Hello there! I am Upsetti-Spaghetti, but you can just call me Spaghett 🍝 in my early 20's
Fantasy and Monster Blog
Ao3 Account
I like to write about: romance, queer, horror, yandere, fantasy, fiction, supernatural creatures
I write short stories for topics I am interested in, namely yanderes. This blog will be mostly reader inserts, i.e. yandere x reader, though I may write other things as the mood strikes me. I do tend to write in large chunks, but the urge to write comes and goes, so don't expect a consistent posting schedule. Anyways, I hope whoever stops by enjoys my writing! ✨️💞✨️
Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be immediately blocked, as well as blogs that say 'irl yandere' in them 🔞 and I do mean immediately
General CWs include: yanderes, general obsessiveness, smut, noncon, dubcon, stalking, horror, gore, monsterfucking, most kinks, basically anything contentious
Please remember that fiction ≠ reality, and I do not condone any of the things mentioned in this blog. Also, you are responsible for your experience online, so just block me if you dislike my content ✨️💚✨️
Feel free to submit requests or ask questions about my stories. I can't promise that your request will get a fleshed out story; it may just be a list of ideas, but I will try my best. 🫡
Tags like 'my writing' and 'reblogs' are in the tags of this post for ease of navigation. 💚
Anon list: coward, Hel, bigfanofsydney
Requests: Open Info: ⬇️
Please take a moment to read my rules down below.
Welcome to my blog, and I hope you enjoy your stay!! ✨️👋✨️
Happy Pride Month! This month, I will only be writing queer darlings and yans!
In terms of teasing, he can dish it out but can't take it. At all. Tease him even a little and he's a blushing mess but he will lift your skirt up and glance down your shirt like it's nothing
He has awful grades and always has, he just doesn't understand how the hell an equation works or how symbolism is supposed to tell you something about a story. He is good at sports, though, much to the irritation of every jock at school
He usually wears long sleeves, even in summer, you don't think you've ever seen him in a short sleeve shirt. He insists he doesn't get hot. There's been several times where you've just taken his cold hands and put them on your face
He has a bridge piercing and both eyebrows are pierced, though you'd never know because his hair covers them. He pins his bangs back when he's at home and you almost caught him outside like that once before he leapt into a tree and you passed it off as some animal
He has a huge degradation kink and is a hell of a masochist, both physically and emotionally. Any time you ignore him or say you hate him both makes him upset and giddy. He considers you a delicious type of torture
He may be stupid academically but he is street smart and had a knack for knowing what people are like just by glancing at them. Sometimes, you notice him staring at someone across the street or he'll randomly pull you into an alleyway. He says it's just because he's spacey or he wanted to go a different way for a change but it kind of seems like he's avoiding people
His style tends to be emo/goth with a splash of color or buisness casual plus his piercings, bracelets and a belt chain or two. He once got doused by a sprinkler at the park and you caught a glimpse of dark lines through his wet school shirt. Ever since then, he's worn a t-shirt underneath
He tried to act cool when you first met but completely fumbled it when he ran face first into a pole and then fell on his ass. You laughed at him and juat walked away and it was love at first sight (laugh?). Ever since then, he's been attached to your hip, even changing high schools to be closer to you
You used to punch and kick him a lot more before you just got used to him and he kind of misses that, but he's glad that you tolerate his presence at least
He's very pouty and an attention whore and will shamelessly paw at you so you look at him. Hates when people get close to you and more than a few people have simply...disappeared or had to move away suddenly. He's really glad that you hate people and actively avoid them, it makes his job easier
He loves music like The Cure, Japanese pop, emo, anything emotional with deep lyrics really, also enjoys a fair bit of rap, including 50 Cent, Tupac, Cypress Hill, and others
🍝 All in all, he's just a little freak. I wanted to write someone who was dramatic and whiny like Helegywn but not uber traumatized or as serious and was 100% submissive. I also like his dynamic with reader, where she just puts up with his ass, lmao. Anyways, I liked writing this one.
Hi, Spaghett! Please don't take this the wrong way, but I cannot stop thinking about Wells!
You have seriously tickled my fancy on that last one🚬🚬 Patiently waiting for the day you drop a fic/part 2 where we sloppily make out with that loser🧎♀️🧎♀️(While I was reading bro he lowk gave me Judas flashbacks lol)
Thank you, keep up the GREAT work, and have a good day/night!
You'll have to tie him down if you want to kiss him, he runs away if you're too forward with him.
I need to write more horror. I don't think I'm that great at it, but you all seemed to like yan killer, and someone said that the ending of amnesiac yan was scary, so I guess I'm doing something right. Question for you all, though, what about my writing makes it scary?
Prompt: You hate him with all your being. He is the most annoying, stupidest, perverted loser ever. He is simply the absolute worst. And unfortunately, you have been cursed to endure his presence for another year.
M Yandere x F Reader, both 18, reader is done with his shit, smart, yan is perverted, dramatic, inhuman
(🍝 A/N, while there is no warning for 18+ content, there is some teasing later in the story that gets pretty saucy, so don't read this at work or anything, lol)
You walk into your homeroom, sitting down in your usual spot by the window. You're early, so you take out a book to read. The few students who are here are either sleeping or excitedly chatting with each other. You've known most of these people since your freshman year, but you couldn't tell anybody their names.
You weren't exactly a sociable person, preferring to keep to yourself. You didn't have friends; you didn't need them. You had your books and your mom, and that was enough. You turn the page, your eyes quickly reading through the words.
The classroom slowly fills in, and you're really hoping you're not going to see that person. You watch out of the corner of your eye, but the bell rings, and the teacher walks in, tossing his binder onto his desk.
"Hey, Mr. Norris!" someone shouts.
"Yes, yes, hello. It's been a long two months, and I'm sure you're all so excited to see me," he replies, rolling his eyes.
He picks up the attendance sheet, calling out names in a bored voice. He looks rumpled today, like he rolled out of bed and threw on yesterday's clothes.
"Ira Wells?"
You tense at the name.
"Ira Wells? Huh."
Mr. Norris moves on down the list and then on to the important things like snoozing in his chair. You've been through this before, he said, just try not to cause too much trouble this year since it's your last year and all.
You stare at the door. You can't believe Wells isn't here. What luck. You can read in peace knowing that you won't have to see him just yet. You return to your book, relaxing in your chair. It feels so nice to not have his eyes on you.
The door slams open just as you turn a page, the person panting. The noise startles Mr. Norris, who almost falls out of his chair.
"What the hell?"
"Sorry, teach! My alarm didn't go off today, so I—"
"Shut up and sit down, Ira. Jeez."
Your eyes narrow as he flops down in a seat on the other side of the classroom. Did he get taller? Damn it. He'll really be full of himself now. He coughs suddenly, slapping his oversized sleeve over his face. He looks deflated today, like someone removed all his bones.
He straightens then and gives you a small wave, grinning. You glare at him, fingers tightening on your book. You were really hoping he wasn't coming today. His grin gets wider, and you imagine his beady little eyes are glittering.
Well, you don't know if they are, actually. You've never seen his eyes because his straight across bangs hide them, brushing the tops of his cheeks. He stands up, and you quickly return to your book, ignoring him.
You see him walk over and crouch in front of your desk in your peripheral vision, grinning at you like a fool. His teeth are slightly crooked and his canines sharper than they should be. He folds his arms on your desk, thin hands fiddling with his sleeves. His tan skin is a little pallid today, his freckles standing out more.
"Hey, Y/N. It's a new year, huh?"
You keep reading, turning another page. His voice is still high and raspy.
"Aw, come on! You're just gonna ignore me?"
His lips downturn into a pout, lip piercing catching the light, and he pokes at the back cover of your book.
"Y/Nnnnnnnnn," he whines.
"Shut up."
"That's mean. I'm just saying hi to you."
You kick him hard in the shin.
"Owie! What was that for?"
He sniffs dramatically, tucking a bit of long, black hair behind his ear, a section of it dyed in stripes of purple like always. There's even more piercings this year, plus some sparkly, dangling ones that don't match the other dull metal ones. They're…jellyfish.
"Hm? Do you like them? My sister got them for her girlfriend, but they broke up, so I got them instead. They're not my style, but how could I refuse a present?"
"You're an idiot."
"Why are you already calling me names? I didn't do anythiiiiiiing."
"You exist."
"You're so cruel and cold," he bemoans.
He laughs then, a creepy little cackle that sends a chill down your spine.
"But I like that about you."
You reach out and pinch his lips together.
"Shut up."
He grabs your hand with both of his, pulling it away. You flinch; his hands are even colder than usual.
"Hehe, you're touching me," he grins.
You roll your eyes to high heaven. You think he's lost more brain cells. There's probably only one in there rolling around. No, maybe half a one? You wonder where the other half is. In his pants, most likely. You yank your hand back.
"Are you done? I'm busy."
"No."
"Shouldn't you be studying? You might get a D if you start now."
He pouts again.
"What's there to study? I haven't even gone to any classes today."
You glower at him.
"Wells. Go away. Now."
"Are you still gonna call me by my last name?"
"Go. Away."
He hmphs, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"Fine, fine, you big bully."
He stands up, the chains hanging from his belt clinging. From this angle, you can almost see his eyes through the strands of hair.
"Oh, guess what, Y/N?"
You don't answer. He leans down a little, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I'm definitely taller than you now."
You stomp on his foot, but he just laughs.
"I'm wearing my boots today. You'll have to try harder than that."
You kick his shin as hard as you can, and he yelps.
"Owwww! Meanie!"
He sniffs and snivels as he walks back to his desk. You sigh, resigning yourself to more nonsense this year. Maybe god will strike him with lightning or something.
You stifle a laugh as you look at Wells. His mouth is slightly open in surprise, and his hands twitch, making little motions like he's trying to say something.
"I thought you said you got taller," you smirk.
"I—I did…"
"Oh? Why am I still looking down at you then?"
He grits his teeth.
"Just you wait, Y/N! One day I'll be taller than you!"
"Sure, maybe you'll get smarter too," you say, brushing past him.
"I'm not that much shorter than you!" he whines, following after you.
You walk over to your usual lunch table, sitting down. Wells sits next to you, still whining about how he'll definitely get taller than you someday. You tune him out, eating your lunch. The lunchroom is noisy today, and there's a big crowd in one corner. You frown, wondering what all the fuss is about.
"It's some new student or something. Apparently, he's super smart."
You glance at Wells. He has his chin in one hand, the other tapping on the table. His mouth is twisted to one side in disgust.
"I don't get why everyone is so excited. I mean, it's just some nerd. Who cares?"
He grumbles to himself, head turned in the direction of the crowd. You keep quiet, continuing to eat. Better that he stays distracted so he doesn't try to slide his hand up under your school skirt. Your eyes wander over him as you eat, noticing that his shirt isn't properly tucked in. He's never dressed properly. It's either an untucked shirt, a too loose tie, or the chains and bracelets he wears. Or, all three.
The longer you look, the more it bothers you. It's just one little section sticking out. Also, his fly is partially unzipped, and you can see his underwear. You wipe your hands on your napkin and reach over to zip it back up.
"Ack! What are you doing!?"
He grabs your wrist, turning his head toward you.
"I didn't know you wanted me that badly. But, uh, can you wait until we're alone?" he whispers.
You give him a flat stare.
"Your fly is unzipped."
He glances down, and what you can see of his face turns red. He hastily lets go of you and yanks his zipper up.
"Idiot," you sigh.
"I was late this morning!"
"Shouldn't zipping your pants be instinctual at this point? Ah, I guess I shouldn't expect anything from someone like you."
"What does that mean?" he asks indignantly.
"It means you're obtuse."
He's quiet for a moment and then his hand points at himself.
"I'm…a triangle?"
You stare at him in despair.
"You're so stupid."
"Meanie! What does it mean then!?"
"Look it up in the dictionary."
He leans close to you.
"Why can't you just tell me?"
"Because I don't want to."
"Y/N!"
He gets right in your face, nose inches from yours. You grab his face and shove him backwards.
"Get out of my face, Wells."
"You're so mean to me! I just want to know what that word means."
"I'm not telling you."
He crosses his arms, turning away from you.
"Fine. Be that way."
He slouches in his chair, looking like a petulant child. He probably doesn't know what that word means either. You go back to eating, enjoying the silence. Or, you would have been if you weren't paranoid that he was up to something. He looks tired today, though, and he keeps running his tongue over his canines.
"What's wrong with you?" you ask.
"Hm? Nothing much."
"Really?"
You look him over again.
"You should eat, or you'll be complaining later how hungry you are."
"Are you worried about me, Y/N?"
"No. You're annoying when you complain."
He sits up, turning towards you, a smirk on his face.
"You could help me, you know," he says suggestively.
"Help you with what?"
His lips split into a grin, revealing his canines. He leans close to you, one of his hands sliding up under your skirt.
"Help me sate my thirst," he murmurs.
You pinch his forearm hard, and he jerks backward.
"Ow!"
"Don't touch me."
"You're so mean!"
He pouts, rubbing his arm.
"Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself."
"Hmph."
He turns away again, idly drawing patterns on the table with his fingers. You finish your lunch and pull out a book, but somehow manage to slice your index finger on a page. You yelp, and Wells snaps his head toward you.
"You—really? Right now? Dammit," he swears.
He grabs you by the wrist and hauls you up with surprising strength, dragging you from the lunchroom. You barely manage to snag your backpack and book before you're forced to follow him. He speedwalks toward an empty classroom, his long hair swaying behind him.
"What are you doing!?" you shout.
He mutters something under his breath.
"Wells?"
He pushes you inside the classroom, shutting the door behind him. You tense as he stalks toward you, trapping you against the teacher's desk.
"This has got to be one of the worst first days I've ever had," he says.
He leans close to you, brushing his nose down the column of your throat. You try to push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and holds them tight.
"Be still for a minute, Y/N."
"What are you doing?"
He licks the crook of your neck, tongue oddly cool on your skin. You shiver with disgust, kicking at his shins.
"Be still," he hisses.
"Wells, I swear to god if you don't let go of me right now."
You jerk backwards as he licks you again, and he follows you, pinning you to the desk. You struggle as he continues lapping at your neck, but he's far stronger than you thought he was. You feel a slight pinch in your neck and the suction of something being pulled out of you. Is he—Is he drinking your blood?
He moans against your neck, and you swear you can hear him swallowing. He presses closer, right in between in your legs, and you can feel that he's hard. Your head spins at the situation you've found yourself in, unable to believe that Wells is drinking your blood.
He pulls away after a few minutes, licking his lips. You catch a flash of red behind his bangs before he leans back, standing straight. You lie there still as a statue, trying to compute what just happened. Your fingers find the spot where he bit you, but there's nothing but saliva and smooth skin.
"What—What the hell?"
Wells gives you a grin, or, tries to. His tongue pokes at his lip piercing, something he only does when he's nervous.
"Sorry, Y/N. I just couldn't help myself."
You sit up, and the room tilts. He grabs your elbows, steadying you. You stare at him.
"You bit me."
"I did," he says meekly.
Your eyes flick down to his mouth. Now that you think about it, he's always been a little weird, skin just a touch too cool, his sharp canines, the way he can hear when you mutter under your breath no matter how quiet it was. But that's simply not possible. There must be a rational explanation for all of this.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you question vehemently.
"Uh, well, a lot of things?"
"You—You fucking—drank my blood! Do you know how many diseases you can get from drinking human blood!?"
"Really? But I've never gotten sick from drinking blood before."
"You've done it before!?"
You gape at him in astonishment.
"I mean, yeah?"
"Oh my god."
"You know, it's nice to see you flustered every once in a while."
"Wells."
You glance away from him, your gaze landing on the bulge in his pants. Oh god. He drank your blood and got hard from it. He turns away from you once he realizes where you're looking, his voice raising an octave.
"Don't stare!"
"You're a fucking freak."
"I can't help it that drinking your blood makes me hard! Blood already tastes good, but yours is—yours is—ugh! I'm sorry, alright!?"
He flees from the room, the lower half of his face bright red. You stare at the open door. What the hell just happened? Is Wells a—a vamp—no. No. That's not possible. Vampires aren't real. You must have eaten something weird at lunch. You screw your eyes shut, trying to will away the dizziness you now find yourself with. You ate something weird, and you got sick. That's what happened. Right.
You glare up at the person who dared to disturb your reading, mildly surprised that it's not Wells for once. The boy doesn't seem to notice or care that you're less than pleased with his presence, opening his mouth to say something.
"Hey, Y/N, right?"
"No," you say curtly, returning to your book.
The boy must walk away, because he doesn't say anything else, leaving you wondering what the hell that was all about. It quickly slips from your mind, replaced by thoughts of a certain long haired pervert.
You haven't talked to him in a while, dead set on avoiding the bastard. It reminds you of when you first met, you avoiding him and him doing his best impression of glue, except this time, he seems to be giving you your space.
Which is all well and good, but it's really quiet now. You'd never thought you would actually miss Wells, you thought you'd be glad to finally be rid of him. Maybe it's just that you're not used to the quiet again. You should be. You've always been alone. Alone except for him.
"You are Y/N."
Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing at the boy from before. He grins at you, sitting down next to you.
"So, I heard you have the highest test scores in this school."
"And?"
His brown eyes sparkle as he leans forward.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be first soon."
You look him up and down, sneering. He looks like a typical jock, all hard muscle and playboy smile, blond hair swept back neatly.
"I don't see why you needed to tell me that. Perhaps it's so I can laugh at you when you inevitably fail?"
He blinks.
"Damn, you got a mouth on ya."
You snap your book closed, standing up and glaring down at him imperiously.
"Let me know if you need me to tutor you," you say dismissively, walking away.
"I won't," he calls after you.
You stride from the library, heading to a side entrance. It's hot outside, still summertime. You set off down the road, enjoying the silence. It's been a while since you walked home alone.
You wonder what the hell that jock's problem was. There was no way he was going to get higher test scores than you. You had had your place as first for all of high school and middle school, for that matter. There was no one in this shitty little town that was smarter than you.
The playground comes into view, abandoned even though it's after school. It's rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a woman who hung herself from the swings. It's a bunch of malarkey, of course. You've never seen a thing. Well, except the boy currently perched on top of the monkey bars.
You sigh. No matter how many times you've told him not to climb shit, he still does it anyway. Not that he's fallen, possessing the trait that cats have to always land on their feet, but it still makes you nervous. You may hate him, but you don't want him dead. You walk over, crossing your arms.
"Hey, stupid!"
He startles, tipping sideways as he loses his balance. Your heart leaps into your throat as he catches himself and gracefully jumps off the ten foot bars.
"Y/N! Are you not mad at me anymore?"
"What have I told you about climbing stuff?"
"Relax. I've never fallen off of something."
"You almost fell just now."
"You scared me," he pouts.
You tuck your book under your arm and reach out to pinch both of his cheeks and pull outward.
"Ow, ow, ow!"
"I hate you," you snarl.
You let go of him, and he rubs his cheeks, fake sniffling.
"Meanie."
He steps closer, hand reaching for your shirt.
"Your shirt's unbuttoned at the top."
"It's hot."
"Mm."
He pulls the fabric away from your skin, glancing down into it.
"That's a cute bra."
Your fist swings, punching him in the gut. He wheezes, stumbling back and clutching his stomach. You stalk away from him, annoyed that you couldn't just ignore him. He follows after you, close on your heels.
"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
You don't answer, gaze fixed straight ahead.
"Cause I was getting really lonely, you know."
You still don't answer, just walking faster. He keeps pace easily, right by your side. You should tell him to get the hell away from you, but you don't.
"I heard something super annoying the other day. That new kid is going around telling everyone that he's smarter than you. Isn't that ridiculous? No one has ever gotten higher grades than you. Except for that one time you had the flu and still tried to go to schoo—"
"Wells."
You glare at him. How does he even know about that? That was before you met.
"What? It's annoying, isn't it? He's so pretentious."
He huffs, waving his arms around.
"I really wanna just beat him up, give him one good punch to his big, fat mouth."
You listen to him rant as you walk, using your book to fan yourself. It's loud. And hot. The town gets busier as you pass by a couple of shops, people bustling back and forth. You decide to stop by the gas station to buy a popsicle, automatically buying one for Wells because he'll complain otherwise.
You mourn the loss of cool air as you step back outside, biting into the popsicle. Immediately, your eyes catch on the jock from earlier, standing and laughing with a bunch of his friends in front of the arcade. He notices you, because of course, he does, waving like you're friends or something. You turn away and speedwalk down the street. Unfortunately, the jock follows with his little group.
"Hey, Y/N! Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."
Wells steps closer to you, curling his hand around your arm possessively. The jock glances at him, doing a quick sweep and finding him lacking.
"This your friend?"
"She doesn't want to talk to you, asshole," Wells cuts in.
"I wasn't talking to you, shorty."
Wells bristles.
"Aren't you a regular joker," he hisses.
"Why are hanging out with this guy? His stupid will rub off on you," the jock says, looking at you again.
"If something like that was possible, it would have already happened."
"I've heard he's weird too. And clingy."
You stop, turning to give him a flat stare.
"Why do you care?"
He grins.
"Because I think I'm better than him."
He takes a step forward, and you notice that he's taller than you. You hate people taller than you.
"Really? I think you're a dick."
He laughs.
"Maybe. But I bet I'm better than this weirdo," he says, pointing his thumb at Wells.
"What?" Wells splutters, grip tightening on your arm.
"At least he's not full of himself," you glare.
"How about we make a bet?"
"No."
"Come on, just hear me out."
"No."
He steps in front of you as you try to walk away.
"There's a math competition coming up, right? If I win, I want you to dump this loser and go on a date with me."
"Get lost."
"What? You scared you won't win?"
You stiffen at that. Of course, you'll win. That isn't the issue here.
"Or do you like the shorty that much?"
"Absolutely not," you scoff.
"Then it's no problem, yeah? It's just one date."
You take a bite of your popsicle, considering. This would be a good chance to crush this jerk's pride.
"Y/N? Don't tell me you're gonna do it! Do you really wanna go on a date with him?"
You glance at Wells briefly, then back to the jock.
"If I win, you'll admit that Wells is better than you," you demand.
Surprise flits across his face, then irritation.
"Fine. It's a deal."
He holds out his hand to shake, but you sidestep him and walk past. He yells after you as you leave.
"My name is Preston, by the way!"
You chomp the rest of your melting popsicle, tossing the stick into a nearby trash can. Wells is weirdly quiet, chewing on his popsicle stick. It's silent the rest of the way to your house except for the sound of cicadas singing.
You stop in front of the rusted gate, Wells bumping into you. He mumbles a sorry, but doesn't step back. He stares down at your shoes for a while, still worrying the popsicle stick. You spot a bit of green on his bottom lip, your hand snapping out to wipe it away. He flinches, then turns red as you absentmindedly lick it from your thumb. It's green apple, his favorite flavor.
"Y—Y/N."
"What?"
He fiddles with his sleeves for a moment, than reaches forward to encase you in a hug. You stiffen, his hands cold against your back.
"Wells, get off of me."
"I'm glad you said that," he whispers in your ear.
"Huh?"
He pulls away, darting off, but not before blowing you a kiss that you pretend to dodge. Weirdo. You open the gate to your front yard and close it behind you, looking forward to your nice, quiet, air conditioned room.
Your pen scrawls across the page effortlessly, solving an equation that you barely have to think about. It's only a few days until the math competition, so you're studying your ass off. It's not necessary, really, but you're not taking any chances. You need to absolutely destroy that jock.
Your eyes drift to the boy sitting across from you, chin on the table as he watches you work. He likes watching you study, something about how you have a cute expression on your face. You kick his shin just to see him yelp and pout, solving another equation.
He's been especially clingy lately and especially perverted. His new hobby has been trying to slip his cold, little fingers between the buttons on your shirt, giggling when you flinch and slap him away. He's also been more obvious about trying to worm his way into your panties.
As evidenced by the fact that he's now sliding his shoe between your legs and then up. You reach down to grab his ankle, digging your nails into his skin.
"Fuck off, Wells."
"What? I'm not doing anything."
He grins as you glare at him. Your eyes flick to his canines, remembering what happened the other week. You haven't brought it up at all, and neither has he.
"Hehe, what are you looking at my mouth for?"
You scowl.
"I'm always looking at your mouth, dumbass. Your eyes are always covered, remember?"
He blushes, and you roll your eyes, knowing he only heard the first half of what you said.
"W—Wow, Y/N. How brazen."
"Idiot."
He sits up suddenly, mouth twisting in disgust.
"Hey, Y/N! How's the studying going?"
Your lead snaps as you press down too hard on the paper, the tiny piece of graphite rolling away. The jock flops down into the chair next to you, one elbow leaning on the table.
"Your lead broke," he points out, like it isn't obvious.
"Shouldn't you be studying?"
"Nah, I got this."
You reach for your pencil sharpener. He sure is smug for someone who's going to soon be saying the words that the pervert Wells is better than him.
"You'll be eating your words soon, Peyton."
"Uh, my name is Preston."
Wells giggles, tapping his nails on the table.
"Y/N only remembers the names of people she likes."
The jock narrows his eyes at Wells.
"I guess you're really upset that she only calls you by your last name then."
"I'm the only one she calls by last name," Wells puffs up, smirking.
"I don't think that's something to be proud of. Does she even remember your first name?"
"Of course she does! Y/N, you know my first name, don't you?"
"Why wouldn't I? You repeated it to me over and over and over until I wanted to murder you."
"And?" he asks excitedly.
"Little pests like you don't deserve to be called by their first name."
"Meanie!"
He pouts, but you know he isn't all that bothered by it. He likes that you're mean to him. The jock looks between you and him, a confused look on his face. You're sure he hasn't even fathomed what kind of relationship you have with Wells.
"Anyways, have fun with your studying. You'll need all the help you can get," the jock smirks.
He stands and leaves, Wells sticking his tongue out at his back. You'd do the same if you weren't such a serious person. He turns back to you, huffing.
"What the hell is that guy's problem?"
"Who knows?" you sigh. "He probably thinks the world revolves around him."
"I hate him," he growls.
"It seems like you hate a lot of people, Wells."
"I dislike people; there's a difference."
"Is that so?"
"It is so."
"Whatever you say."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"No."
"Y?Nnnnn," he whines.
"Be quiet. I'm studying."
He crosses his arms on the table and sits his head on them, sighing dramatically. Of course, he can never keep his mouth shut for long.
"What made you decide to make that prick say I was better than him if you won?"
"Because I knew it would be annoying for him."
"It made me really happy, you know."
You level a flat stare at him.
"Of course it did."
He grins.
"Anything you do makes me happy but hearing that you'd rather be with me than that prick was really something else."
"Did you jack off to it?"
He splutters, turning red.
"N-N-N-No! Wh—Why would I do that! I was just saying that it made me happy! I stayed up all night thinking about it!"
"And jacking off?"
He shushes you, looking around surreptitiously.
"St—Stop it!"
You lean back in your chair, taking a deep breath.
"Ja—mmph!"
Wells lurches over the table to slap his hands over your mouth, face a concerning shade of red.
"Y/N! Please!"
You grab his wrists, pulling his hands away. Normally, you wouldn't torment him like this, but he's been super annoying lately, and you feel like taking advantage of the fact that he can dish it out but not take it. You lean close to his face, lowering your voice.
"A dirty little pervert like you probably has a trashcan full of tissues."
"Wh—What? N—No!"
"You probably even touch yourself during school like a freak."
"I—I don't!"
You swear you can feel the heat radiating off of his face now.
"How many wet dreams do you have about me saying anything remotely nice to you?"
He stutters out something incomprehensible, bluescreening from your teasing. You let go of him, snorting as he falls back into his chair and sits there dumbly. You imagine his eyes are as wide as saucers.
"You're so pathetic," you sneer.
He whimpers, hunching his shoulders. You put your things away, crossing to his side of the table. You lean over him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other pulling at the thin, black choker he's wearing.
"I bet you get hard just from the little glimpses you get of my cleavage and panties," you whisper.
His thighs clamp together at that, and he covers his crotch with his hands. You slip a couple fingers underneath his choker, feeling the bob of his throat as he swallows.
"Are you hard right now? Leaking into your underwear?"
You move your hand up, cupping his jaw, whispering right into his ear.
"Freak."
He makes a choked sound, trembling. You decide this is enough and straighten away from him, letting go of his jaw.
"Have fun with your little Wells," you say, walking off.
You smirk at the jock's incredulous look as he sees the results from the math competition. You don't like how close it was, but you won by four points. He glances around, spotting you leaning against the wall. Your smirk grows as he walk over.
"Y/N," he greets.
"Don't you have something to say?"
He glances at Wells standing next to you, gritting his teeth. He mutters something under his breath.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you."
You raise a brow at him imperiously. His eye twitches in irritation.
"The weirdo is better than me," he growls.
You push yourself off the wall, walking away. As satisfying as it is to hear the shattering of his pride, you want some ice cream. Wells scurries after you, quiet for once. Ever since you made him mute from embarrassment, he's been quieter than usual, following you around silently. You might have taken it too far.
You know that it was cruel of you to tease him like that when you didn't even like him, when you knew how he felt about you. But maybe he shouldn't have been such an annoying pervert. Besides, something like that wouldn't be enough to chase him off.
You leave the school and turn down the street, grimacing at the heat. You walk past the haunted playground and to the gas station, buying some ice cream. You hand one to Wells as you leave, going back to the playground. You sit on one of the swings, eating your ice cream bar.
Wells sits in the swing next to you, fiddling with his ice cream. He hasn't even taken it out of the package. His bracelets glint in the sun as he turns it over and over, sleeves rolled up for once. You guess even he gets hot sometimes.
"You like chocolate, don't you?"
He flinches at your question.
"Y—Yeah. I do."
"It's going to melt."
His hands pause, nail picking at the plastic. His black nail polish is chipped.
"That was mean. The other day," he says.
"What? Did you come in your pants?"
His head snap towards you.
"No!" he shouts.
He turns red, ducking his head down.
"I—I just—why did you do it?"
"Because I wanted to."
His lips part but nothing comes out. You have a feeling he's taking that the completely wrong way.
"Yo—You wanted to tease me?"
"I just said that, didn't I?"
"Bu—But—"
"But what? Surely you can understand the words coming out of my mouth. Or have you lost another brain cell?"
He goes quiet. Honestly, you're not quite sure what possessed you to do that to him, only that you got a perverse enjoyment from seeing him so flustered.
"Does this mean you don't hate me that much?" he asks hopefully.
You glare at him.
"Are you stupid?"
"You teasing me must mean that you like me a little, right?"
"Absolutely not."
You stand up, tossing the wrapper of your ice cream into a trash can. Wells follows you, excited like a little puppy.
"All those years of pestering you has finally paid off!"
"So you're aware you're a pest."
He ignores your comment, continuing.
"I'm so happy! I really thought you were going to leave me for that nerd, and I would have had to—cough—um, ne—nevermind. But you're finally warming up to me—mmph!"
He freezes as you spin on your heel and grab his collar to slam your lips into his. He's stock still for a moment before beginning to flail about. You let go of him, glowering.
"Shut up, Wells."
You stalk away, hearing him freak out in shock. You really don't know why you did that. It's only going to make him more annoying. But maybe you have a thing for pests. You touch your fingers to your lips. Huh.
Hiiiiii! May I request a fic about Sydney? Which reader found an injured stray pup in the streets and decided to bring it to Sydney's place to take care of it while Sydney is outside for idk anything? Work or uni classes. Thank you!
I might just turn this into a snippet because I'm actively writing another Sydney fic and because that situation goes as normally as it could possibly go.
