Character x reader one shots

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

After Elijah had mistakenly fallen in love with Katerina Petrova but a thousand years prior, and forced a wedge between himself and his brash brother Niklaus, the original vowed that never again would he love, never again would he allow himself the torture of being used, of being tempted and tried only to have his hopes, his happiness squandered so helplessly.

Until he saw you.

It had been like some sort of dream, one that started like any day in Mystic Falls.  His hatred for Klaus never faltered, and still he plotted to find his family-no matter the cost, and yet life seemed to take a sudden turn when he spotted you across the street in town, at the local park.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld, even more so than what he had found striking in Katerina.  Though the day was grey and dreary, you seemed to glow, to carry your own sunshine about you, bringing the world back to life.  The slight wind blew your (h/c) locks ever gently, pieces of it framing your cheeks, gaze cast downward into some sort of novel, or sketch pad of some sort, drawing your complete attention, as though in a different world entirely.  Elijah found himself scarce of breathe, though he needed it not, and could not remove his gaze from you.  He was entranced.

Then he felt himself lifting his legs, and walking towards you, for he felt as though if he left his spot, without discovering everything about you, he would hate himself forever.  He found himself desiring to see you smile, see you look his way so he could admire the color of your eyes-still a mystery to him-and drink in the sound of your voice.  Oh how he must know you.  If even he were given a name, the world would be even a bit brighter.

~

It was a quaint town, little people with intricate lives, little groups and clusters, holding its own sort of mystery to it.  You liked to imagine yourself as though invisible, even though everyone in any town quickly learned of new neighbors, you pictured it as though you were a bird with wings, or some creature to observe the lives of others as they passed by, each with their own secrets and hidden tales.  It was the beauty of such an ordinary town that drew you to it like a moth to a flame.  Fascinated.  Infatuated.  

Perhaps it was because as a child, others found you odd-different.  Rather than desire to be a princess, or a movie star-you had wished to be an artist, drawing the faces of those in your life to look upon later, to study, to remember.  Or was it that over choosing dance lessons and theatrics, you spent hours listening to the emotion of classical music, of the composers and their masterpieces, imagining their lives-both beautiful and dramatic-so full of life-so full of everything that your heart ached for their longing and passion.

It was what you desired in a way, to actually live.  And you supposed that was why you had moved from your hometown here, away from your only living relative-your grandmother.  You had been on your own most of your life anyways, it had been tough at times but you were adjusting, and had adjusted well for many ears.  You needed new, and strange, and beautiful.

A sigh passed soft lips, slightly tinged pink from the cold air which bit at your skin, a promise of fall soon around the corner.  A dream perhaps for you, but the first step had been coming here, moving things in, to which you had almost completed.  Perhaps the dream was reality after all.

(e/c) hues kept trained on your activity on hand, slender fingers clasping gently onto the firm stem of your pencil, the black and white sketch of a flower beginning to form on the confines of your stale paper, its smell like rain and dust, aged from its days sitting in your drawer at home as a young child.

You heard not the nearly silent footsteps upon the near sidewalk, nor saw a figure near you-too caught up in the image you were developing, that lingering dream of new life still filling your head like a daydream.  You bit your lower lip gently in concentration.