Hetalia England X France Novels & Stories

This is not to alarm you but I'm trying to give you reasons although no reason will ever be able to explain why I can't be there taking responsibility. The King of France has decided to hand us an alliance. They have many well trained men for war and necessary war ammunitions in conclusion France is a big enough country/Kingdom to take Germany and Greece down. To make this alliance stronger than ever, The King of France requests of me to marry his daughter... Princess Amelia.

The king scratched his right ear and moved the phone to his left ear, “It was really urgent so I had to.” “Oh?” “I would really love if you could send Juliet down so she and Felix will get to know each other well" “Then I must say that is a very pleasant idea!” “I'm sorry this is coming all of a sudden I—” “—It's fine. Juliet will be in England tommorow.” The king smiled, impressed. “It's a pleasure having this alliance with you.” He said through the phone. “Me too.” Then the line went dead. Let's see how you escape the charm of the princess of France.

Fae hardly had the first syllable of protest out before Ella hung up on her. She quickly pulled up her web browser and searched for the article in question. Sure enough, there it was. The headline said, “Frenchman Gets Cozy with the Mysterious Montague.” Swearing beneath her breath, Ella read through the article. It was short. Basically, it said that the two were spotted having drinks at Chavet, but that it was obvious they were seeing each other by the way they were touching each other and kept kissing! The last two words made a fire burn inside of her. She hadn’t let that disgusting pig kiss her even once! On the cheek didn’t count!

“Acceptable.” Her grip almost slipped. “You—” she sputtered, torn between indignation and relief. Finally, his eyes lifted, frost and fire both in their depths. “Finish your notes for this morning. Then clear your schedule for the week.” She blinked, forgetting momentarily that he hadn’t even tasted the coffee. “Sir?” “We’re leaving for France.” The words fell like stones into her chest. France. With him. Her pulse jumped wildly.

“We both did, tesoro. Now France is ours too.” The talks had dragged, but the deal was ironclad. As Henri’s car sped toward Verona’s airport, Dante and I retreated to the study’s couch, his arm around me. “France is a big move,” he said, voice low. “You sure about this, principessa?” I nodded, leaning into him. “Henri’s hungry for power, but he’s smart. This alliance gives us a foothold abroad, and those earpieces? They’ll keep him loyal. For now.”

“I knew it would work.” Their faces are too close to each other and a little tiptoe would touch their lips together. The same tension was there again and France knows this is a dangerous game he is playing. “France…” “Take responsibility for your words, Lev. Make me yours.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ France never had the need to suppress his voice and yet here is, being a virgin-like boy who’s too shy to even moan while his ass is getting prepared. He’s done this before and yet he really feels embarrassed right now being on all fours like this as Lev is busying himself.

It had been too long; he wanted to take her. Raising his head, he noted her flushed face and swollen mouth with satisfaction as he growled, ’Who is that?’ She laughed, breathlessly. Her hands were on his arms as she said, “Brian. I mean, Brain Gaulle...’ Before she could go on, he rumbled, ‘The Frenchman from Bhutan who wanted to f*ck you.’ His eyes moved to her face as her expression altered. She turned pink as she said, “Lucien, do not…’

Sure you would. -Insurance. It is the country of love after all. Impossible not to like it. I already hate her . Gael puts his hand on mine again. "You said it, queen, the country of love." He approaches to kiss my cheek. Here you will be conquered by anything and anyone. I understand the hint you're offering me and I hate the attributions you take to get so close to me, and touch me like that, without permission. —France is not called the country of love. The city of Paris is,” Delia clarifies. She bites into her meat and looks at me. A look that I try to understand.

Turning to face the guy who was grinning at her like a Cheshire cat, Angelina smiled before she responded, "Hello, English guy with the blondest hair!" "Nah, I'm not English. I'm a hundred percent Frenchman, born and bred in England!" "Doesn't that make you an English guy? Even your accent speaks volumes of that." "Well, if you say that, beau! (handsome). French by blood, English by heart!" Angelina chuckled as Ethan winked at her before she replied, "Oh no, I would say English by citizenship and French by heart because you're so…so…"