Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Take a Number Pt.2

This was the third time my phone had made a notification sound. Another missed call. Persistent. I liked that. This game I had Evan play had become quite the entertainment. It was a friendly game of cat and mouse. I was the delicate mouse, minding my business as I searched for the next rendezvous to get into. He was the cat chasing me in every direction I went, especially when he thought I couldn't notice him. But today, I'd spice things up. Usually, I'd leave his messages on read and ignore his calls, but if I wanted him to stay on my line, I needed to reel him in a little more.

I smiled as he answered on the first ring. He was adamant, and I must admit it was winning me over. I almost moaned as his voice spoke through the phone, but I had to maintain my composure. He was supposed to desire me, not the other way around. Well, at least, he couldn't know it.

"Who is this," he spoke.

Did he seriously delete my number?

"You don't know who this is? If that's the case, I guess I'll hang up," I snickered.

"Y/n, wait, I was joking. How could I ever forget you," Evan said, "I'm just a little surprised that you called so late."

"I suppose that's true. I can be unforgettable," I replied, "I called because I was bored and wanted to do something."

"Oh, yeah. What is it you wanted to do," he questioned.

"Harass the public," I replied, "It's safe to say I've succeeded in my mission. Goodnight, Evan."

"Hold on, Y/n. Don't go yet," he insisted, "You know I'm happy you called. I was thinking about you."

"Is that so? Might I ask why I've been on your mind," I questioned.

"I can tell you in two ways. One is straightforward," He explained, "And the other way, I think it's a little more fun. It's a little game."

He successfully piqued my interest. I was more than curious about what kind of game he wanted to play.

"I like option two. What kind of game is it," I asked.

"It's kind of like 21 questions but with a twist," he informed.

"What kind of twist," I questioned.

"It seems like you've started the game already," he joked, "You'll have to find out the twist. Are you ready?"

He had me hooked in, so I took the bait.

"Yeah, but this game better be fun, and you better not waste my time," I advised.

"Trust me. I think it'll keep you interested," he proclaimed, "I'll start. What's your full name?"

"Y/n M/n L/n," I answered, "What's your full name?"

"Evan Thomas Peters," he responded, "Who's your favorite Powerpuff Girl?"

I laughed into the phone.

"What's so funny," Evan asked.

"That was not a question I expected," I admitted.

"It tells a lot about a person," He explained, "If it's Blossom, you're a leader but arrogant. If it's Bubbles, you're quirky but unstable. If it's Buttercup, you're assertive but terrifying."

"What's your beef with Buttercup," I chuckled.

"She-She would beat my ass. I wouldn't even attempt in that fight," he laughed.

"Okay, how about we just get to the twist of this game," I suggested.

"Alright. What about me made you want to come over and talk to me," he questioned.

I reminisced about that day outside, watching him mow his yard- the way his white t-shirt gripped his muscles and the way I wanted him to wrap his hands around my-

"You seemed thirsty," I lied, "You had been working all day, so I figured why not offer you a glass of lemonade."

"Really? Because it seemed like you wanted something else," he flirted.

He was adamant about making me crack, but I wouldn't fold.

"Yeah, but I will say when you approached me, I was mesmerized by your eyes," I admitted, "What made you want to come and talk to me? Most of my face was covered by my hat. So it couldn't have been that."

"Well, I guess you've caught me. That bikini you were wearing had a nice pattern," he joked, "I just had to get to know someone who could own that piece of fabric. Top-tier fashion."

I burst out laughing. He knew what he was doing- and was pretty good at it.

"Thank you. It was Target's finest," I chuckled.

"See, and it came from Target. I just had to shoot my shot," he kidded, "Did the arrow land?"

"I can't tell you. I'm not wearing that bikini right now," I admitted.

"Then what are you wearing right now," he flirted.

I was surprised by what had just happened. He smoothly slid that question into the conversation, and I couldn't even be mad because it was a part of the topic. I was the one who brought it up. God, I was dealing with a flirtatious demon. I sat there and wondered how I could take control of this situation. He silently waited on the other side; I felt like he knew he had won, but I couldn't have that. I ran to my closet, pulled out one of my favorite lingerie pieces, and slipped it on quickly. Only one of us would win this amorous battle tonight.

"Hello. Are you still there," his voice blared through my phone's speaker.

"Yeah, I think I accidentally pressed the mute button," I replied.

"Hey, Y/n. You don't tell me," he assured, "It's fine if you don't want to go that far yet."

I walked over to my bathroom and snapped what I'd call a superior thirst trap picture. Content and cheering myself on, I sent it to him.

"If you want, we can forget that happened and- whoa," Evan said.

I did a little happy dance in the mirror after hearing his excitement set it over the picture. He almost got me, but in the end... in my Spongebob Squarepants voice, "I was number one." My apologies to Smitty Werbenjägermanjensen, but I was going to need that drink hat sent in the mail pronto and hope Bikini Bottom had express shipping.

"That's what you're wearing," he gasped.

"Mmm hmm," I teased, "Sometimes I just want to look good in my sleep too."

"And that you do," Evan flirted, "You know if you're still bored right now and need something to do. I positively think we could figure something out."

I faked a yawn into the phone, purposely slipping in a moan as I did so.

"I think I've had all my fun for the night," I teased, "Thanks for keeping me occupied. What do you say I text you tomorrow?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, "Or if you want, you could call too. Hey, when do you think we'll have that date?"

"How about this Saturday," I suggested, "Does that work for you, or should we just-"

"No, that works for me. It's only two days," he stuttered, "I'll make reservations and let you know."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Evan," I teased, "I hope you have sweet dreams and, hopefully, you'll dream of me."

I took another thirst trap photo and sent it to him before I hung up the phone. I peeked through my blinds and saw his shadow against his curtain. I laughed as I watched his shadow throw a temper tantrum.

Y/n- 2, Evan- 0