I posted a new fic!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/65094643
It’s an ongoing series containing short (and I mean short) works of my clone OCs. Give it a read!
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! ♥️
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.