Whatta Man [a Tate Langdon imagine]
Request: Tate x Reader when he is still alive and the reader gets invited to a party but Tate doesn’t like those situations but ends up going with her to make her happy? And when they’re at the party the reader gets hit on and Tate turns into super protective jealous mode Tate? thanks xx
a/n: aww yiss protective tate is best; friendly reminder its the 90s in this and REQUESTS ARE OPEN! XD
Do you care about Tate? Of course…but you really wanted to go to your friends party. You could’ve just gone by yourself, except you wanted your boyfriend there. Yes, he isn’t usually one for parties, or people in general; after tons of begging, persuasion, and promises of kisses, he finally agreed.
Right now, he waits at the bottom of the staircase, pulling at the itchy collar of the black button down that is secured by a white tie. He hates when you pick his outfits; he much rather prefers ripped t-shirts or sweaters. Giving up, he comes to conclude the shirt sucks and he has to deal with it. “I hate parties! I hate people! I’m doing this for you!” He shouts upstairs, banging the back of his neck on the bannister, folding his arms. “Bitch…” He says with a smirk.
You slap the back of his head as you come downstairs. “Heard that, Langdon.” You grin, rolling your eyes. “So, what do you think?” You twirl your red mini dress that stops mid-thigh; it hugs all your curves perfectly, and the black pumps adds an inch to your height.
His mouth hangs open, staring at you in amazement; trying to keep it in his tight black jeans and below his white belt. “Babe, you’re- wow. Do we gotta go? I’d much rather stay in; just us…” He trails off, pulling you close to him; gnawing on your neck, until you push back. You wave your finger in a scolding way; he pouts when you lead him to the car.
At the party, there’s a bunch of people, beer and colorful flashing lights. Tate’s grip on your hand tightens; he gets anxious with crowds. Dragging him to your friend, you scream, hugging them; his hand still holding yours. While you talk, the blond offers to get drinks; you kiss him quickly before he starts shoving people.
You and your friend continue the conversation, laughing and giggling. “Let’s dance, Y/N!” They scream, yanking you towards the dancefloor. Mindlessly, you dance to Whatta Man by Salt N’ Pepa; singing along to the lyrics.
“You gotta man, hot stuff?” A husky voice purrs in your ear. It’s certainly not Tate’s, nor the hands that are roaming your body. Flinching, you try to get away from the creep but he pulls you closer to him. “Ah, you do…” The guy smirks, letting his hands travel up and down your sides. It makes you feel sick.
As you open your mouth to scream for Tate, he’s already there; face bright red and scrunch. The drinks are forgotten on the floor. “Get. Your. Fucking. Nasty. Hands. Off. My. Girlfriend.” He grits his teeth, grabbing the creeps shirt and making sure you escape. You stand by your friend, watching the scene. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.” He threatens, punching the guy in the nose.
A whistle comes out of your friend. “Whatta man…” They say, looking from your boyfriend to you.
You giggle, “Whatta mighty good man, yes he is.” You sing, pulling the blond’s white tie. He smirks, letting one of his dimples show, while he leans down to kiss.