#persona 5 g/t

[averagegtenjoyer]

Who’s trash now, little detective?

+ bonus minikechi

[andtheyreonfire]

take me home (what a wonderful way to go)

ao3

WC: 3,288

AN: something of a sequel to all to make you mine. For G/t July 2024, Day 9: Warmth.

~

Ren is cold.

It’s a familiar feeling, as it would be for a borrower. He’s four inches tall. His body doesn’t particularly like keeping heat. Most of the time he deals with layers and layers of scrap fabric, insulating every corner he might walk in, or, when none of that works, grappling into a heating vent so his face doesn’t turn blue and ugly.

He’s a step ahead of other borrowers, too, in that he was very purposefully and by no means accidentally discovered by a few humans. By—ten-ish humans. Whom, whoever, are rightfully enamored with him and give him everything a four inch tall person could ever desire, like warm food and their credit card numbers.

He is currently away from nine of his humans. He would currently kill for a bowl of Sojiro’s curry. He would even beg for a single noodle of Yusuke’s, before he traps him for stealing and forces him to model for several hours as—not even an act retribution, just forgetfulness.

His teeth are chattering. He cannot stop shivering. He feels—lightheaded? His brain’s all fuzzy around the corners. His legs are starting to feel numb. This is fine. Everything’s fine!

Because he’s near his tenth human. Tenth, for a variety of reasons. Like his probable homicide record and his utter disregard for borrower safety and the butterflies Ren feels whenever he so much as looks at him—

The tenth probably isn’t even home. Even disregarding his schedule, he’s always flighty. Never likes to stick in one place. Ren understands entirely, but his tenth isn’t four inches tall and at risk of freezing. He’s just paranoid.

“It’s not paranoia if there are genuinely people out to get me,” Goro's voice echoes through his mind. This was said, as most things are between them, conversationally, while Goro was stalking him throughout his apartment. How was Ren supposed to know what a “bus pass” was, and that it was unusable after he cut and used it as a coffee table?

Whatever. His tenth human, Goro Akechi, was his last shot. Before he’s forced to make the 5-story trek to Ann's apartment. Which is doable. Totally, doable, even more so that he pisses Goro off just enough that he feels his body heat, rather than Goro killing Ren himself—

Ren stumbles, nearly eating shit on the cold, metal vent he’s traversing. He took the fastest route, expecting warm air to envelop him the second he entered. But apparently, Goro's ideal temperature is only a little colder than his heart, and there is nothing blowing through his vents on a snowy, winter night.

His vision’s starting to fuzz—that’s normal, right? God, he can’t remember the last time he ate. He’ll take Goro's patronizing bread crumbs, even. It’s winter. He’s been busy. Maybe he’s a little unprepared, running on an empty stomach and with hardly enough layers to trek through this vent. Every step seems to drain Ren’s heat even further, every breath sends icy air spreading throughout his body.

Everything’s fine, because look, Ren’s here. He shoots his grappling hook at the lip of the vent—and it only bangs into the flat metal wall. He retracts it, hits the old bundle of gears and twine for good measure, and refires. Within seconds, he’s dragging himself out of Goro's vent.

God—was his floor always this cold? It’s exponentially worse out here, the chill of the open air going straight to Ren’s heart. His legs feel stiff. The expanse of Goro's kitchen is so, so massive.

He blinks once, twice. Hey, it’s okay, he’s almost there. He can hear Goro's fake, cheery voice echoing from across the room, a high-pitched hum as he says, “Yes, of course, Saito-san. I already have a portable heater set up. I'm sure you’ll get the heating system up in just a few minutes, you always work magic, haha.”

Ren trudges forward. He can only crane his neck up for a few seconds, before the glare of Goro's lights forces his head down. He’d be surprised if he noticed him. He’s wearing his sneaky thieving clothes, a thin, pitch-black coat that clashes perfectly against the cream white of Goro's tiles. Total stealth.

Goro offers a few more pleasantries and a goodbye, before his footsteps shake the earth. Distantly, Ren can hear him preparing hot water. Distantly, Ren wonders if he should dunk himself into it. It sounds nice, cozy. He continues forward. He probably remembers how to scale Goro's counter, right? He wonders if he can get a ride, or if Goro would just kick him aside like a football.

There’s really nothing stopping him from climbing right up. The counter’s right here, Goro just a few feet away. So what, if he’s so cold that he’s stopped shivering? He shouldn’t be fumbling with his grappling hook, forgetting how to brace himself before he starts soaring. He’s so close.

His grappling hook catches the very edge of the counter.

He’s got this. In three, two, one—

Ren compresses the trigger.

The ground falls beneath him, winking out into a distant view. Normally he’d chose a stronger anchor, but—He’s fine. He nearly hits his head on the underside of Goro’s counter, but he’s fine.

He blinks, hanging off the edge of his hook with one arm. How does he normally get up, again? Why is his head so fuzzy? Why is his grip swaying more than usual?

His legs dangle. He needs to do something. Why is he just—

The grappling hook lurches, slips, almost falls completely off the counter. Ren lurches with it, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to find any purchase, any at all—

His hand meets the hard surface of the counter. Muscle memory kicks in, and he swings his legs up, using the last of his strength to climb up. He even manages to throw his grappling hook up instead of letting it shatter to a billion pieces on the floor. Nice.

He’s on solid ground, so why are his limbs still shaking? They’re stiff, sure, but weak. He can’t be weak. He has a strong, mighty bloodline. Impeccable survival instincts. Charm and grace and unmatched humility. But—just sitting here feels like a good idea. Something in him is slipping. Really, he doesn’t even know why he came all the way up here—

A massive shadow falls over him, enveloping him like a wave swallows a seashell. He can’t help a shiver, both from the dip in temperature, and for the familiar, hair-raising electricity that shoots down his spine.

In his peripheral, a hand larger than his bed clutches the counter. Before him, a titanic torso stretches like the sunrise. He cranes his neck up, up, up, ignoring the jabbing pain behind his eyes, to stare into the looming face of Goro Akechi.

Goro doesn’t smile, but something of his expression still reminds Ren of a shark, a snake, the cat who got the cream. His voice booms, “Is there a specific reason you’re tracking footprints on my counter? Or do you just favor trouncing into places a bug like you shouldn’t be in?”

Well, at least Goro's actually at his apartment, instead of working the graveyard shift at his mysterious second job he answers no questions about. He probably just works at Big Bang Burger and is embarrassed. Anyways, Ren stands up, almost loses his balance, and pointedly crosses his arms instead of expending the energy to flail them. At least he’s not shivering. “I came here for ba—a v—very specific reason.”

“Oh?” Goro leans closer, his hands coming up to block Ren’s escape point. His breath washes over Ren, and its warmth only makes the cold air even more jarring. He can almost feel Goro’s body heat, if slightly blocked by a sweater and those dorky gloves he always wears. He just needs him a little closer. “And what is that?”

Ren’s body feels so, so light—his vision isn’t supposed to be this fuzzy, right? His tongue can hardly move. He either needs to piss Goro off until his warm hand pins down Ren’s body, or he decides to drop him in his toasty pocket to contain him. Either sounds heavenly. Ren says, confident as stone, “The reason is—“

Ren passes out.

***

He awakes to perfect, blissful warmth.

Hot air envelops him, filling his lungs and curling his toes. A warm, solid weight rests across his entire body. Not as warm as the blissful heat buffeting him, but enough to keep it trapped, the weird, leathery fabric of his blanket be damned.

And, oh, this is what it’s all about. This is the heaven mice go to after they perish in a glue trap, the afterlife hamsters enter after being eaten by a human child. The Valhalla borrowers ascend to after dying by honorable means, like dropping dead on his favorite human’s counter. He should’ve frozen to death ages ago. Ren snuggles back into this new, weighted blanket, letting this heat seep into his still-cold bones. Absolutely perfect—

A thundering bang echoes somewhere behind him, followed by a familiar, murderous growl, “Dropping dead on my fucking counter, who does he think he is—“

Ren’s eyes snap open.

He lies on a massive, plush surface. Before him, looming too high for Ren to take in all of it, is what Ren assumes is a human heater. It’s directed at his tiny form, Ren resting on a couch cushion like a pearl in an oyster.

Ren’s not dead.

He knows this when a pair of dark pants fill half of vision, and Ren can’t resist craning his head up, up, up, to see Goro Akechi looming over him like God’s shittiest angel.

He’s carrying something. A small something. A small something that he sets down next to Ren, slower than he thought humans were capable of. It’s a tall bottle cap. A warm, savory-smelling liquid sloshing as Goro sets it down, fingernails glinting in the light—

”You leave traces of yourself, everywhere.” Goro'd said to Ren, once the borrower was in his clutches, dangled over Goro's head by a single leg. “Someone will always find you, whether or not you think they’re searching. Whether or not you think they’re capable of exploiting what they uncover.”

Goro's not wearing gloves.

Surely Ren’s seeing things. He always wears gloves. Whether he’s dangerously engrossed in his detective hero fantasy, is genuinely that paranoid, or a secret third thing, Ren doesn’t know. What he does know is that Goro's left hand is bared. And that the missing glove is—

Ren shifts, pushes his hands against the heavy fabric blanketing him. He sits up the best he can, seeing enough to know his legs disappear into a familiar, wide shape. To know that Goro's missing glove is wrapped around Ren like a giant quilt.

It kind of smells like him, faint, cheap coffee and the hand lotion Ren’s smelled on his arms. It’s nice. It’s warm. It’s safe—

Goro's hand is retreating, him too engrossed in his task to even notice Ren sitting up. So, Ren does what he does best: channel Morgana’s instincts long enough to lunge over, and knock the cap of soup right onto Goro's couch.

Goro's hand freezes. Ren can see it shake. He can’t stop his heart from pounding as he watches tendons wider than his fingers flex, the curl of knuckles larger than his knees. It’s boring, under his glove: well-trimmed, zero dirt, paler than most of his body. Ren wonders if it’s just as warm. He’ll probably find out; it looks five seconds away from wrapping around his body and squeezing.

Before Goro can actually kill him, Ren says, “Now, this is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every m—“ He clears his throat. Tries again, “Hey, uh. What happened?”

Goro's eyebrow twitches. Calmly, carefully, he rights the fallen cap, collecting the broth with his fingers and shaking it off somewhere behind his legs. Calmly, carefully, he lowers himself to a kneel, bracketing his arms around Ren. His heart pounds. “You tell me—or are you doing to kneel over again before you can finish the sentence?”

Ren snorts. He moves to speak, but Goro beats him to it, glaring at the stain Ren left on his couch. “I got that for you, you know. Fluids and preserving body heat are important when dealing with hypothermia. I expected you’d be stupid enough to put yourself into that state, but I didn’t expect you’d be so stupid as to fight me on recovery, especially considering how severe your case is—“

The hair on the back of Ren’s neck prickles. “I'm fine, not severe at all. I just needed a quick nap—“

“Oh, really?” Goro shifts back, slamming his bare hand right next to Ren. He can’t quite suppress a flinch. “Your body weight is unusually low, which is impressive, considering you already weigh less than a fucking leaf. Your eyes are sunken in. I can feel your ribcage—and you’re freezing to the touch.” Ren flinches, again, and tries to speak, as if Goro's current volume isn’t hurting his ears. “When was the last time you ate? Drank? Slept? I haven’t been able to check if you have frostbite or a genuine cold—“

Ren’s instincts flare. He scrambles for a defense. He’s too small, too exposed, too warm. He manages, voice high and sharp, “And you give a shit?”

Surprisingly, it works. Goro backs off, bare hand still lingering near Ren’s form. He seems to reassess itself, before his expression closes off into something utterly blank. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of fending for yourself.”

And, see, the thing is, Ren’s perfectly capable of doing so. Ren cannot, right now, considering his head is pounding and his legs are cramping and his hook’s on Goro's counter. He hates this. He hates this. He hates this feeling of helplessness, of having to rely on another person to maintain his wellbeing. He hates being vulnerable.

But more importantly, he hates this distance with Goro. This touch-and-go game, how he thought he was handing Goro a blatant victory with this but instead he’s—What? Making soup for him and giving him blankets?

And he hates the slight hurt in Goro's eyes, a sight clear as day from Ren’s tiny angle. He hates how he can’t have Goro concretely, and he hates how Goro is leaning, moving, inching away—

“Wait!” Ren blurts. Without thinking, he latches onto Goro's thumb, digging his nails into his skin before he can slip away.

It works.

Goro's here, his warm, warm breath puffing down onto Ren. He’s watching him like a hawk, face carefully neutral.

“I'm—“ Ren licks his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, because he should. Because he means it. Because it’s easier to say over I love you.

Goro won’t accept that. It’s still Ren’s turn. A few moments ago, he could’ve backtracked, laughed it off. Of course all he needed was a nap and a snack. Always a generous host, Akechi-san, if you don’t mind him, he’ll be leaving—

But it’s too late for that. Goro's watching his next move, and he doesn’t know what else to say. Does Goro genuinely care? Will he kill him if he answers wrong? This is so difficult, fuck. This is why the only emotion Ren prefers to feel around Goro is fear. He needs to say something.

He’s never had to do this before, and he’s going to lose a lot more than his life if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t care if it was just his own survival, but—Goro's different.

Ren makes a decision.

“I need your help,” Ren says, voice barely audible within the expanse of Goro's room. He continues, even smaller, “Don’t leave me?”

And that, final nail softens Goro's expression into something Ren would almost call warm.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Goro says, his usual snark returning to his voice. “If you’re so desperate, you can stay with me for the night. You don’t take up that much room, I suppose.”

Ren melts in relief. Before he can ask if this means a truce, Goro starts, “I do really...”

Ren blinks. Goro doesn’t finish. Like the fool he is, Ren asks, “Really what?”

Goro's mask slides back on. To Ren, it’s just a narrow of the eyes in thought. “I do wonder when the heat will come back on. At least you’re not freezing anymore. What’re your symptoms?”

And just like that, the night passes in a blur. To Goro's credit, he is far less overbearing than Ren feared. He notes his symptoms (just a headache, it really was mild) with a hum. Fills the silence with talk of work and gossip while Ren takes his water and soup. It’s a nice alternative to accepting that he’s here, sitting on a human’s coffee table, too weak to escape—all the while accepting freebies like they’re nothing.

At least Goro's here, radiating heat, snatching Ren up without a second thought. His stupid attractive face constantly filling Ren’s vision.

At least he hasn’t pushed away someone he can’t bear to lose.

Some time later, Ren’s settled on Goro's bedside table, glove a leathery sleeping bag. Goro's voice hums in the background, droning on about some co-worker and their petty drama, or whatever. Ren can’t stop listening to him. He also needs him to shut up. “Hey, detective.”

Goro hums. “What? Is the arrangement not to your liking?”

No. He loves being level with Goro's face. His hair frames his head like a halo. His big, stupid eyelashes flutter with every sleepy blink. He’s never been this close when his life wasn’t in mortal danger. His heart is pounding like he is.

The faint adrenaline gives Ren the courage to say, “I needed this—I needed you.” Ren smiles. “Thank you, Goro.”

And something beautiful happens.

From the tips of his ears to the corners of his jawline, Goro turns red. His mouth parts, ever-so-slightly. And his eyes...

He expects Goro to snap, to glare at him and hiss something like I told you not to call me that. He expects him to kill him on the spot. Ren understands this part of Goro: the mortifying ordeal of being named.

Instead, Goro reaches over, bare hand filling Ren’s vision. Massive fingers scoop up Goro’s glove and its passenger, lifting them up effortlessly. Ren can’t see anything aside from dark leather, can’t feel anything except the warmth of Goro’s hand. For a second, he doesn’t even care how vulnerable he is. He could stay like this, weightless in Goro’s gravity, until the end of time.

Eventually, Goro sets him down. Ren knows where he is even before he hears the steady beating of Goro’s heart. He unfurls, finding himself tucked into Goro’s chest pocket. His chest rises and falls, carrying him with it, burying him into warmth, fabric and utter bliss.

Goro mutters, voice reverberating through Ren’s core, “It’s easier to keep an eye on you, like this.” When Ren can’t help but smile up at him, Goro snorts. “Good night, Joker.”

And with that, Goro's bedroom plunges into darkness. Ren huddles into Goro's glove, hands reaching out to clutch the fabric of his pocket. He can’t help but smile brighter when he feels Goro’s hand curl around him, not overbearing, but close enough to feel his vulnerable skin.

“Call me Amamiya, at least,” He whispers into the night air. Even if the heat came on right now, Ren wouldn’t feel it, not for the warmth thrumming through his veins. “Or take me on a date first, Goro.”

He’ll tell Goro everything, soon, Ren decides, and drifts off to sleep.

[p-3-r-c-y]

heheheh g/t mermaid au but it’s persona 5 (i’m loosing it)

might post more doodles later

[dreamyautumns]

Fairytale ShuAke AU time😎

Ren climbs out from beneath the gigantic door of the stone palace and gets onto his feet. He looks at his surroundings and rubs the back of his head.

“Wherever that beanstalk to me to… it probably isn’t good to stay here. This place is huge, but it might be abandoned…”

Ren advances onward into the giant castle, admiring the furniture and the windows, which were covered in stained glass. The castle was in very good shape. He began wondering if the place was truly abandoned, or if something more sinister lurked within.

“Hmm?”

Ren’s attention turns to a room that’s labeled, “Treasure Storage”. Treasure? That could help his and Sojiro’s farm recover! Surely he could take some if no one was here to claim it, right? His curiosity gets the better of him as he walks up to the door.

“This is perfect… I should take a few, just to play it safe and-“

“Who dares enter MY castle without being invited?!”

An unknown voice suddenly rattles the walls and shakes the ground. Ren turns to look across the hall as a gigantic shadow steps down the stairs. He turns to find a place to hide as the figure draws nearer. He finds a potted plant in the corner of the hall. Maybe, if he can sprint there in time, he’ll be able to make it-

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Ren’s blood runs cold. He turns around as heavy, thundering footsteps come up from behind. He looks up, up, up, a dark shadow looming over him as the figure stares him down with crimson daggers.

*This castle was never abandoned… the owner of it is a giant…!*

~

“Well, well… I thought I heard a little mouse skittering around. It turns out there’s a *thief* sneaking about *my* castle,” the giant states maliciously. Ren tries to slip into a crack in the wall, but he has no time before gigantic, rough digits squeeze him between them and lift him off the ground. He’s dangling before the face of the giant, as he examines the human with a disgusted look.

“Humans… arguably my *least* favorite species to run into. Why are you here?” The giant demands.

Ren grabs onto the giant’s index finger and looks him in the eyes. He’s heard stories about them… about who they are and who they’ll *eat*. He was not looking forward to having his bones ground up into powder and used as an ingredient in bread.

*Choose your words carefully. Maybe you can win him over…*

“H-hey, there…! Didn’t quite see you… living here?” Ren asks, a coy little smile over his face.

“That’s a stupid question. YES, I live here, and YOU broke in. I could crush you right here and now, you pathetic little *bug*.” The giant spat out the word “bug” as though it was a disgusting slice of fruit.

“Before you crush me, why don’t we get to know one another? Won’t you agree?” Ren questions further.

“You’re pushing your luck, *human*,” the brunette giant grumbles. “What do you want…”

“Nothing… just to, y’know, get to know you?”

Ren could tell his “charm” wasn’t necessarily working. The giant seemed even more annoyed.

“Fine. You want to know about me? My name is Goro Akechi. I absolutely *despise* humans…”

Ren gulps a bit, but he pushes forward. Akechi doesn’t seem like such a bad guy, to him. Maybe the giant’s just misunderstood.

“I’m Ren Amamiya. I live on a farm with my dad and my sister.”

Akechi suddenly lets out a laugh, deep and booming like thunder. “A farm boy?! That’s quite pathetic, if you ask me. Alright then, farm boy; humor me. What are you doing in here?”

Ren thinks for a moment. “I was hoping I could, y’know… borrow some things? Maybe a few gold pieces?”

“You’re a little thief… I had nearly forgotten.” Akechi rumbles. “How about we play a little… game?”

“Huh? Where did that come from?”

“I have a proposal for you; keep me entertained for the day. I do enjoy watching you flail about in my grasp. Perhaps you have other tiny tricks up your sleeves. If you do, I’ll let you walk away with as much gold as your pathetic little farmer hands can carry.”

“And if I… don’t?”

Akechi gives him a sinister smile. “Then I’ll get bored of you and crush you like the insignificant gnat you are! Do we have a deal~?”

Ren nervously looks away. *I have to do this… for Sojiro, and for Futaba too. They’re counting on me…!*

Ren boldly looks into the giant’s fiery red gaze and nods in agreement.

“We have a deal.”

[gtcopter]

I hate shitty imgflip quality I hate shitty imgflip quality I hate shitty imgflip quality I ha

[jellyfish-grave]

Everyone, happy Goro day <333333

(closeups under cut)

[hilacopter]

You guys seemed to enjoy the last batch of shitposts so here are some more, fresh from the oven

Sorry for the low quality on some of these, imgflip is trash

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 8

Death by Glamour from Undertale

vs.

Rivers in the Desert from Persona 5

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Death by Glamour:

It's funky jam and I love making silly little scenes to it :]

Rivers in the Desert:

This isn't a boss theme. This is YOUR theme. This song plays at a point in the game where your team has lost everything and are ready to take it back. You aren't scared of Shido, Shido's scared of YOU. You hold the power now. You stole the song from the boss. It isn't their fight anymore, it's yours.

[might-be-tiny-gt]

BORROWERRYUJIBORROWERRYUJIBORROWERRYUJI!!

Recently found this AWESOMEFIC: Even Small Acts of Rebellion... and fell in love. I didn’t know how much I needed pocket sized Ryuji until now. There are still more scenes I want to draw out but thought I should post what I have so far.

[shrink-or-grow]

Futaba Sakura from Persona 5, mayhaps? 👉👈

I think this might be our first instance of multiple people requesting the same character! That's pretty neat. I like when a character is popular enough for that kind of thing.

[hauntingmiser]

And so there was ghost ( scary!!! )

face your consequences, detective

[averagegtenjoyer]

Erm pov. Trying to spy on the cute detective by shrinking on his desk was unfortunately not the move (hes nuts)

[andtheyreonfire]

all to make you mine

ao3

WC: 4,500

AN: yo why's there a little guy in my coffee wtf

~

Ren’s grappling hook misfires, throwing him into freefall.

He jolts, twists, flailing just for a second. It’s odd: every time he falls, the borrower’s reminded of the cartoons Ryuji shows him. If he doesn’t look down, he won’t fall. His stomach has never churned at the sight of a drop before him, but he decides to follow that rule the best he can. He keeps his eyes towards an innocent-looking desk, with an innocent looking figure hunched over it. His goal, for the evening.

Because the laws of physics hate Ren, he falls. The hard, wooden floor rushes up to meet him. He sighs, aims his grappling hook at a tome resting on said desk, and fires in the blink of an eye.

He flies—tiny legs narrowly scraping the floor—before planting his feet against one of the desk’s legs, hanging by his own thread. Dammit, his target probably heard him. He was trying to be sneaky. But if a massive, looming hand happened to grab him while he was dangling off the desk...

Ren waits. Coughs. Looks up. Nothing.

He reactivates his thief mask, scaling the leg of the desk with an inhuman, borrower precision. He wouldn’t be so distracted if hadn’t just gotten off the demon device—as he heard Sojiro call it, an accurate assessment to the magical fucking brick his human friends gave him—with Ann. He can still hear her friendly, ribbing tone. The plans they made—that of course Ren never gave a definitive answer to. What if he needs to scurry around the apartment floor at that time, instead? His schedule is always a toss-up.

But, she’d understood. They shot the shit. Ann talked about her date with Shiho. Ren talked about the rat who’s been committing psychological torture on him for the path month. They’d talked about the cycle of nature, the ever-marching threat of death, what boba tastes like. Ren giggled and kicked his feet like a human girl in a movie.

Ren’s good at copying things, and his humans seem much more relaxed when he has a mask on. He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be appreciated. Nice to sit and talk with Ann, let her call him cute and muse about his looks, even though he still doesn’t know what a modelling gig is. There’s nothing of note behind his mask, anyways. Maybe that’s why not one of them know his name.

He doesn’t mind. He loves his friends, them and their strange, human ways. Just—well.

He has a lot of masks. Switching between them can leave him a little dizzy, especially when it’s a drastic change. Especially with whose apartment he lives in.

Senses alert, he heaves himself onto the desk. He retracts his hook the second his feet meet the hard wood. His target sits just around the corner, hunched over some work or other. Ren waits, for a second, to see if he’s spotted him, but the form remains focused as ever.

Damn—wait. Phew. That’s what Ren means. He channels his instincts, thinks of every single ancestor that never let a human spot them for a solid 30 years before they died a valiant death via crow, and resolves to not meet the same fate.

With a silent, steadying breath, he darts out from behind the books, and takes cover behind one of the humans tools: a sharpener for their writing utensils.

He tenses, ready to bolt, to scratch and bite if needed, but there’s no use. Even though he ran directly in the human’s line of sight, he hasn’t reached over and grabbed him.

Without a single second of hesitation, Ren peeks around the device to see what, exactly, is so important that his human is ignoring him completely.

Akechi Goro sits with perfect posture, typing something on one of the larger magical fucking bricks he uses for his work. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits by him—instant, if Ren’s nose is correct. Akechi doesn’t look exhausted, just a bit high-strung. Absently, he chews on his bottom lip.

He’d never do so in public, lest he ruin his perfect, plush lips. Most of his behaviors he attempts to lock behind a fake-ass smarmy bitchboy—to use Ryuji's words—persona. Only Ren—a persistent rat in his apartment, he tells his neighbors after a noise complaint—is privy to what lies beneath.

The question of if Akechi’s still pretending when he drops the “Detective Prince” is one Ren can’t answer. That’s okay. Ren couldn’t answer the question, either, regarding his own personas.

Whatever mask Ren puts on is fun, though. He can be confident that it’s only a mask. He’s a wonderful person underneath. Really.

That’s why he strolls on up to Akechi, rolls up his sleeves, and drinks directly from his coffee mug.

Stealing food from Akechi is how their relationship began. They have fun. Akechi will spot Ren doing something borrower-y, and immediately try to whack him with a broom, or perhaps a rolled-up newspaper. They’ll chase each other around the apartment, Akechi screaming profanities all the while. It’s like that cartoon Futaba likes. What was it? Tom and Berry?

They have an understanding. A warrior’s bond. Futaba’s instructed him not to use that term anymore. The masks they wear are ever-present, but here, they’re thin enough to not exist. Almost.

Ren slurps, loudly, at Akechi’s coffee, looking up at the towering figure of his human, waiting for a disgusted glare. Any second now...

Nothing. The only disgust is Ren’s, after drinking that low-effort stuff after Sojiro fed him so well. It tastes like dirt, after someone dunked it in a pile of sewage water. And set it on fire. He’s being melodramatic. He can’t help it. Akechi hasn’t spared a single glance at Ren since he strolled onto his desk.

So, Ren strolls forward, hands in his pockets, bag hitting against his back with every exaggerated step. He meanders towards Akechi’s hand, it resting adjacent to his magical fucking brick. His fingers tap against the desk, in rhythm with whatever thoughts are flooding through his pretty little head. Every tap sends the ground vibrating beneath Ren’s feet.

He stops, not four inches away from Akechi’s hand—the length of his entire body—and looks up.

Akechi Goro, for all intents and purposes, is ignoring him completely.

Ren, like the mature, talented borrower he is, vaults himself directly over Akechi’s forearm, and lands square in the middle of his device.

Instantly, Akechi’s gaze snaps down to him, genuine annoyance pinched in eyebrows longer than Ren’s forearm. Ren calls up, not a shred of self-preservation instinct, “What’re you doing?”

Akechi’s annoyance sharpens into a glare. “Get the fuck off my keyboard.”

Ren pushes a button with his foot, one of dozens scattered around him. It yields under his touch, making a satisfying click. Ren holds his foot on it, unable to stop a grin as it stays under his weight. Human technology is so fun—!

He’s reminded why, exactly, he doesn’t interact with human technology as Akechi uses it. A massive hand snatches him in a fist, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Akechi all but yanks him away from his doo-dad. He rests his fist next to his computer, grip firm as Ren squirms. His brow pinches as he types away, likely erasing whatever contribution Ren made.

Ren waits for Akechi’s shadow to fall over him, for that massive face to overtake his vision. For Akechi’s hot breath to dance across his skin, for him to lean in and tell Ren what a pesky, troublesome little mouse he is...

Absolutely nothing. Akechi continues working, eyes glued to his glowing box. Ren huffs, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of Akechi’s thumb.

For a second, the grip around him tightens, before Akechi’s gaze finally, finally lands on him. His fingers retract, to the point where Ren’s dangling over them, more than anything. “Oh, you’re here.”

He—he forgot about him? About Ren? He kicks a leg out. Akechi’s fingers retract completely, leaving him standing on the open desk. He’s not even trying. What the fuck?

He opens his mouth, about to call up to him, when he notices Akechi’s attention has shifted entirely back to his device. Completely ignoring him.

Ren stomps back over to the keyboard, stands directly on two of the buttons, and glares up at Akechi. The human’s glare would make a lesser borrower curl up and never leave their house again. “Did you fucking hear me?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Ren crosses his arms. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Akechi’s glare is acidic. Ren could imagine, all too easily, the red rings around his pupils. The steam pouring from his ears. Akechi grits his teeth, visibly restraining the urge to hurl Ren at the nearest wall. “Get. Off.”

Ren steps onto another key, never looking away. Make him.

It’s no surprise when Akechi yanks him up by the back of his shirt. Ren chokes, hands flying to his collar, legs dangling some half foot off the ground. With his other hand, Akechi rummages around the bottom of his desk, every jerk sending Ren swaying between his fingers.

“Since you wanted to know so badly,” Akechi growls, sparing a second to sneer at him before he pulls something out. “I have a report due tomorrow, at noon. About a case that I've already given a report on. With no prior warning from the director. As you can imagine, I don’t have time for any games.”

“Who says I wanted to play anything?” Ren gasps. Akechi, reluctantly, shifts his grip. “What if I just want to see my favorite detective?”

Akechi’s glare recedes, just the slightest amount. “You never want to see me for the sake of seeing me, Joker.”

“Maybe I do.” Ren dons an innocent look. The best he can, while Akechi’s a hair’s breadth away from crushing him in his fist. “Maybe I just missed you. Wanted see how you’re doing, you know? You must be so lonely without me around.”

Akechi smiles. The fake, forced grin that he gives to reporters, or anyone who’s pissing him off. “As you can see, I am absolutely dying without your presence.”

Akechi’s face shutters off into a sneer. Ren forced to look at the object in his hand. He blanches. “I'm sure I'll survive a little longer.”

Without another word, Akechi drops him, face-first, into a glass jar, and caps the lid.

Ren yelps as Akechi jostles him, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth glass. He sets him on his desk, ever so slightly out of reach. He wants to yell back up to Akechi, to ask him what the hell he’s doing to such a poor, defenseless creature. He’s stuck trying to decide which knife of his three to pull when he notices Akechi is—

Ren gasps. Akechi’s ignoring him. Again.

Fine. Fine! Joker does not stomp his foot, because he is a grown borrower and he’s better than that. He paces in the small, circular space of the jar. He doesn’t look at Akechi. He’s not even bothered. He’s fine. Perfectly fine. He—he doesn’t care in the slightest.

He plops down, cross-legged, sparing another glance up at Akechi. The human hasn’t even given him a second glance.

What a dick.

Joker cranes his neck back, body itching to move after just a single second. Makoto called it a survival instinct. His brain is always telling him to move, as that’s how someone like him has survived for so long. Futaba compared him to one of her Pokemans—Spoink, if he recalls correctly. If he stops moving, his heart will stop, too.

Ren’s heart is currently beating out of his chest, a wonderful side-effect to spending longer than a minute in Akechi’s presence, so he’ll be fine on that front. He does stand up, pacing around the small, transparent space he’s trapped in. He knows humans use these for all sorts of things. Turns out trapping borrowers was one of its uses, too. The jar’s walls are hard, and even if he was taller than half its height, he wouldn’t be able to unscrew the lid.

Well. There’s always the self-destructive strategy. He walks over to the glass, looking up at Akechi’s massive, looming form, and asks, “Do you treat all the pretty boys you bring home like this, or am I just special?”

Nothing. He shifts an arm, crosses his legs, leans against the glass. The perfect balance between annoying and flirty. “Usually the guys I’ve been with aren’t this forward, but I don’t mind. If you wanted to keep me that badly, you should’ve just said something.”

Nothing. Nothing at all. The glass must be muffling his words—or, rather, Akechi finds it much easier to ignore him when he’s like this. For all intents and purposes, he might as well not exist.

It’s not a feeling he’s unused to.

Ren huffs. What is he, a moth? Getting defeated by some common, household object? He liked Akechi a lot better when he was trying to whack him with a broom. Ren’s better than this. He will beat this. He’ll make Akechi treat him the way he deserves.

He looks up. If he had a flat piece, he could probably, maybe, pry the lid open. However loose it is, it’d still be too tight for him to shoot his hook at. Even with some parkour, he’s too small to be able to reach it...

Ren stops. He peers over the edge of the desk. He recalls the time Sojiro broke a mug, the day when Ren willingly revealed himself. The way it shattered into a million pieces upon impact, scattered at their feet. He recalls how humans handle fragile things with such grace, as if the magic that makes objects fall will take even giants’ things away from them. He recalls how they handle him, his tiny, four-inch tall form, in the same way.

It’s unnecessary. He’s fallen before, from heights that would, relatively, injure a human. He’s walked away with only a few bruises. If he pushed this jar off the desk, it’d probably react like any other glass.

It doesn’t matter that he’s never fallen from this high before. He has his grappling hook. He’s too cute to die. Everything should be fine, right?

It’s either this, or waiting indefinitely until Akechi finally looks his way.

Joker takes a breath, and slams his shoulder into the jar.

it budges, a little. He does it again, harder. It warbles as it slides against the wood, scooting closer towards the edge of the desk. He can see the full drop, now. He slams again. If heights scared him, he wouldn’t be hanging around humans, now would he?

He tackles the jar once more, hand flying to his hook. He’s a master escape artist. A thief. A borrower with a perfect record—discounting the fact that his presence is known by at least 10 humans. He tackles it again. The jar is dangerously close to the edge. A single inch more, and it’ll teeter right off.

Joker looks up, watching Akechi’s massive, looming face. What he can see through the tangle of rope-like hair is impassive, neutral. Like he doesn’t care.

Joker body-slams the jar one, final time. It teeters, flies over the edge, and Ren yelps as he’s thrust into sharp, terrifying weightlessness.

His hand clenches around his hook, watching the swell of the floor come up to meet him, body curling and clenching as it braces for impact—

A few things happen in rapid succession.

First, the human looming above Joker, who reportedly wouldn’t fish him out if he somehow found himself in his blender, notices the tiny scream and jar falling beside him.

The second, is that his hand shoots out, catching the jar in a white-knuckled grip.

The third, is that Akechi’s face comes up to meet Joker at break-neck speed. His eyes are wide, frantic, crawling over every limb with frightening precision. He snarls, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Ren opens his mouth, chest stuttering, “I’m fine—“

“Do you have a death wish?” Akechi continues, bringing the jar closer, inspecting Ren even as he yelps. “Are you insane? Do you particularly prefer to be skewered by shards of glass like a late medieval king? Of course, if the fall itself didn’t fucking—“

“Sounds like my type of date night,” Ren rasps. Slowly, he peels himself off the back wall, only to be thrown to his stomach as Akechi's hand flinches.

He looks up, seeing the white-hot fear on Akechi’s face gone, replaced with something like resignation. And smoldering anger. He says, flat, “What, exactly, was your grand plan with throwing yourself off a drop 10 times taller than you, Joker?”

Ah. Cutting straight to the point. Without a second thought for Ren’s poor, fragile well-being. How cruel. Though, the tone of voice suggests that he should answer honestly, lest the jar be thrown across the room—Ren included—like a rubber ball.

Because Joker fears no god and certainly no man, he answers, “I wanted to see if the stories about the strong, daring prince catching the poor, defenseless maiden from her tower were true. Though, I don’t think said princes had the social skills of a paper straw—”

Ren lets out a very mainly squeak as Akechi shakes the jar. He bounces Joker once, twice, three times, sending him flying and tumbling against the glass walls with every jostle. He stops, leaving Ren splatted against the bottom. He peels himself off with a grimace. Sun above—ow.

Ren looks up in time to see Akechi pause. His fingers tap against the jar, a sound like the patter of rain. He looks away, for a second, before smoothing his expression out into an awkward smirk. Good, let him feel guilty. Ren’s poor, wounded soul. “I don’t supposed said maidens would lose a fist-fight with a housefly, either.”

“I'll have you know, my prince,” Ren huffs, leaning against the wall in a dignified, not-at-all dizzy splay of limbs. “That I've won my fair share of fights against houseflies and grasshoppers.”

“Is that so?” Akechi looms in, smirk shifting into something more confident. He’s close enough that his breath fogs the glass of the jar, obscuring, for an instant, the sight of his massive, plush lips. “My hero.”

If there wasn’t a jar between them, they’d be close enough to touch: a small, inhuman body, pressed against lips the size of his chest.

Joker backs away. Akechi leans back, too, adverting his gaze to the jar’s floor. He sighs, tired. “Was that really your grand, daring plan for getting my attention? You couldn’t have done anything that, I don’t know, wouldn’t have killed you?”

Joker grins. He finds his grappling hook—lying on the floor, somewhere between falling and Akechi shaking the jar—and tucks it away. “You know that’s not my style.”

Akechi’s mouth twitches. A familiar movement, like he wants to smile, but doesn’t want to debase himself to such lowly instincts. He runs his thumb down the jar, covering Ren’s chest in its shadow. “Just—why?”

Well.

Akechi has been a good sport. He has, actually, paid attention to him, and his near-death experience of the day wasn’t because of the human. Ren supposes he can have this truth, no matter how embarrassing it is to admit.

Ren twists a lock of his hair, adverting his eyes. “Just...” This close, he can’t hide himself in the knowledge that he’s too small to see. Akechi’s far too close to ignore the cracks of his mask. “We haven’t seen each other since the last break your—learning-establishment gave you.”

“Golden week.” Akechi says, then blinks. “Is that all?”

“Yes?”

“That was hardly a week ago. I haven’t seen you since, either. You could’ve called.”

Ren shrugs, not sure how to express that such an action was the coward’s way out—and also violated every borrower code in existence. Breaking such rules for Akechi’s sake vs. his friends would be against their game.

A smirk dons Akechi’s face, like he’s found Ren’s hiding spot after a chase. “If you wanted to hang out, in the vernacular, you could’ve just asked.”

It feels like he’s treading on rocky ground, that the path will snap under him the second he takes another step forward. It’s not that it’d break the rules of their game. It’s not even that Akechi’s a human. It’s just—Ren can’t be too honest. “You’re busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Goro rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. You love to interrupt.” He flicks the jar, a hard, strong punch that sends Ren flinching back. “And I'm always busy—but you didn’t even have to interrupt. Not everything’s about you, you know.”

Ren begs to differ. It’s not every day a human’s blessed with Ren’s presence. But—

As much as it physically, violently pains Ren to admit, Akechi is...right.

He’ll die before he admits that to Akechi’s face. He braces an arm against the glass, steeling himself in case Akechi flicks his prison again. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Akechi rolls his eyes. He glances back to his computer, what must be a subtle action for a human, but what’s as clear as day to a borrower. “If you’re going to stick around and bother me, I'm afraid I actually can’t allow you to do that. I do need to complete this. My schedule is quite full, Joker.”

Ren raises an eyebrow. “And mine isn’t?”

Akechi raises one back. “I once saw you spend an entire day trying to domesticate my Roomba.”

“I know a spark of life is in that creature.”

“I—look.” Akechi sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “If you’re going to continue to be a little shit, I have no problems about keeping you in this jar under supper.”

“Who the fuck says supper anymore—?”

“You’re the size of a key. What the fuck do you know? Just—if you want to leave, then say so. I'm not going to wait on your time.”

Ren presses his face to the jar, staring up, up, up into Akechi’s own. He swallows.

Nothing to be gained if you don’t jump, his aunt had said, before she fell down a sewer pipe.

“Put me in your pocket,” Ren says.

Akechi blinks. Slight disbelief paints his face, as if wondering if he hallucinated the words. “Pardon?”

“Your pocket.” Ren gestures to it, the massive patch of fabric below him, because he’s helpful like that. “Your hands are busy. You’re being too feisty to talk. You’ve deemed your computer more important than me. Put me inside. I'll be out of the way, and you’ll still be graced with my presence. It’s a win-win.”

Ren’s palms swelter. He’s donning an odd mask, but it seems to do its job. His chest flutters when Akechi brightens. “First, I'm sure you can imagine why I might favor my computer over the pest that keeps breaking into my fucking umaibo. Second, I wouldn’t call myself graced. Third, how, exactly, would you be winning?”

A flush creeps its way up Ren’s cheeks. “Uh—“

But Akechi doesn’t wait for an answer. With a sharp pop, he uncaps the lid to Ren’s prison. He jerks the jar down, sending Ren tumbling towards its mouth.

Ren does not scream, thank you very much.

He lands in Akechi’s hand only a few inches down. His palm is mercifully soft, a sharp contrast to—everything. He huffs, glaring up at the human’s face. Akechi only smirks down at him, and, like the scum of the earth he is, blows a gust of air at Ren’s face.

Ren sputters. Akechi’s fingers curl around him, the slightest amount. “I suppose I can keep an eye on you, while you’re in there. Try anything and you’re returning to the jar.”

Ren gathers his composure. He leans against a thumb half his height, fluttering his eyelashes. He refuses to lose here, in Akechi’s hand, surrounded by his form and heat and soft flesh...focus. “What’s the matter? Scared you couldn’t keep your eyes off me?”

“Just of losing my last single, working braincell. Do you want to go in, or not?”

Ren...does. He doesn’t think about what this means, the prospect of being so close to Akechi, so—vulnerable. He’d be right up against his chest, probably next to his heartbeat, enveloped by his warmth.

He’s—he doesn’t think about it. He’s gracing Akechi with his presence, that’s all. Absolutely nothing more.

Ren nods. Akechi sighs, and moves his hand towards his pocket. Ren finally takes note of his grey sweater, the small, slightly ratty fold of fabric over his chest. He holds Ren above its lip, gifting him a view of a dark, soft, cramped area.

He can feel Akechi’s warmth: from his fingers, from the slight heat emanating from his chest. He catches a faint whiff of cinnamon, undoubtedly from the human holding him. He’s so close. He’d just have to burry into his chest, pick up his thumb and press his lips against it...

Sun above, it’s a miracle the borrower’s survived for this long.

Akechi drops Ren into the pit. He flails, tangling his limbs in the fabric as he slides down. Ren huffs. Honestly. Beasts, humans are.

He lands in a soft corner, limbs splayed out in the bunched fabric.

It is warm.

He can hear Akechi’s heartbeat—pumping steadily, despite the claims that he doesn’t have one. The weight of his pocket stifles his brain’s constant urge to move. Akechi breathes in, and Ren moves with the rhythm, rocked against the human as he resumes work. Slowly, Ren rights himself, relaxing into Akechi’s pocket.

It’s...nice.

Akechi’s voice reverberates around him, accentuated by the clacking of his keys, “I meant what I said. Try anything, and I'm chucking this thing across the room with you inside. I wonder, would the Roomba continue if I set you in its path?”

Ren huffs, for lack of projection, he bangs his fist against Akechi’s chest. It flutters against him—a slight, stifled laugh.

It’s nice.

Akechi goes silent. For a second, Ren can’t even hear the clacking of his magical fucking brick. He thinks he’s about to fill the silence before his typing resumes, like nothing ever happened at all. Ren settles into his pocket, bunching a tiny pillow for his head and curling up. He knows he needs to figure this out before it kills him, to find what mask to wear so Akechi believes him, to figure out how to tell a human, of all creatures, the truth, but...

Later.

He hasn’t seen Akechi in so long, after all.

Ren closes his eyes, relaxes in his rival’s pocket, and very pointedly does not drift off to sleep.

He won’t let Akechi steal this victory, too. Not when he’s already stolen his heart.

[p-3-r-c-y]

more mermaid au art :P

don’t have much context for this—maybe akira tried approaching ryuji while there were a bunch of people on the beach, and now ryuji is lecturing him about staying safe. a bit ooc but i spent way too long on this lol

also infodump on this au hopefully later this week!! i have had so many ideas cooking in my brain and im very excited to share them.

[dreamyautumns]

Mini fanfic I wrote for my friend @hilacopter it's a bit old but that's ok!!

~~~

Ren was sitting at his desk in his room crafting infiltration tools. He sets his screwdriver and and turns to the side.

“Oh, Futaba? You’re sitting on one of my screws.”

The tiny girl turns around for a moment, looking him in the eyes. She hesitates for a second, then hops off. Ren picks it up and begins finishing his work.

“Done,” he sighed. Some new lockpicks for his team were now laid out on the table before him. He turns to Futaba and smiles at her. “Thanks, Futaba- Futaba?”

Futaba turns around and looks up at the human boy. Her eyes avert his gaze as she twiddles her fingers together.

“What’s up, Futaba? You seem like you want to ask me something,” Ren asks.

The tiny girl continues to look away but speaks. “This is real embarrassing for me… but can you like… grab me?”

“What?” Ren asks in confusion.

“N-not that! I wanna just, y’know… be held. I wanna feel tall, ok? I’m sick of being all the way down here. I wanna be, like, taller than you. You gotta make it happen.”

“You want me to make you feel tall? You should’ve just asked.” Ren reaches a hand down for Futaba, who’s startled yelp is muffled. He gently lifts her up to his head and sets her down on his hair. The tiny girl is surprised.

“Feel better?”

Futaba stammers out of embarrassment and surprise. “T-That worked?! Whoa… I feel really high up. Y’know what? HELL YEAH! I’m TALL! Taller than you!” She throws her arms up in triumph. Ren can’t help but laugh at his “sister”.

“Be careful now. Let’s head downstairs and give out these tools to the others.”

~

In the café where the others were chatting, Ren comes down the stairs and hands them their tools. While passing a lockpick to Yusuke, the taller boy tilts his head in confusion at the sight of the tiny on the human boy’s head.

“Why is Futaba on your head?” The blue haired boy asks.

“She likes to feel tall,” Ren answers, smiling. Futaba rubs her hands together mischievously and giggles.

“Fear me, tiny humans! For my plan for world domination has BEGUN!!”

Makoto, Ann, and Haru smile at each other and laugh. Ren can’t help but chuckle as well as Futaba spreads her arms and cackles at her theatrics.

[gtcopter]

Hello fellers! I made a quiz for the p5 g/t discord server and thought I should also share it here since I haven't posted anything on this blog in a while

Lemme know who you got in the rbs or comments! I'm curious lol