go the f*ck to sleep

Summary: JJ sees Hotch struggling with single parenthood and offers to help. Miraculously...he accepts.

Pairing: none

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of canon character deaths (haley & jj's sister), insomnia, grief, depression

Notes: I woke up this morning and had this image in my mind. It was written so fast and it's barely a fully fledged thought but...here you go. It's sad Hotch hours. And it isn't hotchgan! (I have a lot of that coming your way in the next week though, between several stories and several moodboards.) Merry Thursday!

*********

It wasn’t much. Hell, it was barely anything at all, she thought as she set the paper cup (extra hot americano, double shot) on Hotch’s desk. She held the card in her hands, hesitant. His office was cleaner than it had been in as long as she could remember, and it made her deeply uncomfortable. Like he was hiding something.

He’d always been an open book when it came to his work load. Case files and reports stacked on his desk, his email perpetually two away from being overflowing, the data on his phone complaining about the number of texts he wouldn’t delete. Just in case he needed them. (And he had needed plenty of them, so the end justified the means, so to speak.) So this new thing, this clean office, clean desk, organized email inbox...well she was a little concerned.

from my story both hands

adding it all up

Summary: Hotch follows Reid and Jack into a haunted house. Inside he meets a ghost and stumbles right into some unexpected arms.

Pairing: Hotch/Will

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: nightmares, ptsd, minor injuries, panic attack

Notes: I formally submit to you my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute/Ugly Challenge with the prompt: Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help. To the surprise of no one at this point, I took some creative liberties with the prompt. There isn't much to the plot, it's pretty simple and we mostly just have an excuse for kissing. As with everything I've written so far about this pairing, we live in a universe where Will is a DC Metro Detective but he is not nor has he ever been with JJ because we don't have time for that kind of backstory in these little one-shots. Thanks for reading yo! Let's show this incredibly rare pairing some love. (And now I return to writing about hotchgan...I can only stray for so long.)

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease dad!”

“I’d rather not,” Hotch said, as if it was going to change the mind of his six year old son. And maybe he didn’t really want to because his argument was pretty flimsy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go in, or that he didn’t like Halloween. “I don’t like to be scared.” That was a lie and Reid saw the opening, poking a huge hole in it immediately.

“You get scared for a living,” Reid pointed out from behind him and Hotch groaned. He’d been hoping Reid would take his side. “Come on Jack. If your dad is too chicken I’ll take you in. I’m kind of an expert.”

“You are?!”

Reid crouched beside Jack as best he could, favoring his still sore (always sore) knee and leaned as close as he could to the child. His whisper smelled like kettle corn and candied apples and cotton candy, that’s what Jack thought anyway. Reid smelled like a carnival. “I’ve already been through it three times. I bet you could find some people in there you know. Like playing a really big game of Where’s Waldo…”

“Who’s in there?!”

“You’ll have to come in with me and see.”

“Can I dad?!”

Hotch sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

the shape you take

Summary: Hotch is sad. Jack is just about to turn 18, Hank is spending the summer with his mom and he's dwelling on the empty nest. Morgan has just the ticket: sea, sand, food and naps. Fun in the sun and the sack. While exploring a nude beach one night they find a little more than they bargained for. (Part of The Chicago Times series)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: sex (not explicit details, just "hey they're having sex" type thing), food & alcohol, mentions of Foyet’s knife, scars (both of them), murder/corpse/blood, an inappropriate boner situation...

Read on AO3: the shape you take

Notes: This is my first entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge. I used one of the NSFW prompts but this is basically PG-13 because I don’t really write smut, just some sexy vibes. The prompts I chose were: Character A finally convinces B to go to the beach with them. Turns out it's a nude beach mixed with The sun makes Characters sleepy, so they take a nap. (They take a lot of naps. They're old.) There are a couple more from the list that I hope to write for before the challenge is finished, but we’ll see where the summer takes me! The end here is purposely left open for a special surprise...another collab with @domestikhighway58! Because writing with hwy58 is a dream and I want to do it all the time. To be unveiled soon-ish. (How's that for noncommittal?) (I'm posting the whole thing here, I haven't done that in a while...do you want me to go back to that or keep just linking AO3?)

Win by persuasion, not by force.

All spring Derek had been dropping hints. Little ones at first. He would add feta cheese to salad one night at dinner, or watch Hercules with Hank when he knew Aaron was going to be coming home from work or a run. Nothing big, but he knew Aaron would pick up on it eventually.

As they approached summer, the tactics became a little less subtle. There was a brochure stuck to the freezer, and a bottle of Greek red wine opened after dinner on Derek’s last day of work for the summer. Aaron had been done a week earlier. They waited to celebrate until everyone was finished and on summer break.

restless heart

Summary: Derek Morgan joins the BAU, making it a team of three, and steals Aaron Hotchner's heart. A slow burn, mutual pining to falling in love story. First meeting to happily ever after.

Notes: I'm kind of just inventing my own timelines here. Artistic liberty doesn't begin to cover the webs I'm weaving. As usual, sorry in advance for starting ANOTHER multi-chapter and for not having anything resembling a posting schedule. We fly fast and loose in these parts nowadays. I'll be incorporating some of the requests that are in my inbox into this story (and a few others) so be on the lookout. I'll answer the ask with a link when it's been used.

Chapter One (5.3k) - in which there is an unconventional job interview & lots of thinly veiled flirting Chapter Two (6.5k) - in which Derek moves in, acquires Clooney and befriends Haley (oh and a case goes very very bad for Aaron & Jason) Chapter Three (6.5k) - in which Aaron & Derek travel to Montana and Aaron saves Derek's life which turns Derek on a little

as the crow flies (masterlist)

Summary: After a journalist does the BAU dirty, Derek is forced to take the job running the New York Field Office. And Hotch? He's over here dealing with losing his hearing and his partner. (AU where Hotch and Haley have a daughter (Lucy) instead of Jack. Based on this story.)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: Lo-Fi/Mayhem explosion/injuries, bloody nose, throwing up, brief nsfw moments (this list will be updated as the chapters are posted and each chapter contains its own set of warnings)

Words: 35k (complete!)

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER ONE (5.3k)

CHAPTER TWO (5.6k)

CHAPTER THREE (6.5k)

CHAPTER FOUR (4k)

CHAPTER FIVE (2k)

CHAPTER SIX (2.5K)

CHAPTER SEVEN (2.8k)

CHAPTER EIGHT (3.4K)

CHAPTER NINE (2.6k)

This story is complete! I might add an epilogue at some point but hey, 35k words for something that I had intended to be a one-shot is...it's a lot.

down for a while

Summary: Derek asked Hotch if he wanted to talk about it...well, maybe now, at 2am, he does. (Coda to 5x02 - Haunted)

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.4k

Notes: Every time I watch this episode, I am tempted to write a slightly different take on aftermath to get it out of my system. This one I tried to keep kind of lighthearted. All things considered.

It was the snuffling, first. It broke the dream briefly, but he dipped back in happily.

Clooney's incessant snorting and whimpering, that was what finally actually woke Derek. The dog was too well-behaved to bark in the middle of the night unless he sensed danger, but that didn't stop him from trying to find other more unique ways to wake Derek and alert him that there was business to attend to.

When that tactic didn't work, he put his front paws on the edge of the bed and pressed his warm, wet nose into Derek's neck. A bold move, one that usually came with a swat and a groan, perhaps a string of words that would make a sailor blush. Sometimes it blended seamlessly with the dream and Derek woke uncomfortable and feeling sick, but tonight it was at odds with the violence. He was dreaming about Darrin Call's pharmacy massacre. He'd just slipped in the blood, and Clooney's nose wet against his earlobe did not help.

“Whaddayouwant?” Derek grumbled, peering with one blurry eye at the clock across the room. 2:12am. He couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips, and if you told him it was actually a whine (or maybe even a whimper), he might be inclined to argue but it would be weak at best. “Gotta pee? Right now?”

Clooney's tail swished wildly back and forth against the floor and he let out the smallest, least offensive yip in response. That usually meant it was urgent, and it lit a fire under Derek's sleepy ass. The last thing he wanted was a lake of dog piss on his floor after the day he'd had.

Or worse.

Playing around with moodboards for the first time and now I'm thinking I just want to do them for everything even though I am not even good at them. These were a gift for @jaspxr because she is the inspiration behind As the Crow Flies. (I swear I will finish that someday...)

Anyway. Apologies in advance for the potential onslaught of moodboards.

the hope of all we might have been

Summary: Peter Lewis is dead, and Hotch is released from Witness Protection into the wilds of Chicago. What's he gonna do? Well, he's heard that Derek has moved back to Chicago...maybe there's a chance at a new beginning waiting for him.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Um...none? I can't think of anything. It's pure fluff.

** THE CHICAGO TIMES COLLECTION MASTERLIST **

Notes: Part One of the Chicago series, a foundation for the whole thing. A new life for these sweet, soft old men. (It's on AO3 too, if you prefer to head on over there.)

“Peter Lewis is dead.”

Those four words should have felt more comforting than they were. They should have filled him with relief, knowing that he could have his life back. He could walk confidently back into his suits and into his office.

Except, now faced with those words, he found he wasn't that naive. He could have his name back, and he could have his freedom back, but that life was forever dead to him.

A month or two and maybe it would have been possible, but a lot happens in a year and that was no longer his department, no longer his team. And maybe he didn't want it anymore, maybe that was the real truth of it. Maybe the last year was hell, was torture, was nightly arguments with Jack about missing family and ruined lives, I hate yous and I'm sorry's spread thick and sour over everything they touched. Maybe it was hell, but they'd seen their way through it, and were emerging on the other side.

Not unchanged. His heart no longer beat for the BAU. If he went back, Jack would surely never forgive him.

But they had Chicago. Of all the places on the map they were offered, Chicago called to him with her endless towering gray structures, a bone kingdom to wander through and hide within. No one stood out here, no one was looking here. He liked it. The anonymity was ripe and comforting. More than that, the opportunity to knock on a familiar door after all this time, to be right near someone who could look into his face and recognize him for who he really was...that was the hope he'd held onto. Some days it was firm, others like water through his fingers.

“Did you hear me, Hotch?”

as the crow flies (part six)

Summary: After a journalist does the BAU dirty, Derek is forced to take the job at the New York Field Office. Hotch is forced to deal. (AU where Hotch and Haley have a daughter instead of a son. Based on this story.)

Warnings: explosion injury aftermath, intermittent hearing loss, surgery, food

Words: 2.5k

Notes: Post-Op fluff. All cute. Seriously. Just cute. Derek & Sean & Lucy & sleeping Hotch CUTE.

** CHAPTER LIST **

“Paging Doctor Lucy!”

That was her signal to come running from wherever she was. The signal that daddy needed her, and Derek couldn't help. In this case, he was thirsty, and Derek was on an important work call in his office. Negotiating time off hadn't gone quite as planned, but he was at least able to do the majority of his work from home so he could manage the patient care from the sidelines. Lucy was a good doctor, willing to get in and do the dirty work like bring grumpy daddy his apple juice and his medicine already carefully counted out by Derek well in advance and placed in sparkly color-coded trays hand painted by the doctor herself. Their system worked.

Hotch had been home for a few hours already, in and out of medicated naps in the leather recliner that was temporarily in Derek's office. He'd insisted the bedroom would be fine, prop him up on a few pillows and he'd be good to go. Derek had other plans. The surgeon insisted he sleep sitting up for the first couple of days, until the swelling had gone down, and if Derek had to work, he wanted him close by. That meant dragging the chair into the office while he worked and dragging it back out into the living room when he was done. Maybe even the bedroom later. He and Sean had planned in advance and put the damn thing on its own rug, that made it pretty easy to pull here and there without scuffing up his shiny hardwood floors or pissing off his downstairs neighbors.

Speaking of Sean, Derek was patiently waiting for him to come by and bring his own particular brand of havoc. He'd promised dinner and another pirated movie they just had to watch, this time one he thought even his brother might enjoy...and of course Clooney would be back. Lucy was most excited for that. She missed her dog...he'd become hers in the time he spent living in Hotch's place. Derek heard, by way of accidental slips, that Clooney had been sleeping on her bed and even though he'd strictly forbidden that he couldn't find it in him to be upset. He just couldn't.

foolish heart

Summary: (coda to 4x07 - "Memoriam") Hotch has an ear infection, Derek rubs elbows with Las Vegas royalty, and then they have a little romantic time. Self-indulgent fluff.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: illness, lots of food and some alcohol

Notes: Fluff. Pure, decadent fluff. Hotchgan in Vegas. A private Tony Bennett concert because hey, Rossi has connections and that's canon. Enjoy. Brush your teeth afterward or they'll rot.

Vegas. It always came with this strangely electric feeling that seemed to course through him uncomfortably, like the lights from the strip were drawing straight from the pumping of his heart. This time was worse. This time Hotch could feel his pulse in his jaw, a steadily growing ache that lit up the side of his face. Placing his hand there, he almost thought he could feel it throbbing and he knew it wasn't just Vegas being Vegas, there was something else going on.

It hadn't been terribly concerning during the case. It didn't distract him, anyway. That was kind of the baseline...could he ignore it to stay focused? Then he was probably fine.

But the moment they had the child back in his parents' care, the moment the unsub was in cuffs, the throb from his jaw to his ear began getting louder and a lot harder to ignore. Periodically he reached up and cupped the side of his face, let his hand rest there gently, closed his eyes and counted one two three breaths. It was making him dizzy.

“Hotch,” JJ started, approaching him during a moment of dark, the dangerous feeling his knees might buckle just barely starting to pass. “You look as sick as I've felt all day. Go back to the hotel, I can finish up here. I'm waiting on a call from Michael's parents anyway...”

“What for?” he asked, focusing for a moment on her words. She smiled sweetly at him, brushing off his immediate concern.

“I just want to make sure they're okay, you know? Getting settled.” He could understand that. “Please, Hotch. Go. I'll be fine here. See you at the airstrip in the morning.” She placed her hand on her stomach, rubbed lightly at the underside and stared intently at him until he had no choice but to listen.

legend

I had this idea. And I sprinted it in 20 minutes and didn't edit it and if it sucks, I'm sorry but CM: Evolution has really put me in my Hotchgan feels HARD (as if I ever really leave but...) so this happened. It fits with the @comfortember prompt for today: proud. ❤

1.6k words. Cheesy, stupid, self-indulgent and so sweet. Hotch & Morgan semi-retired and freezing at a Northwestern University football game.

Breathing hurt.

Hotch tugged his hat down over his ears and pressed his gloved hands over his mouth and nose, sucking in one, two, three deep breaths through the filter of warm knit wool. It didn't sting his lungs the way the air did. Derek's aunt made them for him, and a hat to match, and they were holding up better than anything he'd ever purchased at the store. She had made some crack about how he was always cold and made him two pair...his indoor gloves and his outdoor gloves. It was meant as a joke, poking fun at the way he wrapped himself in blankets or seated himself as close to a fire as he could, but he'd never minded a good joke at his expense. Especially not when that joke came with the warmest gloves he'd ever put on his hands.

“WOOOOOOOOOOO! GET EM!” Derek shouted from beside him, startling him by jumping up and waving his arms in the air wildly. “YEAH BABY!” Hotch glanced up at Derek and smiled cold and dreamy. He had no idea what had just happened on the field, but it mattered little. He had sixty quizzes to grade and Derek had a game to watch, that was the deal.

“You see that? DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

Hotch blinked up at him and Derek knew what that meant. He hadn't. It was okay, too. He would explain that it was one of the boys Derek had mentored at the youth center, one of the many he'd helped get scholarships to Northwestern. He was in his last year and he was a stud. NFL quality, Derek said, and he was working his tail off to get scouts out, get him noticed. He had connections.

Rattle of Bones

Summary: Morgan likes to kick in doors, we all know this. Hotch, not very secretly, really likes when he does it. There is no actual plot here, just a lot of them being really fucking pretty and a lot of splintered wood.

Warnings: some (not graphic but definitely emotionally charged ) sexy time, doors kicked in, alcohol, minor injuries, canon-typical violence (minor), mention of Foyet & scars

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.8k

Notes: This story is for @there-must-be-a-lock's Fics Against Humanity writing challenge. My chosen cards were: (white) Derek Morgan kicking down a door // (black) _________ to lovers is my favorite trope. Honestly not much of a stretch for me, but very very fun to write and totally chaotic, just like them.

Total: $257.43

“What is this?”

“It's a bill from the Shoreline Motel in Seaside, Oregon where you apparently kicked a door in. After they gave you a room key.” Hotch smirked, folding his arms over his chest and reclining with one hip firmly planted against his favorite spot on Morgan's desk. It was somehow smoothest right there, maybe from years of flagrant leaning like it was his job. Seeing Morgan squirm was almost delightful, the indignity of being billed for kicking a door off of its hinges to save lives too much for his skin to bear.

“The Bureau won't pay for it, apparently they've decided you've crossed a line this time. Something about unnecessary destruction of private property.” Gideon watched from the catwalk, leaning on the railing and feeling very pleased with the way the scenario played out. He'd intended to give it to Morgan himself, but Hotch needed the experience, the promotion talk was getting louder with each passing day, harder to ignore the noise from above, the sideways glances and the drooling over something they couldn't have. Yet. Not quite ready, he had to learn how to have the hard conversations with people he liked, not just people who had committed heinous crimes. People he thought fell into his narrow view of justice were easy to stare down, easy to interrogate but people he liked, situations he deemed unfair, those were tricky for him. Troubled waters when things went from black and white to muddy gray. So, Gideon watched them bicker over whether or not it was right, a point that he found to be a source of endless amusement because he knew very well that they were, essentially, both on the same side – Hotch's job may have been to hand over the bill and make sure it was taken care of, tow the Bureau's line as Lead Profiler and future Unit Chief, but that didn't mean he agreed with it. That was, sometimes, the job.

“This is bullshit,” Morgan muttered incredulously, tossing the bill to his desk. “I caught that guy.”

“Guess the motel thought you should have used the key they gave you...”

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

He loves Haley to the ends of the earth, but he no longer serves a purpose in her life except to make it harder.

I love you. this broke me. I'll never ever recover.

These Small Hours

Summary: Hotch and Morgan are in a motorcycle accident.

Warnings: broken bones, cuts/scrapes/blood/stitches, hospital, concussion

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 4.5k

Notes: This is for Comfortember 2021 Day 10 - Cuddling and based on a birthday request! This story is kind of a chaotic mess, apologies for the weird flow.

Find the rest here: Comfortember 2021

Asphalt, cracked and dry stretches out before them in the dusty blue dawn. Stars twinkle and die out with the sun's rays, reaching and bleeding their orange into the black. Derek's eyes are tired and the wind is cold, miles of road stretches out before them...nowhere to go, nowhere to be, just riding with Aaron's arms wrapped around his waist tight but not fearful. They do this all the time, heartbeats and breath in sync, the wind treats them as if they are one obstacle to be avoided, not two. They're in no hurry, no destination, they just want to escape the city lights.

Not like this. With a bike on his leg and blurry vision, Derek grunts, does a quick assessment of the damage. He doesn't think he's hurt, not really, nothing a hot shower and some well placed ice packs won't handle. For a minute he thinks about telling Aaron, he's going to worry, tell him to get rid of the bike...and then he remembers that Aaron was behind him, he was on the bike too.

“AARON!” he yells, pushing at the hunk of metal pinning him to the ground. He manages to free himself without much trouble, it's the way his hands shake from fear when Aaron doesn't answer that makes it most difficult. “AARON DAMMIT! ANSWER ME!” He rises to anger so quickly when he's afraid, it's pulsing through him and he hears a faint call from somewhere to his left as he rips his helmet off and discards it beside the bike. Aaron is lying on the ground a few yards away, helmet still on but he's not moving. It's a blur, pulling out his phone and dialing 911 before he even knows what's going on, his head is pounding – he doesn't remember it pounding before.

“Aaron? Talk to me...” He can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, but the way his arm is bent at an unnatural angle makes him sick and he has to look away. There is blood nearby and blood on his own hand, it doesn't bother him as much as the way that arm lays there, the reaction is instantaneous, he feels the very very wrong twisting deep in his stomach. He's afraid to take off the helmet and all he can hear is the rush of his pulse quickening in his ears while the operator asks him questions, his panicked hands hovering over every inch of Aaron's body afraid to touch until they tell him what he needs to do. Is he breathing? Yes. It's a blur after that, sirens blaring in the silence of the dawn, red and white lights disrupting the serenity they'd been chasing.

Not like this.