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writing-the-stars · 2 months ago

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Mikaelson Ball (Kol)

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a thousand years apart, you reunite with your long-lost love. However, all is not as it seems.

Warnings: ANGST (Like a sickening amount. I laid it on THICK this time), Talks of Death and Murder, Canon-Typical Violence (Really just a small confrontation that happens in the episode). Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 6.6k (I wasn't even expecting it to be this long!!!)

A/N: Hey guys! So, just wanted to let you know this is my last Kol fic (unless a request is submitted). I have debated on whether or not I should even post this, but I worked REALLY hard on this and I would be sad to let it go to waste. This is one of the first TVDU fanfictions I started YEARS AGO, so this fic has been through a lot. In fact, it's been through so much that (depending on y'all's feedback) it has the potential to become a two to three part series (maybe 4, but I hope I'm not THAT verbose). As I was working I realized how long it had gotten and cut it in half, so Part 2 is mostly done and needs some edits, but if you all want it, I could post it very soon. Anyway , long author's note this time around. All of this is to say, this is one of my babies and I had a lot of fun working on it. I'm super proud of it and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!! (TL;DR: This is my last Kol fic (unless a request is submitted) and has the potential to be a multipart if you all want it)

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

A storm of emotions brews within you as you anxiously await your reunion with the man who was once your everything. A thousand years have passed since you last saw Kol, and the uncertainty gnaws at you. Do his feelings still remain? Did your love really survive the passage of time?

A thousand years is an eternity— a vast expanse of time that undoubtedly swallowed all the moments you shared. The possibility that he has moved on weighs heavily on your mind, as cruel as it seems. After all, you’ve been dead.

Your stomach tightens with a wave of panic. What are you doing here? you question. The thought of turning around, leaving this past behind, grows increasingly tempting. Walking away seems like the safer option, a way to protect your fragile heart from the weight of inevitable disappointment. Just as your feet begin to move, the voice of Esther— unmistakable and clear— pierces the air, as if she knew exactly what you were about to do.

“I want us to be a family again. And to prove my good intentions, I have brought a gift.”

The door swings open, and there you stand, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable beneath the astonished gazes of the five people who were once your family.

They look... different. But unmistakably the same.

Your heart lurches as you take in the sight of them, their familiar faces now etched by the passage of time. Elijah stands to your right, his once-shoulder-length hair now cropped short, and his attire— a tailored, sophisticated ensemble— commands an air of authority you didn’t recognize from the man you knew. Beside him, Finn’s leather attire and long hair suggest a nod to his former self, though a sense of quiet power surrounds him. In the back of the room, Niklaus looms, his sharp gaze cutting through the air. His presence is menacing, dark and commanding, a notable contrast to the man from your memories, yet the edge of familiarity remains.

To your left, Rebekah dons a stunning red piece that resembles a dress, radiating timeless grace. Her beauty is still as striking as ever.

And finally, your gaze finds him. Kol.

The moment you’ve both longed for and feared.

Anxiety grips you as your breath catches. Time seems to slow as you take in the sight of him— so like the Kol you remember, and yet... so different. His hair is styled similarly to Elijah’s, sleek and sophisticated, and his attire— though foreign— seems to suit him perfectly, giving him an almost regal quality.

But it’s his eyes that stop you cold. His gaze locks with yours, and the world falls away. He looks at you with the same eyes that once held yours with such warmth and passion, promising you forever.

Your pulse quickens. The same mischievous glint dances in his eyes—an emotion so familiar and intimate that it stirs something deep inside you. For a heartbeat, you feel as though you’re standing in the past again, caught in that beautiful, tragic moment when he first swept you into his world.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his voice thick with disbelief. His tone lingers in the air like a prayer, the name a soft, desperate whisper. It feels like an eternity since you last heard him speak your name.

Kol had long resigned himself to the belief that he would never see you again, after your death a millennium ago— the true love of his life. Your loss had driven him to madness, compelling him to descend into the darkest recesses of his vampiric existence. For centuries, he had nothing to hold onto, nothing to desire or cherish.

And yet, here you are, standing before him— alive— and just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on you. The youngest Mikaelson son is rendered speechless as he struggles to hold onto this fragile thread of reality, having only dreamed of this moment.

Unable to stop yourself, you move toward him, your feet unsteady as you draw closer. Kol’s eyes soften, disbelief giving way to awe as he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch is so tender, so tentative, as though he fears you might vanish.

A smile stretches across his face— small, incredulous, but genuine. The same smile that once set your heart on fire.

You smile back, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. “Hi, Kol,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the joy you thought you would never feel again.

Without another word, he pulls you into a kiss— deep, urgent, filled with longing and a desperate love that spans a thousand years. His lips press against yours as if he’s trying to make up for all the time lost, all the moments stolen from you both.

When the kiss breaks, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Darling, I’ve missed you so much.”

His voice is raw with emotion, a depth of feeling you thought might have dulled with time. But there is no denying it— his love for you remains. He still loves you.

“I’ve missed you too,” you reply, a fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks as you gaze at him, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his expression.

You turn your gaze to the rest of the Mikaelsons— your family— who are still staring at you with wide eyes. Shock, awe, and disbelief reflect in each of their faces. You’ve been gone for so long, and your death left scars on them all.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing the tears from your cheeks, and speak the words that have been in your heart for so long, “I’ve missed all of you.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the magnitude of your return sinking in. Finally, Elijah speaks. “How is this possible, Mother?” he asks, turning to Esther for an explanation. The rest of the family follows suit, each of them seeking the truth in their eyes.

Esther steps forward, a serene smile gracing her lips as she addresses them. “On the night of Y/N’s passing, I managed to preserve her body,” she explains, her voice calm and measured. “I kept it hidden, safe within the caves from which I was resurrected. Though Y/N is not bound to us by blood, she is a cherished member of this family. We would not be whole without her.”

As Esther finishes her explanation, the Mikaelsons— one by one— rush toward you. Rebekah is the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight, emotional hug, her tears blending with your laughter. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers through her tears, holding you close.

The others follow, each one enveloping you in their arms, their joy and disbelief palpable. Kol stays close by, never letting you slip from his side, his hand always finding yours, his gaze never leaving your face.

The night passes in a blur of hugs, laughter, and tears. And as the reunion unfolds around you, you realize that all those years spent in darkness and sorrow have finally come to an end. You are home. And you are loved.

-*-

“Rebekah, tell me how handsome I am,” Kol calls out from in front of what you’ve learned to call the mirror. The thing still fascinates you— how it reflects your image so clearly, no magic involved.

“Ah, Kol, you know I can’t be compelled,” Rebekah replies from beside you, prompting a soft giggle from you in response.

Kol frowns dramatically, swiveling from the mirror to cast a mockingly reproachful look in your direction. A playful gleam dances in his eyes, and you can’t resist returning his gaze with a cheeky smile.

“Great, she’s just returned, and already you’ve turned my wife against me,” Kol remarks, his tone light but feigning frustration.

You snicker, your eyes flicking to Finn, who had been watching from his fitting. He turns now, offering a knowing smirk to his youngest brother. Rebekah, pleased with herself, flashes a triumphant smile before resuming her focus on her freshly painted nails.

It feels so natural to be here, like you’ve never been gone. The easy camaraderie you share with your family slips seamlessly back into place, like a favorite memory that never quite fades. The banter, the jokes, the teasing— it’s all so familiar. For the first time in a long time, you feel something like peace.

“I think you look fetching, Kol,” you say, your voice warm as you shoot him a smile that matches the fondness in your words. He turns back to the mirror, a pleased smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he admires his reflection once more.

“Thank you, darling,” he replies, his voice soft with affection. He straightens his jacket— a suit, you’ve learned. The look fits him well, but it’s his self-assuredness, his confidence, that makes the moment feel so... right.

The door slams open with a violent force that rattles the room. Niklaus storms in, his fury unmistakable, his aura thick with rage. “You went after Elena?” he roars, eyes blazing, “What is wrong with you?”

Your stomach drops at the sudden shift in atmosphere, the lightheartedness evaporating in an instant. You realize with a sharp jolt that his wrath is directed at Rebekah, and you feel an uncomfortable knot tighten in your chest.

The Niklaus you knew— once gentle and kind— feels like a distant memory now. The years have twisted him, and his anger has fermented into something far darker. The warmth in his soul has been mutilated to a volatile, vindictive cruelty.

You think of what Kol told you, the countless betrayals, the violence. The times he daggered his siblings, locked them away in coffins, and manipulated every one of them to suit his whims. You shiver involuntarily, the stories of his temper leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Here we go,” Rebekah mutters under her breath, her voice still laced with amusement as she watches Niklaus’s fury unfold. You notice the small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at her lips. She’s always enjoyed riling her brothers, a quality you’ve always admired her for— her fearless audacity. She isn’t afraid of Niklaus..

“Do you want another dagger in your heart?” he threatens, his voice laced with menace.

You tense, your body instinctively bracing as you position yourself closer to Rebekah, ready to protect her if necessary. The weight of Niklaus's fury settles over the room like a storm, thick and oppressive. Though his anger intimidates you deeply, you can't help but feel a surge of determination. Not this time. You've only just been reunited with your family and you’re not about to let him tear them away from you. Not without a fight.

Even though you were warned about Niklaus’s drastic transformation, witnessing it firsthand is nothing short of jarring. The man who once exuded warmth, tenderness, and a kind of charming vulnerability now stands before you— his presence dark, heavy, and filled with an unrelenting malice. His eyes, once soft and capable of genuine affection, now gleam with a cold, calculating cruelty that sends a shiver down your spine.

The contrast is staggering. Gone is the brother you remember—the one who, despite his flaws, had moments of kindness. In his place stands a figure that commands fear, his rage so palpable it feels like an almost physical force in the room. His words cut through the air like a blade, each syllable dripping with venom, and you feel the pull of that darkness like a weight on your chest.

You glance at Rebekah, who, though clearly unfazed by her brother's outburst, has a flicker of something in her eyes—something you can’t quite place, but it’s there. A weariness. A resignation, maybe. She’s endured Niklaus’s wrath for so long that it no longer rattles her, but you know it’s still painful, still damaging.

“More dagger threats? Don’t you have any other tricks up your sleeve?” Kol taunts from behind Niklaus, his voice dripping with mockery and a hint of challenge. The boldness of it makes you wince.

You turn to your husband, your eyes wide with silent pleading. You’ve heard that Kol, more than any of the others, has borne the brunt of Niklaus’s wrath. How he’s been daggered more times than anyone could count, all for daring to cross Klaus in even the slightest way. You cannot stand to see him suffer that again— not when you’ve just found your way back to him.

Niklaus barely spares him a glance, his expression dismissive. “Oh, go back to admiring yourself,” he replies, almost lazily, his eyes flicking back to Rebekah as if Kol’s words were no more than a minor distraction.

You take a step closer to Kol, your hand brushing against his arm as you whisper urgently, “Kol, don’t—”

But your husband, ever the provocateur, ignores your warning completely.

“And who are you, my father?” he retorts, a biting edge to his voice, the sarcasm unmistakable. You can feel your heart sink. The last thing you want is another confrontation between them, especially when there’s so much unspoken between them already. But Kol is Kol—reckless, defiant, impossible to hold back.

A deep sigh escapes you as you close your eyes in frustration. This was never supposed to be the way you reunited with your family.

Niklaus, for his part, is barely fazed. “No, Kol,” he says, his tone chillingly cold as he steps forward, his imposing presence growing with each movement, “But you’re in my house.”

The tension in the room thickens, and you can practically feel the electricity crackling between the brothers. The history between them weighs heavily in the air, and you know how far this could go if Kol doesn’t back down.

You open your eyes, but Kol’s gaze remains fixed on Niklaus. There’s no retreat in his posture, no hesitation. The challenge has already been issued.

“Then perhaps we should take this outside,” Kol says, his voice firm, steel running through every word as he faces his older brother with defiance.

The air feels heavy as you step toward Kol, the tension in the room palpable— Niklaus’s silence speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know the danger in the air

“Kol, stop,” you urge, your hand landing gently but firmly on his chest in a desperate attempt to calm him. The contact should have grounded you, but instead, it feels as though you're pressing against a solid wall of muscle and defiance. His body tenses beneath your palm, and the force of his presence is enough to make your heart race.

The silence stretches, thick with the weight of the standoff, until Esther’s voice cuts through it like a blade, sharp and commanding. “Enough!”

She enters the room with her usual grace, but her modern appearance— fitting seamlessly into the façade you’re all working so hard to maintain— reminds you that beneath her calm exterior, Esther is no stranger to control and power. With a glance that commands attention, she directs her words to Niklaus.

“Niklaus, come.”

He hesitates, throwing one last simmering glare in Kol’s direction before reluctantly following her out. Kol remains unfazed. His smirk remains firmly in place, his eyes glinting with the satisfaction of having provoked his older brother.

Once the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You turn toward your husband, giving his shoulder a firm smack. It won’t faze him, of course, but it’s all you can do in the moment to express your frustration.

He turns toward you, his eyes wide with feigned innocence, though the playful spark in them betrays any semblance of remorse. “What was that for?” he asks, his voice light, unbothered.

“Why did you have to provoke him?” you admonish, your tone a delicate balance of exasperation and concern, “We’re trying to live peacefully, remember?”

Kol just chuckles, the sound rich with amusement. That familiar smirk of his reappears, and before you can protest, he leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to soothe the tension in your own body.

“Darling,” he murmurs with a soft chuckle, “it’s all in good fun.” He pauses, his gaze steady on you, warm with affection. “Niklaus wouldn’t dare break one of Mother’s rules,” he reassures you, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your breath catches at the tenderness in his touch, but you aren’t fully swayed. “Kol…” you begin, but he cuts you off gently with a playful nudge, clearly eager to move on from the moment.

“Now,” he says, a mischievous glint still in his eyes, “go finish getting ready. We wouldn’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

He gives you one last smile before turning to leave, still carrying that lighthearted arrogance that both frustrates and charms you in equal measure. You let out a weary sigh, shaking your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You know better than to argue with Kol when he’s in one of his moods. As much as you want to argue, to make him understand, you recognize the futility in it. Kol is Kol— charming, reckless, and utterly impossible to control.

You can’t help but watch him for a moment, the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. A soft rustling sounds from across the room, and you catch sight of Esther’s figure as she steps toward Finn, summoning him for what is likely another private meeting. You’ve become all too familiar with the urgency in her tone these past few days— the need to push forward, to set everything in motion before the final hour.

That sharp pang of guilt hits you again, this time deeper, sharper, as the weight of your purpose presses down on you. You remember the true reason behind your return— why you were brought through the veil of the Other Side. You were meant to help Esther destroy everything you had once loved. Your family.

When Esther first appeared to you on the Other Side, she came as an unsettling whisper— offering you a chance to return, to see Kol again. But with that offer, came a price. She spoke of vengeance, of the Mikaelsons’ monstrous sins, and the desperate need to put an end to their immortal lives. The thought of betraying them, of helping the woman who had once so desperately tried to save them, had felt impossible. You had never seen the Mikaelsons as monsters, and the very idea of murdering them was abhorrent to you.

Theirs had been the only family you’d ever known, and even after death, your love for them, for Kol especially, had never wavered. How could you betray them?

And yet, the pull of Kol’s memory was undeniable. The desperate yearning to hold him, to be close to him again after all those years, twisted your heart into something darker, something willing to overlook the weight of betrayal in favor of a fleeting, fragile reunion. Two weeks. That was the offer. Two weeks to be with him again, to feel his presence and love one last time.

Now, it feels like a hollow, idiotic decision. To sacrifice his life— for two weeks. How had you ever thought that could be enough? After all, you had died to save him once, only to throw his life away for a moment of personal happiness. The enormity of that decision makes your chest tighten, suffocating you in its finality.

You glance over at the Mikaelson siblings, their voices drifting through the air, light and carefree. Kol, teasing Rebekah as she rolls her eyes. Elijah, offering a rare chuckle at one of Kol’s more ridiculous remarks. For a moment, the room feels suspended in time. The warmth, the joy, the familiarity of it all. It feels so... so normal.

But all you can do is offer them half-hearted smiles, your thoughts lost in the suffocating weight of the knowledge hanging over you. By the end of the night, you will be sealing their fates. The pain in your chest flares again, sharper now, as you look at Kol. His smile— so effortless, so genuine— shatters you. How could you do this? You think, heart heavy with regret.

Their laughter echoes in your ears, and it suddenly feels cruel. The humor, the happiness— it’s a cruel irony, knowing that it’s all about to be torn apart.

-*-

“The doppelgänger has arrived,” you announce, feeling her energy the moment she steps through the mansion’s doors. Your voice is steady despite the churning in your chest. You try to ignore the unease tightening your stomach, but it’s no use. The guilt of the plan looms ever larger.

Esther looks up from the table, her fingers poised over the arcane materials laid out before her— materials meant to bind the Mikaelson siblings together in a way that could never be undone. A soft smile tugs at her lips, one that’s full of satisfaction, like a puzzle piece finally falling into place.

“Excellent. The plan is coming together perfectly,” she says, her tone airy with triumph. Rising from her seat, she glances between you and Finn, her pride radiating from her. “I am proud of you both,” she adds, her gaze lingering longer on you, and you can almost feel her approval burn through you like a silent command.

Finn responds as expected, a soft bow of his head, the quiet humility of the eldest Mikaelson always present. You, however, simply offer a carefully controlled smile, masking the turmoil stirring inside you. You’ve spent enough years under Esther’s influence to know how to wear a mask, but it’s never been more difficult than now.

Esther clasps her hands together, her face hardening into something resolute. “You two should join the ball before anyone becomes suspicious. I’ll join you shortly,” she says, her voice cutting through the air with a finality that brooks no argument.

You nod, but the command weighs heavily on you..

With a curtsy that feels forced, you exit the elder witch’s chamber, Finn falling into step behind you. The click of your heels echoes through the hall as the two of you walk in silence. It feels like an eternity before you finally break it, your voice quiet but laced with an undercurrent of disbelief.

“Are you truly willing to sacrifice your life to further Esther’s plans?” you ask, unable to mask the bewilderment in your tone. Finn has always been loyal to her— his willingness to follow her blindly never ceased to astonish you— but this? To give up everything, including his life, for something that is, at its core, a betrayal of his own family? It doesn’t sit right.

Finn’s answer comes without hesitation. “I am,” he says solemnly, his face unreadable. “I am deeply ashamed of what I and my siblings have become. Mother’s plan for us is a gift—a freedom from the shame of our monstrous existence.” His words are heavy with conviction, but beneath them, you hear the faintest hint of desperation.

You nod, trying to suppress the growing ache in your chest. You understand him in a way— you once believed the same things. Esther’s words were like gospel to you back then. She had saved you, taught you to believe in her cause.

But somewhere along the way, that idealism faded, the weight of reality replacing it. You cannot see the plan the way Finn does, with all its promise of redemption. The quiet tragedy of it all makes your heart ache. You wish he had outgrown this naïve faith, the same way you had.

Your disappointment must be evident, because Finn leans closer to you, his expression softening just a fraction. He whispers, “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

You freeze at the question, your stomach dropping. “Of course not,” you reply, feigning offense, though it’s more out of instinct than anything else. “The balance of nature was disrupted when Esther granted you immortality; it’s only right that this imbalance be corrected.”

Finn nods, satisfied with your false reassurance, and heads off toward the doppelgänger. You can hear his footsteps fade, but your thoughts remain with him, tangled in a web of guilt and regret.

As Finn disappears from view, you let out a brief, quiet sigh, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a physical burden. But it’s quickly overshadowed by the sense of someone approaching— him.

Kol’s presence fills the space behind you with warmth, but that warmth does little to thaw the coldness seeping into your bones. The comfort of his nearness is only a fleeting reprieve from the crushing reality of your guilt.

The moment he draws near, you stiffen, and you can barely bring yourself to meet his gaze. His presence, as always, is magnetic, but now, it feels like a slow burn— intoxicating and dangerous. You’ve never been able to hide anything from Kol, especially not the way you feel about him, but right now, the weight of your betrayal is too much.

“There you are, darling,” Kol says, his voice warm and affectionate, like a comforting balm to your restless heart. His eyes sparkle with that mischievous yet sincere gleam, and for a moment, the weight of everything else fades as he steps closer. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

The sincerity in his tone makes everything feel even more unbearable. It twists in your chest, amplifying the heavy knot of guilt lodged there. You want to meet his eyes, want to return his affection with the same warmth, but the deception you're entangled in is too overwhelming. His words should bring you comfort, but they only serve to heighten your sense of impending betrayal.

Kol stops in front of you, his gaze drinking you in, and you catch the awe in his eyes— the way he looks at you now, as if you were a treasure he’d long lost and finally found again, makes your heart ache.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and it causes your cheeks to flush a deep crimson. The compliment, so effortlessly given, only deepens the knot inside you. You want to smile, to accept his praise with the same joy he’s giving it, but it’s difficult to reconcile the beauty he sees before him with the dark truth lurking behind it.

You lower your gaze, unsure of how to handle this moment where his admiration feels both like a gift and a weight. Kol notices the way you shy away, and his smile only grows, delighted by your modesty, though there’s a tenderness in the way his eyes soften.

He steps closer, his hand lifting your chin with a gentleness that feels like it’s meant to reassure you. Your heart skips a beat as his fingers graze your skin, so familiar, so Kol. When his gaze locks onto yours, it’s as if the world falls away—there’s no Esther, no plan, no guilt... just him.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

The kiss is a spark of warmth that spreads through you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. It's the same feeling you had when he kissed you all those centuries ago, when you were alive, when you could never have imagined the distance time would create between you.

You want to lose yourself in the tenderness of the moment, to forget everything but Kol and the love he’s offering, but the sharp edge of reality cuts through the haze. This is not a simple reunion. This is not the sweet promise of forever. This is a stolen moment, tainted by the knowledge that you will soon betray him in ways you can't yet fully comprehend.

When Kol pulls away, his eyes remain locked on yours, his smile gentle and full of affection. “I am so happy to have you back,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing.

His words are meant to comfort, but instead, they deepen the ache in your chest. The warmth of his sentiment is a stark contrast to the cold reality you’re living. You want to tell him everything— that you’re not who you used to be, that you have to make hard choices, that your love for him is bound up in a betrayal so great it makes you sick— but the words won’t come. Instead, you just stand there, caught in the weight of your own silence.

The tenderness in his gaze is so overwhelming, it makes your heart ache in ways that no longer feel sweet. The shame creeps in, tightening its grip, suffocating the joy that his presence should bring.

You wish you could feel the same peace, the same certainty that Kol exudes in this moment. But the truth is, you’re already drowning in the lies you’ve woven, and the deeper you go, the harder it will be to come back up.

Elijah’s commanding voice cuts through the heavy air. "Attention, everyone," he calls, the authority in his tone silencing the room instantly. His intervention is a welcome relief, allowing you a moment to steady yourself before Kol can ask more questions, questions you’re desperately trying to avoid.

Kol’s arm remains possessively around your waist, as he guides you toward the grand staircase— a protective gesture that, for all its warmth, feels like a chain locking you to this moment. The familiar sensation of his touch should comfort you, but tonight it only adds to the weight pressing down on your chest.

“Welcome. Thank you for joining us,” Elijah continues, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. His presence always commands attention, and tonight it is no different. As you stand on the grand staircase with the Mikaelsons, you scan the crowd below, hoping to catch a glimpse of the doppelgänger. If you can speak with her, if you can convince her to leave before Esther has her ear, maybe you can stop this madness. Maybe you can save them.

But deep down, you know it’s futile. Esther’s plan is already set in motion, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

“You know, whenever my mother brings our family together like this, it's tradition to begin the evening with a dance,” he announces smoothly, with just the right mix of warmth and command. His words stir a strange mix of nostalgia and dread within you.

You knew this night would come— when they would all stand together, united for the first time in a thousand years. And yet, as much as you’d once longed for a reunion like this, now it feels like a cruel joke. The only reason you’ve been brought together is so they can die.

You feel a shiver creep down your spine as Elijah continues. “Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz, so if all of you could please find yourself a partner, join us in the ballroom.”

Kol’s hand tightens gently around your waist, pulling you a little closer. You instinctively lean into him, seeking the comfort of his touch, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the world could be perfect again. You exchange a look with him, both of you remembering the first time you danced this waltz— back on your wedding day, a lifetime ago. The melody, the rhythm, the elegance— it all floods back to you in a rush.

For a brief moment, the weight of your guilt lifts, and you allow yourself to smile up at him, sharing in the memory of a love that once seemed untouchable. The familiar waltz fills the space, and you can almost pretend, just for a second, that everything is as it should be.

As the dance continues, your heart grows heavier with every step you take, the crushing weight of your impending betrayal sinking into your bones.

You feel nauseous. The closeness of Kol’s embrace, once a safe haven, now feels like a prison. The tenderness in his touch only serves to amplify the guilt that gnaws at you, relentless and unforgiving. Every step of the waltz feels like a step closer to your destruction.

“Are you alright, darling?” Kol��s voice, soft and concerned, pulls you out of your spiraling thoughts. You blink, meeting his gaze for a split second, but immediately look away. You can’t bear to see the warmth and love in his eyes— eyes that once trusted you without question, eyes that you’re about to break forever.

You nod faintly, too scared to speak, afraid that your voice might betray the turmoil inside you. Kol studies you for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing his features, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the small of your back as he leads you through the steps of the waltz with practiced grace.

As the dance progresses, your heart races, each step you take with Kol serving as a cruel reminder of what you stand to lose. The beauty of the moment, the elegance of the ballroom, feels hollow now. Every spin, every glide across the floor, only deepens your sense of isolation, as if the room is closing in around you.

You try to focus on the music, on the rhythm, on the familiar warmth of Kol’s touch, but it’s impossible to ignore the gnawing truth: by the end of the night, you will have sealed their fates. And no amount of dancing, no amount of love, will change that. You need a way out. You need to stop this. But how?

Kol, ever perceptive, senses your unease. His brow furrows in concern, his gaze flickering down to you as he keeps the dance steady. “Y/N,” he whispers softly, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite yourself. “You’ve been behaving strangely all day. What’s wrong?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. How can you lie to him again? How can you wear this mask when he’s so close, when he’s giving you the same love he always has? You know you’re being unfair to him, to the love he believes is unshakable, but the truth is, it feels impossible to escape the web Esther has woven around you.

You sigh, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, hoping to keep your facade intact. "Nothing," you reply, the word coming out more breathlessly than you intend. You attempt a nervous giggle, a small, hollow sound that you hope will deflect his concerns. "I guess I’m still adjusting. This new world is so different from how it was a thousand years ago."

Kol’s eyes narrow slightly, and though he doesn't speak, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his gaze probing deeper than you would like. You’ve never been able to fool him for long. Kol always did have a knack for reading between the lines.

He slows the dance, his hand resting more firmly at the small of your back, pulling you even closer, his body a solid warmth against yours. The intimacy of the gesture should comfort you, but it only heightens the sense of isolation gnawing at your insides. He’s here, so present, so full of affection— and yet you’re already slipping away from him.

For a long moment, you hold his gaze, not daring to look away. You know that breaking eye contact will only give away the truth of your turmoil. His stare softens, but there’s a glimmer of doubt in his eyes that you can’t ignore. Still, after a beat, he seems to let it go, accepting your lie for the moment.

He pulls you closer, his arm circling you tighter, and you feel the gentle pressure of his embrace, as though trying to shield you from the weight of the world. “I’m here, darling. You can tell me what’s bothering you whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs, his voice laced with tenderness, the words offering a strange comfort even as they add to the burden.

You want to tell him, you really do. You want to share your fears, your guilt, your plans to stop Esther— but you can’t. Not yet. So instead, you bury your head against his chest, feeling the familiar steadiness of his heartbeat. The rhythmic sound should be soothing, but tonight it only reminds you of the time slipping away.

The music swells again, and for a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes, to block out the noise of the world and lose yourself in the movement. The feel of his arms around you, the steady cadence of the waltz, the warmth of his breath—everything about this moment feels like a lifetime ago.

If this is all you have left with him, if your time together truly is limited, then you will savor every second. The guilt of your deception, the knowledge of what’s to come—it presses against you with suffocating force, but you push it down, deep into the pit of your stomach, refusing to let it destroy this last dance, this last moment of peace.

Kol doesn’t know. He doesn't know that the very family he’s protecting will soon turn on him. He doesn’t know that the love you share, so fragile and delicate, is the price for your family’s survival. But for now, you let him hold you. For now, you let yourself be consumed by the beauty of this one final dance.

As you sway in Kol’s arms, his touch steady and reassuring, you let your breath slow, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. He’s right there with you, strong and unwavering.

His love, so constant and true, is a balm for your frayed nerves. You allow yourself to bask in it, closing your eyes and surrendering to the comfort of his presence.

Kol notices the subtle shift in you. The tension in your shoulders loosens, your movements more fluid as you relax into him. He looks down, his umber eyes scanning your face with a mix of affection and concern. Your serene smile doesn’t escape him, and for a brief moment, the weight on his own chest lightens. Still, the unease in his eyes never quite dissipates. He can’t ignore it—something is wrong, and he knows it.

Gently, Kol presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, the tenderness of it making your heart ache. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and you’re once again drawn into the warmth of his soul. His eyes—the deep, endless umber that always felt like home to you—hold a question, unspoken but palpable.

You return his smile, a bittersweet ache in your chest. Here, in his arms, everything feels right. He’s here. He’s with you. And yet, the world outside this moment is crumbling. But for a fleeting second, you let the world blur, wishing this moment could last forever.

With a soft exhale, you tilt your head slightly, closing the distance between you, and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s both tender and desperate. When you pull back, the words slip from your lips, whispered in a voice barely louder than the music around you.

"I love you, Kol. Forever."

His eyes soften, his lips curling into that familiar, affectionate smile— the one that makes your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge. "Forever," he echoes, his voice thick with emotion, as if he knows, just as you do, that forever feels like a fragile thing when everything around you is crumbling.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don't specify, I'll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

Taglist: @chaoticfanpeach @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut @catmikaelson20

#tvdu #the originals #tvd fandom #tvd kol #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson one shot #kol mikaelson x fem!reader #kol mikaelson #kol x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x female reader #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x y/n #kol mikaelson fanfiction #the vampire diaries #kol mikaelson angst

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writing-the-stars · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home.

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began.

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise.

And then, the text.

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.”

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment.

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is.

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization.

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.”

There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation.

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him.

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want.

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours.

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment.

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff

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writing-the-stars · 3 months ago

Text

Unspoken, Unheard

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader; Platonic!Morgan x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a high-stakes case, you face the terrifying task of being bait for a dangerous unsub. As the mission spirals out of control, the unacknowledged bond between you and Hotch is tested, forcing him to confront the risks of letting his heart lead in a world where vulnerability could mean losing everything.

Warnings: Angst (It's Who I Am), Emotional Distance (On Hotch's End. Go Figure), Canon-Typical Violence, Body Injury (Very Minor), No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors, Happy Ending. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 6.6k (This was a BEAST)

A/N: Happy New Year!!! This is my very first Criminal Minds fic EVER AND my first story of the new year!! I have been a fan of this show for such a looong time. So I'm really excited to be introducing this as a fandom I write for. I have been hyperfixating on Hotch for a while now (something about stoic, emotionally unavailable people really gets me). Anyway, this really was a labor of love and a passion project. Thank you all for reading! I truly hope you enjoy. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

A sudden sharp, insistent knocking echoes through the quiet hotel room, jolting you from your restless sleep. Adrenaline surges through your veins, heart thrumming in your ears, as you instinctively reach for the weapon on your nightstand. Blinking against the fog of your interrupted sleep, your mind races, trying to make sense of what ripped you from your sleep.

You listen carefully, waiting to hear if there is anything that could give you context to your current situation. But the silence returns, as if it had never been broken. You approach the door cautiously, your fingers curling tightly around the handle of your gun. Pressing your eye to the peephole, you freeze when you see Hotch standing on the other side. Relief floods through you and you exhale shakily, but only for a moment as you come to the grim realization that there must be another victim. You set your weapon down, running a hand over your head as you prepare yourself for the bad news and a new case development.

But as you open the door, your rehearsed professionalism falters.

Hotch is far from the professional, composed self he presents to the world. His dark hair is unkempt, the gel that usually holds it perfectly in place seemingly forgotten. His v-neck shirt hangs loose around his clavicle, giving you a glimpse of his defined pectorals, and his pajama pants pool awkwardly at his feet, as if he didn’t pull them up all the way before reaching you. The typical mask of calm authority he wears is nowhere to be found as he stares at you with wide, haunted eyes, face pale and glistening with sweat.

There is clear tension in his posture, his breathing a little too shallow and his expression a little too tight. You’ve never seen your friend like this before. Something unnerved him and quite frankly it was starting to rattle you too.

Hotch hadn’t really thought any of this through. The visceral image of your body disfigured and mutilated just like the victims of this case filled him with raw terror. He needed to see you.

He had to make sure you were safe. He needed to know that you were alive and still intact. To know that you will still look up at him with that wide-eyed gaze filled with so much trust and quiet adoration that it makes his guarded heart falter. To know that when a case is too heavy and you all are exhausted and frayed at the edges, you will still throw him one of those smiles— one that tells him you still believe in him, that you know he will get you all through it. That you are still his team. To know that he will still hear the warmth of your laughter around the bullpen, cutting through the darkest of days at the BAU because you just had that way about you. That quiet, effortless brightness that made the worst days bearable. And he knew it wasn't just the job you were good at; it was the way you kept everyone together.

Most of all, he needed to know that you would still be you. That this job hadn’t taken you away from him— that it hadn’t stolen one more thing he couldn’t bear to lose.

But as the seconds stretch on, the initial terror that gripped him so tightly begins to subside and his mind begins to regain control. The logical Hotch starts to take over, reminding him that everything is fine. That it was only a dream, an irrational fabrication, and he is not the kind of person to allow emotions to overrun his decisions.

He’s being reckless and this moment of weakness could jeopardize the team, and everything he has worked so hard to build. He needs to turn and leave before this situation gets any more out of hand, but it’s too late. The lock clicks. The door swings open and there you are, alive and whole. His breath catches. He had feared the worst— no, not feared, he’d seen the worst in his nightmare— but you’re here, standing right in front of him. The sheer relief almost makes his knees buckle.

“Hotch?”

Your voice is soft but laced with concern, the sight of him so disheveled, so unguarded, sets off a ripple of panic in your chest, “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He stands there, staring at you as though he can’t believe you are standing in front of him. His mouth opens, but no words come out. His chest heaves with uneven breaths, and his eyes dart across your face, taking in every detail as though memorizing it.

“Hotch?” you repeat, your brows knitting together, “What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hoarse, a shallow attempt at the calm, authoritative tone he usually uses.

“I just… wanted to make sure you’re alright. We’ve been up late. Thought you might need to check in."

His words are careful, almost rehearsed, but you still hear the vulnerability he’s trying to mask. His eyes dart away from yours, down to the floor, and you can almost see him retreating into himself, as if he’s trying to hide from you.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" you press a little, unable to ignore the worry curling in your chest. This isn’t just about the case. Something deeper is going on, and you aren’t going to disregard it.

You step out a little into the hallway, bringing yourself closer to Hotch, trying to gauge if you’re reading him wrong. But this isn’t like him— Hotch wouldn’t show up at your door in the middle of the night without reason.

He looks as if he is barely holding himself together. You know him well enough to know when something is wrong, and in this moment, everything about him screams that he is on edge. It isn’t just exhaustion or stress— it’s something more that seems to be warring with him.

His lips press together in a tight line and you can see the muscles in his neck contract. "I’m fine," he says quickly, urgingly, as if he is trying to convince you and himself.

The wall of his facade is fissuring and, for the first time since knowing Aaron Hotchner, you feel like he might finally let you in. You push a little harder, hoping that acknowledging the crack in his armor will finally shatter the whole illusion.

“Hotch, you’re not fine,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper, “Why don’t you come in for some coffee? I still have some of the good stuff Rossi bought me for Secret Santa.”

Hotch opens his mouth, but the words get tangled, and he immediately closes it again. His throat is tight, seemingly collapsing on itself. There are so many things he wants to say to you. Truths he wants to reveal, but he can’t. He can’t bring himself to venture into that unknown territory, to cross that line that’s already too blurry. There are too many things at stake, too many risks he can’t afford to take. He can not allow his feelings to complicate things any further.

He takes a step back, and in doing so, you watch him fully retreat into himself, restructuring the wall you had come so close to tearing down. Perhaps you pushed too hard.

He regains the professional composure you have grown accustomed to seeing. His usual authority slips into something sharp, more distant. "We’re on the job," he says, his voice harder, defensive, "There’s no time for that."

His words sting and you feel a pang of hurt as he continues to shut you out. But you remember who Hotch is. This isn’t about you. This is about him, about whatever had shaken him. Hotch has built walls higher than you can scale. Walls that even you—someone who knows him better than most—aren’t allowed to breach.

"Get some rest," he adds, the words flat and sterile, "We’ll need you ready tomorrow."

Your window for something more is closing, and you can’t bring yourself to stop it. You know what’s happening.

He’s scared. Scared of what? You don’t know, but you have a feeling that you’re the cause. Or at least a part of it.

“Good night, Hotch,” you resign, hoping to mask the disappointment of being kept at arm’s length.

He gives you one last brief nod before he turns away, heading down the hallway with that same brisk, purposeful stride he always uses when he is trying to put distance between himself and whatever feelings are bothering him.

You stand there, the door half-open, watching him go. Your chest aches at the thought of what could have been.

Closing the door softly and locking it behind you, you begin to process everything that unfolded. Questions pace your mind as you crawl back into bed. What just happened? What just really happened? The moment felt like a confession of sorts. An almost admission of something Hotch has been holding on to, but doesn’t want you to know.

And maybe you just imagined it, but you feel like you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. An indication that the connection you have been feeling is not one-sided, a hint that you mean more to him than just a colleague, more than just a friend. You close your eyes, but the image of Hotch at your door stays with you, etched into the corners of your mind. An unanswered question you’re too afraid to ask.

-*-

The local precinct hums with its usual activity— phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the low murmur of officers exchanging updates on ongoing cases. Yet, the energy is tenser than the previous days of this case.

Hotch’s behavior has been off all morning— sharply professional, overly focused on the case, and oddly reserved. It isn’t just his terse responses or the way he’s deliberately avoiding meeting your eyes— it’s the heaviness in the air every time you are in the same room. The warmth you usually share with him is gone and his quiet intensity has evolved into a coldness that has made you uncomfortable.

An awkward distance has grown between the two of you and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s your fault.

It hurts, but you try to brush it off. You know the job has a way of consuming him. You try to focus on the case, bury yourself in the details, but the weight of Hotch’s distance is becoming impossible to ignore. And you aren’t the only one to feel it.

“Hey Sunshine,” Morgan approaches your work station, voice quieter than usual, “Everything good with you?” His tone carries a warmth that welcomingly contrasts with the chill you’ve been receiving from Hotch today.

You look up at him, trying to mask your unease, but Morgan isn’t fooled.

“You seem a little… off today,” he says, eyes scanning your face with that trademark perceptiveness, “What’s going on?”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, glancing over at Hotch across the room. He’s engrossed in the case files, his posture stiff, his face unreadable. But you feel the weight of his distance press heavy on your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you tell him, trying to diminish the effect Hotch’s behavior is having on you, “Just… tired. The case is taking a lot out of me.”

Morgan doesn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice Hotch getting all icy on you today?”

You still. You didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. All of his standoffish behavior is directed at you. The distance, the sharper words, he’s isolating himself from you. And it doesn’t take a profiler like Morgan to see it.

You glance back at Hotch before returning your gaze to Morgan. He’s known Hotch for a while. Longer than you. If there is anyone you can gain insight from, it would be him. Lowering your voice, you confide in your teammate, “I don’t know, Derek… it’s like… he’s pulling away. Like something’s changed. I don’t know what happened last night, but whatever it is, it’s different. I can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong.”

“What happened last night?”

“He came to my room.”

“Hotch?” He asks astonished, surprised by the uncharacteristic behavior.

“Yeah, he said he wanted to check in with me, but… I don’t know, Derek, something was off. It was like he was hiding something from me.”

Morgan leans in closer, his expression softening with sincerity. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hotch is going through something. I’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s bottling things up.”

You appreciate the comfort in Morgan’s words, even if they don’t entirely ease your concern. You just wish Hotch would open up to you. Let you be there for him and carry some of the weight of his burdens.

Morgan sighs, seeing the crease still planted in your brow. “Look, he’s been carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders for a while now,” he states, voice turning more serious, “This job— it changes him. Sometimes it makes him pull away from the people he cares about the most, even if he doesn’t mean to. But I’ll talk to him, alright? I’m not gonna let him shut you out.”

You smile up at him, feeling some of the weight lift off of your shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” he continues, voice morphing into a more professional tone, “We’ve got a case to finish, and we need to focus. But after all this is done, you and I are gonna have a talk, alright?”

You nod, giving him a small, grateful smile, “Thanks, Derek.”

Soon after, the reality of the case takes over again. An officer charges in with a disturbing update: a new victim has been discovered. The pattern is clear, the unsub is escalating. The cooling-off period, which had been a crucial factor in the previous profile, has shrunk dramatically, and you all are running out of time to prevent another murder. The urgency in the room is palpable. The team crowds around the whiteboard and, after analyzing the victims and the unsub’s pattern, you all come to a grim conclusion. You need someone who looks like the previous victims to bait the unsub into a trap.

There is an oppressive silence as the team’s eyes flick to you. The weight of their saddened, knowing gazes is almost unbearable. The fact that you share similar features with the victims of this case had not gone unnoticed by you. In fact, it was one of the first things you noted about the unsub’s victimology. It had been an unsettling realization. One you’d been working through for days, trying to figure out how it would affect your role in the investigation. Now you know.

The air is heavy with the unspoken implication. You had expected this. It’s part of the job. But nothing can prepare you for the moment when the possibility becomes real. Your gaze flicks to Hotch, but he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the board, on the files, on anything but you. He was desperate. Looking for an out, for a solution that did not involve putting you in harm’s way.

“Hotch,” Morgan says, cutting through the silence, “We need someone who looks like the unsub’s previous victims. We don’t have time to waste.”

He glances at you, eyes softening, then back to Hotch, sensing the unspoken hesitation. Hotch’s expression darkens. He looks between Morgan and you, his mouth set in a tight line. You can see the internal battle in his eyes—he wants to object, to find another way—but the case can't wait.

“Alright,” Hotch concedes stiffly, his voice potraying none of the inner turmoil he’s feeling, “We’ll set up the trap. We don’t have time for anything else.”

You close your eyes for a brief moment, pushing away the surge of panic that’s threatening to take hold of you. You know it’s the best strategy. It’s what has to be done, and you will do it. But you don’t have to like it.

“You good with this?” Morgan asks, his tone far more personal than professional. He wants to make sure you’re okay, wants to be sure you aren’t being pushed into something you aren’t ready for.

You give a small nod, more for your own sake than his. “I’m good,” you lie, voice steady even though your insides feel anything but.

After your confirmation the team is immediately on, discussing the logistics of setting up the trap. Your gaze flickers to Hotch once more, and for a moment, you think you see something shift in his eyes— something that isn’t just professional concern. It almost looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't. He just turns back to the board, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken.

His mind races, unable to focus on the task at hand. His thoughts are consumed with you— the thought of you being so close to danger. He can’t stand it. The very idea that you will be bait— the possibility of you being exposed to the unsub, potentially hurt— makes his insides twist with dread. But he can’t show it. Not now. Not when the mission is the priority.

He focuses on the details, assigning roles, making decisions. But every time his eyes shift to you, his stomach tightens. Bait. It’s a professional term, a necessary risk. But to him, it feels like a betrayal—one he couldn’t afford to confront.

-*-

You stand near the edge of the scene, trying to focus on the instructions being relayed through your comms. The humid, night air clings to your skin— another layer pressing on the building panic in your chest. You watch as your team slips seamlessly into their positions with practiced precision. You all have done this before, it isn’t unfamiliar territory; however, it’s different when it’s your life on the line.

You’re the one baiting the unsub, alone, vulnerable. There’s no guarantee of your safety, no script to follow that ensures a happy ending. You’re putting yourself directly in harm’s way, and that knowledge frightens you more than you’d like to admit. You try to steady your breathing, but your heartbeat is louder than your thoughts. This is the moment when everything could go wrong, and that thought sets fear, real visceral and terrifying fear, the kind you’ve been pushing down for hours, alight in your bones.

You feel him come up behind you, his presence heavy, solid and grounding. You feel the weight of his eyes on you. The tension from before charging the air around you. Up until now, his focus has solely been on the operation. You know he is just as worried as you are, maybe even more so, but his stoicism doesn't allow him to show it. You wonder if his concern is more focused on the mission going well or on the risk this poses to you. Regardless, he is a comforting presence, one you feel safe to confide in.

“Hotch,” you murmur, almost too quietly for him to hear, turning to face the man who has grown so dear to your heart.

He looks at you, expression unreadable, but his quiet intensity soothes some of your panic.

“Are you sure about this? I- I don’t know if I can do this,” your voice shakes, highlighting the fear you’ve been holding back all night.

Hotch struggles to give you an answer. You are looking at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and all he can think about is last night— the image of you mutilated, the fact he couldn’t save you.

The overwhelming need to protect you surges through him again. He can’t—he can’t let this happen. But he is the leader of this team, it is his duty to see this mission through. To bring this case to a close. He can’t allow his personal feelings to change anything, to interfere with this job.

He forces his voice to remain steady, professional, “It’s the only way.”

You concede with a nod of your head. You don’t argue. You never do. But Hotch studies you, sees the slight tightening around your eyes, the sharp rise in your chest. It makes his heart ache. He feels the weight of this moment. Knows this is a critical point— not just for the case, but for you. He sees how hard you’re fighting to hold yourself together, and for a split second, the professional facade cracks. He takes a step closer.

“You’re not alone in this,” Hotch says, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your arm, gently squeezing the flesh there. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’ve been trained for this. You can do this.”

His words settle over you, your heart rate slowing, and for the first time since this operation started, you can breathe again.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he repeats urgingly, his voice low, protective. It’s a promise. His hand lingers for a moment longer than necessary before he pulls back, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you two. Hotch’s presence, the way he’s always steady, always calm—it gives you the strength you need.

"Alright," you whisper, your voice steadier now, "Alright, let's do this."

As the team readies themselves, you remain in place, trying to keep yourself from fidgeting. Adrenaline courses through your veins, but it’s not just fear— it’s the anticipation. The waiting. You’ve been taught by Prentiss how to manage these moments, how to keep your emotions in check and your senses sharp. You channel every lesson she taught you— stay calm, stay focused, keep breathing. You’ve studied the unsub’s patterns, and every part of you is ready to play your role.

You survey the area, locating your team’s positions. Morgan, Hotch, and Prentiss are stationed inside as backup, Rossi and Reid near the exits, and the remaining local officers are stationed discreetly around the perimeter. You look towards the nightclub, the neon lights, the rhythmic thrum of music faintly audible even from outside. Static crackles in your ear, and you hear Hotch’s voice, calm and steady, “All units are in position.”

The signal to proceed.

You take a deep breath, trying to control your shaking hands. You’re ready. You have to be ready. With one final glance around the perimeter, ensuring your team’s at your back, you steel yourself, stepping into the lion’s den.

The pulsating beat of the music encapsulates you, the bass reverberating around your body. The flashing lights cast strobe-like shadows across the crowded room. It’s loud, chaotic, and full of life— but that only makes it more dangerous. The lights are meant to disorient and the noise to drown out your thoughts. You see how it is easy for the unsub to get away with his victims.

You stand in the middle of it all, heart pounding in your chest as you pretend to enjoy the music, to be just another partygoer in the crowd. Prentiss’s voice crackles in your earpiece, barely audible over the music, “You need to relax. You look stiff.”

You nod to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the role. You watch the crowd around you, mimicking their movements. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Hotch standing across the club, blending into the shadows near the back of the bar, dark and brooding. He’s close— but not close enough. He can’t be. You can’t afford to look too conspicuous.

The rest of the indoors team is hiding in plain sight. Prentiss is near the restrooms and Morgan is in a corner booth. And Hotch is watching from the shadows. He’s waiting, calculating—but something in the way he’s watching you makes your heart rate spike.

You catch his eyes and everything feels different. The professional wall between you two starts to crumble. You feel yourself becoming looser under his watchful gaze and you dance. You dance for him, you dance as if you’re the only two people in the room. And Hotch can’t take his eyes off you.

But then you feel it. A shift in the crowd.

He’s not the tallest man in the room, but he has a presence that immediately commands attention. His gaze is cold, calculating, but there’s something oddly magnetic about him. He moves through the crowd with purpose, like he knows exactly what he’s looking for. His eyes flick over the people around him, assessing each one with the precision of a predator.

As he approaches you, you feel a rush of adrenaline, but you push it down. Emily’s training coming back to you. He stops in front of you, gaze flicking to your face, studying you for a beat longer than necessary.

He smiles— a dark, knowing smile. “I’ve been watching you,” he says, his voice a hair louder than the music, his tone carrying an eerie calm.

You force yourself to keep your composure. "Have you?" You raise an eyebrow, playing the part. The unsub takes a step closer, his eyes flickering down to your body, sizing you up. You know what he’s doing, know exactly how he’s visualizing your body and all the horrific things he’ll do it— just like the previous victims. It makes your skin crawl.

“You’re not like the others,” he says, his voice lower, whispering in your ear, but thick with amusement. He’s toying with you.

You manage a small smile, “What makes you think that?” You tease, pretending to be at ease.

His hand snakes up your body, eyes never leaving yours, “You’ve got a different look to you. You don’t belong here.”

The trail of his hand on your body sends a chill down your spine. He’s not being aggressive— yet —but the interaction feels like an invitation to a game. He’s testing the waters.

“I belong where I want to belong,” you reply, lifting your chin up to appear more confident than you actually are.

He smiles, his eyes lighting up with something darker. “Maybe you do,” he says, voice quieter now, “Or maybe you're just pretending.”

You take a step back freeing yourself from his grasp, his imposing presence becoming overwhelming. The unsub’s smile falters just a fraction. A flicker of suspicion, quick but undeniable, passes over his face.

You take a breath, keeping your face neutral, trying not to let anything slip. “We all pretend sometimes,” you answer smoothly, “What about you?”

For a moment, his eyes narrow, the two of you engaging in some kind of silent battle, each trying to read the other. He’s intrigued, but he hasn’t made up his mind about you yet.

“I’ve seen your type before,” the unsub says, taking a step closer to you, shortening the distance you previously implemented, “You’re always looking for something. People like you—”

You cut him off quickly, hoping to regain control of the situation. “People like me? And what exactly is that?”

He leans in a little closer, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “The ones who can’t find meaning in their lives, so they run to places like this thinking they can find answers. They never do.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as his eyes move over you again, this time lingering on your eyes, like he’s searching for something in you— something real. But you know what he’s doing. He’s trying to find a weakness. A slip.

The air between you two grows heavier, and despite everything you’ve been trained to do, despite the calm that you’re trying so hard to project, you feel the pressure building. Your heartbeat picks up, but you push it down. You can’t let him see you panic.

“Well, I guess that depends on what you’re looking for,” you say, your voice more uncertain than you want it to be. You quickly mask the hesitation with another smile, but this time it doesn’t feel as convincing.

His eyes flicker— just for a moment— across your face. Something about the way you said that, the slight nervousness that edged into your voice— it’s enough to make him pause.

For just a split second, he looks confused, as though something doesn’t add up. His eyes narrow, and you see the shift in his demeanor. The playful curiosity turns into something more calculating.

“You don’t talk like them,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His voice is softer now, more contemplative.

You feel your stomach flip, but you don’t flinch. Not yet.

“You have a very... observant eye,” you reply, forcing the words out with more confidence than you feel. You quickly change the subject, hoping to redirect his attention. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter? I can show you just how different I really am.”

The unsub hesitates, his brow furrowing as he watches you a little too closely. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he’s starting to doubt that you’re just another unsuspecting person in the club. The air between you thickens, the tension building.

The unsub steps back slightly, eyes scanning you again, this time with deeper suspicion. It’s like a switch has been flipped— he knows something is off.

“Sure,” he sneers, grabbing your arm roughly and jerking you forward. The action pulls you into his chest as his free hand comes up, producing a blade. The cold metal feels heavy as it presses against your throat— the sharp edge digging into your skin. You freeze, pulse pounding as your fear of this operation plays out before you. One quick jerk and your whole life is over in the middle of a second-rate night club. “What is this? Some kind of trap?” He demands angrily, pressing the knife harder. You can feel the tip against your skin, its sharp edge threatening to break the surface. Every small breath you take makes the blade press in deeper, but you don’t flinch.

Hotch’s voice rings clear through your earpiece, sharp and commanding, “Move in. Now.”

The team springs into action, bursting from their scattered positions, guns drawn, closing in quickly. Chaos erupts as the crowd disperses from the growing conflict— a cacophony of panic and fear echoing around you, mirroring the terror gripping you inside. The moment the unsub sees them, his eyes widen in recognition, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. He pulls you in front of him like a shield, his body tight against yours, the knife still pressed to your neck. Panic flickers in his eyes, and he becomes more desperate, realizing the window of escape is shrinking.

“Stay back!” He shouts, his voice shaking with rage and fear, “One move and it’s over. You hear me?” His grip on the knife is trembling now. He’s scared, unhinged, not thinking clearly. You swallow, trying to stay composed. You’ve been trained for this, but the simulation is nothing compared to the real immediacy of danger.

“Stay calm,” Hotch instructs, his gaze locked on you. His voice is sharp, but there’s a layer of raw tension there. He’s not just worried about you as a team member; he’s invested. This isn’t just another case— it’s you. He won’t let anything happen to you.

The unsub’s grip on you is relentless, and the weight of the knife against your throat is a constant reminder of how quickly this can turn deadly.

“Why don’t we just talk about this?” You manage to say, your voice steady despite the panic raging inside, “I can help you. We can work this out.” But the unsub isn’t listening. His eyes gleam with madness as he presses the knife harder against your throat.

“You think I’m stupid?” His voice is low, guttural, “You think this is going to end well for me? For you?”

The tension is unbearable and you know it’s only a matter of time before he makes a move, one way or the other.

“You don’t have to do this,” you try again, voice trembling but steady. His grip on the knife shifts slightly, and you catch a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes. It’s a split second, but it’s enough for you to seize the opportunity. You feel the unsub shift slightly, his weight moving in such a way that it opens up just enough space for you to act. You shift your body weight quickly, slamming your elbows into his ribs. The move is sharp and sudden, and you feel him stumble back, losing his balance for a split second. His hold on you loosens, just enough for you to wrench free from his grasp.

In that split second, everything changes.

“Now!” Hotch’s voice explodes. Prentiss and Morgan surge forward, moving swiftly, but not close enough. In a final desperate attempt to regain control, the unsub brings the knife up, swinging it wildly toward you. Your heart stops and you freeze, only for a moment, before instinct takes over and you dodge to the side. The blade grazes your cheek, cutting a shallow line across your skin. The sting is instant, but you don’t focus on the pain.

With the unsub distracted by your move, Prentiss is the first to close in. She grabs his wrist, wrenching the knife away, while Morgan rushes in, tackling him to the ground. As the remainder of the team rushes forward, the unsub struggles, but he is no match for your team

As soon as the unsub is secured, Hotch is there, rushing towards you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his fingers lightly gripping you as though he needs to make sure you’re real.

“Are you alright?” His voice is softer than it’s been all day, but is still tight with concern. You take a shallow breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “I’m fine,” you answer, though your voice betrays you, a slight tremor you can not control, “Just some scratches.”

Your fingers graze over the thin line of blood from the knife remaining on your neck, before landing on the shallow wound on your cheek where you swipe away some of the trickling blood. It’s nothing permanent, but the sting is sharp. Hotch’s gaze flicks between the small wounds, and his jaw tightens.

“You did great,” his voice is low, but laced with something more. There’s a protectiveness in his eyes now that goes beyond the usual command, beyond the professional distance. Your heart is still racing from the close call, but something in the way he looks at you, something unspoken, makes you pause. It’s more than just concern.

-*-

The case is over. The unsub is in custody, and the adrenaline has worn off, but the weight of the last few days— the close calls, the near-misses— lingers heavily in the air.

The team is scattered around the bullpen, tired but relieved. Some are gathering their things, others are engaged in quiet conversation. But Hotch, who is usually the first to bury himself in case notes and paperwork, is standing near the window of his office, his back to the room, staring out at the city lights in silence.

You’ve just finished checking your emails, last light on in the bullpen, and are about to leave when you notice Hotch still standing there, a silhouette against the dimming light. The intensity of his brooding is almost palpable and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. You approach his office slowly, your footsteps light on the floor, knowing that there’s something unresolved between you— something that needs to be addressed, even if the words seem impossible to say.

When you get to his door, he doesn’t turn to face you right away, but you can tell by the way his posture stiffens that he’s aware of your presence. After a beat, he speaks without looking at you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is low, still carrying the edge of concern. There’s something in the way he asks that you’ve never heard before, a note of uncertainty beneath his usual command.

You stop a few feet away from him, feeling the familiar tension between you two. But this time, it's different— he's different. His usual reserve is slipping, and the emotional weight of the past days is leaving a crack in his armor.

“I’m fine,” you answer, and you mean it, even if there's more left unsaid. The cut on your cheek has been treated, and physically you’re fine.

His shoulders sag slightly, but he still doesn’t turn. He stands there for a long moment, lost in thought, before he finally speaks again, this time quieter, almost hesitant.

“I need you to know something,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Turning slowly, he faces you now, his eyes intense, but there's a vulnerability in them that you’ve never seen before. The walls are down. There’s no hiding it anymore— he’s exposing himself in a way that feels foreign to both of you.

“I...” he begins, but stops. He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. “I... don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you tonight. I can’t— I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt to see you in danger.”

The words hang between you two, heavy and unspoken, as he tries to gather himself. You swallow hard at his words, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s the first time he’s said something this personal, this raw. You can feel your pulse quicken as you wait for him to continue.

“I know we can’t do this... but I need you to know,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “I care about you. I care about you more than I’ve let on. More than I should.”

You take a breath, feeling your own emotions rising in your chest. You’ve known for a long time that something was there between the two of you. The tension, the quiet moments of connection. You’ve always felt it, even if you were too afraid to acknowledge it.

“I do too, Hotch. I have for a while.”

His eyes soften at your admission. There’s a tenderness in them that makes your breath catch. He takes a step toward you, closing the distance, and you feel the warmth of his presence envelop you.

He reaches out, his hand resting gently on your arm, as if afraid you might vanish if he touches you too hard. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into it, letting the moment settle between you. This is uncharted territory for both of you, but it feels right.

“I don’t know what happens now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I need you to know... I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not again.”

You nod, your heart full of so many things— relief, fear, and the growing certainty that this moment is the beginning of something neither of you can ignore anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, voice steady, meeting his gaze with an honesty you’ve both kept locked away for far too long.

He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of everything you’ve both experienced together in those few words. And then, ever so slowly, he leans forward, just a fraction, and the air between you shifts. It’s not a declaration, not yet— but it’s a beginning. A slow, careful bridge being built from everything you’ve been through.

And at long last, the walls he’s built for so long have finally come down.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch angst #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner one shot

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writing-the-stars · 3 months ago

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Criminal Minds Masterlist

Home to the Criminal Minds Imagines

Visit all the stars that create this constellation

Fan Favorites: 🤍 Author Favorites: 💜

AARON 'HOTCH' HOTCHNER

Unspoken, Unheard 💜 🤍

In the midst of a high-stakes case, you face the terrifying task of being bait for a dangerous unsub. As the mission spirals out of control, the unacknowledged bond between you and Hotch is tested, forcing him to confront the risks of letting his heart lead in a world where vulnerability could mean losing everything.

Unraveled, Unveiled

After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

DEREK MORGAN

SPENCER REID

EMILY PRENTISS

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #emily prentiss

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writing-the-stars · 3 months ago

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Stranger Things Masterlist

Home to the Stranger Things Imagines

Visit all the stars that create this constellation

Fan Favorites: 🤍 Author Favorites: 💜

STEVE HARRINGTON

EDDIE MUNSON

BILLY HARGROVE

ROBIN BUCKLEY

#stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #eddie munson #billy hargrove #robin buckley

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writing-the-stars · 5 months ago

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Moonlight Miracles

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: On the night of your escape, you lose the love of your life. Or so you thought.

Warnings: Angst (Nothing's changed), Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Typical Vampire Diaries Violence, Death. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I have been working on this story for TWO YEARS!!! I'm honestly just relieved to have it finished finally. The title admittedly sucks, but I believe the story makes up for it. Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

The fabric of your underdress billows at your feet as the crisp night air washes over you. You cling closer to the trunk of the towering White Pine– the rough bark tugging at the fabric of your garment. You hope to shroud away in the depth of the forest, hiding from the unwanted gaze of your village in the shadows of the looming trees. Your hair wafts gently in the breeze and a shudder travels down your spine as the chill of the night seeps into your bones.

You wait, patiently, for your betrothed in the same location you met him every night for the past four full moons, hiding in secret as you exchanged solemn vows and acts of romance– planning for this day to arrive. Your deerskin bag rests at your feet, filled with the goods you plan on bartering for your passage into your new life. Away from the cruelties of Elijah’s father and the prohibitory life your father has arranged for you. Away from the danger of the men who turn into beasts who have taken so much already. You have lived through 20 winters– it is time you take your life into your own hands.

“Hello, my love.”

The silence that encapsulated you is suddenly broken– a sharp gasp breaking through your lips. You turn swiftly, finding your beloved with an endearing smile gracing his lips– looming in the shadows of the trees. A smile adorns your face at the sight of him.

“Elijah, you frightened me.”

He emerges from the shadows– the pale moonlight illuminating his porcelain skin. The unobstructed view of your betrothed robs the smile from your lips– something was wrong. While he appeared to be the same man, there was a chilling air of danger around him– one that was never there before.

“I’m sorry,” the brunet apologizes, gliding over to you, “I did not mean to alarm you.”

His hand is frigid as he places it against the downy surface of your cheek– the alarming contrast of temperature making you flinch away from the very touch you used to crave.

“Elijah, your hands are freezing,” you proclaim to the Mikaelson, attempting to gather his large hands into yours to provide them some warmth. You are confused to find the usual rough texture of his calloused hands has now been made smooth as if he had never labored a day in his life.

Elijah’s laughter pulls you from your musing and the warm familiarity of it eases your concern. You would never grow tired of the sound of his joy– it is a sound that has comforted you through many sorrowful evenings. It is a sound that reminds you, despite the struggles the two of you face, everything will be okay.

“What?” you inquire, curious of the moment’s motivation for your favorite sound, but he simply shakes his head, knowing how useless your endeavor is. His body will never be able to emit warmth again.

The Mikaelson looks down at you with his keen eyes, studying all the details he was unable to perceive before. The unique blend of color swirling your eyes, the distinctive pattern of strands that design your hair's texture, and the subtle lines and contours that create the structure of your face. A chill creeps up your spine as he examines you– the pools of chocolate brown shine with an intensity, a darkness lurking within their depths. It unsettles you. Your hands, instinctively, retract from his, your feet placing a small amount of distance between you. A frown draws on Elijah’s lips at your sudden shift in attitude.

“Y/N, beloved, what’s the matter?”

There is a sharpness to his voice– one that holds a lurking threat, sending shivers down your spine. You are conflicted about your next course of action. All of your body is on high alert, telling you to run from the danger before you, but your heart urges you to stay– only seeing the man that you love so dearly. Elijah takes a step toward you, attempting to close the distance you have subconsciously put between you, but you continue to add more to that distance. The Mikaelson grows frustrated with your newfound prudence of him– the darkness within growing stronger.

You watch, fearfully, the animalistic nature in which he moves toward you– a predator stalking its prey– as you finally come to a disturbing conclusion. The man before you is not the man you fell in love with many moons ago. There is a dark evil living inside of him now, consuming every fiber of the man you knew before. Adrenaline courses through your body, tears painting your cheeks, as you realize the danger that you are in. You run. As far and as fast as you can– desperate to escape the creature taking over your betrothed’s body.

You run to your home– the same place you were desperate to flee mere hours ago– only to be stopped by Elijah’s sinister figure, suddenly in front of you again. Eyes widened, you come to a halt, astounded by his swiftness. You step back, in an effort to get away from him; however, your foot catches the skirt of your underdress and you stumble back, landing on your rear.

Elijah approaches you menacingly– eyes blood-red, shining in the moonlight while tiny black veins dance underneath. A gasp of horror escapes you at the sight. In all of your winters, you have never seen anything as terrorizing as the display before you– whatever your beloved is now, it certainly is not human.

“W-what are you?”

Something breaks within the Mikaelson, seeing you tremble in utter fear at his feet. It pains him to watch you, the great love of his life, be absolutely petrified of him.

The monster subsides, retreating back into the depth of his soul and, for a moment, you see the man you fell in love with break through the darkness. Your heart softens as you stare into the tender umber eyes that stole your heart moons ago. You slowly reach out to him– frightened that if you move too swiftly, your beloved will disappear and that creature will resume its place.

Your hand never meets him as a guttural cry tears from his lips– face contorted in the most grisly display of abject agony. Elijah falls to his knees, the blood-soaked tip of a blade piercing through his chest. You scream for him as if that will somehow undo the act that has been done.

“What did you do,” you cry out in horror as you look to your sister who stands horrified– hands shaking feverishly.

“Y-you weren’t in the room when I woke, so I-I grabbed Father’s blade for protection and went to look for you. When I found you, y-you seemed frightened, so I thought he was attacking you. I-I did not…,” your sister stutters through her tears, realizing the gravity of what she has done. Her first reaction to your danger was to stop the thing that was hurting you; however, she did not want to kill the Mikaelson boy.

A sob rips through your throat as you cradle his pallor face in your hands. His blood seeps into the garments of your dress, horrifyingly warming your body from the crisp chill of the night air.

“I am sorry,” your sister cries, bile rising in her throat, “I thought I was protecting you.”

Another sob wracks through your body as you clutch his lifeless body to yours, willing life back into him. You know it’s a useless endeavor, but you have to try anyway.

“Leave,” you command your sister, unable to stand her presence any longer. She took the love of your life away from you and had the audacity to grieve.

“Y/N, I-”

The sickening sound of your father’s blade tearing through Elijah’s body once again as you pull it from his chest leaves your sister silent. The action makes your stomach churn as you shove the hilt into her chest, “Just go.”

Your voice is dark– heavy with the hatred you now hold for her. Because, in spite of the creature Elijah had become, you still loved him with every fiber of your being. To you, he was still the same man whose winsome smile charmed you the moment he wielded it on you. The same man who always strived to make the impossible happen for you just to see you smile. The man who was willing to leave the family that he loved and the life that he knew just to be with you. He was absolutely devoted to you and you were to him, willing to give him everything you have, everything he could ask of you. Now he is lost to you forever– the hole in your heart being the only remnant left of the love you shared.

-*-

You stand in front of the Mikaelson home, unaware of how you came to be before the residence. You are certain you walked the distance, but you have no recollection of leaving the forest. Nor are you aware how long you have been standing in front of the wooden dwelling.

“Y/N,” a voice calls to you, luring you from the dazed state you found yourself in. The figure of a man appears before you, one you soon recognize to be Klaus. Concern is etched into the features of his face at your disheveled state. The tear stains blemishing your face and your soiled, bloody garments not signifying a good thing.

“He’s gone,” the words push past your lips, your voice dry and void. A numbness courses through your veins robbing you of feeling anything else. You believe it to be a blessing from the gods above. The nothingness is preferable to the torment of mourning him.

“Who?” Klaus inquires, hands grasping your shoulders in an attempt to keep you steady. You appear seconds away from crumbling, only adding to his unease.

The silence intensifies as you struggle to force your mouth to shape those dreaded words.As the silence grows heavier, the more indefinite the Mikaelson’s worry for you grows. He knows of the secret love affair you have with his brother. Initially, he was adamantly opposed to it; with your families being rivals, he knew the fury his father would unleash if he discovered the betrayal. But as he observed you, his perspective began to shift. Witnessing the gentle way you treated his older brother—the tenderness, the unwavering care, and the joy you brought into his life—Klaus realized that you were the best thing for his brother. He came to cherish you as he does Rebekah, and seeing you in such profound despair deeply unsettled him.

You can only shake your head, paralyzed by the weight of the unspeakable truth that clings to your tongue, refusing to be voiced. The fear of solidifying such a grotesque reality makes you hesitate. The blond gazes past you into the darkness, his eyes searching for some trace, some hint of what has transpired.

“Y/N, where is Elijah? Did he meet with you?” Klaus questions once he has confirmed there is nothing hidden beyond you.

Your lip starts to quiver as the dam holding your emotion begins to break. With a shuddering breath, you manage to utter, “He’s dead.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your knees collapse beneath you, unable to bear the crushing weight of your sorrow.

“Elijah. He’s dead.”

You sob as the second coming of your grief crashes over you with a force even more devastating than the first. A raw, piercing pain tears through your chest, shattering your heart with the finality of the truth. The sobs that wrack your body are deep and relentless, leaving you utterly inconsolable. Lost to the world around you, you are entirely engulfed by the consuming abyss of your sorrow.

The third eldest Mikaelson son stands in disbelief. His mind struggles to comprehend the meaning of your words. How could his brother be gone? That shouldn’t be possible. It defies all reason, especially given the curse that should protect them. Yet, the raw, palpable intensity of your grief casts a shadow of reality over the implausibility of the situation.

Klaus gathers your trembling form into his chest, his heart aching with each ragged breath you take. He desperately wishes he could offer you an explanation, something to ease the unbearable pain that clutches at your soul, but he's unsure if he can. Unsure of the nature of vampirism– doubtful of its functionality altogether, given the depth of your sorrow. The Mikaelson is at a loss for how to comfort you, grappling with the profound helplessness of the moment. However, he is certain of one thing. If his father were to see you weeping in his arms, his wrath would be uncontrollable. So, Klaus carries you back into the woods where he lets you sob until every tear is spent and you have nothing left to give. As he holds you, he scans the shadows of the towering pines, almost expecting his elder brother to emerge with one of his infuriatingly calm reassurances. But the forest remains silent, offering no solace beyond the embrace of the darkened woods.

Until.

“Y/N.”

The achingly familiar voice pierces through the suffocating silence, cutting straight to your heart and freezing you in place. You hold your breath, paralyzed by the fear that this fleeting sound might be an illusion—your mind’s desperate attempt to soothe the unbearable ache constricting your chest. Yet, despite the gnawing doubt, your ears strain with desperate hope, yearning for any sign, any hint of the voice’s reality, clinging to the faintest possibility that it might be real.

“Y/N, my love.”

You release the breath you have been holding— eyes drifting to the blond Mikaelson, seeking confirmation of the impossible. When you find Klaus’s gaze fixed beyond you, you know that this must be real. That he must be real.

You turn to face the man you lost mere hours ago, stunned by the miraculous sight before you. There, bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight, Elijah stands as impeccably whole as he did before the night's horrors unfolded. His chest, the place where your father’s blade had torn through him, now unmarred. His eyes, which had once struck fear into your heart with their cold, sinister gleam, now hold a profound, unwavering love.

Klaus releases you gently, allowing you to approach his brother.

“Elijah?” you call for your beloved— voice barely a whisper. You fear anything louder may cause him to disappear.

He takes a step towards you, the movement graceful and deliberate, “It’s me,” he replies, his voice steady and reassuring.

You reach out tentatively, still uncertain if this is merely an apparition. But as he draws nearer, his hands grazing your skin— his cool touch leaving a wake of sensation in its path— the sheer reality of his presence overwhelms you. A sob of profound relief and unspoken hope bursts from your chest as you envelop him in a desperate embrace, clinging to the tangible warmth of your beloved.

“You’re here,” you cry out, pressing Elijah as close to you as physically possible, uncaring of the discomfort of the fabric digging into your skin. You cling to him with an unwavering grip, anchoring yourself to the Mikaelson and vowing not to let him slip away from you once more.

“I thought you were gone,” you cry into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic, “I thought I lost you forever.”

Elijah's arms encircle you with a tenderness that matches your own desperation, holding you just as tightly. “I’m here, my love. I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart.

You pull back just enough to gaze up into his umber eyes, your voice trembling with disbelief, “How—how is this possible?”

Elijah's lips curl into a gentle smile as he brushes a strand of wind-swept hair from your face, relishing the chance to hold you close once more.

“I am stronger than you know,” he says softly.

You stare at him, your mind a whirlwind of confusion as you struggle to reconcile the living, breathing Elijah before you with the haunting image of his lifeless body. Your fingers roam over his face, his hands, every part of him within reach, desperately seeking the tangible reassurance that he is truly real.

“Elijah, I… I saw you… You were dead,” you stammer, your voice quivering with confusion, “How can you be here?”

His expression is one of gentle understanding, “I know, my love. I am not entirely sure myself, but I promise you, I am here. I will always come back to you.”

Klaus observes the reunion silently, a rare smile touching his lips. “It seems the universe isn’t ready to part you two just yet,” he says softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of unspoken emotions.

Elijah turns his gaze towards his brother, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you for looking after her, Niklaus.”

Klaus nods, stepping back to grant you both some much-needed space. “Just make sure to keep her safe, Elijah. Father won’t be pleased to learn of this.”

Elijah’s eyes return to you, his resolve unshaken. “I will,” he promises with unwavering certainty. “We will find a way to be together, my love. No matter what it takes.”

You feel the warmth of his words seep into your bones, dispelling the lingering chill of the night. You rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart reassuring you that this is real, that he is real. You allow yourself to fully embrace the reality of the moment, embracing the hope and love that Elijah’s return has rekindled within you.

Taglist: @catmikaelson20 @jennyamanda8 @tsukilover11 @gamarancianne @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask and I will happily add you!

#tvdu #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd fandom #elijah tvd #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson one shot #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x fem!reader #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson angst #elijah mikaelson fluff

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writing-the-stars · 6 months ago

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A Second Chance Romance

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader, Unnamed OC x Fem!Reader

Summary: It had been years since you last heard from Klaus Mikaelson, and just as you were finally ready to move on, he decided to remind you of the love you once shared.

Warnings: Angst (As Always) and Emotional Cheating. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Hey guys! I'm baaaaaaaaaaack. Did you miss me? It's been far too long. I'm alive and I have been slowly ramping up to my return. Starting with this story! The title, to be frank, is not greatest, but I think this is a nice little story to raise me from the dead. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading!!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

You perfect the practiced smile you’ve been working on for weeks. It should be easy for you by now– it should come naturally. Everything about this day shouldn’t feel as forced as it does, and yet, on what was meant to be the happiest day of your life, you could only feel the apprehensive dread pooling in your gut.

The heirloom gown from your soon to be mother-in-law feels heavier than it should, almost suffocating, magnifying the doubts consuming your mind. This was supposed to be the genesis of your new life, the start of your would-be happily ever after. Yet, that menacing fear of regret whittles away at any persuasion you used to get yourself to this moment. You were so sure this is what you wanted. The venue, the menu, the flowers, the seating– all meticulously chosen for this day. But with the weight of vows looming in the horizon, the word “mistake” seems to have made a home in your mind. Were you really prepared to commit yourself to a lifetime with this man?

He was good and pure-hearted– kind, caring, and devoted. He treasured you, loving you in a way that you could never fully reciprocate. You do have an affinity for the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle and you know he could give you a stable and contented life. Yet, the allure of the security his last name would bring pales when you reflect on the life you are now trying to shed.

Memories intricately woven with passion and adventure. Each day an unpredictable surprise filled with experiences that reshaped the person you once were. The encompassing romance that breathed new meaning to your life, sparking a deeper fulfillment as you were pushed beyond your familiar boundaries. A chapter of your life where your heart had found its rhythm. And despite the inevitable challenges, especially given his past, you were unwavering in facing them with him, and your life was richer for it.

That danger of living on the edge wasn’t something you realized you craved until it was suddenly taken away. But that was not a sustainable life, you remind yourself as you latch on to a new flaw in your appearance to occupy your mind.

Your groom is safe— a predictable and reliable anchor in life. A mundane routine you can easily fall into. He promises stability and security, granting you a solid foundation for your future. Which is why you convinced yourself to marry him. It wouldn’t be the life of fantasy that you longed for, but you would be content.

“Hello, love.”

Everything within you stills at the sound of the ghost of your past. Your eyes travel the expanse of the mirror, landing on the reflection of his figure propped against the doorframe of your bridal suite– emulating the way he used to watch you get ready.

“Your beauty is nothing short of breathtaking.”

“What are you doing here?” the words a mere whisper as they are pushed through your constricted throat. You force yourself to stare fixedly through the mirror, resisting the urge to turn around. Because if you do, if you physically lay your eyes on him, it would shatter all the progress you have made the past three years. And you're determined not to grant him the satisfaction and reward of rejoicing his return as if his actions did not hurt you.

“I’ve heard about your impending nuptials. I couldn’t possibly miss your big day.”

You laugh, a hollow sound. After all this time, the man you spent years waiting by the door for has finally returned, just as you've made the decision to move on. Bitterness saturates you at the audacity of this man to appear today of all days, wearing that brazen grin. Did he truly believe he could waltz back into your life after everything?

“Why? So you can stop me from ridding myself of you. Starting over and actually having a shot at happiness.”

Your voice is sharp– venom drips from every word, aiming to puncture another layer deeper into his calloused over heart. His jaw ticks, the only indication you hit your target.

“I like to think you were quite happy with me, love.”

You scoff, a pathetic attempt to dismiss the validity of his words. Your gaze returns to your own reflection, beginning to readjust the lacey veil pinned to your head, needing a distraction from the man who has an incomprehensible hold on you.

“Why are you really here, Klaus?” his name falling from your lips as if your tongue had been molded to say it, “You didn’t come back to town just to watch me get married.”

He steps into the room– reflection growing as he steps closer to you.

“I’ve come to wish you luck,” you watch as his turquoise eyes trail your frame before returning to your gaze in the mirror, “Though I can’t help but wish you were wearing that dress for me.”

Something inside you breaks, setting free a torrent of long-suppressed emotions that had been brewing beneath the surface.

“You threw that away 7 years ago when you left me. I waited for you. For 4 years, I waited for you to come back like an idiot because you promised your heart to me and I was dumb enough to fall for it. And now, once I’ve finally picked up the pieces and I’m ready to start again, you want to come back and take that away from me!”

“I left to protect you!”

“No, Klaus! You left because you were afraid. Because for once somebody actually meant something to you and you couldn’t handle the responsibility of that reality. Because, in spite of all my best efforts, you have it solidified in that warped brain of yours that you are incapable of being loved. That no one could ever truly want to be with you. So what do you do? You run. You push people away to avoid your biggest fear and end up becoming your own self-fulfilling prophecy. Well guess what, Klaus? It worked. You’re alone now.”

You turn your back on the Mikaelson, finally ready to give yourself over to your groom. You open your mouth to dismiss the hybrid, but the words die on your tongue as your eyes meet his. His reflection reveals the glistening of tears brimming in his eyes, on the verge of spilling over, but you know Klaus Mikaelson is too prideful to ever let you see him cry. Yet, the thought of it stills you. You take in the sight of him—his clenched fists, his labored breathing—and for the first time, you truly see him. You see the vulnerability beneath the facade, the depth of his struggle, and it stops you in your tracks.

The wounded boy who only sought his father's approval and his mother's affection. The scars etched deep into his soul, born from the torment of being a bastard cruelly shunned. The millennia of isolating loneliness that followed—an inhumane punishment for another's sin. Beyond that, you witness the fresh wounds your words have inflicted, reopening the scars you had fought so hard to help him heal. Your vengeful words have confirmed his lifelong fear. Here stands a man who has finally gained everything he ever desired, only to realize he is on the brink of losing it all. It moves you, the sight of his insecurities laid bare just for you

"Say it. Tell me you no longer love me, and I will walk away. I will leave you to marry this man, and you will never hear from me again. I will do that for you. But if there is any part of you that still cares, leave with me. Give me another chance."

You stare at the hybrid, conflict brewing within you. You desperately want to believe him—God knows you do—but if he walks away from you again, your heart couldn't endure another shattering. You glance at your reflection in the mirror, adorned in the gown of a woman whose son you could only truly tolerate.

Is that really the life you want to live?

You return your gaze to the Mikaelson, stunned by the single tear rolling down his cheek—his ultimate vulnerability. This simple, profound act compels you to accept what you've always known deep down. You can never truly walk away from this man. You love him too much.

Taglist: @catmikaelson20, @gamarancianne, @hazgold, @devotedlycrookeddonut

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know!

#niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson oneshot #klaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson x female reader #klaus mikaelson x fem!reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x y/n #the vampire diaries #the originals #tvdu #tvdu imagines #tvd fandom #tvd fanfiction

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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It’s My Tumblrversary!!!

I can’t believe I’ve already been on here for a year!!! I’ve accomplished so much more than I ever thought was possible. Thank you so much to everyone who has been here with me! Supporting me, sending in requests, commenting, liking, and reblogging, it all means so much to me and is the reason I’m still doing this a year later. I’m grateful to you all, my followers, the fandoms, my readers!

In honor of my year on this app, I am opening up my creative writing process to you all! Ask me anything you want about how I write, the stories that I’ve written, edits I’ve made, ideas or concepts you’re curious about, anything!!! Also, I would like to rewrite a few of my stories with your creative input!

So for the rest of this month, send in this ✒️ with the title and I will work one-on-one with you to rewrite ANY of my stories! Thank you all again. I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for a year. It’s truly felt like a dream.

#1 year tumblrversary #1 year celebration #writing the stars

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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Mikaelson Ball (Klaus)

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You attend the Mikaelson Ball, but not with who you expected.

Warnings: Angst (You Know I Have To Slip It In There), Fluffy Ending, Typical Mischievous Kol, Slight Caroline Slander, Klaus Being Idiotic. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 3.4k (My longest one yet!)

A/N: Hey guys! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and I thought it was about time I shared it with you all. Obviously, this was inspired by the iconic Mikaelson Ball episode, Dangerous Liaisons, and I had a lot of fun writing this one shot. As always, thank you all so much for reading! I truly appreciate it and I hope you all enjoy! Feel free leave a comment or submit a travel request. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

Despondently, you stand on the balcony of the Mikaelson residence, looking out at the lightly illuminated forest before you. Morosely sipping on the champagne in your hand, you wonder how you had gotten to feel so foolish this evening. Had you read too much into the flirtatious rapport you and Klaus maintained?

When he invited you to his family’s ball, you thought it was his way of finally asking you on a date after months spent charming you, but you are beginning to see that was an erroneous assumption. The Mikaelson had not spared one glance at you all evening, instead devoting all of his attention to a young blonde you now have an unfair disdain for.

While there is clearly a significant class distinction between you and his family, was it preposterous to assume that the continual late-night visits and luxurious gifts he bestowed you with symbolized more than the bonding between friends? Perhaps it truly is just custom to the upper echelon. Finishing off your glass, you contemplate if you should just go home early and save yourself from any further embarrassment.

“Not much of a party person are you, darling?”

You spin around, startled by the sudden intrusion– hand clutching at your chest, willing your frantically beating heart to calm. “You scared me,” you announce to the interloper, relief filling you as you take in the sight of a handsome brunet– his dark eyes alight with mischief. The corners of his lips lift into a wicked grin, sending a rush of excitement to your abdomen. “My apologies,” he states, kissing the knuckles of your hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes widen at the revelation of his name, recognizing him to be one of Klaus’s many siblings. “Might I add, you look radiant tonight,” the Mikaelson continues with a charismatic smile, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. A light blush paints your cheeks. At least someone noticed.

“Thank you. I see you’re just as charming as your brother.”

The brunet frowns at your statement and you realize he must not know the connection. “I’m Y/N, Klaus’s friend,” you introduce yourself– the word tugging at the seams of your heart. You despise how reckless you were, taking the hybrid’s flirty nature to heart, especially now seeing how flirtatious his brother is. It is clearly within the nature of the family to be so winsome and you fell for it, developing feelings that will be nearly impossible to get over. Your propensity to fall in love too easily has yet again damned you to heavy heartache.

“Ah, so you’re the pretty little thing that has captured my brother’s attention,” Kol acknowledges, causing a bitter chuckle to fall from your lips.

“No, I am afraid that position belongs to someone else,” you inform the younger Mikaelson, his brows drawing in confusion. You don’t allow him much time to ponder as you begin moving towards the inside of the manor, announcing your departure as you have opted not to torture yourself any longer.

“Wait,” the vampire stops you, grabbing at your wrist, “Stay. At least allow me a dance.”

You contemplate his offer, not wanting to linger around the manor any longer, but also having dedicated so much time to prep yourself for the ball, it would be a shame to let most of that effort go to waste. Besides, when is the next time you would have the opportunity to attend such a glamorous event? Reluctantly, you agree to Kol’s proposal, emphasizing you were staying for a singular dance.

The Mikaelson smiles devilishly at you, “Perfect.” He offers out his arm and you accept it, allowing him to lead you into the grand room where he tells you to wait for him at the bottom of the steps.

A voice rings out from the stairs you just descended, garnering the attention of Mikaelsons’ guests. You watch the family gather on the beautifully decorated stairway, awed by their beauty. Each member had their own unique allure that demanded your attention– none more so than that of Niklaus Mikaelson. The suit– perfectly tailored to accentuate his physical build– was a sharp contrast to the typical Henley and jeans you see the Mikaelson wear. His mussed curls were brushed back highlighting the delicate beauty of his face. His physicality combined with the effortless, smug way he carried himself had you wanting to swoon. Your envy of the blonde deepens as your heart aches, longing for nothing more than to be by his side.

As if feeling your desire, for the first time this evening, Klaus’s gaze flits to yours and the hybrid is left mystified. He always thought you a true beauty, but to see it accentuated so magnificently left him speechless. His eyes linger, longer than he intended as he takes in the sight of you, hoping to burn the image in his mind. Pride swells in his chest as he takes note of the silver pendant dangling from your neck– the one he gave you a week ago. One of his most valued treasures.

You feel vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, tearing your eyes away as the emotion swarming in you becomes too much to handle. You find Kol whose gaze is already waiting for you. He sends you a perilous wink, provoking his older brother’s ill temper.

“Welcome. Thank you for joining us,” the Mikaelson sibling announces to his guests for the evening, commanding the grand room.

“You know, whenever my mother brings our family together like this, it’s tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance.”

Unknowingly, your eyes drift back to Klaus, watching as he stands with his family in all of his grandeur. Visibly distinct from his siblings as his neck is adorned in white rather than the typical black bowtie of his siblings– a symbol of just how exceptional he is.

"Tonight's pick is a centuries-old waltz, so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner, please join us in the ballroom."

The room erupts with excited chatter as you stifle a groan. Your luck would have it that the one dance you agree to is a centuries-old waltz you have never performed before. Is it not bad enough that you have to deal with the self-humiliation of misreading all of Klaus’s advances, but now you will have to face an additional layer of public humiliation?

Kol is quick to meet you at the bottom of the stairs, as promised, holding his arm out for you. Reluctantly, you wrap your arm around his, confessing your inexperience as he leads you into the grandiose ballroom, lining up with the other dancers. “Don’t worry, darling. Follow my lead and you will be fine,” he reassures, smiling down at you with that devilish grin– oddly bringing you comfort.

The gentle strumming of a guitar begins as the two of you walk forward in time with the music– hands crossed in front of each other’s. Following Kol’s lead, you take another step forward, turning to face the line opposite of you. Sneaking a glance at the Mikaelson you love, you are alarmed by the animosity in his leer. You instinctively draw yourself closer to the younger Mikaelson as if his presence could protect you from Klaus’s enmity. Curious by your sudden action, Kol follows your gaze, finding the malevolent glare of his older brother– a devious grin plastering his face.

Due to the irksome rule his mother set in place of keeping peace with the people of Mystic Falls, Kol has been forced to find his amusement in other ways, like using his brother’s new plaything to make the hybrid jealous. His goal is to see how long his brother will allow him to seduce you before he snaps and causes a scene. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game, but Kol has always been enticed by danger.

A gasp escapes your lips as you are unexpectedly spun by the brunet– unprepared for the sudden movement. “Relax, darling,” Kol whispers in your ear, taking note of how stiff you are. You breathe deeply, letting the breath settle all of your nerves as you slowly give your trust over to the vampire. As instructed, you follow Kol’s lead allowing him to waltz you in a circle, traveling around the ballroom. You are quick to realize that the steps of the waltz are quite repetitive and, after a while, take no effort for you to enact. All the while, whispers of jokes and compliments have you truly relax in the Mikaelson’s arms as you giggle at his antics.

From across the room, Klaus surveys the two of you lividly. The one thing he asked of his siblings tonight was to leave you alone, and yet, there his brother was twirling you around the ballroom. He knows Kol is doing this to anger him, but he can’t help satisfying his brother’s childish urge to incense him when he watches how close the two of you are becoming. That same dazzling smile you greet him with every night is now being given to his infernal younger brother. That captivating laugh that softened the hardest parts of him was now in response to his pestilent younger brother. Those decadent curves he’s been waiting to run his hands over were now being held by his soon-to-be-dead younger brother. The hybrid begrudgingly tears his eyes away from the scene, knowing that if he does not distract himself soon, a spectacle will be made. So, he returns his attention to the blonde vampire in his arms and continues to charm her as all part of his master plan.

As you continue the steps, Kol leans in to whisper in your ear once more. Instead of the humorous observation you were expecting, he tells you, “This is the part where I leave you.”

You are not allowed time to react before you are spun out of the vampire’s arms into those of another Mikaelson sibling. As soon as the older Mikaelson’s arm wraps around you, you continue the repetitive steps, traveling in the opposite direction.

“You must be Y/N,�� he speaks and you provide a nod of confirmation. “And you are?” you ask of the vampire– unsure of which Mikaelson brother you are speaking with now.

“Forgive me. I assumed with how special you are to Niklaus he would have informed you about the rest of his family. I am Elijah.”

An uncontained scoff exits your lips and the Original questions his previous statement, “Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s just that you’re the second sibling to say that to me, and yet, Klaus has not spoken to me all night.”

Elijah’s lips purse at the statement– curious as to why his brother neglected you when he made it very clear you were to remain off limits due to your status in his life. He is even more perplexed when he takes note of the pendant on your neck– a highly valuable item his brother accrued. Klaus swore that pendant would only grace the neck of the woman he deemed exemplary enough to wear it.

Nothing else of substance is exchanged between you and Elijah and the dance soon draws to an end. Bowing as you depart, Kol is by your side in an instant– arm being placed delicately on your shoulder.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Kol,” Elijah forewarns his younger brother, doing nothing to dissuade the mischievous Mikaelson.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, brother. I’m just keeping Y/N company.”

Kol takes your arm, leading you away from his sibling and the rest of the ball. Unseen by you as you walk towards the front of the manor, Kol passes by the infuriated hybrid, taunting him with a wink. The seemingly trivial action pushes Klaus over the edge, having him lurch toward his treacherous brother– ready to tear out his liver. Fortunately for the younger Mikaelson, Finn had already anticipated his ill-tempered brother’s reaction and put a stop to any harm that would be done to Kol.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my car, Kol. Thank you,” you state to the vampire once you reach the old Camry that has been with you since your high school graduation.

“Mother would be furious if she found out I let a lady walk to her car alone.”

You smile up at the Mikaelson brother who kept you company for the duration of your evening. Thankful to him for unknowingly saving you from your own humiliation, you give the brunet a quick peck on the cheek, sending a streak of envy through the lurking hybrid waiting to have a moment alone with you.

“Well, tell your mother she throws a lovely ball. And thank you for the dance, it turned out to be quite nice.”

The two of you part ways– Kol leaving a final kiss on your knuckles. You rummage through the small purse you brought with you, looking for your keys, when a new voice calls out to you– one you ironically dread to hear.

“Leaving so soon? And without a goodbye.”

You turn to face Klaus, a dashing smile on his face, eyes shining with innocence as if he had done nothing wrong. “Saying goodbye implies that we even said hello in the first place,” you tell the hybrid rather bitterly, returning your attention to the retrieval of your keys.

“You’re mad at me,” he informs you as if you couldn’t figure out your own emotions. You don’t dignify him with a response, grabbing your keys and attempting to get in your car. “Come on, love. Talk to me,” Klaus pushes, further stoking your irritation with him.

“Oh, you mean like how you talked to me this evening after you were the one who invited me. Forgive me if I’m not overjoyed to see you after having been ignored,” you hiss at the Mikaelson. While you are aware you can’t fault him for your own romantic presumption, you can be angry that he invited you to an event and refused to speak. Klaus’s nostrils flare. How dare you be angry with him after you spent the evening romancing with his brother.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so preoccupied fawning over my brother, I would have had the opportunity.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips.

“Me? Fawning? If anyone was doing any fawning tonight, it would be you with your pretty blonde date. Kol was there keeping me company while you were off galavanting with her, so don’t even try to make me out to be the villain. The only reason I even came here tonight was because you invited me. Had I known I was gonna end up being pawned off to your brother I would have stayed home! I thought this was a date, Klaus. I thought you were inviting me to be your date to the ball. Clearly, I was mistaken, so you do not get to play the victim here.”

Klaus does nothing but stare– the two of you too furious to have a productive conversation. You shake your head in incredulity at his behavior, having nothing left to say, and get into your car. How dare he be angry with you? And for what, dancing with his brother? He certainly lacked any intention of dancing with you himself. What did he expect? For you to show up and decorate the walls with your presence. The audacity of that man. You continue your rage as you drive back to your home, only relaxing once you feel the stream of hot water on your skin.

You exit your bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body as you shiver from the sharp temperature change. The warmth that encased you from your steamy shower becoming replaced by the chilly air of your drafty bedroom. You look towards your open bedroom window as a gust of cold air breezes by you– eyes rolling in annoyance. Typically, you leave your window open so Klaus can come in for his nightly visits, but you are in no mood to speak to the infuriating hybrid. You doubt he’ll be dropping by this evening anyway.

“Was that meant to keep me out, love?”

A frightened gasp escapes you as you quickly turn around, meeting a pair of familiar blue eyes. “You know, just because you’re a vampire and can move in silence, doesn’t mean you have to,” you scold the hybrid standing in your bedroom– back in his typical Henley and jeans. Your hand rests over your heart, willing it to recover from the scare.

He chuckles, amused by the oblivion of humans, “Ah, mortals. I forget how frightful you lot can be.” You roll your eyes at the Mikaelson, ignoring his apathetic statement. “What do you want, Klaus,” you harshly demand, tugging the towel closer to your body. He sighs, annoyed by your loitering emotions, “We’re still angry I see.”

“I am really not in the mood for this, so if you could kindly leave my house, that would be greatly appreciated.”

You turn your back on the hybrid, moving toward your dresser, hoping that he will be gone by the time you turn back around.

“I came here to apologize, love,” the Mikaelson admits, stilling your movements. If there was one thing you learned about Niklaus Mikaelson through all of the stories he shared, it was that he NEVER apologizes. “What,” you question, turning to face the hybrid, uncertain you heard him correctly.

“I’ve recently had a bit of a heart-to-heart and I realize that you are right.”

You sink to the foot of your bed– your brain having trouble processing the information it is being presented. “Okay,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say.

“I fancy you, Y/N.”

“Then why-”

“Caroline is just a mere distraction,” Klaus responds, having anticipated your next question, “You don’t live to be a thousand years old without acquiring a few enemies over the years. If anyone were to discover my feelings for you, they would use you as leverage. By devoting my attention to Caroline, she becomes the target while you remain safe. She means absolutely nothing to me.”

Silence hovers between the two of you as you analyze the gravity of this new information. All those nights you spent exchanging stories and laughing until sunrise were just as equally treasured by Klaus as by you. The flowers, the drawings, the jewelry, the little moments of silence, and the shared moments of vulnerability all were valued, all were cherished just as fondly. Your bond with the Original Hybrid had not been imagined, had not been one-sided. A smile graces your lips at this revelation. He cared for you– enough to put someone else’s life at risk. To parade around feigning love for someone so that you remained unharmed. Not only did that seem unfair to the girl, Caroline, but ironically idiotic for one of the most intelligent men you knew.

“Klaus, this has to be one of the stupidest things you have ever done,” you chuckle at the hybrid’s plan, “Rather than just confess your feelings for me, you opt to pretend to be in love with someone else so that I’m safe? You couldn’t have thought that would work.”

He frowns at your laughter– not expecting the conversation to go this way. In fact, this whole evening went rather unexpectedly for the Mikaelson. He had envisioned how the night was supposed to go, all everyone had to do was act accordingly. Now he is beginning to see not everyone is a pawn he can so easily move around.

“Yes, well, I had your safety in mind. The details were irrelevant.”

Your laughter echoes around the confines of your bedroom amused by his poor plan conceptualization. Klaus would be irritated by your laughter had it not become something he is obsessed with. And while you may think of his plan as silly and moronic, he knows how successful it was at keeping you safe, and that is all that mattered to him.

“I’m glad that you’re amused, love. May I be forgiven now?”

You smile up at Klaus unable to resist the charm of that smile. Walking towards the hybrid– the man that you adore– you bring your lips to his, finally fulfilling all of your fantasies. “I’ll consider that a yes,” the Mikaelson chuckles as you break away from the long-anticipated kiss.

"Put me through that again and I'll ram a stake so far up your-"

"Noted, love."

Taglist: @catmikaelson20 @jennyamanda8 (I couldn’t remember if you wanted to be tagged in all of my TVDU post or just Elijah. If just Elijah, let me know and I will remove you from the general taglist!) @tsukilover11 (Same with you. Let me know if you want to be removed from the general list!)

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask and I will happily add you!

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

Note

I am pleasantly surprised and overjoyed by the amount of attention this has received! I had all but damned this blurb to hell, feeling so bad about it, but you guys came in and really loved on it. I thank you all for that. It can be really exhausting being a writer sometimes, especially with the pressure of making sure your story is perfect, but moments like these are so rewarding and remind me of why I keep writing. So thank you! Looking forward to see what else you all have in store for me! And if you want to see more content like this, please feel free to submit a travel request (ask).

May I request a (Wednesday Addams x fem reader) where reader visits Wednesday’s house, and they get caught cuddling by Morticia and so Wednesday throws reader off of her, and denies anything happened, but Morticia won’t let it go and teases her? Have a good day and thanks for reading my request. :]

Untitled

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader

Summary: Wednesday indulges in a moment of vulnerability

Warnings: Rushed Ending. Not As Well Executed As I Would Like.

Word Count: 529

A/N: The amount of rewrites this little blurb underwent is ridiculous! Every time I'd start writing I'd get halfway through, think it was stupid, and completely erase everything I had written. I am now just forcing myself to post this because I know it will probably never get posted if I don't. I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope it's not too much of a letdown. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

Wednesday lay stiffly by your side– arms awkwardly wrapped around your frame as you held her close to you. Physical affection was something the macabre girl was still attempting to grow accustomed to, having previously only maintained physical contact to maim someone. Touching someone with such tenderness and intimacy felt foreign to the psychic, but she could not deny the odd sense of security she felt being encased in your arms.

Wednesday heeded her mother’s warning about the dangers of her psychic abilities. She felt the pressure of losing herself to the darkness of her visions every day. The threat of being driven to isolation never bothered the raven-haired girl before, but now that she has begrudgingly found herself attached to people she did not want to lose, remaining balanced was a grueling battle she was intent on resulting victorious.

The grounding of your arms helped with this ambition as you seemed to deflect feelings of distrust. You had always been a steadfast resource for the Addams girl. Never questioning her dubious midnight expeditions or unsavory schemes. You had always proven yourself faithful to her– a constant companion she had not realized she wanted until you. You made it easy for her to breathe, to allow herself small moments of vulnerability she could only ever share with you.

It was gratifying to have moments like these. Moments where she did not feel the need to hide behind her biting wit and cold wall of apathy she had built around herself– not that she would ever admit that to anyone but herself. You provide her with a sense of safety she realizes she has been lacking.

Being with you has begun opening her eyes to the logic behind what she once believed was her mother’s foolish decision. While she would never give up her own ambitions in life to be a housewife, she could see what lured her mother in. Though again, she rather act as a human doll for Enid than let anyone else know this. The infuriating smirk donning her mother’s lips when she brought you home this evening was enough of an “I told you so” for Wednesday to last the rest of her life.

Of course, as Wednesday was starting to learn since her arrival to Nevermore, she could not always get what she wanted, and as her bedroom door creaked open– the slim frame of her mother lurking in the doorway– she knew she would be haunted by this moment forever. Still, the raven-haired girl thrusts your body off of hers in a futile attempt to preserve some of her pride.

“Wednesday!” you exclaim– body thumping against the hardwood of her bedroom floor.

Morticia raises a thinly shaped eyebrow– that maddening knowing smirk adorning her lips.

“I was attempting to show them how to suffocate someone,” Wednesday announces, the pathetic excuse for a lie the first thing her brain could conjure in her disconcerted state.

“I see. And with affection no less,” Morticia replies, a teasing grin decorating her features.

A giggle escapes your lips as Wednesday’s pallor rouges just the slightest tint. Her wicked mother will lure this over her head for all eternity.

#writing the stars #wednesday fandom #wednesday fanfic #wednesday netflix #wednesday friday addams #wednesday addams

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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Untitled

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader

Summary: Wednesday indulges in a moment of vulnerability

Warnings: Rushed Ending. Not As Well Executed As I Would Like.

Word Count: 529

Masterlist

“Wednesday!” you exclaim– body thumping against the hardwood of her bedroom floor.

Morticia raises a thinly shaped eyebrow– that maddening knowing smirk adorning her lips.

“I was attempting to show them how to suffocate someone,” Wednesday announces, the pathetic excuse for a lie the first thing her brain could conjure in her disconcerted state.

“I see. And with affection no less,” Morticia replies, a teasing grin decorating her features.

A giggle escapes your lips as Wednesday’s pallor rouges just the slightest tint. Her wicked mother will lure this over her head for all eternity.

#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fandom #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #fandom writing #fandom #fanfic #wednesday addams blurb

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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How could she not be after that?

Kol: What’s up with Y/N? She’s been lying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Rebekah: She’s just a little overwhelmed.

Kol: Why?

Rebekah: Elijah smiled at her.

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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Explore Other Galaxies

Below is list of other galaxies I recommend exploring in the Tumblr universe!

January ‘23 Recommendations

#writing the stars #fic rec #fanfic #the originals #the vampire diaries #fanfic recommendation #monthly fic recs #authors supporting authors #support fanfic writers

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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Traveling Galaxies

January ‘23 Recommendations

First month of 2023 is over! Can you guys believe it!

To celebrate surviving thus far, here are my recommended fics from the month!

ELIJAH:

Dear, Sweet Elijah by @morganas-pendragons

Poptarts by @velvetcloxds

In the Mirror by @ssjwriting

His Fatal Flaw by @emikaelsonimagines

KLAUS:

And Whatever Comes After That by @velvetcloxds

Switzerland by @amournoir

REBEKAH:

Blood, Sweat, and Tears by @smalls-words

Here are just a few of the ones that I enjoyed! Please go show these writers some love💗

#the originals #tvdu #tvd fandom #the mikaelsons #fanfic #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diares imagine #monthly fic recs #fic rec #authors supporting authors #elijah mikaelson x fem!reader #klaus mikaelson x fem!reader #rebekah mikaelson x fem!reader #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #traveling galaxies

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writing-the-stars · 2 years ago

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��️❤️❤️

Little Piece of Heaven

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Summary: You are Elijah Mikaelson’s anchor in the sea of dysfunction brought on by his maladjusted family

Warnings: In Theory Really Fluffy and Cute, But I Feel I Could Say Angst (Very Minor If So), No Use of Pronouns. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this short little imagine I conjured up. I felt so comforted writing this and I hope it does the same for you. I hope everyone’s new year is going well so far! As always, thank you guys so much for reading!!! Please feel free to leave a comment or send in an ask. I love interacting with you all. Have a wonderful day!!!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

Elijah was exhausted. The weight of being his brother’s keeper was settling heavily into his bones. It was becoming too much for him– this endless pursuit of the hybrid’s redemption. He wasn’t ready to admit it, but he was beginning to think that maybe there was no hope of saving his younger brother after all. Despite his best efforts, it seemed that Klaus always found a way to undo the substantial progress Elijah had helped him make. But it was that progress, however little it lasted, that kept Elijah coming back to his brother’s side because as long as Klaus displayed a potential for goodness, Elijah was committed to helping him fulfill it.

Tonight, however, the hybrid went too far and Elijah reached his breaking point. He needed a recess– a weekend perhaps where he could escape the city. Go to the mountains and retreat into a cabin where he could indulge in nothingness.

As tempting as this fantasy of Elijah’s appeared, the Original knew it was just that– an impossible dream. He could never leave the city, not while his brother inhabited it. The guilt would gnaw at him, rob him of any semblance of peace he could hope to gain till he was driven back to the city regardless. Yes, the Mikaelson was bound to the city, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Not when he had something better than his asinine daydream. You.

Despite the lateness of the evening, he knew you would be up, waiting for him to get back. He was certain he would find you lounging on your sofa– a book in hand– pretending your interest in the novel is why you are up so late and not your worry for him.

You always fretted so much over him. Scared that one day he would become too caught up in his brother’s dealings and become severely injured. Or worse, end up lying daggered in a box for the rest of your life rather than lying next to you where he should be. The Mikaelson assured you he would always make his way home to you, but that never seemed to ease your worries.

He could see your lip tugged between your teeth as the minutes ticked by, waiting anxiously for the sound of his keys jiggling the lock of your apartment door. Your body, undoubtedly wrapped inside the wool blanket he gifted you for Christmas, sits perched on your chaise sofa draped in one of his shirts because the scent of him helps to bring you some comfort as you wait for the genuine article.

He smiles at the thought of you jumping into his arms as soon as the door closes behind him, relieved by his presence filling up the space of your apartment once again. The overwhelming sensation of serenity he will feel as soon as he holds you in his arms again. You are his anchor in the sea of dysfunction brought on by his maladjusted family. You are his inner peace, his little piece of heaven.

Despite his gifted amplified speed, Elijah felt like his feet could not get him to you fast enough as he climbed the flights to your floor, eager to lie with you. As soon as the key enters the lock, he hears your breath hitch– the rate of your heart increasing as you anticipate his entrance. The pages of your book ruffle as you shut the novel, tossing it on the small coffee table. Just as the vampire imagined, he finds you curled up on the couch dawning his shirt as you shrug the wooly blanket off you, readying to launch into his arms.

A sigh of relief escapes the Original’s lips as you crash into him– legs wrapping around his torso– immediately finding tranquility in your embrace. You press the Mikaelson further into you as if trying to meld your two bodies together and leave a series of kisses trailing from his neck to his face. Elijah hums contentedly as he walks you over to the sofa, settling you down into his lap and finally allowing himself ataraxy.

“I missed you,” you breathe into his neck, finally able to feel at ease knowing he has made it back to you another night. The tension from both of your bodies melting away under the steady, reassuring touch of the other, knowing that as long as you were in each other’s arms, nothing could harm you.

“I missed you too, darling,” Elijah exhales, placing a kiss on the top of your head– your scent fresh and hair damp from the shower you took earlier. There was absolutely nothing that could compare to this feeling, in this millennium or the next– Elijah was sure of it.

“Tell me about your day,” the Mikaelson requests of you.

You shift in his lap, pulling back to fully take him in for the first time since his arrival. He had a hard day, you could tell. Though incapable of ever appearing physically fatigued, the shallow look in his coffee eyes was enough of an indicator of his exhaustion. While you greatly admire his selflessness and devotion to his family, you will never understand why he goes to the lengths of repeatedly sacrificing himself for them when they would hardly do the same in return.

But rather than starting that futile conversation with him again, you fulfill the vampire’s request to hear about your practically uneventful day, detailing as much as possible all the moments you could remember. The Original smiles up at you as you ramble, admiring the way in which you narrate your activities. The recount of your day brings a therapeutic distraction from the numerous problems his day had brought and he finds himself thoroughly invested in the story you craft, making him feel as if he was there with you all along.

Your hand subconsciously toys with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling the Mikaelson into a deeper state of repose. His eyes fall shut in absolute bliss. Elijah could stay like this forever– you and him in this little piece of heaven.

You were halfway through informing the vampire about your attempt at a new recipe you found when you notice his eyes had closed– a contented smile dressing his features. It was a state you didn’t get to see him in often as his mind was always working out how to bring his family out of the calamity they had incited. You take the opportunity to study him, wanting to commit this beatific version of him to memory. Your eyes trail the contours of his angular features– his high cheekbones and strong, clean shaved jawline– somehow softer than usual. He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on and by some miracle he belonged to you.

“Why did you stop?” Elijah interrupts your surveillance– eyes fluttering open at the halt of your voice. The action surprises you, having assumed he had succumbed to his exhaustion while you spoke. He was waiting to hear what you did next, eager to know if the dish came out like you wanted, and was confused when you suddenly got quiet.

“I want to hear how the recipe turned out.”

“I thought I bored you to sleep,” you joke with the brunet, only making his furrowed brows deepen. He was appalled that a thought like that could ever cross your mind.

“Never. I could never grow tired of listening to you speak.”

A warmth pools in you at the sincerity reflected in his coffee eyes and, though incredibly trivial, you have never felt more loved than in this moment with this man. This perfect man who was too good for his own benefit.

You smile at him, pecking his lips before returning to your story and finishing out the narrative of your day.

“How do you do it?” Elijah asks you, enclosing the entirety of your hand into his large grasp.

“Do what?” you ask curiously, watching him bring the back of your hand to his lips.

“Manage to make my world so perfect.”

A blush clamors at your cheeks as his words suddenly make you shy, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Even after two years the Mikaelson still manages to astound you.

Elijah chuckles at your bashfulness, kissing the skin of your neck as he brings you in closer to him.

“I love you, darling. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too, Elijah.”

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