Stories from Carl's mind

Y'ALL EVER HEARD OF COUNTRY HUMANS/BALLS?

No TW other than like, brief mentions of war. And French and British people💔 AND THEY FALL IN LOVE TOO?? This is cringe.

First Battle of Aisne, 15th September 1914

U.K. grunted, smoothing out his uniform and adjusting his collar. His feet sank in the ground, as much as he'd try to fix his uniform, it'd always get dirty. As he made his way through the trench, he saw the France herself walking to him. He scowled, not wanting to deal with her. Yes, they were allies, but that was their presidents that made that decision, they were historical enemies. The British Empire had once fought against Napoleonic France, Henry the Eighth had many times tried to conquer France, and so many other instances that wouldn't cross his mind at the moment.

Even if the British and French were fighting as brothers, he still felt some form of hate towards the French woman. They stood in front of each other, her light blue uniform a contrast to his green one.

-"What do you want." He forced the words out of his mouth, it was meant as a question but he couldn't care to hide his disdain of her.

-"I was going to talk to you about our offensive against the German." At the mention of the German, it seemed her throat closed as her hatred for them was evident at the slight mention of them. Not like he could blame her, they were invading her land. She continued, "However, I feel I deserve a little bit of respect before I do so, don't you think so too, Grande-Bretagne?" He could hear the anger flowing through her voice.

-"Maybe once you earn it." He replied back, as snappy as she was. His voice was rough from shouting, but still not as rough as her French accent would allow her to speak in. She scowled at him before storming off, her short tri-color hair slightly flowing behind her. It was shorter than before, not that he cared.

He resisted the urge to look further down her body.

Le Francport, Compiègne, 11th November 1918

Britain walked through the train, his war uniform now replaced with a pristine suit (Well, as pristine as he could get it. It was from before the war and slightly small on him now) He had only one thing in mind, finding France. The French woman had been plaguing his mind for the entire war, he hated her, yet he felt unsatisfied with it. As he approached the nearly empty wagon, the French woman stood by a window, holding a wooden pipe in her hands.

He approached her, she turned to look at him and he ignored how his heartbeat sped up.

-"You." He said, once infront of her. She grinned.

-"Me what?" She replied, pulling the pipe in between her lips and took a puff of the pipe.

-"You've been haunting me for the entirety of the war. What did you do to me, you witch!" He snarled, whilst France just calmly blew the smoke into his face. "You plague me and I think about you everyday and I hate-" His voice was getting higher each word, until she interrupted him.

-" Stop talking, you're better when you're quiet." She grabbed onto his tie, pulling him into her lips and holding him there. He stayed stationary for a few moments before he quickly kissed her back and pulled her close. UK could feel her chest against his now that they were stuck together. Not like he ever thought of it. Maybe just a few times everyday.

After their kiss, they smoked out of her wooden pipe together. His arm remained wrapped around her waist and she had leaned into his chest. They never mentioned that to each other though.

Paris, 24th February 1947

Britain buttoned up his blazer, looking at France. The Paris peace treaties were signed just a few days ago. They were getting ready for a night's out, it had in fact been years since they ever saw each other calmly. And not only that, he hadn't been able to even contact her for five years, the only thing he got to see was Vichy France, a Nazi state puppet created by the Germans (Just like the French, he wasn't that big of a fan of the Germans either. But, he'd grown to like one of them)

As he looked up at her, he couldn't help but feel smitten, like he did 33 years ago. Except she wasn't wearing a blue uniform anymore, her hair was long and curly.

-"You left your hair curly again." He spoke to her, coming close to her as she looked at him with a smile on his face (Something rare to see after all the war).

-"It felt correct for the occasion. We're going to celebrate, after all, I thought I'd change things up a bit." France replied, putting her brush down. Britain combed his hands through her hair, feeling the rough curls around his fingers.

-"I'm just surprised, I haven't seen it curly since 1919, during the time we went out to that one restaurant you were so excited to try." They both smiled at the fond memory, France had been begging to go ever since The Great War had officially ended.

-"And I had to translate for you since nobody could understand what you meant." France teased him, walking out the bathroom in search of her coat.

-"My French isn't that bad." He replied, fixing his hat. He'd bought a new one just for this night.

-"Mon chéri, my boot is more French than you." She said, putting on her signature bonet, they interlocked arms and worked towards the front door.

-" I could say the same thing about you and English." He grunted, he never liked being teased.

London, 4th April 20XX

-"America just pay the money!" Canada shouted at America, who was on the other side of the table.

-"No! You're in jail, I'm not giving money to a criminal!" America shouted back, just as angry. Australia sighed, putting his head in between his hands and rubbing his temples.

-"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU PLAY THE GAME YOU DUMB FU-" Canada began screaming, only to be cut off by Britain.

-"Language, Canada." Britain told him off, not peeling his eyes from the book and pulling a cup of tea to his lips. "And America, give him the money."

-"What? He-" America cried in disbelief before being interrupted by Britain.

-" America. I shouldn't have to tell you twice." Britain blew at his tea, still a bit too warm. America deflated and mumbled as he paid Canada the money.

-"Thank you." Canada and America glared at each other as New Zealand grabbed the dice.

France sat down next to Britain, holding her own cup of tea in her hands.

-"They grow up so fast." She said, smiling softly as they quite angrily played Monopoly. Britain nodded, marking the chapter he was on before closing the book.

-"And so rude too." He said, watching as Australia peeled his head out of his hands to roll the dice himself. Britain couldn't help but smile, they might not be his own offspring, but they were his children. He knew France felt the same way too. If you asked him more than 60 years ago, where he thought he'd be in the future, he wouldn't have replied with this.

I made this for a friend lol