#frascot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

balladofthewhitehorse · 1 year

Text

Some Tenderness Is Deserved

"Verily, the Scots are well-known as an antidote to the English."

He hurt. He hurt. He hurt. He hurt all over, face up to the sky and back slick with mud; spread-eagled, France lay - eyes screwed shut, pain exploding behind the dark of his eyelids as his hands grasped a shattered blade, shaking as he sat up slowly. ‘’Nonononono-’’ France mumbled, hissing sharply as he arched his neck, golden hair flush in the dirt, the sword still cutting into his hauberk, cutting into his skin. With a shaky breath, France rose again - the palms of his hands turned red as he grasped the blade, the knuckles as white as snow. Some small part of him struggled to see how this was worth it, how all the pain and bloodshed and violence was worth it - a small part quickly swept away, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as France grit his teeth, shaking his head furiously. No, no, no…a halo of concerned faces loomed over him, a wolfish grin as France bit back a pained whine. ‘’I-I’m fine-’’ He was, he was - he had to show them, he had to show them all. After all those defeats…no, he wouldn’t let Burgundy or England get the better of him. ‘’I’m fine.’’ Their hands reached for him, pulling him up from the mud - from the grave - and patting his weary shoulders. Dimly, their praises reached his ears and France sighed, his limbs slack against the earth. ‘’O-of course, I’m at your-ngh-service.’’ France hissed between grit teeth, shaking as he rose to his feet and staggered forward (their camp was somewhere, just beyond the horizon, just a little longer, France told himself - as his abdomen exploded with pain). His vision blacked, a startling red behind his eyelids as he all-but dragged his weary legs, his weary soul back towards camp.

He swayed, the earth rocking beneath his feet as he lurched forward, tumbling loosely into a pair of arms. ‘’Merde-’’ A hand took him gently by the waist, and France groaned, his spine tensing as he felt himself cling to the firm neck - a sailor adrift at sea, this rock his only salvation, his last stand…non, non, non, this wasn’t happening. ‘’I’m fine-’’ France felt his insides coil, bile burning at the back of his throat. ‘’I’m-’’ ‘’Not fine.’’ Scotland replied gravely, wincing as he knelt and pulled France up into his arms. Any complaint from the figure, strewn against him, was ignored as Scotland began the slow and steady march back to camp. He could hardly hear France’s voice over the tram of mud underneath his feet, but he knew what the question was all the same…it was always the same one. ‘’...Yes, we won this fight.’’ Scotland remarked gently, clearing his throat as he set France down on a cot - hand drifting gently to his hair; Dirty, he’d have to wash it for France later. ‘’But, that doesn’t mean you can just stumble around. You’ve got a sword sticking out of you, for crying out-loud.’’ France moaned wearily as Scotland searched around for some cloths and bandages, eyes glazed as they followed his every move. ‘’...I’m sorry, France.’’ ‘’Why?’’ France croaked softly, raising a slender brow. ‘’Why are you sorry…?’’ His heart hammered against his chest, a pressure rising in his head as he frowned. No, no - this wasn’t happening, his friend was not apologising. Fists curled and in-spite of the sword piercing his abdomen, France sat up slowly (furiously blinking tears away). ‘’Don’t tell me you’re leaving.’’ He swallowed, heart welling up behind his rib-cage, fit to burst out. ‘’I can be-’’

What? Better? Stronger? What did Scotland want? Smarter? He could try, but France was afraid that he could not promise. He couldn’t promise, not when everything seemed determined to tear him down - and he hoped that Scotland wasn’t having second thoughts…

‘’Be safe?’’ Scotland with a voice too tender for what France thought he deserved. He gently padded across the small hut, kneeling by France’s bedside as he grasped the sword quietly. In his other hand, was a small bottle of vinegar (Scotland recalled once France scolding him for upturning a jug of wine over his wounds, something about it being expensive and hard to get these days). ‘’I-....fuck, I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time.’’ Scotland’s palm tightened around the blade, lips pursed together in prayer. ‘’And uh-...’’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘’Sorry about this.’’ ‘’What-’’ France almost bucked as Scotland removed the blade, cursing loudly - palm shoved into his cheek as he arced in pain. Teeth grit, vinegar stinging as Scotland pressed the cool cloth against his wound, hauberk gingerly removed with a practised haste (how many times had his friend done this again? Poor Scotland, who acted more like a nurse more times than France could count on one hand). ‘’Merde-!’’ He clenched his eyes shut, hissing through his teeth as Scotland bound his wound, stemming the flow. ‘’...Shit, it needs to be cauterised.’’ Scotland simply nodded mutely, his face angular in the shadows and light of the tent - with an expression that tore France’s heart in two. ‘’...why are you sorry about not being there? You were there, I-...I don’t know what you mean, Scotland.’’

Scotland sighed, pushing his palm against the wound as he barked at someone to fetch the physician. ‘’France, isn’t it obvious?’’ He bound the wound shut with the cloth, a ragged bandage that he hoped would at least save off any blood-loss until the physician arrived. ‘’I-I…you got stabbed by my brother and-’’ Scotland shook his head furiously, staring at France as he stemmed the flow of blood, his fingers (for the moment now anyway, Scotland not wanting to risk - not even for a moment - that his friend’s life might slip between his fingers) steady as he pressed against France’s wound. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He knew his brother’s pride would give no reprieve, nor would the squabbles of royals and lords and dukes (their names blended into one, a dull, furious buzz in the back of Scotland’s head). ‘’Fuck-’’ Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why (good grief) did France and England make everything so complicated?

‘’Scotland…’’

He shook his head, leaning forward to gently hold France close - or as close as his friend’s wound would allow him, heart hammering against his chest. Scotland wasn’t stupid, he understood just as well as anyone else the complexities of heirs, of kings and thrones, of land and titles. His brother was relentless, and of course, like any good ally, France had stepped in to fight England when he felt he was getting too rowdy. ‘’I just-’’ His brother had hurt France, over and over. His brother had hurt him, yet he could still recall that soft face, those round cheeks - the tracks that his tears had left behind, England trembling in his arms, a small boy too long separated from his older brother. ‘’-Why is my family so…complicated?’’

France licked his lips (tangy, the taste of iron flooding his mouth) as he squirmed beneath Scotland, shaking his head. ‘’I-I don’t know,’’ France reached out towards Scotland, clinging onto his forearm, squeezing gently - as if to drag Scotland back here, back into the tent, back with him, where he was safe.

‘’Ugh.’’ Scotland groaned wearily, slumping by France’s side - awkwardly cradled close to France on the narrow cot, burying his face in the tangle of golden hair, eyes squeezing shut as he wrapped his arms around France. ‘’You’re just about the only uncomplicated thing in my life.’’ He mumbled, voice husky as he kissed the back of France’s head, taking a deep breath - as if it was just the one that he needed to keep going. Their bodies were warm as they huddled together, Scotland trembling as he gently combed through France’s hair, threading the hair gingerly between his fingers. ‘’I’ll fight twice as hard, no, thrice as hard for you next time.’’ He swallowed a lump in his throat, shaking his head. ‘’Just…just don’t throw yourself away, France.’’ He’d seen his friend’s crumpled, broken body in the mud; Had seen that familiar defiance break like glass, a stained glass splintering in the sunlight, a saint martyred - hung, gutted and quartered, brow fractured and broken, France bearing pain like it were a halo.

‘’...Scotland, it’s what I am.’’ A flag. A banner. Something for humans to rally around, France was not going to falter over being afraid of getting hurt. He curled up, wincing as his wound smarted, a stifled hiss between grit teeth. ‘’The people love me.’’ France blinked furiously, nose curling in disgust (frustration, he’d thought he’d given up crying a long time ago). ‘’They love me as long as I succeed.’’ The final syllable was practically snarled out, France shaking his head grimly. ‘’No offence, but your brother - your brother - is ruining everything for me.’’ Burgundy had joined his side, insistent that his throne could become England’s too, and his kingdom felt like it was fracturing, splintering - burning, and everyone’s expectations were on him. ‘’Why else am I here, Scotland?’’ France tried not to sob, his body rattling - too lean, too starved, too weak - as he gripped Scotland’s forearms. ‘’They won’t love me otherwise.’’ Scotland’s heart broke, and he sat up - pulling France up with him. ‘’That’s bullshit, I’m sorry-’’ He cleared his throat, a hand drifting to ghost along France’s jawline as he took a deep breath. Between the two of them, France always had the knack of talking - had always been one of the most charming (and quick) people that he’d known, and Scotland had never especially been much of a talker; He just hoped France appreciated the directness of his tone, Scotland leaning forward to kiss his friend on the forehead, humming tenderly. ‘’-I never thought you could talk so much shit for someone with a pretty face.’’ ‘’I-...’’ ‘’France, I love you. I love you so, so much.’’ Scotland’s eyes widened as he stared at his friend, taking France’s hand gently. ‘’You’re here because you’re here. I-I don’t buy into this grand purpose, I think you’re here because you’re wanted. People care about you, France.’’ He smiled tenderly, leaning forward to kiss France on the tip of his nose. ‘’I love you. I love your stories, your hair, your laugh.’’ He brushed France’s hair behind his ear, before gently wiping his tears away. ‘’I don’t love you because you…beat up my brother whenever he’s getting rowdy on my side of the border-’’ Scotland snorted. ‘’I love you because you’re my friend. Remember when we stole a boat and sailed across the North Sea? You stole some wine from that merchant…’’

France chuckled, a rosy blush spreading across his face as he nodded wearily. ‘’I remember, yeah.’’ They’d been so stupid, and France knew it had been reckless - concern furrowing his brow as he wondered just how they had not been caught - or had the boat scuttled against rocks, but then he looked at Scotland’s face (so open, honest and warm), and his heart swelled with affection. ‘’...How?’’ He croaked softly. ‘’How and why, are you so lovely?’’ ‘’Dunno, suppose I just love you that much.’’ Scotland shrugged, smiling at France. ‘’Just remember you’re so much more than just…just being a fucking beast on the battlefield. Just promise me that you’ll remember that you deserve so much more.’’ He breathed out, in a whisper so reverent, that briefly France thought he were divine; A saint’s altar, gently plucked from the mud and tenderly tucked into the sunlight, and the way Scotland looked at him… Well, France would be lying if he claimed his heart didn’t skip a beat. ‘’I-I promise.’’

I promise. Anything for you, Scotland.

(Hi, yes. I was the anon that sent an ask to Senditothemoon about fighting off the urge to write a Scotfra fic set in the 100 years war in like...November, and now I've finally done it. This fic healed my soul).

#hws scotland #hws france #aph france #aph scotland #scotfra #frascot

54 notes · View notes

autistichwsamerica · 2 years

Conversation

HWS Scotland: Are you trying to seduce me?

HWS France: Why, are you seducible?

#Hetalia #incorrect quotes #frascot #scotfra #hws france #Francis bonnefoy #hws scotland #source: a walk to remember #auld alliance

52 notes · View notes

kopisoreko · 6 months

Text

Heyy! Hetalia Roleplay Request!

Honestly im quite desperate.

Hetalia 18+ rp wanted

Just hit me up i'm always down as long its not anything historical related because i know ill disappoint you. Im more active in discord though, feel free to send me request and message there! Kopi#3971 I have been roleplaying for like, 7 years more or less. My Character/s: While i also play some character (And probably will for the sake enriching the world/AU), my main star will always be France as im just way too comfortable using him.

Character/s wanted: Any, really, i’m a multishipper when it with France as long as it’s not Franada, FraSey or FraMona. Some of my favourite are, FraGer, ScotFra, FraPan, FrAin and FrUK. Sorry but no OC, im not good handling them quite to be honest Rp Lenght: I love doing literate to novella, though i would also often matching the lenght with my partner RP description: Humanverse with any type of AU. Cardverse is my favourite. I LOVE angst and Drama and have no problem killing off the main character. I have some plots in my draft so if you dont know what to play just yet ill be happy showing you those. Im open with NSFW as well. Trigger: I dont have anything specific actually, so just go wild and dont make its all about your character i guess? It suck all the fun for me.

#Hetalia RP#Hetalia roleplay#hetalia#aph france#roleplay request#roleplay#hws#fruk#gerfra#frapan

#Hetalia RP #Hetalia roleplay #hetalia #aph france #roleplay request #roleplay #hws #fruk #gerfra #frapan #aph frain #scotfra #frascot

6 notes · View notes

suiyoubis · 3 months

Text

youtube

frascotation — kuchiguze ga utsuru

#frascotation #フラスコテーション #jrock #music #Youtube

0 notes

mustela28nivalis · 1 year

Text

#aph #hws #hetalia #poll #aph scotland #hws scotland

13 notes · View notes

frukmerunning · 1 year

Note

FraScot > FrUk

I couldn't get behind scotfra for the longest time because Scotland wasn't even canon. Go stupid crazy tho

Fruk is always gonna rank highly on my personal list

#hetalia #rayanne rambles

7 notes · View notes

hetakinkmemeblog · 10 months

Note

Frascot

Top France, Bottom Scotland

Request #139

If you fill this request please submit an anonymous ask or submission with the AO3 link or reblog with your fill

#request 139 #hws f/rance #hws s/cotland #scotfra

0 notes

wise-weasel · 1 year

Text

#hetalia #hws #aph #hws scotland #aph scotland

1 note · View note

apoetstears · 3 months

Text

If I were to host a ScotFra/FraScot week, would anyone be interested?

#ScotFra #FraScot #Hetalia #Hetalia Scotland #Hetalia France #aph scotland #aph france #hws scotland #hws france

8 notes · View notes

balladofthewhitehorse · 11 months

Note

4 & 5 for Scotland (+ any others you want to answer!) if you feel like it 💖

Of course! Thank you so much for sending an ask! You know I’m always happy to share my HCs (and write about ScotFra ;3c).

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos?

Scotland has plenty of scars; His skin might as well be both a canvas and a memoir. He’s been through a lot and is an all-round, relatively rugged looking individual; Scotland has a large burn scar on his back, the consequence of the Great Fire of Edinburgh when he got caught under a crumbling building (and how he helped to rebuild his city, piece by piece). Gunshot scars and the like pepper his skin, his arms criss-crossed with dozens and dozens of battles. Scotland was a fighter and a protector, his nose broken many times over (a bump on his nose bridge, the bone healed awkwardly) and his chest pierced far too many times for Scotland to remember as little more than a patchwork of terrifying conflicts (a large, gash in between his pecs - calloused and ragged). His hands, too, are scarred and wear the consequence of a lifetime of self-sacrifice; Scotland has far too many for me to recount them all, although the some of the more notable ones are as follows - not in chronological order:

Large burn scar on his back (Great Fire Of Edinburgh, collapsed building)

Laceration scar that goes from his shoulder to across his left pec (Battle Of Rough Wooing, England struck him with a broadsword)

Gunshot wound on his left shoulder (WW1, Battle Of the Somme)

Scar on his cheek (Hundred Years War, Shot by an Arrow)

In terms of tattoos, Scotland does not tend to have any.

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?

Oh boy, you want the heartrending stuff? Or well, not heartrending; Quite the opposite actually, Scotland doesn’t tend to cry often and most of the time, he keeps his emotions to himself. The last time that he cried, however, was during his wedding. He’s a very doting individual, loyal to his friends and family, caring deeply for those close to him the most - and a marriage to him, was like an oath of immense proportions. When they exchanged rings, something rare for immortal beings like them (such promises are hard to keep, eternity all too real for them - ‘till death do us part’, except death is almost intagiable for them), Scotland had to hold back tears - and later on, behind closed doors, he stared at France - and wept.

How did he get so lucky, Scotland wonders, having used to spend his teen years wondering if he would ever make it out alive? Loveless, battle-scarred and shrouded in his own, blinding notions of what was just and right, Scotland did not always consider that there was room for love in his life. That there was room for tenderness and comfort in his life, until France made him tender, made him gentle, until he fell in love with France all those centuries ago.

He held France close, breathing in his perfumed hair and holding his beautiful hands - if this was an illusion, then let him be blinded; If this was a dream, then let him sleep. Yet, when Scotland looked at France’s eyes and kissed the man he loved, he found this was very, very real - and wept.

#hws scotland #hws france #scotfra #hws scotfra #frascot #hws frascot

17 notes · View notes

koolkat9 · 2 years

Note

Hope it okay to still request something, I wish you'd write a fic where Scotland's brothers find out he's dating France ❤️ I love your writing btw

Awww thank you anon!

Okay let's go!

- So, Arthur, Dylan and Conner are suppose to be out of the house for the night, so Alastair decides to invite Francis over for some alone time

- Simple movie night until the rest of the UK bros returned unannounced, finding Alastair and Francis cuddled up to each other

- Alastair freaks and immediately scrambles away from Francis, Arthur is floored, Conner has a knowing smirk on his face, and Dylan is just happy his brother found someone

- Arthur gets mad because despite having been over Francis for years, Francis is still his best friend and the man was also his childhood crush. Plus Arthur just likes to find reasons to be angry at Allie

- Francis is pushed to the background. For awhile, annoyance about keeping themselves a secret had been brewing and to be pushed away like he was, that feeling is made worse. He would have stormed out if it wasn't for Dylan's comforting and welcoming words.

- Francis eventually excuses himself and heads out back to the garden

- Alastair comes across Francis when he heads out to cool down. He knows right away Francis is angry, but he doesn't know what to say.

"I...I'm sorry," Alastair eventually said.

Francis remained silent.

"I got carried away."

"You think that's what this is about?" Francis snapped.

"What?"

Francis let out a bitter laugh. "It's not the 13th century anymore. So why do we hide behind closed doors?"

- Alastair finally understands, he wasn't listening or paying attention to his lover-> he immediately apologizes-> "I'm so sorry...I-I never meant to make you think I didn't want this I just...I'm not use to love and it's not like my brothers are easy to talk to but...I love you so much Francis and I should have been more honest to you and to everyone.

- When Francis doesn't speak, Alastair leans against him, murmuring one last apology which is finally enough

- They turn behind them to find Arthur, Dylan and Conner all listening in-> Arthur reluctantly apologizes for his actions and they all head back inside for some tea-> Dylan, Conner and Arthur all ask questions: "How long has this been going on?" "What was your first date like?" "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" etc.

- The night turns light-hearted and peaceful and Francis decides to stay the night

THE END

I wish you would write a fic where...

#hetalia #hws #scotfra #frascot #hws france #hws scotland #uk bros #hws england #hws wales #hws northern ireland #fanfiction ask game #fanfiction asks #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

27 notes · View notes