Limerence ❀ Yandere!Males x Reader

entry #19 | ¢яåѕн

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Fridays are supposed to be fun and exciting, something people look forward to, especially if they're in school. It was a day where (Y/n) could slack off and catch up on well-needed sleep, as well as begin procrastinating. It was a day where she could indulge in all the movies that needed viewing and games that needed playing. Friday was the gateway to the weekend, when she didn't have to worry about waking up on time or doing her homework. It was the Department for Education (DfE)'s one act of mercy.

But no, a certain someone just had to ruin it for her.

Friday was definitely not fun when she had to spend her precious lunch period staring at Tristan Knight's face. Okay, she admitted it wasn't unpleasant to look at—holy, she thought. I could cut myself on his jawline—but spending a one-on-one tutoring session with a cold, judgemental person like him was what made it unpleasant.

The male in question was busy going through stacks of papers he had pulled out of his briefcase as she worked. He had given her more work to do after checking the problems he'd assigned to her during the last session, which was on Wednesday. (Y/n) quickly got bored of her calculus problems and began doodling in the margins, all the while stealing peeks at her tutor.

His posture was annoyingly perfect as he wrote something in neat, uniformed letters on the papers. Even with all those documents, Tristan managed to keep them all organized neatly. If it were her, (Y/n) would've lost them all already.

He suddenly sighed, closing his eyes and reopening them. "Your work is on the paper," he said curtly, not looking up. "Not on my face." The iciness of his tone made the (h/c)-haired girl avert her eyes back to her worksheet.

Do you think I'm really going to do all this? (Y/n) glared at the paper. I don't even do the classwork in Mrs. Richards' class, so I'm definitely not doing something that's not even written in English. What is this, Turkish?

"It's been ten minutes," the blue-haired male interrupted her train of thought. "And you've only done two problems?"

Only ten minutes? She thought incredulously. It felt like an hour. "Three," (Y/n) corrected him.

"There are only twenty questions. And yet you've failed to complete them in the allotted time frame."

"Oh who knew, you could actually see through those glasses of yours," she retorted snarkily. By now, her fatigue has clouded the nonexistent logical portion of her brain. Where normally she might've ignored him, this time she was subconsciously speaking her thoughts aloud. "Should I clap for you? Or did you want me to commend you on that?"

"You could spend your nonexistent wit or the lack thereof on completing what I assigned you," he shot back without missing a beat. "Let me remind you that you are the one who signed up for the program—"

"I mean, technically it was Jas—"

"Do not interrupt me," the blue-eyed male snapped. "As I was saying, it will be you that suffers when you do not get into the university you want or any in general. It will have no effect on me. So instead of wasting your time trying to get yourself out of a hole you dug, please spend it in a more productive way. Namely finishing that booklet."

He glanced down at his wristwatch. "You have five minutes remaining."

"Wait, five?" She stared bug-eyed down at her worksheet. More than half of it was untouched. "Can't you give me more time?"

"Four minutes and fifty seconds, and counting."

"But—"

"Arguing will not do you any good. Time is money."