Notes: Feel free to request, I can't promise that I will write it though, but I will try. I will do smut but I'm not comfortable with any CNC or similar, also I will not write smut for any underage characters, don't be weird. Platonic Alex Jones only :)
I would love for him to be into The Cure and Slowdive but lets be honest, that guy is 100% a Limp Bizkit fan with absolutely no irony. He genuinely thinks they are the epitome of cool.
Of course it is cool, but like, Brian is absolutely unaware of the fact people don't always think Slipknot is the coolest band to be into.
He definitely loves Beastie Boys too.
Surprisingly, he does shower pretty regularly.
Unsurprisingly, he doesn't wash his clothes enough.
Brian doesn't even bother with a sniff check.
(He's low-key kinda stinky)
You would definitely end up intervening.
"Brian I love you but you genuinely stink, man."
You two would be the dorky ass couple who were always bullying each other.
He tells you you're annoying on a daily basis, and you tell him he's a total loser.
Holding hands? Hells no. Noogies? Absolutely.
You make a pretty feral couple. You're both sarcastic as hell, lazy, with no respect for any kind of authority.
Stereotype teenage delinquents.
He acts like an asshole when you're around others, both of you just annoying the hell out of one another.
When you two are alone in his room, it's a different story.
He likes it when you just lie on top of him, giving him the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and just feel your weight on him.
He lies with his head between your thighs, too, letting you play with his hair. You put little braids in it and he always ruffles them out afterwards. He likes to put his hands around your thighs and squeeze them gently.
Your first kiss was him was awkward.
He absolutely leaned in with his tongue out and his eyes half shut.
You did an "Ew, dude, what the fuck?"
He was so embarrassed, his face went hella red and he was devastated, thinking you were flat out rejecting him.
He had pretty much convinced himself into leaving Colorado forever when you placed your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down so you could kiss him properly instead.
He was awestruck, but probably played it off with a mean joke.
Brian probably smokes weed, and if you're into that then you probably do it together a lot.
You probably drive out into the woods together and go find a nice spot to sit out and smoke. If you're walking through the woods then you would both throw fir cones at each other, turning it into a ruthless competition. You wouldn't even remember who struck first.
You'd hit him really hard in the back with one as he was picking more up and he'd drop them all and run at you, laughing, picking you up fast before you could get away and kissing you, your feet still off the ground.
(He's actually soft as hell.)
You'd both sit at the edge of a quarry and talk for ages about stupid hypotheticals and people you hated.
(He acts like he doesn't care, but he knows everything you like and don't like. He knows your personality so well and you always make him laugh.)
If the weather's good, neither of you would be against going for a swim in the blue quarry water.
Brian would definitely have to be convinced by you first.
You light fires and throw cans on them to watch them explode, sitting by it as the sun goes down and it gets dark.
If you get cold he might let you huddle into his side and wrap his big black hoodie over your shoulders.
When there's no one around to witness his gooey behavior, he'd wrap your hands in his and blow on them to warm them up.
Brian always seems to be warm, even when it's cold out.
At work, when Andrew makes a comment about you, Brian is immediately defensive. He really doesn't like anyone acting sleazy towards you.
That never stops him from making explicit jokes when both of you hang out with friends though.
This man is not above making a blowjob joke in front of all your friends.
Usually met with a "Ew, Brian. That's gross."
They're used to it though.
In public you two are just like best friends, messing around and arguing over dumb shit. Everyone knows you're dating him, but you're both kind of losers so no one pays much attention.
You borrow his band t-shirts all the time, provided they're clean.
You both wear matching string bracelets.
The most PDA either of you do is when you're hanging out with friends around the bleachers, one of you will lie with your head on the others lap while everyone talks.
He loves you to pieces. He does tell you, during the quiet moments when you just get to be happy and in love.
Basically, Brian is a sweetheart pretending to be an angsty asshole.
People In Love Make Me Feel Yuck - Brian (Fast Food Nation)
People In Love Make Me Feel Yuck - Drenge
Warnings: F!Reader, Little bit of troubled home life, Alcoholic dad trope etc, Brian being gross lol.
Notes: He's definitely kind of an asshole but just in a stinky way. Might do a part 2. Wordcount: 4,164
"Give me your fucking money then, I'm not paying for your lame asses," you complained from your seat at the table at Mickey's. You had no idea why you were spending your Wednesday night at a fast food diner with people you hated, but you had just moved to Cody, Colorado and it seemed better to have them as friends than enemies. The popular kids, you supposed you would call them, but they weren't really popular. Like most 'popular' kids, it seemed like everyone who wasn't one of them hated them. It made sense, they were assholes.
You gathered up the dollars they thrust in your direction, half remembering everyone's orders. No, Casey, I'm not asking for your coffee freezer with skim milk. We're at a fucking Mickey's. You jumped slightly, feeling the guy next to you rub his hand along your thigh. You grabbed a hold of his wrist, making a point of removing it from your leg and giving it back to him.
"Aw, com'on," he laughed, leaning closer to me. "You know I like you right?"
You looked at him full in the face, unimpressed. Zach, his name was. He was on the football team or something. You hadn't really followed. All you had picked up was that he was some kind of mega jock, lots of girls fancied him and Casey had marked him as her territory, maybe by peeing all over him. He had broad shoulders, sandy blond hair and his eyes were too close together, making his head look strangely too wide for his face.
"You met me two days ago, man," you pointed out, and he just shrugged with a somewhat cocky look on his face, leaning back so you could squeeze past him to go order, but not bothering to get of the seat so it would be easy for you. You rolled your eyes as you went to go to the till.
Brian glanced around the kitchen as soon as he spotted you approaching. Shit. Where was Amber, or Andrew, or somebody else to take orders? He hated doing it with a passion, let alone for those stupid assholes at his school. He hadn't seen you before, at least he didn't think he had. You were hot, definitely, way too hot for him, but he didn't really care. Based on the people you were hanging around he doubted you'd get along. Yet another asshole in a group of assholes.
You came up to the till and he pretended not to see you, hoping you'd give up, or one of the others would come back, but he had no such luck. The people on your table were being loud, laughing in the background at some funny joke, no longer paying attention to you.
"Hey, man. Can you take my order?" you asked the guy in the kitchen with his back turned to you. He glanced over, finally noticing you, then reluctantly shuffled round to the till, tapping a number in. He looked bored, apathetic. You couldn't blame him, but you kinda liked the way his boredom made his eyelids heavy, an almost sarcastic expression on his face.
"Yeah?" he asked irritably.
"No 'welcome to Mickey's'?" you teased, making him scowl.
"Fuck off, man," he replied. There was a reason he didn't go on the till often.
You gave him the order, kinda skimming over any specifics that you'd been told. Fuck it, they could manage to take the pickles out of their burger, you swore they just liked to make it complicated. You got yourself a Big One, same as most the boys had ordered, mainly because you were absolutely starving.
Brian, as his nametag read, tapped in your order silently, collected your money and then turned and went back in the kitchen to get it ready. You leaned on the counter to wait, unwilling to return to the jerkoffs you'd come in with.
Andrew still hadn't come back, and Amber was still on her break, so Brian tossed a load of frozen meat patties on the grill. He kind of liked the sound they made, a sort of ringing clatter. He turned round again, shoveling some fries off the tray into boxes. Andrew had probably gone for a shit, that's why he wasn't back yet. He flipped the burgers and started to put together the buns.
He caught a glance of you stood there, leaning against the counter, watching the clock in the corner, and somehow (despite not being particularly in tune with other's emotions) he could see the exasperation on your face. You didn't seem happy. You seemed out of place. You looked pretty, with your chin in your hand.
One of the guys from your table came up behind you, Zach, the blonde quarterback, and he put his hands either side of your waist. Brian watched you squirm away from him. Brian decided quite quickly that he really hated Zach, so he summoned a globule of spit and let it drop into the burger bun. This wasn't the first time Brian had done that.
"Zach, don't touch me man," you told him sternly, clearly not interested in his advances. He ignored your comment.
"I came to help you carry the food over," he replied, and it really seemed as though he thought that meant you owed him something.
"Yeah, well it's not ready yet. Go sit back down," you retorted. Zach was unfazed. His hand attempted to grab at your waist again and you smacked it away. You caught Brian watching you through the kitchen and pulled an annoyed face. He looked down quickly, avoiding your eyes, but you swear you caught him smile.
"How am I supposed to get to know you better if you keep telling me to leave you alone?" Zach asked, like he'd really done something clever and charming. You sighed.
"Maybe I don't want to know you better, sit down please," you told him honestly. He grinned, misinterpreting your reply as a joke.
"Ah, I see. Playing hard to get," he chuckled. He raised his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll sit down if that's what you want."
Thankfully he returned to his seat, although Casey and her friend Leah were both giving you bitchy looks as though you had anything to do with his flirting.
Brian placed the food order in front of you and you began picking it up, reaching for the Big One he'd just placed down. He quickly reached his hand out, grabbing yours to stop you picking it up. You looked at him perplexed, wondering why an earth a random Mickey's employee was suddenly holding your hand.
"Not that one," he said, letting go of your hand quickly. He hadn't meant to do that. He suddenly felt quite hot.
"What?" you asked, completely confused. He looked over to the table to see if anyone was paying attention, but they all seemed distracted.
"I just hawked a loogie into it," he admitted, embarrassed.
"Why?" came your response, and it caught him off guard. He had expected disgust or annoyance, some kind of kick off or at least a grossed out look, but instead you just queried the thinking behind his actions.
"It's for Zach," he told you, hoping you wouldn't be offended. As much as he might be spiteful towards the popular group, you were still a pretty girl and he didn't really want you to have reason to dislike him.
To his surprise, you laughed, not loudly, but still a genuine, sweet laugh that kind of made his heart jump around. You took the other Big One and opened it, pulling out the pickles and putting them into a napkin. He watched, wondering what on earth you were doing. You took the burger over to the table, along with the rest of the food.
"Hey, Zach, I think this one's yours. I asked for mine without pickle," you lied, and Zach smiled, taking his food from you. You looked over your shoulder at Brian and winked, leaving him looking at you with an amazed grin, shaking his head and going back into the kitchen.
"Duuuude, that new girl is hot," said Andrew when Brian came back.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Brian replied, incredulous. He was still annoyed he'd been left alone, even if it had given him the opportunity to talk to you.
"I went for a shit, man. What? Am I not allowed to shit at work anymore?"
"You take so long, dude. Besides, she's with those guys. Neither of us have a chance," Brian mumbled, and Andrew rolled his eyes.
"Come on, man. If she came over here right now and said to you 'please, baby, oh my gawwd, bend me over the counter and fuck me' you wouldn't do it?," grinned Andrew, doing a stupid, high-pitched impression and pretending to clutch excessive fake breasts.
"She doesn't talk like that."
"What?"
"I'm just saying, I spoke to her before and she doesn't talk like that," Brian repeated, putting some more chips in the fryer.
"Jeez, what's the matter with you today?" Andrew asked.
"Nothing man, just don't leave me when Amber's not here, I had to do the till."
---
You were squished up on the seat next to Zach, which you didn't like, but it was worth it to see him bite into the saliva burger. It was hard to hide your grin in that moment, so you shoved food into your mouth instead. Casey and her friend had been laughing about something, but you weren't really paying attention.
"Hey," she asked you suddenly. You looked up at her. "How come you were talking to the till guy for so long?" she asked, with a sickly smile on her face. Leah stifled a giggle, hitting Casey on the arm as if she just could not believe she said that.
"Huh?" you responded, acting dumb. "He was just worried he got the order wrong," you lied, and she raised an eyebrow. You didn't think it really mattered what you responded, she clearly had a plan.
"I don't know, if you ask me, it looked like you were flirting with him," she smirked, and Leah burst out into peals of laughter.
"Ha, ha. Flirting!" She parroted. "We're you flirting with the greasy guy from Mickey's?"
You hoped Brian couldn't hear her from the kitchen, she was being quite loud and it made you cringe at the idea he would hear her nasty comments because of you.
"Sure, I was flirting with him. Did I not tell you why I moved to Colorado? I'm a raging nymphomaniac. They sent me here because I tried to fuck everyone," you replied dryly, completely nonplussed. Whatever Casey had been trying to do (embarrass you, probably. Make you seem desperate.) it had completely backfired. Zach immediately turned to you, trying to play it cool but you could see the eager look in his eyes.
"Really? Is that true?"
"No," you scoffed, taking your last mouthful of fries and washing it down with your drink. You stood up, grabbing your jacket from the seat. "You people are the worst, I'm gonna go pee."
You walked off, totally done with the group and deciding to never hang out with them again after you got home. You went to the toilet and after washing your hands you pulled out your phone, sending a text to your dad.
R U HOME?
You sighed, hoping they would leave soon so you could get a lift back. That was the agreement, so even if Casey wouldn't drive you, you were fairly sure meathead Zach could be convinced to drop you home. You dropped your phone back into your pocket and ran your fingers across your scalp, ready to go out and face them again.
As you stepped out into the diner immediately something was off. It was quiet. At the table they had all been sat at was just a pile of rubbish. It was almost eerie. It was late, really late, and they had vanished without a trace. You sort of hoped that they'd been abducted by aliens or something, at least, you wouldn't have to be the girl who got ditched at fucking Mickey's, and at most they might get cut open and experimented on.
You gathered up their rubbish, unsure of what else to do, and shoved it into a trash can, then sat down at the table again. You weren't quite sure what to do except wait to see if your dad texted back so you could ask him to pick you up. It was too late to walk back on your own, and your dad's house was on the outskirts of Cody, a small wooden home in the woods. You supposed it was kind of a blessing, they'd probably take the piss if they saw where you lived.
So you waited for a bit, and it was getting later and later and your dad still hadn't replied, so you rang him. He didn't pick up. You rang him again, and swore at your phone as he continued to not answer his. You rang him three more times, no response, and you could see Brian and the other guy in the kitchen were watching you, which made it worse.
"You're a fucking asshole, dad," you muttered under your breath, phone held to your ear as it rang once more. A few lone customers came and went, and it made you self conscious.
Meanwhile, Brain still had his eye on you. He felt bad, obviously. The popular assholes had ditched you, and if he was fully honest with himself, he actually thought you were pretty cool. Him and Andrew had been discussing what to do. This involved Brian watching you and feeling bad whilst Andrew invented a plan in which he offered you a lift home and then somehow fucked you (the part where he actually convinced you to have sex with him was far less concrete than the rest). Brian had prompted him to enact his plan several times, but so far Andrew had not had the balls to approach you.
Then Amber was back, apologetic for taking so long of course. They filled her in on the situation and she kept prodding Brian in the side to try and get him to go over and ask if you were okay. Brian had acted like he didn't care, but in reality he also did not have the balls to approach you.
He wished he hadn't mentioned it to Amber. He felt weird listening to you cuss out your dad when he wouldn't pick up the phone. Every misconception he had when you walked in had been shattered, and now he knew he wouldn't be able to talk to you. You were miles out of his league.
"Brian, I swear, go over right now," Amber told him again, jabbing him hard in the ribs. "Just offer her a ride home. She needs a ride."
"Okay, fine!" he relented, mainly just to stop Amber from poking him in the ribs again because it was really annoying and was starting to hurt.
"Dude, don't steal my plan!" Andrew protested, and Brian rolled his eyes.
"Fine, you go over there then," Brian suggested, moving aside and gesturing the door. Andrew hesitated.
"...I don't think I have enough gas in my car. What if she lives far away?"
"Fucksake, man," sighed Brian, and walked out into the diner to speak to you. He came up to you, wringing his hands awkwardly. How had he gotten so clammy? He didn't know it was possible to be so clammy.
"Dad, you're a fucking asshole," you cursed into your phone again, louder now in your frustration. "Stupid fucking alcoholic son of a bitch." You jumped slightly, spotting Brian had approached.
"Sorry," he apologised immediately, feeling very uncool in his lack of confidence.
"No, it's fine. I can go. I guess you're closing soon, huh?" you replied, dejected at the situation. He shook his head.
"I was actually going to ask if... uh, like, if you wanted a ride home or something?"
You glanced up at him, surprised by the offer.
"Really?" you clarified. He shrugged.
"Yeah, I finish in ten minutes if you don't mind waiting," he suggested. His cheeks were a bit flushed and he hoped you didn't notice. He wasn't used to being this flustered, it made him feel quite vulnerable in front of you. He felt the urge to protect himself.
"Thank you so much."
"Whatever," he mumbled, turning round and immediately walking away. You frowned, but decided not to question it. You were grateful for the ride, it really saved you from having to walk across Cody to get home. You put your phone back in your pocket, moving to sit down at a table closer to the counter. The guy who had been in the kitchen with Brian was staring at you, oblivious to the fact you could see him. You watched Brian elbow him, muttering something, and then they both turned their backs.
A girl came out to the front till, pretty, with dark hair in a low ponytail and a yellow Mickey's visor. She smiled at you kindly.
"Hey, is Brian going to give you a ride home?" she asked you, leaning herself over the counter.
"Um, yeah," you responded, somewhat uncomfortable with the fact everyone was aware you had gotten ditched by the populars.
"Cool." She paused. "He's a nice guy, you know."
"I don't really know him," you reason, fairly enough. She shrugged.
"I'm Amber, by the way," she told you, flicking her name tag. You told her your name back. "How come you moved to Cody?" she asked.
"My parents got eaten by tigers," you joked, deadpan. Amber laughed.
"For real?" she chuckled, disbelieving.
"Nah," you shook your head, not offering her a proper answer. She seemed to forget about the question, which you were thankful for.
"Oh, well if you need anyone to hang out with you can hang out with me, you know, for like, school and stuff," she offered kindly, and you gave her a genuine smile.
"That's really nice, thanks Amber."
"Hey, I'm done now," Brian announced, coming round to the till. "My cars round the back," he mumbled, and you stood up quickly, saying goodbye to Amber and following him out the back exit by the bins somewhat awkwardly. He didn't really speak until you were in the passenger seat of his car, when he asked where you lived and you told him the directions to your dad's place.
"You live out there?" he asked. You brushed him off with a simple nod, and he backed out of the parking lot. Stifled by the silence in the car, you opened his glove box, rifling through the CDs, determined to make some kind of conversation by any means necessary (even if that was by being obnoxiously at-ease).
"What CDs have you got?" you queried, looking through the stack inn your hand.
"Hey, get off of those," he told you, annoyed, but still trying to focus on driving. You looked through, only recognising some. He had some Slipknot, Limp Bizkit, Beastie Boys and Korn.
"I like this album," you pressed on despite his protest, taking out the CD of L.D. 50 by Mudvayne and putting it in the CD Player. Brian continued to look annoyed, but you noticed the slight smile on his face as you turned the radio up slightly when Dig started to play.
"...I didn't think you'd like this kind of stuff," he pointed out after a minute, tapping his fingers on the wheel.
"What was that?" you clarified, doing a bad job of hiding your smug grin.
"I said..." he began, trailing off when he noticed your expression. "Oh you asshole," he laughed, realising you were just trying to get him to admit he'd misjudged you. His hands were so goddamn sweaty, he'd been gripping the wheel so hard he hadn't even noticed, too caught up in his nerves about being in the car with you. He relaxed slightly, hoping you wouldn't touch him at any point, although he didn't know why you would, in case you noticed how hot he'd gotten.
"What did you think I'd listen to?" you questioned, partly joking but also pretty curious.
"I don't know, like, Snow Patrol or some shit."
"That's so fucking rude," you gasped, and Brian chuckled self-consciously.
"I'm sorry, you came in with the worst people in school, what was I supposed to think?" he apologised, still smiling at your reaction. He wasn't normally this comfortable with someone he'd just met. He still felt slightly nervous, in case he made himself look like an idiot in front of you, but mostly he was surprised he liked you this much.
You picked at the edge of the threadbare seat in his car, looking out the window at the streets of Cody. You wondered if you'd start to feel in place soon, but doubted it. The last two weeks had turned your life over on its head.
Brian glanced at you, your head turned away from him as you stared out over the buildings at the trees and mountains in the distance. He could sense you were lost in thought, something sad in the way you focused on everything that passed by on the other side of the glass.
"How come you moved here, then?" he probed, taking the next left towards the outskirts of town.
"I'm on the run from the FDA," you joked, but he could hear the tension in your voice.
"Stop avoiding the question, you did it to Amber before, I heard you," he called you out, and your cheeks flushed hot. He seemed to change his mind on forcing an answer out of you. "You know what, it's your business. Whatever."
You hesitated. You were going to let it lie, but now the awkwardness in the car had returned and you knew you wouldn't make any friends by clamming up. Keeping things to yourself was a bad habit that you had never even tried to not do, but you considered the possibility that maybe by opening up you might actually make a proper friend. Besides, you could tell Brian wasn't the type to give without receiving anything back.
"...Uh... My mom died," you admitted finally, cringing at how blunt you had put it. He looked at you in surprise. "That's why I moved here, to live with my dad, you know?"
"Oh... Shit," he replied simply. "I'm sorry, I guess." You smiled at his awkward response.
"It's okay," you reassured him. "She was ill for ages, it was kind of a relief to be honest. I miss her a lot, but I can't be fucking bothered to go on about it. People die, shit happens, and there's so much shit in the world I'd rather not let my shit mix with everyone else's." You chuckled slightly. "That shit is my mom, you know? Let me fucking have it."
You were conscious you had made him feel awkward, but to your surprise he just grinned.
"Poetic."
You sat back in your seat and smiled. The car was going along the road through the forest now. It was quite nice, you though, the pine trees and the road that ran through them. Maybe living in Cody wouldn't be as bad as you thought. You spotted the light in your dad's driveway.
Brian turned in, and you took off your seatbelt, turning your head to him. You didn't really care that he could see your dad's cabin, you didn't care that he could see the beat up truck in the driveway. He didn't seem to care, and that assuaged any feelings of shame about your living arrangement. He didn't seem pitiful either, and that really warmed your heart. You really didn't want anyone feeling sorry for you.
"Thanks, Brian," you told him, genuinely, opening the door to get out of his car. He smiled slightly, and this time you did notice the slight flush on his cheeks.
"Uh, yeah. No problem. I'll see you round, I guess."
"I hope so."
He watched you go into your house, lingering for slightly longer than he should. He felt oddly elated, almost proud that he'd managed to talk to you for so long. He didn't want to be all soppy about it, but he thought about you the whole way home, about the things you said and even more about the things you didn't. He wondered what there was to find out about you. He wanted to know it all.
When he got home and changed out of his uniform he lay back on his bed, feeling a lot more confident about himself. He texted Amber, wanting to know when he'd get to see you again.
Plot: Louis contacts the Lady in a moment of madness and gets their advice
Warnings: Fluff mainly, Louis is struggling with his identity
Louis didn't contact you, as badly as he wanted to. He was far to awkward to show up at your apartment unannounced, so instead he just tucked the note into the pocket of every suit he wore.
One night, after seeing the ad in the paper, he contacted a woman, possibly a prostitute, about crossdressing, and even then he kept the note you had given him in the pocket of his trousers. He had used it as a bookmark at one point, but he couldn't help unfolding it and pouring over your cursive, running his fingers over the ink and imagining what it might be like to receive a letter from you in the same curved font. It had quickly been replaced with another piece of scrap paper, because it had been distracting him from his reading.
Wearing that red slip was an electric feeling, excitement flooding his veins at its light softness against his skin. He longed for that feeling again, although he didn't so much care for the spanking. Meeting Miss Hart had been eye opening, and he'd kissed her, just to kiss her and make sure everything was real. He was happy in that moment, although his heart had still been missing something
The biggest struggle was the duality of it all. He'd enjoyed being Georgina just as much as he'd enjoyed visiting the opera with Henry. Both were exhilarating experiences but they were both in such different realms that he didn't quite know what to do about it. There was no way they could co-exist. He wanted to dress as a woman, look in the mirror and see himself as pretty and elegant, but he also wanted to be a gentleman alongside Henry, and visit the opera and discuss literature and drink wine. Conflicting fantasies that both vied to occupy his mind.
That's why he had ended up parked outside your apartment building, sat in his father's old car reading over your address over and over again to ensure he had the right place. He got out the vehicle and looked at the building. It wasn't overly impressive, just a simple apartment building, nicer than his own, but not by much. Maybe it was the grandeur he had built around you in his head. He walked up the steps, reading the names and numbers on the intercom until he stopped by yours. Lady, it read, in the same hand as the address you'd given him, a slip of paper pushed beneath the plastic protectant. He pressed the buzzer, and it crackled.
"Who is it?" Came your voice, and he smiled to himself.
"Er, Louis. We met the other day," he said, unsure if you would take offense at him showing up uninvited. Maybe he had misinterpreted what you had meant by help the other day at the cafe.
"Ah, Louis, come on up," you replied warmly, even through the fuzzy intercom system. The door unlocked and he went in. The stairwell was a little old, and the wallpaper was peeling slightly, but even with the threadbare carpet at least your apartment building didn't smell like his did. He made his way up the stairs, stopping at your door. He heard jazz music drift through the wood, and knocked gently. For a moment he panicked, in case you had met another Louis the other day and thought he was him, but his worries were assuaged when the door opened and you smiled up at him.
"Hello," he greeted shyly. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, it's just you said..." he trailed off. You shook your head.
"Not at all, come in." You turned, leaving the door open for him, and he followed.
Your apartment was a little bigger than his, but what took his breath away was the decor. warm, jewel toned, embroidered fabric swathed the windows against fancy wallpaper, opulent and inviting. Candles and beads decorated shelves, with finely carved tables and ornate furniture. A bookshelf stacked full with books stood in one corner, and opposite a mahogany cabinet with a glass front displayed all sorts of trinkets and oddities. A small chandelier hung from the high ceiling and stacks of paper, printed photographs and typed pages stacked in corners. This was the grandeur he expected when he met you. He looked around for a moment, awestruck, before you acknowledged his wonderment.
"Welcome, pardon the mess, I was just doing some photos," you told him modestly, sitting down on the chaise longue in front of the coffee table, which did in fact have a load of stacked prints. "Take a seat," you offered, gesturing the armchair. He smiled, doing as you instructed, sinking into the velveteen seat. You stood up again, hurriedly clearing the table.
"Don't worry about that," he told you courteously, but you shook your head.
"It's fine, if it's there I won't stop thinking about it. Do you want a drink? Wine? Or are you driving? I can put the kettle on," you gushed, and he took you in in your habitat. You hair was up messily, strands falling down into your face like Bridgette Bardot or something. You looked comfortable, warm, cheeks flushed, wrapped in a satin robe but wearing a t-shirt and flowing green skirt.
"Tea would be nice," he suggested, already feeling more peaceful in your home. You nodded kindly, standing and going through to the little galley kitchen, just off from the living room and putting the kettle on the stove. There was a record player on the window sill, that's where the jazz music he had heard was coming from. "What's the record?" he asked, turning his head toward the kitchen door.
"Hmm?"
"The record, which is it?" he repeated. You smiled again, coming back through and perching yourself on the chaise longue once again, pulling your legs up beneath you so you were poised almost cat like.
"Miles Davis and John Coltrane, I think. Kind of Blue," you answered him. "So, what made you decide to come round?"
I wanted to see you, he thought. He couldn't voice it, but it was the real reason. The other reason he felt he definitely couldn't say, too worried of rejection. I have been crossdressing and the mad eccentric I live with would be furious to find out. Not a chance. He didn't think you would judge him, but he didn't know for sure. You were watching him now though, that same piercing gaze that seemed to be looking directly through him. He hadn't noticed quite how enticing the shade of your eyes was, imploring, definitely.
"I'm not sure," he responded, chewing his lip. You looked at him again, vying for more information. "New York isn't giving me the answers I hoped for. I'm struggling with certain dualisms within myself," he admitted, and you hummed, considering.
"I take it you aren't going to elaborate on those dualisms?" you prompted, and he shook his head. "So you've moved to New York, and it's taken everything you thought about yourself and turned it upside down?" you clarified.
"Yes," he agreed, relieved someone seemed to get it.
"It seems you've lived one way for a long time, and you hoped you'd move here and it would all fall into place, but it hasn't. It's just emphasised the part of you that you got to avoid before you moved, darling," you explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. His heart filled with honey at the pet name, although the way you had said it implied it was a more general term, but you saying darling had heightened both the part that longed to be a gentleman and the part that felt alive as a woman in perfect harmony. He brought his mind back to the rest of what you had said. Such a quick and succinct analysis of him that it was almost scary.
"That's... entirely right, actually," he realised, noting your proud smile as you tucked your hair out of your face.
"New York is just a city, darling," you told him, his heart quickening at that same word. "It can't give you any answers. They're only in you."
The kettle whistled, and you got yourself up again, leaving your words to sink in. He stopped for a moment. You were undoubtedly right, but without specifics you could give him no real advice. He mulled it over in his head. What could it all mean?
"Is earl grey alright?" you asked him from the kitchen. "I also have rooibos."
"Earl grey is fine for me," he responded, a little flummoxed by the question, but glad to live a little closer to his English gentleman fantasy. You brought the tea out, offering him a mug, which he sipped before deciding it was too hot and placing it on the coffee table.
"Tell me," you began. "Where are you living at the minute?"
And so he told you all about the far too personal apartment he shared, and mostly about Henry Harrison, the mad, possible gigolo, he shared it with. You laughed along with him as he shared stories that he had acquired so quickly, with the maniac driving in his beaten up car far too fast to the opera, and stealing tickets from those leaving halfway through. The amazing performance itself, and the dancing in the morning, the silly evening conversations and the collection of Christmas balls on the table. You grinned through half of the tales, and full on belly laughed at the others, sharing some crazy anecdotes of your own, and by the time he had finished his tea there were tears in both of your eyes, throats hurting from laughing. He checked his watch, disappointed to see the late hour, but knowing he should go back so he could adhere to Henry's odd rules.
"I really have to get back, I don't want to wake the old fool," he explained, and you nodded, following him to the front door to say goodbye.
"It was lovely talking to you, feel free to visit again," you told him as he stepped out the front.
"Of course," he replied. "Thank you for your advice."
You grinned again, such a beautiful expression on your face, full of light and happiness, then opened your arms to him for a hug. He borderline fell into it, eager to hold you in his arms. You squeezed him tight, probably sensing how much he needed it. Touch starved, undeniably, almost desperate for contact with someone. He inhaled your smell again, smoky, vanilla perfume. He held it for probably a second too long, loving the feeling of you warm against him, and then pulled away, bidding you goodbye and heading to his car with renewed vigour.
Plot: Thrust into New York, Louis makes a friend who goes by the name Lady.
Warnings: Wholesome, GN Reader but wears women’s clothes
Notes: I have seen a lot of Louis Ives content centres as him being transfem, but from what I’ve seen of the film I think he just likes to crossdress. I didn’t finish the film because it was bad and I have no attention span. (I love trans Louis content though, don’t stop.)
Louis quickly picked up his discarded pork ribs from the floor, mortified at the distasteful look he’d received from Mary as he had knocked them. He wasn’t sure whether to be disheartened or thrilled at how New York had been since he had moved. He felt awkward here, somewhat enamoured by the eccentric man he was sharing an apartment with, but still out of place. Ill-adjusted he supposed, and now working in a place of militant opinions about the environment.
As he glanced up, however, he noticed something. You, talking to his boss. It was the dress he noticed first. Deep jewel blue and taffeta, giving it the effect of the shell on the back of a beetle with the way it reacted to the light as it moved. His gaze travelled up to your face, the slight side profile of it as you talked. A film star quality, with your hair pinned back. You looked frustrated, shrugging on a long black woollen coat and picking up your things, threading a camera strap around your neck. You turned round to leave, and yes, your face was straight out of a movie, even despite your frustration. He looked down, scared of being caught watching, and let his eyes follow you after your back was turned, out of the office doors.
“Ives,” came his bosses voice, making him jump as his attention snapped away from you. “Could you please meet the Lady at one o’clock at the cafe on main? Just talk to her, get her to come back here.”
Louis was about to ask a million questions, but his boss had already turned back into his office and shut the door behind him. He checked his watch, it was 12:44, giving him only 16 minutes to get there. Quickly, he stood up, grabbing his things and shoving them into his bag, uncharacteristically flustered. He was usually so organised, he hated things to be last minute.
He ended up speeding down the street to get there at a breakneck walk, not allowing himself to jog at all for fear of appearing ungainly. He checked his watch again as he stopped outside. 12:59, miraculously not late. He stepped in and the bell rang. He noticed you again immediately, same shiny blue dress on as you flicked lazily through a book. You checked your own watch, shut the book and looked up at him. The eye contact made his breath hitch. You looked so exciting to him, and he felt like a great idiot with no idea what to say.
“Ah, it’s you they sent then,” you said simply, taking a sip from your coffee. He nodded hurriedly, taking the seat opposite you. “Do you know what you’re doing here?” you asked. He shook his head, embarrassed. He wasn’t doing a very good job. You made a tsk noise, although it didn’t seem to be aimed at him.
“They say they want you back,” he added, thus sharing the sum of all his knowledge on the situation. You looked unimpressed, but then you looked at him and gave him a sympathetic smile. He could smell your perfume from where he was sat, very faintly. It was sweet, vanilla or something similar, with a slight smokiness.
“I’ll fill you in on what they neglected to tell you,” you told him generously. “I have worked part time for that magazine for eight months as a photographer, although I prefer to call myself a photographic journalist. They have fumbled my money multiple times and every photo they send me to get is of fields, or plants or goddamn solar panels. I’m sick of it. They’re all self-righteous, sanctimonious idiots and this is the third time I’ve quit. I’m not going back.”
Louis nodded, unsure of what to say, although he did feel the responsibility of getting you back, if not to aid the magazine then so he would see you again. He cleared his throat.
“If I might suggest…” he began, but you cut him off.
“I’m sorry,” you replied, quite genuinely. “It’s not happening.” You paused, looking at him properly. He could feel your eyes going right through him and he suddenly felt very vulnerable, you seemed to be evaluating and for a second it felt like you knew every secret of his and exactly who he was. “What did you say your name was?” you asked, and his throat felt dry when he went to speak.
“Louis. Louis Ives,” he responded, offering his hand out to you which you took and shook. Your skin was warm and soft against his, he felt a hot blush rise up his neck. “What’s yours?”
“Lady, although not really. It’s more of a nickname.” You bowed your head to him conspiratorially, then quietly uttered your own name. He smiled, especially when you added that he was to take it to the grave with him. You took another sip of your coffee, finishing the drink.
“It suits you,” he said honestly, wishing he had something better to say. You smiled back at him, a genuine, warm smile. You stood up, pulling your jacket back on and picking up your camera from next to you.
“Lovely to meet you, Louis, but I have to go. Tell them at the office that I never showed, if you want,” you offered kindly, then looked at him again, like you were judging him, weighing you options. You pulled a piece of notepaper out from your pocket and a pen, scribbling something down onto it and handing it to him, folded up. “If you ever need anything, any…” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “Help finding yourself in New York, then please call in. Evening times are best, but you’re always welcome.” With that, you left, gliding out of the shop onto the street like you owned the city, and then you were gone before he had time to react.
He unfolded the note in his hand, the one he’d unwittingly clutched. On it, in fine cursive, an address. He tucked it firmly into his suit pocket, a token to new beginnings.
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gamechangershow
titsay
kianamaiart
prguitarman