Countryhumans oneshots

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿x🇨🇮 War won't stop us, will it? Scotland x Ireland

Hello!
This is kinda the fourth request? Imma count it as one. I worked this out with steakbaketable, it was a lot of fun! And thank you for your kind words!

The two have the same personalities as in the "Drugs?" Oneshot. Scotland is still trans, but this time their on opposing sides of a war for, and I quote "✨️drama✨️".

I kinda got confused with Scotland's gender during writing and editingin the middle of the night, so if I accidentally call him she in the middle of this, except for one character that doesn't know he's trans, that's a mistake, feel free to tell me I'll correct it.

Also we are almost at 600 reads! Thank you so much, I loved every interaction this got so far!
Have fun reading and a nice day/night! (It's 00:15 am for me right now help-)

Words: 2617

The ground was cold beneath his bare feet. The little bit of straw littering the cell's stone floor didn't help at all, even after he'd gathered it all in the hind right corner to sit on. It was late autumn, almost December already, the trees had lost all of their leaves, standing bare to resist the harsh weather that was to come next. And what did he do? Right, he got himself captured by the enemy. At the arguably worst time possible. The little fat reserves he had would dwindle from now on and by the time winter arrived he'd be nothing but a skeleton with only his torn up, bloodied uniform to protect him from the merciless winter. He wouldn't even die a heroic death, or tell himself that his capture was unavoidable. 

His team's camp got ratted out by some dog and as he was distracting the enemy so his men could flee he got caught in a farmer's bear trap.

They had found him on the ground as he desperately tried to pry the trap open with little to no success. In the end only managing to widen the wound and get dirt in it. He lost his gun when he fell and now a growling Belgian Malinois stood over it, so he was helpless. The rest of the day became increasingly blurry and he remembers only vague snippets. One guy had sneaked up to him from behind and hit him over the head with a sturdy branch. Then they held him down with around three men, one on each free limb, two others opening the bear trap and pulling his leg out. He was fading in and out of consciousness as they half carried, half dragged him back to the campsite and treated his wound. Not being very careful or considerate of his pain in the process. Then his hands were tied and he was on a truck with a few others, they talked to him, he just didn't understand their words and finally fully passed out. 

When he woke up he was alone in this cell, laying face down on the ground. 

He survived the week he is here now by drinking the rainwater that flowed down the wall beneath the barred window. It was dirty and disgusting, but it kept him alive. He hadn't had any interaction with any human since he had woken up here. Only the noises from outside told him there were indeed humans around and they just ignored the fact that he was there and seemingly surrendered him to a slow and painful death. Perhaps it was some sort of inhuman technique to break his spirit and have him tell them everything he knew...

But Ireland could manage this, he'd find a way out, back to his beloved Scotland. Yes they were technically on opposite sides of this war, but they had promised this wouldn't tear their love apart. 

Scotland... he thought about him a lot, about their memories, their plans for the future, their most intimate moments... even now the faint ghosting feeling of his gentle touches made him blush. 

Scotland was safe, he was at home and not allowed to join the army, he was safe in Edinburgh he reminded himself of that whenever he was starting to lose hope. Scotland was born female, so they couldn't force him into the army like it had been done to Ireland himself. It gave him hope in these dark times, but even that was being tarnished.