Deuce handed Zane the container he’d brought in, then patted him on the shoulder. “Take your time. We’ll be in the lobby, ready when you are.” He squeezed Ty’s shoulder in passing and then left them alone once more.
Zane lifted the container. The plastic was clear, but fogged over from whatever Deuce had in there, so it was impossible to see the contents.
“What is that?” Ty asked.
Zane shrugged, then shoved the container at Ty. “He’s your brother … you open it.”
“I don’t want to.”
Ty huffed. “Well, why don’t you?”
“He handed it to you, it’s obviously yours to open.”
“But he’s your brother. You should open it.”
“I can’t,” Ty insisted.
“Because it might be alive.”
“Why would it be alive?” Zane cried, and he shoved the container into Ty’s arms.
“I don’t know!”
Zane snorted and popped the lid. They both winced away from it, but nothing fuzzy or breathing jumped out. Ty lifted the lid and stared for a second, then broke into a wide grin.
“Deacon, you sly son of a bitch.” He held up a small boutonniere and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. It was made of a single orchid.
“Orchids?” Zane asked.
“I told him about the black market orchid thing when I first realized … well, that I was in love with you,” Ty admitted. Then he smiled and turned the boutonniere over. “He made fun of me because he said black market anything was not romantic. God, I can’t believe he remembered.”
Zane took the container from Ty and set it on the desk nearby. There were three more boutonnieres in there. Deuce had obviously planned for Zane to have someone at his side, but Zane didn’t need anyone else. He had everything he could have wanted today.
(I was listening to this audio this week. I know I found it funny when I read it, but sometimes the pace of listening to a passage really brings out the comedic timing. I was giggling in the car listening to this.)
I want you. I want your entirety. I don’t just want burning passion on a Friday night when red wine and whisky flow through our veins. I want to leave little notes on the kitchen table for you. I want to drink coffee with you in December and orange juice in June. I want you when your angry, sad, ecstatic with happiness. I just want all of you all the time and i guess thats how i know i love you
Hey could you please do one where jughead comforts the reader after her and her close friend get in a fight. I’ve just been going through the same thing and yeah. Thanks even if you don’t end up writing it
I’m sorry to hear that you and your best friend are fighting. I know what that feels like so if you need to talk I’m here for you. I hope this helps.
You walked out of school on Friday burning with anger. Your friend, your best friend for years, had plucked the last straw from your cup. You argued, fought, about everything under the sun. It was like a floodgate had opened and everything you had bottled up throughout the years spilled over. You had made a scene in the lounge and everyone there was probably gossiping about it right now. All except one.
“Y/N! Wait up!” You stopped and turned your head to see Jughead Jones chasing after you. You gave him a weak smiled when he stood next to you. You felt his finger tangle with yours, squeezing your hand. “Let me walk you home?” You nodded at him, knowing that your boyfriend was going to do it even if you said no. A few moments pass in silence, just enjoying the other’s company. Your mind had drifted away from the fight with your friend to the feeling of Jughead’s hand holding yours. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
You turned your head to look at him and saw the concern in his eyes. “Not, not really Juggie.” He nodded, respecting your answer. You were surprised that he didn’t push you further, telling him what happened and what was said. There was never anything hidden between you and Jughead. You could both read each other like books, so maybe he could tell you did really want to talk.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fight with Archie?” You smiled softly, he could tell.
“No, when did this happen?” You squeezed his hand as you walked, seeking comfort in his touch.
“Towards the beginning of the school year, Archie was mixed up in stuff. He was out of his depth, but he had already put his feelings into it.” A frown formed on his lips at the memory. “This effected my summer because he was too busy with it to hang out with me; but I only found out about it when we started school up. I was pissed.”
“You’re not that hard to piss off babe,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood a little. He bumped his shoulder to yours as you walked, a smile gracing his lips.
“Anyway, we argued about it. I was,” his nose scrunched up in the search for the right word. You let out a giggle and smiled.
“Over dramatic?” He turned his head a the corner of his lips quirked upwards.
“I’m feeling very attacked right now,” he said and you let out a laugh. “But yes, I was over dramatic. I yelled at him and stormed off without hearing any part of his story.” He let out a sigh before continuing, as if this story still left his heart sore. “When he solved his problem, he was heartbroken. When I saw that, I knew that whatever beef between us wasn’t worth it. So I became his friend again, even though he had hurt me.” You squeezed his hand in an attempt to comfort him a little. He stopped walking and you looked up at him. “I know that Y/B/F has hurt you, and maybe you’ve hurt them, but if you can look past that,” he brushed away some hair from your face, “maybe you’ll see something worth saving.”
You leaned up on your tippy-toes, pressing a kiss into his pink lips. “Thank you Juggie,” you whispered when you pulled back. He smiled down at you, his hand leaving yours and trailing up your arm soothingly.
“I hope you do what’s best for you,” he whispered and you nodded.
“I will.” Your thoughts drifted back to your friend, wonder if your fight was something that you could both come back from.
“Friends fight all the time,” Jughead added, “but it’s up to both sides to patch things ups.” Your eyes met with his once more and you saw that his eyes were glued on you. He had lived through that pain, now he was thriving. Maybe you could do the same.
“I love you,” you leaned up, pecking his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded as you let go of his hand and walked up the steps to your house. You opened the door and saw Jughead still looking at you. You gave him a small wave and a wide smile spread across his lips. You walked inside your house, your boyfriend’s story still lingering in your mind.
So I was just flicking through the mh films to see what gif sets and such I should make for ideas, and randomly cam past this bit and got too stupidly amused by it so I just had to gif it xD lol sorry :’)
I don’t know if it is the new Fitbit because I went just as hard as always, but my old one would say I burned around 650 calories per class. I’m a little sad to see the 390 but I still left feeling like a bad ass. It was flex Friday too. Pic to come as soon as it’s posted on the site.
It’s his hands, first, that can’t stay away from Sam. Gabriel’s always been tactile, right from the moment he showed up at the bunker on Halloween disguised as (in turn) a five-year-old girl in a Dorothy outfit, two creepily identical kids dressed as Batman and Superman, and himself (complete with chicken-feather wings and a tinsel halo). Within an hour of Dean reluctantly letting him inside (after punching him, of course, and yellingfor a good long while), Gabriel had pinched Sam’s cheeks, tugged at his “delicious flowing locks,” and run a cheerfully lascivious hand down his back to pat him on the arse.
Three months later, he had closed his eyes, and a whole lot of other senses Sam didn’t really understand, just so that he could memorise every inch of Sam’s face under his touch.