The beast x his sunflower

"She was his favourite sin and he was her only redemption"

Part-1 here

How far would you go for love?

Wrong question.

Love requires choice.

This never did.

Alistair Adamson had never loved anything in his life — not gently, not selflessly, not in the way people prayed for. He understood control. He understood dominance. He understood chaos so intimately it felt like a second pulse beneath his skin. His world was rigid, intentional, and cruelly beautiful. Every emotion was disciplined. Every weakness starved.

Until her.

She didn’t crash into his life. She crept into it. Quiet. Unassuming. Soft hands and lowered eyes. A country girl with no armor, no agenda, and no idea what kind of monster had started watching her breathe.

She was never meant to matter.

But she did.

A few months in the countryside — that was all it took for something to rot inside him. Slowly. Quietly. Like an infection he refused to acknowledge until it reached his bones.

She became the flaw he couldn’t erase.

The variable he couldn’t control.

The one thing that made his silence feel loud.

He told himself it was curiosity. Then irritation. Then hunger.

By the time he realized it was obsession, it was already too late.

She was imperfect in ways that made him ache — too kind, too forgiving, too alive. She softened rooms he walked into. She existed without fear, without calculation. And it infuriated him.

He didn’t want to destroy her.

He wanted to own her.

Years passed. Distance pretended to fix things. London reclaimed him. Power settled comfortably into his hands. The Adamson empire stood unshaken, and Alistair stood at its peak — colder, sharper, more ruthless than ever.

Except she never left him.

She lingered in his mind like unfinished business. Like a loose end he refused to cut.

And Alistair Adamson does not leave things unfinished.

So when he returned — not as a reckless boy but as a man with influence, money, and the law bending quietly in his favor — he made a decision.

If love was too fragile, then possession would do.

If she could leave him, he would make sure she never could again.

Marriage wasn’t a vow to him. It was a contract. A lock. A beautifully legal cage dressed in white and gold.

A way to bind her to his name, his world, his darkness — permanently.

He would not ask.

He would not negotiate.

Consent was irrelevant when destiny had already chosen.

Because she was the only thing that ever made him feel alive — and Alistair Adamson would burn the world before he let that feeling be taken from him again.

She was the sunflower — warm, bright, doomed to turn toward him whether she wanted to or not.

And he?

He was the beast.

And beasts do not let go of what they claim.

Part Two begins where consent ends.

--> Updated this a little hehe

--> Stay tuned for my future bots!