COD Oneshots

Valentines (Nikolai)

Nikolai sat in the dimly lit safe house, his fingers lightly tracing the edges of the photograph resting on the table in front of him. The flickering light of the old lamp above cast long shadows across the cracked walls, but his attention was elsewhere. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling all day—Valentine's Day, of all days, had found him deep in the thick of an operation.

The mission was crucial, of course. The intel had to be gathered, the black market weapons dealer had to be tracked, and the operation had to stay clean. There was no room for distraction. But that didn't stop the gnawing feeling in his chest as he thought of her—Y/n.

They'd only been seeing each other for a few weeks, but in those brief moments, something about her had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, or how her smile seemed to make everything else fade away for a split second. Whatever it was, Nikolai had grown to look forward to their time together, even if it was stolen moments between missions.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, staring at the picture once more. The photograph was simple—a candid shot of Y/n laughing, her eyes twinkling as if there was no care in the world. He'd taken it during a rare moment when the world had slowed down, and he'd been able to just be Nikolai for a while, not the soldier, not the operative. Just a man who was fortunate enough to have her in his life.

The rumble of his tablet on the table startled him, pulling his gaze away from the photo. The screen lit up, an incoming video call. His heart skipped, an unexpected warmth rushing to his chest. Without hesitation, he grabbed the device.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, as if he'd been holding it in for too long. There she was, her face glowing in the soft light of her apartment, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was wearing a casual, oversized sweater, and her eyes held a mixture of warmth and concern.

"Nikolai," she said, her voice a soothing balm to the raw edges of his mind. "Happy Valentine's Day."

His chest tightened. Right, it was Valentine's Day. He hated that he couldn't be there with her, to give her anything special, or just to be in the same room. "I'm sorry," he muttered, not sure where to begin. "I couldn't be there today. Mission. You know how it is."

She smiled softly, as if she understood, but there was a slight sadness in her gaze. "I know," she said, her voice gentle. "But you're here now."

He looked at her, his heart twisting at the thought of how far away she really was, despite the distance shrinking in that moment. She was there, with him, even if just on the screen.

"You're my Valentine," she added, as if reading his mind. "Even if you're far away."

Nikolai's breath hitched, his throat tight with emotion he wasn't used to showing. This wasn't the life he was supposed to lead—he wasn't supposed to get attached, to feel something. But the way she said those words, the way she looked at him... It was different. She was different.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he said again, more quietly this time. "I wish I could be with you. To... celebrate, I suppose."

"Don't apologize," she said, her smile warm and reassuring. "You're doing important work. I'm proud of you, Nikolai. And when you come back, we'll have all the time in the world. Just us. No missions, no distractions."

His heart clenched at the thought, and for a moment, all the weight of the world seemed to lift. Maybe it was the tiredness, or maybe it was the longing, but for the first time in days, he allowed himself to think about what could be, about the possibility of something real, something lasting.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Y/n laughed softly, a sound that sent warmth flooding through his chest. "It's a promise, Nikolai. Just... come back to me, okay?"

"Always," he answered, his voice unwavering.

For a few more minutes, they talked. They spoke of nothing important, just trivial things—how her day had been, how the coffee had been too bitter for her taste, how the cat had knocked over a vase earlier. It wasn't the grand gestures or the romance you read about in stories, but for them, it was everything. It was enough.

As the conversation came to a close, Nikolai found himself lingering, his fingers brushing against the screen as though he could touch her through it.

"I'll be back soon," he promised again. "And we'll have that time together."

She nodded, her smile never fading. "I'll be waiting, Nikolai."

And with that, the screen went dark. Nikolai sat back, his fingers still tracing the edge of the tablet. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself a moment of hope—a quiet, fleeting hope that when all of this was over, when the dust settled, there might be something more waiting for him than just the next mission.

For now, though, he had to focus. He had a job to do. But with her image in his mind and her words echoing in his heart, Nikolai knew that even in the midst of the storm, he wasn't completely alone.

And that thought, that knowledge, was enough to carry him through.