Hunter Hayes Imagines (Requests Closed Again)

Prank wars turn really bad really fast

You step onto the bus, humming the tune to Yesterday's Song. You pass through the sitting area of the tour bus, where a suspicious looking Hunter sits. You narrow your eyes at him as you make your way to the bathroom in the back.

"What?" he asks innocently, raising his eyebrows. You shake your head at him and open the bathroom door.

"I'm watching you, Hayes," you warn, before stepping into the bathroom. You turn to the mirror and grab your toothbrush. You study your frazzled appearance; you had a permanent grin on your face and whipped cream in your hair.

Maybe it's time to explain.

You're a professional photographer, and Hunter Hayes is your best friend. He needed someone to come on tour with him and his band to take pictures, so he asked you. Well, more like told his manager you would do it without your consent. So you went on tour with the band and visited the country. It was extraordinary, really. Except for the fact that you were in a heated prank war with Hunter. After his show tonight, he called you onstage and started to introduce you as his "awesome photographer" before he threw a cream pie in your face. The audience had erupted into laughter as you wiped it off your face and retaliated. Eventually, you were chasing him around the stage with whipped cream, and it got so out of hand that Matt stepped in to remind you both that you had an audience.

Yeah, fun.

So here you are, getting ready for bed. You squeeze the toothpaste onto your toothbrush and brush your teeth, your best friend's song still plaguing your mind. Once you finished brushing your teeth, you rinsed your mouth and smiled at your reflection. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you screamed.

Your teeth were bright red.

The little punk put red food dye on your toothbrush. And what's even worse? You're allergic to red food dye.

Laughter erupts from the front of the bus as you frantically try to rinse the dye out of your mouth, but to no avail. You hear footsteps behind you and look up to see Hunter with furrowed eyebrows.

"Why aren't you threatening to kill me yet?" he asks, sincerely confused. You try once again to get the color off of your teeth.

"I'm allergic to red dye, idiot!" you exclaim. His face immediately transforms into one of concern and frantic worry.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't know....Ugh, I'm such an idiot! How allergic are you, exactly?" he spouts off almost incoherent words. You start subconsciously scratching your arms, making Hunter examine them. They were bright red and covered in hives.

"Pretty allergic then, got it. Uh, think, Hunter, think!" he scolds himself as you feel your throat start to constrict. You get angioedema really bad when you're exposed to red dye, and it's starting to make your throat swell, cutting off your airway.

"Hunter, pills....in my.....purse," you choke out, clutching onto the sink for balance. Hunter nods and scours the entire bus for your bag. He finally finds it in your bunk. As soon as he finds it, he grabs it and barrels back into the bathroom to find you in foetal position on the ground, gasping for air. He curses under his breath and pours the entirety of your purse out in search of your pills. He grabs them with shaky hands as they come rattling out and reads the label for how many you need. When he looks up, he sees you're losing consciousness.

"Shoot shoot shoot shoot," he curses, grabbing your phone instead. He dials 911 quickly and tells them your location with a shaky voice. Once he hangs up, he runs his hands through his hair restlessly and crouches down to you.

"Y/N, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me, come on, an ambulance is coming, come on, wake up. Please, I need you, Y/N," he spouts, gently shaking your limp form. Tears involuntarily form in his eyes and he blinks them away. He leans an ear over your face and tries to listen to your breathing, but he hears nothing. He sits back up and tries not to sob.