Tate Langdon / Evan Peters One Shots

Tension

Your POV

Tate Langdon.

Tate fucking Langdon as a walking disaster, not that I have any room to judge, because I'm a mess too; but god, does he make my life harder.

I have no friends, I just moved to Los Angeles, to this fucking house with too much space for the three of us, and get slapped in the face with the realization that this is my life now; and that was before I found out about the fucking ghosts.

The worst part about Tate, is that he is the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on. His dirty blond, shaggy hair, his honey brown eyes, and soft-spoken smile. He's a catch, one that I would allow myself to fall in love with if I hadn't faced betrayal so many times before.

My dad cheated on my mom, my ex cheated on me with my best friend, and my dad packed us up and took us away from everyone we knew practically over night... that's just naming a few things. I know what you're thinking, Tate's a ghost, how would he cheat on you? I don't know, but at this point, anything is possible, and I have trust issues.

Tate tried to be my friend at first, but quickly developed disdain towards me upon the realization that I was not interested in getting to know him, in getting my heart broken again. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder what would happen if I just let my guard down, if I stopped forcing myself to hate him, and let nature run its course; but I always brush away those thoughts, because it's not going to happen.

"Y/N." Tate appears in my doorway, leaning against it with a cocky smile. He looks nice today, wearing his signature green and black striped sweater with some jeans, his sandy hair awry as he looks at me menacingly.

"Tate, leave me alone." I avert my gaze quickly, cursing myself for checking him out, just incase he noticed my lingering eyes.

"Why?" He tilts his head, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips, "you know what, Y/N, I don't think you hate me as much as say you do."

I turn to face him, "Tate. Get out, now." I step towards him, crossing my arms in front of my body, but instead of leaving, he walks in further, kicking the door shut behind him.

"You see me everyday," He continues to walk closer, "trying to hide the fact that your eyes trail up and down my body, every time you do."

As he approaches me, I can't help but feel the thick tension between the two of us; the heavy attraction, and fascination I hold for him quickly bubbling to the surface, threatening to overflow with every step closer he gets to me, every word he says to me.

"I'm a ghost, and you know this," he whispers, "so why do you so desperately want to fall in love with me?"

"I-" finding myself speechless, my back hits the wall of my bedroom, I find myself sandwiched between the walls and Tate. We're stood directly next to my bed. I watch as he looks me up and down, dragging his eyes slowly up my body, stopping at the curve of my neck before continuing upwards and lingering on my face for a heavy moment.

"Speechless, huh?" He smirks, bringing his hand to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. He is so close to me, I feel like I might explode. Everything in my brain is telling me to hate this boy, to push him away, push love away... but I don't know if I can anymore. The pull in this scenario is stronger than the push. The singular touch of Tate fixing my hair, his fingertips grazing my ear, sends shivers down my spine. I've never touched him before, let alone be this close, and although he was cold as ice, the tension between us has never been so on fire.

"I for one, think you're the most beautiful girl to ever bless this Earth," Tate speaks up again, locking his gaze with mine, "I want to fucking hate you so bad, especially after you so stubbornly ignored me since you've moved in..." Tate lets out a struggled breath, "but I can't. I've been watching you, just as you've been watching me."