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justtwotired · 5 months

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Whispers of the night-Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

Hi, this will become a new series, I’ve never done a series on Tumbler, only Wattpad and AO3, but I’ll probably add some of those series on her aswell, not the long ones, though.

I’ll add this series to both those platforms somewhere this month, but I’ll probably change the name cuz I don’t like this one that much.

Summary: y/n is your typical rebelling teen, sneaking out, ignoring her parent requests, stealing snacks from shops, skipping school. People who are like her, people with powers, normally do good, like the ninja, she likes to live a quite, but not so quite life.

Like that, she ignores the power she holds, she holds the power of illusion, she does not keep it a secret form her friends, though doesn’t like to talk about it much with people outside her friend group.

Her power isn’t unknown, so, of course, she did get an invitation to the tournament of elements, but she never attended, having promised herself she would live a quite, normal, teenager life.

That changes when a certain green ninja enters her life.

“Yes! Perfect, Millie!” Y/n clapped as the friend group cheered. The eight of them spent most of their free time in the skate park in Ninjago city.

It only had a pole, bank, pit and a halfpipe (which they where currently sitting on) but it would do, if they needed more like a stair railing, they’d go to other parts of the city.

Amelia landed on Y/n’s right side with a cocky smirk. Next to her sat Anthony while Luna stood behind them.

It was a sunny Wednesday, one of the last sunny days they where expecting, as it was late September.

“Alright, now copy that.” Amelia patted Y/n on the back and the girl got up, “I’ll destroy you, Cooper.” She said with slightly narrowed eyes and a smirk.

She picked up her skateboard, the bottom decorated with small doodles she made herself, but also some made by her friends, names included.

“Want me to film you?” Flora called from the other side of the halfpipe. “Sure!” Y/n called back, getting into position.

When she got the thumbs up from Flora, she shifted her weight and took off, getting cheered on by the others while Amelia jokingly yelled “boo!”

The six Ninja had the afternoon for themselves, having trained in the morning and decided on spending some time in the local park.

They walked past the skatepark and Lloyd looked over to see what the people there where up to. There was a girl with h/c hair soaring on her skateboard while being cheered on.

She was really beautiful.

“What ya looking at?” Kai looked at the direction Lloyd was looking at and smirked. “Watching the pretty skate girls?” He teased making Lloyds cheeks slightly heat up before protesting, making the others laugh.

“Good enough for you?” Y/n cocked a brow at Amelia who grinned. “More then enough.” She said. Flora, Arthur and Charlie, who had been on the other side, climbed onto their side.

“Who’s getting drinks?” Y/n heard Charlie ask, she had registered what he said to late, and when she looked up, everyone had a finger on their nose.

“Fine,” she grumbled, making the others chuckle. She wrote down what everyone wanted and waved before heading to the food and drink stall not far away.

When she arrived there she smiled at the boy with blonde hair that stood there, seeming to wait for his order.

He smiled back and she heard chuckling behind them. He turned around and shot his friends who stood not far away a glare.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” The teenager behind the register asked and Y/n smiled kindly.

“Hello,” she greeted. “Could I please have two cokes, a strawberry shake, one lemonade, one ice-tea, two passion fruit shakes and a ginger beer?” She asked and the girl nodded with a polite smile.

“Was that all?” She questioned. “Yes, that was it.” She answered and pulled out her card. “That would be eighteen fourth five,”

Y/n payed for the drinks and waited next to the boy who was tapping his foot on the ground a bit impatiently.

She couldn’t help but notice how cute he was. Blonde hair that was shining in the sun, light freckles on his face, bright green eyes and she couldn’t help but see he worked out daily.

Feeling he stare, he looked at her and smiled kindly, making her quickly look the other way.

He was then handed his drinks, and walked of after giving her a polite nod.

When she received her drinks aswel, she walked back to her friends who excitedly ran over and all took their own drinks.

Lloyd handed everyone their drinks and they smirked at him. “What?” He asked, taking his own drink in his hands.

“She was totally checking you out man!” Cole said, pushing Lloyds shoulder slightly, and if it wouldn’t have been for his own super strength, he would’ve fallen over.

“Who was?” He asked confused, making the others exchange baffled glances. “That pretty skater girl, obviously.” Kai rolled his eyes.

“No she was not!” Lloyd pointed out and Nya sighed. “Lloyd, I think it’s time we get your eyes checked.” She said disappointedly, making the others laugh.

“But come on dude, you can’t tell me she isn’t pretty, right?” Kai poked Lloyds arm making the green ninja chuckle. “She is, really pretty indeed.” He admitted.

The group had decided to make their way to James’ house as he had a huge backyard. Still sipping on their drinks, they walked to the entrance to the park.

Well, except for Luna, who was standing on her skateboard while holding onto Arthur, casually looking at her phone while being pulled forwards.

“Hey, is that the guy from the stand?” Amelia suddenly pointed to a group of friends who where standing in the shadow of a tree.

Amongst them indeed the boy Y/n had stood next to and mentioned to her friends.

Embarrassed, she quickly pulled her friends arm down as three of the boys looked their way, Amelia being rather loud.

“Millie!” Y/n hissed making her friends laugh.

“Hey, wait!” They turned to someone approaching them. “Hello?” Anthony raised an eyebrow at the guy standing in front of them.

“Hi,” he pointed his attention to Y/n, “I’m Kai and my friend over there,” he pointed at the blonde boy from earlier who looked mortified. “He thinks you’re really pretty and wants your number.” He said and Y/n gave an amused smirk while Flora and Amelia giggled.

Y/n tilted her head to the side to look at the blond boy who seemed to be scolding one of his friends with black hair.

“Sure, why not?” She smiled and looked over at Charles.

“Charlie, can I have the sticky notes and a pen?” She asked and he smirked and handed them over.

She wrote her number down and her name right under it. “Here, give that to your handsome friend.” She winked as she gave it before Kai thanked her and took off again.

“Damn N/n, you just got yourself boyfriend.” Luna teased with a smirk making Y/n give her a look. “It’s just a number, Lu.” She said, making her friends protest.

“Why did you have to dare him to do that?” Lloyd pointed an accusing finger at Cole who could only laugh.

Kai had jogged back over and everyone looked at him expecting and he gave Lloyd the sticky note with her name and number.

“Y/n, huh?” He read with a small smirk, having not expected to actually get her number.

“Mhm, and, her words where ‘give that to your handsome friend’ so I think you just got yourself a maybe girlfriend.” Kai said and Lloyd knew at that moment he was in for a lot of teasing for the rest of the day.

“I’m home!” Y/n closed the door behind her and walked into her house. It was almost 10 so she was surprised to see her little brother still on the couch.

She walked past and pushed the hood of his hoody over his head and he let out an angry yelp.

“Mooomm, Y/n’s bullying me!” He called out and their mother poked her head out of the kitchen. “Y/n?” She gave her eldest daughter a look making her smirk.

“Why’s he still up?” She entered the kitchen, taking an apple out of the fruit basket. “He’s free from school tomorrow so I allowed him to stay up late tonight.” Her mother said, rolling out dough to make cookies while Y/n took a bite of her apple.

“He’s literally six,” she swallowed her apple. “You didn’t allow me to stay up this late when I was that age.” She said

“Well this is different… kind of, but it’s just one time, I hope it won’t get to his head.” Her mother shook her head making Y/n chuckle.

“If it does it’s a you problem,” she threw the remains of her apple away and snatched her phone form the table.

“I’m heading out around 12, Charlie, Luna, Millie and I are going for a movie and then we’ll see what we’re going to do,” she looked at her phone.

“Hold up young lady, while that sounds fun, there has been a lot going on around the city again, I don’t want you going out at night.” He mother said making her groan.

“Come on mom, nothings going to happen, the ninja and police can handle it, it’s not that big of a threat anyway.” She waved it off. “Y/n!” Her mother said sternly and she groaned.

“Fine.” She left the kitchen and headed up the stairs with a scowl.

The ding of her phone made her look back at her screen.

Unknown number huh?

???

Hi, I wanted to apologise for my friends earlier today.

It’s me from the park btw.

You

Oh hi!

No that’s completely fine, I thought it was pretty funny.

Thanks for the complement btw ;)

???

Always happy to complement pretty girls :)

She couldn’t help but blush before quickly composing herself and sending a text back.

You

Always happy to receive complements from handsome guys.

Who I don’t know the name of btw

What’s your name?😅

???

Lmao, it’s Lloyd, and I supposed yours is Y/n?

You

That would be me!

The two texted for a while, and when she looked at the time she couldn’t believe an hour had already passed.

You

Oh damn, I really need to go, but I’d like to hang out some time

Lloyd

Timing, I need to go to, actually.

Sounds fun btw, text me a date and time, I’ll be there ;)

She chuckled and changed her chat.

The abusment park

LuLu✨

We still up for the movies?

Jamie

Nope

Lulu✨

Piss off Jamie, you weren’t coming in the first place

Jamie

Oh😪

Arty😈

#stopJamesabuse

You

Sooo…

King Charles👑

Y/n😤

You

I am so sorry, my mother is being a pain :(

LuLu✨

Just sneak out

Problem solved

Mills🩷

Y/n you better sneak out or I’ll sneak in and drag you out.

You

Damn ya don’t need to threaten me.

My mom just laid down, I suppose I could sneak out in ten

King Charles👑

See you there then

You better show up🫵🏻

You

🫡

After ten minutes, Y/n could hear her mother softly snoring in her room and she could still hear the tv downstairs, hoping that was enough distraction for her snitching little brother.

She opened her window softly and sat on the window sill. She took en deep breath and jumped down, landing on the grass in their front yard.

She grabbed the broom that stood agains the wall of the house and used it to push her window closed.

That’ll do.

The abusement park

You

Be there in twenty

King Charles👑

You better be

LuLu✨

We will come for you👹

Y/n chuckled and grabbed her skateboard before making her way to the city centrum.

She put in her headphones and blasted music, making the noice of her surroundings disappear into the background.

At arrival, she smirks at her friends who get up at the sight of her.

“N/n!” Amelia cheers as she pulls her into an excited hug. “So Lu just checked on her phone, and there are four seats free in some sort of horror movie, so if we sneak in, we can watch it no problem.” She explains.

“Sure yeah, I can fix that.” Y/n grins, and with a snap of her fingers, they disappeared to the crowds eye.

“Holy shit what happened?” Charlie says panicked. “Illusions Charlie!” Luna hit his shoulder. “Oh, right.”

After four years, Charlie still can’t get used to Y/n having these powers, so whenever she uses them, he believes in the illusion making him see them.

If one does belief the illusion is really there and not an illusion, they just see what Y/n wants them to see, but if they realise what she’s doing, the illusion disappears for their eyes.

“Let’s go then, and uh, stay silent.” She says and her friends follow her, making sure to not walk into someone.

They got into the theater easily, it was still quite empty so when they sat, y/n could change them back and they snickered.

When the movie ended, they snuck out again.

“I can’t believe you actually got scared!” Y/n and Luna where laughing while Amelia cursed at them. She had screamed multiple times. Charlie just followed them with an amused grin.

#stopJamesabuse #ninjago #ninjago city #ninjago cole #ninjago jay #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #ninjago kai #lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon x reader #jumpupkickbackwhiparoundandspin✨#ninjago x reader #ninjago x oc #harry potter

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so-long-soldier-writes · 1 month

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Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it.

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention.

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers.

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you.

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.”

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher.

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach.

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment.

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can.

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical.

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own.

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours.

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits.

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.”

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class.

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly.

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go.

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute.

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident.

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time.

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that.

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation.

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking.

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly.

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better.

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs.

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room.

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty.

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile.

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go.

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are.

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him.

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it.

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door.

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe.

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe.

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind.

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees.

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance.

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature.

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them.

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest.

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet.

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough.

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips.

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink.

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?”

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

#i feel like i'm cheating on kai #but i promise kai isn't going anywhere!!#nor are the mikaelsons - those for which i'm trying to write more #i have simply ✨ added ✨ another man to my collection #y'all i spelt his name wrong so many times writing this #have i ever mentioned i had a crush on a boy named isaac in my junior year of hs?#he was a twin #anyway #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction

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