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#SARAH PAULSON
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dailywomen · 16 hours
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SARAH PAULSON
Interview Magazine, 2024
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golddustdykes · 11 months
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x cishet men dni x
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pedrohub · 3 months
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Pedro Pascal, Bradley Cooper, Sarah Paulson and Elle Fanning pose backstage at the hit play "Appropriate" on Broadway at The Second Stage Hayes Theater on January 28, 2024 in New York City
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caroldanversenthusiast · 10 months
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i’m so ken
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early 2000s evan peters <3
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The Bear S02E06 “Fishes”  
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wh0s-vesper · 5 months
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Part 2..
I need something else to do in my life.
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cinemagal · 9 months
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THE BEAR Season 2
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pascalxjoel · 8 months
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i love pedro and his adorable pose
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arabellas · 1 year
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PEDRO PASCAL and SARAH PAULSON Saturday Night Live
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golddustdykes · 9 months
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x cishet men dni x
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bluerthanvelvet444 · 1 month
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°✵.。.✰ 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖, 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖 ✰.。.✵°
Tate Langdon x fem!reader
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tags: fluff! super fluff!
warnings: none. no use of y/n.
summary: reader has trouble sleeping due to the hot temperature.
character count: 5k.
full fic under the cut ↓
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
She glanced at the old-fashioned clock that sat on her nightstand.
2.25 AM.
Damn it. She snorted and turned in her bed multiple times, rolling on her side to try desperately to get some relief and possibly some sleep too. It was a hot summer night, mid-July. Typical you'd say, but the warmth of that specific night was unbearable. Beads of sweat danced on her skin and fell down into the mattress. She huffed, fed up. She felt trapped in that heated room, her skin fusing with the thin sheets underneath her. She so desperately needed something, but what?
She abruptly got up-which caused her to feel slightly dizzy- and opened her door and window, in hope to get even the slightest chilly and fresh breeze of the night. "Useless" she thought. She walked towards the bed again and plopped onto it. She was now laying in a star position on the bed. Open arms, open legs, and most importantly- open wide eyes, staring at the ceiling waiting for the shadows to clear so that she could get up and live another day. Nothing. The darkness stayed dark. Not a single movement was captured by her eyes. Not a single sound heard. The room was completely silent, the only noise a bit more distinguishable was her breathing. The steady rhythm that caused her chest to rise up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Up and dow-
“You should take a shower. You're all sweaty.”
That unmistakable voice rang through her ears. Tate. Tate Langdon. One of the many ghosts that haunted that hellhole of a house. He was the most annoying one. She could almost hear the shit-eating smirk, that he always had on his stupid face, just by the way he spoke. She hated it. She sighed and plopped on her elbows.
“You should knock on the door before entering. It's common sense, and you might find an unpleasant scene.”
“You left the door open. Anyone could've seen your 'unpleasant scene.' So what's the matter? Can't sleep?”
She rolled her eyes at the rhetorical question he asked. She despised it. That tone in his voice, like he always found everything a stupid thing to joke and be cocky about.
“It's too hot in here. My skin's melting.”
He grinned in his usual teasing way. He was wearing his striped sweater, the sight of it only was making her sweat.
“Sounds fun. Do you need help?” He asked, with that same monotone voice.
“Help with what? Melting?”
“Sleeping.”
Oh. He wanted to help. He wanted to help? Was he stupid or what? Well, yes, anything impossible could be possible in the Murder House, but it's not like he could magically change the temperature and make it all better. Couldn't he?
“And how exactly would you do that?”
She saw the tiniest grin form on his mouth. He gave her a slight chuckle and crawled on the-what used to be his-bed.
“C'mere.”
Pardon? Come where? Did he want her to sit on his lap or something? Uhhhh weird. Super weird. She was confused, sure, but what else could she do? Stick her head in the refrigerator and hope none of the trapped souls would take advantage of her? No, thanks. She rolled her eyes and scooted slightly closer to him.
“So? What's the plan?”
He chuckled.
God, that stupid laugh.
He reached out with his hand to touch her, but before he could do that, she raised her brow and scooted away.
“What the hell are you trying to do?”
“It's gonna make it better...do you trust me?”
“No.”
“That's the only choice you have.”
“...Fine.”
She scooted back to her previous spot next to him and, with a hesitant and unsure expression on her face, she watched his hand come closer and eventually rest on her shoulder.
Cold.
His hand was cold.
Of course it was. He was dead, after all. Why hadn't she thought about this earlier?
She sighed and unconsciously leaned into his touch, closing her eyes at the feeling of relief she was so badly seeking and finally found. He smiled and motioned for her to come closer. She nodded and crawled a bit closer so that she was sitting between his legs and her back was pressed up against his cold chest. His arms wrapped gently around her waist, his cold hand grazing slightly her exposed tummy.
“Better?”
“So much better.”
She sighed contentedly. Finally.
That chilly feeling was something she could've gotten addicted to. This is why a more lucid version of her would've slapped her as soon as she said the following words.
“Thank you.”
She mumbled, drunk off the cold feeling. Even though she couldn't see it, Tate's lips curled in a small smile, and with a deep, caring voice he spoke.
“Anything for you.”
She was obviously sleepy, and her mind had clearly drifted off to better places, so she probably never acknowledged the words that came out of his mouth. Or maybe she did, but she was too stubborn to admit that his stupid smile, his icky laugh, his mocking tone, were starting to grow on her, and she could've possibly gotten used to falling asleep to them. After all, she hated it…how hard loving him was. Tate Langdon, the sweetest ghost in the house, once the mysterious and cocky facade he put on was scraped away.
The last thing she heard was a smacking lips sound due to his frozen lips pressing gently over her forehead. Or maybe she also heard a faint “I love you”. Who knows?
Anything in the Murder House is possible.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Autor's note: aaaahhhhhh this is the first fic I've ever writtennnnn!!! this took me sooo long. I'm really getting into writing so if you have any ideas or prompts about what I should write next, feel free to suggest! hope you like it, i put my whole self in this (especially with the grammar!!)💙💙
join my taglist!!
all rights reserved!!
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ahorrorstorycircle · 1 month
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jessica lange supremacy - Oscars 2024.
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a7estrellas · 1 year
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PEDRO PASCAL SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE | FEBRUARY 04, 2023
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kaiscumsock · 9 months
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evan peters evan peters evan peters
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