Approval. - France x Reader.

France. 

The country of love, beaut and strikes. 

Not to mention flirting and romantic red roses nonetheless. 

"Mademoiselle, are you lost?" 

You twirled around in your red dress as the wind settled. The blonde haired man winked and only blew a kiss. 

He was most definitely French and nothing else. 

"Y-Y-O-Oui." 

"Ah, mademoiselle. You speak French?" 

"N-No..." You felt ashamed. 

"Then I must take you on a tour of my beautiful country, oui?" 

Wait. This is a sudden sequence of matter. Let's back up. 

Arrived in France yesterday. 

You nodded to confirm that event in mind. 

Went out and got lost today. 

You nodded again as a warm hand met your forehead. 

"Are you sick, mon amour?" 

"No, I'm not." Your stomach growled. 

"Then you must be hungry. Come with me, I'll take you to a wonderful five star restaurant near here." 

For some reason, your instinct decided to trust him. To trust that he wasn't lying. To trust that he was true. 

"By the way, I'm Francis Bonnefoy. And you, mon amour?" 

"I'm (F/N) (L/N)." 

"It's good to meet you, (F/N)." 

You only smiled before taking Francis's hand that he had offered a moment earlier. 

...

Francis had taken you to a restaurant, as promised. 

And now he was describing wines, place of interests, and history of France itself. 

"I'll bring you to your hotel, amour." 

"I didn't rent one yet." As the hotel in your mind went on strike just moments before booking. 

"Ah," you could see Francis working his magic in his head. "Then you'll live at my house, and moi will be your tour guide." 

"R-Really, Francis?" 

"Oui." 

"Thank you, Francis!" Your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him returning the affection, chuckling. 

Through night became dawn, and dawn became dusk. You needed a change. No doubt Francis was an interesting person whom took you all over France in his fancy expensive car, but you needed a change from all this. 

You exited the quiet house, hoping to know France another way other than its tranquil vicinity. You discreetly walked down blocks, and streets after streets. 

Lights hit you. Blinking lights. In pink, red, blue, green, purple. You had hit a club - but something just didn't pull you inward. The... unspeakable tension and the indescribable surrounding told you not to. 

Suddenly, something hard hit your head as you lost consciousness. Last you heard was, "You'll be fine, I'm here." 

Francis. 

Your (color) eyes opened to look into blue. 
 
His hand reached out to offer protection. 

"Trust me, (Name). Like you did the first time."

And you did as you took his hand and darkness absorbed you completely. 

As you opened your eyes again, all you see were scenes and scenes of darkness. You were mugged. 

"Little girl," the man kneeled down to see you as he spoke in a heavy French accent. "Do you have any relative in France?" 

The first thing that came across your mind was Francis. 

"Guess not." The man only got up and exited the room, closing the doors. You could hear him faintly speaking to his men, but in French. 

"Tuez la."* 

At this moment in time, you had already given up. It was no use fighting against this, you had no family here. No one would come save you. 

"Quoi!?" Men were screaming outside. Gunshots fired all-around. 

The door blasted open with a toss of a grenade. 

"Ma'am, are you alright?" 

"Y-Yes..." 

"We were ordered by Monsieur Bonnefoy to rescue you, mademoiselle." 

... Does he know then? 

"He's waiting for you at home, mademoiselle. Ah, let us take the scene over." The commander gave an ensuring smile and a pat on the shoulder as he ordered his man to drive you away. 

...  

You were afraid what would happen once you arrive at Francis's house. Would he yell at you? Would he kick you out of the house? 

"I'm home... Francis." 

The French man was sitting right there, looking into your eyes with his blue in all honesty. You watch him get up and stroll over to you in a comfortable matter. 

He only grabs you into his embrace as he slowly pats your head, stroking your (hair color) hair. 

"Did you know how worried I was? How worked up I was?" 

"I'll never do it again, I'm sorry." In his embrace - was truly the safest place to be. 

"I'm never letting you leave again," Francis pulled away to kiss your forehead. "Laissez-moi vous aimer pour toujours, mon amour." He knew you didn't understand. 

"Let me take the responsibilities of loving you forever, (Name)."

Your tears started to sink in as you crazily nodded. Francis cupped both your cheeks as he leaned in to kiss you, with your arms wrapped around his neck - he knew he had your approval.