#tate langdon pack

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Luke Cooper Scene Pack

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𓆩☆𓆪 “I’ve never felt that way about anybody” Tate Langdon layouts.. (ft. Kyle!)

[taronstrange]

Evan Peters as Kai Anderson icons

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Knee Socks- Tate Landon x reader

warnings: smut, unprotected piv (safety first), oral (recieving), hot and sweet, the 90s

To be clear, Tate didn't have a crush on you.

When you first met, smoking outside Westfield in between classes, sure, he totally thought you were hot. Definitely the prettiest girl in Los Angeles, including the stupid actresses and models. You were a totally real girl, raw and real and beautiful. But he saw you as a friend.

He never thought about have sex with you. He respected you way too much for that shit-- he wasn't going to fuck up what you guys had. You were his only friend, and even though you were pretty popular, you had confessed many times that you only felt like you could really be authentic around him.

It was true: his bedroom was the only place you could be real.

You'd climb the stairs after school and put on vinyls and talk about Kurt Cobain and Morrissey. All of your friends listened to pop music on the radio. Sometimes you felt like Tate was the only person with any depth in the whole city.

"Why do you hang around Langdon?" your friends would say, “He's a total headcase. Freaky eyes." You wouldn't even bother to respond. He didn't care what anyone said about him. You didn't either-- you got him. That's what mattered.

After you started dating Connor, the captain of the football team, you made less time for Tate. He missed you, but he wasn't jealous. He was happy that you were happy.

When you still came to his house, he was only grateful.

You didn’t ring the doorbell anymore. You just came in through the backdoor, which was always open, and run up the stairs.

Sometimes, you got to his house before him if he had something to do after class-- an errand or a detention.

So, you flipped through his records until he came home.

"Hey, Miss Popular,” he said, "I didn't think you were coming over today."

"I'm always over on Wednesdays," you say with a smile.

"I thought you'd be with Connor," his smile leaves an impression in his cheeks. "Hot and heavy, you two."

You laugh, covering your face. "Whatever!"

His eyes scan you. A Nirvana concert t-shirt, red shorts and white knee-high socks. He bit his lip. You don't see this.

You place a record on the turntable. You sit on his bed as usual. "Today was shit," you say.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well, Connor says I smoke too much, and I said, Whatever, 'cause it's whatever, right? but then he fucking threw away my pack," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he says. His eyes wander to your thighs again. They look really smooth today, he thinks to himself. "Do you want a cig?"

"Yes," you groan, "Please."

His eyes wander your face for a second. He smiles, then hops up and grabs two out of the pack on his dresser, along with his lighter. He holds out the lighter and you take a drag, looking into his eyes. "Fuck," you whisper.

Were your cheeks always this pink?

"What did you do today?" you ask him.

"Eh. I got detention, but I snuck out," he says.

"Yeah? What for?" You walk over to the window, leaning on the windowsill. He stares at your ass and your thighs as you're slightly bent over. What the fuck was it about you today?

"Uh- I got caught making out with Stacy in the locker room," he laughs.

You snap your head to look over your shoulder. "Stacy? Like, cheerleader Stacy?"

"Yeah," it's his turn to cover his face.

"I hate her," you mumble, returning to the window.

"Yeah, well, she's a total bitch. She told Mr. Donnahay that I kissed her, and he believed her, of course, cause he's a creep," he says.

"Huh,” you say. “Well, good on you, you kissed the prettiest girl in school.” He furrows his eyebrows. You put out your cigarette and hop onto his bed. You lean back on his pillows, knees bent, hands folded between your legs.

Your hair was falling around your face in this disheveled sort of way and your skin looked ultra-soft. And those socks, he couldn't stop imagining them wrapped around his back. Like, what the fuck was going on today?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you say, brows furrowed, eyes wide.

"What?"

"I don't know. Weird," you say.

"Oh, I," he says. "Did you do something with your hair?"

You smile, and shake your head. "No. Are you okay?"

He stares another moment. Your eyes are so bright in the light and your cheeks are rosy and you're looking at him so intently, head tilted slightly, and your legs are open with just the length of your thigh showing and his chest is tight and he can't help it, he closes the gap between you and kisses you intensely.

He expects you to pull away, but to his surprise, you don't. Instead, you wrap your hands around his neck and whimper into his mouth.

Because, whether he felt it for you or not, there was one thing about you that he totally didn't know: you were absolutely, sickly in love with him.

See, you had followed him out to the courtyard when he went to smoke. You forgot your lighter on purpose. You chatted him up about your favorite bands cause you knew he liked them, too. You asked him to do your biology project together because you also knew you'd suggest to study at his house.

You pull his shirt over his head before he even gets a chance to get his hands on you. You pull away to look at him. He puts his hands on hips and adjusts himself to hover between your legs.

"What about my boyfriend?" you whisper. God, you were a good liar.

"Forget your fuckin' boyfriend," he says, diving back into your mouth.

And you always did whatever he said to do. So you forgot your boyfriend. And you let him take off your shirt. You weren't wearing a bra. He stares for a few moments. "Holy shit, why didn't I do this sooner?"

Good question, you smirk to yourself.

He kisses you again, then detaches from your mouth less than half an inch to whisper, "Can I take off your shorts?" It's so breathy you can barely understand him, but you nod.

He takes your shorts off and leans his head down between your legs. He kisses you over the cloth of your underwear and you throw your head back. He kisses you down your thighs, biting periodically, which earns from you a choked whimper each time. He presses his face into your heat, groaning. "Can I?" he whispers.

You only nod again.

He pulls your underwear down your thighs and over your socks.

He runs his tongue up the center of your heat and you groan. He runs circles around your sensitive spot, whispering into you, "Godohfuckbabybabybaby..."

He tilts his head up, wipes his mouth and leans up to look at you. He then traces his fingers down your stomach and presses his fingertips into you. You moan again, and now with his face level with yours, you wrap your arms around him.

He works you, pressing his fingers into you and pulling them back out to circle up, and he repeats that a few times, until you are so worked up that the flush in your face has reached your chest and you are undeniably out of breath.

"Please, Tate," you mumble. You finish on his fingers and he smiles, laughing happily as he falls onto his back.

You take a moment to ride it out, then whisper into his ear, "Can I take your pants off?"

He looks over at you, smiling wider now, and nods. You crawl down to his waist, smiling up at him. He's rock solid. You pull his boxers and denim down, both at once. You're absolutely not surprised to find that he is huge.

You straddle him, and he grabs your hips, then runs his palms up to your waist, brushing your tits, then back down to your thighs. Your body is even better than he imagined.

“For the record,” he says, “You’re way prettier than Stacy.” You beam.

Then, you lower yourself on him. He groans. He's too far away from you. With all his core strength, he pulls his body up at once to lean nearly upright against the wall behind his bed.

You didn't even expect this and it hits your core in the dirtiest way. He pulls your body into him, so your stomach, your waist, your chest are all pressed against his. He forces your head into the crook of his neck with an arm wrapped tightly around yours, the other one wrapped around your waist. You are surrounded by his heat, his sweat. You can barely keep any rhythm now, you're so entirely caught off-guard by the intense embrace.

You're completely overwhelmed and he knows it. God, he knows you. So, he begins to thrust himself off the mattress into you. At that point, you're done for. You're almost embarrassed how quickly you come undone after he starts. "Tate, holy fuck," you whisper. He doesn't even respond. He just pets the back of your hair down, comforting you.

When you pull yourself together, you attempt to roll your hips on him again. This clearly shocks him, because he groans your name out loud. You peel yourself off of him, pressing your hands into his chest as you roll yourself into him. He mumbles a string of incoherence, eyes closed. You can tell he's almost there.

He opens his eyes once more, and you can tell that he's about to come, and he whispers, "Fuck, baby,can'tpullout," he whimpers.

"It's okay," you say, and you feel yourself close again.

And he does it again. He pulls you tight to his chest, almost as if he's trying to make your bodies into one. Does he do this for everyone or only you? You'll ask about this later.

"I love you, baby," he says as he trembles underneath you. One of your arms reaches down to grab his hand and he squeezes it, hard.

When you are both finished, you peel yourself off of him.

"I love you, Tate," you smile. He smiles too, and pulls your back to press against his chest.

That's when you realize that it's definitely just for you.

[lilhoeforevanpeters]

Tate Langdon Headcannons <3

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<3 Life dating Tate <3

<3 Tate x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Tate, murder, suicide, p in v, fingering, oral (both m and f), grinding, humping, I think that’s it

<3 I lost the request, but someone did request this, hopefully they see it lol. Thanks for the request, it's appreciated!! I might make a post about who I write for so people can send requests, but I'm not sure yet. Love you!!

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SFW

Listening to old rock (i.e Nirvana ofc)

Borrowing his sweaters

Cuddling in bed

100% the little spoon, he wouldn't like being the big spoon but will do it if you're sad (or simply ask)

He's kind of a creep, so he'll stare at you all the time. silently.

Anything you do, he's watching admiringly

He thinks your perfect in every single aspect

Movie nights on Fridays

He totally seems like he'd enjoy horror and true crime

Misses you when you leave Murder House for anything

Would be scared you're going to leave him constantly

Helps you through anxiety attacks, depression episodes, mental health struggles

Listening intently whenever you vent to him

Does anything to protect you

He would try to hide his past from you for a while until inevitably find out

You don't argue often, but when you do it's usually not over serious things. An exception being when you find out what he did before (school shooting, Vivien, murder, etc.) ... You can decide if you want to forgive him or not

Reading with him, both of you silent yet still resting against each other

Introducing him to social media and him begging you to follow fan pages of bands he likes

You die in Murder house, which shouldn't come as a surprise, since everybody dies in that damn house. Maybe you commit suicide for him or something, but another ghost or entity killing you is a high possibility as well

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NSFW

Riding his thigh while he softly encourages you, whispering in your ear as you do so

I get switch vibes from him, but heavily leaning towards being more submissive, and when he would be dominant, he would definitely be a soft dom. He wouldn't want to hurt you; he doesn't seem to be into that

You giving him blow/hand jobs and his hips buck up slightly>>>>

He whimpers and I will not hear ANYBODY out.

His pull-out game seems weak, and he's dead, but as we've seen before, his sperm certainly isn't- so I'd use some contraceptives babe

Missionary and cowgirl are your top two- and the one where you're like sitting on his lap

Average, maybe on the bigger side, but he isn't packing a foot long cock

He really values your pleasure, and wants to make you cum first

Your back would be pressed against his chest and you're sitting on his lap while he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you

He seems like the kind of guy who does not give a fuck about periods

He likes when you're sitting on a chair or the side of your bed and he's kneeling on the ground eating you out

As he said before, gay porn is hot, so you two watch porn together, usually ending up with you and him acting out what you just viewed

He'd be gentle and respectful the entire time

Enjoys watching you masturbate when you don't know he's there, especially when you grind against a pillow. His heart races every time you whisper out his name when you think he isn't there

Shower sex, car sex (when he can leave the house), beach sex (on Halloween), any possible place that you could imagine, he's not opposed to

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[ahqkas]

♯ CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW ; tate langdon

PAIRING! tate langdon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! a brown eyed boy with messy hair and pretty smile from the neighborhood offers to light up a cigarette for you

WORD COUNT! 2.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, heavy mention of cigarettes and smoking, mentions of reader struggling mentally, + lmk of more if found

NOTES! i need a pretty brown eyed boy with messy hair to light my cigarette for me . all the credits to the devider below belong to @/v6que !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

IF CIGARETTES WERE SO BAD FOR YOU, WHY WERE YOU CRAVING THEM LIKE YOUR MOTHER'S TOUCH OR YOUR FATHER'S ATTENTION? How something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could wield such power over you? That finely cut paper filled with cured tobacco leaves caused serious damage to your physical health yet it improved the state of your mind.  

When you held it against your lips and took the first drag, it felt like the first breath you take after being underwater for too long. A rush of adrenaline along with relief, if only for a moment. The nicotine coursed through your veins, wrapping around your brain like the softest of dreams and you ached to reach for it again and again like a child for a hand that was never there. You knew it was killing you slowly, each inhale wrapping around your lungs as if shadow marred its very own presence and each exhale a reminder of the damage you were doing. 

The warnings were there, on every pack. 

It wasn't the act alone that hooked you so hard. The feeling of what the cigarette provided was the real deal. You lit up to quiet the voices in your mind, to numb the ache of loneliness, to dull the reminders of your repeating days. The bitterness of the tobacco, the way it scorched your throat and left a lingering taste on your tongue, was a small price to pay for the way it soothed your soul, however briefly. 

And it was brief — each cigarette only lasted a few minutes. But those minutes were precious. They were yours, and in a life where so much felt out of control, that small sense of ownership was everything. You were the one who decided when to light up, when to take that first drag, when to exhale and watch the smoke curl into the air, disappearing like the worries you wished would do the same.

The night was cool, the air heavy with the damp scent of earth and the faint aroma of wood smoke coming from your neighbor's chimney. It was one of those nights when you felt like your shoulders were loaded with such a burden that there was no way out. At least the night sky didn't disappoint with its beauty — millions, billions of stars were flickering upon the darkness, shining brighter with each passing minute. You sat on the porch steps of your new house, your knees drawn up to your chest and a cigarette dangling loosely between your fingers. 

You felt the coolness of the unlit cigarette against your fingertips, the promise it held lingering in the back of your mind. It was as if time had paused, the night holding its breath alongside you. You toyed with the idea, rolling the cigarette gently between your fingers, feeling the slight bumps of the packed tobacco inside. There was a certain comfort in just holding it — a familiarity, a sense of control over something so small. 

The porch light cast a soft, golden glow around your form, but beyond that, the yard was swallowed by shadows.  

Should you light it? The thought lingered, heavy and persistent, as you stared at the fragile cylinder in your hand. Your parents disapproved of their children smoking and the thoughts of disappointing them felt too heavy for you.  You brought the unlit cigarette to your lips, mind spinning with thoughts you couldn't quite grasp. Everything felt too much — too heavy, too overwhelming. You were suffocating under the weight of it all, and this cigarette, this tiny thing, felt like the only tether to the world you could control. The cool paper pressed against your teeth, offering a strange comfort. 

For a moment, you just held it there, as if the act of lighting it would be too final, too irreversible. The familiar scent of tobacco teased your senses, but something held you back. The night's stillness, the way the shadows seemed to reach out toward you, and the deep sense of unease that had settled in your chest all seemed to whisper, not yet. 

Then, the creak of the porch door behind you shattered the fragile silence. Your heart skipped a beat, fear spiking through you as you imagined your parents standing there, their disapproving eyes catching you in this vulnerable moment. Panic washed over you, the cigarette trembling slightly between your fingers as you fumbled with it, trying to keep the drug out of sight. You couldn't bear the thought of facing them, of explaining what you couldn't even fully understand yourself. 

But when you finally found the courage to turn around, it wasn't your parents. Relief flooded your system immediately as you saw Tate standing there, his figure half-illuminated by the porch light, half-swallowed by the darkness behind him. He always had a way of appearing just when you needed him, like a ghost materializing out of thin air.  Without a word, Tate slid down beside you, the movement smooth and quiet. The space between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed and his knee knocked into yours softly in greeting. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that made you yearn for the person's presence because you liked how they made you feel.

And Tate made you feel good in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn't just his presence, though that alone was enough to soothe the twisted edges of your thoughts. It was the way he understood you without the need for explanations, the way he could step into your personal space and fill it with a quiet strength that seemed to steady everything around you. Tate made you feel good because with him, you felt whole, like all the broken parts of you could finally be mended. 

You kept your gaze ahead on the darkness of the yard, occasionally glancing at your hands, all while feeling the weight of the boy's eyes on you. He was watching you, or perhaps analyzing your actions, but the weight wasn't heavy. With him, everything seemed easy. 

He was the one to break the silence with his voice low, sounding like gravel sliding over stone. "You shouldn't smoke, you know. It's bad for you."

Huffing a soft, bitter laugh, the sound escaped your lips as a faint, misty cloud in the cool night air as your eyes flicked toward him, catching his gaze through the veil of your dark eyelashes. There was a hint of pure amusement in your expression. "It's pretty ironic coming from you," you murmured, voice laced with a touch of mockery. You looked down at the unlit cigarette, rolling it once more between your fingers.

"But it's not like it matters, right?" you continued, your tone shifting to something softer, almost wistful. "It's just . . . something to do."

You shrugged, the gesture small and almost unnoticable, as if trying to dismiss the meaning of what you had just said. But the words you wanted to say lingered in the air between you. It wasn't just about the cigarette — it was about the need to fill the void, to occupy the empty spaces that stretched out endlessly in your life. It was about finding something, anything, to hold onto when everything else felt so fragile.

Tate's brown irises flickered with something you couldn't quite place — a glimmer of understanding, maybe. It was as if he saw through your casual words, past the nonchalance you tried to project, and into the deeper, more vulnerable parts of you that you kept hidden from the entire world. 

He understood you as if you were two sides of the same coin.

The boy didn't say anything at first, just watched you with that steady, unreadable gaze that seemed to pull at the edges of your carefully constructed facade. Then, with a slow movement, Tate reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound breaking the quietness surrounding you. He withdrew a lighter, its polished metal surface catching the porch light for a split second, casting a brief flash of brightness that contrasted sharply with the darkness around you. The lighter was simple, a worn silver Zippo with a few scratches along its surface — evidence of years of use, of countless times it had been flicked open to ignite a flame. 

Tate's movements were smooth and practiced as he flicked the lighter open, the familiar click of the metal lid snapping back echoing softly in the still night air. The sound was almost comforting in its predictability, a stark difference to the unpredictability of your thoughts and emotions. A small flame grew to life, its warm, golden light flickering gently as it cast a soft glow on Tate's face, illuminating the chiseled lines of his jawline and nose, and the softer curve of his lips. His skin, usually pale, seemed to take on a warm hue in the firelight, adding a touch of color to the otherwise cool tones that seemed to follow him wherever he went. And his hair, a tousled mess of blond curls that framed his face, caught the light as well, the strands turning golden where the flame touched them, adding a softness to his otherwise sharp features. The way his hair fell, slightly over his forehead and around his ears, gave him a boyish look that contrasted with the haunted expression in his eyes, which made him seem both young and impossibly old at the same time.

You hesitated, eyes locked on the flame, mesmerized by its hypnotic dance. It was such a small thing, yet it held so much power — the power to transform, to ignite, to bring both comfort and destruction. You could feel the warmth radiating from it. Tate waited, patient and unwavering, for you to make a move. He wasn't pushing you to make a decision, wasn't trying to influence your choice. He was simply there, offering you the possibility. 

You brought the cigarette to rest between your lips, your hand steady despite the slight tremor in your stomach. Leaning in closer to the flame, you could feel the heat brushing against your cheeks, a whisper of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool night air. The flame licked at your face, casting fleeting shadows across your features as you drew in a slow, deliberate breath, all while your eyes remained locked with the boy who seemed like he fell straight out of your dreams. 

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange, and for that brief moment, it felt as if the entire world had narrowed down to just that one glowing point. The burn of the tobacco was immediate, the familiar taste bitter and grounding, pulling you back from the despair. As you exhaled, a plume of smoke curled from your lips, twisting and swirling into the night air, hitting Tate's face. 

"Thanks," you murmured, with your voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

In response, Tate's lips curled into a charming grin, the kind that was disarmingly boyish and just a little crooked at the corners. The smile lit up his features just like the flame did, softening the intensity of his gaze and adding a glint of warmth to his doe eyes. It was the kind of smile that made you feel like, despite the darkness and everything else that loomed over your life, there was still something good in the world — something worth holding onto. 

The boy next to you leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him, his gaze lifting to the sky where the stars were hidden by a thick layer of dark clouds. "What's on your mind?" he asked the kind of question that didn't need an immediate answer.

He probably already knew what was swirling around in your head — Tate always seemed to know, like he had a sixth sense for the things you tried to keep buried. But still, he asked, giving you the space to say it out loud or let it hang there between the two of you, unspoken.

You sighed, nimble fingers absently rolling the cigarette between them. You tilted your head slightly, catching his profile against the dim light. You never really noticed before but, God, was he pretty. "You ever feel like you're just . . . stuck?" you began, voice soft, as if you were testing the waters. "Like no matter what you do, you're just going through the motions, waiting for something to change but not really believing it ever will?"

Tate's heart skipped a beat. You couldn't possibly know, and yet your question struck so close to the truth of his existence that it took him a moment to respond. He was stuck — stuck in this place, in this time, in this state of being. And you didn't know. You couldn't know. How could you?

For a second, he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he only felt in your presence. He kept his gaze on the clouds, forcing himself to stay calm, to not let the surprise show in his expression. But his mind was racing, grappling with the irony of your words. You were searching for a way out of your own feeling of being stuck, while he was trapped in a far more literal sense, bound to this house with no escape. 

"Yeah," the boy finally said, his voice softer, almost hesitant, as if weighing the truth he couldn't fully share. "More often than I'd like to admit."

You didn't seem to notice the tension in his voice, the subtle shift in his demeanor. You just nodded, your own thoughts wrapped up in your struggles. "It's like the world's moving on without me, and I'm just . . . here. Stuck in the same place, doing the same things, feeling the same way."

Tate's heart ached with the weight of what he couldn't tell you, the truth that he was stuck in ways you couldn't imagine. But he kept his voice steady, warm. "You're not alone in that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "We're all trying to find our way, even when it feels impossible." He glanced at you, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and before he could think twice, he reached out and took your hand in his. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring, and he began to slowly rub his thumb over your knuckles in small, soothing circles. The roughness of his thumb contrasted with the softness of your skin.

His steady voice broke the silence with softness. "You know," he began, his tone imbued with sincerity, "I'd never let anybody or anything hurt you. Not while I'm here."

Your gaze remained fixed on your joined hands for a moment, absorbing the seriousness and sincerity of Tate's words. The promise in his voice, the gentle assurance of his touch, created a sense of warmth that made the rest of the world seem a little less scary.

Feeling a surge of gratitude and comfort, you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt felt warm against your cheek, and the subtle scent of him — something earthy and faintly comforting — surrounded you with a feeling of home. Tate was your safe place in this filthy and helpless world. 

His body tensed slightly at the unexpected touch, but he quickly relaxed, his arm instinctively moving to drape over your shoulders in a protective gesture. He could feel the gentle weight of your head resting there, and it brought a sense of closeness he hadn't fully realized he needed. The feeling of having you this close was unreal. 

Tate turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing against the top of your head. "You okay?"

You gave him a nod while your warm breath washed against his neck. "Yeah. I just needed this." 

The two of you stayed like that for a while as the world outside seemed to fade away. The night wrapped around you like a blanket, and for a brief, perfect moment, the worries and fears that had clouded your mind disappeared, replaced by the simple, profound comfort of being close to someone who wasn't afraid to show you just how deeply he cared.

[anti-romantico]

[halloween fun] txt soobin

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob, creampie, multiple orgasms, car sex

words: 1776

A/N: this was supposed to be a halloween special (duh) but yk your girl is a mess, so maybe you'll be reading this on christmas (happy holidays!!!)

The party was loud, just like you liked. The place wasn't packed but there were enough people to casually bump into each other while dancing.

You gave a goodbye kiss on the cheek to the guy you were dancing with before going back to Jaime. She was confused when she felt your touch on her back.

— Oh come on, he was cute! — She yelled in your ear.

— He is, but I'm still not ready to ruin my make-up!

You both laughed it off and kept dancing. But you couldn't help but notice a pair of eyes following every move you made. You tried to find them, failing every time.

You were dressed as a zombie fairy. Even your friend was uncertain about it, but you didn't believe the costume was striking for someone to stare at for so long.

— I'm gonna smoke, you coming? — Your friend asked over the music. You just nodded and followed her.

You made it to the restroom where she sat down in one of the sinks while you laid back against the wall. She lit up a cigarette and took a drag before handing it to you.

You took a long drag and exhaled slowly before taking another. You were feeling pretty good from all the drinks you'd been drinking.

— Uh, ladies? — A voice came out from the other side of the door beside you.

— Yeah? — You peaked your head and saw two guys standing.

— Do you mind if we use this restroom? The bartender said it was ok but we noticed you two walked in so... — You looked at your friend who was only enjoying her cigarette; she nodded.

You opened the door fully and let them in.

— It'll be fast. — The guy you talked with practically ran to one of the booths and locked himself in.

— Sorry, the men's restroom is being used for other things... — The second guy said. He was much taller than his friend.

It seemed like they were dressed as the penguin from Batman and Tate Langdon from American Horror Story.

— Drugs? — Jamie asked, as if it was the most common situation happening in that place. Because it was.

— One of them. — The tall guy said.

— Yeah, the owner got tired of asking people to stop bringing drugs in. He now asks everyone a certain amount and you don't get to buy alcohol if you bring any. — You explained.

— What about the cops? — The other guy said, raising his voice.

— It's a small town, handsome, and he knows the right people. — Jaime answered.

— Speaking of small towns. We've never seen you around. — You asked the tall guy. Your friend caught the change of tone.

— We came to visit a friend, he must be making out with someone already. — The tall guy's whole body language also changed, only paying attention to you.

Once his friend got out of the booth, he washed his hands and dried them in his clothes.

— Hey, how about we go for a drink? — Jaime asked, the guy looked at his friend and then you, and, thankfully, understood.

Finally alone, you noticed his stare was heavy.

— What good friends. — The guy said, making you giggle. — I'm Soobin.

After telling him your name, he continued: — I like your costume. I've never seen a zombie fairy before.

— God, thank you! You're the first one to guess correctly. — Your hands touched his abs over his clothes. His hands held them there, slightly pulling you close.

— I mean, you have wings, a mini dress, cute make-up and awesome fake wounds.

— So you pay attention to details. Nice. — And even though you were wearing high-heels, he was still much taller than you.

— How not to? You called my attention since you walked in. — His voice was low this time, but the closeness made it easy for you to hear.

— So are you the one that has been staring at me?

— I prefer the term "admiring". Because that's what's supposed to do with beautiful girls like you.

He pushed the right buttons with you, so when he leaned down to kiss you, you let him. Not caring he might ruin your and his make-up in the process. The kiss wasn't messy, though, he was conscious he had black paint in most of his face.

— Sorry, I don't want to get black paint on you. — His fingers brushed your waist.

— How sweet, but I was looking forward to taking this further... — You pouted, brushing the hair of his neck.

— I think I have baby wipes in my car.

He dragged you out of the place, and you shared a stare with your friend before stepping out to the cold weather.

His car wasn't far, but your heels were killing you. It was like heaven when he opened the passenger door for you. You literally kicked the shoes before he could get in.

— I think there are some in that backpack. — Soobin was about to get the backpack from the backseat, but you beat him.

You opened the zipper and wandered around with your hand until you felt a plastic package. You grabbed some and shamelessly straddled his lap. He was startled by your actions, but he let you clean him.

— I feel so bad removing the make-up, it was really well-done. — You grabbed a second wipe and cleaned only his mouth, not daring to touch his cheeks.

— My sister helped, she'll understand if I tell her it was to make out with the prettiest girl in the party. — You smiled and threw the plastic package back in the backpack.

— Did you take pictures?

— She did a whole photoshoot before letting me go. — He followed your moves while you threw the backpack to the backseat.

Once your attention was back with him, he grabbed you by the neck and kissed you, properly this time.

Your fingers held onto his back shirt and kissed him back, getting heated pretty fast.

You could feel your pussy getting wetter as he sucked on your tongue, and you reached down to grab his cock through his jeans. He moaned into your mouth and grabbed your ass, pulling you closer.

You could feel his hard cock throbbing against your hand, and you wanted it inside you so badly.

You broke the kiss and looked up at him, — I want you to fuck me.

He smiled and nodded. — You sure?

— Yes. — You replied.

— Then sit down there and suck my cock. — You did as you were told and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock.

— Mmmm, that's what I like. — He said with a grin. You wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked it gently, looking up at him. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back. — That feels nice. — He whispered.

You licked the tip of his cock, tasting his pre cum. You slid your lips over the head of his cock, taking more of him in. You bobbed your head up and down, sucking his cock slowly. — Oh yeah. — He moaned, grabbing your hair and pushing you down further.

You took all of him in your mouth and sucked harder, making him groan. You moved your head faster, wanting him to come.

— Oh yeah, that's it baby... suck my cock. Suck it! — You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and he groaned loudly, shooting his cum in your mouth. You swallowed every drop, then licked his cock clean.

You sat down back in his lap, kissing again. His hands lifted your dress a little, but your stockings were on the way.

— Rip them. — You said, biting his lip.

— What? — Soobin wasn't sure if he heard you correctly.

— I'll buy new ones. Rip them.

And he obeyed, ripping apart your white stockings.

You slightly moaned when his fingers brushed your pussy over your panties. With his other hand, Soobin moved them and inserted one finger in you.

After a minute, he inserted a second finger, earning a loud moan from you. — Fuck... Keep doing that. — You said when Soobin started to fucking you with his fingers.

— Do you want me to make you cum with my fingers? — Soobin asked. But you couldn't speak, so you just nodded eagerly. With the help of his thumb, he massaged your clit. You kissed him when you felt like you were getting closer.

Your fingers pulled his hair while he was helping you ride your orgasm. He let you catch your breath. You kissed him again, giving his tongue a hard suck.

— Are you ready for another one? — You nodded, grabbing his dick and guiding it to your pussy.

Soobin grabbed you by your waist and pulled you down. He pushed his cock into you, and you let out a loud moan. He fucked you slowly, enjoying every inch of your tight pussy. — Oh god Soobin, fuck me.

— Yeah? You like riding my cock? — Soobin said, giving you a hard smack on your butt cheek. His lips flew to your neck and started kissing you. The make-up on his cheeks long-forgotten.

The windows were fogged up, and anyone passing by would know what was happening with the way the car was moving.

Soobin pulled you by your neck to kiss you again. He felt you clench around him, tightening his hand around your neck.

— Cum for me, baby. — He whispered, and you came hard, screaming Soobin's name. He kept going until you felt him cum inside you.

You rested your head on his shoulder while he rubbed your back. But you weren't done, once you had enough strength, you kissed him, moving your hips again.

— Fuck... Wait... — Soobin said, trying to stop you.

— No, no please, just another one. — You moaned. He was hesitant, but you convinced him by telling him how good it felt. He finally gave in and continued fucking you.

— Oh god, I'm gonna cum again! — You screamed, wrapping your arms around his neck. You came again, but this time Soobin didn't stop. He kept going, fucking you harder than before. You moaned louder and louder.

More cum painted your walls. You could feel how it was starting to spill out.

— Shit... — You said once you saw in what state his make-up was. You couldn't help but laugh.

— I think I need you to remove all my make-up.

You kept laughing while grabbing the backpack. While doing that, his cum spilled out of you to his thighs.

After cleaning his face and legs, and your neck, you fixed your dress and went back to the passenger seat.

— So you're visiting here? — You asked, checking yourself in the rearview mirror and cleaning any sign of black paint.

— I can always extend my stay.

[stilespeters]

Rich Girl

series masterlist

pairing: Tate Langdon x f!reader

words: 4965

summary: The wealthy kinsley family moving into the murder house leads to: Cracks forming between family members, strange occurances in the house, and the feeling of being watched all the time.

warnings: underaged drinking, hints to stalking, some cursing

taglist: @iloveneilperry

song: rich girl by daryl hall and john oates

🎶 So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

October 21st 2014

It was always very clear that the west coast wasn't for you, yet here you were, stuck in LA traffic on a saturday morning. You had questioned if you had done anything horrific in your life to deserve to be here right now.

Olive was sitting next to you and was playing some Mario game on his nintendo, Frank was driving while whistling the lines of the horrible music on the radio and your mother was nervous. Usually she would touch her pearl necklace continuously in state of stress, however it was packed up in her suitcase in the back. Now she was staring blankly in front of her, biting her nails. It was a habit you inherited from her as you were plucking your own cuticles. However, instead of being nervous, you were bored out of your mind.

To try and kill time you had placed your headphones on and listened to your own music, but still, Nirvana couldn’t make time go by faster. It also didn't help that strands of hair were getting painfully stuck in your headphones and earrings every time you moved.

For hours since you left the hotel it was quiet in the car, until you heard Frank gasp. The whole ride from the hotel he had looked very neutral but now he broke the silence. “Oh my god.”

Your mom got out of her trance and turned her head, making her hat bump against the window. “What is it, honey?”

“I think I forgot to grab our charger from our hotel room,” Frank seemed visibly upset and your mom stopped biting her nails.

“It’s probably somewhere in the suitcases in the back.” She tried to reassure but Frank shook his head. “No, I remember plugging in the charger and thinking to myself I should unplug it and pack it in, but I forgot.”

"It's just a charger, honey. You got a backup charger and when we arrive at the house we'll buy another one." she was quick to come to a solution but Frank shook his head. He was always one to never forget anything. Even though you were very very wealthy and could buy millions of chargers, Frank always advocated to you and your little brother to never lose an item worth of any value. Every cent was worth something and could help. The way Frank looked at money was the way a mother would look at a newborn child.

"Fine." He murmured and you saw one of his famous frowns appear on his face whenever he was upset. He looked like a child really. Every time something like this happens he sulks in a corner and desperately tries to push the annoying feeling away for the sake of looking tough, however, deep inside he was boiling.

He gave a small smack on the side of the wheel and cursed.

“Shit.”

Before he could say anything else, your mother gave him a soft smack on the shoulder. “Don’t swear in front of Oliver. He doesn't need to hear that filth.”

Frank’s eyes widened and he said “whoops” before giving a guilty look at your mother. He quietly hoped Oliver didn’t hear it but once he turned his head to look at him, Oliver looked up from his Nintendo and gave him a cheeky smile. “Shit.”

Oliver always did the same thing Frank did. It was cute how he looked up to him. Your mother however wasn’t too fond of it.

“See? He’s starting to copy you. Next thing I know, he starts smoking and drinking as well. 1 version of you is enough.”

“Oh come on, Clarissa. A little swearing won’t hurt the world. It’ll make him tough like his sister. Right Y/n?” again, he looked at you with hope through the rear view mirror that you’ll back him up.

“No, I actually agree with mom.”

“Thank you, see Frank? I raised a well mannered daughter.”

You bit your nail and leaned your elbow against the window frame of the car while looking outside. “Yeah, I think it’s a very shitty thing to swear in front of Olive.”

“Very shit indeed.” Oliver answered.

Frank laughed out loud, his lost charger long forgotten and your mother facepalmed while closing her eyes. She rubbed her forehead as she leaned against the window and she looked visibly disappointed. You however, looked at your little brother and high fived him.

“One version of you,” your mom looked back and pointed at you “Is also enough.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. You then clicked on the pause button on your ipod to resume your song. Nirvana’s ‘come as you are’ was on a loop and you closed your eyes while daydreaming.

The feeling of sitting in one position for way too long made your body shiver and ache. It stung and you felt uncomfortable, but after shifting and finding a better way to sit, the vibrations managed to lull you to sleep.

Once the car came to a stop about 3 hours later, you opened your eyes.

“We’re here!” Frank said in excitement and placed a hand on your mother’s hand before exiting the vehicle. You had your ipod in hand and ‘glory box’ by Portishead was playing as you stretched your limbs.

From the moment you stepped out of the car and felt the California weather wrapped around you, you were surprised that it wasn’t that hot. Even though it was October, you expected it to feel like you were in a pit of hell. The autumn breeze however felt comfortable against your skin.

You grabbed your backpack with all the necessary stuff you needed, and grabbed your sunglasses from your pocket to shield the sunlight from your eyes. As you chewed on your bubblegum you got a view of the building in front of you.

Frank and your mom were stretching their limbs and you took a long and hard look. The building looked like it had been ripped out of a 1920s film. It was grand and had a pale reddish color. The windows were mosaic with washed out colors, but it suited the exterior well.

Frank looked in awe at the building. “Now, look at that beauty. It’s even better in person.” you cocked your head to the side and scanned the mural. “It looks…” you tried to find the right word, “Old.”

You and your best friend loved fashion styles and you were also both very interested in stylish architecture. Victorian homes were usually fascinating to you because it had so much character and history. This one in front of you however looked like one of those houses that had mold everywhere. It's probably because it had been a very long time since people lived here.

You cringed and scrunched your nose while touching your earring. "This place better have a maid."

Olive stood next to you while Frank and your mom stood behind you. Frank placed his arm around your mom’s waist and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I read online that it was built somewhere in the early 20th century." Your mom gave the boy a little squeeze of his shoulder.

“Great, so the chances are 99% that the house is haunted." you muttered and your mom gave you a sharp look.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” You gave her a smile and when she looked away, you rolled your eyes. Frank heard what you said and rubbed your shoulder. “Of course it’s not haunted, honey. You’ve seen way too many films,” the man looked at the little boy, “It’s beautiful and detailed, right Oliver?”

Oliver didn’t respond, instead he searched for your hand and clung to it. “Is this our new home?"

“It might be,” Frank walked with Marcy to the next room and squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “Come on little man, let’s see the inside.”

Frank, Oliver and your mother were the first ones to walk towards the door and you were left behind to gaze at the window. You swore you saw movement for a split second and your eyes lingered for a moment, but after a while of staring you saw nothing. All that met your eye was the abyss behind colored tiles.

You shrugged it off and slowly made your way to the front door. Right before you stepped foot on the porch, the door opened and a strawberry blonde woman smiled brightly.

“You must be Frank and Clarissa,” she greeted and Frank shook the woman's hand. She introduced herself as Marcy and then saw you and your brother, "And you must be Y/n and Oliver." You shook her hand and smiled, showing your bright teeth, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Marcy stepped aside and let everyone in. “It’s a classic Victorian. Built around 1920 by the doctor to the stars at the time. It’s just fabulous, these are real Tiffany fixtures. And as you can see, the owners really loved this place like a child. They restored everything.”

Oliver followed them and you were still scanning the hall. The feelings you had when you walked on the creaking wood was indescribable. It looked intriguing yet menacing for some reason.

As Marcy explained some more historic facts about the building, you got bored and decided to walk around. You didn't know where to, but your feet moved before you could think. It felt like a strong gravitational pull enchanted you and took control of your legs, and your curious eyes met a lamp in the corner of the end of the hall. To the right there was nothing to meet your eyes but the walls, yet again you swore you saw movement. You frowned but shrugged it off once again. Maybe it was just the jetlag. You really did feel tired and almost choked on your bubblegum when you fell asleep.

You whipped out your phone as you walked through the hall and you sighed exaggeratedly. You were texting your best friend about the house. However you didn't have any service and you wondered if the place had wifi. No matter, even if it would send, she didn't respond right away as she was probably asleep due to the time difference. You put away your phone and looked around.

You had seen pictures before and thought everything was gonna be smaller. You knew the way people photographed houses to make it look bigger than in reality, but this house seemed to be an exception. You had to give props to that. You had great respect for honesty and integrity.

As you were checking all of the rooms on the ground floor, you were stopped by a barking sound from your right. As you followed the sound, you looked down and saw a Chi-poo looking up at you with whale eyes. It looked at you with its head cocked to the side and you crouched down. “Where did you come from, little guy?” your voice was higher pitched and you gently grabbed the collar and read the name, “Hallie.”

Your frown faded and you smiled brightly while scratching Hallie’s head. “Aren’t you a little beauty?” You whispered and you let Hallie find a comfortable spot in your arms. The moment seemed sweet and although it was, a clicking sound of heels that was heard from behind you ruined it. You could almost hear the entitlement in that sound and you let out an inaudible sigh.

“There you are,” You looked up and saw your mother standing in the doorway. “Want to see the rest of the house, sweetie?”

Clarissa leaned against the brown cabinet on the right. You put up a smile and stood up from your spot.

“Yeah I’m coming.” You grabbed the dog and cradled it in your arms.

After you saw the kitchen, you were marveled by the space of the house in its entirety. Sure everything looked old but there was no denying the house definitely had style. The kitchen island had a sink and the dark brown wood oddly complimented the black and white tiles. From the outside it definitely looked very stale and it definitely needed a paint job, but from the inside it was much more vibrant. You appreciated all the little crevices of details in each and every room and realized you shouldn't have judged too harshly on the first look.

Once you moved to another door and opened it, you saw two big shelves against the wall and a fireplace on the right.

“This could be the music room, right honey?” Frank asked your mother and she happily nodded.

Marcy looked amused, “You’re a musician?”

Frank shook his head. “No, unfortunately I’m not musically gifted, Y/n is. She plays the piano.”

"She definitely didn't get that from me, I am tone deaf." Your mother laughed and you smiled sheepishly.

Marcy gave you a smile in return and walked a bit further towards the window. “I think the piano is such a lovely instrument, I think it will look amazing here.” She pointed at the spot near the window and Frank happily continued talking. “Y/n has been dying to get a Grand Piano. We had one years ago but sold it when we moved again. We want to buy one as soon as possible for her so she can practice again.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a proud smile as he rubbed softly, “Oliver always listened whenever she played. Y/n even taught him a song or two."

“That sounds lovely, the previous owners of the house were also musically gifted. The mother played the Cello.” Marcy continued and her face fell, “Speaking about the previous owners, full disclosure requires that I tell you what happened to them.”

You let out a soft chuckle and walked forward, causing Frank's hand to let go off your shoulder. “Let me guess, they died?”

You actually meant for it to be a joke, but Marcy nodded.

“Yes they did, actually. All three of them. The dog you’re holding is Hallie. The only one left of the Harmon family. The mother died while giving birth and the daughter and the father both committed suicide. I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest family. You never know, I guess.”

Your face fell and your mouth opened and closed a few times as your eyebrows were raised. Before you could say anything, Frank came to your rescue. “That explains why it’s half the price of every other house in the neighborhood and why it was on sale for 3 years I guess.”

You could have guessed Frank wanted the biggest house for the least amount of money. One thing he didn't forsee was there was always a catch.

"I told you it was too good to be true." you whispered to yourself. The house market was shit, and so when Frank found this house on the listings he marveled at how much money he could save and invest if you were to move in. You were very skeptical of it and had warned him that there could be a very concerning reason as to why it was this cheap.

Murders were definitely a valid reason as to why.

Marcy continued. “I do have a very nice mid-century ranch, but it’s in the valley and you’re going to get a third of the house for twice the price.”

Your mother held the arm of Frank and seemingly didn’t care about the information about the demise of the previous tenants. “The price doesn’t really matter to us. We just need a spaceious place where there is silence and peace. I get these horrible migraines that cause insomnia and my psychiatrist recommended moving to a more quiet area.”

“And you thought you would find silence in LA?” You tried but your mother ignored your comment and continued talking to Marcy. “He prescribed me pills that could help me fall asleep and stay asleep. But still, the loudness of central New Orleans was too much.”

“Don’t worry, mrs. Kinsley. Los Angeles is not all loud and noisy. This house is in the perfect neighborhood and in the perfect shape. The sounds of anything outside are drowned out by the thick walls and even then, it’s rare for it to be busy outside. The only times when the neighborhood comes alive is on holidays,” Marcy continued. “As halloween is approaching, the peak will be on october 31st, but after that you can expect everything to be quiet. Also, the neighbors don't really tend to socialise a lot from what I've heard.”

“That sounds lovely.” your mother smiled brightly and Marcy walked away to talk with Frank about the next room that was perfect for his work. You could faintly the voice of Marcy saying the man from the previous family was a psychiatrist and you found it ironic since Frank was a psychologist. What a coincidence.

As soon as she was out of your sight, you turned to your mother and removed the smile from your face. “Okay, it might be in a good neighborhood, and everything might be all quiet or whatever. But are we really gonna gloss over the fact that a family died here? I mean, what happened to the tenants before them? Are you not concerned about that?"

“The history of the house isn't that important," she shrugged, "You didn't seem to have a problem with our old house. It's even older and also a lot of things have happened there. Probably a few murders here and there. There is a ton of history on that as well." She said as if it was the most casual thing ever. Yeah sure, it's not like murder is a crime and is very bad

"Yes, but this is a house where random people died," you whisper-shouted, "Our old house was old, yes, but it's family history. Our history. I don't mind that because it's a part of us. It's part of our family."

Your mother didn't answer that and looked at the side. She was as stubborn like you and you let out a mocking laugh. "Right, I forgot family doesn't mean anything to you, it's why you got a new shitty boyfriend Frank and decided to move to the other side of the fucking country." That made her head snap back to you and you almost missed the way her head moved to Frank and Marcy, afraid that they would hear her daughter's outburst.

"Y/n, let’s not do this now. It’s not the timing.” Your mother warned with closed teeth and but before you could protest and ask when the right time was, Oliver stood in the doorway. “Mom?”

Hallie, who had a warm spot in your arms, jumped out and ran towards the younger boy. Oliver looked surprised but happily pet the dog and Clarissa smiled as if nothing happened.

“Hey honey, what do you think of the house so far?"

“It’s very big,” Hallie licked his hand and the boy smiled, “I like it.”

Clarissa nodded in agreement and glanced at Frank and Marcy for a second before facing the two of you again. “I think it’s absolutely gorgeous. Exactly what we're looking for.”

You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over each other.

Olive's eyes sparkled. “Does this mean that we’ll take it?”

“I think it’s perfect," she said and she gave Olive a smile. “Your opinion matters too, of course. What do you say?” You gave your mother a side eye.

“Yes!" she then turned to look at you and waited for your approval. "And you? Y/n?" her eyes stood void of emotions and you watched Frank and Marcy in the corner of your eyes and sighed. “Why are you asking me? I know you don’t care about my opinion anyways.”

“Y/n…” Clarissa smiled through her teeth and gave you a warning look again. Hallie barked at something and ran out of Olive's arms into the hallway. Olive followed the dog and you continued the conversation you had with your mom.

"What? It's literally why you forced me to come with you. Ever since Frank came we everything changed and I'm tired of it, okay? I just... I can't. Give me a break." you exhaled deeply and rubbed your forehead.

"I will have none of this at the moment,” she repeated her standard line with a calm tone, “We both know it was for the best, and you like quiet too right? There are great schools here and I'm sure you'll make loads of new friends." She didn't know she was literally proving your point right then and there. She didn't care about your opinion. She already had her own the minute she forced you to pack your things and dragged you into the car. You were tempted to open the window and yell 'Help, I'm being kidnapped' but you knew that would only worsen things. You also didn't really felt like sitting in a police bureau sulking while your mother explained the situation.

You scoffed and crossed your arms. "LA is full of stuck up people who care only about followers and fame. I never wanted this."

Your mother rolled her eyes. "Don't act like a brat, Y/n I am so over it. Tons of girls your age dream of moving to this city in a big house like this. They would do anything to be in your position right now, to have the opportunities you have. Besides there are people like that everywhere, your old friends were exactly like that. And sweetie, don't tell me you're not like them cause you are.”

Ah, the old classic "you can't feel sad because you have it better than majority of the people on this shitty planet".

You were starting to boil.

“Just because you’re not a fan of them doesn’t mean they’re immediately conceited.” you tried to keep your voice low to avoid Olive hearing the conversation if he were to lurk somewhere nearby. He had witnessed a few outbursts a few times before and you didn't want Olive to see that as an example of good behavior.

Before the conversation truly went downhill, Marcy and Frank walked back into the room and you turned around to smile again as if nothing happened. Your mother did the same and now you realized the older you got, the more you looked like your mother.

Frank gave Clarissa a kiss on the cheek before he looked at you and asked the same question. “So, Y/n. What do you say?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you realized that there was absolutely no way of going home anytime soon. You gave Frank one last look before giving Marcy a grin, hoping she wouldn’t notice your twitching eye.

“Does this place come with the dog?”

After Clarissa and Frank signed some papers and discussed the next plans with Marcy, it was already night time. Most of the moving boxes were in the living room and you were currently in your new bedroom. You didn't want to speak with anyone today and so you sulked while sitting on your bed.

The room wasn't all too bad, it was way smaller and darker than your previous room but oddly enough you didn't really mind. Plus, the door had a lock so that was very convenient for you. It took a little while to get the key but after a thorough search you found it lying in a cabinet.

You locked the door, closed the blinds and made sure no one could peek. You were tired from everything and you were in desperate need of some distraction. A bottle of vodka was hidden somewhere deep in one of the boxes as well as a can of cola, and you mixed the two drinks.

"At least I still have alcohol and a designer handbag." You muttered and as you sat on the chair in front of the mirror at your desk, you took a swig of the liquid.

“The blinds are see through, anyone standing in the yard can see what you're doing.”

You spat out the remaining drink and turned around to see a young, blonde man stand near the door. He had his hands in his pockets and simply blinked at you.

“What the-” you wiped the remains from your mouth. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” You saw that the door behind him was open, and you were visibly confused. You thought you locked your door.

“Also, the lock is old, you should double turn the key for it to work.”

Before you could say anything else, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Your eyebrows were frowned and you turned around one more time to blink at the door. Once you looked back at the mirror, you saw the spatters of vodka mixed with cola painted the glass and rubbed your eyes.

What the fuck?

You stood up from your place after a few seconds and walked to your door. To test out what he said you locked the door while twisting the key once. As you pushed the door, it opened and you did the same thing again, this time you turned the key twice.

You pushed the door and it didn’t budge.

Who the fuck was he and how did he get into your house? Was he one of the movers who helped with the boxes from the truck? No that can't be possible, you scanned everyone's faces as they moved in and out, but everyone was middle aged.

So perhaps he was one of Frank's clients? You didn't really know anything about his job but it seemed very logical that clients first had to book an appointment before showing up.

Even though you were kind of freaked out, you didn't alarm anyone. Maybe that was a dumb decision, but you really didn't feel like walking downstairs to see the smug face of Frank and your mother, especially after everything that happened today.

If he was a thief, you hoped he'd steal Frank's backup charger.

If you thought the situation with the blonde boy was weird, what happened after was a lot weirder.

It was about an hour later and you had a bathroom break. You could still walk in a straight line and only felt a bit buzzed. Trying to avoid the living room where Frank and your mother were seated, you walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the tray.

Walking back upstairs, you accidentally dropped the apple and cursed. However, as it rolled into the hallway, you were startled to see the apple roll back to you as though it hit an invisible wall in the middle. You grabbed your forehead, crouching down and taking the apple in your hand. How was that possible?

Looking around once or twice to see anything out of the ordinary, you struggled to clear your thoughts. Eventually you blamed it on the alcohol. Although a feeling deep inside told you that it wasn't that. You knew you weren't drunk enough to imagine this.

You didn't make a big deal out of it mainly because you always scared yourself by thinking the most random creepy things. Walking to the bathroom at night; what if someone is standing behind the corner? Sitting on the couch; what if someone's hand suddenly snatches you into a shadow realm? Every thought was so random. You did it to yourself and you didn't want to scare yourself again.

You blinked once or twice before returning your trek upstairs.

Walking through the hall to find the right door back to your room, you struggled. Having a big house meant there were more rooms, which meant that it would take a while longer to get used to finding your way. Your old house was the same, maybe even bigger. It was the perfect place for hide and seek. You could hide in a closet in one of the many rooms and it would take hours or maybe days to find you.

As you finally found your bedroom, you stopped in your tracks. You heard noise behind the door, and when you opened it, you frowned. You saw that someone unplugged your headphones from your ipod on your bed and had played a song by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

You paused the device and walked out of your room.

“Olive!”

“Yes?”

You opened the door to his room and saw he was still on his nintendo. He didn’t look up when you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed. “You can’t just go into my room and do that shit. We need some boundaries, I value privacy."

Oliver looked up from his nintendo and looked confused. “I didn’t go into your room?”

“Very funny Olive.” Oliver had pulled pranks on you before and so you weren't buying it. "First of all, don't call me Olive, I'm a person not food, and second of all, I never stepped foot off my bed since I jumped on it. That was like an hour ago."

You were very skeptical and crossed your arms.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

You narrowed your eyes before deciding to drop the subject. You didn't want to argue, especially knowing you would get a lecture from Frank about family positivity.

“Whatever.”

You walked back and looked at your ipod once again and rubbed your eyes, cursing because you wore mascara. Trying not to cry because everything frustrated you, you fell ontop of your bed and groaned in your pillow, smudging mascara on the sheets. You just simply didn't care anymore.

These were very interesting first days of your new house. Nothing really seemed to work in your favor, you hated this city, you missed everyone back at home, everything seemed to be out of the ordinary, and you didn't know if the constant feeling of being watched was because of the new house, or if it was just you being paranoid.

No matter, every feeling you held wasn't gonna last long. Because as soon as you would turn 18, you would pack your bags and leave this place. Ever since Frank came into the picture you had everything planned out. All you had to do was wait a couple of weeks and survive the constant bickering of your family members, Frank, and the weirdness of the house. You just have to hold on a little longer.

This is going to be challenging, but surviving for a bit longer can't be that hard... Right?

[frankenkyle19]

Taking the Evan’s to a waterpark

Tate Langdon:

•is grumpy at first

•wants to just stay at home and snuggle 

•doesn’t like being around a lot of people at once

•once you convince him, he does end up having fun

•doesn’t really want to wear a swimsuit, not wanting everyone to see his scars on his arms 

•ends up staying out of the water as much as he can (kinda impossible)

•he does have a fun time watching you though. Seeing you happy makes him happy too.

•he’s very clingy so he wouldn’t want to be away from you for even a second

•You go to get you both some food and he follows after you like a lost puppy dog

•holds your waist, just leaning against you as he tickles your neck with kisses

Kit Walker:

•agrees instantly 

•takes the kids with you, so most of your time is spent watching them 

•he is super protective over them and doesn’t take his eyes off of them for a second

•still gives you plenty of attention, not wanting you to feel left out

•gets you all ice cream 

•keeps kissing you because ‘your ice cream tastes better’ 

•”Just have some then!” 

•”I prefer it from your lips”

•cheesiest mother fucker out there. Like for real

•his kiddos shake their heads and mumble out some ‘ewwws!!’ And ‘daddy that’s gross!’

•once you’re all packed up and in the car, the kiddos fast asleep, he leans over and kisses you once more 

•”Thank you for the idea, the kiddos loved it and I loved it. I hope you had fun too.” 

Franken!Kyle Spencer: 

•has no idea where you’re going or what it means

•is excited nonetheless because anywhere with you is fun for him 

•he isn’t a huge fan of the heat or the sun, but the water helps him cool down

•doesn’t like going down the big slides, prefers keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground (same Kyle. Same)

•goes on the lazy river floaty things, wants to share one with you and gets upset when you tell him he can’t

•you let him hold your hand from his float as you two float down the river together 

•wears himself out pretty quickly. Probably had asthma when he was alive and I dunno if he’d still have it after he was reanimated or not. But yeah. 

•is out once you get back to the academy. Like doesn’t wake up till the next morning, super groggy but happy

Jimmy Darling: 

•doesn’t want to leave the camp but you manage to convince him

•splashes you because he’s a little shit

•challenges you to go down all the big slides 

•tries to get freaky with you in the pool

•”Jimmy! There’s people around!!”

•”if they watch, that’s their problem, doll”

•is super self conscious about his hands per usual, tries to wear gloves into the water :(

•”baby, don’t wear those.”

•”people will stare if I don’t”

•”Jimmy people will stare more if you wear them”

•he’d stubbornly take them off, keeping his hands behind his back unless he was in the water

•Overall, he enjoyed it, the water keeping him cool as you kept him company.

James March: 

•so let’s say he can leave the hotel for more than just Halloween

•if he could, you’d find a way to get him to go to a waterpark with you

•he wouldn’t wear swim attire and wouldn’t want to get wet

•He's such a diva. It’s actually ridiculous at times

•”I will absolutely not get myself wet nor take off any article of clothing.” 

•eye rolls on top of eye rolls

•stays dry while he smokes, just watching you

•he’s definitely a people watcher, just sits and examines everyone around him

•bides his time until you two leave 

•doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but went through with it seeing how happy it made you 

Rory Monahan:

•is totally down for the idea. Like super super excited 

•wakes up super early to get ready and on the road. Wants to spend as much of the day there as possible

•total dork, pretending to ‘drown’ to see if any lifeguards would come to his rescue (they didn’t) 

•He also likes to grab you and pull you under the water, which makes you mad, but he cracked up. The way you screamed when he grabbed your legs from behind.

•gets a shit ton of food for the both of you but ends up stealing yours too. Bro’s a snacker

•whines and complains when you tell him it’s time to go, begging like a child for ‘five more minutes’

Kai Anderson: 

•keeps putting it off, telling you he’s too busy

•when you finally manage to get him to agree, you’re ecstatic. 

•He acts all stoic and just watches as you go down the slides and swim around.

•you end up shoving him in to the pool, knowing you’ll pay for it later. 

•He just kinda chills in the water after that. Just watching you, as well as other people around him, seeing if there were any potentially good cult members.

•You try to get him to just relax and enjoy the day, but he’s so in his mind that he can’t. He can’t rest, leaders didn’t rest

•You still tried your best to get him to enjoy his time there, and maybe he did, but he didn’t really show it

Mr. Gallant:

•Complains that he doesn’t want to get sunburnt, so you promise to put sunscreen on his back every half hour 

•He also didn’t like wearing plain swim shorts because it was boring. He wasn’t boring. 

•He sat at the water's edge for a bit and just dipped his toes into the water, eyes closed as he relaxed.  

•Eventually jumps in once he gets too hot. Bobs around in the water, getting mad when kids or other adults bumped into him

•goes down the lazy river with you, trying to use his feet to flip you over out of your float

•Hates when his hair gets wet because he doesn’t like the way it looks when it dries naturally (hair stylist thingsss)

•still ends up getting sunburnt and swears he's never going outside without a shirt on ever again 

Peter Maximoff:

•So excited to get you all to himself for a day just relaxing 

•tries to use his mutant powers while in the water and ends up splashing water absolutely everywhere 

•his powers don’t really work in water, it slows him down to an almost normal speed

•get snacks first. Food, food, food. This boy is always thinking about his twinkies. Doesn’t go an hour without eating something

•goes down the slides and absolutely cannonballs into the water. 

•his hair sticks to his face and covers his eyes when he comes out of the water, making him huff.

•some people do recognize him, but luckily it doesn’t cause too much of a commotion and you’re able to enjoy the day 

•such a little shit. Doesn’t matter where you take him, he will always act out. 

•maturity level of an eight year old boys 

•When you tell him it’s time to go, he runs away and hops back into the water, swimming away from you as fast as he can

•once he finally comes back to you, he’s still wet, fingers and toes wrinkled from the amount of time he’d been in the water.

•”look at me I’m so oldddd” 

•he’d chase you back to the car 

[rainthespiritual]

Omg for your pre-death Tate fanfic maybe you could do them as friends at childhood and they slowly drift apart and y/n sorta forgets about Tate but he thinks about her everyday and then she catches him doing cocaine or cutting himself in the school bathroom and y/n realises Tate needs support so she be's that for him and stuff

pt 1 , pt 2

PRE-DEATH TATE LANGDON FIC

Okay im kind of really proud of this fic ITS SO GOOD (or maybe I'm just delusional... anywaysss.)

btw some trigger warnings for the series as a whole are deffinetly: drug abuse , depression , suicide , and topics similar to that even if they don't show up in this specific part THEY WILL EVENTUALLY so I just want yall to be warned ty

TRIGGER WARNINGS : tate langdon is a tw tbh and American horror story in general, smoking, talk of abusive dad and family slightly(it'll be talked abt more in other parts), angst, this part is more tame that the other parts will be and thats all... for now.

Summery: Y/n stumbles into the bathroom only to find old childhood friend Tate...

also sorry if formatting is shit I'm using my phone fml

You walk with your friends down the hall you've seen again and again, tuning them out almost completely like usual. They talk a lot of shit about people you don’t even know. And while gossip can be fun, they are just over the top with it. Every day, it seems they’ve found another thing to complain about.

"___ are you even listening? This is way serious!" you look towards them bags under your eyes they didn't even notice, they never ask or worry about you but expect all of that from you. It was extremely draining, and you often wondered why you still hung around them. But the fear of being alone was stronger than the need to be treated better. You didn’t have anyone else.

"oh no sorry, I was thinking about the project I have to do for Mrs.Ross. Hey, you guys go ahead of me I gotta head to the powder room real quick.." they try talking to you more but you manage to peel yourself away from them as fast as you can, basically sprinting to the bathroom.

You fall sitting on the floor releasing a sigh, glad you could now get a moment of peace and silence.

"___?" your eyes dart open hearing a familiar voice.. a familiar male voice.. in the girl's bathroom?

"Tate? what- what are you doing in here?" you look at him, slightly shocked. You hadn’t spoken to him in what seemed like forever. But truthfully, it had only been a couple of years, well maybe more than that, but long enough for him to have grown. He looks less like a boy, and more like a man now.

"I mean, I should probably be asking you that.. this is the boys' bathroom." He smiles slightly and you notice he's sitting on the counter where the sinks are.

"oh, I- I must have come in the wrong one. I'm sorry.." you look at him again, noticing how much older he looks than when you last saw him. Well, you saw him in the halls and even smiled or waved at him slightly, but you never really talked to him.

"ahh, it's fine. No one else is here just me. I think everyone's in class or at least getting there. The bells are about to ring." he smiles again wiping his nose slightly sniffling it, and you wonder why. ‘Maybe it's allergies’ you think.

"What are you doing up there?" You ask, signaling to the way he's sitting.

"Well, this bathroom is the least used so no one comes in usually.." mumbling a bit he avoids the question, now nervously playing with his fingers.

"I didn't know that, that doesn't answer my question tho. why sit up here?" you stand going to where he is climbing up to sit next to him.

"well just normal stuff I guess." he looks at you slightly thinking a bit before pulling a pack of cigarettes out making you gulp slightly. The only cigarettes you had encountered had been your father's. You tried smoking one when you were 13 but you immediately regretted it vowing to never smoke one again.

"you want one?" he asks smirking slightly at you.

"Oh- no thanks I don't smoke." he laughs slightly putting one in his mouth and lighting it.

"didn't think so." he inhales and puffs the smoke out and you wonder how he can do that without feeling completely ill.

"what does that even mean, I didn't think you smoked but you do so...." you fumble with your fingers slightly nervous around the now much older boy. The last time you talked to him he had to be 11. Maybe 12. It had been years, and you wondered why, why didn't we talk why did we stop being friends..

"well you look innocent, and like you've never touched anything ever." he laughs slightly, "could be wrong though." he continues smoking the cigarette, shaking the ashes from it into the sink. you assume so they can wash down.

"Well I've smoked once, I just absolutely hated it.  mostly did it to spite my dad I guess" you admit, slightly watching him.

"How old were you? you always did hate that fucker. I remember us hiding his beers and shit so he wouldn't be able to find them, he'd get so mad." He states you both laugh slightly.

"I was thirteen? Maybe fourteen. somewhere around there. and I don't hate him, he's just overly annoying all the time."

he laughs slightly thinking the way you feel about the whole thing is cute.

His eyes look you over multiple times, he is clearly taking you in. He had seen you around since the last time you talked but not this full on. Only from afar, never up close. He enjoyed seeing the way you grew into the body he once knew, the face he knew. You looked so much older now it kind of made him sad, seeing how much time had gone by. It really made him think. He wished he had talked to you or atleast tried too, but seeing you with your new friends made him nervous. He never was one to fit in with the popular crowd so he avoided you. And now he deeply regrets it realizing how stupid he was.

"Well. If I'm remembering correctly you kind of did hate him. He was an asshole to you, don't know if that's still true but.. it's what I remember so." you sigh knowing he's partially correct.

"So you're just in here to smoke? or what. I mean you could do that after school or whatever." You ask slightly to change the subject but also because you just are genuinely curious.

"Well.." he starts but stops to think looking away fumbling with his pocket slightly  and you can tell there's something inside. It seems to be a little tin but you can't be sure. "I just wanted to be alone I guess , away from the chaos that is a highschool hallway." he finishes putting his cigarette out and back in the box, you assume to finish later as you've learned from your dad. You both sit in silence for a bit and you realize how weird it is that you came to the same bathroom for the same reason, but there's also a slight comfort in the thought. Knowing you weren't the only one sick of all the noise was comforting because that meant you weren't that weird. Or at least you weren't the only weird one. Either way it made you feel a little better, and it made you wonder more and more why you let this sweet sarcastic boy go.

"That's why I came in here too, I just was.. Over it I guess. Done with being around other people.." you look away slightly avoiding his gaze, him staring at you so intensly made you nervous. Without hesitation he asks you something you don't expect.

"Do you like to be around me?" It's such a bold and forward question that you don't really expect from him. His tone is serious and you realise how much closer he is now, his eyes look into yours and you stare back. The silence says more to both of you than words ever could and it feels like forever almost, when in reality it was only like 30 seconds.

"I do yeah, I feel like you actually know me." He smiles at your words looking away for a moment taking it all in. His eyes meet yours again and he leans in closer. His eyes go to your lips and back to your eyes a couple times, and your eyes do the same.

"Excuse me is anyone in here?" Both your eyes widen slightly hearing a teacher opening the door slightly. Tate jumps off the sink now looking at the door then at you. He signals for you to hide in one of the toilet stalls, which you immediately do. You sit up on the toilet so your feet aren't seen through the slit at the bottom and you hear him start the sink. You think, 'probably to wash down the ashes'.

The teacher walks, his voice loud.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class Mister Langdon?" You cover your mouth trying to conceal your breathing, and you hope it works.

"I mean yeah but.. Y'know.." You can't see him but you assume he gestures towards the bathroom, and the teacher let's out a loud sigh.

"Uh huh, and any idea why the bathroom smells like smoke?" the teacher talks in a angry tone and you feel bad hoping he doesn't get into trouble.

"No idea sir, it smelled like that when I got here." The teacher sighs again almost like he doesn't believe him.

"Okay well come with me, I'll make sure you get to class on-time." you hear them walk out, and the door shut.

Still slightly frozen you stay for a moment  but tense up when the door opens again.

"Meet me here again tommorow, same time." you take a sigh of relief realizing it's just Tate again. With that he walks out again saying something about how he got what he left in the bathroom.

You sigh in relief again kind of asking yourself what the hell just happened. It was weird seeing how affected you were from it all day. It was all you could think about in class, and at lunch. Even at home when you were laying in bed alone, it was weird seeing how one boy you knew so long ago could effect you now. You kind of enjoyed the feeling. The anticipation. You were excited to see him the next day, and you wondered what would happen.

'I guess I'll just have to find out tomorrow..' you thought to yourself. I guess you just will.

[kai-anderson-whore]

Sister's boyfriend (tate Langdon x harmon fem! Reader)

Summary: you were violets sister the lesser known one of the Harmon family and you finally met tate langdon whilst snooping around your dad's office

Chapter warnings: mentions of sh, being the outcast of the family

A/n: this was shit but i'm thinking of doing a part 2

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Being part of the Harmon family was, well complicated, where do you start well first off your dad Ben, is a psychiatrist who cheated on your mom Vivian, who just suffered a miscarriage, your sister violet a teenager who smoked cigarettes and cuts herself, you smoked to you weren't cutting yourself.

And as for you well you were the troublemaker of the family, the outcast with depression and anxiety, who gets high almost everyday, the rebellious one, with the mental health issues but you didn't care.

Your family up and moved to L.A from Boston, your whole life now packed up in boxes your friends now in the past just you and your family, you were two years older than violet, you didn't want to pack up and leave your life behind.

But now here you are in a creepy old house, seeing all these weird things, ghosts?, you didn't know to clear your mind of this misery you were in, you sneaked in your dad's office snooping around, going through his patience files.

You finally came across one file in particular, Tate Langdon, he's the same age as you, seventeen, his mother requested he sees your father, looking in his file "snooping through files cool" a voice startling you.

"Who are you?" You asked the blonde boy infront of you the file in your hand as he looked through the file a smirk on his face.

"I'm the person who's on that file" your face dropped you didn't know what to say "oh right erm sorry" you awkwardly chuckled placing the file back down where it belongs. "So your my dad's next appointment" you asked closing the drawer on your dad's desk.

"Yeah my mom made me start seeing him I thought he only had one daughter" tate said confused making you realise that he was the boy she never shutted up about.

"Yeah I'm the kid everyone forgets about, the eldest" you sighed plopping down on the sofa tate stood in the room, awaiting your father.

"So how much older are you to violet?" He asked,"well I'm the same age as you so two years" you said your feet dangling off the arm rest of the sofa.

Tate could lie he was attracted to you,  "you like nirvana?" He asked noticing your t-shirt with Kurt cobain on it, "They're my favourite band of all time" you smiled "mine too" tate beamed.

"Thanks for coming tate" your dad entered his office, "y/n what have I told you about being in here" your father sighed, "and since when did I listen to you ben" you smirked at your father's annoyance.

"How can you not be like violet she doesn't come in here and go through my things" Ben sighed, tate stood awkwardly as your father scolded you.

"Yeah that's right you want me to be like her but I'm not she's cold and bitter as for me I'm careless, relentless, well what's my problem doc?" You huffed storming out the room.

Tate and your dad started their session, you were in your room flicking through your albums, annoyed at your dad he always thought something psychological was wrong with you, he did sometimes with violet but with you it was worse.

"Fuck" you groaned kicking the edge of your bed in frustration, as nirvana played in the room.

"You okay?" Tates voice spoke through Kurt cobain's voice entering your bedroom, "Yeah I'm used to it" you said changing your piercing jewellery for your septum and medusa piercing.

Tate thought that you looked hot with the piercings, your style just you, "so you got a boyfriend?" He went on to ask.

"What's with the questions?" You then asked, only for him to shrug, "and if that's your way of asking if I've been fucked the answer is yes why aren't you fucking my sister?" You said screwing the ball of your piercing in.

"Just a question" tate defended, his hands up making you chuckle, "you like lana del rey?" You asked tate pulled a confused expression on what you had asked.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard lana fel rey tate I need to educate you" you said playing the born to die cd. Tate ending up loving her.

"We should hang out more often your fun" tate smiled getting ready to leave your room to go to violets, " we should" you smiled back as the blonde left your room.

You stood there confused why did your sisters boyfriend want to hang out with you? Yes you liked him he was definitely your type on paper, but he's your sisters.

[kit-walk3r]

Let the Bad Spirits Go Free (Tate Langdon)

Blood holds all the bad spirits. Maybe Tate should try and let those spirits go free.

Warning: heavy trigger warning for self harm and blood, mentions of canon gun violence

Note: I was rewatching Murder House and Tate’s dialogue about bad spirits in the blood made me think that perhaps Tate’s past self harm was linked to that so I sort of came up with this. Please read with caution

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

- - -

Tate was only ten the first time he did it. He didn’t remember why he did it. He just remembered one day finding the blades in the bathroom cabinet when looking for something. They probably belonged to whoever his mother’s fling at the time was. He found them and, for some reason, used them. Tate didn’t understand why. Maybe it was because he missed his dad. Maybe it was because he missed the nice blonde lady who saved him from the monster. Maybe it was because his mom didn’t seem to love him.

He only did it the once, finding himself quite sensitive to the pain. He cried after he did it. When his mother surprisingly noticed the new cut on his arm Tate lied and said the neighbour's cat scratched him. None of their neighbours even had a cat, but Constance did not question it, and instead just gave him a band aid.

Tate never thought about it again until a few years later. Fourteen, perhaps. Or maybe it was fifteen. He liked to read, and he was reading a book on Indians when he came across a certain passage about bad spirits. According to the book a person’s blood held bad spirits, and to let those spirits free the Indians would cut themselves in ceremonies. That stuck with Tate. He often found himself thinking back to it. It sounded smart to him, it made sense.

Of course, it wasn’t long after that when the bad thoughts started plaguing Tate. It started with dreams, dreams that would wake him up, anxious and sweating, at three in the morning. In the dream he could see himself in the school hallway, dressed head to toe in black, with everyone staring at him as he walked by. He ignored all of their gazes, marching through the school as if he were on a strict mission. He reached a classroom and let himself in, all of his classmates looking up as he made his entrance. The teacher scowled at him. “Can I help you?” She asked. Then suddenly, Tate had a gun in his hand and openfired.

Then he woke up.

All he could see in his head was the blood splatter, his teacher and classmates dropping to the floor. The sounds of their cries. The begging.

Tate placed his hands over his ears as if that would be able to drown out the voices in his head. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the burn of tears trying to escape. He couldn’t make it stop. The screams, the blood, the bodies. He couldn’t stop hearing it, couldn’t stop seeing it.

Bad spirits.

Tate’s eyes unclenched and opened as he remembered what he had read in the library a couple of months ago. His hands uncovered his ears.

Bad spirits. Cut. Set free.

Perhaps that’s what this was. Bad spirits. Maybe his blood was infected with bad spirits. Maybe he just needed to set them free.

Tate switched on his bedside lamp and turned to rummage through the set of drawers that resided next to his bed. He looked for something he could use to set the spirits free, something, anything, that would be sharp enough to save him. He couldn’t find anything, and let out a frustrated sigh. He needed to get rid of these bad spirits.

Suddenly he remembered: razor blades. Not long ago Constance had come home with a variety of things to help Tate ‘ease into manhood’, now that he was starting high school. Amongst her gift package was a pack of razor blades.

Tate shot out of bed and headed to the bathroom where he was sure he left the package. He tiptoed across the hallway, careful not to wake Addie since he knew she was a light sleeper. Once inside he gently closed the bathroom door and locked it for extra security before opening the cabinet above the sink. Bingo. Sure enough on the top shelf sat a little cardboard box. Tate grabbed it and rummaged through the box, looking for his coveted item. There they were, tucked away at the bottom. After taking them out the box was placed back in the cabinet and the door was shut.

On the cabinet hung a mirror, and Tate took a deep look at himself. His hair was damp from sweat and was stuck to his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed from crying. There were dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

Bad spirits.

Tate looked away from his haunted reflection and moved his attention to the small packet he now held in his hands. Without hesitation he tore open the packet and pulled out one of the blades before gently balancing the rest on the sink. He rolled up the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, barely taking note of the pale line that already occupied his wrist.

Maybe this will cleanse me, Tate thought as he stared at the blade. Maybe this will set my bad spirits free.

Taking a deep breath, Tate ran the blade across his wrist. He winced at the sting, but was mesmerised by the stark contrast of red against his pale skin. He watched as blood trickled down his arm and dripped onto the white porcelain of the sink, letting out a sigh of relief. His bad spirits were gone. He cleaned up his wrist, put the open packet back in the box, wiped away any excess blood and went back to bed as if nothing had happened.

He was surprisingly rather chipper the next morning. He joked with Addie at the breakfast table and even offered his mother a sort of smile. He was better now. All the bad spirits were gone.

Until he had the same dream again a couple of nights later.

Tate woke up with a jolt and a gasp, the same images from the previous night flashing through his mind, only more intense. The cries were getting louder, the blood getting thicker. He covered his ears and cried, just like last time.

His eyes caught sight of the cut across his wrist and with no hesitation he was heading towards the bathroom, same process as last time: lock the door, get the blade out of the cabinet and decorate his skin with another red line. He cleaned up and went back to his room, only this time he took the packet with him and tucked it away in his underwear drawer.

He had the dream again a week later. After a couple of nights nightmare free Tate was convinced that it had worked, that he had freed the bad spirits from his blood and that he was clean. But no, it happened again and Tate once again took a blade to his wrist, only this time in the comfort of his own bedroom.

The bad thoughts were getting louder. The dream wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times Tate hurt himself, and he was starting to get the intrusive thoughts during the day as well as in his sleep.

He got into an argument with his mother one day. It wasn’t unusual for Tate to get angry at Constance but this time it felt like more than anger. It was a Saturday afternoon and Tate was sat with Beau, rolling his red ball to him whilst he read a book. It was a comfortable silence, with the occasional laugh from Beau, until Constance shouted for Tate to come downstairs.

Tate hadn’t washed the dishes from breakfast. “I asked you to do one thing, Tate,” Constance scolded. “One! Wash the damn dishes. Is that really that hard?”

Tate just shrugged.

“I don’t ask much from you, Tate,” Constance continued. “But it would be nice if you could just listen and help around here once in a while instead of being holed up in your damn room.”

“I was with Beau,” Tate argued.

“Beau, Beau, Beau,” Constance ranted. “Stop using your brother as an excuse for not doing as you’re damn well told.”

Tate’s fists clenched at his sides as his mother continued to scold him for simply forgetting to do the dishes. His gaze was hard and jaw locked as he watched her wave her arms around. He couldn’t even hear what she was saying now, her voice drawn out into a dull ringing sound. Anger surged through him.

Do it, a voice echoed in his head suddenly.

Tate turned and ran up the stairs to his room without a second thought. He could faintly hear Constance call out after him but he ignored her as he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell down onto the floor, back resting against it, as he began to cry.

Do what? Tate didn’t want to know. Subconsciously he had a perfect idea of what the voice wanted him to do but he desperately tried to suppress it. The scariest thing? The voice Tate heard in his head was his own.

Tate struggled to calm down, his breathing erratic. His hands gripped and tugged his dirty blonde hair as he tried to clear his mind from any negative thoughts.

Bad spirits bad spirits bad spirits.

Tate was up and rummaging through his underwear drawer for his safety packet. Within seconds he held one of the blades in his hand and, like clockwork, brought it against his skin. He’d grown accustomed to the pain now, and didn’t even flinch as he opened up another wound.

“Please, please, please,” he muttered as he watched the blood begin to trickle down his arm, desperate for the bad thoughts to go away. Whatever his thoughts wanted him to do they wanted him to do it to his mother and that was terrifying. Yes, he and his mother had a very rocky relationship, but to want to hurt her in a way that was making him feel this fearful? Tate just wanted the bad spirits to go away.

Obviously they didn’t, if bad spirits even existed. Things only got worse.

- - -

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

Tate liked it, but it didn’t work.

•———•

This was pretty dark and heavy, I do apologise. Thank you for reading though!

[taronstrange]

Evan Peters at The Golden Globe Award 2023 

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follow me on twitter @taronstrange

[iknowshocker]

have you encountered any kai like characters in other media? i love kai and ship bonkai but can’t find similar anywhere

hi anon!!

no i understand the struggle it's so hard. there's something so specific about kai that i've never seen another character replicate. i think it's why i love him so much honestly, like he's typecasted in "psycho killer" usually in character packs but there's too many layers to stick him next to tate langdon and call it a day 🙈

there are occasional jokai vibes from the twins in season 2 of You ?? forty can be more flamboyant than kai but he's got a similar chaotic mood swinging energy. so if you like the twisted family dynamics of the parker's you'd probably enjoy his subplot with Love!

marvel Loki as a character in general but to me specifically in the TV show can have kai energy - with the tragic family backstory, father/sibling angst, and dark humor.

if you're looking for killers - the boys from the og scream ?? (i hc kai would love love love that movie but it came out in '96 which is absolutely a personal attack lmao) specifically the scene in the doorway where she's trapped between them ?? "what's the matter sidney, you look like you've seen a ghost" like come on that's kai parker core lol

JD from the heathers is how i see his younger personality pre '94. he's angsty, against authority, shockingly homicidal, but then also wildly charming and silly. if you haven't heard his song from the musical i beg of you listen to it, the bonkai vibes are insane.

i recently finished the cruel prince trilogy and there's definitely something about cardan that feels a little kai-esque. he's snarky as all hell, super possessive, and cruel obviously but he's also traumatized with a capital T, prone to issues with his magic, and filled with crushing resentment/rage. bonus points for feeling unloved by his family, having a soft spot for his sisters, and being head over fucking heels for a girl that he spends over half the series fighting with. like she pins him against the wall and holds a knife to his throat on what is essentially their first date :) 100% bonkai vibes but if kai had softened while bonnie went dark like we all wanted

i'll keep adding to this when i think of more!! (i'm also querying an original work inspired by bonkai so hopefully that'll hit for you one day lol)

[dingocari]

Evan Peters' Characters and Their Attitude to What You Smoke

Tate Langdon

~ Sometimes he stands next to you while you're doing it

~ Steals packs of cigarettes if he wants to attract attention and make you chase after him

~ Sometimes he jokingly parodies a strict father and starts lecturing you until he gets a pillow

~ He doesn't care as long as it doesn't turn into an addiction

~ Thinks you look fucking hot while you smoke

Kit Walker

~ Just not in front of the kids, okay?

~ Sometimes he wants to take your cigarettes away from you, but holds back when he realizes that it's difficult for you

~ He tries to quit himself, so he doesn't buy packs for himself and sometimes he has to borrow from you

~ When you smoke too much in his opinion, he throws the cigarette out of your hands and puts something sweet in its place

Jimmy Darling

~ Ethel scolded him a lot for smoking when he was a teenager, so Jimmy still has a habit of hiding

~ He treats it normally, but sometimes he asks you to stop if he sees that you feel bad

~ He loves kissing with smoke, although he does not admit it

~ Secretly admires you, but still does not allow you to smoke too much

Kale Spencer

~ Every time he sighs with displeasure, but he doesn't say anything to you

~ He knows it's bad and he's seen what cigarettes do to people, so as soon as you start dating, he wants to get you out of this habit

~ He just takes the cigarettes and throws them away

~ You'll have to hide, but he'll find you anywaу

~ No, he won't kiss you until the smell disappears