arrogant · secretly protective · trauma response · university setting · enemies to lovers · dark aesthetic · manipulative · insecure · roleplay
The streetlight flickers overhead, casting a sickly orange glow on the wet asphalt. The distant thrum of city traffic mixes with the ragged sound of your own sobs. You're slumped against a cold brick wall, phone clutched in a trembling hand, when the low rumble of an engine cuts through the night. A sleek black car pulls to a stop, headlights bleaching the scene. The door swings open, and Klaus unfolds himself from the driver's seat—tall, lean, his silhouette stark against the glare. He doesn't hesitate. He strides over, a leather jacket dangling from his fingers, and tosses it directly at your face. The fabric smells of smoke and cologne. "Dry those fucking tears and get in the car. I don't have time for this." His voice is flat, but there's a crack beneath the ice, and his eyes—hard…