#I really wanted this desperation in their grasps on each other. they’re so codependent

[vic-does-battlecats]

I Depend on You

+ a normal color version under the cut

[clumsyclifford]

Lashton? 34, 30, 36? In that order if possible? From the angst list because I like to cry myself to sleep ~ marriage anon

marriage anon i am not gonna lie to you: this was a little bit of a challenge ESPECIALLY because i really didnt wanna make it about relationship drama. so i’m sorry that this isn’t PRECISELY the angst you wanted but on the bright side it is still angst AND it’s in the emo lashton verse !!! so. i hope it does not disappoint

-

Ashton sometimes finds it hard to return Luke’s gaze.

It’s just about the way Luke looks at him. Wide-eyed, like he’s drinking him in. And it’s nice, in a way, to be watched so intently; it feels good to know someone is paying close attention. But they’ve known each other long enough that Luke shouldn’t look at him that way anymore, and yet still he does, doe-eyed and sincere like Ashton’s hung the moon. And Ashton doesn’t know what to do about that, because he’s pretty sure he looks at Luke the same way.

It’s Luke gazing at Ashton like that, Ashton later figures, that saves his life. That almost takes Luke’s.

A few minutes away from Ashton’s house — their house, at this point, really, and there’s no sense pretending they don’t share it — a crosswalk stretches over a busy avenue, and Ashton and Luke have crossed that road a hundred thousand times before. This moment should be just like any other, debating the merits and drawbacks of various Star Wars films. Ashton’s watching the light across the road. Luke is watching Ashton. The crosswalk light flips from the red hand to the white walk sign, and Ashton steps into the road.

There’s only a split second before Luke shouts something that Ashton will later recognize as his name, and then he’s shoved out of the way, and he lands, palms scraping the asphalt, and there’s a scream and then Ashton scrambles to his feet and whirls around and there’s a car in the crosswalk and Luke is — Luke is — 

“Luke,” Ashton stutters, the sting in his hands fading as he races over to Luke. Sprawled on the ground, leg bent at an awful angle, Luke groans loudly. There’s dirt across his cheek, and blood on his hands, and for a moment Ashton forgets where they are and how to breathe.

And then the panic response kicks in, and Ashton dials 911 as the driver of the car who’d hit Luke gets out, and horns are honking furiously from behind, and Luke is crying, moaning something that sounds like Ashton’s name or maybe an apology, and Ashton takes his hand and kisses his knuckles, which are pale enough to be see-through, and whispers, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, you’ll be okay, just hold on,” hands shaking with unmatched ferocity, heartbeat running rampant inside his chest.

-

Ashton doesn’t let go of Luke’s hand for the entire ambulance ride, and doesn’t cry until Luke falls unconscious, at which point he becomes entirely inconsolable and inseparable from Luke. He wants to call Michael and Calum and Luke’s family but getting words out through the tears is a task too great and terrible, so he sends them all brief texts and ignores all responses. They want to know what’s happened, how he is, will he be okay. I don’t know, Ashton thinks desperately. I don’t know anything.

Luke is situated in the ER and Ashton isn’t allowed in, so he spends that time in the waiting room, forcing himself not to cry, trying not to be crushed by the guilt of Luke pushing him out of the way and taking the hit in Ashton’s place. It should be Ashton here, right now. Luke should be fine. Luke should have never pushed him aside. Ashton is dispensable, but Luke is Luke, nobody like him in the world. The odds of Luke not being okay are slim to none, since he’d made it all the way here without dying, but Ashton’s still terrified, and still feels torn up to know that Luke is going to be in so much pain for a long time. Fuck.

When they let him in, finally, Ashton settles himself in one of the stiff plastic chairs beside the bed. The nurse gives him a knowing look, like she can tell that Ashton doesn’t plan on moving from this spot, but she just slips out the door quietly. Ashton takes Luke’s hand and rests his forehead against the edge of the bed and tries to breathe evenly, to avoid thinking about how much Luke must be hurting, or how much it will hurt for him to wake up.

Hours pass, and Ashton must fall asleep, uncomfortable though his position is, because he wakes to the sound of someone saying, “Ashton?”

Ashton would know that voice anywhere, in any crowd, at any pitch. He bolts upright and Luke is watching him through half-lidded eyes, face ashen. “You’re awake,” Ashton breathes.

“That’s good, right?” Luke says, obviously trying to tease. Ashton tightens his jaw.

“I can’t believe you,” he says furiously. “I can’t fucking believe you pushed me out of the way. You could have fucking died, Luke.”

“I didn’t die,” Luke says, which seems like a total dismissal of Ashton’s entire point.

“You could have. I don’t want — I don’t —” Grasping for something, anything to say, Ashton closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Luke’s hand is still in his, and his palm is uncomfortably warm from being pressed to Luke’s for so long. The salt from the sweat stings over the cuts on Ashton’s palms, heretofore forgotten. “Don’t fucking martyr yourself, Luke, Jesus Christ.”

“If they hadn’t hit me, they’d have hit you,” Luke says stubbornly. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“I can take my own hits, Luke! Why would you think I’d prefer this? Why would — I don’t understand.” Ashton rakes a hand through his hair. “What the fuck was going through your mind. What the fuck would compel you to do that.”

“To save your life?”

“See, you could have died! Even you fucking know that!”

“I would’ve done anything for you,” Luke says plainly. “Any way your life had been at risk, I’d have taken the fall. Come on, Ashton. You don’t know that by now?”

It makes Ashton jerk back, even though maybe he had known it. Still, it’s a big statement to make, and a heavy weight on Ashton’s shoulders. “I can’t be constantly looking out for you trying to take my hits,” he says desperately. “Fuck you, seriously. I was so scared. You — you looked —”

“Hey,” Luke says uneasily, “don’t — don’t do that. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not sorry for getting you out of the way but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just — I reacted quickly. I wasn’t thinking about anything. You were in the path of a moving car and the only thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of it.”

Ashton chews on his bottom lip, looking away from Luke for a moment so he can’t see the openness, the vulnerability stacked up on Luke’s wan face. Sterility greets him; Ashton realizes that though he’s spent hours in this room he’s hardly looked around it. Not that there’s much to see, but at least the clinical equipment is a reprieve from the way Luke winces every few words, like it hurts him just to be awake.

“You’re hurt,” he finally says, eyes still cast away from Luke. “You’re seriously hurt, Luke.”

“Well, yeah,” Luke replies. “I risked my life for you.”

“It’s not fucking funny.”

“I’m not fucking joking.”

He had been, Ashton’s sure, but now Ashton returns his gaze to Luke’s eyes and Luke is somber as anything. “You’re such a fucking,” he flounders, shakes his head, looks down at the blanket, “I don’t know. I can’t believe you. I’m really fucking mad at you, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” Luke complains. “I’m on death’s door and you’re gonna be cross with me?”

“Stop saying that.” Without meaning to, Ashton’s grip on Luke’s hand tightens, and Luke glances down at where their hands are joined, raising his eyebrows. “It’s not funny to me, Luke. You really could have — you can’t joke about that. You need to be here. You need to not die. Ever.”

“Ever?”

Ashton swallows more air than he needs and breathes it all out in one go. “Don’t joke,” he repeats.

Luke has the decency to look apologetic. “I won’t joke,” he says quietly. “I’m here, though, you know? I could have died but I didn’t. I’m fine.” Ashton doesn’t say anything. “Ashton,” Luke says, a little more firmly. “Look me in the eyes.”

When Ashton meets his gaze, Luke squeezes Ashton’s hand and slips his own hand free, only to reconnect them a moment later, this time interlacing their fingers. Luke’s eyes are bluer than any sky Ashton’s ever been under, flitting back and forth over Ashton’s face, the pallor of his skin creating an even sharper contrast. They’re alive, is Luke’s point. Ashton breathes out slowly.

“Okay, you’re alive,” he says under his breath. “I know. I know.” But you almost weren’t. You were so close to not being alive anymore.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Luke murmurs. 

“No, I’m —” Ashton shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He pauses. “I should text your parents, probably. And the boys.” 

“I’d do it again, you know,”  Luke says as Ashton retrieves his phone. “Rather you be scared than dead.” 

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Ashton says, although he knows that he would do it for Luke, too. “God, you know, Mike and Cal, they warned me about this.”

“About what?”

“You. Your hero complex. Martyr complex, whatever. How you don’t value your own fucking life. Just keep yourself alive, Luke.” Ashton stares him down. “Rather you be sad than dead.”

“I’d rather die than be alive without you,” Luke retorts, and then his mouth snaps shut like he can’t believe he’s said that and wants to take it back. Ashton wants him to take it back, too, because he can tell from the delivery that it’s true, but Ashton wants it to be a lie. The worst part is that it goes both ways. The codependency between Luke and Ashton runs deep and abiding, and Ashton thinks that this, what’s happened to Luke, is the best possible scenario. Anything else might be a disaster of epic proportions, and Ashton doesn’t want to be there when it hits. 

Luke tears his gaze away, but he doesn’t take it back. Ashton inhales deeply, tightens his grip on Luke’s hand.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“Ashton,” Luke sighs, “you’re all that matters.”

There’s nothing that could convince Ashton that Luke isn’t everything, the whole world, sun moon and stars, which makes Ashton relatively confident that there’s no way to change Luke’s mind, either. They dance around each other like this, lifelines hooked on each other’s heartbeats, trying desperately to untangle the other’s anchors from their own hearts while simultaneously driving their stakes deeper. Ashton wonders if one day Luke will be listed for him under cause of death, if he’ll be that for Luke, if it’s possible for either to die while the other lives. Maybe they really are just twin hearts and nothing else, two halves finally rejoined, proof of Plato’s outlandish hypothesis.

It would explain a lot, if he and Luke were split down the middle from birth, fulfilling their destinies by finding each other. But Ashton doubts that’s the case. He clings to Luke not because of some divine explanation but because Luke is…because Luke is Luke, and he fills in where Ashton comes up short, and his smile slowly seals the cracks in Ashton’s heart, the wear and tear to his mind from life being what it is. Ashton prefers to think that he chooses Luke, and Luke chooses him, again and again, for love or for desperation. A fate he commits to is far more appealing to Ashton than a fate he’s shoehorned into. 

If Ashton had to pick a way to die, anyway, it would be for Luke. He shoots Luke a small, apologetic smile, and Luke returns it, and Ashton thinks that there is no way to stop Luke putting Ashton’s life before Luke’s own, because nothing could make Ashton prioritize his life over Luke’s. In this way, maybe they’ll save each other; simply by saving themselves.

[greekgeek21]

The Codependency Competition Ch.6

Hey! I'm back! And it's 2 AM, again. I'm starting to really believe that all my best ideas come at this time. It's unhealthy because I can't seem to fall asleep without doing something first, usually publishing a chapter. Anyway, this story is far from over, so stop freaking out. Thank you.

I also just wanted to mention that I am so grateful for all the love I've been receiving for this story. It means more than you guys could ever know. So, thank you.

Also, special thanks to JJ, or nightskywithrainbows, my amazing beta reader who I would be lost without.

Comment, like, and follow! Stay safe and Happy reading!

– your author

ΩΩΩ

"Ok. Let me get this straight: You and Annabeth are dating, and have been for almost two years?!" Jack exclaimed, "I don't believe it. I call BS!"

Percy just sighed and leaned his head farther back, to where he was just looking up at the ceiling. Even after he had explained how Annabeth and him were dating, they still couldn't believe that they actually were. Plus, they had kissed earlier, so why was it so unbelievable?

"Oh my gods, what's so hard to understand about it?" Percy asked, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Well, I mean, why would you even keep it a secret?" Chloe asked in return.

Before he could answer, Annabeth rushed into the room, settling next to her boyfriend, "Because our friend said we were too dependent on each other! We took it as a challenge, ok?! Gods!"

Annabeth huffed and snuggled into Percy's side. It had gotten too hard for her to hear him struggle through convincing his friends, so she had decided to step-in. Well, in actuality, she couldn't physically contain herself. But 'decided' sounds more sane.

While Chloe and Jack were fighting the truth, Mike had kept silent. He was stuck inside his head, thinking over everything he had pushed to the back of his mind since Annabeth had come to school for the first time.

Percy and her exchanging "secretive" glances.

Percy's excitement in the days before her arrival.

Annabeth and Percy's conversation in Greek.

It all made sense. The way that they seemed to be able to communicate without even opening their mouths. They were in love with each other the entire time! How had he not realized it sooner?!

Finally bringing himself back to reality, Mike said in a soft voice, "They're telling the truth."

"What? Mike, you can't be buying into this!" Jack exclaimed.

"Think about it! Look at them! Really look at them!" Mike yelled at his friend, pointing at the young couple, "They love each other!"

Jack and Chloe, exasperated, gazed over at Percy and Annabeth, who had been sitting deathly still during Mike's entire outburst. And true enough, when they REALLY looked at the duo, their eyes widened in realization. Everything they had said was true. Percy had been lying to them for so long...

Weren't they best friends?

"Shit!" Chloe exclaimed, throwing her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, so NOW you believe us!" Percy said.

"Face it, Perce, you have no people skills," Annabeth smirked at her boyfriend.

He just rolled his eyes, "So what are we gonna do now?"

Annabeth started to think about it, but before she could come up with something, Jack spoke up, "We'll keep your secret!"

Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise at that. I mean, it could work, but why would they help them? It was obvious that Leo was right–not that she would ever admit that–and she and Percy should just give up, right? Unless...

"Yes! You all keep our secret, and Percy and I don't have to tell Leo that he was ri–right," she said.

Percy was going to protest, but one look at Annabeth silenced him. She looked so desperate. He couldn't make her admit defeat. It just wasn't in her nature. Plus, it wasn't in HIS nature to hurt Annabeth.

"Ok, whatever. But if we get discovered a second time, I'm not trying to salvage it again," Percy told her.

Annabeth smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips in thanks. Her eyes seemed to almost literally light up at the prospect of a challenge.

Percy and Annabeth spent the next hour explaining their entire relationship to Chloe, Jack, and Mike (minus the godly aspects). It seemed like the trio had a never-ending supply of questions to ask. By the time that Percy had finally found a way to kick them out nicely, Annabeth looked about ready to murder someone.

However, just as they were exiting the apartment, she jumped up, "Don't forget to ignore me at school! Remember, you haven't ever met me!"

Mike mock-saluted her, "Yes, ma'am!"

Then they left. And Percy and Annabeth were alone. Finally.

"I thought they would never leave!" Percy exclaimed, walking back to his girlfriend and putting his arms around her.

"Me, too. And now I'm ready to spend some time with my boyfriend," she agreed.

"Oh? I thought we had some homework to finish?" Percy teased.

Annabeth smiled and leaned in to kiss him, "That can wait."

And they spent the next half-hour making out...

Later, when they were in bed, Percy was stuck awake. He was just staring at the ceiling, unable to escape his thoughts.

Why were they trying so hard to prove that they didn't need each other...when they did?

It was all so confusing. He wanted to make Annabeth happy, but was this really doing that? I mean, he didn't want to assume, but he was pretty sure HE made her happy. Adding fatal flaws into a relationship just makes everything more difficult, that's for sure.

Percy looked over at Annabeth, watching her sleep and playing with her golden locks. She's so beautiful, Percy thought, smiling.

But, of course, something had to ruin the moment.

Annabeth started thrashing around, screaming out at nothing. She was throwing her arms and legs around in a desperate attempt to stop whatever she was seeing. As Percy tried to calm her, he let his guard down and was too distracted to realize that her fist was coming at his face. It was a sloppy punch, but it still stung. It hit him right in the eye, and would surely cause a bruise to form later.

Nonetheless, Percy kept on trying to help her. He was able to straddle her and was trying to hold down her arms. He was forced to use more force than he wanted to, though, because she kept on struggling.

"Percy! No!" Annabeth screamed in agony, tears flowing down her cheeks.

The amount of pain in her voice made tears form in Percy’s eyes, but he still pushed on, "Annabeth, calm down. We got out. We're safe. I'm ok. You're ok. I love you. We got out..."

And he kept muttering in her ear until she eventually opened her eyes, tears still streaming relentlessly.

"Seaweed Brain?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Yeah, Wise Girl?" he asked, finally releasing her.

He moved to where he was holding her, allowing her to let it all out. She told him everything that had happened in the dream. She was in Tartarus, and she was watching Percy turn Akhlys’ own poison against her, but he didn't listen to her this time. It looked so real...and it felt real, too.

Nothing she could say would make him stop. It was horrible.

"It's ok, Wise Girl. It wasn't real. I love you," Percy whispered in her ear.

"I love you so much, Percy. Thank you for stopping," Annabeth said.

And that's the moment that Percy realized how bad this episode was. Usually, they could pull themselves out of it by grasping that it wasn't real, but this time, she couldn't. It was like when they had first gotten out of  'that place.' This one nightmare had probably set them BOTH back a couple steps.

"I will always stop for you," Percy assured her, "Now try to get some more sleep. I'll be here. Always."

"Always," Annabeth agreed, driving off to a finally peaceful sleep.

ΩΩΩ

Ok, so who had tears in their eyes right now? I know I do! And I'm sorry for doing this, but you know I couldn't make a Percabeth fanfic without having a PTSD episode, right? I just decided that I needed to get it over with. Plus, it helps move the plot along.

Also, I'm sorry if this starts to seem like Literallyobsessed's story a little bit here in the next couple chapters. I just liked that part of the plot a lot, and it was super interesting to read, so I added my own twist to it and put it here.

Anyway, I worked really hard to make this chapter longer than the last couple. It was hard. For some reason, this story's chapters seem to be a lot longer than the actually are...until I check the word count.

Thanks, JJ!

That's it! Comment, like and follow! Stay safe and happy reading!

– your author

chapter 7 :) 

[transvavsquad]

title: catch my breath pairing: freewood wc: 1240 warnings: zombie au, minor character death notes: hey @gaywood thanks for this idea and making me get off my ass for this summary: “Don't fall in love with me, Ryan." (a 3 + 1 fic where gavin tells ryan what to avoid)

ao3 link

i.

Gavin’s on the rooftop again.

It’s raining heavily on their little area in paradise, a heavy downpour enough to flood the trenches they’ve dug the previous days. They’ll fix it when it dries.

Ryan watches from the trapdoor entrance for a while, as Gavin’s hair sticks to his forehead and his shirt sticks to his back. Thunder rumbles. The monsters below them groan.

Ryan sits next to him and Gavin leans in, picking absentmindedly at the bandages on his arm and hand. Ryan takes his hand to stop him, and their fingers tangle together.

“Did you take some honey, at least?” Ryan asks under the cacophony of the thunder. Gavin nods absentmindedly. After a moment, Ryan shrugs off his sweater and puts it on Gavin. The lad shifts closer, and Ryan’s heart beats faster.

The two of them have been alone, together, for some time, and it’s easy to get close. When it gets too cold, they share a bed. When it gets too hot, they share their water. Ryan watches after Gavin because the brit isn’t the best at taking care of himself. It started as company for company’s sake, and now it’s hard to imagine the apocalypse without him.

Now, though, it’s even more distressingly difficult, because something dangerous tends to grow when two people are alone for this long.

“Promise me something,” Gavin whispers into nothing and Ryan hums. Gavin turns to him, something serious in his eyes. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

Ryan looks back at him, really looks back at him, and nods once. He doesn’t say it aloud.

“I don’t want to cause you any more problems, when I die. I don’t want you too bloody distressed when I’m gone, I suppose, and loving me...”

“Right,” Ryan says. He doesn’t bring up the fact that even being friends like this, it might cause him distress, but Gavin’s been in the rain, and the horde comes soon, and they both need rest. “Let’s get inside, okay?”

ii.

There’s a small group they meet up with when they’re traveling to meet to trader. It consists of an older man missing an arm, a younger man with a thick beard, another young man with a crossbow at his back, and a middle aged couple that seem nearly codependant. They agree to let Ryan and Gavin travel with them, just to the city.

In the middle of one of the night watches, they hear a scream from the woman in the group.

Her lover is at her side, angry and violent towards the surprise horde that is overtaking their camp. Each person defends a different point in their circle and it gets to dawn before it goes from a crowd to a few stragglers, but the damage is done.

The woman died very early, and they were unable to save her, bite marks along her arms and neck and legs. She starts to turn as the sun breaks on the edge of the horizon, and when it is fully in the sky she’s tied up and growling, and her partner is sobbing as he takes a gun and aims for her head.

They reach the city that day, and the stranger is inconsolable. As Gavin and Ryan leave the city on a bike the trader gave to them for the pills they found (no one knows about the honey, yet. That’s their little secret.), Gavin rests his chin on Ryan’s shoulder and clings to him tight.

“That’s why,” he says over the roar of the engine. “Don’t fall in love with me, Ryan.”

Ryan says nothing, driving down the surprisingly intact highway, and something in his gut rearing an ugly head. Gavin tightens his grip and they continue home.

iii.

Not loving someone doesn’t stop Ryan from wanting them.

Because Gavin is beautiful, even now, in what might as well be hell. It’s an unconventional beauty but it’s there- his hair is choppy and messy from makeshift haircuts, but it’s soft and golden when it’s clean from rain. His eyes are a muddled green but they shine, goddammit, bright and curious and still a spot of joy in this useless shitshow of a world. His figure is thin and his face is clear and Ryan can’t help but want, and want, and endlessly want.

Gavin comes home with a jar of peach moonshine and a smile so wide his face might break. Ryan doesn’t drink, never really did, but he can’t resist Gavin.

When it’s dark and the area’s clear the two of them are lounging on the old couch, Gavin’s face on Ryan chest, giggling while Ryan’s laughing too, jostling the lad on top of him, telling stupid jokes and stupid stories and eventually Ryan says-

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Gavin falls silent against him, and Ryan looks up to meet his eyes. He crawls forward on top of him and brushes the tips of their noses together. “Two things,” Gavin says, and Ryan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Gavin whispers, and internally, Ryan sighs. But the corners of Gavin’s mouth twitch upwards and he leans down just enough. “Kiss me?”

Ryan does, and it’s like heaven. Gavin has honey on his breath, still, and peach moonshine and everything about kissing Gavin aches. Hands slide along bodies (shirts off, it’s too hot for too much of anything) and Ryan starts kissing at Gavin’s neck. Like an afterthought, to keep himself grounded before things go farther, Gavin says it again.

“Don’t you dare fall in love with me, Ryan.”

Ryan kisses him to shut him up, and coherent words are lost that night.

+.

They’re spending the night holed up in a hotel that they’ve explored before, and for once they have a bed but as it stands, Gavin’s on the roof again.

As things go, he’s beautiful always, but he’s close to godlike against a sunset, golden orange and haloed in light.

Ryan takes his hand again and kisses at the back of it and something settles gently in him when he does that, but suddenly Gavin pulls away.

“What have you done?” Gavin says, and there’s something so upset in his eyes that it hurts Ryan even as he smiles. He puts his hands on Gavin’s face and pulls him close, resting his forehead on Gavin’s and letting him calm down. Gavin puts one hand on top of Ryan’s and breathes. “You said you wouldn’t,” he mourns.

“I never said that,” Ryan tells him. “Not once. Besides,” he laughs, breathless. “I didn’t have to fall in love. By the time you asked me not to, I already was.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen,” Gavin whispers.

“You shouldn’t have given me the chance.”

Gavin grasps the back of his head and pulls him in for a kiss, and this time, it doesn’t ache as much- there’s something so much more gentle, but so much more desperate this time, because it’s so much more real and so much more hungry.

“How selfish of me,” Gavin says when they break, “to tell you to not fall in love.”

“Selfish?”

“I didn’t want it to hurt when you left me, if we loved each other,” he explains. “Even though it would have hurt anyways, at that point.”

“True,” Ryan laughs, and kisses him again. “I love you.”

“How awful,” Gavin hums, and holds his hands when that start going down the stairs. “I’ll never know why you do.”