Okay So Basically A Story Where Reader Is A Camp Assistant And All The Clones Love Them (I Am Writing

Okay so basically a story where reader is a camp assistant and all the clones love them (I am writing it)

Below the surface

Yandere! Merman x Fem! Reader

AN: Hey all! Sorry for doing so many different things at once, but I'm just so excited for Mermay and I really missed writing yandere content! I really hope you like Cove, because this is just a sneak peak at a larger story I'm going to try and commit to! (Past may dw)

TW: mentions of purposeful drowning, slight degradation, deception, yandere behavior

You admired the pin, turning it so the shell's iridescent patterns caught the sun and made it look as though it was a light patch of silk.

"Oh, Cove, it's beautiful, thank you so much!"

The merman smiled up at you, toned arms resting on the old dock.

"No problem, it couldn'tve gone to anyone else."

You looked at it for a few more minutes in quiet awe before you noticed a strange sound seeming to come from your friend.

"Are you purring?" You laughed lightly, making the sound grow louder in the back of his throat.

"It looks good on you, my flower." He tilted his head, reaching up to cup your face.

"Oh! Thank you." You flushed at his focussed attention as his larger, scarred hand dipped lower, leaving a trail of dampness until it stopped over your heart.

His purr intensified greatly at the contact; God you drove him wild.

So sweet, so patient and kind, so beautiful and so, so clueless. The maker had truly led you right into his arms, right to where you belonged.

It was all he could do to not yank you in by your little wrist and hold you under until you stopped struggling with your weak human lungs, really making you his for eternity. But no, that would come later. For now he would be content with these visits, as sparse as they were. Fine with waiting, watching patiently for the right moment.

"Cove?"

He looked back up at you, a handsome grin set back upon his features, "Yes?"

He was snapped from his thoughts by your pretty voice wringing out softly over the lap of the waves.

Gar Cyare Chapter Two

More Alpha-17/fem!reader!

Word Count: 6,200 (ouch)

Warnings: Mentions of fights, mentions of punching, reference to past abuse, reference to murder, descriptions of self-defense training, mentions of drunkenness.

*I'm actually going to include translations before my author's note because this is an extremely Mando'a-heavy chapter!

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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Nynir (Strike)

Alpha was watching you. 

It wasn’t like you particularly objected to that. After all, he did it often enough that you would have thought you’d be accustomed to it by now. And, to be fair, you watched him in exactly the same way - like you were suffering silently until the next moment you could touch him, even if it was just to brush against him ‘accidentally’. 

But you didn’t think it was that, especially since your fingers were currently laced together under the cover of his kama. Between you and Alpha, you had quickly discovered that the kama, as well as being the mark of a distinguished warrior, made an excellent cover for hand-holding. Alpha said it was the most useful thing it had ever done. 

That only made you melt a little bit.

But he was still watching you, a considering light in his dark eyes, and it was starting to make you nervous.

You rested your fork politely on your napkin and turned to face him directly. “You’re staring at me, Alpha. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Do you want to fight?” he asked nonsensically.

You blinked at him, allowing yourself a beat before you gathered yourself enough to ask dryly, “I would have thought we had done enough of that last week.”

Alpha laughed, the sound rich and tingle-inducing. “Not exactly what I meant, little one. Do you want to learn how to defend yourself?"

"Oh," you said ineloquently. It wasn't a bad idea, though you profoundly hoped you never had to go through another situation like the Separatist attack. "It would probably be smart."

"I think so," he agreed. "And, fortunately for you, you'll have the best trainer on Kamino."

"Best trainer on Kamino?" Monnk asked, sliding into a seat at your table. "Did T’vert come back?" 

"Nah, never," Drift argued. "Don't you remember how badly things went wrong on that departure day? The Kamiini swore, never again. He has to be talking about Zarll."

"Isn't he a politician now?" Neyo asked, joining the group and the conversation. "And I only asked to be polite. He's a politician now. Why are we talking about Zarll?"

"Trying to figure out who the best trainer on Kamino is," Drift reported.

Neyo looked thoughtful for half a moment. "Has to be Trem. Have you seen her cadets? Most of them will end up as ARCs someday, watch for it."

Alpha gave a piercingly loud whistle to draw the attention of the chatting ARCs. "Thanks for the ego boost, men. Who invited you here, again?"

"You did," Monnk reminded him. 

"Regretting that, Captain?" Drift asked with a cheerful grin. 

"Always," Alpha grumbled. "You almost done, neverd'ika? I'm losing brain cells with company like these idiots."

"Yeah, I'm done," you agreed, and Alpha took your tray to discard everything on it. He had started doing that recently, claiming he was tired of waiting for you to politely make your way through the line. He cut through lines almost exclusively, a practice you watched with a shake of your head.

"What training are you doing?" Monnk asked, pulling your attention away from your boyfriend towering over cadets as he briskly disposed of your collected garbage.

"Oh, uh…" This wasn't a secret, right? Alpha was a secretive man, but surely he wouldn't care if his ARCs knew. "We've decided that I should learn how to take care of myself. Like, in a self-defense situation."

You weren't sure what reaction you would have expected, but blank stares and silence weren't quite it.

"And the captain offered to train you?" Drift asked, inferring from this new information and what he had overheard.

"Yes," you replied, arriving to sound serene rather than concerned by their skepticism.

That silence was laden with tension and sideways glances shared between the men. You did your best to wait patiently for someone to say something, but when the quiet stretched, you broke.

"What? What's wrong with Alpha offering to train me?"

Neyo was the first one to speak, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The captain is a great trainer, but… he's tough."

"I know that," you replied, bewildered. You didn't think anyone could have survived so long here on Kamino if they weren't tough.

Neyo shook his head. "Right now, you know it in the abstract. If he trains you, you'll see it in-person. I've seen him make a nat-born cry with a look."

"I've heard him punish someone by ordering him to run laps," Monnk told you. "He didn't let the man stop for five hours."

"He's threatened me eight times today," Drift pitched in, sounding inordinately proud of that fact.

"Ready?" Alpha asked, coming back to the table. With three sympathetic pairs of eyes aimed in your direction, you nodded and stood to follow Alpha, feeling like someone doomed.

Alpha had suggested you start the next afternoon, spending the hours before dinner together. You had hedged slightly, reminding him that you were still working to regain the muscle you had lost in your injured leg.

"That's why it's so important," he had countered. "You've lost your weapon - that crutch. You have to be your own weapon now."

So you had agreed to meet with him, dressed in the workout clothes you had optimistically brought with you to Kamino and never worn.

"The first thing you need to focus on," Alpha started, dressed in his own workout gear, "is blocking a hit."

"That's the first lesson?" you asked, only slightly embarrassed at how squeaky your voice sounded. "It feels like there are other things I could learn first. Easier things."

“Easier things? Sure,” Alpha confirmed with a nod. “But not more useful. If you can block a hit, you can set yourself up to return it. I don’t think you understand how much damage a well-aimed punch is capable of…”

He trailed off, voice odd, and you noticed that his eyes were tracing the edge of your cheekbone. The bruise had long since faded, but - judging from the gentle way Alpha’s fingers smoothed over its exact boundaries on your face - he hadn’t forgotten about it. There didn’t seem to be any reason to bring it up directly, so you didn’t. 

As it turned out, you didn’t need to. With his warm fingers brushing your face and his warm gaze locked with yours, Alpha’s jaw clenched slightly. “Say the word, neverd’ika… One little word and I’ll kill that beroya aruetii.” 

That wasn’t quite the romantic declaration you had expected, but you probably should have. Alpha had made it clear that your safety was one of his top priorities, and he was extremely willing to resort to violence if he deemed it necessary. 

“I appreciate that, Alpha,” you started, smiling despite yourself at the offer. “But I think it would be better if I just ignore Doni and learn to take care of myself.”

Alpha frowned heavily at you. “Why do you know that di’kut’s name?”

You snorted. “Because I can’t pronounce ba-bertoya arn-arueta.”

Despite your stumbled pronunciation of the unfamiliar words, the heat flared in Alpha’s eyes. “I need a warning if you’re gonna start speaking Mando’a. It’s… distracting.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“Okay, so blocking…” Alpha diverted, launching into a lecture about how to perform a proper block.

It turned out that there was more to it than you had originally assumed. A block was just what you did to stop a punch before it could land, but there were so many things Alpha wanted you to remember.

When he finally told you to try a blocking stance, you obliged. You spread your feet apart for sake of balance and held your hands up in front of your face, feeling faintly ridiculous as you peered up at Alpha from between your half-cupped palms.

He studied that stance, eyes narrowing. With the way the lines bracketing his mouth and furrowing between his eyebrows deepened, you assumed he didn’t like what he saw. Before you could ask what exactly you were doing wrong, Alpha reached out, pressed the tips of two fingers to your shoulder, and gave a gentle nudge.

You swayed backward dangerously, only just managing to catch yourself. Alpha tapped your chin, his way clear since you had dropped your blocking hands while you adjusted your stance.

“And now I’ve punched you in the jaw,” he said. “You’re probably unconscious.”

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to give me any feedback?” you asked, half-laughing.

“That was your feedback,” Alpha told you, looking nonplussed at your inability to follow his imaginary instructions. “If I can hit you, you aren’t blocking right.”

You huffed at him. “Come on, Alpha. At least tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Alpha motioned for you to set up your stance again, then he walked a tight circle around you, blowing out a heavy sigh as he did. “First, stop standing like that. Your feet are too straight. You want your non-dominant foot forward, but keep your weight on your back foot.”

“My leg still isn’t back to full strength,” you reminded him.

From the understanding on Alpha’s face, that reminder was unnecessary. “I know, neverd’ika. If it starts to hurt, tell me, but I need you to push yourself now. It’s not going to get stronger unless you work on rebuilding that strength.”

You nodded, adjusting into the stance he had suggested as you raised your hands again.

Alpha was shaking his head before you even finished settling into place. “Your arms need to be tighter against your sides. Move your hands closer to your face. No, more than that. More than-”

His breathing stuttered like he had only just managed to keep himself from sighing again. Gently, he nudged your elbows, forearms, and hands until they were in a position he deemed acceptable for blocking. When he was done, your elbows were clasped tight to your sides, your forearms pressed to your chest and your hands hovering somewhere around your jawline.

“Alpha, this feels ridiculous,” you informed him.

He shrugged. “That’s how you block a hit. I don’t know what else to tell you. You’re covering most vital organs and vulnerable spots, and your hands are close enough to your face that you can reach up to block a hit there.”

“I thought you told me not to block with my hands?” 

“Yeah, don’t,” Alpha agreed with an approving nod, ignoring your frustrated look. “But you can lead with your hand to get your forearm or elbow in place.”

“But how do I- ah!” 

You interrupted your own question with a short exclamation of surprise as Alpha tried to tap your face again. But you saw his movement before he made contact and your arm came up of its own volition. Without checking in with your brain, your body used the long bone of your forearm to swipe his hand away.

“Good!” Alpha congratulated warmly as you gave a hesitant smile from behind your hands. “That was a block. A small one. Against a slow, light hit. But still, it’s a start.”

You grimaced at how quickly that praise had devolved, but nodded anyway. It felt silly to talk this way, standing in a position ready to guard against a hit, but you weren’t about to lower your arms. What if you couldn’t bring them back up fast enough when he tried to mock-hit you again? 

“Hold on,” Alpha said, moving exceptionally slowly to wrap his hand around your wrist. 

His fingers closed around the delicate bone of your wrist, giving you time to prepare for his touch before he gently pulled and pushed at your arm. You were holding yourself so tightly, keeping your posture stiff, that your entire body swayed as Alpha moved your arm.

“That’s what I thought,” he chided. “You have to hold your arms more loosely.”

“But this is the blocking pose you told me to use,” you argued.

Alpha shook his head. “I told you this would protect most of your vulnerable spots, including your face. But if I go for the area below your ribs-” He touched his fingertips to the spot he had mentioned, your block doing absolutely nothing to get in his way since your elbows were anchored to the front of your body. “-then you want to move to stop me.”

“But if I don’t hold my arms this tightly, aren’t I more likely to hurt myself if I try to block a punch?” you asked. “I don’t want to punch myself in the face.”

Despite himself, Alpha chuckled at that. “That is a concern. But you’ll learn to make your muscles firm when you’re blocking. Being able to block well in only one spot is less important than being able to block less completely but still effectively anywhere on your body. Does that make sense?”

“So, I’m…” you struggled to find the right words. “I’m sacrificing better efficiency for the sake of better coverage?”

“Yeah, basically,” Alpha said with a shrug. “You’ll learn to be more effective over time, but it’ll take a lot of practice.”

And he did his best to make sure you got a good bit of that practice. You blocked and dodged and blocked some more, but Alpha’s speed and strength never increased. Finally, after you had managed to block nearly a dozen ‘hits’ in a row, you took a step back and nodded at him.

“I think I’m ready for you to speed up or hit harder.”

Alpha stared at you, hard. “Why don’t you let me decide when it’s time to move things forward?”

“Sure,” you agreed easily. He was the trainer, after all. “When do you think that time will come?”

“Let’s talk about hitting,” he suggested instead.

That seemed a little odd to you, which was the only reason you noticed how the subject moved in much the same order as blocking had: Alpha explained the process to you, taught you how to perform the basic movement, then let you practice it. 

When it came time to hit, you ‘punched’ him the same way he had ‘punched’ you earlier: small taps meant to make contact or maybe be slightly annoying rather than painful. However, Alpha was having none of that.

“No, you need to be using your full force here,” he lectured after your second intentionally harmless tap. “You need the practice.”

“But you weren’t using full force for your hits earlier when I was practicing blocks,” you pointed out. 

Alpha shot a sardonic look in your direction. “And you aren’t sure why I wouldn’t?”

“No, I think I have that part figured out,” you replied. Your own sarcastic expression wasn’t nearly as well-developed, but you managed. “But I would have expected you to put a little power behind it since blocking is the most useful thing I could learn.”

“You’re misunderstanding me on purpose,” Alpha complained.

“No, I think you just didn’t think about the fact that teaching me to fight would lead to you having to spar with me.” Alpha’s face didn’t change - his mask of soldier’s professionalism was too strong for that - but something shifted in his eyes and you realized with a start that you had guessed correctly. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to actually hit me.”

That was such a ridiculous thing to complain about that you struggled with a strong feeling of idiocy… until Alpha’s jaw twitched with how hard he was clenching it.

“I… won't. I can't hit you. I can't even try.” Alpha grimaced at you.

You nodded thoughtfully. "What if I put on the right gear? Helmet and gloves and anything else I would need to protect me?"

Alpha frowned as if he was taking a moment to picture that. “Still no. It's not that I'm worried you would get hurt - even if that's part of it, too - but I just don't think I could take a swing at you. Not if I wanted to mean it in a way that would help you get better. Makes me a useless trainer, huh?”

“Not useless, just…” you trailed, searching for a less offensive word. “Just a little less effective.”

He didn't respond to that, not with anything more than a grunt. You pressed on, knowing he was unhappy about this unforeseen problem. "You can still teach me the basics, right? Enough to help me not get annihilated if I ever get into a bad situation?"

He shook his head. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. You still need to learn how to defend yourself. Even if it isn't me teaching you."

You almost wanted to laugh at the begrudging tone he used, but you were too busy being nervous. "Who do you think I should ask? Maybe Monnk? Or maybe Neyo instead…"

"Like hell," Alpha denied instantly. "I'll find someone, and it won't be any of my di'kutla men. It'll be someone I trust. Now, we were working on punches."

Almost two full days had passed by the time Alpha mentioned the other trainer again. When he did, it was only to tell you to brace yourself.

You frowned at him after that pronouncement. "What do you mean? I thought you were going to find someone you trust?"

"I was," he replied, an unfamiliar defensive note in his voice. "But then I remembered that I don't trust anyone."

"Alpha…"

"I'm sorry, neverd'ika," he apologized. "I was talking to one of the other trainers about who I should ask and she got it in her head that I was asking her."

That was an unexpected bit of social confusion you wouldn't have pictured Alpha falling prey to. It was far closer to the things you had done in the past, too polite to correct someone, even if their misunderstanding put you in an awkward position. A comedy of manners you would have thought he was immune to.

"And it was too uncomfortable to correct her," you summarized sympathetically.

“What?” Alpha asked, but your point seemed to process before you actually repeated anything. His face cleared of confusion for a moment before it changed to one of derision. “No. Kriff that. I told her flat-out that I don’t want her around and that I just wanted to know who she would recommend.”

“Alpha!” you admonished, even as you internally admitted that lined up much more closely with what you knew about him. “Was she offended?”

“Yes, but it’s worse than that,” Alpha told you, deadpan. “She’s insisting on training you anyway. Something about a misplaced sense of sympathy.”

“Sympathy?”

“Misplaced?”

The second question hadn’t been yours, and you turned to see where it had come from. 

The newest arrival was a female you vaguely recognized from around the training areas. She wasn’t an ARC trainer - you would have known her better if she had been - but you had seen her around the rooms used for flight training. Not that you had a lot to do with the pilots, but the female was fairly unique among the trainers.

She was a female Weequay with all that entailed. Her cheekbones were pronounced, jutting out under her eyes and giving them slight protection that was augmented by her brow ridge. The bridge of her nose was partially covered by a fold of skin that seemed ready to deflect a hit. Her jaw had a line of fine bone spikes for even more protection. Though her skin was leathery and tough like every other Weequay you had met, it seemed slightly smoother than that of Weequay males. She had a few long braids augmented with metallic ornaments that matched the rings encircling her neck.

The female was taller and slender, wearing clothes that were baggier than you would have expected - only clinging tightly enough around her hips and thighs to support the weight of the multitude of their own pockets. Her shirt was sleeveless, but her lower arms were wrapped in a layer of bandages or tape that went down to her hands, leaving only her fingers free. The muscle of her upper arms and the bends of her elbows were covered in metallic studs that you couldn’t quite figure out the purpose of.

Overall, she was a striking and intimidating figure, especially when she folded her arms and looked you up and down.

“This her?” she asked, her voice direct and slightly hoarse.

“Yeah,” Alpha confirmed. He stepped toward her slightly, lowering his voice, but you could still hear him clearly as he warned, “Don't be a besom.”

“I'm always a besom,” she replied, unimpressed at the way he was trying to use his height against her.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely, trying to cut off any disagreement between the two. 

They both glanced in your direction - the Weequay wearing a slight smirk while Alpha just looked resigned. 

"Zackra Trem," he told you, gesturing to the female. 

"I've seen you around, but we've never gotten the chance to meet," you explained. "You train the pilots, correct?"

"As much as someone can train a soldier replicated from human genes," she told you, winking before tossing a sly look back at Alpha.

Alpha, as expected, looked unamused. "Shut it, Trem. How are you even gonna train her with those baggy clothes on?"

"Baggy clothes? You see about as much as a civvie on a good day, Seventeen. Today, you’re just embarrassing yourself." With a smirk to accompany that statement, Trem turned to you. "How many weapons would you guess I'm wearing?" 

Despite your surprise at the question, you obligingly studied her, mentally tallying up every space where a weapon could conceivably fit.

"Six," you attempted at last.

"Wrong," she told you. "Fifteen."

Alpha immediately scoffed. "You aren't hiding fifteen, even in that outfit."

"You're right," Trem acknowledged with a smirk. "Not exactly fifteen. More than that."

You frowned, feeling a little stupid at your underestimation of the very formidable trainer. Hiding weapons on one's person was hardly a surprise - the ARCs and the kids made a point of always having a few in easy-to-reach places - but something was still bothering you. 

"Why lie, though?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at Trem. "I was already wrong. You didn't gain anything from lying."

"Maybe I didn't, but you did." Trem folded her arms, the moment emphasizing the buckles and scale-like metallic pieces adorning her shirt. "Consider that your first lesson: your enemy is going to lie to you."

“Enemy?” Alpha asked, voice rumbling with displeasure. “I didn’t bring you in to be her enemy. I brought you here to be her trainer.”

“You didn’t bring me here at all,” Trem countered, not incorrectly. “You didn’t want me here and I came anyway. That means you don’t get to say yes or no about anything. The only one who can is her.”

They both looked your way. Alpha looked irritated and on-edge, but Trem spoke before he had a chance to sway your thinking.

“I heard what happened to you.” The way two of Trem’s fingers rose to tap at her own cheek made it clear that she was talking about your run-in with Doni Pender. “The same thing happened to me, but no one was around to stop it.”

Your heart dropped. You had known you had heard Alpha talk about Trem before, but you hadn’t been able to place her name. But you could now. Shortly after you had met him, Alpha had reported a too-flirtatious cadet to Trem, who he said took a personal interest in situations like that one. And like the one Pender had put you into. Suddenly, things made more sense - particularly, why Trem was so intent on teaching you herself.

Trem didn’t smile, but the lines of strain that had appeared on her face as she talked about her past faded slightly. “I heard you like asking questions. You can ask me one, but that’s it.”

“Is he dead?” 

Alpha’s thick eyebrows flew up at the question, erasing the look of wry consternation that had crossed his face at the knowledge that Trem knew about your question and answer sessions during shared meals. He seemed almost… startled. Like he didn’t quite know what to make of your question.

Trem, in glaring contrast, didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes, he is, and by my hand. The Mandalorians who shut the place down made sure of it. They honored my pain by letting me take the revenge I chose… and I did. I’ve never looked back.”

The Weequay’s tone was satisfied, almost cheerful, but the thing that stood out the most to you was her casual use of the phrase ‘the place’. Those two words alone spoke of large-scale horror, a desperate situation, and unfathomable suffering. The fact that her voice had held no real inflection was somehow worse. 

You didn’t want to ask for more information - would never ask her about it unless she initiated a conversation about the topic - but the little you knew was enough to prompt a firm nod from you. “Good.”

Even Trem looked surprised at that. When your expression didn’t buckle under her close scrutiny, she gave a short nod. “Alpha can’t bring himself to hit you, not even for training. I won’t have that problem. My goal is to make sure you can defend yourself. You may hate me by the end of this, but I can promise you’ll have the skills to kick some ass if it ever comes down to it. Can you live with those terms?”

“Yes, I can,” you agreed. “And thank you.”

“What was the first lesson?” Trem quizzed.

“Enemies will lie to me,” you parroted obediently. 

“Very nice,” Trem congratulated. “And here is your second lesson: enemies will always try to catch you off guard.” 

By that point, you had learned enough about Zackra Trem’s teaching style that you quickly prepared yourself to be caught off-guard, but there was only so much you could do with a half-second of warning.

To your utter shock, you managed to block the first hit she directed toward your face. It was a solid block for a solid hit, and catching it on your forearm made your hand tingle. You were a bit slower moving to block her second hit - that one directed toward the curve of your waist. It glanced off of the bone of your wrist. The resulting rush of feeling from those nerves made your racing mind pause for a half a moment - too long to react as quickly as you needed to.

Trem’s final hit connected solidly with your chest.

Unlike Pender’s hit, this one didn’t knock your head to the side or throw you violently off-balance. You stumbled back, but were able to catch yourself fairly easily - despite the way your leg protested. 

At first, you thought you were fine, reflecting that it was an odd place to hit someone. You even tried to get back into a stance that would let you block any other strikes that Trem threw your way. But then your heart gave a belated stutter, like it had skipped a beat but in the most painful possible way. The time it took for your heart to beat again felt like it took an eternity - a terrifying, suffocating eternity. 

When your heart beat again, it took up a pounding rhythm, beating like you had been sprinting for your life. You pressed a hand against your chest, gasping in an attempt to catch your breath once more.

So much of your attention had been focused inward that it felt like you hadn’t really been using your eyes. When you remembered to blink and refocused on what was in front of you, you found Trem looking knowingly satisfied. You dimly recognized that she had pulled her strength, landing the blow in a way that was far less devastating than it would have been. She had known exactly how far she could push the line and had gone up to the very edge. A tiny bit harder and she would have stopped your heart.

The understanding passed between you, your eyes locked with Trem’s, before your concentration was broken by a bellow. 

As much as you were taken off-guard, Trem wasn’t phased for a moment. She turned and blocked Alpha’s punch like they had rehearsed it. She dodged the next, blocked the one after, then delivered a solid blow to his ribs, dodging another wild swing before they broke away from each other. 

“You know this is the best way to teach her!” Trem told him unsteadily, her breathing having picked up from the effort of fighting him. “She needs to know how to handle it.”

“Not like this!” Alpha refused, voice rough. 

“Yes, like this!” Trem insisted. “And you know it.”

Alpha’s head lowered, his brows furrowed over his eyes. His breath was coming in sharp pants. He shook his head once, twice… “I need to go.”

And then he left, shoving roughly out of the door. His elbow connected loudly against the door frame, the sound of the collision sharp even though he was only wearing his thin body glove rather than his armor.

When you had processed all of that, you looked over at Trem. “I’m sorry, I need to-”

Trem shook her head, stopping you from making your way out of the training room. “No, I’ll go. I need to settle things with him myself. Before I do, though, I need to know if you want to keep working with me. I’m not going to be nice or kind or soft, but I can teach you what you need to know.”

“I want that,” you agreed. “I want to know what I’m doing. I want Alpha to stop having to worry about me. And… I don’t ever want to feel helpless again.”

Trem did that almost-smile again, but it was paired with sadness in her eyes. “I can’t promise that - no one can. But we can make it a lot harder for anyone to catch you off-guard. Let me go handle things with Alpha. I’ll be in contact.”

And then you were alone. 

Since you didn’t know when to expect Trem to be in contact, you stayed in the training area for a while. You practiced the moves Alpha had taught you, did some exercises for cardio strength and to keep building the muscles in your leg. When that was finished and you still hadn’t heard anything, you retreated to your own quarters to shower and clean up. 

As you showered - listening intently for the sound of your comlink making noise - you couldn’t help but wonder how the conversation between Alpha and Trem was going. You didn’t think Trem would have gone there with the specific goal of fighting Alpha, but if those two tried to have a discussion about something as sensitive as training differences, there were good odds that things had devolved into a physical fight. 

When the comlink finally rang, you were sitting on your bed and trying to catch up on some background reading for your report. You dove for the device, fumbling slightly as you accepted the transmission. “Hello? Hello?”

“Go to Alpha’s quarters,” Trem’s voice told you through the device’s tiny speaker. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Your heart dropped, but you didn’t get the chance to respond - Trem had disconnected the call before you could even formulate a reply. 

With your earlier concerns in mind, you retrieved a small first-aid kit from your bedside table before making your way to Alpha’s quarters as quickly as you could without breaking into a full run. 

As Alpha’s door came into view, you reflected too late that you had never learned the code that would let you in. You could knock, but what if he was too badly injured to let you in? Then you got closer and realized that the door was open slightly. You didn’t quite know whether to think that was reassuring or concerning, but you didn’t give yourself too long to think about it, pushing through the door with the first-aid kit braced in front of yourself… 

 Only to stop short just inside of the door.

Alpha was lying on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. What you could see of his face was reddened, and his body was more slack than you had ever seen it. Alpha typically held himself with the bearing of a soldier, posture perfectly upright and always coiled for whatever could be thrown his way. Was he unconscious? 

“Alpha!” you called, concern lacing your voice as you hurried across the room. 

Alpha’s arm pulled slowly away from his face as you busily studied his body for injuries. After having found none, you raised your eyes to do the same to his face. His cheeks were reddened beneath his natural tan, but his eyes were bright and he didn’t look bruised.

“Neverd’ika,” he greeted warmly. “Hey.”

“Alpha,” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you continued your study with a more discerning eye. “Are you… drunk?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Trem brought tihaar, but I didn’t get batnor. I can outdrink that chakaar any day.”

“Mm-hmm,” you agreed mildly. For your own sake, you hoped he would ease back on the Mando’a. You got a lot from context clues, but you didn’t speak the language and this conversation would be a lot trickier if you didn’t understand half of it. “What did you two talk about over the… alcohol?”

“You,” he told you, filling you with warmth even as he patted the bed beside himself. “Sit down. You’re too far away.”

Obligingly, you sat down where he had indicated. You were roughly even with his waist, giving him a much better vantage point when he rolled onto his side and leaned up to rest his head on his hand. 

“But everything is okay now?” you asked. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Alpha agreed. “I’ll let Trem keep training you. She said you were okay with that. It was always gonna be your choice, but I just… just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Alpha, I’m safe, I promise.” You had relaxed a bit when Alpha told you everything was fine, but you tensed when the furrow reappeared between his eyebrows. Soothingly, you added, “Trem knows what she’s doing and she’s going to teach me. It’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

“You are now,” Alpha said, the furrow deepening as his gaze fell to your leg. “You weren’t before, though.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Part of you wondered if it would have been wiser to lie, but you respected Alpha too much to give him anything other than the truth. “But that’s in the past.”

“Doesn’t feel like it to me,” he confessed, jaw clenching. “When those clankers had you… I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified. And then you got hurt and I was more terrified. I never want to see you in a situation like that again. I want you safe - need you to be safe, even if I’m not around to protect you anymore.”

You forced a laugh in a poor attempt to hide the way that sent a horrified chill through you. The idea of living without Alpha was one you didn’t want to spend too much time contemplating. “That isn’t an excuse to skip out on future fights. You need to stick around for all of them.”

“I’ll be there,” Alpha promised, sitting up so he could trace his fingers over your jaw and stare into your eyes, his own gaze dark and fathomless. “The only way I’m gonna die is for you, neverd’ika. I’ll be around as long as you need me.”

You felt your own expression crumple as you fought back tears at that simple, heartfelt, drunken vow. You felt exactly the same way, though you knew he probably wouldn’t like hearing that. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he responded to with eagerness, squeezing you so tightly that you could barely breathe.

He was so warm. You would never get used to that warmth, but it was nothing compared to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. You could feel it in every press of muscle around you and the way his breaths took on a beat of their own. 

When Alpha leaned slowly back toward the bed, you happily rearranged yourself to stay aligned with him. When you were both lying flat, you were cradled in Alpha’s arms like you were the most precious thing he had ever held. He pressed a gentle kiss against your temple and smiled when you sighed in satisfaction.

He fell asleep only seconds later - you could tell by the way his alcohol-scented breath rustled past your head with increasing regularity, and the way he relaxed even further.

Just before you dropped off to sleep yourself, you wondered idly if you had any pain meds in your first-aid kit. Alpha would probably need them in the morning.

---

Translations

Beroya aruetii - traitor bounty hunter

Di'kut - idiot

Neverd'ika - little civilian

Besom - mannerless person

Tihaar - strong clear alcohol

Batnor - drunk

Chakaar - petty criminal (general term of abuse)

---

A/N - DO NOT PUNCH PEOPLE IN THE CHEST. It is generally a bad idea! Don't do it!

Hope you enjoyed the rest of the chapter, though! Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!

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Allow Me To Walk You Home, Commander

Commander Cody x fem!reader masterlist

Word count: 2.4k Summary: Cody can't flirt when he's drunk. a/n: nice to see you all again! It's been a while.. I've been writing a lot lately :) took a quick break from a heavier piece I'm working on to do something more fun with one of our favorite troopers. Please enjoy! I'll definitely be writing a lot more clones from now on!

Finally.

You sigh, watching the last group of clones stumble their way out of their booth, one of them tripping over the platform and failing to catch himself before rolling around on the sticky floor in a fit of laughter. You scrunch your nose up in disgust as you continue wiping down the counter, evidently alone in your scrutiny of the grossness as the other troopers howl with laughter, one of them hoisting their friend up and supporting his weight over their shoulder. The men, previously sharp looking in their naval uniforms, definitely looked a little worse for wear as they stumbled drunkenly out the door, and you’re pretty sure a few of them had lost their hats at some point in the night. 

They swing the door open, but not before one of the more drunken soldiers shoots you a corny wink and makes a clicking noise, shooting ridiculous finger guns at you, “Thanks, doll!” He calls out at you, before backing into the closing door and letting it slam in his face. 

You chuckle, shaking your head. A relieved sigh leaves your body. You truly thought they’d never leave. It was already well-past when you normally kept the place open. Grabbing your bag from the back room of 79’s, you make sure to shut out the lights, close the blinds, lock up the register, and grab your keys for the front door.

It’s been a long week. You recently got promoted to manager after your boss decided, literally  at the flip of a dime, that she was going to go traipsing around the galaxy with her new girlfriend. No judgment…to each their own. But a little more responsibility and a proper heads up really would have been nice. Because honestly, you’d only just started working at 79’s a few months ago and officially got handed the keys and a manager's book on her way to the space port. So basically, you got the post-it note rundown version on how to keep this place running a week before she left, abandoning the place in your care. 

And you’re not gonna lie, it’s been tough.  

You rolled your shoulders and groaned at the soreness you felt all over. You’d never intended to become a full-time manager and server, and the business side of things on top of the late hours you spent here nightly, it’s really, really had you doubting your competence.

Throwing your coat and hat on, you open the door and feel the cool air bite into your skin with a hiss. Coruscant can get pretty windy in the later hours of the night. The evidence of such shows when a big gust of wind suddenly hits you from the side, threatening to wrench the door violently from your hands before you can lock it. 

You whisper out a few curses, feeling your hat swoosh off your head with the wind while you struggle with the door for the upper hand in your game of tug-a-war. 

Dank farrik. You grunt out in frustration. I liked that hat.

You dismiss the hat as a lost cause, given the layout of the windy city and the open space highways, odds are it didn't survive. You’d just have to make the trek home tonight without it. 

When the strong gust passes, you take advantage and finally clip the door closed, making sure to test all three locks with a jiggle before leaving the bar for the night.

“Excuse me-” A voice slurs from behind you, instantly provoking a panicked scream to cut through the previously silent night. 

You whip around, looking to the dark area where you think the sound originated from. Your hands covering your beating heart as you catch your breath.

There, leaning against the wall connecting the street to your bar, just barely lit by a dying street light, sits a wide-eyed and frozen clone in white and orange armor, holding what looks to be…your hat? You sigh, agitated by the scare, but let your hands relax down by your sides.

“Uh..I- I’m sorry!” He says, holding up his hands in a show of surrender, making you furrow your eyebrows.

You take a few steps towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, not at all worried about your safety with the trooper. If anything, you’re worried he’s the one in need of help, sitting crookedly propped-up, half-asleep and definitely intoxicated by the looks of it. 

“I-I’m not a threat.” He promises, raised hands waving out and away from his body as if to confirm his own words. 

You sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand down your fatigued face, “I know, honey.” You say, letting yourself squat down to rest on your heels so you can get a better look at him. 

He nods once more, acknowledging your understanding, before glancing down at the warm cloth in his hands, scrunching it up a bit with furrowed brows before his eyes widen in recognition again and he quickly holds it out to you, “I think this got away from you.” 

He offers up a kind, crooked smile with your hat, further holding it out to you and encouraging you to take it, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for it. 

“How very thoughtful of you, -” you do a quick once-over of the clone, not immediately noticing any distinguishable rank marks on his armor. You try the word out apprehensively, spelling it out slowly, “-Sergeant?”  

He straightens up instantly, eyes widening once more and using his arms to further push his body up against the wall. You lift your hands up, ready to slow him down if he tries to stand.

“S-Sergeant?” He stutters, baffled as if accused of something. “N-no ma’am. It’s Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th, at your service.” 

Ah. So. You’ve got a stranded, drunken Commander on your hands. A Marshal Commander at that. Certainly not your usual stray trooper lingering around the closed bar intoxicated. Not that it happens all that often, but you can’t say you’ve ever had the responsibility of a Commander on your hands.  

You smile apologetically at him, hoping you haven't come across as uncaring on account of your fatigue, despite also trying not to giggle at the slurred version of a clearly rehearsed introduction. “My apologies, Commander Cody. It’s been a long night, and admittedly, I’m not the most familiar with clone armor and rankings.”

The Commander sighs, leaning back at-ease again. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head a bit before looking overwhelmed by the action, “S’alright, I don’t blame you. I would think myself a sloppy shiny if I saw me like this.”  

You pause for a moment to think. Not quite sure what to do with him. There definitely wasn't a chapter in your manager’s booklet titled What to do when you stumble upon an intoxicated Commander of the GAR passed out in front of your bar. You were just gonna have to wing this one.

“Well, speaking of which, Commander,” You say, enunciating his title and earning another sweet smile from the man, clearly he liked hearing you say it. “Care to tell me what you’re still doing out here at this hour?”

He huffs, shrugging a shoulder lazily and letting his head lull back against the wall to gaze up at you. “Just… catching hats for beautiful civvies.” You smile sweetly at him, and though you’re pretty sure he was just kidding and not really flirting, you can almost see the hearts in his eyes at your response, further provoking a giggle to escape you. This poor guy is really out of it.  

“I see,” You say, the smile not quite leaving your lips. You tug the beanie on as you push up from your squat, his eyes following you as you rise. He frowns a bit at the sudden distance between the two of you, from his perspective at least. “Well, as comfortable as you look down there, it’s a bit late for both of us to still be out, wouldn't you say, Commander?” You put extra emphasis on the title, bringing a slight blush to his ears and having him shuffle his extended feet back a little.

“O-oh, yes. Of course,” He says frantically, trying to match the speed of his words with the speed at which he rises, “Allow me to escort you- whoa!”

You lean over quickly to catch the Commander as he loses his footing, wrapping your untrained arms awkwardly around his chest and shoulders before he could face plant into the concrete. 

“-Walk me home?” You finish, laughing a bit breathlessly as he groans in your arms, muttering out an apology. “Funny, I was just about to offer the same to you.”

“N-no, Ma’am. That’s not necessary at all,” He mumbles, trying to straighten up and out of your arms. You’d slipped down onto your knees to support the Commander as he’d lost his balance, currently propping him up with a hand to his shoulder. “I was just, uh, you know. Setting up my line?” He pauses to clear his throat, “Ma’am.” 

“Your line?” You ask, nodding unconvincingly at the ‘I’m not drunk you can take me seriously’ look he’s really gunning for. 

“Y-yeah,” He chuckles, glossy eyes meeting your gaze as you steady his arms for support.

“Well you know because I- uh,”. He scratches the back of his neck uncertainly, the words slipping out before he could think them through, or come up with something better. “Just- uh, well I-I fell. Right?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip to keep from laughing, “Yes, you did fall.”

“Exactly, hah, I uh- well cause I fell for..for you?” He shakes his head in confusion, a dramatic frown on his face, and this time you can’t help but let a little laugh escape you, to which his eyes widen and he huffs in exasperation, “Ah forget it, I don’t know. Something about falling for you.” His frustrated face is blushing in embarrassment and you place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Commander, I think it’s best if I walk you home now.” 

He sighs, “Yes ma’am, I think that would be best.”

-----------------

You weren’t actually sure where you should take the Commander, but the Republic Military Base seemed like a good bet, plus it was close to 79’s. 

To say that The Coruscant Guard was surprised to see a civvie stumbling towards the base with a Commander slung over their shoulder at this hour would be an understatement. In fact, you’re pretty sure bafflement isn’t even a big enough word to cover it. 

The two Guards posted at the front gates went through practically every stage of emotion before settling on one: shock, concern, understanding, humor, then downright hysterics. 

In fact you were pretty sure they were crying under those buckets. 

And Cody, poor Commander Cody, just leaned right up against you and glared at them, not even bothering to defend himself. 

Eventually, one of them made a call to a Commander Fox who called a Captain Rex who called someone in Cody’s battalion to retrieve him at the gates. 

You could hear the laughter approaching from behind the walls before it even opened, prompting the Commander to mutter a “Kriffing hell, here we go.” He grumbles out another apology, before the gates slide open to reveal two fully armored troopers in white and orange armor, who just melt at the sight of their Commander in your arms.  “Ooooohhhhh, Commander,” One of them bellows, “There you are!”

“Oh we’ve been absolutely distraught! Worried sick, sir!” “Thank goodness this lovely lady brought you home! You must have been so cold out there in the dark!” You can see the two Corrie Guards trying to stifle their laughter as Cody mumbles something under his breath. You can feel the purposefully muffled insults hitting your cheek and turn to smile at him, prompting him to look up at you with apologetic, guilty eyes again. Your locked gaze was suddenly interrupted by one of them clapping a hand on the Commander’s shoulder, imbalancing you for a moment before he was pulled onto a new shoulder. 

“Awe, come now, Commander. Leave the poor girl alone,” The trooper sighs dreamily as the Commander shrugs him off, reluctantly glancing back at you a couple times as he walks away, sporting much more coordination now than you’d thought he had.  

The one closest to you chuckles, lingering by you for a moment, “Thank you, for making sure he got back safe.”

You smile at him in return, “Well, I don’t think he would have left me out there alone if it were the other way around, would he?”

The clone pauses, tilting his head at your words before speaking, “No, he most certainly would not.” He seems to nod at you again in appreciation, before moving to walk towards his Commander and brother, waiting just inside the gates of the base. 

You could hear Cody muttering to the other trooper as they waited, the latter hollering back at the two of you “Waxer, get a move on.” Waxer throws a quick wave your way, before turning and clapping a hand onto one of the Corrie Guards.

“Make sure she gets home safe, will you?” He says, waiting for the shock trooper to confirm with a “Yes, sir!” 

You assume the Guardsman starts to comm someone for an escort, so you watch the three troopers retreating into the base, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“No. You said what to her?”

“That you fell for her?”

“Would you two lower your voices! She might hear you!”

“Oh, Commander,” Waxer cries out dramatically, heaving between bouts of laughter, “What happened to your smooth game, sir?”

The other trooper laughs at the taunt, you never caught his name, and you can vaguely hear Cody threatening them both with something unintelligible in the distance. 

“Must be some girl, eh Boil? To make our savvy Commander forget how to flirt!”

“Oooh she is at that,” You hear Boil sing, “One time I caught her restocking the higher shelves at 79’s, and she was wearing this pretty little number that just barely gave me a peak at-”

“Alright that’s it-” You hear the unmistakable tone of a Commander, before hearing two sets of feet run, screaming joyfully down the open hallway, followed by a loud, muffled curse and a bang as the Commander lost his balance and face-planted straight into a wall. 

Brief Guide for Star Wars Writers

DC-15A Rifle:

Used for formal events and ceremonies, and as a sniper rifle in the field.

DC-15A Carbine:

A short rifle used in most combat situations during the early days of the Clone Wars.

DC-15S Rifle Carbine:

A stretched out version of the '15A Carbine, easier to hold and to aim. Patented in the middle of the clone wars and afterwards saw widespread distribution throughout the GAR.

DC-17 Hand Blaster:

Small pistols, typically dual-wielded, but some clones (like Commander Gree) carried only one. Versatile and lighter and better suited to small spaces than the DC-15 series weaponry, at the cost of a shorter range of fire.

Z-6 Rotary Cannon:

A Big Fucking Gun (TM), heavy and unwieldy, especially unsuited for close range. Best for large scale battles in wide open areas, such as Umbara before the jungle. Used by clone heavy gunners like Hevy and Hardcase (pictured above). Does not have a stun setting like the DC series weapons do.

I LOVE PEOPLE WHO HAVE OBSCURE F/OS!!!!! I LOVE PEOPLE WHO HAVE POPULAR F/OS!!!!!!!!! I LOVE PEOPLE WHO HAVE F/OS THAT ARE THEIR OWN/A FRIEND’S OCS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE PEOPLE WHO HAVE FAMILIAL/PLATONIC/ROMANTIC/NONROMANTIC F/OS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are ALL COOOL.!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH