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France X Reader ~ Through the Years

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France X Reader ~ Through the years

His hands smoothly moved up to button up the buttons to the jacket of his tuxedo, a calm façade hiding the turmoil that swirled around his heart.

Today was Arthur’s wedding, and he had asked Francis to be the Usher.

The swirling rope tightened as he remembered how you looked coming out of that dressing room, the dress you picked hugging your curves.

You had looked so beautiful.

You always looked beautiful, whether wearing a white dress that you had proclaimed as the one or an oversized shirt that was covered in paint.

With the thought of the curve of your lips as they met his in a loving kiss in front of the alter, something inside of him snapped.

(I love you)
“Je t’aime,” he sobbed, tears starting to pour down his face.

Please god let me be selfish.

Just for a moment. I will go back to pretending to see them happy for them, but just for now.

Let me be selfish.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Eight Years old ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Francis, I’m sure that Arthur didn’t mean to do it,” you stood outside the forbidden room, the boy’s bathroom, and calling in for your friend.

        (imbecile)
“That imbécile always had a grudge against me,” his voice rang out from the bathroom, tension pressing on his vocal chords making his already high childish voice even higher.

“Francis, please come out.”

(No)
“Non.”

“I’ll give you my Wagon Wheel.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

When Francis finally emerged from the boy’s bathroom a few minutes later his voice normal and his eyes tinged with red, which you pointedly ignored.

“Oh Francis,” you cried out, noticing something about his long golden locks, “what happened to your hair.”

“That idiot Arthur cut off a chunk when I insulted his cooking,” he pouted and conveniently forgot that the reason he even insulted him.

Arthur had been talking to Francis when Arthur had let it slip that he was planning to make you cookies and buy you a locket for Valentine's Day.

Rage bubbled within Francis at Arthur's audacity and Francis had let it slip that he would never allow you to taste the cookies in fear of losing his best friend.

His caterpillar eyebrows twitched at the insults to his British cooking and had grabbed the nearest thing, a pair of scissors, and cut off a large chunk of Francis' hair.

“You shouldn't have insulted him,” you scolded, “but Arthur also shouldn't have cut your hair.

Francis simply grunted in response, from this day on Arthur was his worst enemy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thirteen Years Old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you have the pages to read for English,” Francis asked, his back leaning against the locker adjacent to yours, “I seemed to have missed it.”

“That's because you were sleeping behind your book,” you cheekily sent back as you flicked his nose.

(What? Me?)
“Quoi? Moi?” he coyly raised a hand and pressed it to his chest.

“You wound me.”

“You give me too much credit,” you replied dryly, “anyway we just have to read chapter fifteen.”

(Thank you)
“Merci,” Francis said while waiting for you to finish up at your locker.

The two of you always walked home together, living on the same street it had only made sense.

Francis would hurry at his locker so he could always wait for you. He had something important to ask you, after years of liking you in silence he was finally going to confess and hopefully ask you out.

“I can't walk home with you tonight,” you burst through his day dream.

(What?)
“Quoi?” he said again.

“Why not?”

“Well I have to go to...”

“Hey, are you ready for...” Arthur appeared and stopped when he noticed Francis standing there.

“It's you,” the two of them glared at each other as you coughed and continued from where you were trying to finish.

“As I was trying to say I have to go to a student council meeting and Arthur volunteered to show me to the room as he was on the council last year.”

Oh right, Francis remembered, you won the position of secretary in the elections this year while Arthur was the vice president for the second year in a row.

“Are you certain that no one else could show you.” he growled at Arthur, not at all liking the way he looked at you.

There was a glimmer in his eye that was similar to the one Francis had whenever you were in his sight.

“I don't trust him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sixteen Years Old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Would you go out with me this Friday?” Francis finally asked after two years of attempting.

After you had gotten the position of secretary on student council you had become quick friends with Arthur. Francis' time alone with you had turned limited.

Arthur also apparently seemed to have a sixth sense to tell whenever the mood would turn appropriate for Francis to ask you out and would pop out of nowhere to interrupt Francis. And Francis was certain it was intentional, as there was a certain smirk on the Englishman's face when he did it.

“More than friends 'go out',” Francis quickly stated, worried that he would simply be friend zoned.

“Sure,” you responded, placing books into your locker.

Francis suddenly turned ecstatic, “I'll see you on Friday then.”

His heart soaring, he floated in pure ecstasy past a downtrodden Arthur.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Seventeen Years old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He pressed his lips against yours, his body soaring at the close contact between the two of you. You pressed back almost tiredly.

He loved you.

That was clear from the moment that his lips first connected with yours, but he knew that you didn't feel the same way as he did. There was a way that you looked at a certain Englishman that convinced him that you never would love him.

And he had known for years that Arthur liked you, that was probably what resulted in his bitterness at Francis.

Before the two males would pretend to be at ease when you were around, but since Arthur had verbally and then physically lashed out at Francis a mere week after Francis and you had started dating.

His heart ached as he decided what to do.

“Can I meet you at the park that we played at as children?” Francis asked you.

“At what time?” you responded.

“After school,” he sighed, mentally preparing himself for the talk that was going to happen.

As Francis neared the park he noticed you sitting on one of the swings. Staring blankly at the sand. The park was surprisingly empty.

As Francis neared you, you looked up to smile at him, completely lacking the light that should've brightened your face whenever you see the one you love.

“I'll keep this short,” Francis said, standing in front of the swing set.

“What is it Francis?”

“I don't think we can be together anymore,” he sighed, his heart breaking again and again.

“What?” you stood up completely shocked that the man who kissed you almost seven times a day would break up with you.

“Why?” his answer startled you.

“Because you love someone else,” his face surprisingly neutral.

“I can't get in the way of true love.”

You simply sat back down, your face just showing shock.

“Goodbye,” Francis said, “and I hope we can meet again as friends.”

He walked to go stand on the edge of the park as you sat there for a half hour, until Arthur appeared (because Francis copied your handwriting and left a note to the irritable Englishman in his locker to meet you at a park a half hour later than when Francis was meeting with you).

The two of you talked for a bit, something you said set Arthur off and his demeanor changed to one of anger. You quickly calmed him down but his body was still tensed.

He looked thoughtful for a few second before bursting something out. He quickly began to ramble, he must've confessed. Before he could turn around and run you pulled him into a kiss that was quickly reciprocated.

The last sight before Francis left home, his heart completely shattered, was the sight of Arthur wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Twenty Seven Years old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis walked alongside his British friend, the appearance of the two strikingly difference.

The Frenchman wore a high caliber felt navy blue coat, while the Englishman wore a ragged trench coat. But the two walked together with an ease that could only come with years of companionship.

“Glad to be nearly done with that silly doctorate?” Francis asked.

“It's been tiring but worth it,” Arthur said, hands shoved into his pocket in an attempt to keep warm in the cool winter air.

The two of them passed a jewelry shop and Francis couldn't help but notice the way Arthur's eyes drifted to the engagement rings on display.

                                  (no)
“You want to propose non?” he hid his still aching heart and kept a happy facade.

“Well, yes,” Arthur admitted, “but the two of us can barely afford to keep ourselves afloat, let alone with  me throwing thousands on an engagement ring.”

The two of them stopped outside of the shop while Arthur's eyes were drawn to the beautifully modest diamond ring standing proudly on display.

It was a band of white gold that had small diamonds on both sides trailing up to a prominent diamond in the front.

Arthur had good taste he bitterly thought to himself.

It was the kind of ring that Francis would have proposed to you with if he had the option to, with a simplicity that seemed to compliment your beauty and could stand alone on its own right.

Well... he grimly thought to himself, looks like I know what to get Arthur for his birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Twenty Nine Years old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone blared throughout his home as Francis quickly hurried to answer it; he balanced it in between his cheek and shoulder as he called.

(Good morning)
“Bonjour, Bonnefoy residence.”

“Hello, Francis? This is Arthur,” his English accent rolled through the receiver.

“Oui, this is Francis,” he moved the phone to the other ear, “what do you want Arthur?”

“Well the thing is… What I mean is… is that…” Arthur rambled into the phone.

“Arthur spit it out,” Francis asked, impatient for the news.

“I’m going to be a father,” he blurted out before continuing, “We both decided that we want you to be the Godfather.”

Several emotions flitted throughout Francis as the news settled in.

In another world that could be my child.

“I’m honoured that you chose me to be godfather.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thirty Years old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis patted Arthur's back as he was sitting outside the room where his wife was in labor in.

“It will be alright Arthur,” he reassured, “they would’ve told you if something is wrong.”

“It's been taking so long, what if she bled out or it's a miscarriage,” his face burrowed into his hands.

“Mr. Kirkland?” a doctor wearing scrubs and a face mask walked in, eyes reading the clipboard that he was carrying.

“Is my wife okay,” he burst out of his chair, clearly distressed.

“Your wife is simply tired,” the doctor pushed his classes up the bridge of his nose, “and you are the father of two boys.”

“Two?” Arthur sat back down in shock.

“Yes, there were twins,” the doctor explained, “and both of them are doing fine. You can come in to see them if you want.”

“Why yes,” he got out of his chair as he followed behind the doctor, Francis following behind timidly.

“Here we are,” Arthur quickly rushed past the doctor to his wife who gave a meek smile in return.

“Here are our sons, Arthur,” you handed them to their father, “here are our boys.”

“It's a good thing I got that job,” he stroked the face of one and “the second one is a bit of a surprise.”

“We have to come up with a second name now,” you gave a smile as one of your sons opened his eyes, revealing them to be a bright sky blue.

“How about we call this one Alfred,” he referred to the name they already picked out.

“Yeah, I think it suits him,” you gently grabbed Alfred from his arms leaving your other son in his father’s arms.

Your eyes glanced over to where Francis was standing in the door frame.

“Francis,” she called over to him, urging his feet forward, “Do you have a name that we could use.”

Francis glances down to the boy, who was staring intently back with purplish eyes.

“How about Matthew?”

“Matthew,” Arthur smiled, placing his finger in his sons outreaching hand, “I like it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thirty Five years Old~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you bring me something on your trip,” Matthew looked up his bright purple eyes gleaming with anticipation.

(Yes)                                                                               (What do we say?)
“Oui,” he watched as the boy started to bounce with anticipation, “que disons-nous?”

(Please?)
“S'il vous plaît?”

(Yes)                                  (Very good)
“Oui,”Francis smiled at him, “très bon!”

Matthew smiled, pleased that he got it right, as Francis revealed a stuffed polar bear.

“It says right here on the tag that his name is Kumajiro,” his finger tapped on the flap of thick paper pierced to its stuffed ear.

(Thank you)
“Merci,” Matthew gave one of his small smiles as he hugged the bear.

(No Problem)
“De rien,” Francis returned the smile to his Godson.

“Can I ask something?”

“Certainly.”

“Have you been in love?”

(Yes)
“Oui.”

“What is it like being in love?”  Matthew gazed up, his face scrunched up seriously.

Francis looked around thoughtfully before he finally answered.

“Being in love means that despite the fact that it kills you, you only want to see them happy. Even if it means that you have to spend the rest of your watching them with another person.

If that makes any sense to you.”

“I think so,” his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

“It's alright if you don't,” he watched as Matthew's face lost its tension as the confusing thought was washed away.

You will someday.

When I first got the information for the art trade that eventually spawned this digifan01.deviantart.com/art/F…. I said that it would work perfectly as an offshoot as another one of my stories that I was working on.

It was this one.

It’s not necessary to read one to understand the other but this just adds a bit of background information for England one

I have become quite a romantic with unrequited love.

I didn’t write France’s accent because it’s from his perspective and his accent wouldn’t be noticeable to himself.

I also want a wagon wheel now.

I tried something new with the translations comment if you like it.

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