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cassies-langs · 3 years
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alexandrablake · 3 years
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types of love as depicted by the bau: (x)
click for better quality!
taglist: @morcias, @sunlightgalaxy, @ssa-badbitch
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vhsrights · 3 years
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genius plan
JJ: *super drunk* Emmmmmily, come here!
Em: Jayje, I'm sitting right next to you.
JJ: Nooo, you're too far. Come here. *pouting*
Emily: How about you just sit in my lap?
JJ: *sits in her lap*
JJ: Hehe I tricked you. Now I get to sit in your lap. Alllll better.
Emily: *fake shocked* Oh my god, your plan worked.
JJ: See, I'm a genius too.
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simoneashley · 3 years
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5 seconds of summer - calm
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hxneyandespressx · 3 years
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since we’re alone, you can show me your heart
summary: what happens when derek gets a nightmare? the only one who can calm him down is his pretty boy
pairing: spencer reid x derek morgan (moreid)
word count:  1.9k
content warnings: mentions of gun and shooting
a/n: set after criminal minds season 11 episode 11 entropy
☆。*。☆。
Spencer ran frantically around his dark and messy apartment, picking up the case files and Chinese takeout boxes that had piled up on his antique coffee table. Few peanut oil stains stuck onto the wooden top. The anxious man took the nearest napkin, hoping that it was clean, and tried his best to wipe off the oil stains. Seeing that they wouldn’t come off, Spencer exasperatedly dropped the napkin onto the table and rushed over to his kitchen, grabbing the necessary cleaning supplies. He got his bottle of white vinegar and water, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and an old rag underneath the kitchen sink.
By the time Spencer was done, every room in his apartment was clean to his standard. Not a book out of place, no dust lingering in the air. Spencer felt both scared and excited about having his co-workers come over to his place. He never had them over until today. He felt scared if a game, like truth or dare, made him confess his true feelings about his boyfriend.
Derek and Spencer had worked with each other for a long time. As the years went by, experiencing the highs and lows of being FBI agents together, the two of them felt their hearts yearn for each other, but neither of them acted upon it. They were scared of the possibility of rejection, tarnishing their friendship. It was not until Derek decided to break the ice and asked out Spencer. The young man was delighted to have his crush ask him out. It was the one thing that went right in his life.
Three months in and either of them hasn’t said “I love you” yet. Either of them was scared to frighten off the other. Saying “I love you” was a big commitment. They were trying to take things slow, not to rush each other, even though they had known each other for a long time.
The gang was heading over to Spencer’s for a little sleepover to relax as they hadn’t received any new cases within the past 2 weeks. It was nice to have a break from all the traveling and dealing with unsubs; however, it does get boring doing paperwork and in-office consultations for hours.
Spencer’s phone pinged multiple times and a bunch of text notifications came.
Hotch: Sorry, can’t make it. I couldn’t find a babysitter for Jack and Jessica is busy at work tonight. Maybe next time.
Tara: going out on the town with the ladies!
Penelope: sorry spencer but jj tara and i are having a ladies night :(
JJ: sorry spence! perhaps next time!
Rossi: Sorry kid. Forgot to tell you that I’m driving up to Montauk to visit a buddy of mine.
Spencer sighed and felt defeated. Everyone bailed on him at the last minute. Everyone except for Derek. That was fine with Spencer, as this could be a date night for them. Just then, the doorbell rang, indicating someone had arrived. Having a small smile on his face, Spencer scurried to the front door and opened it. It revealed one handsome Derek Morgan, who was holding a large pizza in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.
“I saw in the group chat that everyone else bailed on this.” Derek said.
“Yeah but this could be a date night for us.” Spencer smiled at his little proposition. Derek smiled, showing off his brilliant pearly whites, as he entered the apartment.
The couple spent their night-in watching movies, eating pizza, and Spencer going off tangents on his passions. Whenever Spencer starts to rant about one of his passions, Derek just stared at his little genius and smiled at how happy his boyfriend was. And that continued all night long, Derek listening to Spencer talk about 19th-century British literature, coupled with watching random movies of various genres.
Nearing 1 am, the couple laid on the couch, with Spencer in Derek’s arms. The tv was playing Julie & Julia in the background. Spencer was half asleep and noticed that Derek was sleeping already. He gently wiggled out of Derek’s arms and stood up from the couch, scratching his scalp and messing up his already messy curly hair.
“Hey. Let’s go to bed.” Spencer softly said, patting his boyfriend’s shoulder. Derek woke up, feeling groggy. Spencer led the way to his room, holding Derek’s hand. They both flopped onto the bed and Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist. They were used to sharing a room together, even a bed due to mistakes occurring at the hotels they stayed at when they were on cases. Sleep washed over them as the golden dust of the Sandman worked its magic.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Standing across from Derek were Spencer and Cat Adams. The hitwoman had a gun pointed at one scared Spencer Reid. Internally, Derek was screaming. On the outside, he kept his cool and calm composure.
“Morgan, get out.” Spencer demanded.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek said, his voice shaking a little.
“Hm… I guess we’re back where we started. You and me with a gun.” Cat said without a care in the world, keeping the gun aimed at Spencer.
“Reid, it’s time.”
“No.”
“We don’t have a choice. We have to do it,” Derek said. Spencer kept shaking his head no. “We found your father.” the unsub stood there in shock for a few seconds, before rage set inside of her.
“You’re lying. I don’t like men who lie. You men are all the same.” Cat said as she gauged the trigger on her gun. She shot Spencer in the head and without hesitation, Derek started to shoot at the unsub. Derek ran over to Spencer and held his dying love in his arms. He tried to keep him alive until the paramedics came. The last words Derek said was “I love you” before his boy wonder went limp.
Derek woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He heard himself breathing heavily and felt anxious from the nightmare he just had. The frightened man groggily rubbed his eyes to get rid of the Sandman’s dust. Leaning his back against the headboard, Derek stared at the wall across from him, concentrating his eyes on one spot. He hoped that this technique would help him fall back asleep. Alas, he was shaken up from the nightmare.
The dazed man anxiously searched for his phone, wondering how much time has passed. Fumbling through the grey sheets and trying not to wake up Spencer, Derek found his phone, turning on the touchscreen, the blue screen lit up brightly. 3:20 am. Derek took a deep breath and sighed, leaning his head back onto the headboard and looked over to see his baby-faced boyfriend fast asleep. A soft smile appeared on Derek’s face, reminding him of his reality: Spencer being his angel.
Feeling restless, Derek pushed the comforter off of himself and quietly got off of the bed. He opened the bedroom door and went to the bathroom that was down the hall. His hands turned on the faucet and cupped together to gather the running water. Derek splashed cold water onto his face, making him more alert and awake. His eyes caught the sight of his face in the mirror. Smile lines decorated his face, which contrasted the dark circles forming underneath his eyes. Derek sighed and made his way towards the kitchen.
Derek has come over to Spencer’s place many times before, so much so he knows the way around like the back of his hand. With ease, his muscular hand grabbed a tall glass, with an accompanying coaster, in one of the cabinets above. He filled the glass with water from the faucet below. Loud gulps could be heard as Derek drank the water, cool and fresh like he had found an oasis. Just as Derek gently placed the glass on the coaster, his ears caught the shuffling feet of a tired Spencer.
“Derek?” Spencer tiredly said. “What are you doing up?”
“Just needed some water, that is all.” Derek said his half truth-half lie. The young man shrugged and went towards the refrigerator.
Unknowingly, Derek started to tap his fingers against the dark grey laminate countertop. Spencer caught the sound with his ears and turned to face his boyfriend.
“Derek? Are you okay?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because you’re tapping your fingers across the countertop.” Spencer pointed out. When the tired genius mentioned the action, Derek immediately stopped, his eyes glancing at Spencer.
“We’re profilers, Derek. You can’t hide anything from me.” Spencer said, feeling concerned for his best friend. The mousy-haired man felt like a hypocrite after saying that to Derek. During the many years he worked with the handsome man in front of him, Spencer developed a crush on him. At first, it was just a silly little infatuation, but as time passed, it changed to being a crush. The young man was able to hide it well. That was until Derek reciprocated his feelings. That same crush turned into Spencer dating Derek. In these past few months, Spencer wanted to tell his angel of a boyfriend that he loved him, but he was scared that Derek would run away from him, just like everyone else in his life.
“Ha– you’re right, pretty Ricky,” Derek said in defeat, hanging his head low. Spencer came up behind Derek slowly, hesitant to show some affection to his probably scared boyfriend. He mustered up his own fears and gave Derek a hug from behind, and felt his boyfriend relaxing in his arms. The couple stood in silence for some time, savoring the unspoken quietness between them.
“Remember when you had to go in as bait for Cat Adams?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.
“Oh– yeah. Why are you asking?” Spencer responded, not getting the hint where the conversation was going.
“Two weeks since that case, I had these nightmares. I thought I could get through with it, but I can’t. My nightmare was about that. I dreamt that you were shot by Cat.” Derek explained.
“Derek…” Spencer felt shocked while his heart was breaking. He felt like he had to do something. But all he could do was sit and listen to his boyfriend get everything off his chest.
"I wish this is a nightmare that I could just wake up from... but it feels all real... and I hate every second of it. I felt like I was going to lose you when it actually happened,” Derek’s voice cracked a bit as tears pricked his deep brown eyes. “And I don’t want this to repeat. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“I won’t let it happen again,” Spencer quietly said, caresses Derek’s cheek. “We will make sure she stays in prison, alright?” Derek brought Spencer in for a long embrace. The mousy-haired man wrapped his arms around his athletic boyfriend’s waist as he placed his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. The soft warmth coming off of Derek comforted Spencer, clashing with her cold pale skin.
“I just uh…” Derek said tiredly.
“Yeah.” Spencer replied, smiling softly. He knew in his heart that Derek said “I love you” to him.
“You know?”
“I know.”
taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @pumpkin-stars / @hotchgans / @pen3mily / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @morcias / @notsosmexy / @cherrychris​ / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp / @a-writers-ramblings / @morceid
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sapphiics · 3 years
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aspectabund
summary: An insight to Derek’s thoughts during 3x09
word count: 1.2k
content warning: mentions of bullets and the Battle arc. also embarrassingly heavy with the pining. Perhaps angst but not pain as much as contemplation.
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Derek wondered where Penelope got it from
Her faith, her devotion to the good in the world. Her ability to believe when all seems lost.
He thinks about her, laying on that cold table in an O.R. How dark her last moments would’ve been, the last face her eyes would ever glance upon being the vile man who decided to steal her life. Doctors probing into her chest, as she slowly bleeds out to death in the cold room. His own mind miles away, his body in a church of all places - the irony isn’t lost on him- as she’s clinging to this world. It springs into his head randomly, his own self punishing him by demanding that he remember how close he came to losing the most important person in his world.
A small part of him wants to think he saved her. This minuscule sliver of his soul wants to believe that his praying kept her alive, kept that bullet from piercing through the biggest heart he’s ever encountered in his life.
Only that would be impossible for a plethora of reasons, many of which Derek doesn’t care to rehash.
The most important being that he didn’t know. When he was sitting in that church, revisiting the painful and broken relationship he once had with a God that he’s long since denounced, he didn’t know. Didn’t know that when she needed him most, was at her most vulnerable, Derek wasn’t there.
The knowledge that he probably pushed her into the arms of that man only sweetens the entire package. That his juvenile jealousy was misconstrued as thinking she was somehow unworthy of a man Derek had never even laid eyes on.
It wasn’t farther from the truth, considering Penelope was better than any person he had ever encountered. She managed to crawl under his skin and settle into his bones, becoming an integral part of his being. He just has this intense want to be with her and enjoy the sacred moments when he can just be. When he’s not on edge, on the defensive, calculating every single word that comes out of his mouth as to not let anybody in too close. When the rigid barrier he’s erected around himself doesn’t need to be in place.
He’s only ever felt that with Penelope.
A piece of him is scared— no, terrified— he’ll never feel that way again if she ever leaves. If there were ever a day she wasn’t here anymore.
That’s when the over protectiveness kicks in. It’s like a feeling, an instinct to shield her from anything that could ever hurt her. If he were a better guy, he might feel embarrassed about it.
But he wasn’t, and he isn’t. It’s plain as day on Hotch’s face, surprised by Derek’s pushback, that he isn’t being as careful with his feelings as he’d hoped. The sudden agitation from his best agent wasn’t one Aaron was expecting.
Guilt festers in Derek’s stomach, and he thinks about going to apologize to the unit chief when suddenly she’s ripping out her IV, the devastation clear in her eyes. The sadness in her face curling around his heart and squeezing it.
Without even realizing it, his hands are pushing through her soft blonde hair, leaning her shoulders back and focusing her eyes on him.
He means every word. It was going to be one hell of a fight to get him to do anything but catch the asshole who did this, IA be damned. Who was he if he wasn’t protecting her?
Finally getting her to sit back in her bed, he slumps into the seat next to her. A sharp downstroke of his hands over his face, and he looks up.
And she’s on her side, her eyes still shining with tears, staring right into him.
“Thank you,” her hand reaches for his. Smoothing over the course hair of his knuckles with her thumb.
He shakes his head lightly, ”Go to sleep Baby, it’s your last night here.”
Her hands are interlaced with his when she dozes off.
—————-
He’s out of his element. And tired. And stressed as all heck because it’s been days and they still haven’t caught this guy.
And mostly because he’s standing in her apartment, her perfect little space that reflects everything she is, and he hadn’t believed he could be more in love with her until he was here.
Even after being shot by someone, someone who was still on the loose, she was thinking about his comfort. As if being with her was a chore he was tiring of doing. Like he had more important things to attend to.
The idea of anybody but her being his first priority was so foreign to him.
There wasn‘t anybody he thought about more, anybody who managed to make him feel so incredibly enamored that it stole his breath. Such a unique feeling that only Penelope Garcia could evoke from Derek.
Cause he loves her. Because he’s in love with her. So painfully in love with her. And everything about Penelope had entranced him from the moment they met and Derek knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t store away his feelings for her any longer.
He just thought he had more time. More time to get ready, to be a man deserving of such a perfect woman. More time to know, to be absolutely sure that he’s what she wants before he drops a bomb on their relationship.
He can’t risk losing her. It doesn’t matter in what way she wants him, Derek couldn’t return to a life where she’s not in it. He almost had to unwillingly, and it terrified him. Him and her was something he wasn’t ever going to mess with.
But then she’s turning away and heading to bed and he’s telling her ‘I love you’ before he can even stop himself.
And Penelope, perfect Penelope who always manages to exceed every expectation he could have about her, looks at him. Her lips press together tightly before pushing out into a soft smile. He could see her eyes glisten behind her frames, and when she doesn’t say anything back for a beat he worries that he’s ruined them.
“I love you too.” And it’s the only sound in the room as they look at each other, the bashful look on her face mirrored in his own. It hangs in the air, those three words he hasn’t said to anybody outside of his family, the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue for months now, were reciprocated in a way better than Derek could’ve ever dreamed of.
He can’t even move, utterly transfixed on the love of his life before him. It isn’t until she shuffled slightly on her feet, her fingers shoving against each other when he comes to.
She’s hurt, scared, and vulnerable. Just this week they were fighting, and the last guy to show interest in her ended up putting a bullet less than an inch away from her heart. Now is not the time for him to spring his wants to be with her, to be her boyfriend and eventually her husband, onto her when she’s still recovering.
So he backs off, smiling at her and quietly commanding she go to bed.
Penelope’s turning around, a small wave and a serene look in her blushed face.
Derek’s climbing into the blankets on her couch, dreaming of a future where they’re together.
—————-
taglist: @morcias @alexandrablake @lavenderbau @suburban--gothic @altsvu @rem-ariiana @vhsrights @spelleaway @willlemonheadsupremacy @ssaevie @demilope @criminalswifts @hotchshoney @moreidsdaughter @reidtheprettyboy
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pumpkin-stars · 3 years
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is that Oberyn fuckin Martell!?
trying out a new style (is it new if i haven’t settled on an actual style yet?)
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jelle-jareau · 3 years
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!! Face reveal !!
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Credit to @jemilyology
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criminal-mindsdaily · 3 years
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Criminal Minds Daily now has a discord server!
to join the server follow me, aspen and this source blog
after click on this link! 
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cosmicswandavision · 3 years
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♂︎ ⋮ 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗘𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝗢𝗳 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗩𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⇢ 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 in 1x01 ⇢ "𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞" ⋮ ♂︎
⚓︎ ⋮ 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁 𝔦𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝔬𝔯 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗲 ⋮ ⚓︎
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cassies-langs · 3 years
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userhaley · 3 years
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just between them ch4
ch1-3
i am beyond words grateful for the overwhelming support i have gotten for my writing. this is my third series and it means so much to me. the fact that you enjoy it and support me, i wish i could properly explain how much each of you have helped me keep going. you mean everything to me. thank you. 
pairing: morcia
category: fluff
word count: 1784
rating:  everyone is safe to read
warnings: brief mention of the death of a loved one (parents, grandparents)
this is the fourth chapter (it was going to be the last, but there will be one more and that one i promise will be the last chapter) and it is in dedication to my grace who has changed my life @temily thank u
“Hello love of my life you haven’t called in what feels like weeks,” in reality, he had called her only 90 minutes before. “I'm getting antsy hotstuff… ok, I miss you and your beautiful gorgeous everything, please tell me what information you guys need to finish this.” The team had been gone for an entire week; even though they had been gone for much longer and on more devastating cases in the past, Penelope found that every time Derek stepped on that jet since they had begun dating, her soul left with him when they kissed goodbye. 
It felt almost like a dream, she loved him so much she began to doubt the legitimacy of his existence despite her knowing for a fact that he was real; he was real and he loved her. Only when he was physically in front of her, where she could look into his eyes, cradle his face with both hands and feel his always warm skin; heart beating so fast that she felt it in his cheeks, could she feel her soul return to her.
“Whatever it is i'm gonna find it; laws be damned ok.. I just need to know which ones I gotta break so you can come home and I can kiss you.” she wasn’t actually going to break any laws; well, none that were too serious. She didn’t care how whiney she sounded or irrational. She was having a really hard time during this separation and her mind was not letting her have peace all by herself. 
Sometimes, not as often as when she was younger, her thoughts would begin to move in every direction when alone; she would be in such a state that it was easy to get overwhelmed with the smallest task or the tiniest inconvenience and soon she would be in tears. This never happened when she was with Derek, rarely when she was around anyone at all; it never happened with Derek because when she was with him her mind was at ease, soaking in everything about him. 
“Oh um, hey Garcia… it's uh.. not morgan.” The voice of Spencer Reid was such a surprise to her ears that had been expecting her favorite sound on earth, Derek's voice, that her eyes widened, breath disappeared, muscles tensed, and her hand covered her mouth at lightning speed. She was afraid because their relationship had not yet been established publicly, as far as she knew, she and Derek were in their own little bubble of love. The moment she heard Dr. Reid's voice, that bubble burst. Little did she know, Spencer had been aware of their relationship from the very first date. So naturally, so had the rest of the team. 
“Oh my god reid… i-i am so sorry what i..” her heart was beating so fast she could hear it. “I was just teasing you know that, right? you know how we are- derek and i have never kissed that’s crazy- i was just-” she realized she should have said morgan instead of derek, rarely did she call him by his first name at work. Her frantic explanation was interrupted by the boy genius who was listening to her rambling with raised eyebrows and a small, knowing smile on his face. 
“Garcia,” he said, dragging her name out, “you don’t have to explain. You don't think we have all gotten used to you and Derek going back and forth all these years?”
“Well still, i-im sorry,” her mind shifted from panicking about revealing her relationship to panicking about the whereabouts of the one that always called her. “wait, reid… why did you call me? That sounds mean, i'm just wondering why it was you and not morgan… he almost always calls me. spencer please tell me is he ok? I swear if he-” she was spiraling and Dr. Reid once again, reassured her.
“Garcia, he is fine. Ok I promise. He just um…” he paused briefly looking for something to tell his friend, who he was grateful was not a profiler, to calm her down while not giving away the location of his other dear friend. “Well right now he is um out with,” he looked around the room and locked eyes with Emily Prentiss and silently told her to go along with what he was making up on the spot. “Prentiss. They are canvassing a neighborhood near one of the murder sites and i needed to ask you for a background check on a potential suspect.” he was nodding as he explained and talking quite fast all while looking at the grin on emily’s face. 
“Oh-oh well ok what do you need my dear doctor?” She had no reason to not believe her friend and she felt calmer, the effects of her conversation with Reid sinking in. She did a quick search for him and soon she was alone with her thoughts once again. She immediately wanted to call Derek but decided against it fearing she would interrupt an important conversation; she simply wanted to hear his voice. No actually, it wasn’t that simple. She wanted to hear his voice and feel him next to her, to kiss him and have his arms around her; putting to rest every fear and frustration she had inside of her. “Good lord p, what’s gotten into you?” she questioned the intensity of her emotions even though she knew the answer. Ever since they had that beautiful moment on his deck before he had left; when they had spoken so softly to one another about marriage, she had this lingering heavy presence in her chest and when she thought of that conversation, she would breathe deeply and on the exhale she felt relief, contentment. No longer did the idea of marriage frighten her, that heaviness in her chest was from the vast amount of trust she had in derek, he occupied every ounce of her entire self, yet she remained the same. Being in love with Derek Morgan was like walking around with his embrace. She wanted to be his wife.
Derek Morgan knew very little about flowers. He knew they looked gorgeous in his babygirl’s blonde hair. They looked gorgeous in her red hair. On her many, oh so many, eccentric and bright dresses that were covered in them. He could picture every one of those dresses and each flower she had ever put in her hair. Whatever flower she had happened to have on her body at any given moment, that was his favorite flower.
He knew penelope had a favorite flower, he could still remember the first time he learned what it was. It had been exactly one month after they met and they were sat in her office long after they had been able to go home. They could talk for hours and lose track of every minute that passed, so wrapped up in one another; admiration and awe written on both of their faces as the other talked. He took in the sight of her desk that was covered liberally with trinkets and photos, her many colored pens, and her countless post it notes she had in places he assumed only made sense to her. A photo of a woman and a toddler sitting in a garden by several bright yellow sunflowers caught his eye; the toddler resembled Penelope and the woman in the picture. He asked her gently, in case the subject was too personal, who was in the picture. Her eyes met his and with a faint smile forming on her face she told him:
“My mom… and me,” she took the picture in her hands and continued. “The baby is me, obviously… she told me about this day once, i don’t remember all of the details but she said it was one of her absolute favorites. I think the garden is my grandmother’s, I'm not certain, i never got to meet her, but i think that’s what my mom told me.” he was looking at her and he felt so at peace. “Sunflowers were her favorite. My aunt told me that when i got older and it was kind of freaky because i had no idea… freaky because they were my favorite too. They still are. I love how they follow the sun, how as soon as the sun comes out they perk up and stand tall. How everyday the sun saves them. I don't know it probably sounds silly i'm rambling all you asked was who’s in the picture and here i go-” she was interrupted by a his hand moving to cover her’s; a move that had an instant calming effect on her, that small touch gave her goosebumps and she realized that he was like no one she had ever known to exist. 
“I love that. Babygirl, promise not to apologize for talking about what you love. I'm all ears.” that night replayed in his mind as he exited the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand. As he got back in his SUV he realized he was nervous. He was nervous to speak to her parents, something anyone else may have felt silly for, but not him. If anything, the fact that they were not there in person, added to his nervousness. He had so much respect for the two people that brought his babygirl to life, even if they were not standing in front of him in the flesh, he had to thank them; because without them, he would not have her. 
He took a deep breath and started the SUV; as he started towards the resting place of his (hopefully) future in-laws, he glanced down at a picture he kept close of himself and Penelope from two years before. The picture was taken at the bar that the team would frequent. He smirked as he remembered that night and then it dawned on him… sunflowers. 
“Continues to amaze me… god she is so magical.” This was his response as his mind made the connection to what she had said to him that ight her favorite flower was revealed, and their entire relationship. The look on his face in the picture from two years before is what made him realize. He was the sunflower, she was the sun. everyday, she saved him. As soon as he hears her voice, he is rejuvenated; much like a sunflower is when the sun’s rays come out from behind the clouds. He can not survive without the light and warmth that she is made of. He will follow her wherever she goes. 
He felt elation, pure, pure love when that realization brought on another. That was exactly how she felt about him.
taglist: @pagetsimp @lovelyladiess @rubberpuck @sturmmhond @ssaevie @ssa-arianna @femmeb  @abitcriminalminds @wannabemerida @thebluetint @penelopeggrace @hotchsbabygirl @a-writers-ramblings @scandinavian-punk @lavenderbau @paget-prentiss @agentshortstacc @gublersbooblers @reidingdays @perpetual-goodvibes @reidtheprettyboy @vhsrights @demilope @endingsbeginnings @ssa-prentissinred @emilysprentisss @sugarbabyreid  @sleepyreid @morceid @spencehotchner @altsvu @wheelsup @thnksfrthmmrs @crimmy @reidrights @transhotchner @patriotseli @tobias-hankel @spelleaway  @morganspenelope @dralexreid @inlovewithbabygirl @ellesgreenaway @thejeidhater @froggybagels @rafesbitch
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vhsrights · 3 years
Conversation
football
JJ: Fuck!
Emily: What happened?
JJ: Steelers fumbled on the 3rd down and they lost 3 yards. With the other team's defensive line, I don't know if they're gonna make it.
Emily: What if they just throw the ball really far?
JJ: *facepalming* Em, that's not always how it works.
Emily: Well, they're men. So they're gonna take the stupidest options, and from what I've seen, it's usually the ones that end in dog piles.
JJ: You're not wrong there.
Emily: Now if it was with women-
JJ: Emily, we've been over this before. Yes, I know you would watch it "for the plot". I would too.
144 notes · View notes
simoneashley · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
heartbreak weather headers
like/reblog if you save
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hxneyandespressx · 3 years
Text
if i were a man (i’d be the man)
summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content
word count: 6.2k 
content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide
a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”
☆。*。☆。
It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.
Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.
“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.
“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.
“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.
“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.
After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.
As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.
“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”
“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.
“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.
“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.
“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”
The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.
“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.
“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”
“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.
“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said. 
“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.  
“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.
“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked. 
“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.
“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.  
“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out. 
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The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion. 
“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ. 
“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group. 
“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion. 
“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said. 
JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.
“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call. 
“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.
“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.
“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer
“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said. 
“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said. 
Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia. 
“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.
“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”
“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.  
To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist. 
“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.
“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked. 
“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files. 
“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.
“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad. 
“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.
After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about. 
The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.
“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.
“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap. 
JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.
The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.
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A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman. 
“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman. 
“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”
“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.
“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room. 
Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub. 
“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant. 
“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.
“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group. 
“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.
“Talk to me.”
“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”
“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”
“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say. 
“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said. 
“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained. 
“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out. 
“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said. 
“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.
“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted. 
“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had. 
“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.
With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward. 
“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked. 
“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.
“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.
“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”
“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained. 
“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”
“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.
“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked. 
“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”
“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected. 
“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said. 
“The stressor?” Hotch asked. 
“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”
“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained. 
“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said. 
“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said. 
“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”
“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek. 
“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement. 
“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.
“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.
“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said. 
“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically. 
“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings. 
“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question. 
 “But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated. 
It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning. 
Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.
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Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina. 
Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.
Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and 
Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location. 
“Hotchner.”
“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans. 
“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.
“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning. 
“You reading a book? What’s the title?”
“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”
“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated. 
“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.
“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded. 
“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked. 
“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker. 
“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied. 
“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down. 
“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline. 
“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun. 
“I try my best.”
“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question. 
“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said. 
“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation. 
“I have a son.”
“How often do you see him?” 
“I try to see him every week.”
“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack. 
“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.
“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone. 
“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked. 
“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained. 
“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.  
“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief. 
“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained. 
“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”
“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said. 
“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room. 
“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence. 
“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.
“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”
“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”
After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub. 
“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said. 
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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other. 
“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”
“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said. 
“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels. 
“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”
“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”
“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology. 
“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room. 
“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood. 
“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”
“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen. 
“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.
“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked. 
“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.
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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck. 
The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case. 
“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”
“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”
“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “
“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.  
JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps. 
“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked. 
“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.
“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.
“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.   
“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity. 
The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub. 
“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man. 
“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence. 
“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation. 
JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room. 
“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer. 
“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct. 
“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in. 
Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down. 
JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life. 
“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door. 
“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss. 
“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.
Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other. 
“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown. 
“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl. 
More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery. 
“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it. 
“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”
“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue. 
Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story. 
taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @jemilyology / @pumpkin-stars / @lgbtbau / @drinkingcroissants / @abbyprentiss / @pen3mily / @morcias / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @notsosmexy / @rxcklessly-bratty / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp
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sapphiics · 3 years
Text
Didn’t we almost have it
a/n: I heavily suggest listening to Dammit by Jana Kramer while reading this, it is where I got the entire plot from.
dt: to my dear @morcias because who else just loves morcia so much. plus I asked her a million questions to help me figure out details for this.
word count: 3k
content warning: it’s angsty(?) and quite sad but with a very happy ending.
-----
God did Penelope hate driving through Illinois.
The only reason she was coming back was for the bridal shower of a girlfriend from college, otherwise she would’ve stayed in California, where she was at least a good thousand miles away from this place.
All it did was make her nostalgic, almost painfully so. The entire state serving as a physical reminder of her old life. One she had not a chance in hell of getting back.
The urge to race her car to the nearest ‘Leaving Illinois’ sign coming over her yet again, Penelope makes a right turn onto Commonwealth avenue. Christina’s house was only five minutes from where she was.
It was the walkway that first drew her eye. A stone path, small flowers lining it. She could almost hear his heavy footsteps getting louder as he jogs to greet her, meeting Penelope in the middle with a chaste kiss as she hauls grocery bags under her arms, enough food for four. 
As she nears closer, her eyes travel up the length of the two-story building, it’s utter perfectness painfully pressing into her like a stab to the gut. It took every ounce of restraint that she possessed not to slam the brakes and just gawk at the vision in front of her.
That was the house.
The dream house. The one the two of them fantasized about back in college. Penelope can practically see the late nights they spent in her dorm, cramped together on her twin bed, their fingers intertwined. His free hand running over her head, pushing her hair back behind her ear and tilting her into his shoulder. Hushed planning of their happily ever after. She can hear his voice whispering in her ear, about how they would have two perfect daughters. He would be a FBI agent, and she would work for a nonprofit organization. He’d cook, she’d clean, he would take care of the lawn, she’d do the laundry.
That was the plan. Their own special, simple, linear plan.
Until real life happened, essentially taking those plans and throwing it off a cliff. That’s all it was now, a pretty daydream to keep Penelope from having to accept the fact that nothing in her life is going like she hoped, and she’s probably going to end up alone.
None of that stopped her from turning into the lot of the house, the door slightly cracked open. A large ‘For Sale’ sign hung on it. 
Giving her the perfect opportunity to see what she could’ve had. To spend a few fleeting moments dreaming of the life she would’ve had with him.
Finally found that dream house, and yet the dream guy was long gone.
Her hands shakier than she would’ve liked, Penelope slowly steps out of her car, the two story home everything she ever envisioned.
The path up to the house was lined with daffodils, she could see as she passed them. The front door was a smooth dark brown. Solid wood, contrasting with the otherwise creme exterior of the house.
That would’ve been his touch. He always liked that building and renovating stuff, she could almost hear him begging her to let him remodel the place. To really ‘make it their home.’
The entrance didn’t nothing to deter her, the arching ceilings and oak floors straight out of her most vivid dreams. The arches reminded her of college. Charles Deering Memorial Library, to be specific. She had always liked the gothic architecture, and even he could admit that the towering building’s medieval influence was well executed. And that chill day in March, the ninth, to be exact, when they first met. She was working there part-time, and he needed something from the football archives.
It was his smile that drew her in, his eyes drawn up real small as he flashed her two rows of perfect teeth. 
What she would give for one of those smiles right about now.
An embarrassingly loud gasp left her mouth as she walked in further. Ahead of her were a pair of large black couches, perpendicular to each other. A grand fireplace in front of them, an open space perfect for a nice big flat screen.
Hockey. That’s what would be playing. He was huge on the sport, and her mind drifted to an image of the two of them sitting on the couch. Him in a worn out jersey and his lucky socks, her in his beat leather jacket, feet propped up in his lap. She has headphones and her knitting, he has a beer she steals sips of and has a loose grip on her ankle, his fingers pressing against the small tattoo she got the day she turned eighteen. Just like old times.
Without even glimpsing at the side door that led to the kitchen, Penelope could already visualize him sitting on the counter. A soft white tee and some sweatpants, strumming on her ukulele and singing some old 90s ballad off key while she chopped vegetables. Later that night, after their girls went to bed, the two of them dancing together to her parents’ old record player. An old Bee Gees song softly in the background as they sway.
Her mind racing, she’s already thinking of summer barbecues. Her and JJ drinking margaritas in the shade, their children’s laughter bringing a grin to her face. Him talking it up with Rossi about god knows what as he mans the grill. The sun setting as he takes a seat next to her, tugging her into his side and placing a small kiss on the side of her head.
The overwhelming realization that Penelope is never going to get that future, never going to have the future she so desperately wanted with him, hit her harder than ever in that moment.
And next thing she knows she can feel tears running down her cheeks. Alone, in the middle of an open house in the one state, the one city she vowed to never return to, and she’s sobbing like a baby.
“Well Hello Miss!” ,a kind old woman steps out, shocking Penelope back to reality, “You here for the house?”
 “Yes,“ she says softly, hastily wiping at her face,  “Yes I am. Just a quick look around.” Her hands swipe at her dress, trying to regain even a semblance of composure, “You have a beautiful home.”
The woman casts her a sympathetic smile,
“Thank you. Me and Sarah have lived here for over forty years. We raised our five children in these very walls,” the lady beams, a smile coming over her face as she looks around the room, 
“We figured that with them all gone and us not getting any younger, we could downsize just a bit.”
Penelope let out a polite laugh, but stayed silent otherwise.
“You stay for as long as you like! My name’s Carolyn by the way. Let me know if you need anything!”
“Penelope, and thank you,” she smiles at her, Carolyn returning to the back of the house.
Penelope’s eyes catch onto the grand staircase, passing over the perfect crème walls and carpet flooring.
Her feet moved towards it, the view before her so accurate to her vision that it was like somebody reached into her brain and pulled out the design themselves. She needed to have this place.
Right before she can take a step on the stairs, she sees Carolyn return, a dimmed smile on her face.
“I’d like to buy the house,” Penelope states confidently. She couldn’t possibly leave here without having it.
It didn’t matter that she lived across the country, with decent enough friends and a steady job. This was the house, and if she had the chance to get at least one part of the dream, she damn sure was going to take the opportunity.
Carolyn winces, a regretful look on her face. “I’m so sorry Penelope, we just had somebody place an offer for it.”
“Oh,” Penelope’s eyes widen slightly, and she can feel the tears pushing their way to the surface. For just a second, she let herself get entranced by the home, and it hurt more than she was willing to admit that she couldn’t have it.
“Are you looking for a similar house ? There’s one just in Fullerton Road, and I believe it is on sale.”
“No I… I just got caught up,” Penelope waves her hand around the side of her head, her cheeks turning red, “It’s okay, an amazing family deserves this home.”
“Actually, the young man who purchased the place is with Sarah in the back right now. He’s already thinking of renovating the place.”
“Sounds great,” Penelope mused, wanting to be anywhere but here. At least a loving family is getting this house. She just hoped they were as happy as she once imagined she would be.
“Here they are,“  Carolyn announces, adding to Penelope’s discomfort. She had to leave, and fast. The last thing she wanted to see was the happy husband who bought this place to catch her, essentially a random stranger, crying in his kitchen.
“Is your family nearby? Why didn’t they come?” A woman, Penelope could only assume was Sarah, Carolyn’s wife, was talking to the new owner of the house. Penelope stiffened, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.
A deep laugh comes from the other person, and she could hear the two people approaching. “Nope, I’m a single man.”
“What the hell did you need such a big house for then?” Sarah quips.
“Just,” the guy takes a resigned breath, “Just wishful thinking I guess.“
Penelope could hear her heartbeats, the sound thrumming loudly in her ears. She shut her eyes, squeezing them to the point of something akin to pain. This couldn’t be happening. This could just be a terrible dream, and when she opened them, she would be waking up in her apartment. Back home, where she was away from her old life here. Safely away from the love of her life, whose voice she just heard for the first time in five years.
“Sarah, this is Penelope. She just stopped by to look at the house.”
Penelope reluctantly turns, peeling her eyes open. To her disappointment, she was still standing in the swept sold house. Still back in her college town.
Still right in front of her ex-fiancé, one she’s just as irrevocably in love with as she was the day he proposed.
“Derek,” she lets out quietly, drinking in everything about him. He’s only gotten better-looking, and Penelope has always been attracted to him.
It was his face, his eyes to be specific, that captured her in this moment.
Because instead of the resentment and anger she had expected, she had deserved, all that was there was a small shimmer of hope. A sliver of hope that she almost cried tears of relief at seeing. Hope she had given up on ever having until she saw it in his face. The same look reflected in her own eyes.
“Penelope.” 
His voice usually stern, she can hear the small waver in his tone. Like he’s just as affected by her as she is him.
Even after all these years, she can’t help but melt when it comes to Derek. It was like her innermost self just knew him, recognized that he, no matter how far apart they were, was always going to have a part of her heart. A power over her that she would never give to any other person.
Yet looking into Derek’s eyes, the only man to ever capture her heart, Penelope could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way she did.
“So, um, we’ll just leave you two for now,”  Carolyn’s eyes clearly wide as she drags her wife outside of the kitchen, leaving the pair alone together.
Derek walks a couple steps closer to her, the smell of nice cologne wafting to her nose as he moves near.
He opened his mouth, almost as if he were about to start speaking, but Penelope catches his small sigh and the twitch of his hands.
They were so close, closer than they had been in years, yet that short distance felt wider than the thousands of miles she had made sure to have between them for the past half a decade.
The lack of touch. That’s what was halting them.
They were always touching one another. It was an unspoken language, just for the two of them to understand. 
To be so close yet not touching, it felt so inorganic to Penelope, so abnormal.
Penelope looks just a little off to the right of him, his presence too overwhelming. He was examining her, and the quiet was anxious.
“Why didn’t you take the ring?” Derek spits out, his low voice subdued by the hurt she could just hear in his voice. “ I could handle how you left, no note or calls. But you left me your ring Penelope.”
She thought she was prepared for this, the anger he would have for her. But hearing the words in real time, from Derek himself, made her stomach turn. A ball of nausea tossed in her stomach, Derek’s pain something that never failed to physically wound Penelope.
“Derek...,” her heart breaking at how much she affected him.
“Did I,” he pauses, sucking in a shallow breath, “Did we mean that little to you?”
“No.” She locks onto his eyes at that, holding his stare. “You- us, that was everything to me.” A fierceness was in her voice that shocked her, and at the look of his slightly widened stare, she wasn’t the only one. The idea that Derek for a second could fathom the idea that he wasn’t the love of her life, her soulmate, was a stake to the heart.
“Was it marriage? Was it not wanting to be married? Because you could’ve told me.”
Surprising her own self, she moves in a half-step, her hands enclosing one of Derek’s clenched ones. Her fingers act on instinct, sliding through his, rubbing her thumb on the back of his index finger. Five years and his fingers still naturally close around hers .
Her teeth firmly sunk into the flesh on the back of her lip, she peers up at Derek, his expression unreadable. He was always better at the reading people thing, it was like second nature to him.
“I promise you, Derek Morgan, there is nothing I have ever wanted more than to marry you.”
Feeling his hand tighten around hers, glancing up to see his brows pulling together, she pushes on, needing to express to him her every feeling. “ You didn’t deserve what I did, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I didn’t feel like the luckiest person in the world to have such an amazing guy.”
“ I am so,” words that she’s been practicing for years suddenly getting clogged in her throat, making every word come out like a croak, “ so sorry for ever hurting you.”
Tears burning behind her eyes, nothing stuns her more than when Derek cups her face, his large palm enclosing her cheek as he runs his fingers lightly through her hair. 
“Is it the house?”
Taken aback, Penelope jolts her head upward. “What?”
His hand now on her shoulder, he turns her to the right, giving her a wider view of the home.
“Is it the right house?”
“It’s the perfect house.” Her voice trailing off at the end.
She faces Derek, his lips pressed together like he’s trying not to say something.
“We could- we could still have it.” His eyes looking at their hands, in a way that was so unlike him, Penelope didn’t dare try to assume anything about what his words meant.
“Have what?” her attempt to keep her voice even failing miserably. Averting his stare, her eyes land on his neck, where a thin gold chain rests.
A chain that had something that looked dangerously similar to a ring hidden under his shirt.
He looks to where she’s staring, a bald-faced look on her face, and his fingers pull out the necklace to reveal a gold wedding band. The one she bought for him, with the special engraving on the inside.
Through the tears rapidly coming to her eyes, she could see Derek’s face. And the vulnerability and love that shined from him to her 
Because he kept it. Even in his clear anger and hurt, the heartbreak she put him in, he kept her ring. 
“The plan.” Derek reaches behind his neck, his fingers reaching to the clasp of the necklace. “The big wedding, the two girls,” He slides the ring off of the chain, twirling it round in his hand. “Our dream.” He finally places the ring in her hands, gently closing her fingers around it.
Her mouth falling slightly open, Penelope slowly blinks three times. The words that just came out of his mouth so unbelievable that her brain was taking some time to catch up. She pulls her lip sideways into her mouth, too nervous to say anything.
His hands come up on each side of her face, a tender clasp that lets him turn her head up towards him.
“I never gave up on you, on us.” He lets out a sad laugh, “ Hell, I’m here about to buy a house just to try and get a piece of that dream.”
Penelope bobs her head slightly back, the shock of what’s happening still getting to her. “You really still want it?”
And Derek, bless his sweet soul, just looks at her with a small smile resting on his lips. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing babygirl,” the sound of his old nickname for her better than anything she’s heard the last few years, “that I want more than to be with you for the rest of my life.”
A matching smile coming to her mouth, she brings Derek’s left hand down to her own, and slides the wedding band on to his ring finger.
A soft cry breaks from her lips, and she feels nothing other than pure joy when he leans down, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.
Maybe, just maybe, they can have it after all.
————
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