❝ my chemical romance, panic! at the disco, fall out boy and twentyonepilots imagines. ❞
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃:...
For: @novacorpse and dakota-is-dun(because you requested a Killjoy one-shot months ago)
Request: Angsty prompt; as mentioned i'm an absolute slut for angsty imagines so this one is inspired by your Bodyguard book. In summary, the reader gets shot. But not the normal type. She tries to keep up with the group, hiding the fact that she's injured – she doesn't want him to worry. As they round a corner, his fingers brush against something cold and the reader's knees give out, reality finally hitting them. And then (whoever you want this imagine about) is basically assuring the reader that they're fine, theyre gonna get through this together – all the while he's just coaxing the reader into a peaceful death, knowing there's nothing he can do to save them. Boom.
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.
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Note: There wasn't a specific love interest requested, so I chose to do this one about Mikey. (Y/KJ/N) stands for 'your Killjoy name'.
ALSO
When the hell did I get so horrible at writing endings??? I don't understand???
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"(Y/KJ/N)! A little help over here!" Kobra Kid's voice echoed throughout the dilapidated building, reaching you in the next room.
Your feet moved instinctively, turning your body around and hurrying through the doorway instantaneously at Kobra's request.
"Just hang in there; I'm coming!" you yelled at him, pivoting your body and angling yourself so that you could deliver fatal shots to the remainder of your enemies in the room you were retreating out of.
Sprinting towards the clanging sound of turmoil, you reached the section of the building Kobra Kid was in. You arrived just in time to drop an assailant only a split second away from blasting Kobra right in the heart.
Your fellow Killjoy sighed in relief as he rolled the now-lifeless body off of himself. "Good timing."
"Yeah," you grunted as you extended a hand for him to take, and yanked him back onto his feet.
A chorus of yells resounded through the air – the sound of your other three teammates begging for assistance. You and Kobra Kid shared a look of despair before turning to run and offer your aid.
Before you could leave the area, a fresh quartet of the opposing team's agents charged the room, each one of them training their weapons on you.
"Oh fuck," Kobra muttered, shoulders slumping as he too raised his weapon.
