Hetalia England X France Novels & Stories

I am Jean from Channel 9 -” “I haven’t seen you before,” Hailey pointed. “I’m new,” Guillaume replied, then gave Hailey a sexy grin. “And hot! Plus, I like your accent and your name,” Hailey remarked. “What can I do for you?” “I am French. Channel 9 is giving its viewers… a taste of French men,” Guillaume suggested. Hailey giggled and responded, “Well, I’ve tasted a French man and it was hot.”

I whispered before opening my eyes and looking back at the screen. A little later, I got up because I had to pick up France. I needed to shower and get dressed. --- Later at France's school, the children were having fun in a classroom, throwing paper and climbing on chairs. France was currently laughing with his friends surrounding his table, while several girls suddenly confessed to the young boy. "No, I'm not interested in you," France said flatly. The girl’s eyes widened, and she asked how she could get his interest. France smiled sweetly and said he would only be interested in a girl if she looked as good as his mommy.

I glanced at him and saw the look of pride smothered on his face, which baffled me. Why did he have that expression as if my words had brought him delight? It was not as if I was referring to him. "Now I know you did not even protest and dismissed me so easily when Marquis Cantavalle called our engagement..." Warren growled, offended at my words. "Tss!" Britanny scoffed. "Your deceased mate is supposed to be mine in the first place! That includes him! And him!" She pointed at Warren and Niccolo. "Why did you have to steal the man I had come to like, Dominixe?" She saddened her voice before she gripped her rapier sword. "Now, I am getting mad just by seeing your ugly face!" With that, Britann

An Amateur in London: Heather enjoys lesbian sex while Luca watches... for a while. [All characters are over 18 years of age.] Walking to the ferry that would take us across the English Channel from Calais, France to Dover, England, we passed a long line of tractor-trailers waiting to drive on. The good-looking driver of one of the trucks caught Heather's eye, and she walked over to the side of his cab. Looking down at her he would have had a great view down her loose-fitting blouse at her braless tits.

Trista’s POV “Monsieur Alpha Liam,” the man said, reaching for Liam’s hand. He took Liam’s hands in his and shook them. Then he leaned in and air kissed Liam on either cheek. “Tres wonderful! I am Alpha Lemone, of the Dove Song Pack in France. We are so honored to be here.” “Ahem,” the girl beside him said, batting her eyelashes at Liam.

she smiled, trying to play along. “Anna Steel.” France beamed, he was perfect. Everything about him was perfect, even her middle name was perfect in his lips. “Yes.” “Do not forget our date.” “I don’t think I’m up for it anymore,” Raven teases, waiting patiently for his reaction. “I can tell when you’re lying,” he chuckled. “I have to go now.” Suddenly, she wasn’t happy anymore. “I love you.” France muttered before ending the call. ***^^^^**^ Thanks for reading! Incase you’re wondering, this book is gradually coming to an end. Kindly ignore my typos. Xoxo.

Bianca replied seriously, giving him a firm nod. Till immediately perked up his ears and began to wag his tail. "Oh... I can be very quick, but I don't think this would be appropriate to satisfy my Mate...I mean, Emmanuelle," began Harry. "Quite, it would not be gentlemanly, and we would not want to strain the relationship between France and the U.S.," Bianca said. "Absolutely," agreed Harry, giving her a knowing look. "Some things take skill and preparation time..." Bianca replied, nodding her head in agreement.

She knew Spain and France were allies and hopefully, after this, Portugal would be on the table. Later that night, she was sitting with Felipe writing a letter to Louis asking him if he was coming t the coronation and if he thought he could get Italy on board. She was almost sure they would. Spain and France were catholic and England was protestant. That right there should be enough to convince them.

She turned her back to him but he chuckled, coming closer. "My dear Horatia, I fear you and I are England and France. We quarrel and battle and therein lies the pleasure of our relationship." He brushed back a loose curl that had draped over her shoulder. She flinched, though not from displeasure. Even the barest hint of heat from him was something she could not endure for much longer without wanting to turn in his arms and beg for a kiss.