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concur your timid tendencies

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x shy wife!reader

summary: you surprise your husband with a new family member— if you can find out how to tell him

masterlist!

a/n: soooo cuteeee, anon :))) had soo much fun writing!! requests are open!

“awww, who’s the cutest girl in the world?” you quietly say in your best baby voice, “you are! that’s who!”

while your husband was away at work today, you decided to go to your local animal shelter, finalizing the adoption process for the precious kitten you’ve been bonding with over the last month.

it took you a while to muster up the courage to actually go to the animal shelter four weeks ago, your shyness getting the best of you.

simon usually helped you concur your timid tendencies, having you order takeout food over the phone, schedule his and your doctor appointments— some of his forms of exposure therapy. but, the brute happened to be absent from home daily, having to spend most of his days at work, meaning he couldn’t assist you all the time.

wanting to try your own form of exposure therapy, you started visiting the animal shelter, especially whenever you got too lonely. the puppies and kittens were always great company! animals were easier to be around than other humans— except for your si, of course.

and you may have gotten too close to one— an adorable kitten began following you everywhere you walked. she even started to yowl when you left the animal shelter, tugging at your heart strings. “she seems to really like you,” the vet said, squatting down beside you to pet the kitten, “would you be interested in adopting her?”

you were nervous about adopting your new pet, especially since you didn’t know how to tell your husband. you didn’t start going to the animal shelter with the goal of adopting, it just happened.

if anything, simon should be excited you added a new addition to your little family. she could help with your loneliness on the days he’s working, notably when the man gets deployed— his deployment’s were always excruciating to deal with alone. you needed this kitten.

“dada’s gonna be home soon, kitty!” you lifted the feline, snuggling her in your arms. “how am i gonna introduce you two?” you mumbled more to yourself, awwwing at your girl’s sweet purrs.

you played with your kitten in different rooms around the house, migrating from the living room, up the stairs to your bedroom, and even the bathroom— she had so much energy for such a tiny kitty.

placing a bowl of water and food down for her, you watched her consume it. “you’re probably really hungry, huh?” you giggled, petting along her back.

then, “hon? m’ home!”

it must’ve been a funny sight— you paused any movements, your kitty doing the same at your husband’s deep, thick accent.

“that’s him! we have to go kitty!” you scooped her up, lightly jogging up the stairs. hope si doesn’t hear me, you thought, placing the kitten in your bedroom. talking to her now, “please stay here and don’t leave! i have to prepare simon to meet you. i love you,” you kissed her, exiting the bedroom.

“sweet’eart?” you heard your husband again.

rounding the corner, “hi, si!” sweetly leaving you. throwing your arms around your husband’s neck, “how was work today?” just gotta act normal.

simon responded, encircling his arms around your waist, “same ol’, same ol’.” he kisses your cheek, pulling away, “wha’ were ya doin’? took ya a bit to come.”

thinking, oh great, questions! while putting on your best poker face. “you know, just listening to music in my headphones! i couldn’t hear you at first,” you replied, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the kitchen. “heard. jus’ don’ have it too loud next time, yeah fawn? could be dangerous for ya if it’s not m’ comin’ in,” he squeezed your hand in response. “yes, si! i didn’t even think about that!”

you ate dinner with your husband, chatting about the activities you both did today— you purposely leaving one out. simon was surely gonna find out about the kitten sooner or later, and you were okay with it being later! you just didn’t know how to tell the brit.

“luvie’?” your husband pulls you out of your thoughts, “wha’ are those doin’ agains’ tha wall?”

following where he was pointing, your eyes widened, landing on the kitty’s food and water bowls. shit, how could i forget to put those away!

“i-i don’t—” you stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse, but nothing.

simon raised an eyebrow, “mhmm?” vibrating deep in his chest. the man was having fun with this. “have somethin’ ya needa tell m’?” “n-no, si—”

meow.

a beat of silence.

“wha’ was tha?”

you winced, turning to look at the culprit in the doorway. “surprise!” you waved, walking to grab your kitten, she always follows me everywhere. i should’ve known better.

simon knows you haven't had sex before.

it wasn't a big secret. you'd told him early on in your relationship, when things got a little too heated on the couch and you'd panicked when his hand slid under your shirt and his fingertips grazed your bare stomach.

you'd sat there and twisted the hem of your shirt between your fingers, eyes firmly on the hardwood floor of simon's flat, quietly telling him that it wasn't because you didn't want to, you just hadn't found anyone that you trusted not to make it a… thing. a conquest. an oh look i fucked a virgin story that gets told to mates at the pub. that the older you got the harder it was to find someone who… understood. and the longer you left it? well. the more the anxiety about it built, until the idea of sex became an almost impossible landscape to traverse.

he'd watched the way you fidgeted. listened as you spoke but wouldn't meet his eye.

then shrugged.

"love, i like spendin' time with you. i like kissin' you like we're fuckin' teenagers. not gonna stop seein' you just cause you 'aven't got laid before." he'd paused, considered his words, "ball's in yer court now sweetheart. you want t' fuck? tell me. an' i'll do what i can to make it right for you."

and the ball… stayed in your court. for months. no pressure. no wandering hands where you didn't want them. just dates and kisses and the one time you were ovulating and overwhelmingly horny and asked him to go down on you on the sofa. and even then, with your thighs trembling around his head and your fingers tight in his hair and the taste of you on his tongue he hadn't pushed, just pulled you into his lap after you'd come down and held you like he realised just how overwhelming it was for you to be close to someone in that way.

he was… surprisingly sweet about it all for a man who looked like he might kill someone for breathing wrong in his company.

You never thought you’d know, thought you’d keep living until the cruelty of the world crumbled in on itself, dragging you along with it. Now, you’d say you knew your answer.

Life felt- fuzzy. Like the harsh lines of reality fizzing out into blurred messes. You don’t know how it happed, maybe the weight of the world had finally gotten to you, maybe death himself though you suffered enough.

Johnny was holding you, his voice was far, but you knew those hands, the ones that held you when you spiraled. Your ears rang, you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Simon hand was placed firm on your chest, warmth spreading over you, seeping in where you were now starting to go cold. His eyes a blue blur looking into yours.

Kyle was yelling over coms, probably yelling for a heli or a medic- or both. You could imagine that worried face if his, brows furrowed together, teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek.

John- he stood, kept a lockout to make sure no one gets close while in this vulnerable position. But you knew it so he wouldn’t have to look at you. That promise you made back, the one where you said “I’d never leave- I’ll probably be here until you guys die”, it replayed in his head.

Its weird, where you always immortal or just lived longer? Maybe that was a question for later- you knew there wasn’t a later.

Everything seemed softer now, your hand found Simon’s, your hazy eyes landed on Johnnys. You whispered something, maybe your final words, maybe a half hearted prayer to whoever was listening.

Kyle picked it up, the one he would say before missions. You could feel yourself slipping, like the world around you was pushing you away. This was death.

You weren’t scared. You had held others while they pass, you never knew if it helped- but this feels like it did.

“You all make me wish I would live longer…”

Your eyes glossed over, whatever light was left in you finally went out. You voice faded out, carried by the wind.

You had told John you liked the trees, maybe this was his way of making it up to you. The hole was deep, near a base of a tall old oak.

You wore johnny’s hoodie, Kyle hat strapped snugly to your head, one of Simon’s masks folded in your hand, and one of John’s nicest cigars.

Immortal!reader who’s in so much grief, who doesn’t even have the will to move on anymore after the teams death-

You don’t recover. Not now at least.

You needed time- thankful that’s all you seem to have left.

The hole, deep and cold. You lay in it, holding the dog tags, your face barred in the jacket and hat, mask clutched close to your chest as your hands hold everything close. It smelled like musk and tobacco.

The cold earth take you in, over time the hole fills in, leaving you engulfed. This is the closest you’ll be to them now. You replay every moment you had with them in your head over and over and over again.

Roots and worms coil around your body, sometimes you would feel the faint beating of rain above, or the ripple of wind in the strained mornings.

You don’t care what happens above, maybe one day, but not yet. For now, you’ll lay here, there’s no one waiting for you above anyway.

Until your tears flood dirt and sand below, until your hollow chest stops aching, until the bugs stop hungering for your flesh, until the world decides to stop letting you hurt.

Until then, you’ll lay here

how they show affection | 141 x reader

Price: Spending time together is the most important thing for him. He cherishes every minute he has with you. He wants you by his side while he works, in the room while he sleeps, all because it brings him comfort to know that you're there and alive.

Gaz: His love for you is loud. Definitely words of affirmation. He talks about you, shows you off, wears your accomplishments with pride. He's an active listener and remembers all the little details you tell him. Never lets you leave a room without complimenting you.

Soap: He is obviously physical touch. He really just can't keep his hands to himself. It doesn't even need to be sexual, he just needs you under his arm 24/7. Love bleeds into every kiss, every caress, and every smack on your ass. He just loves touching you.

cue to you, ripping it off and launching it back at him cause you know that thing hasn’t been washed for decades and is collecting a herd of lice between its fiber.

bewildered he catches it and secures it back on.

Price: A quiet moment stolen just for the two of you. Somewhere private, like his office. A cigar burns nearby, cloying the air. He sits in his leather office chair, legs spread so you can stand between them.

You have the authority to control the pace, but he is still fully in control. His hands at your hips pull you closer, until the lines of your bodies meet. The way he looks up at you is reverent, a picture of worship.

The first kiss ends with you breathless, grasping his shoulders. He holds you steady, letting you initiate another.

Gaz: It's the conclusion of a date after you both had a few drinks. He walked you to your door, his jacket around your shoulders. You have matching dilated eyes, goodbye lingering heavy with suggestion.

It doesn't take much more than a passing breeze to push him into you, smiling lips falling onto yours. His hands find your waist, digging his desperate fingers in like he just can't get you close enough.

He mumbles into the kisses, compliments and nonsense, mouth running on a motor, asking for another, and another.

Soap: Something domestic, like in a kitchen, early in the morning. There's coffee brewing and you're yawning. He invites himself into your space, winding his arm around your waist and pulling you hip to hip.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world, he cups your face in one hand and kisses you. Sweet and soft. It tastes minty. He moves his warm lips to your cheek, then down to your neck, following a trail.

His beard tickles your skin. He swallows your giggle with another seering kiss and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter.

Ghost: A pitch black room with the curtains drawn shut. He pulls his mask up to his nose. His cold hands hold the sides of your neck, testing the fragility and feeling for your pulse beneath his calloused fingertips.

It's tentative, the way he angles your head up so he can nose along your cheek. His hulking body quivering with raw, untapped energy. His breath pants over your skin, lips chapped when they brush against yours.

You had seen so much carnage and destruction, so many lives lost, death following you everywhere you go- you started wondering if you yourself was death.

After a few millennia, you stopped thinking that- well, often anyway. You knew all things may come to an end, everything returned to the earth eventually.

The one joys you did had, where the trees. An odd thing to say, yes, but you had your reason. You had seen a small forest, barely a few acres big. Before you knew it, it had grown the size of a city, the tops reaching farther than the sky.

Maybe that’s why you where digging this hole, maybe it was because the trees had seen as much as you had, maybe it was because they knew to many secrets they could never speak of like you.

Maybe a small part of you, the last shred of humanity you still managed to hold onto, placed there belongs there.

Ghost mask, sure it was blood stained with battle and war, but it was still his. Still wore it when he was soft, when he was vulnerable, when he let himself be human.

Soaps favorite hoodie, the one he wore when he spared, when he was on base and relaxed, the one he had on when was more settled down, when he could be calm and grounded.

Gazes cap, the one her wore everywhere and seemed to always have a spare when he loses the previous, the one he would place on others head to help ground them after a brutal op, let them know he was there.

Prices cigars, the one he would smoke anytime he was able to, the warm musky tobacco smell sticking to everything that come in contact with the smoke, how it stuck to his clothes and somehow everyone else’s.

You added there dog tags as well, you couldn’t hold on to them, you can’t hold onto anything- they wound understand. You hoped that like everything else, there memory wouldn’t fade. The dirt would hold them, the trees would keep there voices and memories alive in them.

You would hear people talk about how cool it would be to live forever, how they could do so many things. You never understood it.

Before, when you were younger, you thought it was a dream. To be able to surpass time itself, to watch the new world grow in ways no one else could.

But then she died. And you sat at her gave, watching as time passed by and her headstone chipped away. Soon you forgot her name, forgotten her voice. Wasn’t long before people forgot her name entirely.

You couldn’t make friends, could never stay in one place. The people you did try to hold onto withered away like grains of sand between your fingers.

The best way to do anything, was to alway move. Move one from people, move from place to place, never stick to one thing.

You were used to it, leave that is. You’ve been doing it for hundreds if not thousands of years, to people you’ve been more connected to then- them.

You layed on your bunk, the wounds on your stomach already healed over- same for the one in your head. It worried you, for having people to find out about you. You alwasy assumed the worst if the wrong people knew what you could do.

So then why did you save him? You were already dazed and in a tremendous amount of pain as you leaned against Ghost back to the heli. You stopped bullets from hitting him- whether you intentionally did that or not, you don’t quite know.

You don’t want to get attached. You know the pain of getting attached and then watching them disappear. Watching their lives end while yours continues.

Why do you help them? Why save them?

Little do you know- the team already knew. They went stupid. Far from it.

Price was a smart man, after the little- innocent, with you wrist deep in your chest, he did some personal digging. Your file was a lie, obviously. It took him a while, but he found things about you.

Even if it did take a while- you’re very thorough. Pictures of you dating back years after you should be dead, many fake names and ids, aliases and homes.

He had Ghost keep an eye on you, it was hard, years of invading people, surveillance, and what ever the hell, had payed off. But Ghost was also good.

Small thing: like you never ate. You ate small snacks, sure, but he never really saw you eat proper meals- you should be looking malnourished by the way you ate.

You also fell off the roof once- head first. It was late and you didn’t have the right footing- you should have been dead.

Then that op. Where he saw you take a bullet to the head and gut- you should have died from blood lost- scratch that you should have died from getting shot in the head.

Nevertheless- you never did any harm to them. You protected Ghost, once pushed Gaz out of the way from walking on a loose bored and falling 14 feet down- you managed to lie your way out of that somehow.

Soap had once seen you lose so much blood he thought he watched you die- thought it was some kind of miracle that you survived.

It’s safe to say- they knew.

They didn’t know what you were or really cared for that matter. You did your job well, even if you’re not the closest to anyone there. They’ve been trying to keep an eye on you though, Price finding out you like to run and all.

Immortal!reader who now has a teny tiny, small dilemma. The dilemma being that your captain now knew about your “ability”.

This has happened before, people saying they feel like they’ve seen you before- they have you just say your someone else. Had people see you do something dangerous and said that should have killed you.

That’s why you move, that’s why you never stay in one place. Cut and dyed and bleached your hair numerous times, going by several new names and backgrounds.

This? You couldn’t run from this. Couldn’t lie your way out of it, so you did what you did best. Avoid. You avoided Price at all costs. People noticed- of course people noticed, though they knew so little about you they just assumed you were just being you.

Price hasn’t said anything- at least to your knowledge. You hopped he thought it was all a dream, or he saw wrong. It was dark in your room at the time.

Either way, you still knew one thing: you had to leave. Maybe live in the forest for the next century or two just to make sure.

You’d fake your death, you’ve done it before so it wouldn’t be hard. Next mission you’d mangle an enemy’s face, place your gear on them and light the building up. Simple, effective.

You tried to stick to the plan, tried to keep your distance until the next op- you didn’t mind. You give this life a try, it just didn’t turn out the way you wanted to.

The plane was almost successful, you had purposely separated from the team, made it so your comms were damaged. Now all you had to do was find some poor bloke to take your place and light this bitch up.

The place was already going down, some rogue explosives or something like that. It should have been easy, should have been the last thing. Somehow you ended up here.

Coughing up blood, packing whatever cloth you had into the bullet hole in your stomach. You head was killing you, blood seeping from the wound going through your skull and brain.

One thing you learned a long time ago was that even though you can’t die, that doesn’t mean you still can’t feel pain.

Ghost saw everything, he had found you a while ago- yet stood where he was as he watched you take a bullet to the head and getting impaled in the stomach, killing the guy a moment later like nothing was wrong with you.

He came back in, trying to take you back to the pick up spot since things had gone sideways. He didn’t bring it up- yet You knew, you were sloppy and impatient even.

Now you were trying not to bleed everywhere, keeping your helmet on the whole way through to keep whatever secrets under wraps. Now you had two witnesses.

It would be somewhat of a shame to not join one for a while, just to see what it was like. So you did, just to pass the time is what you told yourself.

For a while, you tried to lay low, be like the other newbies, blend in seamlessly. But, because you’ve been around for so long you knew to much. Seen to much. Could do to much.

You climbed ranks fast, wants long before your talents got you into the 141. Why? That beats you. How? Also no clue. Maybe being old did come with perks- and yet you’re still gonna complain.

The people there were- nice enough. They did there job well, communicated well over coms and what not. You did your best to stay at arms length. You found out a long time ago to never get attached.

You still were friendly, said the right thing when needed, responded accordingly, acted like someone who belonged there. You thought you made it seem like you for right in.

Though- the others would say something else. Price was- somewhat hesitant to put you on the team, but he didn’t have full control over that say.

He saw your file, saw how bland it was. Nothing redacted, nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary. Way too normal for his standards. He had watched you train, you didn’t train like a new recruit on the team.

Sure you had been in the military for a while, but you spared like you had fought like you had years under your belt already. Small things, how your stance was, how you knew what your opponent would do next.

Soap and Gaz tried to get to know you, tried to get your tuff shell to crack. But you always kept them at a distance, never fully opened up. You were way to good as changing the subject, avoiding confrontations like the plague.

You made them- slightly uneasy in battle. On missions you were ruthless. They Ghost was scary, you were somehow- worse. Ghost was big, scary, hard to read. He killed with precision, he burred what he did deep down to forget.

You? You killed like it didn’t matter. Like you were just wanted to get over with. You were skilled, sure,but something was- off about you.

Price didn’t know what he was expecting to find out, maybe that you where a masochist, or something wasn’t right in your head- what he wasn’t expecting was to find you wrist deep in your chest.

Digging out a rogue bullet you had caught earlier and didn’t want to say anything because YOU SHOUDL BE DEAD.