A collection of imagines of 7 boys.
Cute, angst, sad, happy, fluff ;)
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"Jagia" his low voice shouted.
You didn't want to go down. You didn't want to look into his beautiful face, knowing inside was a hideous monster. Nonetheless, you put on a fake smile and skipped your way excitedly down the stairs to your beloved husband.
"Ah, there you are" he replied, spotting you. "Hi! How was work?" Greeting him with a convincing hug and peck on the cheek, he kept his hands at your waist making you have to keep yours around his neck. "Oh, the usual" he pouted. "And what's that?" "Hm" he hummed, showcasing a tiny, almost fake smile before changing the focus of the conversation completely, "What do you want to eat for dinner tonight?"
You cleared your throat, an unbearable nervous habit to prevent your voice coming out as visibly squeaky with anxiousness, "Um, I dunno. Whatever you wanna eat" you shrugged. "I could kill for some pizza right now" He emphasised.
Usually, this kind of phrase isn't out of the blue as it only meant that one was beyond starving they could 'kill'. Of course, it didn't actually mean they would harm another human being. However, this simple metaphor alerted you.
Your eyes went slightly wide, "Uh..w-what?" You stuttered. "I really want pizza?.." his voice pitch went up and the end, confused. "Oh..right right ok..I'll um h-heat the pizza yeah?" You let out a wobbly laugh unintentionally, stepping back from him. "Y/n, are you okay?" He asked, inspecting you as you edged further and further away from him into the kitchen. "Fine, I'm fine seriously. It's been a long day", you excused. "You sit down on the couch and your food will be served"
He smiled, his natural set of deep dimples that you loved on display upon his handsome face.
Taking a deep breath, hoping to compose yourself, you took out the pizza from the oven.
"Ah, pizza cutter" you whispered aloud.
Going over to the utensil draw, you couldn't seem to find it.
"Where is it?" You muttered as you rummaged though the many spoons forks and knives, creating a rather loud sound.
Giving up and closing the draw, you decided to search through the rest of the the kitchen.
No, not in this one. Nope. Nuh uh. Oh, maybe it's in here.
Opening the corner draw no one ever used, you were horrified. Your heart was picking up the pace, your hands shaking suddenly and your mouth agape as an 'o' because of the sangria red bloodied knife that lay centred in the draw, also releasing a putrid smell.
