Hetalia X Reader LEMONS!

France X Reader!

"A-A-Ahh! I-I'm g-gonna!" 

"Say my name! SCREAM IT!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~4 months ago~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dammit, I'm late!" you huffed, walking as fast as you could.

You had recently acquired a part time job at an up-and-coming fancy French restaurant. Today was a very important day as an esteemed food critic would be visiting, and you were already late.

You didn't know how you had managed to get this job after seeing all the way more beautiful women lining up for the job, but you weren't about to lose it this quick- especially on your first week.

As you approached the back door you stopped, regained both your breath and composure, and pushed the door open.

You were greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Chefs were rushing back and forth across the white tiled floor with trays full of ingredients, and barking orders at anyone near enough. Waiters were standing around, dotted in random places in the kitchen, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Y/N!" you heard someone bark on your right.

Feeling your heart sink you turned your head to see the owner of the restaurant, Michelle Durand, heading your way with an expression on her face that could freeze a person's blood.

"Where the hell have you been?!" she questioned, glaring at you with a lion-like ferocity, her green eyes burning into yours. 

You looked at her and suppressed a gasp- she was usually so elegant and neat, but today her brown hair was tied into a messy top-bun, strands of hair escaping and framing her head, and her normally pristine white jacket was creased and had all manner of stains on it. She was clearly under the stress too.

Before you could even stutter a lame excuse, she continued her torrent of raging words.

"In case you did not realise, we have a highly prestigious FOOD CRITIC visiting us TODAY! And as if that wasn't enough, that damn critic seems to have invoked that hunger of the whole bloody town! We are full to the BRINK!" she yelled in a strong French accent, capturing the attention of everyone in the room and earning you a few sympathetic glances.

You turned around to face the double doors that linked the kitchen to the actual restaurant and peeked through the circular windows at the top of each door. 

The woman was clearly not exaggerating- the room was packed full of chattering customers. No wonder all the waiters had looked so horrified- they clearly had not dealt with anything on this extreme a scale before!

You attempted to utter a word of sorry but she silenced you by wagging a finger in your face.

"I do not want to hear ANY of your excuses! Go get changed and GET TO WORK! RAPIDEMENT!!!"

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" you yelped and rushed to the changing rooms.

A few minutes later you stepped out, nervously tugging at the hem of your skirt.

You didn't particularly like your uniform- a skin tight, white shirt with a short black blazer and an uncomfortably short skirt.

The only reason you put up with this was because you needed the money- hopefully you would have a better paid, full-time job soon.

One where you didn't have to wear such revealing, 'appealing' clothes.

You made your way through the red double doors to the writhing, hungry mass of customers. It felt like you were walking right into the mouth of a lion.