#hope u take the occasional deep breath and then slow exhale | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phobiadeficient · 5 years ago

Note

iwoekek i absolutely love your writing and you. and obviously, what would we do without speeding bullet at the beginning of this blog? whatever idea u have -🦂

that does sound very on brand for me tbh. here you go bud

It was odd, mostly because this was the only context he usually heard Scout panting in.

He ran for a living, cardio was sort of a thing he had to be trained to deal with, and he generally wasn’t running around for more than a few minutes at a time anyways, taken down before he could get too badly winded.

And here he was, breath coming fast through parted lips, hitching for a moment as he gulped hard and lurched closer to Sniper from his place sitting on the man’s lap.

He’d really started pulling the kid apart at some point, somewhere between the kissing him until his head spun and the rubbing his thumb against that real nice place right under the head of his cock that always made him whine like he’d break down into tears if Sniper didn’t give him more, please, more of anything, anything at all.

“Please,” he whined, voice weak, cracking apart just a little bit. “Please, please, I, I dunno what you want from me, what do you want, please, anything—“

He didn’t shift his pace, not even a little bit. Scout’s pleads rose and fell in volume, and his eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly, so tightly that his arms trembled. And he was desperate nearly to his breaking point, but he was following directions still, being good, not once touching himself or moving them along. Sniper had been right—Scout put on a big show of being too tough and cool for everyone else, ego of iron and all that, but deep down he was always desperate to please. He wanted so bad to get praised, so bad that he was willing to endure this borderline torture just to hear—

“Good boy,” Sniper purred, and Scout groaned, tension seeping out of him in a wave, hips jerking almost despite himself. “Look so good for me. You can hold out a little longer, can’t you?”

He nodded so quickly, as if it was gone from his mind entirely how desperate he had been just a moment before, washed away by even the simplest of praises, limbs suddenly loose, the only part of him staying tense being the part stretching from his lower stomach down to his mid-thighs. “I can—I—I can hold out. I can do it. I can,” he assured.

“Mmm. You know, it feels so much better when you wait for it,” he said, tone almost casual if not for the way he had his voice down so very low. “When you keep getting pulled to the edge. When you really work for it.”

“Yeah?” Scout asked, and he was blinking open his eyes, and they were dim with pleasure, damp with desperation, pupils blown wide. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, and for the briefest moment he moved his free hand to rub rough circles against Scout’s nipple, making him arch in a lovely little way, eyes fluttering closed again as he gasped and gasped and gasped. “And you want me to make you feel good, don’t you?”

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah I do, oh god don’t fuckin’—mmmh!—don’t stop, please, oh my god—“

“Good boy,” he praised again, and that dragged Scout up all the higher, and he switched to the other side of his chest just to watch the way his toes curled, just to feel his dick twitch in his hand, hard and long past ready to spill but woefully understimulated, waiting for any sort of real contact.

He didn’t know how long he could hold Scout here before the man broke. If he kept up the praise, if he kept up the teasing just right, Scout might make it longer than him. He might just have to finally pull down his boxers and stroke himself off to the sight of this handsome, nearly-naked man in his lap, outright begging for him, flushed red and desperate and wanting. Hell, if he asked him to, he bet that Scout would try to suck him off. Probably not much experience, but his enthusiasm might just make up for it. The thought of a few “good boy”s might convince him. The idea of tangling his fingers in that sandy-looking, terribly-soft hair and pulling him down further, further, the runner relaxing into his hold and groaning under the weight of being told how good he looked down there, it was good enough to make his own heart start thumping so much faster than before, boxers getting all the more snug.

Scout hardly seemed to be in his right mind anymore, just murmuring desperate nothings past his short breath, whimpering occasionally when the exhale lined up with Sniper’s thumb dragging just right below the head of his cock. Begging mostly, pleading, bargaining, offering anything, anything at all, just don’t stop, don’t stop doing this to him, don’t stop doing whatever this was, please, please.

He kissed Scout square on the lips to shut him up, and Scout’s whine startled off into a little “oh”, the shorter man putting as much energy as he could muster into the kiss, even as he was pulled apart at the seams. Sniper pulled out all his best tricks, and Scout nearly collapsed under the weight of this overstimulation, crying out when he moved to toy with Scout’s chest again.

“Oh my god,” he groaned between presses, lips brushing Sniper’s as he spoke in a way that made his breath hitch. “Next time, I want you to fuck me.”

Sniper couldn’t help but grin a little at that. Scout had to be positively gone if he was offering something like that. “Yeah?” he asked anyways.

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck yeah,” he gasped, head dropping to Sniper’s shoulder, teeth scraping over his neck absently even as his thighs trembled. “Want you to fuck me. Bet I’d look good like that too, huh?”

“Definitely,” Sniper agreed, hand sliding down his side to grip at his ass, firmly, and Scout practically yelped, and almost despite himself started rutting his hips forward in furious little jerks, wailing when Sniper released him and moved both hands to grip at his ass. “Oi, what’d I say about moving?”

Begging, downright incoherent, was his only answer, and his hips slowing nearly to a stop again.

Sniper tsk’d a few times against his pulse point. “Really, that’s the best self-control you’ve got?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

His begging tapered off into panting, interdispersed with a plead every now and then, and an apology or two. Sniper let him flail for a little while, distracting him with gentle kneading against his ass every now and then.

“Hmm. Well, either way, I think you’ve earned a treat by now,” Sniper finally admitted. “You’ve been such a good boy already, especially on your first time doing this.”

Scout stopped talking entirely, waiting, breathless, for Sniper to act on his words. He cried out into the meat of Sniper’s shoulder when Sniper took hold of his dick, the first firm touch of the night.

“Maybe next time I’ll give you something to help you sit still,” Sniper offered idly, and removed his hand from Scout’s dick for only a moment to spit into his palm before he started jerking Scout off in steady, even pulls. “Maybe it’d help if I laid you out all pretty and tied your wrists to my headboard.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Scout agreed enthusiastically, ecstatic in his pleasure, euphoria making itself clear from the cracking of his voice, sending his pitch much higher than he would ever allow except under extreme duress.

Sniper tutted again, this time against Scout’s cheek. “I’d never hold you to a promise you made when you were like this,” he chided. “Out of your right mind, you’re so desperate. Gorgeous, really, such a pretty little thing all pulled apart like this, but you’d agree to damn near anything I said right about now.”

Scout had surrendered words, and was making breathless little noises, the muscles of his legs flexing and his back starting to arch further and further. Sniper wrapped an arm around his waist to gather him close, keep him from falling off of his lap, and Scout promptly leaned into him, clinging hard to his shirt.

He was gorgeous like this. Wanton, lithe, the absolute picture of pleased submission, but far from weakness. The musculature of his legs and the sparse but still present scars on his skin were on full display, and he knew he would’ve bruised had Scout grabbed him by the arms rather than harmlessly clinging to fabric. He really was gorgeous like this, in a way that Sniper hadn’t quite expected, hadn’t thought would be reasonable to hope for. It sent a bolt of lust through him that forced him to lower his free hand briefly to pop the button of his own far-too-tight pants, adjusting himself swiftly enough that he couldn’t get distracted before promptly going back to balancing Scout again.

It was a few moments before Scout lost control of himself once more, moving his hips in tiny little jerks, practically just twitches with each pass of Sniper’s rough hand over the head of his dick, gasps punched out of him each time. Sniper let him do so, mostly because he could tell Scout was close, worked up as he was by the long tease and murmured praises he got in his ear. He pulled his hand back again to spit in it a second time, mostly just to mess with him, and Scout let out a sob against Sniper’s shoulder, euphoria only taking a second to morph into despair.

“Close?” Sniper asked almost conversationally, volume at a hum, and Scout stuttered out a breath that almost sounded like an agreement. “Good. Ready to come?” Another, even heavier breath of a similar caliber, and Sniper grinned, speeding and tightening his hand, adding on a little twist at the end just to hear Scout falling apart entirely. “Good. There’s a good boy, there’s a beauty.”

Panting. Panting. A jerk of his hips, and Sniper was slowing just slightly into longer pulls, listening to the nearly pained sounds wrenching their way free of Scout’s throat, appreciating the crush of Scout’s thighs around his hips. It was a long, intense thing, at least as far as Sniper could tell, and he tilted his head to kiss Scout again when he noticed the man clenching his teeth, coaxing him into relaxing his jaw and loosing all sorts of little noises into his mouth. One of Scout’s hands flew to his hair, anchoring there and twisting just a little to keep him in place, but he didn’t mind, enjoying the desperation, tickled by the hot breath fanning out of Scout’s nose.

Finally it was over, and Scout’s body was relaxing, and Sniper gingerly pulled his hand away, noting the whine that rose deep in Scout’s throat. Their lips pulled apart, and Scout was panting open-mouthed against his cheek, breath quick and unsteady in his chest, hiccuping occasionally. Sniper felt uneasy as he realized that there was a dampness on Scout’s cheeks and his eyelashes were clumped together a little, but Scout was still clinging to him, and as speech returned he was starting to breathe little “thank you, thank you”s over and over again, still clearly in the headspace that Sniper had coaxed him into.

His concern was enough to keep his own near-painful arousal on hold for the moment, making his breath even out just a bit where he was admittedly having a hard time ignoring his hard-on. He shifted his grasp on Scout only slightly, pressing a few lingering kisses up the side of his face, stopping at his temple, and Scout practically melted into him, although he was mindful enough not to arch their stomachs together, either due to his own oversensitivity, or the mess he’d made on his own stomach, or a combination of the two.

Scout asked him a question, lost as it was on the very tail-end of an exhale and too low in volume for Sniper to catch. “Hmm?” Sniper asked, tilting his head just a bit to try and hear a bit better.

“Can I touch you?” Scout repeated, words still wobbly, but intelligible this time.

“You are touching me,” Sniper replied, humor in his tone.

Scout grumbled something at that, shifting just a little, hands drifting down Sniper’s front to rest towards the topmost part of his stomach. “I wanna get you off,” he clarified, half-drunk on afterglow. “Can I?”

“Go right ahead,” Sniper said easily, and Scout let one hand drift to press against the bulge in his pants, the other moving to hike up the front of his shirt. “Planning on jacking me off? Not even cleaning off first?”

Scout just hummed in response at first, kneading at him lightly, before he leaned back enough to grab his own boxers where they’d been discarded, mopping himself off and letting Sniper do the same to his dirtied hand. “No,” he mumbled, and Sniper thought he meant about the not cleaning up for a few moments until he added, “I wanna suck you off.”

Sniper felt his breath hitch, head swimming with lust. “Yeah?” he asked, tone light.

“Yeah. Can I?” he asked, and looked at Sniper when he said it, and there was that vulnerability, that honesty, that had been present in the begging and the pleading and the whimpering earlier, still laid bare, making Scout’s voice quiet, his movements hesitant and fidgety.

“If you’d like,” Sniper replied. Scout nodded, a little relieved, and slid back to get off of Sniper’s lap, but he caught him by the chin, tilting his face back up where he’d averted it, more than a little bashful. “Wait. But I don’t want to push you to do something you’d rather not do, especially if you’ve never done it before.”

“I’ve sucked off a guy or two,” Scout murmured, a little embarrassed, averting his eyes again.

“That right?” Sniper asked, eyebrows rising a bit.

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing,” Scout said, tilting for a moment into the hand Sniper had on his face before pulling away. “Lay down.”

Sniper did, laying back, shifting for a moment to try and get comfortable before giving in and moving to lay up against the pillows. He went to the trouble of kicking his pants off, and the second his legs were free Scout was between them, taking hold of him and starting to move his hand, getting a feel, and Sniper allowed himself a groan, head rolling back, and a second one when Scout leans down and took the head into his mouth. An idle hand pushed at Sniper’s shirt, and he obliged in at least unbuttoning it and letting it fall open, albeit with unsteady hands as Scout set into motion.

Maybe it’s because Sniper had him so exhausted, but Scout was much more patient than he usually was, taking Sniper in slow and steady, stroking what all wasn’t in his mouth. He pulled back a touch and shifted one of Sniper’s thighs open further, then he was back to it again, and something about the positioning, the slow, hot, wet heat against him, had the urgency ticking up a notch.

But Scout stayed slow and steady, bobs of his head and strokes of his hand making his arousal kick from desperation down to a thrumming kind of pleasure that had him letting up on his chokehold on his self-control. He started rolling his hips up in time, and Scout adjusted within a roll or two, taking him deeper, testing his own limits.

A gag, Scout pulling back those crucial millimeters, then trying again and getting that much further. Scout’s free hand, the one he was largely using to support himself, moved to cup at his balls and roll them in even motions, and Sniper melted further, soft noises and praises fleeing through his parted lips. The pleasure was tightening in on itself, coiling tight, and he managed something like a warning, one hand leaving its white-knuckle hold on the sheets and finding Scout’s hair, petting at it. After so long of denying himself for the sake of pulling Scout apart, he hadn’t lasted as long as he typically did, but he was still a bit impressed with his stamina. Scout quickened his pace, humming a pleased noise against him, and when he glanced down to watch he saw that Scout was looking up at him through his eyelashes, expression heady and scorching hot.

“Gorgeous,” he praised, breathless all of a sudden, and Scout’s eyebrows shifted, expression going softer, more wanting, another hum against him, low and desperate, and—

That was all it took, that look, that hum. Sniper’s hips jerked once before he got hold of himself, and Scout braced against his hips, motions shifting to meet the rhythm he rolled at as orgasm overtook him. Scout kept stroking past what Sniper generally did, wringing a few more sharp pangs and hard groans from him, and finally Sniper was pushing at his head as overwhelming pleasure gave way to oversensitivity. Scout pulled back, releasing his hold on Sniper and licking his chops obscenely, and Sniper groaned again, head falling back.

Then Scout was up lying with him, nuzzling in against Sniper’s shoulder, and he got the strength back to pull him in tighter. He distantly registered the sweat clinging to him, and to his shirt, and grumbled half-heartedly as he shrugged the rest of the way free of it, leaving himself just as bare as Scout.

For a little while, they laid there. Sniper was pretty sure Scout was going to fall asleep on him, would drift off any minute, and tried his best to stay fully awake himself so he could get up at some point and do a slightly better clean-up. He was surprised when Scout spoke, quiet into his shoulder. “You said somethin’ about a next time?” he promoted quietly, head tilting against Sniper just slightly.

Sniper huffed something like a laugh. “So did you,” he replied, carding a hand up through Scout’s hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I…” Scout hesitated, fidgeting a little bit. “Yeah, I wanted you to fuck me.”

Sniper felt a rush of heat. And he knew it was unreasonable to want to get it up again so quickly, but he sort of did. “So you were serious about that?”

“You… weren’t?” he asked, voice even quieter. Sniper backpedaled.

“No, ‘course, I’d love that,” he was quick to say, giving him a squeeze of reassurance. “Just… sometimes people say things they don’t mean, in the heat of the moment? And I didn’t want to hold you to anything—“

“Well, I was serious,” Scout said, sounding a little more amused. Still tired, still somewhat in that space Sniper had pushed him to—elevated him to—but amused. “So is that… on the table?”

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed. “Might need to go pick up some things first, but that sounds nice.”

“Alright. Good,” Scout said, relaxing again.

Silence.

Scout asked another question after that brief silence, and Sniper very nearly choked. “What about the tying me up thing?” he asked, tone playful.

Sniper wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, but he found himself looking forward to it.

#i think for now i'm gonna avoid putting anything not totes safe for work in any of the main tags #so. yeah here you go #//sniperscout #//begging #//powerplay

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irwintry · 6 years ago

Text

Wolf-Man

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: hey brit why can’t u, uh, just say werewolf? dunno. also. m&m mcflurries are better than oreo. discuss.

Word Count: 6k

You weren’t afraid of many things, aside from the occasional spider or pitch-black night. Men scared you most of all, but Slenderman didn’t (actually, it truly depended on the day), nor did the forest by your house. When your parents were home, the three of you would retreat to the meadow for a picnic and to the lake for a few hours of fishing. You knew the ins-and-outs of that entire forest, including a few hawks, eagles, or vultures that made a home in the great oak through the years. The forest was your second home; so why did it feel so different?

With your hands shoved deep in the pockets of your long coat, you glanced around the small clearing by the lake. The birds were chirping– you could even hear a few woodpeckers in the distance, and the branches swayed gently with the breeze. Nothing was out of the ordinary, yet the air was thick, and the hairs on your arms were standing tall.

It was fine, you told yourself. You walked these trails weekly, just to clear your head. Not once did you run into a bear or a murderer. You would be fine.

A few loud rustles and crunches sounded from the brush far ahead of you, and you began to back up.

It was daylight... bad things didn’t happen often in the daylight.

You hugged your olive-green coat closer against you as you stepped backward around thick roots and stray stones. There were many trees in the surrounding area, but not enough within a few feet to directly hide behind.

And then, whatever it was started to growl. It – the wolf – pounced out of the brush, jaw locked, teeth gnashed, and eyes narrowed. You only ever saw wolves on TV or in zoos– never in the forest by your house.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. You were shaking in your boots, heart racing as you tried to figure out a way to run without it chasing after you. Meanwhile, the fur on its back had raised. You were no longer as cold as you had been during your peaceful walk, and sweat had started to accumulate on the back of your neck faster than it ever had in your lifetime.

It growled again, taking one step towards you. You could feel the terror coursing through you. It sent shockwaves up your spine, numbness down your limbs, and cloudy thoughts into your brain. You couldn’t think clearly. All you could do was stand completely and utterly still.

Then, it started running, and you thought, This is it! This is the moment I die! It ran and ran, and you prepared for the attack. It leaped, soaring high to avoid the sudden decline of the small hill, and on its way back down, the unimaginable happened.

You thought you had closed your eyes, but you witness everything. The wolf shapeshifted into a man. He collapsed against the thick trunk of a nearby tree, his long tousled hair falling over his wide eyes. He was breathing heavy, but so were you. You were dreaming, hallucinating... anything. It was a mirage maybe, and somehow you had gone three weeks without water. But that wasn’t true. No matter how many times you blinked, the man was still hunched against the tree in his naked glory.

His shoulders were broad, from what you could tell, and his skin was dirty yet tan. He appeared young, and you wondered why he looked so damn terrified. Your terror, however, had diminished dramatically. To your own surprise, you took a few timid steps toward him.

The man didn’t react to you walking closer to him. In fact, he hardly looked at you. He was too busy looking down at his feet and his hands and everything in between. Had this man never seen a pair of balls before?

You took a deep breath. “Am I hallucinating?” you whispered, stepping even closer. If you reached your arm out, you could brush his hand just barely with the tips of your fingers.

He looked at you, hair still hanging over his almost-bulging eyes. Soon, he slowly shook his head.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but you couldn’t find the right words to describe how you were feeling. How were you feeling? Had you really just witnessed a wolf turn into a man? You were confident that in a few short minutes, you would wake up from this uncomfortable dream. Everything was too precise to be a dream, and that frustrated you the most.

His large frame started to shiver. The wolf-man was cold, and you were almost about to consider helping him. Scratch that, you wanted to help him. You wanted to help someone who was about to attack you.

You shrugged off your coat. “This– it should be long enough,” you said, holding the puffy coat out to him, but he refused to take it. “You want to sit here and freeze to death?”

He shook his head.

“C’mon,” you insisted, “only one of us here bites.”

The man quirked an eyebrow and made a soft sound. His fingers peeled themselves from the bark, and to your surprise, he also attempted to remove himself from the tree. The coat had been draped for him to easily step into and wrap around himself without showing anything; he achieved that with great success without moving his legs. At least he understood what you were saying.

“Here, lemme–“ You stepped forward, taking the two belt straps and tying them loosely without getting too close to him. “Uh,” you mumbled. “Are ya hungry?”

He nodded.

“Am...” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Am I crazy? Y-you were just– you were going to attack me, right?”

He nodded.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m– I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” you said breathily with your hands on your hips. Now you were freezing.

The man pressed his forehead against the trunk of the tree. His breathing hadn’t slowed much, though his eyes were no longer wide. They were watery... like he was a few seconds away from crying. Surely, you hoped he wouldn’t cry, but if he did, you knew you would feel for him. This stranger, this wolf, had been seconds away from attacking you, and now you were worried about him.

“W-wa-alk...”

Your eyes widened.

He glanced at you and then his feet. “W-walk.”

“Can you?”

He shrugged.

“I’ll help you,” you offered, holding your hand out. “I promise.”

The man began to shake again, but in this case, it was because he was truly terrified. You could see it in every feature from his wrinkled forehead, down to his tight frown and tensed shoulders. He had to have been a human before, but it was possible he had been a wolf for a longer period of time. He understood you, and he could speak! The logical half of your brain was telling you to run, but the other caring and curious half wanted you to stay.

He nodded at you, his taut brows unfurrowing as he hesitantly reached for your hand. His cold hand, long and slender yet knobby and firm, slipped into yours in a tight grip. The man was fairly muscled, but he had no concept of his strength. It was evident when he pulled himself from the tree and stumbled into you. A few groans slipped from his lips.

“’s fine, you’re fine,” you mumbled while you did your best to handle his weight. You tried not to think about how stark naked he was under your coat.

“’m fine,” he whispered.

It took him a few seconds to stand up by himself, his hand not leaving yours in order to prep himself for his first steps. You had worked with babies and toddlers before– you knew their tendency to tumble and fall. But this man was not a child. He had to be at least your age or older.

You steadied him, pulling his arm up and around your shoulder so you could grab ahold of his waist. This only shocked him momentarily before he focused back onto his feet. They were mucky, caked with dirt and dried pine needles that had fallen to the forest floor weeks ago. He needed warmth, he needed clothes, he needed a shower. You had no idea what you were going to do with this man.

He limped through his first few steps, and you figured he had done this before. Slowly, you began leading him up the hill back to your place.

“Ya got a name?” you huffed out, avoiding the roots that lined the trail.

The man exhaled. “Mhm.”

You looked up at him. “Want me to guess?” you asked.

He shook his head. “’s A– “ He winced and frowned, clearly upset with himself for some reason you couldn’t figure out. Once again, he let out a breath. “Ash– Ashton. M’na-name’s Ashton.”

You nodded and smiled. “All right, Ashton. Let’s get some burgers.”

Your parents were in Mexico for two weeks over your winter break, and if they were to ever hear that you brought home a stranger who had once been a wolf, they would consider calling the cops on you. You were almost positive you would do the same. Along with that, your dad would have your head if he ever found out that you were letting this wolf-man borrow his clothes.

Wolf-man.

After finding a suitable pair of sweats and a sweater (a very 90s dad sweater, to be exact) for Ashton to wear, the two of you hopped in the car for greasy cheeseburgers and M&M McFlurries. He kept staring at his thumbs, twiddling them back and forth with amusement. And, he hadn’t spoken much since you both left the forest. He’d hum, force a smile, and go back to examining every unfamiliar inch of his body that your father’s clothing had not covered. You didn’t blame Ashton. Whatever his story, his life was now different.

“Don’t you dare get ketchup on Willie,” you joked, handing him his unwrapped burger while you managed to keep within the white lines on the street.

Ashton was hesitant again, but soon after, he took the burger from your grasp. “Wi-Willie?”

“Willie,” you repeated. “My car!” You grinned at him, and like you were used to, he forced a small smile in return.

He turned his attention to the burger in his two hands. It was like he didn’t know what to do, or he didn’t remember. “Haven’ done this ‘n years.”

That was the most he had spoken since he introduced himself to you; you nearly slammed your foot the brake pedal meanwhile. His speech, though slurred, was clearer than you thought it would be.

“Yeah, um,” you started warily, “you were a wolf. Like, a frickin’ wolf. I’m just... what happened?”

Ashton swallowed. “Wha’ year is it?”

“2018.”

He closed his eyes and sat back. His hamburger was still untouched. “K-keep ta-alkin’. Helps me.”

During the ten-minute drive back to your house, you learned that: Ashton was a very messy eater (he had been a wolf after all), you could get easily tired of your own voice after just thirty seconds, and there weren’t nearly enough M&Ms in your McFlurry as opposed to Ashton’s. He was still fiddling with everything, his clothes, his hands, whatever trash you had in your car... You also observed that he had trouble figuring out what to do with his long hair. He had it pushed behind his ears, the long tendrils falling in messy waves over his shoulders, and you wondered what he would look like once he got his haircut.

“I’m going onto my last semester at college,” you said, continuing on with your monologue as you pulled into your neighborhood. “And like, I hadn’t even wanted to go to school in the first place, y’know? I wanted t’move to New York, fall in love with the dude playing Aladdin on Broadway, and then get a dog and name it Tinkerbell.”

Ashton chuckled, and you figured that was the first you’d heard him laugh. “Ya like Disney?”

You shrugged with a smile. “Maybe.”

He shrugged.

This was still weird to you. Your own voice distracted you from the fact that only hours prior, he had been a wolf trying to attack you. And now, you were responsible for him. You didn’t have to be– you could leave him at the gas station just out of town, but you weren’t like that. You could tell he meant well, despite not meaning well when he was not a human.

He remained silent for a while after that. Back at your home, he’d wander– still somewhat weakly, and he’d pick things up and hold them in his hands for a moment before putting them back down. It was his way of getting used to something you assumed he had lost. This sparked curiosity, but considering he could hardly speak a sentence to you, you didn’t want to ask.

You taught him how to put his long hair up into a bun, just to get it out of the way. The whole process took nearly fifteen minutes due to his lack of apposable-thumb-awareness. And when he got too frustrated, he’d let out a breathy snarl. Things were a challenge to him, but they weren’t impossible.

“Haven’ heard m’voice in– “

“Hm?” You had been busy looking up recipes to cook when he spoke up from the living room. He was preoccupied with the TV.

Ashton’s head snapped over to you. “Haven’t heard m’voice in eight years.”

“Eight years?”

He nodded. “Haven’ watched TV in eight years. Haven’ walked in eight years. Haven’ eatin’ McDonal’s in eight years. Haven’t used these– “ He held up his thumbs, “–in eight years.”

“That’s... that’s a long time,” you said lowly. You were kind of worried about him– you couldn’t imagine the culture shock from having been trapped on all fours, prowling the woods for eight years while your friends and family grew up without you. His family. You had so many questions.

Ashton hummed and turned off the TV. “’ve fuckin’ missed this.” He let out a strained groan as he sat back and closed his eyes.

You tried not to stare too long at him, but it was hard not to. He was pretty, and that made you uncomfortable. “Do you– “

He glanced over at you, and you shuttered.

“Do you want a haircut?”

You took him to a Supercuts the next day, and fuck, Ashton could not sit still. He had been a nightmare guest last night, from leaving the bathroom a mess from his shower to “accidentally” forgetting to eat his pasta with utensils. He paced the hallway outside of your room for nearly two hours at around four o’clock in the morning, but finally, he had passed out back on the couch when you woke up to pee. Speaking of pee, that was a tragic mess; there were so many things he had forgotten how to do. Like, brush his teeth for example. You never thought you would have to teach a twenty-four-year-old man how to brush his teeth.

He growled in his sleep– you could hear it all the way back in your room. It wasn’t a cause of concern until the shattered vase event at seven, and you somehow managed to clean it up well while he was knocked out cold. He didn’t awake until nearly noon despite your constant poking and prodding. Maybe wolves were heavy sleepers.

You had snuck over to the Starbucks next door while the lady (who deserved a twenty-dollar tip) was busy chopping off Ashton’s crazy long locks. He had shifted positions a few dozen times before she even laid out her tools. The poor thing couldn’t stop wincing either. A part of you wanted to stand by him and hold his hand, but you weren’t sure of how he would react to that.

He caught you staring a few times throughout the night prior. While you cooked the pasta, he’d be playing with the magnets on your fridge, and you’d suddenly become so entranced by the shape of his hands. They were, quite possibly, the largest hands you had ever seen in your life, and they were so nice. Knobby and slim in all of the right places. You wanted to reach out and trace his veins, but the pot of water was overflowing, so you had to look away.

And, you’d focus too hard on his hollow cheeks and the way he’d suck them in in concentration before letting out a quick puff of air. His dimples would come out to play when you miraculously made him smile, and oh, how you loved making him smile. His brows would furrow and knot when he couldn’t figure out what deodorant was for, and his eyes would light up when he decided on whatever clothes of your dad’s that fit him just right.

You didn’t mind spending your time with Ashton... you just wished he would talk more.

You bought him a simple iced coffee. Hell, you didn’t even know if he liked coffee, but you needed your fix, and you wanted to be nice. When you walked back into the small salon, the hairdresser had moved onto styling the wonderful work she had done. You almost dropped both of your drinks.

She had styled it up and back with a few curls falling out with grace. It wasn’t too short, which you were happy about. The somewhat-long hair suited him. You wanted to race over there and run your hands through it.

Again, you weren’t sure how he’d react to that.

“Ya brought me coffee?” he mumbled as he approached you. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of your dad’s Levi’s, and somehow, the light blue long-sleeve shirt you gave Ashton really worked for him.

You nodded hurriedly, handing it over to him without remembering that you knew nothing of what he liked. He took it from you nevertheless. “Yeah, I, uh, didn’t know if you wanted any, so I just got you one. If ya want creamer or sugar, we can just pop back over there.”

Ashton hummed as a smile toyed on his lips. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

He pointed to his hair. “How do I look?”

This made you grin. “Ravishing, my dear.”

Ashton beamed.

Of all the places to shop, you took him to Target, and you were glad you did.

“Fuckin’ used to love Target,” he said, heading right over to the knick-knacks by the shopping carts. He had already finished his coffee, but you weren’t even halfway done with yours. “My family used to have this runnin’ joke on the way back from church on Sundays. Not really that religious anymore, but fuck, they used t’torture us with errands after already takin’ up half off our last day of the weekend. They’d tell us that we’d have to go by at least a dozen places before headin’ home. Fuckin’ killed us as kids.” Ashton’s great big smile quickly fell into a frown.

You were shocked by the number of words he spoke, but you soon realized it pained him to talk about his family. “You could find them,” you said as you sipped a bit more on your coffee. The two of you had wandered in the direction of men’s clothes.

He shrugged at your statement. He could, but did he want to? He had lived without them for eight years. “’m not sure,” he muttered. “Dunno what t’do otherwise.”

“That’s what I’m for,” you replied, and you even skipped a little bit.

Ashton chuckled. “You’ve done too much.”

This time, it was your turn to shrug. “I’m only doing what I think is best for you. And, I wouldn’t’ve left you out in the cold to die.”

“I appreciate tha’,” he smiled. His speech had gotten a bit better since yesterday, but it still sounded like he was struggling often.

The two of you stopped walking once you got to the men’s section. For some reason, you didn’t feel like this was good enough for Ashton. You felt as though he deserved Tom Ford or Marc Jacobs, though your budget wouldn’t like that.

“Don’t go crazy,” you said, “but like, don’t feel restricted, okay?”

He glanced at you, his eyebrows knotted together. It was a look you had gotten used to. “Too nice t’me,” he mumbled and walked off without taking his gaze off of you.

You couldn’t figure out what to cook for dinner that night, and Ashton wasn’t being particularly helpful either. He wouldn’t open up about his likes or dislikes because truly, he had no idea what he preferred. Plus, he wouldn’t stop looking at the channels on the television.

“Donald Trump is President!?”

You almost forgot about how much Ashton had missed since 2010.

“What the fuck is happening with this country?” you heard him whisper to himself, and that was not the last of the many comments that slipped from his lips that night.

He was bundled up in a new sweater of his, but he quite liked the texture of your father’s old pair of sweatpants, so he kept those on for comfort. Ashton had asked you for a pair of duck-pattered socks because he “felt bad about the way he treated them as a wolf”. On top of that, he was on his third coffee of the day. You soon realized that was probably a bad idea considering his lack of caffeine consumption for going on nine years.

“It’s a fucking mess,” you responded from over the kitchen counter. You were still flipping through your mom’s old cookbooks. “But some of us are still sane.”

“Like you?” Ashton asked and strained his neck over the back of the couch to look at you. He did that often... just look at you, even when neither of you was speaking.

You laughed lightly. “I guess. I‘m talking to a werewolf, so I dunno about that.”

His face lit up with his laughter, and you admired the deep dimples that showed you his genuine emotions. His forehead was free of any crease or wrinkle.

“Soup?” you asked as you silently read the ingredients to make sure you had them.

“Hm, wha’ kind?”

“Broccoli cheddar?”

Ashton pondered. “’m not sure if I’ve had it. Let’s give it a go.” He reached for the remote to turn off the news before standing up and making his way over to you.

“Uh, hold up there, Ash,” you said, holding your hand up, “whatcha doin’?”

His smile was innocent. “Gonna help you.”

Yeah, okay. The person who just relearned how to use his thumbs only a day ago was going to help you. “You can read off the ingredients. How’s that sound?”

And then, his face fell. “Haven’ tried reading yet.”

Oh.

“Or– or writing.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Wanna give it a go?”

Ashton nodded.

He picked up on reading faster than he thought he would, at least you assumed. At least it was a memory his brain hadn’t completely forgotten. On the other hand, he could not write for shit. You almost wanted to laugh at the poor chicken scratch penmanship, but you knew that wouldn’t be progressive. It upset him to know that he no longer had the same capabilities he once did as a teen.

You assumed he was feeling things you couldn’t imagine. He had missed the last chunk of his teenage years– he never got to move away from home and go to school in a big city. He missed friendships and relationships, and most of all, important growth opportunities that you would be nothing without. If you had missed eight years of your life, what would you feel?

Ashton helped you clean up after dinner, and he didn’t break a single thing. He hadn’t spoken much aside from the occasional “yeah” or “sure” when you asked him to do something. You were proud of him for how much he had accomplished in just a day.

He sat back down in front of the TV again. So far, he had surfed through every channel at least a hundred times, but that didn’t matter to him. There was so much to catch up on, so many new Marvel and Star Wars (“Oh my god, Star Wars is back?”) movies to see. You sat with him to keep him company, meanwhile keeping your thoughts at bay.

But you couldn’t hold one back.

“Why– “

“What?”

You breathed. “Why were you a wolf? I just– I can’t figure it out.”

Ashton’s face tensed a bit, but it soon relaxed as he set down the remote to stop from surfing for a moment. “’s kinda... stupid.”

You shrugged, and he swallowed.

“I was about t’take a train with a few friends,” he started with a sigh. He scratched his head, and for a moment it appeared as though he couldn’t remember what did happen. “’nd a woman approached us on the platform. We didn’t really... think much about it, y’know? People did that in the city. If they needed money, they’d ask ya. My friends were– well, they were fuckin’ idiots.”

You laughed a little, but only because he did.

“Two of us were jus’ standing there starin’ at her,” continued Ashton, “but the rest were being fuckin’ pricks. She started saying a few things in Latin, cor lupum... or sumthin’, when we began boarding. The doors closed in her face, but I specifically remember her saying, ‘til the sight of your future awaits, which...”

“...what?” you whispered, eager for him to go on.

“What does cor lupum mean?” he asked you.

A moment later, you had the translation pulled up on your phone screen.

Ashton frowned. “Heart of a wolf ‘til the sight of your future awaits.”

Without another word, he retreated to the bathroom, leaving you to wonder what this meant for you. Somehow, you had a feeling you were the reason Ashton became human again, and you didn’t like that one bit.

“I tried making breakfast,” he said the moment you walked out into the living room the next day.

It smelled of burnt toast when you awoke, and Ashton, of course, was your first thought. A few red flags popped up in your mind, however, the house wasn’t burning down. It warmed your heart a bit to know that he was trying.

You giggled, pulling your blanket up over your head before pushing past him and into the kitchen. You hadn’t meant to bump his arm, but you didn’t think about it. “You’re cute,” you said softly, and mostly to yourself.

“Me?” He had heard it.

“Mhm.”

“O-oh.”

You glanced over at him as you opened the fridge to check for orange juice. A panicked expression flooded his features, but a smile was pulling on his lips. You didn’t know what to make of this reaction. Instead, you continued on and tried not to think about it.

“Want a glass?” you asked, holding up the Simply Orange.

Ashton blinked. “Yes, p-please.”

“So,” you sighed, “what d’ya wanna do today?”

“Coffee.”

That made you smile. “Course, we can get coffee.”

He smiled in return, keeping his eyes trained on you as you poured his orange juice. Him looking at you so intently was still a common occurrence, and you didn’t mind it. “Donuts,” he said a second later.

“Donuts?”

Ashton hummed. “Haven’t had a donut in eight years.”

“All right,” you grinned, “we can get donuts. There’s a Krispy Kreme about an hour away. So, we can go on a road trip, and you can show me all of your favorite music or something. Maybe we’ll have some in common.”

He grinned as well, his familiar dimples popping up with his smile. “Yeah, like that.”

You handed him his glass (well, dinosaur mug technically... it was the first thing you reached for) and said, “this is Gerry. Made him during my freshman year of college. Don’t crush his neck.”

“Hi, Gerry,” Ash muttered before taking a sip. “Tastes so fuckin’ good.”

“Fun fact,” you said, “in fourth grade, I was obsessed with wolves. Like, you know how there were always those girls who loved horses and wore them on shirts and stuff?”

Ashton nodded. He had raised an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Well–– actually, follow me.”

You led him to your bedroom–– your teenage bedroom to be exact, with its cringy wall art and an array of belongings you haven’t touched since senior year of high school. You sat him on your pastel purple bed before digging through a box you store underneath it. In that box, you found: an old Polaroid camera with no film loaded into it, a pocket photo album full of pictures from middle school, and a few other pieces of stray junk you had no reason to keep. Most of all, this box held your fourth-grade “diary”.

“I’m almost positive there are wolf drawings in here,” you said, sitting up on your knees and pressing your elbows onto the bed beside Ashton.

He was looking down at you with such curiosity, you could feel his eyes burning into your skull. His hands were so close to you, his palms flat on his knees, and you swore you could count every hair that lined his wrist if you tried hard enough.

You flipped through old pages filled with terribly drawn butterflies and painfully awful diary entries until you finally found the few pages you originally remembered. It stemmed from a project all about wolves and their habits, stuff like that. But they truly intrigued you. You had written down every single fact you learned, and you also doodled a few wolves here and there.

“Found it!” you exclaimed, your hand falling onto Ashton’s arm because you could realize what you were doing. It didn’t matter–– you had already shoved the book in his direction. “I’m so embarrassing. Look!”

He smiled at you and took the diary from your grasp while you joined him up on the bed. You watched as he read the poorly written facts, his eyes scanning over the smudged pencil lines that nine-year-old you hadn’t even noticed. Everything about him was truly beautiful–– you hadn’t honestly noticed before. His eyes were a light hazel, the kind that had new colors to share every time you looked at them. You also hadn’t noticed how stubbly his chin had gotten over the past few days. The gaze on his jaw took you to his lips, his nice, kissable––

“Some of these facts are false,” he noted, eyes meeting yours as a simple smirk grew on the same lips you were about to get lost in.

“Huh– oh.” You looked down to the diary. “Well, I-I was nine.” You tried your best to play of your staring with a chuckle as you dumped the book back into the box. “Donut time?”

Ashton nodded. “Donut time.”

You decided that you wouldn’t have wanted to spend your winter break with anyone else. It was your third night with Ashton, and you felt so comfortable in his presence. You weren’t sure what you would do if your parents happened to return home early from Mexico, but you were glad to know that it wasn’t likely. You wanted Ashton to yourself. Plus, what would you have said to them? Hey, this is a stranger named Ashton who used to be a wolf, but somehow, I turned him into a human? Yeah, right. They would love that.

The day went by quickly. After grabbing coffee and donuts, you took him by all of your favorite places in town. You made any excuse you could to tug his arm or poke his shoulder just so you could touch him. A part of you felt stupid for it. But he made your heart warm, and that made you do stupid things.

It had started snowing early in the evening, and it was really coming down after you and Ashton fixed dinner for yourselves (and he was much better at cooking than you... if only you had known earlier). As usual, he retreated to the living room where his makeshift bed and beloved TV were, and you joined him.

There was a thought on your mind, one that had gone unanswered throughout these past few days he had been with you. You didn’t want to bring it up in fear of upsetting him, but it was upsetting you. Too much.

“Ash,” you mumbled, scooting slightly closer to him on the couch.

“Hm?”

“I have to ask,” you said, voice wary, “w-why were you going to attack me in the first place?”

Ashton’s face contorted into a puzzled expression, but there were also hints of anger in there as well. “Humans made me so mad,” he whispered. “You just reminded me of the life I lost.”

You frowned, and this time, your own eyebrows knotted together. “And when you realized you were human?”

There was a moment of silence. “I was terrified.”

The muscles in your back felt tight, but they soon relaxed when Ashton adjusted his position and ended up moving closer to you on the couch as well. His hand rested on the cushion between the two of you, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to graze your fingers against his knuckles. For a moment, you held your breath in fear. Instead of pulling away like you thought he would, he gazed down at your hands.

You ran your fingertips over his veins and down every dip and crevice. Everything from your neck and above was burning hot, and you could hear your heart in your ears. You couldn’t deny the thick tension, and you hoped he couldn’t either.

Ashton shocked you by turning his hand over so that his palm was lying open, so you began running your fingers along his rough skin there.

“Your hands are so big,” you mumbled with a small chuckle, spreading your hand out and placing it against his. You heard him laugh from beside you, and that gave you a sense of comfort. And when you wedged your fingers between his, he seemed to understand what you meant. Your hands were interlocked a second later.

You didn’t want to look up at him. You were afraid that if you did, you would feel the heaviness deep in your chest. It was already growing larger by the second. So, you thought, fuck it.

Ashton had already been gazing down at you. You were right–– his hazel eyes gifted you with more colors than had noticed before. The corners of his lips twitched into a small smile as he rubbed his thumb against your skin gently. You couldn’t breathe.

You reached your free hand up and placed it on his cheek a second later; the temptation was too loud in your head to ignore, and you desperately ached to graze his skin like you had done with his hand. When his lips parted, you had no issue leaning in and resting your lips barely on his to place a gentle yet compassionate kiss on them. It was like all air had escaped your lungs.

You didn’t want to pull away, but when you did, and just barely, his eyes were shut. His entire face appeared so relaxed, more relaxed than you had seen him since finding him in the forest. You leaned in again. Before you could apply any pressure onto his lips, he initiated the kiss this time, raising his own free hand to place on your cheek. You ran your fingers down his neck and onto his hot chest.

Ashton hummed against you, gripping your cheek a little harder than he had meant to before pulling away. “’m not– ‘m not very experienced,” he mumbled shyly.

You untangled your interlocked hand and pressed both of yours to his cheeks. “’s okay,” you whispered. You were positive every inch of the skin on your body was red hot. “Jus’ wanted t’kiss you.”

His lips quirked into a smile before he leaned in, pressing one more tender kiss to your lips.

254 notes · View notes

kinderes · 7 years ago

Text

Cold as Stone (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Having already lost one of their own, the sides decide to try and figure out what their next course of action should be.

Word count: 2310

Author’s note: thank you so much for the positive reaction to the first part! I hope you enjoy this part too! also, shout out to @mememic-bry for offering to beta this for me!! <3 warnings for: panic, petrification (being turned to stone), violence, blood

tag list: @mememic-bry @princelogical @super-magical-wizard @rileyfirstname @that-one-invisible-chick @silverglimse-productions @misslilidelaney @creativenostalgiastuff @hissesssss @akiraaria @prinxietyandchocolate @nyxwordsmith @justanotherpurplebutterfly @k9cat @hanramz-the-fander @logansanders33 @spottybob @specifiedshippinglover13 @miss-meg1710 @justanotherlemon @fillogree @timeywimeygalaxy @darkstarsigh @icecoldparadise

The remaining three sides stood silently for minutes after it happened, barely moving as if they all had been turned to stone. Logan was the first one to speak.

“Well, we’d best get started, shall we?” His throat was tight and he cleared it before speaking again. “Roman, what do you know about the dragon-witch? You’ve already clarified you aren’t aware of how to break this spell, but some background information would be beneficial.”

Roman could hardly believe how quick Logan got down to business, but in some ways he appreciated it. The sooner this was over, the better. “Umm. Well. She resides in those mountains up there,” he explained, pointing them out, “specifically on the highest peak of the tallest mountain.”

“Do you know of any weaknesses? Other abilities? Anything that might be useful to us?”

Roman was having a hard time focusing, but he wracked his brain anyway. “She... can breathe fire, of course…” He tried to think of what else she could do, but meeting resistance, he moved onto the next topic. “Her underbelly is weak. That’s usually where I strike her before she flees.”

Logan hummed. “I see. Do you suppose that defeating this dragon-witch would free Virgil?”

“I’m honestly not sure, but if that is what must be done, then I shall do it,” Roman said, now determined.

It was at that point he noticed Patton had been suspiciously quiet. He looked over to find Patton standing directly in front of Virgil’s statue, worry and grief etched in his face. He reached his hand up towards Virgil’s forehead as if to brush the hair out of his face, hesitating for a moment before he settled his hand on the side of Virgil’s face and pressed his forehead against Virgil’s. Roman couldn’t help but remember the dragon-witch’s words.

“It is not your role to protect them. You may try, but you will always fail.”

“Roman, are your injuries going to hinder you? If so, we can rest a while before we leave,” Logan inquired, adjusting his glasses.

Roman hadn’t even been thinking about his injuries. He felt tired and sore, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. “They’re fine, but… maybe you two should stay here.”

Patton finally looked away from Virgil and fixed his eyes on Roman. “What do y’mean, kiddo? Of course we’re coming with you! We’ve gotta save Virgil!”

“I have to agree, I don’t think it would be wise for you to go alone,” Logan said firmly. “What if you also get turned to stone? We would be none the wiser if we waited down here.”

Roman opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. He’d been so focused on the others he hadn’t even considered that possibility. What would happen if he was turned to stone? Seeing that Logan had a point, he huffed. “Fine. But neither of you had better get caught.”

“We can make no promises, but we will certainly try not to,” Logan agreed. “We should leave immediately, although I doubt we’ll make it up the entirety of the mountain today.”

Roman nodded in agreement, and Patton gave one final glance towards Virgil’s still form before the three of them departed.

They reached the foot of the mountain within an hour and began their climb up the worn path towards the summit. They barely spoke a word to each other for a long time, aside from Roman occasionally giving them directions. Roman could still remember a time when Virgil’s absence would have made him happy, but now guilt just twisted in his stomach.

They came to a small clearing just as the sun was setting and decided to make camp there. Logan made a fire while Roman conjured up some bedrolls for them to sleep on. Patton seemed distracted, just sitting and watching as the other two worked. Roman knew that under normal circumstances, Patton would have jumped at the opportunity to help either of them, but Roman also suspected he was taking Virgil’s condition the hardest out of all of them.

After the beds were all laid out, Roman took a seat beside him. He struggled to find the right words to say. “If you like, I could conjure up some marshmallows and we could roast them on the fire?”

Patton gave him a weak smile. “Thanks Roman, that’s nice of you, but I’m not feeling very hungry right now.”

“Oh.” Roman fidgeted with his sash. “Well, how about-”

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night!” Patton said suddenly. He crawled over to one of the bedrolls and settled into it. “G’night guys!”

“Good night, Patton,” Logan returned, prodding the fire as he did so.

Roman’s mouth was left hanging open from Patton’s sudden interruption. “Ah… y-yes, sleep well, Patton,” he said awkwardly. He watched as Patton drew the blankets tightly around his form, breathing out a long sigh before he stilled. Roman covered his face with his hands, suddenly feeling very tired as well.

There was a long silence after that. Roman would occasionally look over at Logan, who was staring into the fire, deep in thought for what felt like forever. It seemed as though Patton wasn’t the only one taking this hard. Or perhaps Logan was just thinking about their situation; Logan was always hard to read.

“Roman, can I ask you a question about the dragon-witch?” Roman was drawn out of his own thoughts as Logan spoke. He saw Logan adjust his glasses. “She is a creation of your own making, correct? Is there no way for you to simply… make her vanish? I’m not as familiar with the workings of the imagination as I would like to be.”

Roman sighed. “It doesn’t quite work that way, Specs. Even if it did, I’m not sure it would reverse the spell on Virgil.”

“I see,” Logan said simply. “Another question: We’ve all witnessed you defeat a dragon-witch before, but I don’t recall her having the ability to turn people to stone. Is that… your doing?”

Roman laughed bitterly. “You’re implying it’s my fault?”

“Is it?”

Roman paused, staring down at his feet. “Possibly. I just wanted… I mean, you saw how easily I overcame that other dragon-witch, right? It was almost… too easy, and I may have… enhanced design slightly.” He could feel Logan’s stare on him. “But I never thought she would be of any danger to the rest of you,” he continued quickly. “That is the truth, Logan. I-I never meant for this to happen.”

Logan sighed. “I can hardly hold it against you for wanting to challenge yourself. I only hope we can correct this mistake.”

“I hope so, too,” Roman said quietly. Patton stirred in his sleep briefly before settling down again. Logan seemed to be drifting off as well now. He silently vowed wouldn’t let harm come to either of them.

The sides woke early the next morning and continued their trek up the mountain.

“If we continue at this pace, how long do you estimate it will take us to reach the peak, Roman?” Logan inquired.

Roman took a second to think - the campsite they’d departed from an hour ago lay about one-third up the mountain, so he tried to guess from that. “We might make it there by nightfall, but the path gets narrower and steeper up ahead, so that may slow us down.”

“Uh… guys?” Patton tried to speak up, but the other two sides didn’t hear him.

“If we take into consideration the height of the mountain, then we should also consider shapeshifting into warmer attire once we reach a high enough altitude,” Logan commented. Seasons weren’t as consistent in the imagination as they were in reality, but Roman had created all of the mountains so their tops would be covered in snow most of the year, if for no other reason than aesthetics.

A shadow passed over top of them, but only Patton noticed. “Hey Roman, I think-”

“Ah, I do always enjoy wearing a warm winter cloak!” Roman mused. The way it draped over his shoulders somehow made him feel more… heroic.

“Guys!” Patton called out desperately. The other two turned just as Patton tackled them to the ground. A loud roar rang in their ears and a whoosh of wind ruffled their hair. The dragon-witch had narrowly missed them. Patton kept his arms held tightly around both of them for a few seconds, before tentatively relaxing enough so that they could all push themselves to their feet.

“That was… too close for comfort,” Roman said, straightening out his clothes and brushing off the dirt. He exhaled and gave Patton a grateful look. “It’s a good thing one of us was paying attention. You really saved us there, Patton.” Roman couldn’t help but notice a few grazes on Patton’s arms. He made a mental note to help him patch them up later.

“Yes, it was a rather close call,” Logan agreed, appearing a little flustered. He picked his glasses up off the ground from where’d they’d been knocked off and slipped them back onto his face. “Thank you, Patton. Very quick thinking on your part.”

Patton beamed at them, but his smile quickly dropped when he glanced up. “Well, y-you two might wanna move out of the way before she comes back.”

A roar erupted through the air from behind Roman and Logan, and they didn’t need to be told twice before running for cover. Patton, on the other hand, hadn’t moved. Roman halted. “Patton, what are you doing?!”

Logan also stopped in his tracks. He frowned, as if trying to piece something together. “Patton.”

Patton gulped. “Yeah?”

“You looked, didn’t you?”

“U-um—” Patton didn’t get a chance to finish before the dragon-witch swooped down again. Logan and Roman managed to dive out of the way, but all Patton could do was yelp and try to crouch down. This proved to be difficult, seeing as his feet were now solid stone and couldn’t move. He covered his head and whimpered.

Roman felt his temper flare up. How could he have let this happen again? One thing was for sure though - he wasn’t about to let the dragon-witch get away.

Roman drew his sword and stood in front of Patton. The dragon-witch landed with a heavy thud, teeth bared and sharp. She prowled towards him, her body lowered as if she could strike at any second. Roman readied himself for the attack.

The dragon-witch suddenly lunged towards him, but Roman acted quickly. In one swift moment he dived underneath her and struck the underside of the dragon’s stomach.

The sound that followed was deafening.

Roman dropped his sword to cover his ears, squeezing his eyes shut from just how loud it was. By the time he opened them, he had no time to react before a set of long claws swiped across his stomach. He cried out in pain, clutching at the wound. He dropped to his knees. On some level he registered Logan and Patton shouting his name, and the sound of wings flapping and slowly fading away.

He lifted his arm briefly to examine the wound and hissed at the sight. There wasn’t as much blood as he’d expected, but it was still staining his white costume and his sash had been apart. He wasn’t sure if he could find the strength to stand up for a few moments, but then he remembered - Patton was still turning to stone. As he staggered to his feet, Logan came to his side and helped to hold him up.

“W-well, I think that could have gone better,” Roman said, trying to lighten the mood. He managed to half-smile at Patton, but Patton didn’t smile back.

“Roman, you’re bleeding!” Patton said, his voice filled with worry. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Ah, ‘tis but a flesh wound, Padre! Besides, what about you?” Roman tried to straighten himself up, wincing as pain shot through his torso.

Patton looked down. Half of him was already stone, his legs entirely covered. “O-oh, it doesn’t hurt or anything! Feels kinda funny though…” Roman could tell Patton was trying to be brave, but he couldn’t help but hear the tremble in his voice.

“Roman, your wound needs tending to,” Logan said, shifting his weight slightly.

Roman shook his head. “I’ll be fine, we should focus on Patton for now.”

“The process has already started, there’s nothing we can do for him.”

Roman opened his mouth to protest, but Patton spoke first. “He’s right, kiddo. You need to get that wound fixed up!”

Roman could do nothing as Logan set him gently on the ground and Patton continued to turn to stone before his eyes. It was frustrating. If there was anything Roman hated, it was feeling helpless. As Logan lifted Roman’s top off to get a better look at the wound, Roman’s pain and frustration manifested itself as tears welling up in his eyes.

“Roman?”

Roman looked up to see Patton staring down at him, with a soft expression he’d seen many times before when he’d been frustrated or sad or upset. “It’s going to be okay.”

Roman choked out a laugh. “How can you say that?”

“Because there’s still hope!” Patton said, smiling softly at him. “You and Logan’ll figure something out. I know you will. I believe in both of you.”

Roman and Logan exchanged a glance. Neither of them were very sure of that statement. Roman looked back up at Patton. The stone had almost reached his neck. Logan continued tending to Roman’s wound as Roman spoke. “I… we will try, Patton.”

Patton’s voice was shaky and his eyes glistened with tears. “I-I know. I love both of you. Take care of each other.”

Those were the last words he spoke before he completely turned to stone.

#my fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #not sure when the next part'll be up #i'm gonna do a bit of rewriting so it might be a while!#but in the meantime i hope you like this part!!

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