Author: ScarlettWoman710

Title: Band-Aid Over the Bullet Wound

Summary: "I love you," he murmured softly to her. He knew she couldn't have heard him, but in an act that could be entirely symbolic of their entire relationship, she flicked her cigarette away and vanished.

Rating: M

Warning(s)/Kinks: Language, slight slash, smut

Disclaimer: I don't own American Horror Story.

A/N: Hey you know what's funny? I was totally going to put this up hours ago but then FF BROKE. So, sorry peeps, but it's still Friday night so I'm not technically a liar. I'm sure you were all very good little boys and girls and I fully planned on rewarding earlier you but FF had other ideas.

To everyone that reviewed part I, thank you. I'm sick as a dog and didn't have the energy to respond but thank you a hundred times over!

And now, Part II. A little bit of love for Vi and Tate and for you, my lovely readers.

He liked the feeling of the cold air on his face.

He liked being surrounded by people, strangers, getting lost in the crowd.

He liked the little kids that had bumped into him, laughing and giggling, apologizing and running off to ring the doorbell and get another sugar fix.

It made him feel hopeful. It made him feel alive again, even for a little while. Most of all, he liked that he could go out without fear, knowing that even if his past came looking for him, he looked like just another kid too old to trick-or-treat. No one special. Not the monster he once was, but the person he was trying to become - the person he was because of Violet.

He smiled as he thought of her and gave his bag a jiggle. He'd been to at least a hundred houses and had filled his pillowcase. Every time he found a house that was giving away Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, he doubled back before leaving the street to pick up another candy. It wasn't much, but it was something that she wanted. He hoped that she'd like them, that they'd make her happy, that she could see through the bullshit to the honesty and love behind the gesture.

Trick-or-treat hours were winding down so Tate started to head back to the house. Wherever Violet was, he hoped she was having a good time. Now that he knew she wasn't fucking Chad nothing seemed quite as serious or dire, although his stomach still rolled with uncertainty whenever he thought of her with anyone else. It was only because there was still so much unsaid between them. He would happily give her all the space she wanted as long as he knew that he was the one she'd be coming back to.

He walked up the driveway. What he saw in the gazebo stopped him in his tracks.

Violet. She was so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. She was wearing an old dress, dark blue, one that looked like it was from the fifties or sixties. Her hair was up. He had never seen her with her hair up before - or wearing makeup for that matter. She looked stunning. Grown-up. Like the woman she would have been or should have been before she'd moved into the Murder House.

But even as gorgeous as she looked, she'd always be at her most beautiful when she was being herself - leggings and converse and all.

"You look pretty," he blurted, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

She spun around, her skirt flaring in a circle. "Hey," she said softly.

"Did I scare you?"

She grinned. "You never do," she said slyly, cocking her eyebrow at him.

He felt himself being drawn to her, a moth to a flame, his angel pulling him from hell to heaven. "Why are you all dolled up? Playing dress up again?"

She tilted her her head and smiled, gentle, welcoming. "Something like that," she said. Her brow creased. "Where were you? You haven't left the house on Halloween since..." her voice trailed off. He knows she's remembering their first date.

"I went trick-or-treating," he said sheepishly. He held up the mask he wore. "I found this in the attic. I figured if I wore it, nobody would recognize me."

"Why would you do that?" she asked, confused.

He felt his face flush in embarrassment, worried she would think it's stupid. "You and Chad," he said bashfully. "You said you liked candy. You said you missed it."

He could see her softening, the last wall between them falling and crumbling at their feet. "You didn't have to do it," she said gently, looking at him through wide eyes.

"I wanted to," he said, feeling more sure of himself as he joined her in the gazebo. He held out his bag proudly. "I went to all the houses that were giving away Reese's Peanut Butter Cups twice. There were so many kids coming and going, they didn't even notice."

She poked through his bag, nudging Snickers bars out of the way to find some of her favorites. "Thank you," she said softly. He can tell her voice is about to break.

He took her by the hand. "Let me get a good look at you," he said. Her waist was so tiny, and her tits had morphed from an A to a C cup seemingly overnight. He swallowed as he looked at the creamy skin of her breasts, how it contrasted with the dark hue of the dress. He wished he had a camera. He could make it through another fifty years without actually being with her if he could jerk off to the image of her chest spilling out of that dress. He finished spinning her around and to his surprise her eyes were as hungry as his are.

"You look so cute," he said. He'd been made breathless by her, struck dumb.

"Thanks."

"It's a good Halloween costume."

"Tell Chad, it was his idea."

"I will. I'll tell him it's a good disguise."

She was angry and he knew she misunderstood. He pulled her closer. "It's a good disguise because you're pretty like this, but your beautiful when you're being yourself."

He knew his words have hit the mark because she rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up, looking at the ceiling of the gazebo so that he wouldn't catch her blushing. She muttered a gentle insult but with no bite and her voice was thick, like she had a lump in her throat.

"You thought I was being an asshole," he said in a sing-song voice.

"You usually are," she teased back.

"Ouch. So where were you going tonight? The sock-hop?"

"Something like that."

He made a dumb remark about how she belongs in a different era but he knew he was just babbling, talking because he was supposed to, when really he had other and better things he'd like to do with their mouths. She didn't tease him for his stupid line, she just nodded and stepped closer to him and he wondered if she was even listening.

He could smell her, feel electricity sparking between him. Just when he felt like he would die if he didn't touch her soon she pressed herself against him, her head resting on his chest. His breath caught in his throat when he felt her turn her face into his sweater and breathe him in. It's then he knew that they had finally made it through to the other side, past hate and rage and pain and even forgiveness and reached the point when none of it mattered anymore. He put his arms around her, pulling her closer. He'd give her space later. Right now, any distance between them was too much. Suddenly she moved, little steps from side to side, pulling him with her.

"What are you doing?"

"Were dancing. You said I belong at a sock hop."

He laughed. She never says what he expects, never behaves how he thinks she will. It might be what he loved most about her.

"I've never been to a dance," he admitted, leaning closer to her so he can smell her hair as they sway in the dark.

"Me neither. Would you have asked me to dance?"

"Probably not."

"Afraid of rejection," she said, nuzzling into his chest.

"Yeah. That and I don't dance."

"We're dancing now."

He smiled. "It's easy with no music."

She slid her hands from his shoulders to his back, pressing them into his skin. "That was a nice thing you did for Chad," she said, running her fingers up and down his spine.

"I want you to be happy," he said. And I can make you happy, if you'll let me.

"I know."

He stilled them and she looked up, her eyes wide and glowing in the moonlight. He wanted to kiss her, knew he should, but he wouldn't. It had to be her decision to come back to him. If he pushed, he'd always wonder if she was just going along with it, giving in. He needed to know that she wanted him. That she needed him. That she loved him. That she chose to come back to him.

"I miss you so much," he said, broken and desperate for her to put him back together.

Her neck stretched gracefully and her lips were on his, hot and soft and sweet and he'd never felt more alive. He brought his hand up to her face and felt her skin under his hand. He'd never thought there was a higher power but tonight he was a believer, thanking God or Buddha or whatever deity that in their infinite grace had seen it fit to give him a second chance.

He pulled his lips away. He had to to be sure...

"What does this mean?" he asked, his lips brushing against hers. She wound her arms around his neck. "We'll figure it out tomorrow," she said, and the light in her eyes and her smile is enough to make him think that even if they won't say the words just now they'll be moving forward and not backward once the night is over. He smiled and leaned closer to taste her again when they're jolted apart by a crash. Her head snapped to the house and to the solitary light burning in her room. "Chad," she whispered, and then she was gone.

He followed behind her, invisibly standing in the doorway as Chad curled into a ball on the bed. "What happened? Why are you here?" Violet asked.

As Chad started to explain how his hopes were dashed and Pat had let him down, again, Tate listened with a frown on his face. He watched tears drip down from older man's eyes and he found his stomach twisting into knots. It took him a minute to figure out why - now that he knew Chad and Violet weren't fuck buddies, it wasn't like he still had a reason to be jealous - before he finally identified the emotion. Guilt. He felt guilty for what he had done to him. He should, it was his fault. Before, all of his regrets for killing the couple had revolved around the fact that he now had to put up with Chad's bitching and moaning for eternity and the fact that it was one more sin that Violet could hate him for. Now, for the first time, he considered the fact that Chad would be stuck in this house forever with someone who didn't want to be there with him. Tate knew how that felt. He had been there, watching Violet wander through the house and silently begging and wishing that Violet would love him, and watched his prayers go unanswered for years.

He drifted back through the door and into the hallway away from Violet as she lay down on the bed next to Chad. He couldn't listen to anymore. He went downstairs and got one of the Old Woman's bowls from the cupboard, bringing it into the den. He found some of the woman's paper and wrote "For Violet."

He looked at the note, his head cocked to the side, and heard Chad's tearful voice in his head. He crumpled up his note and wrote "For Chad and Violet" on a new piece of paper, dumping the candy into the bowl and setting the note on top. He retreated to the attic to wait for Violet to be done comforting her friend's broken heart.

Hours later the house was still silent, the ghosts making the most of their final hours of freedom. Pat hadn't come home yet, Tate had been watching for him from the attic window. He was disappointed in him. They weren't friends like Violet and Chad - not even fucking close - but he'd gotten used to talking to him and had believed Pat when he said he was trying to change. Tate may have been a murderer and a hundred other things he didn't even want to think about but for once he felt like the better man. He was stronger than Pat was - but maybe that's what love did to you. Maybe Pat didn't love Chad anymore. Maybe that's why his attempt to be something new hadn't been built to last.

Or maybe it was because Pat didn't truly want to change. Tate had tried to be anything other than what he was a hundred different times with a hundred different psychiatrists and through a hundred different psychedelics but none of it stuck because he didn't really mean it. He didn't really want to be anything else until he met Violet. He wanted to change for her.

He finally got curious enough to see what Violet and Chad were up to and went down into the den. Chad was sitting on the couch in the dark, sipping a glass of wine while Violet curled up next to him, asleep.

"Don't just skulk around, come here where I can see you," Chad drawled, swirling his wine in his glass.

Tate stepped around the couch to stand in front of Chad. "Well?" Chad asked. "If you're here to insult my sexuality, please get it over with so I can tell you that perhaps the lady doth protest too much and then get on with the rest of my night. I have wine to drink and brooding to do."

"She should go to bed," Tate said, nodding at Violet and refusing to rise to Chad's taunts.

Chad raised an eyebrow at him. "And I'm sure you'd love to take her. Romeo and Juliet, complete with retrograde amnesia."

Silence filled the room, heavy and tense.

"I know that you told Patrick about my Halloween costume," Chad said, sipping on his wine. "And that you told him try and take me out, and to dress-up like James Bond. He may have been pretty enough to pull it off but he's not smart enough to think of it on his own." Tate could hear the bitterness in Chad's voice, knew that he didn't mean what he was saying but was desperate to lash out. "I won't say thank you," Chad said, his eyes shifting to gaze at the bowl of candy. "It doesn't make us even, not by a fucking long shot." Tate shrugged, and Chad sighed. "But, I guess I will say that I appreciate the effort."

He looked at Violet, then back to Tate. "Well? Are you going to take her to bed, or not?"

Tate stepped forward and puller her into his arms. She stayed asleep, but her hands laced around his neck and her head curled into his chest.

Chad stood and stretched, then took a few steps toward the door. He paused, turning back towards Tate. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you worse... and not just physical pain. I'll wait until she heals, until she's ready to fuck someone else and I'll hold you down and make you watch. And then once it's over I'll go to work on you with some of Charles's old tools. Understand?"

He bristled. Chad always did know how to get under his skin. "I'll never hurt her again. I didn't mean to the first time. I wish I hadn't."

"I've heard that before," he said dryly. "Let's just hope you can do better than my ball and chain, shall we?"

Tate looked down at Violet, fast asleep in his arms. He'd never stop appreciating how lucky he was. Never.

And that only reminded him how lucky Chad wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Tate mumbled, avoiding Chad's eyes.

"What?"

Tate cleared his throat. Apologizing wouldn't come easy. He was still no fan of Chad's, but for first time he felt guilt and remorse for the role he had played in the direction Chad's life and afterlife had taken. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I am. I wish.. I wish I would have done a lot of things in my life different, okay? But believe me when I say that wishing I would have left you alone is near the top of the list."

He was surprised that he meant it.

Chad stared at him. "Take the bobby pins out of her hair before you go to sleep," he advised quietly, looking away from the couple. "She'll wake up with a hell of a headache if you don't."

"I will," Tate said hoarsely. Chad nodded at him and left the room. It wasn't forgiveness - and Tate knew he didn't deserve it - but it was acceptance. It was enough.

He carried her up the stairs slowly, not wanting to jostle her awake. He could feel her breath through his sweater, little warm puffs of air against his skin. He brought her to her room and laid her down on the bed gently. She hummed and turned into the pillow, her breathing deep.

He looked over his shoulder at the pile of china on the floor and sighed. He went to the hall closet and pulled out a broom and dustbin of Moira's and returned to sweep the pile of broken knick-knacks into the garbage. He didn't want Violet to wake and cut herself in the middle of the night if she got out of bed. It wouldn't matter if she hurt herself (she'd only heal a minute later) but he never wanted her to be in pain again. She never would be, not if he could help it.

Once he was done he sat next to her on the bed, leaning back onto the headboard. "Violet, wake up," he whispered as he pulled her onto his lap.

"Tate," she whined, scrunching her eyes tightly.

"Chad said we have to take the pins out of your hair," he said softly. He had seen his mother take her hair down once, back when he used to love her and love to watch her. He started at the base of her neck, gingerly feeling for the nubs of the little metal pins. When he found one, he slid it out and gently massaged the spot on her scalp it had come from and combed the curl out with his fingers.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned sleepily. "That feels so nice."

He chuckled and repeated the motion over and over until all the pins were gone and her hair was down. He rubbed her scalp gently, his thumbs loosening the tension in her neck.

She sighed contentedly and looked over her shoulder at him, giving him blissful smile. "That was wonderful."

Her eyes were lidded, heavy. "I'm glad, sleepy girl," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're tired."

"Very," she mumbled. "Can you unzip me? I don't want to fall asleep in the dress."

"Sure," he said gently. He found the clasp in the back of the dress and unhooked it, freeing the zipper. He pulled it down slowly, running his finger over her spine as the material fell to the sides and exposed her skin.

She shivered at his touch. "Cold?" he asked huskily.

"Yeah," she breathed. She reached her hands backward, fumbling with the hooks of her bra. He lifted her fingers away gently and unhooked it for her, rubbing his thumbs into her back. She reached into the front of her dress and pulled the bra out, flinging it across the room. It landed on the floor with a thud and stood up on it's own, the padding holding it up. Tate suppressed a grin. That explained her newly expanded bust line, anyway.

He massaged her back, his fingers pressing into her skin. "I'm exhausted, Tate," she said softly.

"I know."

"I don't want anything to happen tonight, okay?"

"Oh," he said quietly, feeling his heart sink. He had hoped to stay with her. He slid her off his lap and onto the bed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Vi."

She reached for his hand, clutching it. "Don't go," she whimpered. "I don't want you to go."

His heart raced back to life and he couldn't help but remember a Halloween so long ago when he had begged her to stay beside him. He wondered if what she was feeling now was anything like what he had been feeling for her then. "Are you sure?"

"Stay," she pleaded. He thought it was the most beautiful word spoken in the English language, Violet asking him to stay. Better than her I love you had been, even. "I just want to sleep, though. Nothing else. Not right now."

"Okay," he said, sliding into the bed next to her.

"Okay," she said. He could hear the happiness in her voice, even if she was trying to hide it. She had so rarely let herself be vulnerable with him, even before the pills and her revelation about her mother had come between them. It made him want to cry.

She reached over her head and lifted the dress, flinging it into the air in the same direction as her bra. He gazed at her body, her graceful neck, her perky breasts - herself again, wonderful without the help of whatever Victoria's secret enhancement she had been encased in earlier. Her nipples stared back at him, pointed and pink and absolutely perfect in every way. She was wearing a pair of black silk panties, soft and contrasting against her white skin. He swallowed.

"No funny business," she cautioned, giving him a small smile.

He sucked in a breath. "Scouts honor," he said. He pulled his sweater over his head and slid his jeans down his hips, lifting the comforter and covering them both. He wanted to ask her what this meant about what they were but it could wait until tomorrow. If the conversation didn't end the way he wanted it to, at least he'd have this moment to hold on to. At least he'd have this to dream about as he slept.

She cuddled into his chest, her skin on his skin, bringing him home. Making him whole.

He woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sunlight filtering through the blinds and shining on his eyes. He cracked them open to find her. She was sitting up, knees drawn to her chest, cigarette bitten between her teeth. Her hair was still teased in the back and wavy from the curls, messy bed head gorgeous. Her makeup was smudged, flecks of eyeliner darkening her eyes. She looked like every wet dream he'd ever fucking had but she's even better, she's real, and the way she grinned at him when she noticed that he was awake made his cock twitch to life beneath the sheets.

"Morning," she said, taking a long drag and then leaning over to place her cigarette between his lips. He pulled the smoke into his lungs, tasting her on the filter.

"Hey," he said after he exhaled. "How long have you been up?"

She shrugged. "Long enough, I guess. I was watching you sleep."

"Did I do anything interesting?"

"Only if snoring counts as interesting."

He smiled and sat up. "Violet..." he said, and his voice trailed off as his courage faltered.

"I know."

He worried a small square of the comforter in his hands. "You know what?"

"I know you're sorry."

His brow creased. "What if I want to say it anyway?"

She shrugged. "It won't do any good, okay? I can't... I can't forgive you, Tate."

There it was, his unavoidable heartache. His stomach twisted into knots.

"But I know you've changed. I know you're different. I'm different now, too."

"So what do we do?" he asked sadly. "Do you want me to go away again?"

"No."

They sat in silence. He was afraid to speak.

She exhaled, blowing smoke across her face and continuing to stare straight ahead. "So it will just be this thing in between us, and we'll just have to learn to live around it. And I'm gonna have bad days - days when I need to be away from you for a little while. But I'm gonna have good days too when all I want is to be with you. And if that can be enough for you, I think it could make me happy."

"That can be enough for me," he said hopefully.

"And who knows. Maybe one day I won't have any bad days at all. But no more apologies because they just remind me of all the shit that happened. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, Tate."

He drew in a sharp breath. He was wrong last night, Violet asking him to stay isn't the most beautiful thing he ever heard. It's her telling him he loves him, her doing it this time and not the time before that he tried to forget. This time he's next to her and she's wearing nothing but silk panties and neither of them are crying and she was looking at him like he's something she wanted to eat.

"I love you too," he said sincerely. He'd never meant anything more in his life. "I've missed you so much, Violet."

She leaned forward, nearly nose to nose with him. "Prove it," she sighed against his lips.

It was the invitation he'd been waiting for since saw her in the gazebo last night. He crushed his lips against hers, running his tongue over her bottom lip before nipping it with his teeth. She moaned against his lips and raised herself to kneel beside him and he pulled her into his lap.

"Fuck," he breathed, feeling the wet slide of her panties against his stomach. "Jesus, Violet."

She smiled and rolled her hips. "I've had a lot of time to think about what I've been missing," she said, rocking against him again. He grinned and leaned forward to pull her nipple into his mouth and echoed her words back to her, murmuring "Prove it" as he ran his tongue over the puckering pink flesh.

They're rolling around and getting closer and closer to the inevitable when he decided he couldn't take another second without being buried inside of her, and he lifted her up to slide her panties over her hips. When he sank a finger inside of her and then another she felt exactly like he remembered, and she shuddered exactly how he remembered too. He worked his fingers against her wet softness as her hips shook and then she reached down to still his hand. "Tate, stop. Stop," she murmured, squeezing his wrist.

He froze, scared. A deer in headlights. "Why?"

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear because as much of a badass as she is she was still shy when it came to sex. She'll get over it one day, they have time. "I don't want to cum until you're inside of me," she whispered, breath hot against his ear. Suddenly he was glad that the air was still and that she was straddling him on his stomach instead of near his dick because if anything brushed against his cock he'd have cum right then.

He wiggled his hips out of his boxers and slid her on top of him. She dropped down, slowly, agonizingly slowly over his dick. It was even better than the last time, better than anything before. They both groan an identical and breathy "fuck" and she she pulled herself up to repeat the motion, to kill him by the squeezing and clenching of her cunt around him.

She rocked back and forth above him and he knew her heart was pounding like his was because he could feel her pulse in her thighs as they squeezed his hips between them. When she opened her eyes into slits to look at him and smile she was so fucking sexy that he couldn't take it, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He ran his thumb over his tongue and pressed it against her clit, swollen and warm, moving it in gentle circles. She shivered and her hips bucked forward, throwing off her rhythm. She got back into her stride and rocked against him again, puffing out little breaths through her nose while she bit her lower lip white. He moved his thumb faster as she pulled his other hand up her side, making him cup her breast in his hand.

When she came she whispered his name like a prayer and it was his undoing. She leaned forward to kiss him and his dick twitched as he came, sighing an "I love you" into her open lips. He thought that the poor saps that crossed over and went to Heaven got the short end of the stick.

She wound one of his curls around her finger and pressed herself into his chest, smiling as she nuzzled into his neck. He's happy because for once, she is too and he's the one that made her that way. They fell back asleep.

Later he was back on the couch again, reading another stupid romance novel and nibbling on Almond Joy's from Chad and Violet's candy. The two had picked through the bowl last night and sorted their favorites, leaving the candy bars they liked least on the coffee table. He thinks it's funny that they both hate them when they're his favorite.

Violet had wanted to go and check on Chad. He told her he'd be here when she was done and had left her with a kiss on her cheek and a bewildered expression on her face. He was happy to give her space now, to give her time on her own, because it was that much sweeter when she sought him out. He was someone she wanted to come back to. It made him feel proud. He liked the feeling that he could, maybe, be worthy of her. It made him want to be an even better man than he had become.

She had always been stronger than him, better. He was happy to have her be his entire world but he knew that she needed more. It was funny - he spoke more with Pat, but Tate was really more like Chad in that way. Violet and Chad were best friends but she was much more similar to Pat - at least when it came to their fierce independence. Opposites attract, he thought. Or maybe it was just the subconscious need to seek out the person that could make you better, the one that could help you grow into something new and deserving of the person you loved most. Tate learning from Pat and Chad learning from Violet to be comfortable in their own skin and with the silence of solitude, learning that if you really love something you have to set it free. Violet and Pat learning from their counterparts the benefits of letting someone else in, allowing themselves to be vulnerable and truly giving themselves over to someone else, sacrificing the potential danger and heartache in favor of being really and truly loved.

But Pat still had more to learn.

"I fucked up."

He appeared in the room, eyes ringed in red. "I know," Tate said, glancing up at him. He'd like to pretend that he didn't care about the outcome of Pat's attempt at wooing Chad back, but he did. He thought that between all the garbage that had gone on they at least understood each other, wanted the same things but with different people. He was disappointed that it hadn't ended in some semblance of a happily ever after because despite Tate's no bullshit exterior and the fact that two dudes still kind of grossed him out he was a romantic at heart. "Why did you do it?" he asked finally, needing to know why Pat had come so close and had chosen to fuck it all up instead.

"I don't know why I do the shit I do."

Tate shrugged. "I didn't know either," he said. "You've got a long time to figure it out, though."

Pat rubbed his eyes. "Is it even worth it?"

Tate looked up. Violet had just appeared in the doorway. "It's worth it," he said softly, looking at her.

"Go away," Violet murmured to Pat, and he vanished. "I'm mad at him," she explained, walking into the room.

"I got that," Tate said. "How's Chad?"

Violet shrugged, then smiled when she noticed what he was reading. "You are not reading one of those fucking books," she teased, flopping on top of him. She rolled into the space between his body and the back of the couch, pressing against him and throwing a leg over his. "Did you learn anything interesting? Any new moves?"

"Maybe," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Want to find out?" She grinned and reached for a chocolate from the bowl, running it over his lips before she licked them clean. He smiled and kissed her nose and pulled her closer.

The phrase band-aid over the bullet wound was one that he'd used before to describe their relationship when it was just hello's in the hallway and later, games of scrabble and cards in the attic. He thought it was a bad thing then, but now he remembers the most important thing that a band-aid does - it stops the bleeding. That's what they needed, something to stop the hemorrhage before it bled them both dry. One small thing to hold the wound together, one small thing to preserve the chance at life.

They spend the rest of the afternoon taking turns reading to each other from the romance novel, laughing and kissing and knowing that the love between them is bigger and better than the pulp on the pages. The band-aid holds fast. Their wounds continue to heal.

A/N: So that's that. I've got to be honest, I feel like there should be a Chad and Pat story in this universe but I don't really want to write it. Any volunteers that feel like writing some slash? Bueller? Bueller? I guess if no one else wants to I might have to come back to it someday just because I think it needs to be told - but it won't be anytime soon. Also a story that needs to be told - Tate and Vi at Disneyland. I've got ideas for it already but I'll wait a bit before I write it, because the very nature of it means that it's going to be so fluffy and sweet that you might need a trip to the dentist after. It would basically be cotton candy in fanfic form. It would be a good palate cleanser for a later date because I've got a few other ideas cooking - including what might be the smuttiest thing I've ever written, EVER, it's pretty much straight-up AHS porn. It still needs some incubation time so it won't out in the near future... just someday. :)

Rec time! And since I haven't written anything in a while (and thus haven't had a space to rec things) this could get long.

Kristybelle finished the amazing, angsty and beautiful Reticence and then followed it up with two one-shots and a drabble in that universe (Haunt Me, When the Light Takes You In and Crying,respectively) that are all just as wonderful as Reticence. Must reads.

mng042197 wrote a fantastic piece called Insanity Is In the Eyes of the Beholder that is now complete. If you like dark and twisted Violet, you will LOVE this.

There are two authors that wrote their first pieces in this fandom (though they have both written other things before) that absolutely hit grand slams at their first at bat. A Dirty Little Secret's story, The Darkness Claims, is a phenomenal "Violate" story and has what I think is the best account of what happens to Ben and Vivien post death that I've read in this fandom.littlelindentree's Sharpen Up Those Dragging Hooks is beautiful and angsty and might have made me need to eat a kit-kat afterwards. Because of emotions.

I've read some really great AU's lately which is weird because I don't usually like those kind of stories. Lovely Helena's You Saved Me is something I really like but can't put my finger on why, it's just nice to read and makes me want to give her Tate a hug. gimmiedanger's Beat the Devil's Tattoo is based on Kate Chopin's "The Awakening," which is one of my all-time favorite books and she has absolutely done the story justice (and you should read gimmiedanger's one-shot Bloodbuzz too, while you're at it). Captivation's I Live In the Light has done a great job of weaving her AU into some existing story elements from the show, I'm excited every time I see that it's been updated - and it just got REAL in the latest update, so start reading it if you haven't.CellarGangGirl's Black Star is really great both a) because she has the characterizations of Tate and Violet down pat and b) because she uploads the chapters in pairs, one from Tate's POV and one from Violet's POV. It's really cool and worth a read. CitrusyGoodness's Misfortunate Children explores what would have happened if Tate had raped Violet instead of Vivien. It's disturbing (and considering the subject matter it has to be) but also really well done and does some interesting things with Tate's mental state. Finally Calcifer the all Mighty's The Warriors had me from the description and has one of my favorite Violet's in this fandom. I'M hot for the Violet in that story, so no wonder Tate is.

And because I had to save my lovely muses for last (they're the reason I started writing in this fandom guys)... ohyellowbird did three, count 'em THREE amazing things in like ten days: wrote an AU called Poison and Wine that is heartbreakingly sad and beautiful (and also made me need a kit-kat), wrote another AU called Let the Right One In which is an homage to the movie of the same name and is also fucking fantastic, and started a series of AHS drabbles called Snapshots that kicks off with the only OC that will ever have my heart like Tate does, her brainchild Langdon. My little yellow birdy is amazing and wonderful and the stuff she writes KILLS me. Gray Glube wrote an angsty fic, DABDA that is so beautiful I may have shed a tear. It's sad and isn't really resolved, it just IS, which is just like our favorite couple, really. It's just wonderfully written (and yes, kit-kat worthy... and I may have had to follow it up with a peanut butter cup, too. Too many emotions.). AND she wrote me a present (!), a follow up to her earlier work Curio Girl called Novelty Boy. Holy hell is it good. It made me hot and tingly for Tate in all new ways after reading it. It's hot and sweet and romantic and the perfect ending for this couple. Gray is so fucking fantastic and has helped me grow as a writer and I just kind of want to BE her someday.

AND FINALLY to all those who read and especially to those who review - thank you so much.