France x Reader - Hear My Heart

You gently ran your fingers through Francis’ soft blond locks, a smile pulling at your lips when you heard the Frenchman’s content sighs that came with your soothing touch.

At the moment you found yourself in Francis’ house, seated casually on the couch while Francis sat on the floor directly in front of you with his back turned. His head rested comfortably between your legs, a clear invitation that Francis wanted his hair to be played with – after all, it was something he enjoyed quite thoroughly, especially when it was you doing it.

“Je t’aime, _____.” His words were a mere whisper, just barely breaking the silence as he leaned against your touch. “I love you.”

Those words alone were enough to make heat rise to your cheeks, and focusing your gaze on your fingers, you gulped before trying to reply without stuttering. “…I love you too, Francis.”

Words didn’t seem to be enough for the Frenchman as Francis craned his neck back, his lips slightly pursed as he shot you a look of adoration. “Lean down and kiss me then, mon amour?” he requested, a brief look of amusement flashing across his face when he saw your face grow noticeably redder. “I haven’t gotten a kiss from you in a while.”

It was true; despite Francis’ romantic personality, kisses between the both of you were actually rather scarce, courtesy of you who constantly kept avoiding them. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him though, no – if anything, you loved Francis more than you’d admit – but it was just… you were just ridiculously, terrifyingly shy.

And Francis found that rather cute at first, until it got to the point where he became desperate for just a brush of your lips against his. After all, as someone who quite enjoyed affectionate gestures, it was kind of frustrating when you, his partner, were the opposite and too shy to do it.

“…Not right now…” you muttered, averting your gaze before he could convince you via puppy-dog eyes. “M-Maybe, um, later…”

“But mon amour!” Francis whined, “We never kiss that much! Just one peck?”

You sighed before steeling your nerves, and in that moment Francis actually thought you were going to kiss him; however, he instead felt your lips leave a soft kiss against his forehead, and even then it was barely for a few seconds.

“Th-There,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to look at Francis who was no doubt pouting, “There’s your kiss.”

“Mon amour, you know that’s not what I meant,” Francis whined softly before getting up. This time he turned so that he was facing you, and wasting no time in case you’d try to escape, he quickly straddled you onto the couch.

“Fr-Francis–”

“You still feel embarrassed, oui?” Francis asked, though it was more a rhetorical question. Nonetheless you nodded, earning a sigh from the Frenchman as he leaned in closer to your face.

“My dear, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” Francis cooed, pressing his forehead against yours as he watched your cheeks explode into a dark shade of red. “It’s just a kiss. It’s what lovers do, and we’re lovers, oui?”

“B-But–”

“Sh.” A finger was pressed gently against your lips, Francis’ own lips perking up into a small smile as he came in closer. By now your noses were almost touching, and Francis could feel your soft breaths that left in erratic, short bursts. “For now, _____, just let me steal one kiss.”

You didn’t even have time to protest before Francis removed his finger and replaced it with his lips, one free hand gently gripping your chin and the other behind your head to push you closer. At this point you were sure you looked like a tomato, and due to the sudden wave of embarrassment you failed to respond to the kiss; something Francis didn’t like very much, as he took note of it quickly and pulled away.

You would admit, despite the fact that you often shied away from his affectionate gestures, you often enjoyed them whenever you could; that was why you felt rather disappointed when he moved away.

With slightly downcast eyes, Francis heaved another sigh as he moved to rest his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry, mon amour. I just… really like kissing you.”

“How do you do it?”

Your words were out of the blue, you not even bothering to respond to Francis’ apology as you blushed and bit your lip. “H-How do you… do things like k-kissing, and not… feel shy…?”

Caught slightly off guard, Francis pondered the question. “Well…” he murmured, “I wouldn’t really say it like that… _____, even I still feel shy when I kiss you.”

It was your turn to be surprised as you shot him a look of bewilderment. “What are you talking about?” you retorted, “You always seem so, so… confident when it comes to being lovey-dovey. I’ve always wondered where you got that confidence…”

“To tell you the truth, _____,” Francis chuckled, “When it comes to mon amour, I’m never that confident. I may look confident, oui, but do I feel confident? Not really. Here.” Grabbing your hand, Francis guided it to where his heart was and pressed your palm flat against his chest.

Beneath your fingertips, you could feel the faint, rapid heartbeat of his heart, and with that you stared at him with curious eyes. “Do you feel it?” Francis murmured after a while, a fond smile playing across his lips. “My heart is beating fast. Any faster and you might even be able to hear my heart, oui? This always happens when I’m with you. But–” and he once again grabbed your hand, this time placing it over your heart, “I don’t mind, because your heart does the same.”

Francis was right; your heart was beating just as fast as his, perhaps even faster. “To be honest, _____,” Francis sighed as he released your hand and absentmindedly began to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers, “Sometimes I even wish my heart would beat louder. That way you can hear my heart and be able to hear just how much I love you, even if I never seem nervous when it comes to doing things like kissing.”

“S-So… all this time, you…” You failed to complete your sentence, but it was enough for Francis to fill in the rest of the blanks.

“Oui, mon amour. All this time I’ve been nervous, just like you. I guess I’m just better at hiding it, hm?” Francis said, a soft chuckle seeping from his lips. “But you know, _____... if you want to become better at dealing with this shyness of yours, I think I have a solution.”

“A solution?” Your ears perked up. “…What kind of solution do you mean?”

“It’s actually quite simple, mon amour.” At this point Francis had moved so his face hovered near yours once again, his lips slightly pursed in anticipation. “To deal with your shyness, you should get used to whatever causes it, oui? So… do I have permission to kiss you, my dear _____?”

You gulped, and with each passing moment Francis found it harder and harder to keep himself from giving you a kiss; however, this time he was willing to wait for your spoken permission that yes, he can actually kiss you and fully enjoy the feeling of your lips against his.

And finally, after what felt like hours to Francis finally ended when you nodded. “Y-Yes,” you muttered, voice just barely scratching the surface of audible, “Please… kiss me, Francis.”

Oh, and how could Francis even fathom about declining your irresistibly adorable request?

You could’ve sworn you heard a faint groan from Francis before moments later his lips were gingerly placed over yours, coaxing you to kiss him back as his hand found its place beneath your chin. Of course, being able to kiss him right away wasn’t something you could actually pull off, but given a few moments you finally managed.

Hesitating for one final moment, you clumsily began to follow Francis’ movements, struggling to achieve the feeling in which one’s lips perfectly molded with another’s like the way it was described in romance novels; however, you fell a bit short, the kiss slightly off with the occasional nose bump. Francis didn’t seem to mind one bit, though, because you could practically feel his smile pressing into your lips before he pulled away, only to dive in once again for another peck.

“You need work on both your shyness and kissing, it seems,” Francis said, causing an embarrassed blush to rise to your cheeks as you pouted. Regardless, the Frenchman leaned in to plant a kiss against your cheek, then onto the other cheek and finally onto your lips once again before letting out a content sigh.

“But it’s okay,” Francis murmured after a bit, “Because both shyness and kissing skills can be improved with the same solution, oui? After all, I’d love to keep kissing you, mon amour.”