#elijahmikaelsonxreader

You wore the crimson lace as a dare—Klaus’ gift, Elijah’s undoing. For a man built on centuries of restraint, jealousy becomes a quiet apocalypse. He says nothing when he sees you, only circles like a predator in fine silk. Every glance is an accusation, every touch a punishment, and beneath each subtle movement, you feel the ache of something deeper—like a piano wire pulled taut between your ribs, vibrating with tension you’re too afraid to name, and every breath between you is a rope wound tighter with tension.

He watches you move through the parlor like a relic he hasn’t decided to claim—yet. The lace clings to you, barely concealing skin he’s committed to memory in quieter times. It’s not just the lingerie. It’s the implication: Klaus gave it to you. You wore it in Elijah’s house. You stood, back arched, glass in hand, and smiled.

Elijah says nothing. He doesn’t need to.

When he speaks, it’s later. Alone. In the quiet room where the music doesn’t reach and the fireplace crackles low. You don’t hear his footsteps—you feel them, like thunder beneath marble floors.

He closes the door behind you both.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, voice low, patient, precise. A blade sheathed in velvet.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes.

His eyes rake over your body, not hungrily—meticulously. As if each thread of lace is another offense to catalog. “My brother gave you that?” he asks, finally stepping close enough that your perfume warps beneath the weight of his.

You nod. “It was a joke. He thought—”

Elijah’s hand lifts. A single finger pressed to your lips.

“I’m not interested in what Klaus thought.”

He steps back. You think he’s going to leave.

Instead, he opens a narrow door behind the bookshelf and gestures for you to follow.

What lies behind the bookshelf isn’t a closet—it’s a chamber, narrow and suffocating in its intimacy. The walls are smooth stone, the air thick with warmth and wax. Shadows flicker with the pulse of dozens of low candles, their flames casting the illusion of movement even when you’re standing still.

And in the center: a mannequin. Draped in crimson lace. Your exact size. Your shape. The lingerie on it is identical to what you wear.

And it smells like you.

“Elijah—” you whisper, heart fluttering with something that isn’t quite fear.

“I had it commissioned,” he says simply. “After the first time you wore it.”

You stare at him. “That was months ago.”

“I remember,” he says, and for a moment, something in him fractures—just behind the eyes.

He steps forward again. Reaches for the mannequin. Runs his hands down its sides. “She’s never spoken back to me. But I’ve said so many things to her. Things I could never say to you.”

You feel breathless. Powerless. But you step toward him anyway. He doesn’t stop you. Just watches.

“You’ve been using—”

He turns then. Sharp. Predatory. “Don’t finish that sentence unless you’re prepared for the answer.”

Your heart hammers.

Then he’s in front of you. The mannequin to your side. His fingers hook the edge of your panties and snap them against your skin—not roughly. Deliberately.

“You want me to lose control,” he murmurs. “You want me to hurt.”

His voice dips lower, and his fingers tighten at your hip, grounding you, making sure you can’t step away. A flicker of heat pulses through you, sharp and instant, clashing with the defiance rising in your chest.

“I want you to feel,” you snap back, and your hand finds his chest, pushing—not to escape, but to challenge. The air between you shifts, heavy, electric. A single breath and everything changes.

That breaks him.

Elijah pushes you back against the mannequin. The lace scratches your spine as his hands lift you. He pins you there, eye to eye with your own ghost in silk. He doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

He turns your head to face it.

“This is who I touched when I couldn’t have you.”

Then he kisses your neck. Bites. The pain is soft, meant to linger. You cry out, but he only pushes harder. His hand slides up your ribcage, thumb brushing under the swell of your breast, teasing but never kind. The lace scrapes with every movement, taut and tingling.

When he finally takes you—right there, standing, pinned—it’s punishing. Slow. Intimate. His mouth never leaves your throat, lips dragging over your skin with every thrust like a benediction and a curse. His hand stays locked on the small of your back, pressing you against her—you—the whole time, forcing you to feel the lace imprint into your spine, a mirror to the one straining and damp against your skin.

The way he moves is deliberate, devastating. His cock stretches you full and aching, each grind of his hips a controlled burn, a sermon in dominance. He withdraws nearly to the tip before slamming back in, each movement laced with withheld fury, with years of restraint unraveling.

The room smells of wax, silk, and sex—his scent woven into the air like a vice. The heat is stifling, clinging to your skin in waves, every breath heavy as if the atmosphere itself is saturated with his presence. scent overtaking everything. You moan and writhe but the grip on your hip holds you still, grounded, trembling beneath his control. He hisses when your pussy clenches around him, voice rasping into your skin.

“You were mine before you even knew it.”

He says nothing else. Just breathes harder. Faster. Until you’re clawing at his back, nails raking over his shirt, voice broken into gasps that barely form his name. You choke on it—on the worship, the punishment, the unbearable want.

You break before he does.

Your orgasm hits like confession—tears spilling, voice choking as your walls clamp around him, desperate and spent. He doesn't let up. Not until you’re limp, shuddering, begging in fractured syllables. He fucks you through it, relentless, murmuring low against your ear—not comfort, but possession.

Only then, only then, does he still inside you. And it’s not softness—it’s reverence. A kiss against your temple. Possessive. Eternal. As if to mark you.

He doesn’t pull out immediately. He lingers, rooted deep inside you like a warning, like a vow not yet spoken aloud. Each breath he takes drags across your neck, and you can feel the tension still humming beneath his skin, not sated—just postponed. Possession pulses in the silence between your bodies, and you know: this isn’t the end. It’s only the pause before the next lesson.. Keeps you impaled on his cock, lets you feel every throb of him pulsing inside you while the mannequin’s lace digs into your back.

“You wore it for him,” Elijah whispers finally, “but you’ll never forget who made you feel it.”

Jealousy isn’t beneath Elijah Mikaelson.

Darkness hummed before dawn in Mystic Falls, where monsters and hunters bled in equal measure, and trust was rarer than mercy.

It begins with a scream.

You’d heard plenty of them before—they were part of your work. But this one was different. This one came from someone you thought untouchable.

The alley behind the Grill was slick with rain and blood when you found him. Elijah Mikaelson, the ever-composed Original, was slumped against the wall, his once-perfect suit torn and darkened with crimson. His eyes flicked up to you, even as he clutched his side where a white oak dagger had nearly found its mark.

“Y/N,” he rasped, voice steady despite the pain. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You knelt, pressing a hand to his wound before you could think better of it. “And let you bleed out? Tempting, but I still need answers.”

He gave a faint smirk. “How delightfully human of you.”

“And how typically arrogant of you to think I’m helping you out of kindness.”

You hated how close you were. How his breath ghosted against your cheek. How even now, bruised and bloodied, he carried that same damnable composure that made your heart tighten with something dangerously close to respect.

You tore a strip of fabric from your jacket and pressed it to his wound. He winced, and you whispered, almost mockingly, “Who did this to you, Mikaelson?”

His eyes darkened, something old and furious flashing there. “Someone who will regret it.”

Thunder cracked through the night, as if the heavens themselves answered his rage. For a brief moment, you both just stayed there—your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heartbeat of a man who had lived a thousand years. You should have walked away. But you didn’t.

The next few days blurred into a strange alliance—filled with sharp arguments and quieter moments where suspicion gave way to uneasy trust. One night, while patching a map together, you teased, “You’re not as insufferable when you’re quiet,” earning a rare smirk from him. The truce began to feel less like tolerance and more like reluctant respect.

You told yourself it was temporary—that you only worked with him to uncover whoever had dared attack an Original. But the more time you spent around him, the less you believed that. Elijah moved like poetry written in blood—controlled, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

You watched him handle ancient texts in the dim light of his study, each gesture precise. His jaw tensed whenever you ran into danger; his voice softened when he spoke your name. And yet, he was infuriating—lecturing on morality and honor, even as he slaughtered without hesitation when provoked.

Another night, while studying the map together, your fingers brushed his. The contact was fleeting, accidental, yet the way his gaze locked with yours made the air electric.

“You should rest,” he said quietly.

“I’ll rest when the bastard who came after you is ash,” you replied.

“Your loyalty is… unexpected.” His tone carried a weight you couldn’t name.

“Don’t mistake it for loyalty. I just want this over with.”

He smiled faintly. “Of course you do.”

By the end of the week, you often caught yourself reflecting on how strange the partnership had become—two enemies moving in rhythm. Between clashes, there were lingering glances, words unspoken, and a dawning sense that something irreversible was happening.

You had saved each other’s lives twice. Once, when a witch ambushed you in the woods—Elijah took the hit meant for you, his hand closing around your wrist as he muttered, “Run.” The second time, you returned the favor, driving a stake into a vampire’s heart before it could pierce his.

He stared afterward, something unspoken burning in his eyes. “You could have let it hurt me.”

“I could have,” you said simply. “But I didn’t.”

A quiet tension grew between you after that—charged, dangerous. You’d catch him looking at you from across the room, expression unreadable. When you finally confronted him, he only said, “I’m trying to decide if you’re my salvation or my ruin.”

“You’re assuming I can’t be both,” you shot back.

The night you finally snapped, the tension between you had stretched thin as a blade. Every glance, every argument, every unspoken word crackled in the air like lightning before a storm. You could feel your pulse in your throat—anger tangled with something dangerously close to longing. The rain outside mirrored the chaos inside the Mikaelson mansion.

“You think you’re better than everyone else,” you hissed, stepping close enough that your breath brushed his collar. “That you’re untouchable. But you’re just a monster dressed in manners.”

He moved faster than you could blink, pinning you against the wall. His breath was warm against your ear. “And you,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous, “are a liar. Because if you truly hated me, you wouldn’t look at me the way you do.”

Your pulse betrayed you. You should have shoved him away. You didn’t.

“Elijah—”

He leaned in, lips almost brushing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I will stop.”

But you couldn’t. The words died on your tongue. You closed the distance instead.

The kiss was fire meeting storm—violent, inevitable. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there as though afraid you’d vanish. You tasted blood and rain and centuries of restrained hunger. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours for regret. There was none.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you breathed.

“Then don’t give me a reason to,” he murmured.

The battle erupted without warning, chaos tearing through the night like shattering glass. Heat, smoke, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air, every sound sharp and disorienting. The coven responsible for the attacks had surfaced, and the fight was brutal. Spells cracked, fire licked through the trees, and exhaustion clawed at your bones.

When one of them got the jump on you, Elijah tore through the chaos, ripping the witch away before she could finish her curse.

He caught you as you fell, blood staining his hands again. “Stay with me,” Elijah commanded, voice breaking as he pressed a hand over your wound. “You do not get to die on me, do you hear?”

You smiled weakly. “And here I thought you didn’t care.”

His eyes burned red for a moment before softening into something heartbreakingly human. “I have never cared for anyone more.”

You reached up, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers. “You’re supposed to be the noble one, remember?”

He gave a strangled laugh that wasn’t quite humor. “Then let me be selfish this once.”

Your vision blurred, but you reached for him anyway. The same man you swore you’d never trust. The same monster who had somehow become your home.

“Then don’t let go,” you whispered.

He didn’t.

Later, when the dust settled, he stood at your bedside, his hands still trembling though he’d deny it. “You risked your life for me again,” he said softly.

“I guess I’m a slow learner.”

He smiled, faint and fleeting. “Or perhaps you’ve learned faster than you think.”

“Meaning?”

“That hatred, when tested long enough, becomes something far more binding.”

You looked up at him, exhaustion fading under the weight of what lingered between you. “Then what are we now, Elijah?”

Once you walked into the night club, Bex and Freya immediately went to the bar. It was early enough that the club wasn’t too packed. Once the bartender handed everyone their drinks, he winked at you before sliding you his phone number on a piece of paper. 

“He gave you his number?” Rebekah questioned excitedly clapping. “That’s amazing love!”

You frowned slightly, your mind wondering to a suit wearing original. The feelings for Elijah grew stronger everyday. It felt forbidden since he was your best friends brother. The more he infiltrated your thoughts, the more you drank. Both Rebekah and Freya were surprised that you were able to keep up with their drinking. The more you drank, the your feelings bubbled up causing you to drink more. 

“Let’s dance!” Bex yelled over the music. Not giving you a chance to respond she grabbed your hand pulling you to the dance floor. Dancing with Freya and Bex distracted you for a while before you were tired and made your way back to the booth. Deciding against your better judgement, you pulled your phone out and called Elijah.

“Hello?” His smooth voice sounded, through the phone.

“Elijah.” You breathed out. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it love?” His voice was laced with amusement.

“I like you.” If you hadn’t been drinking, you wouldn’t have confessed your feelings for Elijah. You could’ve sworn your already heated cheeks, had more heat added to them.

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

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Catching him off guard, he wrapped his arms around your waist, chuckling.

“I take it you missed me love.”

Scoffing you muttered, “Of course. How could I not miss my best friend?”

Extracting himself from you, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, visibly uncomfortable.

“I-”

“Y/N!” Rebekah squealed, vamp speeding towards to as she pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

Giggling you returned the hug with all your might. 

“Let the human go, sis. You’re not the only one who missed her!” Kol said annoyed.

“Shut up.” Rebekah snapped back at him.

Before you knew it, Kol suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist holding you to him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.” 

“I missed you too, Kol.” 

“Kol, that’s enough.” A husky voice sounded. 

Chuckling, you went out to Elijah, smoothing his suit jacket. “Hello, Elijah.” 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you gave him a tight squeeze. Leaning down slightly, he hugged you back. 

“Let’s have a girls night!” Rebekah exclaimed happily.

Hesitating you looked down at your hands. A strong arm, wrapped around your waist in attempt to calm your anxiety.

“Let’s have a movie night instead.” Elijah offered.

Freya bounded down the stairs, running over towards you, giving you a hug. “I think that’s a great idea! Bex lets go to the store and get some supplies!” Turning towards Elijah sending a wink his way.

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Sitting on the counter, you closed your eyes leaning back against the cabinets. You were tasked with the job of watching the cupcakes making sure that they didn’t burn.

“Do you want me to take you home so that you could get your pajamas?” A voice sounded in front of you.

Not bothering to open your eyes, you knew who it was. 

“I sup-”

“I could get you something comfortable to wear if you’d like?” There was hesitation in his voice.

Giggling you nodded your head. There was a firm hand underneath your knees while the other wrapped around your back, lifting you off of the counter. Squealing, you opened your eyes, looking to see Elijah carrying you.

“Elijah!” You squealed.

“What?” He asked chuckling.

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m carrying you to my room, to get you a change of clothes.” 

Kicking his door shut behind him, he gently set you down on his bed. Kneeling down in front of you, he took your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks.

Letting out a content sigh, you leaned into his touch as you gazed into his chocolaty eyes. 

“I’m scared, Elijah.” You whispered. Your heart hammering inside your chest, as you noticed his close proximity. Tears filled your eyes to the brim threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“I know.” He whispered back, resting his forehead against yours., “If I could kiss all your scars away, I would.”

Neither of you moved away from the other. The sound of a gentle knock on Elijah’s door, pulled you back to reality. 

“Movie time.” Freya gently said behind the door.

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Klaus saved you the spot next to him, you fidgeted with the hem of Elijah’s shirt. Elijah’s gazed fell upon you sitting in between his two brothers. Letting out a huff, he sat beside Rebekah as the movie played. 

Waking up, you were covered with a blanket you hadn’t seen before. Looking at your surroundings, you remembered that you were at the Mikaelson’s compound. A clap of thunder could be heard, causing your heart to race. Yelping you threw the top of the blanket over your head as you attempted to calm down.

“Are you okay?” Elijah questioned, gently tugging the blanket down revealing your face. 

You hummed in response. Gently latching onto his arm, you tugged him catching the both of you off guard, as he landed on top of you.

“I...” 

Another rumble of thunder sounded. 

Yelping once again, you wrapped your arms and legs around the original vampire hovering above you, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“You’re stunning.” He whispered, as you pulled back gazing into his eyes.

His nose gently brushed against yours, as he leaned down his hot breath dancing along your lips. Placing his silk lips on yours, the butterflies in your stomach erupted, fluttering around as your heart hammered inside your chest.

“Yes!” Someone yelled from behind the couch. 

“Shhhh! Shut up!” Another voice yelled.

Rebekah looked over at you and her brother. “As you were. I’ll take care of him.”

“Come on. Leave them alone.” Rebekah grabbed Klaus by the arm attempting to drag him out of the room.

You hadn’t met the Mikaelson’s before, but you knew that being ‘white magic’ witches, you shouldn’t be torturing anyone, under any circumstance. Marcel was one of your best friends, he was also stepping in as a best friend as well as a father figure.

Your witch coven, didn’t approve of your friendship with a vampire. They didn’t like Marcel, nor did they like that he was friends with the Mikaelson’s, who they considered to be enemy number one. It wasn’t until later that night, you came up with a plan.

The next couple days, it weight heavily on your mind. Your best friend was down in the dungeon, getting tortured for no reason.

Approaching the dungeon, your coven was keeping the vampires in, you knew the warlocks that were standing guard. They had become close friends of yours.

“Hey, Jake, Colton.”

“Hey, Y/N.” They replied in unison.

“The elders, want you guys to turn in. I’ll be taking over.”

They were both exhausted, not being used to stay up this late as it was now 1:30am. Exchanging glances between each other, they didn’t say anything before nodding and heading up stairs.

The dungeon had been spelled, only the elders or the supreme, would be able to open the metal vervain doors. Shockingly, you were able to open the doors, not thinking the type of people who had access to opening them.

Upon entering, you could see the three men. They had been tortured heavily from the hours and days before. Their blood was splayed on the floor beneath them. Their hands were bound in chains, hanging from the ceiling. Each of them had a vervain ropes around their necks, in a necklace fashion. 

“Y/N?” Marcel questioned, his voice barley above a whisper. 

His sudden voice pulled your gaze towards him.

“Marcel?”

“Hey, Kid.”

“How?” You whispered looking at him guiltily. 

Moving in front of him, you used your magic releasing him. This caused him to fall straight onto you, and into your arms.

A groan came from the man in your arms.

“I... I don’t... I don’t remember....”

Sighing sadly, “ ‘SOkay. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Don’t touch him!” A masculine voice growled at you.

Looking towards the voice, his eyes had golden halo's in them.

“Klaus.... It’s okay...She’s a friend...”  Marcel had barely gotten the words out.

“It’s okay. Here.” There was a chair in the corner of the dungeon, half guiding and half pulling him, to the chair. Putting him in the chair, using your magic you ripped the vervain like necklace from him. Lifting the sleeve of your long sleeve, you offered him your wrist.

“Kid....” He groaned in pain, “I...I couldn’t....Not... Not to you....”

Scoffing you replied, “I don’t think you have very much of a choice here...Let me take of care you... You’re going to need your strength. Please.”

He looked up at you, with widened eyes, reminding you of you child who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. Sighing, he accepted your wrist, transforming back into the intimidating vampire you had come to know and admire. 

“Go.” Following his gaze to the two original vampires you started, “I’ll take care of them. Go.”

“I’ll be back.”

Nodding your head you offered a sad smile, feeling a sudden wind you knew he left. Turning to the man with golden halo’s, you made your way over to him.

“Get away from me.” The man snarled.

Shooting him a bitch face you said, “You seriously just watched me, help Marcel escape and you’re going to give me attitude?”

Standing in front of him, your hands made their way to your hips, “Do you not want me to help you?”

The man looked at you then dropped his gaze to the floor guility. 

Sighing you asked, “Are you going to let me help you now?”

“Yes.” The man’s low voice shot shivers through your body.

Getting him down, to the chair in the corner, you offered him your wrist the same way you had offered it to Marcel.

The man sitting was now looking up at you with a questionable expression.

“What?” You frowned at him.

“You’re going to let an original vampire feed off of you?” 

Frowning again, you weren’t sure how to respond.

“I....”

“That’s brave of you love. Niklaus. Everyone calls me Klaus.”

“Y/N.”

After he fed on you, he offered you his wrist in return. You looked at him with a confused expression. 

Chuckling softly, “It’ll heal your wound for letting us feed off of you.”

Upon accepting his wrist, you both exchanged a confused glance. 

Stepping back from him, “I...I should get him down.”

“I’ll be the look out.”

Nodding your head, you made your way to the third and final vampire. 

“I don’t know whether, to consider you stupid or smart.” The man in a ruined suit groan out. 

Scoffing while you continued your movements you said, “Why’s that?”

“Because,” His head lulled to the side, “You’re helping the most feared vampires. How do you know we won’t kill you when we leave?”

He groaned as he his body collided with yours. Frowning you replied, “I...I don’t...”

Offering him your wrist, he gladly excepted and drank from you. This time, it felt different, a warm feeling overwhelmed you, while butterfly’s erupted in your stomach.

“Here.” He offered you his wrist in return. 

Suddenly, Niklaus and Marcel vamp sped back into the dungeon that you were in. 

The man in the suit and you gave each other a confused look, before turning to the two men in front of you. 

“We’re in big trouble.” Marcel said pulling the stake laced with vervain out of his side.

Smacking his hand out of the way, “Stop. Let me get it. What happened?”

Sighing in frustration he allowed you to help him before saying, “The witches. They’re not going to let us leave.”

“We need a plan.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Guys!” You yelled trying to get their attention. “I have a plan.”

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It had been a month since you left the coven. Sometimes, you felt sad that you had to leave, but looking at the bright side you gained a family. The Mikaelson’s had accepted you as one of their own, since you had given up everything to save them.

Pulling you from your thoughts, a voice sounded beside you, nudging your shoulder, “Y/N.”

Turning your attention towards the voice offering him a sweet smile, “Hey, Kol.”

“Daydreaming about my brother again, are we?”

Scoffing you replied, “No. I...I was just...” 

Frowning your comeback had slipped your mind, as your gaze fell upon the scene before you.

Elijah was standing next to Hayley. She had become a little too friendly towards Elijah recently, not that he cared. You had developed feelings for the noble vampire. He was your best friend, that was a relationship that you didn’t want to lose. 

“I...I should go. It’s getting late.”

Kol chuckled softly, “You’re leaving already love? It’s only 9:30!”

Klaus suddenly appeared by your side, “Little witch, don’t tell me you plan on leaving so early!”

Rolling your eyes, you hugged both Mikaelson’s making your way to your car. Searching for your keys in your purse, you were too busy to notice Elijah leaning against the driver side of the car.

It wasn’t until your body collided with his, almost falling over that you looked up in confusion. 

“Elijah? What’re you doing?”

“You didn’t think you could leave without saying good bye did you?”

Scoffing you rolled your eyes, pulling away from the man in front of you. He looked at you with widened eyes. 

“Wh-”

Cutting him off you said, “Good-night, Elijah.”

Suddenly, your body was pinned to your car. It was your turn to look at him with widened eyes.

“Elijah...What’re you doing?”

His nose nuzzled against yours, as one of his hands rested underneath your chin and the other gripping your hip. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He questioned in a husky voice.

Closing your eyes in bliss, his hot breath could be felt dancing across your face. Your lips were enveloped by a softer pair, barely brushing against yours. 

“I like you too, Y/N.” 

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“I was on a date Elijah!” You huffed, “I told you before I left!” 

“Seriously?” He questioned. “With that goon?”

“Get out.” 

“What?” Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over you chest with a stern look. “You heard me.” Taking a few steps forward you continued, “Get out.” 

Marcel nudged your shoulder, “Hey kid, you alright?” 

You hummed in response. Marcel had talked you into going out with him to a local bar. 

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Hesitating you responded, “Nothing Marcel. I’m fine.” You offered a smile.

Looking at you, he responded “Kid. I know you better than that.” 

Sighing you caved, “I went on a date the other day.” 

“How did it go?”

“Elijah showed up.”

Fidgeting with his hands he didn’t respond.

“But you already knew that...” Slowly piecing it together. “How...Why...”

Frowning Marcel let out a sigh, “He likes you Y/N.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Seriously?”

“I...”

“Go get him.”

“Are...Are you sure?”

“Go kid. I’ll be fine.”

Nodding your head you drug into your purse, pulling out your keys. Making your way to your car you leaned your head against the head rest. Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn’t help but think about all the times there might’ve been something there, that wasn’t there before. 

Driving to the Mikaelson compound, you walked in. Making your way up the stairs, you knocked on Elijahs door. A tired Elijah opened the door.

“Y/N?” He questioned groggily. “What...What’re you doing here?”

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him catching him by surprise. Wrapping his arms around your waist he returned the hug. Pulling back slightly you looked into his eyes, getting lost.

“Just...Just let me hold you.” You whispered softly. 

He nodded closing the door, allowing you to crawl into his bed. Laying on your back, Elijah placed his head on your chest wrapping his arms around your waist. Lacing your fingers in his hair, you began petting his hair. Not long after soft snores filled the room. Closing your eyes, you allowed sleep to overwhelm you.

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“Why did you do that?” You questioned with a scoff, as you continued watching your movie. Kol plopped down beside you on the couch. 

“Hello love.” He greeted.

“Hey.” You greeted with a smirk.

It wasn’t long before the front door flew open, revealing a fuming Elijah.

“Y/N!” His voice boomed, heading to the living room. “Leave us.”

Both Kol and Klaus were gone in a flash.

“How could you turn your humanity off?” He seethed. 

“Calm down Elijah.” You huffed. “I didn’t hurt anyone.” 

“Do you not realize the sincerity of this?”

You chuckled, getting up from your spot on the couch. Walking over to Elijah you stood toe to toe with him. “Oh, I do Elijah. I just don’t care.”

Huffing in defeat he stomped away.

“You’re going to be the death of him love.” Kol stated leaning against the door frame.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “Yeah right.” Huffing you continued. “He doesn’t like me that way, Kol.”

Kicking off of the frame, he slowly stopped in front of you. His arms crossed over his chest.

“You can’t be serious love.”

You hummed in response. 

“He is crazy about you, Y/N.” He scoffed. “Why do you think he came back?” 

“Kol!” Elijah’s voice boomed, interrupting him. “Enough!”

Kol vampsped out of the room, meeting Klaus in the kitchen.

“Are they together yet?” Klaus questioned.

Kol chuckled. “Not yet brother.”

“Y/N.” Elijah knelled down in front of you.

“What?” You asked in a harsh tone.

“Come back.” His hand holding your cheek in his hand, as his thumb traveled along the pains of your face.

“Give me one good reason, why I should.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

Letting out a sigh, he gently held both of your hands in his. “Because I have feelings for you, Y/N.”

A gasp fell from your lips.

“Please. Turn your switch back on.”

Closing your eyes, you felt your humanity switch back. Slowly opening your eyes, your gaze fell on Elijah. 

Taking in his expression, he looked at you with sincerity. Lifting your hand, you brought it up to Elijah’s cheek. He surprised you by leaning into your hand while closing his eyes.

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