#x || para

[fivexfaith]

x || @angeldcwn​ ( caelan) wanted gay

        It’s three a.m. And the now half empty bottle of whiskey in hand was full about an hour ago. And she’s had the urge to throw it against the tree five feet away from the front porch steps she’s been perched. But that would be a waste of liquor. On the other hand, it would be a minor but sweet release of frustration. 

        Then there’s a figure, familiar. And a glance up, followed by a dry, empty laugh. Half hysterical, half disbelieving. 

        “No way.” Free hand runs over her damped (and bruised) face, dragging features, pulling down cheeks and the corner of a mouth. She doesn’t have time for hallucinations. “What do you want?” Bottle lifts to cracked lips and a wrist tilts.

        It’s three a.m. And the nearly empty bottle of whiskey in hand was full about an hour ago. And she still really wants to throw it. 

[fivexfaith]

x || @girlquaked​ wanted gay

        “She ain’t here.” Magazine in hands is tossed aside, landing on the table beside her with a soft s m a c k. Her feet remain propped up on the chair opposite of the one she’d been sitting in, arms raising to fold hands behind her skull, gaze narrowed at the other. “Probably brooding in a cemetery somewhere.” Don’t ask her why she was in Spencer’s apartment. She comes here sometimes, mostly because her own is an actual hole in the wall. And the wolf always had food. That, and cable tv. 

        “She does that a lot.” Reminds her of someone else she knows with less fur but more fangs. 

        But her head tilts, only just, a wry smile creeping up on a tan profile. “Faith.” Chin jerks, pearly whites reveal themselves as lips pull back a little more, a little more. “You must be the girlfriend.” 

[fivexfaith]

x || @youmaythinkyouknowme​ wanted gay

        “Just--” A slow breath is drawn in through nostrils as brows knit, gaze still kept cast downwards, watching her own hands find a pair of hips parallel to hers. Hazel orbs flick up and a head shakes once, left then right. “Shut up.” No talking. 

        Thumb press into and fingers grip bone, pulling two pelvises snug before a mouth captures another. The movement of her lips are exaggerated. It isn’t rushed. She’s in no hurry. She’s indulging. She’s greedy like that. 

[fivexfaith]

x || @tuppencetrinkets​ ( freddikins) wanted gay

        A shoulder rolls and there’s an inward wince, silent but visible on her face. Pulled muscles and various kinks, probably a galaxy of bruises underneath the thin fabric of her shirt, a black circle almost definitely already forming around her left eye. 

        Boots lightly scuff hardwood floors as she crosses through the threshold and into the next room over. Fred’s room. It’s become a nightly habit. Every time after a rough n’ tumble. She seeks solace, comfort, a safe space to lick her wounds. And Fred doesn’t judge. 

        Except Fred’s asleep. And there’s a silent sigh. And then there’s a limp forward, followed by a shrug to shimmy free from her jacket before discarding it on the floor. 

        Wordlessly, she takes a seat on the edge of the mattress then carefully lies down beside the other on top of the comforter, curling up against, letting her forehead press into the arm of the physicist while her own arms cross and knees slightly bend. 

        Rough night. 

[fivexfaith]

x || @sheraids​ wanted gay.

        “You’ve got all the essentials.” In her hands is a basket. A gift basket, if you will. It’s even got a ribbon bow-tied around the wicker handle. Thoughtful. Something that Faith Lehane never is, never wants to be. Until now. Until Lara. 

        “Stakes, crosses, holy water vials... salt.” Hazel hues cast down to the basket’s contents, head bobbing left then right, one hand reaching in to stir around wood and glass. “Vamp survival one-oh-one. Salt’s for witches. And almost anything you can grip and throw’ll work on a demon.” A slow breath, a glance up, a soft but lopsided smile. Broken. But there, present. 

[fivexfaith]

x || @heavenwalked 

        “So are we gonna do this thing?” Torso leans, elbow propping up on top of the kitchen counter, demeanor loose, muscles slack. “I don’t do flowers though.” Or dates in general. Or emotions of any kind except anger. Lots of anger. With a side of annoyance. 

        But that’s Faith Lehane. 

        Ya gotta break through that hard exterior to get to the ooey-gooey good stuff. 

[fivexfaith]

x || @chooserofslain || s.c.

        “So the Slayer and the Valkyrie walk into a bar...” Her gaze doesn’t leave the bottom of the glass held loosely in her hand, hazel orbs fixated on the amber liquid sloshing and swirling around crystal. She doesn’t have to look up to know that the other is there. She had felt her, sensed her way before a step was even taken into this hole-in-the-wall, their two wavelengths had synced and intertwined. 

        Finally, eyes flick up and a sloppy grin cracks as the glass raises and curled lips hover the rim. “Y’wanna hear the punchline?”