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#fran morgan
marril96 · 1 year
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Criminal Minds 2.12 | Profiler Profiled
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justjasper · 5 months
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Maybe Someday Soon [Teen] [3835 words]
The Morgan women know that he's in love with Reid. They also know that he is absolutely clueless about it.
— — —
“I've never seen him like this,” Fran says. “The way he talks about him... ”
“You said he stayed over at Christmas? He was wearing Derek's clothes?”
“He was wearing the sweater I bought Derek,” Fran confirms. “But he slept in the guest room.”
“And we believe that?” Des says.
— — —
You can find more of my fic here. I’m also on Twitter or Discord (Quan Tea Co & Adoribull Holiday) if you want to hang out!
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themetaphorgirl · 1 year
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PSOLC headcanon:
Fran Morgan is so worried when she works out there's no adults really supporting Spencer. (Although there's obvious James's parents.) So when she sends care packets for Derek she keeps slipping in extra things carefully labelled for Spencer.
she is SUCH A GOOD MOM I love her
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Fran Morgan was concerned.
Derek had told her that his roommate was younger. “He skipped a few grades” had been his exact words. Except her son had neglected to explain that Spencer Reid had skipped all the grades.
When Derek was ten he had been tall for his age, already threatening to tip into a growth spurt. He was a noisy tornado of nonstop energy, trying to play basketball in the house and whining when his older sister beat him at video games and making an absolute mess at the dinner table. And he was still young enough to anticipate being tucked into bed every night with a hug and kiss, to run to his parents to be consoled when he bruised himself for the millionth time after playing too hard and too carelessly, to fall asleep in the car and expect to be carried inside and put to bed. He was a happy-go-lucky kid, bursting with energy and affection and noise.
Fran took one look at Derek’s little roommate and alarm bells went off immediately.
Spencer looked far smaller than ten- seven or eight, maybe. He was small and skinny, his face pinched and his eyes too large. Any energy spilling from him was highstrung and anxious, as if he was perpetually worried that he would be told to be quiet or to go away. It was both a relief and a concern to watch him cling to the Miller girl; he would cling to her skirt or the hem of her sweater, and she would take his little hand or pick him up to hold on her hip. At least he was getting affection and attention somewhere, but where were his actual parents? How could they send their little baby off to school, all by himself? 
Then again, Derek could tell her nothing about the child’s parents. No one seemed to know anything, it seemed. She hadn’t met James Blake or his parents before this family weekend, but when she inquired with Charlie she didn’t know anything either. Maybe the little boy didn’t have any family at all. 
She didn’t know what she could to help, but she couldn’t just ignore the situation either.
—-------
“My mom sent me another care package!” Derek said. He tossed it on his bed and ripped it open eagerly.
Spencer looked up from his book. “What did she send you this time?” he asked.
“I don’t know, let’s see!” he said. His mother and sisters had sent him a care package from home every other week like clockwork since his freshman year, and he always looked forward to it. “Let’s see…she made cookies again, and there’s some candy…”
He pulled out the letter on the top carefully and set it aside. The letters he always saved so he could read them properly, ideally when he was alone in case they made him cry. “A new shirt…a new comic book…oh!” He paused. “There’s something in here for you.”
Spenc er peeked over the edge of his book. “Really?” he said. “For me?”
“Yeah, it’s got your name on it,” Derek said. “Want to open it?”
He held out the paper wrapped parcel and Spencer took it timidly. “Why did she send me something?” he asked as he picked at the tape.
“I don’t know, maybe she just liked you or something,” Derek said. “What’d you get?”
Spencer held up a new shirt and a bag of Reese’s cups, beaming. “I like these!” he said. He surveyed the shirt. “I like both of these! Your mom is so nice!” He hugged the shirt to his chest. “No one ever sends me anything in the mail.”
“I’ll tell her you liked it, she’ll be excited,” Derek said. Spencer was already struggling to open the bag of candy; Derek opened it for him and handed it back. He rarely saw Spencer that happy, and already he was planning to tell his mother to keep adding surprises for him in his care packages. The kid needed it, clearly.  
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morganprentiss · 1 year
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DEREK MORGAN, A GUIDE
DOB: June 6, 1973
From Chicago, Illinois
Family:
- Mother: Fran Morgan
- Father: Hank Morgan
- Siblings: Sarah Morgan (oldest), Desiree Morgan (youngest)
- Aunt: Yvonne Burns (née Morgan)
- Uncle: Paul Burns
- Cousin: Cindi Burns
- Spouse: Savannah Hayes (me forever sad)
- Child: Hank “the tank” Spencer Morgan
Derek always makes an effort to be in Chicago for his mothers birthday (which is December 13) 🫶
Education: Northwestern University (bachelors) + JD (smart boi)
- had a football scholarship from Northwestern (this is what we call well rounded) (quarterback)
Occupations: Chicago PD officer / BAU SSA / BAU unit chief
Specialties: obsessional crimes & explosives (if only he could see my neurodiverse brain)
Hobbies: house renovations (4 properties in the early seasons, 8 towards the end)
Pets: Clooney 🥹 (the cutest doggo we never did see 😢)
Favorites: Kurt Vonnegut (specifically Mother Night), Scottie Pippen, Michael Jordan, Walter Payton, Nas (specifically “Illimatic”), Emily Prentiss, mojitos, beach vacations, hockey
He DOES NOT like prisons, basketball, or Halloween
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masterwords · 11 months
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something like sanctified
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Summary: Hotch & Morgan have a little accident while messing around. Now, their bed is broken and Hotch is a little broken too. Shopping for a new bed is more than a little embarrassing with your arm in a sling. (Alternate summary: they're too damn old for this shit.)
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Words: 3k
Warnings: sex & a shoulder injury (no explicit sex, just obviously that's kind of the theme of these hijinks)
Notes: Today we're using a prompt from my forever muse @unionjackpillow - "Shopping for a new bed because the old one - that they got only 2 years ago - broke. Now they’re trying not to tell the sales person why exactly the frame is no longer in one piece." Oh. Well. I don't think they needed to say anything at all, do you? This fits into the Chicago Timeline, so they're older and have creaky bones but they're definitely not wiser. (The title sounds very serious but it's a line from "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye so...)
Read on AO3 if you prefer!
**
“They don't need our whole life story,” Hotch said, perhaps a little too stiff as he tried to pull himself out of the car. He didn't mean for it to come out that way, but it did need to be said. Most people would assume that to be the case...not Derek. Not the man who could charm his way into a new friendship any place he went if he was in the right mood. Today seemed like one of those dangerous days. “Okay? You're not on the market for a new best friend, just a bed. Because you broke the last one...”
“We broke the last one. And why are you so mean anyway? You were having just as much fun as I was.”
“You’re right. I'm sorry. I’m tired and my shoulder hurts, I probably should have stayed home. I shouldn't take it out on you, even if it is your fault.”
Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and hooked his arm around Hotch's waist, careful not to bump against his sore arm. He did have a point, they had been a little rough the night before and when you’re on the bottom of some intense acrobatics when your bed breaks and your arm takes the brunt of two people’s weight against an unforgiving hardwood floor...Derek supposed he had a fairly good excuse for being a little on the grumpy side. “I'm gonna tell 'em everything. About how you dislocated your shoulder, about how I offered to set it back in place and you growled at me to keep my hands off...about the trip to the ER at 2am, everything.” Hotch wasn’t proud of his reaction but the injury had blindsided him. He was nearly finished, his mind was way out in the stratosphere and then WHAM! His entire world exploded in bright hot agony. It took him nearly a full minute to even figure out what happened and in that minute he did not want to be touched. He’d already apologized about one hundred times.
“I would prefer you didn’t.” How was that for diplomatic? What he really wanted to say was the fuck you are, but he didn’t swear often and he really didn’t think it would come across as (almost) playful as he meant it. Better let that one die on his tongue. Derek’s jovial mood was hanging by a thread, too, and he was a lot better at hiding it but Hotch knew how easily they could devolve into a bitter argument.
They ended up at the mall, purely because Derek was hungry and planned to send Hotch on a mission to grab them some lunch and wait at the food court while he talked his way around the furniture store. The problem in that plan, he discovered, was that Hotch with only one useful arm wasn’t going to be able to easily carry trays of food on his own, not without risking some very embarrassing public mishaps. Like he needed to draw more attention to the humiliation of the injury.
Derek did plan to be vague, he wasn’t a complete maniac, but it was fun to let Hotch think that their antics would be center stage. Hotch turned down the food court idea promptly, insisting that they go together or not at all. The pain in his shoulder was making him feel a little sick, and he wanted nothing more than to stand beside Derek quietly observing. There wasn’t much Derek could do when Hotch looked at him with those sleepy dazed eyes, the look of a man who was just beginning to feel the effects of the pain medicine he’d taken before they left the house so he could get through the day as comfortably as possible. There was a time, years ago, when he wouldn’t have touched the pills but he was too old for that now. His body already hurt whether he injured it or not, and dislocating your shoulder is a young man’s game as the doctor had said. Scolded. It was kind of a scolding. “How do you dislocate your shoulder at this time of night?” he’d asked, and Hotch had no good answer. In his days as an FBI Agent that answer was always easy, it hadn’t occurred to him that he no longer had that safety net. Derek wasn’t even in the room with him, just to be a little less obvious. It didn’t matter. “Take it easy, you’re no spring chicken. This’ll take a little longer to heal.”
Longer to heal spelled trouble anyway. He’d dislocated his left shoulder which meant writing was going to be a challenge down the line. Hopefully taking longer didn’t mean past Spring Break, or at least that he would have some command of his arm by the time classes resumed. He hated to have to add taking time off to the list of indignities he was suffering for having a little too much fun with his boyfriend. Lesson learned. Maybe. It was fun.
“Just time for an upgrade?” the salesman asked with a wink, eyeing Hotch in his sling with a knowing look. Hotch felt the flush of utter humiliation rising like the tide in his neck. How did he know already? Were they that obvious?
“Yes.”
“Anything in particular you're looking for?”
Derek grinned. “Can we look at the ones with the padded headboards?” He was tired of hitting his head on hard wood, he’d been complaining about it for months. Now was the time to make a change if there ever was one.
Hotch wanted to die immediately, this was only getting worse. He should have gone to the food court. Dropping a tray of soda and pizza in the middle of hungry families eating would have been preferable to the horrors of this interaction. The salesman glanced from one of them to the other and nodded sagely. “Of course. We have some very nice ones, just got ‘em in.”
While they walked toward the showcase area, Hotch rubbed absently at the back of his hand resting in the sling. His fingers were tingling, they felt the way he imagined the inside of a snow globe might feel all liquid and glitter swishing and moving around. It wasn’t quite static, it was less intense than that but still unnerving. An unfortunate but temporary side effect of the injury they assured him would pass within a day or so. Sometimes nerves got jostled or pinched, but as long as it wasn’t painful or numb it was probably fine. He didn’t care for the word probably being used in a medical capacity. Come back if it doesn’t go away in 24 to 48 hours, that’s the drill. Hotch flexed his hand and sighed. At least, for the first time that day, he didn’t feel his tendons pull angrily at his injured joint. It was blissfully unaware of the movement below.
“I like the gray one,” Derek said pointing to a dark gray tufted headboard. It was nice. Looked like a bed and a wing back chair had an elegant baby, and he didn't mind it. Didn’t particularly like it bu the didn’t hate it either, and he wasn’t terribly picky about what his bed looked like. He cared a lot more about the mattress. “What do you think?”
The bed frame was upholstered in the same dark gray fabric, low to the ground, with no foot board. Metal, not wood. “It’s nice. You choose, I really don’t care as long as I can sleep in a bed tonight.” He was grouchy, running on about three hours of sleep and he was in pain...not really his shoulder, but every overcompensating muscle group that surrounded his shoulder ached deep and complained loudly. He wanted to be sitting down. He couldn’t possibly keep it still enough to be comfortable otherwise.
“Looks sturdy.”
“I've heard plenty of stories of beds being broken,” the salesman started with a sly smile. Hotch turned away. “If you can imagine it, someone has told me about it. Of course there’s the naughty stuff, but there’s also animals and kids and people rearranging a room, earthquakes…” he was rambling, he’d already clearly decided they had sex, he kept eyeing Hotch’s sling and the bags under his eyes. You don’t end up in a sling because your dog jumped on your bed, or your kid, and there hadn’t been an earthquake in Chicago recently. It was a pretty sure bet. “But not this style. Indestructible. How’d you hurt your arm anyway? Looks fresh.”
Derek, sensing the way Hotch immediately bristled at the question and moreover the implication, stepped in. “Work accident. I think we’ll take this one, it’s nice. Matches the rest of the bedroom. How soon can it be delivered?”
They’d told Jessica and Jack the same thing. A work accident. Jessica just gave them that look, wondering what kind of a work accident a professor of law could possibly get into (especially while his students were on spring break) and Hotch was sure he would fold if she asked for details...he couldn’t lie to her. But she didn’t ask, and Jack only rolled his eyes and said yeah, right, whatever. Hotch couldn’t tell if it was the kind of sarcastic yeah right that said he knew exactly what they were doing, or if maybe he thought Hotch had been doing something stupid like climbing a ladder without Derek there to support him...wouldn’t put it past him. Could go either way. He hoped for the latter of the two. In any case, the two of them were back in Virginia so Jack could spend his spring break with Roy. The broken frame was removed from the house and Hotch could live with that lie. Of course they’d have to answer for why they had a new bed once Jack returned to Chicago but that was a problem for next week.
“This afternoon. You’ll be sleeping in your brand new bed tonight.”
“Do we have to build it ourselves?” He sounded like a wuss, he knew it. He could build the damn thing himself he just...didn’t want to. He wanted to sit with Hotch on the couch and not worry about it. He wanted to throw a nice big tip at someone who was willing to do it for them.
“We can send someone out to put it together,” the salesman said, leading them toward the cash register. “It’s a two person job, and it appears you only have one able to work so I get it. They’re booked out a few days but I’ll see if I can’t get someone out there for you today.”
The bed was delivered and built without issue while Hotch took a much needed nap on the couch with Hank. Hotch needed the nap more than Hank did. Fran was fussing over him, knowing exactly what happened and not shying away from shaming her son for his childish antics. “You two are grown men, you have children who live in this house…”
“There weren’t any kids here, ma. We had a night free to be grown ups and do what grown ups do. We’re not allowed to have a little fun?”
“That is not the point, Derek Morgan. Look at him. That poor man. Was it worth it?”
Derek, glancing into the living room at Hotch sleeping with Hank on his chest, carefully tucked into the crook of his good arm, smiled. They were huddled beneath a blanket that left only the fluff of Hanks unruly hair and the top half of Hotch’s face visible. “I dunno. It wasn’t not worth it. You see that new bed?”
She smacked his arm with the pot holder and shoved him out of the way so she could get into the oven for her roast. She had insisted on making them dinner, as if Hotch’s minor injury meant they couldn’t do it for themselves. Sure, at least for today, Hotch was more or less useless but if he had to do something he would have. He just didn’t have to. He had the luxury to lay around with a toddler tucked against his chest and sleep off a good night that turned a little sour. Sleep off sore muscles and joints and a late night hospital visit.
“I was going to offer to keep Hank the Tank again tonight so you could take care of Aaron but I’m a little afraid you’re going to misunderstand me. Can I trust you?”
“No,” Derek said with that infuriating smile. “Of course you can’t. But you can probably trust him. I don’t think he’s planning on any hanky panky for a while.”
“Well at least one of you is using the brains God gave you.”
“Aw, ma, don’t bring him into this. Go sit down with your coffee and I’ll finish up here. I’m perfectly capable of making dinner for my family.”
She rolled her eyes but set the pot holder down, lifted her coffee and made a beeline for their bedroom to see the new bed (it was very nice, she had to admit) before wandering back to the living room to have a seat and wait for him to ask her help setting the table or waking the sleepyheads.
She did end up taking Hank back to her place for the night, just to make things easier. She also loved having him stay the night, he made every part of her house more cheerful just by his presence and she was missing Jack’s afternoon visits a little more than she thought she would while he was back in Virginia. She had a countdown on her fridge with a big circled date for her biggest grandchild’s return. It was partially for her, partially for Anthony, they both missed him fiercely. Their afternoons spent playing board games and drinking lemonade were a lot less fun without Jack and his unique brand of humor.
“You wanna give it a shot?” Derek asked as they started the arduous process of getting ready for bed. Hotch was struggling to pull his t-shirt off around an arm that he didn’t want to move. It wasn’t exactly stiff, the joint just felt weak and achey. And the tendons felt weak, like if he moved too far or too fast his shoulder would slip right back out and he’d be in a world of hurt all over again. His entire arm felt like it was hanging by a threat, unstable and dangerously close to blinding pain. He’d abandoned the cumbersome sling sometime around dinner time, deciding instead that he would rather just rest the sore arm in his lap or against his chest, engaging some muscles made it feel a little more secure.
Reaching out, Derek grabbed the shirt and helped maneuver it around the swollen mound of his mottled purple and red shoulder. He slid it down around the elbow and off, trailing warm soft kisses in the wake. He started at the deep bruising, the odd stretch marks in the skin where it had popped, and followed the line down to his elbow before standing up and finding eager and waiting lips instead. Maybe his idea that Hotch would be against hanky panky was a little off. It was a delightful revelation. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
“What would your mother say?” Hotch asked with a small smirk, already on board.
“Uh-uh, don’t you dare invoke her name in this bedroom…” Derek warned, already undoing Hotch’s belt and then his pants. Hotch was content to let him do all the work. He just watched with that amused little smile while Derek undressed him eagerly. “You trust me?”
“Against my better judgment…” Hotch whispered against Derek’s lips. “Always.”
That night, shoulder injury notwithstanding, they gave the bed its maiden voyage. Slow and steady, Hotch still riding the last bits of his paid med high.
Not a squeak, not a shift.
Derek had propped Hotch up on pillows, he really was less an active participant as he was a very involved observer. Eager and willing to let Derek do whatever he wanted. He did what he could, he wasn’t a cold fish, but ultimately found himself met with Derek chiding him, telling him to be still, to just enjoy the process. He barely even felt it in his wrecked shoulder or the angry muscles holding it in place. It was so comfortable, so quiet that they went at it again almost immediately before hopping in the shower to clean up. The discussion was limited to “yeah?” and “yeah”, monosyllabic and quick. Derek helped Hotch wash his hair and had trouble restraining himself when their hips brushed and rolled against one another, when their fingers touched, when Hotch sagged against him tired and finally, having exceeded the length of his medication and badly in need of another dose, feeling considerable pain. The muscles running the length of his spine ached as they worked twice as hard to hold his arm still.
“No more?” Derek asked and Hotch shook his head. He was tapping out. Derek wouldn’t argue.
“I’m ready to sleep.”
Derek was too, he wanted to lie down in bed, prop Hotch up with as many pillows as it took to make him comfortable and crowd in on him. Absorb his heat, give him heat, touch him and breathe him in. Tangle their legs and drape his arms and drift off. He wanted all of that too, but he feigned disappointment anyway. Because that was fun.
“Yeah...alright. I am a little tired. Guess we should see if the bed is good for that too, huh?”
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If nobody does this I may try my hand at it but I want the fic where all the moms of the BAU members unite after being given news that their kids have been kidnapped by the unsub as a torture tactic and all of them use their individual skills to help Hotch and Rossi figure out that all of their kids were kidnapped for torment/questioning and medical experimentation by one mom who lost her mind after the BAU put away her son and wants to try and find some kind of commonality in their ways of being raised that prevented this by running lab tests, doing experiments, and even preparing to try a craniotomy. She hired women to pretend to be in trouble before every member she targeted was knocked out by a mercenary for hire, all of whom were paid handsomely. And at first it’s Hotch and Rossi handling the take down, but they can’t relate to her enough to talk her down. It’s their moms who end up handling the take down with empathy. Elizabeth Prentiss speaks to her calmly that what happened to her son wasn’t her fault. Diana Reid tells her that all of them get afraid that they aren’t doing right by their children, but that they can’t let that fear get so great that they stop living, and that her son will need her support now more than ever. Fran Morgan tells her that hurting their children won’t save him, and Sandy Jareau finishes by telling her that her son wouldn’t want her to throw her life away for him. And she puts the gun down. Hotch and Rossi make the arrest, the moms untie their kids and reunite with them, and it ends with the BAU going out to breakfast with their moms, plus Henry and Jack, and Rossi offering to take Penelope on her parents’ behalf and in honor of the son he lost. I want it set in season 4.
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emiko-matsui · 2 years
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jennifer jj "took over 14 years to come back to her hometown after processing the huge trauma that she went through back there n dredged up horrible horrible memories" jareau vs derek "AYO MA IM IN TOWN AND WERE ALL EXPECTING UR GOOD GOOD FOOD. ayo we're going to chicago that's dope let me stop and say hi to my homies real quick man it's nice to see the old stomping grounds" morgan
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diioonysus · 2 months
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"purple is a color that sparks imagination and awakens the spirit."
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avicris918 · 2 years
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And now I'm on the hunt for a Criminal Minds fanfic.....maybe y'all can give me the name.
🍄 Spencer and Derek were together
🍄 Derek proposed, but Spencer panicked
🍄 Spencer found out he was pregnant
🍄 Derek had a neighbor who wanted him
🍄 Spencer didn't like her
🍄 Fran came for a visit
🍄 the woman attacked Fran and Spencer
🍄 Derek didn't believe the woman was crazy
🍄 I think the baby was named Alexander or Sam
Please help a girl out
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elsie-talisman · 5 months
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~From The Nanny!~
Hotch (Comforting Emily): Oh, Emily.
Also Hotch: I tell you what I’ll buy you a drink.
Emily: *sniffles and nods*
Hotch: Oh, don’t forget to bring your ID just in case they wanna card you.
Emily (Blushing adoringly): Oh, Hotch!
Hotch (Adoringly): Oh, Prentiss!
Garcia (Stood watching and tired of this BS): …I LOVE YOU!
Hotch and Emily in unison and clueless: We love you too, Garcia!
Garcia: *rage stares as the two oblivious idiots walk away*
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sholmeser · 6 months
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actually what i think would be cool is an ace attorney game where each case is its own individual mini-spinoff. first case is kristoph gavin: ace attorney a few years pre-aa4 with apollo as kristoph’s college intern and clay as the defendant. we get to learn more about clay and apollo’s friendship alongside apollo+kristoph and krisnix dynamic. we’re forced to forge evidence because there isnt anything concrete proving clay’s innocence, giving us an inside glimpse into a corrupt attorney’s life. second case is simon blackquill investigations pre-UR1 where on someone else dies at the space center and metis is accused. we see more of athena/simon/aura/metis family dynamic as well as athena and juniper’s friendship as children. manfred von karma investigations (kid miles and vk family dynamic) or lana skye investigations (pre-SL9 ema mia gant jake angel neil) or mia fey ace attorney (maya lana pearl morgan diego maybe even dahlia and iris) or robin newman ace attorney/hugh o’conner investigations (self-indulgent but would be so cute)….the possibilities are endless……just fun little ways to expand on pre-existing character dynamics that might not have been discussed too much without necessarily making an entire game revolving around those characters
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justjasper · 5 months
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"Derek talks about you"
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pxmlx · 3 months
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I don’t have the time to start any new shows, so for the last few weeks I’ve been rewatching my comfort shows (mostly in the background, I can’t sit in silence), which means I’ve been switching between The Nanny and Criminal Minds and I’ve just realised how funny it is that I watch them both for comfort, they couldn’t be more different from each other (also there is little to none comfort in cm but oh well)
I do it with films too- Imagine me and you and fucking Speed 😭
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woso-photography · 6 months
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England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 v Belgium 🇧🇪 | 27th October 2023
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nigel french, naomi baker, catherine ivill, michael regan, marc atkins, & harriet lander: king power stadium, england v belgium
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masterwords · 1 year
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Spending Christmas in Chicago at Fran’s. Morgan’s sisters building a snowman with Jack while Hotch and Derek enjoy a lazy morning under the warm covers.
Hotch and Derek attending the annual Christmas play at Jack’s school and going for hot chocolate at the Christmas market afterwards.
Both of them falling asleep on the sofa on New Year’s Eve, Jack taking a picture and sending it to Jess and Fran.
Well, I am absolutely certain you had no intention of me using all 3 of these in one story, but I did. With an added dash of baby fever! Hotch and Morgan plus a pregnancy announcement. I think I might carry this one on, too, as a long-term story if anyone is interested? Add it to the pile, folks! I don't write a lot of baby-centric fics but I was sort of in the mood here for some reason. Lots of sweet, soft fluff. Some angst. 3.5k words of SURPRISE WE'RE HAVING A BABY.
***there is comfort where we overlap ***
“We have to go,” Derek said, breezing through the bedroom, from hallway to bathroom with a purpose. Hotch had been in there for over an hour either showering, shaving or having some kind of extended quiet panic attack. “You almost ready?” On the counter was an open bottle of Tums, extra strength, half empty. He popped the lid closed and looked around.
Silence. Derek peeked behind the shower curtain to find Hotch just...sitting...beneath the water. “Aaron, come on.”
“What time is her appointment?” Hotch's voice was small and wet sounding.
“Doesn't matter. We'll know when we know. Come on, Jack's expecting us to show up for this cookies and cocoa thing with his teachers beforehand. Jessica will actually murder us if we miss it, I guarantee it.”
“I know.” He made no effort to move, however.
“Then get up and come on. It's out of our hands.”
Hotch wasn't usually one to mope around, and under normal circumstances he would be the one who had everything together and was ready hours beforehand. But there was something about this particular circumstance that had completely robbed him of the ability to exist. Slowly he unfurled his long legs and stretched them while Derek cut off the water supply and dropped a towel on top of his head rather unceremoniously. “Up.”
“I'm getting up.”
“No, you're stretching like a lazy cat. Get up.”
He got up. Begrudgingly, he managed it and toweled himself off entirely before stepping out of the tub. Derek had already laid out some clothes for him and threatened to set a timer for him to get ready, but Hotch didn't protest and didn't drag his feet. He simply did his best to turn his brain off and put his clothes on.
C'est la Vie had never been in Hotch's life plan. His need for control ran so deep that he couldn't even let other people drive the car he sat in. And this situation was so far outside of his control that it was giving him an ulcer, or at least adding to the one that was already in there. He could feel it gnawing away at his stomach lining. For the last two weeks he'd been eating Tums and drinking Alka Seltzer at an alarming rate. He was making himself sick, and there wasn't anything Derek could do to stop the spiral except wait it out and remind him they had no control and if they found out that it hadn't happened...they would simply try again. And again. And it wouldn't have been his fault.
They missed cookies and cocoa by ten minutes, but they made it before the play started. Just in time to apologize and promise that they'd go out to the little Christmas market downtown afterward to see the tree lighting and parade. They would have just enough time to pop in, grab some hot cocoa, watch the tree lighting and hit the road. Hotch wasn't thrilled, but he'd been the reason for the tardiness, so he kept his protest to a minimum. “It's three degrees,” Hotch muttered, but he'd already given in.
The play was sweet. Not great, most of the kids forgot their lines and some had even lost parts of their costumes, but it was sweet. The really little ones looked like a box full of kittens had been upended on the stage and they all scattered in different directions. There were teachers and parents rushing the stage to set them back on track. The slightly older kids, like Jack, stood on the risers and sang their parts and spoke their lines sometimes too loud, sometimes too quiet, always off key - but overall, it was about as good as could be expected. It would leave them with stories to tell, if nothing else.
As they sat, Hotch worried his thumb over his nailbeds and kept it hidden in his pockets. As if Derek didn't know what he was hiding. With some otherworldly level of stealth, Derek reached over, pulled one of his hands free and squeezed it. At attempt at being reassuring but it only made Hotch feel like crying. That Derek was so laid back and he was absolutely beside himself was cruel.
Their phones were off. Derek had insisted. Not just silence but completely off. “Whatever the result is, we don't need to know while Jack's on stage. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Derek led a standing ovation for the kids, much to the delight of the kids on stage who took exaggerated bows and pointed at their families and smiled for pictures. Hotch, for one brief moment, was completely overwhelmed by what was happening on the stage and how completely sweet it was and forgot entirely about the text he was anticipating. In fact, his mind wandered in the other direction, and he found himself wishing he could turn to his right and see Haley there smiling up at Jack through tears of joy and laughter.
Finally, in the lobby while Jack was with his class getting their things together, it was time. Derek took his phone out and looked at Hotch a little expectantly when the screen began to show signs of life. They both saw it, the little flashing light that said he had a text. “No matter what, it's okay, right? If it didn't take this time, we'll try again...”
Hotch's sample had been hard to come by. The timing was off, his work schedule was impeding every attempt at an appointment he made, his stress levels were through the roof...he was starting to feel dead in the water before he'd even made it to the damn clinic.
“Yeah,” Hotch whispered, his breath caught in his throat. If it didn't take it would be entirely his fault and sure they could try again and again, but at a certain point it would be worth questioning how they were going about this. It was their second attempt. The first time, Hotch had wept for a whole night in spite of himself. Derek had to admit that he was disappointed, too, but he could see it for what it was: an imperfect science. They were warned it might take a few attempts and it wouldn't indicate anything wrong, not right away. But Hotch had a hard time seeing it that way when he thought back to the years and years that he and Haley had tried and failed, tried and nearly succeeded, tried and tried.
Derek held his phone up to Hotch, and through the shine of tears he saw the photo, the piece of paper with a big bold word printed right at the top of all the other various lab results. POSITIVE.
“You see it? You see what it says?” Derek asked, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Hotch sniffed and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket before nodding. He was staring at it. Couldn't take his eyes off of it. “We're doing this.”
His voice didn't seem to work, but Derek didn't mind that. He just held up his phone, snapped a picture of Hotch with tears in his eyes, and sent it to Sarah as confirmation that they were ecstatic.
In a few hours, after the Christmas market, they would be on a plane with Jack headed to Chicago to spend the week of Christmas with Derek's family and they would have to keep this quiet until Christmas morning. “Can we tell Jack?” Derek asked, and Hotch shook his head.
“No. Sarah wants everyone to find out when your mom does, she was adamant about that.”
“You don't think he can keep it a secret?”
“Derek. Jack has proven, time and again, to be abysmal at keeping even the most basic of secrets. I would love to tell him but I think it would be ill-advised.”
“All I heard was blah blah blah. Let's tell Jack. I want him to know he's going to be a big brother.” He paused, really taking a second to look at Hotch, at the way the color had drained from his cheeks and the tears glistened in his eyes. “Let's go sit down on that bench and wait for Jack before you pass out right here. We'll decide when we see him.”
Hotch allowed Derek to lead him to the bench, but he wasn't intending to budge on the rest. He was certain that they should not tell Jack, as much as they both wanted to. Until the minute that Jack appeared before them dressed like a little elf and even Hotch could hardly contain himself. With one sideways glance that Derek took as approval to spill the beans (whether it was or was not would be the topic of many discussions throughout the week), the words spilled out.
“Jack,” he said, pulling the kid into his lap. “You ready to be a big brother?”
(x)
There's regular snow and then there is Chicago snow. Hotch relinquished the driving reigns infrequently, but when the snow on the side of the road was piled up as high as the car, and the slush they had to drive in threw the car around like a rag doll, he handed the keys to Derek without any fuss. He could drive in regular snow, out on country roads was his specialty, but there was something daunting about having to adapt to both big city driving and deep snow that he simply couldn't manage. Something about it tipped the scales from him having control to having absolutely none.
The storm was moving in quickly, and they'd been fortunate that their plane had even been allowed to land at O'Hare, but they'd be pushing their luck to make it all the way to Fran's unscathed. By the end of the drive, the car was more like a sled on the big busy streets just sliding without traction, and once they were on the side streets the poor thing was working double time to pull itself through the mounds of wet slush and snow that wouldn't be plowed for days to come. But they made it in one piece and were ready to hunker down and wait out the rest of the storm inside Fran's nice warm home.
And they had four whole days to keep a huge secret from everyone.
The look on Sarah's face, the absolute bliss in her eyes when she reached out to hug Derek, Hotch knew it was going to be a difficult few days. And when she hugged him around the neck, he had to fight back more tears. He was on the verge of tears often, but this was far and away the worst it had ever been. Suddenly he was remembering that first few days after finding out that Haley was pregnant, it was funny how he'd managed to forget all of that now that Jack was older and everything had changed. Now, like he'd stepped into a time machine, he was feeling all those huge overwhelming things again. His life, Jack's life, this baby's life, they all flashed before his eyes. He squeezed Derek's hand out of desperation, and Derek squeezed him back out of love.
Dinner the first night was mostly quiet, with Sarah and Desiree bickering and Derek trying to mediate on Sarah's behalf. As the evening wore on, he began to get a little overbearing and Hotch had to tell him to back off of Desiree more than once.
“She's gonna stress Sarah out,” he hissed as they ducked around the corner. “She needs to back off.”
“Sarah will be fine.” It was Hotch's turn to be reasonable, to find himself slightly more even. His ulcer was still smoldering embers, but he felt more peaceful. The panic had, at least momentarily, subsided. “She's okay.” The strain in Derek's eyes, the absolute uncertainty and out of control feeling that seeped from him was concerning. He was going to blow the secret before anyone else by virtue of his need to care for his sister who was carrying his child.
“I need to take a walk,” Derek said finally, and Hotch nodded in agreement. “Get outta here for a bit. Get some fresh air.”
“Why don't you ask Sarah to go with you? I could use a ginger ale from the corner store.”
Derek reached out and pulled Hotch close to him, pressing their foreheads together. “You're a genius.”
“I know.”
They slept on the pull-out sofa bed with Jack on an air mattress nearby. Fran had made him up a bed, but he insisted on sleeping beside the Christmas tree and how could she say no to that? Beneath a mound of blankets, they listened to the gentle sound of Jack's little snores and whispered, conspired, smiled over the fact that soon they'd have another. And sleepless nights, they would have those too. Hotch was ready for those, he slept so little already.
“How are you so chill all of a sudden?” Derek whispered, his lips against Hotch's ear. It tickled and sent goosebumps in a flushing river down his spine.
“I remember this part. The anticipation. There's a lot of work to do, I like that.” What he meant to say was that there were things he could control now. He could build a crib and set up a bedroom, he could research and buy a car seat, he could do all of these things that would make him feel useful.
“I can't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.”
“Derek, you said it yourself. You trust Sarah. More than anyone. That's why we asked her specifically.”
"You made a spreadsheet," Derek mumbled against Hotch's shoulder and they both let out low chuckles.
"I did."
Derek buried his face in Hotch's neck and sucked in a shaky breath. “But she lives here and we live there.”
That had been troubling to both of them, but Hotch knew they could make it work. It was a short flight, a slightly longer but still short drive, and they would simply find a way to make it work. She would have Fran here, and the rest of the Morgan family, she wouldn't be on her own. Not even if she wanted it. “It will all work out.”
The next few days flew by in a blur of shopping, eating and laughing with family. Groups of people would drop in with desserts and stay for coffee no matter the time of day, and Hotch felt like he'd inadvertently stepped into a time machine. Back to a time when his mother would keep cakes and other pastries in the freezer on the off chance that company dropped by. Fran's house was a sort of meeting place, a central location for everyone to gather with a full pot of coffee and plenty of seating. They were surrounded by company and laughter, sometimes loud bursts of song would erupt from out of nowhere.
And bickering. Derek and Sarah were at each other's throats, which Fran insisted was perfectly normal when it appeared to be stressing Hotch out. “They've always been like this.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Like this.” She smiled sweetly and stood, walking into the kitchen and approaching her arguing adult children like they were small, like she could ground them from the bikes and sports and summer vacation. It took a minute for her to find her leverage, but she managed and soon they were able to stand beside each other again without fighting.
Finally, the anticipation about at its maximum and Derek and Sarah nearly at their breaking point, Christmas morning arrived. Jack tore through his gifts with fervor, lavishing everyone with huge thanks and hugs. He played Santa, delivering gifts from beneath the tree to their new owners. Everyone got Hotch something warm. A box of fancy tea for relaxation, wool socks, gloves. Derek got vinyl records and new headphones, with a few boxes of screws and nails as a little joke because he always ran out in the middle of projects and had to run to the hardware store.
“Grandma!” Jack chirped, pulling a small gift from beneath the tree. It had been lodged way in the back, a small white box with delicate silver ribbon wrapped tight and topped by a perfectly symmetrical bow. Derek glanced at Hotch and knew, somehow, that he was responsible for the presentation. Fran held the box lightly, turning it over and over in her hands, giving it a little shake next to her ear only to hear nothing. The gift was light as air.
“It's a box!” she exclaimed, and Jack giggled with delight. “What a beautiful gift. I've always wanted a lovely little box. Think of all the things it'll hold.”
“Grandmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
She slipped the ribbon from the box carefully, all eyes on her. “Why are you all staring at me?” she asked, a little flushed, and Hotch thought for sure he was going to blow the whole thing by crying before she even knew what she was looking at. He glanced around the room and realized, with some certainty, that Fran was the only person who didn't know. Desiree and Jack's faces were shining with anticipation, and he and Derek were barely containing themselves. Beneath their shared blanket, they slotted their fingers together and held their breath.
Inside the box was silver tissue paper, delicate and soft, and tucked neatly beneath that was an ultrasound with Sarah's name at the top, and something that looked like a squishy little jellybean right in the center.
“Sarah?” she asked breathless, blinking, stunned. “You're pregnant?”
She grinned. “Yes, mama. I'm pregnant.”
“But you're not...” she was struggling, they could see, to put the pieces together. Sarah wasn't even dating anyone. She hadn't in forever, and she'd made it abundantly clear to the entire family that she did not want to have children. Or a relationship. “You said...”
“Read the back, mom.”
Fran flipped the picture over with one shaking hand and it was then, as she read the words scrawled on the back, that she began crying. And laughing. Wet, teary laughter rattled through the room.
“Hotchner-Morgan?” she gasped out, swiping at her eyes with the silver tissue paper absurdly. It was the closest thing she could grab. “You boys?”
“Yes, mama. It's our baby.” Derek paused and squeezed Hotch's hand beneath the blanket. “I thought we said it would be Morgan-Hotchner?”
“You asked me to write it because your handwriting is too sloppy. I made a choice. It's alphabetical.”
“Yeah, I'm sure that was your reason...”
Back home, they spent the rest of the week walking through Derek's house planning out the space. They'd forced themselves to wait until they had a positive result before they started making any real decisions. Hotch wouldn't re-up the lease on his apartment, that much was for certain. They'd managed to uphold two households the entire time and it was fine, but having a baby made it pretty clear that they would no longer be playing that game. Hotch and Jack would move in with Derek full time, and good riddance to that apartment as far as Derek was concerned.
They spent the week slowly moving things over, little things, knickknacks and Jack's art and his favorite bedroom items. They would save the big stuff for later, Hotch still had three months on his lease and then there was the issue of his storage unit full of he and Haley's things. Derek placed a photo of Haley on the mantle beside the rest of their family, a gesture that Hotch would never have asked of him, and once more he found himself with tears on his cheeks. He knew Sarah's hormones would be all wild and out of control, but he was starting to feel like he was experiencing them for himself firsthand.
On New Year's Eve, Penelope and Dave came over to celebrate with them. They were going to tell the team slowly, disperse the information quietly, but it started with those two over glasses of champagne as they counted down the hours to midnight. To a new year filled with possibilities and growth. Hotch's last couple of years had been hard, and he felt hopeful for once. He was overwhelmed by that feeling, and exhausted by it all.
To no one's surprise, by the time the ball was dropping so so slowly on the television and all of New York City was counting backwards from ten live, Hotch and Derek were fast asleep beneath a blanket. They were completely worn out by the week they'd spent joining their households and dreaming of a new baby that was a perfect mixture of both of them. There was still so much more work to be done.
With some urging from a slightly drunk Penelope, Jack slipped his dad's phone off of the table and snapped a photo of them lying there snoring at the stroke of midnight. Dave kissed Penelope on the cheek and Penelope kissed Jack on the cheek and they sent the photo of the two sleeping men on the couch to Jess with the caption “too old for New Years”.
“They think they're tired now,” Dave said, tucking Jack into his bed before he and Penelope left for the night. Derek and Hotch slept soundly on the couch, and no one had the heart to try and get them to move to their bed. They simply looked too peaceful. “Just wait until that baby comes.”
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Update from yesterday’s poll:
You guys asked and I delivered! Please enjoy the first chapter of Mothers, where the mom’s of the BAU band together to save their kids!
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