#answered.all

[hunnamsgoldchain]

I thought you'd be gone by the time I woke up × Quick

Truth be told, had it been five years ago, she probably would have skipped out. Shoes in hand, panties in her purse, leaving nothing but the last of her resolve on his bedroom floor. But this was the new and improved them. Older and wiser. Time saw to that. Version 3.0. The messy impulsiveness of their 20s remained, lingering along with the selfish ways they used to cling to each other as teenagers, but the 30s had smacked both of them with a heavy dose of reality. And hell, maybe 30-something Quinn didn’t have the knees to be dodging morning afters anymore. The bulk of strength had been focused elsewhere, thanks to the endless wandering of Puck’s hands and the easy smile she realized she missed kissing. It was there again, brighter and better in the quiet of the early morning.  Her fingers reached out, tracing the line of his lower lip, hidden under dark, downy, scruff, grin growing wider under her touch and warming a spot in her heart that had always always remained just for him. It used to ache, back in the day when they did the long distance thing. And when they spent those long years stuck in a shitty, destructive limbo of their own design. That train of thought vanished when she felt his hand close around her fingers, pulling her closer and out of the thought spiral she was sure he could’ve seen written all over her face, because Puck was always very versed in Quinn. She savored the way their fingers laced together, the hushed slide of the sheets moving as they moved closer, letting her lips brush his cheek in a feather light kiss, her words coming out as a whisper.  “I’m not going anywhere.” @newjaxxcity

[castleportrpg]

most wanted?

Avoiding the ‘whichever you have muse for’ response (though really, whoever catches your interest is totally fine with us because every character is crucial to the story), for plotting (and drama!) purposes, we’d love to see PUCK, JANE, MADISON, or MARLEY. 

[zizeschmizes]

[Slid under Lauren's door is a deep red envelope. It is unmarked, except for the stamp of a griffon in the middle. In the envelope is a deep gold piece of paper. Written in neat black lettering is a message.] We've been watching. If you choose to accept this invitation, we'll be waiting. [There's another griffon stamp at the bottom of the note.]

“Uh…what?”. She turned the envelope over in her hands, studying it closely but finding nothing to give anything away. Frowning, Lauren peered outside the front door of her suite through the peephole, finding nothing but an empty hallway. Of course. Whoever had dropped it off was long gone and she wondered just how long the letter had been pushed under her door. There was no way in hell she was opening that door to check either, considering the ominous message in the note.

We’ve been watching. 

‘Cause that wasn’t creepy as hell. She wondered how whoever had apparently been spying on her would even know she’d accepted their invitation. “So are you listening now, ‘cause I accept. I guess…” 

Her second thought drifted into ‘this is how organs get taken’ territory, but that seemed like an extreme reaction to what was probably a harmless prank. Still, she double-checked the front door’s lock for good measure and carried the note back to the couch, still studying the black type as she sat down. 

We’ll be waiting. 

What the hell did it mean?

[inkedsevans]

68: What do you think is Satan's last name?

Lopez. But usually it’s just Lolo.  @snixxem

[jasminsaysrelax]

🎁

Jas figured the best gift for a future world traveler would be a small reminder of home. And the colorful artwork from a local bay area artist seem to fit Josie’s sunny personality.

@josiequeenofharts

[hunnamsgoldchain]

🍻+ “ is there anyone you regret kissing ?” (finncedes)

He’d had a feeling when they started this little game of Q&A there’d be a question he’d groan about. It should have been when she’d asked about his most embarrassing high school memory and Finn, edging into comfortably buzzed described the time that he, in a fit of frustration, kicked a chair that somehow ended up flipping backwards and knocking him clean over and flat on his ass.

And as he suspected, Mercedes had gotten a kick (pun absolutely intended) out of that. Dark eyes held a faint trace of amusement watching as she tossed her head back and laughed, the sound of it soaked in the ‘whiskey ands’ they’d been sipping on for a better part of an hour. And fuck, he was loathed to admit he liked looking at her…usually for the annoyed reaction that would surface whenever he said something to grate her nerves, but shit, her laugh might make him rethink it.

Her whole face lit up, sunshine blooming under brown skin that was–if he could recall faint memories of the last time they’d been drunk enough to be close enough that fighting didn’t feel as much fun as touching and grinding had–was very soft. 

So maybe he still remembered parts of that night. Sue him. Wasn’t his best moment by a mile but there’d some good parts, despite their mutual protests of the ‘worst goddamn experience ever’. And they protested a lot. Even now, trapped in this weekend getaway that once again, found them as the only single pringles among a squad full of #couplegoals but really (and he’d never admit to it, shut the hell up) Finn didn’t find it such a fucking chore to be saddled with her. 

Maybe it was her laugh. This time not so much at him. But because of him. And the good time they were apparently having. Her legs resting in his lap and he was bigger (and she never let him forget it) but somehow she managed to take over more couch space just by being in his space. Their drinks were almost gone so he poured another and then she hit him with that question and he was two sips in before pausing to look up at her, lips curving into a grin. Because he was sure, judging from the casual of it all, she was expecting a very specific, very-her related answer.

“Why? Think I regret kissing you? I don’t. Or maybe I do. It’s still a blur.” And he could very well blame it on the alcohol, as they’d done that night before, the sloppy, hot mess of a trainwreck night they never spoke of except in mutual roasting but this was different because she was soft and damn near sitting in his lap and he never liked doing what she expected anyway. So he leaned in, dipping his head to catch her gaze, waiting for soft brown eyes to meet his own before finishing with “How about you refresh my memory?” @blkgrlwrites

[hunnamsgoldchain]

i'm not gonna send the emojji bc lazy but drunken confessions + “ do you believe in love ?” + cport!fabrevans

They’d been settled in one of the booths at The Maggie for the better part of an hour, and Sam was sure he was in no position to drive home. And with any more shots, he was liable to say ‘fuck it’ and knock out on the comfortable leather, right there at the bar. He’d long forgotten whose idea it’d been to stay behind, well after last call and some time past clean-up. But it seemed like neither really felt like heading home to empty spaces. And Sam was finding lately, he didn’t much care about being a designated placeholder, something pretty and eager to kill time and maybe it was a little harsh to think of himself in that way, especially when it came to the friendship they had, but he was drunk enough for it to make sense. 

Besides, Quinn was asking him about love, and his head was already spinning. He tipped it back, letting it rest against the cool material of the padded back as he slumped down lower, olive eyes meeting hazel and he let his snort slip out freely. “Of course. I’m drunk, but I’m not that bitter.” Because he was, very bitter, but he supposed that proved more than anything love was real. His relationship regrets usually depended on the day and whichever daily playlist his music decided to torture him with. Most of them appeared at night, when there was nothing else to fill the quiet more than his thoughts as he lie awake. 

He loved, sure. Foolishly? Abso-fucking-lutely. Foolish was an ex wife who left traces of red lipstick on his favorite shirt collars and drained his savings in a petty divorce settlement. Foolish got him a lifetime of stilted conversations with Mercedes and memories of a relationship  that dragged on well past its expiration date. There were too many crushes that made him feel like an unbelievable ass, and one of them happened to be sitting across from him, sprawled in a booth and asking him about love like they hadn’t shared plenty already, besides the whiskey. 

“Love is…” the words trailed off into another snort and Sam reached for the bottle he had no business still drinking from, letting the liquor cover just the bottom of the glass before lifting the highball to his lips to toss it back. ‘No more, dumbass’ came the warning from his brain and he set the glass down–heavier than he intended–and gazed at Quinn, leaning in to boop her nose. “ Good or bad, it’s real. And you might pretend to be the Ice Quinn, but I know you. Better than most. And you believe in that shit too.” @pareidoliajules

[zizeschmizes]

[When Lauren wakes up, it's to another note, this time on her desk. It's on the same envelope and paper, and stamped with the same griffon image on both. This time, there's a thin gold bracelet sitting next to the envelope, and the note reads:] We are pleased with your acceptance. Wear this from now on as a sign of your commitment. We'll be watching.

Her alarm annoyed her. It always did. She didn’t wake up to the sound of birds chirping happily and swelling music waiting for her to belt out a happy tune. There was usually a chorus of cursing and grumbling and stumbling around to get her herself ready. But she had a morning system, a well-tuned one and it would explain why she didn’t notice the second letter on her desk until 20 minutes later, freshly showered and looking to put her books for the day’s classes into her bag. 

Dark eyes narrowed, wondering just how the letter ended up inside her locked room. Lauren glanced over, noting her roommate’s side. Jackie was a stickler for neatness and as usual her bed was made, giving no indication of whether she’d come back to the suite at any time. 

Well then how else would this shit have gotten here? 

Lauren’s stomach rumbled, jolting her out of the weird feeling creeping up the back of her neck and back into her routine. She couldn’t waste time wondering what weirdo decided to do weirdo shit and leave some obviously cursed piece from the best of Kay Jeweler’s stalker collection on her desk. 

Still, it didn’t stop her from slipping the bracelet into the front pocket of her leather jacket before gathering the rest of her things and heading out the front door, hoping to grab a quick breakfast before kicking off her day.  

The letter said wear it. Didn’t say it needed to be worn on her wrist.