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obixwan · 7 days

Text

spare a crumb, I'll take it

Pairing: Kix x Translator!Reader

WC: 2k

Rating: M (no smut/spicy content but discussion of sex)

You head to 79s with your favorite unit. Kix walks you home.

part 1 part 2 part 3

Kix is going to lose his mind.

It’s been hours, and yet each and every time you get up, his eyes zero in on your legs. He can’t help it. Really.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen bare legs before. But it’s the first time he’s seen your bare legs before. (To be fair you do have tights on under your dress, but they’re fishnets; they’re also driving him insane). Part of him wants to strangle Jesse for inviting you to 79s while they’re planetside on Coruscant.

But a larger part of him is thrilled his brother had pity on him because now he gets to see you out of your uniform, and he’s losing it. He thinks you need to wear this every day. Fuck the GAR and their drab uniform; you’re glowing like this. And your legs…

His gaze drops back down to said offenders as you make your way back from the bar.

You’re sipping on your drink, plunking a beer down in front of him.

“Looked like you were getting a little low.” Kix’s face heats up as he glances at the way your lips wrap around your straw. What is wrong with him?

As you slide in next to Fives, Echo snickers at Kix, who is stuck watching your mouth.

“Hey, nothing for me?” he hears Fives ask. You snort, taking another sip of your drink, and Kix manages to drag his eyes to the foam that’s settling at the top of his beer.

“Listen, Jesse was gonna get you something, but I’m afraid we’ve lost him to a Twi’lek for the night. But you don’t need anymore to drink, Fives. Back me up, doctor.” Your foot taps lightly against Kix’s calf.

He jerks back to attention, grimacing a little. He’s a solider, he shouldn’t be stunned into stupidity by you, and yet his eyes hover towards your lips anyway.

“Not technically a doctor.” You pout a little at his rebuttal, foot still gently knocking into his calf. He’s so fucked.

“No fun,” you whine. Kix’s jaw clenches. He knows he’s playing right into your hand, but he can’t stop himself.

“I am plenty fun.” He does his best to ignore the way Echo shakes his head, pitying him. But you're delighted, jumping to your feet.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Kix is being pulled up and to the dance floor before he can process what’s happening. Gone is the safety of sitting at a booth, and instead, he’s surrounded by throngs of people. He can't even cower inside his bucket, as he left it sitting with his brothers' in a shiny set of four on the table.

But his anxieties are quickly forgotten about when you lightly drape your arms around his neck. Oh no, all he can focus on now is you.

The confidence you exuded earlier has vanished, but only a slight pinch in between your brows indicates what could possibly be going on in your head.

“Hi,” you say quietly, barely audible over the thumping music.

“Hi,” Kix answers back, doing his best to gently rest his hands on your waist.

“This ok?” you ask. He knows this answer is important. It’s his chance to opt-out, to deescalate this to something strictly platonic, something professional and GAR approved.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, mouth moving before he can make a rational decision. Fuck.

You just beam up at him. “Cool.”

And your hips begin to move to the music, but you stay pressed against him.

Kix inhales unsteadily, slowly trying to move in sync with you. It’s hard with everyone around (he swears he can feel Rex staring holes into the back of his head, and he bailed on their night out).

So he shuts his eyes, trying to move his body on beat, trying to just feel you and the music. It's some sort of synth-pop from a Coruscanti local that's been everywhere recently. But music aside, Kix feels like he’s on fire when you dance this close to him.

But eventually, you untangle yourself from him, movements becoming a little wider, a little bigger as you dance, lost in whatever you’re feeling; Kix orbits around you slowly, happy to be basking in your glow, happy you want him near.

He’s not sure how long the two of you dance. Surely longer than he normally would stay out with his vode, but he can’t bear to leave your side; the thought of someone else taking his spot makes his skin crawl. So he dances and dances until he aches a little, and he’s rewarded when you wrap your arms around his neck again and lean against him.

“Tired,” you bemoan, eyes shut as your head rests against him.

Kix ignores the way his heart races in his chest, and he shoves down the embarrassment that rises when he realizes you can probably tell. He just sways gently with you, enjoying the moment.

“I’ll take you home.” Again, the words come out before he can stop them, and he panics a little as you still. But then you lift your head from his chest, eyes wide and soft as you gaze at him.

“Really?” He nods, thumb mindlessly stroking your back. You drag him back to the table, where Echo and Jesse sit with a Twi’lek and Pantoran woman he doesn’t know. Fives is long gone by now, helmet missing from the lineup.

Despite the urge to put it on, Kix leaves his with Echo and Jesse, mentally begging one of them to take it back to the barracks. He doesn't want to look at you obscured by plastoid and glass.

“Bye, guys. Kix’s taking me home,” you say, voice coming out louder than you think. You’re holding onto Kix’s arm tightly, and he recognizes a bleary look in your eyes.

How much did you have to drink? You seemed fine earlier, just tired if anything. He mentally kicks himself for not keeping track. Some medic he is.

“Yeah, yeah. Making sure you get home in one piece,” he mumbles, face warm at how openly affectionate you’re right now. Jesse smirks at him, and Kix’s eyes drop to the ground.

He’s on autopilot as you direct him to an air taxi and around the subsequent blocks that are in between the air taxi drop-off and your apartment complex. When you stop at your building, he frowns. Sure, it’s on a mid-level but your safety is of the utmost priority, and this building’s security is not cutting it.

He’s eyeing about 10 different paths a faceless attacker could take before he realizes you're dragging him forward and through the doors of the building. That’s fine. He should make sure you should make it to your unit. That’s it. No other reason.

When you’re at your door, you drag your fingernails up and down his plastoid-covered arm, nevertheless sending shivers down his spine.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your free hand already typing in the code to your room. He doesn’t have much of a choice as you tug him into your little apartment.

He can scope out the place. Make sure the premises is safe. And then that’s it. Back to his bunk.

While you kick off your heels and collapse onto the couch, Kix takes in your apartment. He’s struck by how you everything is. From the artwork on the wall to the colored kitchen appliances, everything feels like you. If he tries hard enough he can picture you haggling for your lamps, and petting different rugs until you picked the softest one.

It’s so full of life and color here. Not at all regulation.

At some point you flipped to your stomach, choosing to watch him silently, eyes all soft and demure. Kix is struck by how intimate this all feels, and anxiety bubbles up inside of him as he feels very out of place. A hard-cut monster bred for war in your soft little apartment.

“I should probably get going,” Kix says reluctantly, rubbing his head. “They’re going to assume the worst.” His tone darkens a little, and Jesse’s smirks and Fives’ laugh echo and resonate in his head.

“I don’t mind that.”

Your voice cuts through the noise in his head, silencing everything. He stares at you, and the way you’re looking at him. With half-lidded eyes and a partially open mouth, you look pleased and in a mood to say things without a filter. Kix doesn’t miss the way you push your chest out slightly towards him. He inhales sharply, throat feeling dry.

Something hot stirs to life in Kix’s gut, and he aches at those four words. You like the idea that his brothers think he’s fucking you. The thought of the implications burns bright and fast through him. His jaw tenses.

“Well I mean-” you continue, misunderstanding his silence.

“I do,” he cuts you off firmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I do mind.”

The quiet sits heavy in the air for a second, and then you deflate, crestfallen at the way he shut you down. Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you shift your body to try and subconsciously make yourself smaller on the couch. (Kix feels like a pervert noticing the way your dress shifts to reveal more skin). He sighs trying to think of how to explain this to you right now.

“I mean that in the sense that I care about your reputation, as well as my own,” Kix explains, wanting to undo whatever hurt he causes.

“I don’t want them thinking I’ll take advantage of you when you’re not sober.” You seem placated by that, nodding quietly. It’s a logical reason, one that spares your feelings, but it’s cold. Not at all what you had wanted him to say.

And if he understood you correctly, you had liked the idea of having sex with him, had been pleased with the idea of everyone thinking you were together. (His codpiece feels uncomfortably tight). The thought sits with him for a minute, stoking his ego as he basks in lust that travels through his body.

“And if I were to fuck you, it’s going to be when you’re in your right mind and can remember…everything.”

Something white hot and primal has hijacked Kix’s brain, a need to let you know you’re not crazy and the desire isn’t one-sided. He’s left staring at you blankly, heart racing as he lets himself slip into a vague daydream that involves making you squirm and pant on this little couch. Another time. If you'll let him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, staring at him. Sober enough to put the pieces together, but drunk enough to not string together a proper response.

Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Oh,” he says back, watching as a slow and sappy smile spreads out on your face. Well, that’s a good sign. He slowly backs up towards the door, keeping his eyes on you.

“Goodnight, Kix,” you mumble, smiling at him and pushing yourself up to rest on the couch.

He feels a lick of heat rush through him at the site of your chest pressed against the arm of your couch, fishnet-covered legs kicked up behind you, eyelashes batting at him so prettily.

His eyes glide over the back of your upper thighs where the hem of your dress rests against your fishnet-covered skin. He wonders if you’d let him kiss your skin there, if you’d let him bite.

In a matter of seconds, you’ve managed to reverse the upper hand he had, keeping him wrapped around your finger. Good. As it should be.

“Goodnight,” he chokes out, exiting your apartment and leaning on the wall next to the door as it slides shut and locks.

He wishes he could hide in his bucket. He knows his face is flushed, and he can feel his cock twitching.

Oh, this is bad. He shakes his head a little as he pushes off the door, heading back to the lower floors. With you, he forgets himself; with you, he feels like a person. Very bad, indeed.

The noise of the Coruscant streets bombards his ears, making it harder to think, but he’s grateful for the somewhat fresh air. It’ll be nice to clear his head as he heads back to the barracks.

But it’s a fool's errand to believe he’ll be thinking about anything but your lips and that swath of skin on the back of your upper thighs.

#ohhh i love a slow burn #fic recs

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obixwan · 7 days

Text

i'll wait it out (if you want)

Pairing: Kix x Translator!Reader

WC: 1k

Rating: T

Kix has talked to you a grand total of twice, but it's enough to let him know one thing: this can't end well.

AN: Hi....just been thinking about Kix a lot lol also kriff is such a silly word let them say fuck!!

part 1 part 2 part 3

sfw but mdni pls

Kix has already checked out by the time Rex introduces you to his unit. Instead, he’s mentally taking inventory of the med bay, making note of how many medpacs need to be restocked, how much bacta was used on their last mission and what are the odds he’ll need more this time. (Very low. It's just a simple relief mission).

He’s just one drop in a sea of faces, but he has to keep his vode alive.

So when Rex says you’ll be joining them as a temporary translator (anti-droid sentiment prevents any protocol droids from entering the settlement of their upcoming relief trip), he pays just enough attention to remember your name and note that you're prettier than other nonclone GAR members.

Natborns weren’t that common among clones, but you were all scattered around; a crop of mechanics here, a couple of supplementary medics there, and a handful of translators and other admin-level members to fill any gaps.

Kix tends to not pay them any mind, preferring to keep his head down and focus on what he needs to do. But he spares you a quick second glance before he fucks off to get everything done. He’ll try to stay within two clicks of you, in case you need help or anything.

Maybe one click.

“She didn’t have an actual injury, Kix. It was an injury of the heart.”

Kix certainly didn’t expect to have an actual conversation with you, and he certainly didn’t expect to be the cause of your laughter. He’s never been more grateful for his bucket, because his face is warm, and his mouth is open stupidly as he stares at you. How on earth does someone look so pretty while they laugh? It almost pisses him off.

It was a simple mistranslation on his part. (His own fault for not utilizing your talents, and assuming he picked up the basics regarding medical care). If you had been anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, embarrassed, or anything other than awestruck at how your eyes glow in delight.

Kix is partially in shock at how funny you find this, but he's not complaining.

Your laughter has rocketed to the top of a very short list containing his favorite things. He wishes Fives' humor rubbed off on him; he wants to make you laugh all the time.

Your giggles eventually die down, and you reach out, palm resting on his bicep. He knows he's imagining it, but he swears he can feel the heat of your skin through the unforgiving plastoid. What the actual fuck?

“Sorry. It was really cute, that’s all.”

You drop your hand, sending him a small smile before trekking off towards a busier part of the settlement.

Oh stars.

He’s absolutely kriffed.

The trip back to Coruscant is somehow too short and too long, and the damn Resolute isn't big enough for Kix. Every corner he turns fills him with a sense of dread, every hallway, a narrow deathtrap that potentially ends with you blocking his path.

It's all in his head, and the paranoia and stress tie his stomach into knots. But Kix's conditioning and discipline keep him propelling forward.

If there was one thing Nala Se and those longnecks were good at, it was making sure Kix and his brothers could operate a maximum efficiency. No matter what weighed on any of them mentally.

By the time they enter Coruscant airspace, he's finally calmed down, finally able to get enough air in his lungs again. He's back to counting flexclamps, back to sorting synthflesh and kolto. It's methodical, easy, and soothes his brain in an annoying way.

"Kix!" your voice rings out.

His fingers pause over a stim-shot; he turns to look at you.

Kix's nerves are already pinched during missions thanks to Rex, Fives, and Hardcase. Why not let them fray before and after missions thanks to you? You're much nicer to look at and much nicer to listen to.

You clasp your hands behind your back, subtly shifting your weight on your feet. The whole movement strikes him as very... un-military. It kicks up something in his chest akin to affection.

"Just wanted to say goodbye since we're almost planetside." Kix blinks at you dumbly before nodding, trying to ignore the desire to slide on his helmet.

Your movement stills, eyes gliding over his face as your brows pinch slightly in worry. "Are you okay, Kix?" He nods instinctively, taking a breath to clear his head.

"Yes. In perfect condition. You know you don't need to say goodbye to every clone? Most natborns don't." Your face falls a little, and he wants to jump straight into a trash compactor.

"I know. And I don't say bye to everyone. Just the people I like and would like to see again."

Oh. He nods again slowly, processing.

Kix isn't sure what to make of that, mainly surprised that you consider him a person and that somehow, he made the shortlist of people you like (and want to see again). He doesn't even know what he did to put him on that list.

But you just grin again, seemingly reveling in the ability to leave him tongue-tied.

"So I wanted to say bye before I get assigned elsewhere." What the fuck?

Kix feels like his face is on fire and regrets popping his lid to take inventory. You must think he's an inarticulate fool.

"Anyway, I hope I get assigned with General Skywalker again. I'd like to see you all again." He watches as you eye him, a coy smile sitting perfectly on your face. Would you ever let him kiss you?

"That would be nice," he says, nodding at you. You look at him for one last moment before nodding back and strolling out of the med bay.

Kix takes a second, unable to move, before plopping onto one of the sick beds.

He's kriffed.