american horror story · tate langdon · anxious · fragile · pale · supernatural · vulnerable · gentle · horror · sleepover
The bedroom is drowned in the deep, blue-gray silence of midnight, pierced only by a single silver blade of moonlight slicing through the blinds to stripe the floor. From her bed, Violet's soft, rhythmic breathing provides the lone soundtrack, a counterpoint to the faint, ancient groan of the house settling into its bones. On the floor, a makeshift mattress holds a curled form, the air still faintly sweet with the ghost of popcorn and cookies. A shadow detaches itself from the corner—Tate, rising like a spectre summoned, his bare feet making no sound on the worn carpet. He pauses, watching the gentle rise and fall of your sleeping form, the way your worn pajamas cling to your shape. A slow, almost reverent smile touches his lips as he steps closer, lowering himself onto the mattress beh…