Hetalia Oneshots

Francis (France) x Reader - Flirt

It was an ordinary morning at the shop. Sunlight filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow over bouquets of peonies, roses, and lilacs—all freshly arranged and smelling divine. The bell above the door chimed as three familiar figures strolled in. I didn't have to look up to know who they were. Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio.

The local 'gang' were notorious figures around town, but mostly because they were overly confident and sometimes a bit arrogant. They stopped by my shop more often than necessary, usually never actually buying anything and instead took the opportunity to torment me, but I enjoyed their nonsense, it was a great distraction on dull and slow days.

Gilbert and Antonio immediately scattered to inspect the blooms, trading jokes and discussing the merits of the different flowers as if they were wine. But Francis... oh, Francis. He strode straight to the counter, his blue eyes holding a mischievous spark. As always, I thought, he knew just how to make an entrance.

I was determined not to make a fool of myself this time, keeping my eyes fixed on the small stack of order slips in front of me, but it was a futile effort. He leaned in casually, his arm brushing the edge of the counter as he looked down at me with that half-smile, an expression I couldn't quite decipher. Was he serious? Teasing? I could never be sure.

"Bonjour, belle," he greeted smoothly, the word rolling off his tongue with practised ease.

My heart skipped a beat at the nickname, my cheeks flushing a little. Stop it, I reminded myself. He's just being Francis. I gave him a polite, if a little shaky, smile. "Bonjour, Francis. Lovely day out, isn't it?"

"A beautiful day," he agreed, eyes still fixed on me, "but not nearly as beautiful as the lady behind the counter. Do you realize that every time I walk into this shop, it feels like a scene from a dream?"

I nearly choked, hiding my flustered reaction by looking away to rearrange some nearby flowers. My fingers trembled slightly and I mentally cursed my own shyness. It was always like this with Francis; he seemed to have an endless supply of sweet lines, each one more poetic than the last. And every single time, I couldn't tell if he was serious or just amusing himself by watching me blush.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. "You... have a very interesting way of seeing things, Francis."

"Only when I see you, ma belle." He smiled, then tilted his head thoughtfully. "And here I was, thinking perhaps you keep this shop open on these slow days just so I might keep finding excuses to come back."

He was impossible. My face grew hotter by the second, and my hand nearly knocked over a vase as I tried to steady myself. "You lot don't even buy anything when you come in, why would I keep it open just for you?"

"To see me, chérie, and so that I can admire your beauty amidst the flowers. They don't do the same justice to the setting as you do after all," he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. Each word and phrase softened my resolve but I was careful not to get swept away. I almost forgot that I was in a public shop with customers other than him.

Meanwhile, in the background, I could hear Gilbert and Antonio discussing sunflowers with exaggerated importance, oblivious to the verbal tango taking place at the counter.

"May I ask, chérie," Francis continued, leaning a bit closer, "is there anyone who has captured your heart as thoroughly as these flowers have captured mine?"

My heart raced. His words felt like a pulse in my ears, leaving me both elated and completely unable to respond. Could he possibly be serious? Or was this just another of his lighthearted games?

Before I could stumble through a reply, he gently took my hand, his touch soft yet unmistakably there. "One day, ma belle, perhaps you will tell me." With a final, lingering smile, he let go, leaving me breathless and watching as he rejoined Gilbert and Antonio, who seemed oblivious to the scene that had just unfolded.