American Horror Story Character Imagines/Preferences

spark.

Murder house

Tate: Ever since the two of you discovered you were neighbors, you were practically inseparable. Each day after you came home from work, he'd be waiting for you on your porch like a lost dog, which you often joked about. It might have been creepy, were it not for those puppy eyes. Beep beep bee--you shut off the microwave before it could finish and dumped the second bag of hot popcorn into your bowl. Tate poured you two glasses of soda and as you passed by to put the movie in, you heard him giggling. You snapped your head towards him suspiciously, smile already spreading across your face at the sound of his laughter. "What are you doing?" "Oh nothing~," he said in a sing-song voice. You came up behind him and he turned around just in time to meet you, dark colored glass in hand. You eyed him suspiciously as you brought the cup up to your lips. "Did you spit in it??" You tried not to mirror his laughter, which only intensified. "Ohmygod you did!! Ew!" You said quickly pulling it away from your lips. "I didn't, I didn't, I swear!" He laughed. "Then what's so funny?" "Drink." He took a sip from his own glass. You finally took a drink from yours and instantly realized he had spiked it with Jack Daniels. "Tate!" You yelled playfully and hit his arm. "What's the matter?!" He said, laughter finally dying down. "I have to work tomorrow." "Yeah, but you have to drink right now." He said smirking, pulling you closer to him as you set your glass behind him on the counter. "Are you peer pressuring me?" You said in mock disbelief. "Depends. Is it working?" You looked up into his eyes. "It's gonna take a little more pressure than that." He paused before speaking. And you almost didn't notice him glancing at your lips. Almost. "I can push harder." You were getting nervous now. Nervous around your best friend?? You cringed. "I've been pressed, let's drink and watch this shitty movie." You sighed, dragging him and your glass out of the kitchen. "That's the spirit!" He cheered. You were watching some scary movie you couldn't even remember the title of. All your mind could focus on was the slight buzz to your brain and Tate's hand on your thigh. He had slapped it there some time ago when you said some playful insult, and, after rubbing it to soothe the sting he caused, he never removed it. It didn't inch closer, mind you, he wasn't trying to pull anything in your inebriated state; it was just resting there, as almost a natural impulse. "You gonna leave that there all night?" You said, finally deciding to acknowledge it. "..What?" Tate said looking at you at last. "Your hand, genius." You said softly, smiling. You always smiled when you looked at him. He was your childhood bestie, you told yourself. You couldn't help it. He looked down at his hand and smiled. "What would you like me to do with it, smarty pants?" He lifted his hand and started dancing around the warm spot he'd left with his fingers. "Get it away from me, you've given me enough cooties for one night." At this he chuckled and raised his hand in surrender. Then he brought his other hand down to tickle your stomach. You squealed and tried to kick him off, laughing hysterically as you realized he remembered exactly where your spot was from all those years ago. "STOP!!" You yelled trying to hold his hands, opening your eyes. Your grin was becoming painful. "I'm confused." He deadpanned. "You didn't want the cootie-monster so I gave you the tickle-monster, and now here you go again being unsatisfied." He teased, starting up his tickle torture again. "What do I have to do to make you happy, huh?!" He laughed. "I want Tate!!" You giggled and finally managed to push him off of you, unfortunately knocking you both onto the floor. You were on top of him now, tangled in a blanket around your torsos. You both panted and finished laughing. You brought your head up from his chest to catch your breath and look at him. He held your hands on either side of his head and matched his smile to your own. You looked at him and you felt it. It was not the alcohol. Here you were, loving Tate Langdon all over again. And as he looked up at you too, he knew that he'd never stopped. You heard keys twist in the door and quickly scurried off of Tate, fear being the only thing able to break away from that serious moment. It was your aunt carrying in a few bags of groceries. "Ugh, (Y/n) What the fuck, I texted like a billion times. I went shopping and I-- Oh. Who's this?" She said seeing Tate stand in the living room awkwardly. "Sorry babes, I must have left it on silent from work... This is Tate, he's the kid I told you about from next door.." "okay, kid from next door, you mind helping us carry in some of these groceries? We could use a man around here--" "Debra!" You whispered sharply and shook your head. "No I don't mind at all." Tate said and went out to the car to grab more bags. You and your aunt stood in the doorway watching him. "He's cute." She nudged you. You paused, smiling to yourself. "Yeah, he is, isn't he...".