I love Paris in the springtime.
A nose prods the center of a rose, sucking up its fragrance with one strong whiff. England retreats from the bud, slightly delirious from repetitive sniffing. He arrived at his house to find a bouquet of freshly cut roses lying on his mattress, their scarlet petals brightly contrasting with the navy blue comforter
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Be a proud France/UK shipper my friend!
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Thanks for the fic~ it made my day (^_^
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