Mama!Nyo!France x Child!Reader [OneShot]

Mama!Nyo!France x Child!Reader

As a kid you lived in the biggest house in the country and you had the best view of the streets of Paris, life was great. You had all the toys a kid could ever want; some that weren't even out yet. Plenty of food from a turkey dinner to chocolate cake at noon! However, there was one thing that made this -- what *should* be a comfortable life, a lonely one as well. Your mama was an engrossed woman, rarely home. It was reasonable to say the least, she was after all, a personification of a country.

You usually saw her in the mornings, if you were lucky. It was as if, she rose with the sun; at dawn precisely. A time your little head wouldn't comprehend until you were a little older because at seven you woke up late in the mornings, mostly on weekdays for homeschooling. On weekends you'd try your best to stay up to see your mama come home which would usually result in crashing on the couch and waking up in your bedroom the next day. It wasn't always like this, when you were smaller your mama had time for you. You don't remember much, but you can remember a time when her warmth was next to you, when she sung you lullabies to tuck you in, or cradled you for comfort when you were scared.

It would be putting it mildly to say you missed those times. As a child you needed them, you needed her. Luckily, your birthday was coming up! You had been planning a big party, for just the two of you since you shared a birthday (technically she borrowed yours, September 2nd). You stayed up for three nights getting everything ready, school was hard the next day, but it was all worth it in the end. When the day came, you ran out of your room and into the arms of your mama.

She was still half-asleep, but glad to see her little one nonetheless. You wrapped your small arms around her legs, "mama! Happy birthday!" You gleefully exclaimed. She smiled, caressed your head and bent down to your height.

"Merci, mon/ma chérie, happy birthday to you too." She cheered. It's been a long time since you've seen your mama, not since the holidays. She was pretty much still the same just tired. Her dirty blonde hair, already wrapped up in a french knot tied back by a hairpin allowing you take in her motherly violet orbs that stared into your (e/c) ones.

You grabbed her hand and led her into the kitchen, thanks to the help of the maids, a cake and a few cups of tea (well, coffee for France) were already set out on the table ready to be enjoyed. France was highly amused as to how special you've made this day, of course, don't take her amusement and mistake it as mocking. She loved all the work you put into it and she loved you. You sat across from her as the two of you sung happy birthday to each other.

"Joyeux anniversaire, Mon/Ma petite fleur." She beamed, as her left arm stretched over the table to stroke your cheek lovingly. She pulled her arm away and reached for the knife, "you ready for some cake, (f/n)?" She asked rhetorically, because we all know, you were ready for the cake. As soon as she began to cut in her phone rang and your heart sank. It was one of her country friends, you could tell by the tone of her voice as she answered.

"Oui? I see." She muttered. It was a short phone call that ended in what you feared, France -- your mama -- leaving. However, you wouldn't let her go this time. You hopped out of your chair and blocked the door with your small frame.   When she saw this she let out a cheerless sigh. She put her phone away and then, walked toward you, who was firmly standing your ground.

"Mon/Ma bébé." She sighed once more. She didn't want to leave, she enjoyed the time she spent with you. Unfortunately, during war times she had no choice, but to be present for the Allied meetings. It was all to keep her country and most importantly, you, safe. You stayed positioned near the door, preventing France from leaving.

However, she could just push you aside. She was a grown woman and you, a child. A small one at that. She bent down and pulled you into an embrace. A warm one yet one tinged with teetering sorrow and then you felt it, a droplet of heated water on your back.  You pulled away to see your mama crying, "Mon/Ma bébé, mon/ma doux bébé." She cried.