France X Reader: Is My Home Going To Be With You?

When I was a kid Francis joked with me.

He said he couldn't help but think of marrying me. He said everyone would try to take me away and that was the one way he could stop it. He did want me being taken from him like big brother Matthew was.

Since then, I always told Francis I was growing. I would secretly dry my clothes wrong, purposely making my clothes smaller so that it looked like I was growing faster. Whenever he would measure my height on the kitchen way, right were he cooked all my meals, I would stand on the tips of toes.

I was kid; what did you expect? I was a dreamer. France would never love me. Not romantically. Not in a way one lover loved their other half. And he never failed to find someone to love.
I would get jealous of the other girls he brought home.
I knew what they were doing.

I would start crying loudly, like a baby calling for a parent or food.

But I wasn't a baby. I was older than that! I could speak! I could have told him my hopes! I could have said that I hated those woman! I hated their long legs and short skirts; I hated their high heels that were taller than me, the makeup on their face and the flutters of their eye lids!

I was so selfish with him. Every day and especially in the night. I was determined to never let those woman touch him. And every time I cried France would come check on me, bursting into my room to rid the danger that haunted me. He would me and cradle my head into his chest

I turn eighteen today, in human years, while I had been living for hundreds of years as a nation.

......

I'm moving out today. Show him that I am no longer a child anymore. He was dropping me off the apartment I would now call 'home' right now. God, that sounds so wrong! How can I even do this! He's going to be two hours away from me.. And.. And everywhere I look I'm going to think of him! I was starting to regret my declining of England's offer to live in London.

"Do you have everything? Phone? Charger? Cook book?" Francis asked as soon as I got to my new front door. He blue eyes raked over the hallways, spotting anyway male body that moved in the narrow walk way.

"Geez, Francis, I'm fine. You've made me check over everything, like a million times." I hid the smile under my skin at him being so concerned.

"Ah, Ah," He tsked at me, "You forgot one thing!"

I brushed the hair out of my face, making it clear for him to see the confusion that contorted my eyebrows together.

"Your forgot the picture of your Dear Papa Francis!" He exclaimed, pulling a framed photograph from behind him.

I clenched my fist... After all these years did he still really only think of me as a daughter!? I wasn't his child! Why couldn't he see that?! He was country of love and he couldn't even tell was some was in fucking love with him! He had to be the most dense man on the planet! I'm eighteen! You weren't scared of thunder and rain anymore! You had said that just to be able to curl up with him again like you did when you had been younger!

You nails bit into your hands as you yelled at him, "I'm NOT your child, France! We found out long ago that was Arthur's lost daughter! Can't you tell I'm not a baby?! God, and another thing, you don't have to be so happy all the time! Aren't you even a little bit sad that I'm moving!? All you did was hug me when I told you! What happened to me not being taken away from you, huh?!"

My shouts froze him. His hand was still in the air between the two of us, the frame holding a picture of him hugging me some years ago when he used to have the blue pirate jacket. We were smiling, the opposite of the scenario that was happening now.

The ocean orbs that belonged to him were miles away and I to look away before I was dragged into their tides. My breath was still heavy as rose on my toes, feeling the restraints of my sandals dig into me as I placed a kiss on his unmoving cheek. I swear I couldn't even hear an exhale from him. It was as if he had just looked at Medusa. I managed to calm myself and utter one last phrase before slamming the door behind me, and breaking in new my sheets in with fresh tears.

"Love you, Francis, see you around..."


»»»

I glanced at the clock. 6:45. I sighed before standing to get a new pillow case. The old one has long since been soiled... How could I say those things to him? To the one who watched over me my entire life? Ugh, great, now guilt was settling in...

I sat on the couch with a loud thud, turning up a movie that somehow always cheered me up: Pretty In Pink. It was an 80's movie America had showed me on my birthday. I managed to crack a smile when I thought of Francis and Alfred fighting on that birthday. America had eaten the piece of cake France had made especially for me. It had had my favorite frosting and ice cream inside, but the loud nation had beat me to it, earning himself a black eye.

»»»

As I was about to dose off, a desperate knock hit my door. The pounding continue a couple more time as I stumbled down the hall, increasing in volume every time. I growled in slight annoyance, throwing my wrist to my eyes to clean them of any evidence of my previous mood.

As I flung open the door, I met a sight I didn't think I would ever see. A blue-eyed, blonde nation was holding the frame of the door as he attempted to rub the red that infiltrated the whites of his eyes.

"... You.. Thought me like that?" His voice was reaching me through a fog, having to travel through the shock of seeing him to reach my mind. The nerves of my fingers were able to feel as his threaded through mine, heating my sensing a bit through the cloudiness.

"You were always there with me... I gave you your first piggyback ride, do you remember? Or when I first found you lost on the shore were Eyebrows had left port?" How could I have possibly forgotten? Those days had filled my life to reach where I was now, though I still couldn't decide if that was a good thing but still managed to nod.

"I remember living my entire life with you, and the instant you left I couldn't process the thought of us not filling that house together... And.. When I went back home, I didn't have the feeling of a father who just watched his daughter leave the nest... I.. It felt like the one person I need had just walked away."

By now I was in tears, noticing for the first time his hands were quivering in the fear of being turned away, and that he was actually nervous, not being able to even brave saying the words he had just said in anything other than french.

"Je t'aime, ________," He kissed your eyes as the water dripped from them. His words hit me with a jolt, and the instant the electric shock had from my head to my toes, I rapped my arms around his shoulders and around his neck, grazing the strands of silky blonde, wasting no time in capturing the lips I had dreamt of tasting for such a large portion of my life.

"Je t'aime, Francis,"