FrUk Week 2021

FrUk Week 2021: Day 6

@hetaliashipsweek

Prompt: Wishes/Space

Pairing: FrUk

Word Count: 831

Always There

It was a crisp, clear night. Behind him, music from inside blared, though outside it sounded like muffled noise. Although they were in the city, above a few stars still twinkled beside the full moon. It was quite beautiful, calming even. The only thing that would make this better was some ale, or scotch or-

“Mind if I join you Angleterre?” A voice came from behind. Arthur turned around to find Francis with two glasses of wine in hand.

“Sure, but one of those better be for me.”

“Of course.”

Wine wasn’t his first choice, but if he was going to get through this night, Arthur needed some form of alcohol in his system. Parties were not like they once were a century or so ago leaving him out of his element. “Wow, I’m old,” he muttered, taking a swig of his wine.

Francis laughed lightly. “Oh, Arthur.” He turned his attention to the sky. “We may be old, and the world may be changing faster than ever, but at least after all these centuries, we still have the same stars.”

He still didn’t know how the Frenchman always seemed to be able to read his mind. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay. Then where are they all? Hidden by the stupid city lights.”

“Fair. We don’t get to see as many as we once did or just as often, but they are still there in space. Plus, look, we can still see a few.” Francis lifted his hand and began pointing out the stars above him. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful that those in the past and those in the present can look up and see the same sky?”

Was this the man’s attempt at comforting him about how the world around him was ever-changing and his purpose dwindling? Although it was a nice thought, it didn’t keep Arthur content for long and instead reminded him just how long he’d been around to look at those same stars. At least he had the wine as some distraction.

Francis, noticing his attempt at comfort seemed to fail, decided to go for a different angle. “Nights like these remind me of the 1920s, you know? Slipping out of Alfred’s elaborate parties with a bottle of wine and some glasses. Talking about the past, the present, the future. It felt so…”

“Human?”

“I was going to say nice or relaxing, but that works too. It was like we were actually normal, actually friends.”

“We basically were,” Arthur admitted, swirling his wine around his glass, “we always were in a way. Going through hell together, holding onto each other when we had nothing else, knowing each other in and out.” He tensed when he realized everything he just confessed.

Francis smirked, cheeks tinted pink. “They were nice nights weren’t they?” the Frenchman went on, obviously luring Arthur into a trap.

“Ah…N-I mean…I guess,” Arthur stuttered out, his cheeks growing warm. Maybe he overdid it with the wine. God, he wanted to punch that pleased smirk off Francis’ pretty little face.

“Oh a shoot star,” Francis exclaimed. Sure enough, a small spark of light was flying across the sky. “Come on Angleterre let’s make a wish.”

Arthur rolled his eyes once more, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t take part in the tradition of wishing on stars and this night would be no different. “So… what did you wish for?” Arthur asked after the star disappeared.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” Francis replied, sounding way more offended than he should have over something so minuscule. Arthur shook his head with a sigh at the Frenchman’s antics, but he didn’t have the energy to argue or push over something he didn’t care about.

As they continued to talk, the night grew colder. A particularly cool breeze sent Francis shivering and Arthur, being the gentleman he was offered his coat, putting it around Francis’ shoulders.

“Aww Angleterre, there is a heart in there,” Francis cooed. Before Arthur could counter the Frenchman’s insult a pair of lips brushing against his cheek and halted all coherent thoughts.

“You missed,” Arthur grumbled in his daze.

“Wha-”

Without even thinking, Arthur took hold of Francis’ face and gave him a hard, but loving kiss on the lips, pushing all his emotions into it.

“Wow,” Francis breathed as they parted, “I didn’t think it’d happen this fast.”

Arthur quirked a brow. “What?”

“My wish."

A goofy smile spread across Francis’ lips and Arthur was left speechless. When his mind started working again and everything that just happened started catching up to him, a wave of embarrassment hit Arthur like a truck.

“Well,” Arthur said with a clap, “I think I’m going to call it a night.” Before Francis could say anything, Arthur had already headed back inside and was making his way to the door. Francis was left alone outside, chuckling at how strange Arthur was and holding onto the feeling of the Brit’s lips against his own. His amusement was cut short as he realized he still had Arthur’s coat. Well, it looked like he’d have to pay Arthur a little visit tonight.

Fruk Week Day 6: Wishes

All I Ever Wanted Word Count: 344

“Make a wish, love.”

“But I have everything I could ever want,” Francis says with a cheesy grin, face illuminated by the birthday candles on the tiramisu Arthur bought him from their favorite bakery. “I have my husband, my children, a roof over my head...”

Alfred resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Come on, Papa! Don’t make us wait all night! We wanna have cake!”

“Okay, okay—I’m old so I get sentimental sometimes,” Francis jokes before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and blowing out the candles at long last. “There. I wished for everything to stay exactly the way it is.”

“You’re not supposed to tell us your wish! Don’t you know how birthdays work by now?” Alfred huffs, personally offended by Francis’s inability to follow birthday protocol.

This is always how birthdays go in the Bonnefoy-Kirkland household—family banter and/or bickering, pop radio hits playing softly in the background, streamers hanging over the couch in the living room, Alfred rushing everyone to start slicing up the cake already, Matthew patiently waiting without making a single peep of interruption, and Arthur and Francis lamenting that another year has gone by and wishing they could freeze time.

Arthur cuts the first piece of tiramisu for Francis and shoots Alfred a brief look of disapproval. “Behave yourself, Alfred. You’re being rude. Apologize.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s all right -- I feel blessed to have had as many birthdays as I have,” Francis says, diffusing the conversation. He turns to Matthew, who is sitting nearest to him, and gives him an affection squeeze followed by a kiss on the head. “And I’m blessed to be able to spend another birthday with my family.”

Arthur finishes slicing the cake, opens a bottle of champagne, and pours himself and Francis a glass. “And here’s to many more. Cheers.”

“Santé,” Francis agrees, clinking their glasses. He takes a sip, then rises from the table to give Arthur a quick kiss.

“Ewwww,” the boys say in unison, and Alfred seems particularly disgusted.

Yes, another typical birthday...And he wouldn't have it any other way.

FrUk Week 2021: Day 7

Prompt: Free Day

Pairing: FrUk

Word Count: 667

Keep Smiling Through

He was quiet. Far too quiet for how fiery and lively he usually was. But what worried Francis the most was that all his quips and jabs that usually got the Brit going were only countered half-heartedly or ignored completely. Francis could count on one hand how many times he’d seen Arthur like that in all the centuries he knew him, so something must have been very wrong. He was terrified

The Brit was lying across the couch, nose in a book, though he was not actually reading (Francis had noticed he’d been on the same page for the past twenty minutes). Francis tried to make himself busy, collecting ingredients, but that only lasted so long. Soon enough he had to face his sad lover.

He tried to distract himself with the T.V. and give Arthur some time to come clean about what’s wrong. After all, they always confided in each other in their darkest hours. But the silence and growing anxiety became suffocating and he couldn’t stop looking over at Arthur, the words ‘what’s wrong?’ on the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he didn’t want to push as Arthur was known to clam up when confronted about such matters.

As Francis debated on what to do, a familiar tune came to mind. He found himself humming it allowed, tapping his foot along to the music. Goodness, he hadn’t heard that song in years, but it still managed to put a smile on his face despite his situation. It seemed to have a similar effect on Arthur as the Englishman lowered his book and relaxed into the couch. As the Frenchman watched him, he got an idea.

“We’ll meet again,

Don’t know where,

Don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

As he sang, Francis got up and offered a hand to Arthur. When said man opened his eyes to see the hand being offered, he quirked a brow. “What are you doing?” Arthur hissed, yet accepted the invitation.

“You’ll see. Just relax mon cher.”

Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t fight or push away as Francis wrapped his arms around his waist and swayed them back and forth in time to the song.

“So will you please say “Hello”

To the folks that I know?

Tell them I won’t be long

They’ll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song.”

A sense of deja vu hit Francis. They had danced to this song countless times during their time together during the war, but back then it was Arthur singing to a broken down Francis, assuring him everything would be fine. After all these years, it looked like he could finally return the favour and comfort Arthur brought him.

As he continued to sing, Arthur began to sag against him as a few sniffs escaped him. Though the sound broke Francis’ heart, he kept going, reminding himself that it was a good sign and that Arthur was letting his emotions out. Eventually, the song came to an end.

For a moment, Arthur held on tight, refusing to let Francis pull away. Francis didn’t mind. Though dinner had to be started soon, Francis would put everything on hold to make sure Arthur was safe and happy.

“Thank you…f-for…y’know…everything,” Arthur mumbled, as he pulled away, though not completely letting go of Francis quite yet. His eyes shifted to the side, embarrassment setting in.

Francis replied with a warm smile and a kiss on the forehead. Though the gratitude from Arthur of all people was much appreciated and made him feel fuzzy, Francis didn’t need it. For Arthur, he’d move heaven and earth just to make him happy and ask for nothing in return.

“No worries, mon amour,” Francis said, “now how about some dinner. Maybe I’ll let you help me? But you have to do exactly as I say.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but at the same time, a small smile spread across his face. “Whatever you say, love.”

Author’s Note: Gosh I’ve had this idea in my head since June. In case you didn’t know the song in this fic is Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again.” It was a song from 1939 and was used to boost British morale during WW2. I actually came up with this idea while working on a project about the song, but just hadn’t gotten around to it until now.

And this is the end of FrUk week at least for me. Thank you @hetaliashipsweek for putting this together!

Fruk Week Day 7: Free

Here's the last drabble for Fruk week! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! :)

Honey, the Kids Aren't Home Word Count: 477

“I’m exhausted.”

“Come take a nap with me, mon amour.”

Arthur narrows his gaze at his husband, trying to determine if he’s insinuating that he wants something more or if it really is just an innocent invitation. He takes off his shoes, washes his hands, and chugs a glass of water because he’s parched. Then, he turns to Francis again and studies him—he seems equally weary. “If I sleep now, I won’t be able to fall asleep at a normal hour tonight.”

“An hour of rest won’t give you insomnia,” Francis promises before approaching him to kiss his cheek. “Come on—we’ve been on our feet all day at work, and we have at least two more hours until the boys’ bus arrives.”

The boys have been at summer camp for the past week. They’re returning early this evening, and Arthur and Francis have been worrying about them endlessly. Did they have a good time? Did they make any new friends? Are they feeling well? Were they eating properly? Were Matthew’s allergies bothering him? Did they get bitten by any ticks? Do they have Lyme disease? Arthur’s going to thoroughly inspect them for any new bites, scrapes, bruises, head lice, fevers, or stuffy noses upon their return.

“We haven’t spent much time in each other’s company while the boys have been away. At least let me nap with you,” Francis beseeches, wrapping his arm’s around Arthur’s waist.

“All right…But only for an hour. I’ll set an alarm on my phone. And just a nap.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m too tired for anything beyond that, believe it or not.”

“That’s a first.”

Francis makes a cheerful noise of content and takes him by the hand. He leads him upstairs to their master bedroom, dims the lights, and draws the curtains. They each change into more comfortable clothing and burrow themselves under the warm covers.

Arthur sets an alarm like he said he would, and then he slides an arm around Francis’s middle, pulling him closer and holding him so he stays close by. “Goodnight, frog.”

“Goodnight, stubborn mule,” Francis murmurs, yawning against Arthur’s chest. “Sweet dreams…And you’re responsible for figuring out what we’re going to eat for dinner because I don’t have the energy nor the willpower to cook or even touch a kitchen utensil for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Wait, why is it my responsibility?”

“Because I said so.”

Arthur growls under his breath, “You won’t eat anything I cook for you anyway.”

“Because I still have the will to live.”

“Prat…We’ll order something—have it delivered. Goodnight.”

“….Okay, but let’s not order from that diner again because their food made me awfully bloated.”

“Francis, just go to sleep,” Arthur grumbles, eyes already closed and mind drifting away.

“Right, sorry…I have a place in mind. I’ll Google their menu later and show you what they—Arthur?”

He’s already fast asleep.

Fruk Week Day 7: Free Day

@hetaliashipsweek

Sorry this is incredibly late. I was at a party trying to write this fic on my phone.

Title: Finally have you where I want you.

Word count: 830

Summary: A couple of moments where France has England exactly where he wants him.

Keep reading

Fruk Week Day 6: Wishes/Space

@hetaliashipsweek

I felt uninspired by the original prompts so I decided to have some leeway with them. Emma is Belgium.

Title: SomeoneComeFixMySpaceBarPlease Word count: 2888

To say Francis fucked up would be an understatement. Here he was, CEO of one of the highest growing enterprises in the country, rendered useless by a little bit of wine spilled on his laptop! He pressed the space key a number of times and let out a pathetic sob as nothing happened on the screen.

He opened up an Email to his secretary who just happened to work from home that day.

Keep reading

Fruk Week Day 4: Spring

I'm tying in another request from my inbox for this one. :)

Heartless Husband Word Count: 496

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Francis whines as he surveys the small rows of hives lining both of his forearms. It takes all of his willpower to resist the urge to scratch at them.

When Arthur had suggested two weeks ago that he schedule an appointment with an allergist for his hay fever and undergo allergy testing, Francis had agreed without putting too much thought into it. He thought an “allergy test” consisted of having one’s blood drawn or something, which still would have been an inconvenience given that he hates needles, but a needle would have been preferable to this! He had no idea that they just place the allergen extracts directly on your skin and make you sit around in the exam room with immensely itchy arms for thirty minutes with no relief in sight.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a child. You said you wanted to know what you’re allergic to, and frankly, I’m tired of having to endure your sneezing fits every morning. Perhaps this will convince you to finally take some antihistamines.”

“Aghhhhh! How much longer?”

His husband checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”

“This is miserable.”

“Oh, hush—just a little longer. Be thankful it’s just a scratch test and that they didn’t inject the allergens under your skin.”

“They do that?” Francis asks, trying to hide the horror on his face.

“Yes, when dramatic patients like yourself can’t be trusted to hold their arms still and—don’t scratch.”

“I know, I know…”

Francis takes a deep breath and tries to distract himself, but all he can think about is how unlucky he is to have developed spring allergies as an adult when he never had them as a child. Don’t most people grow out of such things? It seems like he grew into them. Getting older is such a travesty.

To his surprise, Arthur takes his hand and gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry—they’ll give you some hydrocortisone cream once the test is over and it’ll feel much better.”

“Thank you, mon amour. This has all been a very traumatic experience for me.”

Arthur can’t hold back the laugh that escapes him. “Yes, I can’t imagine. I’ll have to find some way to make it up to you.”

“…A kiss would be a good start,” Francis suggests, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes.

Conceding, Arthur grants him a quick kiss, gives his hand another squeeze, and says, “That’s all you’re getting so don’t get too excited.”

“Such a heartless husband.”

“You chose my heartless self,” Arthur retorts before glancing at Francis’s forearms and examining which allergens his skin has reacted to the most. “Now, what’ll it take to convince you to start going for allergy shots?”

“You might as well kill me right here and now...But before that, I’ll take another kiss.”

“My apologies, I’m too heartless and incapable of kissing.”

“You are the absolute worst, Arthur Kirkland. The absolute worst.”

ai-sabouki

Fruk week 2021// Day 5: Nyo

It’s the first time I really Draw Nyo France and Nyo England >\\\\>

Fruk Week Day 5: Nyo

The Misfit Couple Word Count: 519

“Is this how you have the energy to be so annoying all of the time? by finding ridiculous ways to relax?”

“Oh, yes, always. I prioritize self-care days. Maybe if you did it more often you wouldn’t be so bitter all of the time,” Francine fires back effortlessly as she finishes applying an Australian pink clay mask onto her face. “I don't want to have wrinkles by the time I'm thirty-five."

Francine's friends ask her daily why she’s dating Alice Kirkland out of all of the other women on campus. They can’t imagine what Francine sees in her. To outsiders, all they do is bicker and fight. It’s not a healthy relationship, that’s for sure…But honestly, Francine doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. She used to worry about her reputation and wanted to know every little thing others were saying about her. She kept constant tabs on the rumor mill, but now, all of that seems less important. Others simply don’t understand that Francine and Alice have their own dynamic.

Yes, they’re at each other’s throats frequently, but it’s always harmless in the end. Oddly, it works for them. And maybe that’s bad. Maybe it’s toxic. Maybe she shouldn’t be forcing Alice to have a self-care day with her this morning. Maybe they shouldn’t be applying face masks, soaking their feet in Epsom salt, and plucking their eyebrows (though Alice is in dire need of a good tweezing). Maybe all of this is wrong.

But Francine is okay with it. In fact, she’s smitten. She enjoys the back-and-forth banter and how Alice’s wit is training her mind to be more agile. Weirdly enough, Alice seems to find it rewarding as well. Alice likes being on the receiving end of snarky retorts, and Francine is happy to oblige.

“We’re a mess, you and I,” Francine murmurs as she closes her eyes and rests her head against the back of the recliner she’s sitting on. “How did we end up here?”

Alice laughs—she has such a cute laugh. Francine can’t get enough of it. It’s so bubbly and contagious. It’s almost hypnotic. “It was your idea to put mud on our faces, so I’m certainly not the one to be blamed for this.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant in terms of our relationship.”

Francine doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that Alice’s body has stiffened.

“Is something wrong? Are you upset with how things are going?” Alice asks, keeping her tone neutral.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about what an odd pair we are…But I wouldn’t change a thing,” Francine assures, opening her eyes to direct a smile in Alice’s direction, only to realize that the clay mask has now hardened and she can’t move the muscles in her cheeks.

“Well, good….because I’m…I’m having loads of fun,” Alice says quickly under her breath. She’s always doing her best to evade prolonged bouts of emotion.

Francine feels a cluster of butterflies flap their wings in her chest. “Me too.”

“Now, can I wash this revolting muck off yet?”

"Ugh, fine. I hope you get wrinkles."

maiwenn-an-bitseach

Un jour de février

Fruk week 2021

Day 4: winter / spring

Words: 2,565

Summary: Domestic fruk. Old married couple vibe. The couple is visiting Matthew in Quebec city during the cold month of february.

Warning: French, so much french (Translations are at the end), and mention of sex. Not really explicit though.

maiwenn-an-bitseach

Fruk week 2021

day 2: childhood / old age

Tittle: The first meeting

Word: 1, 127

Summary: Feral baby England found a strange gaulish kid in the woods. He didn’t realise at that moment, he had met his lifelong rival.

Note: Cymru is Wales and Gallia (gaul) is France.

FrUk Week 2021: Day 5

@hetaliashipsweek

Prompt: Nyo/2p

Pairing: 2pFruk

Word Count: 906

Author’s Note: Before I begin I’m still working out my characterization for 2pFrance and this is my first time doing something with him so it may not be the strongest. Still, enjoy!

The Good and the Bad

“Love…Are you awake?” Oliver whispered, arms wrapping around the waist of the man beside them.

Louis sighed. Of course, he was awake. He was lucky if he fell asleep by 3 AM and currently it was only midnight. Oliver on the other hand usually fell asleep right away so what was he doing up so late? “What’s wrong mon ange?” Louis asked rolling over to face his lover.

“I can’t seem to get comfortable. What are you still doing up?”

Another stupid question. Both he and Oliver knew it. “I’m not having much luck either,” Louis replied tiredly, “you know how it is.”

The Brit hummed in understanding beside him, snuggling closer. “Maybe after a snack, we’ll be tired.”

Leave it up to Oliver to think with his stomach. It was always sweets with him too which made the matter even worse. That suggestion would probably end up keeping them up instead of falling asleep. But maybe Oliver wasn’t too far off the mark with his proposal. “How about some warm milk instead?” Louis recommended.

Oliver’s face lit up at the suggestion. “That sounds lovely.”

—

Warm milk in hand, the two lovers settled themselves on the couch in the living room. Oliver was adamant about putting on some relaxing music and wrapping themselves in a wooly blanket to ‘get them in the mood.’ Louis could only agree as he began swaying along to the music, finding the melody quite calming.

As they drank, Oliver began discussing his day. How the old lady next door gave him a few cookies this morning when he was heading to work, the growing political tensions among parliament, the dog he got to pet during his lunch break. Oliver had a knack for talking though sometimes he overran the conversation. At first, Louis found it annoying and overwhelming, but as time went on, the Frenchman appreciated Oliver’s ability to carry a conversation as he himself lacked such skill. Not to mention, The Englishman’s voice had become a source of comfort in recent years. Louis found himself leaning against Oliver, his milk now finished and on the table. Though he had a hard time admitting to it, he wanted to cuddle.

Luckily, Oliver caught on and after downing the rest of the milk, he laid himself on the couch and opened his arms to Louis. The Frenchman hesitantly accepted the invitation, laying himself on top of the Brit.

“Are you alright darling?” Oliver asked, his hand combing through Louis’ hair. “Ouais…Just don’t stop talking.”

Oliver let out a light laugh, turning Louis’ cheeks pink. “Okay.” Oliver continued to run his hands through his lover’s hair. “Goodness, I miss your long hair.” Louis shrugged. “I like it short. It’s practical and less in the way.”

“Yeah but…”

“If you like long hair so much, why not grow your’s out?”

Oliver pouted. “But that’s not the same.”

Louis leaned up and kissed him, hoping it would make his lover smile. It did. Affection always did. “So…” Oliver said cheerfully, “how was your day?”

Oh, so they were doing this. A two-way conversation. Louis panicked slightly. How was his day? If he was being honest, he didn’t remember most of it, the hours passing by like a blur. He hadn’t done much. He rarely ever did when Oliver wasn’t home. He just never had the energy or the motivation as everything seemed pointless in the end. He made a mental note to call the therapist in the morning before he began spiraling again. Oliver didn’t deserve that and Louis himself was starting to accept that he didn’t deserve that either.

“No pressure or anything,” Oliver added as if he knew exactly what Louis was thinking. They did fit well together. The thought was enough to put Louis at ease once more. “Maybe we could do that one good thing and one bad thing about our day thingy! I’ll go first. One bad thing, hmm. I guess having trouble sleeping counts. But a good thing was that lovely bouquet of flowers I got from a special someone today at the end of lunch.”

A small smile made its way onto Louis’ face. He had ordered those flowers yesterday as a surprise for Oliver since the man had been working overtime in the recent weeks as he vigorously went through document after document. He was glad to hear Oliver liked them and that they were the highlight of his day. “Now your turn.”

Louis took in a breath. “Okay let’s see… bad…Gosh, I’m going to sound so pathetic but…Not having you around…got kind of lonely you know?” A gentle smile spread across Oliver’s face. “Oh love, you’re not pathetic for thinking that. I missed you too. Now, how about that good thing?”

“The wonderful dinner you made. Though, your cooking is always the highlight of my day.”

“Aww thank-” Oliver’s words were cut off by a yawn, “thank you.”

“I think we’re ready for bed,” Louis stated, climbing off Oliver.

“Mhm. If we need to talk some more though, we can.”

Louis smiled. Cupping the Brit’s cheeks in his hands, Louis pressed a soft, loving kiss on Oliver’s lips. “I love you,” Louis murmured as they parted, “so, so much.”

“I love you too my darling.”

Taking hold of Louis’ hand, Oliver guided Louis to the bedroom where the two of them were quickly met with sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Fruk Week Day 5: Nyo’s

@hetaliashipsweek

I managed to keep it short HUzzah!

Title: Franco-British relations Word count: 890

Nyo!England is Victoria

Nyo!France is Marianne

Victoria couldn’t complain about her job at the university library. The pay was good, her job wasn’t too complicated, she had plenty of time to read inbetween her tasks and there was just something calming about working in a library.

It was the perfect job really.

Sometimes she did need to interact with other human beings but most students knew their way around the place, thus there were days where she only needed to say “Hello!” and “Goodbye!”

Again the perfect job.

At least until a certain French woman ruined her routine.

Victoria didn’t quite know the woman, but she had seen her on campus before. She hangs out a lot with Antonio and Gilbert, whom she knows… albeit reluctantly.

The problem with Marianne was that Victoria had a big fat crush on her and had a lot of trouble forming coherent sentences when speaking to her. Not that she didn’t try…

The first time the two of them met Victoria had been stacking books in the shelves when Marianne had cleared her throat behind her. Victoria had muttered something about finishing putting away the last book when she turned around and lost any ability to speak.

Marianne was a bombshell of a woman, straight up model material. Icy blue eyes, plump red lips, beautiful locks of hair… Nevermind the cleavage that greeted Victoria. If she hadn’t known she was interested in women the realisation would have slapped her in the face like a truck once again.

“Ehm, hi!” she squeaked out.

“Bonjour, ma chère,” Marianne said. Victoria felt her knees grow weak at her sultry voice and that French accent.

Marianne seemed oblivious to the internal chaos inside Victoria’s head.

“Can I help you?” Victoria finally managed, after ten seconds of the French woman looking amused at her.

“Oh, yes! I am looking for books for my classes. I am new to the English university system. I am from France, you see.” She smiled brightly. Victoria couldn’t do anything but nod.

“So… Can you help me?” Victoria would do anything for this woman.

“Yes… ah… Do you have a list?”

The French woman nodded, going through her purse. She got out a list and passed it on to Victoria. For a fleeting moment their fingers touched and it felt like lightning going through her arm, making her drop the list. They both bent down and tried to pick up the paper at the same time, hands touching once more. Victoria was red as a tomato.

Marianne giggled. “Sorry, I seem to be particularly clumsy today.”

“It’s alright.” Victoria smiled, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace.

Victoria looked at the list, hoping it would distract her from the other woman’s beautiful eyes.

She read the title of the list: “Required readings: Master in Anglo-French history”

“Oh, you like history!” Victoria smiled and relaxed a little, this was common ground, she liked history too. She was still finishing up her bachelor in history but the masters Marianne was doing was one she had her eye on too.

“I know where these books are! Follow me, miss.”

She started walking towards the place, quickly before she started losing this newfound bravery.

“You can call me Marianne.” the other woman said as she turned to follow her with a particular twinkle in her eye. Victoria had a moment to think about how interesting it was that the other woman shared the name as the personification of her country.

“N-nice to meet you Marianne, I’m Victoria,” she managed, mentally congratulating herself.

“Sharing the name with one of the most powerful women in history.” Marianne noted.

Victoria let out a bashful smile, “Ahah, yes. Indeed!” then to show that she too knew something of French history, “and you with Marianne of France.”

“En effet (indeed). You like history too?”

“Oh I love it, I spend all my free time reading up all the history books this library contains.”

In the meantime they had arrived at the bookshelves in question.

“That’s lovely dear! We should get a coffee sometime and talk about it.”

“Yeah, and then you can teach me something about Franco-British relations!” Victoria smiled so bright, excited at the prospect of nerding out with a fellow history buff. She looked away to look for the books on the list, missing the rosy tint rising to Mariannes’ cheeks.

“Here you go!” Victoria, said triumphantly, getting out the three required readings for Marianne.

“Thank you so much, ma chère!” Marianne smiled.

The two looked at eachother and Victoria didn’t quite know what to say. “So, if that’s all, I’ll have to get back to work.”

“Ah, yes of course!” The French woman took the books and looked at the time. “My apologies for keeping you from your work!”

“Oh it was my pleasure!”

“Ah, alright then!” the Frenchwoman seemed a bit flustered, “Well, I’ll see you another time for a discussion about those Franco-English relations between us then!”

She winked before walking away.

“Oh, sure!” Victoria managed with a small wave at her retreating back.

Before realising the possible double-entendre that sentence carried. It must have just been a mistake from a non native-English speaker, she reasoned, calming down her rapidly beating heart. Or perhaps a Freudian-slip. There was no way a woman like Marianne just flirted with her. It was impossible.

Or was it…?

—

This fic plays with the term “Relations” which in the case of “To have relations with someone”: could be defined as: To engage in sexual activity (with someone); to have or be in a sexual relationship (with someone). It’s not really the Franco-British relations as much as just the Franco-British relationship. To what extent it is incorrect is hard for me to say as a non-native speaker. I try to pay attention and use the word “relationship” because apparently saying “The relations between x and x party” could imply sexual activity. Lol. yeah don’t ask, I got this explained to me once and it felt like taking sex ed. I just assumed that Marianne could have similar issues.

Anyway, I might continue this fic. It has potential.

Fruk Week Day 4: Winter/Spring

Okay I’m posting these later and later.

@hetaliashipsweek

Title: Arthur is a gay mess no matter what season of the year it is.

Word count: 2244

SPRING

Spring is nice, Arthur liked spring. The birds start whistling, the trees get some colour, the sun starts shining some more. (yes, even with Britain’s dreary weather)

He especially loves how people start feeling more joyful, dressing down a little from the heavy winter coats. Women in dresses, men in loose shirts. It’s just delightful.

One of these men was his neighbour, a Frenchman by the name of Francis Bonnefoy.

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