American Horror Story Character Imagines/Preferences

trading clothes 👕.

Murder house

Tate: Tate's been stuck with the same wardrobe since becoming a ghost, and  while the 90s vibe is irrefutably hot, you both grow tired of him wearing the same hole ridden clothes. You often buy him punky oversized clothes like he likes, but they serve the dual purpose of also being your lazy day clothes. You'll slip on a big 9 inch nails shirt and wear it like a dress when you're binging shows or pigging out with your boyfriend. It shouldn't be as appealing to Tate as it is. But the vision of you in his clothes and nothing else makes him feel some form of special only you can give him. He's always smiling and gives more hugs and kisses than normal, so you make it a point to steal them often.

Violet: Violet and you are the same basic size, and you're thankful to have a girlfriend with a good sense of style. You were currently digging through the hoard that was Violet's closet and listening to music. "Oooh, what about this one, babes?" You said with glee, holding up the skirt. Violet finally looked up from her homework and to you with a smirk. "Anything you want, goof. I hardly look at that shit to be honest." "True. Some of us actually have to try to look hot. I'm keeping this." You said, slipping your own skirt off and hers on. She watched you, biting her lip gently. "Is this you trying?" You looked back and smiled, twirling around in the skirt. "Is it working?" "Definitely." She reached out for your hand and pulled you down with her on the bed.

Asylum

Lana: Lana's about a foot taller and has far broader shoulders than yours, so it's not typically practical for you to trade clothes. Practicality, however, does not end possibility. It started off as an accidental swap in night gowns. When you woke up that following morning and realized, you got inspired to play around a bit more with the idea of being the famous Lana Winters. You sat at your vanity in your girlfriend's adorable but oversized pantsuit applying a thick winged liner to perfect the Lana look. "Ms. Winters, how do you do it?" You asked yourself in the mirror in your best baritone voice. "Well, Chuck," you tried to mimic her voice, failing miserably and holding your hairbrush like a microphone. "Oh. My. God." Lana  said through laughter, causing you to whip around to face her on the bed, a blush quickly forming. "A dork. I'm dating an absolute clown." She said, smile as bright and consistent as ever. "No one talks that way to Lana Winters. Do you have any idea who I am?" You mocked her, sometimes selfish, persona as you crawled across the bed to be with her. She only smiled and conceded to give a quick kiss. "The pant-suit's kinda hot." She bit her lip, fiddling with one of the buttons on the jacket. "Said no one ever." You quipped. She shoved your shoulder and gave you a much more passionate kiss than intended. She made you keep the suit on the entirety of the day, and still frequently reminds you about it.

Sister Mary Eunice: You and Mary honestly have forgotten who's clothes actually belong to who, since you've resolved to sharing everything. If one of you likes an item, chances are high that the other will like it just as much, and you really shop now knowing you'll have dual custody over the clothes with your girlfriend. It's adorable that you both have such similar taste, and she often ties it back to you being soulmates. You couldn't agree more.

Kit: (after you're out of Briarcliff. (This is an upcoming chapter for a couple characters))
Kit was job hunting and he'd made very clear that he wasn't about to go back to work at that shitty gas station. Too many rotten memories, and he only wanted to create new ones with you. However, he still had a few of his work shirts scattered about the house, and you couldn't deny the comfort the soft cotton brought you the moment you tried it on. It smelled faintly of Kit and gasoline, two of your favorite scents. You only buttoned it halfway and tied the rest at the front of your midriff to distract from the fact that it was a crusty old man's work shirt. You often cleaned and cooked in this and Kit recognized it instantly. "Hey, gorgeous," he furrowed his brows and smirked, pulling you softly by your hips to him. "Why does that look so much better on you?" You smiled and ran your fingers through his messy hair. "Objectively speaking, breasts, Kit. They make everything better." You joked and he laughed, glancing down at yours. "But I think it's mostly just that you've got a little crush on me." You kissed his neck softly and winked, turning away. He groaned and picked up his tool box to head outside again. "Yeah you might be right about that."