Manpower [Russia x Reader Fluff]

It's Just a Bad Dream... right...?

"Tekh!!" Russia screeched.

"Say bye-bye to your girlfriend, Russia!" Teutonic Knights exclaimed. He swung his sword at me, but I jumped back and he missed.

"Why are you attacking me?!" I asked.

"I know who you are! You're technology, and if you're around then Russia will always hide behind you! It's time for you to get out of my awesome way!" He took another swing, but missed again.

I was backing away from Teutonic Knights, but he advanced on me, a grin of pure evil stretched across his pale face. His eyes matched the color of the blood that would soon spill from me. I clutched China tightly, holding her against my chest.

After a moment or two, I tripped over my own feet and landed backwards in the snow. I made an attempt to get up as I looked for Teutonic Knights. When I didn't see him in front of me, I became frantic. Where had he gone?! Suddenly, I heard a familiar battle cry. I looked up and saw Teutonic Knights making a jump at me. Almost like in slow motion, I flinched and he charged, holding his sword above his head.

In the background, I heard a high-noted sound and shuffling noises. As Teutonic Knights came closer, my eyes remained closed, until something heavy crashed onto me.

I don't remember what happened after that. All I know is that heavy thing had saved me, and Teutonic Knights was gone. The heavy thing that had crashed onto me was... limp. It wore a grey and red jacket, and it looked so...

RUSSIA?! Russia had jumped in front of me and had taken the hit for me. He lay upon my lap, his chest against my legs, the top of his head dipping into the snow.

"Russia...?" I croaked out.

No response.

"Russia?" I whimpered.

Nothing...

"Russia?!" I cried.

Nothing.

"Tekhnologii!" a voice barked.

I screamed, shooting upwards into a sitting position. I shook violently and panted heavily, barely noticing the two widened, electric eyes that almost glowed in the dark.

"Tekhnologii...," the same voice whispered, "are you feeling all right?"

Flash forward to present day: Moscow, Russia, 1909.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," I whimpered. "It was just a bad dream." I began to remember where I was: Russia's bedroom. I was visiting him for two weeks just for fun, just like I always do. Every night, whenever I visit him, after all the lights were out, I creep from the guest bedroom to Russia's quarters and slip beside him in his bed. He's always lonely, so I'll do that whenever I get the chance.

The cute part is, once I'm in bed with him, Russia makes sure my back is facing him. Then he snakes his arms around me like I'm a teddy bear and buries his forehead into my back between my shoulder blades. That position was broken at this moment, however because we were both in an upright sitting position with Russia's hands grasping my shoulders.

"What kind of nightmare?" Russia asked.

"Remember that time, the one where Prussia suddenly began attacking me, and you jumped in front of him?"

His eyes darkened, the frightened electricity leaving them. Instead, anger mixed with pain and remembrance filled his now violet irises. The room was dark, so I couldn't see his right arm begin to move, but I could hear the sheets swishing and feel his arm brush against my side. It took me a moment to realize he had reached across his torso to touch his left side where a thick, jagged scar clung to his ribs.

"Da...," he answered.

"That was my nightmare."

"O-Oh..."

"Heh..." I looked downwards and loosely wrapped my arms around myself, bringing my chin to my chest. The searing pain of remembrance and sadness pulled down on my heart, sending tears rushing to my eyes. Yes, Russia had risked his life to save my own, and I am forever grateful, but then again, why should I be? That was the day we discovered he couldn't die. That I couldn't die. Personifications and spirits don't die. The burden of immortality turned us into adults that day. Although we were still children, we had still grown up. Only if they are impaled in the still beating heart, personifications will suffer, and yet, even then, they will die slowly.

I carefully leaned to the left and rested my head upon what I guessed was Russia's upper arm. He is such a lonely man, with only myself and his sisters for company, so whenever I get the chance, I show him my love. Russia does the same for me, for I am a loner, no family, no country, no career. All I have is my ability to build gadgets and machines. We bonded over our loneliness.

Russia's arm removed itself from under my head and wrapped itself around me, grasping onto my left shoulder. My head was now buried in the crook of his neck. Russia rested his right cheek upon my hair, his head leaning on my own.

"I am not sorry," he muttered, "for what I did."

"I know you aren't," I whispered back, "but I am." I reached across his torso with my right arm and ran an idol finger along his scar. "I did that to you." If it had been anyone else who had touched his scar, Russia would have pelted them in a second. But, he trusted me, so he allowed my finger to do its current business.

There's that word: trust. It's something Russia has for almost no one. He trusts no one, not enough anyways, so I'm all he has to confide in.

"Moy drug, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was not you who did this to me," Russia attempted to reassure me. "I did it to myself so you wouldn't have to carry around a jagged scar like my own."

But we both know it wasn't just skin and blood Russia had lost that night.

Russia's head rolled forwards on my own for a moment and his lips pressed against my hairline. "Let us go back to sleeping," he suggested. He leaned back onto the bed, bringing me with him. His both his hands on my two shoulders, Russia rotated me on the sheets so my back was facing him. He settled himself behind me and snuck his arm around my waist, his open palm fitting itself between my ribs and the linen sheets. His other arm folded in two to form a pillow, and I rested my head on his (gorgeously) flexed bicep. His hand went beneath his head. I could feel a forehead nuzzling the back of my neck.

"Spokoynoy nochi," he whispered.

I could only sigh in return. Not only was I upset from our prior conversation, but Russia is REEEEEEAAAAALLLY good at cuddling (despite his chest being [perfect] rock hard X3).

I can easily turn this into a lemon if u want me to... ;3