#yandere redacted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

killerelysia · 23 days ago

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4 days with Ren!- Ren x G.N Reader

(Clickbait Titl-....!!!

Words:8000

Genre: Fluff

Summary: — you encounter Ren, a seemingly shy and awkward stranger who enters your bookstore. At first, his nervousness and fumbling words leave you uncertain about his intentions, but as the interaction progresses, you begin to notice subtle, yet familiar traits about him. His nervousness, his playful yet shy demeanor, and the blue eyes all hint at something deeper, but it isn’t until later that you realize the truth—

( Reader is a g.n!)

EXTRA: Let me know if I continue this! This is kind of a heart-felt shit so don't worry.

Reader can be a idiot at times, Since we don't know Ren's real name. His real name is taken as [REDACTED]

I'm sorry for the delay! I scarped this so many times, I really started to feel stressed about this..

"Eh? You... wanna marry me...?"

The memory was hazy, but vivid enough to make your heart flutter even now. It had happened when you were both just kids, playing together on the playground like any other day.

[REDACTED] had tugged at your hand with uncharacteristic urgency, his dark hair falling messily into his wide, nervous eyes. He told you he had something important to say.

Then, out of nowhere, he dropped to one knee before you. His small, trembling hands held up a ring—crafted clumsily from what looked like tin foil, the kind of thing only a child would painstakingly make. The other ring sat snugly on his own finger.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him. His earnest expression, the slight shake in his voice, the sincerity in his gesture—it was all too much. Your cheeks burned as you cupped them instinctively, trying to hide the blush spreading across your face.

He looked so nervous. So hopeful.

Your lips parted to say something—anything—but you froze.

You’d always liked him, hadn’t you? Even then, there had been something about [REDACTED] that made your chest tighten. You didn’t fully understand it back then, but now it was so clear.

Before you could gather your courage to respond, the moment shattered.

"Hey! What’re you doing to them?!"

Leon, ever the self-appointed protector, charged onto the scene. With one swift motion, he smacked the little ring out of [REDACTED]’s hand, sending it tumbling into the dirt.

The entire playground fell silent.

"Don't worry!" Leon declared loudly, puffing out his chest. "I'll protect you from weirdos like him!"

Your heart dropped as you saw the way [REDACTED] flinched. His hands hovered where the ring had been, his gaze darting to you for reassurance.

"But, Leon..." you started quietly, the protest barely leaving your lips.

It was too late. [REDACTED] scrambled to pick up the ruined ring, his shoulders shaking as he clutched it tightly. Tears streaked down his cheeks, but he didn’t say a word.

He turned and fled, his quiet sobs fading into the distance, you stood frozen, guilt twisting in your stomach. You wanted to chase after him, to tell him it was okay, that you didn’t care about Leon’s interruption or the rumors about his family. You didn’t care about anything except the fact that he had been brave enough to bare his heart to you.

But you didn’t. You let him walk away.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure and whisper softly to yourself, too late for him to hear:

"I would ve said yes..."

"But Leon!" you repeated, louder this time, frustration bubbling up as you watched [REDACTED] disappear.

"What?" Leon shot back, his arms crossed defiantly. "I just saved you! That guy’s weird, and you shouldn’t hang out with him!"

"You're so mean!" you snapped, stomping your foot. "He wasn't doing anything wrong! He just wanted to—" You stopped yourself, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to explain. "You're always ruining everything!"

Leon puffed up like an offended balloon. "I'm not ruining anything! I'm protecting you, dummy!"

"I don’t need protecting!" you shouted, tears pricking at your eyes. "You're just a big, mean bully!"

Leon’s cheeks flushed pink as he huffed and looked away, his pout making him look even more childish. "Fine, do whatever you want! But don’t blame me when that weirdo does something weird!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms in a perfect mirror of his stubborn stance. "I will do what I want! And stop calling him weird!"

"Whatever," he grumbled, kicking a pebble with his shoe. After a moment, his voice softened. "But I’m still gonna keep an eye on him, okay? Just in case."

You hesitated, then nodded, your earlier anger fading into relief. "Fine. As long as you’re not mean about it."

Leon gave a reluctant shrug, muttering something under his breath about “always having to be the grown-up.”

It wasn’t until later that you realized how little it mattered. Days passed, then weeks, but [REDACTED] never came to see you again.

At first, you waited eagerly, sitting on the swings after school, hoping he’d show up like he always did. But he didn’t. You told yourself he was just busy, that he’d come by soon.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he was avoiding you. Or maybe it was his family. The whispers about them had only gotten worse. You’d overheard adults saying things they thought kids couldn’t understand. Things that made your chest ache and your fists clench.

You waited until the hope in your heart shrank into something fragile and brittle. Until you couldn’t hold it anymore, and one day, you cried. You cried because you missed him. Because you couldn’t fix whatever had gone wrong. Because you never got to tell him how much he meant to you.

And [REDACTED]—he was out there somewhere. Maybe he wanted to come back. Maybe he didn’t. You didn’t know.

All you knew was that the boy with the messy black hair and the trembling hands had slipped away from your life.

And even though you were just a kid, you felt like you’d lost something you might never get back.

You remembered again..Didn't you?

Stifling a groan with the rim of your coffee cup, you fumbled for the remote wedged between the couch cushions and turned off the TV.

There was no way you were letting some grim headline ruin the start of your morning—especially not today. Today marked your first day back at work since earning that hard-fought promotion.

Sure, working at a library, organizing and sorting through shelves of books, wasn’t exactly the dream job you’d envisioned growing up. It wasn’t even close to the top of your list when you decided to move back.

But the pay was good, your coworkers were warm and welcoming, and the library’s location couldn’t have been more convenient—just a short walk from your apartment.

And on the way, there was this cozy little bakery that served the best shortcakes and croissants you’d ever tasted.

You sipped your coffee with a soft smile, thinking briefly about how much [REDACTED] would’ve loved that bakery.

It was a fleeting thought, but one that lingered, curling in the back of your mind like the steam from your mug.

Why was it still so easy to think about him?

Even now, after all this time, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unfinished business. Regret? Guilt? Maybe a little of both. You’d wanted to give him a chance back then. You really did. But life had gotten in the way. Or maybe it wasn’t life.

Maybe it was you.

You swallowed hard, setting the cup down on the table with a soft clink. Maybe you were the problem. Maybe he’d moved on, forgotten all about the mess you’d left behind.

And yet, the thought of him still made your chest ache. You wondered what he was doing now, where he was, if he still remembered you too.

Maybe… just maybe… you’d see him again.

It still beats living in the city, though. Honestly... you weren’t even sure why you left your hometown in the first place.

The fast-paced, hustle-and-bustle lifestyle of the city just wasn’t what you longed for when staring out your window on sleepless nights. The people there were always rude and indifferent, making you feel like a stranger in a crowd.

It was nothing like Corland Bay. There, everyone felt like a close-knit family, and the air smelled of salt and sea rather than car exhaust and pollution.

Sure, the local crime rate had been creeping up lately, and there weren’t as many exciting places to visit, but that didn’t bother you much. Your new job kept you busy, and you’d take a quiet evening alone at the beach over a night in a crowded, shady bar with people you barely considered friends. In fact—

bzzt bzzt!

Setting your mug on the table, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. A notification from Moth, your online friend, lit up the screen. Their username always brought a small smile to your face.

Tapping the screen, you opened the message to find an adorable sticker of some anime character giving a thumbs up, accompanied by a short, cheerful note:

"Good luck today!"

Moth had always been adamant about showing their endless support for you. Even after five years of friendship—filled with cursed memes, late-night video calls, and discussions about the most random topics—they never failed to brighten your day.

And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were truly grateful to have someone like Moth in your life.

Pulling up the keyboard, you began to type a response to their message.

...How will you respond?

It really was considerate of them to send this message—especially given the contrasting time zones—so you decided to send back a quick:

"Thank you! :)"

Moth "btwww! did u see the latest AoG ep?? i heard Haruko got an outfit change!!!!"

Moth "spoil it for me. did he really change his hairstyle as well?"

Moth "or was it really just his sorceror outfit?"

Attack on Giants—or "AoG," as Moth liked to call it—was a popular anime series you and they had recently become obsessed with. Haruko, one of the main characters, was a sorcerer known for his shy and airheaded demeanor. Lately, his hairstyle had sparked debate in the fandom, and Moth was clearly eager to discuss it.

Now that you thought about it… what hairstyle did Haruko have in the latest episode?

Moth "cuz it's like... almost 9:30 where you are rn"

Moth "right???? or am i just dumb and got the time zones mixed up again lol"

Glancing at the time displayed on your phone, your eyes widened in alarm. It was 9:30—nearly time for work. Letting out a string of curses, you leapt to your feet, nearly knocking over your coffee in the process.

Cursing under your breath, you toss your phone onto the couch and rush to your bedroom. Work wasn’t going to wait for you, and you’d already pushed your luck with timing this week. But as you throw open your closet, your fingers linger over your usual outfits. Today didn’t feel like a typical day—why not switch it up a bit?

Your eyes dart to the newer pieces you’d been collecting lately, leaning heavily into an emo-gothic vibe. You’ve been obsessing over the style lately, and while it wasn’t your usual go-to, the mix of dark tones and edgy accents had been calling your name.

It wasn’t like anyone at work would say much—libraries weren’t exactly fashion runways, after all. And besides… the idea of blending the “softie” energy you adored with a bad-boy edge gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

Pulling together your outfit, you settle on:

A loose, oversized black sweater with slightly distressed hems, layered over a plain dark-gray shirt for texture.

Slim-fit black pants with subtle zipper and chain details that didn’t scream “rebellion” but hinted at it.

Chunky platform sneakers that added just enough height to feel bold without overdoing it.

To tie it all together, you add a choker with a small pendant and a pair of simple silver rings.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the choker slightly and ruffling your hair for a casual, messy look. Softie lover with a bad-boy phase? Yeah, that checked out. With a small laugh, you grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and head for the door.

You lock up and start walking to work, you feel a small thrill of confidence creeping in. The outfit wasn’t just a look—it was a mood. And today, you were determined to make it through with your head held high.

“Seriously... When will that lazy bum of a landlord do something about this?” you mutter, fiddling with the stubborn lock on your apartment door.

You wiggle the key again, sighing in frustration. “I swear I’ve complained about this at least four times this month…”

“Hey there! Looking good!”

You turn to see Violet, your ever-cheerful neighbor, practically glowing as she juggles her apartment key in one hand and balances yet another potted plant on her hip with the other.

Resting on her hip was, indeed, another plant. You can’t help but wonder where on earth she was going to put it this time. Her balcony was already a mini rainforest, brimming with lush greenery and various flora. At this point, you’re almost convinced she’s converted her whole apartment into a greenhouse.

Not that you’re complaining—her plants do a fantastic job of masking the occasional smell of smoke or burnt food that wafts out when you attempt to cook. The floral, earthy aroma is a blessing in disguise.

“Love the shoes, by the way! The color reeeeally compliments your aura this morning,” Violet gushes, beaming at you.

A small laugh escapes you as you glance down at your platform sneakers. “Thanks, Violet.”

“You’ll have to let me peek inside your closet someday,” she says, winking. “I’ve been looking for some new inspiration lately. Especially with winter right around the corner… Ahh, I’m getting excited just thinking about it!”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself smiling despite your earlier frustration with the lock.

“Oh! But back to you!” Violet’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, her growing smile as bright as ever.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too!” Violet chirps, her smile never faltering. “I’d usually still be at the flower shop at this time, so it’s nice to finally be able to catch up with you like this—especially when our schedules align!”

She adjusts the potted plant on her hip before adding, “Speaking of! You should stop by my place the next time you’re free. I’d love to introduce you to this little guy’s family.”

You glance at the plant she’s holding, raising an eyebrow at the thought of meeting its “family.” Before you can say anything, Violet’s eyes light up, and she leans closer.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but... When were you going to tell me that you were seeing someone?”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden topic change. “What?”

“C’mon! Don’t act like you didn’t just have a guy over last night. I saw him leaving when I took Cathy out for a walk.”

For a moment, your brain stalls. The fact that Violet takes her plants—her named plants—out for nighttime strolls is peculiar enough, but the idea of someone leaving your apartment completely derails your thoughts.

You shoot Violet a concerned look, and she immediately picks up on it.

“You... don’t remember? Don’t tell me you were drunk or something!”

She lets out a huff, abandoning her attempt to unlock her own stubborn door. Setting the plant down carefully, she saunters over to you, her expression a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“Tall guy? Wearing a dark slasher hoodie? Probably into either alt fashion or bondage with the crazy amount of belts and loops wrapped around his leg?”

Violet tilts her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Oh, and he had dark black hair. Pretty striking, honestly.”

Her words make your stomach lurch. A memory flashes through your mind—soft laughter, small hands grasping a silver ring, and a promise made in the naivety of childhood. Could it be… him? The boy who disappeared from your life so long ago?

Without thinking, you stammer, “I-It’s my boyfriend!” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and your voice cracks just enough to make you cringe inwardly.

Violet blinks, surprised, then smirks knowingly. “Ohhh, really? Your boyfriend, huh? Well, now I definitely need to meet him. You should introduce him sometime.”

You nod frantically, hoping to change the subject. “Y-Yeah, sure, I’ll… I’ll do that.”

She beams, her curiosity seemingly satisfied for now. “Great! Well, I’m off to raid some dungeons in that MMO I told you about. Gotta carry my team, as usual.”

With a giggle, she scoops up her potted plant and waves as she heads back to her apartment. “Later, go with your mystery-dater!”

You wave weakly, watching her retreat. As soon as she’s out of sight, you scratch your head in frustration. “What the hell was that?” you mutter under your breath.

Not all dark-haired guys could possibly be him. What were you even thinking? That kid—the one who gave you that ring, who promised you the world in the way only children could—was nothing more than a distant memory. You haven’t seen him in years. Childhood romance? Seriously? You shake your head, letting out a huff.

Still, the thought lingers longer than it should, tugging at the edges of your mind as you lock your door and finally head off to work.

You shake your head again, groaning as the realization sets in. "God, I’m such an idiot!" You can't help but say it aloud, even if you're just talking to yourself. The more you think about it, the dumber it seems.

Why did you even react like that? Just because some guy with dark hair left your apartment, it doesn’t mean it was him. It’s probably just some random guy. You never even saw his face, so why did you feel the need to defend him like that? Just a few words from Violet, and suddenly you’re out here saying it’s your boyfriend. Your boyfriend? Really?

It didn’t help that you got flustered, making the situation even weirder. Your head feels heavy, and you want to slam your palm against your forehead in frustration. You’re staring at the door as though it’s the culprit here, like the very existence of it will somehow make everything less awkward. But deep down, you know that’s not the case.

This is dumb. You’ve known him for how long? The answer is years—and all you’ve got to show for it is a bunch of fragmented memories and a ring that’s gathering dust somewhere. You didn’t even know if that kid—no, that person—is still out there, or if he’s even remotely the same. Yet, here you are, thinking maybe you’ve let some weird twist of fate drop him back into your life in the most awkward way possible.

Exhaling sharply. The room feels suddenly smaller, your thoughts cluttered with questions that don’t have answers. What does this even mean?

"Seriously?" you mutter again, this time with a crying emoji look on your face, as if to signal just how messed up everything has become in the span of a few minutes. You stare at the wall, your mind reeling with the possibilities. Could it be that someone’s been in your house without you knowing?

The idea doesn’t sit well with you at all. You have a pretty strong feeling that you’d notice something off about your apartment. Yet, even as you mentally search for clues, everything seems… normal? You don’t remember anything being out of place, no missing items, no strange smells. Just the same old messy, cozy apartment where you usually keep to yourself.

But what if you missed something?

What if this guy—whoever he is—had been sneaking around your apartment when you weren’t looking? What if he’d been here for more than just that one night, slipping in and out like some shadow, while you thought nothing was amiss? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, your heart racing at the very possibility.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? People break into places all the time, right? Or maybe he didn’t break in—what if he just slipped in? You remember how relaxed you’ve been, how easily you let your guard down after getting used to living alone. You’ve never been paranoid or particularly cautious. Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you’ve been too comfortable.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets. You try to shake off the thoughts, but they persist, like dark clouds following you no matter where you go. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, even if you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there when your phone buzzes again, but it startles you enough to snap you out of your spiraling thoughts. You grab it instinctively, desperate for something to take your mind off the wild ideas plaguing you.

The message is from Violet, which only makes you feel more like an idiot. Seriously? Why is she messaging you now?

Violet

"Heyyy! I almost forgot to mention something! I was just thinking… If you’re not busy later, I could swing by and help you with that lock issue. I can’t stand when things like that get in the way, and you’ve been dealing with it for a while, huh?"

You stare at the message, considering it for a second. Help with the lock? You could definitely use some help. You haven’t been able to get it to work properly for ages, and it’s becoming a hassle. But now, you’re not even sure if you want anyone over. Not after what Violet said.

The nagging thought creeps back. What if someone has already been in here? What if they’re waiting for me to slip up again?

You rub your face with your hand, fighting the urge to get paranoid. Stop it. You’re overthinking this, you try to tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. Violet’s just being nice. She doesn’t know anything. You’ve got nothing to hide, right?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, undecided on whether to reply. You don’t want to sound weird or like you’re flipping out. You’ve barely seen Violet more than a few times when your schedules happen to align. But you can’t deny that there’s something unsettling about this whole situation now.

Maybe you should talk to her. You should’ve just talked to her earlier, told her you’re fine. Instead, you defended someone you don’t even know, let your own stupid reaction make things weird, and now you’re overthinking everything. You let one stupid comment spiral out of control.

You take a deep breath and start typing.

You

"Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay for now. It’s just one of those things, y’know? Maybe next time though!"

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself. Maybe it’s better to leave it at that. Besides, you’ve got enough to handle with work and your apartment, and you’re not sure you’re ready to let someone into your life, especially with all the confusion swirling around.

For now, you’ll deal with it alone.

"Oh!"

She looks surprised for some reason before her expression softens into a warm smile. She tilts her head slightly, beckoning you closer with a subtle nod.

Elanor, one of your co-workers at Corland Bay Library, is one of the few people here who actually gets things done. She’s a bit scatterbrained—infamously so—but she more than makes up for it with her kind and doting attitude toward everyone.

Still, her nurturing personality can feel... overbearing at times, and you’ve learned to step away every now and then just to catch a breather.

“Sooooo?” she starts, her tone light and teasing. “How does it feel to no longer be the one in charge of stacking books all day long?”

Before you can respond, she adds, “Although… You’ll still have to work the front desk from time to time, unfortunately.”

You offer a polite smile, shrugging slightly, before making your way past her. Rounding the corner, you duck down and slide your bag under the desk. You start pulling out your belongings, preparing for the day ahead.

The familiar chime of the library's front door rings out, signaling that another patron has just entered. You glance toward Elanor briefly, figuring she’s got it all handled. She always does, even with her scatterbrained tendencies.

For now, you focus on getting your things organized, letting the quiet hum of the library settle your earlier frustrations. The bookshelves, the faint scent of paper and ink, the low murmur of distant conversations—this place has always been a refuge, even on your busiest days.

Still, there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind: the strange conversation with Violet..

Elanor

"Looks like he's back again."

Elanor chuckles softly, inclining her head toward the person she’s talking about.

"You know, that new guy. I don’t know when he started showing up here in the Bay, but he always comes in and rents the books you put on the display window."

Her voice takes on a teasing tone as she continues, "And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a little crush on you."

She pauses for dramatic effect, adding with a playful grin, "Because he was staring. A lot."

You snort, rolling your eyes as you push Elanor’s office chair so she’s facing the other way. Without another word, you turn your attention back to the papers in front of you, trying to shake off the heat rising to your cheeks.

What is with everyone today? you think, frustrated. Smiling too much, gossiping, meddling in business that isn’t theirs—it’s like everyone is conspiring to test your patience.

And as if the morning hadn’t been chaotic enough, the thought of a potential intruder still lingers at the back of your mind. It’s a problem your deadbeat landlord probably won’t do anything about, no matter how many complaints you’ve filed.

You sigh heavily. Maybe I should just buy a stronger lock on my way home. Or even an alarm system. But then another thought strikes you: Would the stores even still be open by the time I get off work?

The realization only adds to your frustration, and you rub your temples, trying to will away the tension building in your head.

Elanor

"Would you look at that… Loverboy in aisle 8 needs some help, it seems."

She nods toward the flashing red light above the bookshelves, the signal for staff assistance.

With a sigh, you reluctantly rise from your chair. Of course, Elanor isn’t going to help him herself, and you already know she’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, thoroughly enjoying your predicament.

Refusing to glance back at her, you begrudgingly head toward aisle 8. You can practically feel the smug energy radiating from behind you as you weave through the shelves.

Turning the corner, you’re met with a broad figure standing with his back to you. He’s wearing what has to be the comfiest cardigan you’ve ever seen. The stranger hasn’t noticed you yet, so you awkwardly clear your throat and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Ahem!"

The guy flinches at the sound, startled, before turning around.

"Ah-!"

When he finally faces you, you’re momentarily struck silent. His soft, doe-like eyes and towering height catch you off guard, and you’re left staring for a beat too long.

So this is the guy who always checks out my book recommendations? you wonder. He fits the cosy literature-lover vibe perfectly.

But it’s his pink hair that really throws you off—it immediately reminds you of Haruko, the anime character you’ve been obsessing over with Moth during your late-night video calls. Even the cut and style of his hair look eerily similar.

Is this a coincidence? Or is this hairstyle trending, and I’m just the last person to know?

You take another good look at him, craning your neck slightly to get past the sheer height difference. There’s something else, too—he looks like a near picture-perfect version of the male lead from Always With You, a webcomic you’ve been devouring lately.

Your thoughts spiral into comparisons, imagining this guy as the real-life version of the dreamy love interest from the story.

You’re so lost in your imagination that you don’t notice his sheepish movements until he scratches his jaw, seemingly trying to snap you out of it.

"Woah… You look…"

His quiet murmur barely registers in your distracted mind.

"But I thought you preferred softer clothing…? That’s why I…"

His voice trails off, leaving you blinking as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

Realizing how spaced out you must seem, he quickly clears his throat, his face tinged with cherry-pink embarrassment.

"Ahem! Um… S-Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you."

He shifts on his feet, glancing at the books around him as if searching for a lifeline.

"I was just looking for… Uhh…"

The sound of his voice pulls you back to the present, and you mentally shake yourself out of your daze. The words spilling from his lips tumble out softly, and you can’t help but notice how they match his gentle, uncertain demeanor.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of self-consciousness. What is wrong with me? Pull it together, Y/N!

Your gaze flickers up to his face again, drawn irresistibly to his big blue eyes. They’re impossibly soft, like a watercolor painting, but there’s something hauntingly familiar about them.

And then you see it.

A glint of silver catches your eye—a ring hanging from a delicate chain around his neck. Your breath catches in your throat. That ring. That simple, unassuming band… It couldn’t be, could it?

No, it’s not possible…

A ring. Dangling from a chain.

Your breath hitches.

No… It couldn’t be. But as your eyes dart between the ring and his face, the realization slams into you like a tidal wave.

Those eyes.

The boy.

Your legs feel like they might give out as you stare at him, your heart racing faster with every passing second.

It’s him.

But it’s unmistakable. The memories come rushing back, flooding your mind like a tidal wave.

The boy.

The boy from your childhood.

The one who used to run with you through the sun-dappled park. The one who’d promised, with a shy, earnest smile, The one who gave you a ring just like that before vanishing from your life, leaving behind nothing but a bittersweet ache in your heart.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, wearing the very thing you thought you’d only ever see in your dreams.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythm chaotic and overwhelming. Those eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—stare back at you, still soft and warm, just as you remember.

He’s taller now, broader, more grown-up. But those eyes? Those haven’t changed. Not one bit.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Your throat feels tight, your thoughts scrambled. You’re struck between disbelief and certainty.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Your chest tightens as your gaze drops to the ring again—the one on the chain around his neck. And then, lower, to his hand.

A second ring sits snugly on his finger, in the spot where a wedding band would be.

Your mind reels, the pieces clicking together, faster than you can process. Tears threaten to spill as your heart twists painfully in your chest. You’ve found him.

After all these years, you’ve finally found him.

But—what’s with the pink hair?!

You feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Not because you’re suddenly self-conscious about your messy hair or the way your cardigan doesn’t quite match your outfit. Not even because you spent the past five minutes spacing out like an awkward weirdo.

No, you feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

But you weren’t wrong about those eyes. Not then. Not now.

You blink rapidly, willing yourself to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a stammered:

"I—uh…"

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together in mild concern. His voice, soft as ever, pulls you from your spiraling thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

Okay? How could you possibly explain that your world just flipped upside down because you’re standing face to face with the boy who disappeared from your life, only to return looking like he stepped straight out of a daydream?

You swallow hard, gripping the edges of the book cart in front of you for stability. Your gaze darts back to the ring for a moment, as if needing further confirmation that this isn’t just some cruel trick of the light.

But it’s there. Just like those eyes.

"It’s… nothing." Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost lost in the vast silence of the aisle.

He seems unconvinced but doesn’t press you further. Instead, he gives a small, uncertain smile, shifting awkwardly on his feet. The motion causes the ring to glint again, mocking you with its undeniable truth.

You were an idiot.

But not about this. Not about him.

His voice pulls you back to the present, and you hastily try to make sense of the words tumbling from his cherry-tinted lips. Watching him struggle to find the right words makes your heart flutter with sympathy, and you offer him a reassuring smile, nodding encouragingly.

At that, he takes a deep breath and tries again.

"...I need some help. I—I’m looking for a specific book, you see, but..."

Aaaaand there it is—the sleeve-tugging. The endearing awkwardness in the way he shifts nervously, almost as if he's in a scene straight out of one of those anime shows you and Moth were always obsessed with. You can't help but think, Moth is going to lose it when I tell them about this later.

The stranger in front of you inhales shakily once more before speaking again. This time, though, his voice is steadier, more confident, and there's a fire in his eye.

"...Do you have any books on native flora? The best I’ve found are on generic wildlife, but nothing on Corland Bay's plants."

Native flora? The first thought that crosses your mind is to introduce him to Violet—she’d love to help. But then you snap back to the present, chuckling softly to yourself as you step closer to him, scanning the shelf beside him.

He almost seems to flinch at your sudden proximity, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he leans just a little closer, his head tilting towards yours. You don’t notice it at first, but his breath hitches when your scent reaches him, and for a moment, the air between you feels heavier.

"No, you're definitely in the right aisle. Those kinds of books are just... more hidden, I guess."

You step past him this time, making your way over to the lower section of the shelves. Your fingers skim over the spines of the books absent-mindedly, until you find exactly what you’re looking for. You pull it out, giving the cover a once-over before holding it out to him.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

You barely notice how his gaze trails over your form as you adjust the book in your hands, your focus more on the misplaced cookbook on the shelf than the stranger behind you. You wonder if this book is really that interesting or if he's just that into nature. Either way, he takes a tentative step forward and reaches out, pulling the book from your grasp with his shaky fingers.

He flips through a few pages, his eyes darting quickly over the contents, before giving a satisfied nod.

"Y-Yes! This was exactly what I was looking for! Thank you..."

You smile, relieved that you were able to help.

"I'm glad."

Then, to your surprise, he suddenly adds with a soft laugh, "Haha, you're like an angel sent down from heaven or something. You're so helpful. Kind, too."

Your eyes widen, unable to fully process what he just said. The words hang in the air, a bit too sweet, a bit too much for your heart to handle right now.

"...What?" you stammer, not sure if you heard him correctly.

"W-What?"

He seems mortified, his face flushing as he stammers in embarrassment. "Oh! I—I didn’t—Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to! Ugh, that must've been so weird... I’m so sorry!"

The sight of him about to crumble into a ball of nerves makes your heart clench. You quickly raise your hands in a reassuring manner and give him a gentle smile.

"Hey, it’s fine! No need to freak out. I just... I wasn’t expecting someone to say that about me, is all."

He looks at you, still flustered, but with a relieved smile. "R-Really? Well, I think it's true for what it’s worth."

"Um... Thanks?"

You figure that's your cue to leave before things get even more awkward. You offer him one last friendly smile and glance subtly back toward the reception desk, hoping for some excuse to break away. But the eccentric man shows no signs of moving. Instead, he just stands there, staring down at you expectantly.

Did he want to continue the conversation? It seems unlikely since he hasn’t said anything—he just... watches you.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat for what feels like the millionth time today and gesture vaguely toward the reception desk behind you, hoping that’ll be enough to send him on his way.

You both just stand there, locked in an awkward silence, staring at each other. It's as if the world has slowed down, the only sounds being your heart thumping in your chest and the soft shuffle of his feet on the library floor.

"...Uh. Y-You shouldn't stare at me like that," you say, trying to break the tension, your voice coming out more softly than you intended. He looks at you like a good boy, all wide-eyed and unsure, making you feel even more self-conscious.

"Especially when it's with a stranger you don’t know," you add, puffing out a little sigh of frustration. God... You mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for even thinking about it. You never should've said that. Not when your almost childhood fiancé is standing right in front of you.

Nevermind, you tell yourself, swallowing your thoughts before they spill out any further.

He blinks at your words, clearly caught off guard, but instead of retreating, he straightens up slightly, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Actually... Now that I think about it, you haven't told me your name yet," he says, almost as if the realization had just dawned on him.

You sigh, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance at how easily he shifts back to normal.

"Oh! Haha, I guess you're right."

You’re overthinking like an idiot. Your mind is racing, completely trapped in the realization that this is him. How did you not see it sooner? Those eyes. Those damn blue eyes. You didn't even tell him anything about yourself, and yet here he is, standing right in front of you. Your heart nearly stops when he almost says his name as Redact—but you hold that damn smile like a minion, forcing your cheeks not to puff up in pure disbelief.

You can’t look away. You can't stop staring at him. Is this really happening? Is this just some twisted dream? There's no way—no way it could be him, right?

But then he speaks again, effortlessly breaking your spiral.

"Do what? Anyway! You can just call me Ren if you'd like," he says, giving you a soft, almost amused smile.

Ren? Wait, what? Is it really him? Was he even flirting with you just now? Your mind whirls even faster, trying to process everything all at once.

"Is it alright if I call you Y/n? Although... Angel does suit you just as well, haha," he adds, the tone of his voice making your heart race even more.

What. The. Hell. Just happened? Were you imagining things? Were you really just caught in some weird flirty moment with someone who looked like... him?

But then you gather enough courage to ask, your voice a bit more unsteady than usual.

"How did you know my name? I don't remember telling you."

Ren's smile only grows. "Silly, it's on your name tag."

He reaches forward with that graceful, fluid movement and gently flicks the name tag that you somehow forgot you were even wearing this morning.

"Oh," you mutter, realizing the awkwardness of it all.

For a second, you almost feel relieved. Maybe it wasn’t him after all—maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

But no. Those eyes. They never lie. You know exactly who you’re standing in front of. The boy. The blue eyes. You can’t deny it any longer.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Ren's voice cuts through the air, almost playful in its tone.

"Say, are you busy later? I'd love to thank you for helping me find this book."

Seriously, what is up with this guy? One minute, he's shy, barely able to string a sentence together, and the next, he's boldly asking to spend time with you. It’s almost like he’s testing the waters, trying out different sides of himself to see which one you respond to better.

You hesitate for a second before replying, still trying to process everything that’s been happening.

"Actually, I’ll be busy this afternoon," you say, trying to keep things casual. "Need to buy a new lock for my apartment."

Ren furrows his brow at that.

"A new lock? That doesn’t sound good. Can I ask why?"

You pause for a second, mulling over whether or not you should tell him. But, it doesn’t seem like there’s any harm in it. He’s a stranger, but what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like he’s going to show up at your door and test the lock himself.

"Apparently, someone broke into my apartment last night, and I didn’t even notice. I don’t think they stole anything, but still. It’s creepy," you say, feeling the unease creep up on you again.

You shrug slightly, trying to brush it off as casually as you can.

"I figured it’s better to be safe than sorry, you know?"

Ren looks genuinely concerned, his gaze softening as he listens.

"Stay up all night if you have to. Really get the edge on them," he says, an odd but kind suggestion.

You can't help but laugh at that. There’s something about his words—so unexpected yet sincere—that make it hard not to warm up to him. He seems more relaxed now, his usual awkwardness replaced by something far more comfortable. Maybe this is the side of him you like better.

"Yeah? And who’s gonna be the one to beat the guy up at 3AM?" you joke, though the thought of it does make you feel a little safer, somehow. "Because last I checked, I’m not really the type to go around throwing punches at people I don’t know. And definitely not before the sun is up and shining."

Before you can even finish your thought, Ren speaks up, his voice steady and confident.

"I could do it for you," he says without missing a beat.

You blink, not sure if you heard that right.

"You?" you ask, clearly surprised. "But— I mean, we don’t even know each other that well, and..."

Ren shrugs, unfazed.

"That’s fine," he says with a grin. "I could tell you aaaall about myself on the walk there."

Your eyebrows furrow as you take in his words, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. There’s something about his confidence, something different from the shy guy you met moments ago.

"My whole life story and everything," Ren continues, his grin widening. "Where I was born, the school I went to, how many cute librarians I’ve met..." He pauses, then adds, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Which happens to be one, so far."

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can, Ren seems to pick up on your reaction—your discomfort, or maybe your surprise—and quickly backtracks.

"Ah, well," he stammers, clearly realizing his words weren’t exactly what you expected. "What I meant was... You know, you’re really...uh...nice. And helpful. Really helpful. Sorry if that sounded weird."

You pause for a moment, your mind racing as Ren’s words continue to echo in your head. He could really help me out... You bite your lip, fighting off the unease that comes with letting a near-stranger into your space. But... he did seem strong, and the idea of not facing this alone makes the decision easier.

"Actually... you could come by my place," you say, surprising even yourself. "I mean, you seem strong enough to handle anything if, y'know, something goes wrong. Plus... you did offer." You give him a small, reassuring smile, hoping he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

Ren's eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your suggestion. But just as quickly, his expression shifts to one of eagerness, almost too eager. A wide grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah? Sure!! Of course! I’ll be there!" He practically beams, his earlier shyness vanishing. It’s like a switch flipped, and now he’s practically bouncing in place.

You can’t help but smile back at him, but a small voice in the back of your mind nags you. What are you doing? You barely know this guy. Still, the idea of him coming over... it almost feels right. Maybe you're being a bit of an idiot, but at this moment, you don’t really care. You nod to yourself, deciding to just go with it. He might be exactly what you need.

But then, just as you’re about to say something else, the sound of heels clicking across the floor interrupts you. You turn, and there’s Eleanor, walking up to the desk with that ever-sweet, slightly apologetic expression on her face.

"Hey, uh, your boss is here," she says, clearly noticing the way Ren’s mood shifts instantly.

Ren’s smile falters just a bit, and for a second, you think you see something close to irritation flash across his face. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by a polite smile. He shifts his gaze back to you, his posture still tense.

"Guess I’ll see you later?" he says, voice a bit lower than before.

You feel a pang of disappointment, but quickly shake it off.

"Yeah, I’ll see you," you reply, still smiling. "Take care of him, Eleanor." You give her a pointed look, making sure she knows to keep an eye on him while you’re gone.

With that, you quickly turn on your heel, not wanting to linger any longer. You’ve already made your decision. Time to move on. You wave a quick goodbye to Ren, your heart still pounding, and make your way out, hoping that whatever this is... doesn’t turn into something you’ll regret later.

Poor Ren, though. You can’t help but feel a little bad leaving him with Eleanor—poor soul. You can only imagine how that conversation is going to go.

You hurry out of the store, a strange feeling pulses in your chest—like something you've forgotten is suddenly coming back. Your mind keeps flashing to Ren, his words, the way his eyes shifted when you suggested he come to your apartment. Wait a minute...

You stop mid-step, your breath catching. It can’t be him... But as you replay everything in your mind—the soft, nervous demeanor, the blue eyes that glinted with something familiar, the awkward charm—Oh my god. It hits you like a lightning bolt. You weren’t an idiot! You did know him.

Ren was the boy who confessed to you all those years ago. The one Leon had scared off, That was him. The memories rush back. The shy, stuttering confession, the flushed face, the way he'd stood in front of you, unsure of how to make himself heard.

He was your childhood almost fiancé —the one who slipped away from your life without you even realizing it. You could hardly believe it, but now everything made sense. The way he'd been so eager to talk to you, his sudden confidence after the awkwardness—it was like he had been waiting for this moment, for you to recognize him.

You gasp, your heart racing. Ren No, Redacted. He’s been here this whole time.

You turn around, the impulse to rush back almost overwhelming, but then your feet freeze. What are you going to do? Run back to him and admit everything? Or would that make it all worse?

But before you can make up your mind, the voice in your head interrupts, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Screw it. You found him. Your childhood crush, who had somehow slipped through your fingers and now stands before you again.

This is it.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy x reader #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14 days with you x reader #14 days with you ren #yandere vn

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arieswritez · 8 months ago

Text

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

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