Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Roleplay- James Patrick March

The Hotel Cortez was like wandering into a fantasy for a Roaring Twenties fanatic. You could never go wrong with a cute flapper dress and a vintage Ford. I adopted the style when I was younger and incorporated it into my life. People used to laugh at me because of my taste, but my appreciation for the unique older style landed me a modeling career.

Tonight, the designer I would walk for was Will Drake, and I adored him. But wherever Will went followed bad boy, cokehead Tristan Duffy. Tristan said we were friends. I said he was another man getting in my way. I'm just stating that if any of the girls did anything he'd ever done on the runway, our careers would be over. Tristan broke a champagne glass, kissed a stranger, and fought with the stranger's boyfriend tonight. What happened to walking down the catwalk and striking a pose? All that havoc in under a minute was a new time record for him, and the tabloids would have a field day. He and Will would get a lot of press- it wasn't good press, but it was press.

The show must go on, even in times of destruction. My job wasn't just to walk the runway. It was also to distract the onlookers from whatever mess Tristan caused. I was 'damage control.' He'd break it down, and I'd pick up the pieces without lifting a finger- because I am not picking up that glass off the floor. The effect I had on viewers when I walked was almost hypnotic. They'd stare like I was a newly discovered artifact. I believed it was my vintage technique and classic beauty. Tristan believes it was my booty and because of how my dresses fitted my curves, but we don't ask him things; he's like an edgy teen in a grown man's body. He's the type to become a serial killer just because it seems defiant or because the cocaine told him to.

A white line of powder lay still on a vanity, which I found odd because Tristan would never leave his drugs. Something was not right in the air, and I needed to search for him, at least before Will noticed and chewed my ass. 'Operation: Find Duffy Before Things Get Unlucky' was in action, but too bad Will had already caught on. As I exited the dressing room, Will pulled me to the side, but I had already prepared for the consequences. He trusted me to keep Tristan in line when he couldn't, which I never understood. Tristan and I were 'friends,' but am I that man's keeper? I'm not the one sucking his dick. You are. Get your man.

"Before you start, the show didn't go as bad as we'd expected," I voiced.

"Y/n, he almost stabbed someone- with glass," Will argued.

"But he didn't," I acknowledged, "The drugs weren't too strong tonight- half of it is still on the table in the back, so he wasn't too high."

"Someone could have died tonight," he claimed, "I could've gotten sued and still can, depending on how that lady felt about that kiss. Where is he?"

"I have no clue," I admitted, "I haven't seen him since I hopped over him. The glass was still there, but he wasn't. Someone needs to clean that up."

Will sighed as he rubbed his forehead. I was astonished he hadn't exploded yet. I know I annoyed him, but Tristan seemed as if he'd be the death of Will- or at least his career. Will had given Tristan many chances to redeem himself and many attempts to ruin Will's reputation. I don't know what type of secret love affair they had going on, and I didn't care, but if these antics got in my way, there would be some problems.

"Y/n, please locate him," he instructed, "And tell him I need to speak with him."

"I'm on it," I reassured, "Is this going to influence whether I still get that dress? Because you promised."

Will ignored me and walked somewhere, probably to the bar. He needed a drink, and so did I, but I was on a mission to find Tristian, so no happiness or drinks for me. Tristan better hope and pray that Will found him before I did because I am mad and stressed, and that dress was vintage.