Little Do You Know - Stiles Stilinski Imagine (Part 1)
❁ (not my gif, cred to sweet owner) ❁
A/N: Here’s part 1 of the new Stiles Stilinski fic/series I’m working on. The character Nick who’s mentioned in this story is just a character I made up. I really hope you guys like, I’d love to know your thoughts. If you do like it though make sure to request for more. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes etc.
i still feel the need to hold a pillow
as i fall asleep, but whenever i do
i’m always wishing it were you
and i’m always missing your fingertips
your soft touch, i’d kiss the polished nails
that sailed my skin, just to praise the brush
but now i’m just paint chips in your mouth
i’m sorry for whatever awful taste i’ve left
but if you love something you have to
let it chew you up and spit you out
once my caged bird sings it can’t digress
from songs about the love you can’t digest
if i could tear my heart from my chest
i would rip this bird from my ribcage
to see if i could find a way to set it free
or maybe i’d just break it’s fucking neck
because the songs won’t leave me be
it’s just kind of hard for me
i guess i mean i miss you
i still crave your soft touch
and i still want to kiss you
i’m sorry i sort of love you
i never really meant to
but when i hold my pillow
i know i can’t forget you
and when i hold my pencil
you’re where i always drift to
Hey! So this is a little one shot I posted on my AOW, hope you like it!
Pairing:Sebastian Stan x You
It was Saturday morning, and woking up early wasn’t one of my greatest abilities. I loved a good sleep, a long one.
I rubbed my eyes before sitting up on the bed, before turning on the Tv to hear the news or something to keep me up for a bit at least.
Then I took my phone from the nightstand besides my bed, turning on the phone before going through all the notifications on it, finding a new text from Sebastian.
“Hey, baby. New location, working my ass off. I’m missing you like crazy, i’ll be back in four weeks. Love you with all my heart.”
That text made me smile, he has been gone for a while, shooting his new movie in Europe got him moving all around the countries. He’s been sending me pics from all of the famous spots in the countries, some of them were with him pouting, wanting me to be with him. It made me love him even more.
“I miss you too, baby. I’ll be waiting anxiously for you here, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I’m holding my pillow
with contempt in regard of my life,
sign a love letter with a destination into the mysterious
black ocean with cartoonish doodles,
and proceed with nonchalance and self loathing demeanor
to behead old school goblins and swallow petal by petal
a crown of dead roses.
Summary: reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.
Word Count: 1977
Warnings: angst + nightmares
A/N: even more plot development and angst mwahaAHAHAHA 💛
My screams seize suddenly and I feel the headset being torn off my hair. The moment it is, I squeeze my eyelids shut so hard that I see colors, that it hurts. I sob with relief to see such darkness.
I don’t pay attention to my surroundings, but my ears pick up a man’s voice giving curt commands.
My restraints come off and someone catches me before I touch the ground. My eyes are still closed. They don’t open for a long time.
I’m walking down a long, dark road in the dead of night. I’m not sure where I got off or where it ends, but I’m surrounded by short apartment buildings, looking gloomy and defensive. Clotheslines blow with the wind from long abandoned balconies. The faint call of an owl meets my ears. My heart thuds uneasily.
I stop in front of a red brick building, looking at the metal trash bins by the doors. Something nags at me.
“Looks sad, doesn’t it?” an accented voice says from behind me. I nearly throw up at the sound of him again. My muscles tighten, but I don’t turn around, hoping, praying that I’m imagining things. But I’m never so lucky. “Go ahead. Go inside.” he says, stepping in front of me and casually walking down to the doors and past the trash bins. His mousy, skinny figure makes him look small, yet there’s a madness in him that chills me to the bone. He pushes the doors open dramatically, the way he does everything. With purpose and theatrics. “It’s not as poor as it looks.” he calls out. I inhale sharply, my hands in fists. The doors swing back slowly, allowing me a look inside. I catch sight of a row of windows at the far wall that appear to lead into a gym, each with a number on them. In the split second before the front doors shut, I see the number on the first window. 108.
My eyes snap open, causing something beside me to jump. My head whips to the side, prepared to run. But I’m met with-
“Mr. Stark?” I whisper. He places a hand on his chest, taken aback by my sudden awakening. I look around, noticing the beeping beside me. I’m in a white hospital room with something attached to my hand and a little machine measuring my increasing heart rate. I swallow, the only thing I’m able to recall are the events that took place with the small, psychotic man. My chest heaves in panic, the beeping beside me increasing considerably.
“Hey,” Mr. Stark says soothingly, “you’re alright.” He takes my right hand in his, looking at me. He’s not looking me in the eyes.
“What…” I begin, my chin trembling. But there’s no possible way to end my sentence. There’s too many possible ways to end my sentence.
“It’s okay.” Mr. Stark says, but he’s not the least bit convinced. The accent plays in my head, over and over. A beautiful end. I close my eyes and whimper. My mind rakes for a question to ask, trying to push the voice out of my head.
“How l-long was I gone?” I whisper. When I don’t get a response, my eyes open. Mr. Stark’s jaw is clenched. I squeeze his hand, pleading for an answer. He sighs quickly. He mutters an answer, looking down in guilt.
“Five weeks.” I inhale sharply. Something inside me goes limp. The composure I’d built comes crashing down. I curl into my own body, sitting up from the hospital bed. My breath comes out as a shudder, followed by a choked sob. Mr. Stark pushes me into his chest and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I stare at the wall in front of me, thinking of all he could have done to me in those weeks I was in his possession.
The heart monitor beeps rapidly, and the bandages on my hand pinch my knuckles. My vision quickly turns to black.
Her shaking body goes limp from the sedation, now still against my chest. I slowly lean her back into the white bed and pull the covers up to her chin.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and answer it without looking at the caller ID, instead focused on her sleeping body.
“What in good god did you do?” Nick Fury growls through the phone. I get up and walk out of the room quietly before answering him.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, I do a lotta things.” Nick sighs impatiently.
“Broke into an abandoned movie theatre in Ottawa? What was the purpose of that?” I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether or not to reveal my reasons.
“Remember the girl who hacked into my system over a month ago?” I look back through the window of the hospital room at her nose scrunched in her sleep, her new body filling the bed.
“What about her?” Nick asks.
“She was abducted.” I sigh, looking away. There’s something so disturbing about her new appearance.
“Was it HYDRA?” I inhale.
“I dunno. We didn’t have record of the base they took her to. There weren’t any signs of them. It was so well-planned and underground it took us a month to find her.” Nick doesn’t respond for a while, letting the information sink in.
“Enemies of yours. Took her ‘cause they heard she could compromise your system. Right?” he finally says. He doesn’t see it, but I shake my head.
“That’s not it.” I say gravely. My eyes are looking at the ground. “Nick, they injected her with super serum.”
A few days pass, each night I have the same dream, with the terrifying man and the dark road and the lonely building. I dare not go in, but it doesn’t make it any less frightening. The worst part is that it’s a new experience each night. Every dream, I stare in terror at the windows on the gym, not realizing how many times I’ve seen those numbers. Despite going through the same pain each night, it’s like reopening a wound. The fear is always fresh.
This night in particular, as I walk down the road anxiously, the man is nowhere to be seen. My dream self isn’t bothered because I don’t realize I’ve had this dream every night for the past several days and that the dream is going in an incorrect sequence.
I walk up to the same brick building. I stare at the metal trash bins for a long time, thinking about them, trying to dismiss a gnawing in my head. I’m startled when the front doors fly open, nearly coming off their hinges. At the centre is the short, skinning man. My feet stumble back down the road. He smiles maniacally.
“No…” I whisper.
“I’m not done with you yet, 108.” he says. His voice is distorted, higher than it’s meant to be, resembling a little girl. “You must fulfil your destiny.” the voice of the girl says in his body. I shudder, my feet freezing without my consent.
“Stop!” I yell, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. And suddenly, the doors begin to get closer, and closer. I look down at my legs in panic. I’m sliding to the doors. “STOP!” I scream, throwing my hands around, beginning to hyperventilate. The man speaks again, the young girl still holding his voice.
“A beautiful end.”
I fly up in my bed, gasping. The tears finally fall as I slowly land back on my pillow, holding my hand against my mouth to keep quiet.
As I do this, a nurse walks by my hospital room and casually looks through the window. Her face changes to one of confusion, and then panic. She runs down the hall, calling for someone. My eyebrows knit into a frown. I try to get my breathing under control and scooch my butt onto my pillow so I’m sitting up. My hand comes down from my mouth as I hiccup quietly.
People are rushing around, and from the small window, I can’t make out why. The seem to be panicked about something. My eyes widen when nurses and doctors are joined by security guards, all scurrying around the hall, looking for something they’ve lost. I can faintly hear their voices through the glass, saying things like, “There’s no one here!”. There isn’t a clock in my room, but If I could guess, they spend a good fifteen minutes, running past my window. Eventually, I hear someone yelling down the hall, and instantly match the voice with Mr. Stark. When he does pass my window, he’s going at an equal pace to that of the others speed-walking through the floor. There’s a man trailing behind him, trying to get his attention. They stop right in the view of my window so that I can only see the man that was walking next to Mr. Stark. He looks like he’s asking him for something, which I guess Mr. Stark eventually concedes to, because the man nods in thanks. They both disappear past my window, and I think they’re gone.
The doorknob to my hospital room twists open, letting in the man that Mr. Stark was talking to. I wrap my hands around my stomach defensively. Mr. Stark stands at the door, looking at me. Well…not exactly. It’s like he’s looking through me. I frown, waving a hand at him. He doesn’t even notice my hand in the air. Shivers run down my spine. Why isn’t he looking at me? What kind of sick joke is he playing?
The man he’s with approaches my bed, but rather than looking at me, his eyes are darting around, looking for something, just like all the employees outside.
“Tony,” the man turns to Mr. Stark, the back at my bed, looking through me and at the bed underneath me, “look.” Mr. Stark does the same, frowning at the bed, folding his arms over his chest. I swallow. Did I do something? I feel a wave of panic, feeling like a freak, or a test subject that they’re prodding at, and even though I know they aren’t the same, my mind can’t help but go back to my psychotic captor. “Hey,” Mr. Stark’s friend says soothingly, approaching my bed. My chin trembles, but I dare not move, “it’s okay.” He comes closer, fiddling with his hands, clearly a nervous habit. I look back up at his face, breathing quickly, trying to dismiss the little girl’s voice. “A beautiful end, a beautiful end…” she sings lazily. More tears slide down my cheeks.
“You’re okay.” the man says, now only a meter away from my bed. I concentrate on his face. His chapped lips and his kind eyes, looking at me. At me. He’s older, probably around Mr. Stark’s age. His hair is ruffled. He hasn’t cut it in a while. I point out things to myself about his appearance, trying to stay grounded. I take a deep breath, stare into his kind, brown eyes, and the voice is gone.
There’s a small feeling in my chest, not exactly a pinch, but more like a stir. I disregard it and look up at the man as he smiles in surprise. Mr. Stark unfolds his arms.
“I’ll be damned.” he says under his breath. I look at him in confusion, and he gazes back at my face, looking into my eyes rather than right through them. “You were right, Banner.” he says to his friend. The man turns back to Mr. Stark.
OKAI LITERALLY “THE THINNING” ON YOUTUBE RED RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE. LIKE WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY??? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO MAKE ME FEEL EMOTIONS??? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO MAKE ME ANALYZE HOW SAD IT IS THAT INTELLIGENCE IS COMMONLY BELIEVED TO EQUAL OVERALL WORTH??? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO RUIN MY ENTIRE LIFE BY MAKING ME SUSCEPTIBLE TO FEELINGS??? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO MAKE ME HOLD MY PILLOW TO MY CHEST AND BOUNCE ON MY BED AS I SCREAM AND CRY AT YOUR MIND-FUCK OF A PLOT TWIST AT THE END. FUCK YOU, YOU BRILLIANT MOVIE!!!!! FUCK!!!!! I AM GONNA CRY FOR A WHOLE CENTURY!!!! I DEMAND A SEQUEL!!!!!! DEMAND IT!!!!! OKAI BYE!!!!!!