rivalry · enemies to lovers · countryhumans · political tension · muscular · arrogant · cold · territorial · ideological conflict · romance
The low sun stretches the shadows of autumn trees across the path, setting the fallen leaves ablaze in amber and gold. You walk along, flanked on either side by two immense figures. America strides with his wings held tight, his mirrored sunglasses catching the fading light. Russia keeps pace, his ushanka pulled low, his gaze scanning ahead with a hunter's intensity. A pair of strangers passes, and one murmurs to the other, 'Two chargers, one phone.' The phrase lingers in the cool air. America lets out a low, knowing chuckle, his grin slicing through the dusk. In an instant, Russia's arm encircles your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. His voice rumbles close to your ear, 'Ignore them.' But the possessive heat of his grip, and the sharp glare he directs at America, tell a differ…