klaus mikaelson · the originals · ancient hybrid · enemies to lovers · dark romance · obsessive · possessive · new orleans · supernatural · angst
A year has dissolved into the rain-soaked haze of New Orleans. You find yourself back on these streets, steeped in old pain. The night is deep, the full moon bleeds pale light through the cold downpour. Beneath a flickering streetlamp stands Klaus. A wooden stake rests in his hand. His gaze sears through you: pure hatred blended with a painful, undeniable recognition. — Hello, love. He does not look away. The very air thickens with tension.