Writernon here! Here is the promised FrUK, about a million times better than I imagined when I was thinking of doing it. France is so fun to write. *_* French translations that I think you'll need are at the bottom.
France has just settled onto his couch with a nice glass of wine when England comes trudging down the stairs. He looks disgruntled, which is strange for someone who has just come out of France’s bed. It’s nice that, like France, England isn’t wearing any clothing, but his expression really is disconcerting. “Angleterre?” he asks.
“Frog,” England replies grumpily. France knows that this tone means he has done something wrong, but it’s easily fixable. It’s a better tone than the one that says ‘I’m going to murder you, snail-eater’, though obviously not as good as ‘I’m being grumpy to cover up the fact that I love you’. The last one was really his favorite.
“Tell me what’s wrong, mon cœur,” France beseeches. England gives him a look that would corrode steal. Ah, thinks France, whatever it is that I have done, I have been doing it for awhile.
“Some of us,” England hisses, which means that France should have known better, “Don’t like being left alone in bed like two-bit whores.”
France grins. Oh, that is easy to fix. France sets his wine glass down on the coffee table, and then moves around it to throw himself dramatically onto his knees at England’s feet, spewing more and more ridiculous endearments in French (“Oh, mon trésor, mon ange, mon mignon, mon lapin, mon chou, mon sucre d’orge, mon—”) until England interrupts him with a squawk of, “Take this seriously, you stupid frog!”
“Oh, but I am taking this seriously, mon canard!” France exclaims, “You must have been so lonely! So cold! Non, there is not enough seriousness in the world for this!” He stands and sweeps England into his arms before the other can protest and kisses him lovingly.
“Come!” France decrees, “We will return to bed immediately, allons-y, mon petit you will never be left alone again, not while I am still in this world!” England curses and protests all the way up the stairs, but the blush on the back of his neck and the top of his ears lets France know that he’s fixed things.
Anyway, he’s been wanting more cuddling.
mon cœur : my heart mon trésor: my treasure mon ange: my angel mon mignon: my cutie mon lapin: my rabbit mon chou: my creampuff (the first time I heard this is was translated as "my pastry" to me, which didn't make any sense, really, though I think that that's the literal translation. Us english speakers might also say cupcake or sugar pie or something) mon sucre d’orge: my barley sugar mon canard: my duck allons-y: let's go
On my list: Cuba/Canada/Russia, Germany/Italy, North/South Italy(probably ambiguous about whether or not they're together), Germany/Prussia, maybe France/Russia and maybe Canada/America and maybe Cuba/Russia? None of that in any particular order, except for the threesome. Still taking requests!
Better Than Wine (one/one)
France has just settled onto his couch with a nice glass of wine when England comes trudging down the stairs. He looks disgruntled, which is strange for someone who has just come out of France’s bed. It’s nice that, like France, England isn’t wearing any clothing, but his expression really is disconcerting. “Angleterre?” he asks.
“Frog,” England replies grumpily. France knows that this tone means he has done something wrong, but it’s easily fixable. It’s a better tone than the one that says ‘I’m going to murder you, snail-eater’, though obviously not as good as ‘I’m being grumpy to cover up the fact that I love you’. The last one was really his favorite.
“Tell me what’s wrong, mon cœur,” France beseeches. England gives him a look that would corrode steal. Ah, thinks France, whatever it is that I have done, I have been doing it for awhile.
“Some of us,” England hisses, which means that France should have known better, “Don’t like being left alone in bed like two-bit whores.”
France grins. Oh, that is easy to fix. France sets his wine glass down on the coffee table, and then moves around it to throw himself dramatically onto his knees at England’s feet, spewing more and more ridiculous endearments in French (“Oh, mon trésor, mon ange, mon mignon, mon lapin, mon chou, mon sucre d’orge, mon—”) until England interrupts him with a squawk of, “Take this seriously, you stupid frog!”
“Oh, but I am taking this seriously, mon canard!” France exclaims, “You must have been so lonely! So cold! Non, there is not enough seriousness in the world for this!” He stands and sweeps England into his arms before the other can protest and kisses him lovingly.
“Come!” France decrees, “We will return to bed immediately, allons-y, mon petit you will never be left alone again, not while I am still in this world!” England curses and protests all the way up the stairs, but the blush on the back of his neck and the top of his ears lets France know that he’s fixed things.
Anyway, he’s been wanting more cuddling.
mon cœur : my heart
mon trésor: my treasure
mon ange: my angel
mon mignon: my cutie
mon lapin: my rabbit
mon chou: my creampuff (the first time I heard this is was translated as "my pastry" to me, which didn't make any sense, really, though I think that that's the literal translation. Us english speakers might also say cupcake or sugar pie or something)
mon sucre d’orge: my barley sugar
mon canard: my duck
allons-y: let's go
On my list: Cuba/Canada/Russia, Germany/Italy, North/South Italy(probably ambiguous about whether or not they're together), Germany/Prussia, maybe France/Russia and maybe Canada/America and maybe Cuba/Russia? None of that in any particular order, except for the threesome. Still taking requests!