Th Fact That Hunter Is Not Wearing His Helmet Is Interesting To Me Compared To The Rest Of The Guys. 

I also rewatched the show recently 🥺

I was more emotional with the ending this time around ; more than when they originally aired.

I’m excited and nervous for the upcoming season !

Finished my TBB rewatch and I feel-

A tender moment of Echo discovering his hair growing back would do wonders for my soul.

Wild Horses

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Doctor!Reader, Soap x Reader Part 2

Part 1

A/N: Y’all have asked and y’all have received. Enjoy! Let me know what you guys think, I always love to hear your thoughts! Reblogs are much appreciated! 😊💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst. This one might be a little sad and Ghost is a bit of an ass-jerk so be prepared.

As mentioned before, Ghost completely stays clear of your vicinity after stepping out of your office. It’s not that he hates you. He’s just slightly irritated. With himself? Or is it you and that pretty face of yours and your comforting voice and your goddamn politeness and your accent. To be honest, the whole team adores your accent. He can’t tell. Remind you, this is a man who has probably never been shown any affection or tenderness so don't expect him to fall for you on the spot. This man needs therapy, like a lot of therapy. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go through whatever it is he is feeling, finding the whole thing to be an inconvenience really. And because he doesn't know how to understand or face whatever these emotions are, he just buries it. It's easier for him that way.

Poor dude couldn’t even sleep last night, staring at the ceiling of his room and haunted by the idea that he accidentally offended you. This man may have a cold exterior but your scalpels are colder and sharper than the devil's jawline. He almost couldn’t blame you if you decided to inject some foreign substance into his bloodstream and make the whole thing look like it was a stroke. Wait, could you do that? Bloody fucking hell. This man spends too much time with his thoughts I swear.

The man spends the whole night trying to assess his feelings, or rather his attraction towards you, convinces himself you're just another pretty face. The man may be touch-starved but he knows there are other methods to handle his needs, even though it's been a long time since he's slept with a woman, like a really long time. But even then, that situation was different. There was never any intimacy involved, like a quick business transaction that finished just as quickly as it started. It only left him feeling as empty as he was before. Not to mention, he doesn't do well with human interaction and that one and only moment he had with a woman daunted him more than it needed to, and so he has remained abstinent ever since. And if he were being honest with himself, you're just a distraction. And how do you handle distractions? You steer clear of them.

So what does this man do? He does what he intended to do. He avoids you at all costs. Oh, is that you walking towards their small, makeshift kitchen to fix yourself a bagel in the morning? Guess what, he’s doing a full 180 and lurking behind a wall like Michael Myers and his stupid hedge, waiting until you’re finished so he can make himself his morning tea.

Not only that but he makes sure to take extra good care of himself, Vitamin C supplements or multivitamins, whatever it takes to keep himself in best health. He even looks up on Google for extra tips to prevent himself from having to send himself in. He had heard of the saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” and goes out of his way to buy an apple during his morning runs. But the poor chap has it all mixed up because when you walk into your office the next morning, you're surprised to see an apple just sitting there on your desk.

Ghost doesn't know that it's supposed to be the other way around and that the apple is actually supposed to be for himself. He doesn't bother to search up the meaning, nor does anyone bother to tell him because they don't even know that he's doing it in the first place. So every morning he goes on his run, he goes out and buys an apple, and so every morning you find one placed on your desk.

The first time you saw the fruit sitting there on the table where you worked, surrounded by your scattered paperwork, you were confused no doubt. You picked it up curiously in your hand, inspecting the bright red fruit before giving a shrug and biting into it, after you wash it of course. You think it's just a small little token of thanks from one of the men. Possibly Soap considering how flirty he was yesterday. Alejandro doesn't seem like the type to give fruits. He's more of a red rose and a bottle of wine kind of man.

But as days go by, each day you find an apple sitting on your desk. And as thoughtful as this gesture is, at this point, considering the amount of apples you've eaten, you're either going to have serious digestive issues or die of cyanide poisoning, as if you don't already have IBS. So what do you do? You start to collect the apples each morning, deciding to throw in your own twist to this gesture until one evening, the men come back from one of their missions to find a freshly baked apple pie and a stack of paper plates and some utensils sitting out on a table for them, including a small little card with the handwritten words "bone apple tea". What in the hell.

"What in the fucks is bone apple tea." Gaz scrunches his nose at the writing on the little card.

They're all standing around at the table staring at the pie with confusion written across their faces. All except Ghost of course, the way his eyes slightly widen once he sees it. His gut is telling him you're behind it. Hm I wonder what gave it away.

"What’s this?" Alejandro asks, tilting his head at the thing.

"Looks like apple pie." Gaz answers.

"Yes I know that." Alejandro remarks. “But what is it doing here?"

"Doubt it's from any one of you muppets." Price speaks up. He knows damn well none of these men know how to bake. There’s only one person here whose hands are skilled or nimble enough to make the braided trim on that crust. Not to mention the detailing in the center, like the way you carefully placed little leaf designs made from the crust on top of the braided design. Yup this was definitely you, unless someone else here had a secret talent they had been hiding.

Literally why are these men acting like the pie has poison it. As if Graves sent it or something. Just shut up and eat the pie before it gets cold you himbos.

"So who made it?" Soap asks, looking towards the others for answers.

"This," Alejandro chuckles after finally realizing, "this was made by the hands of a woman."

"Who, y/n?" Gaz quirks a brow, you're the only woman here.

How in the hell did you get the means to bake a complete fucking apple pie in a place like this? They always heard doctors have skilled and steady hands but what the actual fuck.

"Well don't mind me." Soap literally cuts a big ass slice for himself before going off to devour the thing.

The boys watch Soap basically almost moan once he takes a bite of your pie as he goes off yelling out something along the lines of "well tidy scran", before helping themselves to a slice.

Ghost is the last one to cut himself a slice. He was hesitant at first before finally giving in, plus he also got back from a mission and he's hungry. So when he digs in his fork and has his first taste, it's kinda like that scene from Ratatouille where the food critic Anton Ego finally takes a bite of Remy's food and is reminded of his childhood, except Ghost doesn't have a childhood.

Let me tell you these men are obsessed with your pie and are practically fighting over the last slice like a pair of siblings so don't be surprised when you wake up the next morning to the see that the plate that your pie was in is completely empty without a single crumb in sight. Jesus. Did they lick the table down too?

Also I think you may have just given Ghost a newfound sweet tooth. When he went back to his room that night, he's debating on whether he should keep his daily routine of giving you apples, so far it’s kept you away. What he doesn’t get is that you made a whole damn pie out of the apples he gave you when they were actually supposed to be for you, or him, if you look at it from his distorted perception. But wait. What if you know it's him, and that's why you made the pie in the first place? A way to a man’s heart is not only between the forth and fifth ribs, but it’s also through his stomach. And as much as he wants to deny it, he also kind of secretly wants you to bake another one. It's almost as if he's completely forgotten why he placed those apples on your desk in the first place.

So what do you see when you wake up the next morning? An empty plate and yet another apple sitting on your desk. Okay what the fuck. You've let it slide all those times but now you have got to know who's pulling this shit. It’s not that you hate apples, but the conception that you have no clue who’s behind this is making you start to view the poor defenseless fruit as an object of taunting and torment. And to be honest at this point, you're beginning to think this is some kind of joke. So with the apple in your hand, you head towards the common area where the others are currently settled.

“Okay who did it?” You call out once you enter the area.

Crickets chirping.

All heads snap towards you to see you standing there with an apple held in your hand. They're almost stunned to see you wandering about. They rarely ever see you since you're usually locked up in your office or your room.

The men have done a lot of shit so just what is it that are you asking. They stare at you with not a single thought behind their eyes, that is until their blood runs cold at what happened last night. Was the pie not meant for them? Shit.

“Did what?” Gaz gulps, trying to play it off as nothing happened.

"Who keeps leaving apples on my desk like I'm about to host a county fair?"

"Come again?" Price asks, not that he didn't hear you, but it's probably the most anyone has heard you speak that isn't related to your work. Not only that, but they’re so used to hearing your “doctor” voice that your normal voice is a whole pitch lower and almost sounds foreign and alien to their ears. Not that they’re complaining because they honestly love hearing it.

"Someone has been leaving apples on my desk every single day." You repeat yourself more slowly. "And I'd like to know who."

So you're not mad about the pie.

Ghost immediately snaps his head away from your direction and nearly chokes on his tea. It's almost a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns away.

The others are still staring at you, a tad bit scared of the expression that sat on your face. They couldn't make out if you were upset or not.

"Well?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe with your hand stuffed in your coat pocket while your other hand tossed the apple about in the air.

"Couldn't be me." Soap answers.

The others shake their heads as you squint your eyes at each and every one of them, trying to decipher the culprit. "Whoever it is, I will find out." You take a bite out of the apple before tossing it to the nearest person, who happened to be Alejandro, before starting to leave the area.

Alejandro catches the apple between his hands, staring down at the fruit with a chuckle to see where you had bit into it before taking a bite of his own.

Soap can't help but clench his jaw at Alejandro's cockiness. Ghost just turns away unbothered, it’s none of his concern. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

"Wait you're not mad about the pie?" Gaz calls out after you.

"What pie?" You turn back.

Wot

"The pie....from last night."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You put on your best innocent expression before walking away.

The men snap their heads towards each other. Have they been poisoned? The longer they stare at each other, the more panicked they get.

Alejandro glances down at the apple you had thrown in his hands and is so close to spitting out the bite he had taken.

"I'm kidding." Your voice nearly makes them jump out of their skin as they turn to see your head popped through the doorway. "The pie was from me." You walk away again before turning back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have your blood results so if you're free, come see me when you get the chance."

Shit. Ghost thinks to himself after hearing you mention the blood results. He is hoping his blood sample got demolished in some shape or form, but the way you didn't even try to pull him aside to break the "unfortunate" news tells him otherwise. He's just not going to show.

The men watch you walk away in silence after your little moment of humor. They almost don't know how to react. The way the warmth of your voice blended with the obscurity of your words threw them in for a loop.

All except Ghost have no clue who has been sending you apples, but whoever it is that is sending you the fruit, they think that person is trying to win you over. So what started out as some misunderstanding on Ghost's end has now turned into this whole peacocking ordeal. Now it's a competition of who gets you better gifts in order to gain your affection, mainly Soap and Alejandro and even Gaz, but mostly Soap. Price still shows you appreciation for your work and what you do in his own way.

Poor Ghost was just trying to manifest "an apple a day keeps the doctor away". So who’s gonna tell him?

Anyways, when you return to your office to work on your paperwork, the boys go out to get you a little something before meeting up with you to go over their bloodwork results. Despite Soap and Gaz's efforts, Alejandro is the first to leave and the first to return. And just as Soap returns with his little gift for you, Alejandro beats him to it, a smirk playing on his lips as he enters your office with a red rose in hand. Poor Gaz wasn't able to find you anything special so he gets you a cool looking rock he saw instead.

Soap is practically fuming. If you squint hard enough, you might see smoke coming out his ears.

You hear a knock on your door and look up from where you sat at your desk to see Alejandro stepping into your office, a sly smirk on his lips as he holds out a rose.

"Alejandro." You quirk a brow. "What's this?"

"For you, hermosa."

"Oh?" You cock your head back in surprise as you take the rose from his hands. "What for?"

"Oh just a little way of showing appreciation." Alejandro leans against your desk.

"Why thank you Alejandro" You blink, trying your best to push down the blush that tries to creep itself onto your cheeks.

"My pleasure."

You decide to place the flower inside the empty vase you had already set out from before when you moved your things in. "I had been meaning to get some flowers to brighten up the area."

"There's no need" Alejandro smirks. "I'm afraid the rose doesn't compare to you. You do that all on your own."

Little do you know Soap is listening in on the whole thing with a frown. If he pressed his ear any closer he'd fall right through the door. Sure the Scots have their special charm but Alejandro is different and has the most rizz out of all of them, and Soap is fully aware and has always heard they make better lovers and that only adds to his panic.

Now you're definitely not able to hide the heat that spread through your face. You can't tell if it's the state of being flustered or just social anxiety. Well they weren't wrong about Alejandro having a way with words. "Geez, thank you Alejandro. But there really is no need for flattery."

"For you, anything hermosa."

Omfg this dude.

You look away from his strong gaze, managing to shove your flustered state away and stopping yourself from releasing the sharp wit you inherited from your father. Clearing your throat, you open up his file. "Well that really is kind of you Alejandro. And since you are already here, I have the results from your blood work."

"Oh? Everything should be good yes?"

"Well yes, for the most part but-"

"But what?" Alejandro looks confused. What's wrong with his blood?

"Your cholesterol levels are pretty high." You open up his file and read over his results.

"They are?"

"I'm afraid so, but not at a dangerous level. You should probably cut out some of that fried food and red meat and watch your butter intake. Nothing too serious though. Add some greens into your diet, as well as some nuts and whole grains and definitely more fruits and veggies and you're good to go." You hand him a copy of his results before giving a look of grimace. "But watch out on the fiber though. Too much of it can lead to increased bowel movements."

"Increased what?"

"You know, a case of the shits."

The way Soap pulls his ear away from the door and slaps his palm on mouth to keep himself from letting out the most offensive laugh known to mankind. If only you could have seen it. Is he going to bring this up in Alejandro's presence? Maybe.

Alejandro looks over the papers you gave him. "Wait really?"

"Yeeaaah." You give the poor fellow a sympathetic smile. "But hey, everything you need to know is right on those papers, so as long as you cut out the foods mentioned and get a higher intake of the others listed, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Oh uh. Thank you y/n. I appreciate it."

"Anytime Alejandro." You smile. "You know where to find me."

The way Soap nearly trips over himself as he backs away from the door after hearing footsteps, as if he wasn't eavesdropping on every thing.

Alejandro opens the door and walks out of your office, eyes glued to the papers while Soap is just standing there trying not to be noticed.

The moment Alejandro is out of sight, Soap goes over and knocks on your door.

"Come in." You look up and smile to see Soap. Over the course of the few days since you first arrived here, you were to quick to warm up to the young Scotsman, finding comfort and humor in his personality. You enjoyed hearing him talk about just about anything, and his accent always helped to make whatever he had to say all the more interesting. It really is a good thing he does most of the talking since you make a better listener and love to hear what others have to say.

Soap knows you don't talk much and how you prefer to listen and hear stories, so he always makes sure to keep you entertained. This man is 100% golden retriever energy. Also he calls you lass and lassie and you just eat that shit up, he loves how you blush and that small restrained smile appears on your face whenever he says it. Don't worry, so would I. "Soap! You can have a seat if you want, this will be brief."

"Oh uh, I've actually got you something." Soap hands you a small box.

"Oh?" You quirk a brow as you take the box from his hands? What is it with everyone giving you gifts? Are they in on something you're not? "What is it?" You ask as you open the small box to see a bunch of what looks to be biscuits.

"Scottish shortbread." Soap smiles, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I brought them along with me from back home but I thought you'd like them with your morning coffee."

"Wait, are you sure you don't want them for yourself? I feel bad."

"Nah. I can always get more.......if-when I go back home. You keep em. It's for ya. Think of it as a welcoming gift.....for all ya done, and the pie ya made for us."

"Soap, I don't know what to say." You give the man a heartfelt smile. "Thank you.....really, it's very thoughtful of you. It'll give me a variety from my bagels."

"Don' mention it." Soap places his hands behind his back before noticing a small framed picture you had set up on your desk that definitely wasn't there before. "Is that you?"

"Hm?" You raise you brow to see what he is referring to and seeing him gesture to the photo.

"Oh. Yeah, that's me as a little girl." You glance at the photo as a soft smile appears on your face. It was a picture of you when you were a little girl around the age of 5, when your dad took you on a camping trip to Zion. The two of you were sitting near the tent he had set up overlooking the mountain range with you sitting in his arms while he played his guitar, wearing that same old baseball cap of his that you had grown accustomed to seeing as you grew up. The longer you looked at the picture and relived that core memory, glancing at the crooked grin that sat on your little face and the way your father beamed, the more your face began to match the fond look that radiated off your father's eyes as he looked down at your giggling state.

"That's quite the smile you got there." Soap teases, chuckling at the expression you held in the photo.

"Oh please." You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he was joking about. "I know I looked goofy. My baby teeth were falling out."

"And that's yer dad?"

"Yup. That's my old man."

"Ya have yer father's eyes." Soap smiles at you, knowing now where you inherited that certain warmth held in your eyes that was able to put the coldest man at ease by just one look.

You let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at the ground to blink away the tears that have yet to form before looking back up at the soldier. "I've been told."

"Where was this taken? The scenery is absolutely braw."

"That was taken at Zion National Park in Utah. My dad had taken me there on a camping trip."

"It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Maybe I'll take you one day."

"Ya mean it?" Soap turns towards you, a grin forming on his face.

"Why not? It's been a while since I went, not since the photo."

"I think you've just made my day lass." Soap smirks before turning to the other photo. "And I'm guessing that's you as well." Soap gestures to the other photo of you around your middle school years that your dad had taken of you, wearing a wet suit as you sat on your surfboard, a grin on your face and your hair matted with salt water while one of your hands formed the shaka sign. "I dinnae ken you surfed."

"Oh yeah, surfing was my life. This was back when I had caught my first wave in Hawaii. My dad was so proud. Took me out for shaved ice right after and couldn't stop bragging to everyone there about how effortlessly I had tube ridden that thing."

"Your dad sounds like a great man."

"The best."

Soap notices the way your smile ever so slightly dropped at one of the corners, as if some sadness had managed to overcome whatever memories that lied in your head so he clears his throat, deciding not to press on the subject any better. "So how does my blood look?"

"Good actually." You blink, his statement reminding you of what you were going to do since he stepped into your office in the first place. "Your levels are all pretty balanced." You hand him a copy of his results. "As for the muscle cramps you mentioned, try to get a higher intake of electrolytes like potassium, magnesium, and calcium. And most importantly, don't forget to stay hydrated and drink lots of water."

"Aye ma'am. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you Soap."

"No, thank you." Soap gives you one last smile before heading out. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."

It was not long after Soap left that Gaz entered next followed by Price, hearing you go over their results with intent ears. You actually really loved the little rock Gaz had given you, he had even drawn a smiley face on for you. You thought it was really cute despite his embarrassment in not finding you something better. And after the two left, there was only one person left that had yet to show up at your door. Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Not wanting to pressure the man who looks like he'd stab you for looking at him the wrong way, you decided to stay at your desk, working over some paperwork of your own until the time comes when he decides to show up whenever he sees comfortable.

Picking up your mug, you decide to get some more coffee, leaving your office and heading to the kitchen area to brew yourself a new cup. Looking up from your feet, you see Ghost walking walking in your direction in front of you.

"Ghost!" You call out to him, or as much as you can call out. You never were one for raising your voice, despite the many times your previous teachers had urged you to speak up, displeased with the way you preferred to keep to yourself as opposed to your more extroverted peers. But even when carrying out their commands to speak louder, you always hated doing so, thinking it drew too much attention towards you. It's a wonder you got through med school and became a doctor in the first place.

Ghost had heard you calling out his name and immediately his muscles tense. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him because that only meant one thing, being dragged into your office to go over his blood results until something else insulting slips from his lips. I promise he doesn't hate your guts! So in order to evade you, this man does the first thing that comes to mind, he walks straight into the nearest room, which just so happens to be the shared showers. Simon you dumb fuck. Let’s hope Price isn’t butt ass naked in there for Simon’s sake.

You blink, standing there with your mug that your friend from college thought would be funny to gift you when you started med school, the one that had the words "I have a PHD" in bold colorful letters with the finer print "pretty huge dick" right below it (of course you never used that mug back at the hospital or else you'd hear about it).

So with your mug in hand, you watch the masked man walk straight into the room where the shared showers were. Huh. Well that's weird. You try to give the man the benefit of the doubt, thinking he just did not hear you. Maybe he'll stop by later. So shrugging off what just happened, you head into the kitchen to make yourself a fresh cup of coffee. God an iced coffee sounds good right now.

Once you had headed back to your office, finishing up your work and taking little breaks in between to read your book or snack on something, an hour turned into two, and so forth. Until you looked at your clock and it was already past the time of sunset. Jesus. Where did this dude go? Getting up from your chair, you step out of your office, holding the door open and seeing not a single soul headed in your direction. What in the-

With furrowed brows, you step back into your office, staring down at Ghost's results that just sat there waiting to be picked up.

"Goddamn it." You hiss between your teeth. You have no idea what his issue is or why he avoids you as if you spit in his fruit loops or tea or whatever. But if he keeps this up, it could interfere with your own job. Looking around at your desk, an idea pops into your head as you grab two things that lied there, a sticky note and a two dum-dum lollipops, a sugar cookie flavor and a butterscotch one.

Heading out of your office, you head towards where the men's rooms are located before stopping at a certain particular one, surveying the area around you to make sure no one sees you before staring straight at the door in front of you. Taking out your pen, you write on the note "please stop by my office when you get a chance", making sure to add your initials in the corner before taping it to his door along with the two lollipops, hoping the candy will be some sort of bribe.

"God I hope this works and he doesn't shoot me in the head." You mutter out before heading back to your own quarters that was separate from the men's due to standard protocol. Throwing off your coat and your clothes, you threw on an oversized t-shirt and some sweats, eating a microwaveable dinner in your own room before getting ready to go to bed. There was nothing you craved more than to collapse onto the mattress and bury yourself under the covers. And as you finished brushing your teeth, turning off the lights and getting into a comfortable position under your blanket, all you could do was stare at the ceiling above you.

Little did you know, that same night, in that same moment, there was another who could not sleep, staring at the ceiling as you did now. He had saw the note that you had left him on his door, as well as the two lollipops. It almost annoyed him, whatever it was you were showing towards him. And it did not help that the note had smelled of you, of that perfume that oh so enriched his senses. The man literally has your note laying on top of his bedside table along with the lollipops. He'll throw it out first thing tomorrow he tells himself.

"Oh come the fuck on." You moaned as you turned over onto your side but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to shut your eyes and shut out any thoughts that attempted at keeping you awake, you just could not fall asleep until you finally give up. "Jesus fuck shit fuck." You hiss to yourself as you throw the blanket off you, sitting up on your bed and throwing on your sweatpants before getting up. Usually on nights like this where you couldn't sleep, you'd find a way to calm your nerves, whether it be reading or drawing or listening to a comforting audiobook.

So, grabbing your pillow and blanket, you open up your closet and grab your father's acoustic guitar, going back over to your bed and staring at the framed photo of your dad that sat on the bedside table before taking that with you as well. Leaving your room, you make sure to be as quiet as possible, looking both ways before heading up towards the roof of the building.

When you were little and had trouble sleeping, your dad used to take you outside to where the two of you had built a little fort, where the two of you would lay under the stars, brushed over by the cool night breeze as he played his guitar, singing old folk and slow classic rock songs until you finally fell asleep. And as you stepped onto the roof, craning your neck to stare up at the stars above you, you were reminded of those moments and the peace it gave you. Setting your bedding down, you prop the picture of your dad up next to you before sitting down with the guitar in hand.

"Hey dad." Your voice is a whisper as you look down at the photo of your father beside you. The photo was taken not even a month after you were born. He had taken you to the fire station he was stationed at, excited to introduce his team to his new precious baby girl, his first child. You could almost say it was your favorite photo of him, sitting on the front bumper of the firetruck in his uniform with you bundled up in a pink blanket in his arms.

"I know it's been a bit of a while since we've last talked." You sigh, forming your fingers into a chord on the fretboard of the guitar. "So to make up for it, I'm going to sing you one of the songs I always used to sing. You know the one, it's one of my favorites, and yours too."

Despite his efforts to fall asleep, Simon had ended up stepping out of his room, walking about the grounds to somewhat ease his mind. This was obviously nothing new to him, he always had trouble sleeping. And during those nights he had trouble sleeping, he'd take a walk to help clear his head. He found comfort in the silence of the night, when everything and everyone was asleep. He would usually go to his favorite spot on the rooftop, where he would seek refuge under the obsidian skies and the silver stars.

As he goes up the stairs that lead up to the roof, he stops at the sound that comes from beyond the door, what sounds to be someone singing and strumming the guitar. Curious to know who the hell had taken his spot and had the radio playing, he goes up further to investigate. So imagine his surprise when he finds you there instead, wrapped up in your blanket and strumming against your guitar, singing The Sundays cover of Wild Horses.

"Childhood living is easy to do The things that you wanted, I bought them for you Graceless lady, you know who I am You know I can't let you slide through my hands" Your voice is ethereal as you sing out the lyrics, your face molded into these deep emotions you can't quite explain.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain And now you've decided to show me the same No sweeping exits or offstage lines Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday."

During the entirety of the song, Simon stands there in the distance behind you, hidden in the shadows, entranced, and can't seem to explain the tingles he feels washing over his body. He thinks he has intruded upon you and wants to leave you to your solitude in what seems to be an intimate moment for you, and yet he can't seem to be able to get his feet to move. Instead he's watching you with this newfound interest. He had never expected you to play the guitar as you did, nor have the voice that you did. So as you finish your song, he almost trips over his own feet trying to back away, scared that you might somehow notice that he had been there this whole time.

"God I miss you dad." You wipe away at the tears that start to spill down your cheeks despite your attempts to wipe them away with the back of your sleeve, scanning your eyes over the stars that scattered across the sky, imagining he was up there amongst them. "I miss you so much."

Regaining his footing, Ghost is careful to open the door leading back into the building, that is until he hears you let out what sounds to be a choked sob. He turns his head back towards you, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest as you cry out, mumbling something he can't quite understand. With his hand still holding the door open, he looks down at the set of stairs, turning his head back towards you for one more time before going down the steps, being careful to shut the door without any noise possible.

Tags: @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @joceymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @marvelmysterywoman @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @nananarc @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff

SAME

It's gone past midnight.

I need to sleep.

I'm thinking about Echo.

😘

Tech (TBB) Fic Recs

I Think I Might Be In Love With You by @kaminocasey

Tech's Tattoos by @kaminocasey

Jealous? It's Obvious by @nahoney22

You Look Absolutely Irresistible by @nahoney22

Racing Ahead by @nahoney22

The Beginning of Something by @nahoney22

A Soft Touch by @nahoney22

Lighting Your Heart by @nahoney22

Companionable Silence by @thenonsensebatch

Guess I Waited To Long 2 by @originalcollectionartistry

Communication by @myoongiverse16

Making Eyes by @crosshairs-wife

Private Lesson by @moodymisty

Handling by @moodymisty

Jealousy by @hunnythebee

Terrible Liars by @photogirl894

Isn't It Obvious by @photogirl894

Secrets Out by @photogirl894

Over Drinks by @photogirl894

Glasses by @rainydaydream-gal18

Check Up by @rainydaydream-gal18

Over Doing It by @hunterssecretrecipe

Point Counterpoint 2 by @sporadicthingcollection

Star-crossed Lovers by @seriowan

Keep Me Close by @the-marshals-wife

The Three Kisses by @moonlight-sonata99

To Be Loved By Him by @starryevermore

Transparency by @pizza-writes

Tech Support by @techtalksfics

Talk Too Much by @writing-positivelyexisting

When He's Injured by @cl9neclubh9use

Seeing Double by @ghostofskywalker

Alone Together by @jedipoodoo

Alone Together by @eyecandyeoz

Domestic Tech by @wild-karrde

Random predictions for Season 2, let’s see if Apollo is a Star Wars fan.

ECHO IN THE BAD BATCH SEASON 2 TRAILER

Seeing his neck makes me go feral!! 👀

✨️ This ✨️

That's it. That's the post.

Inspiration

A/N: Alright, so I got a little inspired/horny for Echo, and then this got a little meta, but you know what, I stand by it. Have some Echo smut. As always, thank you to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this (and assuring me that this is not, in fact, too corny). SO HERE WE GO.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Rating: E (18+ ONLY, MINORS SKEEDADDLE) - blow job, cum eating, rough oral sex (consensual), cockwarming, PiV sex, Echo gets to be a bit demanding (it's what he deserves)

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face. 

Why won’t the words come? You know how to do this. 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard again before gently drifting to the keys, starting to punch out a sentence you hope will finally lead you in some direction. 

She sighed seductively, gently tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she seductively (CHANGE THIS WORD!) sank to her knees and sighed… seductively.

Fuck. This is it. The long-awaited encounter between the main characters. And all I can think of is… garbage.

You switch to another paragraph, hoping to find your stride and circle back. 

His cock sat on her tongue, a familiar weight pulsing against the muscle in her mouth. 

You wrinkle your nose at that sentence before moving on. 

He tasted of…

You pause. 

You know what it tastes like. You’ve given a blow job before. Maker, you’re an idiot tonight.

No matter how much you wrack your brains, you are unable to describe anything in the scene to your satisfaction. Not the scenery. Not the emotions. Certainly not the sex. You gently tap your forehead against your desk, swearing under your breath. 

You know how to do this. You know how to write. You know words other than ‘seductively.’ You do this for a living, for Maker’s sake.

Your fingers impatiently drum against the wood as you rest your chin on the meat of your palm, staring at the holo computer’s screen. 

Come on. You know how to write this stuff. 

A quiet sigh comes from your living room, and you hear your couch creak as weight shifts on its worn cushions and frame. Your head turns towards the door, straining to hear anymore from the man on the other side of it.

I’d rather be out there with him. 

You glare at the chrono as it slowly counts down towards your self-imposed deadline.

But I have to complete this chapter draft by tomorrow morning so they can review it. 

Your editor has been on your ass for awhile, and you’d sworn up and down that you’d have a draft of this chapter completed by the end of this week. And now here you were, about to default on a promise, but somehow feeling more guilty about the neglected guest in your living room. 

He leaves tomorrow morning, and I’m in here instead of being out there with him.

The plight of dating an ARC trooper. You take what moments you can, understanding that he may have to run off to the next fight with only a rotation’s notice. Even if you had a deadline and couldn’t spare a night. 

He’ll never say anything about it. But I hate it.

You tap your forehead against the desk one more time for good measure, to really hammer home the guilt in your mind before you lift your head again to stare at the screen. Your repetitive, ineffective sentences stare back, mocking you. You huff a frustrated sigh.

Fuck this.

Making a decision to allow yourself some time with him, even if it means you will get no sleep, you push back from your desk, your chair rolling away from the back of your legs as you stand. And then the idea comes to you.

For inspiration. Research purposes, really. Completely justifiable.

A sly grin slips across your face as you slink to your door, pushing it open quietly. You can’t help but erupt into an all-encompassing smile as you take in the sight before you. 

Echo is stretched out on your couch in only the bottom half of his undersuit. His armor is stacked neatly by the door, his folded shirt, gloves, and socks piled neatly on top. His feet are bare, and his toes wriggle reflexively as he rolls one ankle, flexing his foot. He has one arm tucked behind his head, his other hand holding the datapad he’s reading from. His eyes trace lines of text, and you wonder what he’s reading this time.  

You’d been very upfront with Echo about what your career was, and while you had been fairly certain he was going to be fine with it given his nature, you could never have anticipated the enthusiasm he’d shown when you told him. When he’d discovered you were a romance author, he’d immediately scraped enough credits together to purchase your other novels. It had taken him less than a week to finish everything you’d written, and he couldn’t stop gushing over how talented you were and how much he enjoyed the stories. He’d been a bookworm as long as you’d known him. In fact, a good amount of your first dates had featured just the two of you on the couch together, a pot of tea or a bottle of wine resting on the low table in front of you while the two of you read your individual novels, slowly drifting closer together until you were snuggled into his side. 

He finally notices you standing in the doorway watching him as you reminisce, and he shifts, meeting your gaze and returning your smile. Your insides melt, and you stifle a giggle that threatens to erupt as your face grows warm. 

“Hey, you,” he says softly. “Taking a break?” 

“Something like that,” you reply teasingly, striding over to the couch. He sits up to make room, but you bend, holding his knees in place. His eyebrow skyrockets upwards as he gives you a questioning look. 

“What’s going on?” he asks slowly, the corner of his mouth upturning as he watches your fingers begin to work at the buttons on your blouse. 

You shrug coyly, letting your shirt slip from your shoulders to the floor as you slowly kneel between his spread legs. “Oh, you know. Needed some inspiration. Figured I’d come out here and do some research.”

His pupils blow wide as his eyes trail across your lace-covered breasts before the sensation of your fingernails grazing his thighs through the black fabric of his pants pulls his attention back to your eyes. You can tell he’s caught onto your game. The muscles in his legs jump underneath your fingertips, and you spot the telltale bulge beginning to become more pronounced between his legs. You smile wickedly, leaning forward to trail kisses across his bare collarbone, gently tracing your tongue along the dip near his shoulder. 

Echo gasps quietly, and you grin against his skin, nipping gently at his throat before you begin working your way downwards, peppering his scarred chest with kisses. Your lips meet his abdomen, which flexes in reaction to your breath grazing him. Your tongue slips past your lips, moistening his skin as you finally make your way to his navel, nuzzling against the light dusting of hair that traces from his belly button to below his pants. 

You can feel his cock pressing against your stomach now, rock hard and throbbing, and your mouth instinctively waters. You rock your body against it slightly, and even just that mere amount of friction pulls a groan from Echo. You glance upward to find him watching you with an intensity he saves for only you, and you smile, maintaining eye contact as you press your tongue to his stomach, trailing it down until it reaches the waistband of his black compression pants. 

His teeth graze his lower lip as you hook your fingers under the band, and his hips shoot off the couch to allow you to remove his pants, tossing them somewhere to be dealt with later. His freed cock bounces against his stomach, and you note the droplet of precum that’s already formed at its head.

Patience. Not yet. Work up to it. Work him up. 

You press more kisses to his bare hip, working your way down his leg until you playfully nip at his inner thigh, and he jumps. 

“Tease,” he groans. You poke your tongue out between your teeth. 

“I think you like it,” you reply. 

“Not tonight,” he rasps. 

“Impatient,” you counter. 

“For you? Always.” One of his hands slips under your chin, cupping your jaw as his thumb traces your lower lip. You part your lips to allow him to slip his thumb into your mouth, suckling lightly. His other hand grips his cock, beginning to pump slowly. You lean forward, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth, and he presses down on your tongue. You push back, swirling around the digit, and Echo curses softly. 

“That what you’re going to do to me, love?” 

You nod, letting him pull his thumb away. Leaning forward, you open your mouth, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you leave it out, inviting him. His eyes follow the movement, and he cups your cheek again. 

“Yeah, you want this?” 

You nod again. “Please.” 

He presses the tip of his cock to your lips, and you kiss it teasingly, the warmth familiar against your lips. You lick at it playfully, keeping your eyes locked on his. His mouth hangs slightly open, his brows furrowed as he focuses on you, holding his cock firmly to your tongue as your licks grow more languid and long until you finally run your tongue from his base to the tip, at last taking the head into your warm mouth. You both groan, his head tipping back as you refamiliarize yourself with the taste of him, suckling gently at the head of his cock before allowing it to sink deeper into your mouth, running the length of him along your tongue, tracing the vein that runs along the bottom. 

Warm. Thick. Heavy. 

You take him deeper, relaxing your throat until you finally manage to take him almost entirely, your nose brushing the dark curls at the base of his cock. You inhale his scent deeply before swallowing, and Echo moans loudly. Your eyes are watering, but you don’t care as you watch his head tip backwards, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the muscles in his neck become more pronounced. His pectorals tighten, and his hands ball into fists. You reach forward, taking one of his hands and embedding it in your hair. 

You know he’ll be gentle, or at least gentle enough. 

Echo’s head snaps back forward, and he finds your eyes again. His lips part as he pants, his eyebrows knitting together. He cradles the back of your head, not pushing but gently guiding your head as you begin to bob up and down on his cock. You watch as the control begins to slip, and you urge him on by taking him to the back of your throat, pushing against your body’s limits. You gag, and his hand flies away from your head in alarm, and his hips jerk, pulling himself out of your mouth. A string of spit trails from your lips to the glistening tip of his cock, and before he can get out the first syllables of an apology, you chase him, forcing him to the back of your throat again. You grab his hand forcefully, pressing it to the back of your head as you watch him. 

You swallow and you gag again, but you hold yourself in place this time as tears fill the corners of your eyes. Echo’s entire body seems tensed, trying to maintain control as he watches you practically choke yourself on his cock. 

“I-is that what you want?” he stutters out finally. “For me to ruin you?” The second sentence comes out quieter, darker, and you can see he’s hopeful the answer will be ‘yes.’

You swallow again in affirmation, and he swears louder. 

“Then I’ll give you what you want,” he grits out. “Tap three times on my leg if it’s too much.” You tap three times to demonstrate, and he nods. “Good. That’s good.” With that, his other hand fists in your hair, and he begins rocking his hips into you, dragging your head all the way up and down his length forcefully, slowly accelerating as he finds his rhythm and your limits. You completely surrender to him. 

Echo chases his pleasure, muttering praise under his breath as he thrusts into your mouth. 

“So good for me. Taking everything I give. So eager. Willing to choke yourself on my cock. F-fuck.” 

He grunts, holding you with his cock in the back of your throat. Your lips stretch around his girth, and your jaw aches deliciously.

“Swallow for me love. Y-yeah. That’s it. Good girl.” 

You preen at the praise, even as you fight your gag reflex. 

“There you go. Relax your throat. Again. Swallow. S-so good for me. Maker.” 

The sweet ARC trooper that you’ve fallen in love with has completely been eclipsed, replaced with someone unafraid to ask for what he wants, someone who prioritizes his pleasure for once. 

And you love it. 

You know you’ll get yours in the end. 

“So f-fuckin’ pretty. Y-your eyes. So good. F-fucking tits that I think about all the time. And that mouth... Fuck.”

His cock is twitching against your tongue as he continues to mumble filth, sweat trickling from his brow. You feel some of the roots of your hair ache in protest under his grip, but the slight pain only sends electricity shooting through your veins. You’ve got both hands pressed against his thighs for balance, and you fight the urge to slip a hand in your pants to pleasure yourself. 

Focus on him. Focus on the feeling.

Give him everything he wants.

“‘M close,” he rasps. “W-where?”

He lifts you off his cock long enough for you to answer, stroking it inches from your face, his fingers growing wet with your saliva. 

“Wherever… you want,” you gasp in reply. 

His eyes glint for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, if this is for research, best to be thorough.” Heat shoots between your legs. Your panties are soaked, you’re certain. He taps his cock against your swollen lips, and you open again, welcoming him back inside your mouth. “Want you to taste me. Can you do that, love? Be a good girl and swallow every last drop?” 

You hum eagerly, and he grunts, his hips leaping off your couch. “D-do that again,” he pleads, and you oblige. He presses your head down, working you along the entirety of his length as you frantically swirl your tongue against all of the places you know he loves. His thrusts grow shorter, and you feel his thighs tense beneath your palms. 

“Look at me,” he rasps. 

You oblige, meeting his gaze, and he presses himself to the back of your throat.

“I-I-I’m…” he never finishes his sentence, instead unleashing a loud moan as he empties himself into your throat. You savor the taste as he groans with every spurt of his release.

Salty. Tangy. Warm. Him. 

You swallow everything before running your tongue over his softening cock one last time for good measure, ensuring you’ve cleaned every last drop from him. Echo’s head is tipped over the back of the couch again, his chest heaving as his hand absently strokes your hair. Your knees creak in protest and your legs quiver as you carefully climb into his lap, peppering his jawline with kisses as he fights to get his breathing under control. His hands come to rest on your hips before slipping up your spine, pulling you close to him. He cups your cheek before kissing you deeply, inhaling through his nose and drinking you in. You feel him quiver, as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“That… was something else,” he whispers. “All that for some inspiration, huh? Is that what we’re calling him these days?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you giggle. 

“Absolutely not.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Fives,” you tease. You pause as you see something hovering in his gaze. It’s apparent it’s weighing him down slightly. “What is it?” you ask.

He pauses. “It’s silly.”

“Echo.”

“Alright. Fine.” He sighs, giving you a sheepish grin. “I was… I guess I was just worried that I wasn’t living up to those stories you’ve written.”

You giggle softly, pressing another kiss to his lips. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, I found the guy that I was writing into those stories, Echo. It was you, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

“But… but we don’t do all of those things.”

You shrug. “We could. But it’s not about all of the different sex positions and kinks I write about. It’s the fact that I found a partner that I feel safe with, one that I trust. One that prioritizes me more than himself, even though I’d be satisfied with an even trade. One that wants to learn with me about how we work best together, in all aspects of the relationship.” You kiss his forehead. “But, if you ever want to experiment with some of the other stuff I write about, I’m more than willing to give it a try.” 

He grins. “Well, now that you mention it…”

—

He locked his mouth around her nipple, lavishing the sensitive bud as she arched into his touch, chasing her pleasure with renewed fervor as she neared the precipice, her moans crescendoing with her approaching climax. 

Echo’s breath is warm against your ear as he whispers to you. “I really like that. Beautifully written.” His cock pulses inside of you, and you squirm, groaning in frustration despite the compliment to your writing. His fingers dig into your hips as he tuts scoldingly in your ear. 

“Now, now. None of that. Not until you’ve finished your draft.” 

When he’d immediately expressed interest in cockwarming, you didn’t think he’d have the patience for it, but half an hour and a few thousand words in, he’d surprised you. Even more shocking, you were a few paragraphs from being satisfied with your draft. However, concentrating was becoming progressively more difficult. 

“Echo,” you whine. “Please. Just a little bit.” 

He lets his chin rest on your shoulder, nibbling at your earlobe playfully. “Not. Until. You’re. Done.” 

You groan, slumping back against his shoulder, but even with this slight feint, he won’t allow you to rock your hips more than a centimeter. You’re completely laid bare, your legs hanging uselessly outside of his, impaled on his cock. You’re certain there has to be a puddle under your chair. He chuckles, gently playing with one of your nipples. You fight the urge to pout. 

“Come on love. You’re so close to being done. And then I’ll give you everything you want.” 

You lean forward again, resting your elbows on the desktop. Your fingers find the keyboard just as his drift between your legs, gently rubbing at your clit with just the perfect amount of pressure. You gasp. 

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair.”

He chuckles against the skin of your neck. “What? I thought it would inspire you to go faster.” 

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @moonstrider9904 @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501