“Oh sh--,”
It didn’t hurt right away, it was more of an after thought. She was so focused on not letting them get away, she didn’t see their fourth man --- their armed fourth man. Sky was fast but not quite fast enough to dodge this round of bullets and she knew it when one of them hit her right below her ribs. A sharp intake of breath as she stumbled backwards, an arm thrown in their direction to at least try to stop them (the other holding her fresh bullet wound). They’d already gotten in a car, unfortunately for her; tires screeched as they backed up, turned around and gunned it --- directly towards Sky.
She barreled to the ground just seconds, maybe milliseconds before they would’ve run her down where she stood. She rolled across gravelly pavement -- definitely not helping, by the way -- and curled up behind a pile of wooden pallets. “Fuck.” She breathed, uncoiling her body to lay flat against the earth. The darkening clouds were spinning overhead as she stared up at them wondering where her partner went and if he was alright. She hoped he didn’t run into them too... or anyone else from that group. They got separated by walkers and that’s when she ran into the three stooges...well, apparently four. But who’s counting? Woozy, she tried to lift herself up but now it was becoming a real pain instead of adrenaline covered stinging. She grunted softly, pulling herself forward. She had to get back home...she didn’t want to show up like this but... she had to. If she could even make it that far. She had no idea how she was going to manage this trip but she had to.
“Gimme Angst!” ((*Vibrates* I'm so scared of them all tbh I'll be the brave soul
Angst Meme
Accepting
21. My muse wakes from a nightmare and yours is trying to comfort them.
He hates being confined.
Hates the feeling when a hand presses against his mouth and when someone presses their mouth against his and moans the name rubi over and over again. It makes his stomach curdle and his throat clench up. Sometimes, Shizuo knows, he has hallucinations. When Iza touches him too long or when they kiss in what was suppose to be innocence but then a sound makes him jump and despite the feeling i keep messing up, i keep messing up he has to step away and apologize and then Shizuo locks himself up in a room for hours before the feelings are hidden away in a tight lock in his mind and he could pretend everything was okay.
At night it gets worse. Shizuo figures it’s because at night shadows cast figures that he thinks is his capture. His-- lover? Someone who broke and rebuilt him. Sometimes, Shizuo tells Iza he’s not tired and he gets into a routine where he stays up and knocks out during the day. Other times he has work and ends up miserable and tired all day.
Tonight Shizuo climbs into bed and it’s the first time in weeks he has. So, when he manages to black out around eleven, Shizuo could only exhale relief before digging into his sheets.
Dark.
Hot.
Shizuo is clawing at the floor, at the tightness around his throat and he’s trying to speak. Nothing.There’s something pressing firm against his back; and a hushed voice whispers out his name-
Everything is black and cold and he’s drowning. Falling into a pit of nothing while he’s being touched and shoved and hands are crawling all over him.
Shizuo’s eyes shoot open and he reaches for his throat, then his heart that hammers harsh. There’s more to the dream, but it’s hazy and he reaches his hand out and everything is black.
“I-iza? Iza!” It’s blurted out between panic and hysetria when he sits up, and he’s grabbing at his wrists to make sure he’s not tied down but the bed feels weird and the sheets do too. Shizuo shoves them off and calls out Iza’s name one more time, louder and desperate and he’s crying.
Warnings: None that I know of! [If you find some, please message me and I’ll update it! Thanks :) ]
Type: Angsty?
Description: Meeting Ashton one summer led to a whirlwind relationship filled with kisses and cuddles. But one night, when Ashton makes a mistake he can’t undo, you leave the kissing and cuddling in the past.
The school year was finally winding down to a slow stop, and you took the time to go to the beach to read a bit and tan. You were relaxing on your blanket, hoping to get a little sun before you went back into the water, when a football (or soccer ball) landed in the sand at your feet, spraying a veil of sand on your wet legs. The uncomfortable substance latched onto your hands and spread as you tried to rub it off. Frustrated, you clenched your jaw and sighed before brushing your legs off once more and reaching for the ball.
When you gripped the ball and looked to find the perpetrator, the person who hit you appeared, blocking the sun. You forgave the guilty teen almost immediately. He was tall, around six feet, and he had the cutest blush on his golden skin as he bent down towards you, his curls falling into his eyes.
"I am so sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. “My stupid friend doesn’t have any coordination whatsoever, and he kicked the ball too high for me to reach. I’m sorry.”
You just smiled at him and passed him the ball. “It’s fine,” you said earnestly. “My athletic skills are slim to none, too, so I understand the struggle.”
”He’s so lame, I swear,” he shook his head and laughed. “I’m Ashton,” he reached out to shake your hand.
”Y/N,” you replied, sitting all the way up and grasping his larger hand in yours.
An exchanging of numbers and a few weeks later, you two were almost inseparable. Hanging out at lunch and in-between classes turned into late night phone calls and messages.
It brought you together, sharing the same existential crises, and suddenly you couldn’t go a night without at least a text from the other. You let your walls down, which was something you didn’t do often, and it paid off. It was exciting, finally meeting someone who you could talk to, someone who didn’t make fun of you and would actually listen to your darker thoughts at midnight, when neither of you could sleep.
A few more weeks and summer rolled around. You began to notice a slight change in your friendship. When you hung out, lingering glances and too-friendly touches stayed on each other’s skin. This kept you up at night, contemplating whether or not you were over-thinking everything. You began to notice that you liked him more than you’d want to admit.
One night, when you were at a party that his friend Michael invited you to, the slight changes in your relationship turned into major ones. The lingering glances drifted into lengthy and slightly tipsy confessions of strong feelings. The too-friendly touches turned into definitely tipsy, heated kisses.
When you both woke up in the same bed, under thick covers that hid things your parents would definitely be ashamed of, your friendship finally tilted off into the deep end.
The summer morphed into a two-month long affair of slow kisses and long nights. You both floated past Cloud 9 and into the heavens as your days were spent with every waking hour together, trying to figure out anything and everything about the other.
It was almost unhealthy, the codependency that developed between you both. The nights you spent in your bed without him to keep you company were spent wide awake and uncomfortable. The days without seeing each other were spent texting and calling. It was those habits that left you satisfied, but vulnerable.
As the warm weather slowly but undoubtedly transitioned into a chilly frost, your relationship (was it even one? Neither of you decided on terms or labels…) closely followed suit.
A talent scout visited the school during of the football games and Ashton was ecstatic to learn he was in right in the middle of their crosshairs. However, with the boosting notice of his talent came extreme popularity he wasn’t necessarily prepared for. And suddenly, your unlabeled relationship began to slightly fade, placed further on the back burner by him as he was invited to more parties and gained more respect with each passing day.
He spent each night partying instead of with you, tracing shapes on your skin and talking about everything under the moon. He spent each day with friends and playing football instead of hanging out with you. You couldn’t complain though. You shouldn’t complain. He was getting the recognition he deserved, which was completely overdue.
You didn’t mind it at first, you knew a change was usually necessary in these cases. And you would support him and his abilities forever, that wasn’t even a question. But one night, something happened that you couldn’t necessarily just forget.
It was at a party. Of course; almost every major catastrophic event that involved you two happened at parties, so why were you even surprised?
Anyways, you were invited by Ashton to the party and you were happy to go (even though it was a Sunday. Who parties on a Sunday?). It was the first time he had asked you to go to one on his own initiative, so of course you would!
As you excitedly got ready, your thoughts trailed off into wistful wishes. Maybe he’d confess his want to turn this thing you had into an actual relationship. Maybe after this, he’d start to spend more time with you again. Maybe he wasn’t drifting as far away as you’d thought.
But, when the clock struck nine and a certain boy wasn’t found at your doorstep, the wishes-turned-worries began to infect your mind.
At nine thirty, you were hoping he was all right. He didn’t get hurt, did he?
At ten, you told your mom to go off to bed, that he would get you soon. You didn’t know if you were consoling her or yourself, and you didn’t really want to know the answer.
At ten thirty, you called your friend to bring you to the party herself.
At eleven, you made it to the party.
At eleven fifteen, you still couldn’t find Ashton.
At eleven thirty, a familiar face was found, with a random girl hanging off his hip.
At eleven forty-five, a familiar boy and an unfamiliar girl were up against a wall.
At eleven fifty, a different girl’s heart was shattered.
At twelve, a drive back to the broken girl’s house commenced.
A groan and a headache woke the boy up before dawn. He stretched, his body taking up more than half of the small bed he was on. As his muscles contracted, his arm brushed something that definitely wasn’t the bed, and a small smile lit up his face.
You must’ve made it to the party, and judging by both of your lack of clothes, made more memories you could add to the vault.
However, as your name left his lips, a tiny noise he wasn’t used to sounded out into the small room and a face he definitely didn’t know popped out of the sheets.
I didn't, he thought to himself in shock. I didn’t…
A sinking feeling manifested in his chest as a lady he didn’t remember curled into his bare side and murmured a soft “go back to sleep, Ash.”
Only you could call him Ash.
That’s what set him into motion, jumping out of the bed and the girl’s arms as an apology was made (it wasn’t her fault he was such a douche). He rushed, putting his clothes on as fast as he could and dashed out of the room.
The house was trashed. He didn't take the time to really examine all the beer cans and solo cups, though, as the front door to the house that belonged to someone else he didn’t know was right in front of him, slamming into the wooden frame as he ran out.
His car wasn’t the fastest, but it got to your house quick enough.
The sinking feeling finally gave way to a completely empty hole in his chest as he knocked on your window (just like he had so many times before) and you got up. But instead of opening the window, your tear streaked cheeks, red eyes, and messy hair came closer and closer until they shut the curtains, leaving him with a frown at his reflection in the light blue hue of your window glass.
”We need to talk, Y/N-”
A muffled sound passed through the thick glass: “Go away, Ashton.”
Ashton. She called me Ashton.
The next day at school, the hole in his chest never left. But, compared to the heart wrenching pain shooting through your entire body, it seemed like a tiny prick. Pain is relative, though, and your actions proved that as they destroyed Ashton throughout the entire day.
The usual meeting at his locker was disregarded and he didn’t know why such a small thing could hurt so much. But you couldn’t face him, not when you turned down the hall to meet him and saw the stupidly beautiful girl from the night before touching his chest and whispering in his ear.
At lunch, the table you both sat at (when he wasn’t with his teammates) was filled with people neither of you had seen before. So, you went to your friend’s as Ashton searched the room for your familiar smile. He was greeted with a turned back.
As he got closer to your friend’s table, you sensed him. It must’ve been the time you spent together, giving you a sort of radar to his advances. But you refused to look up even though he kept calling your name and your friends kept nudging you. They didn't know, and you didn't want to ruin his status, so you just kept munching on the cardboard the school sold as pizza.
A shock ran up Ashton’s spine as he realized the whole effect his actions the night before had caused. You couldn’t look at him because you were hurt and he didn’t want to see you hurt and it hurt him to know he hurt you and it just seemed like a horrible hurt fiasco and he wanted it to stop.
He wanted to go back to the summer when you couldn’t get enough of each other. He wanted to go back to the nights you spent together, getting to know each other’s minds and bodies. He wanted to go back to the days he spent with his friends, realizing how he should’ve just stayed with you. He wanted to make the right choices and not be punished so horribly for his actions. He wanted to give up his reputation if it meant he could go back. He wanted you.
But what he realized later on the next few weeks was that what he wanted wasn’t something you did anymore. Every time he would try to say something to you, apologize or just let you know he still cared, he was shot down with a forced smile that didn't reach your eyes and a shake of your head.
He doesn’t know what hurts worse: that he allowed himself to hurt you that night, or that you didn't want what he could give to you anymore.
What was it he could give you? He thought angrily to himself. Pain and suffering? A weak boy who didn't know how to love and cherish?
No. You didn't deserve that.
You were moving on, even though you let yourself wallow in the awful self-pity he caused for a while. He made you feel that you weren’t worth it, and that was terrible.
But seeing you a few weeks later with the boy you sat next to in chemistry, letting him past the walls it took him forever to knock down? That felt like the end of the world.
xxxx
thanks for reading! i hope it was alright and all! I’m always open for suggestions or for corrective criticism :)
