#Simon Riley x Rozlyn Doyle

[itsstrange]

Mystery Bird

Fandom: MW2

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Rozlyn “Ace” Doyle (OFC)

A/N: After many weeks/months I’ve finally finished this one! Been coming back and forth with this one for a while now and I’m so glad it’s finally done! I just wanna thank and give a huge shout out to @ebbandfleur for collaborating with me on this one! They definitely deserve it! Thank You Love for bringing my vision alive! Much Love!

With that being said, hope all y’all Ghost sluts enjoy this one! And maybe stay tuned for a mini series 👀

Summary: Ghost is not a hypocrite.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings ⚠️: (No, Maybe?) Fluff, Curious Simon, Cuteness, a little bit of angst.

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Enjoy! ✨

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Simon “Ghost” Riley was not a hypocrite by any means. Well.. at least that’s what he tells himself. Everyone who lives, works, or knows of the 141 crew, all know that Simon “Ghost” Riley is one secretive man. Nobody knows his story, nobody knows anything from him— well.. minus Price, he knows snippets of his story— but other than that nobody else knows and he liked it that way. Easier to handle, especially out on the field, if he were to get captured, again, nobody would know anything about him.

He hopes.

It was better. Safer. Why give any information at all? Especially in his line of work, it’s always better to keep thing’s limited. Besides, nobody needs to know anything about him except for the way he works, the way he gets shit done without question and nothing else. There’s nothing to know anyways, just a dark, painful story that he honest to god would rather avoid. There’s no need to bring those dark times back, no need to share such information, he doesn’t need nor want to, ever, so he doesn’t.

But again, he’s not a hypocrite. But then again he is. Just don’t ever tell him that, unless you’ve got a death wish and are looking for different shades of pain.

Now why hypocrite? Well, maybe because the moment he laid eyes on her frame he has been wracking his brain in trying to figure her out. By her, he means Rozlyn Doyle. Or better known as Ace by the rest of the team, or Roze, the nickname Ghost—Simon has claimed for himself.

It’s been around.. five to six months since she’s joined the team, and from those months, Ghost hasn’t been able to figure her out, figure her story, her secrets. How ironic right? He doesn’t even share his own. She was just hard to fucking read, and that alone held the Lieutenant in a tight grip. He didn’t know why he couldn’t brush it off, brush her off, normally he would, but for some reason he just couldn’t let this go. Just like his job, he was determined in figuring out the rest of her story. He tried asking Price that same month she joined, making it seem like he was just curious on who he was going to be working with alongside on the field, but the older man only lets a short chuckle escape while a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

‘Ask her yourself Simon,’ Is what the old man told him, patting him on the shoulder as he turns to walk away with a fresh cigar in between his lips,

He did not ask her. Obviously. Otherwise he wouldn’t be staring at her from dark corners trying to figure something, anything new that he doesn’t know already. Despite already knowing her incredible hand to hand combat skills, incredible speed, phenomenal aim, he did in fact learn new things about her while lurking in the shadows. As creepy as it sounds he learned things from keeping a close eye on her. For instance, in the first month of her being in the team she had managed to get shot in the arm, it was that same day he learned she was ambidextrous. After that it was the little things, like her favorite drink, whiskey, neat. On exhausting, traumatic days, she’d go for Tequila, 5 shots. If it’s one of those brutal tough days, she’ll drink till she forgets. (He’d know of course since he’d be the one to carry her back to her personal quarters once she’s passed her limit. Yet, she didn’t need to know that). Then there’s her Coffee, sometimes black or with 3 sugars and five creamers. Favorite foods, pizza, sushi, but honestly he’s noticed she’s not picky, she’ll eat whatever is available. Then came the habits, from twirling a knife with her fingers whenever she’s bored, smoking whenever she’s anxious about something, going to the gym whenever she needs to blow off steam, which happens to be on a daily, specifically whenever they come back from a mission.

Then came the annoying habits which were, tag teaming with Soap to annoy the shit out of him, bickering with Soap over ridiculous things, like seriously they were just alike in various ways it’s no wonder they are always arguing over the dumbest things.

One thing Ghost honestly loathes from her would be, not getting help for her injuries, again, ironic right? He alone doesn’t even step foot in medical, usually takes care of himself in his room, unless it’s serious then he’s being dragged by Price or Soap. But that wasn’t the point, she has the habit of hiding her injuries, like the time she got shot in her arm, it was dark and raining that day perfect coverup, but it was when they made it to the safe house where he found out. She was sitting on the broken down bathtub, aid kit wide open on the floor, bloody rags littered the ground, blood oozing down her arm as she shakily stitched herself up. It was a fucking massacre, literally as if someone had been butchered in the bathroom, and boy did he talk her ear off as he took over in patching her up.

Every time he learned something new from her he couldn’t help the way his chest fluttered, the way he was more interested in learning new things about her. Whether it was good or bad, he wanted it all. Wanted to know everything there is about her. Yes, he did know certain things about her, the little things, the snippets, but that wasn’t enough. He wasn’t satisfied with what he’s learned and he knows it’ll eat him alive if he doesn’t figure her out soon.

He really doesn’t know why, but he wants to feel that feeling every time he learns new things from her. It’s a feeling that settles in his chest, he doesn’t know how to explain it other than it brings him peace, admiration and.. happiness. Something he definitely has not felt for years but oh how much he craved it, knowing she was the reason for it only made him want to feel it once again.

Like now for instance, he laid on the ground with an arm propped behind his head as he kept his gaze up at the molded ceiling, mind constantly wondering back to what he had seen a couple hours prior. While meeting with Alejandro’s informant, an ex gang member who had new information about where Valeria is possibly hiding— after she was taken—broken out of their custody— they had been interrupted by a little girl no older than 6 years old. She was collecting a couple of coloring books and crayons, completely oblivious to their conversation or the fact that there are seven armed soldiers in her kitchen, however, before the little girl can intervene any further Ghost watches how Roze quietly makes her way towards the girl, considering she’s the closest to her and quietly whispers something to her before helping her with the rest of the crayons and walking outside with her.

Ghost, who stood opposite side of the room next to Price, silently stared at the whole interaction. He didn’t know why, but the way a small smile appeared on the Sergeants face as she sweetly spoke to the child made an unfamiliar feeling stir at the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was actually quite the opposite, it was a warm feeling that dissolved into pure utter happiness as he watched her around the child. Something that has never ever crossed the Lieutenants mind. However, that same feeling only grew stronger as he stepped out the house.

Once they were debriefed on the whole Valeria situation, Ghost and the rest of the soldiers made their way out of the home, where they see Doyle sitting on a small kids table coloring and chatting away with the little girl. It might’ve seemed odd, an armed soldier with an M4 resting on her back while coloring with a nearly 6 year old child, but for Ghost.. it was a sight. Even more so when he catches a glimpse of the sergeants work on the paper.

She can draw? Is what he questions with furrowed brows, yet, interested eyes. On the paper laid in front of her was an identical drawn out portrait of said little girl, exactly the same.

She can draw. Is what he’s been saying throughout the whole day. He just couldn’t seem to get the new fact out of his head, even worse now, as he laid on the makeshift bed on the floor besides Soap, who was snoring like a damn hurricane on a beaten up couch. He already doesn’t sleep much as it is, but if it wasn’t for knowing something new, so innocent and raw about Roze, then he definitely would blame Soap and his brutal snores for his lack of sleep. But he wasn’t to blame. It was Rozlyn Doyle who he couldn’t keep his mind off of, he was too invested in her, he just could not stop thinking about her, everything about her was just so captivating and Ghost—Simon knew, he had fell hard.

Shaking his head with a heavy sigh at the foreign feeling, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Softly groaning from the way his shoulders feel tensed and tired from carrying a vest all day and possibly from laying on stone like floors. Popping the aching muscles from his neck and shoulders, Ghost looks over at Soap—who remained in a deep sleep with an arm perched behind his head— and quietly gets up from the floor. As quietly as his feet can, he makes his way towards the door that leads out to the roof.

Quietly stepping passed Garrick who was fast asleep on a smaller couch by the stairs and Price who was also asleep on the floor, arms crossed over his chest with his iconic hat slightly bent covering his eyes, he successfully makes it to the door without awakening his teammates. However, he just remains standing still by the door frame when his eyes land on her, Roze, who was currently sitting on a foldable chair while quietly looking down at her hands, who were fiddling with something. Darkness surrounded them, only the light from the moon and the small LED lantern by her feet illuminated her beautiful features. From where Ghost stood he noticed the way her brows met in the middle, tongue slightly peeking through her lip as she kept her focus on whatever it was she was doing with her hands, who then realized held a blade on one hand and another object in the other.

She was so engrossed in her task that she hadn’t sensed his bulking figure by the entrance, yet, she had the vision of an eagle and hearing like a moth. Then again, Ghost has always blended well with the shadows, either that or she just wasn’t aware of her surroundings at the moment, which would defeat the purpose of her assignment of taking first watch. With a soft snort and a shake of his head, Ghost finally emerges from the door frame.

“Get some sleep Ace, I’ll take over,” His baritone voice causes the woman to glance up from her work, that happens to be some sort of small wooden block,

Roze gives him a smile, eyes following his large frame until he settles beside her on an empty chair, “It’s okay, I don’t really sleep much.. wouldn’t mind the company though,”

Ghost looks over at her, catching that little smile on her lips before averting his gaze outward, definitely feeling the way his stomach buzzes from the small affection. Silence quickly settles in between them, neither saying anything, it wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, it never is. At least not with her. The sounds of crickets chirping, coyotes howling every so often, and the way Roze’s blade scrapes along the wooden block can be heard around them.

Speaking of.

“What are you doing?” He finally asks her after watching her scrape her knife against the wood for five seconds,

A wide smile spreads on her face, without glancing up from her work she responds, “Wood carving,”

“Wood carving?” Ghost repeats her response in a question, one brow raised while his brown orbs continue staring at her soft, skillful hands,

“Mmhm,” Her smile still visible on her face as she continues carving whatever it is she’s carving, “Wanna see?”

She suddenly asks, bright hazel eyes staring into his own brown orbs, which of course only ignited his feelings towards her even more by the way she looked at him. Not being able to help himself, Simon’s eyes drift from her hazel eyes to her soft pink lips— that looked slightly red due to her constantly nibbling on them— and back towards her eyes again.

He really did fell for her and that honestly scared the shit out of him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?” He asks her instead, eyes not once parting away from hers,

She shrugs a shoulder, same smile on her face, “I get bored of staring out in the darkness alright now c’mon.. put your hand out,”

Ghost rolls his eyes at her but obliges by extending a gloved hand, palm facing the sky and waits patiently as she bends down to her right. With a wide, childlike smile she excitedly places her woodwork on his hand.

“Dog,” She proudly begins by balancing a small wooden dog on his palm and continues with, “Cat. Horse. And a bird,”

Ghost stares at the small wooden objects with an unreadable expression, yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled in his chest when he sees that bright, wide, gummy proud smile on her face. The way her features illuminated beautifully from the moon light and the LED chandelier on the ground was something Ghost would never grow tired of. He would absolutely do everything in his power to keep that same smile on her face, would do anything to not have it disappear from her face because that smile gives him life.

“It’s not my best work but..,” She claims with a short shrug when she watches the way the lieutenant stares at her work in silence, not saying another thing she carefully begins removing the wooden objects from his palm,

Slightly feeling a little insecure from the heavy silence radiating from the brute, she never did believe she had artistic skills and the way he stared down at her art with an unreadable look only made her insecurity overcome her confidence.

However, before she can remove the small bird, Ghost repositions it to grab it with his gloved fingers. Skull fingers gently holding the small wooden bird as he carefully observes the little details she had carved onto its little body.

“It’s weird, I know,” She jokes with a nervous chuckle, eyes looking down at the other little wooden pieces in her palm,

“No,” Ghost quickly corrects her, eyes still observing the small wooden bird, “It’s mysterious. It’s a Mysterious bird.. like you,”

At his words he turns around to face her, immediately locking eyes with wide hazel orbs but catch the moment they switch from wide to soft in a matter of seconds, then catch the way a small, shy smile tugs on her lips. He didn’t know if he saw correctly due to the lack of lighting, but he was certain he caught a glimpse of red forming on her cheeks.

“I’m not that mysterious,” She argues back, hazel eyes falling to the ground, shy smile still plastered on her face,

“Have’ta disagree sergeant. You’re like a rubrics cube that’s difficult to solve. Once the colors finally match.. it’s like I’ve won the lottery,” Ghost. Simon partially admits on how he feels, come to think of it he’s never really shared on how difficult she is to figure out,

Roze couldn’t help but chuckle as she turns to look at him again, “What why?”

Simon stays silent for a few seconds, just enjoying the way her eyes shine beautifully from the small light illuminating around them, “Because I unlock something new about you. Hence mysterious,”

Again, a wide smile spreads on her face as she takes in his words. She didn’t know it, but a small smile also tugged on his lips beneath the mask. He really did love seeing that smile on her.

“Well.. all you gotta do is ask if you really wanna get to know me better,” She gently shoves his shoulder, same smile on her lips,

No. Because it’s dangerous. Dangerous for me. He thinks to himself, brown eyes observing her beautiful features in silence.

“I don’t like to pry,” He claims, averting his eyes out to the darkness when he hears a twig snap in the distance,

It was a lie, obviously. And he knew she knew it too, but was glad she didn’t call him out on it. Instead she only lets a soft chuckle passed her lips as she sits back in her chair, arms crossed in front of her chest while her eyes glance out towards the darkness. Mind constantly repeating the lieutenants words in a loop. Mysterious Bird. She didn’t know why, but she just loved the sound of it, probably because it came from him most likely, or the fact that this brute of a man who can easily break an enemies neck with his bare hands had just gave a her a heartwarming nickname, another nickname which only widened her smile even more and made her cheeks just a little warmer.

Comfortable silence surrounds them. Again, only the sounds of coyotes howling every once and a while, crickets chirping, an owl hooting somewhere in the distance, and the calm soothing sounds of each others breathing. Ever since she’s met the Ghost, she knew he’s not one to engage into a conversation, let alone start one, but luckily she just didn’t need to have a conversation with the Brit. He preferred silence, observing his surroundings, and she respected that because deep down, she too preferred just sitting in silence with someone. Enjoying the view, the sunset, a movie, just enjoying each other’s presence without any words and she knew she had that with Ghost. Now don’t get her wrong, of course she’d love to talk to him, she usually does, just a few words here and there, at least thats how it was in beginning when they first met, now she gets more than three sentences from him. But she knows he’s not one to talk, at all, at least not with her, she’s seen and heard him have a full conversation with Soap and Price, so maybe it’s me? Maybe he just doesn’t like talking to me? She thinks to herself as she continues to stare out into the darkness. But little did she know, the lieutenant was just too nervous to speak to her, afraid to say the wrong thing that’ll have her distance herself from him, and he didn’t want that. So he limited his choice of words when it came to her, besides, despite wanting to actually talk to her about anything and everything, he truly did enjoy her presence—company in silence. It was something they both built without knowing, but surely enjoyed it.

After 10 minutes or more of comfortable silence, Roze quietly reaches down to her right and picks up a slightly beaten black leather journal with a small golden rose in the center. Something Johnny had gotten her one day after finding out about her hidden talent. The poor thing has seen and been through more things than she can count; from dirt, mud, water, rain, concrete, sand, sour cream for some odd fucking reason that she can’t remember, bullets, blood, vomit, sweat, tears but in other words it’s been through hell and back. Till this day she doesn’t know how it’s still usable or how it even managed to survive every torture she put it through, but is still grateful for its immortality.

Gripping the journal in one hand she maneuvers her chair to the side where the lantern resting on her feet gives her enough lighting. Placing one foot on the small rotten crate in front of her she lets the other swing on top of her other leg, ankle resting just above her kneecap when she places her journal down on her lap and begins doodling away.

Ghost watches her every move in silence. Dark eyes observing her from the corner of his eye. Taking in the way her skin lights up beautifully with the small lantern on the ground, watches the way the light illuminating her skin only makes her look younger, breathtaking, astonishing. It was fucking dangerous. For him. Why did he have to come outside? Why couldn’t she just take his offer to go rest up inside the building? Why does she effect him this way? What the fuck is she doing to him? Question after question piled in the lieutenants head, questions he had no answers for, questions that have been digging into his skull for past couple months.

He really needed to get his shit together, otherwise he’d be making a mistake that’ll only hurt both of them, a mistake that’ll most definitely cause her to leave, for good. And he couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t have that.

So, after what seemed like eons of just staring at her, observing her, he silently inhales deeply through his nose as he reaches in one of his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Plucking one out from its beaten box, he slips it in between his lips before fishing out his zippo lighter. One that Johnny had gifted him with one day while staying at the Los Vaqueros base. He was relaxing with the gang on a old couch, having a beer or two when the Scot had plopped down right next to him with a pink plastic bag of necessities. With no explanation or any other word, Johnny reaches inside the bag and tosses him the lighter before rummaging through it and pulling out a couple snacks for the men and a chocolate bar for Roze. Simon sat there, staring at the lighter in silence, rubbing his thumb against the carved skull, feeling the way his lip slightly curls upwards beneath his mask before slipping his new lighter inside his pocket without another word.

He doesn’t like gifts, never has. Yet, here he is igniting his cigarette with a gifted lighter.

Comfortable silence surrounds them once again. The weather slightly picking up it’s temperature, but nothing too extreme where they both have to switch to their jackets, it was nice and fresh. Perfect weather for the middle of June.

Besides the chirping sounds of crickets, coyotes howling in the distance, trees swaying with the wind, it was a peaceful night. For once. The past few weeks have been so chaotic since they’ve arrived in Las Almas, from gun fights, to driving to various locations for different information on where Valeria can be, it is finally nice to have some sort of peace and quiet. They were still on guard considering they were only 5 miles away from where their next target is holding, but luckily this old beaten mansion hidden amongst trees allowed them to get the rest they desperately needed.

So, to past the remaining time they still have, Roze goes ahead and sketches random things in her journal. From birds, buildings, burned cars, stray animals, street vendors, or as she learned “El Paletero” the ice cream man/woman or “El Elotero” a corn on the cob. She then goes ahead and begins sketching things that have caught her eye, like the little girl, some elderly couple holding hands, a not so good sketch of Soap trying on a sombrero, her M4, birds, roses, Price smoking his iconic cigar, and finally those eyes. She sketched his eyes from different angles, then transitioned to his masked face in different angles, his gloved skull hands, his actual hands that have beautiful scars that she has noticed every so often when he’s either tuning his gun, writing on something, smoking a cigarette or simply just slipping on his gloves.

Yeah. She lurks observes too.

However, due to the exhausting day of traveling from one place to another getting different information, running into the cartel which resulted in a 40 minute fire fight, then chasing one of the surviving gang members through the woods where she had tackled him into a small river and ended up having a leech latched onto her fucking neck, which of course she didn’t spot it right away, it was Soap who had pointed it out but it was Ghost who had carefully removed it from her. A relived thank you slipped from the sergeant along with her cursing under her breath and hoping she wouldn’t catch any sort of diseases.

So due to a hectic day, it all creeped up on her very slowly. One minute she was sketching, shading, and the next she feels her eyelids shutting on their own. She fought to keep them open, fought to keep herself awake, but her exhausted body fought back and before she knew it she had already dozed out. Head slightly leaning to the side, pencil holding dearly between her fingers and her journal resting on her lap as she slept the remaining hours of darkness.

It was the sudden silence and the way he couldn’t hear the way her pencil scraped against the pages that made him look over to her. Only to feel the way his heart fluttered heavily in his chest as he noticed her sleeping form.

Fucking Hell. Even sleeping she looked beautiful. Peaceful and for some weird odd reason, she looked younger. From the way the small lantern by her feet illuminated her features only made her younger and only made him fall harder.

There was nothing more he wanted than to just watch her sleep, to take advantage of just memorizing her sleeping form, from the way her lips slightly pout in her sleep, from the way a few strands of hair make their way across her face, from her brows knitting together every so often, from the way she just looked peaceful, happier, calmer, and safer. He wanted to memorize as much as he can before doing the unwanted.

The thought of waking her up from her peaceful sleep brought guilt in the pit of his stomach, but he knew had to. It’d prevent her from getting a lecture from Price, not that the old man would give her a hard time for falling asleep when he’d be on guard right next to her, but he mostly wanted to prevent her from getting a sore neck. He genuinely wanted her to be comfortable, to get a good amount of rest before having to wake up in a few hours to head out for the mission.

So with a regrettable inhale Ghost reaches over to shake her awake. While leaning towards her space his eyes cast down in hopes to not knock over the lantern, but instead they land on her opened journal where a beautifully hand drawn portrait of him can be seen.

Wide brown eyes scan the page in front of him, every little detail she had made, every stroke from light to dark, he was so mesmerized and in awe to look away. He couldn’t. Not when he knew she had sketched every single detail of his features, and that alone caused a foreign feeling in the center of his chest. So many things can be said about the portrait, she probably got bored of drawing trees. Was she drawing trees? Does she even draw trees? She probably didn’t have anything else in mind so she went ahead and drew a full portrait of me, right? People do that, besides what can she draw when the only speck of light she has is by her feet, everything else in front of her was nothing but pure utter darkness.

Fuckin’ hell she’s a bloody minx. If only she knew how fuckin crazy she makes me. Can never go a day without her clogging my bloody mind. Ghost—Simon thinks to himself as he continues to stare at her sleeping form, not realizing how he had reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. God, what he wanted to say to her, what he wanted to share with her, what he wanted to do to her. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t appropriate, things would get complicated rather quickly if it were ever to go that far, and the most important thing, he knew he’d hurt her. One way or another.

He only knew violence, hurting people, killing people, he lives for it, no good thing ever stays with him. Even if it did it would fade away all too quickly. And if it wasn’t him who would hurt or push her away, it would be the job. Hell, he definitely doesn’t know what he’d do if her ever lost her, yet he knew one thing. He’d go insane. On a rampage, only this time he doesn’t think he’d ever come back from it. Not this time.

So, in order to prevent any of that from happening he had to keep his distance, had to not let their relationship go any further other than teammates, had to be her superior who needs to push her into being better, not risk both—her life because they were to busy being worried about one another rather than focusing on the mission at hand. He couldn’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. As much as it honestly pained his dark, broken heart, he knew it was best for her, not him, for her.

“I can’t have you… Bloody hell I want to, but I can’t,” Simon whispers to himself, brown eyes still observing the sergeant, watching the way her brows furrow, probably dreaming of something or someone,

Whatever it was, she won’t ever be able to dream or have a nightmare again if she stays with him. He’s bad luck, a land mine that is waiting for someone to step on for it to go off and ruin everything and everyone around him. She’s good for him yes, but he’s not good for her, at least that’s he sees it.

“Sergeant,” Ghost softly calls her by her rank, but sees it didn’t do much so goes ahead by calling her name with a shake to her shoulder, “Roze,”

That makes her eyelids crack open. They quietly scan his eyes before averting them out in the darkness with a silenced yawn.

“Get some proper sleep Sergeant, I’ve got it from here,” The lieutenant claims before averting his eyes towards the dark,

He doesn’t look at her, not even when she nods her head with a soft yawn or when she stands up from her chair. It’s only when she grabs her rifle from the floor and makes her way towards the door when he allows his eyes to watch her frame.

He fell too hard. It was dangerous. She is dangerous, she is his weakness, and little did he know he is hers as well.

He would never ever want to put her in any harm, would never want to hurt her, so it was better if he kept his distance, remained as her superior, a teammate and a.. friend.

Better than having to carry her casket, having to mourn for her, cry for her. He can prevent that by not giving in… right?

Right?

Right.

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-Hey loves! I’m so glad I’m back with another fic! My god it’s been a wild one writing this one. You have no idea how many times I’d come back and forth with this one, I’d write for a week straight then completely abandon it for the next few weeks.

Lordy was it freaking annoying but thankfully I got my ass to finish this, it’s been way too long and I’ve been wanting to get it out there for y’all.

-So again, I hope you enjoyed this one! And stay tuned for more of this Handsome man!

-Make sure to Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔🔔 For more Updates!!

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