figuring out hair... maza’s queue vs scholar’s braids, to be precise
[ID: Three digital illustrations on one canvas. To the left is a flat-color drawing of Cala Athmaza from The Goblin Emperor from the neck up on a pale green background. He has pale skin, wavy white hair, pointed ears, and round glasses. His hair is in a messy braid with a ribbon tied at the base, like a ponytail. He has silver earrings and there is no shirt collar visible. In the middle is a flat-color drawing of Aäthis Rohethar from The Grief of Stones from the neck up on a pink background. He has pale skin, straight white hair, and pointed ears. He is viewed from directly behind to see two braids, each tied with red ribbon both at the base and the end, and with a ribbon braided into both braids. A pale green coat, a white shirt collar, and red and gold earrings are visible. To the right is an uncolored sketch of Cala from the back, so his single braid is fully visible. End ID.]
I'm incredibly excited to announce a new multi-chapter fiction that will be updated weekly! Thank you all so much for your opinions on planning this.
The Glory of Sunshine
Wattpad. A03.
You’ve never been one to want to be fixed. You’d rather try and fix other people, protect them and nourish them back to who they’ve always wanted to be. Their caretaker.
Two thousand miles away from home in a new city, with a new job, and seven new faces to decode and decipher, your attention seems to be slowly wrapping up with one of them. Are you falling in love, Y/N?
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Additional Tags: Very slow burn, Pining
Contains: Adult Language, Fluff, Smut, Heartbreak
CM Timeline: AU begins after Haley and Hotch’s divorce. Some cases within this story are not canon.
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
Preface
--and within a sweet second of missing time,
I basked in the glory of your sunshine
I bathed in the warmth of your touch -
I was set free over moonlit nights.
Will you promise to forever be mine?
For as long as the waters carry my love,
The ship that sails beyond and above,
With a captain that talks to the stars at night:
For will you promise to not fix me?
but savour my wounds and tend as long as they last,
And... with this breath, until my dying last,
I will bask in the glory of your sunshine.
If the moon turns red and the ocean becomes dry,
If you stop talking and lose your ability to try,
The sleeping meadows will come to take us,
And for all eternity -
peacefully -
We shall lie side by side, with your hand locked into mine.
I’ve basically had huge writer’s block and the last chapter of TGOS that I posted I’m still editing and the next chapter is gonna be like 4K long or something. Also I have like 5 million other things to do and I want to write more. Also the last few chapters of TGOS have literally gotten no feedback so I’m scared they aren’t great. I feel like Sauron could have better characterization. Also Fauthagon is fucking hard to write. Yeah this is a bit mess I need sleep. :/
You’ve never been one to want to be fixed. You’d rather try and fix other people, protect them and nourish them back to who they’ve always wanted to be. Their caretaker. Two thousand miles away from home in a new city, with a new job, and seven new faces to decode and decipher, your attention seems to be slowly wrapping up with one of them. Are you falling in love, Y/N?
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Additional Tags: Very slow burn, Pining
Contains: Adult Language, Fluff, Smut, Heartbreak
CM Timeline: AU begins after Haley and Hotch’s divorce. Some cases within this story are not canon.
WC: 1.6K
Chapter Twelve
The sun streamed through the park, flecks of gold glinting through the bare branches of the winter trees, casting a warm hue over the barren bark. Hotch had already begun a warm-up jog around the park, the sound of his breath and the rhythm of his steps draining out the voice in his head, telling him that this was a bad idea.
He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Beth, but now he had to. He couldn’t ignore last night anymore - he’d had to stop himself from kissing you. Twice. He was not the kind of man to string a woman along, but he did have feelings for Beth. Sure, they weren’t a patch on the pining he felt for you, especially as he spotted you jogging over to him with a shy smile on your face, but they were there.
“Morning,” Hotch said softly as you both slowed your jogs to stand face to face. The blood had begun rushing through your body and you had a sneaky feeling it wasn’t just the exercise making your heart rate increase. Your cheeks felt warm, which you blamed on the cold Virginia air, although in another life you may have admitted that it was caused by seeing Hotch smile at you like he did two years ago.
“Morning,” You said warmly.
You both took off for a few laps of jogging and then finished with a sprint. As you both leaned over, panting, Hotch began chuckling.
“What?” You gasped out, and Hotch shook his head, but that adorable smile was still lingering on his lips.
“I’m surprised you didn’t challenge me to a race,”
You burst out laughing, the sound coming out a little strangled from your lack of oxygen. “What, so you could lose again?”
“Hey! I didn’t lose every time,” He countered with a grin. “Maybe I was just letting you win,”
“Sure you were, Hotchy,”
The nickname came out as natural as anything, but it caused both of you to freeze up for a second as you stared at each other.
Hotch had missed hearing that, far more than he’d ever realised...and you? You couldn’t believe that the nickname had just slipped out like that, like nothing had ever happened - like you hadn’t just spent the last two years avoiding him. Was it normal for things to slide back into place so beautifully?
“Coffee?” He asked, his voice straining a little and he tried to hide it by clearing his throat. You nodded, still a little breathless but this time you admitted to yourself that your lack of breath was caused by seeing him covered in sweat.
The cafe was so warm compared to outside, and Hotch motioned for you to grab a table whilst he ordered the drinks. You grabbed a small table in the window and flopped down into a seat, awarding Hotch with a dazzling smile as he brought two steaming mugs towards you.
You weren’t expecting him to forget your order, but the fact that he still remembered it brought a little more heat into your cheeks.
“How’s Jack?” You asked after you took your first sip of your drink. Hotch smiled broadly at the mention of his son, his eyes coming to life.
“He’s doing great! I can’t believe he’s turning six this year,”
“Really? He’s growing up so quickly,”
“I know,”
“Come on, Hotchy. I know you’ve got a recent photo of him,”
Aaron smiled to himself as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo of Jack taken last October, on his fifth birthday. You grinned and fawned over the photo, giggling at how cute he looked whilst he was cuddling what looked to be a new toy, and Aaron’s heart swelled as he watched you.
“He asks about you sometimes,” Hotch admitted, and your eyes snapped from the phone to his face in surprise. You handed the phone back to him, still maintaining eye-contact.
“He does?”
“Yeah. He wears the keychain on his backpack to school,”
“Bless his heart, that’s so sweet,”
“I know,” Aaron smiled. “He used to ask how you were on a weekly basis. He hasn’t asked a whole lot since…” He trailed off, internally wincing at the realisation that Beth was also in the heart of his son.
“Since Beth,” You said, and you smiled reassuringly, although it felt sickly. “I’m glad you found someone. You don’t look hurt anymore,”
“I don’t?”
“No,” You hummed. “You look completely different to the man I met. I’m just happy for you... that you moved on,”
“I’m not sure if I did,” Hotch whispered, more to himself than to you, but you caught it.
“You haven’t moved on from Haley?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing, but the familiar sight of a brunette woman approaching your table with a grin on her face stole your gaze away from Hotch.
“Not Haley,”
“Surprise!” Beth chirped as she stopped beside Hotch, and he stood up to kiss her lips softly, holding her in a warm embrace.
“What are you doing here?” Hotch asked her. The small smile that he had on his face, the one that you knew was reserved especially for her, made your stomach turn.
“I managed to get the weekend off and I wanted to surprise you,” She said, pecking his lips. She turned towards you and gave you a warm smile. “Y/N, right?”
“Yeah. Hey, Beth,” You gulped, hoping that she wouldn’t detect the annoyance within the fake grin that you’d plastered onto your face.
“It’s a good job that he sticks to his routines. I didn’t have to call his house first, he’s here every Saturday morning,” Beth giggled. You tried to keep your jaw fixed in place but you felt it slacken slightly as Hotch cast a guilty glance towards you.
“It’s a nice place,” He mumbled softly, and Beth giggled.
“I’m just gonna grab a coffee and see if I can get another chair,” She smiled, but you shook your head and stood up, offering her yours.
“It’s okay, I’m heading back now,”
“What? Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt you both,”
Well, you already have, Beth, you thought - but, damn it, you couldn’t hate her. She was too nice.
‘No, no, it’s okay! You enjoy your time together!” You smiled. “Catch you later, Hotch,”
Hotch watched you leave, wishing that he could have found a way to tell you that he’d only visited the cafe every Saturday just in case you had ever decided to turn up after a jog. He’d have found a way to invite you to sit down with him, talk about Wyoming, hear that you’d broken up with Jamie. He’d sort of gotten that today - you’d sat down with him, but you’d never dated Jamie in the first place and Hotch was in a relationship now.
But he’d still go to the cafe every Saturday. Just in case.
You welcomed the brisk wind that clawed at your burning cheeks as you walked back to your apartment, head full of emotions and thoughts. You partially blamed Emily for how stupid you felt right now - she was the one who’d put it into your head that Hotch could have had feelings for you, and you found your fingers dialling her number the minute that you set foot into your home.
“It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, L/N,”
“Exactly. It’s far too fucking early to be freaking out like this,” You burst out, and you could literally imagine Emily’s brows furrowing at you right now.
“What’s happened?”
“Hotch called,”
“I knew he would,” Emily chuckled. “So...?”
“We went for a jog. We went to the cafe,”
“Like you used to, yes…?” You could hear the excitement in Emily’s voice and you needed to shut it down.
“Beth turned up,”
Emily was silent for a moment.
“You’re kidding,”
“I’m not. Surprise weekend off,”
“Shit,”
“I know, Em. One minute, everything feels great and I’m looking at a photo of Jack, then I’m telling Hotch that I”m glad he’s happy and moved on--”
“Why would you say that?”
You paid no attention to her question as you carried on ranting.
“--then he tells me that he’s not sure that he’s moved on, and then I’m trying to comfort him about missing Haley but he said he wasn’t talking about Haley, and then poof! Beth waltzes in all happy as shit, kissing him and he’s smiling at her and---”
“Y/N! Stop, stop! Stop,”
You immediately shut up, your chest rising and falling quickly as you catch your breath.
“Let’s rewind. He said that he wasn’t sure if he’d moved on?’
“Yeah,” You mumbled. “But he said he wasn’t talking about Haley so I have no idea what he was talking about,”
“Oh my God. It’s you! He was talking about you, Y/N!” Emily exclaimed. Your fingers held your phone tightly as you processed what she’d said, blinking several times in shock.
“What?”
“For a profiler, you’re dumb,” She scoffed, chuckling.
“But...but...but we weren’t even a thing, Em. We were nothing, it was just a kiss and then a huge misunderstanding afterwards - how can it be me?” You chuntered, feeling flustered as you rubbed your forehead.
“You don’t need to be a thing. You don’t need to be with someone to fall in love with them, Y/N,”
“I know that,”
“So…?” Emily encouraged you, but you stayed silent. She sighed. “So he fell in love with you and he’s not sure if he’s moved on from that,”
“That’s crazy,” You coughed. “It’s not me. He didn’t fall in love with me in Wyoming,” You began to laugh at the stupidity of Emily’s claim.
“Get dressed. We’re going out for lunch,” Emily changed the subject.
“Fine,” You huffed.
“You’re right, by the way,” Emily smiled. “He fell in love with you way before Wyoming...Be ready by 11,”
-----
angel list - please message me to be tagged in this story as my taglist doesn't include this fic
I'm back...ish! I'm so sorry that this fic went from a chapter every night to waiting over a week for this one - I've been super busy with my jobs IRL and haven't had time to write. Thanks for sticking around guys <3
Also, this case isn't fictional which is why it took extra time to write. I was planning on making up a case but found myself writing my own trauma lmao.
Names and locations have been changed, but this is my own case just as a warning.
A03.
Story Masterlist
You’ve never been one to want to be fixed. You’d rather try and fix other people, protect them and nourish them back to who they’ve always wanted to be. Their caretaker. Two thousand miles away from home in a new city, with a new job, and seven new faces to decode and decipher, your attention seems to be slowly wrapping up with one of them. Are you falling in love, Y/N?
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Additional Tags: Very slow burn, Pining
Contains: Adult Language, Fluff, Smut, Heartbreak
CM Timeline: AU begins after Haley and Hotch’s divorce. Some cases within this story are not canon.
WC: 2.7K
Chapter Fourteen
Emily met you with a fresh coffee, made perfectly, and a sorrowful smile as you stepped out of the elevator on Monday morning.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you so much at lunch yesterday,” She sighed as she walked with you through the glass doors and into the BAU bullpen. You shrugged with a soft, forgiving grin as you raised the coffee cup to your lips, savouring the taste of the first few swigs.
“Don’t worry about it,” You giggled, nudging her with your elbow. She returned the grin and sat down at her desk, opposite yours. “But I appreciate the sucking-up coffee,” You teased, taking another hearty gulp of the drink.
“...Yo, where’s mine?”
You both turned your heads to Derek as he sat down at his desk with a joking smirk on his face.
“Did I upset you yesterday?” Emily asked him and his face dropped a little, becoming more serious and sincere within seconds.
“What? No,” He said. “Why? What did you do?”
You bit back a smile as you watched Derek’s face twist from concern to complete bewilderment, as Emily stared at him with an expressionless face.
“Emily, what’s going on?”
Emily’s teeth shined as she finally caved in and laughed, with her head tilting back slightly as her throaty cackle filled the air.
“Then I don’t need to buy you a coffee,” She muttered with a chuckle as she looked down at the file on her desk.
“Wh--?” Derek huffed. He glanced at you, but your head was also bowed down with your eyes engrossed in the papers on your own desk.
“Women,” Derek mumbled, shaking his head at Reid. Reid stared blankly at him for a moment, before shrugging - obviously missing the entire last five minutes to a thick book on his desk.
At midday, you snapped a file full of paperwork shut and stood up, allowing your legs to stretch before making your way over to Hotch’s office. The door was ajar so you pushed it open softly, finding Hotch on the phone at his desk with a serious expression. The kind of expression that was reserved for cases.
“Did you raise an amber alert?”
You silently cursed. An amber alert meant a missing kid, and you hadn’t worked a case involving kids yet. The last two years had been everything from teenage budding psychopaths to serials, but no missing or harmed kids. The youngest victim that you’d come across so far had been seventeen.
You stepped into his office, your feet soft and quiet on the floor as you stood in front of his desk. He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, the phone pushed to his ear by his shoulder as he motioned for you to set the file in your hands down onto the desk.
“We’re on our way,”
He ended the call and stared at you, searching your face for any tell tale signs of worry because he knew. He knew that this was this case which was going to cut you deep the most and the vow that he made two years ago echoed into his mind. He was really going to keep an eye on you for these next few days.
“How?” You asked, but it came out as a whisper. You cleared your throat. “How old?”
“Two,”
There it was. A similarity. Something that you could relate to, but not for the best reasons. You nodded slowly, closing your eyes for a brief second to compose yourself.
“Shall I call everyone into the briefing room?”
“Yeah,” Hotch nodded, still keeping his eyes focused on you as you turned to leave the office. “L/N...Y/N, before you go…”
You paused beside the door, watching him over your shoulder.
“I’m fine,” You exclaimed, but Hotch shook his head.
“No, not that. I’m sorry that I overreacted yesterday,”
“Don’t worry about it,” You managed a small smile, before leaving the office and allowing your face to drop into a mixture of panic and worry.
You hadn’t been in Iowa City for longer than an hour when your phone started to buzz in your pocket. Apologising to Hotch and JJ, who were about to enter the police department, you stepped aside the door and leaned against the wall, accepting the call.
“Hey, angel,” Garcia’s voice soothed over the phone speaker. You instantly felt a little calmer.
“Hey, you,”
“This case is gonna be hard on you, huh?”
“...yeah,” You sighed.
“Well, honey, if you need to talk, you know my number,”
“Thanks, Penny,” You said, sincerely, as you ended the call and took in a deep breath before briskly entering the police department.
The case was difficult. Extremely difficult.
As JJ had briefed the team in the conference room before you left, Abigail Taylor had been missing for three hours. She was two years old, with brown eyes and the same hair colour as you. She was last seen wearing a long sleeved lilac shirt, blue jeans and white sneakers.
However, the Iowa City PD knew that her father had taken her. Ian Taylor had picked his daughter up from her mother’s house at 10am, as per usual to their custody agreement, to take Abigail out for the day. Ten minutes after Ian had left, he had left a voicemail on Abigail’s mother’s phone - only one sentence, less than ten seconds long, but Abigail’s mother had called the cops as soon as she heard it and, due to Ian Taylor’s history, the BAU had been called to assist.
You tried your best to hold back the tears as the voicemail played in the conference room.
“Remember Michael Miller? You’ll never see Abigail again,”
“Michael Miller?” Emily had asked when the voicemail ended.
“Michael Miller was a man from Des Moines who killed himself and his son when his ex-wife started dating a new guy,” Reid said, matter of factly, as he pushed his glasses further up on his nose.
“Ian Taylor’s mental stability has been going downbank for the last few years. We need to figure out where he’s taking her,”
Hotch, true to his personal vow, had barely taken his eyes away from you since arriving at the Police Department. He watched you intently, noticing how rigid your shoulders were as your eyes scanned the files in front of you, reading up on Ian Taylor’s background.
JJ was just outside the conference room in the PD, trying to comfort Abigail’s mother, Tracy, but all the woman could do was lean forward and hold her hair in her fists, pulling it at it tightly in fear. She’d already got a small bald patch near her left temple from ripping her hair out at the root.
“This guy has some issues,” Morgan mumbled as he threw a file into the middle of the table. “He has a restraining order against him since 2005 from his first wife - he said that he’d kill himself if she didn’t take him back,”
“Well, according to the detective, Tracy Taylor was going to file a restraining order too for stalking, but decided against it so Abigail wouldn’t lose out on seeing her father,” Emily commented. “And Tracy refused to press charges when he assaulted her a month ago,”
You’d stopped reading the file and your eyes stared at the board in front of you, with the photo of Abigail hung neatly. You stared at it for so long that the image was swaying in front of your eyes, the colours blurring into one, until a black suit covered her up.
“L/N?” Hotch asked, his voice soft which caught the attention of the team. You blinked a couple of times, before looking up at his face.
“This isn’t about Abigail,” You mumbled. “None of this is about Abigail - she’s just a weapon that he’s using. Everything is focused around Tracy. He’s pissed that she’s moved on,”
The team stayed silent as you stood up, slowly walking over to the board. Next to Abigail’s photo was Tracy’s and your eyes focused on it.
“Ian stalked her, assaulted her, but Tracy didn’t press charges. She refused to let it affect her. So he took Abigail as the only way to hurt Tracy,”
“Prentiss, interview Tracy Taylor with JJ. Write down locations that were significant within her and Ian’s relationship, he may be revisiting old memories with her,”
Emily left the room with a nod. You remained in front of the board, piecing together bits of information in your mind as you stared at Tracy’s photo.
Your eyes narrowed as a question crossed your mind, and you turned back towards the table, leaning over to dial Garcia’s number into the phone. Hotch’s gaze was burning into you.
“Information superhighway at your service, my fluffy duckling,”
“Hey Pen,” You greeted.
“What do you need, sugar?”
“Ian Taylor’s bank activity,”
“Ah, no luck, my love. His account’s been untouched for three days,”
“No, I’m not interested in outgoing transactions,”
Morgan raised an eyebrow as he watched you.
“What do you want me to look for?” Garcia asked.
“Incoming transactions. There’ll be someone who sends cash to him, it’ll be a regular thing,”
“Okay...erm..let me--woah,”
“What?”
“You’re right. There’s an account than sends him ten thousand dollars every month,”
“Who’s the account registered to, Penny?”
“Simon Taylor,”
Reid and Rossi rushed off to interview Ian’s father, Simon, leaving Morgan, Hotch and you behind. JJ and Emily were still interviewing Tracy, Morgan was leaning back in his chair throwing a ball of paper in the air as he thought, and Hotch was sitting at the head of the table with his eyes completely focused on you.
He was silently begging to know what was going on in your mind right now - what you were thinking, how you were feeling - and, if Morgan hadn't have been in the room, he’d have sat down next to you to take stock of you. But he was reduced to just watching you, to try and figure out your brain on his own, as you zoned out to try and piece together parts of Ian Taylor.
His father regularly sent him money. He couldn’t hold down a steady job with his mental instability, so someone had to be looking after him, and chances were that Simon Taylor would do anything to protect his son. Maybe even help him to avoid the cops and the FBI.
Reid and Rossi returned half an hour later with Simon Taylor walking closely behind them.
“He says that he knows nothing, but we’re keeping him here so he can’t help to hide Abigail and Ian,”
Your gaze landed on the photo of Abigail once again. You studied her face, her eyes, her smile - her bright, innocent smile that brought you back to the night before your third birthday. The night that you saw the spilled paint on the floor of the living room and you rubbed your hands in it, creating a mural of red handprints over the white walls of your house...then seeing your Mom covered in paint and your father holding a knife covered in paint, too. Why did Daddy paint with a knife? You use a brush!
You shuddered as the memory faded.
“She’s just a baby,” You murmured. “She’s just a fucking baby,” Your voice raised a little louder as you stood up from your seat.
“L/N?” Rossi asked gently, but you shook your head at him. You walked over to the door of the conference room, yanking it open and shooting a glance to Hotch over your shoulder.
“Can you watch?”
Hotch nodded, wordless, as he followed you out of the door. You entered the interrogation room alone, Hotch watching from the other side of the glass.
Calmly, you sat down in front of Simon, watching him for a few seconds before you decided to speak.
You understood him like the back of your hand within those few seconds. Rich, cold, calculating. A disconnect to the world that existed outside of the compounds of his family and his own comfort - but a strong protective aura radiated from him and you knew that it only concerned his son.
“Your son is planning to commit suicide,” You said, matter of factly. Simon, on the surface, appeared unsurprised and expressionless, but you saw a flicker of something fearful in his eyes. Maybe this time, his son will actually go through with it. Maybe this will be the day that he will lose his son.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, Miss…?”
“L/N. Agent L/N,”
“Agent L/N,” Simon’s eyebrows raised at your correction, as if he was shocked that you had dared to correct him, but he kept his face in that same expressionless stare.
“He’s going to kill himself and your granddaughter in his car,”
Simon watched you and, although his face remained calm, the nail on his right index finger had slowly begun to scratch the top of the table.
“Ian Taylor will poison himself and his daughter in his car. Do you know what happens when you breathe in too much carbon monoxide?”
Simon remained silent, although his back straightened up and he leaned forward - only by a mere few centimetres but a tell of interest nonetheless.
“When you inhale carbon monoxide, it combines with haemoglobin which formulates carboxyhemoglobin. This reduces the flow of oxygen. It causes seizures and, eventually, death,”
You leaned forward towards him, your eyes staring directly into his without so much as a waver.
“Your son, your precious flesh and blood, and your two-year old innocent granddaughter will slowly stop breathing. Their lungs will burn, they’ll throw up, they’ll barely be able to move. The blood vessels in their eyes will burst open. They’ll be unable to stop the process...and they’ll die,”
Simon gulped.
“At first, it’ll feel like they’ve got the flu. But then when they start convulsing and your son becomes terrified and wants to change his mind, he’ll be too weak to stop the carbon monoxide,”
You paused.
“Your grand-daughter will never go to school. She’ll never learn how to read. She’ll never live her life the way that we hope our children and our grand-children will live. She will never reach her third birthday. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Simon choked out. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, they were glassy and remorseful.
“I saw them at midday. Ian came to the house with Abi, he said his car had broken down and that he needed to take my old land rover,”
“We need the license plate,”
“I didn’t see the news until after he’d left, but it made no sense. I thought it was Tracy being dramatic - trying to set Ian off or something,” He sniffed. For a moment, he stared at the table before giving you a pointed look, the tears quickly evaporating from the waterlines of his eyes. “How do you know what he’s planning?”
“He left Tracy a voicemail,”
“What? A voicemail? Can I hear it? You might have got this all wrong, you know. My son would never hurt his daughter,”
“The plate, Mr Taylor,” You said as you grabbed a small notepad and a pen from the inside pocket of your jacket, sliding them across the table to him.
Simon scribbled the digits down and slid the paper back towards you. You left without another word, Hotch following quickly behind you as you flopped the notepad onto the desk in the conference room.
“Ian’s switched vehicles. Put an APB out on this plate and call Garcia,” Hotch commanded. Morgan grabbed the paper and left the room, his phone already dialling Garcia’s number.
-----
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