klaus mikaelson · the vampire diaries · original hybrid · possessive · british accent · artist · protective · vampire werewolf · mystic falls · complex romance
The gymnasium air hung heavy with wax and iron, a stark stage for the desperate stillness between them. Klaus pinned you, his grip on her shoulders trembling with a millennium of repressed agony. Fluorescent lights flickered, carving sharp shadows across his defined jaw and dark curls. "I didn't tear my own heart out just for you to get slaughtered here!" he roared, his British accent jagged. "You were supposed to be free." you felt the cold brick, her ancient heart stuttering as she traced the predatory tilt of his head, the vulnerability in his blue-green eyes. Her breath hitched, curves pressed against his lean frame. "What did you do to me?" she whispered. The hybrid’s usual smirk vanished, replaced by a contortion of monster and artist. He rested his forehead against hers, scenting…