It's My Birthday !!! (cropped Out My Irl Name Haha)

rawr

REN 14 dwy FANART♡♡

Hi guys, I was playing this game when i remembered: Woah, I can draw!

AND since I am truly in love with this man...........

TADAAAAAAAHHHH 💕🥳😭

The scrunkly (`ω`)

> You feel eyes staring at the back of your head.

i love short haired ren 😭😭😭

wife reveal (real)

renren again cause im pretty devoted to my wife

+extra my dumb ass trying to draw renren on roblox (ren so goofy there

(pls ignore my lil sister avatar on the corner

Taken (Part 1/5)

Uhhhh this is my first time posting a fic anywhere lmao, idk what I'm doing but enjoy ig? :D Ren and image belong to @14dayswithyou content warnings are in the tags

Summary: Angel runs into trouble after hanging out with Jae and Teo

2.1k words

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

“Get away from me!” I yell as loudly as I can, hoping to either get the guy to back off or get someone else’s attention. Of course the one time I decide to go to a bar and try to be social I get some creep trying to follow me home.

The man was swaying just a bit, clearly intoxicated, with shoulder-length black hair falling over their flushed face in greasy strands. I was pretty sure I could take him down if need be, but the fact that he was blocking the only way out from the alleyway concerned me. I had used the back exit specifically to avoid him, but he was a step ahead of me, probably not the first time he’s done this.

He began speaking again, slightly slurring his words, “Awww, c’mon, a pretty girl like you walking home alone? S’not safe, let m’come with you.”

I glare, “Listen, I’m not interested in anything you have to offer me, what I would appreciate most is if you got out of my way.”

He takes a step forward and I take a matching step back. He croons, “I’m not gonna hurt ya, stop being so paranoid.”

This time when he steps forward, I hold my ground, shifting my stance and holding my hands out in something between a placating gesture and a guard, “I’m warning you now, if you don’t back off…”

I don’t finish the threat as I don’t really have any leverage. My phone’s battery is dead so I can’t call for help, and my knife is in my bag, which I had forgotten to even bring. Sure, I knew martial arts, but that probably wouldn’t mean much to this guy.

So as he staggers closer, giggling, I follow his movements, recalling some of the simplest ways to take someone down. But just as he gets within range, his entire demeanor changes, his dazed look and swaying stance fall into a predatory glare and light-footed lunge. I catch the glint of what was probably a knife slashing from behind his back and sloppily swing my arm down to block it. I intercept his forearm, but don’t have the strength to hold back a full-bodied swing at a moment’s notice, so the blade catches my shirt and burns across my hip.

For a moment, the world freezes. I can hear a thousand thoughts and regrets flash through my mind, but they sound distant, detached. The man steps out of my reach and gives me a disgusting grin while I stand in shock. My hand shakily moves to cover the open wound, and I can’t help but look down at the thick liquid smearing on my palm. I try to step backwards, but the twisting of the wound sends jolts of searing pain up my side and I fall, holding my hip as hard as I can as I yell out expletives.

From my collapsed position on the ground I raise my head to keep track of my attacker, but he just stands laughing at me, apparently reveling in the first blood he had managed to take. What I didn’t expect to see, though, was a different figure, clad in all black and wielding a sledgehammer above their head, aiming at the black-haired stranger in complete silence. I can’t see their face clearly since their hoodie shadowed it, but I can feel their anger as the sledgehammer makes impact with the stranger’s head, flinging his entire body to the side with the force of the blow.

I stare at what's left of the man’s head as it makes impact with the wall of the alley and slowly slides back down. Red. Everything was red. The walls, the ground, the body that was laying crumpled at their junction, and the face of the person who undoubtedly just killed him. As I follow the trail of red, I notice its hue doesn’t stain their clothes, only turns it a richer shade of black. But their face…

It's twisted into an ugly expression, something between disgust, frustration, and utter apathy as they consider the body before them. The splashes of red sharply contrast their pale skin as it drips down their cheek. I shuffle backwards as best I can, fighting the morbid curiosity to look back to the silent body on my left, instead keeping them fixed on the cold face in front of me. I see a flash of blue as they turn away hurriedly, dragging a neck gaiter higher over their nose and pulling their hood low once again before approaching me.

I belatedly notice the tears running down my face and try to wipe them away, not wanting to appear weak before this new opponent, though there probably wasn’t much chance of that at this point. My efforts accomplish nothing but smearing my own blood and dirt across my face, but I have no time to worry about that as my back hits the dead end behind me.

I can’t hear anything except the roaring pain in my side and my heartbeat thrumming in my ears louder than any bassline I’d heard before. I glance behind me to confirm that there was indeed no escape before returning to the shadowy figure now crouching just out of my reach.

To my surprise, when his gloved hand returned from the depths of his pocket, it held not a weapon, but a phone. He speaks into it in a foreign language, and a million thoughts run through my brain, piecing together what I can from my shaky understanding: Fuck, he called someone. That’s Japanese. I know Japanese! Daijōbudesu? It’s okay? No the fuck it’s not! Is he even talking to me? Something about this place? Someone staying here? Fuck, is he calling in reinforcements? Who’s on the other line? Kudasai? This bitch is being polite??? Is it the police?

When he finishes speaking, he immediately turns the phone to face me. I read the displayed text:

‘All right. Called an ambulance. Please exist here and keep stress on the defects.’

Despite the situation, I let out a choked laugh at the shoddy translation, though luckily it managed to convey the pieces I hadn’t understood. The blue, red, yellow, and green logo in the top right corner confirmed my suspicions, “Google translate? Really? That’s not even close to what you said. Google sucks at translating Japanese; you’d be better off with Spanish or another romance language, if you know it,” I ramble out what comes to mind, whether he can understand me or not.

It seems like he understands me since he makes a surprised sound and shakes his head before turning the phone back to read it himself and letting out an irritated sigh. He pulls off a glove to attempt typing but I speak up again, despite my voice shaking and hitching so badly that he might need google translate to figure out what I’m saying, “I think I know what- what… you mean. Do you- do you- do-. You- FUCK,” cursing to dispel my stutter, I continue, “You want me to stay here for the ambulance and keep pressure on the cut, right? Thank… you?” It feels weird to thank someone who just smashed a guy’s head in, but staying on their good side was probably the best idea for now.

He nods and reaches out a hand toward my head, which I would have withdrawn from if my head wasn’t already against the wall, but since I couldn’t, I just squeezed my eyes shut, hoping whatever came next wouldn’t be too painful. When I feel a gentle ruffling sensation of my hair, my eyes pop back open in surprise. I clearly see their own eyes for the first time, looking at me far more softly than they had any right to.

My confused look seemed to shake them out of whatever reverie they were in, and he abruptly retrieves his hand, looking down again and mumbling, “ごめん, 目をそらす.”

To reinforce his meaning, he covers his own eyes before pointing at me. I hesitantly raise a hand over my eyes, but peek through a sliver to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything. He didn’t, instead turning and standing, approaching the dead man. I close the gap, not wanting to see what he did.

The swirling, sickening feeling in my gut only increases the more I think about the stranger’s eyes. A strikingly beautiful color, ocean blue with a hint of pink swirling through them if you looked closely enough. I was sure I had seen them before but couldn’t recall when or where. What bothered me more though, were their eyebrows. Pink. I only knew one insanely tall person with pink hair.

But of course it couldn’t be him, it’s not like pink hair is unheard of. And he would never be able to wield a sledgehammer like that, he’s always so timid… and those definitely weren’t his eyes. His are a much lighter baby blue. Plus he speaks English, he probably doesn’t even know Japanese. I reassure myself. Surely my partner could never kill someone with such ease.

Despite my conclusion, I can’t help but spread my fingers again, peeking out to see the person’s form dropping a half-full trash bag on the spot where the remains of the man’s head was, covering the worst of the remaining viscera. I couldn’t see the body anywhere, but the dumpster was closed now, and I wasn’t about to check it. I evaluate his height, placing it at about six and a half feet. The same as… No. But what if?

I see him pick up the serrated knife that was left on the ground, inspecting it closely, though for what I wasn’t sure. I drop my hand from my eyes, instead using it to brace against the wall as I try to stand up, but hiss in pain and slide right back down. This grabs the attention of the black-clad figure and he takes a few hasty steps towards me, gesturing for me to stay down.

I warily eye the knife in his hand, and he gets the message, tossing it behind him somewhere carelessly before opening his hands, showing that they’re empty. They then back away, glancing between me and the entrance of the alleyway a few times before turning to leave.

I call out desperately, “Wait!” I’d never be able to face my boyfriend if I didn’t confirm this wasn’t him now, but how could I do that? I continue in a timid voice, forcing a few more tears to roll down my face, “Don’t leave me, please. I’m scared…”

He hesitantly turns back to me but stays where he is, clearly uncertain.

I let my bottom lip tremble, “Could you just… could I hold your hand?” I cringe internally at the insane request, but to my surprise it seems to convince them as they return to my side, kneeling on one knee and offering his right hand to me.

But that’s not what I needed, so I winced and snatched both of my hands back to my hip. When he reaches for my hip with his left hand, I grip onto it as though it was the only thing keeping me from dying. To my shock, I feel what I was looking for. A ring on their ring finger, the same thickness and width as the one he always wore around his neck.

I freeze, not able to meet their eyes. Turns out I knew nothing of my boyfriend of three months. I pull my hand back as unobtrusively as possible, betrayal and horror coursing through my veins as I murmur, “Sorry, you probably should go before the ambulance gets here.”

I watch as they pause, clearly thrown by my sudden change of heart. But when we hear sirens closing in from the distance, they shoot to their feet and briskly walk out of the alleyway, casually grabbing the sledgehammer they had left standing in the middle of the path as though it weighed nothing. I shivered at the comfort he handles the weapon with.

When the ambulance arrives, they asked me a multitude of questions, most I didn’t know the answer to. When they asked me who was responsible for my wound, I just pointed a shaky finger towards the dumpster, “I think he’s in there…”

When questioned further about the second figure, I only gave vague answers, not anything that would be helpful in a search. Luckily for me, my swimming vision and pounding headache finally gave way to sweet unconsciousness, the blood loss finally catching up to me.