It’s 2030. Fall out boy have now renamed themselves fall out man and actually turned into one giant meme. Just Brendon’s head is left and when Ryan was asked to be interviewed, he zoomed off into space. My chemical romance have broken up after thirteen years of a reunion era. Tyler has permanently kicked Josh out of the band and in retaliation Josh added Oakley to his Tyler tattoo. Pop punk is retro and the new trend is 2005 Pete wentz eyeliner. Sherlock is on its sixth season and in celebration of doctor who’s 100th season, Moffat told fans that there would be a wholock crossover, releasing posters and trailers but really was just trolling everyone. SPN mysteriously disappeared from existence and all we can say is that it is of supernatural causes. Tumblr has been taken over by Pepe and every blogger must wear frog masks and chant hail Pepe when they go outside. Everyone talks in emoji.
I was at the pool today for my siblings swimming lessons, and the instructor looked /just/ like Dean. Sandy blond hair, fan fiction lips, unruly green eyes, the whole nine.
Then looks at my little sister he was like “okay now kick your legs and see if you can splash that cute guy behind you and get him all wet”
Now this got my attention because I live in a place where there are /literally no outwardly gay people anywhere/ (yes gaydar is a thing, I’m sorry to inform you)
I look up from my book and see who Dean’s doppelganger was talking about, and I SHIT YOU NOT I WAS FACE TO FACE WITH YOUNG MISHA COLLINS only with Castiel’s sex hair and galactic blue eyes.
So while I’m sitting here, fangirling on the inside, my sister looks back at me and goes “Hey, Lucifer!” (Yes, she calls me Lucifer) “I ship it” and the other instructor who was standing at the edge of the pool beside me, *the Cas look-alike* leans next to me and goes “he’s my pizza man” and I swear I about lost my shit
Supernatural AU! Dean Winchester has just taken over your office after Crowley was fired for embezzling, among other inappropriate actions. I tried to change his name to Dean Smith, and it just felt all wrong when I was writing it!
Warnings: None, unless you count being hit on by your creepy yet oddly attractive boss…? Swearing. Awkward sexual situation.
Word Count: 1614
”Y/N, I need to see you in my office.” The smooth British voice of your boss floating through the office door makes you want to hurl. You glance at Meg, who gives you an apologetic smile. You smooth your pencil skirt and stride quickly into his office, heels clicking on the tiled floor.
“There you are. Took you long enough.” he holds out a 20 dollar bill. “Coffee, the biggest non fat soy latte you can get. And whatever you and Miss. Masters would like.” His mouth twists unpleasantly.
“Yes, no problem.” You turn on your heel to leave his office.
“Hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” He calls cheerfully at your retreating back. You suppress a shudder, ignoring your ass of a boss. You grab your knee length wool coat, asking Meg if she wants anything.
“Whatever you’re going to get is fine, thanks.” She keeps her eyes on her computer screen.
“Thanks.” He takes the Starbucks cup from you without glancing your way. “Nothing else.”
You make to leave and he calls you back. “How would you feel about dinner tonight? Just us?” He grins smugly at you over the lid of the coffee cup.
You manage a polite smile. “That’s against company policy, Fergus.” In all reality you want to throw up your lunch all over his desk. Not that he wasn’t attractive, for an older man. He was just so cocky and inappropriate, treating you and Meg like you were objects there solely for his entertainment. You’d rather cut off your own tongue.
His jaw clenches at the mention of his first name. “How many times have I told you? Either Mr. Crowley, or sir, if you must!” He straightens his red silk tie, the only color in his entire ensemble, and stands up from his leather desk chair. “I say screw it! Let’s go howl at the moon!” He’s moved around the giant wooden desk, moving closer to you, and you involuntarily back up, your knees hitting a plush chair. You overcompensate for being off balance and end up on your ass in the chair, his hands pressing into the cushion on either side of your head. You rack your brain, trying to figure a way out of this, just about to settle for kicking him in the balls when Meg’s voice floats through the door.
“Mr. Crowley? Mr. Lafitte is here to see you.”
You breathe a sigh of relief, thanking whoever was upstairs and looking out for you as you jump from the chair. In your haste to get away from Fergus you run right smack into Mr. Lafitte, whose hands reach out to grab your shoulders, keeping you on your feet.
“Sorry darlin’, are you alright?” He drawls in a heavy southern accent, light blue eyes gazing into yours.
“Yes, thank you, I’m sorry,” You mutter, escaping from this office the only thing on your mind.
“Darlin’?” He calls after you, and you stifle a groan as you turn to look at him, putting on your best poker face. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to close the door?”
You nod silently, pulling the heavy door shut behind you and sitting back at your desk, trying to get your bearings.
“You ok?” Meg asks, clearly worried about you. You force a smile, keeping most of your attention on the blank spreadsheets in front of you. “I’ve never seen Mr. Lafitte in person. He’s kind of adorable.” She grins at you, only to get a stoic gaze back. She lets her smile slip and goes back to her computer.
An hour later you can suddenly hear Fergus shouting at the top of his lungs, although you can’t quite make out the words. You lock eyes with Meg, who’s eyebrows have nearly shot up into her hair. “What the hell is happening in there?”
“I don’t know, can you see anything?” Your view through the glass door only gives you a bookcase and part of the floor to ceiling window.
“No, just that goddamned bull statue of his.” She rolls her eyes. The door suddenly flies open, Mr. Lafitte emerging, straightening his dark grey tie.
“Ladies, I hope you both have a wonderful weekend, I’m sure your Monday will be more than pleasant.” He winks at you, your interest peaking at his cryptic words. You knew better than to ask. He gives Meg a wave before heading around the corner, where you hear the elevator ding.
“What was the president of the company doing here?” You turn shocked eyes to Meg.
“You got me, but oh my god!” She makes a show of fanning herself, making you giggle.
“Y/N!“ Fergus yells from inside the office. The anger in his voice makes you want to run to the elevator, but you make your feet move to stand in the doorway. “Call me a cab, and get Mr. Campbell on the phone.” He glances up at you, his face turning purple when he sees you’re still standing there. “NOW!“
His temper didn’t phase you; after nearly 7 years of dealing with him you were used to the mood swings. You were more focused on the fact that he was cleaning out his desk.
“Are you alright, Fer—sir?” You ask hesitantly.
“DO I BLOODY LOOK ALRIGHT?” he roars, jabbing a finger in your direction. “GO NOW!”
You turn and run from the doorway back to your desk, where Meg has hunched down in her seat, trying to remain out of his sight. “Can you call the cab company for me?” you ask, dialing the line for Mr. Campbell’s law office. Before the first ring ends there’s a cheerful voice on the other end. “Mr. Campbell’s office, Jo speaking.”
“Hey, Jo. It’s Y/N. Is Mr. Campbell in?” You twirl the phone cord around your pointer finger, chewing your bottom lip nervously.
“Sure, just a second.” She puts you on hold, a song by the Foo Fighters drifting through the receiver. You’re only on hold for a few seconds when the phone picks up.
“Campbell.” The familiar voice washes over you, all business.
“Hi, Mr. Campbell. It’s Y/N. Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. And you can call me Sam.” Once he realizes who he’s talking to he becomes less formal, his business tone changing to a warm welcome. “What’s up?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Fergus says he needs to talk with you. Can I put you on hold?”
“No problem, Y/N.” His warm baritone caresses the syllables of your name, and you can hear the smile behind it.
“Thanks.” You put him on hold. “Mr. Campbell, line two!” You yell to Fergus and slam the receiver down, gears turning in your head.
“Samuel Campbell?” Meg’s jaw is basically on the floor. “THE Samuel Campbell. Attorney Samuel Campbell?”
“Yea, weird, huh?” You chew your bottom lip some more, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together. You knew once Fergus was gone, they would most likely get some other ass just like him in here by Monday. But you wanted to know why; it was literally burning you up from the inside out.
“Ready to go?” Meg has been watching the clock since 4:25.
“Yep, I think so,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.
Just before you reach the corner of the hall Fergus yells for you. “I need you to stay, I have a few things to go over.”
Meg asks if you want her to wait but you shake your head. “No, just go home, I know Cas just got back from his trip. Have a good night.”
She gives you a quick hug before stepping around the corner, and you wait until the elevator dings to trudge back into his office, tossing your coat and bag onto your desk. “Take a seat.” He demands, pointing to one of two matching chairs. Goosebumps break out over your skin, your palms feel clammy and your pulse has picked up.
“Y/N.” He smiles at you, your stomach flip flopping.
“Ferg-Sir?” You mentally cursed yourself as you correct your sentence.
“I guess we can start with where would you like to go to dinner?”
Your eyebrows raise. “The company-”
He cuts you off. “I know, the company, the company. Good thing I’m not associated with the company anymore.”
This was all the information you needed. You draw in a deep breath, pulling on all your courage to get you through this. “I think you misunderstood earlier. I do not want to go out with you, Fergus.“
He sets his jaw, the glint in his eyes making you uneasy.
“Look, it’s friday, I want to go home.” You move to stand and he pushes you back into the chair, an oomf leaving your lips.
“You think I haven’t seen the way you tease?”
“I think you’re mistaken,” you grit through your teeth.
“Oh, am I?” His tone turns deadly and dread grips your heart, your stomach filling with lead, anchoring you to the spot. “See, you’re going to give me what I want.”
“This is your last warning. Do not do this.” Your voice sounds a lot braver than you feel. He wasn’t a very big man, but he was bigger than you.
“Seems Mr. Lafitte isn’t here to rescue you this time.” He leans in closer and out of instinct you bring your foot up, connecting with the apex of his thighs. You take the chance while he’s on the floor and escape the office, not bothering with your coat until you’re in the elevator safely headed for the ground floor.
Preference #14 He Has Feelings For You But Someone Else Tells You [Requested]
Scott: “Scott McCall is having breakfast with our mother.” Lydia announced, leaning against the doorframe as she awaited an explanation for his bizarre behavior. “Liam’s printer went haywire around 3am yesterday morning.” You stated in a cautious mumble, releasing a frustrated sigh as you fought the zipper to the coal suede ankle boot on your right foot. “According to Stiles, there was a name added to the list worth 15 million. Scott’s been following me around since. I’ll give you a guess as to who the name belonged to.” The atmosphere darkened, Lydia’s stomach churning with an intense despair as she fought the pessimistic thoughts threatening to poison her brain. She knew without a doubt that your name would be on the list; you were a werewolf. The mystery was in the worth, not in the presence of your name on the list. If you were worth 15 million dollars there was a real possibility the supernatural assassins would pursue you first. “He cares about you, you know.” She informed, a faint smirk curling the corners of her mouth as she fought to have a trivial conversation.