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spacius · 1 month ago

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living in the past - dr. spencer reid: 1

Who? dr spencer reid x original female character

Where Daisy's biggest secret is revealed, not only for BAU but for the whole world.

Warnings: avengers, marvel, peter parker, far from home, snap. It takes place in 2034, Spencer is 30 years old and oc is 28. 5-year snap influence so chronologically oc is born in 2001 and Spencer in 2004 but he wasn't snapped.

“I know you’re going to say the same thing for the 38th time, Morgan,” Spencer whispered as if revealing a state secret, “but it’s not just me being paranoid. I swear, there’s something suspicious about her.”

They were ready, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive so they could head to the crime scene.

“Pretty boy, whether she’s plotting some evil plan to end the world or not, I have no idea—and honestly, I’d rather not know.” Derek grinned, trying to hold back a laugh as Spencer rolled his eyes. “But you might want to tone it down. She’s gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on her.”

Derek was enjoying this far more than he’d ever admit. While Spencer rolled his eyes so hard they nearly completed a full circle, Penelope burst into the room, her energy frantic.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, have you seen what’s in the news? You have to see it—my God, I’m going to combust, any second now!” Penelope spoke so fast that even Derek, with all his experience, could barely keep up. Spencer, for his part, blinked, trying to process the onslaught of words.

“Garcia, slow down, we can’t—”

“Spencer Walter Reid, for the love of all things cute and fluffy, open your phone and check the news now!” she demanded, practically vibrating with urgency. She looked seconds away from strangling the youngest member of the team if he didn’t move faster. “It’s breaking news, and trust me, this will back up one of your theories!”

That was all Spencer needed. He quickly pulled out his phone, while Derek raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

A news broadcast lit up Spencer’s screen. The anchor’s voice was grave: “We come to you now with shocking revelations about 2023 attack in London. An anonymous source has provided us with this footage, reportedly from moments before Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, died twelve years ago. A warning: Some viewers may find this footage disturbing.”

The screen cut to an altered video of the Tower Bridge battle. Spencer and Derek exchanged a glance, both raising an eyebrow before turning back to the screen. Just as they were about to speak, a man’s voice—Quentin Beck’s—filled the room.

“I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift,” Beck’s voice declared. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Woman attacked me! She has an army of weaponized drones—Stark technology! She’s claiming she’ll be the new Iron Man, and no one else!”

A robotic voice followed, colder than the woman’s: “Are you sure you want to initiate the drone attack? There will be significant casualties.”

“Do it. Execute them all,” the feminine human voice, trembling like she was on the edge of collapsing.

The footage wasn’t as graphic as what Derek, Spencer, and Penelope were used to seeing, but it was disturbing in its implications. The video cut to J. Jonah Jameson, the notorious anchor.

“There you have it, folks: conclusive proof that Spider-Woman was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our world. He will no doubt go down as the greatest hero of our time. But that’s not all—here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves.”

The bullpen seemed to freeze, no one daring to breathe.

“Spider-Woman’s real identity is… Spider-Woman’s name is Gwendolyn Stacy Parker! Gwen Parker!”

On the screen, an image of Daisy appeared—Daisy, whom Spencer had been trying to convince Derek was hiding something. But this wasn’t right. The photo, though younger, was eerily similar. Too similar.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Spencer murmured, brows furrowing. “Her name is Daisy Hawke. There’s no way she’s Gwen Parker. We would know if she had any connection to a superhero.”

“Well, that’s what I thought,” Penelope said after calming down. “But then I started digging for something that could explain this madness, and suddenly, the pieces began to fit together.”

“And here we go—Reid-splaining has officially contaminated her,” Morgan quipped.

“In 2006, New York broke the record for missing children. But here’s the strangest part: 182 children went missing in a single day. Almost all of them were found together later, but there were very few details. So, I started digging deeper into the history of Dais—Gwen—whatever she calls herself now. There’s a gap in her life between 2006 and 2010. If you think about it, she’s never really talked about her childhood. So, I kept digging. And then, I dug some more. And there it was—among the 182 children kidnapped that day: Gwendolyn Stacy Parker. I believe that’s where the beginning of the false end of her life started.” She paused to catch her breath.

“None of the victims ever spoke about what happened. Since they were just kids, this whole thing could snowball into something huge.” Penelope decided to stop there; she didn’t like imagining what might have happened to someone she cared about so much.

“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have to say this once and for all—I told you so, and I’ve never enjoyed saying it more.”

“Pretty boy’s not going to let me live this down anytime soon, baby,” Derek muttered with a grin. “But hey, does Hotch, JJ, David, Emily, and you know, Daisy, know about this?”

“No idea. With Daisy being late, she certainly knows something. She’s probably in deep trouble with the life she left behind, and if the rest of the team doesn’t know, they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried about it, Garcia.”

“You’re only saying that because you and Einstein never got along. I just—can’t imagine the pain of going through all the bad things you left behind when you were 18.”

“This about Hawke?” Hotch emerged from the shadows, his voice calm and composed. “Either way, be discreet. She’s one of our best agents, and it would be a shame to lose her. So act like she’s not a superhero.”

At that moment, the trio had confirmation that everyone knew, and they knew Daisy knew they knew, but no one would talk about it for a long time.

About 20 minutes had passed, and the team was already on the jet—everyone except Daisy, of course. Hotch had mentioned earlier that she had “encountered some personal issues and wasn’t cleared for this case.”

Out of everyone on board, Rossi was the most unsettled. He shifted in his seat, clearly itching to talk. If he didn’t get this out, it seemed like he might burst. “Hey, Emily,” he leaned over and nudged her arm subtly, “did you hear… about Daisy?” His curiosity was so obvious that it almost made her smirk.

“Dave, keep it cool,” Prentiss muttered, barely moving her lips. “I want to talk about it later, too.” Oh, Lord, Daisy's ear definitely would be hot.

Aqui está o texto adaptado para o estilo e os personagens de Criminal Minds:

“The case was solved in two weeks, and the BAU team quickly returned to Quantico. Most of them were too exhausted to think about the incident involving Daisy, but Spencer Reid didn’t fit into that majority. Being the genius he is, the details lingered in his mind throughout the case, often making it difficult for him to concentrate on his work.

Could it really be the same person? The face was undeniably similar — if not identical. The only difference was the hair color; Gwen had red hair while Daisy had brown. She must have spent a lot on hair dye.

Spencer preferred to believe they were different people. He didn’t like to admit it to himself, but at that moment, he wanted to be wrong. He hoped that all the times he had sensed something off about Daisy, that she was hiding something, were just his imagination. With his genius IQ, he would surely notice if she were, of all things, a superhero, right? Oh, when he saw her the next day, they would need to have a serious conversation.

Reviews and advice are welcomeaised voices and accusations in years.

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

criticism and advice are welcome

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personinthepalace · 2 months ago

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Jane and Guildford on Would I Lie To You (with Rob Brydon) - My Lady Jane

youtube

basically the thought process is: rob brydon plays lord dudley aka guildford's dad in mlj. he also hosts wilty. so what if lord dudley threw his son on a game show?? and jane is there :)

#janeford #jane grey #guildford dudley #jane x guildford #my lady jane #wilty #would I lie to you #rob brydon #edward bluemel #emily bader #my lady jane 1x01 #janefordedit #myladyjaneedit #janefordarchive #myladyjanecentral #mljedit #videos in the palace #edits in the palace #how niche can I go haha #the mlj x wilty crossover that nobody asked for haha #oh also this is the sam campbell episode bc it is the only wilty episode I've seen haha #I just love guildford's confuzzled face like am I on a prank show??#so what if lord dudley put guildford as a contestant on wilty #and jane is a guest on the this is my segment #and guildford and jane are VERY confused why they are seeing each other again #alternatively dudley decided to turn the wedding into a gameshow haha #context for wilty fans: these two have an arranged marriage (but don't know each other) and meet at a tavern the night before their wedding #there is an instant connection but they are separated until the next day where they see each other again at their own wedding #and only then do they realize that they're marrying the attractive stranger that they met just the night before haha #Youtube

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squishywolfay · 3 months ago

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Deadly premonition + flower sun and rain crossover doodles

#deadly premonition #flower sun and rain #crossover #sumio mondo #emily wyatt #forrest kaysen #toriko kusabi #francis york morgan #doodle #I’m not good at drawing running pose #also sorry if you can’t read my handwriting

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

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Love on the Brain - part 9

Ch9: With Friends like These

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6400

Summary: After the successful rescue mission, you must deal with the aftermath – and with some unresolved matters. But you’re not alone and that’s the best and most important part.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing.

I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics

"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart." — Eleanor Roosevelt

You startled awake with a gasp, hand flying up instinctively to your forehead; to your perfectly unharmed skull.

No blood. No holes.

Just a terrible dream; the image of a gun faded as you stared at the creamy walls of the hospital room with eyes wide open, a soft voice reaching your ears.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Your head snapped to side so quick you felt dizzy, steadied by a gentle touch on your arm. Achingly familiar pair of blue eyes watched you with concern and reassurance.

Steven Grant Rogers. Perfectly unharmed as well. Just sitting by your bedside like a dutiful guard, hand grounding you with its touch instead of holding a weapon to your head and aiming straight between your eyes.

Fuck, human mind was the scariest, craziest and most confusing place on Earth.

Sighing in relief, you ran your hands down your face, wincing at the pull at your arm, the splint on your left hand rough against your skin.

Of course Steve didn’t shoot you. Of course you were fine, even when in the med bay. But Christ, the dream felt painfully real when his cold eyes stared into yours, the grip on his weapon never wavering despite your pleas.

Steve didn’t rush you, allowing you to just breathe in and out, eyes closed, palms still sticking to your jaw. His thumb stroked your shoulder in soothing periodic motions, grounding you in reality, but otherwise he simply let you process. He didn’t say a word about the few hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

It was the lack of action that had you lower your hands at last, glancing at him again, a shy smile lifting the corners of your lips as he released you.

“Hi,” you pipped up.

He mirrored your smile, a tender barely-there thing, lips pressed together tight as you clumsily wiped at your damp cheeks.

Well, this is embarrassing.

“Hi yourself,” he echoed, head cocked to side slightly. “How are you feeling? …besides awful,” he added as if he realized the cliché of his question and the obvious answer.

It was endearing and entirely Steve and you couldn’t but snort at his attempt of a joke, your smile growing for a split second before it disappeared altogether.

“Stupid. Embarrassed.”

For not seeing the stalker for what she was from the start. For your very unsmooth awakening. For the faint memories of how you completely broke down after the team incapacitated Bonnie, babbling one thing over the other and- oh Christ, Bonnie. A shiver shook your body as the image of blood flashed in front of your eyes, the cold metal caressing your neck… at the way it swiftly moved away to find a new – the original – target.

“Glad it was just my arm. And that it was not--” you. You gulped, gaze falling to the floor as you took a deep breath before facing Steve again. The pity on his face hurt, but you knew he meant well. You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Can I, uhm, can I get some water? And a tissue?”

And a hug, maybe?

“Of course.”

Ever so helpful, he handed you tissues while he undid a bottle of water, unnervingly observant of your every move. It was almost as if he waiting for a you to break down entirely, the same way you had after getting shot and you supposed you couldn’t blame him. You just fucking hated that he had seen you like that, having those moments carved into his brain forever due to his eidetic memory. Embarrassment consumed your whole being, burning hot in your gut. How pathetic you must have look back there?

There was no mistaking his concern and attempts at supportive smile, but there was something in his expression you couldn’t decipher; you couldn’t bear not recognizing it. And you most definitely could not bear wondering whether that something had anything to do with the very intense conversation you had when he had been pressing against your gunshot wound.

You tried to sound as casual as possible when you gave the half-empty bottle back and spoke again; probably failing miserably, but avoiding the elephant in the room like a champ.

“Thanks. How’s everyone?”

The unreadable emotion in his eyes only deepened, much to your dismay; but then his features softened, causing your heart to flutter.

GG was now sitting at your bedside, familiar and safe. Your best friend. And more.

“They’re fine, Sparkles,” he assured you, reaching over to envelop your hand in his own, warm ones. “Little worried. Pretty angry neither of us figured it out until it was too late.”

Little worried.

Fear. The unfamiliar emotion on his face was fear he had tried to cover. Must have been, because it was in his voice now, laced with anger indeed. You turned your hand so you could squeeze his; this time to reassure him.

“But it wasn’t. Late, I mean. Not too late.”

“The fact that you are here begs to differ,” Steve opposed, one eyebrow rising in a mock challenge, voice heavy and serious.

You shook your head, your smile turning sardonic, ugly feeling settling in your stomach.

Kyle Meyers would beg to differ. The eyes, the accusing brown eyes, had screamed at you that he had wanted to live. A hospital, let alone Avengers’ fancy med bay, would have been a blessing for him.

But not everyone was blessed; not everyone had the privilege of having a guardian angel as capable as yours was.

“No, GG. Being here proves my point. I-- in cases like this? I could say I was extremely lucky,” you explained slowly, having Steve scoff and drop your hand as he looked away.

“Really doesn’t feel like it.”

“Doesn’t change the fact it’s true,” you whispered, suddenly feeling cold.

Probably because the comforter was a little thin.

In fact, the comforter thrown over you was the most interesting thing ever. The pattern was fascinating, truly, overlapping abstract shapes in faint blue, creating a surprisingly unobtrusive ‘A’ every now and then as they aligned; you had never noticed it before. The designer must have had a field day creating bedsheets for the Avengers. And when you brushed it with your fingertips, the pattern was rising slightly above the white cloth-

“Hey…” Steve murmured, so damn softly you couldn’t but look up at him. The sheer determination on his face was a funny contrast to his voice. “You’re safe. I promise. Stiles didn’t make it, but if she had, neither of us would let her see the light of the day ever again.”

You nodded on autopilot, your mind miles away, outside your control, as it moved from nowhere to your time in captivity and to the rescue.

You tried and failed not to think about the image of the pools of blood which seemed uncomfortably sharp in your mind: one at Bonnie’s leg, non-fatal, no doubt from someone from the BAU; the fatal one by her head from either Natasha or Clint. You held no judgement; each of your old and new team had their idea of ensuring you were safe and you’d stay eternally grateful to all of them.

But with blood came the fear; intense, all-consuming fear you felt when the gun dug deep into your neck, when it twitched away from it, ready to find a different target. The target.

You gulped, the smile on your lips tasting foreign as you fought to stay in the moment. Steve’s blatant ignorance of just how problematic their rescue was and the potential price he could pay just for being there helped you. Because between fear and gratitude, there was one more feeling clawing to the surface.

“I know you wouldn’t. Thank you. Thank you for coming for me…” you said sincerely, earning a nod and soft ‘of course’ and god, you could punch or kiss that stupid of course from his mouth. “Even if you were being stupidly reckless, again.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped, shoulders squaring.

“Hotch said it was the best angle to-“

“Oh, I know,” you interrupted him impatiently, irritation spiking. “He wanted her thrown off balance, I would have decided to do the same, I think. It was an insane risk to take on its own, but fine. Whatever. But then you what, just decided to get rid of the only defence you had out of spite or-?”

“Hey now, you know that’s not true.”

“Oh, do I? Because from where I was standing it sure looked exactly like what was happening!” you shot back, having Steve grind his teeth.

“Where you were standing,” he parroted wryly, leaning forward, red rising to his cheeks, “was in a negative distance from a gun, aimed straight at one of the largest arteries in your body and at your spine. If I could have done anything to—if I pretended to believe you, I was hoping she’d-”

You sucked in a breath sharply, incredulous, blood pressure skyrocketing.

He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be that much of a reckless idiot, no, not this much, that was just impossible-

He was kidding you. He must have been.

“Oh dammit, Steve! Did you seriously let your guard down and left yourself completely exposed to modified bullets meant to kill you, because you were hoping?! One second, one fucking second and she would have shot you-!“

“It wasn’t me who was in the real danger there GODDAMNIT!” he exploded, fist hitting your mattress so hard the bedframe cried silently in protest.

It hit you like a sledgehammer.

Your breath hitched, but not in fear. You were startled by the outburst, shocked, sure, but not scared. The instant guilt painting Steve’s face, among the different emotions playing on his features, told you how sorry he was to lose his nerve and scare you.

Yet he whispered a quiet apology too as you bit on your lip, his hands retreating back to his lap.

You watched him silently as he forced his clenched fists to relax; a movement deliberate and small, but it drew your eyes to the back of his hands for the first time since you had woken up and it had your mouth go dry.

His knuckles were bruised. Faint but angry red marks with the lightest touch of blue. He was freshly showered and sitting by your bedside when you woke up; for the bruising to linger so long despite the serum, he had had to beat a punching bag within an inch of his life earlier – probably tearing it in the process, again.

He must have been furious; and yet he sat there, ready to comfort you. A little outburst after you provoked him with your own was nothing to apologize for. The only thing to apologize for was him being reckless, albeit with the blessing from your former boss.

What made it worse, however, was that he had been reckless for you. His anger, his fear, the pain in his bones, his life on the line, all that was on you.

Steve was a big boy, able to do make his own choices, but it was the choices and faulty assumptions you had made that had led him to jump into danger head first again. Without a helmet, naturally, because why bother with protective gear, right? Dammit, GG.

“That’s… not entirely true,” you stated slowly, causing his head to snap to your face, ready to argue. “But I hear you. And I’m sorry. I know I should have seen it earlier, and I know you’re mad at me-“

“What? No. Sparkles, I’m not mad at you-“ he protested, but you ignored him, determined to say your piece, hating the tears stinging in your eyes again.

“And I’m mad at myself too. I was too stupid to see it for what it was, I know, but--- can I please get a hug anyway?”

His face twisted in exasperation, mouth open to say something, to oppose you, maybe to agree, maybe to finish what you had rudely interrupted, but then his shoulders sagged and he smiled a fraction; the hint of the perfect lopsided smile you loved.

“Always.”

You grinned through the welled-up tears, all troubles floating away as he leaned forward and you found yourself in his gentle arms, enclosing you in a vacuum of safety. He was uncharacteristically careful, mindful of your injuries, but his embrace was tighter than ever; you reciprocated the hug as much as you could, holding onto him like onto the lifeline he was.

Vainly trying to fully grasp the comfort he was offering from where he was still seated on the chair, you fidgeted; he released the firm grip on you until you tucked your face to the crook of his neck, allowing yourself a generous inhale. When you finally settled, he nuzzled your hair, achingly tender.

“God, Sparkles… what am I supposed to with you?” he sighed, one of his hands moving to cradle the back to your head to him, fingers gentle as they weaved their way into your hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”

That makes two of us.

“I’m sorry… and thank you.”

“For what? For being scared?” he huffed, bringing a smile to your face as the words echoed your own; and you responded just as he had.

“For being worried.”

He released a wavering breath.

The exchange, so remarkably similar to one you had before, brought you right back to the elevator, where he embraced you just as protectively, just as comfortingly and just as affectionately. Where his proximity had become too much, breaking the resolve not to give into your feelings.

Your memories of what happened after Bonnie drugged you should be hazy, but you did remember what you had said to Steve; very clearly in fact. There was no point in denying it; and you didn’t have the strength nor conviction to do so anymore either. Breathing in Steve’s cologne mingled with faint trace of sweat and something distinctively him, you nuzzled further into his neck, counted to three to gather courage and then briefly pressed your lips to his throat; tentative, but leaving no doubt you did so on purpose.

Steve’s arms tightened around you, the periodic motions of his chest ceasing for a moment, his heartbeat racing against your cheek. Then, his lips brushed against your scalp, his thumb petting the sensitive skin behind you ear.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage wild, sparkles of hope and giddiness lighting up in your brain.

This was definitely no friendly gesture; and what more, it was a seal of approval. The same approval, the same affection you had seen in his eyes, in his face, heard in his words, but had failed to decipher before; and had believed in at last, only to have your actions thwarted by an outside force… mostly by Jarvis.

But nothing was stopping you now – and you couldn’t wait another second. Not after you almost died. Not after he almost died. Not after two years of circling in his orbit, his gravity pulling you in with more and more force with each passing day.

“GG?” you muttered into the skin of his neck, having him draw back a bit, just enough to look at you, palm still cradling your jaw.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes roamed his face, the cheeks dusted with the faintest hints of pink. Alluring lips you wanted to taste for so long calling out for you, having you lick your own on instinct. The tiny motion didn’t escape his attention, his gaze flickering down before meeting yours again, pupils widening.

You weren’t sure who moved first, who leaned in; but at last, his lips were on yours, soft and careful as if you’d disappear if he pushed further just minutely.

Your head spun as his two-day stubble prickled against your sensitive skin, just as you had imagined it would; but he got your back and wouldn’t let you fall. Both of his hands now held your face firmly, yet with unmistakable tenderness.

He held you as if you were something precious, something he would never drop, but feared could slip from his fingers any minute. As if you would ever.

Your hands came to life, reaching for his bicep and shoulder, as much as the splint on your hand allowed; it must have spurred him on, because his lips parted slightly, moulding into yours with intent, drawing a small whimper of bliss. You yielded to his gentle strength, revelling in his affection, fighting to stay without oxygen just a second longer now that you got to kiss him at last.

Now that you felt like you were home.

Whether it was the serum or some sixth sense of his, he released your lips just as you needed to breath in, but he didn’t go far; his lips were a whisper from yours, exchanging a few more pecks, your smile growing with each encounter, your heart singing when his thumbs stroked your cheeks, tucked unruly strands of hair behind your ear, nose caressing yours.

Steve practically smothered you with tender affection, overwhelming your body with love and delight. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you kissed his cheek and then rested your forehead against his, both of you smiling wide and basking in the glow of each other’s presence.

“God, GG, we should have done that ages ago,” you chuckled at last, not daring to raise your voice above a whisper as not to break the magic of the moment. Steve echoed your laugh faintly.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, caressing the length of your hair, his other hand never releasing your face. “Let’s do it again?”

Your thoughts exactly; you never heard a better idea in your life.

Damn, you truly loved this man.

“Great minds…”

His lips were back, but the caution was left behind. If the first kiss wordlessly marked you as precious to him, this kiss simply marked you as his and you sank into the sentiment with gusto, breath caught in your throat as your lips parted to accommodate him, your hands pulling at his shoulders despite the echo of pain in your arm.

A small grunt of protest to your mouth, contrasting sharply with the way his body leaned to yours, a shift of weight as one strong hand sneaked under the covers, under your knees, effortlessly lifting you just enough to make space for him on the edge of the bed.

He replied to the startled sound that left your lips with a smile with a cocky edge and a delicate sweep on your tongue that made your knees weak, your heart trembling; your body instinctively pressed to the firmness of his own, now so conveniently close.

It was everything. It was everything you could ever want, a breath of his name falling from your lips when he retreated for the briefest second only for his fingers to dug into your calf, palm burning against the thin fabric covering your flesh, sending tingly heat to your abdomen. A small whimper escaped you when his thumb pressed deeper, his smile, that damn smile, GG, you little loveable shit, making you forget your first kiss happened only about a minute ago.

He kissed you as if it was his only job to turn your brain into mush, to turn your body into something completely pliant to his touch and he was excellent at it.

“Well, you guys don’t play around,” Natasha’s voice commented dryly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you actually winced at the sudden intrusion, your eyes snapping open.

“Hello sailor,” Emily whistled as you licked your lips, gaze flickering to Steve who was still very much holding you ridiculously close and pressing his lips together as if he was holding back a laugh.

He didn’t look guilty one bit, which was fair; you could just keep kissing him for the rest of your life and you’d be perfectly content. But you would have been happier without the audience.

When you tried to scoot away from him, bewildered your face wasn’t on fire with how hot it suddenly felt, he only allowed you to stretch your legs, very reluctantly releasing his grip. He remained in your bed, however, taking your hand and interlacing your fingers together, not bothering to turn to the arrivals.

“I mean… we can come back later-“ Spencer said, almost shy despite the corners of his lips twitching. “We don’t want to interrupt your… your---uhm…”

Oh god, Spencer Reid, certified genius, was at loss of words because of you. This was bad.

“Smooching?” Emily suggested.

“Cannodling?” Natasha added helpfully, only to have Spence grin victoriously as he finally found the words after the longest time you had ever seen him speechless.

“…courtship display.”

“Oh my god, shush you all-“ you muttered as Steve silently snickered.

The sound was like a revelation; the spark of mischief and contentment was a confirmation.

Steve didn’t seem to mind one bit that you were walked on despite the faint colour in his cheeks whispering of a small portion of bashfulness and a wish to be left alone with you too.

Chances were that he was just as consumed by the kiss as you were, certainly, but he was a supersoldier as he loved to remind you whenever you worried about him. Which meant there was also a thick chance that he was at least distantly aware someone was coming.

What a luck it was that the group not only included Natasha, but also Emily and Hotch and, lord help you, Spence. You’d bet that if Steve hadn’t known for sure, he at least hoped your former best friend and crush would be there.

You were in love with a gentle gigantic little shit. And you adored him anyway.

You squinted at him, earning a charming smile – with the faintest apologetic edge. Oh yes, he had known.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Hotch commented matter-of-factly, not quite able to control the amused twitch of his lips.

Taking a deep breath as Steve had the decency to move back to his chair at least now when your former boss spoke – though he never let go of your hand – you nodded, eyes skimming all over the newcomers.

“Immensely. Thank you all for coming for me… and, you know, saving my life and all that jazz.”

It was easy to feel light despite the grave situation you had been in, now that you were in a circle of friends… and with Steve by your side. Here, now, the experience could barely touch you. And yet, something must have flickered in your expression, because Steve’s thumb swiped over the back of your hand, gentle and protective.

“You did good out there. You read her for long enough to hold on until we arrived and caught up instantly. You weren’t exactly a damsel in distress. You helped a lot,” Emily noted kindly, earning a smile that was somehow glued to your face ever since Steve kissed you.

“Uhm, I’m just glad it worked – that you guys worked it out.”

“It was a team effort,” Spencer shrugged, grinning from ear to ear, even as his eyes spoke of genuine relief.

“Oh, speaking of which…” Emily hummed nonchalantly, one corner of her lips lifting into a smirk. “There’s someone else who’d like to see that you’re okay.”

You frowned. The BAU team was in the room, Steve as well, even with Natasha; you assumed Clint might have already been gone back to his family even as you hadn’t had a chance to thank him yet, which left…

You grinned slyly, even if your heart felt strangely warm.

“Really? Are you trying to tell me Tony Stark was actually worried about me and came to the Avengers med bay...? Wow, I’m so honoured--- oh my god!”

You squealed, shooting up to sit the straightest possible, your mouth falling open in astonishment when the mysterious person walked in.

And then another one.

And another and then one more and yes, there were tears stinging in your eyes, which had Steve squeeze your hand and you loved, loved your GG, but holy shit you barely even cared at the moment.

“What the hell are you doing in a hospital bed, kid? I thought you were the agent, not the target!” the large man chuckled good-naturedly.

All you could do was to gape – still. “Morgan! I-- what-“

“I can’t believe neither of us visited when it’s only a three-hour train ride or a one-hour flight. Shame on us!” Garcia exclaimed, her bright blue dress with pink flowers only she could pull off lighting up the room, as did her wide smile.

“Aww, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” JJ cooed, grimacing so apologetically that you could tell she was not sorry at all, drawing a chuckle from you.

“Well did you expect, JJ?! When the whole band comes to see me even after I-” practically disappeared on you, you wanted to say as you failed to blink away your tears, but the last member of your former team didn’t give you the chance.

“-got shot? Twice the reason to fly in, kiddo, don’t you think?”

You sighed, not at all inclined to argue when you had them all here – a happy occasion.

“David Rossi. Wow. I… I cannot believe this, it’s so good to see you all.”

“Why don’t we give you guys some privacy? We could use a coffee, or a lunch, right, Steve?” Natasha asked pointedly, breaking your haze for a moment.

Steve shot the redhead a murderous glance – whether it was at the suggestion of him leaving or ratting him out, it was hard to say. You narrowed your eyes at him, too delighted at your visitors to be truly mad. And he must have sensed it, because he met your gaze, not expecting a hell fire… only a smoulder.

It was also very difficult to be mad at him when he had kissed you like that and his lips were still a little redder than usual, gloriously tempting.

“Did you sit here starving the whole time I was out?”

Steve shot Natasha a glare as if to say ‘See what you did?’ and sighed. “I was not and I was not starving-“

At that, you snorted.

“You’re saying that as if I didn’t know how much you normally eat, GG.”

He opened his mouth to protest; but a faint growl of his stomach rendered his upcoming argument useless. The others were polite enough not to mention it, but you could see a few of them holding back a smile.

And every single one of them watched your interaction with absolute glee and unabashed curiosity, which Steve promptly ignored, leaning closer to whisper only for your ears.

“You gonna be okay here?”

“As okay as I can get,” you assured him just as lowly, your smile growing. “And I promise to stay at my station as told, unlike someone.”

He glared at you for the briefest moment, unreadable; almost long enough for you to regret the jab, but then he shook his head, a smile passing his lips.

“Point taken… but remind me who walked out of the Tower alone and is now in a hospital bed?”

It was your turn to pause; you had to admit you deserved that, but you didn’t let your failure consume you as it had when you had been taken. You weren’t alone now. In fact, you had an army of friends to help you chase away gloomy thoughts.

“Point taken. Go grab a bite, GG.”

“As you wish,” he muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth as a goodbye; a goodbye that almost made you want to tell him to stay.

But then your face began to burn once again as low ‘uuuh’ sounded from three of your former colleagues; Morgan, Garcia and Emily. The rest just smirked. You would swear you heard Natasha mutter ‘territorial ass’.

Why were you friends with these people again?

Steve squeezed your hand for one last time before he rose to his feet.

“It was nice meeting you. Heard a lot of great things,” he said politely as he nodded to each of the newcomers, addressing them by their name, earning a tiny squeal from Garcia when he did so.

“Likewise, Captain.”

A genuine smile curled Steve lips. “Thank you for your help, Miss Garcia. See you around, all.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just…” Natasha said as she pulled at Steve’s arm, chuckling as he exchanged a last glance with you, no doubt catching your silent thank you for making Penelope’s day. “Nice meeting y’all!”

The moment they were out of sight, you were crowded – and most of the crowd was your favourite technical analyst, who slapped your unharmed arm.

“How could you not let us know you’re dating Captain America?! If anything, I’d expect a call to brag about that!” she complained exasperatedly, her eyes shining brighter than the pink bow in her head.

“Technically, they only finally confessed their feelings about…” Reid interjected, looking at his watch pointedly, “…314 minutes ago.”

“It was very romantic and dramatic,” Emily pipped up, having Penelope’s jaw drop and JJ smirk, her arms crossing on her chest.

“And we hope to hear all about it, don’t we, Garcia?”

“Oh you betcha! All the details!”

You smiled at their antics, feeling giddy and flustered at once at the prospect of catching up with the best ladies in the world. And guys, of course, but you doubted they were as interested.

On a second thought however, Morgan was definitely one to learn as much as possible in order to gather ammo to tease you and Rossi, well, he might be a wise grown-up, but he wouldn’t turn down gossip.

And neither would you.

“Only if you feed me the juiciest gossip from the bureau,” you negotiated, earning excited nods from Garcia. “Oh and please tell me you gave a lesson to another guy who impersonated an FBI agent to get laid?”

“You got yourself a deal, sweetie.”

“A sweet one,” Morgan commented, his grin slipping momentarily, replaced by a brotherly concerned gaze. “But seriously. What the hell happened? How did you end up being kidnapped and shot when you were the one calling about the case?”

You realized they must have just flied in, if no one brought them up to speed. With a sigh, you braced yourself to explain despite your error and the unpleasant memories being the last things you wanted to talk about.

But lord bless Emily Prentiss, it took her one glance at you to understand how you felt; she took it upon herself, swiftly and lowly explaining what had happened. Spence, ever so helpful, handed you the bottle of water from the nightstand along with a cup of jello, noticing you started to fidget with unease; a ghost of cuffs swirled around your wrist as seaweed, ready to pull you under water.

You absently thanked Spence as he helped you, a careful brush of fingers here and there far from accidental, meant to ground you in the moment.

“You’re welcome, Bean,” he whispered gently, causing you to crack a smile again. “Ah, there she is.”

You smiled a little wider, shaking your head, catching the last words of Emily’s report.

“I guess I was too close to the case to see it objectively,” you added with a sigh, causing everyone’s gaze return to you.

“I’d say,” Rossi agreed and you would have felt ashamed, especially in front of him, author extraordinaire, a legend among field agents, hadn’t it been for the compassionate smile and the warmth in his chocolate-coloured eyes. “But we’ve all been there.”

We all made mistakes, he was saying, as if reminding you that he wasn’t an exception to the rule either. And this time, the mistake didn’t have fatal consequences. You smiled at him shakily, earning a wink.

“Well, I’m glad it was just your thumb and your arm,” Morgan commented, a slight furrow to his brow – a sign of worry – his arms remaining crossed on his chest.

“We all are,” JJ added. “We leave you alone for five minutes…”

“Yeah, don’t scare us like that again!” Garcia cried out, pouting – and then waving it off. “But now, let’s leave the gloom behind. Tell me about this huge dramatic love confession--- no, wait, start when the cupid’s arrow hit you for the first time.”

You chuckled, wondering what was there to even say, but Morgan beat you to it, snickering – and leaving the gloom behind indeed.

“Sounds like a euphemism to me, babygirl.”

Somehow, you were both insanely grateful and utterly horrified at the change of topic, despite warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of Steve – and the declaration you had exchanged a few minutes ago, involving mouths but not really words.

“Oooooh, they’re good at those!” Emily exclaimed, her face bright and full of mischief. “I mean…. was it when he shared his fries with you?”

Oh god-

“Get outta here,” Morgan burst out laughing, shooting Reid a pointed look. “You hear that, pretty boy?”

“Will you ever let me live that down?!” Reid cried out, voice an octave higher, gaping as Morgan once again brought up the one instance where Reid practically slapped your hand when you wanted to steal a fry from his plate. “Just so you know, when someone wants some fries, they can just order them.”

“Uh-huh-“

“But this phenomenon of stealing fries is not unusual and is more common in women, who don’t order the fries because they want to appear more attractive to a man by not eating excessively. And at the same time, they appeal to their masculine need to provide food for their partners and family-“

“See and you said it was just the papers who made a big deal out of it,” Emily interjected gently, a smirk to her lips as she watched you. “It actually was a great romantic gesture stemming from ancient male instincts…”

“Emily…” you warned her silently, only to be interrupted by Morgan.

“Oh, I think I’ve seen enough male instincts when Captain Loverboy kissed her to mark his territory before he left.”

“Not wrong there…” JJ sing-sang, having you groan and hide your face in your palms – a feat given your splinter – feeling your cheeks being set aflame with every word added to this ridiculous conversation.

You were sure poor Steve – who was definitely to be blamed for this, you hated him, you loved him – probably had his ears on fire with everyone talking about him.

“Please, you should have seen his face when Reid hugged her--- no, when he called her Bean. First time I actually saw someone physically turn green, I’m telling you.”

“Oh my god, you guys, just stop, please…” you whimpered miserably, only earning several chuckles and a tug at your sleeve.

“Aww, look at her, she’s all flustered-”

“Shut up, Morgan, I regret every time I didn’t take the chance to comment on your walk of shame-“ you muttered, annoyed… a little.

Despite all their teasing, it was difficult not to feel completely elated, because the reason this was happening was that fact you and Steve had-

“Rogers and Jones, sitting in the tree…”

“Oh, oh, Garcia, wait, he calls her Sparkles and she calls him GG-- whatever that means,” Emily stopped her, causing you to drop your hands and shoot her a betrayed glare. “So it’s more like: Sparkles and GG, sitting in a tree, K-I-”

“I’m happy to see you, guys, but I hate you all,” you announced flatly, instantly breaking character when most of them just burst out laughing.

“Oh hold on! Who’s gonna give him the if you break her heart I’ll break your nose talk?” JJ exclaimed suddenly, sounding deadly serious.

“No one!” you cried out instantly. “No one is going to break anything!”

But it was too late; the team of FBI agents, who acted like overgrown children, already started plotting.

Oh boy.

“You know I don’t exactly have the best record in hand-to-hand, but I know of at least fifteen different ways to dispose of a body without trace if-”

“Spence!” you shrieked, not expecting that from him in the slightest.

“I have no qualms about breaking his anything,” Derek announced, ignorant to your exasperation.

“Neither do I,” Emily shrugged.

“And rest assured he would never do as much as read his emails if I got my hands on him, Stark security system or not,” Garcia spoke, uncharacteristically scary. “I’d ruin him.”

“Guys, guys! Come on,” Emily shushed them, hands outstretched to get their attention. “I have no doubt we’d all shoot him dead, but who’s gonna do the honours or telling him that?”

“Hey! No one is shooting anyone! We literally just saved him-“

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Hotch suggested innocently, causing you to gape, a breathless accusation falling from your lips.

“Et tu, Brute?”

His words unleashed a stream of oooohs and hands that suddenly competed for the chance to threaten your… boyfriend, maybe? Just Steve for now? Your GG, always? Which was nice and all and you were so lucky to have them in your corner, but you had just averted one crisis and you’d rather keep Steve safe and sound. You doubted he planned to break your heart anyway – he could never.

“No one is listening to me…” you muttered, a chuckle sounding on your right.

You glanced at Rossi who didn’t participate in the mess unfolding by your bed, only watching with a proud smile.

“You know they won’t when it comes to protecting one of ours, kiddo. You’d do the same, because that’s what family does,” he said gently, looking around as some of your friends did bicker like siblings, before glancing back at you. “That’s what family’s for.”

With a sudden lump in your throat, you followed his gaze back, trailing around the crowded room: several special agents with one of the best trainings available, acting like children, paired up to play rock, paper, scissors. Sans Hotch, who might have suggested it, but would not actually go to Steve to give him a shovel talk; he appeared like a father to the crazy pack.

Looking around, you felt like family was exactly what you were. No matter the distance of two years and three-hour train ride, the BAU still was and hopefully would always remain your family.

→ Next part (epilogue)

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Reminder: in the masterlist to this series, there’s a list with pics and characterisation of the complete BAU team (since I swarmed you with several ‘new’ characters in this chapter)

Yeah, I totally lied, the short excerpt I shared about three weeks ago was not from a floofy one-shot, but I could NOT exactly tell it was these two idiots FINALLY kissing, could I? Sorry 🤭

Wanted this to be a chapter slash epilogue, buuut it was getting too long again and I feel like this fic deserves a sweet and short goodbye instead🥰 Epilogue to come.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, folks, thank you for your support 💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #mcu x criminal minds #criminal minds crossover #criminal minds x mcu #former bau agent reader #bau agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #steve rogers #spencer reid #emily prentiss #the bau family #love on the brain #anika ann

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timefospookies · 9 months ago

Text

so. fnaf x bsd anyone?

“A reopened case, huh?”

As Dazai spun around on his chair, scanning the pictures in his hand, Atsushi glanced at the files laid before him.

“And so far out of town!”

“The woman who hired us paid a very hefty amount of money for us to go take a look,” Kunikida stated as he flipped through his own documents. “It’s a missing persons case, from over a decade ago. Children. The victims were presumed dead, though their bodies were never found.”

“And neither was their killer, I take it?”

Kunikida nodded grimly as Dazai puffed out a sigh. The poet offered the documents to his partner and he took it gingerly.

“It’ll be our job to find out who did it, then” the bandaged man said.

“This is terrible,” Atsushi muttered, horrified.

“Tell me about it,”

Dazai tapped on the table as he half heartedly read through each paper, expressionless. His protégé, on the other hand, looked visibly disturbed, and could feel the sweat soaking through his dress shirt. He shakily reached for a glass of water on his desk to swallow down his dread. Suddenly, with an exaggerated groan, Dazai hopped off his seat and whined as he stretched.

“Well, I suppose we should pack and get going then!”

“Right,” said the poet, as he absentmindedly scratched his lip, “Pack for about a week or so, and we’ll meet at the station tomorrow morning. Be sure to do your research,”

Then he added, much more sourly,

“That means you, Dazai.”

The bandaged man perked up, eyes wide in indignation.

“Huhh? Homework?” he protested, “You’re not a teacher anymore, you know!”

“Shut it!” Kunikida said through gritted teeth, stiffer than usual, "This case is particular because it hasn’t been touched for years. So be sure to prepare properly if you plan to be of use, damn it!”

Dazai pouted but seized to press the matter further, opting to pick up the files on Atsushi’s desk instead. He tapped on the young man’s head with the folder, snapping him out of his absentminded spiral.

“Hey, Atsushi, you free? We could study together,” the man grinned.

“Ah! Yes, of course…”

And so, while Kunikida dedicated himself to his own independent research, Atsushi stumbled after Dazai as they headed down to Uzumaki Café. ---

“Keep an eye out for when we exit the plane,” Kunikida said, “Our client should be waiting to take us to the scene.”

The other two men nodded. Their client, Atsushi recalled, was Kira Breed-Wrisley, an American immigrant who came to settle in Japan with her daughter, Charlotte.

“What a curious choice,” Dazai muttered, back at the café.

Atsushi glanced up from the documents they’d gathered and cocked his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Atsushi, you sweet oblivious soul,”

The boy arched an eyebrow almost involuntarily.

“Think,” his mentor cooed, leaning in, “why would she decide to move all the way from the US to Japan, of all places? Business women weren’t a very welcome sight here back in the 80s, you know? Hell, they still aren’t now… but Dr. Yosano can tell you all about that feminist stuff,”

“S-Sure,”

That’s right. The scene they were sent to investigate…it had been a restaurant co-owned by Breed-Wrisley herself. A family pizza place with friendly animal mascots that wowed the public with their fun-inviting nature. Well, that and the fact that their entertainers were highly complex robots, for the time anyway.

Atsushi took a second to arrange his thoughts.

“Well, Japan has been known to be very technologically advanced in the past…” he mused, “So, maybe Mrs. Breed-Wrisley moved here so she could create better robots with the best materials available?”

Dazai hummed, satisfied. He plopped back down on his seat.

“Very good,” he said.

From what they found, though, she hadn’t originally intended for her creations to be made for a restaurant.

Dazai read off a news article,

“Upon being interviewed, Mr. Cawthon claimed he ‘saw great genius and value in her work’ and ‘suggested it must be brought to light, so after tossing around some ideas, [they] decided on a family diner’.”

He slid the paper towards Atsushi.

“How charming!” he said, “Englishmen, am I right?”

William Cawthon, also an immigrant, was in charge of the finances of the business, while Breed-Wrisley focused more on the entertainment and management. He was a rather plain man, and single father of two boys. He also has been missing for the last 16 years or so.

When the three detectives got off the plane their search for their client began. Kunikida tried to reach her with his phone, but didn’t have much luck with the connection. Dazai, on the other hand, would run off every chance he got to snoop around the airport stores, leaving Atsushi in charge of both his and his mentor’s luggage. And babysitting duty.

“Mr. Dazai, please could we move along? I’ve already lost sight of Mr. Kunikida,” he urged.

He tried to grab hold of the man’s arm, but he was slippery with his movements.

“Atsushi, look! A survival handbook! Do you think if I reverse engineer it, I could find some new method-”

“Dazai!”

Upon hearing that call, Atsushi wearily looked over his shoulder at Kunikida, who approached them at a dangerously rapid speed. The man zipped past him and gripped his partner’s shoulder with little trouble, shaking the book out of his hands.

“You idiot, what the hell is your problem?!” he yelled, “You can’t go running off! Need I remind you that we’re on a serious case?!”

“Ah, Kunikida, I was planning on buying that…”

“Enough! We don’t have time to slack off! Now get your luggage and act like a grown-up for once!”

“Having a child-like spirit is quite good for you, you know?” Dazai announced, “If you don’t allow yourself to relax every once in a while, you’ll get chronic conditions at an early age,”

Kunikida twitched with sudden interest, taken aback.

“S-Seriously?”

Dazai nodded slowly and wisely as he gestured at the man’s pocket.

Oh boy…, Atsushi thought as Kunikida reached for his notebook and began to write it down. Dazai watched over his shoulder with a smirk, when the realization hit his partner.

“W-Wait, why you!”

A swift and hard hit to the head left the bandaged man writhing in pain on the floor.

“Agh! What was that for?! I wasn’t lying!” “You can’t fool me, you little-”

As their squabbling went on, Atsushi felt uncomfortably aware of the amount of people staring at them and began to fear their client might be somewhere in that crowd. He looked at his watch and began to squirm. Had they agreed on a meeting time? Or place? Kunikida didn’t mention either. Could he have forgotten? Could the client have forgotten?

“Um, hey…you guys?” he stammered.

“What?!” Kunikida snapped, holding Dazai limp under his chokehold.

Atsushi swallowed hard as he gingerly pointed over his shoulder.

“Sh-Shouldn’t we, y…y’know,”

The poet didn’t have time to answer as his phone began to ring. He was immediately on his feet as he tossed Dazai to the side, now completely composed and focused on the call.

“Mrs. Breed-Wrisley,” he said. “Yes, we have arrived. I apologize for not contacting you earlier, we haven’t been able to reach you. Yes. Of course. We’ll be right there, please excuse us.”

As he snapped his phone shut, he looked Atsushi in the eye.

“Let’s go,” ---

“Again, I am so sorry for not planning this out earlier. I’m…not very good with organization,”

They found themselves at the airport café sitting before their client.

“It’s not a problem, madam,” Kunikida assured her, “We’re here now,”

So this was Kira Breed-Wrisley, the genius robotics engineer. With how much Kunikida insisted they be on guard around her, the woman who sat before them wasn’t at all like what Atsushi had expected. She was so small she looked almost ill, and though she must’ve only been in her early 50s, her braided hair had nearly completely grayed. It was hard to hear her over the airport chatter because of how softly she spoke- each sentence she uttered was accompanied by gentle gestures of her bruised, scraped hands (Atsushi wondered how they'd gotten to that state). He knew it had been years, so of course her physical state wasn’t going to mirror her past actions, but still, if he didn’t already know about it, Atsushi could’ve never guessed she’d just been released from a fifteen year aggravated assault sentence. The only traces he could see in her that could’ve hinted at it was that though she smiled and chuckled during their polite chatter, behind her glasses sat a pair of dull, dark eyes- devoid of light, like they’d seen too much.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming all the way out here,” she said quietly, “I apologize in advance for every inconvenience.”

“Please, you’re doing us a favor,” Dazai cooed, “It’s always nice to visit new places! So much to see and learn…surely you know a few places?”

He flashed a charming smile and Kunikida eyed his partner as a warning. No flirting with the clients. Or else. Dazai sighed off the telepathic threat and sat back on his chair.

“Harikēn isn’t too eventful I’m afraid,” she replied, “But I do hope you enjoy your stay. The housing offer still stands, if you ever wish to change your mind,”

Kunikida stopped her with a wave of his hand.

“We appreciate the offer, but we wouldn’t want to burden you,”

“You’re too kind,” she whispered with a bow of her head.

She sat up straight and observed the three for a moment. Was she analyzing them? Her eyes seemed so sad.

“I realize I haven’t formally introduced myself to your partners,” she said suddenly, “Though you probably already know all about me. Either way, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,”

Atsushi chimed in with a start.

“Right! I’m Atsushi Nakajima. Nice to meet you!”

“Osamu Dazai, at your service,”

“Mr. Nakajima, Mr. Dazai,” she repeated, “Thank you both. Shall we go?”

“Right,”

---

They followed the small woman to her equally small car and on the ride to the location, she gave them a little run down of the case (though they wouldn’t dare interrupt her to remind her that they already knew all the details).

“It was over the span of two weeks,” she recalled, her voice nearly a whisper, “I remember it so clearly…when the news of the first child going missing broke. How the restaurant slowly emptied out...how all those parents cried after the search was called off,”

She shook her head, trying to avoid reliving it all again.

“I never thought...” her grip on the wheel tightened, “No- I never wanted for things to turn out this way. I can’t… I just can’t let this case go until those children are brought to justice.”

Then she let out a grim, loathing sort of snort.

“I’m partly responsible for their misfortune, afterall.”

Kunikida was silent. He sat so tense in his seat that Atsushi could feel that pressure on his own limbs, and Dazai, who had his nose buried in his new survival handbook, seemed lost in thought.

“It must’ve been terrible,” Atsushi lamented, “Having lost your daughter yourself, I can’t imagine just how…”

“Atsushi.”

A whisper. Dazai glanced up at him, expressionless, and subtly shook his head in disapproval.

“No, no, it’s okay,” the woman said, and she gave him a saddened smile through the mirror, “Thank you,”

Then she fell deathly, like she’d left the present entirely. ---

“I should mention that I’ve hired a night guard for the week,” Mrs. Breed-Wrisley called over her shoulder nonchalantly.

As the detectives slid off the small car, the woman fiddled with her keys at the entrance of the rundown restaurant. The afternoon sun served as a spotlight for the display. The windows were scratched and the walls graffitied. Whatever remained of the signs that would’ve spelled out the name of the place instead communicated gibberish. Nature had overtaken the lot, as sprouts of grass peeked through the cracks on the concrete and vines climbed up the grayed walls.

“And why would that be?” Kunikida asked, vaguely irked at the sudden news but attempting to stay polite.

The woman didn’t answer as she swung open the gates and soon the glass door. Dazai was the first to set foot inside and though the intense smell of mold on the crusty carpet spoke the truth of how long this place had been abandoned, the place itself…looked frozen in time. The tables were arranged in neat lines, with colorful (though faded) tablecloths. Confetti and glitter stuck to the old checkered floor, with attractive promises of delicious treats decorating the walls. Alongside these, drawings were scattered about the place, painting the happiness of a birthday, of children surrounded by friends and soft animals sharing slices of pizza. Stars hung from the ceiling and arcade machines called for their next player. The curtain of the main stage shone a vibrant velvet and the smaller side stage sparkled purple. Atsushi, though he’d never lived something like this, could almost feel himself in the moment, the smell of freshly made food cuddling the air, the laughter, the lights. But the joy that this place once contained was now stuck to the corners of each wall, caught in the cobwebs, rotting away with time.

“You said you just hired a security guard?” Dazai reminded her, as the rest allowed themselves to roam the place.

“Ah, yes,” the woman said, “I thought it would help make sure nothing is moved, or stolen”

Who’d wanna rob a place like this?, Atsushi thought. Though it’s nice, there’s nothing of much value here, unless you’d want to sell the mushrooms growing from the carpet…Although, the arcade machines could have a lot of money in them. Not to mention the things themselves are probably worth a fortune.

He hummed, deep in thought.

“This restaurant featured robot mascots, is that right?” Kunikida asked.

“That’s right,”

“Where might they…be?”

Kunikida trailed off as he spotted Dazai, who found himself entranced by a big golden button at the side of the main stage.

“Dazai…” the man growled.

Dazai straightened up and put his hand to his chest.

“I wasn’t gonna do anything, honest,” he lied.

Mrs. Breed-Wrisley chuckled quietly.

“It’s alright, go ahead,”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With an excited push of the button, the curtains of the stage suddenly drew back, as music boomed from the speakers and the performers hidden behind sprung to life. Dazai let out an amused laugh as he stepped back to admire the spectacle, resting his arm on Kunikida’s shoulder. A blue bunny waved its hand in front of its guitar in sync to the song, along with a bear with the top hat, whose mouth moved up and down to make it look as if it were singing. On the other side of the stage, a duck of sorts showed off its cupcake, and moved its torso from side to side when suddenly the side stage swung open, and a fox slid out, waving its hook enthusiastically.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Mrs. Breed-Wrisley whispered.

“Yeah!” Atsushi said

But she didn’t seem to hear. Was she talking to herself? When he looked at her it seemed like her gaze was glued to the stage. What was that on her face? Her head tilted to the side and a fond smile plastered on her face. Her eyes shone with the lights. Ah. Infatuation. That’s what it was. The red guitar the bunny held suddenly clicked. It sounded metallic, or almost like a lighter being turned on. Before they knew it, a boom escaped the guitar, causing Atsushi to yelp in surprise. A crackle of light shook the room, as the music slurred and they were all suddenly drowned in darkness.

“Ah,” the woman chuckled, “They’re a little rusty, I’m sorry about that…”

Atsushi composed himself and joined his coworkers’ sides.

“Their glory days are long gone,” she said.

---

“Atsushiiiiii! Get over hereeeee!”

“Hold on!”

As the boy dried off from his shower and slipped on his sleeping wear, he hurried to exit the bathroom to attend to his mentor’s calls. They had settled in a hotel for the rest of the week. That’s how long they had to solve the case.

“A-A week?!” Kunikida cried.

“I ask that you understand,” Mrs. Breed-Wrisley sighed apologetically, “Lately, I”ve been having trouble keeping the wrecking companies away from this place and…well…”

“We can do it in a week!” Dazai assured her, and Kunikida looked at him with wide-eyed desperation. “You can count on us!”

Now the two detectives laid on their respective futons, each in their own little world. Kunikida muttered to himself as he looked over every word of every document in every file, scribbling his thoughts and theories into his notebook. Dazai, meanwhile, was humming to himself, laying belly down on the futon and kicking his legs while he too scribbled on his own book. His new survival book.

“Ah! Atsushi, check it out!”

The man waved him over and Atsushi reluctantly approached. He looked down at the page, where Dazai had drawn right over the words into the empty space of the page.

“Wh-Why couldn’t you have drawn it smaller so it would fit on the empty part?” Atsushi grimaced.

“And let my creativity be restricted like that? I could never!”

Atsushi sat down beside him and the man then promptly pointed at his doodles.

“I drew my favorite!”

He tapped on the drawing of the pirate fox they had seen earlier on the stage. It wasn’t a horrible drawing, funnily enough. A bit on the abstract side, but recognizable enough. The rest of his scribbles consisted of the fox doing several things, such as eating pizza, or being a pirate. There was a doodle of the fox’s stomach hatch, but Atsushi didn’t dare ask why he’d drawn that.

“Which robot did you like?” Dazai asked.

“You sound like a child,” Kunikida said, still not looking up from his notes. “And, the term, you’ll find, is animatronic. Not robot,”

“Oh, what’s the difference? Isn’t that just the cooler name for it?”

Kunikida snapped upright just to glare at him, but he held the vile poison on his tongue for some other time. As the man shook his head and tried to focus again, Dazai turned his attention back to Atsushi.

“Well?”

“Ah…eh…” he thought about it, “I thought the duck was cute,”

“I think it’s a chicken,” Kunikida muttered.

“It looks like a duck,” Dazai countered.

“But it’s a chicken,”

“But it doesn’t look like one,”

Kunikida glared again.

“Must you make an argument out of everything?!”

“Fine, fine, here I’ll make it so we both win,”

Dazai took to his book, the sound of his pen scratching the paper filling the room. Atsushi tried to look over his shoulder, curiosity taking over. Upon finishing and revising it, he proudly revealed his drawing to his partner. It looked like some sort of duck-hen hybrid with the same bib the robot wore and a cupcake on its wing.

“See? It’s a chuck! Or a dicken? Or…”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped to the floor, completely horrified.

“Did you just draw on the book?!”

The bandaged man blinked.

“Oh. Yeah?”

The other stammered.

“Why would you do that?!”

“I didn’t have any paper,” he stated matter-of-factly

Kunikida’s face transitioned through several different emotions at once.

“Wh-wha-you! You don’t draw on books!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s! It’s!” the man couldn’t find his words in his bewilderment, “Because it’s practically a crime!”

“Says who?”

“S-Says everyone?!”

The man was less angry and more just. Genuinely confused. And much to Atsushi’s relief, the interaction didn’t lead to a one sided boxing match as his two seniors chattered on about nonsensical nothings. Atsushi felt his chest grow warm as he relished in this strange comfort. It was the first time he’d ever gone on an overnight mission with anyone. To go on one with these two almost would seem like a train wreck, but in this moment he felt grateful to be there. Maybe this was what a sleepover would feel like? The boy barely noticed himself dozing off as he leaned on Dazai’s side and shut his eyes. With a content sigh, he thought:

Tomorrow is another day.

#spooky talk #I HOPE YOU ENJOYED LOL #this is my first bsd fic ever so I hope I characterized everyone okay #I kind just used the first season dynamic as reference #anyway I might post more but yeah!!#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf au #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd au #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #kunikida doppo #henry emily #william afton #bsd x FNAF crossover au

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