Omg I’m also a twst fan but I found your account through the persona 5 tag so… this is a request I’ve been waiting for an answer from anyone really for a while, i hope you like it!
“I’ve been reading Arsène Lupin and I’ve figured out he has a LI in some stories so I want to request one story were Arsène sees history repeat itself with Joker (Akira/Ren) and a s/o who is like the one he loved before!
(Information on this lover and how he acts towards them if you haven’t read the books, all of those are Arsène POV or talking about her:
Ps: this is translated from my Portuguese edition
- French with a American father
- ”she was one of those magnificent creatures who, wherever they are, immediately has the most attention. In those people, their beauty and fortune shine. They (group of women) has a court of devotees, of enthusiasts.
- From the start, I applied for flirtation. But, in the brief intimacy of the trip, her charm immediately disconcerted me, and I felt too moved to flirt when her large black eyes met mine. However, she received my courtesies with a certain consideration. She allowed herself to laugh at my jokes and take an interest in my stories. A vague sympathy seemed to correspond to the attentions I showed.
- The Andrézys are from a good family in Poitou, but their coat of arms is somewhat tarnished, and it doesn't seem unworthy of a gentleman to consider restoring his surname's lost splendor.
And such dreams, I felt, did not displease Nelly at all. Her smiling eyes allowed me to dream them. The gentleness of her voice told me to have hope.
And until the very last moment, leaning against the railing, we remained close to each other, while the American coast advanced towards us.
- Ah! I swear, at that solemn moment, when Ganimard and two of his accomplices surrounded me, everything became indifferent to me—my capture, the hostility of the people, everything except this: the decision that Miss Nelly would make regarding what I had confided in her.
If that material and decisive proof existed against me, I wouldn't even dream of doubting it; but would Miss Nelly decide to provide such proof?She passed by me, I greeted her with a bow, without saying a word.
Minding with the other travelers, she walked towards the gangway, with my Kodak in her hand.
No doubt, I thought, she won't dare do anything in public. In an hour, in a minute, she'll hand it over.
But, reaching the middle of the gangway, feigning an awkward gesture, she dropped it into the water, between the quay wall and the ship's side.
Then I saw her walk away.
Her beautiful silhouette disappeared into the crowd, reappeared and vanished. It was over, over forever.
I remained motionless for a moment, sad and, at the same time, imbued with a sweet tenderness, then I sighed, much to Ganimard's astonishment:
— It's a pity I'm not an honest man...
- A woman was looking at me, Ganimard, and I loved her.
Do you understand how much it means to be looked at by a woman you love? The rest didn't matter to me, I swear. And that's why I'm here. (In jail)
This is a long request but a fun one!”
-M.P
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ My first non-TWST request!! I love P5 dearly, but no doubt this was a bit hard to write lol. I hope I did Ren justice, along with Arséne! Yours was just too fun to ignore ♡
˗ˏˋ IN WHICH: Arséne watches history repeat with you and Ren.
ᰔ MC uses SHE/HER, mentions of Mental Shutdowns, MC has a persona, Strangers to Friends to Lovers to Exes BACK to Lovers.
જ⁀➴ ♡
Arséne had long ago accepted his fate. To dwell within one body, mind, and soul—to live in the shadows of some poor stranger's heart and await for them to awaken him.
And then, only then, would Arséne live once more.
So when Ren Amamiya was born—a perfect, beautiful, and loving little boy, whose pudgy hands reached for his mother's face—Arséne was ready to be patient and watch his life unfold on the sidelines.
He was alright to dwell within the boy's heart, for the time being.
Ren Amamiya didn’t know it, but every time he made a mistake, or said the wrong thing, or even made a fool of himself when nobody was watching, Arséne was. Ren was never alone. Completely unaware of the mystical eyes that watched his every movement with a certain fondness.
He was born into this world with Arséne and would die with him, too.
And as Ren grew up, he eventually had to leave his home due to unfortunate circumstances (of which Arséne was appalled; had the police no class? But no, he knew they never did.), his impending shadow watched from his heart, a buzzing feeling growing stronger every day.
The awakening was soon, and Arséne couldn’t have been more eager.
But then you happened, and it all came crashing down.
The rain pelted against Ren’s hair, the boy tucked messily under the bus stops unstable roof, soaking umbrella hanging low in his hand. Gray eyes swiped the scene, cars passing by him, as if his existence didn’t matter. A large group of people stood at the crosswalk in front of him, all busy with their own little things.
As the crosswalk light beeped, lighting up an annoyingly vibrant green, Ren watched with an almost startled expression as a girl ran through the crowd toward him. Her skirt swayed as she dodged puddles, the only thing giving her any bit of coverage being the school bag she held above her head, like a saving grace.
Adjusting his glasses, Ren watched silently as the girl ran up next to him, huffs escaping her lips. Blinking owlishly, he watched as she turned to him, a polite (almost sympathetic, as if she was apologizing that he had to see her in such a state) smile adorned her lips. Her eyes dropped briefly to the umbrella in his hold, gaze flashing with irritation and jealousy before they flit upwards, meeting his own. “It’s annoying when it rains so abruptly, huh?” she asked, ripping her gaze from him.
Blinking, Ren’s lips pulled themselves into a straight line, like he didn’t know how to respond.
The girl, though, didn’t seem bothered by his silence, as her attention was set on the weather. She watched with awe and annoyance as the sky slowly began to clear up, rain coming down much slower and much lighter than before. “It couldn’t have stopped before I left the house?” she asked with disbelief, tightening her hold on the soaked bag she used as coverage.
“Maybe it was targeting you personally.” Ren offered weakly, lips curved ever so slightly into a smile.
The girl blinked. It was a joke—meant to be one, anyway—but it was more of a poor suggestion than anything. Regardless, a laugh left her lips. The sound was as delicate as tiny bells, and yet, to Ren, it made his heart beat more like a gong.
“Yeah, maybe.” She hummed, still smiling at him. “My name is L/n Y/n.” She offered quietly—sweetly—her gaze, the kind that was commemorated by a photo, the kind that painters took hours to perfect, and get just right.
With a heart that felt like it would jump out of his chest at any moment, and sweaty hands (or maybe they were just wet from the rain?), Ren shared her smile, hair swaying as he tilted his head. “Amamiya Ren.”
And even as a newcomer (a blond, one that had a strangely familiar presence to Arséne) ran up to where they were, the gaze between the two never dropped.
The hallways of Shujin Academy were cold and merciless—much like the students that occupied them. Beady eyes hungry for drama stared at Ren as he walked down the hallway. Their lips curled into sneers, spit flying as they whispered to anybody that would listen.
That was one thing Arséne didn’t miss. The stares, the rumors. The way people looked at him was like he was beneath them, as if he were anything but human.
Ren wielded his silence like armor, walking through the crowd of people without a single care. People shoved, and bumped, and almost entirely spit in his face—but he never batted a single eye, lips stretched into a permanent line.
And then he saw you.
There you were, standing in a circle of your friends—they surrounded you like they were protecting you, knights guarding a princess. A smile graced your features as you laughed at something one of them said, sound ringing in Ren’s ears. In the same way people surrounded you, your sweet words drawing people in like flies to honey, they stayed a perfectly fine distance from you, too. As if scared of tainting you. They yearned to be near you, yet were afraid of getting too close. Even when you paid no mind to the way people stared, they did stare. They stared, and longed, and whispered to their friends before walking off with slumped backs and sad eyes. Sad that they didn’t have the guts to speak to you.
Arséne had seen the same thing, long, long ago. His now faux heart wanted to claw out of his chest as he watched Ren walk closer to your group, hands turning pale the closer he got. The persona wondered why you’d felt so familiar—so odd and yet so enchanting. Why did his heart constrict at the sight of you and Ren interacting so lovingly together?
Now, he knew why.
Tearing your gaze away from your friends (who, in the back, stared at Ren in a way that he could only describe as a predator viewing prey), you smiled gently at him—kindly, with a look of intrigue and earnest desire.
“Amamiya!” you chirped, floating away from your knights and into his arms—at least, that's what it felt like—your hand touched his shoulder with a gentleness, the kind somebody had when dealing with an injured animal.
Adjusting his schoolbag, he smiled at you. His eyes softened, and his lips parted, “Hi, L/n.” The greeting was simple, perhaps a bit too plain, but it was just enough for you. Joy filled your body at his voice.
Taking a step away from the boy, you tilted your head. "I didn’t know you attended Shujin…” Your voice trailed off, eyeing his uniform.
“Well, I didn’t, until today.” He replied, a hidden layer of amusement leaving his voice as he huffed, stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his pants—the other resting on his shoulder in order to hold his bag up.
Your lips parted in an ‘O’ formation, nodding gently in understanding. That made sense! You hadn’t seen him around, and there were discussions of a new student coming… But that new student was a delinquent, something about assault? Surely that couldn’t have been the sweet, handsome boy standing in front of you now.
“I hope Y/n knows what she’s doing, being around that delinquent…”
“Probably not! Do you think we should warn her…?”
“I, mean, I would but, I don’t wanna go near that criminal…”
Arséne couldn’t believe his (non-existent) ears! Spouting nonsense about Ren’s past like they had any clue what they were talking about. Humans really hadn’t changed, and Arséne doubted they would. His gaze drifted to you, briefly wondering what you thought. Your stance was rigid, and it was at that point that Arséne knew you had heard the whispers, too. Gently, you took Ren’s hand and began to pull him away from the masses.
“Come on, Ren. Hey, what’s your next class?” you asked politely, guiding him from straying eyes to the best of your ability.
With a small, amused huff, the boy let you drag him to wherever you deemed fit, head tilted lazily to the side as he focused on you. Your hands were soft, and you were holding his hand like you were afraid he’d run away. “English, what about you?”
With a smile as large as the moon, you laughed at his answer. “Me too! Hey, maybe this is fate.” You teased, dragging him into a nearby classroom.
As the door shut, and your conversation with Ren continued, Arséne felt his faux heart squeeze.
You were so much like her.
The door jingled as the two of you walked in, the cool air of Leblanc hitting your face as the two of you sought refuge from the pelting rain. Ren followed close behind, wiping his shoes on the small rug before shutting the door.
Sojiro, from the counter, briefly glanced up. The old man noticed the way Ren waited for you to sit down before sitting across from you. With a huff of amusement, Sojiro placed his newspaper down and dusted his apron off. “Taking your girlfriend out on a date, here?” he called out with slight disbelief.
Ren could only rub the back of his neck with a small, seemingly apologetic smile. Arséne knew he wasn’t, though.
Sighing, Sojiro hummed. “What’ll it be, kids?” he asked—still from the counter—notepad in hand.
Smiling, you looked down at the menu. Ren had informed you beforehand that Leblanc was famous for its coffee and curry, and while you thought it was too late personally to have coffee, you were always down for some good old curry! “Can I have the kofta curry?” you asked, humming as you scanned the drink section of the menu. “And just a glass of water.”
Sojiro scrawled your order down, though honestly, you doubt the man even needed a notepad in the first place. He probably had the memory of a champ at this point in life.
Ren blinked at your choice of curry before smiling—the kind of smile that said ‘You know what I want’—at Sojiro. “I’ll have the—”
“Don’t say it. I know what you like, kid.” The man huffed, walking away.
Silence enveloped your table before you let out a giggle, amusement swirling in your eyes as you peered at your boyfriend. “Let me take a guess: chicken curry and Coke?”
Ren shrugged in return, moving hair from his face as he leaned on the table. “I guess I’m just predictable.”
“No. I just know my boyfriend well, that’s all.” You grinned, taking out your phone, ignoring how Ren hummed—like he didn’t believe you.
The conversation flowed rather easily between the two of you, Arséne thought. Your hands intertwined across the table, perfectly meddling together in a way the persona had only seen—only felt—once. And as destiny had foretold, he was seeing it again.
Sojiro abruptly placed both bowls of curry down, alongside your drinks. The man was quick to leave the two of you to your own devices, as if afraid to interact with your date any longer.
While silent as the two of you ate, Arséne realized that it wasn’t the awkward silence of a first date—it was practiced. Rehearsed. And while no, this wasn’t your very first date with each other (that one was much more awkward, but very sweet), this one was by far the most natural. The two of you had come a long way, and though he loathed to admit it, every day and every second you spent together, Arséne could only imagine himself and his lover in your stead.
There was something so sickening (so wrong) about Ren slowly but surely following in his footsteps. Like life was laughing in Arséne’s face, putting a giant red and bloody target on Ren’s back.
But maybe Arséne was just overthinking it all?
Maybe he only thought this way because of how similar you seemed to his past lover?
Maybe, all the years of being trapped inside Ren’s head were getting to him…
“Moving on to later segments, the rate of mental shutdowns has been happening much more frequently. This begs the question, are you and your loved ones safe?” You blinked owlishly, spoon still stuck in your mouth as you watched the T.V. from your seat. “Mental shutdowns, huh?” you mumbled, putting your spoon back in the bowl.
Ren watched your reaction carefully, lightly stirring his curry. “What do you think of the mental shutdowns?” he asked suddenly, your eyes meeting his as he continued, “And the Phantom Thieves, too, I guess.” He shrugged, tacking on the question like it was the last thing on his mind—when in reality, it's the only thing he wanted an answer to.
Tilting your head to the side, you took a sip of your water with a shrug. “Mh, I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s really… right to force somebody to change, you know? What makes somebody change is their will and want to do it themselves, so if there’s somebody out there forcing them to do it… Well, it kind of defeats the point?” you explained, tone almost feeling like a question—as if you were unsure of the answer yourself, despite answering it so confidently.
“You don’t… think they’re doing something good?” Ren asked, brows furrowed, lips twisted into the tiniest of frowns.
You sighed, running a hand down your cheek. “I think maybe the intent is good, but… I don’t know, you’re not making a good person by forcing them to be good. You’re making a person who's too scared to repent and actually come to terms with the fact that the actions they do, and who they are, aren’t who they want to be.” You explained, eyes downcast. “I don’t… really want to talk about this anymore, Ren.”
The boy hummed with understanding, and though he wanted to argue with you—push you into answering further—he didn’t. And Ren didn’t know why. Under any other circumstances, with any other people, he probably would have.
But you weren't any other person, now, were you?
And with a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek, Ren figured he didn’t need to dwell.
The metaverse was not unfamiliar to Ren—or rather, Joker—in fact, it was wholly familiar to him. The whispers of shadows, the pain that came with the goal (and job) of entering palaces. Even the actions of killing shadows (ones that, on occasions, looked like people) were engraved into his skin.
His heart.
And Joker believed he was good at what he did, persona capturing and all.
So why was it that he found himself surrounded by a group of shadows? Their beady, glowing yellow eyes seemed to seep into his soul, and the pure amount of them was… overwhelming.
“Pathetic creatures.” A voice—feminine—rang out. Joker peered up, disbelief hidden behind his mask as a girl descended from the sky. Behind her floated a ghastly, large figure. Laden with silver dressings and snowflakes that seemed to fall off its skin, the creature (nay, persona) raised a fist, and in a second flat, the group of shadows dissipated into mere nothing.
The persona, just like Arséne, hovered behind, pure white eyes and towering crown, sending a shiver down Joker’s spine.
Who was this person, and how did they access the metaverse?
“You’re a fool, you know that?” the girl huffed, crossing her silver-dressed arms across her chest, glaring through the beautiful, shimmery mask she wore.
Joker blinked.
The way she stood, the way she talked—even the way the mysterious girl looked at him felt all too familiar.
Hesitantly, Joker tilted his head to the side. “Y/—” he paused, coughing, “I mean… I know you.”
“You do.” She—you—nodded, smiling just as sweetly as the day he had met you. “Frost, if you want a name to call me by. You’re Joker, though, so no need for an introduction.” You hummed, your persona floating closer to your back. Its hand caressed your shoulder, seemingly reassuring you. With a frown, you sighed, “Can we… can we talk outside?” you asked, gazing around the metaverse with evident disdain.
Blinking, Joker, always usually so confident (especially behind his mask), faltered, rubbing his neck with pursed lips. “Yeah… sure.”
It seemed like the world melted around the two of you, costumes and masks slipping off your skin and into the vast darkness from which they came. Suddenly, you and he were dressed in your uniforms, as if the whole ‘persona’ thing had never happened in the first place. “So—Joker, huh?” you started off, awkwardly.
He blinked, a rough, cheeky smile adorning his cheeks. “Frost, huh?” he teased you back, the stupid, stupid nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature.
You pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Listen, Ren… Maybe, unlike you, I don’t like my persona. She’s too… harsh. Too cold. That’s not who I am—who I know I am, deep inside.” You breathed out, picking at the loose fabric of your uniform.
Ren sucked in a breath, brows furrowed. What were you saying? Of course, that was you! She even seemed to be reassuring you, back in the metaverse. So where were you going with all of this?
“So, I need to ask you, I really need to ask you… Are you the one in charge of the mental shutdowns?” she asked, and before he could get an answer out, she continued, “And honestly, even if you’re not, you’re a Phantom Thief. The police are looking for you… You meddle with people's minds, against what they want—even if it's for a good cause. That’s not—that’s not helping someone. They have to want to change,” you whispered, wincing, as if the truth hurt physically.
Ren wondered if it did.
“I love you, Ren. I do. When I’m with you, I feel my stress melt away. But this… I can’t keep your secrets, and I know you aren’t asking me to. I know you never even wanted me to find out.” You rambled. “Joker and Amamiya Ren aren’t the same person to me, but they are. They’re both you.” You reached for his hand messily, fumbling with his fingers as you took his hand, your other hand gently holding onto the tips of his fingers.
Like you were afraid that if you let go, Ren would disappear.
He didn’t say anything, and honestly, he didn’t need to.
Suddenly, the alleyway you both were in felt very, very constricting. Like a boa wrapping around its prey.
“I love you, Ren. But I’m not sure if I can love Joker.” You mumbled, staring into his eyes. Perhaps a large, selfish part of you hoped that he’d give up being Joker. Let the past stay the past. You knew it was wrong to want him to stop just because you thought what he was doing was wrong.
And you knew that asking him to deny his persona was asking the impossible.
But a small part of you hoped.
When he didn’t say anything (because for the first time, you actually gave him the chance to answer), you smiled bitterly, letting his fingers fall, and your grip loosen. You took a step back, hand to your chest. “I love you, Ren…” you whispered, tears barely welling in your eyes the longer you looked at him.
The boy you loved.
And when he continued to not answer, preferring the safety of silence over the intensity of the truth (his, truth—not yours), you felt your heart drop. Hesitantly, you took a step back before turning around. Your beautiful silhouette disappeared into the crowd, and with you, your love and his heart. It was over, the forever you both could have had.
Ren stayed motionless for a moment, relishing in the warmth your hold left on his skin. While sad, he couldn’t deny how bittersweet he felt.
You’d forever left an imprint on his heart.
Arséne, with a heavy heart and a knowledge of the future, could only watch in despair as Ren stuffed his hands in his pockets, head hanging low as he disappeared into the crowd, just as you had moments before.
Arséne hoped that one day, yours and Ren’s fate would intertwine once more.
That you both could achieve what he had not.
With a bruised face, heart, and ego, Ren swallowed the spit that continued to build in his mouth. The silver chains clinked as he moved his hands around, adjusting his back. His bruised lips pursed themselves, the woman before him staring with an apathetic expression.
“Tell us everything you know, Mr. Amamiya.” She sneered, tossing a file onto the table. It slid to a stop, just before it fell off the table and into Ren’s lap.
Arséne shifted uncomfortably, the persona much too versed in this scenario. How had it come to this? How had he allowed his human to land himself in the same position? Life was never worth it when you lost the thing you loved most, and it seemed to Arséne that Amamiya Ren had finally learned that. In the end, it truly seemed that one's persona was one's self, and nobody, even a loved one, could change that.
Rain slipped gently down the glass panes, the smell of freshly brewed coffee calling the air home in the small, cozy cafe. Running a hand through his hair, Ren stepped outside—the humidity clinging to his skin as the droplets pelted the concrete. Frowning, he dug around in his apron's pocket before bringing out his phone.
That damned red icon stared into his soul, unwavering, unblinking.
“Ren?” a soft, sweet voice asked from behind.
The man blinked, heart swelling as he turned around. There you were, five years older, and even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. You were taller, your hair just that much thicker—your lashes longer, and your eyes brighter.
And there he was, jaw more defined, eyes wiser with time, hair a bit fuller and slightly longer. His glasses were the same, but instead of framing his old, teenage features, they were on a brand new face.
One that softened at the sight of you, his phone long forgotten as he shoved it into the Leblanc apron.
“Hey, Y/n.” He greeted you, voice equally sweet and soft. He ignored the temptation to smooth out his hair or the way he wanted to bite his lip, nerves doing somersaults in his stomach.
Smiling, you glance at the cafe. The door hadn’t changed, nor had the tiny rug that rested inside by the front door. “Do you… Want to grab a drink?” you offered, nodding your head towards the door.
Blinking owlishly, the man laughed gently. “Sure—I could take my break.” He opened the door, the soft jingle of the bell hitting your ears as you both entered. A wave of nostalgia washed over you, just as the smell of coffee did.
And for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.
Arséne, from deep within Ren’s heart, pulsed with excitement.
He was happy fate had brought you two together again, hopefully, for good.
🃏3,904 words
