Kix X Reader - Blog Posts

sweetheart, i will ruin you (2/4)

first of all - no i didn't make a typo. this has ballooned to an extra part oops. many thanks to my beta readers @wanderer-six and @starsscarmyceiling <3 love u both

Chapter 2: to make crosshair jealous, you take a certain clone medic home from the bar.

tw: unprotected piv, oral (female receiving), light femdom, making out, jealousy, possessive undertones

-Cr0SS9904 sent you a message- sorry to leave you hanging, sweetheart I had to give you something to look forward to. You said: You’re a dick. Cr0SS9904: You love it

You threw the holopad on the bed beside you. How Crosshair had even found your contact information, you were unsure of, but you supposed he had the resources to find you.

He was awful. You never wanted to see him again considering how completely he had unraveled you in that alley. And yet, he was right. You did love it, but you weren’t used to feeling so completely out of control.

It was mid afternoon, and you wipe the mascara from your eyes. You hadn’t bothered to wash it off last night, as you had collapsed in a heap in your bed after your escapades.

As you hop into the fresher to wash the night off of you, you remember how Crosshair’s hands had roamed over your body - your face, your breasts, your thighs, and the places between. That bastard had left you unsatisfied and humiliated, and you’re tempted to grab your vibrator to finish the job. But oh, it’d feel so much better to have someone else do the job for you.

Then you had the idea.

Resisting the urge to get yourself off, you jump out of the fresher and grab a towel. It was nearly evening, but you had just enough time to get dolled up and stop by a bar…

The plan was simple. Return to 79s, make eye contact with Crosshair, then make out with a random guy at the bar. With any luck, you’d piss him off just as much as he pissed you off, as you had a hunch Crosshair was slightly possessive. And maybe you could finally get some release. Throwing around some prettyboy seemed like a decent way to blow off steam, at least.

Of course, there were no guarantees that Crosshair even frequented 79s, or that you’d find anyone willing to go along with your plan (considering you wanted to make them well aware of the situation, lest they catch any feelings or feel used). But hey, maybe you’d get your kicks.

You enter 79s, this time alone. The bumping music drowns out your inner voice, and your fears about being recognized from your little stunt last night fade away. You inconspicuously scan the room for Crosshair - and there he was, sitting alone in the back of the club. Had he come here because he’d thought you’d be here? Or maybe he was here to find his next victim, Maker rest their soul.

You stare him in the eyes, unwilling to be so passive in your dynamic any longer, and he smirks in response. Oh, you hated him, and you hated how his smugness got your heart beating faster. After shooting one last glare at him, you sit at the bar and order a nonalcoholic cocktail. While you want something to drink, you want to be in full control of your functions when Crosshair sees you making out with someone else in front of him.

As you sip the sugary confection, you scope your surroundings, and make eye contact with a clone. He is similar to the others, as all clones were, but he has a tattoo on the side of his head that reads “A good droid is a dead one.” He’s cute, and smiles as you make eye contact.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” you say, and turn towards him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Crosshair sneer, roll his eyes, and lean against the wall.

“What brings you here?” you ask.

“Mandatory shore leave. Can’t say I don’t need it, though. What about you?”

You glance over at Crosshair, and lean closer to the clone. “Honestly? Looking for a rebound.”

He snorts into his drink. “Straight to the point, eh?”

You narrow your eyes and smirk, knowingly. “Who said I was asking you?”

He huffs. “Fair. I guess I have to earn it. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Mira.” You flutter your lashes, just a tad. “And yours?”

“Nice to meet you, Mira. Name’s Kix.”

“Kix, eh? I like it.” You lower your voice, rest your chin on your fist. “And what do you do for the Grand Army of the Republic?”

“I’m a medic. 501st.”

“Ah, a medic. So you’re good with your hands.” You sip your drink. “And…anatomy, too, I’d imagine.” He’s faintly blushing, but leans towards you.

“Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty familiar with all parts of the body,” he says, voice confident, and you smile. Bite your lip. Look him up and down. All rehearsed, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself.

“501st, too. You’ve gotta be somewhat good at what you do.” You dangle a finger along the forearm of his armor.

“I’d be more than happy to give you a live demonstration. To make sure you have nothing but confidence in the Republic army, of course,” he says, and you laugh. He was cute, and he made your heart race and heat between your legs pool. God, you were still so worked up from last night.

Your hand presses down onto his armor. “I’d love that.” With your other hand, you trace the tattoo on the side of his head. A pang of guilt passes through you, and you realize you want to make sure Kix is sure this is just a fling.

“I’d love to keep going, prettyboy,” you drawl, “I just want you to know something first. This dickhead fucked with me at the bar last night- made me look really stupid, actually -and I want to make him jealous. You’re cute, and I’d love to have a good time with you, but…”

He laughs. “Jealous, huh? Well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Are you up for it, then?”

“That depends. What’s in it for me?”

“I thought a night with me would be enough reward.”

“That’s true,” Kix says, leaning forward and kissing you, softly but not timidly. The confidence transfers through his lips onto yours, and you squeeze his forearm.

“I guess you’re fine with a fling, then?” You pull away.

“I’d never miss a chance for a night with a beauty like you,” he says. “Besides, nice to get some no-strings-attached action. As I’m sure you can imagine, women tend to get…attached to me,” he winks.

You roll your eyes and give him a peck. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Crosshair. Somehow, he was still sitting across the club, stoic but with a twinge of disappointment. Good. As your eyes make contact, he takes another swig of his drink. You hope he’s regretting what he missed out on last night.

“That him?” Kix asks.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Crosshair, eh? Oh, I know him. He’s an ass.” Kix stands, offers his hand, which you take and rise.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make him jealous,” he says before dipping you down and kissing you right in Crosshair’s line of sight. The kiss turns hot as he cups your face with his free hand and pushes against you just a little bit more, and you feel your body twinge with a familiar yearn. One of your hands massage the back of his neck, and Kix lets out a murmur of relaxation. Kix iswarm and smells like spiced berries; you wonder if his skin tasted as sweet as it smelled.

When you pull away from Kix, he smiles. “How was that?” he huffs into your cheek.

“Pretty good,” you smile. Placing a finger on his armor, you whisper, “But I like it better when I’m in control. How’d you like to be bossed around?”

It was the first time you caught Kix off guard. His eyes widen, but soon the suave soldier was back. “Like I said, anything for a night with you.” His grip on your waist tightened. “But…I’d like that. Ma’am.” Kix calling you “Ma’am” sent liquid heat through your body, but you kept your composure. Crosshair was far out of your mind now, your only thoughts being how you were going to completely destroy this man.

“Good. Keep calling me that,” you say as you lead Kix to the back of the bar. You push him against the wall, not dissimilar to the position you were in last night - but you aren’t going to leave Kix hanging. Your lips skim his neck and he lets out a soft moan, a sound that sends chills across your skin and lights fire in your chest.

“Such a good sound,” you encourage.

“All for you, ma’am,” he breathes, and you nearly moan at how disheveled he already sounded. You kiss him, body sinking into his, and you could tell he was getting hard. The kiss was slow but passionate, lips moving slowly.

“I can’t wait to unravel you,” you say, and his hips slightly buck against you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Sorry- can’t help it -I’ve got a beautiful woman nearly on top of me,” he huffs, still the wisecracker. Obviously, he was thinking too straight, and you needed to fix that. You laugh, push into his body, harder, and he groans as the heat between your legs gets some delicious pressure. Your hands roam his torso, and stars, you couldn’t wait to get him out of his armor. You weren’t that debauched that you were going to fuck him in the middle of the bar - though, it would certainly make things easier than traveling back to your apartment. Sigh.

You kiss Kix tenderly but passionately, and you are so pushed up against him that he wraps his legs around you, remaining glued to the wall. Your hands clutch underneath his thighs, and even with the armor on, you can tell they were strong, muscles taut. Even though this was purely physical, you can still sense an undercurrent of tenderness between the two of you that was absent from your tryst with Crosshair. That maybe, you want with Crosshair.

You try to shoo the image of Crosshair out of your mind, but the thought of treating Crosshair like this, kissing him deeply and affectionately, making such a stoic man a whimpering puddle - it makes you kiss Kix harder. Crosshair, his hands in your hair and moaning in your mouth, him yielding his body over to you. You know Crosshair is watching you now, you can nearly feel his gaze burning through your back, and you wonder if he wished he was in Kix’s place.

Kix. Remember this was with Kix.

Maybe getting out of the club- out of Crosshair’s gaze -was the solution.

“Want to get out of here, head back to my place?” you whisper into Kix’s ear.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says.

As you pull Kix out of the club, you make brief eye contact with Crosshair. His expression is unreadable, but if you had to guess, it’s somewhere between stunned and pissed off. You hope that he was pissed - jealous, even - though the two of you were nothing to each other. When you step out of the door to 79s, you try to put Crosshair out of your mind. This was a hookup, now, and you wanted to enjoy yourself.

The cab ride back to your apartment is filled with desperate kisses and pleading hands, promises of what’s to come. You’re thankful the cab driver is a droid - otherwise, you wouldn’t be nearly as handsy with the boytoy in the backseat with you.

When you enter your apartment, Kix looks around and looks like he’s about to start a conversation, but you’re too desperate for any sort of touch that you kiss him before he can say anything. His hands wrap around your waist, and you slowly push him towards your bedroom.

When the backs of Kix’s legs hit your bed, you start to paw at his armor. Kix pulls away from you, chuckling.

“You know what you want, don’t you?” He asks as he helps unclasp his armor.

“Interesting choice of words from someone who is as hard as a rock right now,” you mumble into his neck as your hand gently graces his codpiece. His legs shift at your touch.

His armor falls to the floor, next to your crumpled pink dress from last night, the one that Crosshair had roamed his hands all over. You hate how, even when you’re about to fuck another man, he invades your thoughts. You funnel that anger into pushing Kix onto your bed and straddling him. You need pleasure, now, something to calm the cocktail of desire and anger thrashing through your veins. Kix is just in his blacks, and he looks at you, a mix of shock and adoration on his face.

“This is definitely not how I saw my night going,” he says. “But I’m certainly not complaining.”

In response, you smirk and pull your dress over your head, abandoning it on the floor. You neglected to wear a bra tonight as it’d just get in the way, leaving you naked save for your underwear. He gapes at your breasts, and he raises his hand to hover over one of them, a question in his pause.

“You can touch me,” you say, and lean down to pin your hands on either side of him. “You can touch me anywhere. ” Your voice pricks goosebumps along his skin as he gently caresses you, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he says, then remembers your ask from earlier. “I mean, ma’am,” he winks. The use of ‘ma’am’ causes your hips to roll against him, and he moans, louder than he had at the club. It’s a deep and delicious sound, and you lean down.

“What do you want me to do to you?” You ask, hips gently grinding against him and lips hovering over his cheek.

“Anything you want,” he breathes. You grab his hands and push them on either side of his body, pinning him down.

“Anything?” you ask. He’s grinding into you now.

“Fuck yes, ma’am,” he says between moans. “You can do anything…I’ll do anything…please, fuck, touch me, ma’am.”

“How could I deny such a request when you’ve asked so nicely?” You buckle your hips into his, pleasure radiating from your core. Your hands release his hands and immediately roam under the shirt of his blacks, pulling them off. He’s quaking underneath you, and you lean down, kissing his neck and moving down to his chest.

“So gorgeous,” you moan into him, licking and sucking along his chest, leaving red and purple bruises in your wake. He’s hard underneath you, and you know you’re ready to take him now, but you wanted to extract as much pleasure from this as possible.

“I want to cum twice, Kix,” you demand, not a question.

“Yes ma’am. Anything. Fuck, this is so hot.” He’s already a sweaty, disheveled mess underneath you.

“I’m going to sit on your face,” you say. “Can you handle that, Kix?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am. Please.” You smile at his eagerness and finish undressing, climbing his sturdy body, pressing yourself to his mouth.

“Fuck,” is all Kix says before he begins to lick. This is what you’ve been waiting for - Kix wrapping his arms around your thighs, his tongue sending electric pleasure throughout your body. You moan, loudly and repeatedly, and this only encourages Kix to work on you even harder. He’s fully erect underneath his blacks, and the thought that this was turning him on as much as it did for you made the pleasure feel all the more better.

Again, though, was that nagging thought - Crosshair eating you out, straining against his blacks, begging for you to touch him. Crosshair at your mercy . Instead of pushing the thought away this time, though, you embrace it and allow yourself to imagine it was Crosshair underneath you as your grip on your inhibitions was severely weakened. It was a self-fulfilling cycle - you hated Crosshair for invading your mind so deeply you thought of him even when you were fucking another man, and you wanted to put him in his place, so you imagined you were fucking Crosshair instead of the man beneath you. Fuck.

Crosshair - no, Kix - kept at you until you reached a familiar peak. His hands dig into your ass, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you so tightly, you’d float away. This was definitely not his first time eating pussy.

“I’m close, Kix,” you say, grateful you used the right name when you spoke. Kix moans in anticipation, his hips bucking against the air as his tongue circles your clit. You cum hard against his face, riding the high for as long as you could as he caresses small circles into your thighs with his thumbs. You dismount and collapse on top of him, immediately kissing him sloppily, not caring that he tasted like you.

“You did such a good job,” you praise, mostly proud, but a small part ashamed that you were thinking of another.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he pants. “You’re awakening parts of me I didn’t even know I had.” You smile in response and kiss him again, wrapping your arms around him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” you breathe between kisses. “I just…need a second. You did a really good job.”

“Well, I did say I was skilled in all parts of the body,” he retorts before kissing you again. His hands run along your body as you reignite, kissing his neck and lavishing him with praises for how well he took care of you. Your hands slip under his pants and you pull them down, freeing his cock.

“Oh, please,” Kix pants.

“Mm. Do you want me to ride you?” You ask.

“Please. Please, ride me, ma’am. I need it. I’m begging you.”

You barely run your hand along his length, and he thrashes underneath you. You shudder, and lean up from him, biting your lip.

“Are you ready?” You say, and in response, he gives incomprehensible babble about how he needs this and he needs you. As your hips roll into him, you relax as he groans with pleasure. One of his hands lazily makes its way up to your breast as you start to slowly ride Kix, giving out soft gasps as he works his way inside of you. Stars, he feels so good, and you close your eyes as you gently rock your hips.

“That’s it,” you say as Kix squirms and bucks underneath you. “Unravel for me, baby.” He’s so gorgeous like this, eyes half-shut and body covered in sweat, and you call out sweet praises saying so. He seems to like the praise, as it causes him to moan a little louder and his hips to thrust a little harder. His hand falls away from your breast.

“I can’t even think straight,” he admits. “You’re so perfect, ma’am. Fuck, I’m close.” You are too.

And there’s that nagging thought again, wondering if this would be like riding Crosshair - if he would fall apart as beautifully and obediently as Kix would, or if he would tease and nag. You want to know, and the thought fuels you as you ride Kix harder, almost as if you could physically push the thoughts out of your mind with a thrust.

When Kix cums, he lets out a moan that pushes you over the edge. You tumble down the precipice together, convulsing and moaning. You fall on top of Kix in the afterglow, giving him a soft kiss as he wraps the blankets around you.

“Damn,” he says. “I think you fucked my brains out.” You huff a laugh in response.

“Stay?” You ask. “Don’t worry, I’m not catching feelings,” you preemptively state. “I just need cuddles after sex.”

He laughs, and wraps an arm around you. “Don’t tell anyone, but me too.”

Kix falls asleep quickly, but persistent thoughts keep you awake. Fucking Crosshair. You hated him. Hated how you wanted to see him beneath you, how you wanted to ride his face for hours, how you wanted to make him your little bitch. At least the jealousy sex you were getting out of it was good.

Eventually, you fall asleep long after the afterglow fades, your mind plagued with thoughts of him and things you would never have.

Kix leaves in the morning with little fanfare, and immediately after he leaves, you pull out your holopad and send Crosshair a message, knowing he’ll understand.

You said: CT-6116. More where that came from. 😘

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.

“Armor for the Skin”

501st x Reader

The overhead lumens slam on like artillery. Groans ripple through the barracks, but you roll out of your bunk already gathering your contraband caddy—a slim duraplast kit labeled “Mk‑III MedPatch”

Fives, half‑dressed and wholly curious, nods at the kit. “Alright, mystery box—you packing bacta or blasters in there?”

You flick the latch. Bottles, tubes, and sachets unfold like a miniature armory—just shinier and pastel‑colored.

“Moisturizer,” you say, dotting cream onto your cheeks. “SPF 50. Sun in space still finds a way.”

Fives blinks. “You’re lotion‑plating your face before breakfast?”

You smile. “Armor for the skin.”

As you pat the sunscreen in, Fives watches, fascinated. “How long does all that take? We get, like, sixty seconds to hit the refresher.”

“Practice,” you reply, capping the tube. “And a bit of multitasking.”

Across the aisle, Jesse mutters, “She’s waxing her cheeks?”—which earns him a smack from Kix.

The medic tilts his head, curious. “Actually, hydrating the epidermis reduces micro‑tears that form when helmets chafe. Fewer micro‑tears, fewer infections.”

Fives groans. “Kix, not you too!”

Tup perks up. “Will it stop my forehead from peeling on desert drops?”

“Only if you commit,” you reply, tossing him a travel‑size tube.

Tup bobbles it. “Commit to… face goop?”

“Commit to self‑care, shiny,” Jesse teases, but he secretly dabs a fingertip of cream on the scar running over his temple when he thinks no one’s watching.

Hardcase flips down from the top bunk, dangling upside‑down. “What about night routine? Can we weaponize it?”

You laugh. “Weaponize hydration?”

You begin to rattle off the list for your routines while shoving items back into the caddy.

Jesse whistles. “That’s more steps than disassembling a DC‑17.”

“It’s upkeep,” you say, snapping the kit shut. “Blasters, armor, skin. Treat them right and they won’t fail mid‑mission.”

Kix, ever the medic, hums thoughtfully. “Prevention over cure—sound protocol.”

Rex marches past the doorway, barking for PT. He notices the cluster around your bunk, eyes the lotions, then decides he’s not paid enough to investigate at 0500. “Five minutes to muster. Whatever you’re doing—do it faster.”

The squad scrambles. You close your caddy with a click, satisfied. Step one: curiosity planted.

As you pass Fives he murmurs, “Armor for the skin, huh?”

“Exactly, vod,” you grin, tapping his chest plate. “And just like yours—it’s personal issue.”

He barks a laugh, then jogs after the others—already plotting how to requisition micellar water under “optical clarity supplies.”

Curiosity piqued, routine revealed. Now the real fun begins.

⸻

An hour later, after PT and standard mess rations, the 501st files toward the strategy room. You’re meant to present local intel, but you duck into the refresher first to rinse sweat and slap on a leave‑in hair mask.

Inside, Tup stares at his reflection, damp curls drooping. “How tight is the towel supposed to be?”

“Snug, not suffocating.” You demonstrate the twist‑and‑tuck, shaping his towel into a tidy turban. He looks like a spa holo‑ad—if spa ads featured wide‑eyed clone troopers in duty blacks.

Rex storms in mid‑lesson. The captain’s expression cycles through confusion, exasperation, acceptance in under a second. “Explain.”

“Deep‑conditioning,” you answer. “Helmet hair’s a war crime.”

Dogma, arms folded behind Rex, scowls. “Regulation headgear only.”

You pat the towel. “Technically, still a head covering.”

Hardcase bursts from a stall, face covered in neon‑green clay. “I CAN’T MOVE MY MOUTH! THIS STUFF SETS LIKE DURASTEEL!”

Kix swoops in with a damp cloth. “That’s the detox mask, vod. Rinse at four minutes, not forty.”

Fives leans in the doorway, filming everything. “Historical documentation, Rex. Posterity.”

Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have two minutes to look like soldiers before General Skywalker arrives.”

Tup whispers, “Uh… do I rinse or…?”

You yank the towel free with a flourish; his curls bounce, glossy. “Ready for battle,” you declare.

Rex sighs. “One minute forty‑five.”

⸻

The 501st rolls in after an endless maintenance drill, expecting lights‑out. Instead, you’ve transformed the common room into a makeshift spa: footlockers draped in clean towels, maintenance lamps angled like vanity lights, and rows of mysterious packets labeled hydrating, brightening, volcanic detox…

Rex stops dead in the doorway, helmet under his arm.

“Vod, why does it smell like a med‑bay and a flower‑shop had a firefight?”

You beam. “Team‑building. Captain’s orders.”

Rex narrows his eyes—he definitely did not give those orders—but one look at the exhausted squad convinces him to play along. You pass out microfiber headbands—Tup’s bun peeks through adorably—then cue soft lo‑fi on a datapad.

⸻

The 501st rolls in after an endless maintenance drill, expecting lights‑out. Instead, you’ve transformed the common room into a makeshift spa: footlockers draped in clean towels, maintenance lamps angled like vanity lights, and rows of mysterious packets labeled hydrating, brightening, volcanic detox…

Rex stops dead in the doorway, helmet under his arm.

“Vod, why does it smell like a med‑bay and a flower‑shop had a firefight?”

You beam. “Team‑building. Captain’s orders.”

Rex narrows his eyes—he definitely did not give those orders—but one look at the exhausted squad convinces him to play along.

You pass out microfiber headbands—Tup’s bun peeks through adorably—then cue soft lo‑fi on a datapad.

Fives foams cleanser like he’s icing a ration cake, flicks bubbles at Jesse.

Hardcase grabs an industrial solvent bottle. You snatch it away. “Wrong kind of chemical peel, blaster‑brain.”

Kix demonstrates gentle circular motions; the squad copies, mumbling mock mantras.

Faces disappear beneath colors and cartoons.

Fives foams cleanser like he’s icing a ration cake, flicks bubbles at Jesse.

Hardcase grabs an industrial solvent bottle. You snatch it away. “Wrong kind of chemical peel, blaster‑brain.”

Kix demonstrates gentle circular motions; the squad copies, mumbling mock mantras.

Faces disappear beneath colors and cartoons.

Jesse paints Dogma’s clay mask into perfect camo stripes; Dogma tries to protest, fails, secretly loves it.

Rex sighs as you smooth the sheet onto his face. “If this vid leaks, I’m demoting everyone.”

Tup giggles when the nerf‑printed mask squeaks. Fives records the sound bite for future memes.

Everyone reclines on mesh webbing strung between crates.

The timer pings. Masks come off—revealing eight glowing, ridiculously refreshed faces.

Hardcase flexes. “Feel like I could head‑butt a super tactical droid and leave an imprint.”

Fives snaps a holo of Rex’s newfound radiance. “Captain, you’re shining.”

Rex grumbles, but his skin does glow under the fluorescents. “Get some rack time, troopers. 0600 briefing. And… keep the extra packets. Field supply, understood?”

A chorus of cheerful “Yes, sir!”

You watch them file out, each tucking a sheet‑mask packet into utility belts like contraband. Mission accomplished: the 501st is combat‑ready—and complexion‑ready—for whatever tomorrow throws at them.

⸻

Obi‑Wan strolls through the hangar, robe billowing. He pauses mid‑conversation with Cody, eyes widening at the radiant 501st lined up for deployment.

“My word, gentlemen, you’re positively effulgent.”

Jesse grins—dazzling. “Training and discipline, General.”

Cody side‑eyes Rex. “Whatever you’re doing, send the regimen to the 212th.”

Anakin trots up, spying a stash of leftover masks tucked behind Rex’s pauldron. He plucks one. “Charcoal detox? Padmé swears by these.” He pockets it with a conspiratorial wink.

Rex mutters, “Necessary field supplies, General.”

You walk by, sling a go‑cup of caf into Rex’s free hand. “Don’t forget SPF,” you remind, tapping his helmet.

Rex looked over to Cody, Deadpan “Non‑negotiable, apparently.”

⸻

Blaster fire and powdered sand fill the air. Jesse dives behind a ridge. “Double‑cleanse tonight—this dust is murder on my pores!”

Fives snorts through the comms. “Copy, gorgeous. Bring the aloe.”

Hardcase detonates a bunker, cheers, then yelps, “Mask first, explosions later—got it!”

Rex stands, sand sifting off armor, skin protected under a sheer layer of sunscreen that miraculously survived the firefight. He shakes his head but can’t hide the small smile.

“Alright, 501st,” he calls. “Let’s finish this op—tonight we rehydrate, tomorrow we conquer.”

You chuckle, loading a fresh power‑cell. The war may rage on, but for this legion, victory now comes with a healthy glow.

⸻

A/N

This was a request, however I accidentally deleted the request in my inbox.

Hiiiii

I had an idea for a Rex x reader where he's very obviously in love with her and everyone around him can tell but he doesn't want to admit it bc he's afraid she wont feel the same. And its basically just him being completely in love with her and everyone mercilessly teasing him about it.

(and maybe she overhears this teasing and just walks into the conversation like, "you know im in love with you too right?")

I just got this idea into my head and i needed someone to write it ok bye my darling :)

“501st Confidential (Except It’s Not)”

Captain Rex x Reader

You were, in the words of Fives, “the reason Rex turns into an emotionally repressed marshmallow with a death wish.”

The captain of the 501st was an impeccable soldier—composed, sharp, calm under fire. Until you walked into the room.

Then? He forgot how doors worked. Forgot how his voice worked. Forgot how to exist like a functioning adult.

Like this morning.

“Hey, Captain,” you called, brushing past him in the mess. “Sleep okay?”

Rex nearly dropped his tray. “Yeah. I mean—yes. Slept. I slept.”

You gave him a soft little smile. “Good.”

Fives watched the exchange with his spoon frozen in the air, like he’d just witnessed a holo-drama plot twist.

The second you left, Jesse leaned in. “Was that a stroke or a confession?”

“Shut it,” Rex muttered, flustered.

“Come on, Captain Crush,” Kix snorted. “You smiled so hard you got an extra forehead line.”

“I did not,” Rex snapped.

“It twitched,” Echo deadpanned.

“Just admit it,” Fives drawled, draping himself across the table. “You’re in love with her.”

Rex didn’t answer, which—by 501st standards—was practically a marriage proposal.

“Oh no,” Jesse whispered. “He’s so far gone. He’s at the ‘she smiled at me and I heard music’ phase.”

Rex ran a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

“Affectionately,” Echo added.

⸻

Later, in the hangar, the teasing reached critical mass.

Rex was checking the gunships. He thought he was alone.

He was wrong.

“Y’know,” came Fives’ voice from behind him, “the last time you stared at someone that long, you were planning a tactical assault.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh? My bad. Meditating on the meaning of her eyes, then?”

Jesse joined them, arms crossed. “Pretty sure he’s composing poetry in his head.”

“I don’t write poetry,” Rex grumbled.

“Then what’s this?” Fives produced a crumpled piece of flimsi. “‘Her voice is like a thermal detonator to my self-control—’”

Rex lunged for it. “Give me that—!”

“—detonating everything in me but discipline. Wow. Wow.”

“I will demote you.”

Fives grinned. “You’d have to catch me first—”

“What’s going on here?” Anakin’s voice cut in as he strolled over, arms folded, suspicious.

“Captain’s in love,” Jesse reported instantly.

“Painfully,” Echo added helpfully.

“Unprofessionally,” Kix muttered as he passed, shaking his head.

Anakin raised a brow at Rex. “Really?”

Rex, red-faced, said, “It’s nothing. They’re being ridiculous.”

“You know you’re terrible at hiding it, right?” Anakin said, half-laughing.

Fives leaned over like he’d been waiting for this. “Oh, and you’re one to talk?”

The group roared.

Rex folded his arms, finally smiling. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah,” Jesse added. “We’ve got bets on how long before you and Senator Secret Marriage finally kiss in front of Obi-Wan.”

“I will write all of you up,” Anakin threatened weakly.

“Sure, General,” Fives smirked. “You can fill out the paperwork on your next secret rendezvous.”

Anakin muttered something under his breath and stormed off. Echo saluted his retreating back. “True love never hides well.”

Unbeknownst to them all, you had heard every word.

You had paused just behind the stacks of crates when you heard your name—and then just… stood there, eyes wide, heart pounding, as your entire crush was dissected and laid bare by a group of very loud, very meddling clone troopers.

You waited until Rex tried to escape the roasting.

And then you stepped into view.

“…Hey,” you said sweetly.

Six heads whipped around. Fives looked like he was about to choke.

“(Y/N),” Rex breathed, stunned.

“Just dropping off the new tactical rotation schedules.” You held up a datapad, then let your eyes drift casually toward Rex. “But, uh… I heard a very interesting conversation.”

Fives whispered, “Oh no.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You boys gossip more than the Senators.”

Rex looked like he might pass out. “I—we didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You walked toward him, stopping just close enough to see the panic in his eyes soften into something gentler.

“I just figured I should say something before one of them exploded from holding it in.”

“Say what?” Rex asked, barely above a whisper.

You reached out, tugging lightly at the edge of his kama. “That I’m in love with you, too.”

The silence was immediate.

Then chaos.

“WHOOO—”

Fives dropped to the floor like he’d been sniped.

Jesse started clapping. “About time!”

“I am a trained medic,” Kix muttered, pointing at Rex. “And even I don’t know if his heart can take this.”

Rex was frozen, then slowly—so slowly—his expression melted into the softest smile you’d ever seen.

“…Really?” he asked.

You nodded, brushing your fingers against his gloved hand. “Really.”

He glanced at the others. “Do we… have to have this moment with them here?”

“Yes,” Fives said, still on the floor. “Yes, you do.”

You grinned, lacing your fingers with Rex’s. “Well, Captain? What do we do now?”

Rex looked at you like you were the first sunrise he’d ever seen.

“…I’m going to take you to get caf. And not drop my tray this time.”

And with your hand in his, he turned to the squad—flushed, proud, and finally not hiding anything.

Jesse saluted with two fingers. “Permission to say ’called it’?”

“No.”

“Denied,” Fives chimed. “We’re saying it anyway.”

501st Material List 💙🦋🛋️🥶

|❤️ = Romantic | 🌶️= smut or smut implied |🏡= platonic |

Overall

- “The Warmth Between Wars”🏡

- “Your What?!"🏡

- “Armour for the Skin” 🏡

- “Hearts of the 501st” ❤️

Arc Trooper Fives

- x bounty hunter reader pt.1❤️

- x bounty hunter reader pt.2 ❤️

- x reader “This Life”❤️

- x reader “Name First, Then Trouble”🌶️

- x Sith!Reader “The Worst Luck”❤️

Captain Rex

- x Jedi Reader❤️

- x Villager Reader ❤️

- x reader “what remains”❤️

- x Sith Assassin Reader “only one target”❤️

- x Reader “Ghosts of the Game”

- x Bounty Hunter Reader “Crossfire” multiple characters ❤️

- x Jedi Reader “War On Two Fronts” multiple parts

- “Smile”❤️

- “501st Confidential (Except it’s Not)” ❤️

Arc Trooper Echo

- x Old Republic Jedi Reader❤️

- x Old Republic Jedi Reader pt.2❤️

- “A Ghost in the Circuit” 🏡❤️

Hardcase

- x medic reader ❤️

Kix

- x Jedi reader “stitches & secrets”❤️

- “First Name Basis” ❤️

Overall Material List

“Stitches and Secrets”

Kix x Jedi Reader

Warnings: injury

The smell of caf, oil, and clone armor clung to the air as you strolled into the briefing tent, half a pastry in your hand and absolutely no shame in your step. Anakin was already leaning over the holotable with Ahsoka at his side, mid-conversation with Rex about insertion points and droid resistance.

“There she is,” Anakin said, smirking as you bit into your breakfast. “Glad you could make it. We were all really worried you might be doing something important, like sleeping in.”

You gave him an exaggerated bow, crumbs falling from your lips. “The Force told me to take five. Who am I to argue with destiny?”

Ahsoka laughed. “She’s worse than you, Master.”

“I’m standing right here,” Anakin said dryly.

“And I’m complimenting you,” you shot back, tossing the last of your pastry into your mouth. “You’re rubbing off on me, Skywalker. I’m starting to think I’m unfit for Jedi Council politics.”

“That makes two of us,” Anakin muttered.

Rex cleared his throat gently. “Briefing, General?”

“Right,” Anakin said. “Serious faces. Tactical minds. Let’s go.”

You stood beside Ahsoka, arms crossed, watching the blue holographic map flicker into life. The target: a droid manufacturing facility buried beneath a city block on this dusty, nowhere Separatist planet. Classic war story setup—deep insertion, sabotage, get-out-before-the-ceiling-caves-in sort of plan.

Anakin pointed to three key locations. “Ahsoka, you’ll take your Squad through the northern tunnel system. I’ll come in from the west. You,” he glanced at you, “get to lead Torrent Company. Rex is heading point. Kix is your field medic.”

“Excellent,” you said brightly. “If I get blown up, I know exactly whose name to scream out.” And winked at Kix.

Kix, who’d been standing with perfect form behind Rex, blinked and glanced your way.

“Don’t flatter him,” Anakin said, grinning. “It goes to his head.”

“I think he deserves it,” you said with a shrug.

“Force help us,” Ahsoka muttered with a smile.

Kix said nothing, but you knew he heard it. The corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little.

Anakin resumed the plan rundown. “Once we’ve cleared the tunnel entrance, regroup at the main lift shaft, plant the charges, and extract. Simple. Clean. Hopefully fast.”

“Hopefully,” you echoed. “But if it isn’t, I call dibs on the most dramatic death scene.”

“No one’s dying,” Rex said, exasperated.

You leaned toward Ahsoka and whispered, “He’s no fun at all.”

⸻

Things went sideways by hour three.

The drop had gone smoothly. Your team slipped through the tunnel entrance with minimal resistance. You moved like water through the dark—saber humming, the Force buzzing at your fingertips, and Kix never more than a few meters behind.

The issue? Droid reinforcements. Heavier than expected. A trap inside the sublevels. When the floor collapsed under you and half your squad, you barely had time to throw up a Force shield before the shrapnel cut through you like knives.

You hit the ground hard. Your saber skidded away, and a jagged spike of pain tore through your side.

“General!” Kix’s voice came sharp and clear, echoing through the smoke.

You coughed, tried to sit up, and gasped. Your hand came away red.

Kix dropped beside you in seconds, already snapping open his medkit. His gloves were steady. His jaw was clenched. “You’re lucky it missed your vital organs.”

“Define lucky,” you rasped.

“Alive.”

“You’re sweet,” you mumbled, swaying slightly.

“Try not to pass out,” he said, voice tight as he pressed a bacta patch over the worst of the wound. “You need to stay awake.”

“Trying,” you slurred. “But you’re very distracting.”

He blinked down at you. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re the worst. Too blue. And your voice is soothing. It’s unfair. You should come with a warning label.”

You felt his hands pause for a fraction of a second.

“Considering you can’t see my eyes, and the fact they are brown not blue. You’re delirious,” he muttered, but you could hear the faintest crack of a smile in his voice.

“I am not,” you insisted, blinking up at him. “In the past 3 minutes I’ve thought about kissing you like, five times. Maybe six. Who knows. Jedi don’t count those things.”

Kix worked in silence for a moment, patching you up, checking your pulse, muttering about shock and bacta levels. You didn’t stop talking.

“You always there for them,” you murmured. “Always patient. Always there. And you never say anything. But I can see it. I see you. You’re kind, Kix. Gentle. That’s rare in this war.”

Kix looked at you then. Really looked. And something in his eyes softened—like a thaw he hadn’t allowed himself before.

“I’m not gentle,” he said quietly. “I’m trained to fix people. That’s all.”

“You’ve certainly fixed me,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond to that. He just pulled you close enough to hoist you into his arms, careful not to jostle your wounds.

“Rex, I’ve got the general. She’s stable but needs evac,” he said into the comm, already moving.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, groggy and fading. “You smell like antiseptic and courage.”

“You’re gonna be so embarrassed when you wake up.”

“I’m already embarrassed. I haven’t kissed you yet.”

Kix let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh—or maybe something softer. “Maybe next time, starlight. When you’re not bleeding out.”

⸻

You woke up in the medbay. Groggy. Alive. Sore as hell.

The lights were dimmed, and someone was sitting beside you, back straight, arms crossed. Kix.

“You stayed,” you rasped.

He glanced at you. “I wanted to see if you’d survive.”

“And…?”

His voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m glad you did.”

There was a long pause. Then, with a smirk:

“So, did you mean any of it?” he asked. “The eyes. The courage. The part about kissing me?”

You smiled, exhausted but warm all over.

“Oh yeah. Every word.”

Kix leaned forward slowly, carefully, one hand brushing your cheek.

“Then let’s see if you’re a better kisser than a patient.”

You definitely were.

⸻

You’d barely been discharged from the medbay when Skywalker and Ahsoka appeared at your door like vultures circling a wounded animal.

“Well, well, well,” Anakin drawled, arms crossed and grin far too smug. “Look who decided to flirt her way through a near-death experience.”

Ahsoka stood beside him, trying and failing to look serious. “Rex told us everything. Said you were practically writing a love poem while bleeding out.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “Does no one in this battalion understand the concept of privacy?”

“Not when the drama’s this good,” Ahsoka said, plopping herself at the foot of your bed. “I mean, you told Kix he smells like courage. Who says that?”

“It was the blood loss talking.”

Anakin raised a brow. “You also apparently told him his eyes were ‘too blue.’ That doesn’t even make sense. Too blue? His eyes are brown!”

“Must’ve been the armor” you snapped, gesturing vaguely toward the corridor. “It’s aggravating. Like being judged by a beach.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Stars,” Ahsoka wheezed, wiping her eyes. “You’re lucky Master Yoda wasn’t in the room. You’d be Force-grounded for breaking the code.”

Anakin wiggled his brows. “Technically, I’m not allowed to judge.”

You shot him a look. “Please. You’re the last person who gets to bring up the Jedi Code.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Anyway,” Ahsoka said, sitting up straighter with a sly smile. “What we want to know is: did you get the kiss?”

You gave them both a very satisfied, very smug smile.

“I did.”

Silence.

Anakin blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You kissed Kix?” Ahsoka practically squealed, grabbing your arm. “When?”

“In the medbay. Post-stitches. Very romantic. Smelled like disinfectant and trauma bonding.”

Anakin shook his head in mock disbelief. “Force help us. You’re worse than I am.”

“I know,” you said with a smirk. “And unlike you, I don’t pretend to be subtle.”

Ahsoka howled with laughter.

Outside, you could’ve sworn you heard clone boots squeaking away from the medbay window. Probably Jesse or Fives listening in. Again.

“You’re never gonna live this down,” Anakin said, grinning wide.

You leaned back, smug and satisfied. “I don’t plan to.”

⸻

Fives and Jesse stumbled into the barracks like two kids who’d just found contraband candy in the Temple. Breathless, grinning, eyes wide with glee.

“Kix,” Jesse gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the medic’s bunk. “Tell me it’s true.”

Kix looked up from cleaning his kit, brow raised. “Tell you what’s true?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent,” Fives said, practically vibrating with energy. “We heard it. Straight from her own mouth.”

“She kissed you!” Jesse blurted. “Right in the medbay!”

Kix blinked once. “You were eavesdropping?”

Fives held up a hand. “Strategically positioned for morale updates.”

“You mean you pressed your faces to the window like nosey cadets,” Kix muttered, already regretting every life choice that led him here.

Fives flopped onto a bunk like he’d just been awarded a medal. “Kissing a Jedi… while she was still half-dead. That’s next-level.”

“She called you a ‘war angel in plastoid,’” Jesse said with a grin. “That’s poetry, Kix. Pure poetry.”

Kix groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I was saving her life.”

“Yeah, and then saving her lips,” Fives added.

Jesse smacked his arm. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to,” Fives said proudly. “It’s romance.”

Kix opened his mouth to fire back—but then the door slid open, and in walked Rex.

“Why are you two shouting like regs on a first patrol—” He paused mid-sentence, eyes narrowing at the scene. Fives smirking. Jesse grinning. Kix looking like he wanted to dissolve into bacta.

Rex raised a brow. “Am I walking into a war crime or a love story?”

Jesse pointed at Kix. “Our boy kissed the General.”

Rex blinked. Once. Then twice.

Then, completely deadpan, he said, “About time.”

Kix’s jaw dropped. “Rex!”

Fives lost it. “I knew you knew! I knew it!”

Rex crossed his arms, smiling just enough to twist the knife. “She’s been making eyes at him the whole campaign. Whole battalion’s been waiting for someone to make a move. Just didn’t expect it to happen during triage.”

Jesse gasped. “You knew and didn’t tell us?!”

Rex shrugged. “Didn’t want to ruin the suspense.”

Fives snorted. “Cold, Rex. Cold.”

Kix looked like he was seriously considering injecting himself with a sedative. “I hate all of you.”

Rex clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll live, lover boy.”

Jesse wheezed.

“Alright, alright,” Rex said finally, stepping back toward the door. “Joke time’s over. Back to your posts before I have you cleaning carbon scoring with your tongues.”

Fives groaned. “He always ruins the fun.”

Jesse saluted with a grin. “On it, Captain Matchmaker.”

They left laughing, boots thudding down the corridor, and Kix sat in the silence for a moment, staring down at his gloves.

Then, quietly, under his breath:

“…War angel in plastoid?”

He smiled. Just a little.