Countryhumans x Reader Oneshots

France x Reader - Profound Pieces

<<Chapter art credit to Nutseater.>>

(This story takes place in modern day France.)

A gust of dust fluttered turbulently in front of you. A smile adorned to your facial features, as the mysterious paintings hidden in your attic brought back sacred memories.

The reason you were filing through the numerous trinkets and items of your attic in the first place was because you're leaving for Paris tomorrow on a business trip.

Your great aunt had given you her works, as she was a successful artist herself. She had strong French roots, and had seen famous pieces many times. An old sketch of a man in a light blue overcoat, and a green undershirt was shoved in between works. He was standing in a lush green field, in bright sunlight. Dumbfounded, you had never seen this before.

This was not by your aunt, or anyone else you knew. It was unfinished, and there was a huge gap left in the middle. There were torn edges, so it can only be assumed that it was ripped away. In the bottom left corner of your half, part of the name was left. "Cla", then illegible, faded letters after it.

Who was this man? What is the other half? It looked as if it were a first sketch to a painting. If so, what painting? Who created it? You stored the image away in your pocket, and returned to your bedroom to pack your luggage.

///

The flight was long and tedious. Nevertheless, you made it, and hailed a taxi to take you to your hotel. It was 3 P.M. in the afternoon, and you took the time to look out the window and absorb the marvelous architecture of France. Meanwhile, you had to force yourself to block out memories of someone from a hard past. Tales of a long lost love clawed at your brain, but you managed to fight it and suppress it.

Fifteen minutes passed by, and you had given the driver the amount you owed, and slowly strode into the fancy hotel. You had the day to yourself, and plenty of energy from sleeping on the plane. Upon settling yourself in the room, you opened up a tour guide book on the coffee table.

The second page contained a large picture of the Louvre. The pyramid shape glistened in the sunlight. You knew that if you were to get answers about the man in the sketch, it was there.

You couldn't venture into the world famous museum in a parka and sweatpants. You changed into a long, white dress that flowed down your body like ocean waves.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The skies were a light gray, so you grabbed your green umbrella, and stalked out of the hotel with newly found determination.

///

The walk to the Louvre was surprisingly short. After the entrance process, you walked down the grand hallways, searching for something or someone that gave you clues. It wasn't until you turned the corner to see an oil painting of a woman with a child, frolicking in a field. The green field and sunny sky matched the sketch currently in your possession.

You took it out, and your suspicions were correct. However, there was no man in the finished painting. Only a young boy with his presumed mother. It was titled "Woman with a Parasol". You examined what she was wearing, and it resembled your outfit! Embarrassed, you had started walking away to avoid being seen.

Just as you began, a voice from the dark past called out.

"Y-Y/N?!" Footsteps quickly proceeded towards you.

No, it couldn't be him.

—

Flower petals danced around the air, and emanated the scent of fresh pollen. You waved goodbye to your great aunt for the day, as you were living with her at the time in Paris. It was Saturday, no school, and no responsibilities.

You just finished getting ready, putting on a dark blue sun dress, and were currently heading out the door.

Today was the day. You, a young sixteen-year-old, were heading towards a nearby park to find France. You were going to finally confess your love to him.

He was your longtime crush, ever since you had met in kindergarten. He was your best friend, and it was hard at times to keep that secret. No matter what troubled times you or him were experiencing, you were always there for each other.

That Friday at the high school, he told you he had wanted to meet up at the park the next day. You quickly agreed. Now it was Saturday.

As you turned the corner by a tree, there he was. His back was turned towards you. Gripping the edges of your sleeves, you gathered what little courage you had left. With a final deep breath, you made it up to him.

As you pulled his shoulder around to greet him, your heart shattered. France moved his body to bid hello to you. As he did, another female in your grade stood in front of him, holding his hands.

"Y/N, this is Maude, my new petite amie."

You stood there in shock. The boy you were about to confess to was standing next to his new girlfriend. You felt your heart crack.

"L-lovely." You stood there, exchanging pathetic pleasantries with the couple.

As soon as you could see your way out, you did. Your heels clicked away, and tears flowed down your face, unbeknownst to France behind you.

—

The memories flooded your skull. You were so distraught back then, your great aunt had taken you and moved to a different country after the tragedy.

Now, he was there. Standing in front of you. Not only that, but he was wearing a blue overcoat and a green undershirt. You opened the sketch to find the man wearing the same thing. Faith couldn't let it be.

"It really is you." Soft hands rested upon your forearm.

"France..."

"It has been a while." His accent was music to your ears.

French was your native tongue, but when you moved out of the country, and to an English oriented one, you had lost your accent and forgotten the language.

"Yes, indeed."

"H-How have you been? I mean, your life, I never heard or seen from you again..."

"Oh France, I'm so sorry. I was so selfish—"

"What do you mean?"

"I left...my aunt took me because I fell into a rough spot. That day at the park, I was crushed. Truth be told, I was going to confess my love to you. But then I saw her—"

"Y/N, there is also something I need to get off my chest. I...I have been in love with you ever since my eyes first laid upon your gorgeous ones. I introduced you to Maude to only make you jealous."

You couldn't deny it no more. You never lost the romance you felt towards France, even over the years. Before you even thought it through, you leaped forwards into France's arms. Your lips connected, and the barren feelings of the past left, only to be replaced by electricity and familiarity.

Both of you pulled back confused. The flutter of papers dragged the attention of both of you towards the ground. Your sketch, and another one fell side by side. Together, they formed a bigger picture.

The man, was now complete, as he was next to the woman and a child. Then, the name. You read it. It was revealed that the preliminary sketch was drawn by none other than Claude Monet himself.

~~~

Years passed after that day. You and France were happily married for eight years. You two had a young son.

As for the painting, yes, it had contained only the woman and the son. However, upon researching the subject, just before Monet had started the painting, the man had died. So, Monet painted the boy and a forlorn look onto the woman's face.

It was the biggest coincidence of a lifetime. How objects of the past manifests into the present. But you and France certainly did not mind at all.