The Locket With A Masquerade {Tate Langdon x Reader}

You own a locket, you weren't sure who originally owned it until Tate helped you find who was in the picture.

Fluffy, and a bit short. 💜

First Tate fic, so I apologize in advance if it sounds ooc, but I love this idea.

Your perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"What are you fiddling with?" Tate asked. He turned around so we were facing each other after cuddling for a bit. Then he gently held my locket. It was a simple oval shape and had a fuzzy picture or drawing in it.

"Not sure." I got it when I was 10, and got it adjusted as I aged, so it never accidentally choked me. He stared at it for a bit, sort of in awe at the actual locket itself. "It is a pretty necklace I'll admit."

"It looks beautiful on you."

"Shut up." I gently pushed him away out of embarrassment, and looked away from him, out the window instead. He just smiled and moved towards me more. The window was foggy and it was difficult to see out of but, it was nice anyway.

"Do you know who is on the locket?" Tate asked, wrapping his fingers around it again. We faced each other again, and at this point, I was practically on top of him, not that either of us minded. But I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck, snuggling into him.

"Let's look."

"nah.."

"Why not? It could be fun."

"Sleepy."

"Come on, let's go have a look." I begrudgingly rolled off him, and grabbed my small laptop, opening it up, and letting it turn on. The rain was turning into a storm, so I lightly groaned.

"A storm usually means the wifi is gonna go nuts." Rolling my eyes, I checked the wifi, and it seemed to be okay, so I clicked on Internet Explorer, staring blankly at it. "Where do we start?" I mentioned, turning over to look at Tate, who was in his little world.

"Helloooo? Mr Langdon sir?" He shook his head, reached behind my neck and took the locket off. Then he opened it and studied the picture.

"A woman." Tate started. Very helpful. "From...the 20's? I think?"

"Very helpful Tate. Millions of women lived through the 1920's." Despite my negativity, I searched for a registry and looked for women who lived in California in the 20's. "Is there anything else you can see? I know the picture is very blurry."

"...look up Rudolph Valentino."

"Valentino? Uh, okay." As I looked him up in the registery, I saw no clues. "Why?"

"The Woman in Black! The one who always visited Valentino's grave. Have you never heard of her?"

I shook my head, then laughed at the prospect of constantly visiting someone's grave. "Apparently not." But I decided to search for her anyway.

A few minutes of silent searching went by. "Elizabeth Johnson. Born 1902, death year unmarked." I muttered, running my finger along the information it gave me. "A background actor on the set of The Sheik and worked with Valentino."

"Do you think this is her?"

"There aren't any photos of her to reference." But I shrugged my shoulders and carried on deep-diving the internet for a few minutes as Tate cuddled himself up next to me, resting his cute head of blonde hair on my stomach. As I read an article about Valentino, I kissed Tate's head, so he knew I appreciated him. "Is this her?" I asked soon enough, bringing up a picture of a woman standing next to Valentio and the other actors. Blonde hair, crimped up, the famously thin eyebrows from the '20s, and wonderful, red lips. Her eyes had something. A light we both liked to look at.

Tate then looked at the fuzzy picture, and the face structure was as similar as we could make out. We both switched between the picture in the locket and the photo in the Google search. "I think so." He smiled, closing the locket and putting it back around my neck. "You're so much more beautiful than her."

"She's gorgeous, I couldn't compare to her. I do wonder how she died though. And when."

"...No you're much prettier." Tate grinned, closing the laptop and putting it on the floor right by us.

"Shut up." I chuckled quietly, kissing Tate and bringing him close. Elizabeth looked wonderful, in the picture, and in the locket. I started to wonder about my connection to her if I had one at all. My mum never spoke to me about my family or our history. Or if she just put a random picture of a 1920s actor in the locket to make it seem like I was interesting.

Tate didn't seem to mind at all. He didn't seem to hear any negativity I said about myself at all. But I stared at him while he lay on my chest, sleeping. It felt cheesy to think that he was like Rudolph Valentino, but, not an actor. He slept peacefully, but I decided to place the locket around his neck. It made him, and I thought it fitted him.

"I love you, Tate," I whispered to him.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶

Tag requests: @strangerthings420

| AHS | Tate Langdon |

🫀 Little Houses 🫀

A/n: Yay, first AHS scenario, and I think it's pretty cute, I hope it's good. I want to receive asks about AHS if you guys have any, but for now:

✩ Fluff

✩ Prompt: Playing Monopoly.

Watching Tate play monopoly was absolutely adorable, but playing with him was an absolute nightmare. Neither of you play fair, throwing the die before the figurine even lands on the property you want, then yelling that you did it before either of you could claim it and that was not against the rules no it wasn't you just like playing however you wan--

Anyways... He is a nightmare. He's cocky, he laughs like a fucking Disney villain when he gets the property you wanted and stares at you with terrifying amusement when you land on his goddamn houses. The little houses, which he hordes like a crazy person. It's straight out a catfight by the end. He is unironically legendary at the game. No one has gotten the better of him.

So while you grumble and sit to the side, deciding for the 50th time that you would not play with him ever again, you glanced at your boyfriend, a silly little grin plastered across his face like a doofus. Rubbing his shoulder— One that you'd been hitting for the past ten minutes in frustration while he laughed and fought to hold your wrists, while his eyes lowered with his lashes almost touching his pretty cheeks. His eyes squinting in delight as he chuckled, "Tate. Stop that."

"What?" His eyes turning to you while his grin only grew. You rolled your eyes while he fanned himself with his money.

"I am going to kill you."

"You're just mad you're in jail again," He rolled, scoring a twelve once again like the absolute cheater he was.

"You're never, ever going to be the bank again," You quickly grabbed the die, getting ready to roll. You pointed at him, "I know you cheat."

"You're just jealous. Also I am the bank because you can't do simple addition." He whistled as he landed, and you whined, watching him look you straight into your eyes with his own abnormally dark ones and the silly grin turned into a cocky smartass smirk, "...Hand me the little house."

"TATE- NO I SWEAR TO THE GOD OF THE LITTLE HOUSES--"

"I am the god of the little houses now."

Never playing monopoly with him again.

the first episode of ‘american horror story: coven’ aired 9 years ago today

I don’t feel sad, i don’t feel anything 🥀

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒.˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. ｡.｡:∞♡*♡

(last photo taken by me<33)

All my feminism goes out the window when I lay eyes on this man... Uff😬

“I need him biblically,,, I need him in a way that is concerning to feminism.”

Currently rewatching asylum for the first time since it aired. Evan really put his whole evussy into this role stg 🙏🏻

"i can fix him" well i can take him as he is. unhinged and dangerous.

early 2000s evan peters <3

officially violet and tate season

I.. uh..YES. I’m down. Sorry guys.. are u mad at me?

(18+!!) ok wait so… It’s Halloween… you’re out with Tate… he can’t keep it together because your costume makes him horny.

Tate holds your hand tightly as you both venture down the sidewalk. His costume is eerily familiar. He wears a long, black trench coat and his face had been painted in likeness to a skeleton. His blonde, usually curly, hair is slicked back out of his face. His grip on your hand tightens as you pass by other people your age, some shamelessly taking in the appearance of your revealing costume. Much to Tate’s annoyance, you insisted that Halloween was the one time of year you had an excuse to dress like you were begging for it. The delicate lace that decorates your cleavage distracts Tate more than once. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans just from lingering beside you. At times, he takes a moment to trail behind you to catch a glimpse of the mounded flesh of your ass cheeks from under your tiny skirt. You know what his game is, of course, and occasionally brush the back of your hand across the front of his jeans. Tate doesn’t take to it lightly, and after teasing him for the forth, and final, time, he has no choice but to trap you behind a big, oak tree in the park and bend you over. His fingers make quick work of your panties, tugging the thin, soaked piece of fabric down your long legs. Your ass jiggles around his hand as he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them upwards to press against your sweet spot. “Thought you could tease me and get away with it? In that little, slutty costume?” He mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear, tickling his nose with the freshly-washed hair on the side of your head. You smelt like vanilla, and a hint of coconut. A sweet and sensual scent that had Tate moaning softly against you. Tate spits, directly onto your needy cunt, using his fingertips to spread the saliva over your pulsing clit. “Tate, please, I need you inside me,” you plead, reaching around to grasp onto his throbbing cock, sure to be staining his boxers with smears of pre-cum. Tate unveils his rock-hard length, stroking it with a mix of your arousal and his saliva. He teases you, circling your entrance with the leaking tip of his cock. Caving to his own eagerness, it’s not long before Tate is stretching you out with his girth. Your fingernails dig into the flaking bark of the tree, trying your hardest to find the leverage you need to soften each ravaging thrust. Soft whimpers turn into loud, destitute moans. Tate’s hand wraps around your mouth to stop the ruckus you’re making in an attempt to shield you from the eyes of passer-byers. “That’s it baby, take my fucking cock. You love how it fills you to the fucking brim, don’t you?” Tate’s grip on you only get tighter as he slams into your poor, little cunt, using it to alleviate his painful desire for you. Stars appear behind your closed eyelids when Tate’s free hand slithers down between your body and the trunk of the tree to stimulate your swollen clit. “Uh fuck- can feel you squeezing tight around me, let up sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum,” Tate seethes behind clenched teeth, the lewd, squelching sounds each thrust pulls from your dripping cunt pushing you both a step towards release. It’s not long before the intense pleasure of Tate’s tip nudging against your sweet spot sends you over the edge. Tate holds you up as your orgasm washes over you in big, tremulous waves. Tate growls into your hair, a few last thrust just enough for him to let go inside of your clenching walls. When he pulls out, he’s quick to pull up your panties, rubbing over the cloth to make sure his cum stays with you. “You’re gonna walk around the rest of the night with these soaking wet panties. And I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You little tease.” He tucks himself away, and taking a hold of your hand again, he begins to pace down the sidewalk like nothing happened. Even though, you can barely stand on your two feet from how weak your legs are now.

bros majestic

Evan wearing his baseball cap backwards gives me a smack-my-ass-like-a-drum reaction 🥵 Anyone?