one story house

How I Think MCD Should End

Because it will end. Eventually, there won’t be any other place to take the series. The characters will be written out with full arcs. The world will be explored. The mysteries of Irene, Shad, and the Shadow Knights will be answered. And Jess will close the book on this adventure.

But this is how I want to see it go out.

All are happy. The evil is vanquished. All is well. Aphmau, hearing a strange call, enters a familiar forest. She wanders around for quite some time before coming across an odd structure. Half of a little, one-story house. No furniture remains except a book lying on the floor. She picks up the book. A light shines from within the pages, blinding both Aphmau and the audience.

Suddenly, the scene shifts. We are in Jess’s room. She shakes her head, as if waking from a trance. She removes her headphones. She stares at the computer screen. Over her shoulder, we see Aphmau’s hand, holding the book in the Minecraft world.

Jess reaches for the mouse, but stops when she hears Julia and Joseph playing outside the room. There’s a knock at the door. It’s Jason. He smiles at her warmly as he pops his head in.

“Dinner’s ready, babe. C'mon downstairs. You’ve been playing Minecraft for hours.”

“I’ll be right down,” Jess says. Jason closes the door. Jess turns back to the screen and smiles before logging out and turning off her monitor.

Fade to black.

I Wanna Be Yours [Tate Langdon x Reader]

Requests: “I’m actually not into fluff (give me all the smut), but you write some about Tate drawing reader (or the other way around)? I think of him, even though he is popular for his music taste, more as a painter than musician. Love your writings xoxo” - Anon 

“Can you do a kinky Tate imagine ;)” - Anon

“Can you do a post-death Tate Langdon smut please? I love your imagines btw! 😊” - Anon

“girl reader smuts pls. idrc who with:)” - Anon

“Hey! Love your blog by the way! Do you think you can do another Tate Langdon smut fic? I would love that 💕💕” - @gabygarcia5

Warnings: SIN, NOT PROOFREAD (at all), SMUT, FEM!READER, not proofread, blowjob, swallowing cum, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, slight daddy kink, begging kink, unprotected sex (again), sorta OOC Tate, Reader is aware Tate is dead, tbh probably more

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: I’m going to hell. It’s fine, though, because you’re all going to be there with me. 

(This gets weird towards the end, I know. I stayed up until like 5am last night to finish this so I could post it today. Don’t judge me. This whole thing is just a mess though tbh. & it’s not proofread like I barely read the damn thing when I wrote it, so let me know about any errors.)

Keep reading

when you accidentally write a tragedy instead of a sin

Kiss It Better [Tate Langdon x Reader]

Request: “Hey could you please write a one shot with Post Death Tate were the reader has been having nightmares so she’s stopped sleeping and one day she’s hanging out with Tate in the murder house basement and faints from exhaustion and he comforts and confront her about it? Maybe helping her get some sleep? Thank you so much!!” - Anon

Word Count: 679

A/N: I’ve never actually fainted before so I’m not 100% sure how accurate this is. I mean, I was stuck in a snow hole for like 5hrs and sort of blacked out but I don’t think that counts because that was due to my older brother, not sleep deprivation. 

I was listening to the Rihanna song and yep

A small shout wakes you up in a cold sweat, forcing your body off of the pillow. Sighing, you reach for the bottle of now-warm water on the night stand. Tate standing at the edge of your bed catches your attention, a worried look etched onto his tired face. 

“I’m fine, Tate. Go back to bed.” You groan, unscrewing the cap and temporarily forgetting that ghosts couldn’t sleep. Well, they could, but just didn’t need it to function. And from what he had previously told you, it wasn’t very enjoyable. He just sat there in silence, usually, which prompted all sorts of thoughts that he wouldn’t tell you about. Tate liked laying in bed with you most times, though. It took the bad thoughts away, and replaced them with brand new ones. But recently, you had blocked him from sleeping with you because of the nightmares. It was rare you got more than three or four hours of sleep per night, and you mainly stayed up reading or playing games on your phone. On the nights you did get some sleep, it wasn’t very nice, and left you in a state of shock and made you reflect on everything you’d ever done. At least it was good thinking time.

He stalks forward, resting at the side of your bed. Rolling your eyes at his puppy-like nature, you nod, and he lays down. That was the first night in a while that you got a semi-enjoyable night of sleep. It was a while later that you realized that he had been present each night you had a decent rest. It was like he was your lucky charm. 

Fast forward to now. It’s a week or so later, maybe even two. You were hanging out by the basement steps with Tate, talking about school, music, cats… Really, whatever kept him from noticing that you were two blinks away from falling asleep. You knew he’d take it on himself if you did happen to fall asleep while he was talking, and that probably wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, finishing his story. “It’s just weird.” 

“Y-yeah, it’s weird.” You shrug, your head spinning. Your eyes slowly shut to help the pain, but you feel Tate’s words get louder and louder until they’re not there at all. Taking a breath, attempting to open your eyes, you feel yourself float away. 

That’s the last thing you remember before waking up. Tate hovered above you, his eyes stained pink and worried. 

“I’m fine,” You say, trying to sit up. His hand blocks you, stopping you while you rest on your elbows on the messy bed sheets beneath you. “I’m fine. Let me up.”

“You’re not fine!” He shouts, standing. “You passed out! I thought you-”

Raising your hand to your forehead, you sigh. “How long?” He shrugs, sitting back down next to you.

“A long time. It’s dark out.” Tate says quietly. With his words, you’re running to the window to confirm his words. Much to your pleasure, it was only just getting dark, somewhere around five o’clock (you hoped, at least). “Why did you black out?” You shrug, leaning on your stomach. You assumed that the nausea was some side effect of the whole fainting thing. 

That’s when you see it click in his eyes. He knew exactly why you had fainted. “It’s the dreams, isn’t it? That’s why you haven’t been sleeping. That’s why you-”

“I don’t know, Tate! Just shut up and come here.” You groan, standing up, still clutching your stomach. He sits on the bed, the mix of anger and confusion in his eyes slowly fading away. The bed dips awkwardly as you sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest comfortably. The boy strokes your hair softly and hums some random tune, and for the first time in however long, you actually might’ve been falling asleep to something nice. Maybe Tate really was your magic charm.

3

Title: Taunted.

Pairings: Tate Langdon x (F) reader!

Warnings: Blood, killing.ANGsT!!

Gifs: [x] [x] [x]

For a fleeting second, Y/N hated him. She hated him with her entire being. He was a manipulative rodent who dug his filthy claws into anything that displayed the slightest amount of light - the slightest amount of innocence - and he’d ruin them. Y/N had seen it before - many a times - all at the hands of the seventeen year old boy. His face was angelic, his eyes were soft, but he was cold and heartless - he was selfish and unforgiving. Everything he touched surely died. Y/N believed Tate was death itself. He had taken so many lives without even a second thought, some who remained confined in that very house. The house they were held captive in for all eternity - with no escape.

“You forget that I know everything about you, dear Y/N,” his voice taunted, echoing through the halls, “I know where you hide, I know the sound of your heart - it’s so easily distinguishable. I will always, always find you, my dear. There’s no point running.”

His thunderous steps echoed through the house, teasing Y/N. she padded across the carpeted floor, trying to keep her breathing at a minimal. She couldn’t let him find her - if he did, she was dead. She knew she couldn’t get away from him, he had always had the ability to catch his prey. He had killed so many before her, this was his forte. He enjoyed the hunt almost as much as he enjoyed the kill. She was completely scared of him and he knew that, he knew how to use it to his advantage. She was done for. She knew that. He knew that. But why did she keep running, Keep trying to find an escape? Because she didn’t want to die at the hands of her lover.

Her murderous, psychopath lover.

Y/N skidded to a halt, stopping just metres away from him. She gasped for air, her lungs wheezing. She couldn’t fight any longer. It was over. It was all over. Her lower lip trembled as sadness crashed over her in giant waves, she was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die at the hands of Tate. She stumbled backwards, but he took two steps forward. His long strides asserting a sense of dominance over Y/N. she audibly gulped.

He could hear her heart racing, a smirk creeping its way onto his face, giving him a sinister look. As if his true self was revealing, he looked like a demon - something from a nightmare.

“You don’t have to do this, Tate. I won’t leave, I promise. I’ll stay with you forever, just please don’t do this to me.” She begged, tears glossing her eyes.

Tate’s strides faltered as he saw the sadness and pain in her eyes. He never wanted to hurt her - but she couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t risk her leaving him. He shrugged off the feeling - the nagging in the back of his head, begging him to stop too; this wasn’t what he wanted - Tate had never wanted to hurt her, but he had no choice. She was going to leave him and he couldn’t let that happen.

Y/N noticed his falter and used it to her advantage, she bolted back in the direction she came from. Grabbing onto the banister, she turned round the corner and pounded down the stairs. Screaming at the top of her lungs - screaming bloody murder. She prayed inwardly that someone would save her from the monster she loved, from the monster trapped inside the boy. She grabbed the handle of the door - locked - she shook the handle aggressively. Frustrated tears falling rapidly. She grabbed the keys from the pot, shakily jamming the key into the door and wrenching the door open just as Tate reached the bottom of the stairs.

She yelped when he caught up to her, seizing her aggressively by her upper arm. His blunt nails digging into her skin, drawing blood to the surface. She shouted in pain, swinging her elbow back and delivering a harsh blow to his gut. He doubled over, hissing through his teeth, glaring daggers at her. Y/N wasted no time as she sprinted down the driveway and through the gates, across the road for safe measure.

She rested her hands on her knees, heaving through struggling, burning lungs. She coughed a few times, cautiously glancing at Tate across the road. His eyes were almost burning red with anger and his lips were pulled back in a snarl, a sinister and menacing snarl that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. But for now, she was safe. Until Halloween at least.

Halloween rolled around and paranoia had settled inside Y/N. she was constantly looking around, trying to spot Tate’s cold, brown eyes through the crowd. She jumped every time someone stood behind her. She was terrified and frankly, losing her mind. The paranoia was eating her alive. The bags under her eyes were as prominent as ever. She was afraid.


Y/N knew she had to walk past the house on the way home, she just prayed Tate wasn’t lurking around, waiting to pounce. Her pace increased drastically as the house came into view. She could feel eyes on her back, her pace once again picked up. The hair on the back of her neck spiked as she let out ragged breathes, anxiety bubbling up inside her.

She turned round the corner, glancing left and right. She almost jumped out of her skin. His eyes seemed to shine through the darkness, taunting. He was always tainting her. Eyes that were once were filled with only love and adoration for her were now filled with rage and a murderous glaze. Y/N’s skin prickled with goosebumps. He advanced towards her before she had time to react, she was frozen in her place.

“My darling, Y/N, why’d you run away? Leave the house when you knew I could not follow, oh how naughty of you.” Tate smirked, running a chilled finger down her tinted cheeks.

she flinched away from his touch, causing him to seize her chin in a painful grip. Her eyes glossed with tears, a few escaping revealing just how scared she was. Scared of the man she once adored with all her being.

“Don’t have anything to say? Hmm, that’s not what happened last night. I recall you calling me a psychopath, insane I believe. Is that what you remember, darling?”

Y/N nodded, fear consuming her.

“We’d better get you back to the house and if you dare fight, I will not hesitate to drag you in myself.”


“Tate, fight it. For me. For us. Fight the monster inside. Don’t do this, my love. Don’t condemn me to a miserable life, bound to that house!” She whispered, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks.

He didn’t even react to her words as if he had heard them a million times before and they held no significance anymore. He would show no mercy.


Y/N had never seen him so malicious and heartless towards her. Sure, she had seen him glare and spit snide comments to his mother and occasionally Hayden, but never her. He had only ever shown her kindness and love. The change in personality chilled her to the bone. What had happened to the boy she fell for? Or was this him all along?

He shoved her forward and she staggered slightly. He grabbed her arm, stabilising her before dragging her towards the dreaded murder house. Her insides flipped as it came into view. This was were it ended. She knew that. He knew that.

She staggered through the front door, collapsing to her knees almost instantly. Sobs erupted through her, her shoulders shaking as she cried. She knew he enjoyed watching his prey beg, plead for their lives, but she couldn’t help herself. She had given him the satisfaction of seeing her beg.

Tate’s smirk only grew. He weaved his fingers into her hand, gripping the tendrils tightly and yanking her head back, revealing her neck. He smiled sinisterly at the exposed skin, picking up the knife from the table and dragging the tip along the apple of her cheek. The tip cut along her skin causing Tate to sigh in satisfaction, blood trickling down her cheek and down her neck. Tate circled around to be in front of her, he knelt down, smiling. And then he delivered the fatal swipe, a long cut along her neck.

She gurgled, blood spilling from the wound. Blood spilled from her lips. She spluttered, choking slightly. Her hands flew up to her neck, her eyes wide. And with that, the world went dark and her limbs grew heavy. She hit the floor with a thud. Blood spilled from her mouth and the wound on her neck, dribbling onto the carpet. Leaving a taunting stain, leaving a stain that would forever leave visitors curious.


Y/N vision cleared and she sat up, the floor now clean apart from the dry, reddish brown stain on the carpet. Her hands flew to her neck, she let out a stifled sob when her fingertips brushed against the wound. Her eyes squeezed shut, her breathing irregular.

“I’m dead.” She wheezed, shaking.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I couldn’t fight the urge. I couldn’t risk you leaving me. Please forgive me.” Tate rasped from behind her.

She scrambled to her feet, spinning around to face him with wide eyes and a hand outstretched to ward him off.

“Go away, Tate.” She cried, he let out a whine of protest which evolved into a scream.

“No, Y/N. I’m sorry. Don’t do this! Y/N!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face.

“Go away!” She screamed just as loud and she was gone, back in her room. She collapsed onto the bed, crying and kicking.

Tate whimpered. The silence that spread through the house taunted him. Oh what had he done?

Likes, reblogs, asks and replies are greatly appreciated. Tell me what you think.

We All Have Reasons

Originally posted by i-am-my-own-drugs

(13 reasons why inspired)

(warning : May be triggering)

we all have reasons. She did too. He, tate did as well. 

He had reasons for why and how he loved her and cared for her. 

She had reasons for what she did, for why she left him. 

She was stuck in a world filed with cruel and ‘filty’ people, some where nice, but she hardly came by those. She was in love with a blonde who was bullied, she didn’t care that he was a ‘loser’ or a ‘freak’ He was unique to her, and she liked that. 

She was the only person that would talk nicely and help him out, and he cherished every moment he could spend with her. But he never noticed that she was hurting. He was too caught up in the moment. He never noticed her crying out for help or drowning in her own sorrows. 

He blames himself everyday for not listening to her, for not being there when she needed him the most, for when she needed comforting and a cuddle.

He wished he could have done something or turn back the clock, but it was impossible. 

He still remembers, the memory lingers within his mind everyday… 

Originally posted by nothing-really-matters-to-me

He can never forget of the scene when he arrived to her house . He was excited to finally confess to her. He was ready to our out his feelings towards her. He dropped his bike near her entrance of her house. Her parents were not home, they hardly ever were, all they cared about was work and money, but where was she in their hearts ? 

He began t comb the vines on the side of her window until he reached her roof and got over. He then walked over to her window and saw it was left slightly ajar. He still knocked waiting for a response, once he didn’t get anything her just opened it more and slipped in. His breath was caught within his throat, He is palms sweating, his heart pounding against his chest, making him cry in pain, he was beginning to have a panic attack, He closed his eyes to cover the sight in front of him. 

There she was, his beautiful angel, the love of his life, hanging on her ceiling. Her now pale skin, drained of color and life, He couldn’t scream, but cry, He was rocking back in forth pulling on his hair sobbing and crying ……

_________

“no noNO NO NO GET OUT OF MY HEAD” 

How can he forget ? The one person that he loved and cared for was dead. 

We all die, but why did she have to die now ? 

Why couldn’t he just have seen the signs? 

He let her down 

All those thoughts cluttered his mind 

She has a reason, We all have reasons 

and now he finally has a reason 

“I love you “ 

Pre-Death Tate Asking You Out [HCs]

Request: “Pre-death Tate asking you out headcannons?” - Anon

Count: 18

A/N: I love pre-death Tate though. A smol, nervous, virgin cinnamon roll with murderous tendencies. 

  • I feel like it would a be a slow-burn type of thing.
  • The two of you would just be friends for the longest time, maybe even dating all the way back to childhood.
  • Then, he’d start to feel warm and fuzzy when he looked at you.
  • And when you spoke to him, even if it was about the smallest thing, he’d pay attention to every word you said. 
  • Especially when he’d catch you singing when you get bored.
  • Really, it was just a secret way for him to look at your lips without you noticing.
  • Eventually, he’d get nervous being around you, and he’d be careful with his words.
  • That’s when he realizes that he’s in love with you.
  • But he would never let you catch on to his feelings.
  • When he decides to ask you out, he goes through every possible scenario and plan.
  • Ultimately, it’d just slip out on night while the two of you were watching a movie.
  • “Uh, Y/N? Would you ever want to go on a date? With me?” 
  • “I mean, I don’t like you or anything… Just curious, I guess.”
  • He’d take a slow response as a no.
  • “Okay. I’m going to head home now.”
  • Most likely, he’s hoping that you’ll pull him back and re-enact that scene from the only cheesy romance movie he’s ever seen.
  • Then, he’d try to run home as fast as he could.
  • “Tate, I’d love to.”