addison

evan peters enthusiast

[queen4aday]

<𝟑 .ᐟ

[tegansoawkward]

i deserve 2000's Evan Peters, I'd never lay a hand on that sweet boy

[ghostlyviolets33]

"you can do no wrong... in my eyes."

⋆｡˚𖦹 hearing damage - thom yorke.

[addison-ahs]

Tate Langdon Stormy Nights

@mieluno for the lace divider 🤍

WC: 0.5k (Short)

CW: nothing! (Not proofread)

INFO: You’re scared of storms, Tate usually comforts you during them, but you both just got into a fight before the night. (Ghost Tate) also this is kinda shitty but I haven’t liked any of the drafts i’ve started soooo

Some people find storms peaceful, but you despise them. Something about the anticipation of not knowing when the next thunder strike is going to hit unsettles you.

And that’s the reason why you’re currently on hour 5 of trying to sleep and have so far been sadly, unsuccessful.

Typically, during storms your boyfriend, Tate would sleep next to you to calm your nerves. But, today you and him got into a petty argument. And you told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him for the night, claiming you needed space.

He didn’t take that news very well. He cried a bit, deflected and got slightly angry. But, in the end he agreed to give you your space, leaving the room. (He totally didn’t) He just made it so you couldn’t see him, instead sitting on the chair in the corner of your room, staring at you sleeping.

The next thunder strike is loud and it makes you jump, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips. Your body is shaking under the covers. It pains Tate to see you so scared and alone knowing he can’t help you. You’re exhausted, wishing your nerves could just shut up so you can get some sleep. So, despite your brain yelling at you not to, you call out his name.

“…Tate?” Within seconds he appears, walking nervously to the side of your bed. His eyes are red from crying, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater sleeves. Your face softens at his sad expression and you shift over, making space for him. You lift up the covers inviting him in.

He cautiously lays down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he shifts to get comfortable. He feels you shaking, “Shh, it’s okay.” He mumbles softly, pressing a gentle kiss behind your ear. You melt against him, but as he’s comforting you a wave of guilt washes over you. Why is he being so gentle and forgiving? “I’m sorry..” you sigh, before continuing. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” You finish, turning towards him.

His eyes are soft as they look down at you, “It’s okay, I know you’ll always love me, right?” You nod and he smiles at your answer leaning down, kissing your forehead.

Soon, morning comes. You wake up with Tate half on top of you. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You can hear the soft patter of rain against the windows. It’s calm compared to the raging storm from last night.

You yawn, turning around to face Tate. He shifts, blinking awake. His face morphs into a sleepy smile when he sees you.

He reaches up, brushing a strand of messy hair out of your face. “How’d you sleep?” He asks. Your smile widens, “Good.” You reply, leaning into his touch. He nods at the answer, pleased.

You shift closer again, resting your head into his chest. Hoping the morning never ends.

[dearlizzies]

[sincereleedoll]

i just saw evan peters smile and now im having heart palpitations

[0rfielvamp]

„So, what do shrinks think about when a wildly brilliant patient doesn’t talk to punish said psychiatrist?”

[addison-ahs]

Kit Walker Cinnamon Rolls

@lobster-graphics for the tree bark divider 🤎

@solitary-serendipity for the pine cone divider 🤎

WC: 0.7k

CW: none! just very domestic lol (not proofread)

sooo expect horrible grammar!

INFO: You and Kit bake cinnamon rolls during a cozy and stormy autumn night (I miss fall!)

The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air, as soft jazz plays faintly in the distance. You’re currently adding vanilla extract into the mixture of ingredients which will soon be baked into cinnamon rolls.

The storm outside rages on, you’re worried about Kit driving home safe in these conditions. To distract your anxious thoughts you mix the ingredients more aggressively. You wanted to surprise him with a nice treat for when he gets home, knowing he’s been exhausted more than usual when he comes home. You’re assuming there must be something going on at work.

You barely hear the rattle of keys at the front door over the pouring rain and aggressive winds. But soon enough Kit walks through the door absolutely soaked. “Darlin’, I’m home!” He calls out. You wipe your hands on your apron, walking over to Kit. “Gosh, Kit you’re drenched.” You sigh, brushing a dripping strand of hair out of his face. He chuckles, nodding and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hmm, smells good. I’m goin’ to clean myself up.” He walks down the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later you’ve continued making the cinnamon rolls and then Kit walks out in plaid pyjama pants and a white tee shirt, his hair wet but now clean.

He comes up and walks behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. You melt against him, “How was work?” You ask, setting down the whisk. “Nothin’ special.” He replies, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek from behind. He moves to grab the extra apron off the hook, “Your helping me?” You giggle at the sight of him wearing an apron.

“What? I can’t help my wife?” He chuckles tying the apron and moving beside you, hip to hip. He places a hand on your lower back and asks, “What are we makin’?” You tilt up the bowl to show him the mixture. “Cinnamon rolls!” You look away shyly before continuing, “I was going to surprise you with a nice dessert for when you get home.” His face softens and he turns your face towards him pulling you in for a lingering kiss. When he pulls away, he softly asks his question. “What can I do to help?”

A while later you’re both struggling to form the shape of the cinnamon rolls. Kit takes more dough from the other bowl and he attempts to roll it in the right shape the filling in the dough makes his hands messy, it holds its shape. He puts his arms slightly out in a celebration, letting out a small “Oh!” He has a stupid grin plastered on his face. “I did it!” Right as he says that it flops and falls down again. You giggle, “I don’t think you did.” You mumble biting your lip, suppressing a full on laugh.

He playfully glares at you before swiping the filling that was leftover on his fingers on your nose. You shriek, “Kit!” you laugh wiping it off your nose. He laughs as well moving to the side, “Darlin’ this is impossible.” He sighs, looking down at the deformed cinnamon roll. You decide to try doing it and to no surprise you get it on the first try. His mouth hangs open and he rubs a hand down his face.

He eventually gets the hang of making the shape of the rolls, and each time he does one successfully he gets a little proud grin on his face, that you of course notice and find it adorable. Once all the rolls are finished he puts the tray into the oven setting a timer on the kitchen timer.

While waiting, he decides to help wash the dishes, even though you said you didn’t need help. You keep trying to take subtle glances at the veins visible in his arms while he holds the sponge and dishes.

He totally notices each time you look. He finds it adorable that you think you’re being sly.

Eventually, the timer dings signalling that the cinnamon rolls are done. He seems more excited than you. You skip over to the oven, putting on the mitts and pulling out the rolls.

The smell hits the both of instantly, it’s mouthwatering.

You both put some on a plate and he takes a bite and smiles. “It’s so good sweetheart.” You giggle, glancing over at him because he has frosting all over his mouth.

He suddenly attacks you with sudden—frosted covered kisses.

He’s peppering kisses everywhere. Your cheek, lips, forehead, neck.

He leaves one final one, right on your lips. He whispers, “I love you.”

You smile fondly and you whisper back, “I love you too.”

[ahstuffs]

EVAN PETERS as KYLE SPENCER AMERICAN HORROR STORY: COVEN (2013)

[ghostlyviolets33]

Violet Harmon's summer aesthetic ₊˚⊹

⋆｡˚𖦹 harsh realm - widowspeak.

[ethelcainlover223]

“He’s gonna fight the good fight,

the noble war.”

[tates-getaway]

[izzy444angel]

asylum

[bijouxcarys]

Evan Peters as Kyle Spencer in American Horror Story: Coven (2013)

[pandortarot]

i like him

[addison-ahs]

Tate Langdon Patch Me Up

@dollywons for the leaf divider! 🤍

@angeliicide for the bow divider! 🤍

WC: 0.8k

CW: Mention of blood, injuries, swearing, (medical supplies??)

INFO: You get into a fight at school and Tate patches you up. (I need fic ideas pls, anything!!)

The walk home from school felt endless. Your muscles are sore, your lip is split and bleeding, and your eye is bruised, making every blink hurt.

Your steps are heavy with exhaustion. You’re practically dragging yourself back home.

Everything hurts.

You got into some stupid fight at school. Because apparently you looked at some bitch “the wrong way”

It was you against several people. There was no way you could win.

You finally make it home, the infamous murder house. Your parents moved you here after you got expelled at your last school.

The backstory of this house is that it’s filled with angry spirits whose souls are trapped here after dying inside it.

Well, it’s true, and you’ve grown pretty close to one ghost in particular, Tate. He’s currently your boyfriend, you met him a few days after you moved in. He has his faults, but you love him regardless.

You fumble for your key and unlock the door. Relief and a strange sense of peace washes over you. You’re home.

You drop your bag by the front door. You wander further inside the house calling out for a certain ghost.

“Tate!”

He appears around the corner, making you jump. “Holy shit–! Tate, you scared me!” You laugh, weakly hitting his chest.

You look up at his face with a soft smile, but he’s looking down at you with a murderous expression. “What the hell happened to your face?” He asks, tilting your face up towards his. His thumb traces around your split lip.

Your eyes well with tears, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“Baby,” He says, his tone more gentle after he sees your expression. “What happened?” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“These girls… I– I got into a fight.” You respond, your eyes threatening to spill the tears you're trying to hold back.

He sighs and holds your hand, guiding you to the bathroom upstairs. He opens the door, gently pushing you in. He pats the countertop next to the sink. “Hop on.” He murmurs.

You hop onto the counter, wincing. Your muscles are so sore.

“Are my parents home?” You ask. Since he’s stuck at the house all day. He shakes his head, “No, they left to go get dinner. You nod in response, looking down to see what he’s doing. He's running a washcloth under the faucet, wringing it out, and gently pressing it against your lip.

You draw in a sharp breath, “Ouch..” You mumble, your speech muffled by the rag. His face softens and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Sorry.” He whispers, starting to wipe the blood away.

“I hate seeing you hurt. You have to stop getting into fights–especially when I'm not there.” He scolds you softly, his face stern.

He hands you an ice pack and tells you to hold it against your lip. He inspects your black eye. He’s so confident in what he’s doing that it makes you wonder.

“How do you know how to do all this?”

He chuckles weakly, and his hand drops to your thigh, squeezing it gently.

“Before I died, I used to get into a shit-ton of fights. Y’know, preppy high school kids who have an ego complex.” He rolls his eyes playfully, which makes you giggle. His whole body relaxes at the sound.

“So I learned how to patch myself up when no one was there for me. And I never want you to be alone like that.” He finishes, pushing his messy waves out of his face.

You frown at his story, and you cup his face.

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” You sigh.

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Your frown deepens at his remark.

“No, someone should’ve been there for you.”

He notices the devastated look on your face.

He grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss. Which stings a little, but you don’t show it. He pulls away and he whispers, “I love you.” You smile and press another quick peck to his lips. “I love you too.”

He steps back, and grabs some Vaseline off the counter and rubs it over your split lip.

“All done.” He smiles and helps you off the countertop.

Finally, you end up in your bed—more specifically, his arms.

You're still sore, but he helps make the pain more bearable.

He occasionally kisses your hair, your neck, and your face, trying to calm you down after the fight. Your heart is still racing from the adrenaline, but little by little, he helps steady it.

You’re still shaken up, but having Tate there makes you feel safe, and at peace.

this is bad but I haven’t posted in a while and I really wanted too, so it’s rushed lol!

(I really want to make a series, should I?)

[endiness]

“I wish you were my mommy.”