#boybitten

        𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒. she must seem a little silly standing in the door like this, socked feet crossed and shoulder pressed to one side of the frame. THE LOOK SHE HAS ADOPTED APPEARS PENSIVE, bare mouth pursed and brow pinched in thought. she is not staring at anything in particular until she cants her head around to look at him. ❝ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅʀᴏᴏᴍ. ❞

　 ⋆ · 　 * 𝐶𝐼𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝐹𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝐸𝑋 𝑆𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝑃𝑇𝑆

IT WAS A NATURAL INSTINCT BROUGHT WITH HESITATION, GOING TO SCOTT’S WITHOUT NOTICE.    The  walk  there  gave  them  time  to  act  like  they  weren’t  coming  undone  by  the  seems,  barely  stitched  together -  if  only  from  the  other’s  help.  It’s going to be okay,    you  must’ve  repeated  a  thousand  and  one  times  within  the  hour  or  two  since  they  escaped  Derek’s  flat.  You  could  still  hear  the  sound  of  glass  breaking,  and  even  if  a  throat  healed,  you  can  still  feel  how  hoarse  you  got.  You don’t raise your voice.   This  was  an  exception.  So  they  walk,  and  Scott  will  find  two  homeless  werewolves  breaking  into  his  house  saying  they  had  no  where  else  to  go.

              They  had  their  own  fight  not  minutes  later :  one  a  little  pathetic.  The  selfless  sort  of  NO I’LL TAKE THE COUCH, YOU TAKE THE BED    back  and  forth  insisting.   That  was  until  the  clever  idea  of  ‘let’s  just  share.’

They’ve  said  a  lot  of  heavy  words  in  just  these  past  hours,  and  there’s  a  silence  as  they  have  nothing  to  really  to  set  down  besides  the  puddles  tracking  behind  them.  

                      you’re clothes are soaked 

             it’s  the  sort  of  no  shit  sherlock   observation  someone  could  make,  it  breaks  you.  Not  in  tears  but  gusts  of  laughter,  the  kind  that  makes  a  head  duck  and  shoulder  briefly  shake.   ❛   - - -    Yeah ? ❜  is  what  you  deliver  back  to  him,  teeth  gripping  just  an  edge  of  your  lip  before  your  wide  grin  continue.  

Brown  eyes  scan  him  over,   ❛  - - -   Of  the  two  of  us,  you’re  still  winning  the  wet t-shirt  contest,  though. ❜

You  set  the  pair  of  dry  clothes  Scott  lent  you  to  change  into  on  the  bed.  Luckily  you  left  your  soaked  converse  downstairs.  Now  it’s  just  everything  else.   ❛ - - - God. ❜  you  grip  a  shirt  heavy  from  rain,  the  texture  alone  making  you  frown  before  taking  it  off.   Holding  it  in  your  hands,  you  look  over  at  the  other  beta  and  swing  it  low,  giving  him  plenty  of  warning  before  lightly  tossing  it  at  his  shin.  Satisfied,  you  smile  bright  at  wet  slap  it  made  before  looking  away  to  snatch  the  dry  shirt.  ❛ Ha-ha. ❜  

        𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒? they, who wield little more than sinew and thread, METAL AND BONE, stand as a united front in the tree line. beyond them, their alpha sets a trap, left in wait, but a girl and her wolf keep to the wings like ʙᴀɪᴛ. isaac beside her appears agitated, nerves as a fidget to his frame. for a moment, she watches him, gauging how best to approach his anxiety, but something perks his senses, 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶, and allison shifts her attention to the shadows in the forefront. ❝ go. run. don’t look behind you, ❞ hisses the boy and she opens her mouth to argue. something snarls in the brush, guttural and deep and FAR LARGER THAN EXPECTED. her fear betrays her in the single retreating step she takes. ❝ GO, ❞ says isaac again, loathe to break his focus from the impending attack. when she hesitates again, he growls, LOW IN HIS THROAT, and she sees the shift in him crackle along his spine until he is all fangs and claws. ❝ help scott. i’ll be behind you. ❞ she isn’t sure he means it, but she heeds his words with long, sprinting strides. behind her, she hears a branch snap, and then, A SHATTERING ROAR, and screams, ❝ SCOTT! ❞

u doin replies

@boybitten  /  prompt  /  accepting.

@boybitten  /  prompt  /  accepting.

it  calls  to  them.  somewhere  deep  in  the  wood  a  soul  lingers,    trapped,    its  pain  spreading  like  a  disease,    infectious—-    and  each  second  spent  caught  between  the  veil,    the  more  tormented  it  grows.  they  can  see it;    sense  its  hurt,    how  undeservingly  it  aches,    and  it  twists  in  their  heart  like  a  knife;  a  desperate  call  they  can’t  leave  unanswered.  their  motions  are  absent  autonomy  as  they  dress,    warm  boots  and  monochromatic  shirt  and  jeans,    one  of  isaac’s  jackets—-    it  drapes  them  and  doesn’t  help  the  already  childlike  appearance,    but  provides  an  immeasurable  amount  of  comfort,    the  warmth  of  the  spring  sun  after  a  grueling  winter.

does he know how fucking beautiful he is does he KNOW