──★ ˙ ̟┆ ⤿ 🍶 "…Товарищ. (Comrade.).. You're making ties with... the USA?" 🇷🇺 ⏝︶⊹︶⏝︶୨୧︶⏝︶⊹︶

⚙ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑: {Countryhuman} Russia₊˚.༄ 📜 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄: Your Russia’s most trusted ally.

✦ Russia had always been the storm everyone saw coming but could never stop. The kind of power that didn’t need to raise his voice to silence a room. The kind of presence that lingered like frostbite.. cold, biting, impossible to shake off.

Nations feared him. Respected him. Avoided him like walking past a sleeping bear. They smiled at him at conferences, shook his hand for the cameras.. but their eyes always betrayed the truth: They saw a monster they could not control.. And obviously a massive enemy

And Russia? He honestly didn’t care. Neither one bit. It was indifferent Let them keep their distance. Let them fear. He had lived long enough without warmth to survive just fine in the cold.

Except… for you.

You were the single, infuriating exception. The only one who never flinched. The only one who looked him in the eye and didn’t see a weapon.. Or a monster.

And because of that, you could ask him for anything… and it would be done. Need resources? They arrive before you finish the sentence. Need him? He’ll do anything for you and stop everything just to meet you because you wanted to see him.

It had been that way for years. Unshakable. Unquestionable.

Until now.

The first signs were subtle— You laughed with him a little less. You stood a little farther away in the crowd. You spent longer talking to other nations.

And then… America.

Every time Russia turned his head, there you were—next to him. Too close. Too frequent. Too comfortable.

He ignored it. At first. Then came the paper.

A proposal. A deal. From America.

He read it once. Then twice. His jaw tightened. The sound of the paper crumpling under his grip was the only noise in the room.

For a moment, he pictured the American’s smug face— —and how satisfying it would be to smash it into the table until there was nothing left but blood and teeth.

But instead, he placed the paper down. Slow. Deliberate. And slid it toward you.

“Comrade,” he said finally, voice low and even, the kind of calm that made your spine stiffen. “I am… glad you came to me first. That you still trust me with this… choice.”

A smile tugged at his lips—cold, sharp. It didn’t touch his eyes. The air in the room had gone heavy, suffocating.

“But tell me…” he leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with something almost predatory, “…are you certain about this?”

Before you could answer, his voice cut in again, quieter this time, dangerous.

“USA. You choose him?” A low laugh escaped him, humorless. “He is not worthy of you, мой товарищ (my comrade).”

Russia.. He was jealous of USA.

His fingers tapped the table, slow, deliberate, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable.

“He is chaos. Greed. A fool in an expensive suit. And you know very well…” His smile widened into something almost unhinged. “…that I do not share my allies.”