American Horror Story Imagines (One Shots)

Tate Langdon x Reader

You sighed as you unpacked the little posessions you had. Your mom had drank all your money away and you got kicked out your old house by the landlord. This was the cheapest house on the market, slightly unusual as it was a large house which was old with real tiffany fixtures and murals on the walls in the living room. Built around the 1920's by Charles Montgomery for his wife, Nora.

It made you feel uneasy, more than usual anyway, your dad had wanted to keep you but your mom refused so you were forced to move to this dump with her. After your parents had started to argue, your dad would work more often and go to the bar to avoid her. Your mom had become abusive towards you and neglected you. She had failed to see the many disorders and mental illnesses she had caused you. Even though you had been depressed before you moved here, the feelings got worse the second you stepped in the house.

You finished unpacking the last of your things and lay down on the bed amongst your empty cardboard boxes and trash bags. You felt a spring in your back and groaned, moving onto your side to try and lay comfortably. You heard your mom talking to your neighbour, Constance, the second she crossed your path, she made you feel nauseous. You heard a light tap at your window and brushed it off as a tree or the wind. The tap got slightly louder and you walked over to the window to see a young boy with blonde, curly hair, dark brown eyes and dimples. You unlocked the window and let him in, you were very friendly despite having no friends. He smiled warmly at you and played with the sleeves of his green and black sweater. Both of you were quiet for a while and he looked down.

"I-I'm Tate. Tate Langdon... I l-live next door." He stuttered, clearly nervous. Constance's son. You thought, she had mentioned her children but never really spoke about them. You smile and nod.

"[Y/F/N], [Y/F/N][Y/S/N]." You said, shaking his hand. This was the first time you were introduced to Tate. You gradually grew more attached to him after a night of talking.

A few weeks later, you and Tate were dating. He had tried to help you with your depression, anxiety and anorexia. He had helped you when your mom had hit you.

You walked into your room, lip bleeding, to see Tate sitting on your bed. He looked upset, his eyes red and puffy. Trying not to worry you, he looked away from you and you sat in front of him on the bed, taking his hands. He pulled his hands away and brought them to your face, gently holding your chin with one hand and wiping the blood away from your lip with the other. He sighed and tears fell from his face. You gently held his hands and kissed the tear away.

"What's wrong?" You ask, worried that you had done something wrong.

"I can't protect you... I hurt you more... I'm lying to you and I can't help you. I don't want you to get hurt because of me... I'm sorry..." He said, crying. Before you had time to ask more questions he had went to the window and left. You burst into tears and lay on the bed, curling up under the covers, crying yourself to sleep.

Weeks passed and you hadn't seen Tate once, your psychologist, Ben Harmond had been looking after you. Tate had gotten you him and anything that involved Tate upset you. Your depression got worse and so did your anorexia, your ribs stuck through your skin along with other bones. After a long and painful fight with your mom, you returned to your room to see Tate sitting on your bed, looking happy to see you but sad that you were hurt. He stood up and quickly walked towards you, arms open. You felt a sharp pain in your back and a sound of a gunshot. Tates face turned to worry and fear as he ran to you, holding you as you fell into him. He put pressure on your back, trying to stop the bleeding. Through blurred vision you saw his tears and your mom running out, dropping the gun. You looked up at Tate and brought a hand to his cheek and shook her head.

"I love you, Tate..." You whispered, tears falling from your own face. Before Tate could reply, your skin went pale and cold as your heart stopped.

After a while you woke up and wandered around, you were in the house and Tate was infront of you, arms open. He explained the house and you looked at your body on the floor. Other ghosts appeared and you saw your psychologist who had been the previous owner before he was killed.