#prison world

[extremelyrottenfleshh]

The Vampire Diaries - Season 6 Episode 1 “I’ll Remember” (2014)

[bonkaibrainrot]

HAPPY PRISON WORLD DAY! (32 canon years omg...)

[AO3] hold on till may (10th) (chvrly7) "1994 Prison World AU: After Damon leaves Mystic Falls for a week to go find more information on a spell, a drunken Kai shows up at Bonnie's doorstep with a full bottle of tequila, a heavy heart and a loose tongue.

Or, Bonnie and Kai actually get a shot at developping some kind of relationship. "

Check it out here: hold on till may (10th) (3,691 words) by chvrly7

[queenofblackbeatinghearts]

thinking about the season 6 prison world arc again and how we were absolutely robbed of a psychological bamon/bonkai love triangle. the narrative raw materials were right there on screen, and instead of the usual heavily romanticized cw triangle, we could have had an absolute psychological pressure cooker.

let's look at the sheer isolation of that 1994 snapshot. four months of just bonnie and damon. they went from historical grievances and mutual hatred to a deeply domestic routine. making pancakes every morning, arguing over crosswords, grocery shopping in empty markets, drinking bourbon on the porch. when you are someone's entire universe and the only person keeping them from existential madness, the line between intense platonic codependency and romantic undercurrents becomes practically nonexistent. it gave bonnie a sense of safety and earned warmth with a partner who was finally prioritizing her, grounding them in an incredibly tight emotional bond.

and then enters kai parker, completely shattering that safe little world.

the thing about developing a bonnie and kai dynamic here is that it wouldn't require some cheap, unearned redemption arc that erases his monstrous actions. the tension works precisely because he remains dangerous. kai spent twenty years entirely alone, treated as a defect by his family. bonnie arrives, this vibrant, resilient, morally unyielding force. for a siphoner witch who has been starved of power and connection, her ancestral magic is the ultimate intoxicating force. and because siphoning requires direct skin contact, there is a visceral, electric intimacy baked right into their physical dynamic that the writers completely left on the table. imagine a slow-burn forced cooperation where they have to map out celestial mechanics together away from damon's disruptive influence, creating a shared witch-heritage bond that damon can't touch.

the psychological chess match between all three of them would have been insane. kai is driven by deep-seated rejection and envy. seeing bonnie and damon's effortless domestic intimacy would trigger his worst insecurities. he wouldn't just try to kill damon; he would try to dismantle bonnie's trust in him. he'd use his knowledge of damon's horrific past to point out the hypocrisy of trusting a vampire who murdered bonnie's loved ones while treating kai as the sole monster. he'd be playing mind games to drive a wedge between them so bonnie is forced to rely on him instead.

meanwhile, damon's volatile, possessive love language would completely flare up. watching a literal psychopath circle bonnie, trying to charm her and constantly touching her to siphon magic, would trigger his most reckless, violent impulses. if bonnie showed even a flicker of strategic empathy toward kai to get them home, damon would see it as a betrayal. his explosive overreactions would end up pushing bonnie away, creating the exact friction kai wanted and fracturing their perfect domestic front.

and bonnie would be trapped right in the center, navigating this exquisite existential dilemma. with damon, she has safety, mutual survival, and the comfort of a shared humanity. but she’s also carrying the moral weight and trauma of their past lives in mystic falls. with kai, she's navigating a minefield, yet she’s also hyper-alive. they match wits in a way that is intellectually stimulating. she would detest his actions but find herself forming an unbidden psychological connection to the very person she needs to escape from. her conflict wouldn't be a superficial choice between two attractive guys; it would be a struggle over who she is becoming in this isolated world where normal rules don't apply.

it would have completely shifted the arc from a simple escape plot to a dark exploration of isolation morality, while finally centering bonnie's narrative agency and romantic desirability without her just being a magical tool used to fix everyone else's problems. the emotional stakes of her eventual sacrifice to send damon back would have been absolutely devastating if she was also saving him from her own fracturing emotions.

[lordk022]

Happy May 10th to all Kai fans

[velvetfangsx]

[shiinxtic]

Kai Parker x f!readed (9):

A/n:okay so it’s been rotting int my drafts for 2 months but it’s done now I decided it’s time to post it I really didn’t know what to write or if this chapter is even good

m.list

Previous chapter

The house settles around you once the door closes.

Not silence — just the low, constant creak of old wood adjusting to your presence.

Kai releases your arm.

Not because he has to.

Because he wants to.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he says, already moving, like this is routine. Like you didn’t wake up in his trunk a moment ago.

You hesitate, then follow.

The kitchen is exactly how it shouldn’t be — too normal. Counters wiped down. Cabinets intact. A cast-iron pan was already sitting on the stove, like he planned this.

Kai rolls up his sleeves.

“You hungry?” he asks, opening the fridge.

You stare at him. “You kidnapped me.”

He hums thoughtfully, pulling out ingredients. “That’s a yes.”

“You drugged me.”

“Still counts as hungry.”

He opens the fridge like it’s nothing.

Like this isn’t the house where everything burned down.Like you aren’t standing in the doorway watching him.

Your eyes catch it instantly.

The blood bags stacked neatly on the top shelf.

Your stomach twists.

“…Why the hell do you have blood bags?”

Kai doesn’t react right away. He just takes one out, inspects the label like he’s choosing a bottle of wine.

“Expiration dates are a myth,” he mutters.

“Kai.”

He finally looks at you.

“What?” he asks lightly. “You thought I drove you across state lines without snacks?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He grabs a glass from the cabinet, cuts the bag open with a knife he found in a drawer, and pours it in slow, controlled movements. Dark red fills the glass.

Too familiar.

“You’re a vampire,” he says simply. “Vervain hits harder when you’re dehydrated.”

Your jaw tightens. “You planned that.”

“I plan everything.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He sets the glass down on the counter between you.

“You don’t just carry blood around unless you’re expecting to need it,” you press.

His expression shifts — just slightly.

“I knew you’d fight,” he says. “I knew I’d have to drug you. I knew you’d wake up pissed and weaker than you like to admit.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Silence.

The house creaks softly.You step closer to the counter, staring at the glass but not touching it.

“You don’t care if I’m weak,” you say quietly. “So why make sure I’m not?”

Kai’s jaw flexes.

“For someone who’s been around me this long,” he says carefully, “you ask really naive questions.”

“Answer it.”

He meets your eyes.

And for a second, the sarcasm drops.

“I don’t want you starving,” he says. “It makes you reckless.”

“That’s not it.”

His gaze sharpens. “Don’t push it.”

“Why do you have blood bags, Kai?”

A long pause.

Then, softer than you expect—

“Because you’ve always pretended you don’t need help,” he says. “You did it when we were kids. You’re still doing it now.”

The honesty sits between you like something fragile.

You glance down at the glass.

He doesn’t push it closer. Doesn’t force it.

Just watches.

“You can drink it,” he says quietly. “Or don’t. I’m not your keeper.”

You let out a slow breath.

“You literally put me in your trunk.”

“Just a temporary relocation sweetheart” he corrects.

Instead, he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Drink,” he says softly. Not commanding. Not mocking. Just steady.

You hold his gaze a moment longer.

Then, slowly, you reach for the glass.The last drop slides down your throat. You shiver, strength returning just enough to realize how drained you are.

Kai watches you, eyes sharp, calculating. For a heartbeat, it almost feels like he’s pleased — not with the meal, not with the conversation, but with you surviving.Then, without warning, You barely have time to brace yourself before his hand grips your wrist, sharp and unyielding.

“Not running this time,” he says, voice low, almost casual.

You stumble slightly, and he adjusts instantly, his grip firm but not crushing, sliding you along the path toward the tree trunks.

“You’re stronger than this,” he murmurs near your ear, tone almost… affectionate, if that weren’t the scariest thing in the world. “But I need you steady.”

Kai sets you down gently — almost teasingly and bends to retrieve the knife from one of the trunks. He holds it up, dark and gleaming.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice almost affectionate. “I need every bit of power I can get.”

he presses his hand to your chest. You feel your vampire energy surge into him like fire being poured into ice. Pain blossoms in your muscles, your fangs flex involuntarily, and your vision blurs for a moment.

“You okay?” he murmurs, almost tenderly, as he siphons the power.

You growl, weakly, “I’m not okay!”

“I know,” he admits, voice low. “But this is necessary. Every bit counts. You’ll thank me later.”

He lifts you, knife in one hand, your drained strength in the other, and sets you at the center of the ritual circle. Bonnie’s blood and the ascendant pieces are arranged perfectly.

Kai kneels, presses his palm against your chest again, siphoning the last bit of energy he needs. You stumble, nearly collapsing, but he catches you easily.

“Perfect,” he says quietly. “Just in time.”

The eclipse light touches the circle, the ground trembles, and your siphoned energy floods into the ritual. The air crackles with power, and you realize you’re watching the prison world dissolve, the portal beginning to tear open.

Kai looks down at you, tired and triumphant, whispering, “Hold on, sweetheart. We’re almost out.”

─────⊹⊱✙⊰⊹─────

The portal spits you out, and your body collapses instantly — too weak from the siphoning, too exhausted to resist.

Kai catches you effortlessly, holding you against his chest. You’re limp, barely breathing, fangs just peeking. He moves silently, every step deliberate, like a predator with a plan.

As he adjusts your weight in his arms, his eyes flick down to your jeans pocket. The small money bag you always carry catches his attention. Without a pause, he slips his hand into it and pulls it out.

Keys. A tiny slip of paper with your address. He smirks, tucking the bag securely into the pocket of his blue zip-up hoodie.

“Convenient,” he murmurs under his breath. “Even unconscious, you make things easy for me.”

He adjusts his grip on you and steps forward, moving with unnerving ease. The city blurs past, the energy from the eclipse still humming faintly around him.

“You’re coming with me,” he says softly, almost affectionate, as he carries you toward your apartment. “Don’t worry… I’m just making sure we get home first.”

Your head lolls against his chest, heartbeat weak and uneven, but your vampire senses pick up everything — the control in his movements, the power now coursing through him from you and the knife.

[hotpinkhex]

Who’s watching? Part. 1

Kai Parker x Female Reader

Warning: stalking themes and isolation

WC: 1,971

This is my very first fan fiction :) I hope you like it. Feed back would be great. I’m still learning Tumblr.

You were never meant to be the one taken.

The spell was supposed to be a solution. Desperate witches scrambling to fix a mistake they didn’t fully understand. You were there as support, a second set of hands, a grounding presence. You weren’t powerful enough yet to be a threat. You weren’t important enough to be a risk.

That was the problem.

Someone said your name while bleeding onto the page.

The magic didn’t hesitate.

The world folded inward, sound collapsing into pressure, light smearing into nothing. When you woke up, the sky was too blue to be real.

There were no people.

Mystic Falls was empty. Stores unlocked. Cars abandoned. Houses pristine and untouched. A town preserved like a photograph with no one left inside it.

You checked yourself for injuries. None. Your clothes were intact. Your pulse was steady. Too steady for someone who should have been unconscious.

No people.

Not a single voice. No footsteps. No birds. Not even wind.

You walked faster. Called out. Your voice echoed back at you, bouncing off buildings like it was searching for someone who refused to answer.

You tried doors. They were unlocked. Every one of them.

Inside the grocery store, the lights were on. The shelves were full. You picked up a box of cereal and checked the expiration date.

May 1994.

Your stomach dropped.

You grabbed another item. Same date. Another. Same.

You dropped the box and backed away slowly.

“No,” you whispered.

The word felt small. Useless.

You did not run right away. You stood there longer than you should have, surrounded by proof that the world had frozen without you, until your chest hurt from holding the truth back.

When you finally left the store, you did not wander.

The walk feels longer than it should.

Not because the distance changes, but because the idea keeps settling deeper with every step. You are not drifting anymore. You are choosing.

Prison worlds are copies. Which means anything that existed then exists here now, untouched.

Old places. Heavy places.

The Salvatore house.

You do not say the name out loud, but your feet already know where to go.

“If I stay here,” you whisper to yourself as the house comes into view, “then this is real.”

The words scare you more than the silence ever did.

⸻

You pace the Salvatore house room by room until your legs ache and the quiet presses in hard enough to bruise. The place is too intact. Furniture waiting. Lamps plugged in. A life paused mid breath.

You cry in short, frustrated bursts that leave your chest tight and your throat raw. You try spell after spell, hands shaking as your magic burns thin and useless beneath your skin.

You carve sigils into the hardwood floors. Into the walls. Into the doorframes. You light candles until wax drips onto your fingers and you barely feel it. You bleed onto the symbols, whispering words that have always worked before.

Nothing answers.

The house stays quiet.

The world stays sealed.

At some point exhaustion drags you down anyway.

You do not remember lying on the bed. You only remember the weight finally pulling you under.

When you woke, the radio clicked on.

6:30 a.m.

Shine by collective soul.

Give me a word

Give me a sign

Show me where to look

Tell me, what will I find?

What will I find?

You bolted upright and ran outside.

That was when panic truly set in.

Days blurred together after that. Or maybe it was the same day repeating so often that your mind stopped trying to count.

You tested everything.

Fire burned but left no lasting damage. Cars drove until they ran out of gas, then worked again the next morning. Food filled you and vanished from your stomach when the day reset, leaving hunger behind like a cruel joke.

Wounds healed.

Nothing progressed.

You screamed until your throat hurt. You laughed until it sounded unhinged. You pleaded with a sky that never responded.

Eventually, you stopped wasting the energy.

You sat in the middle of the road one afternoon and said the words out loud.

“This is a prison world.”

Saying it made it real.

You were not lost. You were not misplaced. You were contained.

That realization hit harder than the magic.

You were not meant to survive here. Prison worlds were designed for isolation. For breaking someone slowly until time itself became the punishment.

You started talking out loud just to hear a voice.

Your own.

You narrated what you were doing. Asked questions you answered yourself. Sang along with the radio even when it made your chest ache.

At night, the silence pressed so hard it felt physical.

Or so you thought.

It was subtle.

A door you were sure you had locked stood open.

Footprints appeared in dust you had not disturbed.

Magic brushed against your senses, sharp and unfamiliar, like static crawling across your skin.

You froze in the middle of the street, heart pounding.

For the first time since arriving, fear was not abstract.

It had direction.

“Hello?” you called, hating how small your voice sounded.

Nothing answered.

But you knew.

You were not alone in this world.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than being completely by yourself.

_____

Kai notices you the moment you arrive.

Not because of the magic. He felt that immediately. A ripple through a world that had not changed in years. A wrongness. A pull.

But because you make noise.

Not screaming. Not sobbing.

You talk to yourself.

You narrate what you are doing. You argue with the air. You whisper plans out loud like the world might overhear and intervene.

He watches from the treeline the first time, head tilted, curious.

You are not supposed to be here.

That much is obvious.

He follows you without you ever seeing him.

He learns your patterns quickly. Where you go when you panic. Where you go when you need space. Which buildings you test and which ones you avoid.

He watches you figure out the grocery store. Watches your hands shake when you read the date. Watches you drop a box and put it back like in the real world.

He does not step in.

He wants to see how long it takes you to break.

He knows the moment you decide.

You pause in the road longer than necessary. You turn slightly, like you are listening to something you cannot hear yet.

You choose the Salvatore house because it feels solid.

He almost laughs.

That house is the one place he never stays.

Too many rooms. Too many echoes. Too much silence gathered in one place. He learned early that some buildings make loneliness louder.

He watches you claim it anyway.

Watches the lights flick on. Watches you pace. Watches the first night stretch thin until exhaustion takes you.

He does not go inside.

Not yet.

He waits days.

Lets you convince yourself you are alone. Lets you test the world until your magic burns thin and your hope frays at the edges.

Then he changes something small.

A chair angled differently than you left it.

A door unlocked.

Footprints where the earth had never been disturbed.

He wants your realization to bloom slow and awful.

It does.

_______

You wake to the radio like always.

6:30 a.m.

You are halfway through sitting up when you realize something is wrong.

It is not Shine.

A different beat hums through the room. Slower. Unsettling. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach tighten before your brain catches up.

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Your breath stutters.

“No,” you whisper.

You do not move. You do not reach for the radio. You sit frozen on the edge of the bed, listening as the lyrics crawl through the quiet house.

And I have no privacy…

Your pulse is loud in your ears. The house feels smaller. Closer. Like it is leaning in.

You have never changed the station.

The song plays anyway.

When it ends, the radio clicks off.

Not resets.

Not switches back.

Just silence.

That is when you know.

Not suspect.

Not fear.

Know.

You move through the house with deliberate care, every sense tuned sharp enough to hurt. You check the doors. The windows. The corners you have memorized.

Nothing moves.

And yet.

You stop at the bottom of the stairs.

Something is different.

The chair in the dining room is pulled out.

Not much. Just enough that it would not happen on its own.

Your pulse pounds.

You step closer.

On the table, there is a mug.

You recognize it. You used it yesterday. You are sure you put it in the sink before the reset.

It is warm.

Your throat tightens.

You feel it before you hear it.

Warmth. Proximity. A presence close enough that your skin prickles.

Then a voice, low and close, brushing your ear.

“I always feel like somebody’s watching me…”

Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp.

You spin around.

He is right there.

He stands like someone who is comfortable taking up space, shoulders loose, weight settled like he knows the world will not push back.

Dark hair, messy in a way that looks intentional. Like he stopped caring halfway through fixing it and decided that was enough. His face is sharp without being harsh. Mouth that looks like it learned how to smirk before it learned how to smile.

Too close. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, see the way his eyes flick to your throat like he is cataloguing how fast your pulse jumps.

Your heart is hammering so hard it hurts.

He smiles.

“Oh,” he says lightly, clearly enjoying the way you nearly stagger back. “Sorry. Manners.”

He takes one deliberate step away, just enough to give you space while still crowding it.

“Hi,” he adds. “I’m Kai.”

Your fear snaps into something sharper.

“You were behind me,” you say.

“Yes.”

“You were watching me.”

“Yes.”

“You changed the radio.”

He tilts his head, mock thoughtful. “Technically I changed the station. The song choice was just good taste.”

Anger flares, hot and sudden. “You let me think I was alone.”

“You were,” he says. “For a while.”

That is worse.

“How long have you been here,” you ask.

He shrugs. “Long enough to forget what day comes after this one.”

Your chest tightens. “And you just decided to watch me?”

“I decided to wait,” he corrects. “You learn a lot about someone when they think no one can see them.”

Your skin crawls. “Like what.”

He looks at you for a long moment, gaze sharp and unsettlingly attentive.

“You talk to yourself,” he says. “You pace when you are scared. You bleed for spells even when you know they will not work. You chose this house because it feels solid.”

He glances around the kitchen.

“Bad choice, by the way.”

“Why,” you demand.

“Too many echoes,” he says softly. “Loneliness gets loud here.”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged.

“You should have said something,” you whisper.

He steps closer again. Not enough to touch. Enough that it feels intentional.

“And miss all that,” he says, eyes flicking over your face, your hands, the tension pulled tight through your body. “No.”

You swallow. “You are sick.”

His grin returns, sharp and unapologetic. “Oh, absolutely.”

The radio clicks on upstairs.

6:30 a.m.

The first notes of Shine begin to play like nothing ever happened.

Kai glances toward the ceiling, then back at you.

“See,” he says. “The world resets. But you don’t.”

Neither does he.

And standing there, heart racing, skin still buzzing where his voice had been, you realize something terrifying.

You did not stumble into his prison.

You woke it up.