Clone Medic Kix X Reader - Blog Posts

My thoughts while reading went like this. 👇

Hot damn! 🥵

Seriously wow! 🥰

..wait.. wait I need a minute. 🫠

Okay.. Holy Fuck! 😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Shades of Dates - Helpless

Rating: 18+, Minors do NOT read

Pairing: Kix x fem!reader

Wordcount: 4,9k

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, porn with feelings and plot, cunninglingus, implied handjob, consensual somnophilia, piv (wrap it irl), slow sex, edging... Yeah I think that’s all. Tell me if I forgot anything

A/N: Part 7 of the Shades of Dates

The song he plays is 'Can’t fight this feeling' by REO Speedwagon also - this part is where I decide: canon go kriff yourself!!!

Summary: The last mission to Umbara took its toll on your men. So it’s no surprise that Kix wants to spend some time with you and asks you out for a dance... but the evening goes a little different then you expected.

In the dead of night the buzzing of your comm woke you…

and you knew something was wrong - very wrong. The sound wasn’t any different from usual, yet it scared you to the bones with each repetition of the vibration alarm. When you sat up and reached for the device, your hands were shaking and so was your voice as you answered the call wide awake. It was Kix. The soft blue glow of the holo let his debilitated appearance almost look like a ghost and you gasped as soon as you saw his face.

“Kix. Oh my gods! What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond immediately and that scared you even more. But you still waited till he found the courage to speak.

“I… I hear Rex crying in his room,” he answered weakly.

“Oh no! What happened?”

“He… he… General Krell… he ordered the….,” his voice almost broke but he tried to speak out loud what you needed to hear, “the ex-execution of… F-Fives, Jes-se and Case for insubordination.”

Your comm dropped from your hand. And an icy claw wrenched your heart, stole your breath. What did he just say? It was as if your mind stopped functioning and was working into overdrive at the same time. Kix wasn’t someone who would make such awful jokes… and yet if it wasn’t a joke… No. No… No!!!!

“Echo is with him right now.” Kix eventually continued.

Your hand was too weak to grab the comm again and so you let it just lay at your bed in front of you as you fought for… not only for words… for a sense… for a way out of this madness.

“Are they…?”

“No. They are in the brig right now. I… think we have… ten minutes left till we get the call.”

“Call? Kix. What call?”

He avoided your gaze and even through the blurred image of the holo you saw the watery coat in his eyes.

“Kix?”

“Me and the others… Krell… he enforced that we execute our brothers by our own hands.”

His head dropped and he hid his face from you behind his trembling hand, ashamed of what he was about to do. And you… you beseeched the Force for help. For sending a light of hope into the darkness of Umbara.

It’s been a week now since that call.

And the one from Rex later that night, broken yet proud, as he told you that his men… his brothers… refused to carry out the order and that they all were alive. The memory of the moment as your heart resumed beating, after being dead for the most painful hours of your life, still burning bright in your belly. When you engaged with them, you were aware of the risk that one day they won’t come back to you… and still the thought pains you more than anything ever has. Even more so if it would happen because of such unspeakable cruelty.

Now you are once more in the LZ on the GAR base, staring at the sky to watch the shuttles bring your men back home to you after over a month without them. Not even the entire Coruscant Guard would have kept you from coming here and bidding your lovers welcome. Clone after clone debarks the shuttles, battered armors in orange and blue. Those who are still able to walk, supporting and bracing each other. You’ve never seen so many repulsorlift litters that carry wounded troopers.

You never expected Marshal Commander Cody to rip off his helmet the moment his feet touch solid ground, walk over to you and pull you flush to his chest to give you the most desperate, bittersweet kiss you ever got, not even giving a shit about who’s watching.

You never felt more alive and yet caught in a dream as when your men walk down the gangway of their conveyance and you sprint over to them, jumping into Fives arms to cover him with kisses even though he hasn’t removed his helmet yet. He barely makes it off the ramp carrying you in his arms before you throw yourself at Hardcase to kiss and squeeze him. And then Jesse. You don’t stop kissing clone after clone, feeling them up through the cold and unyielding plastoid of their armors. Emotions overwhelming, you laugh and cry at the same time as you beg them to come with you, to let you guide them home. And they do the same for you as they follow, relief and anguish still fighting for supremacy.

Tonight, you don’t sleep. For hours you hold them in your arms one by one, run your palms up and down their backs and give them whatever they need.

You let their tears wet your skin and kiss the salty tasting grief from their flushed bodies. You gently rake your fingers through their hair and your nails over their scalps and let them twine their hands through your strands to hold on tight to you. You kiss and lick their taut muscles and lavish tenderness on every square inch of their battered bodies. You let them drink from your desire for dear life and you wrap your hands around their aching needs and caress them till they arch beneath you time and again, painting you with hot white ribbons of their despair, and moan their devotion for you into the night. You softly whisper in their ears how much you love them.

As the sky outside your apartment turns from black to purple you gently suck the last drops of their love out of them, draining your lovers of their dwindling energy, and let man after man fall asleep, soft and pliable, in your arms on a makeshift bed on the bedroom floor. Quiet and calm breaths eventually lulling you into sweet dreams.

Warmth surrounds you when you wake. Lying on your back, Jesse is snuggled up to you on your left, still fast asleep, his fingers interlaced with yours. On your right side, the sleeping Dogma is pressed up against you, his hand cupping your breast and his face buried in your hair with a blissful smile on his lips.

The tingling sensation between your legs is getting more and more intense with every second, lighting a fire deep in your lower belly. A pleasant wet heat, gentle and oh so soft, is winding you up tighter and tighter. As you eventually open your eyes with a sigh, already on the brink of a lazy orgasm, you are greeted with the sight of Kix who is settled between your thighs. His eyes are closed in rapture while he's leisurely licking and sucking your swollen clit, dragging the pleasure out of you, and he loses himself in the blithe sensation of your taste. You come on his tongue even before you are fully awake. The soft moan drawn from your throat, the first sound of the new day to gently wake your lovers. As you finally stop pulsing on the tip of his tongue, and he has consumed every drop of your liquid pleasure, Kix rests his head on your belly and looks up at you dreamily. His lips are coated with your juices and you watch as he licks them clean. Maker! He’s a sight.

"Good morning, cyare," he whispers. His voice still husky and laced with exhaustion. "I promised to wake you up like this and let you start your day relaxed."

Smiling, you lift your head a little and slide your free hand down to run your fingers over Kix' face. All sorrows forgotten he melts into your touch.

“Good morning, love.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Ask whatever you want,” you answer, still tired.

The soft words of your conversation are rousing the others from their sleep and you feel them stir around you. But your gaze is captured by Kix alone, all beautiful… and yours.

“Will you give me a date? I want to dance with you,” he says and gently bites on his lip. The glint in his eyes telling you that he’s asking for much more without saying it out loud.

“Hmmm. I love to go dancing with you too, Kix. Tonight?”

“I don’t think I can have time off today,” Kix expresses his regret. “But I’ll come over to you as soon as I’m free.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you chuckle and he smiles happily that he’ll have you to himself soon.

Jesse's hand sneaks up to gently push you back in your pillow, his thumb lazily caresses your cheek. He hums softly as if to agree with his brother. Your eyes roll back in your head by the time Kix shifts and drags his soft lips back down to your clit and starts licking you once more.

“Mh-hmmm. And now,” he breathes, “just lay back. You still need a few hours of rest.”

Two days… two long days until he is finally able to leave the kriffing med bay and duty behind and make his way to your place. Still clad in his armor Kix knocks at your door, a bottle of whine in one hand.

When you open for him he lets out a small sigh and could swear for a moment his soul leaves his body as his gaze falls on you. The blue neckholder dress conceals just enough of your shape to leave the hidden curves to his imagination. The flimsy chiffon softly hugs your hips, the edge of the skirt sitting halfway up your thighs at the front and hangs down to your calves at the back, revealing a lovely view on your legs. But it’s the smile that you wear, the visible happiness to have him here with you that’s leaving him stunned. And wanting…

“Su’cuy mesh’la” he greets you, stumbling into your apartment with a chuckle as you grab the cut-outs of his cuirass to yank him in. “So impetus.”

“Tell me how to not be impetuous when I have missed you so much!” you demand an explanation from him between hungry open-mouthed kisses and playful bites as he slowly but steadily pushes you backwacks with his body in your kitchen.

When your back hits the counter, he cages you with his arms, places the bottle on the countertop and rests his forehead against yours. “Now I got you where I want.”

Grinning, you bite on your lip. No one but Kix could be so passionate and soft at the same time, the graceful blend never failed to cause excited goosebumps on your skin and make your heart beat faster. It takes all of your willpower to wiggle out of his hold and get two stemmed glasses. He pouts playfully, but eventually uncorks the bottle and pours your drinks.

For a while you both sit down on your kitchen table and talk. There hasn’t been much time to do so when he and his brothers were at your place the last time. Not that anyone wanted to talk, the emotions too overwhelming, the scars too fresh. Yet now time has started to heal his wounds and your company is more soothing than any bacta could ever be. Kix watches your expressions shift while he talks, his voice laced with sadness. The way you light up when he tells you about himself and his brothers and the tears that well up in your eyes when he talks about the dead and injured brothers he had to leave behind on the battlefield. Your hand resting on his… Your warmth is giving him comfort that Rex and the others couldn’t provide as they all fought for their lives in the darkness. And for the first time since he was hatched, Kix understands what it means to have a place to call home and a soul to share it.

And it doesn’t necessarily have to be just you and him… he’s perfectly fine that you would be the same home for his brothers as well. As long as he can always come back into your arms… The thought of you being a perpetual part of his life, it makes him nervous. Maybe because it’s all that he wants.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he eventually says and lets his voice drop low. It doesn’t miss his desired effect.

He can practically see the shiver that’s rushing down your spine as he speaks. The excited shimmer in your eyes sends a warm surge down his fatigues, making his own excitement strain against the codpiece. He leans in to kiss you, his lips leaving a trail of feather-light kisses from your ear along the column of your neck and down to your shoulder. You moan softly as he coats your skin with moist patterns and he moans for you in return as your hands try to find their way under his armor.

“I thought you wanted to go dancing?” you whisper, his warm breath on your shoulder making it difficult for you to concentrate.

“Hmmmm,” he breathes into your skin, “but we don’t need to go out for that.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back from you and walks over to your sideboard where your hi-fi system is placed. For a few moments, he searches your playlists and finally decides for one with a smile. When he comes back to you, the first tunes of softrock hang in the air. He picked your favorite.

“Will you give me one dance, mesh’la?” he asks softly and places his hands on your waist to gently pull you closer to him even before you could answer.

“Yes, Kix. I’d love to give you a dance and even a second or a third if you want.”

“We’ll see.”

He raises one brow and gives you a cheeky smirk. Stars! One day you’ll lose your mind at how handsome the clones are. So soft in one second, so saucy in the other… yet always adorable. Smiling at him, you slide your hands up on him to wrap them around his neck. The gentle pressure of his hips against your belly makes you move backwards and you follow his steps as he lazily sways you back and forth to the music.

‘I can’t fight this feeling any longer - and yet I’m still afraid to let it flow…’

The apartment dissolves around you, sparkling lights of speeders from outside and the ambient light in your room blend as you dance. You can’t take your eyes off him, not for a second, and you lose yourself in those honeyed brown eyes that watch you so intently, lovingly.

‘You give my life direction - you make everything so clear…’

You’ve heard this song a million times by now, and yet it’s in this moment when Kix slowly dances with you through your apartment, guiding you, that the meaning of the lyrics get under your skin. They… He… It started out as friendship and you never imagined you would fall for each other and this gorgeous man became the center of your life. Nobody else there, just you and him, you rest your cheek against his cuirass, dancing slowly. Suddenly all you can sense is how your heart beats fast against his chest, how his large hands linger on your hips and that deep ache in your lower belly, the heat between your legs…

As the last tunes decay, Kix stops moving. And he doesn’t resume dancing when the next song starts playing, only stays rooted to the spot, his face tilted downwards to look at you. He’s making himself and you wait, restrain.

“You look so beautiful tonight, cyare,” he eventually says.

“Don’t you dare and lie to me Kix,” you chuckle, giving him the exact same answer as the last time. He softly laughs at that.

“I could never lie to you.”

Your bodies are still pressed close together as he lifts one hand and brushes his finger along your cheekbone. You turn your head but your eyes never leave his. That’s why you see his eyelids flutter, a quiet sigh falling from his lips, as you press a soft kiss in his palm. He slides his hand to the back of your head and bends down, his lips seeking out your slightly opened and ever so gently his tongue pleads for access. You let him in. Let him explore your velvet mouth… Your eyes fall shut…

With nimble fingers Kix unbuttons the clasp of your dress at the back of your neck, and then lets the top slowly glide down on your cleavage, baring your skin for him. Pausing for a moment to admire how goosebumps spread on you from the delicate friction he then brings both hands around your waist to your lower back and undoes the button-facing. Silently, your gown falls to the ground, leaving you in nothing but your lace-trimmed, light blue lingerie and the heels that you wear. With his fingers sliding over the white lace to palpate the delicate pattern, your cleavage heaves from your arousal. He takes his sweet time to explore your feminine curves and watches your buds pebble from his soft touch before he takes off your bra at last. The cool breeze, almost as gentle as his fingertip, is making you sigh. His chuckle rumbles so seductively above you that it’s lightning up every fiber in your body with desire.

You don’t breathe anymore when you see him lowering on his knees in front of you. His eyes darken at the sight of the moist patch of silk that’s covering your sex, and you almost swoon as he leans in to puff a warm breath on it before skimming the spot with his lips. You breathe his name in response, but he doesn’t go any further. Instead he’s moving his hands to hook his fingers under the waistband of your panty and then slowly pulls the delicate fabric over the curve of your hips and down along the swell of your thighs. He’s steadying you as he helps you out of your heels and brings your heated body flush to his still armored chest. You gasp at the cool touch of plastoid.

“Please, cyare, let me bed you.”

“Yes, Kix. Please.”

You smile.

Carefully, he scoops you up and carries you over to your bedroom, gently placing you on your bed. He’s seen you before, but when he looks down at you like that, spread out on the soft blanket, every curve of your lush body bare and glowing in the dim light of your bedroom, he’s sure you’re conjured from his wildest dreams only for him. Standing at the footboard, Kix swiftly discards his armor piece by piece and revels in the way your eyes guide his hands as he undresses his fatigues, your gaze caressing every inch of tan skin he exposes for you.

You chew nervously on your lip as he steps closer and sinks down on the bed. With his knee he gently pushes your legs apart and then crawls along your frame till his whole body hovers over yours, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from you, too far to touch you yet.

“Hi,” he chuckles softly.

“Hi,” you answer and butterflies fill his stomach.

When you lift your hand and let your fingertips trace the lines of his tattoo and the bolts on his scalp with an enticing smile, tenderly exploring him, he lowers himself down on you, settling himself between your thighs, and his blazing skin finally rests against yours. It feels like a relief. The second he lets his eyelids flutter shut at the sensation, the memory of you and him flashes, of glistening, sweaty bodies in tight embrace. He wasn’t bred for relationships, he was never meant to feel or indulge in all these sensations. And yet, the Force guided him right into your loving arms. He can’t help himself, his body telling him in a variety of ways that life has much more to give than just fighting or obeying orders.

“I’m not just a clone,” he wails in the crook of your neck and you feel a single tear running down your neck.

Kix buries his face into your neck, lightly licking and nipping on your skin, dedicating himself to your taste. Salty and sweet, addictive. The one he missed since he watched his reflection making love to you so many months ago and longed for ever since. Now you taste even better than in his memory, better than on the morning two days ago when it’s just you and him.

“I’m a man. I have wants and needs.”

As if to prove, his kisses on your shoulder grow needier, hungrier… more urgent. You curl your arms around him, to press him closer to you with one hand on his shoulder blade and to calm him, with your other hand on the back of his head, gently fondling his skull base.

“I know, Kix my love.” Ever so slowly you grind your body against his, letting yourself draw into the devotion… the passion of your makeout.

“I can feel that you are a man. A pretty gorgeous man… strong… so caring and soft,” you emphasize your words with gentle kisses and kittenlicks on his temple. “And so intense… and passionate.” The hand on his back moves lower, until it reaches his chiseled ass and gives him a good squeeze. That makes him moan into skin and grind hard against your body.

“Tell me what it is that you need, Kix. It’s yours,” you eventually whisper in his ear, and if there was ever a moment in which you could feel the meaning of your words… it’s this one.

His whole body quivers, and his hands find you, clutch you, his whole weight dropping down on you for a moment in which all his strength, all his willpower and countenance leaves him… and leaves him fragile and vulnerable in your arms. He curses himself for his weakness… and yet right here with you is the only place he’s allowed to be weak. To be the man that he wants to be and not only the clone bred as a military asset. The words that fall from his lips, come out against his will, ragged and imploring.

“I want time.”

As he feels his strength coming back to him, he braces his forearms next to your head and lifts his upper body just enough to look at you. You are still holding him, giving him the vigor to confess what’s agonizing him since that one night in your apartment.

“I want to share my given time with you. I want to have you close… not just for a bet or a date.”

Kix listens to your shaky exhale and watches how your eyes glisten with affection as you process what he just said. All he can do is to wait with bated breath if you will give him an answer. And then you reach out to cup his face, and your thumbs trail over his cheekbones.

“It’s never been just a bet, Kix. I may have been tipsy as I suggested to tell you apart, but I know it’s been my feelings speaking that I tried to deny until that day.” You pause for a moment, Kix devoutly hopes it’s a good thing. And when you speak, you fill a space inside his heart that has always been missing its final piece

“I told you that you are so much more to me. Kix… I love you,” you say quietly, each of your words branding him with its warmth, leaving him churned up inside and helpless. Fuck, he almost died without ever saying what he feels for you, now the words tumble from his mouth in an endless confession.

“I love you too, cyare,” he breathes. “Fuck. I… I love you, love you, love, love, love you.”

Pulling him gently down against your chest, you run your hands up and down his spine, massage his body and calm his churning emotions. It feels so, so good… Worked up and still trembling, he lifts his hips and lines up the blunt tip of his cock with your entrance, the leaking beads of precum mingling with your arousal. He almost whimpers at the sensation of you grinding gingerly against him and your hands clinging just a little tighter to the muscles in his back. Both of you equally desperate for making love.

“Hmm… Kix. Please. Let me feel you.”

And he’s giving in to your soft-spoken plea.

Gently, oh so gently, he pushes inside you. Sliding deeper and deeper in a slow fluid motion while you adjust to his stretch with a sigh. Eventually, Kix bottoms out. And as he had hoped for, time stands still when he’s buried inside your softness, both of you just staying like that for a while - not moving at all and holding on to each other. You keep his achingly hard cock warm, engulfing him in your soft, wet heat as he peels one of your hands from his back and brings it up next to your head, interlacing his fingers with yours. His other rests against your throat, your pulse throbbing under his palm.

After what feels like eternity, Kix starts to move. Slowly dragging his cock out of you, he eases himself right back into you. And even with the first gentle thrust a sinful heat flares at the base of his spine, tension is spreading in his abdomen. For a second and a third time, he rolls his hips achingly slowly… Then he withdraws from you completely and you whine at the loss. His body tenses up and your fingernails dig in the flexing muscles of his back… and he rubs his throbbing length on your soft belly, spurting a single rope of pearly white pleasure on your skin. The delicious pain he feels as he holds back, makes him groan loudly and he throws back his head in his neck.

“You feel so good,” he pants. “You feel so kriffing good!”

And once more he sheathes himself inside you, pushes his naked body into yours as close as can be. Your lips part in a quiet sigh of relief and bliss that he eagerly swallows as he rests his lips against yours. It’s not a kiss… a kiss wouldn’t be enough. No. Kix completely devotes himself to you as he starts to move ever so slowly again, giving himself to you… all of him. His body and soul with every shaky breath he exhales into your lungs.

He goes on forever, tender and gentle, unhurriedly rocks into your soaking wet pussy, allowing you to truly feel every inch of him while he lets himself savor every second of your loveplay. Each gentle thrust coaxes another low moan from him that you inhale. Every single time he is sheathed to the hilt, Kix tilts his hips and grinds into you even further, the tip of his cock pressing right against your spongy g-spot for a few aching seconds and both of you moan shamelessly at how deep and tight he’s pressed inside you. And he breathes you in, consuming your noises like he needs the air to breathe. Again and again he pauses your slow, sensual dance, edging himself and resting the velvety tip of his cock on your belly to paint you with droplets of his molten desire, before he eases his throbbing cock in and out of you all over again.

Kix keeps going. He lets you cling to him, scratching and squeezing him as the pleasure builds up inside the two of you. And then at one point… it becomes all too much. You feel the burning passion from deep within your core shooting up your spine in hot white flames. With a blissful cry of his name you arch beneath him, and your pleasure finally crests… your entire body quivers as you come helplessly around him. The slow roll of his hips continues for another few moments in which he tries to hold on to this marvelous feeling of being right on the edge… yet the tight squeeze of your pussy around him finally lets him come undone. In a daze you feel his whole body flexing, shaking above you, every muscle twitching in pleasure as he immerses as deep as he can in you and fills you with his love. He groans and breathlessly mouths his devotion against your lips, grinding you both through the bliss while your convulsing walls rhythmically milk the seed out of his pulsing cock. Every single drop. Eventually, he slumps down on top of you in exhaustion and you both lay there for a while, listening to your decelerating heartbeats and basking in each other.

Kix lies on his back with you curled up against his side. His arm embracing you protectively, even though there's no threat in the shelter of your bed. Every breath you take prickles on his chest like a gentle caress.

"Thank you," you whisper at his sweaty skin.

"Vor entye, cyare," he whispers back and kisses the crown of your head.

Kix doubts that you know what you did for him. You didn’t just take care of him but gave him security as he lost all his strength. He would do the same for you. Anytime. He gave you everything from him - his breath and his seed.

He would give his blood too.

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Hello!!! Hopefully I won’t bother you but i loved the 501 x reader where they all are crushing on her!!! Do you think there’s the possibility that we could get a part two? I just want them all to be happy together -but a little angsty moments are great too! Thank you and i love your writing! Best clone scenario page on tumblrrr 🥰🥰🥰

Of course! A part 2 for this fic has been requested nearly 10 times.

I may need to turn this into a series. There will definitely be a part 3 at least 🫶

⸻

“Hearts of the 501st” pt.2

501st x Reader

You were still reeling from the contact.

Rex’s hand, steady at your waist, had felt like it burned through your tunic. Not with heat, but with something more dangerous—something forbidden. And it had lingered just a second too long. Enough for you to realize he wanted to hold you there. Enough for him to realize that he couldn’t.

Now he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Not during the rest of the rotation. Not at the debrief. Not even in the mess later that night.

Hardcase had gone back to his usual boisterous self, none the wiser, but Kix glanced between you and Rex with the subtle awareness of someone too observant for his own good. You tried to brush it off. Smile. Pretend. But it was like breathing around broken glass.

Later that night, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of your quarters, eyes wide open, body still.

And then the door chimed.

You sat up fast, heart racing. “Come in,” you called, voice steady despite the storm inside.

It was Rex.

He stepped in and the door hissed shut behind him. No armor—just blacks. He looked exhausted. And maybe something else. Haunted, almost.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you. And then he finally looked at you.

“I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he said, voice low, gravelly. “Back in the training room.”

“You didn’t,” you lied.

Because the truth was worse. He didn’t cross it—you wanted him to. You still did.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s not supposed to happen like this. You’re a Jedi. I’m… I’m a soldier.”

“You’re Rex.”

That made him pause.

You stood up, crossing the small space between you, pulse thundering.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t move. But the way he looked at you—like you were the last light in the galaxy—that was enough to break you.

“We’re not allowed this,” he said, finally.

“I know.”

But you also both knew something else, something unspoken: if the war didn’t kill you, this would.

⸻

You thought things might settle after that night with Rex. But they didn’t. If anything, the tension only thickened. Because it wasn’t just Rex watching you a little too long anymore.

It was Kix, catching your arm after a mission with fingers that lingered too long on your wrist as he checked for injuries.

“You push yourself too hard,” he murmured, voice low as his eyes searched yours. “Someday, you won’t come back. And I…” He trailed off before finishing, but the weight of what he didn’t say clung to the air between you.

It was Fives, who cracked jokes louder than usual when Rex entered the room, his laugh a little too sharp. When he caught you alone, he dropped the act.

“You know he’s not the only one who cares, right?” he said, eyes dark with something more serious than you were used to seeing in him. “He’s not the only one who notices.”

It was Jesse, who always sat beside you at the mess, quietly pushing your favorite ration pack your way without saying anything. You caught him watching you once, and when you met his gaze, he didn’t look away.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, voice tight. “Better than silence. Better than having to hide.”

Hardcase didn’t hide a damn thing. He wore his affection on his sleeve—laughing too loud, standing too close, finding excuses to spar. “You know I’d follow you anywhere, right?” he asked one evening, sweaty and bruised, grinning. “No questions asked.”

Tup was quieter, but it was there. In the way he always made sure you were covered. In the way he sat across from you during ship travel, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. You caught him once, and he blushed so hard he looked like he might combust.

Then there was Dogma, who clung to rules like they were life rafts—but his devotion to you bent those rules every damn day. He flinched when others got too close. Spoke up when he thought someone pushed you too hard. And when you called him out on it, he just said, “You matter. More than they think.”

They were a unit. Brothers. But when it came to you, that unity was starting to fray.

You could feel it in the silences.

In the way they hesitated to speak freely when Rex was in the room. In the way Jesse squared off subtly when Fives stood too close. In the tension crackling in every quiet corridor.

You were the Jedi they shouldn’t have fallen for. The light they wanted to protect. But you were also one person—and they all knew that.

And maybe the worst part?

You didn’t know who you were falling for.

⸻

The op on Vanqor should’ve been simple: recon the outpost, confirm Separatist movement, exfil. No drama. No losses.

But nothing was simple anymore.

You split the squad in two. Rex led one team, you led the other. Standard formation. Except the tension was anything but standard.

From the start, Fives was running his mouth.

“Oh, so Rex gets to babysit the high ground,” he said as he checked his rifle. “How convenient.”

“Because I’m the Captain,” Rex snapped without looking up. “And because someone needs to stay focused on the mission.”

“Focused?” Jesse muttered under his breath. “That’s rich coming from you.”

You glanced at them all sharply. “Cut the chatter.”

They did—sort of. Kix shot Jesse a look. Jesse shot Fives one back. Even Tup, usually calm, was twitchier than usual. And Dogma was walking like he was seconds away from snapping someone’s neck.

Still, the op moved forward.

You took Hardcase, Tup, and Jesse with you. Rex had the others. Two klicks into the canyon, comms lit up.

Rex: “General, got movement near the ridge. Confirmed clankers. Looks like a patrol.”

You: “Copy. Proceeding to secondary overlook.”

Then static. Followed by—

Fives: “We’ve got this, General. Don’t worry, I’ll keep him from throwing himself in front of a blaster for you.”

There was a sharp click before Rex cut him off: “Fives, stay off the channel unless it’s tactical.”

Back with your team, things weren’t much better.

Hardcase was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can’t believe I missed the team with the romantic tension. You should’ve seen Rex’s face, Tup—guy’s wound tighter than a wire.”

Jesse barked a laugh. “At least he’s not pretending he’s subtle. Unlike some.”

Tup sighed. “Please don’t start again.”

You stopped in your tracks, glaring at them. “You think this is a game? You want to bicker while droids are swarming a ridge less than a klick away?”

They fell silent, shame flickering in their eyes.

Then came the ambush.

Blasterfire erupted from the cliffs. Shouts, heat, chaos.

Rex’s voice came through the comm again—sharp, controlled. “Engaging hostiles. Kix is hit but stable.”

You snapped orders, leading your squad into flanking position, instincts taking over. You caught sight of Rex across the ridge, laying down cover, Fives behind him—but they were arguing even mid-fire.

“Cover me!” Rex shouted, moving up.

“Could’ve said please,” Fives muttered, though he did as told.

Jesse nearly got clipped trying to keep you shielded. “I said I’ve got you!” he snapped when you tried to redirect him.

After the skirmish, when the smoke cleared and the ridge was secure, the tension boiled over.

“Is this how it’s going to be now?” Rex growled, throwing his helmet down. “We can’t run a clean op because every one of you is too busy acting like kriffing teenagers.”

“Don’t pin this on us,” Jesse snapped. “You’re the one sneaking around with her after lights out.”

“Nothing happened,” Rex shot back.

Kix scoffed. “No, but something wants to.”

Tup looked between them, torn. “This isn’t what we’re supposed to be.”

And Dogma, silent until now, spoke with cold finality: “Feelings don’t belong on the battlefield. You’re all risking her life.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the blasterfire.

You stood there, heart pounding, breath caught somewhere between fury and grief.

This war was pulling you apart from the inside. Not from wounds or droids—but from love, jealousy, and every unspoken word between them.

The silence stretched long after Dogma’s words hit the ground like a blaster bolt.

You could see it—every line in their faces taut, wounded. The guilt. The fear. The ache.

And still, you stood tall.

Composed. Cold, maybe. But you had to be.

“I need every one of you to listen to me,” you said, voice even, sharp like a vibroblade. “And I need you to understand this the first time, because I will not say it again.”

No one spoke. Even Fives went still.

“I am a Jedi,” you continued. “And whether or not that means something to you anymore—it still means something to me. The Code forbids attachment. That isn’t a guideline. It isn’t a suggestion. It is a foundational truth of who I am and what I chose to be.”

Rex looked away. His jaw tightened.

“This war has blurred the lines between soldier and brother, between ally and… more. But that does not change the Code. It does not change the expectations I hold for myself.”

You took a breath, feeling the heat rise behind your ribs—but not letting it show.

“I am not your hope. I am not your escape. I am not something you can cling to in the middle of this chaos. I am your general. I will fight beside you. I will protect you. I care about you. But I will not—I cannot return these… feelings.”

Hardcase looked like you’d slapped him. Kix’s mouth parted, then closed again. Fives had nothing to say.

And then you said the thing none of them wanted to hear:

“If any of you truly respect me—if you truly believe in the Jedi you claim to admire—then let me go. Detach. Redirect whatever it is you feel into something that will not get one of us killed.”

Tup stepped forward, hesitant. “But you do care. We know you do.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. But you answered with the quiet, unmoving weight of Jedi truth.

“Yes,” you said. “But caring is not the same as holding on.”

Another pause.

“I’m not your way out,” you finished. “I’m the one leading you into the fire. Don’t follow me with your heart. Follow me with your discipline. Or don’t follow me at all.”

And with that, you turned—cloak sweeping, boots hitting durasteel with finality.

You didn’t look back.

Because if you did… you weren’t sure the Jedi in you would win.

⸻

The moment she disappeared into the shadows of the canyon pass, the squad felt gutted. Not wounded—hollowed out.

The silence wasn’t peace. It was pressure. It built between them like a thermal detonator waiting for a trigger.

“She didn’t have to say it like that,” Hardcase muttered first, breaking the quiet. “She made it sound like we’re a liability.”

“She’s not wrong,” Dogma snapped, arms crossed tight over his chest. “We lost focus. We compromised the mission.”

Fives scoffed. “Oh, come off it, Dogma. You’re not exactly guilt-free just because you pout from a distance instead of making a move.”

“Don’t start,” Jesse growled. “We wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t made a scene during the damn firefight.”

“I wasn’t the one staring at her like a lovesick cadet while blaster bolts were flying!”

“You want to go?” Jesse stepped forward.

Kix shoved himself between them. “Enough. You’re all making this worse.”

“No,” Rex said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I’ll take it from here.”

Everyone turned. Rex’s helmet was still tucked under his arm, his face unreadable—controlled, cold, and deadly calm.

“She’s right,” he said, no hesitation. “Every word. We let our feelings get in the way. We made it personal. That’s not what we were bred for. That’s not what she needs.”

Fives shifted, jaw clenched. “So what—just pretend it doesn’t exist?”

Rex stepped closer, tone steely. “We have to. Because if we don’t, she dies. Or we do. Maybe all of us.”

Tup looked away. Jesse stared at the ground. Even Hardcase, for once, didn’t have a joke.

“You think I don’t feel it?” Rex said, quieter now. “You think I haven’t thought about what it would be like to give in? To tell her how I feel?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what love looks like. Love is discipline. Restraint. We follow her lead. We put her safety above what we want. That’s our job. That’s who we are.”

Nobody argued.

Because they all knew he was right.

⸻

They all handled it differently.

Dogma pulled back first.

He barely spoke during prep. Stood at parade rest with surgical stillness. Didn’t sit with the squad, didn’t meet your eyes. He obeyed, to the letter—but colder now, like retreating behind a regulation shield.

Fives, on the other hand, spiraled.

He picked fights. With Kix, with Jesse, even with Rex. His banter turned sour, jokes laced with venom.

“She doesn’t mean it,” he muttered to Jesse in the hangar. “You don’t just fight beside someone for years and feel nothing. She’s trying to protect us. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring.”

Jesse didn’t answer.

Because Jesse was the one pushing harder.

He wasn’t loud about it—but you noticed. He stayed closer during patrols. Walked you to your quarters even when you didn’t ask. Spoke softer. Asked if you’d eaten. You knew the intent behind it. And it terrified you.

You needed clarity. Solitude.

But the moment you stepped outside the command tent to breathe—Tup was already waiting.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just offered you a ration bar with a small, tentative smile. Like he didn’t expect you to take it, but needed you to know he’d tried.

You sat beside him anyway.

“It’s a lot,” he said after a beat, voice low. “Too much, sometimes.”

You didn’t speak.

He didn’t push.

“I’m not gonna say they’re wrong to feel it,” he added, eyes on the dirt. “But I get why you had to say what you did. It hurts. But I get it.”

You turned your head slowly. “Do you?”

He met your eyes. Soft. Steady. “Yeah. Because when you love someone… really love them… you don’t ask them to break themselves just to make you feel better.”

That quiet truth stuck in your chest like a blade.

Tup didn’t reach for your hand. He didn’t move closer. He just stayed there, beside you, letting you breathe.

And for the first time in days… you felt like maybe someone saw you—not as something to win. But as someone to understand.

You didn’t want to fall apart.

But with Tup sitting next to you, not expecting anything—not even an answer—it was hard to keep everything held together.

The ration bar stayed in your hand, unopened. You stared at it like it held answers you didn’t have the strength to look for.

“You know,” Tup said gently, “you don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

You gave him a dry look. “That’s rich, coming from a soldier bred to never break.”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah, well. We all crack different. Some of us just do it quieter.”

You laughed—soft and broken. “Is this you trying to cheer me up, Tup?”

“Maybe,” he said with a small shrug. “Maybe I just wanted to sit beside someone who makes the war feel a little less like war.”

You looked away. His words landed somewhere deep, somewhere dangerously tender.

There was a moment—just a moment—when you let your shoulders drop. When you leaned just barely toward him, not enough to cross a line, but enough to feel how close the edge really was.

And Tup’s voice, softer still: “You don’t have to be alone.”

Your breath caught. Eyes burning. Just a blink from letting it slip—just a few more seconds and you might have said something you couldn’t unsay.

But then—

“General?”

You turned sharply, straightening.

Kix.

He looked between the two of you. His gaze landed on Tup’s proximity, on your expression—cracked, vulnerable.

Too late.

“I—” He cleared his throat, eyes guarded now. “I was coming to check on you. Thought maybe you’d want to talk.”

Tup shifted, quietly rising to his feet. “She’s alright. Just needed some quiet.”

You could feel the tension coil between them—one of them arriving first, the other arriving just late enough to lose something that hadn’t even happened.

You stood too. “Thank you, Kix. I’m okay. Just tired.”

He gave a short nod, but the disappointment was unmistakable. He wasn’t angry. But he felt it.

And you knew that by tomorrow, the silence between some of them would stretch even deeper.

Because kindness had turned competitive. And comfort was starting to feel like a battlefield too.

⸻

Previous part

Hello! I had an idea for a Kix x Fem!Reader where she transfers into his medbay but she stands out because she remembers every clones name. Regardless if she hasn’t even met them she has read all the files and committed them to memory and he’s like astonished but also touched. Maybe his brothers are like “if you don’t make a move I will” Hope this is good! Have a good weekend! ♥️

“First‑Name Basis”

Kix x Reader

Hyperspace thrummed beyond the transparisteel ports while Kix tried to tame the Resolute’s perpetually crowded med‑bay. Bacta monitors chimed, troopers squabbled over whose scar looked “coolest,” and Kix’s gloves were still sticky with drying crimson when the hatch whispered open.

A quiet but confident voice announced, “New med‑tech reporting, sir—[Y/N].”

Kix flicked off his gloves, surprised. “You picked a kriffing busy shift to arrive—welcome.”

From the nearest cot, Hardcase crowed, “What d’you bet she faints when she sees my arm?”

You crossed to him without blinking. “CT‑0217 Hardcase—through‑and‑through blaster hit, distal humerus, yesterday. Dermabind’s due for a swap.”

Hardcase shut up so fast Fives snorted.

You pointed down the line:

“CT‑5597 Jesse—rib bruise, de‑pressurised plating on R‑3. Three‑hour ice intervals.

“CT‑5555 Fives—fragment nick, upper thigh; you’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt until it infects.”

“CT‑0000 Dogma—scalp laceration, eight stitches. Stop picking at them.”

Each trooper stared like you’d grown a second head.

Kix folded his arms. “You read our charts?”

“Memorised the battalion manifest on the shuttle. Names separate patients from barcodes.”

A low whistle: Jesse grinned around a pain‑killer stick. “Kix, vod—if you don’t lock that down, I’m escorting her to 79’s myself.”

Fives elbowed him. “Brother, that’s my line.”

Dogma muttered, “Show some discipline.”

“Show some charm,” Fives shot back.

Kix cleared his throat, ears reddening. “Settle, vod. Let the medic work—unless you want a protocol droid doing your stitches.”

⸻

Kix found you re‑stocking kolto packs. “Most rookies need a week to learn nicknames; you quoted service numbers.”

“You’re not rookies—you’re veterans. Acting like it matters.”

His voice softened. “We spend our lives as copies. Remembering us by name… that’s a rare kind of medicine.”

Across the bay, Hardcase bellowed, “Kix! She fixin’ your ego yet?”

Jesse added, “Timer’s ticking, sir!”

You hid a smile. “I still need orientation, Kix. Maybe… a tour of the ‘cultural hub’ I’ve heard about?”

Kix’s grin was pure relief—and a little wonder. “Med‑officer‑ordered R&R, 79’s cantina, 2000. Mandatory.”

Hardcase whooped. “Ha! Called it!”

⸻

Blue and gold holo‑lights flashed off clone armor stacked by the door. Fives tried teaching you a rigged sabacc hand; Jesse heckled from behind; Dogma nursed one drink like it was contraband; Hardcase danced on a tabletop until Rex appeared, helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex eyed the scene, then you. “Heard the new medic can ID every trooper in the Legion.”

“Only the ones who’ve been shot today, sir,” you said, straight‑faced.

Hardcase cheered. Jesse rapped knuckles on the table. Even Rex let a ghost of a smile slip before nodding to Kix: Good find.

Jesse leaned close while Kix ordered drinks. “Take care of him, cyar’ika. Our medic patches everyone but himself.”

You watched Kix laugh, shoulders finally loose for the first time all day. “Count on it,” you said, lifting a glass.

Across the cantina, Hardcase elbowed Fives. “Told you names matter.”

Fives clinked his mug to Jesse’s. “Here’s to finally being more than numbers.”

And—for a few riotous hours beneath 79’s flickering lights—every soldier of the 501st felt like the only trooper in the Grand Army, thanks to one medic who never forgot a name.