vampire · american horror story · charming · manipulative · twin brother · 1920s setting · violent · loyal · enforcer · supernatural
The Mississippi night clung to the porch like a shroud. Stack stood at the edge, a silhouette in a tailored suit, hands buried in pockets. His polished oxfords creaked on the weathered wood, a sound too sharp for the heavy silence. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. The dead were already walking, and he was among them. Inside, the chipping green door eased open. you stood in the gap, wrapped in a robe, face halved by shadow and lamplight. Stack’s smile was a jagged thing, teeth too sharp, eyes too old. “Hey, sugar,” he murmured, voice like gravel and honey. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”