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gothiccortez · 1 year

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ghosts on parade

tate langdon x reader

summary: trick or treating with tate!!

wc: 1.3k

contents: fluff, trick or treating. based off a request i received! this is just very cute and fun. no pronouns mentioned, so gn!reader. happy halloween :))

A mixtape of Halloween themed songs shuffled on the stereo as you searched for the mask that would finally complete your costume.

A hoard of clothes were scattered on your bed that you’d thrown out from the closet. You shifted through them, wondering how you could’ve possibly misplaced the item.

With a sigh, you turned, and nearly jumped out of your skin as you ran right into the chest of Tate, who was holding your mask up to his face.

“Trick or treat.”

You could practically hear his grin, though his features were hidden.

“I’ve been looking for that for an hour!” you snatched the mask away from him with a sigh. In return, he simply smiled at you playfully

“I didn’t take it,” he said as he walked across the room to your bed. He flopped down on it lazily, making the forgotten articles of clothing fall to the floor. The black robe of his costume flattened out over the bed, creating wrinkles that you knew would be obvious. “I just wanted to help you out, baby.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

Tate stared back at you, trying to decipher if you were actually angry or not. When you crossed your arms over your chest dramatically, he relented, rolling closer to you on the bed.

“Alright, fine. You caught me.” He took your hand in his own, running his thumb over the smooth veins and bones on the back of your palm. “Will you forgive me?”

The pout on his face was unnecessary, though you melted into him anyways.

“I suppose,” you said, your laugh betraying you. “Come on, idiot. We’ll miss out on all the candy if we don’t go now.”

You tugged Tate to his feet and he stumbled off the bed, following you out of the room. On the way downstairs, he put on his mask, nearly tripping down the steps in the process.

Addie was sitting on the kitchen table when you approached, busy occupying herself with a game. How she kept finding her way into your house, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care much.

“Aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?” she asked, only sparing you a glimpse as she focused on her task.

You laughed, gesturing at her fully in costume. “Aren’t you?”

She made a face at you, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “No.”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “Besides, no one will know if we're too old or not.” You completed your costume with the mask over your features. “That’s what the masks are for.”

Addie finally examined your full look, nodding with approval. “I like Michael Myers.”

“More than Ghostface?” Tate asked, sounding almost disappointed as he gestured towards his own costume. He took the mask off, frowning at his sister as his blond hair fell over his face in tangled strands.

“Oh, come on, Addie, don’t you think he looks cute?” You said teasingly as you pinched at Tate’s cheeks.

He swatted you away though his cheeks still turned pink under your compliment.

“Gross,” Addie said as you took Tate’s hand, rolling her eyes at you.

You laughed, pulling Tate along with you out the kitchen door. “Lets go,” you said, already excited to get out there. You hadn’t gone trick-or-treating since you were a kid.

All your problems seemed to wash away, just briefly, as you walked around the neighborhood hand in hand with Tate. You admired all the costumes and the creativity, the decorations that were on almost every lawn.

“You seem happy,” Tate observed, though he couldn’t even see your face. It must have been the way you were nearly skipping down the street, buzzing with energy.

“I am,” you said, feeling the smile curl on your lips. “I love Halloween. Don’t you?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I like spending time with you more though.”

You knocked him with your shoulder, your skin warming with the comment.

The night went by quickly, and you had no idea how long you had been out. You went to as many houses as you could before the lights went off, getting a compliment from each owner on your costumers.

By the time you’d made your rounds, reciting the same trick or treat at each front door, your bags of candy were full.

You walked back home with Tate, sifting through your bags as you searched for the best candy. Your masks were gone, the sweat at your hairline drying.

“What did you get?” Tate asked over your shoulder after he’d finished looking through his own stash. A full-size chocolate bar laid at the top of your pile, shining at you like a grand prize. It immediately caught Tate’s eyes, and he started to reach into your bag to take it from you. “I want the—”

Before he could grab it, you jerked the bag away, scowling. “No way!”

“Huh?” Tate seemed surprised, his eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “Do you even like those?”

“Maybe.” You narrowed your eyes, watching his every move. “Doesn’t mean I’ll give it to you.”

As predicted, Tate lunged at the bag, trying to grab it away from you. You were much faster, though, and took off in a sprint, laughing as he chased after you down the street.

He was faster than you, and would catch up easily, but you didn’t mind.

“Come on, baby, just a bite!” he shouted from behind you, running to catch up.

“No!” You could hear Tate right on your heels, the sound of his sneakers loud against the pavement.

Before you could pick up your speed, Tate was on you, throwing his arms around you from behind. He tugged you into him, and you fell into his chest, laughing loudly. As you flailed, you nearly spilled your bag of candy.

“Tate!” You glared, trying to swat away his hand, though he’d already stolen the candy bar from you. He quickly stuffed it into his own bag, giving you a kiss on the cheek to remedy the situation.

“What if that was my favorite candy!” You frowned. In return, he held you closer. His hand grazed your hip as he pressed kisses into your neck from behind. “You would really ruin my Halloween like that?”

“Of course not,” he said, finally spinning you around to face him. He traced the edge of your jaw softly, staring at your unmoving lips. “I know that’s not your favorite. You don’t think I have all your favorite candies memorized?”

Your glare intensified, though only for a moment before Tate was kissing your pout away. The action made you melt a little, all your previous frustrations (as miniscule as they were), draining away. “Do you really?”

“Well, obviously…” he said, somewhat offended. “I love you.”

You stuttered, though returned the sentiment with a grin you couldn’t keep away.

“I’ll trade candies with you anyway. I don’t mind taking all the bad ones.” His eyes were completely serious, somehow concerned that he’d actually ruined your Halloween.

“I don’t care about a stupid piece of candy, Tate,” you said, throwing your arms around him in a hug as you pressed your face into his chest.

It caught him off-guard, though his hand quickly came to your back, lovingly tracing your spine. His embrace was warm, a shield against the cool autumn air.

“Come on, let’s go back. We can squeeze in at least one scary movie before the night’s over.”

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x you #tate langdon imagine #ahs x reader #ahs murder house #ahs #american horror story #evan peters #gn reader

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gothiccortez · 2 years

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waiting like a lonesome queen

james march x f!reader

summary: you’d always known hazel evers had a bit of a jealous streak when it came to mr. march, but you never thought she’d act on it.

wc: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, murder, etc. its jpm so that’s expected.

The evening had been calm—much too calm for your liking, considering what was to come. Tonight, was the first Halloween party you were throwing since the opening of the Cortez, and you’d been restless about it all week.

Despite the suggestions from James to let someone else take care of the planning, you’d wanted to be in control of the situation.

It was also a celebration of your husband’s birthday, after all. That led to a few fitful nights of rest, hoping you’d gotten all the details correct.

“Mrs. Evers?” you glanced at her in the full-length mirror of your bedroom, watching as the woman struggled with an armful of unclean linens. “Would you mind fastening the straps of my dress? I can’t seem to get them.”

You’d been struggling with the straps for the past few minutes as the older woman watched passively. It had taken you weeks to decide upon a Halloween costume for the party, and of course, James had wasted no time in getting the best tailor to make one for you. It was an elaborate outfit; one you certainly couldn’t have put together on your own.

Hazel Evers stared back at you with disdain as she threw the sheets on the floor with a great sigh. Despite the simplicity of the request, it appeared to cause her much grief. “Well… Alright.”

You frowned as she shuffled towards you, clearly put out. The fabric curled into your fists as you gripped it a little tighter, narrowing your eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your task. I can just wait until James comes back up if—”

She seemed to pick up her pace after that, upon you in an instant. “There’s no need for Mr. March to be concerned with such trivial things,” she huffed, doing the straps up quickly. Your costume was together in moments. “He’s got the party to attend to, after all!”

That brought a laugh out of you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, straightening your attire. “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t be too bothered. He is my husband, after all.” You met the woman’s eyes through the mirror, almost pitying her sullen expression. “And the party was my idea, wasn’t it? I should be there as well.”

“I’d almost forgotten that!” she said, feigning delight. Although, really, you knew she hadn’t forgotten at all. “I’m sure it will be quite a wonderful affair, what with it being Mr. March’s birthday and all. He’s invited quite the collection of individuals.”

“Well, he’s never been one for meager displays.” You smiled, though it had grown tight. The tension between you had escalated in the moments after mentioning your husband, and the object of Mrs. Evers’ desires, James March.

It hadn’t taken you long to pick up on her affection towards him, despite James’s calculated ignorance. The way she was constantly at his beck and call, bending over backwards to grant his wishes made it all too obvious. The same treatment extended to you on the occasion that James was around. But the moment he stepped out of the room, leaving the two of you on your own, Mrs. Evers did nothing for you without a loud sigh and unconfined lethargy.

You’d never brought it up to James; you’d never felt the need. She was a loyal minion, and though she made it clear your demands irritated her, you figured she’d never do anything to disrespect you or interfere with James’s work. The moment she did so would be the moment she lost him completely.

Just as you were about to begin a new conversation, tired of the glare from the other woman, James approached, his voice drowning out all other sounds in the room.

“Darling, are you almost ready? The guests will be arriving soon.”

Mrs. Evers bristled for one moment before he revealed himself, smoking languidly as he waltzed into the room. His eyes glued on you immediately, tracing every line of your body as he took in the state of your attire.

“Yes, I’m all done here,” you said, turning away from the mirror to face him. “Does it look alright?”

“Alright?” James grinned, closing the distance between you. He cupped your jaw with his free hand, staring at you intensely, the passion already so alive in his eyes. “I have half a mind to cancel the party just so I can have you to myself for the rest of the night.” His face flashed with something dangerous. “But perhaps I’ll allow the rest of Los Angeles one evening to see how utterly beautiful you are, my dear.”

Your face broke out into a wide smile, heart already racing as he met your lips with his own.

“You flatter me too much, James,” you said, but the two of you knew you secretly enjoyed his effortless praise and lingering glances.

“Well, I’d simply hate for you to forget what a marvel you are.”

You laughed, pressing your lips to his cheek with delight.

Everything between you was so easy. You’d almost forgotten that there was another presence in the room. Mrs. Evers let out a small squeak as she bumped into the armoire, the sound reverberating through the space of your bedroom.

There was an immediate shift in James, the serenity of the moment evaporating. He stepped away from you, but left one hand on your waist, keeping you close. The irritation in his eyes should’ve been unnerving to anyone on the receiving end.

“Don’t you have elsewhere to clean at this present moment?” he shouted, a lock of hair coming undone from his outburst. “Out!”

Mrs. Evers just accepted his wrath with indifference, nodding. “Of course, Mr. March. I just thought I’d tidy up your room for you while the guests are here.”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, for the time being, this room is otherwise occupied!”

“James, it’s alright,” you said, tugging him towards the door. “We should probably be going downstairs, anyway. Leave Mrs. Evers to the sheets.”

He blinked back at you, as if coming back to himself under your soft gaze. “Yes. Right as always, my love.” He took one last glance at his loyal assistant, straightening his hair and attire. “Just finish up what you’ve got to in here. We’ll need you downstairs for the party.”

“Yes, Mr. March.”

You rolled your eyes. She could’ve at least tried to hide her infatuation with your husband from your intelligent observations. “Thank you, Mrs. Evers. You’re such a great help around here.”

Kindness wouldn’t win her over, that you knew. But sometimes, you felt a little sorry for her.

★──────────★─────────★

“How do you stand it?” one of the women, the wife of an esteemed politician, asked you with shock. It was clear she was trying to get a rise from you.

Her blond hair was curled up with pins, red lipstick contrasting her pale features. The excessive makeup was compensation for her bland attire.

You turned, nearly forgetting that you’d been involved in the conversation at all. She’d spent the past twenty minutes telling you about her newborn baby, barely giving you a chance to speak.

“Stand what?” you asked curiously, taking a sip of whatever was in your glass.

She laughed, clearly mocking you, and the high-pitched screeching grated against your ears. “Well, all the women gawking at your husband, of course.”

You turned, following her gaze across the room to a hoard of young women, not much older than you, who were all eyeing James like vultures.

“He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he’s young.” She gave you a once-over, sniffing. “And you’re such an… unassuming thing. I’m sure most women would think it easy to remove you from the picture.”

“Is that so?” you stated absentmindedly, staring at James just a few feet away.

He was chatting with another man animatedly, though when he felt your eyes on him, he turned, meeting your gaze with a wink of his own.

“Well, I can assure you that is an incorrect assessment,” you said to the blonde. “I trust James wholeheartedly.”

She laughed. “Alright, sure. I’d love to have that much faith in my own spouse.” She watched James briefly, studying his movements as if trying to uncover his hidden desires.

It would never happen, that much you knew. James kept his secrets close to his chest.

“The point still stands. In a few years, you won’t be so young. Perhaps he’ll start looking for someone else.”

The statement sent a hot flash of anger throughout you, burning to your very soul. Your youth certainly wasn’t escaping you any time soon.

“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me.” You nodded to the woman, desperate to get out of her presence. Without another word, you turned, heading over to where James was standing.

When he noticed your approach, he brightened, outstretching his hand to welcome you into the conversation. The other men were not so pleased by a woman intruding on their less than intelligent ramblings, but James was indifferent.

“Ah, gentlemen. You’ve yet to meet the lovely Mrs. March, have you?” James said, placing a hand between your shoulder blades lightly.

You smiled politely and introduced yourself by name, shaking the gentlemen’s hand like a seasoned professional. Within moments, you’d charmed them out of their original contempt. They were quickly engaged in your apt storytelling, hanging onto your every word.

Be it because of your beauty or your intelligence, you didn’t care much. As long as you could grab their attention, any means would suffice.

“What a girl you’ve got there, March.” One of the older men clapped him on the back a little too friendly, laughing like they were old mates. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

The words were starched. A dangerous look flashed through James’s irises. One you recognized all too well. The outcome was never fortunate for those on the other end.

“Fortunately for dear James, I am quite fond of making my own decisions.” You grinned, leaning into him for an added effect. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, sir.”

That sent the men into a garish laughter which you had anticipated, only serving to irritate the man beside you. You felt the tension rise in James, the straightening of his back. He hid his anger well, but you picked up on it easily.

You were nearly certain that at least one of the men would not make it out of the hotel alive.

Moments passed, and though you tried your best to stay engaged, you grew weary of the frivolous conversation. The night had already felt so long—the week even longer.

You stifled a yawn, though James caught it immediately.

“If you wish to retire early, I don’t mind in the slightest.” He said to you under his breath, glancing at the darkened shadows under your eyes.

You’d worked so hard to make the party happen that you’d almost grown too exhausted to enjoy it.

“It’s alright, James. I should stay down here until the guests leave,” you said, though you were barely able to suppress the second yawn that came out of you.

“Nonsense. Who knows when half of them will be leaving.” James glanced over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of someone across the room. He snapped his fingers idly. “I’ll have Mrs. Evers walk you back upstairs, and then I’ll accompany you shortly.”

“There’s no reason for me to—”

“My dear, you are positively fatigued. I’m only looking out for your best interests.”

You considered arguing, but James was insistent. With a soft exhale, you relented. “Alright. But there really is no need for me to have an escort.”

“There’s no telling what sort of degenerates snuck in here when we weren’t watching.” He’d pulled you away from the other gentleman without you even noticing, giving you an easy escape route.

You smiled lazily. “Some might argue you’re a degenerate yourself.”

“Nonsense, my love. What I do is much more refined. It’s an art.”

You shook your head. Before you could rebuttal, Mrs. Evers was upon you, a ridiculously starry look in her eyes.

“You called, Mr. March?”

“If you could just escort my darling wife back to our room. I’ll be up not a moment later.”

“It’s really not necessary.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Evers bowed her head, and you sighed, expecting nothing less. “Come along, Mrs. March.”

She only called you that when James was around, and it was with a bitter taste on her tongue.

The man seemed satisfied by her response. He began his final rounds across the room, bidding farewell to the guests.

With another yawn, you followed Mrs. Evers to the elevator. It was almost comical that she was leading you through your own home. No one even spared you a second glance as you headed up to the next floor. The accompaniment was more than unnecessary.

“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Mrs. Evers asked, standing beside you in the small space of the elevator. You were surprised that she cared at all.

“I did, thank you for asking.” You smiled to yourself, beginning to pull your hair loose from its intricate styling. You were already away from the public eye. “Although, it seems I’ve worn myself out.”

It was then that you noticed that despite her earlier questioning, Hazel wasn’t really listening to you in the slightest. It seemed her mind was preoccupied, whirling around something unrelated to your eventful evening.

“Is everything alright, Mrs. Evers?”

“Hm?” she said, but after a moment, she snapped back into alertness. You’d reached the door of your bedroom. “Oh, yes. I suppose I’m just tired myself.”

“Well, you work so hard,” you said, more to yourself than anything as you unlocked the door. “I should tell James to give you an extended vacation ”

“No!” Mrs. Evers’ exclaimed, and you blinked at her in shock as you let yourself into your room. “It’s alright; I’ve no one to vacation with anyways. I’d just spend it here, wondering why I wasn’t working. The Cortez is like home to me.”

She laughed, though it sounded a bit crazed, like she wasn’t entirely there.

“Alright.” You shrugged, used to her inconsistent behavior. Mrs. Evers followed you into your room, and you let her, expecting her to do another sweep of tidying up. She was obsessed with the cleanliness of every corner—another attempt to impress her beloved Mr. March.

As Mrs. Evers stalked around, you returned to the mirror, paying her no attention. With your hair free from its confinements, you began removing your jewelry, undoing the straps of your shoes. The makeup still felt caked upon you, but you would worry about that last.

“Mrs. Evers? Sorry to ask again, but would you mind—” You cut yourself off as you met her gaze in the mirror, watching as she pointed a revolver at your head.

Your reaction was so swift you’d barely registered your movements. Before you knew what was happening, she had pulled the trigger, firing at the place where you’d been only moments before.

The bullet hit the mirror, shattering the glass, and you screamed. Shards flew from the blast, digging into your arms.

Blood trickled down to your palms, and you panicked as Mrs. Evers aimed to take another shot, her hand shaky.

“Wait, please,” you said, holding up your bleeding arm in defense. You did a mental scan of the room, trying to remember where James had hidden all of his weapons. Surely there was something for you to defend yourself with.

“Why should I?” Mrs. Evers said, though you could sense her resolve was crumbling. Her plan was less than prepared. “This is the perfect place to hide a body, to cover up a murder.”

“You think James won’t know?” you said, desperate, trying not to cry from the pain in your arm. “He’s no fool. He’ll know the moment he returns.” You took another step forward, hopeful that she wasn’t paying attention to your movements. “You think he’ll ever forgive you, ever want to be with you after you murdered his wife?”

Mrs. Evers blinked, eyes watery with irrational tears. Her jaw tightened, though you could see the cogs in her head churning, her spur of the moment decision breaking down.

“I know you’re in love with him, Hazel.”

The gun lowered slightly.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” she said simply, clenching her jaw.

“I am. Despite what you may think,” you said carefully, trying to imagine the words that she would want to hear. “I’m sorry that you’re not completely happy here. You deserve someone to love you just as you desire.”

A beat passed. You’d thought you’d won her over.

“It’s simply not right,” she said, her jealousy making itself evident in every soured word, every tear that wet her cheek. “I’d do anything for him. I’d die for him.” She raised the gun again, aiming right between your eyelids. “I’d kill for him.”

You froze. Even with your subtle movements across the room, you hadn’t made it to James’s dresser. And you should’ve known Hazel would anticipate the movement. It was likely she already knew James kept another revolver there.

“Don’t do this—”

Your sentence was cut off, but not by the sound of a bullet firing.

“Mrs. Evers, I’d advise you to put the gun down.”

Over her shoulder, you met the furious wide eyes of James March, his entire body shaking with rage. You hadn’t heard the door unlock, hadn’t even heard him come in. Yet there he was, appearing at just the right moment, your dutiful savior.

You could’ve collapsed, relief flooding through you.

The other woman whirled around, the gun dropping to the ground with a loud thud as she gasped histrionically. “Mr. March,” she exclaimed, staggering forward. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

His eyebrows raised into his hairline, scowl deepening. “No? What else could I possibly deduce from the gun fallen from your hand?”

Mrs. Evers stumbled over her words before crying out, relenting the truth as you fumbled miserably with your wounds.

“I’m doing you a favor,” she pleaded, falling to her knees before him in a prayer. “You don’t see it now, but you will. She’s leeching off of you, Mr. March. I’d be so much better for you. We both know it. Please, please.” She was rambling, her words nonsense as she begged the very devil she’d once assisted. “Forgive me.”

“Forgiveness can be earned.” James said, laughing darkly. Not a hint of amusement was in his voice. “But after you’ve tried to commit a murder in my hotel? Tried to steal the life of my beloved and affronted her very name?” He unsheathed a blade from his cane, the silver of it gleaming in the moonlight. “No, Mrs. Evers. I don’t think I’ll forgive you at all.”

“Mr. March!” she pleaded, gripping at his clothes, though he shook her off in disgust, upon her in a moment. “It was only a momentarily lapse in judgement!”

“A shame,” he said, frowning. “You really are an astonishing laundress.”

You watched with horror as Mrs. Evers accepted her fate, the blood splattering from her throat as James slashed her neck. She fell forward, grasping at the wound as she struggled for a final breath, a pool of red welcoming her home.

James stared at his handiwork, judging the mess for a moment before he was back to you, crouching down to meet you.

You’d fallen to your knees, finally able to catch your breath. Tears fell down your cheeks without you even noticing, the pain and anxiety catching up with you. Never had you expected that Mrs. Evers, whom James had trusted wholeheartedly, would betray you in such a manner.

“Darling? Are you alright? Are you bleeding elsewhere?” James gave you a once-over for any hidden wounds as you stared at the lifeless body of Mrs. Evers, still grappling from shock. When he came away with nothing, he placed his hands against your cheeks, cold palms bringing you back to him.

The worry in his deep brown irises calmed you. It was sometimes difficult for you to rationalize the vicious man that he was with his tender moments towards you.

“Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No, I’m alright I just…” You trailed off, sniffing as you wiped the black-stained tears from your cheeks. “I never expected…”

Your features contorted, the anguish warring with the hatred you now felt for the woman.

“She betrayed us. After everything we did for her.”

“She did,” James said, smearing the makeup on your cheeks as he wiped away your tears.

“James, how will we get the stain out of the carpet now?” You glanced at your husband, distressed. Everything blurred in your mind, a fog, though the man before you was unbothered.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, my dear.” James wiped the blade of his knife with the pressed handkerchief, kissing you between your eyebrows as you gripped the lapels of his suit. “I’ll tear out the entire carpet, if needed. Let’s just dispose of the body without drawing the attention of any lingering guests.”

#james patrick march #jpm #james march #james march x reader #james patrick march x reader #evan peters #ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #jpm x reader #jpm imagines #james march imagine #james march x you

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