Five Days For Love Confession

five days for love confession

pairing: Ren Amamiya/Akira Kurusu x fem!reader

summary: Shujin's Academy is holding its annual cultural festival, and it seems that five days of preparation is all it takes to make your crush fall in love with you.

"five days for love confession" series' masterlist

It was a fact that Ren Amamiya did not have the best reputation at Shujin Academy.

Of course, this was due to his criminal record status, but it was more about the implications of it. He couldn’t say anything when a student treated him badly, or delivered lies in form of hot gossips around the student body. Ren heard it all — that, supposedly, he carried a knife around, that he committed audacious crimes frequently and even more. All lies, surely, however, due to the student body being formed of high-profile students, a single complain about his conduct towards other student could mean the end of probation for him. For the worse.

Because of his reputation (and uttermost lack of capacity of deniability), teachers felt that they could basically use Ren as a fix-it man in the organization of Shujin’s events. After all, why bother convincing students to participate and form a minimum quorum, if you can just place the same one? And it wasn’t different with the annual cultural festival of Shujin’s Academy. When he squished himself in between of the crowd of students to see the lists, his name was in almost every single one. Shocking news.

At the end of that evening, Ren, the rest of the Phantom Thieves, and you, were reunited at the attic of LeBlanc, a.k.a. Ren’s bedroom. After you all ate cookies, cake and drank coffee downstairs, now you were trying to figure out in which activities each one was, to assure he wouldn’t go through this utterly traumatizing experience of being at Shujin all day alone (as in the words of Ryuji). The cozy smell of coffee embalmed the place, as well as the woody scent, both so familiar for you.

“I’m in the dancing and musical arts’ front, doing ‘Legally Blonde’” Ann chuckled. She was sitting beside Makoto on the floor, as they made matching bracelets with beads. “It’s the first time Shujin does musicals, right?”

Makoto nodded, reorganizing the beads. “I’m responsible for the festival’s haunted house. Indeed, we only have me, the student council and Ren at this one.” Ren winced at the reminder of work. “You all should subscribe for this one. It’s still open.” She said, stern.

You played chess with Ren on the other side of the bedroom, while they talked and scribbled on paper. Both of you were sitting on his bed, as the checkered board stood on a pillow. Ren didn’t want them to take on more work just for his wellbeing, in fact, he made it clear that was against this whole commotion on LeBlanc. You, however, already expected the school counsellor to put him in every activity, so you secretly sent him a letter asking to be in the same activities as Ren, so he wouldn’t be alone (which may or may not be because of your, also secret, crush for him).

Ren moved the bishop and grinned “Checkmate.”

“How?” you said surprised, not even paying attention to the entire mess of a discussion that your friends were having over the schedule.

The fact was that Ren was terribly bad at chess, at least in comparison to you. He never win, so it was a small joke in between you two ever since you met. It was always the ‘It’ll probably happen when you win me on chess’ for impossible things. However, today’s Earth decided to debunk your saying.

Ren adjusted his glasses, proudly, and redid the sequence of movements of the game, but you could only notice the flicker of his bright eyes, how his wavy hair moved as he explained his thought behind his actions with his throaty voice and—

“Guys!” Ryuji yelled, which made all of you stop and stare at him. He was holding a sheet of paper, one from the pile of lists’ copies, and in his face was the pure look of horror. “I’m gonna cook curry. Cook curry. Wha’ the f-??”

“Let me guess, that’s another one for Ren too?” Yuzuru joked, making everyone (except Ren) laugh.

“At least is one thing he actually can cook.” Morgana added, intensifying the laughs.

After that, everyone chatted for a while, before going away. You knew all of them were the Phantom Thieves, so when they stood up to leave, scary looking at the clock, you got it why too. The ‘We need to rest to enter another palace this weekend’ was always there, implicit, even though they didn’t share their plans as thieves with you. It was like those unreachable places in the dreams — you knew the Metaverse existed and knew that your friends frequented it and was behind all those events on the news, but it wasn’t tangible for you. You could never experience it with them, see by yourself. And in those times, you felt less of a part of the group than them.

On the ride home, as you reminisced the memories from the day, you almost gagged when you remembered what you did. “I’m going to work endlessly all week, all day, at Shujin’s because of a boy??” you thought to yourself. And oddly, that thought didn’t even scare you.

Because it was Ren Amamiya the boy you were going to spend the longest week of your junior year of high school with.

I swear he's either trying way too hard to win Ren's trust or he's in love

Continuing my fav tradition of making Goro dress up for Newjeans song…

JOKER YOU ANIMAL! Control yourself! T//////T

Ruining the princely detective’s public image is his favorite thing on earth.

tamaki gif on the tl akechi on the brain ….

goro akechi x gn!reader

wc: 0.9k

warnings: angst, p5r third semester spoilers, established relationship, promise rings, potentially ooc

obligatory tag to my beloved @verxsyon for being my fellow akechi lover in arms i hope this kills u as much as it killed me to write <3 its just impossible to write fluff for this man idk he drives me crazy

“This is ridiculous,” scoffs Akechi. “All this and there won’t be a reason for it tomorrow.” 

Naught more than moonlight passes through to the hallway of your apartment and douses you in silver. It’s dim, enough to conceal the nerves that creep their way into the quavering corner of your lip and the uneven pulse that wracks through your body. 

You giggle, shooting him a look. He knows what it means. “You could have said no.” 

The touch of his fingertips against your wrist is cold in contrast to the heat that radiates through you. Akechi has never quite been as warm as you are. His thumb grazes the dip of your palm, carving paths of electricity against your skin, before he turns your hand over. 

Akechi pauses, one hand holding onto you and the other reaching towards the table. “You didn’t expect us to say anything special here, did you?” 

“You can if you want,” you tease. “I’m sure you’re dying to voice your feelings.” 

“Too soon,” he chastises, smooth laughter slipping from him despite the way his words had caught in his throat for just a second. 

“We don’t have to say anything,” you assure. With your free hand, you reach out for Akechi’s shoulder. Even now, you half expect him to shrug you away. He doesn’t.

By now, the tears you’d tried to keep down are rising up to the surface. You take a deep sniffle to push them back, to hold them at bay. You don’t want to cry for him just yet. This is supposed to be a happy moment. 

And yet, one still leaks through in defiance when Akechi finally slides the ring onto your hand. 

It’s nothing official, a symbol more than anything. You’d suggested it in passing when you first found out about the state of this false reality you’d found yourselves in, when you learned about the inevitability of Akechi’s fate. He’d laughed at you, in that exasperated fond way he tends to, and you’d assumed he had dismissed the idea. You hadn’t meant it all too seriously anyway. 

That is, until he showed up at your door with two little rings in boxes earlier this evening. 

“I’m sorry,” he had said, “I picked out my own as well. I thought that doing things this way would be easier.” 

He’d been right, of course. You know you’d have spent far too long agonising over choices and all sorts of things that are utterly inconsequential in the face of things. None of this needs to be perfect for it to mean something. 

Besides, he has good taste. The ring that sits now on your finger isn’t too large or too small- you do have to wonder briefly just how he knew your size so perfectly- and its no more than a simple band. But its plainness is perfect, just the right sort of symbolism for what you wanted. A promise. A memory. 

You reach for the one Akechi has chosen for himself and turn it over in your hands briefly. It looks the exact same. The metal clinks against your own ring as you pluck it back out of your palm and the sensation resonates through your bones. 

“It’s not too late to back out of this, you know,” you say quietly. 

Akechi’s next words are quiet, lacking the characteristic vitriol that tends to fuel him. “We’ve never had the privilege of time.” 

You swear his hand shakes when you place the ring. 

He doesn’t let you pull away from him, instead grasping onto your hand and locking your fingers together. 

You frown, concerned. “Is everything okay?” 

The look in his eyes is intense, serious. It pierces through your very soul. He squeezes your hand tight, as though he is anchoring himself to you. 

“Don’t forget. This is a pact. I will never forgive you if you dare to regret this night.” 

“I understand.” You nod. “I’ll take you with me to the grave.” 

He stumbles, coughs and rights himself, so quickly that you barely notice it. 

“As will I,” he swears. 

His thumb idly traces across the side of your hand, fond and tender. The urge to kiss him right now is almost overwhelming. A fragment of moonlight casts across his face, highlights one deep brown eye and the ghost of makeup-covered freckles that have faded into view. It curves along the contours of his lips, thin but wet with remnants of gloss. He’s utterly irresistible. 

“I’m yours,” you declare, “for eternity.” 

“As am I, yours,” he promises with a dry chuckle, warm palm rising to cup your cheek, “at least for the night.” 

Veins on fire, you choke down any lingering apprehensions with a thick swallow.

The early February air is clement, peaceful. Still. It sits upon your shoulders and soaks into your lungs, pleasant and cool. Akira is there to greet you as you reach the stadium, the rest of the Phantom Thieves in tow. Their faces are solemn, resolute. It’s a comfort in a way, that they’re no more externally emotional than yourself today. 

As you take one last glance at your home, and another towards your destination, there is no regret in your mind. There is no smile upon Akechi’s lips, replaced instead with a determined scowl, but the glint of metal that rests around his finger speaks for him. Everything comes down to this. 

You’re about to save the world.