#if i believed in god then id be convinced that he has a personal grudge against me and this is my punishment

[drew-seri]

Having both adhd and chronic fatigue is a trip cause it's like what do you mean I have too much energy and not enough energy at the same time. God strike me dead

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

[jesus-otaku]

Title: Reset

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Zen x MC, Yoosung x MC, Jaehee x MC (platonic), etc. I think you get the idea

Word count: 3029

This idea has been bouncing around in my head for ages, so I finally decided to just sit down and write it. I’m so disappointed that Tumblr formatting ruined some of the stuff, but it can’t be helped. Hopefully when it goes up on AO3 the formatting won’t get too messed up. Without any further ado, I present a fic in which all of the characters retain their memories after the reset and are aware of the reset. I haven’t played through all the routes yet and my memory is a little foggy on others so please have mercy on me for my accuracy or lack thereof.

How could she hit the reset so cheerfully?

They had all agreed at the start: there would be no grudges, it was her choice, and none of them would interfere with the others' chances. It was just a game to her, so there was no sense in being dramatic about it. And she couldn't know that they knew about the reset. No, that secret had to stay with them.

Welcome to the RFA!

Zen, though not surprised, was ecstatic to be chosen first. She had seen his charms! He was handsome, he was famous, he was talented, so of course he would be chosen. He threw himself into love headfirst; never mind the others watching on with slight traces of envy. They would get their turns. Phone calls passed by in a blur. He sang to her, dreamed of holding her in his arms, wondered what it might be like to kiss her. When Echo Girl started her ridiculous rumors, his newfound love was only a chat room away to comfort and support him.

And then the bomb came, and real, genuine fear seized his heart. His hands shook as he demanded that Seven give him the address of the apartment. Frankly, he would have liked to deck Seven one in the face for putting her in danger like this. How could he let her stay in an apartment with a bomb all this time and never say anything? How could he not do something? She was supposed to be their princess, wasn't she? And Seven had just left the RFA's princess in an apartment loaded with a bomb, like she was an expendable tool they could demolish whenever they liked.

Zen didn't know who the stranger holding her captive was, and he was too worried about her to care to find out. And when they managed to escape the deadly apartment, he wished he could wrap her up in his arms and never let go. He didn't think he could have borne it if she had been killed.

God, why did there have to be a reset?

Don't leave me.

He was going to make a press statement, and finish these rumors once and for all. And maybe once his love saw how much he cared for her, she wouldn't reset, and they could live happily ever after just like a fairy tale.

Don't leave me.

She loved him, right? She couldn't have been pretending this whole time. He'd opened up to her so much, treated her so well, tried his hardest to overcome his struggles for her. She had to love him, even just a little, didn't she?

Please don't leave me.

Why was she hitting the reset?

Babe, please don't—

Welcome to the RFA!

Yoosung nearly cried with happiness when he realized he had been chosen.

Okay, maybe he did cry.

But just a little.

She didn't stand for any of his nonsense about Rika. He'd thought they were alike, but with a firm kindness she asserted over and over again that she was no replacement for Rika. He came to understand soon enough. She really wasn't Rika. But she was still amazing, in her own beautiful way, and Yoosung fell for her like a ton of bricks. He couldn't even focus on LOLOL when his mind wandered to her. Hell, he would quit games altogether if it meant she would see him as more than a child. It drove him crazy that he wasn't allowed to go see her. He wanted so badly to see what she looked like, to actually experience their first meeting face-to-face.

There was a bomb in the apartment this whole time?

Yoosung wanted to throw something out of sheer frustration. How could V have let something like this happen? What had possessed him to think that letting Rika keep a bomb in her apartment was a good idea? Sure, Seven said that V kept calling him and leaving worried messages, but Seven always defended V just like everyone else did. And why hadn't Seven done anything to deactivate the bomb after Rika's suicide? Why wouldn't he give Yoosung the damn address so he could go and rescue her? He hated not being able to do anything for her. Sitting there and worrying wouldn't save her, but Seven wouldn't allow him to do the one thing he believed he was capable of doing.

Going with Seven to resolve the issue was as close as he was going to get. Yoosung knew he wasn't much of a knight in shining armor, but for her, he would have to try. She was his princess this time, and he had to protect her.

His eye would heal, but if he lost her, his heart would never recover.

Don't reset.

He tried his hardest to warn her before the party that he wasn't going to be looking his best, but he still saw a flash of worry on her face when she saw the bandages for the first time. His heart fluttered. Finally, they could see each other, touch each other, share a kiss.

I've never loved anyone like this before.

She couldn't reset now. She couldn't. They had just gotten to meet in person. There was no way she was already tired of him, right? There was still so much he wanted to do with her, so many places he wanted to take her. Was he still just a child to her after all? Or was this really all just a game for her?

Don't reset.

What had he done wrong?

Please don't reset, I love—

Welcome to the RFA!

Jaehee was pleasantly surprised to be chosen next. She hadn't expected much, since Mr. Han had gone to such great lengths to make sure she wouldn't stand out in any way. She was just an office assistant. Why would she choose such a dull route?

But oh, God, it was glorious to have a female friend. Jaehee couldn't help the grin that would come over her face when she saw her in the chat room, or when her name popped up on the caller ID. And she fought so valiantly for Mr. Han to cut Jaehee some slack. Jaehee would have hugged her forever if she could have, just for that alone. Finally, there was someone else who was willing to fangirl over Zen's musicals, who supported her interests, who would fight tooth and nail to get her better working conditions.

When the presentation was a flop, she was there in the chat room as if she somehow already knew what had happened. Jaehee had an inkling of a suspicion that Zen's visit could be credited to her as well, although she didn't have any proof of that. She just wished she could have offered the same level of support in return.

From Zen and Yoosung's play-throughs before her, she knew there was a bomb in the apartment. But nothing happened this time, and so she kept quiet about the bomb. There was no sense in going through another scare if they didn't have to, and Jaehee was sure that her newfound friend had enough problems of her own without having to worry about the bomb for a third time.

Would she stay if Jaehee asked?

Please, stay.

The coffee shop would be like a dream come true. It was a simple dream, nothing grandiose, but Jaehee was willing to hope that it would be enough to keep them together. Maybe she would stay. Maybe there would be no reset this time, and they could continue like this forever.

Please don't leave me.

Weren't they friends? Hadn't they formed a strong bond with one another? Had this just been a fun diversion from all the drama of the other routes for her? Jaehee had been pushing herself so hard to grow as a person. Was that all for nothing? Would she have to go back to being a mindless assistant at C&R for the rest of her life?

Stay, please, stay.

Had they ever really been friends at all?

I thought you were—

Welcome to the RFA!

As soon as he saw that he had been chosen, Jumin braced himself. He had seen what a mess the others had turned into after their resets, and he didn't want to be the next in a line of broken hearts. He would go through the motions, and play along for the next eleven days, and that was it.

But damn it all, when she tried to win your heart, she really gave it her best effort. Jumin never stood a chance.

He did well at avoiding the inevitable for the first few days. It was stressful, with his father's new fiancée and the nightmares that ensued as a result, but he managed to get through it. And then Elizabeth 3rd escaped.

In the middle of him questioning whether he was really meant to be a pet owner, she stepped fully into the picture. She mentioned that Jaehee had suggested she come, but that didn't matter to him. She was still there. She had agreed to come, and that alone tore down half of the barriers he had built up. He latched onto her, perhaps a little greedily, the only person offering him unconditional comfort in this hellish week.

He couldn't help kissing her. Sarah was just too obnoxious, and he couldn't think of another way to convince his so-called fiancée to leave. Besides, he'd been thinking about going in for the kiss all day. But then he was a goner. Consequences be damned, he loved her.

And now he was terrified of losing her.

I need you by my side.

Maybe saying that he wanted to keep her in the penthouse was a mistake. Maybe that was going to scare her off. He was just so afraid of her leaving and never coming back. He didn't know what else to do. Would getting rid of Sarah and proposing be enough to convince her not to reset?

I can't lose you.

No, no, no, no. What had done it? Where had he gone wrong? Was he too possessive after all? Was she going to go back to one of the others who wasn't so clingy? He couldn't help it. He'd never loved a woman, not like this, not this overwhelming feeling that threatened to engulf him when he so much as looked at her. Had she really loved him? Or was this all a ploy to check another route off the list? Was she actually the same as all those women who threw themselves at his father?

I need you, my love.

How could she hit the reset so cheerfully?

Don't—

Welcome to the RFA!

Seven pumped his fist in victory when he was finally, finally chosen. Truth be told, he had fallen long ago. It had been a slow kind of torture, watching her love stories unfold with everyone else, but it had been worth it to be the last to sweep the princess off her feet. Even someone like him could at least pretend to have happiness, right?

He loved being the one to make her laugh. She matched him joke for joke, prank for prank, like she somehow already knew him inside and out. If he hadn't fallen for her already, he would have thrown his guard up to protect his heart, but he'd been a goner for ages. Everything she did and said just wedged her further into his heart. What really did him in was the fact that she could see right through him when he was pretending to be the “usual” 707. He was completely transparent to her, no matter how he tried to close himself off to protect her.

“I'm dangerous,” he tried to warn her, but that didn't stop her either. Nothing seemed to stop her. Maybe that was part of why he'd fallen for her so hard. No matter what he did—ignore her, warn her, whatever—she didn't leave his side. She didn't force him to tell her anything, but she didn't make him keep it all pent up, either. He found himself being honest with her almost without thinking. It was just unconsiderable to do anything else. He wasn't supposed to leave any traces of himself in this world, but maybe it would be okay if he just left proof of his existence with her.

He was so glad she had chosen him last.

Thank you for giving me happiness.

Finally, after all this time, he had found his brother again. He could have a family again. He even dared to dream that she might be a part of that family. She wouldn't reset. There was no way she would reset. She had finally obtained the true end, so why would she reset?

You are my happiness.

She would never reset. That would be ridiculous. She'd taken his dark life, and lit it up with stars he'd thought he would never see again. You couldn't give someone joy like that and then just leave. She wouldn't reset. No, she couldn't reset. If she reset, he would lose everything.

Please don't take away my happiness.

WHY WOULD SHE HIT THE RESET?

Please—

~

They walked V through the ground rules carefully. They promised there would be no interference with his love story. As broken as they all were, they couldn't bear to sabotage her new chance at happiness. And there was to be no revealing their reset memories.

Welcome to Mint Eye!

V wasn't sure how to handle being put in the spotlight. He had been in the background for so long, it felt odd and out-of-place to be the love interest. Especially when he was involved with Rika. His sunshine. How on earth was he supposed to be an even halfway decent love interest when he was already in love?

But it didn't take long for him to see why the others had fallen so quickly and so desperately. She was angelically kind, but tough as nails. Nothing seemed to daunt her. And she was nice to Rika—which he hadn't expected at all. He'd been afraid they would be at each other's throats. But Rika seemed to like her well enough, and there was no fighting between the two of them. If she could even deal with her alleged love interest having a significant other already, she had to be heaven-sent.

It was only when he found himself smiling like an idiot after one of their phone calls that he realized he, too, had fallen without noticing.

And he knew he had to get her out of there.

But what about Rika? That was something he couldn't quite stop wrestling over. He loved Rika, didn't he? He wanted to marry her, didn't he?

Or had that all been something else under the mistaken guise of love?

Either way, his conflicted feelings aside, he had to save her. There was no question of that. He couldn't let something happen to her.

I think I love you.

He couldn't believe he had let himself get caught. If he died because of this, he would have no one to blame except himself. He'd seen Rika changing, and he had done nothing. Like an absolute idiot, he had let it happen until it was too far along to be stopped. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, he clung to the single sliver of hope that he had that he would live, and that she would stay with him.

I love you.

Hadn't she loved him? She'd helped him discover what love really felt like—there was no way something like that could have been a lie. Right? So why would she want to reset?

You are my sunshine.

Was it really that easy for her to hit the reset like nothing had happened?

I can't—

Welcome to Mint Eye!

Ray was so happy he thought he might explode. It was finally his turn to be with her, finally his turn to be the one who made her happy. He was going to woo her so much that she would surely fall in love with him in no time. He showered her with flowers and compliments, took her to his garden, told her about the floriography he knew. She seemed happy. He hoped that meant he was doing the right things to win her over.

Then Saeran had to butt in.

She was a toy. What did all this flowery nonsense have to do with anything? She wasn't there to be the protagonist of some chintzy romance novel, she was there to be his plaything. He couldn't do anything too horrible to her, for fear of angering his Savior, but he could at least make sure she knew her place. If that meant she went hungry, so be it. It would make things interesting, if nothing else.

She didn't take the change well. But not in the dramatic, crying and whining and pleading sort of way he had been hoping for. No, she challenged him. Deliberately tried to get under his skin, into his brain. This girl was no passive toy. She was fiercer than anyone he'd ever met before.

She made him start to think…

Do I really need my Savior?

He wasn't sure who he was anymore—Ray or Saeran, it didn't matter. He was himself, whoever that might be, and he was going to help her escape from Mint Eye. To hell with the consequences. He would help her. Maybe even escape with her. It was the first time in a long time he had hoped to be truly free and happy, and it was a wonderful feeling.

I don't need my Savior anymore.

Would she really leave him, after showing such tenacity? Was everything going to end, just like that? He'd thought she had finally fallen in love with him. Had that been yet another betrayal? Was he going to be abandoned again? He didn't think he could take that kind of pain again. Not after finally believing he was free of it.

You saved me.

WHY WOULD SHE BETRAY HIM LIKE THIS?

DON'T LEAVE ME—

Delete “MysticMessenger”?

Deleting this app will also delete its data.

DELETE

[walters-tampon-string]

There’s Hope for You Yet...

Fandom: Batman

Rating: K

Warnings: Past Relationships, a bit sad but has an uplifting ending.

Characters: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Edward Nygma/Riddler.

Relationships: Scriddler (Past Relationship but Hopeful Possible Reconciliation at the end) (No smooching or anything in this story though, sorry). 

Description: Edward was a part of Jonathan’s past he wanted to forget. Too bad Edward won’t let him.

Extra Notes: P.I. Riddler!!!

“What a surprise. Jonathan Crane still holing himself up in abandoned warehouses instead of investing in an actual warehouse like every other rogue. Really Crane, if you’re going to be a villain at least stop and rob the Gotham Bank like everyone else has at least once so you can afford a place with working electricity…”

Jonathan Crane flinched violently at the sudden voice, nearly dropping the test tube full of chemicals he had in his hand. That certainly wouldn’t have been good. Once he composed himself, he gritted his teeth to control his temper as he gently placed the tube back in the test tube rack. He had been hidden away in this warehouse for about a month now, tirelessly trying to concoct a new chemical formula for his fear toxin to make it extra potent and easier to manipulate. After all, there were still grudges that he needed to settle, and he might as well make it so his lab rats suffered all the more.

He thought he was the only one who knew of his dealings here. He had been careful to make it like that after all. He hadn’t hired any henchmen (he would hire some when he was actually ready to hit the streets of Gotham with his chemicals and when he could actually afford to splurge some cash on them), got all chemicals and ingredients from providers miles away from Gotham, and had interacted with no other rogue since his escape from Arkham. When he went out, he used a fake ID and wore sunglasses and other such things to hide his face. He had done everything in his power to make sure that he wasn’t a blip on the map.

There were only two people in his life who seemed to constantly know where he was no matter what he did… and he had to say, when he found himself actually wishing it was Batman he was dealing with instead, then that was a bad sign. At least Batman wasn’t chatty… and at least he and Batman didn’t have a certain kind of history that Jonathan would very like to erase from the fabric of his mind.

Oh how he wish he had a syringe right now…

Keeping his voice cold and tight, he turned around to face the green-clad man in front of him and said, “Hello Edward, still loud and as obnoxious as ever I see… care to tell me how you found this place?”

Edward’s face was annoyed at the insult but Jonathan watched as it eventually morphed into a proud and smug expression. No doubt the man was eager to explain how he brilliantly managed to figure out where Jonathan was hidden, just like Jonathan knew he would be. For a man who prided himself on being an enigma, he was awfully predictable once you got to know him a little better. Jonathan still couldn’t believe he used to find this man so intriguing.

He was really mad at himself on the fact that he still kind of did.

“It was merely simple deduction, Crane. I knew you never went to the effort of making a proper lair before, so I quickly pinpointed all of the abandoned warehouses and farms and such in Gotham. Then, once I did that, I thought to myself, ‘Hm, now which of these buildings is located somewhere around the outskirts of the city and in a seedy or reclusive area where no one would question someone going in and out of a warehouse?’ Badaboom, and voila! I found this place!”

Edward’s chest was actually puffed out with pride, as if he was expecting praise of some kind. Unfortunately for him, Jonathan wasn’t willing to give it.

“My my, very impressive, Edward. Now are you going to get on your knees and lick the law’s feet by arresting me or are you just going to hang around and waste my time as per usual?”

He saw a flash of anger shoot through Edward’s face for a brief moment, and Jonathan prepared himself to hear Edward yell or perhaps have the man call the police and cameramen over so they could film his arrest, but he was surprised to see Edward quickly managed to collect himself by closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Jonathan had to admit, he was somewhat intrigued. Edward would’ve never done that before. That coma really must have changed the man somewhat.

Once Edward seemed to deem it safe to open his eyes, he proceeded to flash Jonathan an infuriatingly cocky grin. He took his last statement back. That coma hadn’t changed him enough. At this point, Jonathan was tempted to finish the job that the person who placed Edward in a coma failed to do, but he controlled himself once more. Temper, temper. He knew physical confrontation wasn’t his strong suit and quite frankly he found such methods immature. Once his toxin became more refined however…

“Charming as ever I see, Crane. However, my reason for coming here is neither of those things.”

Jonathan couldn’t help the annoyance that seeped through his voice like a poison, “Then tell me, Nygma, why ARE you here?”

He suddenly saw Edward’s green eyes dart away from his gaze. The man bit his lip and began playing with his hands… almost as if he was… unsure of something. It was a rare expression to see on Edward and despite a large part of Jonathan wanting to say ‘fuck it’ and slosh the chemical he made into Edward’s face and record what happened when the incomplete formula was administered through the eyes, he couldn’t help but feel curious on what had gotten the usually over-confident man so antsy. A very, very small, shriveled up part of him hidden deep within the confines of his flesh actually felt a flicker of hope. A hope that maybe Edward would hushedly whisper to him that this whole private investigator thing was merely an act and that this was all part of some elaborate ruse that he wanted Jonathan to partake in.

Jonathan couldn’t help but inwardly roll his eyes at his own optimism. Yeah, and pigs would suddenly develop the ability to fly and Edward would get on his knees and beg him to forgive him and let them rekindle whatever it was they once had way back in the day. He knew from personal experience that good things like that didn’t conveniently and neatly plop on his lap like that. They never had and they probably never would. Even if Edward did such an out-of-character thing, what would he even do? Would he reject Edward and walk away with the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten the last laugh… or would he agree to go back with him?

He can’t believe he had gotten himself in a situation where he would even have thoughts like that. It made him even more mad that he didn’t have a solid answer to that question. Thankfully, Nygma spared him from thinking too hard about it as he interrupted Jonathan’s thought process by saying, “I came here to see if I could perhaps convince you to perhaps consider joining Quinzel and I in perhaps reforming.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenched. So that was what this was about. He should’ve known that it would be something stupid. So why was this obnoxious feeling of bitter disappointment in his chest?

Keeping his voice even, he let out a cold chuckle and shook his head. Turning back around to the table full of lab equipment, he said, “I knew you would only come here to waste my time. Sorry to say, Nygma, but I am afraid I will have to refuse your offer of suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with the law.”

He heard Nygma take a step forward as he exclaimed, “Jonathan, wait! You know it can’t be this way forever right? I mean look at you! Your lurking around in abandoned, dusty warehouses like some sort of street rat… obsessively pouring over your chemicals day after day, thinking that this time you have done it. You came up with the perfect plan to foil the Bat and all of those who stand in your way. And maybe at the beginning, your plan will work at first…”

God, did he ever shut up? Jonathan considered telling him to do so, but it wasn’t like Edward ever listened. So Jonathan continued to pretend like he wasn’t listening and that he wasn’t getting angrier and angrier by the second and that the grip on the flask wasn’t getting tighter than necessary…

“But we all know how it ends Jon. The Bat or someone else will beat you up or foil your plan and you’ll be sent back to Arkham Asylum and have to deal with all of that until you finally get your opening to escape once more. Rinse and repeat. And you're so convinced… that this is it. This is the plan. You’ve ironed out all the flaws. You’ve grown wiser. But you know what… so has the Bat and all of his Robins.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

That was the mantra going on his head right now. He was beginning to see red almost… and he could feel the early inclinations of the Scarecrow starting to show through already… wanting so badly to make Edward scream until his heart gave out if it just meant he would stop talking.

If it meant that he would just stop confirming all the thoughts that Jonathan had thought before but had tried so hard to deny.

If it meant that Edward Nygma would stop being right.

No… no. He wasn’t right. That was a quitter's attitude. Jonathan’s research was so close… his revenge list almost done… he had come so far. He couldn’t give up now. Not at the pinnacle. So what if he died? At least it would be doing it to spread the message of fear all over the place. What did Nygma know, huh?

“I know this because I was just like you right before the coma,” Edward said in a tone so sad that Jonathan couldn’t help but deflate a little bit at it. All of the anger seemed to vanish from his lanky frame and all of a sudden he was just left feeling… tired.

When Jonathan finally gathered up his bearings, he turned around to give Edward a withering look as he asked, “Why are you telling me this, Nygma?”

Edward took another step forward, face encouraging as he said, “Because it doesn’t have to be like this Crane. You can do better for yourself, I know you can. You’re one of the smartest rogues in Gotham. Got a lick more sense than everyone else… and hey, if I can get a successful job, who says you can’t? Perhaps you can even go back to teaching…”

“Nygma,” Crane cut off, closing his eyes… trying to stop all of this false optimism, all this fake positivity from deluding him. But of course, Nygma didn’t listen.

“No Crane, really. I talked to the staff of the asylum and they actually think they are making progress with you. Of course you still have some issues to work through… I think we all do. But I genuinely believe you can do this. If you just go back to the Asylum and get your sanity card out of there… perhaps you can move on and do something with the rest of us. The rogue life… it has no conclusion. It’s a never ending cycle and you got to break out of it.”

Jonathan remained in contemplative silence for a moment. Part of him eyed Edward, wondering if this was a trap. This was all just a ploy of Edward’s to emotionally manipulate him to going back to the asylum so he could reap the glory of capturing the infamous Scarecrow and sending him back to Arkham to his fans. He was about to say as much when Nygma interrupted once more.

“I don’t want us to be enemies anymore, Jon.”

Fuck. Why did he have to say that? Jonathan stood there in silence, trying to formulate what to say to all of this without sounding too emotional. The memories of Edward coming to him that one last time and explaining how their lives were too different now… how they couldn’t keep whatever it was they had going… seeing him leave him behind. He used to be so mad at Edward for all of it. Used to hate him. Now he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore and he wasn’t sure how to react to that.

Thankfully, it seemed Jonathan didn’t have to say anything because Edward simply diplomatically tipped his head and said, “Of course, I am not going to force the decision on you… I just want you to know my side of the argument. And who knows. Maybe if you head back there I can give a word in for you or something… and if you get out, maybe we can work together… that is, if you would allow. Well… that was all I had to say… goodbye, Crane.”

As he turned around to walk away though, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied that that was how they were leaving things off. So… before his mind could stop him by thinking about it too hard, he said, “I’ll… consider your proposition, Nygma. No promises.”

He turned around before he could gauge Edward’s reaction, but he swore he could hear the smile on Edward’s face as he said, “Well then… maybe there is hope for you yet, Jonathan.”