Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Pizza Party- Evan Peters

Evan and I worked so much that we never had time to see each other, which stressed us out. He was my best friend and the only person to keep me sane. The universe answered our request for a break. He texted me he had filmed everything he needed for the day, and without hesitation, we made plans to hang out tonight at his place. We planned to order takeout and watch movies all night, but we encountered one problem: all the delivery spots nearby were closed early. That crushed everything, but the night was still young, and Evan suggested something to kill us both.

"This is perfect, Y/n! You and I have been saying that we needed to brush up on our cooking skills, so why not practice now," Evan suggested.

"I'm a horrible cook. That's why we shouldn't try. There are two outcomes if I step into that kitchen. One, we will end up in the hospital with third-degree burns, and two, food poisoning. Maybe even both," I acknowledged.

"You don't think you're being a little overdramatic," he challenged.

"Did you forget the peanut butter and jelly incident?" I responded.

Why call it peanut butter if it's not made with actual butter? That alone should be illegal. It's a false advertisement.

"I'll take the risk. Besides, my stomach has been feeling better since then," he kidded.

"You must have some type of death wish," I replied.

Cooking was not for the weak-minded. You had to have strong brain power and a remarkable memory to remember all these times and ingredients; my appreciation for Martha Stewart grew while I watched her knead dough on my tablet screen. I struggled to stretch the dough and gave up after a few seconds. Evan had already finished as he played with the dough and waited for the next step, twirling it in the air and catching it as it flew down. He made it look so easy.

"How the fuck are you doing that," I exclaimed.

He laughed at my outburst and spun the dough on his fingertips. Show off.

"That's it. I'm done. I'll never be a good cook," I grumbled.

"Yes, you can. It just takes a little more patience and practice. Here, let me show you," he replied.

My back pressed against his chest as Evan towered behind me and grabbed my hands into his. Gently, he guided my hands, and it worked. He had the magic chef touch. If only he had some to spare.

"See, you're making this look easy right now," Evan announced.

"That's because you're practically doing it for me. I might have to stop watching cooking videos and take your private lessons. I'd even bring a friend for a referral," I responded.

"Private lessons, huh? I'd be down, but if I'm entirely honest, I'd prefer to show you more of my skills one-on-one," he toyed.

I ignored his last remark since I figured I had heard whatever because I was 'hangry' and my thoughts were everywhere. Evan and I continued to knead the dough in silence. After a while, I had gotten the hang of it, so he let me take control. He released my hands, but his hands began to trail up my arms and sent shivers down my spine. I trembled underneath his touch; he let me go once he'd noticed what effect he had on me.

"You're shaking. I'm guessing something's got you excited, huh? Or is it someone," he teased.

The tablet screen had turned off, and through the black reflection, I could see a smile on his face.

"I just love pizza. You know that," I lied.

"It is an all-around food. You can't help but not to," he snickered.

I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders when he walked away to wash his hands. I continued to knead my dough and tried not to think about what had just occurred.

It was unbelievable, but Evan and I had gotten to the final step and slid our pizzas into the oven. I thought a fire would have started while spreading the sauce. Some would ask how, but situations like that commonly occur when I'm in the kitchen, but thanks to Evan, I felt like a pro chef.

"Alright, and they are in. Now we wait- do you have any ideas to pass the time," he questioned.

"Did you forget already? We were going to watch movies, remember," I recalled.

"Right. I was making sure. How about I pick a movie, and you pop the popcorn," he suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied.

Evan and I split as I grabbed the popcorn from his cabinets and began to watch it pop in the microwave. There was something about the process that intrigued me. It's a seed that heats up and becomes soft and puffy. The science baffled me. The sound of Netflix brought me out of my buttery daze.

"Hey. Pick something interesting," I shouted.

"I'm already on it," he shouted back.

I stopped the microwave as soon as it was about to beep. I had no clue why, but I always felt like I was on a bomb detonation squad when I did and that I had saved the world. I poured the popcorn into a big bowl, grabbed some drinks from his fridge, and headed to the living room. Evan had already gotten comfortable with a blanket on the sofa- but the room was warm. I decided not to question it and handed him his soda. I got cozy underneath the blanket as I sat on the couch.

"Ready," I declared.

Evan turned on the movie as I sat the popcorn on the coffee table. The protagonist started to speak in Polish; I became intrigued and peered at Evan, who tried to pretend he hadn't noticed anything. I didn't mind, but he could've put the subtitles on. I could tell he didn't understand what was said on the screen either.

"Can you turn on the subtitles, or does this movie have an English dub," I asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Evan said.

He grabbed the remote and attempted to put on the subtitles, but he accidentally clicked off the movie. Frantically, he tried to turn the film back from the title screen, but it was already too late. I had already seen what he aimed for tonight.

"You put on 365 days," I exclaimed.

"I heard it had phenomenal acting," he smiled.

I picked up a pillow and threw it at him, which caused him to drop the remote on the floor.

"I'll get it," I sighed.

"Wait- Y/n, no," he uttered.

When I bent over, I accidentally took the blanket with me, but when I reached for the remote, I noticed some items that shouldn't have been there. I stared at the clothes and braced myself to look at the horn-ball beside me. I took a heavy breath before I looked at the naked man, who had an awkward smile.

"Your dick's out," I blurted out.

"It got hot in here," he lied.

"So, you took your clothes off and wrapped yourself in a warm blanket," I interrogated.

"I'm allowed to be comfortable in my own home, Y/n," he declared.

I shook my head while I sat back on the couch and faced the television. Silence filled the room as there wasn't much to say, but I decided to break the ice. I studied Evan up and down but couldn't keep my eyes on his face.

"If it helps, it's bigger than I'd expected," I blurted out.

"Thanks, I guess," he responded.

"No problem. Just let me eat my pizza first, and then we can do whatever," I suggested.