#tech & reader

[jacksabbotts]

introducing . . . MORGUE TECH!READER . ᵒ . 🥼 🩺 🩻

you ( morgue tech!reader ) are a shy, soft-spoken, and far too good for the world you work in—but dr. jack abbot wants you anyway. wants you especially because of it. he’s older, bigger, rough around the edges, and completely undone by the way you squirms in his lap and stumbles over your words.

you never had anyone take their time with you—never been praised, teased, or touched the way he plans to. and when he finds out just how untouched you really are?

he makes it his mission to teach you everything you didn’t know you needed.

this is not just a series — this is a world. this is out of body experience for morgue girl ( and the reader ). this is a life-altering. this is a soft cinematic universe built from spilt coffee, sterile fluorescents, and jack abbot's absurdly soft hands wrapped around someone who didn't think anyone would take care to notice. this is GOOD GIRL CONFESSIONS .

CHAPTER ONE — NINE ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ completed ❪ 18.9k words ❫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ follows the reluctant tension-filled evolution of jack abbott and a quiet, anxious morgue tech. it begins with exhaustion, mutual annoyance, and an unfortunate first impression. it ends ( temporarily ) in confessions, broken rules, and hands brushing too long by the trauma bay sink and a single earth shattering kiss.

⋆.˚ CHAPTER ONE .' cold and predictable ⋆.˚ CHAPTER TWO .' cold storage ⋆.˚ CHAPTER THREE .' a cold shoulder

⋆.˚ CHAPTER FOUR .' too cold to touch ⋆.˚ CHAPTER FIVE .' cold cut ⋆.˚ CHAPTER SIX .' caught in the cold

⋆.˚ CHAPTER SEVEN .' cold hands ⋆.˚ CHAPTER EIGHT .' left out in the cold ⋆.˚ CHAPTER NINE .' let in from the cold

CHAPTER TEN — NINETEEN ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ongoing ❪ tbd words ❫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ follows post-confession. you’ve admitted too much. jack’s heard too much. and yet neither of you knows what to do with the silence that follows. you keep pretending. he keeps showing up. the hospital keeps getting hottee

⋆.˚ CHAPTER TEN .' heat source ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 001

⋆.˚ CHAPTER ELEVEN .' heat on contact ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 002

⋆.˚ CHAPTER TWELEVE .' after the heat ⋆.˚ CHAPTER THIRTEEN .' heat in your hands ( coming soon )

⋆.˚ CHAPTER FOURTEEN .' the sound of heat ( coming soon ) ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 003

⋆.˚ CHAPTER FIFTEEN .' heat flash ( coming soon ) ⋆.˚ CHAPTER SIXTEEN .' held in heat ( coming soon )

⋆.˚ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN .' heat bitten ( coming soon ) ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 004

⋆.˚ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN .' heated words ( coming soon ) ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 005

⋆.˚ CHAPTER NINETEEN .' heat of the moment ( coming soon ) ˚₊‧ 𐙚 morgue notes - 006

˚₊‧ 𐙚 THE APPENDIX ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NIGHT SHIFT — MORGUE NOTES

˚₊‧ 𐙚 *part one ˚₊‧ 𐙚 part two ˚₊‧ 𐙚 *petnames from jack ˚₊‧ 𐙚 *petnames for jack

layout inspo ||| dividers by @cafekitsune & @uzmacchiato * ✷ ⊹ * ˚  main masterlist ||| more jack abbot ||| inbox

* ✷ ⊹ * ˚  want to join the morgue tech!reader taglist??? click here!!! REQUEST FOR jack abbot x morgue tech!reader

possible trigger warnings * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ lowercase intended!!!! medical trauma, mentions of death, hospital setting ( references to autopsies, corpses, injury, blood ), social anxiety, self-worth issues, body image insecurity ( specifically surrounding reader’s curvier body ), reader internalizes micro-aggressions and negative self-talk, emotional repression, low burn with eventual power imbalance ( not exploitative, but notable that jack is of higher rank but NOT reader's direct superior ), age gap dynamic, jack is gruff and emotionally avoidant at first ( but in his bf!era dw ), SMUT in later chapters ( pls read all content warnings posted at the beginning of each part )

[heavenbarnes]

hmm thinking about older bf!simon who hasn’t really got his head around the whole sexting thing- the man had a flip phone before he met you.

he had, however, reluctantly gone out and got an android after a harmless conversation between the two of you.

“how am i meant to send you videos while you’re away if you have a flip phone, si?”

“videos of what?”

“guess.”

he virtually only uses the thing to get texts, calls, and videos of you fucking yourself in your shared bed whilst he’s deployed. he saves every video, which is a risky manoeuvre considering you haven’t taught him how to set a passcode yet (johnny catches a not-unwelcome eyeful when he goes looking for the directions he sent simon earlier)

older bf!simon is also a fantastic listener, when you tell him you want him to send pics but not ones that make his cock look like a dead fish. you give him strict instructions:

put your phone on self-timer, sit back, thighs spread, one hand around your cock, the other behind your head, you choose if your face is in it xox

man loves an order.

so whilst he’s away, you’re in the kitchen cooking up dinner-for-one and your phone buzzes on the counter- you drop the fucking pasta strainer straight on the floor when you unlock your phone.

simon’s face wasn’t necessarily in the photo, more so his mask. he was fully dressed, tactical gear (down to the vest) still on with a rifle leaning against his thigh. he was in the exact position you’d request, gloved fingers wrapped around the base of him with his other bicep firm behind his head.

you’re so busy saving the photo and staring back at it 100,000 times that you forget to respond. honestly, you forget how to function as your mouth goes dry and your eyes are unable to look at anything else.

simon hesitates on the other end, wondering if he’d fucked up- if he hadn’t followed the brief, if he’d embarrassed himself. thankfully, he knows he only has to ask.

“that what you were after, pet?”

the trepidation in his chest is replaced with a rapidly inflating ego.

“jesus christ, that’s exactly what i needed”

swapped out with slight confusion, but the ever present willingness to learn.

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

pt2

[sh1-n0bu]

do you guys think that yautjas have like,,, their own form of social media and thirst edits and stuff? like one of the yautjas would be like:

“this is my hear me out”: shows picture of human reader after another gladiatorial combat, all messy, tired, filthy and most definitely covered in whatever blood of the creature

and the comments are either

yautja.No1: you fool, your “hear me out” is supposed to be something diabolical. like xenomorph or something

ooman_fvcker: i’m hearing you out

galacticalmenace: that ain’t a “hear me out”. that’s a “hold me back”

xeno-hater: i ain’t no damn prey but…

[meshla-cyarika]

Instantly thought this during this scene 💀

[sarahskywalker-amidala]

Does anyone else feel like the fandoms they’re in are kind of dead cause there’s no new fics or updates? Like pls come back😭

[rumplereids]

wonderstruck.

part one. tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. tech analyst!reader. early-s1!spencer. a/n: tech analyst!reader won’t leave my little brain. i hope u like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

You were 21 when you got recruited into the bureau. Barely a graduate, and already on a FBI watchlist. Honestly, the only reason you’re under their watchful eyes is because of a lapse in judgment.

To celebrate the semester ending, your roommate decided that you both needed to get drunk. Being a psychology major with a pre-med roommate leads to tequila shots in your own dorm room. It’s the convenience and comfort of your own space that got you so drunk. This situation led to this: you admitting to your roommate, with heavy eyes, that you can “hack, you know. I learned when I was 15.”

She sat up from her place on the floor.

“Really? I don’t believe you!” she giggles, and then hiccups.

“I so can!” there’s indignation and a want to prove yourself in the tone of your voice.

“Okay, show me!”

Shuffling on heavy feet, you plop down in front of your laptop. A few clicks and the comforting clacks of your keyboard, and then a window pops open. You look at the wide-gaped mouth of your roommate. “What are you hacking?”

You hum, “I don’t know.”

And then you remember the talk from a few days ago. Two agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit came over to your college to talk about criminal profiling to psychology majors and anyone else interested.

Completely inebriated, you manage to hack into their database. Your hazy mind doesn’t forget to compliment the beauty and intricacy of the codes and firewalls you broke down.

At Quantico, Virginia, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushes into her unit chief’s office.

“Sir, somebody is attempting to get into my system. I think they’re trying to communicate?”

Hotch follows Garcia into her office, the quickness of their steps catching the attention of Dr. Spencer Reid who was seated at his desk, skimming over a case report.

When Hotch gets into Penelope’s ‘lair’, his eyes squint, adjusting to the dimmed lights and bright screens. On the main monitor, a window displaying the barebones of a text chat is open.

<ATHEN411> ????

<ATHEN411> hiiiiidfgsd

<YOU> Who is this?

<ATHEN411> ohymgofd i didnt think anyonewould alsnwer

<ATHEN411> wh o it sthis?

<YOU> BAU Section Chief Aaron Hotchner.

<ATHEN411> omfdg i know uuu !! jason mentoined u

<YOU> Jason?

<ATHEN411> yhuhh jason digeon or sumn omg i cant tpoye

<ATHEN411> sorry

<YOU> Jason Gideon? How do you know him?

<ATHEN411 disconnected.>

You’ve completely forgotten about the conversation. Until, a few days later. You’re turning the corner of the hallway to get into your dorm. Backpack slung on a shoulder, arms full of your laptop, binders and a soft-bound copy of your final paper. You stop in your tracks when you see two men stationed outside your room’s door.

One man was in a shirt, jeans, and combat boots. He also had sunglasses on. The other had a permanent furrow to his brows, dressed formally in a suit and tie.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask, hand reaching into your hoodie pocket for your keys and pepper spray.

The one in sunglasses holds up a badge and ID.

“FBI. I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner. Are you Y/N L/N?”

You gulp, wondering why they knew your name.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your bring out your keys, and you notice how Agent Hotchner eyes the pepper spray keychained to it.

“Um, yeah. We can talk inside? My roommate’s still out.”

You unlock your door and walk in, the agents following in after you. Dropping your bag on your desk chair, you turn to ask the agents, “How can I help you?”

Agent Hotchner asks, “Are you familiar with the name athen-four-one-one?”

You look up at them guilty.

“It’s athena-eleven.”

“So, it’s you?” Agent Morgan clarifies.

“Yes. How did you find me?”

The two men share a glance. A silent conversation passing with you unknowing.

“Two nights ago, you hacked into the BAU’s database.”

You look at them in suprise, “I did?”

“Yes,” Agent Hotchner says, passing a folder to you. Inside are images and a transcript of messages shared between a ‘P.GARCIA’ and ‘ATHEN411’.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, realizing what’s happening.

“I was drunk off my ass two nights ago! I’m so sorry,” that catches Agent Morgan’s attention.

“You were drunk?”

“Yeah, my roommate and I were celebrating our exams. I didn’t… Am I in trouble?”

Agent Hotchner raises a hand in a placating gesture, “You were drunk when you hacked into the bureau’s database?” Confusion and slight amusement evident in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you confess, “It was just a dare! I don’t even remember much of it.”

Agent Morgan looks as if he doesn’t know what to think about the situation. You feel the same. Agent Hotchner extends a hand to get the file back from you, and you give it to him easily.

“Would you go with us back to the station?”

“What? For what? Am I being sued?”

“The opposite. I would like to conduct a proper interview.” Agent Hotchner explains.

“An interview? For what?”

“A job as a technical analyst at Quantico.”

You look at them, eyes furrowing in confusion and disbelief, “What? I can’t!”

“Why not?”

You gesture toward your desk, “I still have a paper to pass!”

Meeting Penelope Garcia was like a dream come true.

“I should have realized! The triple-stacked firewall should’ve been so obvious! The Black Queen signature!”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, happy to meet a match.

“Athena-Eleven! I didn’t even notice you were in my systems until you sent your first message.”

You feel your chest puff up at the indirect praise.

“You were one of my idols,” you admit, “Your exposé on Griffith Industries was just… stunning! Absolutely flawless. You had a section in your code that I used to build my private server—” Agent Hotchner interrupts your spiel.

He gestures to the rest of the room, where agents were seated at a round table.

“This is Y/N L/N, the unit’s newest technical analyst. ” he says, and you give a shy wave. You get a wave back from the agent wearing glasses. He’s cute. Have you seen him before?

“This is Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison,” you shake her outstretched hand. She’s so pretty, you start to think, gorgeous blue eyes too.

“You’ve met Derek Morgan,” Agent Hotchner says, and Agent Morgan gives a two finger salute, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Agent Jason Gideon,” you return his handshake, mumbling a shy; “Hello, sir. Nice to see you again.”

And then, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid—”

“Oh! You were with Agent Gideon at the seminar! You talked a bit about geoprofiling, and how an unsub’s subconscious can’t help but stick close to home, which helps you triangulate the—” Agent Hotchner lets out another soft cough.

“Um, yeah. I did. Nice to meet you,” he gives another small wave, smile close-lipped and awkward. Endearing. He’s really cute. “I don’t really shake hands.”

You nod, “I get that, germs and stuff. It’s actually, weirdly, safer to kiss.”

You don’t see the way JJ and Derek look at each other, nor do you notice when Penelope whispered, “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”

“Your code name, it’s for the Athena, right? The Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft?” Dr. Reid asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah. I love greek mythology.”

He gives you a smile, “I do, as well. I’m wondering about the eleven though. Does it mean anything?”

You tsk’d through your teeth, “The angel number 1111’s often seen as a spiritual wake-up call and awakening. I thought it was fitting, and I was 15 when I chose the name, okay? Excuse little old me.”

“That’s cool,” Dr. Reid admits. If he remembers your file right, you were barely 17 when you became a trademark and known name in underground hacking circles. He can’t properly meet your eyes, struck in awe. Athena. It’s perfect for you.

“Y/N formally starts her job with us in three days,” Hotch informs the team, “Be kind.”

With a final word, Gideon and Hotch start to return to their offices.

Derek straightens from his position on the office chair. “I am very kind!”

“He didn’t say anything about you,” Penelope teases.

“Ooh, that says a lot, Morgan. It says so much,” JJ teases back.

You smile at them, your new co-workers, taking the seat JJ was gesturing at for you. The three continue bickering, you start to tune them out as you make eye contact with Dr. Reid. The apple of his cheeks blush red, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips from getting wider. He’s downright enchanting.

[nahoney22]

Perfectly Plucked

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

🫧 word count: 3.2k

Plot: Omega mentions to Tech that you love flowers, and luckily enough for him, you love him also.

Warnings: Fluff, safe for work, female reader (she/her), idiots in love, first kiss, nervous Tech.

A/N: it’s been a while since I wrote something cute with my darling, Tech 🩵

“So, what’s the plan?”

Omega’s voice is filled with mischief as she sways from side to side in the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes locked on Tech.

Tech doesn’t immediately respond. His fingers tapped lightly over the datapad, scanning through the incoming reports. But when Omega’s voice cut through the steady hum of the Marauder, his eyes lifted briefly, landing on her as she swayed back and forth in the co-pilot's seat. “Meaning?”

Omega leans forward, her grin widening as she tilts her head toward the viewport, pointing with her chin toward the object of their conversation. “You know... her,” she says in a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Tech’s expression faltered for a split second—his eyes widened, just enough to give him away—before he quickly averted his gaze, pretending to focus on the datapad once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you definitely do. We’ve alll seen how you look at her. It’s pretty obvious.” Omega replies, rolling her eyes dramatically before jumping to her feet.

“I do not ‘look’ at her.” Tech mutters, his tone defensive. “I simply observe. That is all.”

Omega arches an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Sure, ‘observe.’”

She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she begins to pace the cockpit.. “You could always make her something. You know, something nice and romantic! A gadget of some kind.” Then she frowns. “Although that doesn’t scream romantic.”

Tech looks up with a sigh. “Of course they are not. They are tools for beneficial use. And I do not believe she requires anything like that.”

Omega halts, then leans against the control panel, “Okay, maybe not gadgets,” she says, “But flowers might work. People give flowers all the time as romantic gestures.”

Tech blinks, his mind racing as he processes the suggestion. “Flowers?” His voice carries a hint of skepticism. “Why would she need flowers? They have no functional use. I would know if she had an interest in... what was it she said, ‘botanical remedies’?” He gives a small, self-assured smirk, as though this topic was already discussed between the two of them. “She tends to consult me on those matters.”

Omega rolls her eyes once but grins, “It’s not about the practical use, Tech. It’s about the gesture. Besides, she loves flowers.”

Tech’s brow furrows in thought. He glances over at you through the viewport, seeing you sitting outside the Marauder and methodically cleaning and refurbishing your armour.

His mind memorises Omega’s point, you were interested in flowers or any fauna.

Omega watches his expression change, a gleam of victory in her eyes. “You should really pay attention when she watches those holo-romcoms. You’d see how much she likes the idea of flowers.”

Tech’s fingers tap thoughtfully against his datapad, but his attention has clearly shifted. “I suppose that is true,” he murmurs, as though the idea of flowers suddenly isn’t so far-fetched after all.

Omega, sensing her triumph, beams. “So you’ll do it then? You’ll get her flowers?”

“No,” Tech answers quickly, looking back at his datapad with feigned disinterest. “I do not appreciate your attempts to manipulate me into admitting feelings. Again.”

She chuckles, remembering the long conversation she had chewed his ear off about flying being a ‘feeling’.

“So you do admit it?”

Tech shoots her a pointed look, his tone sharpening just a little. “Omega.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, backing away with exaggerated slowness. “Alright, alright,” she sings. “But I know she would appreciate it. You just have to admit it.”

Tech huffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. He watches you for a moment longer, his mind still running through the possibility, before he mutters under his breath, “I’ll consider it.”

Omega’s eyes twinkle, her work clearly done. “Perfect.”

The warm, refreshing breeze threaded through your hair as you leaned back against the crate, letting yourself savor the simple pleasure of open air. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a luxurious beach chair on a pristine coast like you had been craving, instead it was a beat-up crate on an overgrown forest floor. Though after days cooped up inside the Marauder, it felt like paradise. Even if the company inside was great. More than great, really.

Your mind wandered, inevitably drawn to a certain member of the squad. You caught yourself smiling, and immediately cringed, pressing a hand over your face.

"Why do feelings suck?" you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at yourself.

After a few minutes, you sat up and surveyed your armour with a satisfied smile. You had to admit, you were really good at keeping it looking brand new. Gathering the pieces in your arms, you headed back toward the ship, still riding the lazy warmth of the afternoon.

You were halfway up the gangplank, not paying attention, when you collided with something - someone - solid. You grunted, stumbling back as a few pieces of your armour clattered to the floor.

“Oh stars, sorry, Tech!” you blurted out as you realised what happened, rubbing your forehead where you'd bumped it against him.

"Not to worry, I was not looking where I was going either," he said smoothly, though there was a softness to his voice that made your cheeks warm. Stars, he really got to you.

You quickly crouch to gather up the pieces of your armour, and Tech mirrors your movements without hesitation. His gloves brush against your fingers as you both reach for the same piece, and for a heartbeat, neither of you move. The slightest spark shoots up your arm, and judging by the way Tech’s hand stiffens just a fraction, you pondered wishfully if he felt it too.

True to form however, neither of you say anything about it. You clear your throat and pull your hand back, allowing him to pick up the last piece.

Once everything’s collected, Tech takes it and puts your armour in the Marauder. You move to step around him, but Tech moves at the same time. You both shuffle right. Then both to the left. You stifle a laugh, glancing up at him helplessly as you try again — and again — failing miserably to find your way past.

“We look ridiculous,” you mutter, half-laughing as you impulsively reach out and grab his shoulders to steady him and yourself.

His body goes stiff beneath your touch, as though uncertain what to do, and his adorable wide eyes blink down at you behind his goggles.

“Hold still,” you say through a grin, guiding him gently aside. He lets you manoeuvre him into place without a word, though you hear him clear his throat a little.

You finally step through the doorway into the ship, peeking back at him. “What were you up to, anyway?” you ask casually, hands on your hips

Normally, Tech would answer any question with straightforward precision, but today... today he falters. “I, ah... was merely seeking... additional reference material. For research purposes.” His voice, usually so confident and clipped, wavers strangely. It’s so unlike him that you tilt your head in suspicion, narrowing your eyes in a playful squint.

“Oh?” you say slowly, intrigued. “What kind of research?”

His mouth opens — and then promptly shuts again. He adjusts his goggles unnecessarily, his hands fidgeting at the edges of his belt. Definitely suspicious.

Your curiosity only grows. “Well, if you need help,” you offer lightly, “I’d be happy to join you. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.” But then you realise, “Actually, I don’t want to leave Omega on her own-”

You barely finish speaking when a voice pipes up right behind you, startling you.

“I can look after myself, you know,” Omega says, clearly having been eavesdropping the entire time. She crosses her arms proudly. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You and Tech both turn toward her. “Not going to start the ship up and fly away without us, right?” You tease.

“Well I can’t promise that” Omega teases, looking between the two of you. “But I’ll do my best to resist.”

“Alright then,” You nod, allowing her to stay behind but then look to Tech to get his verdict.

“I suppose we will not be long.”

“Great!” Omega chimes, “You two can enjoy your date - uh, I mean…”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and mortified at her slip (if it even was) of her tongue.

Tech’s ears burn under his goggles, shooting her a look that you don’t see. He straightens his posture, clearing his throat.

Soon after giving Omega one last warning not to do anything disastrous on your outing, you fall into step beside Tech as he leads the way off the ship.

He doesn't say much at first and you don't push about why he was oddly quiet. You’re quite content for a moment to simply walk through the warm, open air and the forest ahead looks inviting. And being with Tech was such an added bonus.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” you ask after a short while, glancing over at him. “You never did tell me what kind of research this was.”

He pushes his goggles up his nose, fingers twitching on a small device in his hand. “It is a standard environmental survey,” he says quickly, “Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

You squint at him, reading him like a book. “You’re a terrible liar, Tech.”

“I am not lying,” he says, his tone stiff. “I am merely withholding certain specifics for operational efficiency.”

You bite back a smirk but let it go, following him deeper into the trees.

The forest itself hums with quiet life around you. The soft chirping from unseen creatures and the faint trickle of a nearby stream was tranquil. The trees tower overhead, their bark a deep reddish-brown, had wide canopies of green and gold leaves that flutter gently in the breeze.

If Pabu didn’t exist, you would actually consider having a home here.

After a few more minutes of walking, you watch as Tech slows and veers off the beaten path. He stopped at the edge of a rocky clearing and looked over a bed of wildflowers that had tiny blossoms in vivid colours that sway.

He activates the device in his grasp with a quiet beep and starts scanning the flowers.

You lean against a large boulder nearby, resting your chin on your arms as you watch him work. His brows are knitted in focused concentration, a tiny crease forming above his nose.

Honestly? Adorable.

“You’re really invested in this ‘environmental survey,’ huh?” you tease lightly, smiling.

He doesn’t glance up. Instead, he carefully kneels and inspects a cluster of bright yellow blooms. He selects one, pulls a small pair of pliers from his utility belt, and snips the stem.

“What’s that one?” you ask whilst he holds the flower delicately between his gloved fingers.

He looks up at you, and there's something almost shy in the way he offers the information. “It is a part of the aurelia family, a plant known for its versatile healing properties," he explains. "It is particularly effective in creating salves for minor abrasions, something you once mentioned a preference for, if I recall correctly.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness that he remembered a conversation you had with him quite a while ago now.

Before you can find the right words, he steps closer and offers the flower to you. “I would like you to look after it,” he says simply, placing it carefully into your hand quite quickly and looking away.

You cradle the delicate bloom as if it were made of glass. “I’ll guard it with my life,” you say with a mock-seriousness, but your heart thumps a little faster all the same.

Tech merely nods, satisfied, and turns to continue walking. You follow behind, hand still clutching the bright flower like it was something far more precious than just a plant. Well, to you it was anyway. You loved flowers.

You walk in easy silence for a while, the forest thickening around you as the path narrows.

You're still cradling the yellow flower carefully in your hand when you notice Tech slow again, his scanner flickering softly. He kneels by another patch of blooms — this time a cluster of small, delicate flowers in a soft shade of your favorite colour. You watch as Tech examines them, but instead of scanning them like before, he hesitates. His hand hovers for a moment before he plucks one gently between his fingers, standing up and turning toward you.

Without a word, he steps close, the flower dangling loosely in his grasp. His expression is unreadable behind his goggles, but there’s something almost... tentative about his posture.

You tilt your head, curious. “What’s that one?” you ask, smiling.

Tech visibly stiffens. His mouth opens, but whatever explanation he had seems to falter halfway through forming. “It does not possess any notable medicinal properties,” he admits, adjusting his grip on the flower. “It is... actually scientifically insignificant.”

You blink at him, confused. “Then why did you want me to hold it?”

For a second you swear you see Tech’s composure crack. He shifts awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you. “I considered it might be useful for... cross-referencing petal structure... for research purposes,” he says, far too quickly and far too technically to the point it sounded weird.

You narrow your eyes in mock suspicion, catching on that there’s definitely more he’s not saying. “Uh-huh. Sure,” you say, voice light but you can’t ignore that your heart beats a little faster. Did he want to give it to you… because he wanted to?

He seems to be silently warring with himself. His fingers twitch like he’s about to hand you the flower after all but at the last second, he stops.

Without another word, Tech then turns and — in a move so uncharacteristically flustered it makes you bite back a laugh — he tosses the little flower into the underbrush as he walks away.

You stare after him, baffled and amused in equal measur. Definitely suspicious.

Tech continues gathering flowers as you both wander through the forest, stopping here and there to snip a stem or examine a petal with meticulous care. You gave up asking about each one after the third or fourth as it became obvious he was just handing them to you without much explanation.

Instead, you quietly let him do it, your arms gradually filling with an array of blossoms: soft yellows, rich blues, gentle lilacs, vivid reds. The bundle was chaotic and beautiful.

After a while, Tech finally straightens and looks around the clearing with a satisfied nod. “This will suffice,” he announces.

You stop beside him, brushing your fingertips over the petals lightly, inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. “You picked a really pretty bunch for your research,” you admit softly, smiling over the bouquet at him.

Tech adjusts his goggles with a slight nervous twitch to the motion. “Yes, well...” he starts, voice a little stiffer than usual. “In truth, I would prefer you to keep them.”

You blink, surprised, lowering the flowers slightly to peer at him more clearly. “Keep them?”

He shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable but forcing himself to explain. “Omega mentioned that you appreciated flowers. She also suggested that they were considered a... romantic gesture. More appropriate than, say, a customised multitool.” He clears his throat, rapidly gaining momentum as he continues rambling.

“You wanted to get me flowers?” you interrupt softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Tech freezes mid-sentence of his tangent. His mouth opens and closes once — then he nods, sharply, as if resigning himself to it. “Yes. That was the intended outcome.”

Your cheeks burn so hot you swear Tech could probably feel it. You hug the messy bouquet a little tighter to your chest, heart thudding so hard it drowns out the hum of the forest around you.

Tech, seemingly unaware of just how much he’s affecting you, blunders on, still trying to justify himself as if he really needed to. “Initially, Omega suggested a handcrafted gadget. However, after observing flora within the holo-romcoms you frequently view, I concluded that a floral gift might have a statistically higher probability of being well-received, despite its lack of practicality—”

You’re barely listening anymore. You’re too busy staring at the ridiculous, wonderful bouquet in your hands, and the man who meticulously gathered every single stem just to give them to you.

“So... there was no research,” you say, your voice catching slightly.

Tech hesitates, then tilts his head slightly, almost sheepish. “No, not exactly,” he admits.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Thinking for a split second, you pull a small flower from the messy bundle — a delicate little thing with soft pink petals — and step toward him. Tech watches you with a sort of curious stillness, almost like he’s bracing for whatever strange human interaction he’s about to experience for the first time. A soft tenderness he yearned for you.

Carefully, you tuck the flower into the side of his goggle band, the bright bloom resting just above his ear. You step back to admire your handiwork, smiling. “There,” you say lightly, “now you look even cuter.”

Tech blinks, his hand automatically coming up to touch the flower like he’s not sure it’s really there. He tilts his head, studying you as a small, almost hesitant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“That would suggest that you found me ‘cute’ beforehand.” He exhales through a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You meet his gaze, feeling daring. “Maybe,” you say coyly with a shrug, the word slipping out in a playful lilt.

Something shifts between you. Tech’s smile lingers, but it’s gentler now. His hand drops back to his side, but he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can smell the faint, clean scent of him — old leather, warm metal and tools, and something sharper underneath, something just him.

Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.

Neither of you speaks. The forest seems to go quiet, the golden leaves above stilling like even the world around you doesn’t want to interrupt.

Slowly, carefully, Tech raises his hand, fingertips brushing against your arm like a silent question. You don’t pull away. If anything, you lean closer, your bouquet pressed tight to your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

“Would it... be acceptable,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, “if I—?”

You don’t even let him finish. You nod, once, fast and certain.

The distance closes naturally. His gloved hand slides up, cupping your cheek with a reverence that makes your breath hitch. You tilt into him instinctively, and when he finally, finally leans in, his kiss is as careful and deliberate as everything else he does. A featherlight brush of lips at first, testing the waters, before deepening ever so slightly as he feels you melt against him.

It’s sweet, and a little clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both smiling genuine smiles that don’t need words to explain.

The flower you tucked behind his goggles is a little crooked now, and somehow, that just makes it even better.

🫧 Masterlist

Tags: @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel l @stellarbit @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez

[mona-risms]

◆ DESSERT: Makeup Tends to Linger

◆ PAIRING: past!bullied!Zoey x queen bee!fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, can be platonic or romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: Mentions of bullying

◆ SLICE: 1st (you are here), 2nd, 3rd

◆ NOTES: I saw that in the concept, apparently Zoey was actually bullied when she was going to school in Burbank so this just kinda spawned

Through her school days, especially in high school, it wasn't like it was rare for Zoey to be bullied.

But what was rare—completely unheard of, even—was that you, out of literally everyone on campus, had been the one to step in.

You, the queen bee. You, the one everyone cleared the halls for to stare at as you walked by like some sort of celebrity. You, the one people would do anything you asked just to even say one single word to you without being humiliated.

You were the bitch that everyone loved, hated, and envied—the girl who was at the completely opposite end of the spectrum to her, the transferring loser with braces, a slight accent and an obsession for geeky things like music and.. turtles.

In a cliché such as this one, you'd be humiliating Zoey in front of the student body, targeting her with insults and rallying everyone to follow suit until she cried in front of the crowd. But instead, you did something infathomable.

"Haven't you assholes got anything better to do?" You drawled with an eyeroll, her lyric notebook dangling in between your fingers.

Instead of facing against her, you were faced against the group of students (seniors, just like you and two years above her) that were bullying her. And you hadn't done it to blindside her the next second. She could only watch as you shamed them and rallied your spectators up from simply watching with passive mocking to jeering at the group that dared to challenge you to the point where they ran away crying.

She doesn't even register your hand around your wrist until her brain catches up in the midst of you dragging her past the crowd, down the hall, and into an abandoned stairwell. And she only clicks back into reality the moment you shove her notebook in front of her.

"Here." You raised an eyebrow, "It's obviously yours, right? Since they were so hellbent on making your life hell for it earlier."

"Um-- yeah. Thank you," her hand reaches out to grab the notebook.. but finds herself holding your hand instead as you lift it up for a closer inspection.

Your thumb rolled across her knuckles before splaying her digits out, and after what felt like ages of her trying not to move or shake or bounce or even breathe, you looked back up with an inquiring look, "Who's your nail tech?"

"..Huh?"

"Your nails. They look nice," you finally let go of her (very shaky) hand, "and god knows either the wait times here are horrible, or the nail tech's really shit at doing their job. So? Who is it?"

..?

Is this real?

Were you, the guaranteed prom queen for senior prom later on in the year, asking her about.. nails?

"I.. did. I did it."

You blinked, and Zoey could see the disbelief clear on your face as your eyebrows furrowed, "Bullshit."

Zoey shook her head, the hair falling from her buns from the force of which she did so, before pulling her phone up to scroll through her folder full of designs that she did for herself, "I do press-ons too. But I just like doing it on myself because it's.. more difficult?"

"..Do you hate yourself that much?"

"No!" Yes. "Just-- it's more fun."

"What is?"

"The.. effort?"

"..Right." You waved away your own blank stare, "Whatever gets your rocks off, I guess—god knows you actually have the talent to be weird about it unlike, like 90% of this school. Actually, now that I can look at you closer," you leaned in as your free hand went up to hold her chin and turn her head to the side, your thumb planted against her bottom lip, "if we hooked you up on some actually good skincare and.. maybe some makeup, you'd be a lot cuter than most girls here. Even your lips are soft. Honestly, what are you even doing with yourself?"

A blush had been building throughout this whole conversation, but it was then that Zoey had felt like she imploded under your scrutiny. She couldn't even move or say anything, she could only stand and stare with a dry throat as you mused to yourself.. before you eventually released her.

"Do my nails for me."

"I-- wh-- you-- what? Why?"

"Uh.. because I like yours? And I've been looking to get my nails done by someone actually competent. I thought that was obvious."

"No, I mean-- I can do it-- I mean, I will, if you want but.. why me?"

The days she had to tolerate being thrown around like the world's biggest joke had taught her to expect mockery, pity, anything—

"Why not you?"

—but that.

She could only stare at you, the blush still there as her eyes started to sting. After so many days of being pushed around like she were some weirdo that nobody wanted to associate with, you of all people had managed to get her eyes to sting with building tears.

You grimace at the sight, "Oh. Oh, no, I don't-- I don't do that kinda-- girl, if you don't dry those tears now I'm walking off." Somehow, your tone didn't seem angry or.. anything she would've assumed to get.

"Sorry! Sorry, drying them," she sniffled as her hands went up to rub at her eyes with her hoodie sleeves before the tears could even manifest. She drew a long breath to calm herself before lowering her arms and looking back at you with what was possibly the widest grin she's ever had in.. a while, one that didn't feel forced for the sake of pleasing whoever she was talking to, "Okay. Not crying."

"Yeah? You good?"

"Mhm."

"Great, great." You raised the notebook towards her again, "Well--"

"I'll do it."

"Hm?"

"I'll do your nails."

You smiled at her, and it was then that she understood exactly why everyone keeps vying for your attention, "Good. What's your pay?"

"Pay?"

"Uh, yeah? I'm not making you work for free," you scoffed. "C'mon, what's your price?"

Nail art wasn't really something Zoey did for money. There were thoughts of it, sure, but it was just like her music—she loved doing it as a hobby, and she didn't want to stress herself out more than she already is. She could use the extra buck, sure, but she was more than willing to just help without any--

Oh. Wait.

But it would be selfish to ask.

..Would it, really?

"You said about.. skincare. And makeup." She chewed her lip lightly before finding her conviction for once and looking at you straight in the eye, "I want you help me with that. ..If you want to, obviously, I--"

Your eyebrows raised a fraction, and her cheeks heated up again when you gave her another smile, "Stop. Alright. Sure. Got a pen?"

She tilted her head slightly in confusion but dug for the pen in her pocket anyway before giving it to you, which you take as you open up her notebook to the very last page—

"Cute turtle drawing."

"Oh! Thanks."

—and wrote something down at the bottom corner before putting the pen in its spine and handing the open notebook back to her.

It was your number.

"Text me on that—" you nudged your head to the notebook, "—and we can start sorting things out, yeah?"

She doesn't even get a chance to reply to you or say goodbye or anything when you turn to walk off, leaving her there on the stairwell to process everything that just happened.

(But she does text you. And the two of you met regularly until you graduated high school, leaving behind a shade of lip gloss that you swore would look good on her—your own personal shade, passed down to her.)

—

"I gotta ask, where'd the cosmetic hobby come from?"

Zoey was tending to Rumi's makeup during a very rare moment of her swinging by from her private green room, "Hmm?"

"I'm also curious," Rumi followed up as she sat otherwise completely still, "knowing how to do it is normal, but you singlehandedly managed to fix our skin in ways we didn't even think it needed fixing, and know how to do an amazing manicure on top of that.

Instead of blushing like she did all those years ago, she grinned bashfully yet proudly, "Aww, you guys think so? Thanks!! The nail art's just something I picked up like music. I'm really glad I kept with it even now."

"So are our nails," Mira nodded in gratitude, "the outfits don't really feel complete without them. But what about the skincare? The makeup?"

The maknae lets the comfortable silence hang for a bit as she adds on the finishing touches. But eventually she does answer, a soft, nostalgic look on her face as she picks up a very familiar lip gloss—a newer tube, but she wore the same shade as the day you left. "Oh, y'know," she applied the gloss onto her lips, "I just had a really good teacher in high school."

[doingitforbokuto]

Aone who loves having his fingers in your mouth.

The first time it happens, his brain simply short circuts, he doesn't even comprehend what is happening. The last thing he knows is cradling your face as you lay underneath him, still a little breathless from the making out session you two are in the middle of. His thumb strokes over your cheek, towards your chin when suddenly, swiftly, you turn your head just enough to catch his thumb in between your lips.

The warmth of your mouth envelopes his finger, your spit coats him and he doesn't know why, doesn't know what it is - the suddenness of it, the intimacy of it, the look of your flushed face, the moan you let out - but not a single thought exists in his brain as he pushes his thumb deeper into you, drives his hips harder against yours. All thoughts of maybe being too heavy on top of you are gone too, only you exist, only your love and the love he has for you as he spills into his pants, finger as deep in your mouth as possible.

He doesn't yet understand why he loves this so much, but with the amounts of times he wants to do it again, he is sure he will have plenty of time to figure it out.

[wiltedwilloww]

The Bad Batch has the most realistic romantic plot because when a gorgeous, independent woman was presented with several equally handsome men, she chooses the smartass.

[jacksabbotts]

. ᵒ .༄ JACK ABBOT x MORGUE!READER !  ࿔* ·˚ ༘ ┊͙ # 🩻 possible trigger warnings .' anxiety  ‧ 🥼 ‧ ━━ WC 1.5k

series masterlist || inbox || ggc request form ━━━ ao3 * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ ✷ dividers by @cafekitsune and @uzmacchiato

⤷ ✵ ✧ . · * . · .  COLD AND PREDICTABLE ━━ chapter one ⋆ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ summary in which you ( the reader ) are a overworked and under appreciated morgue tech for the pittsburg trauma medical center. you are solely responsible for clearing out the deceased patients from the emergency department. but when there is a delay and all your cold storage lockers are full, jack pays a visit to this morgue tech he's never heard of ( aka you ) and basically tells you to do your job better ; ' (

you liked the morgue.

that wasn’t something you could say out loud—not even to the handful of people who actually knew your name. but it was true. you liked the quiet hum of the refrigerated walls. the soft thunk of a drawer sliding into place. the hum of the vents. the artificial stillness that wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. it was the only place in the entire hospital that didn’t ask you to be anything other than quiet.

upstairs, the world buzzed. phones rang. radios barked. nurses called to each other across fluorescent hallways and doctors stomped past with clipboards in one hand and coffee in the other. everything moved too fast. everything was too loud.

but down here?

the dead didn’t rush you.

they didn’t care that you wore your scrubs one size too big to hide your hips. they didn’t care that your voice was soft and slow and hard to hear over the hum of machinery. they didn’t ask why you never wore makeup or styled your hair or joined in on break room gossip. they didn’t notice your anxiety. or if they did, they were too far gone to care.

the morgue was a constant. cold and predictable.

you liked that.

your shift started at 6:00 pm, but you always arrived by 5:40. early was better than noticed. being early gave you time to breathe, time to fall into your routine. you changed in the staff locker room, tied your hair back into a low bun, and slipped your badge onto your lanyard—backward. You always wore it backward. the sight of your name and staff photo made you flinch.

there was something about seeing it—your full name, government bold in black and white—that made you feel visible in the worst way. better to leave it unreadable. it feels safer that way.

the other morgue tech on rotation left at 6:15 with a nod and a yawn. you didn’t mind being alone. you preferred it. you’d already checked the autopsy schedule—two expected tonight, maybe three. the overflow drawer was full, but you had room. you always kept it clean, always organized. the medical examiner said you were the best at inventory, and he was old-school—stingy with praise.

it was 6:42 now.

your dinner sat beside you on the break room table: a thermos of reheated lentil soup, a single slice of soft bread, and the green stanley thermos you brought every night with coffee made just the way you liked it. the same thing. every shift. routine was comforting to you.

you weren’t much of a talker. small talk made your palms sweat. eye contact made your pulse spike. you’d been called shy, cold, quiet, even weird—usually by people who didn’t realize you were listening. you always listened. you heard everything. that was your job.

you noticed the smallest fractures in bone. the subtlest bruises beneath the skin. you labeled instruments with care and sketched anatomical details in your private notebook—not because anyone asked, but because it helped you focus. because it gave your hands something to do. because it made you feel useful.

useful was the closest thing to confident you’d ever been.

you stirred your soup, carefully. the fluorescent lights above flickered once, twice, then steadied.

you didn’t eat in the upstairs break room anymore. not since that nurse in green scrubs—jessica, maybe—had looked you up and down and laughed, 'don’t you work with the dead people? what, they let ghosts have lunch breaks now?'

you hadn’t replied. just packed your food and left. she hadn’t meant it cruelly, probably. but the words stuck. most words did.

your thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of heavy boots on tile. you glanced at the clock.

3:14 am. too early for the medical examiner’s rounds. too late for the janitorial staff. too heavy to be anyone but—

the door slammed open.

you jumped.

a man stormed in—tall, broad, shoulders tensed under navy scrub top and dark wash cargo pants ( different from the normal doctor attire you were used to, but man he could pull it off ).

his chest rose and fell with labored breath, his short sleeves stopped mid bicep, exposing thick meaty forearms. his id badge bounced off his chest with every step, and his eyes—sharp, dark, furious—scanned the room like he was ready to fight someone.

you froze halfway to your mouth with your spoon, soup forgotten. 'can . . . i help you?' the voice was so soft, he almost missed it. like the words had to squeeze through a locked throat.

jack stopped dead. not the sight he expected. not even close.

tiny thing. curled up on a rolling stool, eating a thermos of soup like she was afraid it might fall spill out of your hands. drowned in baggy scrubs. barely looked old enough to drive, let alone be the only morgue tech on duty.

he shook off the flicker of surprise.

'you can explain,' he barked, taking a step in. 'why there are three bodies still in my er taking up beds i don’t have.'

her hands immediately retreated to her lap, soup abandoned. she didn’t even flinch—just… deflated. like someone used to being spoken to like that.

you blinked but otherwise still didn't answer. he advanced two more steps, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. 'can someone explain that to me?;

'i—I know,' she said, not quite looking at him.

'you the tech on tonight?' he asked as if he didn't already know the answer. you nodded. he exhaled through his nose. loud. 'perfect.'

you swallowed hard. 'i’m sorry. 'didn’t mean—'

'don’t apologize,' he snapped. 'just do your job. i’ve got live patients bleeding out in hallway beds while corpses are parked in mine like they’re waiting for the fucking valet.'

you flinched.

'why the hell are they still upstairs?'

his voice was like gravel—low and hoarse and too loud in the cold quiet of the morgue. you looked down, pulse in your throat.

'i can’t bring anyone else down,' you said softly. 'the storage is full. every drawer. every overflow table. i’ve been waiting on the funeral home pickup since midnight. they said morning. i—i sent three emails. no one responded.'

'who’d you email?'

she hesitated, eyes flicking to the badge on clipped to his scrub top pocket, then back down.

'uh, you.'

a beat of silence. just turned on his heel and walked straight out.

didn’t say thank you.

didn’t say sorry.

didn’t even close the morgue door gently behind him.

the door swung shut behind him with a dull clack.

you stared at it. then stared at your soup. then back at the door.

your fingers were still curled around your spoon, but your hand had gone numb. a familiar prickle crawled across your scalp and down your spine—the start of the cold-sweat panic you knew too well. it always came after. after the confrontation. after the humiliation. after the worst-case-scenario played out in real time.

you hadn’t cried. not yet. but your eyes stung.

you pushed your soup away, the smell suddenly sour.

why did you apologize? he told you not to. and you still did.

you always did that.

and of course it had to be him.

of course the first person to raise their voice at you in six months had to be that doctor—the one everyone talked about like he was a war god with a scalpel. jack abbot. trauma attending. king of the fucking er.

you’d seen his name on postmortem charts before, but you’d never met him face-to-face. he was a phantom. a rumor. a string of growled curses through stairwell doors.

but now?

Now he was the man who yelled at you while you held a spoon and shook like a leaf.

your heart wouldn’t settle. it beat in your throat, heavy and wet and fast. you stood slowly, hands trembling as you carried your tray to the small break room sink. dumped the soup. rinsed the mug. mechanical movements. muscle memory.

you didn’t do confrontations. you just weren’t built for them. every sharp word echoed inside you like it was etched into bone. every second of that encounter—his voice, the way he looked at you, the rage on his face—played on repeat, looping again and again with increasing sharpness.

why are there four bodies still taking up beds in my er?

like you’d chosen it. like you wanted the drawers full. like you weren’t down here alone, managing twenty-two corpses in twelve hours with no help and no backup and no one reading your emails for you.

and when you’d finally explained?

he hadn’t even looked at you. just turned around and left.

did that mean he believed you?

or that he just didn’t care?

you stood in the middle of the break room with water dripping off your hands and your badge still flipped backward on your chest. you didn’t move. you couldn’t.

you tried to shake it off. to tell yourself that it didin't matter. that him and his words were nothing to you.

you’d had worse days. you’d heard worse things.

but somehow, this felt different.

because this wasn’t just any doctor. this was jack abbot.

and you hated—hated—that even now, with your pride in pieces and your chest still tight from holding back tears, part of you still cared what he thought of you.

🔖  .   @princesssunderworld  @mayabbot  @imherefordeanandbones  @arigoldsblog  @oldmanbunnylover  @i-mushi  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @lovelexi717  @peggyofoz  @qtmoonies  @nfwmb-gvf  @britt217  @babybatreads  @cheekym8s  @bitteroceanlove  @spooky-librarian-ghost  @dr-yapper  @yutasgem  @keseqna  @gardeniarose13  @witchbitchlovesdilfs  @sotragedynut  @robbyrosierobinavitch  @anglophileforlife @flyinglama  @reignbooks8506 @kmc1989  @sillymuffintrashflap @letstryagaintomorrow @caterpillarskimono @maiamore  @chuiisi  @madzleigh01 @qardasngan @imightbeinsanebutwtv @Shadowfoxey @foolishseven @anxiousfuckupon  @Lumpypoll  @Coldmuffinbanditshoe  @blueliketheseaa  @Justfaefaeee  @sweetdayme4427  @404creep  @yourdaydreamerfan  @ddrawers96  @m14mags  @generalstarlightobject  @twiddledeedumsworld  @dlljdhsh  @jetless  @Thedamnqueenofhell  @Topnerd03  @misshoneypaper  @abllor @Loud-mouph @cannonindeez @nubecita040@Sabi127  @Coleground  @sevenberry   @idontcarenoughtonamethis  @beebeechaos  @cwzham  @homebytheharbor  @Sammiib444  @painment  @namgification  @Cherry_cosmos  @catmomstyles3 @livingavilaloca  @hello-lisa1026  @emma8895eb  @thesnugglingduck @134340-cm @amindfullofmonsters @FloofMC @moonriseoverkyoto @alldaysdreamers @karavt @beefbaby25 @cruelchants @kiwikitty13 @faerykingdom @i-get-obsessed-fast @badwolfvexa @laerrynseelie @violetswritingg @braindead-raccoon @timeofmadness @bmoplanet @high-functioning-deadgirl @silas-aeiou @BxdBxtxh @rosellerinfrost @saidinpassing @alldaysdreamers @kaiaspapayas @concentratedconcrete @blackirisesinthesunlight @JillB12 @Emmyfairy @notgothenough @timeofmadness @valkyreally @narcolepticduck @hiireadstuff @dlljdhsh @beltzboys2015 @tealcelery @madprincessinabox @fairygardensss @ahleecollaborations @pope-codys @breegirlxoxo @midnghtprentiss @sharkluver @fadeinsol  @trinket-007 @katydunn67 @beebeechaos @knifetotheback @starwars8979 @xxxkat3xxx @blue3delphi @blackwidownat2814

* ✷ ⊹ * ˚  want to join the morgue tech!reader taglist??? click here!!!

[wanderer-six]

THE GALA - A Clone Dating Sim

You are a Jedi General. The Council has assigned you a very important mission: the infiltration of a Separatist gala on Raxus. But you will not be going alone--you are allowed to bring a date on this adventure. In the heart of enemy territory, who will you count on to watch your back?

PLAY HERE: THE GALA

Ideal play experience is on desktop! (I think you can play on mobile it just looks a lil yuccy)

Clone bbs x Fem!Jedi player FEATURED CLONES: Sergeant Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Captain Rex, Commander Wolffe, and ARC Twins Fives & Echo

RATING: 18+ MINORS DNI - The paths can be SFW or NSFW depending on your choices (2nd option is always the NSFW one!) - general warning for smut if you make those choices, more specifics below the cut!

Additional (less relevant) info beneath the cut!

HAPPY MAY 4TH! ENJOY MY LOVES~~

COMPREHENSIVE WARNINGS LIST: In general, lots of flirting, innuendo, pet names. Established relationship for all

Hunter: LOTS of flirting (he is a whore), p in v sex

Tech: Oral (f receiving)

Crosshair: Fingering

Wrecker: Not much for him honestly, implied canoodling (p in v), oblivious boy ♥

Captain Rex: dirty talk, praise, oral (m! Receiving)

Commander Wolffe: rough! p in v

Fives & Echo: Multiple clones (no clonec*st), lots of flirting, Echo is self conscious!

-ART ASSETS I drew all of the Clone art! I found the most nakedest screencap I could of any of them (SURPRISINGLY DIFFICULT) and then traced the base, then looked for Star Wars Male Fashion (WAY FUCKING HARDER) to draw on them and dress them up! I think for Hunter and Fives/Echo I just went crazy but for all the rest lmk if u can spot who I stole the outfits from, i deadass dont remember at this point For Background art I found them all on google images - from what I recall, it's mostly concept art and screenshots from games! -ENGINE I made this in Twine, an incredible tool for making text-based games! I highly recommend looking into it. It's really easy to use and there are a ton of tutorials online!

AN: Thank you so much for playing! Please let me know what you think, I had so much fun making this✨✨ it is so phenomenally cringe but I hope you all enjoy ♥ (also if you spot any bugs or typos, please feel free to let me know and I will fix!!)

TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PATH I like Rex Crosshair Wrecker the best I think

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

what if like. bad batch x reader where reader is a medic (HUNTER CANT DO EVERYTHING HES TIRED 😭) whom they have hired and taken in as part of the team. she’s really understanding and sweet and the type to call all her patients ‘sweetie, or honey, or baby’ in like an ‘i know it hurts, sweet boy just a teeeeny little prick, okay?’ sort of way. so the batch like all separately start to have teeny little crushes.

“Just a Teeny Prick, Sweetheart”

Bad Batch x Reader

Hunter was tired.

Exhausted, really. The kind of tired that seeps into the marrow of your bones, the kind that sleep doesn’t fix anymore. He was holding his squad together with sheer willpower, dwindling rations, and stim packs, and Tech had said something the other day that actually stuck:

“Statistically, it would be more efficient to outsource a trained medic. We are ill-equipped for sustained self-triage.”

That, paired with Wrecker nearly bleeding out after a skirmish on Corellia because someone (Echo) had “accidentally” used the wrong bacta dilution, finally pushed Hunter to agree.

You came highly recommended.

And you were… different.

⸻

The first time they saw you in action, you were crouched over Wrecker’s arm, cooing at him like he was a scared child.

“I know it stings, baby. Just a teeny prick, okay? You’re doing so good, honey.”

Wrecker—literal tank of a man, bruiser of nightmares—was blushing.

Like, full-body, ears-pink, avoiding-eye-contact blushing.

Hunter stood behind you blinking slowly. Tech actually stopped typing. Echo raised an eyebrow. Crosshair made a noise in his throat that might have been a suppressed laugh.

You, of course, were oblivious to the storm you’d just kicked off.

“All done!” you announced brightly, patting Wrecker’s arm as you bandaged it up. “You were so brave, sweetheart. Go on, get yourself a treat.”

Wrecker beamed. Like a puppy who’d been told he was a good boy.

And from that moment on, everything changed.

⸻

Hunter didn’t mean to stare. He really didn’t.

But he started noticing things.

The way your voice softened when you worked on him—“Deep breath, baby. In and out, just like that—good boy.”—and he’d nearly dropped dead right there. The way your hands lingered just a second too long when you pressed a bacta patch to his ribs. How your touch didn’t hurt even when it should.

He’d caught himself looking at you more than once while you cleaned your kit or tucked your hair behind your ear. You hummed while organizing supplies. You smelled like sterile wipes and something sweet. You called him “darlin’” once and he had to physically leave the room.

He started volunteering for med checks even when he was fine. “Just making sure I’m cleared for the next mission.”

You smiled every time. “Of course, sweet boy.”

Hunter was not okay.

⸻

Tech was confused at first. Your bedside manner was… statistically illogical. Surely grown men didn’t need to be called “sugar” or “darlin’” to survive triage.

And yet—

“You did amazing, sweetheart,” you said once, after removing a shard from his thigh. “So still, such a good patient.”

He’d never flushed so fast. His datapad nearly slipped from his fingers. The next day, he updated your medical database for efficiency—and also uploaded a music playlist that made you beam and say “Oh! This is perfect, thank you sugar.”

He recalibrated your scanner after that.

And your med droid.

And the lighting in the medbay.

And then started inventing reasons to come back. “Mild tinnitus,” “possible corneal abrasion,” “a faint ache in my ankle.” All documented. All excuses.

He was fine.

He was not fine.

⸻

Echo didn’t trust you at first. Too soft-spoken. Too sweet.

But then he watched you work during a firefight—calm under pressure, patching him mid-cover behind crates while blaster fire flew overhead.

You were gentle, but you didn’t flinch. Not once.

“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just keep pressure there, that’s it.”

He looked at you sideways, something twisting in his chest.

Later, after the fight, you came to check his stitches. “You really held it together,” you said with a warm smile. “Tough cookie.”

He snorted. “I’ve been called worse.”

You tilted your head. “Well, I call you Echo. And you’re one of my favorites.”

He didn’t know what to say. He just nodded and looked away.

And when you touched his metal arm without flinching—even thanked him for holding his own gauze—he felt… seen.

He was used to being patched up. But not to being cared for.

Now he sits just a little closer to you at meals. Offers you the first ration bar. He pretends not to notice when you call him “honey” again.

But he does.

⸻

Crosshair didn’t say anything for a long time.

He watched you. A lot. Silently. Unnervingly.

He noticed how your hands didn’t shake, how your tone stayed steady. You never flinched from his scars. You never forced him to speak.

One day, you caught him cleaning his rifle with a nasty cut on his hand.

“Cross,” you said gently, crouching beside him. “That’s gonna get infected, baby. C’mere.”

He raised a brow. “You call all your patients baby?”

You smirked. “Only the stubborn ones.”

He let you clean it. Didn’t complain once. Not even when you blew gently on the wound before bandaging it. His ears turned red, though.

“You’re good at this,” he said quietly.

You winked. “Don’t tell the others. They’ll want special treatment.”

He definitely did not steal one of your gloves to keep in his kit later.

Definitely not.

⸻

Wrecker had it bad.

From the second you cooed at him and called him “sweet boy,” he was gone.

He came to you for everything. Paper cuts. Headaches. “Funny feelings in his tummy” that were totally not butterflies. He’d pretend to limp just to get you to touch his shoulder.

And you? You were so nice about it.

“Oh, baby, you poor thing. Let me kiss it better.”

You didn’t actually kiss it. But he thought about asking. Just once.

He made you a little plushie out of spare parts and gave it to you with a bashful grin. “It’s you! Well, kinda. I made it ‘cause you always take care of us.”

You squealed. Hugged it to your chest. “This is the cutest thing anyone’s ever made me!”

Wrecker nearly passed out.

⸻

Eventually…

You start to notice.

How they hover just a little too long. How they all suddenly have “injuries” every time you do inventory. How they flinch slightly—but in a good way—when you call them sweetheart.

One night, you say it out loud at dinner.

“You boys sure do get hurt a lot. Almost like you’re doing it on purpose.”

They all freeze.

Then Echo coughs. Tech pushes up his goggles. Wrecker drops a fork. Crosshair mutters, “Told you it was obvious.” And Hunter—poor Hunter—rubs the back of his neck and avoids your eyes.

You lean forward, resting your chin in your hand with a smile.

“It’s okay,” you say sweetly. “I don’t mind being the team’s favorite. As long as I get paid in compliments.”

Wrecker nearly yells, “YOU’RE SO PRETTY.”

Tech immediately corrects, “Statistically, she has extremely symmetrical features.”

Crosshair sighs. “Maker, you’re all pathetic.”

Hunter just looks at you, dead serious. “You keep us together. You matter.”

You blink. A little stunned.

Then you grin. “Guess I better stock up on bacta patches, huh?”

⸻

[thanosscross]

Fake girlfriend, Fake boyfriend, silly! - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader

Summary: After your manager plotted a fake relationship between his two biggest signed rappers, you and Seung get very close, as best friends, but tell me this...would friends treat friends like how Seung Hyun treats you?

Warnings: None :)

Whenever you were first asked by your manager to start a fake relationship with a guy from one of his boy groups you were complexed, Not recognizing any K-pop idol named Seung Hyun. The first time met him was out at a meeting with your shared boss, Seung Hyun was secretly excited about meeting you, while he found it irritating that his boss felt the need to fake a girlfriend for him, he liked the idea of having someone as cool as you around.

"Seung Hyun, this is Y/n, she's going to your show girl, Y/n, this is Seung Hyun, also known as T.o.p, he'll be your show boy" You manager stated, after that you two became close, using the excuse of having to make it believable to spend almost every minute you could with each other. While you were close with all of BigBang, you and Seung Hyun just clicked together, often sharing a hotel room whenever you'd tour with him for your collaborated shows or songs. It didn't take long after the announcement of your fake relationship for people to immediately either hate or love it, you weren't a rapper like your fake boyfriend, but you did rap in some of your songs, even having a few verses with him where you rapped together, but your manager liked to utilize your voice more, liking the way it wasn't too high pitched but still feminine and calming. You had been 'together' now for almost a year, getting ready for your first full tour with BigBang, you were nervous but also excited, this was big for you, hopefully.

Waking up in your hotel bed you groaned, stretching your body as much as you could before slowly crawling out of your bed before slipping on one of Seung Hyun's hoodies, you weren't sure what time it was, but the sun wasn't up yet, so you knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. You attempted to fall back asleep, but everything was making you uncomfortable, the airport lost your luggage, so nothing in the room made you feel like home, no pillow, blanket, nothing, just the smell of the half ass detergent the hotel used to wash the linens, standing up for the second time you slowly made you way to the connecting you, knowing beyond the door all four guys were most likely asleep, you contemplated on going on, not wanting to risk waking anybody up, but right as you started to turn around Seung Hyun's words echoed in your head 'Don't worry about some silly pillow, if you need something that reminds you of back home, we're all a door away' Turning to face the door again you slowly twisted the knob, watching as it slowly opened into their dark room, all the lights were off and from the faint glow from your bathroom light you could faintly see where everybody was. Ji-Yong and Seung Hyun shared a bed, and Dae-Sung and Tae-Yang shared the other. You pressed Seung Hyun's hoodie to your lips slowly making your way over to whom you hoped to be your fake boyfriend and best friend "Seung hyun" You whispered, feeling your anxiety start to creep up inside of you as he turned his back to you, forcing Ji-yong to stir as well. It wasn't that you were scared or scared of the dark, but ever since you were a teenager you would have severe anxiety in the dark if you sat too long, so standing in the basically pitch-black room wasn't helping your anxiety with not wanting to wake anybody or being in a new weird place.

Trying to stifle your whimpered you felt your hands start to shake as you tried to wake your friend up again "Seung Hyun please...I really need you" You whimpered quietly, instead of your intended target, Ji-Yong slowly sat up, turning his head around confused letting his eyes focus on you "What's up, y/n? Are you okay?" He asked, you bit your lip, trying to swallow the lump in your throat in your throat, sitting up more due to your silence, Ji-yong grabbed his cell phone using the screen brightness to see your face. Seeing your upset state he frowned, catching on to what you were trying to do, he tried to help you, and eventually after about five more minutes, you finally woke Seung Hyun up. As he woke up he shot you both a nasty glare, not wiping it off of his face until his eyes focused and he saw your shaking frame slightly in the dark, without saying anything Seung Hyun just motioned for you to go back to your bed, following behind you with his pillow under his arm. "I-I'm sorry" You whimpered, holding onto the cuffs of the hoodie sleeves, trying any way possible to calm your raging anxiety "Don't. Just lay down, dalkomi" He whispered tiredly, as he pulled the blanket back for you, for a moment you thought he was going to go back to his bed, but instead he just shut the connecting door before laying down next to you "Don't steal all of the blankets again" He warned before wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to where your head laid on his chest, his fingers caressing your spine as you rested your hand on his chest, the more he moved his hand on your back the more you could feel the anxiety slipping away and the tiredness starting to slip in. It didn't take long before Seung Hyun felt your slow relaxed breaths, and the way your hand barely rested on his chest anymore.

You both woke up with a startle, your bandmates standing in your room cooing with their phones out "Sooo cute!" Dae-sung cheered as Seung Hyun groaned slamming his head under the pillow, you just shot them all a tired confused look "Come on Lovers! We have an hour until rehearsals!" Tae-yang reminded as he placed two coffees down on the table, before ushering the others out. Tiredly you turned to look at Seung Hyun who was still hiding under the pillow, you absent-mindedly traced your nails up his back "Aein...handsome, come on" You called sweetly, it wasn't odd for you to call each other pet names, you were actually quite flirty with each other even outside of pretending to be together, you weren't sure about Seung Hyun, but you just liked the way you clicked with him, and you liked the way he'd blush anytime you'd call him into another room by calling him Aein. You watched as he slowly lifted his head "Do we have to?..I'm comfortable" He complained, you just laughed offering him a sympathetic smile as you patted his back "Yep, we have to, now come on, handsome" You replied before climbing off of the bed going towards the large costume bag your manager had dropped off earlier "ooo We're going to look hot, Aein" You cooed as you opened the black bag, seeing the deep red fabrics of a suit and dress, on top of other things, giggling as every outfit was coordinated together, Seung Hyun moved to where you stood smiling "You're going to look amazing" He agreed, you blushed slightly as you pulled out your first outfits, handing the suit to Seung Hyun before you disappeared into the bathroom. After a few moments you both called out "Aein?.." "Dalkomi?" Giggling you opened the bathroom door stepping out "Zip me up?" You asked playfully, he walked over, carefully placing his hands above your waist to hold the fabric of the dress, zipping the zipper up and clasping the small latch he smiled "Tie this damn thing for me?" Seung Hyun asked, playfully pouting as he motioned to the black tie "Of course, handsome" You teased tying the tie effortlessly. As you pulled away you both stopped, staring into each other's eyes before hesitantly pulling away, what was that?

As the show started you stood in the center of the boys, the smoke machines layering a thick smoke over the floor of the stage, as you all dispersed you waited for your cue to start singing. You were having fun, completely forgetting all about your moment with Seung Hyun until Fantastic Baby, you had sat down more to the back of the stage to watch considering you weren't singing and weren't required to preform currently, As soon as Seung Hyun started his first verse he made his way to you pulling you to your feet as he rapped, bringing you close to him before finishing, nodding his head along to Ji-Yong, smiling as he followed to chorography facing you, you just laughed at him starting to mimic his movements, he brought the microphone close to his mouth cheering into the mic before moving back to the center of the stage to continue his second verse.

After the song came to an end you smirked hearing you voice layover theirs, the song transitioning into one of your favorites of yours. As you rapped along to it you took notice of Seung Hyun nodding his head along to your words, throwing some of his own chorography in, Seung Hyun rushed over to you, spinning you around before shaking his hips as he jumped around you, obviously having fun with his free time. As the song ended you panting attempting to catch your breath, Ji-yong circling the stage talking to the crowd as you regrouped with Seung Hyun and the others "Fuck it is next, ready for it?" Tae-yang asked, knowing that was the song that required the most interaction and movement between you and Seung Hyun other than Bae Bae and your back dancing with Seung Hyun for Zutter. "I'm already so tired" You mumbled as the track started to play, Seung Hyun just smiled, kissing your cheek as he rushed past, grouping with the guys for the beginning of the song. Other than your small verse towards the end, your main focus during this song was moving with Seung Hyun and the boys, basically bouncing between them all as a long interest.

Whenever the boys preformed If you, you used your opportunity to take a break, sitting down and taking a drink of your water you smiled in awe. You never heard Seung Hyun actually sing often, but you always loved it, you thought it sounded exactly how you manager described your voice. Whenever Zutter came on came on you were proud of yourself, hitting every move and mark perfectly with the music, and even whenever you'd throw you own little moves in with Seung Hyun, he still always knew what to do somehow, you watched as he pointed at you while rapping, you just rolled your eyes as you danced, giggling whenever you felt Seung Hyun press his hips against yours from behind, bouncing his hips with the beat of the music, your face immediately broke out in a blush as you smacked his chest in shock.

Whenever it came to your last song you purposely saved the most sexual and vulgar for last, you liked the chorography a lot, liking how confident it made you feel as you slid on to your knees at the end of the stage, bouncing on your knees for a moment as you sang, letting yourself slowly fall back you slid back arching your back away from the cold stage surface, silently thanking the spandex shorts under your dress, your head arched just enough to see Seun Hyun running his hands up his body and neck, mimicking your song from his spot at the far with the other boys. As the song ended you stayed were you were, waiting a moment for Seung Hyun to make his way helping you to your feet "That move was new" He stated on your walk back "You think the boss is going to like it?" He teased, you just rolled your eyes "I don't care, I did it for you, Aein" You smiled teasingly watching his face go red, as you all made your way to the end of the stage you smiled, standing on your mark on the platform waiting for the boys to reach theirs before you posed, you immediately kneeled down, using your hands to stabilize yourself Seung Hyun moved forward, pressing his fingers to your cheeks for you, causing you to giggle as the bass to Fantastic Baby played one last time before you all made your way towards the exit of the stage. As you approached the mark you slowed down, blushing brightly whenever Seung Hyun's hand quickly touched your ass, you turned around pretending to storm off stage, Seung Hyun looked towards the ground one last time before winking and running after you.

As you got off stage you were a blushing mess, Seung Hyun quick to find you, a bright smile on his face "I knew you'd be amazing! That's why you're T.O.P Best friend" He said proudly, never noticing your face falling as he called out your real title.

Right..Best friend

---

Ooo we love a slow burn with a fake relationship concept PLUS a clueless but cocky Choi Seung Hyun AND the rest of the band loving you? I dunno about you lovelies, but this gal likes a lot.

--

Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

@heartz4rubyy

[meshla-cyarika]

[coffeeandbatboys]

The Clones reacting to you smushing their cheeks

Idk I had this idea and thought it’d be cute. Since the clones are supposed to have round cheeks, visualize live action and not animated 😂

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Fives, Wrecker, Hardcase, & Tup: Loving it so much, will lean into your hands and give you heart eyes. Maybe even press a few kisses to your hand.

Cody, Jesse, Kix, Echo, Vaughn & Mayday: Will blush profusely and look side to side for a second, before giving in and flashing you a tiny smile.

Rex, Hunter, Tech, & Fox: Not sure what to do, just give an awkward smile and internally scream because they secretly find it super cute.

Crosshair, Wolffe & Dogma: Not understanding any of it. Don’t know what you’re doing, not sure that they like it, 3/10 do not recommend.