Lafayette x reader. Sorry about all the French that I added ( ' ▽ ' )ﾉ
I run off the boat, sprint off the dock and grab on to the first tree I see. I wrap my arms around it, not caring about the weird looks from civilians.
This is the last time I let Jefferson talk me into something. I think bitterly as I calm down. I had spent too long on that stuffy boat. My trip from New York to France was long and sickening. I let go of the tree.
I open the letter Jefferson wrote me. Lin Street, apartment 37. Its not too far from the docks. Just ask for directions.
I walk up to a man who is strolling past.
"Excuse me. Can you direct me to Lin Street?" I ask. The man looks at me as if I had three heads.
"Je ne comprends pas." He responds.
"Damn it. I can't speak French." I mumble to myself. "Never mind, Sir. Sorry to bother you."
"Folle." He mutters as he walks away.
"Don't know what that means, but to you too, Sir!" I call after him. Well, I better get started on my journey to find Jefferson. Damn France lover.
Time skip
"I HAVE FOUND IT! LIN STREET!" I yell out in triumph. I had walked for hours, trying to find the damn place. "YOU'RE LUCKY I'M TIRED, JEFFERSON! OTHERWISE I WOULD KICK YOUR FRENCH LOVIN' ASS!" the people walking by me give me dirty looks, but I don't care. I walk down the sidewalk, searching for apartment 37.
When I find it, I stomp up to the door and bang on it.
"OI! JEFFERSON! YOU BETTER BE HOME!" I yell to the door
After a while, a man opens the it. He has brown locks ties up in a ponytail. His eyes are puppy-like. He is just another breathtaking Frenchman. Not Jefferson. I start to internally freak out a bit.
IS THIS THE WRONG HOUSE? OH SHIT OH SHIT OHSHIT!
"Hey Jefferson, une belle femme est arrivée!" The man calls.
"Beautiful woman? Where?" Jefferson pears out from behind the man's shoulder. "Oh. Its just (y/n). Come in, come in."
"Wait...you saying I'm not beautiful?" I ask Jefferson, putting my hands on my hips. "And...did you just call me beautiful?" I point to the Frenchman.
"Well, I suppose you are a...handsome woman. Don't take it to heart (y/n), you just aren't my type. And you are my best friend." Jefferson replies defensively. "As for Lafayette here...he did, in fact, call you beautiful."
"Oui madame. I think you are very beautiful." The man called Lafayette flirts in a heavy French accent. He takes my hand and kisses it. I blush a bit. Jefferson rolls his eyes and grabs my arm, pulling me inside.
Time skip
I sit...well, more like, lounge...on a couch in the living room. It is a very unladylike position, but I don't give a damn. My legs are on fire and my feet are throbbing.
