𝐇𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 | Hetalia x Reader

〖3〗England x Reader | Christmas Lights & Snowflake Kisses

You breathed out a faint sigh of relief as you shut the door to Canada's lodge behind you. You lifted your gaze from your vaguely snow-covered boots to the large crowd of familiar faces filled with exultation chatting, laughing and making random toasts before you. You couldn't resist cracking into a grin at the merry sight of your friends' ridiculously happy expressions.

Late yesterday night, just as you were about to head to bed, you received a rather loud phone call from your friend, America, inviting you to a Christmas party that he'll be hosting. It struck you as odd when he told you that it'll be held in one of Canada's vacation lodges on the snowy mountains. The most prominent reason for this was because most of the countries- wait, all of the countries, usually treat Canada's existence like the visibility of air. But you decided that it would be best not to ask any inquires, knowing fully well from past experiences that it would only result in you getting unbearable headaches.

Just then, your eyes landed on a blond male waving in your direction whose face was all too familiar to you. Your grin widened as you watched your boyfriend of three months, Britain, attempting to grab your attention by now flailing his arms vigorously at you like a little boy. You'd phoned him last night right after getting his brother's invitation to the party and he offered to pick you up at your house but you declined; you didn't want to lean on him on everything like those weak and annoyingly clingy girlfriends. So in the end, the two of you had agreed to meet here at the party.

You were about to head towards your boyfriend who was standing at the opposite side of the room when an arm abruptly wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to the body that it belonged to. "(Y/ N)! I zee you've made zit to de party!" It took you less than a second to figure out who that distinctive voice and accent belonged to. "Merry Chriztmaz!" "It's good to see you, Francis." You said to your friend, France, as the strong smell of alcohol in his breath filled your senses. Your eyes went wide and you reflexively pinched your nose, preventing yourself from inhaling any more of the overbearing smell. "Oh, god, Francis! Your breath reeks! How much have you had to drink?" "Hmm, lemme zink, maybe five...?" He replied racking his brain for the accurate amount. "Or was zit twelve...?" "Maybe you should stop drinking for tonight." You suggested, sucking in air through your mouth as you spoke. "Zwat? How could you pozzibly zay zuch a thing?!" France exclaimed in shock. "Zit's Chriztmaz! The time of drinking!"

A smile tugged at the ends of your lips at his intoxicated words and you raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought it was the time of giving?" "Never mind zat right now." He said steering the topic of your conversation as quick as Italy begs when he's under attack. "Lizen, (Y/ N), I've heard a rumor about you and Iggy that zparked my interezt, and I zwanted to confirm with you if zit was true or not." Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his words and you parted your lips to respond. "What's the rumor?"

France smirked and said. "Zhe rumor was zat you two haven't yet had your firzt kizz, (Y/ N), dezpite having already dated for three monthz." Your face instantly burned crimson once his words had finally sunk into your brain and your body went extremely stiff from both shock and embarrassment. "Zwell? Iz zit true?" France questioned, his smirk still intact.

At that moment, you wished that a hole would just open up under you and swallow you into the ground just so you wouldn't have to answer the French's inquiry. "I-I-I..." You stammered, your eyes cast down at your hands as you nervously played with your fingers. France then leaned closer to you, waiting patiently for your response. You were fidgeting uncontrollably and you felt an urge to just punch the French in his face and yell out an apology before running away while flailing your arms. It was true, you and Britain hadn't kissed before. You were never concerned about it, you felt that it was enough to be with him, and it didn't seem to bother him either. But whenever someone else mentioned it to you, you felt horribly embarrassed. For what exact reason, you weren't sure, you supposed that it might be a reflex or the sorts.

You clenched your hand into a fist, ready to go through with your cowardly plan when another hand grabbed your forearm and pulled you away from France's grasp. "What do you think you're doing to my girlfriend, frog-face?" your eyes widened immensely at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. "Ah, Iggy, maybe you could help me, I was azking (Y/ N) if the rumor of you two not having your firzt kizz yet true or not but she zeemed incredibly fluztered." France happily said. You sneaked a quick glance at Britain and you noticed that a faint blush had dusted his own cheeks which you found adorable! "Wha-what the bloody hell are you asking that question for, you idiotic frog?!" He shouted in outrage but France didn't seem even a bit fazed by the Englishman's outburst as he continued to sport a stupid smile not much different from Italy's. "That's it! We're leaving, (Y/ N)," Britain turned on his heels and began walking away from France, pulling you along with him. "I don't think I could take seeing that frog's face any longer!" "Arthur." You called him by his real name.