Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Sweet, but Psycho Pt. 9

Tate had been in defense mode since we'd entered school this Monday morning. Mark and Eric had bullied him for so long that he couldn't grasp the concept of people being nosy about our relationship, which was surprising since Constance was his mother. Tweedledum and Tweedle-dumber, also known as Mark and Eric, were nowhere to be found within the school walls. After Mark popped up at my father's house and tried to get my father to convince me to marry him, Tate and I were on guard for whatever Mark had planned next. Mark's favorite pastime involved reigning hell in our lives, so we'd expected him to be the first person to harass us at the entrance. But we wouldn't complain about this gift of freedom from their idiocy.

Paying attention in class was challenging, as the only thing that raced through my brain was the thought of the boy who'd one day share a child with me. The boy who would propose, and then we'd wait for his mother to croak so we could have her house. The ghosts in the house like me better than her, anyway. If my dad was dead, we could take his place as well. We had too many choices and parents to choose from. Labeling Tate as my boyfriend was not enough. He was my twin flame. Tate Langdon.

All those years of watching him from afar, riding my bike through his neighborhood, and creating elaborate schemes to get closer to him had shown the truth. Not to mention when I cut the brakes on that one girl's car. If she had heeded the warning in the letter she'd gotten, then she would still be at Westfield. What part of, 'Tate is the love of my life. If you speak to him again, there will be consequences.' did she not understand? Hopefully, she has a better interpretation of it in her coma, but if she even had the chance of being the one for Tate, the thought of him would've been able to keep her conscious. Besides, she should've never tried to when he's predestined for me.

My thoughts had overtaken me until the lunch bell brought me back to reality. Tate stood outside my classroom, waiting for me with his keys. He hadn't even let me exit the doorway when he grabbed my waist and pulled me toward him.

"Hey, babe!" he greeted. "Do you wanna eat that prison food in the cafeteria, or do you want Taco Bell?"

"Depends. Can I get the cinnamon twists, too?" I asked.

He looked around to make sure no one could hear him.

"You can get whatever you want." He pulled out a wallet from his back pocket. "I have to hand it to my mom. Larry may be a bitch, but at least he's got money."

Tate was at his happiest when he terrorized that man. So much so that he formed a personal Larry hate fan club. We hosted meetings in the attic with his brother Beaux, the club's new vice president.

"You stole his wallet?" I questioned. "Aren't you scared he's gonna find out and tell Constance?"

"He can try if he wants, but I found out he got a raise." Tate declared. "He'd hate for my mom to find out. She'd burn him alive for not giving her more cash for her spa trips, or better yet, she'd let me do it."

Tate was very set on wanting to ensure that Larry died due to arson. The story of Larry driving his ex-wife to set herself and their kids on fire after cheating with Mrs. Langdon made me want to kill him also. It was an eye for an eye. There was also something about Tate's malicious side that made me rip his clothes off right there.

"So everyone in the house blackmails each other, huh?" I joked.

"Your time will come, Y/n." Tate teased, rubbing his hand down my thigh. "In more ways than one. If you catch my drift, we've got 20 minutes. Which do you want first? Me or the Taco Bell?"

Picking Taco Bell was absolute hell. Tate was more prone to violence as he almost threatened every guy who looked over in my direction. He didn't even trust the man who took our order at the register. Going through the drive-thru would need to be mandatory for us from now on. Oddly enough, his behavior was very familiar, but my finger couldn't be put on who he reminded me of. His possessive side showed more as we made our drinks at the drink machines.