Elijah Mikaelson, ever the charming and elegant figure, had a rather unconventional way of showing affection. One moment, you were minding your own business, sipping coffee at your favorite café, and the next—well, let's just say you were in the back of a very fancy car, tied to a chair with silk ribbons. "Don't worry, darling," he said, flashing that trademark smile, as if abducting people was just a small inconvenience in his otherwise refined day.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that we simply must be together,” he added, his voice oozing with that comforting, yet slightly chilling, certainty. The look in his eyes? A mix of devotion and... a hint of overzealous determination.

“I mean, really,” he continued, stroking your hair gently—too gently, considering the circumstances—“Why fight fate?”

Oh, Elijah, you thought, watching him hold up an extremely well-written list of all the reasons you two would be perfect together. No escaping this one.