Surprisingly Klaus is not one for backseat hook ups. when he wants you, he lets that anticipation build within himself. he's one that can wait. He's one that has learnt he has too. But Elijah? Tightly-wound, straight as a lace curtain Elijah? Oh yah, he's pushing you into the backseat of his car head first. Not caring who sees him tear your nylons as he pushes himself between your legs. He's so restrained that the moment you make even the slightest crack in his resolve, it all comes crashing down.
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Synopsis: Stuck in the prison world gets awkward when Kai Parker has taken to interrogating you about your love life.
Note: Hey guys, Hope you enjoy this short little thing. I miss writing extensively but my brain is still recovering from my diss, so please enjoy these moments xxx
Warning: Mentions of readers ex cheating (but reader doesn't really care??) it's mainly Mr.Parker that gets PRESSED about it. ;)
The parking lot belongs to a grocery store that closed before you were born. The sign still burns above the entrance. Three letters are missing. The rest hum softly in the dark.
Grass pushes through the asphalt in pale green veins. A shopping cart lies overturned near the curb. One wheel spins whenever the wind catches it.
There are hundreds of cars. Over these past few months you’ve made a game out of seeing which ones are locked, pulling at the handles to see what unlocks. It’s strange to think about how each car here, even in this fabricated world, belonged to a real person. By now, you’ve memorised most of the cars here. The blue Honda with the baby seat. The station wagon with a stack of cassette tapes in the passenger footwell. The pickup truck full of fishing magazines. The sedan with a pair of sunglasses still sitting on the dashboard.
Sometimes, when Kai disappears, you linger here. Walking between the cars all night until the suns finally come up again. Looking through windows. Reading lives that stopped in the middle of being lived. Trying not to think too much about how you’ve come to depend on him for everything.
Tonight you're sitting on the hood of your Cadillac. Or what you’ve claimed as your Cadillac.
The paint glows red beneath the moonlight. The metal beneath your palms still holds the warmth of the drive.
Above you, the sky stretches endlessly. No planes. No distant traffic. No city glow.
Just stars.
Thousands of them.
The kind of sky people forget exists.
Kai sits on the roof of the Caddy, because of course he does. He’s spread out, one leg over the windshield, the other dangling lazily over the side. You try not to cringe at the sight of his boots resting against the windshield. But you can’t help notice how good he looks like this, legs spread, leaning on his forearms. He doesn’t mind you staring, this you know for a fact. Still, you look away. Trying to play it cool. Civil. Platonic.
For a while neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it stopped being uncomfortable a year ago, but recently, something in the quiet was begging to press on you like a second skin.
Then—
"How many boyfriends did you have?" Kai’s voice breaks the silence.
You don't look up. "What?"
"Boyfriends."
The word echoes slightly across the empty parking lot.
"How many?"
You sigh. "What a weird question."
"You didn't answer it."
"Maybe because it's none of your business."
"Everything is my business."
You roll your eyes, but he continues.
"Everything in this town is my business." He says, upset. He was here first, he always liked to remind you. You owed it to him, thus, to always oblige.
You throw a handful of sunflower seed shells to the pavement. Feigning disinterest.
"Five?" He pipes up.
"Hm?"
"Boyfriends."
"No."
"More?" He sounds taken aback.
"No."
"Less?"
You close your eyes.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"You obviously do."
"I really don't."
"You brought it up."
"I was bored."
"You are always bored."
"Exactly."
The conversation should end there.
Instead, he continues: "Three." A pause.
The smallest one. But he notices the way you tense for a second, the way you don’t deny him out right. "So three?"
"Three."
"Huh."
You immediately regret answering.
"Huh what?"
"Nothing."
"No."
You open one eye.
"Go ahead."
Kai shifts slightly on the roof. The movement rocks the car.
"You only seem like the type of person who would've had more."
"What does that even mean?"
"You know exactly what it means."
"No, I don't actually."
"Yes you do."
You laugh.
The sound disappears quickly into the open night.
Kai points vaguely in your direction. "You just seem difficult is all."
"Difficult."
"Yeah."
"Difficult."
"Very."
"That's rich coming from you."
"I never said I wasn't."
The wind moves through the parking lot.
You hear it rustling through weeds growing along the edges of the curb. The grocery store doors slide open. Then shut. Nobody triggered them. It still has you tense up a little, still has you thinking ghost, as silly as it is. Kai always explained away these idiosyncrasies by explaining that over the years the town had developed its own habits. You feel yourself pulled into questioning what that could mean about a space like this.
"Which one lasted the longest?" Kai asks, pulling you out of your head.
You glance upward. The question sounds casual.
"Two years."
His face twists. "Wow."
You roll your eyes. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You keep saying nothing."
"Two years is a long time."
"It really isn't."
"For normal people maybe."
You laugh despite yourself. "You're unbelievable."
"Thank you."
The stars feel closer tonight. Or maybe you've simply been staring at them too long. Sometimes you think you know every constellation. Sometimes you think you could navigate this entire world from memory. There are only so many places left to go. Only so many roads. Only so many buildings. You have walked every aisle. Opened every door. Read every menu. You know where every abandoned purse sits. Every unfinished meal. Every newspaper left folded on a table. The entire world has become familiar.
And still—
You feel lost.
"What happened?" Kai asks.
The question arrives quietly.
"He cheated."
"Oh."
The response comes immediately.
Too immediately.
"He cheated on you?"
"Yes." You said, voice hard. Like you’re still upset by it, but, you don’t know how to explain that even then you didn’t really care.
Kai frowns. You turn to look up at him and he’s frowning. Hard.
"That's embarrassing."
You laugh. "For who?"
"For him."
You stare.
Kai stares back.
"He had you for two years and still cheated?"
You shake your head. "You're ridiculous."
"No."
His expression remains strangely sincere. "He sounds stupid."
The hardware store always feels colder than the rest of town. The automatic doors open as you approach. Cool air rushes across your skin. God, you love AC.
But the smell here too, there’s something in it that reminds you of home. Of your town. Of your house, all the way on the outskirts of Mystic Falls. It didn’t exist yet in 1994. It’s just a beautiful bit of forest now. But still, the smell of the store has something in your chest ache. You try break down the fragrance: Soil. Paint. Wood. Varnish. Rubber.
The scent of unfinished projects.
The concrete floors hold onto the air conditioning. Every footstep echoes. Rows of paint cans stretch beneath fluorescent lights. Stacks of lumber rise toward the ceiling. Bags of potting soil sit piled near the entrance. One has split open. Dark earth spills across the floor.
You always like that.
The sight of something escaping containment. Something still capable of growing.
Kai pushes a shopping cart behind you. Not because you need one but because he enjoys hitting things with it.
The wheels squeal.
The sound bounces through the empty store.
"You know none of this matters."
You continue examining gardening gloves.
"Okay."
"You know it's fake."
"Okay."
"You know nobody is ever going to see your garden."
You pick up a pair. Drop them into the cart. The sound rings out through the aisle.
"I know."
Kai follows. The cart rattling behind him.
"You spent three hours planting roses yesterday."
"Yep."
"Three hours."
"Yep."
"Why?"
You stop walking. Turn around. Kai nearly crashes into you. For a second he looks annoyed. Then confused. The expression settles there. Genuine confusion.
The rarest thing he possesses.
"Because I wanted to."
His face twists. "That's not an answer."
"It's literally the answer."
"No."
He gestures wildly around the store. The empty aisles. The untouched shelves. The fluorescent lights that have burned continuously since 1994.
"Nobody is here."
"I know."
"Nobody is going to visit your damn garden."
"I know."
"Nobody will congratulate you or help you or prove to you that you’ve done something in this space that will bring change."
You study him. The crease between his eyebrows. The impatience. The frustration. The complete inability to understand. You wonder why he can’t see it. Can’t look past the gardening and the flowers and the beauty and see the purpose.
The idea of doing something for no reason other than wanting it.
"You ever think," you ask quietly, "that maybe I'm not doing it for anybody else?"
Silence.
The air conditioner hums overhead. Somewhere a forklift sits abandoned forever.
A radio behind the customer service desk continues playing the same song it was playing eighteen years ago.
The bookstore is your favorite place in Mystic Falls. The smell reaches you before the doors even open. Paper. Dust. Ink. Old glue. The scent of stories sitting untouched. The carpet is navy blue. Someone spilled coffee near the travel section years ago. The stain remains. A cardboard display advertising a Stephen King novel still stands near the register.
The edges have curled inward. Nobody ever fixed it. Nobody ever will.
The speakers continue playing the same soft music they've played for nearly two decades. Sometimes you stop noticing it. Sometimes it becomes unbearable. Tonight it's somewhere in between. You wander slowly between the shelves. Running your fingers across spines.
You don't need another book. You've read most of them already. Some twice. Some five times. Still. You like looking.
You like pretending there might be something new waiting.
Kai hates bookstores. You know this because he's currently stretched across an entire section of mystery novels. A paperback rests upside down on his chest.
"You haven't turned a page."
"I know."
"Then you're not reading."
“Yep. Consider it a form of protest.”
"Ahh.” You can’t help but smile a little at his antics. “And the book you’re holding. Prop or weapon?”
Kai looks at you, he offers you a half smile back. “Neither. I just wanted to upset you.”
You roll your eyes. "Fair." And walk on.
….
You’d let yourself get lost in the historical section of the small shop. It’s mainly cold war, second hand paper backs, still you look. You feel Kai before you see him. He plops down unceremoniously by you, staring at the side of your face.
"Did they love you?"
You stop.
The question arrives so suddenly that for a moment you think you've imagined it. You look up at him, but he seems perfectly fine.
"What?"
"Your boyfriends." Kai cocks his head to the side, examining. "Did they love you?"
The fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead. You shrug. "I don't know." You mutter, standing. You brush your skirt down, shaken by something you can’t quiet name.
"You don't know?"
"No."
"How?"
You smile faintly. "They thought they did."
"No." Kai sits upright, stands up. “People know."
"They think they know."
"No."
He stands. Walks toward you. Stopping only a few feet away. "You'd know."
"I really wouldn't."
"You would."
You shake your head. The bookstore stretches endlessly behind him. Shelf after shelf after shelf. Entire lives stored in paper and ink. Entire worlds. Every one frozen. Every one waiting.
"You know what's funny?" you ask, voice quiet.
"What?"
"You ask more questions than anybody I've ever met."
Kai looks horrified. "I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I barely speak."
"You interrogate people."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
You laugh.
Kai rolls his eyes.
Then—
Silence.
Long enough for you to hear the music overhead. Long enough to hear the air conditioning cycle on. Long enough for the entire bookstore to feel impossibly empty.
His gaze drifts away first.
Toward the shelves. Toward nothing. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter.
"So they really only loved you for a little while?"
The question settles between you. Something sharp hidden beneath it. Something possessive. Something ugly.
Kai notices your expression immediately.
"What?"
You smile slowly.
"You know, for someone who doesn't care—"
"Oh, shut up."
"I didn't even finish."
"I know exactly what you're going to say."
You laugh.
Kai turns away.
The tips of his ears are red. Outside, Mystic Falls waits exactly as you left it. Empty roads. Empty houses. Empty stores.
An entire world abandoned.
And somehow, in the middle of all that silence, Kai Parker still manages to sound jealous.
Kol who sneaks you out of your house when the Mystic Gang has you on house arrest, trying to "protect you from the Mikaelson's". Kol who brings you to bars and clubs and all those other places your fake never managed to get you in. Kol, who kisses you hard and wet, and who always pulls at your hair and calls you late into the night just 'to talk about today'. Kol who will lounge around your apartment, careful to not piss you off so he can stay, just a little bit longer. Hopeful that you'll forget he doesn't live there too, that you can kick him out. Kol, whose stomach turns at the thought of you even being so much as friendly with another guy, but who won't call you his girlfriend. Kol who leaves hickies up and down your neck because it's easier to claim you like this than to put his heart on the line and tell you he needs you in more ways than just this.
Kai Parker being the most annoying boyfriend in the whole wide world. I'm talking taking your phone and hiding it for no other reason than you weren't paying him enough attention. Stealing your underwear. Stealing your class notes, then having the audacity to act like it wasn't him, even going as far as to help you look for them. lifting up books, looking into different desk draws, saying,'' I don't know babe, are you sure you didn't leave them at the library?'' Waking you up at the ass crack of dawn because you have, in his opinion, slept for too long, and he's started to grow bored. Starting a cult and not telling you about it until one of his followers tries to make some kind of move on you (where they then subsequently...disappear). Leaving half-eaten packets of Pork Puffs around the kitchen (please don't get me started on this one). Getting into as many arguments on Twitter as he can about ALL sorts of things and then making you sit beside him and read aloud all of his replies and responses. Smiling proudly at the reactions he was able to illicit. Sending you about one thousand different Instagram reels. Not wanting you to go anywhere without him. Super into corny matching stuff. Super into abbreviated words. But I'm talking so abbreviated you're not sure if the text message is supposed to mean something or if he just hit the keyboard at random and then pressed send.
You’re sitting on the porch steps, knees pulled to your chest, the sunset dripping slow orange across the neighborhood. It's quiet out here, except for the hum of cicadas and the rustle of Kai’s foot tapping restlessly against the wooden plank beneath him. He’s sitting beside you, too close not to be your boyfriend, but too still to feel casual.
“So,” you say, looking down at your chipped nail polish. “Elena and Bonnie want to go out. There’s this place in Richmond with, like, live music and decent drinks. They’ve been planning it all week.”
Kai doesn’t respond at first. You glance over. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight, mouth a line. He looks like he’s been asked to solve a puzzle and isn’t thrilled with the pieces.
“Sounds fun,” he says finally, the words pushed out like they taste bad.
You blink. “Are you mad?”
“No,” he says, too quickly, and then again, quieter, “No.”
You watch him. His hands are resting on his knees, fingers curling in and out of fists like he’s grounding himself. Or trying to stop from reaching for something. You.
He’s trying. You can see it in the rigid line of his shoulders. He’s been different lately—softer, in that uncomfortable, trembling way that suggests he’s not sure how to be soft without it hurting. Like he's learning to walk with borrowed bones.
“Look,” you say, shifting to face him. “I don’t have to go. I could stay—”
“You should go.” He interrupts, eyes flicking to yours for the briefest second. “If you want to.”
But something coils behind his voice. Not anger. Not quite.
You reach out, letting your fingers graze the edge of his sleeve. “You don’t sound like you mean that.”
He exhales through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. “I don’t,” he admits, and you feel his sleeve twitch under your touch. “But I’m trying to.”
There’s a pause.
“I know you care about them,” he says, voice lower now, like he’s explaining something to himself as much as to you. “And I know I can’t—shouldn’t—expect you to stop seeing them just because we’re…” His lips twitch, almost like he’s going to smile, but it doesn’t quite get there. “Whatever this is.”
You smile a little, but don’t interrupt.
He leans back on his palms, tilting his head up to watch the sky. “I used to think relationships were about possession. About taking. You like someone, so you keep them. Like a secret. Like a weapon. You make them yours.”
He glances sideways at you, and for a moment, you see the old Kai flicker behind his eyes—the predator he used to be. “But you’re not something I want to break just to keep close.”
You don’t say anything. You just look at him, and maybe that’s worse.
He sits up straighter, looking forward again. “The empathy thing… it’s messing with my instincts. I still want to say no. I still want to grab your wrist and keep you here. Not because I think they’re bad for you,” he pauses, lips parting like he’s debating whether or not to lie. “Okay, maybe a little bit because I think they’re bad for you.”
Your laugh is soft, surprised. He hears it, but doesn’t look at you.
“I want to be the kind of guy who lets you go,” he says. “Even when it makes me feel like I’m slipping out of your hands.”
You don’t answer. You just reach out and take his hand, and his fingers close around yours with quiet urgency.
He looks down at your interlaced hands. “But if they cancel or whatever... stay?”
“Okay,” you say, and the word feels like a promise.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Heretic!Kai who swears he doesn't care. who knows he shouldn't. That he can't. Heretic!Kai who follows you around everywhere. Memorizes your schedule. What day you have class. What your favourite coffee shop is. What time you usually leave your house to got to the store. Which aisle do you linger at. Who you see. Whoyou say hello too. He needs to know everything about you, but he can't ask. No, that just won't do. Asking means caring. Better rely on observation. At least like this, he can be sure you're not lying. Heretic!Kai who hides under your bed to listen to you sleep, to feel your weight against him like this. Heretic!Kai who gets hard at the thought of hurting you. So painfully hard at the thought of the life draining out of your body, your pretty pretty eyes turning milky. Delicate wrists going limp. He jerks of in the dark, watching you sleep. Always so angry with himself when he can never finish. He can never kill you. He ca never jerk off properly. He stands over you as you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. There's something so hypnotising to it. Heretic!Kai who knows now that if he kills you the peace he gets in these most quiet moments of observation would be gone forever.
Stefan Salvatore's the kind of boyfriend who would remind you to do your homework. He would gentle parent you to the right answers and warmly encourage you when you went about trying to explain your thesis for an essay
