#i really do enjoy plucking though its neat and engrossing

[heckaroniandcheese]

i just realised im not a leg hair girlie anymore. fuck. ive turned my back on my community. for what. wearing tights without wanting to die. not being mad that my leg hair doesn't go with my outfit. yes actually for those. and bonus smooth legs in bed that was a treat i hadnt experienced in almost 5 years. but im so used to being an all natural head to to toe person that i forget that im. all natural head to knee.

[wolf-in-a-suit]

Soul tax

Show: Supernatural

Summary: So your in hell! Not actual hell, but considering your annoying coworker Kevin and a soul draining boss, that would give Lucifer a run for his money, it's as close as it get's. How are you going to survive corporate purgatory? And why is there a new rich customer asking for the help of an intern? Well, find out...

You sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. The busy clicking of your coworker’s fingers, dancing over his keyboard, was the lullaby threatening on rendering you unconscious. Never before, had you been so grateful for the wall of blinding computer monitors separating your desks, but here the annoying things gifted you with a secluded fortress. A bastion against the boredom of corporate life, you - or rather your brothers - had subjected yourself to. So, you continued to try to look busy, 'researching' on your favorite music website. Who knew, the insurance company you worked for could get a client from the music industry any day now, you were just preparing for any eventuality.

Bam - the door flew open and you, along with your heart, jumped into the air. Funny, you had never realized how utterly terrifying the appearance of a boss could be, you would rather go two rounds in the ring with a Vendigo, than face the sharp gaze of your supervisor. Once your guts had settled back into their respected places, you switched the screen with two clicks to the numbers you were so busy working on. Then you turned, to face cooperate doom personified, and were greeted with - a deserted hallway. Weird. Kevin your coworker, was too engrossed into the exciting world of paperwork to pay any attention, or care for that matter. Shapeshifters couldn't turn invisible right? "Are you actually going to get some work done, today?" A sneering voice erupted from behind the mountain of paperwork. 'Shut up, Kevin!' was the first thing shooting through your mind, but of course, an interested intern couldn't say that. So, you settled on the next best remark: "Yeah, right away."

See, that would teach him! You really had to hand it to the normal folks, this was just hell. The hunter life seemed like a walk in a flower field compared to the stacks of paper threatening to bury you here! Anger burned in your stomach, just thinking about your brothers. "Sorry kiddo but you're the responsible one, so it's perfect." Dean’s clap on your shoulder was followed by a wink. Going with the family motto: Offence is the best defense you started: „But Sam was a-" Sam’s voice seemed unusually rushed while cutting you off: "And we're both far too old to apply as an intern, it would look suspicious." To his credit he writhed a little under your smoldering glare. Dean on the other hand, seemed unimpressed. "You don't wanna tip the shapeshifter off, right?" And thus your contract for eternal - one month - suffering was signed. "Today!" The tower of paperwork had grown even more. Oh, how you wished that Kevin was the shifter... That would be so much fun. Bam- this time you didn't react to the door barging open, some draft insisted on gifting you with a possibly fatal scare every ten minutes today. Apparently your survival skills had dulled, this much was clear, when instead of a gust of air your boss, in all her imposing glory rushed into the room. When her sharp eyes focused on your computer screen, currently advertising the newest training trends, her neat shoes clicked to a stop at once. 'Busted! What is she doing here?' According to her neatly plucked eyebrows, just now meeting on the bridge of her nose, she wasn't about to hand you the employee of the month award. Your body tensed, a rabbit preparing to be swallowed whole, though to your surprise the snake didn't bear its fangs, instead: "There is an important, very wealthy-" here her eyes glazed over almost lovingly, as if talking about her boyfriend "-customer, I need help with." With the air of a privet, subjecting himself to a possibly fatal mission - all for the glory of his homeland - Kevin rose from his seat. "So ___, come along!" Pluck, Kevin’s weight falling heavily back into his chair would have been music to you, if you panic hadn’t started to wreaked havoc in your chest. You had no idea how to help! You were just the intern, the glorified doormat of any company! Did they now expect you to take on responsibility, as well, as making coffee? "Mam, do you really think I'm the right person for...?" She scoffed dark hair whipping on her shoulders. "For whatever reason, the client requested the presence of an intern." If your inner alarm bell hadn’t bleared before it now was Quasi Modo having a nervous breakdown in Notre Dames bell tower. Clack, clack your bosses strides echoed down the corridor an urgent beat to them. You simply followed, entering the meeting room meekly behind her. The sight that greeted you there was enough to freeze your whole body.

"Ah how lovely, fresh blood." There, sitting both proudly and relaxed at the same time was none other than Crowley. His devious smirk was accented by his black suit and blood red tie. You settled on the most eloquent and suave approach to handling the situation like a pro: Starring at the demon dumbstruck.

"Not the most extroverted flower in the pot, hmm?" His white teeth gleamed and your boss made a sound probably supposed to be a laugh, while nudging you -rather forceful- into the direction of your 'client'. "Well, ___ here is new and you’re her first client: Stage fright, all part of the rooky year experience." She clapped your shoulder in a seemingly jovial manner, but the tightening of her grip, with nails as sharp as claws, wasn’t lost to your aching flesh. The demon’s eyes followed while you were being ‘respectfully’ manhandled into a seat across from him. His dark eyes gleamed with mirth at the prospect of the Winchester sister being served to him on a silver platter. "So Mr. Johnson, I think you will love our offer of..." but you would never know what exactly was so tempting in making a deal with the devil. Which was for the better, as you had no idea who would claim the soul of whom in this tank full of sharks. "Mrs. Smith, I would prefer your esteemed-" he pressed the word, emitting all it’s sweet juice "-intern here, to handle the hard work." The smile fell, as your boss smelled deceit but was soon replaced with an even broader smile. "Mr. Johnson, surely you want someone familiar with the work to handle your case, in order to avoid any mistakes." Shark teeth shone brightly in the dim light of the room. When Crowley reached out you almost jumped him. Judging by the mocking sideway look he cast you, your murderous intention wasn't lost to him. He didn't deter, however and grasped your boss’s hand.

"I would rest easier if I knew your delicate fingers to not be bothered with such trivial matters." Such foul sweetness was placed into each syllable that you felt the need to empty your lunch into the trash can, next to the desk. The bastard even had the audacity to stroke the woman's hand, while silently enjoying your reaction immensely. "Furthermore, everyone needs to start with some client and I so do love helping people learn from their mistakes." The dark charm rolling over your boss did the rest: "Of course Mr. Johnson, thank you for giving our intern this possibility." All caution and businessman ship forgotten, she almost floated out of the room. Clack, the door fell shut leaving you, glaring at a very satisfied demon. You couldn't keep your eyebrow from climbing farther up your brow. "Johnson? You gotta be kiddin' me!" The king of hell, simply regarded his nails. "Well, I suppose some of that Winchester charm has rubbed off on me." "What do you want? What are you planning?" At this Crowley feigned a hurt expression. "Darling, you wound me! Am I not allowed to visit you at work? I am merely a concerned-" "Like hell you are! Now spill!" He halted in his theatric pose, a hand on his nonexistent heart, and regarded you for a moment. The former mocking quality of his dark eyes froze and an unsettling expression crept into them. "You're just like moose, always looking for the great agenda. But did you ever consider the fact that..." Here, he leaned in, far too close for comfort "... I'm just enjoying seeing you squirm?" He leaned back and continued in a relaxed fashion: "One of the merits of being a demon, is seeing a certain hunter jump each time a door flies open." A roar escaped you "You little son of a..." The demon ignored your outburst and activated a button on the table. "Mrs. Smith, I believe your intern needs help here." His eyes drifted up to you, gesticulating and waving to him: ‘Please don't do this to me!’, but the sadistic expression stretching around his features, spoke volumes about the nose dive your day was about to take. What a day! Crowley had taken every opportunity, and you meant every opportunit, to make your live miserable: Asking for the most complex contract, an exact calculation of every financial way his investment could play out were just love tabs for him. Each time you dared to deviate from your task, mostly by throwing curses at him, he simply called for your boss like a lap dog. At the end the Chi Wawa thanked him for his patience with the untrained intern. You facial muscles still felt sore for trying to hold a smile at that. What had you ever done to deserve this!?

"Hey, Zuckerberg how is going?" Dean greeted, while you were busy throwing the heavy warded door to the bunker with too much force back in it’s place. Sadly, it simply drifted shut with a click. So much for therapeutic, anger reducing, door slamming. You spared your brothers an unamused look, while muttering something about ‘planning to kill someone’. Slam, the door to your room, wasn’t as fortified against a twenty-something’s fury. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and silently agreed: Whatever it was would settle itself, they put a good amount of distance, between themselves and your room, for good measure. After all, they didn't want to be over bearing brothers! Without changing your clothes you fell into bed, vowing to kill both Crowley and Kevin. The tortured faces of your soon would be victims, lulled you into a restful slumber.

You woke up to the heavenly smell of coffee and the soft sound of a strumming guitar. Carefully opening one eye, you were greeted by the sight of a tablet, laden with croissant, jam and an apple on a stool right next to your bed. “What the actual, …” How did your brother’s get through your closed door. A few moments later, nursing your first cup of coffee you started to wake up. With that came the realization that this wasn’t a very Dean, or Sam-ly fashion of showing support. ‘But who?” That’s when you registered who was singing on the record: "I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees."

The next minute was filled with you, spluttering, trying to emit coffee from your lungs. When you finally calmed down you sat on your bed, a little shell shocked, but soon a small smile stole itself on your features. To the seemingly empty room you said: ”Well, thank you Mr. Johnson!”