Wish Upon A Star || A Hetalia Story [Countries x Chubby!Reader]

Chapter 2: Meeting the Allies- France

Foreword: On the first day of class, the character will be meeting all of the Allies; on the second, the Axis powers. Be warned! I am partial to England, Germany, Russia, and America ... The fluff might get intense with those characters...

​After (Y/n) left Ivan at the bus station, she power-walked her way to class, skating in with only a few minutes to spare. As she scanned the classroom for open seats, her heart grew heavy with dread: It looked like the front of the room had some disease or the like, because all desks were taken aside from the front row. Muttering curses and prayers under her breath, she marched to the front row and slid behind the chair of the only person seated there, taking the spot next to them and sitting down with a huff. Mechanically, she took out her binder and pencils, yanking the folder open and scowling at the white board. A deep, musical chuckle from her side made (Y/n) turn, and she raised an eyebrow in question of the laughing man.

"Excuse me, is something funny?"

The man was staring at her with dark blue eyes, his stubbled mouth tilted in a crooked grin.

"I do not know, ma chérie. Is the rage of an attractive woman a laughing matter? Or, perhaps, a sensual one?"

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes narrowed dangerously; She did not mind light flirting, but sexual innuendo in the first greeting? That stretched her boundaries a little. Still, starting a conversation with her new classmate might take her mind off of the bad seating. The woman mimicked his smirk, waving her hand dismissively and turning to look at the classroom door, where the professor had just entered.

"As much as aggressive intercourse can be enjoyable, it must be done like a dance. I'm afraid my tastes don't include clumsy-footed signets. I appreciate the sentiment, though."

(Y/n) heard the man laugh quietly beside her, his voice low to avoid disturbing the professor's overview of the syllabus: "Mademoiselle, I believe we will be good friends..."

After going over the information needed to add or drop the class, the professor turned to look in the blonde's direction, her French accent making her voice shrill.

"In addition to the lab hours needed for this class, we have our own, personal Frenchman here to provide tutoring assistance to anyone who may need it. Monsieur, if you would...?"

The man looked down at (Y/n) with a kind smile, standing and moving to the front of the class beside the professor.

"Bonjour, mes amis! Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy. I will be your in-class tutor for this semester. Should you need anything--"

Francis looked at (Y/n), winking slyly before continuing: "-- Please, come to me."

With that, the professor shooed Francis back to his seat, glancing at (Y/n) and mouthing an apology before continuing with the syllabus. Straightening her (h/c) hair, the young woman looked at Francis as he sat down again, scolding him lightly: "Monsieur Bonnefoy, you are incorrigible."

Francis simply tossed his hair and leaned back in his seat, his eyes warm with amusement.

"Ah, but you love it, Mademoiselle...?"

"(Y/n) (L/n). And, I admit, I do."

Most of the class was spent listening to the professor go over the class schedule, and when things grew dull, Francis decided to make... interesting faces and expressions for (Y/n). Needless to say, she struggled to keep a straight face during the lecture, and by the time that the class was supposed to pair up to practice greetings, her normally (s/c) face was red from holding her breath. For the sake of convenience, (Y/n) partnered up with Francis to practice a conversation between two strangers.

"Okay, (Y/n), you start."

"Bonjour, Monsieur. Comment t'appelles-tu?"

"Bonne! Good! Je m'appelle Francis. Et toi?"

"Je m'appelle (Y/n)."

This continued for a little while longer, and (Y/n) began to get a sense for the Frenchman's personality: Sure, he was blatantly flirtatious, but he was also kind, patient, and had a warm sense of humor. Through their fake conversations, (Y/n) developed a friendly respect for him. Towards the end of class, while the teacher was taking attendance, Francis leaned forward on his arm, looking towards (Y/n) with a curious expression.

"Alors, (Y/n); you have a very good accent. Too good for your first class. Have you ever walked the streets of Paris, by any chance?"

The woman laughed lightly, finishing packing her bag and turning to face him: "Paris? Oh no, I haven't even left the country. But, I suppose this wouldn't be my first class... In elementary school, part of my curriculum was to study French and Latin. For five years, I took classes for both of them. I hardly remember anything, but the Latin roots and familiar words help me a little."

Francis grinned, his eyes shining in admiration.

"Oh la la! Beautiful and intelligent? You certainly are a wonderful woman."

"You can keep flattering me, Francis, I adore it. Just know that I am not interested in what it entails."

Before Francis could send another compliment in response, (Y/n) stood, holding her hand out to the man: "As strange as it sounds, I've enjoyed talking to you. Would you like me to enter my number in your phone? You are my tutor, after all, and I'll need to keep in touch."

The man seemed stunned for a moment, looking up at (Y/n) as though her (h/c) had suddenly formed a halo around her head. Before he could butcher this opportunity, he scrambled to pull out his phone. He handed the sleek, white smartphone to the woman, practically bouncing in his seat as her fingers skimmed over the screen. He made a move to kiss her fingers when she gave it back, but she deftly snatched her hand away, flicking his forehead and turning to walk away. As the door closed behind her, (Y/n) heard a certain laugh that made her groan and hang her head.

"I will tutor you in many things, ma chérie! Including how to stay in touch~!"