KAI ANDERSON hated your career more than he ever claimed to love it, more than he hated the press, the flashing cameras, or even the suffocating popularity that came with being connected to you. he could handle the spotlight when it served him—when it gave him power, when it made people listen—but being constantly followed, constantly watched, all because of your rising fame, that was something he could never forgive. before you, he had control, anonymity, the comfort of moving through the world unnoticed when he wanted to; now, every time he stepped outside, he risked being recognized, filmed, cornered by strangers who wanted to know about you, not him. he couldn’t even carry out his sacred work, his purging, his righteous violence, without the paranoia of a lurking lens capturing him in the act—blood on his hands, body at his feet, expression too gleeful to explain away. but as much as that infuriated him, it was nothing compared to the seething hatred he carried for your so-called ‘career’—your acting, your interviews, your adoring fans, and most of all, the men. the men who surrounded you on set, who laughed with you, who touched you under the pretense of performance, of direction, of scene rehearsal. it didn’t matter that you came home to him every night, didn’t matter that you never missed a call, that you spoke of him like he was the center of your world, because none of that erased the images he conjured in his head—those vile, lecherous men with their greedy eyes and wandering hands. kai knew you were loyal, painfully loyal, practically devout in your worship of him, the way you obeyed, the way you hung onto every word he spoke like scripture, but even that wasn’t enough to calm the fire in his chest. because men, in his eyes, were all the same—weak, selfish, manipulative things who would exploit any crack they found, and you, as beautiful and godlike as you were, were a temptation no man could resist. he saw the way they looked at you, even through the grainy behind-the-scenes footage or the edited tv segments. they wanted you, of course they did—who wouldn’t want a woman so perfectly sculpted by divine hands, a woman meant to be a symbol, a vessel, a god’s chosen wife? and that’s what terrified him. not that you would betray him—because you wouldn’t dare—but that someone might try to take what was his, ruin what he had so carefully claimed, touched what only he was meant to possess. and so, every time he saw you smile on screen, every time he heard a male co-star’s name cross your lips, every time your hand was placed even lightly on another man’s arm in the name of acting, it was another crack in his carefully restrained rage, another reminder that your career, your fame, your visibility, was a threat not just to his ego, but to his mission, his safety, and his claim on you.

it was one of those rare occasions where kai managed to have some time with you between your busy schedule. you sat opposite to him on the table, his hand extended as he patted the table, you swallowed and slid your hand out to meet his, his pinky flicked out, you copied his motion. kai's pinky wrapped around yours tightly, just ever so slightly painful. "don't lie to me." he commanded, staring directly into your eyes, "i've never lied to you," you answered, maintaining his intense eye-contact, the words marinated in the air. "why won't you quit your silly acting thing?" the questions came harshly, he spat it out as if it was poison, "i enjoy it." came your smooth reply. "you put your own wants above mine?" he challenged, his grip became painful, "never." you struggled not to wince at the pressure of his pinky "so why are you doing it?" kai's head cocked to the left, a few separated strands of his hair fell with it. "i don't know." "lies." he hissed, the grip became tighter, "because i'm selfish." you, albeit wrongly, corrected. he pulled his pinky back with a scoff, his eyes running up and down your body, you pulled your hand back and rubbed the sore area with your thumb. "you make me seem like a fool. do you think i'm a fool?" you shook your head, shutting your eyes for a moment before reopening them, your gaze locked onto kai's lips as they spat around his words. "quit this stupid acting dream of yours." he stood, chair scraping against the wooden floor, and disappeared up the stairs, you watched him leave.

you watched the phone ring on the table, the soft vibrations skittering across the surface like an insect too small to crush, and for a moment you just stared at it, unsure whether you wanted to answer or let it keep ringing, let it echo into the silence of the house until it died out on its own, but eventually your hand moved, almost mechanically, and you picked it up, pressing the green button just as the fourth ring began to sound. it only took a second for your agent’s voice to flood the speaker, sharp and exasperated, as though he’d already prepared himself for bad news. “have you done something stupidly on instagram again?” he barked without greeting, and you winced slightly at the implication, even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “no,” you murmured, voice soft, barely audible, as you switched the device from speaker to phone, pressing it flat against your ear, the cold plastic sending a small jolt through your skin—it was startling, like ice, though you couldn’t tell if the phone was cold or if you were just burning up from the inside out. the words came out before you could stop them, too natural, too final. “i’m retiring.” there was a beat of silence, not the thoughtful kind, but the kind where someone is reeling with disbelief, trying to decide whether to laugh or shout. then the man on the other end burst into laughter, deep and grating, the kind that vibrated down the phone line and made your hand tremble slightly as you held it. “that’s a good one, sweetheart,” he said between chuckles, like this was all some elaborate joke, like you couldn’t possibly be serious, couldn’t possibly want to give up something you’d spent years building. he chuckled again, quieter this time, followed by a deep inhale that sounded almost disappointed. “you can’t just retire, you’ve got a contract.” his voice had shifted now, more stern, less amused. “screw the contract,” you snapped back, your patience fraying like worn thread, your fingers gripping the phone tighter. “you’ll be sued,” he warned, and it sounded like a threat, but also like a plea, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you’d walk away from it all. “so sue me!” you spat, voice louder now, sharp with emotion, and in a single movement you yanked the phone away from your ear and ended the call, the beep echoing into the tense air around you like a gunshot. you stood there, breath shallow, staring at your own reflection in the dark screen for a moment before you felt it, kai’s hand, large and familiar, resting on your shoulder with a slow, almost deliberate squeeze, his touch gentle but possessive, like he was reasserting his presence, his control. “now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmured, his voice brushing your ear like silk dipped in venom, and though everything in you screamed to shrug him off, to shove his hand away and reclaim some fragment of your autonomy, you didn’t move. you just stood there, frozen in the aftermath of your decision, swallowing the urge to scream as his fingers remained curled around your shoulder like a brand you couldn’t wash away.

the silence was what gnawed at you the most. the mind-numbing quiet that pressed in from all sides, suffocating and thick with emptiness. it wasn’t just the absence of well, everything, but the complete lack of stimulation, of connection, of purpose. most of the other cult members had their own jobs or responsibilities outside the house, slipping away each morning into a world you were no longer part of, while you remained trapped within the four walls of a place that felt more like a gilded prison than a home. kai was rarely around during the middle of the day, always off tending to something bigger, something he deemed more important, leaving you utterly alone for hours at a time. the stillness stretched endlessly, hours bleeding into each other like spilled ink, indistinguishable and slow. it wasn’t long before your mind started to play tricks on you, boredom mutating into something far more unsettling. the wallpaper began to ripple and shift in your peripheral vision, the swirling patterns warping into vague, sinister faces that stared at you with hollow eyes. you knew they weren’t real, but that didn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine each time you caught one watching. in your desperation to stay busy, you reorganized the junk drawer - sixteen times - each time more meticulous than the last, sorting through the same pens, bent paperclips, dead batteries, and miscellaneous screws, trying to claw back some sense of control over your crumbling sanity. kai wouldn’t let you watch the news, not even for background noise, insisting that the so-called ‘woke propaganda’ would rot your brain, corrupt your thoughts, and ruin the delicate, obedient persona he had so carefully shaped in you. he said it with that condescending smirk that made your stomach twist, like you were a fragile little doll he had to protect from the world. so instead, you found yourself waiting for the only predictable structure left in your day ,meal times. not because you were hungry, but because eating gave you something to do, even if only for twenty minutes. preparing the food, setting the table, the clink of utensils against porcelain, it became a ritual, a lifeline in the drowning stillness, the only time you could trick yourself into feeling even slightly human.

kai had called your name three times already, each time more distant than the last, his voice echoing through the fog in your mind like a fading dream, like the soft whisper of something you weren’t sure was real. it sounded floaty, strange, far away, like a memory trying to resurface, or the ghost of a thought you couldn’t quite grasp. it tugged at you but never landed, just out of reach, like the shadow that trails your every move but disappears the moment you try to look it in the eye. the haze in your mind thickened until the world around you felt submerged, muffled, unreal. kai’s frustration snapped into focus when he grabbed your face, his fingers suddenly cold and harsh as they wrapped around your jaw and jerked your head to the side so you were forced to look at him. “fucking hell, are you high?” he snapped, his voice sharp, laced with disbelief and fury. you blinked slowly at him, as if the motion took great effort, your eyes dry and unfocused, your mouth slightly parted but silent. his grip fell away from your jaw, and though his lips kept moving, spewing curses you’d heard a thousand times before, none of them registered, they were just vibrations in the air, meaningless syllables lost in the static that filled your head. you must have blacked out again, or maybe you’d never really woken up, because the next thing you were aware of, you were somewhere else entirely, sitting on a cold metal chair with your hands limp in your lap and your skin tingling as if your body was only now remembering to feel. the air around you smelled metallic, heavy with rust and blood and old rot. the walls were distant, towering and industrial, and the ceiling too high to make out clearly. it felt like a warehouse, or something like it, abandoned but not empty. in front of you, a man hung grotesquely on a makeshift cross, his arms and legs nailed into the rotting wood, his skin pale and trembling, his mouth sealed with thick, silver staples that tugged at torn lips, blood crusting in the corners. his eyes were wide and wet and terrified, darting around the room like a trapped animal, landing on you, pleading silently, shaking violently as his chest rose and fell in erratic bursts. your breath caught in your throat, not from horror but from a strange kind of detachment, like watching something through a screen. kai appeared beside you like an apparition, not saying anything at first, just watching you with eyes full of expectation, like he was waiting for something. then he gently took your hand, the one resting lifeless in your lap, and lifted it with a tenderness that didn’t belong in this place, his skin warm and his movements patient. you didn’t resist. you couldn’t. he dropped something into your palm with a soft clink, something heavy, cold, solid. a metal pipe. a hammer. a gun. you couldn’t tell, not in this state, not with the flickering light and the roaring in your ears. then he wrapped his hand around yours, curling your fingers tightly around the object, his grip strong and possessive as if to remind you whose will you followed. “kill him,” kai said, his voice calm, clear, slicing through the haze like a blade. you turned to look at him, and he looked strange, glowing at the edges, blurred like something seen through tears or stained glass. you didn’t think. you couldn’t. something surged up from deep within your chest, not fear, not doubt, but obedience. absolute and total. the kind that lived in your bones, etched into your skin, imprinted onto your very soul like scripture. kai had spoken. he had given you a command. your purpose was suddenly clear, undeniable. you nodded slowly, dreamlike, your grip tightening around the object in your hand, and the man on the cross whimpered through the staples in his lips, a wet, choked sound that you barely heard. all you could feel was kai’s presence beside you.

⸝⸝ ⟢ O1

when kit first finds out your pregnant, he gets this big dopey grin on his face and immediately presses tons of tickling kisses all over your face as his arms wrap around you, he'd be the type of dad to ask for the frog the doctor used to test for your pregnancy and have it taxidermied to frame it in your bedroom, (the pregnancy still doesn't satisfy his intense breeding kink completely)

⸝⸝ ⟢ O2

kit would read anything and everything he could about pregnancy, he would make slight alterations to your diet, monitor your caffeine intake levels, basically he'd be almost controlling, but in his own sweet kit walker way. he would make sure you get some exercise, but never too much, he'd prefer too little than too much and risk wearing your body out, he would be very proud of himself when he notices you've put a little bit of weight on, he read that extra fat storage will help the baby to grow

⸝⸝ ⟢ O3

even during the early months of your pregnancy, kit would insist on taking a photo of the bump every day, he didn't care how much the film costed, he would add the latest one to his growing pile on his nightstand and look at it every morning, just to remind himself how lucky he was, morning cuddles would also be mandatory, even if you were throwing your guts up while he clung onto you like a koala with no sense of what boundaries were

⸝⸝ ⟢ O4

kit would be obsessed with touching your belly, even if it was mostly still pretty small, he would press his head, gently of course, to your stomach and just listen, even if there was no noise or movement, he enjoyed the connection he felt it gave him to the baby, as the baby grew and subtle movement could be felt, he'd become even more obsessed with having his hands or head, or really any part of him on your stomach

⸝⸝ ⟢ O5

kit would be terrified any time you were in any pain at all, miscarriages weren't uncommon, kit wanted both you and his baby to be safe and sound, any time you expressed you were in any pain, he would have you wrapped up in bed, one hand on your stomach as he finds himself praying to god for the first time in a long time after briacliff

⸝⸝ ⟢ O6

as your pregnancy develops, kit only becomes more hover-y, he makes very specific meal plans and gets a little upset if you don't stick to them, he would be a little bit grumpy if you ever tried to hide your pregnancy, especially considering the social norms of the time, kit saw your pregnancy as a beautiful thing, the gift of life was not something to take lightly

⸝⸝ ⟢ O7

kit knew that labour would be no easy walk in the park, he longed to be there with you, but the nurses shut him out, finally when your baby was born, he felt all wrong inside seeing you all drugged up and not yourself, he could have sworn he told the doctor not to give you drugs, but at least you and your baby were healthy, according to the doctor at least, although kit isn't sure he would trust anything with his babies

notes. first post with the new theme, what do we think? i hope you like it, doll! apologies it's so short and likely horrendously ooc, i've never actually watched asylum, i plan to after cult!