Yandere Streamer + Delivery Driver Reader Blurb

Yandere Streamer + Delivery Driver Reader Blurb

"Package!"

You bang your fist against the apartment door, lock popping open after the second beat. Music floods from its cracks, leaving you curious as to how anyone heard you when another resident on this very floor couldn't hear you from their own living room. The query fades into irrelevancy as you wheel your cart closer to the opening door. The only thing that mattered was getting the job done so you could finally head home.

"Yeah?"

"Package for a uh...." You flip through your notes. "Miller?" That was definitely a new one. You've been delivering packages to this apartment complex from a local warehouse store for a few months by now to the point you almost knew everyone's name. The home owner's tired face gains an enormous grin, but not at the mention of the name. Rather, the voice behind it.

"Yeah, that's me. Sorry, thought you might've been someone else."

"I understand. From what I have here, you ordered a new surveillance camera, a gaming chair, and a set of deadbolt locks. You also requested set up for the chair. Is that correct?"

"Sounds about right. Come on in. Bedroom's to your right. Try not to take too long, I'm going live soon." You drag the cart in as Miller shuts and secures the door; chain lock clicking into place.

You park outside of the bedroom door, carrying the needed supplies inside and adding them to a plethora of boxes already situated inside. Must've just moved in, you conclude; despite all the worn posters and furniture placed around the room. The boxes were stacked in a way that they were out of general sight of a computer set up near a bolted window. Oddly enough, there was already a chair in front of it.

"New one's for my partner." Miller answers to the question you hadn't even asked, pointing at the chair. "Couples streaming seemed like a good way to welcome them home. All this other stuff is theirs too. Don't have much from their old home and I wanted to spoil them."

"When do they move in?"

"Today."

"I see.." You trail away from the conversation as you focus all your mental energy towards assembling their chair. You never got the proper training for this part of the job, but it wasn't rock science. Miller even helped you get started before they left the room, music blaring through the other corners of the house as they work on their own tasks. Three quarters of an hour down, and you've got it done. Miller had reentered the room around the time and had been working on their computer. They usher you over to bring the chair, offering you a seat for all your hard work.

"Y'know, I should be thanking you for all your hard work. You don't know how many times I've had to reschedule my order because they kept sending your coworker instead. Made no sense, but I guess you had other deliveries. It's whatever. All that's in the past now, baby."

Before you can ask what they mean, Miller puts on their headphones and presses a button on the keyboard. Your puzzled face appears on screen, blocked partially by the bill of your hat.

"Hey, guys! I'm here with my first stream with my spouse. Told you I was taken. I know I've hyped up their arrival, it just took a while to get things settled, but now they're finally home and here to stay."

“the clones going to space McDonalds” this, “the clones going to space water parks” that, when are we gonna talk about the REAL treat for the clones at the end of the war?

Build a Wook (space Build a Bear, naturally)

let them do the silly rubbing the heart and waking it up and kissing it. let them step on the peddle to fill the plush. let them pick out a sound and a scent and clothes for their plush, name them and get the birth certificate. the whole mile.

let them be and have soft things. let them MAKE soft things instead of being forced to make violence.

Pinkie pining is so cute to me, fr

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. 

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

the trial of ahsoka tano, the true version

jail for ahsoka! jail for ahsoka for bringing her father and brother to a heart attack!