#thetwelvefallen

Send in ☏ for my muse’s reaction to getting sexted by yours

Scott felt the flesh and fur over his nose wrinkle, pulling up along his snout as he bared his teeth. Two rows of sharp fangs caught the light from the morning sun, glowing with an almost sinister intent. The fur along his back rose towards the sky while every muscle in his four-legged body tensed. His attack posture was sloppy at best. His back right leg wobbly and weak. Fresh blood stained his flank painting the snow white fur in streaks of red. The shaft from an Elven arrow protruded from his body, the tip lodged perfectly in one of his joints making even the slightest movement painful.

He cursed the pointy ear hunters for what they had done, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame them. They're hunting, doing their duty to provide meat and substance for their clan, for people who depended on them. Traveling in wolf form had it’s advantages. Tracks were harder to follow, he could confuse his pursuers by mingling his prints with those of other wolves heading in the opposite direction, hell even his senses were far more acute. While in wolf form sight was sharper, colors were brighter, smells were more intense and the slightest breeze that tickled his fur as he blew past rung out like a howling whirlwind, a tempest in his ears. Scott could pinpoint the sound of a branch snapping from miles away. Could hear the scoff of heavy boots against the hard soil and decide how best to avoid those his master had sent to track him down.

But like with any form of magic there was always a price. A trade-off that had to be made. The wolf allowed this runaway slave from the imperium the freedom he sought, and the skill to hold on to it. It also made him a meal. His meat was now food for larger predators, for demons and darkspawn or the occasional hunter. His white fur the perfect blanket, coat or rug. The elves had been skillful in their hunt, experts with the bow and arrow, but most importantly they were wise. Seeing the unusual pattern in Scott’s moves, in his style of retreat. Perhaps even seeing the spark of humanity in his eyes. They figured out what he was and although their stomachs rumbled and growled with hunger, they had the mercy to move on

But now Scott faced down a different predator. He caught the sound of heavy boots imagining an armored soldier, templar with that unmistakeable insignia of the flaming sword etched into the armor. He was ready to lunge forward. To scare the man or at the least catch him off guard long enough for him to make an escape. As his muscles tensed ready for the jump his back leg buckled dragging the wolf down with a painful yelp. There was too much blood lost. His body had grown too weak to hold the spell.

The change came quick, over in a matter of seconds. His fur retracted back into his body, bones popped and broke, realigning and shaping themselves back into a human skeleton. Flesh tore and knotted back together. Dark hair, the color of endless night sprouted from the top of his head. The cool morning air swept in chilling and stinging Scott's naked and sweat drenched body. Scott curled into himself, one arm wrapping around his quivering knees as the other reached out, his fingers desperately searching for something to hold on to, to use to pull himself up. Yet all this weaken mage could do was scowl and wait for death.

The party had started an hour ago, the guests were chatting and enjoying themselves, of course, when you got a lot of free food and drinks. It was the anual party, the one he’d taken over from his father more or less. He didn’t have much of a choice, he had to attend. As head of the company and owner, he’d have at least to stay for the first two hours, then, everyone would be either drunk enough to forgot he was there, or found a chatting partner. Most of the guests were older, rich businessmen, the type you wanted to have a business connection with, but not spend the party with. Either way,Daniel had his second drink, and through with shaking hands and welcoming people. All the places he’d prefer to be right now.  He was ready for his next glass, this time he’d choose vodka, as he was suddenly face to face with someone he hadn’t seen in a long while. Freezing, he nearly let the glass slip out of his hands. What the fuck?                   “I don’t think this is the right place.” he muttered, his smile stayed, just for the public audience, he was keeping his good mood up where it had to be. “Good evening, and welcome, the buffet and drinks are all there, free for you and your partner.”               All he wanted was to leave and not face this, feeling his anger slowly crawl back to the surface. His anger management hadn’t improved that much.

@thetwelvefallen:

Christian wasn’t sure about working together with others outside the station… but he needed help. So when the Sheriff suggested a private investigator called Donny Morelli, he already knew that he was going to regret working with someone else. They bickered a lot. Like an old married couple during the freaking stakeout. The way Donny wanted to do things was against everything Christian believed – so they argued. Again and again, until the deputy lost his shit and kissed the other man fully on the lips to silence him.

It worked… for a while.

They canceled the stakeout and went straight to Christian’s place. They bumped on a lot of furniture while taking their clothes off, lips and hands all over the place. It didn’t matter. There was something infuriating and arousing about Donny and Christian simply couldn’t care less. Especially not now that he was riding the private investigator, his fingers clenching against the arms of the chair as he continued to roll his ass back and forth, gasping for air whenever he moved in a particular angle that would make Donny’s cock to hit his soft spot. “This… This doesn’t mean I like you… you fucking dick.”

Donny hated cops — or sheriffs, in Christian’s case. There was a reason why people came to him with their problems. No bullshit. Donny didn’t bullshit. He provided a service people needed, and didn’t need any business with the likes of the handsome sheriff. 

So their current predicament came as a surprise to both, obviously. If Donny had only known how goddamn tight his unwilling partner was, or how sexy his compact, muscular physique looked like this, maybe they woulda gotten along a lot sooner.

( Starter for @thetwelvefallen )

When a door closes, another opens. Or something like that.

In Tyler case, he sure hoped another never opened. An orphan with only shards of memories of his parents, their faces were so blurred Tyler didn't even think he would recognise them if he ever walked past them on the street. He was recruited into an underground supernatural organisation and became an agent since he was a teenager, not like he had the choice. However, this wasn't a story about Tyler whining about how unfair life could be, he buried those thoughts long ago along with his puberty.

No, this was a story of a new life. Three months ago, Tyler faked his own death and cheated his organisation. Now, with a new identity, he was ready to start a new life. A boring, ordinary mundane life. And it was going so well, he found a nice enough apartment, got a job in a cafe as a barista. Hell, he even did yoga twice a week.

Everything was boringly great, at least the way Tyler wanted it, until this one guy who came into the coffee shop this morning. Blond hair, blue eyes. Definitely good looking. As if that wasn't enough, he had this...confident, almost like an aura, around him. Tyler at least counted thirteen people turned their head just to peek at the man as he walked in.

Everything was fine. Until the moment where the man paid for his coffee, and Tyler touched his hand to take the coins.

It was a feeling cannot be described. It felt gentle and warm, but at the same time, sudden, almost like a zap or a bell that rang unexpectedly. Tyler blinked, he could see it in the other man's eyes that he could feel it too.

No bloody way. Uh-ah. No way he was going to let himself be dragged back to the whole supernatural mess.

"Next!" Tyler quickly turned to the next customer, ignored the man despite the sharpness he could feel from those blue eyes.

That, was a few hours ago. "See you tomorrow, Kai." Changed out of his uniform, Tyler put on his black leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans combo, walked out from the shop after his shift. He stretched his back like a cat as he left the building, couldn't help but thought about that unexpected incident earlier.

...Who the fuck is Mr Blue-eyes?

Send in ⁇ for my muse’s reaction to walking in on yours while bathing

@thetwelvefallen:

Loic had met Indie that very same night at a bar. Just your usual night of drinks and social – never once he had considered the chance of bringing the other man home. What would the media say if they saw one of the up and rising politicians go home with a complete stranger? And a man, no less? But those were the sort of concerns that didn’t matter one bit. Not when Indie was naked and looking so damn sinful that it was borderline criminal. And definitely not now that he was giving everything he had to pound the other man to oblivion.

“C’mon, handsome…” Loic could feel the sweat running down his chest and his back, hips snapping forward faster and harder than before. It was almost like Indie’s ass had been made to be properly fucked and utterly destroyed. Which wasn’t that hard to accomplish considering how beautiful the other man’s moans were. “I promised that I would fuck the cum out of you… and I have every intention of keeping that promise.”

Loic had no reason to recognize Indie when they met in the bar. Why would a politician such as Loic know he was taking home an underground auteur like Indie? To be fair, the blond was the kind of person Indie normally despised: privileged, out of touch, and loyal only to those who could offer him money or power. 

But... despite either of their differences, they were still men. Men with needs.

“Stop talking,” Indie grunts through gritted teeth, knowing very well that he’d feel bad about bedding someone like Loic in the morning, but for now... goddamn. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken a cock this big, filling him up like this. “Just... don’t stop. Fuck me, you bastard....”

Two weeks, three days and four hours. That was the time Nathan had been gone after finding the Hybrid in the woods in the small town he’d been with Finley before. One day later, he’d received a call from Klaus - something rare and he hadn’t expected it, but obviously there were some problems in New Orleans with a coven of witches and the original Hybrid needed some support against them. Business Nathan wasn’t interested in, especially if it brought danger for him and his own little pack, but he had to think one step further. If he had said no, it meant that he would have Klaus’ anger against him, and you didn’t want to have such a person as an enemy, right? Knowing that Finley wouldn’t be agreeing with it, especially since it was against witches, he’d left on his own, leaving a very short note for the other. Maybe it hadn’t been the nicest move, but he had also been thinking about the blonde, who wasn’t immortal. If Klaus found out about his weakness for him, he’d be in danger, but if he’d play along and be on Klaus’ side, this all wouldn’t happen.               The fight wasn’t easy, his brother got wounded, and he had some broken ribs, nearly lost an arm, but they healed fast. The witches were smart, but they weren’t as powerful as a whole pack of hybrids and the original hybrid himself. After a successful end, and a small party Klaus had thrown in New Orleans right after, Nathan returned to his small appartment, sitting down sighing. What an adventure. Everything was in balanace again, he’d left on good terms with Klaus - but now, being back, he’d probably have to face something far more difficult. Sending a text to Finley? Visiting him? What would be the best?  Nathan decided that a text wasn’t the right choice, so he was soon right in front of Finley’s door, pushing the doorbell. Maybe he was a tiny bit nervous.