Tate Langdon / Evan Peters One Shots

Don't fucking touch her

TW: mentions of rape, sexual assault 

Tate's POV

I lay here, disgustingly engrossed by this beautiful girl in my arms. In moments like these, I wonder how I got so lucky, how I got Y/N. 

She lays in my arms, on the bed in our bedroom; technically it's hers, but it used to be mine, and I lay with her here every night, wondering what she's dreaming about, if it's about me. I'd dream about her if I could sleep, but laying here with her in my arms is all I could ever ask for. 

I can't even believe I won her over like this, I mean I am dead after all, so I can't do much with her outside of these walls, but she never lets that bother her. When I become insecure about this, she has a number of ways she proves to me that I am her one and only, that she only wants me, dead and all. 

She got a t-shirt once to match mine, that reads "normal people scare me," in a specific font on the front. I still remember the day it came in the mail, she brought it up to our room and ripped it open with pure excitement in her Y/E/C eyes, holding it up and watching eagerly for my reaction. I found it absolutely adorable how excited she got, and brought her in for a kiss immediately, moving my lips against hers in a sweet dance of love, the two of us completely encapsulated with each other. 

I want it to be like this forever. 

Y/N stirs in my arms, her hair a mess, fanned out on the pillow that we were sharing. She looks so beautiful right now, her eyes closed in a peaceful sleep as she wears my black t-shirt; Y/N always insists on wearing my shirts to bed, she says their comfier. 

"Tate..." she whispers, her sleepy voice snapping me back to consciousness as I tilt my head to look down at her. 

"Hmm?" I reply, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she looks at me through hooded eyes, still distraught from just waking up. 

"Did you hear that?" She groans, rubbing her eyes with her hands adorably in order to wake herself up even more. 

"No, baby," I smile, pressing a kiss onto her forehead, "what did you hear?" 

"I don't know, but it woke me up," she sits up, leaning against the headboard and I mimic her actions as she leans her head down to rest on my shoulder, "it was loud, but when you zone out you block out any and all sound." She teases, nuzzling her head further into my shoulder, nuzzling herself further into my heart. 

"Hey!" I exclaim with false offense, "I am very vigilant, thank you." 

"Remember when I was trying to explain the plot of scream to you," she pokes me, "and you heard absolutely none of it because you were too busy staring at me?" 

I roll my eyes, "you're just too pretty, can you blame me?" 

"And you, Tate, are the most gorgeous man to ever walk this Earth," she kisses my nose, something she does often, "but I'm still able to actually hear what you're saying, and look at you while you're speaking at the same time." 

"Blah, blah, blah," I tease, leaning in and pressing my lips against hers for a quick, affectionate kiss, "you need to go back to sleep, you're very unpleasant when you're not properly rested." 

"Hey!" She playfully smacks me, before moving to situate herself under the covers again, "well if I'm going back to sleep, you're going to wrap those arms around me again." 

"Anything for my girl." I lay down beside her, wrapping my arms around her body again as she begins to relax, drifting off into dreamland. 

"Goodnight Tate, I love you." She mumbles, throwing her left arm over my body as she makes herself comfortable.