Steve is really good at languages. He takes advanced language classes in school and sometimes at the community center when they were available. His experiences traveling with his parents gave him a passion for it. Eddie isn’t as good at languages and needs a lot of help in order to pass French. Since Steve was (secretly) the top student in the class the teacher decided to make him his tutor. Steve agreed immediately because of his huge crush on Eddie and would take advantage of Eddie’s lack of knowledge to flirt with him in French during their tutoring sessions. He felt it was a safe way to express his feelings for now. Unfortunately Robin (who also happened to be very good at languages) overheard what he was saying and confronted him about it. She encouraged Steve to just ask Eddie out, assuring him that Eddie felt the same way. Steve doubts it, but later on while Eddie was using the restroom, finds the metal heads attempts at writing him love letters in French
Hello! I wanted to let you all know that I offer 1-on-1 French tutoring (via Telegram ideally, for calls, and sending you audio homework)!
The first introduction meeting is free so that we can discuss your goals and what you need/want from our sessions. We figure out the best schedule for the both of us, and then I work on a customized learning plan for you!
The link below is a google form to fill in in order to sign up. In it, I ask basic questions about yourself so that I can then email you with a proposed time/day for our intro meeting and start thinking about a personalized plan for you.
Thank you for your interest in private tutoring with me! I'm excited to meet you and count you as one of my students.
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Feyre hated French. She hated the snobbish accent, the garish vowels and the fanciful spelling that had no logic or practical use. Whoever dubbed it the language of arts and love and all that was beautiful in life was a fool. Beauty was simplicity. It was a stroke of paint on a blank canvas, vibrant colors coming to life under an inspired gaze. It was the stars glowing in the night sky, the violet of amethyst and crocuses, an irreverent smirk on sensuous lips -
She scowled at the turn her thoughts had taken, fighting the blush creeping up her neck.
“Here, translate these sentences for me.”
She huffed, rolling her eyes at the tutor the principal had forced on her. As if she needed more reasons to stand Rhysand putain de Night’s company.
See? She spoke French just fine.
He tapped the paper in front of him. “It’s just so I can see what level you’re at.”
She dragged it to her side of the table, avoiding his gaze. The handwriting was elegant, the letters beautifully looping into one another.
Rhysand est le gars le plus beau du lycée.
She frowned at the name, knowing mischief was afoot. It was a simple, short sentence, and yet it took longer and much more effort than she cared to admit, but –
“Are you fucking kidding me? How stupid do you think I am?”
Rhys’s eyes were twinkling with amusement. “What is it?”
She nearly slammed her hand – or his face – on the table. “This says Rhysand is the most handsome guy in school!”
“I’m glad you think so, Feyre darling,” he purred, his voice sinfully seductive in the shadowed corner of the stuffy school library.
“No, I –” she protested but she knew her blazing cheeks betrayed her.
She’d had a strong, albeit reluctant crush on Rhysand since sophomore year. He was one year older, her best friend’s cousin, the most popular guy in school and every other trope imaginable, but whenever their eyes locked and he winked or smirked or smiled, she stopped caring how silly she was being.
Rhys was already writing down other sentences, and she could see his name every couple of lines. Gods, how was she supposed to keep a straight face, let alone learn French, when the hottest guy in existence seemed hell-bent on teasing her until she died of embarrassment and/or intense emotional repression?
“Since we’re past that, how about we move to la conjugaison?”
Feyre scowled at him. “Prick,” she muttered under her breath. He’d known that was the area she needed help with from the beginning.
Rhysand … (être, présent) merveilleux.
Je … (faire, futur simple) n’importe quoi pour ses beaux yeux.
J’… (adorer, présent) la compagnie de Rhysand.
Feyre was careful to keep her face blank as she worked through the ridiculous exercise, until the last sentence had her snapping her head up so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.
(Vouloir, tu) … sortir avec moi? ‘Would you like to go out with me?’
She couldn’t gauge Rhys’s intentions with his face buried in a textbook. Was he serious? Or was it just his usual shameless flirting?
Feyre’s heart was beating so loud she was sure he could somehow hear it. The guy never missed anything. There was no way he didn’t know about her silly crush on him, and he wasn’t so cruel to tease her this way… or was he?
There was only one way to find out.
She steeled herself and scribbled down at the bottom of the page, her handwriting a messy scrawl near Rhys’s picture perfect penmanship.
“Rhys,” her voice was breathless. She cleared her throat and pushed the paper towards him. He slowly closed the book, or maybe it was only slow to Feyre’s heightened senses. His gaze was inscrutable. “When you finish correcting, there is a question in vocabulary I need your help on.”
He clicked his pen open and got to work. She winced at all the wrong answers she had, barely less than half, then held her breath as he read what she’d written.
She couldn’t read French upside down, nor could she decipher Rhys’s face through its impenetrable mask, so she waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, he handed her back the paper. He had filled out the blanks she’d left for him.
Feyre est… belle (adjectif). ‘Feyre is beautiful.’
Je voudrais … sortir avec elle. ‘I would like to go out with her.’
She bit her lip, shyly glancing back at him. His eyes were glowing, as bright as the stars in the night star, as vibrant as amethyst and crocuses.
“So?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I would love to go out with you.”
Rhysand’s answering smile was nothing short of magnifique.
It’s not at all I’m just struggling and I wanted to get your attention. Basically I’m a French 11th grade student. And I’m getting really ridiculously stressed at everything because of school. YES IM FAILING AND I NEED YOUR HELP.(wether it’s support or help). Yo the MVP if you read this far thanks. Here have a cupcake
