~Russia X Reader~(Very Short) Russian Roulette

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“I had enough!” you shout as you smack the revolver on the table. “Life is getting absolutely no where, and you think so too! That’s why,” you say as your hands rest on your hips; “I wanna play Russian roulette. You and I both know we despise each other along with life itself. So,” a devious smirk forms on your sweaty face; “let’s play.” The man—sitting on a chair in the corner of the room—grins.

He leans forward to reveal his face. His violet eyes stare into your (e/c) eyes. “Da.” he replies with his smile still on his face. Oh, how you despise his smile; how you despise his aura; how you want him to disappear. What is life? Why live when you die? All these questions fill your mind as you pick up the silver gun. Ivan watches you—with his head resting in both hands—as you spin the chamber and brought the gun to your head. Though hesitant, you pull the trigger. … Nothing. Your heart beats faster; adrenaline fills your body; your mind tells you to forget about this and get the hell out. But, you don’t want to. The Russian smirks as sweat drips down your temple. “Scared, da?”

You give him an are you shitting me look. “Yea yea! Whatever... Just die already!” You slide the gun across the table, which is stopped by his gloved hand. He doesn’t hesitate to bring the gun to his head and pull the trigger. … Nothing. You sigh as he tosses you the gun. You easily catch it before you spin the chamber (number) amount of times. His ash-blonde head tilts to the left as he watches you with curious eyes. You have no idea whatsoever where the bullet is, so this could be your last round. Except, it’s not. Sweat forms on the handle of the revolver as you grip it tightly. With your eyes squeezed shut, you take the risk a second time. … Nothing. The uneasiness in your gut relaxes, for the time being, as you slide the gun over to him. He happily accepts it and puts it up to his head. He stops—though his smile doesn’t falter—and thinks, The bullet’s at the bottom. The bullet was at the bottom. This game will last til midnight if I spin one, and she spins one. Except, his eyes narrow, this doesn’t seem like a six-shooter… It’s as if it has more than six cham— “Come on! What are you waiting for?!” Your devious smirk returns once again. “Don’t tell me you’—"

… Nothing. The revolver’s tossed back to you. “Нет. I was thinking.”

“Whatever…” You don’t hesitate—this time—to bring it to your head. … Nothing. “Ugh! This’ll take forever!” Patience is not your strength. With that being said, you take out a six-chamber revolver from your back pocket and put the (number between three to twenty-four) chamber revolver away. You move stealthily before bringing the gun to your head. … Once again, nothing came out. You give the six chambered revolver to Ivan who gracefully took it from you. Something egged you on, but you refuse to ask him. As he lifts the gun to his head, you stop him. “Wait!” He immediately stops. This time, his smile fades away as he opens up his eyes. “You don’t have to do thi—"

“Нет. I want to do it.” Stubborn bastard… His smiles as he brings it back to his head. “I—" … Nothing. “—thought you hated me, da?”

He tosses you the gun. You stare at the silver revolver, as if examining it. “I do… But, I was thinking…” Your cheeks darken in embarrassment; “Maybe we can g-get to kn-know each other before one of us dies.” you say, as if it was hard to spit those words out. Well, that dumbstruck the Russian. She hates me so much that she wants to get to know me? "That’s why,” You immediately bring it up to your (h/c) head; “if I die, you can tell my parents that I died from a game.” Of course, you didn’t tell your parents. Why would you? He nods as you pull the trigger. …Nothing. A sigh escapes from your mouth as you hand him the gun. “My name is (f/n) (l/n). I’m seventeen (in story) years old. I have (number) brother(s) and (number) sister(s), along with a mom and/or dad or guardian(s)."

He stares at you before bringing the weapon to his head. “My name is Ivan Braginski. I’m seventeen-years-old. I have two sisters and no parents.” smiles the Russian as he brings the revolver back to his head. Your eyes soften, no parents… … Nothing.

Before he could give you the gun, you ask, “Then who’s you’re guardian?” Confusion fills his face. “I mean, don’t you have any family that takes care of you?”

The smile returns, “My older sister, Irunya, took care of my younger sister, Natalia, and I. But I left them some time ago.”

You nod, “I had no idea—"

“Нет problem. It doesn’t matter, da? We hate each other, and one of us will die tonight.” That realization comes back to you. Shit! I forgot! Though hesitant, you grab the gun from the table, spun it, and brought it up to your head. His piercing eyes causes you to avoid eye contact. Immediately, you pull the trigger. … Nothing. He watches the revolver as it slides across the table towards him. He picks it up, and says, “I have no friends.” … Nothing.

Your eyes shake, Why am I doing this? His life sounds miserable, yet… Grabbing the gun from his hands, you slowly bring it up to your temple. “I have… friends… But they don’t understand me!” … Nothing.

Every round revealed something new about each other, until… Ivan personally leans over the table to give you the gun—with a smile of course. If I remember, the bullet’s… His eyes immediately open as he pulls back. “Oops~ I forgot to spin the chamber.” Your (e/c) eyes narrow as you watch him spin the wheel before giving you the gun. He never spun the chamber until now… “Here.” Though skeptical, you take the gun from him. What did he do to the gun…? The next moment surprised both of you. Instead of bringing the gun to your head, you began to spin the wheel to the point where he spun it. “What are you doing?” No response. Your heart beats harder and faster as you bring it up to your temple. His eyes widen as he finally realizes what you had done. “Нет! W-wait!” But too late, you already felt your finger gnawing at the trigger.

With a smile, you state, “Nice talking to you, Ivan.”

Bang!
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Immediately, you open your eyes. “W-wait! Why am I not dead? Was it a dud?” No, it wasn’t a dud. The gun did shoot, but in that moment… “Nice talking to you, Ivan.” He immediately gets out of his chair, jumps over he table, and tackles you to the ground. Why—"Ivan! Why did you do that?!” you shout as you lay underneath him. He picks his body off of you before smiling. Sitting up, with anger written all over your face, you shout, “IVAN! Why didn't you let me die?! This is all part of Russian roulette! The whole POINT!!!! I thought you hated me?!"

He blinks multiple times before sitting besides you. His usual smile forms on his face, which causes your brow to twitch. Silently, he gets up and walks toward the front door of the old, abandon shed. Turning around—with a smile still on his face—he states, “I wanted to.” And that was that. You sit on the ground with the six-shooter laying on the ground—two feet away from you. He… wanted to…? 

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