Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Picture Perfect Pt.2

Everything had become hectic since I took that modeling gig. Paparazzi kept showing up wherever I went. I had to quit my job because I couldn't work with the constant cameras around; it made me, my coworkers, and the customers uncomfortable. The only place I was safe in my own home until my address got leaked. The only time I've appreciated cops was when they shooed paparazzi away and detained my stalker. I had to move to a more secure area, a gated community, caged in like I'm in the zoo. Sometimes, it feels like I am in a zoo with people watching and pointing at me like a lion in its den- people snapping photos of me without my permission, invading my space and life because they feel they are allowed, but you can't complain and have to deal with it- if you don't cooperate or lash out, you get tranquilized.

I never understood why anyone dreamed of having fame- and I certainly don't understand now. I never signed up for this shit. I signed up for the model- and to meet Evan Peter's- that's it. I've spoken to him about how I felt about the issue- he understood completely and even suggested finding someone else with my help. Evan was so sweet and considerate, and though fame left me exhausted, I couldn't back out now. I couldn't let him down. I wasn't going to.

Evan and I were now in the spotlight for photography, and he was excited- and I was going to make sure he stayed that way.

A cryptic message appeared on my phone. It was Evan, who else?

I'll see you at 3 AM tonight. First Floor. Room 3. Bring handcuffs.

"What the fuck," I said aloud.

Y/n: Should I also bring the police?

You do realize asking someone to meet you in an abandoned building during the Devil's Hour is pretty creepy...And why do you need handcuffs?

Evan: Bondage. Also, sorry, it's a habit.

Y/n: That's an alarming habit- and is there an explanation for so-called 'bondage'?

Evan: OUART

Y/n: OUART? What's OUART?

Evan: It's "Our Art," but combined.

Y/n: Fuck it... I guess I'll see you then.

I got in my car and drove to a nearby Halloween store. This man had me out here buying handcuffs in footie pajamas- and a pair of children's Barbie shades my niece left over at my house. In this business, you had to do anything to avoid paparazzi. After getting the supplies, I went home, set an alarm, and lay down. Falling asleep wasn't as easy as it should have been. I kept wondering about what Evan had plotted out. I wish he'd informed me more about these things, but he keeps saying, "An artist never reveals their ideas" like a lunatic- his Andy Warhol role had seriously gotten to him. Evan called it "OUART, " I won't let me in on OUR art. I get it he's the visionary- and I'm the vision, but this vision also needs to know the image.

My alarm blared throughout my room, frightening me awake. I quickly shut it off and ran to my bathroom to prepare for whatever Evan had planned.

I pulled up to the abandoned studio, and a surprisingly creepy letter wasn't on the door. The eerie text took the place of that, I guess. I walked straight to the room. I was prepared to be dumbfounded by whatever plans he had today.

Evan stood alone in a room with his camera, a backdrop, another camera, a bat, and a chair. If I'm going to be killed, at least it's by Evan Peters. My footsteps caught his attention as I entered the room. He turned and smiled as I walked toward him.

"There's my muse," he exclaimed, "Did you bring the stuff?"

"Oddly," I replied.

I tossed the handcuffs to him. The smile I received in return was too eager. Way too eager.

"I know I asked this last time, but times change. Is this a porno," I questioned.

Evan chuckled to himself as he placed one cuff around the camera holder. That's weird.

"I'm starting to think that's what you want," Evan joked.

"What," I gasped, "No."

My face started to get hot. I turned my head so he wouldn't see me blush.

"I asked because last time you made me wear lingerie and pose on a bed," I claimed, "And now I'm going to wear God knows what while wearing handcuffs- besides, that's unprofessional."

"Uh-huh," Evan chuckled, "Is that why you turned away so I couldn't see you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing," I argued, "It's hot in here, okay!"

"Whatever you say, Y/n," Evan retreated, "Come here."

I rolled my eyes as I followed instructions and walked toward him.

"Arm," he instructed.

I held out my hand toward him. Evan pulled me closer and cuffed my arm to the camera.

"Perfect," he exclaimed.

"Why am I cuffed to a camera, Evan," I asked, "If these are my last days, could you at least act like Kai or something?"

"Out of all characters, " Evan exclaimed, "You want me to be Kai."

"I'm mentally ill," I responded, "Have you not noticed that yet? Besides, this seems like something he'd do- evaluate that next before you send me a cryptic message."

"Noted," he replied.

Evan grabbed the bat and handed it to me.

"What's this for," I asked.

"I want you to break the camera," He answered, "After our last dinner, you said you felt like the world was constantly watching you and sold your soul for everyone's entertainment, so I want you to destroy it. The camera represents the world watching you through a lens. You want to escape its eyes, but you're shackled to it. The bat represents your power and rage. I want you to unleash it."

His mind never failed to amaze me. Evan could take a meat cleaver and pistachio and still find a way to make meaning out of it. He walked over to his camera.

"Ready," he asked.

"Wait-no, don't I need to change," I responded.

"You look fine as it is," he assured.

We finished later than expected; we stopped when we noticed the sun seep through the cracks of the barricaded windows. I wondered if Evan would get this place fixed up eventually. An abandoned building may be the perfect place to avoid others, but it's also an ideal place to find a body. The vibe was completely off.

Evan sat and reviewed the pictures on his camera.

"Are you ever going to get this place fixed," I asked, "It's a pig sty.

"It doesn't really bother me," he admitted.

"How," I questioned.

"I've worked in many abandoned buildings, Y/n," he chuckled, "I'm just happy this place isn't haunted."

The sound of a door creaking caught our attention. Unnerved, Evan and I looked at each other.

"And that's my cue," Evan said.

Evan grabbed his stuff and bolted to the door.

"Hey, don't forget me," I shouted, "I'm still cuffed here."

He rushed over and unlocked the restraints.

"Sorry about that," he apologized.

"I bet you are," I said, "I know you'd try to sacrifice me now."

Evan held my hand in his and led me to the door.

"How about I get you an accidental sacrificial apology breakfast," he asked, "Would that makeup for it?"

"It might- add in a dinner as well"