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[trueangel420]

the season starts soon.

[trueangel420]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓐𝓗𝓢 𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓵.

[trueangel420]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤme and who?

[trueangel420]

me when I saw that the Tumblr AHS/ Evan community needed a girlblog making more aesthetic edits of him with Lana songs.

[trueangel420]

stoner! peter maximoff hc’s

cw: mentions of weed, sexual themes

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

-have you seen his basement? that man is a STONER

-spends an hour trying to figure out what song to smoke to. almost always winds up throwing on a doors record

-uses his ping pong table as a rolling tray for sure

-when you’re around? he tries so hard for you

-actually cleans his bong and properly grinds his weed for once

-if you’re nervous about smoking he’d offer to blow it into your mouth for you to ease you into it

-and if you’re not nervous he’d do it anyways (it’s an excuse to have his mouth on yours)

-definitely will try to convince you to let him roll a joint on your tits “the leverage helps”

-high snacks are always available (preferable if you like dollar store snack cakes)

-always has some low budget horror movie playing on his tv for entertainment

-but the real entertainment comes when he’s high and tasting you.

[trueangel420]

[trueangel420]

He is so silly in Wanda vision and I love it. There is something about fake/clone him which I ain’t paying attention too he is silly anyways (i love the outfit he wears in the second photo remind me of stoner!peter fic)

[trueangel420]

i’ve got too much time on my hands

[trueangel420]

i yearn for a intense man like kai anderson… older smarter (i’m smarter)

[trueangel420]

I know this is late to say but Kai Anderson would be having a full blown panic attack and convulsions after witnessing Trump’s “assassination attempt”

[trueangel420]

𝐞𝐠𝐨, Kai Anderson imagine: ignoring him

superrrrr short me thinks

Kai never worried about being an asshole. You were his girlfriend, sure, but the cult came first—you both knew that. So why did you make things so damn hard for him? You were clingy, always craving his attention, always needing more from him. He hated it—or at least, he acted like he did, brushing you off, warning you not to make him look weak. You never really got it, not until the day he finally snapped.

You were embarrassed, a little sad, but mostly just ashamed. You didn't say a word, just ran out of the basement and up to the bedroom. Kai rolled his eyes and carried on with his meeting, convincing himself you’d get over it eventually. But you didn't. A week passed without a word from you, without you even glancing his way. His ego was bruised, though he'd never admit it. The silence between you two was deafening, and for once, Kai found himself unsure. He started to wonder if, just maybe, he had gone too far this time.

“Say something.” No buildup, just direct and to the point—demanding, just like he always was. “Say something now.” You let out a small breath, your nose wrinkling slightly. “I don't want to speak,” you replied softly, your eyes fixed on the television screen, the news droning on in the background.

His jaw tightened, the flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. “Don’t do this,” he muttered, stepping closer, his shadow cutting across the dimly lit room. “I need you to say something. Anything.”

But you didn’t budge, your gaze still locked on the television, as if the monotonous news anchors held more interest than he did. “I don’t have anything to say,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper. He exhaled sharply, the frustration in his breath heavy. “Come on,” he said, his tone edging on desperate now. “Just… talk to me. Yell, scream, cry—I don’t care, but do something.”

You shook your head, a small, almost sad smile touching your lips. “No,” you said again, calm and resolute. Kai’s hand twitched at his side, fingers curling into a fist. The silence was unbearable; it clawed at him, fraying the edges of his control. For the first time, he felt something unsettling—a fear that you were slipping away, that his grip on you was loosening.

“Please,” he tried again, the word foreign on his tongue. “Just… please.”

But you only leaned back against the cushions, your expression unreadable, and in that moment, he realized he didn’t know how to handle this—how to handle you, when you weren’t giving him anything to work with. Kai’s frustration was growing, like a storm building in the back of his mind. He hated how powerless he felt, hated the way you sat there, unaffected, as if his words were nothing but background noise. “I’m serious,” he warned, his voice lowering, trying to sound threatening, but it came out sounding more like a plea. “Don’t do this to me.”

Still, you didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Your eyes stayed on the screen, but your thoughts were miles away. He could feel it, could sense that distance stretching between you, widening with every second you refused to acknowledge him.

“Why are you being like this?” he snapped, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone now, his voice almost cracking. “Do you think you’re proving something? That this silent treatment is gonna make me crawl?”

You let out a quiet sigh, barely a breath, still not looking at him. “I’m not trying to prove anything,” you said softly. “I just don’t want to talk, Kai.”

He was losing his grip; he could feel it slipping. His hand went to his blue hair, tugging at it in frustration. “I’m trying here, alright?” he blurted, a crack of vulnerability slipping through. “I’m trying to make this work… to fix it. But you’re just… you’re just—”

“Quiet like you wanted?”

The words stung more than he wanted to admit. His breath hitched, and he looked away, suddenly unsure of himself in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m not—” he started, but his voice faltered. “I’m not used to you being like this. And I don’t like it.” You nodded, as if you’d expected that answer. “Well,” you said, your voice steady, “maybe it’s time you got used to it.”

Kai's mouth opened, but no words came out. For once, he had nothing to say. The silence stretched on, filling the room like a thick fog. He was grasping at straws now, every tactic that used to work on you feeling suddenly useless.

He took a step closer, his voice softer but tinged with a new kind of urgency. “You don’t get to just shut me out,” he murmured, almost like he was trying to reason with you—or maybe with himself. “You don’t get to do that. Not to me.”

Your eyes flickered, but you quickly looked away, returning your attention to the television. “Why not?” you asked quietly, almost as if the question was rhetorical.

Kai blinked, caught off guard. “Because… because I need you,” he said, the words surprising even him. His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way he’d never allowed before. “You know I do.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “You need me when it’s convenient for you, Kai. When it suits your plans. But the moment I need you… you disappear.”

He shook his head, a bit frantic now. “No, that’s not fair, I—”

“It’s exactly fair,” you cut him off, finally standing up. “You want me to say something, to be here, to give you what you want, but what about what I want? What about when I needed you?”

Kai swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He felt the panic rising in his chest. “I’m here now,” he said, almost a whisper, taking another step toward you. “I’m here, okay? I’m… I’m trying.”

You met his gaze, your eyes searching his, and he saw something in them that made his stomach twist—a kind of resignation, a quiet acceptance that he wasn’t sure he could bear. “It’s too late,” you said softly. “I don’t think I care anymore.” Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. Kai clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady his breath. He hated how desperate he sounded, how every word that left his mouth seemed to betray him. But he couldn’t help it; he felt you slipping away, and it terrified him more than he could admit.

He straightened, trying to regain some of his composure. “Look,” he said, quieter now, but still firm, still trying to sound like he had it all together. “I know I’ve been an ass. I know I don’t make this easy on you… or on me.” He swallowed hard, feeling the sting of his own pride as he continued. “I don’t do this,” he muttered, almost to himself, glancing away like he was embarrassed by his own vulnerability. “I don’t… beg. But I’m asking you to stay. I need you.” His voice dropped lower, almost flat, like he was trying to hide the tremor beneath. You watched him carefully, noting the way he avoided your eyes, like he was afraid you might see the fear lingering there. There was a tension in his shoulders, a rigidity that spoke of a man not used to admitting he needed anyone. Kai forced himself to look at you, his gaze steady now, his face a mask of forced calm.

“I’m… I’m s—” Kai started, his voice catching in his throat. He coughed, looking down, his gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for the right words in the cracks between the tiles. His jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The word seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. He kept his eyes down, embarrassed by the sound of it, how small it made him feel. He shifted on his feet, the discomfort plain on his face, but he didn’t take it back. Instead, he forced himself to stand still, to wait for your response, hating how vulnerable it made him feel, but knowing he had to say it.

He glanced up at you, just for a second, and then quickly looked away again. His shoulders tensed, like he was bracing for a blow. “I mean it,” he added, almost defensively, as if trying to cover up his moment of weakness. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him for a long moment, taking in the way he shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders stiff, his eyes averted. That one word—“sorry”—felt like it had cost him more than he wanted to admit. It was strange seeing him like this, so unsteady, so uncertain.

Your expression softened. “Kai,” you said gently, taking a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. “I forgive you.” He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. You could see the relief starting to break through his guarded expression, though he still seemed unsure, almost hesitant.

You closed the distance between you, your hand moving to his cheek, tilting his face toward yours. He stayed still, waiting, like he wasn’t sure he deserved it, like he didn’t want to move too soon and shatter whatever fragile truce you were offering. Then you leaned in, brushing your lips against his, softly at first, testing. He exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

[trueangel420]

i missed you sm !! good luck on college, don’t tire yourself out pooks 💖🫶🏻

I MISSED U TOO !! AND THANK UU :33

[trueangel420]

Kai Anderson you're insane.

Need to fuck him.

[trueangel420]

𝜗ϱ ˖˚⊹ “𝒐𝒉, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌.” ── kai anderson x f!reader

synopsis: you’re bedridden with the flu

a/n: not requested, for @misscherrys-world ♡

Kai isn’t the type to coddle anyone, not even you, his girlfriend. But he does keep an eye on you. When you told him about your cold, he allowed you to skip the cult meeting without much fuss—an unusual move on his part, since rarely gave you a pass on anything related to the movement. You supposed that it was because that you were sick, and he wasn’t about to deal with your whining if he forced you to attend.

You spent the day in bed, drifting in and out of fitful sleep, the hours blurring together in a haze of feverish dreams and snatches of consciousness. The sheets clung to your skin, damp with sweat, and every breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass.

It was well past midnight when he returned to your bedroom. You could hear the tread of his shoes on the stairs, a sound that usually sent a shiver of anticipation through you. Tonight, though, it just made your headache worse. You huddled deeper under the blankets, trying to find comfort in the cocoon of warmth.

The door swung open, and there he was, backlit by the dim hallway light. Kai stepped inside, face peeked out from behind a curtain of stringy blue hair. Illuminated by the yellow lighting, it formed some kind of fucked-up halo.

He didn’t bother turning on the light; he didn’t need to. His eyes found you in the darkness, and you could feel his gaze sweeping over you like a scalpel slicing through a lab rat on a vivisection tray. You felt small under his scrutiny, fragile in a way you hated. But there was no judgment in his eyes, just a cold, clinical detachment that you’d come to associate.

“You look like shit,” he stated flatly, his tone devoid of sympathy. You wanted to be annoyed by his bluntness, but there was something almost comforting in it. At least he wasn’t pretending this was anything other than what it was—a minor inconvenience in his day.

“Feel like it, too,” you croaked, your voice rough from disuse. The admission felt like a defeat, even though you knew he’d see through any attempt at bravado. Kai knew you like the back of his hand. He moved closer, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he just looked at you, and you wondered what he saw. Did he see the shadows beneath your eyes, the sheen of sweat coating your skin? Or was he just cataloging the ways in which you were failing to meet his exacting standards?

Knowing Kai, probably all of the above.

“Kai, you shouldn’t—”

The words died in your throat as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Shouldn’t what?”

“You don’t wanna kiss me, you’ll get sick too,” you managed to croak out, though the concern sounded hollow even to your own ears. Truth was, you were like a pathetic little puppy, constantly yearning for his touch and attention.

“Don’t care.” he smirked, and there was something dark in it, something that made your pulse jump in a way that had nothing to do with the fever.

“Besides, I don’t get sick,” Kai wasn’t one to worry about something as trivial as a cold, and he certainly wasn’t going to let it stop him from doing what he wanted.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you could see something flicker there—something almost tender, though he’d never call it that. There was the familiar bitterness of Adderall on his lips, a sharp, medicinal tang that told you he’d been chewing on the pills again, grinding them between his teeth like a man who needed to keep his edge, no matter the cost.

His kiss deepened gradually, but not in the rough, demanding way you’d come to expect from him. This time, there was a gentleness, a carefulness, as though he was afraid of breaking you. His hand came up to cradle the side of your head, fingers threading through your hair. He didn’t rush it, didn’t try to overpower you—instead, he let the moment stretch out, lingering longer than necessary.

When he finally did break the kiss, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something. What, you couldn’t say. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Though a part of you wondered if he was saying it for your benefit or his. He stayed a moment longer, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face in a gesture so uncharacteristically gentle that it left you feeling off-balance.

Then, without another word, he stood up and left, the door closing behind him with soft click.

•••

By the time the fever broke, you were feeling much better. The worst of the cold had passed, leaving you with only a slight lingering fatigue that clung to your bones. As you padded down the stairs, you heard a stifled sneeze from the direction of the kitchen. You paused, listening, and then heard it again.

When you stepped into the kitchen, the early morning light filtered through the windows, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. Kai was at the counter, fiddling with the coffee machine. His back was to you, his shoulders a little more hunched than usual, as if he was trying to pull himself together but wasn’t quite there yet.

“You okay?”

He turned, and you noticed the faint pink tinge on his cheeks. His eyes seemed a little dulled, as if he hadn’t slept well.

“I’m fine,”

Kai mumbled in a slightly nasal voice. His expression was caught somewhere between irritation and embarrassment. He sniffled, before turning back to the coffee machine. You leaned against the counter, eyeing him skeptically.

“You sure? Because it sounds like—”

“Not a fucking word.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[trueangel420]

ghost are so hot, i wish tate langdon was real

[trueangel420]

[trueangel420]

This is what dating in Texas feels like