The Originals Prefrences And Imagines

Mr L/n (Davina) Male Reader

You sighed, clicking your pen quite loudly. No matter what you did you never seemed to understand the language of triangles...trigonometry. You were alright with basically any other form of math except trigonometry.

Your (sexist) father had told you over and over that men were supposed to be the most intelligent when it came to math, and because of his stereotypical statement you were to suddenly understand the lines and angles that floated around the board.

You continued to click your pen extremely loudly and the new girl in front of you turned around with an annoyed expression.

"Can you please stop?" She asked, like she was actually eager to learn.

You put the pen down and the brunette gave you a bright smile and began taking notes cheerfully, you cringed at her positive attitude about school and began sketching a picture in your book, not even trying to pay attention to what the teacher was saying, you had completely zoned out.

"Mr Y/n!!!" Exclaimed Mrs Jones.

You didn't notice and kept on drawing your picture of a flaming demon kangaroo standing in the doorway of a creepy old house because, why not.

The girl from before turned and tapped your shoulder after the teacher had given up.

"Mr L/n," She mocked, "Did you hear a word of what the teacher said?"

This time your attention had been caught, "Um...no."

The girl gasped, faking shock, "How dare you!"

You chuckled but shrugged, "It's not like I'm gonna use maths in the real world anyway."

"It's good to know anyway," She pulled a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, "They never taught me any of this at my old....home."

"You were home schooled?" You frowned, realising this was probably why'd you hadn't seen her before.

"Me and all the girls in my...community were taught by the elders," She said nervously, "Separate from the boys, they taught us things but the life skills were outdated...sexist. Which makes no sense if you think about it...."

You frowned, finding what she was talking about hard to follow so you simply nodded your head and pretended to understand. Women liked that, right?

The bell rang and the brunette turned away from you and you let out a sigh of relief. Now you could breathe and be daggy again.

She began to pack up and she was finished much quicker than you were which lead you to believe something was up to foul play. Or, y'know, she'd just looked at the clock and packed up a couple minutes earlier. But you hadn't bothered, so you were forced to waste a precious 30 seconds of your time packing up you pencils.

You closed your sketch book and began to leave, relieved that maths was over....