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Iris And Liz Oversee A New Era At The Cortez. John And Alex Struggle To Adapt To Life Outside The Hotel.
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AHS Imagine - Valentine’s Day. Tate Langdon/James March.

February 14 1994

He watched you from the bedroom door, leaning firmly against the doorframe. You sat cross-legged on his bed, skimming through the records he cared for more than himself. His arms unfolded from of his chest as his simple push separated him from the wooden frame. He watched as you placed a strand of loose hair behind your ear, but not before quickly playing with the stud earring he had bought for you months earlier. He watched your head bob to the music that bled through your headphones, and the luxury you got from it. His shoes quietly clicked against the wood board until he reached your side. With caution, he tapped your shoulder, bringing you out of focus. Quickly, you removed your headphones, and your gaze met his.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You asked, referring to the pile of records placed on your lap.

He shook his head,

“No, of course not.” He sat in front of you on the bed, his head rested in his hands while his focus remained on you.

“It’s valentine’s day.” He said quietly, reading the small subtitles off of his Nirvana album.

Your words, were locked at the tip of your tongue as he reached under his bed and pulled out a bouquet of roses,

“Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N” His lips formed into a wide grin, and his dimples sunk deep into his skin.

“Thank you Tate!” You leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips,

“15 Roses, for the 15 months we’ve been together.” Crimson flushed on his cheeks, knowing how cheesy he sounded. Tate glanced at the bouquet,

“There’s more” He chuckled, pointing to the bottom of the bundle of roses. You raised an eyebrow, shook your head and dug carefully into the bouquet. You felt a piece of paper skim past your finger, and carefully pulled it out. It’s tarnished edges and crumpled center marked it being stuffed into Tate’s multiple jackets. You read its faded title,

Hotel Cortez.

You turned to him,

“What’s this?” You couldn’t help but let a giggle leave your lips.

“A hotel… we’re going on a little weekend vacation” Tate wiggled his eyebrow, picking nervously at his fingernails.

“Don’t worry, I already talked to our parents, I got a taxi – everything’s set” Tate pulled your hands from the bouquet and watched it freely fall onto your lap. He caressed the back of your hands, ending with a gentle kiss,

“All you gotta do is say yes, babe.” You didn’t have to think about it, the answer almost came naturally. You noticed his efforts, and how much you meant to him,

“Yes, of course!” He smiled, a sigh of relief left his lips just before they met yours.

“I love you so much.” His sentence muffled in the kiss, yet sent countless butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

You noticed the bracelet on his wrist, the early Valentine’s Day present you left in a small box on his nightstand.

“When do we leave?” Pulling away, your eyes locked with his.

“As soon as we pack.” His smile returned, and so did his lips on yours.

The car ride was long; the air was wrapped in a comfortable silence as your hand was held in his. Tate voluntarily held your bags as you both made your way through the lobby.

“What can I do you for?” Said the bartender, as she made her way to the front desk.

“Yeah, we have reservations?” Tate stated nervously,

“What’s it under?” She asked politely.

“Langdon.” Tate replied.

The lobby sat in silence as she dragged her finger through the large list in front of her. Finally, she stopped and tapped on the paper quickly.

“Here you are – Mr. and Mrs. Langdon. I’m Liz—If you need any help during your stay” Liz flashed you a fabricated smile before turning to retrieve a set of keys. The air from the rusty vent whipped at the hem of her long cape. You turned to Tate, whose cheeks were once again a deep red.

“Mr. and Mrs. Langdon?” Giggling, you kissed his tainted cheek, watching it flush a deeper red.

Tate’s bottom lip was held between his teeth, stopping the shy smile that crept on his lips.

“Here you go lovebirds, enjoy your stay at the Hotel Cortez” Liz waltzed back to the bar, attending to no one but herself, and the half empty glasses left on the marble surface of the bar.

Tate’s hand snaked around your waist, directing you to the elevator. Once off, your eye trailed past the patterned walls, an arrangement of shapes that received your interest but in return gave you a sickening headache. Tate stopped in front of the room, and pulled out the double set of keys.

“Shit.” He cursed, irritably jamming the key into the lock.

“Looks like Liz gave us a bad key” Tate sighed, managing to open the door with the working key.

“I’ll go sort it out, unpack while you wait for me” You said, pecking his lips.

“You sure you’re not gonna get lost?” Tate glanced at you with concern.

Nodding, you caressed his cheek before stepping back into the large hallway.  

You continued your way into the mouth of the hotel, turning at every corner that had an exit sign flashing brightly above it. With no success, you ended up deeper into the pit of the hotel, an endless labyrinth with an exit that seemed non-existent.  You halted, deciding on whether to ask for help or to continue to walk down the patterned halls. With a final sigh, your tense fist knocked quietly on the door in front of you – room 64. After the third knock, you dug your fists into your pockets. You lifted your head once you heard the door unlock.

You quickly fixed your slumped posture as a man dressed in attire made for decades before you opened the door completely.

“Hello, darling.” His accent thick, and his posture was proper, all behaviours of a man in the early 1930s. His age didn’t fit his personality.

“Hi, I’m sorry for bothering but-“

“No bother,” He interrupted, leaning against the doorframe.

You smiled weakly,

“Could you help me get to the main lobby? I must have turned a wrong corner”

The man smiled, closing the door behind him and directed you with the tip of his cane.

“Right this way my dear.”

You quietly followed the man through the empty hall; the pulsing sound of his cane touching the carpet floor cleared the silent air.

“James, James March.” He spoke abruptly, turning slightly so you stood in his sight.

“Y/N.” You replied, bringing your gaze back to your shoes.

James began to hum quietly to himself, glancing back at you once in a while to make sure you were still following. You lifted your gaze from your shoes and recognized the hallway;

“James, weren’t we just here?” you questioned, just as the number 64 reached your vision. Without a moment more, James stopped and pulled you into his chest, covering your mouth quickly.

“Scream and I kill you here,” The words were, of course, not without threat. Feeling the oxygen lack in your head, James held your limp body; the pit in your stomach was swallowed by the obscurity.

           February 28th 1994

“You know…” His voice trailed off, as his fingers danced over his variety of knifes,

“I could’ve killed you by now,” His tone still threatening even though no effort was being used.

“But there’s something about you, maybe it’s your remarks, beauty, or maybe I’m just feeling generous” He turned to you and gave you a smile,

“You boyfriend must be worried sick, gone for 14 days – I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“Shut up” you spat; your wrists pulsed with pain as the rope tied around them irritated your delicate skin.

The smile on James’ face faded.

“As you wish, darling.” He tipped his hat and walked out of the room. You noticed his tense shoulders indicating irritation; he was losing patience with you.

Hours passed and finally James reappeared, in a more joyful mood than when he left. He invited you to dinner, the room just across the hallway. He left a silky cream coloured dress on his bed, with your name written on the small label just above the shoulder.

Do accompany me to dinner? - March.

Ms. Evers, who kept you in binds like James ordered, escorted you. You sat at the end of the table, opposite of James. Dinner began quietly, and with a silence that was far from comfortable.

“I know you don’t like me, Y/N, I’m a good man, I’ve kept you alive haven’t I?” James said, breaking the silence.

“Know it’s nothing personal that you’re still in binds, extra precautions you may call it.” He added. Quietly, you sat on the other side of the dinner table, tied by the waist to your seat. Ms. Evers, prepared a meal for both you and James, and watched wistfully as you refused to eat.

“Don’t like it Madame?” Ms. Evers asked, getting up from her seat.

“I can make you something else? Pasta? Meats-“

“That’s enough Ms. Evers,” James interrupted, focusing on you,

“You’re excused.” Ms. Evers simply nodded and scurried out of the room.

“You haven’t eaten, what’s on your mind?” James asked, placing his utensils down.

“Not hungry I guess” You mumbled, mimicking his actions.

The room became silent again, as James clenched his jaw.

“I wrote you a poem? Care to hear it?” He got up from his seat and retrieved a piece of paper that sat on a separate table.

Your eyes, like stars, twinkle with serenity,


Your smile, seen as many times a blue moon yet brighten the darkest room,


Your voice, filled with anger can sound so soothing, without resistance, an angel on earth.

James Patrick March

“Short I know, I’m not a poetic man” James said, placing the paper down on the table and made his way back to his seat.

“Did you like it darling?” He asked, shuffling in his seat.

“I did, thank you James.” Your stomach began to flutter, a feeling that made you nauseous.

You pushed the new feeling back. Does James have feelings for you? Moreover do you have feelings for him? The pit in your stomach grew. Although during his attempts to frighten you, he has never laid a finger on you – not after Valentine’s Day. You didn’t have feelings for him, you were scared, desperate. 

“James,” you called to him, he gave you a smile.


“Why haven’t you killed me yet? Aren’t you the infamous James March?” You questioned, seeing James’ head dip slightly.

“I’m not quite sure myself, darling.” He answered truthfully.

“Maybe because I can’t,”

“Why?” You continued to question.

“I’ve grown very fond of you, Y/N. Killing you is not what I desire” He replied, he stood up from his seat and cleared his throat.

“I want you to be my wife,”

“And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Again, the pit in your stomach gnawed at your throat, fearing the certainty of your approval. You were going to marry James, and there was nothing you could do.

           April 16th 1994  

“Darling I’m back.” James chimed, placing a kiss on your lips.

“It’s about time,” You smiled, looking up from the newspaper James got for you,

“I’m still so thrilled you said yes, now look at us, married, in love, a feeling I missed” James rambled as he placed his hat on the rack.

“Me too” You said shyly, flipping back to the front page. You eyes fixated on the small subtitle in the corner of the paper;

School Shooting at Westfield High School, 1994.


Nervously, you flipped through the pages until you faced his picture.

Tate Langdon. Looking into his printed eyes you saw nothing but a body without life. The colour on his skin was pale, and the dark circles covered almost down to his cheekbones.

Locals say before Tate Langdon began shooting, he spoke to the victims. A nearby teacher was able to get out alive to tell the story,

“He was angry, screaming about a girl” The teacher said.

“She’s gone, she’s gone,“ Tate screamed.

“ it’s my fault, she’s gone because of me…I’ve got nothing anymore.“

“If you love someone you should never hurt them right? I hurt her… she’s gone because of me!“ That was the last thing Tate said before he began shooting.

Sources say the teen was shot in his home, after refusing to cooperate.

You folded the newspaper and placed it aside. Words clogged in your throat and numbed your tongue. You began to wonder why you were still at the hotel. You never loved James, it was out of pure angst, a desperate act to keep your life and to keep the hope of seeing Tate again. You needed to leave.

“Darling?” James called,

“Is everything alright?”


Imagine i know FINALLY???? Let me know if y’all liked it, I’m a little rusty from not writing for so long LMAO ;) S/O to @dearlieebeloved for the idea ily bro 

Status: American Horror Story

• “Pessoas normais me assustam.”

• “Se você ama alguém, não deve nunca machucá-lo.”

• “É eu e você juntos para sempre.”

• “Tudo o que você tem que fazer é dizer a eles para irem embora… e eles irão.”

• A vida é muito curta para tanta tristeza.

• “Não vou deixar nada, nem ninguém, machucar você.”

• “Sabe porque vou deixá-la em paz? Ligo mais para seus sentimentos do que para os meus. Eu amo você.”

• “O mundo é um lugar podre. Maldito show de putas.”

• Ele é um garoto sensível. Ele é um jovem com sentimentos profundos. Com alma de poeta.

• Ou entende essa vida, ou você enlouquece.

• há sacrifícios que devemos fazer em nome do amor.

• O tempo desaparece. A única coisa que sobra é o que está na sua memória.

• É preciso algo que pessoas possam ver. Estimulação visual. E acredite, não há mais estimulo que pessoas loucas.

• “A pior dor é a de amr alguém que você não pode ter." 

• “Era um tipo especial de amor. Talvez seja aquela coisa que só acontece uma vez na vida.” 

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