Who are you really? (CountryHumans x Reader)

ωαℓтz

Now, our dear protagonist was no doctor nor a nurse but, for someone who lacked medical training, she would have to say, well, her work on this wound...It was not terribly done. While, admittedly, the bullet was most certainly still in (Y/N)'s shoulder, it'd actually been pretty easy to stop the bleeding, disinfect the wound and bandage it. While yes, she had learnt some medical skills from books she inherited from her mother, it was never something she had put into practice. All her doubt aside, the woman glanced towards her bare shoulder, looking thoughtfully at the partly bandaged wound before grabbing the roll of gauze she had been using and wrapping it around her shoulder once more before ripping the end off with her teeth. The process was a little bit barbaric but it got the job done. The young woman pinned the bandage so it would not unwrap and allowed her muscles to un-tense, the pain was still rather prominent, especially due to her choice of disinfectant. For one reason or another, there had been vodka under her bed so she ended up using that as a disinfectant. She wasn't exactly sure how well vodka would work to clean a wound but, it would probably be fine, right?

As lucky as could be (Y/N) was when she heard a knock at her door, considering she had been only in a bra and her skirt from the previous night. Her chance at even putting on a top was thwarted as the door swung open, there in the doorway stood two of soviets children, Ukraine and Belarus. The middle child's facial features contorted into shock as he gasped, he put his hands over his eyes, vaguely remembering when his late mother had told him it was rude to stare at women who were dressing, his sibling, on the other hand, seemed to not have a care in the world as they skipped over to the half-naked woman. Belarus stood by (Y/N)'s legs, resting their chin upon her knees, they stared for a moment at their babysitter, eyes moving to the bandaged shoulder that she had, they pointed at it, looking surprised. "Papa wears those all the time!" the child then looked towards the young woman who was barely processing this situation, "You're hurt!" These words caught the attention of Ukraine, who peeked out from behind his hands a bit, "Hurt...?" He mumbled out loud but he hid behind his hands once more, not wishing to get into trouble for staring at the woman while she wasn't decent. (Y/N) exhaled a bit, feeling a little unsure how she was meant to react, Belarus didn't seem to understand what they were doing or what the consequences were. She leaned down and picked the young child up, gritting her teeth at the sudden sting from her shoulder due to the new weight but, walked to the door and placed them down next to their sibling, "I'll explain soon I promise, but can you wait out here for me while I get changed?" The youngest appeared confused, not having a clue as to why it mattered but they did not dare disobey (Y/N), knowing it could have consequences like before with their father. The woman carefully closed the door, upon hearing it click into place she hurried to the small pile of outfits that Belarus had picked out for her the other day. Looking at all the different pieces of clothing, her eyes were drawn to two clothing items, in particular, a pair of grey flannel slacks and a nice white blouse. It would work well for moving around plus with the start of summer, it would keep her cool if she ended up outside. It seemed that the sun was shining bright today, after all, even the snow had begun to melt. Either way, (Y/N) pulled the skirt she had on before off and put on the blouse before slipping the slacks on, carefully tucking the blouse into the pants. She looked down upon the pair of boots that laid there on the stone floor, military boots, they had been passed down from her father. She closed her eyes for a moment, an image of the protagonist's mother and father appeared in their mind, they looked happy. "I hope wherever you are, you're being treated well." The woman thought before her eyes fluttered open, flicking away any tears that had formed in them. She leaned down and grabbed a hold of the boots, pulling the socks that were inside of them out and putting them on, then slipping her feet into the boots and tying the laces. She remembered the pattern well, just like her mother had taught her, "Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree, criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me. Bunny ears, bunny ears, jumped into the hole, popped out the other side, beautiful and bold." she could practically hear her mother's voice, the noise echoing in her mind as she finished tying her laces.