crack. βThink you can handle a climb?β
You eye the makeshift line. βWith help.β
He steps closer and offers his hand. βIβve got you,β he says quietly.
You take it.
With Rex holding you tightly to him as the small motorized pulling drags the two of you upward, the accent is less terrifying than it could be. Your side protests every movement, but the adrenaline dulls the edge. You emerge into blinding white, the storm having eased into a steady fall of lazy flakes. Rex pushes you out first once youβre at the top, and keeps his hands on your waist for a second longer than strictly necessary after helping you stand up.
βThanks,β you say, breath puffing in the cold.
He doesnβt let go immediately. βYou scared me,β he says, so soft you almost donβt hear it over the wind.
You swallow. βYou scared me first.β
Kix grunts as he hauls himself out behind you. βIf you two are going to start emotionally processing, can we do it somewhere warmer?β
βGunshipβs two minutes out,β Rex says, glancing toward a distant, blinking beacon where you can just make out the shapes of Fives and Echo in the snow. βWeβll be aboard and en route to the Resolute before your toes fall off, Lieutenant.β
βToo late,β you say. βI left my toes back at the first outpost.β
He huffs. βIβll requisition you new ones.β
βYou can do that?β
βProbably not,β he admits. βBut I can try.β
The wind shifts, sending a flurry of snow swirling around you. For a second, the world narrows to just the three of you in a haze of whiteβyour breath, their breath, the faint whine of approaching engines.
βRex,β you say, before you lose your nerve. βBack there. When you saidβ¦β
He stiffens. βI was trying to keep you moving,β he says quickly. βSoldiers say things in the field. I didnβt mean to make you uncomfortable.β
βUncomfortable?β You blink. βThatβs notβ no. I just wanted to know if youβ¦ meant it.β
He goes very still. If he werenβt so close, if you hadnβt spent months learning the language of his silences, you might miss the subtle shift.
βYeah,β he says at last. βI did.β
The engines are louder now, a gunship sweeping in low over the ridge. Snow blasts outward in a swirling halo as it hovers, ramp lowering.
You have seconds. Maybe less.
βWell, thatβsβ¦ good,β you say brilliantly.
He tilts his helmet, just a fraction. βGood?β
You can feel Kix hovering politely just out of earshot, pretending to take an urgent interest in his medkit.
You take a breath. The air is cold enough it stings your lungs.
βBecause Iβ¦β You trail off, then shake your head. βI like you too, Rex. A lot. Against my better judgment.β
Heβs very quiet.
The gunship settles, ramps fully down. Fives waves wildly from the open hatch. βHey! You done making snow angels? Weβve got places to be!β
You flush. βWe are notββ
Rex lifts a hand, cutting you off. Then he reaches up, pops the seals on his helmet, and pulls it off.
Youβve seen his face before, of course, but never quite like thisβflushed from the cold, eyes bright and intent. His gaze anchors you in place.
βRegulations say I shouldnβt fraternize,β he says. βRegulations say a lot of things.β Snowflakes cling to his lashes. βBut I almost lost you three times today, and Iβm starting to think I donβt care what regulations say, not when it comes to you.β
You stare at him. Your heart is doing something very undignified in your chest.
βItβs cold,β you say, because your brain has decided now is a good time to stop functioning. βYou shouldnβtβ your head willββ
He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him even through layers of gear. βPermission to do something reckless, Lieutenant?β
You swallow. βGranted.β
He kisses you.
Itβs not the desperate, dramatic holodrama clinch you once imagined. Itβs cautious at first, testing, his lips surprisingly warm against yours despite the freezing air. He tastes like recycled oxygen, cold, and something undeniably him. Snow dusts his cheek, melts against your skin.
For a second, neither of you move. The world holds its breath.
Then something inside you loosens, and you lean in, fingers curling in the plastoid edge of his collar. He responds immediately, hand sliding to the back of your head, steady but not demanding, like heβs afraid youβll bolt.
You donβt.
Your side twinges, reminding you that you are, in fact, injured and standing upright entirely too long. You break the kiss with a breathless laugh. βOw. Worth it, but ow.β
He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, eyes closed. βYou sure?β he asks quietly. βAbout this?β
βAbout kissing a handsome, infuriating clone captain in the middle of a snowstorm after nearly dying twice?β you say. βYeah. Iβm sure.β
A smile ghosts over his mouth. βGood to know.β
βKriffing finally,β Kix mutters behind you.
You and Rex both turn to glare at him. He just shrugs.
βGet her on the ship, Captain,β Kix says. βIf I have to keep doing field surgery on this iceball, Iβm putting in for hazard pay.β
Rex sets his helmet back on with a click and slides an arm around your waist, careful of your wound. βYou heard the medic,β he says. βLetβs go home.β
You let him guide you toward the gunship, snow swirling around your boots. The ramp is a brief incline of safety, the interior blessedly warm. Troopers crowd around, clapping you both on the shoulders, firing off questions and jokes.
You sink onto a bench as the ship lifts, feeling the ache in your side and the bone-deep exhaustion in your limbs. Rex takes the seat beside you, close enough that your thighs touch.
βHey,β you murmur, voice soft enough only he can hear through the local channel. βRex?β
βYeah?β
βNext time you decide to risk your life for me,β you say, βmaybe just remember I canβt replace you, okay?β
He looks at you, then down where your legs are pressed against each other.
βIβll try,β he says. βNo promises. But Iβll try.β
You nudge his shoulder with yours. βGuess Iβll just have to stick close and make sure you donβt do anything too heroic.β
βSomeoneβs got to keep me in line,β he agrees.
Outside, the snowstorm fades into cloud as the gunship climbs, leaving the frozen battlefield behind. Inside, surrounded by the hum of engines and the low murmur of familiar voices, you lean your head on Rexβs shoulder and let your eyes drift shut.
For the first time that day, you feel warm.
Happy Mandalorian and Grogu movie release dayπβ¨ππͺ
Saw the movie last night and I had such a blast. So much fun. Loved getting to see Din and Grogu again. Definitely gonna see it a few more times.
Itβs been nearly three years since I last drew some Mando artwork, so I figured with the movie coming up that I should remedy that by redrawing a piece from 2023. Really was fun getting to draw these two again. Might do a few more sketches at some point.

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New piece I'm quite proud of ^^ Always love how all the characters grow and change! <3
So freaking cool. β€οΈβπ₯β€οΈβπ₯β€οΈβπ₯β€οΈβπ₯π€©π€©
close up
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Eleventh Brother (The Crow!!!)
Heβs pretty freakin cool. All the lightsaber battles from Maul were incredible. Some of the best.
BUT THEY ACTUALLY LOOK SO GOOD IN EACH OTHER'S ARMOR ???????
Holy crap..they really do look good in each others armor. Tech in darker grey armor thoughβ¦.ππ
Happy Star Wars Day to the father and son duo ever!!! May the Force be with them forever and always β€οΈπ₯Ί
ππππ₯°

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double deku!!
+a bonus comic (manga spoilers)
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Two years ago today the last ever Bad Batch episode aired. I can not believe itβs been that long. Man how fast time flies.
Feels like just yesterday I was sitting at my desk watching the first ever episode of this show and falling even more in love with these characters. This show means so much to me and I will forever grateful that we got a season seven of clone wars so we could be introduced to this awesome batch of clones.
To celebrate, I thought Iβd do a little screenshot redraw of the leader of the batch, Hunter.
This show is my favorite Star Wars show, for a multitude of reasons, and it will always hold a special place in my heart.



