28 | ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ: ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴇᴠᴀɴ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀꜱ
ˢᵘᵇᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ
~𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ~
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast
No title available

Love Begins
Stranger Things

Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
Keni
KIROKAZE
AnasAbdin
todays bird
hello vonnie

Janaina Medeiros

oozey mess

shark vs the universe
styofa doing anything
Claire Keane
macklin celebrini has autism
YOU ARE THE REASON

seen from Mexico
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Finland
seen from Georgia

seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from T1

seen from Belgium
seen from Canada

seen from Finland

seen from Netherlands
@xrag-dollx
28 | ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ: ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴇᴠᴀɴ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀꜱ
ˢᵘᵇᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ
~𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ~
Kai Anderson Home Isn’t Always A Safe Space
@kthice for lace divider 🤍
WC: 1.5k
CW: Swearing, family issues, abusive dad, fighting, bleeding, hand injury, heavy angst, fluff ending
INFO: (PRE-CULT KAI) You want to meet Kai's parents but soon learn that it was a mistake to come. (not proofread)
The both of you were situated comfortably on your beaten up couch. His laptop opened on his lap, slightly askew. You’re currently curled up against him, a blanket draped over you and him as you watch some random action movie he insisted on putting on.
His arm, which is curled around your middle, is holding you closer to him. His thumb is running small, absentminded circles against the curve of your waist. You nuzzle your head further onto his shoulder, letting out a content sigh once you figure you’re close enough.
You and him constantly hang out at your place. He told you that his home is not a pleasant place to be, mainly because his parents fight all day every day ever since his dad was paralyzed. And also because he's ashamed that he lives in parents basement.
Therefore, that means that your place is a safe haven for him. Something away from the constant chaos. So, he practically lives at your apartment. You wake up with him, and go to sleep with him. You’ve never minded his company, you love him and you want him around.
But recently, you’ve been wanting to meet his parents, as well as see his room. It's where he grew up and you want your relationship to eventually grow more serious and you figure this is an important step.
You shift closer to him and mumble nervously, “I want to meet your parents Kai.” You feel him stiffen next to you, and you immediately want to take back your words. “Uhh,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “That’s not a good idea babe.” He replies. You sigh before continuing, “I just feel like it’s an important step for us, as a couple.”
You stare at him with pleading eyes and you can see his composure cracking. He runs a hand through his hair, staring off into the distance. It’s a few good minutes before he responds. “Okay.. Fine but you have to promise me that if it gets too intense we’ll leave, okay?” He cups your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.
You nod with a bright smile, “Pinky promise!” You hold out your pinky and he links it with his.
It’s the day of the dinner with his parents. You’re sitting at your vanity getting ready. He’s behind you pacing back and forth, rambling about how his dad is a lunatic. You can practically feel the anxiety radiating off of him. You stand up from your chair and walk over to him.
You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. He melts in your embrace and nuzzles his head into the curve of your neck. “Ready to go?” he asks, his voice muffled. You nod and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Yeah.” He holds your hand and guides you out the house and to your car.
The drive over is quiet. His hand rests on your thigh but you can tell his mind is racing. You start to feel guilty, I mean, your the reason he’s so anxious. You reach over and run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are you still sure?” You ask. His grip tightens around the steering wheel and he nods.
Eventually you reach his house, and you feel nervous butterflies flutter around in your stomach. He gives your thigh one last squeeze before getting out of the car and coming around and opening your car door. You both walk up to the door, hand in hand. You nervously fix your clothes, waiting for the door to open.
What you’re assuming is his mom opens the door. She smiles at you both, “Hi, Mrs. Anderson.” You say, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. She smiles fondly back at you. Kai doesn’t say anything yet, he just squeezes your hand a bit tighter.
She steps out of the way, making space for you both to enter the house. The smell of the food is great, you hear the sound of a television playing quite loudly in the distance. “Dinner will be done in just a second.” She tells you, heading back towards the kitchen. You and Kai sit down beside each other at the dining table. You hear the sound of a motor near the stairs. You turn to Kai curiously, wanting to know what's happening. He just looks down at your interlocked hands. His throat bobbing nervously. You're honestly confused, in your years of dating Kai he’s never once been this quiet, or this nervous.
His dad comes down the stairs in a stair lift. He then switches to his wheelchair. A scowl set on his face, he looks grumpy as hell. Well shit. He takes place across the table. His fingers tap impatiently against the wooden table. “Julie! Where the hell is the food!” He yells angrily, it makes you jump in your seat. Kai glares at his father furiously. You were starting to understand why he wouldn’t want to come. Julie, his mother, brings out what looks to be burritos. That made you a little happier because that’s your favourite food. Julie places down the plates in front of everybody, you give her a quiet thank you.
She places down the plate with the burrito in front of his dad. You think all is well until a few seconds later his dad yells, slamming his fist down on the table. The table jumps. You pause, your hand trembling slightly. Kai can feel you tremble and he scolds his dad. “Jesus! Calm the hell dow-” Before he can finish, his dad raises his voice toward Julie. “Is there spice in this!?” He growls. Julie hangs her head low, avoiding his gaze. “It’s mild..” She starts but isn’t able to finish because he throws the plate at the wall, shattering it instantly on impact. You flinch, moving closer to Kai. You glance at Kai and his eyes are glossy. Your heart aches for him. This is a hostile and depressing environment to be in just for a dinner, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live here growing up. His dad rolls towards Julie and they start fighting, yelling at each other. Kai stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floors. He joins the argument, standing in
front of his mom, attempting to act as her shield. You stand as well, instead moving towards the broken ceramic plate pieces on the floor.
You bend down, starting to pick up the sharp shards attempting to help Julie.
You’re almost done cleaning it up until- “Shit!” Blood drips from your hand, landing on the kitchen tile. Kai immediately snaps his head to your direction and he runs over to you. He cradles your bleeding hand lifting your fingers to see the cut. “Baby..” He whispers, his eyes bloodshot from holding back tears. He helps you up. Guiding you out the house. He looks back at his dad and musters the rest of his strength to say, “You’re a weak, weak man. You should’ve died in that accident.” You both then walk out of the house afterwards. The car ride back is saddening, for one you’re in pain, and he keeps apologizing profusely. Every minute he mutters an apology, he sounds angry. But, not to you. At himself. You reach over and hold his hand with your uninjured one. He looks over at you and gives you a shaky smile.
Once you reach home, he ushers you inside, straight to the bathroom. You sit on top of the closed toilet seat and he grabs the first aid kit from underneath the counter. You both don’t say anything, for a while. That is until he says sorry again and then you speak up. “Kai… If anything it’s my fault, okay? He quickly shakes his head but you continue speaking before he can say anything, “Im okay, alright? But, I don’t want you to ever go back, it’s horrible there. So… Would you want to move in, officially?” You ask nervously. He pauses cleaning your cut for a second looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. “Really?” He asks. You nod in response. “Of course.” He smiles, wrapping a bandage around your hand and then immediately pulling you into a hug. He pulls back and kisses you, but it’s mostly teeth since you’re both smiling like idiots.
“I love you.” He tells you, cupping your face with such adoration. “I love you too.” You respond.
KIT WALKER post-asylum daily life
tags/warnings: mentions of ocd, depression, and self harm (with cigarettes) dddne!
wc: approx. 600 words (headcanon) not proofread sorry for any mistakes!!
₊˚⊹ ᰔ masterlist!
✦︎ Going back to almost regular routine was surprisingly easier than Kit thought it would be; he's much more resilient and flexible than he takes himself for.
✦︎ But of course not all of it is gonna be easy because there's an underlying paranoia that Kit can feel in his gut very often like something bad might happen.
✦︎ Kit doesn't really have many friends although he's a friendly person. Before the asylum, he tried to keep a small group and after he made it even smaller, Lana being one of the few people that Kit truly trusts.
✦︎ He exhibits OCD-like behaviors due to all the traumatic events that happened from right before being taken to the asylum all the way to getting out.
Hi! :3
Could you write a fluff fic abt Tate taking the reader down the basement of the murder house for a ouija board session? Like candles lit all around yet the reader is too scared to do shid like that but Tate comforts her 🥹 👉👈
Thank you ❤️❤️
Tate Langdon Sanctuary
thank you for this req!! I absolutely love this idea!
@mieluno for the lace divider 🤍
@junabuggy for the cross divider 🤍
WC: 0.8k
CW: light swearing, mentions of a gruesome death, ouija board and mentions of spirits.
INFO: You and Tate are incredibly bored and he finds an old ouija board. which starts with fear and ends with comfort. (not proofread)
You and Tate are currently laying on your bed, a song playing softly from your Ipod. As you both are just enjoying each other's company. He's been twirling a piece of your hair absentmindedly, stealing glances at your face while you peacefully read.
Moonlight spilled across the floor beautifully. The only sound outside is wind and the rain hitting your window. Although Tate won’t dare to say, he's horribly bored. He sighs, reaching over and closing your book. His hand moving down to intertwine with yours.You furrow your brow, annoyed, you were just getting to the good part.
You turn to your side to meet his warm gaze. “Bored?” You ask, brushing his blonde waves off his forehead. “Yeah.” He replies, sighing heavily. “Well… What time do you have to go home?” You ask, attempting to brainstorm ideas for something to do. Though there's not many options since he technically snuck in, and your parents are asleep.
He stands, walking around your room, looking at your shelves for something to do. Or just to keep himself busy. “My mom doesn’t give a shit, so whenever.” He responds to your earlier question, you can practically hear the eye roll in his tone.
You sit up, slowly nodding. You walk over to him and grab his hand, “C’mon.” You tilt your head in the direction of the hall. He grins and follows your lead.
You both quietly walk over to a tiny storage closet at the end of the hall. You glance back at him, he's confused. You chuckle and turn the handle, opening the door. Inside is a bunch of random board games and card games. You turn to see his reaction, his eyes light up and he looks like a kid on christmas day. You both begin to look through the dusty games, trying to find one that’ll be fun to play.
Tate crouches down, and he gasps quietly. Grabbing an old ouija board from years ago. He brushes the layer of dust off. You see what he picked and you laugh thinking he's joking. “Wow that must be from like seven years ago from a sleepover. You laugh fondly at the memory. You soon snap out of it and take notice of his pleading expression.
“Please, they say this house is haunted…” He smirks, brushing the hair away from his face, looking at the back of the box. You're unsure, the last time you used the ouija board it freaked you out so bad. But, to be fair you were also quite young.
“C’monnn, I’ll protect you I promise.” He pleads, holding out his pinky. You bite your lip nervously but still link pinkies with him. His smile widens, and he puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you down to the basement.
Soon enough you're both sitting on the cold basement floor, the ouija board in front of you both. Red candles surrounding the board being the only lightsource. You found the candles around the house. It all creeped you out more than you’d like to admit.
You're fidgeting with the sleeve of your cardigan, your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He takes the planchette out from the old box, placing it in the middle of the board. You're really nervous now, so much so that Tate can feel you tremble against him. He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side.
He begins to ramble about the history of the house, about an old doctor that once lived here. And how he would create frankenstein-like creatures. Until one day his wife shot his brains out and killed him. Since then his soul is trapped in the house.
That certainly doesn’t calm your nerves. You grip his sweater, resting your cheek on his arm, trying to get closer. He chuckles, feeling how frightened you are. “It’s okay no one will hurt you when I’m here.” He tells you softly, kissing your hair.
He places his two fingers onto the planchette, and when it starts moving you practically squeak. Hiding your face in his sleeve. He lifts his fingers off and it continues to move. You gasp ”Shit!” Frantically crawling into his lap and hiding your face in his chest, your whole frame trembling. “Okay.. Okay..” He hums, rubbing a hand up and down your back as he begins to pack away the ouija board.
He pinches the flames out, causing the room to go back to complete darkness. Not even reacting at the heat of the flames. He slowly stands up and carries you back upstairs into your room. He lays you down onto your bed and his face softens completely when he sees how scared you are. He straightens, but you grip his hand. “Stay?” You ask desperately. He smiles and nods, laying down beside you pulling you into his arms. You finally begin to calm down after feeling him breathing and hearing his heart beat beneath your ear. “I’ll always protect you”
AHS Evan characters+Flowers
Tate+Dark red Roses
• deep romantic love, profound devotion, passion and desire
Kit Walker+Forget-me-not
• deep connection, undying affection, loyalty, true love
Kyle Spencer+Mimosa
• Sensibility, resistance, protective, connectivity, gentle
Jimmy Darling+Hydrangea
• gratitude, charm, loyalty, pride, affection, beauty
James Patrick March+Black Dahlia
• elegance, charm, dramatic, mystic, passionate
Rory Monahan+Gerbera
•cheerful, innocence, loyalty, purity of heart, radiates positivity
Kai Anderson+Aconitum
• its beauty fools but is extremely toxic, dangerous, prudent
Mr. Gallant+Orchid
•luxurious, vain, beauty, elegance, confidence
Austin Sommers+Black Calla
• beauty, mysterious, elegance, attractive, luxurious
a little help from my friend - malcolm gallant x f!reader
smut. dubcon (sorta..). reluctant assisted masturbation. thigh riding. every day I mourn that Malcolm is gay but not gay for me.
“no. nope. No fucking way.” Malcom’s lip curls into a disgusted sneer as he stares at you. “I shouldn’t even be here— fuck.”
“Please! Dammit, malcolm, I’ll do anything,” you beg, standing up from the bed. He walked in on you desperately trying to get yourself off on your fingers, tension built up from months without real sex. Worse, the most embarrassing thing was that you were still entirely horny even after being caught. “You don’t have to fuck me, just— help. Please.” You notice his breath hitch and you add, “it’s not like we can get in trouble for jerking off down here, those bitches in charge probably do it too.”
malcolm blinks. his eyes are so big and dark and glittery. and so fucking hot, but he’s been your gay best friend since childhood, it wasn’t like he was about to throw away his whole sexuality to get you off. ‘As a friend.’
But maybe he could do a little. To help. As a friend.
it’s clear he’s fighting himself when he finally drops his arms and kicks the door shut behind him with a sigh. “Fuck you,” he says softly, a tone that’s actually much kinder than it sounds because you know him so well. he’s happy to help. despite acting like a bitch about it. he takes off his jacket and makes triple sure the door is locked before he jerks his head sideways, saying, “I need to be in the chair, take your pants off.”
you don’t need to be told twice. you leap up from the bed and rush to take your pants off, panties soaked from your earlier coaxing, and you’re tempted to take them off too, but you don’t know what Malcolm even has planned. You look at him with those pleading eyes and he rolls his own, groaning. “fuck, you are always so needy. Take ‘em off and get the fuck over here already.”
you obey without question, watching him fiddle with his trouser buttons, and his eyes fall onto you, half lidded in clear annoyance. “I only do this shit for you, ya know,” he snaps. “also I am not letting you stain my designer pair of these.”
You beam at him, heart racing while your core heats up being half nude in front of your friend. he smiles smally and lets his pants drop to his knees before he sits down and pats his lap twice. “C’mon,” he urges. “I’m not your hooker, hurry up.”
you close the space between you and confusedly stand still in front of him, yelping in surprise when he grumbles and yanks you forward by the hips until your straddling his thigh, then pushes you to sit on it. “maybe you should be paying me by the hour…” he jokes quietly, his hands firm on your body.
you barely hear him, still trying to process the fact that you’re riding your best friend’s naked thigh. the heat of his skin against your slick cunt after literal months of zero sexual contact with anyone is indescribable. you hand instantly finds his shoulder to steady yourself, and he looks up at you with a smirk, like this is the most normal thing in the world for a couple of friends to do. “okay,” he starts, lifting his leg and you gasp sharply as you feel his muscular thigh flex against your spread cunt. “grind on me.”
“what?” you’re already breathless, dammit. Malcolm rolls his eyes again, letting out a low moan of irritation that only manages to make you wetter. he bounces his leg under you and you feel a flutter in your walls, trying to clench down around nothing.
“are you stupid, bitch?” he huffs. “I’m helping you. would you rather go fuck yourself on a pillow? grind. on. me.”
it’s crazy, and maybe this is why you’ve stayed friends with such an asshole all these years, but the sound of him berating you is like music. his voice is so buttery, so warm and sweet and laced with a poisonous edge you want to just drink it up.
so after just a second more of surprised hesitation, you obey. Hands on his shoulders to keep balance, you move backward before slowly pushing forward again, dragging your open cunt over the expanse of his lap. his thigh flexes beneath you, a firm and steady base to balance on, and you suck in a breath as you start a rhythm fucking yourself on his leg. you feel like a dog in heat, humping Malcolm with abandon while he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore your tiny sounds.
“Oh my GAWD, you’re obnoxious, you probably got no dick even before we ended up here, huh?” he teases you, only half serious. your hips stutter as you glare at him and he quirks a brow. “damn, okay, defiant, too. y’know what, honey? I don’t have time for this, so—”
“no, Malcolm, I’m sorry, don’t—!” you stammer to try and convince him to stay, but he’s not getting up. instead, your whole body arches as you feel his bejeweled hands come up to rest on your bare ass, gripping the flesh and yanking your forward. you gasp as your pussy slides across his flexed leg, making an audible slick sound, and your palm smacks over your gaping mouth as he fucks you on his thigh. his hands are strong, and so fucking soft, the cold metal of his rings digging brutally into your skin as he moves you up and down across his leg. you let out a little moan against your skin as the pressure starts to build in your core, heat flooding your womb.
“there ya go, bitch,” he smirks as you start to lose it, head falling back and hips moving with his urging hands. your cunt pulses and clenches down around nothing as you pick up speed, panting as you fuck yourself hard on his thigh. his muscle flexes again, knee lifting to grind up into your pussy and you keen at the sensation. your orgasm is a throbbing, messy crest of pleasure as you cry into your own palm and Malcolm shushes you in a hushed tone. you wish he’d praise you instead of telling you to shut the fuck up, but you’re desperate and you’ll take what you can get.
when you finally let him stand, still reeling from your release, he wipes his leg clean with a wet wipe and scolds you, “next time do it yourself like a man.”
you resist the urge to reach down and start trying for another one right now with the thought of what he just did for you… “I could suck you off in exchange,” you offer bluntly.
Malcolm stops before leaving, turning to face you and you think you may have convinced him with a fair trade. but he squints in disbelief and scoffs, “suck me off? oh honey, you wish.”
you do wish, though. you really do.
I also like the view just fine 🫠
When you're working on a fic and later on you realise:
Give us some sub kyle spencer headcanon/fanfic!
Kyle The Zombie Boyfriend [Kyle Spencer sub! Headcannons]
A/n: I am so sorry for how damn long this took to write, tumblrs ask system is very anti “out of sight out of mind” because I always forget the tab exists😛😛😛 but alas here I am with this headcannon list that I am kinda obsessed with and now I wanna write more for our loved zombie boy
Warnings: brief mention of Kyle’s mom, mentions of death, sexual implications
said what i said
the concept of cooper madsen readjusting his tie in an ‘I-know-what-im-doing’ FBI agent way
got some ideas for fics but I don't know which one to write first 😔
which one
Tate x inexperienced reader (smut)
Kai x bratty reader (smut)
Cooper Madsen being handcuffed by reader (iykyk 😏😏🔥)
near shore ꒱ tate langdon x ghost!reader ⁞⁞ 18+ ; mdni ↳ public sex, praise kink ("good boy"), angsty ⁞⁞ wc: 0.5k ⁞⁞ a/n: thank you hannah @zoebensonsitonmyface i hope you know i'm always indebted to you my love
the moon shines high, bright, and full in the inky sky, its image mirrored on the pacific waves that stretch into eternity, growing indistinguishable from the night sky where the two meet at the horizon. tate’s on top of you, his golden curls reflecting the silvery moonlight.
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.”
Not loving AHS is such a red flag
Evan Peters as Tate Langdon, Taissa Farmiga as Violet Harmon
American Horror Story 1.04