| American Horror Story/Evan Peters Imagines |

Medicine for the Heart | TATE

Request: Can you write something, a tate langdon imagine, where youre psychotic (like actually diagnosed) and he finds you on the floor of the murder house crying and he makes you take your medicine and fluff

Title: Medicine for the Heart

Word Count: 501

Warnings: Mention of psychosis and depression + fluff

A/N: This is short af I know, I know. But I really liked the plot, it had a lot of potential and I tried to make it interesting and build a bit of background.

               It's been 3 years and 1 month since you were diagnosed with severe psychosis and the depression that came with it was no carnival ride. This house of horrors didn't help in any way, either and before you knew it, the medicine was the only thing that helped you cling to that last strand of sanity. That, and your best, and only friend, Tate Langdon.

               Tate was your real medicine. His fluffy blonde hair and brown eyes full of care make you all warm and fuzzy and for a short time, makes you feel like you aren't suffering and that you ever did. And right now, you needed him more than ever. It was one of your "spikes", when your mental state would just be terrible which usually resulted from not taking your pills.

               You could hear the faint sound of the stereo your mother had set up near the bottom of the stairs, where you were curled up in a little ball, emotionless (for now, at least). The stereo was currently playing the overly cheery tune of "Mrs. Robinson" and some other classics. A few teared dared to slip out of your eyes onto the hardwood floor.

               Footsteps shuffled towards you. Curious, you looked up, wondering as to who would care enough to approach you. Sure enough, it was your knight in shining... jeans? Tate stood there with some pills and a bottle of water. You sniffed and said, "How did you know which pills were mine?". "Well, you are the only one with psychosis pills. I wish these were around when I was around," he replied. "Yeah, well, they only help with the unproductivity, really," you explained with a small giggle.

               You shakily took the water and the two small pills proceeding to swallow them, already feeling more at ease. Before you could say a "thank you", Tate tackled you with a hug, which made you let out a hearty laugh, a laugh you haven't heard come from your mouth since you were small. "I love seeing you smile, Y/N," he said, with his arms still wrapped around my waist.

               Both of you leaned in, which consequently made your lips meet. You hadn't felt this happy in years and you never thought Tate would make you feel that unfamiliar feeling once more. The music continued to play in the background and it finally matched your mood.

               "And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know, whoa whoa whoa."