Picky friend hunter (yanderes x reader)

Creep

You also wondered who placed that confession letter for Scarlet in your locker. Was it a scheme to sabotage you? Or was it an honest mistake?

Your face soured at the thought of what happened during these few days. Never in your life have you experienced such a rollercoaster ride of events.

"...H-hi..." a soft voice broke you out of your thoughts. It came from behind you, so you turned around.

A yelp escaped your lips. It's the scrawny boy!

He had a submissive body language and his eyes were downcasted.

"...I-I never told you my name, (y/n). Sorry..." He gulped and meekly looked up to you.

You watched him with careful eyes, phew, at least there arent any bruises or cuts on him.

"I-I'm S-Synnove. It's really nice to meet you—"

"Great to meet you too, Synnove. Say, are you planning to join the Cooking club?" You abruptly cut him off.

"Um, yes—"

"Sorry, it seems like I'm not interested in cooking anymore. Have fun!" You flashed him a fake smile and jogged away.

Synnove sighed in disappointment and hugged himself.

You wiped the sweat off your brow, that was a close call. Now...

Why not Theatre? You have a feeling that you would make good friends there, Theater Clubs are generally closely knit.

You approached the Theatre Club booth and...

Made another U-turn.

Why? It's because Joni is the president. God knows what she might do to you.

Luckily the girl did not notice you as she was busy talking to another interested student.

You sighed. Music club it is.

But this is the worst club for you.

You can't sing, read musical sheets nor play any mainstream musical instruments. Though, you can play one instrument... it is mostly frowned upon.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. Alright, let's... test your luck.

You marched to the Music Club booth and...

"Ah, you're my sister's little pet. How do you feel about that, hm?" A unexpectedly suave and deep voice reached your ears as you took a look at who is behind the booth.

"Uh..."

It's Scarlet's little brother. A playful smirk is plastered on his porcelain skin, he rests his chin on his intertwined fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, why does he need to wear gloves?

"...when you put it that way, I guess I feel bad?" You replied, scratching the back of your head. He paused for a while before continuing.

"Interesting. Now..." he picked up a clipboard and clicked a ball pen. He puts his oval spectacles on.

"My name is Evangeline. You can call me Angeline if my name is too much of a mouthful." You were surprised that he does not prefer to be called as Evan.

"Okay, cool. And I'm—"

"How are you going to contribute to this club?" He interrupted, his eyes piercing holes into you.

"Uh. I—"

"Tell me, (severe mispronunciation of your name)... is it? Do you sing?" He asked, with a feline like stare.

"That's... not even close to my name, it's (y/n)." You're starting to get creeped out by him.

"My apologies, (y/n). Now, answer my question. Do you sing?" He propped his head up with a hand.

"No...?" You hope that it's the answer he wanted. You rubbed the side of your face.

"Unfortunate." He scribbled something down on the clipboard before pushing his glasses up elegantly.

"Do you play the Cello?" You shrugged.

"Can't play something I don't even know." You retorted. He squinted at you, making you scratch your head.

"Moving on, do you play the piano, the harp, the guitar, the clarinet, the oboe, the flute, the theremin, the kalimba, the pan flute, the ocarina, the drums, the glockenspiel, the violin, the viola and/or the ukelele?" He asked with a sly smile that reminded you of his sister.

"...you probably listed all the instruments in the world and I literally play none of it." You scratched your neck.

"Do you have a rash?" He asked, out of the blue.

"Uh... no? Why?" Says you as you scratched your nose.

"You're scratching yourself like a flea infested dog. Would you like some Talc to suppress it?" He intertwined his fingers. His eyes, along with his smile grew wider... it does not give you a friendly aura.

"Oh! Uh, I'm— I'm not— I'm actually just a little nervous, haha..." you scratched the back of your neck again.

"No, no, no. Now, I insist. Please, have some talc." He picked a small bottle of scented talc powder up from his duffel bag and handed it to you.

You hesitantly took it and poured some amount onto your hand. All the while, he's staring into your soul, through your eyes.

"What is up with him?" You thought to yourself as you applied the powder on your neck and face.

"Very good, very good." He mumbled quietly.

"I can see why my sister chose you as her little plaything. Very obedient, very good." It made you feel terrible.

Maybe it's best that you don't join a club at all. He's really creepy.

"Rrrriight. Okay, thanks for the powder. I gotta— I gotta get going—"

"Do you play the Kazoo, perhaps?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Yeah! That's the— that's the only instrument I know how to um, play." You gave him a sheepish grin.

"Ah. Very cute. You look like someone who would play the kazoo." He smiled so much until his eyes disappeared.

"Thank you for your interest in my club." He scrunched his nose and flashed a larger smile before tucking the clipboard under his arm. He walked away gracefully, leaving the booth empty.

You stood there, confused and disturbed.

"Wait, was that an insult or..." you gave up when you knew that he's out of earshot.

Where is he going? He even left the bottle of talc powder on the counter of his booth.

Maybe he left for dramatic effect? You don't know. It's not like you're going to get accepted into the club anyways.