American Horror Story Character Imagines/Preferences

Tate: Secret.

You sighed, opening your laptop and getting full comfy under your blankets; you fully expected to stay in bed until you had to work the next morning. It was chill time. The world wide web at your fingertips, and yet, you couldn't think of anything worth looking at. Facebook? You hadn't gone on in months. Maybe it would be a good idea. (Said no one ever). At the very least, you realized, you should make yours and Tate's relationship Facebook official and embarrass him. You went on Facebook and tried to look up Tate Langdon. You weren't friends with him, so it was a little hard to find. But when you did, you wished you didn't.

Clicking on the page called "Tate Langdon: Westfield Murderer" you were confused, obviously. But that picture was definitely him; your boyfriend. All of the posts on the site were years old, but all saying essentially the same crude things. Calling Tate a monster, damning him to rot in Hell and other sentiments. Your hands started to shake as you read further, not knowing what to think in the slightest. You googled his name and several articles came up in reference to your boyfriend being a school shooter. A dead school shooter. Dead for years. "Oh my God." You cried, covering your mouth in horror. "Knock knock, nerd." Tate entered your room and you had to resist the urge to scream at his presence.

"What's wrong, babe?" You cried harder at his voice. "What the fuck is this?!" You threw your laptop at him. He caught it just before it hit his face. "Baby, chill!" He yelled, startled. He opened the laptop and skimmed the article. "What is this?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears as your own poured down freely. "Is it true?" You wanted to scream, but all that came out was a pained whisper. "No! I- I. It can't be. Why would I do that, sunshine?!" He cried desperately, walking over to your quivering form on the bed. "Don't call me that! Don't touch me ever again." You pleaded, scampering away from him. You wanted to stand tall but you were so scared and sad and sick to your stomach that your quaking knees betrayed you. You sank to the floor and buried your head in your lap.

"(Y/n) please! You have to listen to me! (Y/n)!" He yelled and crawled on the floor to you. You covered your ears and screamed at the top of your lungs to block out his voice. Suddenly Tate pulled your hands away from your ears causing you to snap your eyes open. You had specifically ordered him to never touch you again. So why now was the feeling of his skin against yours such a comfort?

Your screams stopped and so did his as you looked into each other's red swollen faces. Your voice weakened until it was nothing more than a strangled cry as you brought Tate in closer to hold you. "I'm so sorry, (Y/n), I'm so sorry, (Y/n)!" He cried into your hair. "I don't know what I did! I don't know what happened! But I knew that I was dead, I'm so sorry I lied to you. I just thought... I just knew that I loved you. And I don't ever want you to be afraid of me." The two of you rocked back and forth until the crying and shakes ceased and all you could do was breathe in each other's scent. It took hours.

"Tate?" You finally spoke up, head resting on his chest. "Hmm?" "You're really dead?" You asked. "Yes. I was shot right in this room, but I could never remember why.." He said sadly. "I can hear your heart beating." You said, pulling away slowly to look in his eyes. He had a sad miniscule smile on his red lips. "You can?" You nodded. "Tell me everything."

And he did. He told you every detail he remembered from his life before. He said the memories he made with you all those years ago were the only fond ones he could look back on during his dark times. And those memories grew hazy throughout high school, and drugs, and living in this house. They were replaced with abuse and seclusion and he said he couldn't remember how or why it happened. "I must have just.. snapped.  Something takes over me sometimes, (Y/n). Something bad... It hasn't happened in a while but it scares me."

Tears slipped silently between you two during this conversation. You knew he was telling you the truth, you just wished it was all some sick joke. "Tate.. I love you. Still." You admitted. You were disgusted with yourself. But you had to tell him. "But if you ever hurt anyone or any thing again, I will move my ass so far away and I will leave you to rot in this personal Hell. And you'll deserve it. You know that right?"

He huffed a large sigh out to steady his breathing, overwhelmed by so many emotions. "I know that. I'm different I swear. With you, I'm different." "I really hope that's true, Tate. From now on, we only put good things out into the world. And we do it together. Deal?" You extended your hand. He smiled gratefully. "Deal."

It took less time than you thought to go back to loving Tate, really loving Tate. Loving spending time with him, loving his dark humour, loving him in spite of his dark past and odd, trapped present. At least you knew why he was always hanging around your house like a lost puppy.  But you could never forget, and never wanted to forget, what he was capable of. And the terror he could be. But as you watched him across from you on the couch trying to catch cheese puffs in his mouth, you thought about how miraculously different he must feel. How miraculously different you helped him be.

You really did love this crazy idiot.

**In defense of Tate Langdon but also obviously not defending school shooters and his disgusting behavior. So I do think it's pretty common to glorify serial killers and school shooters, especially when it comes to young teen girls. It's something in the chemistry. This is not what I tried to do with this story. I believe Tate is indeed a fucked up kid, but having rewatched his season, I have to blame a lot of the insanity that ensued that day (burning his mother's boyfriend, shooting random classmates, and other reckless behavior like pulling a gun on the swat team), as well as events that occurred throughout the season ((which don't occur in my rendition)) (like the rape of Vivian, murdering the gay couple, etc.) I blame it on the house. We can time and time again see that the house itself along with the spirits present in it hold a strong power over the males in particular that enter that house. The doctor was driven to absolute insanity, that guy who murdered the two nursing students was drawn to it, Ben was consistently fucked with, and as we can only imagine, Tate was as well. Couple that with an extremely dysfunctional family and it's not hard to understand the events that lead to that dark day. Absolutely. Not. Justifying. His. Actions. It's just my explanation. And I think it makes him a little easier to digest as a romantic character in this circumstance. None of this was important to read, so I doubt you did. I just like to ramble after work and this is the only platform I feel I can do it on because none of you know me. Sweet. Sick. Radical. Goodbye.