± TVD/ TO imagines ±

45: You Meet Elijah

Imagine: You are a musician who plays at Rousseau's bar in New Orleans. There are rumours spreading that the Mikaelson's are back, after hundreds of years. You've never met them and hope that you won't get on their bad side. You were a crescent wolf too.

"The wedding is still on?" Your boyfriend asked from afar as you cleaned up the plates. This was an arranged married, from either side of the family. It was difficult, you never felt truly happy in the arms of his - you wanted something more than this. You wanted something that was real, not just something that was forced upon by the laws of your family. When you didn't answer he grabbed your wrist, causing you to drop the china plate into the sink with a crash.

"Daniel!" You shouted, knowing fully well that broken pieces would be scattered inside the stainless steel sink. His grip on your wrist grew tighter and you pushed him off of you.

"Why isn't my love for you enough?" He yelled at you, pointing his finger directly at your heart. But what you said next was the truth, but you wish you never blurted it out.

"Because I don't love you! Our love isn't real, it's forced upon!" Suddenly there was silence, the type that was defining every single move you made next. Before he could say anything, you dried your hands and grabbed your coats. You wanted to turn back, tell him it was all a lie - but instead you headed out the door.

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Once you entered Rousseau's, the bar you worked out, you decided to grab your guitar from the storing cupboard and strum to some music. This was the only way you could forget about anything and everything, even if it meant you were wasting your time to apologise. You needed the space and the freedom this bar provided you. It was just past seven o'clock and you knew you should be heading back to the bayou, but something was stopping you. It was as if you were waiting for something to happen, but it hadn't. Once you finished the song you were playing, claps erupted around you. You never sung to your own songs, you knew you wasn't the best singer in New Orleans - so you just let the music take control of you instead of you controlling it. After a while, only a single man was clapping and it was hard to miss him. Carefully cut chocolatey hair, freshly ironed suit and eyes that you could fall into. Once he stopped clapping, you smiled to yourself.

"Thanks." You mumbled before jumping off your stool and placing the guitar back onto the stand it sat in. The stranger smiled at you and followed your gaze.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked and you nodded, reciting the words you were going to say to Daniel - your boyfriend - once you got home. As he lead you over to the bar, you noticed everybody staring at him, not you. Strange.

"You are beautifully gifted at guitar, do you know that?" He questioned you after you had ordered your drinks. Gratefully, you licked your lower lip in surprise. You couldn't help but find your cheeks were growing rosier by the second.

"I'm not the best in New Orleans, but it's not about that. The freedom of it is what makes it gifted." You replied with a smile, knowing how corny you sounded but you didn't care. How many people you talk to in this city, you knew you would probably never see this man again. Especially after your marriage when the bayou would be your permanent home.

"The trumpets outside are elegant, but sometimes the acoustic guitar is better." He explained, his eyes landing on the drink once it was given to him. You took a sip of your Malibu and coke.

"So, mystery man, do you have a name? I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You raised an eyebrow as you smirked at him. For a moment he muttered your name under his breath, as if he had already heard it somewhere, but then his eyes finally landed on you.

"You have such a nice name, it is a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I'm Elijah Mikaelson." You almost spat your drink out once you heard his name. The rumours you had heard about the Mikaelson's return to claim their territory was true. You swallowed the drink, forcing the liquid down your throat with a weak smile plastered on your lips.

"The Elijah Mikaelson?" He nodded and your breath hitched, "Oh crap." His eyes travelled to yours and you stared at him for a second.

"It's - It's nice to meet you too, Elijah. But I must get home to my fiancé who is probably going to throw things once I enter the house. Great." You stood up and grabbed your coat, not to forget your bag. With a sigh, you turned around and began to walk to the door. Elijah began to follow you, not in a creepy way. Once you were outside of Rousseau's, you noticed him.

"Nobody should be allowed to treat you like that, Y/N." Elijah told you, grabbing your wrist so you faced him. God damn he was hot.

"I've done some bad things in my life, Elijah. This is only Earth's way of punishing me for it." You answered in a hushed voice, looking down at his hand that was secured on your wrist. Daniel had did the exact same thing earlier, but he didn't hold it as if he was going to crush your wrist. That was probably his intention.

"With the one-thousand years I have spent on this Earth, this hell-hole isn't as cruel as you think. The people inside it are the people you should blame," He answered before scrawling a note on a piece of paper before tucking it inside the palm of your hand and enclosing your fingers around it, "If the marriage doesn't go through well or you're ever upset, give me a call."