thethespacecoyote:

idk i just wrote this because

i really wanted that hurt atlas rhys from earlier

i gotta satisfy this appetite for hurt pretty guys

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It’d happened too quickly for Jack to react.

One moment he’d been following Rhys off the stage, the applause of the audience echoing in their ears as they descended down the little wooden stairs behind the curtain. It was darker in contrast to the bright stage lights, and there were too many people for him to notice the pistol whipped out and aimed right at Rhys’ head.

Screams cracked through the air moments after the the gun fired. The entire backstage area exploded with a flurry of activity. Jack’s heart leapt in his throat, his hand instinctively clamping to his holster, only for something heavy to crumple against him. It nearly knocked him over as he grabbed onto it, palms finding padded shoulders and holding them tight.

“Rhys? Rhys?” Jack shouted, his own ears ringing with screams and the vibrations of the gunshot. He couldn’t see the assailant nor any more shots, assuming they’d fled or been apprehended. Their identity didn’t matter for the time being, especially when Rhys’ head tipped back and flopped lifelessly against his shoulder, revealing a bright red hole punched into the side of his throat.

Any strength remaining in Rhys’ legs waned and he collapsed completely against Jack, his head lolling against the alpha. One of Jack’s hands left Rhys’ shoulder to desperately loop around his shoulder, getting a better grip as he sagged to his knees.

“Shit,” Jack hissed, watching blood bubble up from the omega’s wounded throat, thick and shiny even in the low light of backstage. Even with just a cursory glance, Jack could tell it wasn’t any superficial wound. The bullet hadn’t grazed him, it’d gone right through. Footsteps clumped and gathered around him, faint concern prodding at him but all he could care about in the moment was Rhys, and the way his still-pink lips tried to move around words that were more breath than sound.

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