Another gloomy day, another substitute teacher. You looked up at the elderly man who stood at the front of the classroom, he was wearing brown slacks and a messily ironed green plaid shirt, no wedding ring, no signs of any life beyond being a substitute teacher at the university. Pity dawned on you when you noticed his face burning with embarrassment when the wave of realisation that he had no idea what he was doing washed over him. Not being able to watch the old man struggle any longer you raised your hand, to the surprise of everybody in the room,
"Sir would you like me to help? I still have some of Mr Lee’s lesson plans in my bag I could-"
"That won’t be necessary Y/N. I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself.” The man scolded before he turned around to write some equations on the board, he was much harsher than you anticipated.
Exhaling deeply you slouched back into your chair, you missed your old professor, Mr Lee. He was a much nicer man. Though he was younger than most professors, he was always very friendly, smart and helpful, everything a professor should be. And being a high achiever in his class didn’t go unnoticed, once a week he would let you teach your group, and with you being president of the student union it meant that nobody could argue with his decision either. Other students had their theories, that you and he were secretly hooking up on late night study sessions, either that or the only reason he was so nice to you was because his younger brother was your flat mate. However none of the rumours were true, except from you living with his brother who was also a student. But that all changed two weeks ago, nobody knows exactly what happened but Mr Lee just vanished out of nowhere, completely disappeared off the face of the Earth. Of course there were varying theories, but nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, nobody knew anything. And so your fate of having to face substitute teacher after substitute teacher day after day was sealed.
“She’s feisty today.” The orange haired boy sat next to you muttered, loud enough for you to hear,
“Jen?” You poked your head around the corner, looking for your boyfriend.
“W- what did you just call me?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Why, of all days, did you choose today to call him a new nickname?
“I - I called you Jen…” You stammered, unsure of why he was on the defensive about you simply shortening his name.
“Don’t call me that. Please, don’t call me that.” He shook his head, voice breaking. You scrambled to quickly get to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him into your chest, you cradled his head and ran your fingers through his hair as he cried quietly.
“Shh, it’s alright, Jensen. Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here. We can talk.” You whispered against the side of his head. “I’ve got you.” He looked up at you, eyes red and puffy, nodding slowly.
“She - she was the first person to call me that. She was the first person to call me anything.” He shook his head, his voice cracking and giving out as a sob shook him back into hysterics. As you held Jensen tight to your chest and did your best to soothe him, you realized you may never be able to.
Jensen had just lost his mother, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, and the woman who loved him unconditionally. No matter what you did or how hard you tried to help him cope, Jensen would never be the same.
That night, as he peeled himself out of his black suit, the one he’d bought specifically for this horrid occasion, he threw it into the waste bin in the corner of your bedroom. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but quickly realized he was doing whatever he could to rid himself of this day. He walked to the shower, and when he emerged ten minutes later, he was covered in red scrape marks from his loofa. He had literally tried to scrub the day from his skin.
He crawled into bed beside you and curled himself into the fetal position. You pulled his head onto your chest and wrapped your arm around his shoulders.
“It’s okay, Jensen. I’ve got you. Tonight and always.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ran your fingers over his scalp. “I’ll never leave you.”
Jensen’s heart clenched as you said the words his mother had told him when he was young. How had you done it again, said exactly the words she used to say? It dawned on him right then why he had fallen for you so quickly and so deeply. You were so much like her. In that moment, he vowed that one day, if it was the last thing he did, he would marry you. If anyone deserved the Ackles name, it was you.
Warnings: angst, self doubt and self loathing, fan hate, fluff, mild smut
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N:This is the SECOND fic for my 6k celebration and one year fic-i-versary. The line requested was, “You should be able to see that I’m 90% crap..” It will be highlighted in the fic. This is written for Steph, @torn-and-frayed Hope you like it, dear. Thanks for celebrating with me.
Hi, I'm looking for some Serpent Jughead stories. I see you've shared other recs in the past so I thought I'd ask you. Do you have any recs?
DUDE YES! I am a SUCKER for Serpent Juggie. Whether it’s fairly canon compliant and Juggie only becomes a Serpent following Season 1 - or it’s completely AU and he grew up on the Southside as a Serpent all along - I am HERE for Juggie the Serpent.
I’ll posts just a few of some of the WIPs I’ve been reading and a couple finished fics too. There have been SO MANY good Serpent fics since the finale - this is just a couple.
Okay so ideas for a sachet to help me at an art meeting? I'll be discussing a piece I worked for months on but I'm really bad at vocalizing ideas so any ideas on what may be good?
Charm bag for Expressing creativity
an orange bag
a golden or silver ribbon
labradorite or calcite crystal
Light a candle, ground, meditate (or not), just as you would do for any ritual. Then take all your ingredients one by one, focus on the intent you want to put in them and add them into the bag. While closing it, charge it with your positive energy.
Carry that bag with you the day of the meeting and take the time to smell it and focus on the creativity energy it contains before starting your speech.
Jared’s eyelids were clamped shut as he snored so loudly it bounced through the halls and into the kitchen where you were. Shaking your head, you continued singing and cutting the fruit, placing it into its respective places on the tray beside you. The snoring ceased and you poured a fresh mug of coffee, added hazelnut creamer and a spoonful of sugar. When you turned around, you were face to face with a messy-haired giant.
“Mornin’, Sunshine.” You teased, pushing the cup of coffee into his hands.
“God, you’re the best.” He groaned, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “What’s all this?” His eyes scanned the crowded countertop.
“Uh, do you not remember what today is?” You turned around and rubbed your hand over the basketball-sized lump under your shirt.
“Oh, shit. I was supposed to do all of this. I’m so sorry, baby.” He scurried you out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“You needed sleep. It’s okay, promise.” You smiled and then winced as you sat on the couch. “But I mean it is almost noon.” You stuck your tongue out at him.
“Lookin’ like this don’t come easy.” Jared mocked, running a hand through his hair dramatically. “I need my beauty rest, darling.” He faked a high class British accent. You fell into a fit of laughter and wrapped your arms around your stomach, cackling until your sides hurt.
“Oh, fuck. Jared!” You grabbed his hand and he looked down, immediately seeing why you’d stopped laughing. The ever-growing wet spot on the front of your yoga pants told him all he needed to know. Your water broke. “Call my mom, she’ll take care of the rest.” He pulled out his phone and quickly found your mom’s name and number, calling her and blurting out the words before he even said hello.
“Baby shower is off. We’re about to have a baby!” Jared scooped you into his arms and carried you to the car, setting you in the front seat and scrambling to the driver’s side. “I’m about to have a baby!” He yelled, throwing his fist into the air. You laughed and then shot him a fake glare. “Right. We’re about to have a baby.” He corrected himself and then threw the car in drive, heading for the hospital, quietly singing, “I’m having a baby,” to himself the whole way.
Notes: swearing, flirting, mentions of child abuse and alcoholism (past), angst, mentions of sex.
Summary: As a PA/secretary, you are all too familiar with the fantasies nearly all men share: banging their hot assistant. Former jobs haven’t worked out for you for that exact reason, and now starting out at a new company, as the secretary for the CEO of the hottest modelling agency in the country, you’re hoping this one will be different. But after meeting your new boss, Mr J.B. Barnes, you’re not so sure if it will be. Then again, maybe Mr Barnes is not as stereotypical as you think he is.
A/N: Okay, so. Shit is gonna hit the fan on this one. Enter: Steve, Tony and Pepper. It might feel like I’m skipping over some crucial stuff, but don’t worry! I’ll get to that. Enjoy!
Business went on as usual for the next few days, the only thing different was that James wouldn’t let you go to meetings alone anymore with anyone he didn’t know. You’d jumped up and down, pleaded left and right, but he wouldn’t have any of it. After finally giving in, James took you to lunch and had to physically pull a folder out of your hands to get you to eat.