COD Oneshots

Depending (Ghost)

Simon Riley had always been a man of his word. He'd sworn years ago, when Y/N had first joined their team, that he would never act on his feelings for her. It wasn't just a matter of respect; it was about timing, about allowing her to settle in and find her footing before he even considered stepping in. And he kept to that vow, even as his feelings grew deeper, stronger, and more complicated.

Their shared experiences, the countless missions, and late-night debriefings had forged a close bond between them. Y/N had become a trusted ally, a confidante, and, for Simon, a cherished friend. He admired her resilience, her quick wit, and the way she could light up a room despite the grim realities they often faced. He found himself smiling at the little things, the way she'd hum softly when she thought no one was listening, or the way her eyes would light up when she spoke of something she was passionate about.

Then Jonah came into the picture. The man seemed decent enough at first—a reliable partner, kind enough. But Simon couldn't ignore the changes he saw in Y/N. She started spending less time with the team, her laughter became a rare sound during their gatherings, and her spark seemed to dim whenever Jonah was around.

The day Y/N introduced Jonah as her boyfriend was like a punch to the gut for Simon. It was a day he had dreaded and hoped would never come. They were at a small get-together to celebrate a recent success, and Jonah had come along. He was a pleasant enough guy, and he and Simon exchanged polite pleasantries, but Simon couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Later that evening, Simon found himself at the shooting range. He had always found solace in the precision of the gun, the calm that came with focusing on a target. Tonight, however, the target was a representation of everything he was trying to suppress. He imagined Jonah's face on it, trying to release the frustration, the sense of helplessness. He knew it wasn't rational, but the thoughts plagued him.

His time at the range did little to calm his inner turmoil. Instead, it deepened his resolve to stay in the background, to keep his distance and protect his feelings. He respected Y/N too much to jeopardize their friendship, or to interfere in her life in any way. His vow had been clear, and he intended to stick to it.

Months passed, and the dynamic within the team shifted subtly. Y/N's once vibrant presence was overshadowed by a subdued aura. She still showed up for missions, still contributed as expertly as ever, but there was an undeniable distance. Simon noticed it, but he also noticed that she was trying, struggling to balance her personal life with her responsibilities.

One evening, after a particularly intense mission, Simon found Y/N sitting alone in the common room, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through her usual composed facade. He hesitated for a moment before approaching her.

"Hey," he said softly, taking a seat beside her. "You okay?"

She looked up, her eyes tired but grateful. "Yeah, just... it's been a lot lately."

Simon nodded, his gaze softening. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a friend, I'm here. No pressure."

Y/N gave him a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Simon. I might take you up on that."

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As the days turned into weeks, Simon couldn't shake the growing concern he felt for Y/N. It was as if the light that had once shone so brightly in her eyes was being snuffed out, little by little. Each time he saw her, she appeared more withdrawn, her laughter more of a memory than a reality. He had offered her an open door to talk, to lean on him if she needed it, but he didn't want to pressure her. He respected her space, even as his heart ached for her.