creevagh

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You must be tired of reading ghost smuts take rest. here you go solider

[creevagh]

Grim Reaper — Intro

Pairings: Simon “Ghost” Riley x OC

Warnings: death, blood, big boy in the skull mask

A/N: please go easy on me 🥺 it’s been a long time since I have written anything at all

••••

13 October 2022

Classified Location

“Cолнце садится очень низко.” The sun's getting real low.

The room was cold and dark, a few small windows positioned around the walls providing as the main source of light. A slight tinge of blood hung in the air. Her heavy boot clad feet taking slow rhythmic steps around the edge of the room, a predator circling her prey.

“время зайти внутрь прямо сейчас.” Time to come inside now.

The man, a Russian, began struggling against the restraints confining him to the chair. He had tried to remain strong, to fight against the affect her words were having on him, but she could see his resolve crumbling.

“ужин на столе.” Dinner's on the table.

As she made her way back around to the front of the table her eyes studied his face. His nose scrunched in pain and his head moved from side to side to avoid her burning gaze.

"вы готовы?” Are you ready?

Her palms flattened against the metal table, head tilted slightly to the side. The ghost of a smirk danced across her face, mocking him. His face contorted and his mouth twitched. He didn't want to give in, didn't want to give her what she wanted. But what Reaper wanted, she got.

"да.” Yes.

The satisfying surge of control rippled through her body, pumping through her veins and spreading down to the very tips of her fingers.

"Where is," she pushed herself back off the table as she spoke, slow and purposeful steps carried her to the back of the chair. Leaning her hands on either side she dropped her head down to his ear, "Hassan Zyani?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times, gaping like a fish out of water. The Russians were working with Hassan and the Al Qatala, this she knew. His voice cracked as he spoke, as if ever word he forced out was made of jagged glass. "Al Mazrah."

She was quick to respond. "Why?"

"I don-, I don't know " He began to stutter. He knew he was a dead man either way.

"Tsk tsk," she slowly shook her head. "Well that just isn't good enough." Abandoning the chair Reaper removed her handgun she kept hidden in the waistband of her pants, loading a bullet into the chamber and set it down on the table in front of the Russian man before cutting the restraints from his brusied wrists.

"General Ghorbrani was meeting with the Russians in Al Mazrah when he was hit by the missle strike. And now, convinently, Hassan has made his way back to Al Mazrah." She pulled the chair facing him out with a loud screech as the wooden legs drug across the cement floor. "I want to know why."

Weak. As Reaper stared into the eyes of the man across from her, all she could see was weakness. "The Russians. General Ghorbrani was conducting a weapons deal with the Russians before he was killed. Hassan was finishing what the General had started."

"What kind of weapons?" His eyes glued themselves to the table, avoiding her glare once again.

"That is all I know. That is it." A quiet hum rolled off her lips and the corners of her mouth tipped up into a gentle smile. Truthfully, it didn't matter to her what weapons her former country wanted to give out. The country she bled for, killed for, nearly died for. Everyone who mattered there was as good as dead to her.

"тебе следует немного отдохнуть.” You should get some rest. She was familiar with the sense of helplessness coursing through his body.

Becoming fully aware while having no control over your own self, your mouth forced to speak words you try so desperately to block, your body forced to commit actions you try so desperately to stop.

"погас свет.” Lights out.

Without a moments hesitation his hand wrapped itself around the cold metal. His eyes finally rose to meet hers, cold and lifeless, boring straight through him. His arm shook as he brought the gun up, firmly pressing the barrel against his temple.

Her father was a paranoid man. He was also sadistic, he liked feeling in control. Reaper supposed that's where she got it from, the apple doesn't fall to far from the tree after all. As he climbed the ranks within the Russian forces, anyone who mattered endured a nice dose of brainwashing. His end goal? They speak their magic words and you lose all control of yourself. You speak on their command, you act on their command, and you get to sit back behind your eyes and watch it all happen without being able to do anything about it. He used it to his benefit frequently.

The blast ricocheted off the barren walls around her, his hand fell limp into his lap and the now abandoned gun slid across the floor. Blood decorated the wall to her right as his head smacked into the table separating them.

Another life collected and she hardly had to lift a finger.

17 October 2022

Moscow, Russia

"Who are they?" Soap Mactavish was the first to speak as the four members of Task Force 141 walked the streets of Moscow, eyes trained on the path in front of them. Their captain only shared the bare minimum with them of the reason for coming to this place, they needed to find someone, rather three someones.

"Russians." Captain Price kept it short while keeping his focus on the faces around him. Laswell had said this would be his best bet of finding the three siblings. They weren't easy to find.

"Oh yeah, that really narrows it down. Not like we're in Russia, surrounded by Russians or anything."

Gaz glanced back over his shoulder from his position next to his superior to the two men behind, him one sporting his clean shaved mohawk, the other his signature skull embolished bacalava. "Russian siblings. Two men and a girl. They used to be involved in the Soviet forces before defecting 3 years ago. They helped us take down Roman Barkov in Bojormi."

"Why did they defect?" Ghost was the next to speak, the fabric of his mask rubbing across his lips as he-spoke.

"Dunno. mate. It's classified. CIA shit you know."

"How do we even know we can trust them then?" The smaller of the two spoke again. How was he supposed to know they weren't gonna wake up one day and decide to kill him. Or they weren't still working with the Russians and merely disgusing ulterior motives.

“'Cause I said so." Price rolled forward as he talked, increasing his pace with impatience. Ghost huffed behind him, the mask muffling the sound from traveling very far.

Reaper knew they were here, in Moscow. She recognized half the group, the two men walking in the front. The two trailing in the back, however, she had yet to meet. She watched them as the neared the spot where she currently hid.

Well, not exactly hid. She was hidden in plain sight, leaning up against a brick wall with a half burnt cigarette hung loosly between her fingers yet they would've walked right past her had she not stepped out to block their path.

"You look lost. Is there something I can help you boys find?"

"Reaper." The british accent stuck out like a sore thumb admist the Russian tones surrounding them. Captain Price stood a few feet straight ahead of her, adorned by his usual boonie hat. Reaper wasn't sure she had actually ever seen him without it on before.

"What are you doing here, Price?" She pulled the dark fur coat a little tighter around her body, black hair slicked up into a tight bun positioned on the crown of her head. Pale blue eyes that could bring a man to his knees in submission.

"I'm looking for someone. Thought you'd might be able to assist in locating him." The other three men remaining silent during the exchange. Reaper cocked her head a fraction to the side, cueing for Price to get on with it and tell her who exactly he was looking for. She already knew what the name was going to be before it rolled off his lips. She knew the Americans and Brits would be looking for him sooner or later, after the death of General Ghorbrani he had taken over command in their little regime and began climbing the ladder of power even higher than where he had previously sat.

Though the words never left the lips of the British captain. Rather, from the big boy in the skull mask behind him. He stood a few inches taller than his partners and would undoubtably tower over her had he been standing right next to her. His accented voice was rough, the deep tone sending sparks all down her spine. "Hassan Zyani."

"Mhm." She was right.

"Do you know where he is?" Price became the speaker again, but her eyes had yet to part from the pair behind him. They were the only thing she could see, the rest of him fully covered in some article of clothing.

Reaper took her time before answering, considering her options before offering up any information she currently held. "I may.”

"Where are your brothers?" A new voice this time. Gaz. She recognized him from a few years prior.

"They're around." She paused for a moment before continuing. "If I tell you where he is, I want to be the one to kill him. Understood?"

"What do you want with Hassan?" The masked man speaks again. She didn't understand why the mask was so intriguing to her, he wasn't the first man she'd ever seen wearing some form of mask. Maybe it was the eyes, hidden in the shadows of the skull sockets. Maybe it was the look he carried within them, a look so close to her own. They were cold, lifeless, she could practically see the bricks stacked up behind them as they shielded himself from the rest of the world.

"He has something of mine and I want it back."

[creevagh]

Now I remember why I never finished a fanfic everytime I get the first chapter written I change my mind about the plot and how I want it to start 😤

[creevagh]

This whole time I have imagined him a ginger and no one can change my mind

look i understand why people consider ghost blond. i too saw the lashes. i get it. i’m with you on this.

but please consider that if ghost was a ginger it would give soap scotsman mactavish the unholy license of being able to roast the hell out of him anytime he wanted without facing the consequences

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*makes a new tumblr after not logging in for a decade for the sole purpose of Mr. Simon Riley fanfics only to find they’re few and far between