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France x Reader: A Mother's Love

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France x Reader: A Mother's Love

Author's note: In this story I am attempting at a French accent for (duh) France in order (I hope) to help personify his character better. I watched/read videos/articles to help me with this tedious process and please do bear with in my poor attempts to convey this accent though typing (it might also help if you mentally repeat the sentence in a French accent). Feel free to ask clarification questions, via comment, if you truly cannot understand anything he is saying, and I will both respond and add it to the description.
P.S. I forgot to mention that the title of this tale might not make sense at first but as the story progresses all will be revealed. Now then, enjoy.

~France's POV~

There she is. Tender feelings flutter about at the very thought of her, ah… I wonder how such an angel as she could ever be walking amongst the mortals of this planet. Her shining (h/c) tress flowing down in rivulets to frame the face carved by fairies. The two gems people call eyes, a beautiful shade of (e/c) that was not one dimensional but intricate pools of color that deepened and glittered in the florescent lights. Oh, if only I could hold those delicate creamy (s/c) hands in my own. If only I would hold her in my arms and protect her from this world. If only she were to be mine… but whoa is me that such a creature of perfection is intangible by a lowly beast such as I. Ah, but I love her secretly, in my mind. In the quiet isolation of thoughts and memories she forever dances. I can still remember the day we met quite clearly… as if it were yesterday… it was the happiest day of my life without me knowing it…

~Franc-y flash back~

I was walking down the street of this small town in (country), when I saw a pretty girl chatting with her equally pretty friends.

"Mmmm… zose pretty ladies look as if zey could use some love, no?" thinking to myself with delight about which on would look the best draped in my arms. "Zee brunet? …non zee blonds? …maybe zee red… oh! I know! 'ow about zee brunet on my rig't arm, zee red'ead on my left, and have zee blonds 'olding zee romantic candles… honhonhonhonhon."

Spotting a flower shop near by I gracefully power walked over in hopes to find something to impress the ladies. Too distracted by the prospect of company for tonight, to actually look at much of anything until the tinkling of the small bell above the door snapped me out of my reverie. My nose immediately filled with the strongest sweetest aromas of the chocolate daisies, bouncing bets, and Kathy roods. Quickly glancing around at the various flowers, barely glancing at the other brightly colored flora searching until finally spotting my prize. Swiftly, I made my way over to the marvelously colored roses.

Ah… roses. My favorite flowers. Layers of delicately painted petals of various colors ranging form the pure virgin whites un-touched with defiling color, to the deep violet which is shrouded in mysterious auras, and cute oranges & pinks as sweet in smell as it is in appearance. While my eyes lingered on the whites and the yellows, working my way down the isle to the reds, my favorite of all the blooming beauties. Only to smash into something or should I say… someone.

Looking down I saw a small figure on the ground, (h/c) hair veiling the face of this poor woman. Quickly I squat down and ask (as any decent person would do) if they were okay. All I hear is a quick inhalation of breath and saw trembling shoulders. Concern filled me at this. Tentatively I lifted my hand to reassuringly touch her head… then a melodious laugh that sent out sweet notes to fill the room, burst forth from this figure. A private symphony cascaded from her lips, which if there were to be anyone in the store with us, would have stopped even the most cold hearted people to stare and to listen. She quickly brushed the hair from her face, revealing soft checks dusted with pale cherry, a warm inviting smile, and a pair captivating (e/c) eyes that seemed to shimmer with life. Quickly I help her up and patiently waited for her short bout of laughter to end.

I heard her manage an "I'm so sorry, sir." between stifled giggles.

"Oh… eh… I em zee one oo~ should be sorry. It was moi oo~ waz not watching w'ere I waz go~'ing! 'ow 'orrable for moi, to 'arm a belle dame!"

"Hehe," her giggles were back, but she responded all the same. "… Sir… there really is no need for you to blame yourself. Please, let us call it an accident and leave it at that," her smile sending tingles up my spine. "But anyways… before our little incident, I was coming over to see if you needed any help. Oh- I'm ______ , by the way."

"I'm Francis," confusedly I politely shook her outstretched hand. "but uh… 'elp? W'y would I need…" looking down I noticed that she had a black apron with the store name on… understanding dawned on me. "Oh… well I… um… wanted zees roses!" hastily I grabbed a hand full of flowers… and cut up my hand.

Tears welling in my eyes I hastily turned away and bit down hard on my handkerchief to stifle moans of pain and humiliation. Oh what a fool I have been to forget my own favorite flower, like a woman, had sharp barbs to protect it's beauty from those who wished to harm it. Embarrassedly I shut my eyes, waiting for this pretty woman to laugh at me, at my idiocy. Then I felt something that took me off guard, a warmth enveloping my injured hand. Peeking though my eyelashes I saw something that was so… unique, no, something so lovely and foreign to me that I will forever bear the image in my mind. The woman, who I did not know, whom I had embarrassed, whom had just witnessed me make a fool of myself! Standing there holding my bleeding hand in her small delicate ones, with a look of pure concern filling here eyes.

It was unusual for me to receive such compassion from someone, someone like a woman. Usually women who I don't know have their fun and depart leaving little imprint on the mind, but her, oh no, she would last. Last as an image throughout the changes of time.

She didn't meet my eyes but gently pulled me along, leaving the mess of dropped roses on the floor behind us. Leading me behind the counter to sit down on a cold barstool with a damp towel. Leaving me to clean my cuts. I watched as she rummaged though a drawer. Triumph. Hastily pulling out a box of bandages and disinfectant, she made her way back to me and proceeded to wipe the little bit of blood left off my fingers. Feeling her hand holding mine… I could feel my cheeks and ears becoming warm…


~Third person POV~

Francis was swooning over the owner of a lovely little flower shop. She was not a girl but a woman. A woman, who he felt was flawless in every way imaginable. She was gentler than a breeze. Her voice was softer and mellower than any song. She was more beautiful than any rose. She was an angel descended to earth in his eyes.

He did not lust for her like all the other women in his life. Oh, no. He loved her as a man should love a woman. He loved her in the heart fluttering, pupil dilating, mind numbing kind of way. His affections for her was as sweet as honey and as pure as a newly born fawn in the forest of the world. Love, this love, was so strong that only the love of a mother rivals it. For the love and devotion for a mother's child is the most powerful thing in the world. It is sweeter than the bee's honey, purer that notes from an angel's harps, and as protective as the stag or doe that defend that newly born fawn.

After the chance "little run in" the two had stopped from their busy lives and had quite a lively conversation. Only when time made itself evident was it forced to end and both to depart, back to their lives. Once Francis had left and was walking back to his normal life, had he had a revelation: What if it had been fate that had led to their encounter? It must have been! For a man without love to have fallen so deeply, it must be so! And since that day he made it a top priority to visit almost everyday. In doing this he ensured a sort of friendship between the two and in his eyes a stepping-stone to something much, much more.

~France POV~

Today I will ask. Today is the day. Not like all the other days when I said it was the day, but today IT IS THE DAY! The day when I will make my move, the day when I take the first step! Today is the perfect day! The sun is shining and it's only half past noon when most people would not be there (they all would be out for lunch)! Perfect!!!

"Je peux le faire. Ce n'est pas une grosse affaire ... pas grand-chose... [I can do this. This is no big deal… no big deal…]," I quietly mumbled my self a short pep talk of sorts outside of her shop and taking what felt as if it were my last breath before the plunge. Setting my stare I flung the door wide.

And let an elderly couple exit the building… Today is not the day. Entering a little deflated after allowing the two to leave, I made my way to my usual section: rose isle. Staring emptily at them I quietly glanced up and just though the petals and leaves saw the apple of my eye smiling at another well served customer.

That particular shopper seemed to be someone that she knew because they started to converse amongst themselves. The woman was around 40-50 (proper cougar age; she wasn't one though) she was a plump woman who had a kind air about her and seemed kind of chatty. Never in my life was I as envious of an older woman then I was at that moment. Except for maybe that one time… I tried in vein to block out the two women talking so avidly talking about something.

Quietly, I crept through the display of begonias past the babies' breath and tiger lilies into the denser arrangement of flowers; this corner of the shop looked more like a mini jungle than something you would find in a cute little shop. I squatted behind the snapdragons and forget-me-nots, knowing that my position would be not be compromised. I listened intently to the bits of conversation that made its way to my wanting ears.

"…____, you have been looking particularly chipper lately. A boyfriend, perhaps? If not my son is a doctor and is currently available."

"W-what? Oh no, no Mrs. Finn," _____'s checks were dusted in polite, yet very embarrassed blush. "Nothing of the sort, I have already got two boys in my life and I would never date either of them. I must politely decline, I am not interested in… um… men who um… work in hospitals! Yes, hospitals, discussing places, filled with germs."

My heart hammered in my chest, when she said two boys whom did she mean? Was I one of them? Was I someone she finds unattractive and would never date!?  I could only find solace when I saw her grabbing for straws for reasons to not date Mrs. Finn's boy. I leaned in even more hoping beyond hope that the "two boys" thing would be clarified.

"Oh yes, yes. I completely understand, I was rather upset when Jacob first decided to become a doctor as well. I'll put in a word for you anyways tough, eh?" she slipped in a conspiratorial wink that ____ tactfully missed.

My grip on a potted lavender slipped sending me sprawling of the floor… in front of Mrs. Finn… and ____. I tried to keep a calm stony expression, but could feel my blood rushing to my checks and ears. Not breaking eye contact. I slowly picked my self up, dusted off, and picking up the knocked over broken looking flowering bush that broke my fall. I walked over and set it on the counter.

"I woo~ld like to buy zis…er…plant," in a total deadpan I indicated the sad little shrubbery and proceeded to pull my wallet out of my back pocket.

"…Francis…?"

to be continued...
Hello. This is my very first Country x Reader insert ever!!!! I have been struggling for that past month (*cough More that one cough*) at trying to write a decent story.
AND IT IS DONE! I have finally powered though my other work and my pure laziness to finish something! XD

This is actually going to be a a beta of sorts. It anyone chooses to comment (please do!!) I will see if there is a negative, positive, or neutral feel about the thick accent I gave to Francis. If no one comments I'll just assume a green flag and continue (or if i feel it sucks bad I'll change it).
I am really (sort of) familiar with a thick french accent. because I once had a coach who was French (his family was American but he was born and raised in France). I also went the extra mile and looked at posts and videos about accents and tried to apply it to typing. It was actually kind of interesting, the guy made more for different accents too (accent how-to video: www.videojug.com/film/how-to-d….

But I digress, this story, I am planning to brake into parts (you probably already know that). I actually was only planning for a one shot, but got carried away with it and it ended up more like 6+ pages and decided to cut it into parts. :)

Also I just found the picture on google and it is not mine nor do I know to whom it belongs to, so it you know please tell me.

If there are any grammatical or spelling errors please point them out. (I'm dyslexic so I don't expect it to be perfect).

Link to Chapter 2: villainkomandr.deviantart.com/…

Also I had help from the wonderful :iconostara-frost:
Please comment! I would like feed back.

Hetalia and Francis belong to Hidekaz Himaruya
Story belongs to me.
© 2013 - 2024 VillainKomandr
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Sk8rchic2000's avatar
I died at the whole 'Princess and The Frog' Thing....