harking his work is protect Darius but sometimes Darius protect Harking so is very interesting see them fight together more when Darius that form of a human girl even when he is a boy owl, the element of this two is fire
I’ve been obsessed with the tension between these two in the Prison World. What if Hope finally stopped fighting the "Mikaelson" side of her DNA and let Kai pull her into the dark?
This is a snippet of a new One-Shot I just posted. It's dark, it's messy, and it's definitely not for the faint of heart.
"Landon is your 'humanity' project, Hope. You keep him around so you can look in the mirror and tell yourself you aren't the monster everyone says you are. But let’s be honest... you’re starving for something that actually bites back
The Vibe:
🔥 Enemies to Lovers
🔥 Dark Romance
🔥 Emotional Infidelity (Sorry, Landon)
🔥 Siphoning as Foreplay
🔥 Explicit Content 🔞
Read the full text on a03 here
The silence of the Prison World was a physical weight. It wasn’t just the absence of sound; it was the absence of life. Standing in the dim, flickering light of the armory, Hope felt the heavy thrum of the Mora Miserium on the table—a ticking time bomb of black magic that mirrored the pressure building in her own chest.
She was supposed to be the hero. She was supposed to be the girl who saved her friends and went back to the boy she loved.
But as her eyes drifted to Kai Parker, the "hero" part of her felt dangerously thin.
Kai was leaning against a stack of crates, looking entirely too comfortable for a man trapped in a hell-dimension of his own making. He was wearing that look—the one that suggested he knew a secret about her that she hadn't even admitted to herself yet.
He was handsome. That was the problem. It was an objective, annoying fact. He had the kind of sharp, symmetrical features that her father would have admired—the kind of face that belonged on a statue, cold and unmoving, until he smirked. And when he did, the dimples made him look almost human. Almost.
Landon wouldn't even know how to stand like that, Hope thought, a sharp pang of guilt twisting in her gut. Landon was soft edges and gentle hands. Kai was all jagged lines and predatory stillness.<
"You’re doing that thing again, Hope," Kai said, his voice smooth and resonant in the empty room. He didn't move, but the intensity of his gaze shifted, dragging over her like a physical touch. "The 'Internal Moral Struggle.' It’s very 'Saint Mikaelson' of you. Are you thinking about the boyfriend? The Phoenix? Or are you wondering why your pulse just jumped twenty beats per minute because I took a breath?"
"I'm wondering how many ways I can kill you before I get bored," Hope snapped, her hand tightening around the wooden stake.
"Liar," Kai chuckled, the sound low and dark. He finally pushed off the crates,
"You’re staring, Hope," Kai said, his voice cutting through the silence like a jagged blade. "I know, I’m devastatingly handsome even in a magical purgatory, but we have a schedule to keep. Boxes to break, lives to ruin... the usual.
He sounds just like him, Hope thought, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The same cadence. The same way of making a threat sound like a punchline.
"I’m not staring at you, Kai. I’m deciding which part of you to break first so you’ll actually shut up," Hope snapped. She stepped forward, the magic in the room reacting to her mood, making the shadows on the wall stretch and flicker.
"My dad used to say that the most dangerous thing about a man isn't his power," Hope whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she gripped her stake. "It’s his tongue. He said men like you talk until the world starts to believe your lies."
Kai leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate hum that vibrated in Hope’s chest. "Your dad was right about a lot of things. But he forgot one part: It’s only a lie if the person listening doesn't secretly want it to be true.
The space between them vanished before Hope could even process the decision to move. Kai didn’t rush her—he drifted, closing the gap with a predatory confidence that made the air feel thin. He stopped so close she could smell him: a sharp, clean scent of ozone and something vaguely metallic, like the static before a thunderstorm.
Hope didn’t step back. A Mikaelson never retreated, but her heart was betraying her, thudding a frantic, uneven rhythm against her ribs.
"You're remarkably still for someone who claims to hate me," Kai murmured. He was taller than her, enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. From this close, the blue of his eyes wasn't cold; it was bright, electric, and entirely focused on her.
"I'm waiting for a reason," Hope hissed, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She raised the stake, the sharpened wood pressing into the soft cotton of his henley, right over his heart. "Give me one reason not to put this through your chest right now."
Kai didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a huff of a laugh that fanned across her forehead. "Because if you wanted me dead, you would have done it ten minutes ago. You’re stalling, Hope. You’re looking for a spark. You’re looking for someone who doesn't look at you like a delicate glass doll that might break if the wind blows too hard."
Landon. The name flickered in her mind like a dying candle. Landon looked at her with adoration, with a soft, cautious love that often felt like a weight. He treated her like a savior.
Kai looked at her like she was a storm he wanted to walk into.<
"You don't know anything about how people look at me," she whispered, her fingers trembling against the wood of the stake.
"I know that your hand is shaking," Kai countered, his voice dropping to a low, intimate vibration. He reached up, his movements slow and deliberate, and wrapped his fingers around hers—the hand holding the weapon.
His skin was unnervingly warm. As a Siphoner, he felt like a literal heat source, and the moment their skin met, Hope felt a jolt of magic—her magic—reacting to him. It wasn't the painful drain she expected; it was a rush, frantic hum of power seeking an outlet.
"Is this the 'Great Evil' I've heard so much about?" Kai teased, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, right over her knuckles. He leaned down, his lips inches from her ear. "The Tribrid, trembling because a bad man touched her hand? Or is it because you realized that for the first time in your life, you don't have to pretend to be the hero?"
Hope’s breath hitched. She felt the "Mikaelson itch" flare up—that dark, addictive surge of power that her father had spent centuries indulging. She wanted to shove him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tear the room apart.
The guilt of the cheating thought hit her like a physical blow, but it was drowned out by the sheer, magnetic pull of the man standing in her personal space.
"You're a monster, Kai," she breathed, her eyes dropping to his lips for a split second before she could stop herself.
"Takes one to know one, Little Wolf," he whispered back.
The heat of his skin against hers was like a physical brand, but as Kai’s thumb stroked her knuckles, a cold, sharp image slashed through Hope’s mind.
Jo. She saw the wedding dress. She saw the blood. She saw the twins—her best friends, her sisters in everything but name—carrying the trauma of a mother they never got to know because the man standing three inches away from her had decided his own power was worth more than their lives.
The electric hum of the attraction didn't vanish, but it was suddenly overlaid with a sickening coat of guilt.
What are you doing? her subconscious shrieked. This is their uncle. This is the monster from their bedtime storie.
"Get off me," Hope breathed, but it wasn't a whisper anymore. It was a command.
"Make me," Kai countered, his eyes dropping to her mouth, completely oblivious—or perhaps entirely indifferent—to the war raging in her head.
Hope didn’t just pull away; she exploded.
She slammed her free hand into his chest, channeling a burst of raw, untamed magic. She didn't use a spell—she didn't need the Latin. It was pure kinetic force, fueled by the image of Landon’s trusting, niceness and the thought of Lizzie’s face if she ever saw this.
The force sent Kai flying backward. He hit a stack of wooden crates with a splintering crash, his body heavy against the wood.
Hope stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving, the Mora Miserium glowing a violent, frantic purple on the table beside her. Her hands were shaking, but this time it was with a cold, righteous fury.
"You’re disgusting," she spat, the word tasting like poison. "You killed their mother. You spent twenty years in a box and you didn't learn a single thing except how to be a better predator."
Kai groaned, shifting among the broken wood. He didn't look angry, though. He looked impressed. He wiped a stray drop of blood from his lip, his eyes tracking her with a terrifying hunger. "There she is. I was wondering when the 'Hero of the Story' would show up to ruin the fun."
Landon, Hope thought, clutching the name like a rosary. Landon is safe. Landon is kind. Landon would never make me feel like this. But even as she thought it, the "niceness" of her boyfriend felt suddenly... small. Faded. Like a black-and-white photo compared to the vivid, terrifying technicolor of the man picking himself up off the floor.
"I’m leaving," Hope said, her voice trembling. "I’m taking the box, I’m finding a way out of here, and I’m leaving you to rot in the dark just like you deserve."
"You can try," Kai said, standing up and brushing the sawdust off his shoulders. He didn't move toward her this time, but the air between them still felt like a live wire. "But you’re forgetting one thing, Hope. You’re a Mikaelson. You don't run from the dark. You live in it. And right now? You’ve never looked more alive."
Kai didn't look bothered by the fact that she’d just blasted him across the room. He stood up slowly, a jagged, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"You think you’re so different from him," Kai started, his voice dropping into that conversational, terrifyingly casual tone. "You think because you have a boyfriend who writes you bad poetry and a headmaster who treats you like a golden child, you’ve escaped the 'Mikaelson Curse.' But I’ve had a lot of time to study the greats, Hope. And your father? He was the master of the self-sabotaging crush."
Hope’s blood ran cold. "Shut up, Kai.
"I heard about her, you know. Camille O'Connell," Kai said, the name hitting the air like a physical blow. Hope flinched. Cami was a sacred memory in the Mikaelson house—the woman who saw the good in the beast. "The brave, blonde human who thought she could 'fix' the big bad hybrid. He was obsessed with her light because he was so goddamn bored of his own darkness. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Hope felt the air leave her lungs. How does he know that? "That’s what you’re doing with that Phoenix kid, isn't it?" Kai stepped closer, his boots crunching on the splintered wood. "Landon is your Cami. He’s your 'humanity' project. You keep him around so you can look in the mirror and tell yourself you aren't the monster everyone says you are. But let’s be honest, Hope... you’re bored. You’re starving for something that actually bites back."
"You don't know anything about my father," Hope hissed, her eyes shimmering with a dangerous, golden light.
"I know that he died because he couldn't handle the darkness inside of him," Kai countered, his voice suddenly sharp, devoid of the teasing. "And I know that right now, standing in this dead world, you’re looking at me and you’re feeling more 'Mikaelson' than you’ve felt in years. You’re attracted to the rot, Hope. It’s in your DNA. You want to be the hero, but you crave the villain. You want to see if I’m as bad as they say, because you’re terrified that you’re even worse."
He stopped just out of arm's reach, his gaze boring into hers.
"Your dad didn't want you to be 'better,' Hope. He wanted you to be happy. And we both know you’re never going to be happy playing house with a boy who’s afraid of his own shadow. You’re a Mikaelson. You belong with the things that go bump in the night. You belong with me."
The silence that followed was deafening. Hope felt a tear prick the corner of her eye—not out of sadness, but out of the sheer, raw frustration of being seen. He’d stripped away the "Hope Mikaelson" mask and left her standing there as nothing but the daughter of Klaus Mikaelson, reaching for the very thing she was supposed to destroy.
She looked at him—really looked at him—and for a second, the image of Landon, the twins, and her mother’s lessons all blurred into the background. There was only the static in the air and the man who promised her she didn't have to be perfect anymore.
The silence in the armory was heavy, vibrating with the residual energy of Hope’s magic. Kai’s words hung in the air like a death sentence: You’re attracted to the rot.
Hope’s chest heaved, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches. She looked at Kai, really looked at him—the way his eyes were dark with a knowing hunger, the way he didn't even try to hide the monster he was. He wasn't safe. He wasn't "nice." He was everything she was supposed to fear, and yet, she felt a pull so violent it made her teeth ache.
"You think you have me figured out," she whispered, her voice trembling, but the tremor wasn't from fear anymore. It was from the effort of not lunging at him.
"I think you're tired of lying," Kai countered, his voice a low, velvet purr.
That was it. The thread snapped.
Hope didn't use a spell. She didn't use the stake. She moved with the blurring speed of her vampire side, closing the distance before Kai could even blink. She slammed her hands into his chest—not to push him away this time, but to pin him against the heavy stone pillar behind him.
The impact made the Mora Miserium rattle on the table, its purple sand glowing frantically
"I hate you," she hissed, her face inches from his. Her eyes were no longer blue; they were a swirling, dangerous gold, the hybrid bleeding through the cracks of her restraint.
Kai let out a choked, breathless laugh, his hands coming up to grip her waist, his thumbs digging into the soft skin just above her hips.
"There she is," he breathed, his own eyes scanning her face with a terrifying adoration. "The Great Evil’s daughter. God, you’re beautiful when you stop pretending."
Hope’s mind flashed one last time—Landon’s gentle smile, the twins' laughter—but it was like a fading radio signal. The heat coming off Kai was a physical roar. He was a Siphoner; he was literally drinking the excess magic she was putting off, and the sensation was intoxicating. It felt like her skin was on fire.
"This is wrong," she whispered, her forehead dropping to rest
against his. "This is disgusting. You’re a monster.
"And you're the one holding onto me like your life depends on it," Kai murmured, his grip tightening. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Do it, Hope. Stop being the hero. Just for a minute... let yourself be the villain.
Hope let out a sound that was half-sob, half-growl, and then she stopped fighting.
She slammed her mouth against his, a brutal, claiming act. It wasn't a kiss; it was a war. Her tongue invaded his mouth instantly, a hot, slick slide against his, and he met her with a violent hunger of his own. They dueled, tasting of copper and raw desire, a wet, frantic tangle that was more about possession than passion.
His hands weren't gentle; they were brands, searing into her waist before fisting violently in her auburn hair. He yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze for a searing second before crushing his lips to hers again. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he ground his hips against her, letting her feel the thick, rigid length of his cock straining against his jeans. The friction was a delicious torment, a promise of the savagery to come.
Her own body answered with a liquid heat that flooded her core, soaking her panties instantly. She was slick, swollen, and aching, a desperate, hollow ache that only his brutal possession could hope to fill. The guilt was a ghost, a forgotten whisper, utterly annihilated by the glorious, savage permission he gave her to finally be the monster she was always meant to be.
It wasn't a drain; it was a relief. It felt like the static in her brain was finally clearing. Everywhere his skin touched hers—the heat of his palms on her lower back, the rough friction of his stubble against her jaw—the pressure in her veins eased. It was addictive. It was a physical high that made her head light and her knees weak.
Is this what he felt? she wondered dizzily. Is this what it’s like to not have to carry the weight alone?
Her mind tried to pull up a memory of Landon—the way he kissed her with such careful, tentative reverence, as if she were made of porcelain
Kai wasn't careful. He was hungry. He kissed her like he wanted to devour the very soul she’d been trying so hard to keep "pure." His hands were everywhere, pulling her flush against him, and for the first time in her life, Hope didn't feel like a protector or a savior. She felt like a woman. She felt seen in all her messy, dark, complicated glory.
It was a slow burn that started in the pit of her stomach and radiated outward until her fingertips tingled. Her vampire senses were dialed to eleven—she could hear the frantic rhythm of his heart, the slide of fabric against skin, and the low, guttural growl he made into her mouth. It was the sound of a predator finding exactly what he’d been hunting for.<
"Hope," he breathed against her skin, his voice a jagged edge that sent shivers down her spine. "You’re glowing. Literally."
She opened her eyes and saw it—the faint, golden hue of her own power shimmering at the points where they touched. She should have been terrified. She was technically being "robbed" of her magic. But instead, she felt a wild, reckless surge of adrenaline.
She reached up, her fingers digging into his dark hair, pulling him back down to her. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to take more. She wanted to be empty of the "miracle" and the "burden" for just one night.
The guilt was still there, a ghost of a thought about the twins and the blood on Kai's hands, but it was being drowned out by the sheer, electric reality of him. In the vacuum of the Prison World, there was no past and no future—there was only the heat, the hunger, and the dark satisfaction of finally letting the monster win.
The air in the armory felt like it was vibrating. Every time Kai’s fingers brushed against a new patch of skin, the siphoning hum intensified, a low-frequency buzz that made Hope’s vision swim.
She felt his hands fumble with the hem of her shirt, his movements uncharacteristically frantic for someone who usually acted so cool. It was a victory, in a way—knowing that the "Great Tribrid" could make even a sociopath like Kai Parker lose his composure.
When the cool air of the Prison World hit her skin, she shivered, but the chill was immediately chased away by the heat of his palms.
Landon’s hands are always so soft, a small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of her head. Landon would ask permission. Landon would wait.
Kai didn't wait. He moved with a sense of entitlement that should have repulsed her, but instead, it fueled the fire. He was looking at her not as a "miracle" or a "hope for the future," but as a storm he intended to ride out.
"Still thinking?" Kai murmured, his voice rough as he pulled his own shirt over his head, discarding it into the shadows. In the flickering light of the Mora Miserium, his chest was a map of old scars and pale skin, rising and falling with a jagged breath. "Still trying to find a reason to run back to the boy who’s afraid of your shadows?"
"Shut up," Hope breathed, her hands finding the bare skin of his shoulders.
The contact was electric. Literally. A spark of magic jumped between them, a golden arc that illuminated the dark corners of the room. Hope let out a gasp, her head falling back as his mouth found the sensitive line of her throat.
