#elijah

Two thousand AND? There's more? 😭

Summary: Elijah's body starts to misbehave when he's around you. Elijah has to hide it before he makes a fool of himself.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, fluffy, flustered!Elijah

Word Count: <1k

Elijah blinked, trying to remember what he had been doing. From the moment you entered the kitchen in a sheer lilac slip dress, everything had gone hazy.

You stretched for the can of coffee on the top shelf. “Elijah,” you called. “A leg up, please?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Of course.”

He kneeled on the floor, and you stepped on his thigh, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

As you reached for the coffee, and Elijah watched your silk dress skate higher and higher up your brown thigh.

Smoke x black!reader

Synopsis: what’s it’s like having Elijah as a bully alone.

Having Elijah as a bully didn’t mean being shoved embarrassed in front of crowds or him pouring milk on you like in the movies.

No.

His meanness was the quiet kind.

The kind you carried home with you. The kind that made you second-guess how you spoke to him, how you looked at him, how you breathed around him.

He never yelled. Never made scenes. Unlike his brother.

But you felt his eyes on you from the moment you walked into the room.

You were soft. You’d always been soft.

You liked pink things bows, gloss, notebooks with round stickers and highlighters in every shade of yellow and pink.

You said “excuse me” even when you didn’t need to. And you’d known Elijah since you were little back when he barely talked.

But college Elijah?

He was still quiet. Just colder now.

Quieter. Bigger. Meaner.

He’d call you “Peaches” because whrn ypu were in middle school ypu ate peaches combined with your lunch. The nickname stuck like honey, but it didn’t sound warm when it came from his mouth.

More like a warning.

“Move over peaches,” he muttered once, sliding into the seat beside you without asking.

You moved.

Even if your heart jumped. Even if your skin heated.

He never said thank you.

Elijah didn’t mess with other girls. He didn’t even talk to most of them.But with you?

It was constant.

He didn’t speak often, but when he did, it was always pointed. Always enough to make your stomach twist.

“Don’t wear this skirt it’s too short.”

“Your perfume loud as hell. Who you tryna impress?”

You’d always shrink when he spoke to you like that. Push your glasses up your nose and mumble something, voice small.

“I just like it.”

He’d smack his lips. But he’d never stop looking.

Never stopped watching you as you moved through campus eyes dragging over your socks, your gloss,and glasses.

And every time he was near, it was like you forgot how to breathe right.

He sat besideyou in your core classes. Every. Day.

You tried switching seats once.

When you came in and took the back row, he looked right at you, jaw ticking.

“Don’t play with me.” he said.

You stared at him, confused.

“I just thought—”

“You thought wrong.Peaches move.” His words final.

You didn’t argue.

You never did.

You sat down beside him, spine stiff, and felt the weight of his gaze the whole period.

⸻

He didn’t steal your things. Not exactly.

He’d wait until you left for the bathroom and delete one of your paragraphs on your essay, just sly and petty stuff.

You didn’t even notice until later.

When you caught him doing it again, you frowned at him.

“…Why do you do that?”

He looked up slowly. Didn’t smile.

“Do what?”

You hugged your arms tighter around your notebook. “Mess with my stuff.”

“You mess with your own head too much,” he muttered.

That didn’t make any sense.

But with Elijah, nothing ever did.

The scariest thing wasn’t his voice, or the way he looked at you, or even how he could make you feel dumb without saying much.

It was how he noticed everything.

You wore a new lip gloss, he stared too long.

You didn’t smile as much one week he leaned in just slightly and asked, “what’s the problem?”

You shook your head fast.

But your throat was tight the rest of the day.

Because he never asked anything just to be nice. He asked because he saw it. Because he knew something was off.

Because he always paid attention.

Even when you didn’t want him to.

⸻

Once, a guy tried to flirt with you outside the library.

You didn’t even notice Elijah nearby.

But you felt him when he showed up. “Move,” he said to the guy, voice low, calm.

The guy blinked. “Yo, chill, man. I was just—”

“Did I ask what you were just doin’?”

Silence.

You looked down, heart in your throat.The boy left without another word.

Elijah looked at you like you were the problem.

“Don’t piss me off peaches,” he said.

“He just asked for my name.”

He tilted his head.

“You give it to him?”

“…No.”

He nodded once. Like that was how it was supposed to be.

Then he walked away.

And you stood there, pink notebook clutched to your chest, trying to understand what just happened.

⸻

Elijah never confessed.

Never explained why he messed with you more than anyone else.

Why he always ended up walking behind you after class. Why he said mean things so softly that they stick with you.

But you never told anyone about it either.

Because if you were honest…

You kind of waited for him.

For the sound of his voice. For the brush of his shoulder when he passed. For the weight of his attention.

But maybe it meant something that he always saw you.

Divider by: @cursed-carmine