#i love cody helmet

[curlygirlybitchachos]

Padawan Y/n, with Cody's helmet on their head: I'm the Commander! General here is your lightsaber, again! Come on boys...

Ashoka: very impressive...

Padawan Y/n, shooked: oh maker... Please don't tell Cody.

Ashoka: I already sent him at least 5 pictures.

*Cody getting the message*

Obi-Wan, in bed with Cody: is it something important?

Cody, tearing up: remember me later to get Y/n a helmet.

[hira492]

Commission I drew for @/bittipins on Instagram!

I love them!

[wyvernsrus]

Little sketch page featuring Cody and Fordo! I honestly loved drawing his visor a lot and his multiple little antennae.

I also have little Stec and Fordo cause I'm a sucker for the "turned back to children" trope. Plus Cody with a baby Rex cause how can I not have those two together??? 100% based on the samurai holding a cat picture.

[aka-lorterian]

more drafts collections

[h0wdyydee]

POORLY DRAWN GROGU EVERYDAY UNTIL 2022 ENDS: DAY 104

so uh. how are we feeling about that bad batch s2 news. cause I know im not fully recovered from it.

[babygirlcowboy]

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME NOT TO SPEND $250 ON LEGOS PLS PLS PLS I CANNOT DO THIS PLS SOMEONE SUSPEND MY BANK ACCOUNT FOR ME DO NOT LET ME DO THIS PLS PLS PLS

[copepods]

i have beef with lego for doing the rex and cody helmet sets but making rex’s the new one and codys the old one... what is their PROBLEMMM do you hate cody why do you hate cody!!!!!

[heyclickadee]

badbatchtrailerbADBATCHTrAilerBADBATCHTRAILER

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Hey uh...... whend you get the clone trooper helmet my guy???

March, I think, it’s subtle tho so if you didn’t notice it’s not surprising. It’s also covered by the green reblog indicator on the dashboard

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

“It’s a,” and here Cody bites his lips, scratches the side of his nose.

“A?” Obi-Wan prompts gently. Keldabe Kiss doesn’t, objectively, sound too dirty. What’s in a name etc. but when Cody had said, if Obi-Wan is game, they could try something, Obi-Wan had kept his expectations open.

“It’s a headbutt,” Cody wrings out of himself after another few seconds.

On the list of things Obi-Wan had, after all, expected to some degree, this isn’t one of them. He keeps silent. “You want to give me a concussion?” He’s great at being silent, turns out. “Or vice versa?”

Cody is already shaking his head, foot gently shoving his helmet further away from them. “No! It’s a sign of affection…”

Only in the Mandalorian culture, Obi-Wan thinks fondly. “Explain it to me,” he signs, eyes crinkling despite himself.

Cody huffs, leans back against the wall behind his bunk. Most of his armor is stacked on its stand. The helmet on the floor near them because Cody had been fiddling with the antennas when he’d gripped it with both hands, stared at the visor, and asked if Obi-Wan knew what a Keldabe Kiss was.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged in front of him, restless fingers playing with the starched to death blanket. The mask is on and he wishes it weren’t. The last engagement had knocked the air right out of his lungs when a Hyena-class suddenly dropped down on them and delivered proton bombs on mass. He ended up gasping and on his back after the action was over, so for now the mask stays on.

Cody adjusts the hem on the t-shirt he’s wearing, the bandage no longer peeking out when he’s done. “I’m stalling.”

“I noticed,” Obi-Wan signs back, knocks his shin against Cody’s and lets it rest there.

“Growing up,” Cody begins after a few long moments where he’s watched their legs touch, “we’d sometimes see the Template put his forehead against Boba’s. Gently,” he adds, crooked smile for Obi-Wan’s concussion related fears. His voice turns wistful and Obi-Wan’s heart aches. “We didn’t— most of us didn’t want to be in his place. The Template hadn’t been popular with the clones long before he rejected us. But something about that gesture…”

The gentleness of it in contrast to the cold, neutral environment they’d been growing up in. The obvious affection of it had been calling them. One of the trainers had let it drop what it was named. And over time they had been able to put together a definition.

“You headbutt your enemy to get out of close quarters engagement,” Cody explains. “You have to be aware how you hit them so you don’t injure yourself while inflicting the maximum amount of damage to your opponent.”

“Is that why your nose is a bit,” Obi-Wan signs, pointing at the crook of his own nose just above the mask.

“Wolffe’s head is harder than his bucket,” Cody mutters, thumb stroking over Obi-Wan’s ankle absently.

The other definition, the one the clones had mostly embraced, the one that brought warmth and solidarity into their midst when no one else provided it, that one was based on affection. Clacking your helmets together after the heat of a battle, a job well done. Bringing your foreheads together to be there, to mourn together, to show the other isn’t alone. To remind the other they’re loved.

“It’s also a proxy for a kiss,” Cody explains, color high in his cheeks which makes Obi-Wan’s heart squirm in his chest. They’ve had sex a few possible and impossible ways and yet Cody is blushing over explaining a kiss. It’s sweet and touching and— “You can’t kiss when you wear buckets,” Cody says, “and sometimes you can’t kiss at all for various reasons. So it’s— it’s a kiss by proxy,” he ends, shrugging helplessly and aborted.

Obi-Wan waits as the question builds up inside Cody, firming the strokes of his thumb, the determination in his spine. He waits while Cody is stealing his breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

[thestarwarslesbian]

Cody squishing Obi-wan’s face between his hands: Love, what am I wearing? Obi-wan: A helmet? Cody: And? Obi-wan: Armor?

Cody: Great! Now what in the hell possessed you to try and use your body to protect me from a blast? Obi-wan: Because I love you. Cody: -Signs in stressed out husband-

[curlygirlybitchachos]

Hello guys!

Okay so I started to embrioder some clone helmets, because I thought it would be funny (it's not, I can't feel my fingers) so I wanted to show you the ones I done with.

So these are the 501st boys. I'm currently working on Kix.

I wanted to ask for help, I already did other ones and planned others as well. I have around 30 men I guess? And I'm a little nervous about leaving someone out so, I will write it down who's helmet I have in mind, and if you have others in mind please write it down in the comments. It will help my work a lot.

So I have:

501st: Rex, Echo, Fives, Kix, Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, Dogma, Appo, 501st trooper helmet

212nd: Cody, Waxer, Boil

Omega Squad: Atin, Darman, Fi, Niner

Delta Squad: Boss, Sev, Scorch, Fixer

The Bad Batch: Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, Omega (one of her hat kinda thing)

Others: Fox, Mayday, Howzer, Shiny helmet, Gregor

I think that's all, so if you have others ideas please share with me. It will really help my work and hobby.

Thank you guys, and have a nice day! Love you 💕❤

[chiliger]

Commander Cody finds himself in a galaxy that is not his own.

(Okay I had to repost this because my dumb butt deleted the original 🥲. If people don’t mind reblogging this post again I would really appreciate it.)

Ficlet under the cut.

The moment he had realized this wasn’t his galaxy, his dimension, Cody knew this meeting was inevitable. He’d hoped to avoid it, but that feeling in his gut always loved to prove him otherwise.

Standing before him was his face. And no, not the face of a brother. This wasn’t just one of the millions he had grown up with.

This was him. He could feel it.

An alternate version of him, with colder eyes and harder expression. But still, he was Cody. Or rather, he was Kote.

Cody swallowed down a dry lump in his throat, not allowing his own gaze to falter under Kote’s scrutiny. “Please,” he started, hoping that his voice didn’t waver. “I’m not supposed to be here. The Jedi… Our brothers are in danger.”

“Your brothers,” Kote shot back, eyes narrowed. The way he spoke the words sent a chill down Cody’s spine, as though being a Vod was something beneath him. “Why should I care what happens to them?”

Cody’s thoughts froze for half a second, then he blinked hard and shook his head to push pass the shock. Never in a millions years would he dream of hearing a clone say anything along those words, much less from himself.

But this was a version of him. This was Kote Fett, and he was obviously raised under the guidance and views of the Prime. Cody briefly wondered if Boba existed in this dimension before forcing his thoughts back on track. He needed to convince Mand’alor Kote, somehow.

“Look,” he half whispered. “You don’t have to help me. I can find my own way back. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Kote slightly tilted his head, and with it, Cody felt a sharp spike of heat in his head. He gasped and dug his nails into his palms, strengthening his mental shields at the same time as throwing back a spike of his own, causing Kote to stagger one step back.

“Kote,” Prime chided from the side wall, unmoving. It was short and clipped, but his tone carried a low warning with it.

Cody bit back a groan, the sudden headache making him lose focus for a moment. He breathed roughly past the mental pain, instead concentrating on the feel of the cuffs holding his arms up, digging into the skin of his wrists. It was something physical. He could deal with physical.

Kote let out a grunt in acknowledgment, making a quick cut sign with his free hand, the other holding his helmet. He gazed back at Cody, a glint of intrigue now in his eyes. “Huh,” he breathed out.

Cody stared right back, blocking out whatever feelings were suddenly directed at him. “Just… just let me go.”

Kote’s brow furrowed, just enough for Cody to notice. He stepped closer, until they were less then an arm’s length away, face-to-face. His eyes rove over Cody’s face, and Cody could feel him prodding at his shields for a weak point. Cody built up another layer, shutting Kote out.

The Mand’alor blinked, a flash of surprise there and gone. His eyes suddenly grew cold. He spoke, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Now why would I do that?”

[vodika-vibes]

What about an enemies to lovers with Fox. Maybe Reader stumbles upon him, bruised and injured after Palpatine lets off his frustrations. Fix is embarrassed and doesn't want Reader to see, but instead, Reader treats him with absolute dignity and sweetness as they tend to his wounds, and for the first time ever, they have a real conversation.

Thank you. Love oo

Waiting On A Miracle

Summary: Commander Fox has a list of people he never wants to see him when he’s injured, the youngest aid to Senator Amidala is probably at the top of that list. So when he’s struggling after a particularly brutal session with Palpatine, the last thing he wants to see is her. Unfortunately, she’s the only one there.

Pairing: Pre Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1436

Warnings: Torture, though nothing detailed

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I didn't follow the prompt exactly, it's less enemies to lovers and more Fox hates her and she doesn't hate him, lol.

White hot pain lances through Fox’s body, and he releases a quiet oath in mando’a as he slumps against the wall, his badly injured arm wrapping securely around his equally as injured ribs.

Palpatine was in a mood today. And he suffered the consequences of it.

All he has to do it get to the lift that the clones are allowed to use.

That’s it.

As soon as he’s on the lift, he can get to Vacc and his brother will put him back together.

Unfortunately the lift is on the other side of the floor that he’s on, and it feels like it might as well be in the Outer Rim.

The good thing, the only good thing, is that it’s late enough that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone stumbling over him when he’s this injured. It would be a disaster if Wolffe or, force forbid, Cody found him in this condition.

The pain fades long enough that Fox feels like he’s able to walk at least a little bit, and he straightens up from the wall. Only for the pain to slam back into him with a vengeance.

This time his curse of pain is much louder.

Behind his helmet, Fox grinds his teeth to try and push through the pain. But it’s not working.

Kriff Palpatine and his kriffing lighting, seriously.

Fox is so distracted by his pain, that he doesn’t notice her right away. Not until he hears a quiet, and deeply concerned, “Commander?”

Fox lifts his head, and his heart sinks.

There are three people that he absolutely never wanted to see him in this condition: Wolffe, Cody, and her.

She is Senator Amidala’s youngest Aide, a recent graduate from the Law School of Theeds, and an even more recent transplant from Naboo. According to his brothers, she goes out of her way to learn about the Clones, to learn their paint and their names and them.

And he thinks he hates her.

No one goes out of their way to learn about the clones unless they want to use them. No one at the Senate is that good.

“Commander!” She steps closer to him, “You’re hurt!”

Fox pushes away from the wall and drops his arm from around his ribs, “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not.” She argues, “You can barely stand up straight!”

“It’s not your concern.” He bites out, “Excuse me.” Fox tries to push passed her, only to stagger when the pain slams into him. She catches him as he staggers, surprisingly strong for all that she has the same build as Senator Amidala.

“Let me help you Commander,” She says, “My office isn’t far.”

Fox is silent for a moment, and then he sighs, “Fine.”

Her office really isn’t far, only several doors down, and she carefully guides him onto the couch that fills a good portion of her office. There’s a blanket and pillow on the couch.

“Were you sleeping here?” Fox asks, groaning as she lowers him onto the ridiculous looking fleece blanket.

“I had some stuff I was looking up-” She explains as she hurries to her desk and pulls a massive first aid kit from inside her desk, “It’s not important, really. Um...can you take off your armor?”

Fox stares at her silently for long enough that she shifts, nervously.

“Please?”

“...not without help.” Fox finally admits.

“Okay. Tell me what to do.” She replies as she sets the first aid kit on a side table and walks over to him.

Slowly, Fox walks her through popping the seals on his armor and removing the pieces, and he watches as she carefully sets each piece on the floor next to her. It’s surprisingly intimate, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s because she’s a woman, or if it would be just as intimate if it was any other natborn helping him.

“Okay,” She says to herself as she sets the last piece of his chest armor on the floor, and then casts her gaze over him, “And your shirt?”

Fox makes a face, but uses his good arm to unfasten it at the collar, “Gonna need your help with this too. And it’s going to hurt.” He hisses.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can.” She promises as she carefully started removing the top of his blacks. But, in spite of her care, Fox still releases a deep groan of pain as she peels his shirt off.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She whispers as she tosses the thick material of his shirt to the side, “It’s over, it’s off.”

And then she gets a proper look at his injuries and her face falls. Bruises and lacerations cover his torso, and his left arm is covered in deep electrical burns.

“Who did this to you?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” Fox replies.

“It absolutely-” She stops mid-sentence and takes a deep breath, before she turns to the medkit and opens it, fishing around for something, before she turns back to him with some supplies in her hands, “You don’t deserve to be treated like this, commander.” She finally says.

Fox scoffs, but doesn’t say anything one way or the other.

She stands and carefully steps closer to him to tilt his head back so she can start treating the injuries on his face.

Her hands are gentle against his face, and she’s so warm. Somehow Fox wasn’t expecting that, though he’s not sure why.

“Didn’t know you cared about clones.” He says after a long silence.

“You’re still men.”

“Not legally.”

“Kriff legally.” She turns his head to the side slightly, her gaze solemn as she looks at the electric burn on his cheek, “I’m sorry, these are going to scar.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. It’s not fine and I don’t know why you keep saying it is.” She applies some ointment to the burn on his face, and the burning pain fades slightly, “You have so many brothers, why haven’t they done something?”

Fox’s smile is bitter, “We went out drinking the other day,” She glances at him, slightly bemused by the non-sequitur, “We decided to play a drinking game called would you rather.”

“Sounds familiar. Go on,”

“One of the questions was, would you rather save Fox or Ponds. Not a single one of my brothers chose me.”

Her fingers pause against his cheek, and then she continues moving, “That’s...that’s unfortunate.” She finally says, “Maybe they didn’t mean it how it sounded?”

“They did.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

“Yeah, well...if life was about what you deserved, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?” Fox leans back against the couch, “If my brothers knew, had proof, that we were being mistreated, of course they’d do something. But, well, it’s just me.”

She’s very quiet for a moment, “Just you is still too many people being hurt, Fox.”

He watches her for a moment, “I misjudged you. You’re a good person.”

Her smile is wry, “No. I’m kind, but I’m not very good I’m afraid.”

“You care about me.”

“The bar is on the ground there.”

“You’d be stunned at how many people are more than happy to start digging.”

She drops the supplies she was using on the table, to grab something different, but instead she turns and presses her hands against his cheeks, “If I could get away with it, I’d steal you and your brothers from here.”

“All 2 million of us?” Fox asks, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Well, maybe the 600 or so of you in the Guard at least.”

“Where would we go?”

“Outer Rim? Maybe further? Somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again.”

This is nice, Fox decides. Even if it is pointless fantasizing. “And then what?”

“Dress you all up as Mandos, and make our own society. Rescue slaves. Overthrow the Hutts-”

“Sounds nice. Shame it would take a miracle to actually pull off.”

For a moment, Fox thinks he sees something sliding though her pretty eyes, though it’s gone as quickly as it appears as she tilts his head to the side and starts treating the wounds on his neck. “Lets finish getting you patched up,” She murmurs, “And then you can get back to your brothers in the guard, hm?”

Three months later, under the noses of the Supreme Chancellor, The Senate, and the Jedi...all 600 men from the Coruscant Guard vanish overnight, along with with junior aide from Naboo and a ship big enough for all of them.

Turns out, Fox’s little lawyer is quite good at performing miracles.

[nahoney22]

🌺 Foxglove Commander Fox 🌺

Garden Wishes

X female senator reader

word count: 1.3k

🌸 💐 Flower Fic Event 💐 🌸

Just a cute little event with Clones and some Flowers me and some of my moots decided to do on discord for @arctrooper69 birthday today! 🎉 🌸 🌺 Check the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see more! 💐

warnings: None, fluff, reader wearing a skirt, catching feelings.

Others involved with this event are (will add links to there fics once posted💜):

🌸 @arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

🌸@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

🌸 @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

🌸 @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

🌸 @l-lend - Wolffe

🌸 @jedi-hawkins - Kix

🌸 @moonstrider9904 - Howzer

“It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree, Commander?” You muse, enjoying the sun's warm caress on your skin. Your question is directed to Clone Commander Fox, who trails a few steps behind you as you stroll through the Senate Gardens.

As a Senator, moments of peace and solitude are rare and precious and for you, it’s best spent admiring the diverse plant life. Though Commander Fox, your assigned protector, doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“It is, ma’am,” he replies curtly, his lack of enthusiasm evident. You decide not to press him and continue your walk with a playful roll of your eyes.

Pausing by a bush adorned with tiny white flowers, you crouch carefully to avoid snagging your regal, albeit cumbersome, skirt. “These are some of my favorites,” you say as Fox halts behind you. “Leucanthemum Vulgare.”

“I’m not familiar with it, ma’am,” he responds, surprising you. Fox rarely speaks unless spoken to, but perhaps after weeks of close quarters, he feels inclined to converse back.

“Just daisies,” you chuckle, standing again. You notice Fox instinctively reaching out to assist you, only to quickly tuck his hands behind his back when you were fine.

Continuing your walk, your feet eventually tire, and you opt to sit on a nearby bench while Fox stands awkwardly beside you. “You can sit with me, Commander,” you suggest, patting the space next to you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must remain vigilant to protect you,” he replies, giving you a nod and you can’t help but wonder what expression lies behind his helmet.

“I doubt anyone will attack me here,” you say, though Fox’s squared shoulders suggest otherwise. “...or do you know something I don’t?”

He clears his throat and gazes down at you, his eyes meeting yours through the visor. “All Senators are at risk, ma’am. However… your advocacy for Clone rights has made you a target in certain political circles.”

You shrug. “If they want to shoot me for it, so be it.”

“Ma’am, please don’t say that,” Fox winces, looking away and shaking his head. He seems to want to speak freely, but refrains.

“Thank you for protecting me,” you say gently, shifting your gaze to the vibrant flowers that soothe your nerves. “I can’t think of another Clone I’d rather have by my side to appreciate these gardens.”

Fox tenses beside you. “Y-you’re welcome,” he stammers, a rare but endearing lapse in his typical stoicism.

You both settle into a peaceful silence, though you wondered how Fox is faring. Often, you ponder whether he enjoys these quiet moments with you or would rather be back in his office. You recall the amusing sight of his brothers stuffing countless empty caf cups into a corner when you first visited him, and the strain in his voice and stiff body language betrayed his embarrassment over the discovery of his caf addiction.

You just hoped it wasn’t because he was exhausted.

“So,” you begin, snapping out of your worried thoughts, “you’ve walked with me in these gardens plenty of times now, Commander. Is there any particular plant, flower, or tree you like?”

Fox turns his head towards you, tilting it slightly, which you find unexpectedly adorable and you scold yourself mentally for thinking so.

“I’m afraid my answer will bore you.”

You give a wry smile. “I’m sorry, you probably have more important things to be doing, I’m sure.”

“Taking care of you is the most important thing to me,” he says almost sternly. The way he says it sounds almost desperate, not just dutiful. Realising this, he adds, “as it is my current job.”

Clearing your throat, you turn your gaze away, hoping he doesn’t notice the tips of your ears burning with a blush. “I see.”

He nods simply, but after a moment, he sighs slightly. “There is, uh, one flower that catches my eye every time we come here actually.”

You look back at him, surprised. “Really? Which one?”

“It’s over there in the corner to the right.” He nods in the direction, and you stand, asking him to show you.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if you’re serious. But judging by your smile—something he has grown rather fond of—he nods and leads the way.

You stop in front of a flower bed filled with a mix of pink, purple, white, and red flowers—tall and breathtaking, and quite familiar to you.

“I believe these are Digitalis purpurea,” you say, leaning forward to inhale their delicate fragrance with a soft smile. “I can see why you like them, come to think of it.”

He nods slightly, pleased to have a name for the flower, even if he wasn't going to try to pronounce it. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” you say with a smirk as you turn to him, “it’s also more commonly known as ‘Foxglove.’”

“Oh, really?” he asks, genuinely curious, and you nod in confirmation.

“Quite the coincidence, don't you think?” you add, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Fox seems taken aback, the irony not lost on him. “Yes, quite the coincidence indeed.” His voice is softer, and there's a hint of a smile in his tone that you wholeheartedly wish you could see.

Fox admires the flowers once more before his eyes drift to the ground where a small bunch had been either knocked or blown off. He bends down and picks them up, then without thinking, holds them out to you. “Would you like these?”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, looking at the outstretched flowers and then at him. “Oh,” you say pleasantly, reaching out and taking hold of the slightly battered and broken stems, “thank you, Commander.”

But you notice that he doesn’t let go at first, instead focusing on the way your fingers brush against his. You feel your heart skip a beat as you both look at each other, neither of you willing to let go. This had to stop. This was completely inappropriate. But yet…

“Senator, Commander Fox.” A voice interrupts you both, and you almost gasp as you quickly let go of the flowers and turn to see who has interrupted this—if you could even call it—moment.

“Thorn,” Fox acknowledges, his attempt to sound composed betrayed by the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

“You are both needed inside. I did try to comm you, but I, uh, must’ve not gotten the signal.” Thorn's tone carries a hint of amusement, and you feel a rush of nervousness and fluster. Did Fox feel the same awkwardness you did?

You glance at Fox, who gives a curt nod to Thorn. “Understood. We’ll head there immediately.”

As you walk back towards the Senate building, you can't help but replay the moment in your mind. The gentle brush of his fingers against yours, the intensity of his gaze behind his visor—it was so unlike the stoic Commander you had come to know.

“Thank you, Commander,” you say softly once the two of you were alone again, glancing at the flowers in your hand. “For the flowers.”

Fox nods, his voice steady but tone also softer than usual. “You’re welcome.”

Later that day, you receive word that you are needed on a different planet for urgent Senate business. As you prepare to leave, you find yourself thinking about Fox and the moment you shared in the garden. An idea forms in your mind, and you act on it impulsively.

Before you depart, you make your way to Fox’s office. It's empty, as he's likely out on duty. You place the flowers on his desk, arranging them neatly. Beside the flowers, you leave a small note:

‘Hopefully you will protect these like you protected me until I come back, Fox.’

And signed with your name. Not just Senator.

With one last glance around the room, amused to see his caf cups still there, you quietly slip out.

When Fox returned to his office that evening, confused with the days events and how he was feeling about you, he never realised he would experience missing someone. Yet as he reads the note you left and looks at the flowers, he does something strange. He pushes his steaming caf to the side and instead, lets the memory of you and the scent of the Foxgloves relax him.

He would not tell the others, but he could not wait for another stroll in the gardens with you.

Masterlist is pinned 😊

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

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

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @thiswitchloves9904

@whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @the-bad-batch-baroness

[jedi-hawkins]

Flowers for the Doctor

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

@moonstrider9904 - Howzer

@eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Kix x f!reader

Chosen Flower: St. John's Wort

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Medical terminology, pandemic, sickness and death, brief suggestive content, friends to lovers

Beta-read by @anxiouspineapple99

The helmet of your hazmat suit hisses as you release the seal. A deep sigh passes your lips as you step out of your suit and hang it on the rack for decontamination. When you open the door to the decontam stalls, the creak echoes around the tiled room. 

'Damn. All this and we can’t even get some WD-40 on the hinges?' You think to yourself before stripping down to your skivvies and stepping under one of the spouts. The doors from the infectious disease ward open again and a friendly face steps in. 

“Kix.” 

He smiles at you as he strips down to his briefs and steps under a spout. “Long day, Doc?”

You can’t even muster a reply as you close your eyes and hit the red button in front of you. For just a single moment, the rest of the hospital fades away with the roar of the sonic waves washing over you, and then it’s over. 

“That good, huh?” Kix notes your response, or lack thereof. 

You shake your head, trying to keep it together. “I’ve had better.” 

Kix holds the door to the locker room open for you as you step through. “At least you don’t have to wear the clone kit all day.” He says, tossing you a pair of clean blacks from the cabinet. “On the battlefield it’s great, but here I bump around like a pinball. I’m lucky if I can make it through the day without breaking anything.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of your mouth does twitch a little. “I don’t know.” You respond, “I’ve always thought I looked like a hutt in those hazmat suits, and the gloves are so annoying.” 

“Dinner?” Kix simply asks. 

“Please.”

He leads the way to the hospital cantina. You met Kix just a couple weeks ago, but the two of you had become fast friends. He was a clone medic, sent to your planet to help in one of the hundreds of makeshift ‘hospitals’ that had popped up in the wake of a pandemic. This particular hospital was housed in an academic campus, shut down because of the spreading illness. 

Normally, you were the second in command in the biggest hospital in the planet’s capital, but for the past month your days consisted of random converted buildings, biohazard suits, and patients you felt like you couldn’t do anything for. At the end of the day, you were thankful Kix had been stationed at your hospital. 

Though you two were usually preoccupied with your own patients throughout the day, the pair of you could usually be found together on your breaks. It felt like Kix truly saw you and your struggle. Sure, the hospital Medical Director was the top dog, calling the shots, but you were the one in the trenches of the Infectious Disease Ward every day. 

This pandemic was an enigma that you just couldn’t figure out. It should have just been the normal yearly wave of Wet Lung, easily managed by some general antibios, but those didn’t work. Then your Medical Director ordered you to move up to more aggressive drugs, so you did. Before you knew it, your patients were on IV drips of the most aggressive antibio cocktail you could think of. 

And they still weren’t getting better, in fact, they were getting worse. You’d already lost a number of patients to sepsis, blood poisoning, and the other hospitals across the planet were facing the same issues. As far as you knew, any person that had caught this mysterious strain of Wet Lung were either dead or dying and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You nearly bump into Kix when he stops to open the cantina door. 

“Coruscant to Doc, are you okay?” He asks, guiding you through the door with a hand on your lower back. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Yeah, Kix. Just a long shift, you know?”

He squeezes your shoulder before grabbing a tray and heading to the serving line. Even though the Republic had brought the war to your Planet a few months ago, you had to admit their support was needed for this pandemic. And nobody knows how to feed the masses quite like the GAR. 

Kix immediately starts eating when you two sit down, he told you about one of his brothers, Fives: 'If you didn’t eat quickly around him, he’d swipe the rest of your rations.'

You just can’t bring yourself to eat, instead you just chase a few peas around your tray. Of course, Kix notices. 

“Jahaal'got.” He says, using your nickname to grab your attention. “Come on. Talk. It wasn’t just a long day.”

You avoid his eyes, the words getting stuck in your throat. You’ve lost patients before, multiple in one day even, so why was today crushing you so badly?

Kix sets down his fork and reaches across the table to gently grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. “How many did you lose today?”

You take a deep breath, “Twelve, eight more deteriorating. I just… I don’t get it, Kix. What are we missing? The drugs aren’t working, they keep going septic before we can catch it, and those that haven’t progressed to sepsis are dying to the Wet Lung.” 

Kix stops your rambling by taking both your hands in his. “You remember what your nickname means, right?” 

You should be able to remember, but your mind has been so overworked, it doesn’t come to you. “I, uh… something about medicine?”

“Jahaal’got.” Kix repeats it. “It’s the mando term meaning 'good for health', because that’s what you are. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all you can do.” 

You nod, closing your eyes and rolling your head to try to release the tension in your shoulders. 

“You’re off tonight, right?” Kix asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “I picked up the night shift, I have to be here.” 

Kix scoffs at you. “Are you serious? What, you’re just going to sleep on the hospital floor forever?” 

“Not forever.” You protest. “Just until this blows over.” 

“This pandemic or the war?” 

You meet his eyes, and a knowing look passes between you. After meeting him, you had discussed sending in an application to become a civilian medic for the GAR. 

“Well, we have an hour before the night shift starts.” Kix says, standing up and taking your tray. “Why don’t we go for a walk and then try again at this ‘food’ thing before going back to work?”

Your brow furrows at his remark, “But you-”

“Will also be working the night shift, so it seems.” He cuts you off. He shifts both trays into one hand and holds his other out to help you out of your seat. 

Kix leads the way, dropping the trays in the wash basin on the way out of the cantina. Outside, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange, pinks and purples. 

The two of you walk through the academic campus, chatting about nothing in particular. Kix asks you a few questions here and there about the buildings you all pass. Though it’s been a few years, you tell him what you remember about studying here. 

“It’s a shame all the students had to be sent home.” You remark as you step into the university greenhouses. 

Kix nods his agreement. “What is this place?” He asks, looking around. 

“The campus greenhouses, they're shared by a few departments.” You explain. “Biology, horticulture, environmental studies, and engineering to name a few.”

“I’m surprised everything is still alive, don’t plants take some maintenance?”

“Well, the greenhouse forms a pretty self-sustaining environment. I remember the medical students coming in here a couple times.”

Kix tilts his head at you. “What would medical students study in here?”

“Well,” you shrug, “There are quite a few medicinal plants native to this planet. Though they aren’t quite as effective as modern medicine, they can still be used for daily management or as an additional treatment.” 

The two of you weave through the greenhouse aisles for a few more minutes before you notice Kix has lagged behind. When you turn around to find him, you notice he’s hiding something behind his back.

Your eyes narrow. “What do you have there, Kix? It’s not a bug, is it? That was only funny the first time.”

He chuckles, “Haha, no. I promise it’s not. Here, one last thing to brighten your day.” 

You freeze when you notice what he has in his hand. 

Kix notices your expression at the small yellow flowers he’s holding out to you. “What, are they poisonous or something?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head smiling as you take them from him. “It’s just funny, those are St. John’s Worts.” 

“Weird name.” 

“It’s from local mythology.” You explain. “The flowers tend to bloom on the summer solstice, which is dedicated to their namesake.” 

Kix looks from you to the flowers and gently picks a few more sprigs from the nearby planter, tucking them behind your ear. “They’re pretty, like something else I’m looking at.” 

His words make you smile, but you playfully swat at his arm. “Oh stop it. I know I look like hell.” 

“You look better than anyone else would after nearly a month of non-stop work in an infectious disease ward.” He responds.

“Thanks Kix.” You say, hoping that your sincerity projects. Before you know it, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. 

Kix falters, but only for a second. You feel his arms wrap around you, strong and steady, just like him. Just like he has been for you the past few weeks. Maybe it was his clone conditioning, or maybe it was just him, but he seemed so unshakeable and he always knew what to say. 

He doesn’t relax until you do, but his hands remain on your hips, his eyes darting across your face, trying to read your thoughts. One of your hands rests on his chest, the other still on his shoulder. You won’t deny how drawn you are to him. Though you hoped for the end of this mystery illness plaguing your planet, it stung that it’s end meant saying goodbye to Kix. 

Kix is shifting. ‘He’s leaning in, why is he leaning in?’

You move as well, but the moment is shattered when your foreheads bump into each other. 

Kix lets go of you completely and takes a step back, color spreading across his cheeks.

“I uhhh…” He tries to find the words, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Uh, it’s fine.” You stammer. “You’re fi- we’re fine.” A giggle slips past your lips at the awkwardness. 

Kix breaks into some nervous laughter as well before readjusting some of the yellow flowers in your hair. “Tell me about them.” 

You smile at him. “Well, they’re perennials, meaning they come back every year, they don’t need to be replanted. Although the flowers are yellow, they’ll stain your fingers red when you crush them. They’ve been shown to have some antidepressant properties as well as anti-inflammatory benefits, but you need to be careful when combining them with modern drugs.”

You notice Kix’s soft expression as he listens to you.

“It’s been shown that St. John’s Wort has antibio and antiviral properties as we-'' Your heart stops. “Kix.”

“What?” 

“Kix, that’s it,” you repeat. “That’s why we keep losing them. We’ve been treating this Wet Lung with antibios, but those aren’t working because it’s not bacterial.”

Kix’s mouth drops open and he says the words at the same time as you. “It’s viral.” 

You can see the thoughts tumbling in his head. “And because we advanced to use the system-wide drugs, the patient’s are too weak to fight the virus, triggering the sepsis.” He stammers out. “But, wait, that can’t be right. How can it be viral? There’s never been a case of viral Wet lung reported on this planet.” 

Your feet move automatically as you start pacing. “‘There’s always a patient zero. Normal trade is scanned and sanitized.” You stop. “The troopers.”

Kix’s brow furrows. “No, we're vaccinated.”

“Yes, but vaccines aren’t a foolproof plan, with a mutated strain it might present as a mild cold, or not even show symptoms, especially since you all are engineered to have a more robust immune system.” You say, your brain moving a klick a minute. “Where were you all stationed before being deployed here?”

“Most of the 501st was on shore leave on Coruscant.” Kix replies, shaking his head. “The Carnivore and Execute Battalions… They were on Rhodia and transferred directly here for the occupation.” 

His eyes widen and he grabs your wrist without another word. 

“Kix? Kix!” You shout as he drags you through the campus back towards the hospital. “Why is it so important that you were on Rhodia?”

“Rhodia is one of the native planets for viral strains of Wet Lung.” He pants. “The Rhodians are largely immune, but some mutated strains survive. You were right, we had a couple troopers reporting colds when they transferred.” 

The doors to the Infectious Disease Ward bang open and Kix finally lets go of your wrist, giving you a moment to breathe. 

“Like you said, the troopers, we’re engineered to have stronger immune systems and we’re vaccinated.” He continues. “The population here…”

“We never have.” You finish his sentence. “We don’t have any kind of immunity. Combined with your theory that it’s a mutated strain and the antibios we’ve given them, it’s no wonder-”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” 

The two of you turn and see the Medical Director storming down the nearby hallway. 

Kix steps partially in front of you and stands at attention. “I’m sorry sir, but we-”

“I don’t care what you two were doing!” The Director booms. “You bursting in here is no excuse.”

You slowly step out from behind Kix. “Please, sir. We think we’ve figured out this pandemic.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m in charge here.” The Director says, his eyes narrowing.

Instead of bowing away as usual, you stand your ground. “I am just as qualified as you, if not more. I'm the one that's been running this ward while you sit in your office. I graduated from this very campus, top of my class and I’m the second in command at the Capital Hospital. This disease we’re dealing with, it has to be viral.”

Your Medical Director looks you up and down, pausing at the yellow flowers in your hair. “There has never been a case of viral Wet Lung reported on this planet. The antibios always work. We just need to find the right combination of meds.”

“Sir, you need to listen.” You insist. “I know we’ve always treated Wet Lung with antibios, but look,” You wave your arm at the ward behind him. “Every single patient that’s come in is either still sick or has progressed to sepsis. The other hospitals are reporting the same.”

Kix puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “She’s right, sir. Strains of viral Wet Lung are common in other systems. We had a couple battalions transfer here from one of those systems, Rhodia. It’s likely some of our troopers were carriers for a mutated variant and brought it here.”

You pick up where Kix left off. “Even though our population doesn’t have any innate immunity, a fair amount of people probably could have ridden out the virus if we hadn’t given them those antibios.” You bite your lip before continuing. “Those drugs are effective, but in a patient with no bacterial infection, all it would do is compromise their system. They can’t fight the virus, and they progress to sepsis. Only we’re not catching it before it kills them because the Wet Lung is masking the sepsis symptoms.” 

You try to stop the words from spilling over your lips but in a last desperate plea for your officer to understand, it slips out.

"We’re killing them."

Kix’s hand squeezes firmly on your shoulder as you let out a choked sob. Your medical officer looks at you curiously, you’ve always been so level headed and sure footed. 

The Director crosses his arms. "So you’re telling me to take them off the drugs and do nothing. You do know that’s how we treat viruses, right?"

You lock eyes with him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We need to give them supportive treatment; fluids, steroids, pain medication. We can try some antivirals to weaken the Wet Lung strain, but the patients will have to fight it off on their own. All we can do is give them the best chance possible.”

Your director looks you up and down before letting out a little ‘hm.’ He glances behind him to the infectious disease ward and back to you. “I will not take responsibility when this goes wrong. Looks like we’re taking your direction now, Doctor.” 

Under your instruction, all of the patients in the ward are removed off the antibio cocktail. Much to your Medical Director's annoyance, the death rate begins to improve. You sent word to the other hospitals caring for pandemic patients and they saw similar results. It’s a slow process, and Kix stays by your side every step of the way. The day you discharged your first survivor, you cried. You both did, actually.

It takes a few more weeks, some patients are touch and go. There were still a few deaths, and Kix held you as you cried for them. Then came the day that you got the news. Your patient numbers had reduced so much your little makeshift hospital was going to be closed, and you were being sent back to the Capital Hospital with a new position, no less. Your remaining patients would be transferred along with you and the University was going to be reopened. 

And yet, you weren’t quite happy. Sure you’d basically saved your planet’s population from facing extinction, but you couldn’t revel in it knowing that a certain someone was going to be shipped out. 

“The campaign here is over.” Kix had explained. “And with the pandemic contained, there’s no reason for the medics to stay behind.” 

The 501st was being sent to Ryloth. You knew there was a crisis brewing there, and you were proud that you knew some of the brave men going to help there, but it still stung. It stung the same as your eyes did as you stand on the landing platform, waiting for someone to come say goodbye. 

“There you are.” He says, walking up behind you. 

You sniff slightly, trying to keep tears from pricking at your eyes. “Here I am.” 

You hear a bit of laughter and you notice a group of clone troopers in blue armor across the landing platform that seem very interested in the two of you.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” Kix says, moving in front of you to block them from view. “Brothers…” He mumbles. 

“I get it.” You say, searching his face, what for you’re not quite sure. 

Kix reaches for a pouch on his belt. “I- I have something for you.” He says, sheepishly pressing a box into your hands. 

Looking down you realize it’s a jewelry box. Gently you open the lid and gasp at the sight of what lays inside. Strung on a delicate chain is a single golden pendant of a flower. The same flower that Kix had tucked into your hair all those weeks ago. The same flower that led to the salvation of your planet.

“Kix… I don’t know what to say.” You stammer. 

“Don’t say anything,” he says sweetly. “Just turn around for me.” 

He takes the necklace from the box and gently brushes your hair out of the way before clasping the chain around your neck. Turning back around you can only shake your head and smile at him. 

“I have something for you too.” You say. 

Kix looks at you a little puzzled, he hadn’t seen you holding anything. 

“They’re naming the new wing of the hospital after you.” You explain. “It’ll be like you’re always here. No one will forget what you did for us, for me.” 

Kix gingerly cups your cheek with one hand. “It was an honor and a privilege.”

He’s leaning in again.

This time your lips connect and the landing platform melts away. There’s nothing but him. Him and you. 

Of course your heart has to ruin it as it sinks with the returning thought that he’s literally about to leave and never come back. You break the kiss, but he keeps your foreheads pressed together. 

“What is it?” He breathes.

You can’t help but scoff. “You’re leaving and we’re kissing. I doubt the GAR will give you much time for visits.”

“Hey,” Kix says gently holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like you said, I’ll always be here, jahaal'got. I will admit I should’ve kissed you sooner.” 

“Hey lovebird! It’s time to go!” One of his brothers shouts.

That manages to get a laugh out of the two of you. 

“I think you have to go.” You mutter.

Kix lets you go and takes a step back. “There’s one more thing, but it’s waiting in your office.” 

He turns to leave, but you reach out and grab his bracer. “Kix. Thank you. For everything.”

With a smile, he leans in to peck you on the cheek before turning and jogging over to the shuttle where his brothers are waiting. 

A grin spreads across your face when you see one with shoulder pauldrons wrap his arm around Kix’s neck to give him a noogie, while another with a top knot of hair claps him on the back. 

The sun is setting by the time you get back to your office. The door slides open with a gentle woosh. It’s a nice space, though somewhat empty as you have yet to move most of your stuff over from your old office. On your desk is a vase of small yellow flowers. You find yourself shaking your head again as you walk closer. 

Kix… when will he stop absolutely melting your heart?

When you didn't think he could surprise you any more, you realize the flowers in the vase are ceramic. Tucked in between some of the delicate blooms is a notecard. You instantly recognize Kix’s swooping handwriting.

‘I think I need to make an appointment with the Doc, I seem to have been bitten by the love bug. (augh, that was awful, Jesse told me it would be good) I hope you like these, you deserve real ones, but had a local artist make them for you since I won’t be around to make sure real ones never wilt.  I’ll see you soon, jahaal'got, on my next shore leave.’

Also Happy Birthday @arctrooper69! (today, May 20th)